#grab-bag prompt list

[scorchieart]

Heyy can i please ask for clavis/8/comfort/2nd pov?💕

Characters: Clavis Lelouch x F!Reader

POV: 2nd person Genre: Comfort

Prompt #8: “Just once, I want to hear you say it.”

Wordcount: 3021

A/N: Heyy @aceuuuuu! 💜Thank you for the request. It was a journey to get it finished, got some angst sprinkled in to enhance the comfort, but I hope you'll enjoy the direction it takes. This is the second installment of my reverse-comfort mini series in this larger grab-bag event. Big shoutout to @venulus for the help talking through how Clavis might react in this situation 💜

**Note: Reader is bilingual.

Even with all three wicks lit, the candelabra still felt eerily cold in your hand as you pushed open the door. Night bathed the library in an ethereal, otherworldly view, as though this was a parallel Rhodolite filled with books and knowledge uncharted in your reality. Exotic, mystifying, and taboo.

You tiptoed across polished tile, taking extra care to mask your steps as you peered down the aisles. Rows and rows of lifeless bookshelves returned your curious stares, but you pressed forward with your investigation undeterred. Prince Chevalier was never wrong before.

As scrupulous as he is stubborn, he had said, with more contempt than you thought necessary at the time. But the more you listened to his detailed first-hand accounts, the more confused you grew that they existed at all. How could a person, a prince no less, possibly find the time and energy to think and do and be all the things Chevalier claimed of him without going mad? It spun your own head in circles simply trying to make sense of it. 

The bookshelves lining the wall all came up naught, but you had scarcely begun inspecting the rows by the windows when you heard it. Soft and faint yet determined to subsist, like the sizzling candles at your side. You moved slower, the sound growing more alluring the closer you approached, and poked your head just enough to see what was down each successive aisle until you found him.

Perhaps his head was spinning in circles. Or perhaps he was mad.

Perched at the far end of the row was Clavis Lelouch. But like with the library, the darkness altered his appearance into something utterly unrecognizable, and you struggled to keep your heart from beating out of your chest as you took in his mangled form. The space between the bookshelves was narrow, barely enough for two people to stand side by side, but Clavis managed to sit on the floor with his head resting on one of the lower shelves and his legs bent in odd positions to fit against the opposite bookcase. Beside him he had set a single candlestick in a jar, the flame so small the melted wax threatened to extinguish it at any moment. His long white coat draped over his stomach like a blanket, and his jacket and gloves lay neatly folded in the center of the aisle. In his hands he held a large book, though it was only one of many open tomes and papers chaotically piled around him. Ink-blotched sleeves rolled up to the elbows and wrinkled collar limply hanging open, Clavis looked as though he was knocked out cold in a brawl with the books, his normally coiffed hair sticking widely out in all directions and obscuring his typically brilliant shining eyes. But you knew he was awake, because the sounds you were hearing came out of his rapidly moving lips like a man possessed. 

Smoke and mirrors are his favorite toys, Chevalier once said. You pushed his voice away, tiptoeing deeper into the aisle to focus instead on what came out of Clavis’s mouth. Why did his words sound so familiar?

Before you could come up with an answer, your foot caught in the folded clothing and the candelabra slipped from your grasp and fell to the floor with a loud clank! Luckily the flames went out with the whoosh of the fall, but in the dead of night, the sound seemed enough to announce your existence to the entire palace. Clavis flinched in his seat, eyebrows climbing his forehead and hands zipping behind his back like a frightened child caught doing something naughty. But as soon as those brilliant shining eyes found yours, his shoulders relaxed and his face broke out in a brilliant shining smile.

“Dearie me,” he said, wiping the hair from his face and sitting up straight. “And what reason could a darling little one have in a scary library this late at night?” 

“I was about to ask you the same question,” you replied, regaining your footing and crossing your arms. “Minus the darling part.” You wouldn’t let him treat this as a joke. You came here on a mission. 

“Aha,” he mused, stretching his arms like a large cat. “What reason do any of us have to do anything, really, if not for our own enjoyment?” He locked eyes again with you, but you noticed him surreptitiously shutting books and flipping sheets over as he spoke. “Life would be so dull otherwise.”

Even a child has more patience. The only way to progress is to play his game.

“You find enjoyment practicing contortionism in the middle of the night?” you asked. Clavis let out a low, mirthful chuckle. The kind you’d expect from a villain who successfully fooled the hero.

“Would that impress you? To learn your beloved prince is so multi-talented?” he asked, moving in front of the books and spreading his arms. “These limbs will bend and flex at your command! Now, my sweet, why don’t you come and test out a warming embrace?”

The only way to progress is to play his game. 

Chevalier’s voice grimly echoed in your mind as you knelt before the prince and returned his hug. The dim firelight from the jar bounced off his tired face, giving him the waxy, droopy visage of an old candle, but despite his ghastly appearance he was nevertheless gentlemanly in the way he cradled you in his arms and drew small circles on your back.

“Even the bravest of us fear nightmares,” he whispered after some time. “But wandering around in the dark? That’s practically inviting anyone to spook you even more!”

Find his weak points, or he will exploit yours.

You shifted yourself so that your chin rested on his shoulder, giving you access to the mess behind him. Even in the low light you could tell Clavis covered his tracks well in his haste; books were snapped shut and loose sheets were either turned over or tucked away. But all you needed was one clue. You just had to stall until you could find it. 

“You wouldn’t spook a scared, darling little one wandering around in the dark, would you?” you asked innocently, scanning the book spines for any legible titles.

Clavis’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Well, I suppose that depends. It’s always impressive the more people you can manage to spook, so I might do it on a group. But if it’s only you—” he leaned his head against yours, his soft hair falling in front of your eyes and obscuring your vision “—I don’t know which side of me would win out. The gentleman or the beast.”

The urge to rip his arms off and shove him into the bookcase rose in your gut, but you suppressed it and instead brought your hand to his head and brushed his hair, moving it out of your view as you resumed your search. Of the book spines that faced you, none of the titles contained any letters or symbols you’d seen in the palace, but it was too dark to make out anything more. 

“Now, wasn’t that simply marvelous?” Clavis announced with a content sigh. “I always feel much more relaxed after a warm hug. Don’t you? And now that we’re both relaxed, let’s get you safely back to bed, hmm?” 

Find his weak points. Twist them to your advantage.

“Not yet!” you blurted without thinking, wrapping your arms more firmly around him. “I… uh… I’m still scared.” Though you couldn’t see his face, you could imagine the smug grin he grew.

“How about a lullaby?” he offered. “I recently learned one I just know will make you smile.”

“No, no. Just keep talking,” you said. The light in the jar was almost extinguished, and you frantically razed your eyes across the mess to catch even a sentence. “Tell me what your nightmares are like.”

He let out a breathy wheeze. “I don’t think you’re ready to hear about my nightmares.”

“Why? Afraid I’ll laugh?” you said.

“They wouldn’t be nightmarish then, would they?”

It was no use. Everything on the floor was hidden too well. He was enjoying this.

“Cry then?”

“Closer, but not quite.” 

Squinting in the dark hurt your head, and you shut your eyes to think. You missed your chance. Clavis could end the game whenever he wanted.

The only way to win is to break him when he thinks he’s got you.

Your eyes shot open and bore at the spot he previously sat in. And there it was. The book Clavis was holding when you caught him, hurriedly shoved to the back of the bottom shelf. It was much too far away to read, but the cover was visible enough for you to recognize it instantly; a book of nursery rhymes from your childhood.

You turned your head, your lips hovering inches from his ear. “Afraid I’ll find out what you’ve been studying?” you whispered in your native tongue. 

Clavis stiffened in your hold then rocketed backward. His eyes grew to the size of saucers and his mouth gaped open and closed as he fumbled over his words.

“Wha…. How…. Who—?” 

His expression morphed again and again with each question until finally settling on a bitter scowl. 

“I knew you two were talking about me,” he said darkly, in a voice you had never heard from him before. Not even the bliss of night sky from the windows behind him could soften the atmosphere, and your hands grew clammy as the room took on a macabre tone.

“Clavis.” You fought the worry building in your throat. “It’s not what you think.”

“Did you gather enough intel for your lingui-buddy?” he snarled, standing as he spoke. “Were you planning on heading to his room now or waiting until morning to reveal the latest juicy gossip about his failure of a brother?”

“It’s not like that!” you retorted. But Clavis had already turned away, the pile of books scooped into his arms.

“Isn’t it? Why else talk about a man in the same room as him in a language he can’t understand except to laugh at him?” he asked, slipping into the next aisle of shelves.

“Clavis!” you called, chasing after him. It wasn’t true. Even though you’d lived in Rhodolite most of your life, there always existed that veil of separation between you and the natives you could never remove as hard as you tried. And arriving at the palace as the first non-Rhodolitian Belle filled you with the renewed dread of jumping off the deep end from your first day in the kingdom. But despite his reticent introduction, Prince Chevalier quickly proved to be your most reliable companion in the palace. The conversations you held only served to build respect as he helped you navigate your new role, never to provoke others. Except, of course, when you asked about his eccentric younger brother whom you had grown exceedingly curious of.

So impotent he only shows his true self when he is backed into a corner.

You rounded the corner to the next row of shelves and found Clavis furiously shoving books into their slots, the scowl still present on his face. 

“Listen,” you began, “I talk with Chevalier about all of you because it’s my job.”

“Don’t lie,” he spat, ramming a particularly massive book into the shelf. “We already know who you’re choosing as king.” He turned again and disappeared down the next aisle.

“I still have a few weeks until I decide, and I’d like to get a comprehensive understanding of all the candidates before I choose,” you said. “But as some princes aren’t being fully honest with me, I am forced to consult others to fill in the blanks.” Though hot on his heels, you entered the next row to find it completely empty.

“From the day you arrived at this palace, I have been nothing but honest with you,” his voice called from another aisle, followed by the sounds of books getting shoved back into place.

“You just claimed you only came to the library to bend your limbs until I discovered you!” you argued back, dipping into the next aisle. Again, he was nowhere to be found.

“Correction.” His voice floated from someplace else. “You assumed what I was doing, and I only played along because it was enjoyable to me. I neither confirmed nor denied your theory. It’s your job as Belle to determine truth from fiction. And you have at your disposal the greatest fact-checker ever to set foot upon Rhodolite.”

And deflection is his preferred weapon when others are mentioned. Particularly I.

You huffed as you followed the sounds of his footsteps. Why were those two always at each other’s throats? Why was it so difficult to talk to one about the other? It was as if the castle itself was fueled by their rivalry. So why after all these years could they not settle things face-to-face? Why did you, a complete outsider, have to get roped up in their family feud?

“Why must you both be so pig-headed?” You couldn’t suppress yelling the insult in your language. You briefly pictured the two chasing each other in the library, slinging insults over bookshelves like children. But the image didn’t stick for long; it was far too improbable.

And then it hit you. Chevalier’s excessively detailed accounts of his brother weren’t given out of disdain. They were a plea.

“I may not know what all of those words mean,” Clavis called. “But Chevalier is ten times whatever it is you said. And he’s also a big, ugly, ungracious—Goodness!”

The loud thud instantly revealed his location, and you exited the row you were in and made a beeline for the library entrance. Fallen books lay scattered around Clavis’s collapsed body, and you ignored his protests as you knelt beside him and gently brushed your fingers over the fresh bruise growing on his forehead.

“Do you know what a closed door means?” you said. 

“I wasn’t trying to run away,” he groaned, pushing your hand back and sitting up. Darkness masked him, but you could still make out the distressed lines marking his face and the way his shoulders sagged with each breath.

“Clavis, when was the last time you slept?” you asked.

“This afternoon. I took a nap in the office,” he responded quickly.

“No, I mean really slept. Like a full-night’s worth.”

He didn’t answer, instead busying himself with rolling out his sleeves and fixing his crooked collar. It felt awkward watching him, like you were intruding on him getting dressed, and your eyes wandered to the books surrounding you. From nonfiction to folktales, Clavis had amassed a wonderful collection of works from your home. You picked up a children’s book and studied its cover, the familiar shapes and arrangements of letters bringing joy to the desolate library.

“Why?” you asked, flipping through the pages.

“I already told you,” he said. He clasped the final cuff and turned towards you. “I do things because I enjoy them. Nothing less and nothing more.”

“And I already told you I’m trying to learn more about you. And not just as Belle,” you said, your heart growing heavy. You stopped at a page with an illustration of two figures holding hands, a boy and a girl, and traced their smiles with your finger. “Please, just once, I want to hear you say it.”

Clavis inhaled deeply, then scooted next to you and copied your tracing, his calloused fingers occasionally rubbing against yours. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to learn more about you in turn?”

“Then why go through all this effort when you could just talk to me like a normal person?” you asked.

He tapped his finger on the boy’s head. “I could never talk to you the way Chevalier could. And Chevalier’s not a normal person.”

He was right. Chevalier wasn’t a normal person. He was a prince living arm's length from his people, but behind a veil. Neighbors, and yet a world apart. A world inhabited only by those who have seen the sun rise through his eyes, breathed the air that blew through his skies, and slept underneath the same set of stars. 

No, Chevalier and Clavis weren’t normal people. They were extraordinary. 

Pale light filtered in through the windows as dawn approached, and Clavis discreetly caught a yawn in the crook of his elbow as he stretched his back.

“I wouldn’t call that as relaxing as a warm hug, but now that we’re both sufficiently embarrassed, let’s get you safely back to bed and pretend this night never happened,” he said. But before he could stand, you grabbed his hand and pulled it back to the book. 

“Not yet,” you said. Ignoring his half-bleary-half-astonished expression, you dragged Clavis’s hand to the top of the page and placed his index finger on the first line of the text. “Your pronunciation needs work.” 

It might have been more prudent to take up Clavis’s offer of returning to bed. Your head swam with the discoveries you learned about the royal brothers, and you were sure they would be better digested one at a time while lying in your comfy palace bed. Clavis’s weary head tettered concerningly as you guided his finger over each word in the book and sounded them out to him, and you were certain he would prefer to have this reading session at a time when he could keep both his eyes open. And you were positive that the best thing the both of you needed right now was a restful sleep. It was what Chevalier would say was the logical thing to do in the situation. But as night turned to day, the second prince’s name was never brought up again. And as the sun bathed the library in an angelic, auspicious glow, Clavis closed both his eyes and rested his cheek against your shoulder, and you closed the book and used your finger to trace the soft smile that bloomed from his lips.

I believe one of the greatest ways people connect is through language learning, and I have the deepest respect for those who learn the language of the place they live in when it isn't the same as their native tongue. Also, I realize this fic super overshot the wordcount limit, but to make up for it, Jin's comfort fic will be bite-sized, lighthearted, and maybe even a little comedic.

Tagging: @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx @otomefoxystar @my-day6

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

[parkersbliss]

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

[be4chywritez]

red red wine | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem!reader

the week leading up to Quinn proposing to you, and the chaos that follows him.

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

One Week Before

You stand in the kitchen of the lake house, absently scrolling through your phone while Jim and Ellen sit at the table, chatting over their morning coffee. Quinn is perched on a stool at the kitchen island, Jack and Luke beside him, all three listening in as you think out loud.

“I think I’m gonna get my nails done,” you say, mostly to yourself, glancing up from your screen. “I found this cute place nearby on Instagram. Might go check it out.”

Quinn freezes. Luke and Jack do the same, exchanging quick glances before all three of them force identical, strained smiles.

“Here?” Quinn asks, a little too casually.

You nod and turn your phone to show Ellen the pictures. “Yeah, thought it’d be nice to get a little pampered. Ellen, want to come with?”

For a split second, her eyes flick to Jim before she shakes her head with a warm—if slightly nervous—smile. “Oh, no, sweetheart. I think I’ll stay back, got a few things to tidy up around the house.”

You frown slightly, glancing between them. “I mean, I don’t have to go either. I could just hang—”

“NO!”

The entire Hughes family responds in unison, voices overlapping in a loud, comically panicked outburst. Even Jim, who’s been silent all morning, leans forward, wide-eyed like you just suggested setting the house on fire.

Quinn is the first to recover. He clears his throat and plasters on a quick, reassuring smile. “No, honey, you should definitely go. Treat yourself.” He waves a hand toward the door, trying—and failing—to sound nonchalant. “Have a nice day out.”

Your eyes narrow. “Okay…?” You drag the word out, suspicious, but slide your phone into your bag anyway. Grabbing your keys, you head for the door, throwing one last curious glance over your shoulder before stepping out.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Luke lets out a long breath. “Close call.”

Jim shakes his head, grinning. “She almost caught on already. We need to be more careful, boys.”

Downtown is quiet, the main street lined with flower boxes and little local shops. Lakeside Nails sits nestled between a café and an old bookstore, its windows decorated with delicate white lettering.

A nail tech waves you over with a friendly smile. “Hi! You must be my one o’clock.”

“That’s me.” You settle into the chair as she sets up.

“I’m Maya. What are we doing today?”

You pull up a photo. “Something like this? Just a clean, neutral look.”

Maya nods approvingly. “Pretty! So, just a little solo pampering trip?”

“Sort of. I’m staying at the lake house with my boyfriend and his family. Thought I’d take a little break and explore.”

Maya hums, focusing on your nails. “How’d you two meet?”

You smile, thinking back. “Through mutual friends. He was quiet at first, but then he made me laugh when I wasn’t expecting it. I don’t know… I just felt comfortable with him.”

“Those are the best ones,” she says with a grin. “Sounds like a good guy.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, warmth blooming in your chest. “He really is.”

When you walk back into the lake house, Quinn is stretched out on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He glances up as you come in, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

“Hey,” he says, sitting up. “Let’s see the nails.”

You plop down beside him, holding out your hand. He takes it, running his thumb lightly over your fingers. “Looks good,” he says, approving.

“Glad you think so.” You lean into him as his arm wraps around you, the warmth of his touch settling you into an easy quiet.

The rest of the evening is simple—pasta and salad for dinner, laughter when Quinn drops a handful of cherry tomatoes and watches them roll across the counter. Later, you curl up under a blanket with an old movie on, his fingers absentmindedly running through your hair. The house is peaceful, filled with the soft flicker of the TV and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You don’t notice the way he looks at you. The way his gaze lingers, like he’s memorizing everything. Like he’s counting down.

Five Days Before

You wake slowly, the warmth of morning light filtering through the curtains. Quinn’s arm is draped over your waist, his hand resting lightly on your hip, his breathing steady and close. He stirs, his nose brushing against the back of your neck as he pulls you closer.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

You smile, rolling over to face him. His eyes are still half-closed, messy hair falling over his forehead. You trace your fingers along his cheek, feeling the scratch of stubble. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“Good morning,” you whisper.

He catches your hand, lacing his fingers through yours before bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You don’t realize how he looks at you—like you might disappear if he blinks.

“Honey, we’re on breakfast duty,” you remind him.

Quinn groans, shoving his face into your collarbone, stubble tickling your skin. He mumbles something, voice muffled.

You laugh. “No, we can’t let your brothers do it. Unless you want the house to burn down.”

Another grunt, but this time, he shifts, reluctantly getting up. You follow, falling into your usual morning routine.

As you pull on a sweater, he watches from the bathroom mirror, hoping you don’t dig too far into his sock drawer.

Hoping you don’t find the velvet box.

You don’t, thanks to a the higher power, but it only puts more pressure on Quinn to pop the damn question.

Four Days Before 

The lake house hums with its usual morning energy—Jack and Luke bickering over who gets the last pancake, Ellen moving around the kitchen with effortless ease, and Jim sipping his coffee while reading the newspaper like he’s immune to the chaos around him.

Quinn, however, is focused on one thing.

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching as you sit at the kitchen table, scrolling absently through your phone. Every few seconds, you look up to add something to the conversation, laughing as Luke launches a grape at Jack’s head. Quinn should be listening, should be jumping in with a comment of his own, but instead, his mind is caught on a single thought: How do I get her to buy the dress?

The dress—the one he wants to see you in when he finally asks the biggest question of his life. He saw it a few days ago when you were flipping through your phone, showing Ellen some boutique you wanted to check out. You hadn’t bought anything yet, just admired a few pieces before getting distracted by something else.

Now, with only four days to go, he needs to make sure you pick the one.

Quinn exhales through his nose and glances toward his brothers. Perfect.

Jack notices first, eyebrows furrowing as he watches Quinn silently glare at him. What? he mouths.

Quinn jerks his head toward the living room, signaling them to follow. Jack and Luke exchange a glance but don’t argue, trudging after him as he disappears down the hallway.

Once they’re out of earshot, Quinn turns to them, hands on his hips like he’s about to give them the most important assignment of their lives.

“Alright, I need you two to do something for me.”

Jack immediately groans. “Oh my god, what now?”

“It’s important,” Quinn says, leveling them with a look.

Luke raises an eyebrow. “Like, life-or-death important? Or are we talking Quinn-important, which means it’s about the love of your life?”

Jack snorts. “Yeah, do we need to prepare a eulogy?”

Quinn ignores them. “I need you guys to get her to buy a dress.”

Both of them stare at him.

“A dress,” Jack repeats flatly. “You dragged us away from breakfast for that?”

“Not just any dress,” Quinn says, rubbing the back of his neck. He feels stupid saying it out loud, but if there’s anyone who can pull this off without making it suspicious, it’s these two. “She was looking at this one the other day. It’s perfect for when I—” He stops himself before finishing the sentence, clearing his throat.

Luke catches on first. His eyes widen slightly before he grins. “Ohhh. You mean the dress.”

Jack still looks lost. “What—Oh. Ohhh.”

Quinn nods.

“Okay, so you want us to, what? Trick her into buying it?” Jack asks, crossing his arms.

“Not trick her,” Quinn corrects. “Just… steer her in the right direction.”

Luke grins. “You want us to gaslight her into thinking she needs it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You basically did,” Jack says.

Quinn sighs. “Can you two just do it?”

Luke claps a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Q, we got this. She’ll be buying that dress by the end of the day.”

Jack cracks his knuckles. “Time to be annoying.”

“Just don’t make it obvious,” Quinn warns.

Luke grins. “No promises.”

–

You hadn’t really planned on buying anything today.

The town’s little boutique district is charming, with its cobblestone paths and flower boxes hanging from the windows, but you were mostly browsing—taking in the sights, enjoying the crisp summer air, and, apparently, getting bombarded with very strong opinions from Jack and Luke.

“I’m just saying,” Jack starts, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets, “you’ve been talking about wanting a nice dress for a while.”

“Have I?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Luke, walking on your other side, nods solemnly. “Oh yeah. All the time. Constantly.”

You snort. “I’m pretty sure I haven’t.”

Jack ignores you. “And look at this!” He gestures dramatically toward one of the boutique windows. “A whole store dedicated to dresses! What are the odds?”

“Crazy,” Luke deadpans.

You give them a suspicious look. “Are you guys okay?”

“We’re great,” Jack says. “But you’d be even better if you had a new dress.”

Luke nods. “The best version of yourself, really.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “What is wrong with you two?”

“Nothing,” Jack says quickly. “We just care about you. And your wardrobe.”

“Especially that one dress you liked the other day,” Luke adds casually. “That was a good one.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you even know about that?”

Jack elbows Luke. 

He gives you a pained smile, “intuition?” 

Luke sighs dramatically, turning toward you. “Look,, all I’m saying is that you should try it on. No pressure. No commitment. Just try it on and see how you feel.”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees. “Worst case? You hate it, and we all move on with our lives. Best case? You look amazing, and you thank us forever.”

You roll your eyes but, against your better judgment, let them lead you inside. The boutique is small but elegant, with soft lighting and carefully arranged racks of clothing. A sales associate greets you warmly, and before you know it, Luke and Jack are pushing you toward the exact dress they’ve clearly been scheming about.

You sigh, running your fingers over the fabric. It is beautiful.

“Just try it,” Luke urges. “For science.”

“For science,” Jack echoes.

You huff a laugh. “Fine. But if I don’t like it, you both owe me coffee.”

“Deal,” they say in unison.

Ten minutes later, you step out of the dressing room, smoothing your hands over the fabric. The dress fits perfectly, hugging in all the right places, flowing just enough to feel effortless. You glance at your reflection in the boutique mirror, tilting your head slightly.

“Well?” Jack asks, leaning forward eagerly.

Luke grins. “Yup. That’s the one.”

You shake your head, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “You guys are the worst.”

“And yet, we just helped you find your new favorite dress,” Jack points out.

You sigh. “Fine. But you’re still buying me coffee.”

Luke claps his hands. “Worth it.”

Meanwhile, back at the lake house, Quinn gets a text.

Luke: Mission accomplished.

He exhales, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Three more days.

Three Days Before

The morning sun spills through the windows of the lake house, casting warm golden hues over the kitchen. You hum softly to yourself as you pour a cup of coffee, the scent of roasted beans filling the air. Ellen is at the stove flipping pancakes while Jim reads the newspaper at the table, occasionally sipping his coffee. Jack and Luke sit across from him, bickering over who gets the last piece of toast.

Quinn stands by the fridge, looking unusually tense as he scrolls through his phone. You don’t think much of it—he’s always been the quiet, deep-in-thought type—but there’s something about the way he keeps glancing at you that makes you pause.

"Morning," you say, leaning against the counter as you take a slow sip of coffee. "What's up?"

Quinn's head snaps up like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. His fingers tighten around his phone, and for a second, he looks almost guilty.

"Uh—nothing. Just checking something." His voice is too quick, too casual, and you narrow your eyes.

Before you can push him further, Ellen calls over her shoulder, "Sweetheart, could you grab the syrup?"

You nod and step toward the pantry, but just as you do, Quinn leans closer to Ellen and whispers something.

You freeze mid-step.

It’s barely audible, just the faintest murmur of his voice, but you catch it. Ellen’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she quickly schools her expression into something neutral.

Jim, who’s been mostly uninvolved in the morning chaos, suddenly folds his newspaper with a snap and clears his throat. Jack and Luke immediately stop arguing and sit up straighter, the air shifting ever so slightly.

You narrow your eyes. "Okay, what was that?"

Quinn immediately shakes his head. "What was what?"

"The whispering. The weird glances. Why do you all look like you just got caught committing a crime?"

Jack lets out a bark of nervous laughter. "Pfft, what? No crime here."

Luke elbows him, and he winces. "We were just—uh, talking about, um—"

"The weather," Jim supplies, nodding sagely.

"The weather?" you repeat flatly.

"Yup," Quinn says, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl and peeling it aggressively like that’ll somehow sell the lie.

You cross your arms, skeptical. "And what, exactly, about the weather required a top-secret family meeting?"

Ellen waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, just—just how lovely it's supposed to be this weekend! Perfect for, um, outdoor activities."

Jack nods. "Yeah, so perfect. Like, suspiciously perfect."

Luke elbows him again.

You squint at them, taking a slow sip of your coffee, watching as they all sit a little too still, looking a little too casual.

Something is definitely going on.

But before you can press further, Quinn suddenly steps forward, wraps an arm around your waist, and presses a kiss to your temple.

"Hey, didn’t you want to go into town today?" His voice is soft, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hip.

You blink up at him. "I mean, yeah, but—"

"Perfect," he says quickly. "You should go. Take your time. Enjoy yourself."

Jack and Luke nod in unison. "Yes. Enjoy. Take hours if you need."

Your eyes dart between them. They are terrible liars. But you sigh, deciding to let it go—for now.

"Fine," you say slowly, grabbing your bag. "But if I find out you guys are hiding something from me—"

"You won’t!" they all chorus at once.

You stare for another long beat before shaking your head and heading for the door.

As soon as it closes behind you, Quinn lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair.

Luke whistles. "That was way too close."

Jim chuckles. "You boys need to step up your game. She's sharp."

Quinn groans, rubbing his face. "I know. And we still have two more days of this."

Jack claps a hand on his shoulder. "Good luck, bud. You're gonna need it.

Two Days Before 

The lake stretches out before you, calm and glassy under the moonlight. It’s late—too late to still be outside, but the warmth of summer lingers in the air, and neither of you wants to go in just yet.

You sit beside Quinn on the dock, your legs dangling over the edge, bare feet skimming the cool water. The night is quiet, save for the occasional chirp of crickets and the distant rustling of trees.

Quinn hasn’t said much in the last few minutes.

He sits close—so close that your shoulders press together, his warmth seeping into you. His hand is resting between you, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for you but is too lost in thought to do it.

You nudge him gently. "Penny for your thoughts?"

He exhales, a soft, slow sound. "Just thinking."

You tilt your head, watching him. His profile is illuminated by the glow of the moon, sharp angles softened by the night. His jaw flexes, and his fingers tighten slightly against the dock.

"About what?"

He hesitates, then turns to you. "The future."

Your chest tightens, a warmth blooming there. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." His voice is quiet, thoughtful. "I was just thinking about... where we'll be, years from now." He swallows, his throat bobbing. "What it'll look like."

You smile, leaning into him. "And? What does it look like?"

He glances down at his hands. "Us," he says simply. "Still together. Maybe a house. Maybe a dog." His lips twitch. "You always talk about wanting a golden retriever."

Your heart stutters.

"You actually listen when I say that?"

His brow furrows. "Of course I do."

There’s something so earnest about the way he says it—so completely sure.

You take his hand in yours, threading your fingers together. "I like that version of the future," you say softly.

Quinn looks at you then, his eyes dark and unreadable, something heavy sitting behind them. For a second, you think he’s about to say something—something big.

But instead, he squeezes your hand.

"Me too."

He presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles, then rests his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes, breathing him in, feeling the steady thump-thump-thump of his heart.

Neither of you says anything else.

But Quinn’s already made up his mind.

Tomorrow, he finds the perfect spot.

And in two days, he asks you to be his forever.

One Day Before 

The lake stretches endlessly before you, a shimmering expanse of deep blue beneath the warmth of the afternoon sun. A gentle breeze tugs at your hair, and the rhythmic rocking of the boat lulls you into a peaceful state. The water is calm, only disturbed by the occasional ripple from a passing jet ski or the soft lapping against the side of the boat.

You inhale deeply, letting the fresh air fill your lungs as you lean back against the cushioned seat. The warmth of the sun kisses your skin, and for the first time in a long while, you feel like time has slowed down.

Jim sits at the helm, hands steady on the wheel as he navigates through the open water. His expression is relaxed, a rare sight considering the chaos that usually follows whenever all three of his boys are together.

Ellen sits beside you, sunglasses perched on her nose, a soft smile on her lips as she watches the water shimmer.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” she muses, her voice light with contentment.

You nod, shifting slightly to soak in more of the sun. “Yeah, it really is.”

It’s not often that you get moments like this—just the three of you. Usually, Jack and Luke are wreaking havoc, Quinn is rolling his eyes fondly at their antics, and everything is a blur of chirps and laughter. But today is quiet. Peaceful.

You glance around the boat, taking in the emptiness where Quinn should be.

Your chest tightens slightly.

This morning, when you asked him if he was coming, he had been vague—mumbling something about needing to run an errand and promising he’d see you later. You hadn’t pushed, but now, with the afternoon stretching on without him, you can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Ellen asks gently, tilting her head toward you.

You blink, realizing you had been staring at the empty seat beside you. Forcing a smile, you nod. “Yeah, just thinking.”

Ellen hums knowingly. “Quinn will be back soon, don’t worry. He’s probably just making sure whatever he’s doing is absolutely perfect.”

Jim chuckles from the driver’s seat. “Sounds about right.”

You frown slightly, narrowing your eyes. “Do you guys know something I don’t?”

Ellen and Jim exchange a quick glance, but Ellen’s smile doesn’t waver.

“Oh, honey,” she says, reaching over to pat your hand. “We always know something you don’t.”

You roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of warmth and comfort. You soak up every moment—the way the sun reflects off the water like scattered diamonds, the sound of Jim’s easy laughter, the way Ellen insists on reapplying sunscreen to your shoulders even though you swear you’re fine.

And for a little while, you let yourself forget the strange feeling in your chest.

Meanwhile, deep in the woods, Quinn is on a mission.

Your absence is a weight he feels in his chest, but he knows this is worth it.

His boots crunch against the forest floor as he makes his way through the secluded clearing he stumbled upon earlier. The air smells like pine and fresh earth, the quiet only disturbed by the rustling of leaves in the wind.

It’s perfect. Tucked away from the main trails, surrounded by towering trees, with a small opening where the lake peeks through.

This is it.

Carefully, he unrolls the string of photos he printed last week, each one capturing a frozen moment in time—the two of you at your first hockey game together, laughing with noses pressed close; a blurry snapshot of you mid-laugh, taken when you weren’t looking; a quiet moment in bed, tangled in the sheets with sunlight painting your skin.

Every single one tells your story.

His hands shake slightly as he fastens them to the branches, adjusting them until they drape just right.

“Dude, this is insanely romantic,” Jack mutters behind him.

Quinn steps back, hands on his hips as he surveys the clearing. The photos sway gently in the breeze, catching the fading sunlight. Everything is almost perfect.

Except for Jack, who is standing in the middle of the setup like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“This is so weird,” Jack complains, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t know why I have to be her.”

Quinn sighs, rubbing his temples. “Because I need to make sure everything looks right, and you’re the closest to her height.”

“That’s actually so offensive,” Jack deadpans. “I don’t even know how, but it is.”

Luke snorts from behind the camera. “Just shut up and stand there, man. You’re ruining the vision.”

Jack groans dramatically but doesn’t move. “You owe me for this, dude. Big time.”

Quinn ignores him, stepping closer to adjust the positioning. He takes a deep breath, trying to picture you standing there instead of his little brother, who is doing a horrible job of being still.

“This is where I’ll kneel,” Quinn murmurs, mostly to himself. He drops down, testing the angle, the feel of the moment. His heart races, imagining the way you’ll look—eyes wide, lips parted in surprise, the way your breath will hitch right before you say yes.

Jack stares down at him, unimpressed. “I feel like I should be flattered, but mostly I feel like an idiot.”

Quinn huffs, looking up at him. “Can you at least pretend to be in love with me?”

Jack stares blankly for a second before bursting out laughing. “Dude. Dude. I cannot take this seriously.” He turns to Luke, who’s adjusting the camera settings. “Are you getting this? The absolute desperation in his eyes?”

Luke barely glances up. “You’re making it worse.”

“I’m making this worse?” Jack gestures at the setup. “Quinn is professing his undying love to me right now, and I’M the problem?”

Quinn groans, running a hand over his face. “Just shut up and look moved or something.”

Jack schools his expression into something vaguely serious and stares dramatically into the distance. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he says, voice overly soft. “We’ve been through so much together.”

Luke nearly drops the camera laughing. “Oh my god,” he wheezes.

Quinn pinches the bridge of his nose. “I hate both of you.”

Jack smirks, but he does settle down a little, standing a bit more still as Quinn makes the final adjustments.

After a few minutes of adjusting the lighting and the placement of the photos, Luke finally lifts the camera. “Alright, let’s get a test shot.”

Jack sighs dramatically but stays put. Quinn watches as Luke moves around, snapping photos from different angles. He frowns slightly, tilting the camera to check the preview.

“It looks good,” Luke says slowly, adjusting the focus. “But I think we need—Jack, stop standing like that.”

Jack scoffs. “Like what?”

“Like a dude who is about to ask another dude to prom,” Luke deadpans. “You look so uncomfortable.”

Jack throws his arms out. “Because I am uncomfortable! I am literally standing in the middle of a fake proposal, playing the role of my brother’s girlfriend.”

Quinn shakes his head. “Fine. Just—stand normal.”

Jack exhales sharply but follows instructions, his posture finally settling into something less stiff.

Luke snaps a few more photos before nodding. “Okay, that’s it. That’s the shot.”

Quinn steps back, taking in the clearing one last time. The photos, the lighting, the atmosphere—it’s all exactly how he pictured it. His heart pounds as he exhales, the reality of it hitting him all at once.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, you will be standing here.

Tomorrow, you will be the one in front of him when he kneels.

And tomorrow, you will say yes.

Jack claps him on the back, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Alright, Romeo. Can we go now? I have literally never felt more single in my life.”

Quinn rolls his eyes, but there’s a fondness behind it. “Yeah, we’re done.”

Luke stretches, shoving the camera back into his bag. “You better make this the best proposal of all time, bro. Because if we went through all of this for nothing—”

Quinn grins, confidence settling in his chest. “She’s gonna love it.”

Jack sighs dramatically. “You owe us.”

Quinn just laughs, already imagining how perfect tomorrow will be.

That night, you’re curled up in bed when Quinn finally slips into the room. The warmth of his body presses against yours as he slides beneath the covers, pulling you into his arms.

“You have fun today?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Mmm,” you hum, half-asleep. “Missed you.”

His chest tightens.

He buries his face in your hair, arms tightening around you. “Missed you too.”

You sigh softly, relaxing into him.

Quinn stays awake long after you drift off, heart thudding with anticipation.

One more night.

Tomorrow, everything changes.

Proposal Day

The morning sun filters through the kitchen windows, casting a golden glow over the lake house. The scent of fresh coffee lingers in the air as you lean against the counter, watching the Hughes family settle into their usual breakfast chaos.

Jack is the first to steal the last piece of toast off Luke’s plate, and Luke retaliates by flicking a grape at his forehead. Quinn sighs, stirring his coffee like he’s debating whether it’s worth intervening. Ellen is at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease, while Jim nurses his coffee at the table, reading something on his phone.

Ellen turns toward you with a smile. “I was thinking,” she starts, “since everyone’s here, we should do a nice family dinner tonight.”

Luke perks up. “Ooh, like a fancy dinner? Do I have to wear a button-up?”

“Yes,” Ellen says firmly.

Jack groans dramatically. “Can I at least wear my nice hoodie?”

Jim barely looks up. “No.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you sip your coffee. “A dinner sounds nice.”

Ellen nods. “Good, because I already bought all the stuff.”

Quinn finally speaks, glancing at you. “You should wear that dress you got.”

You arch an eyebrow. “The one you definitely weren’t scheming to get me to buy?”

Jack and Luke both snicker, and Quinn glares at them before turning back to you, feigning innocence. “What? I just think you’d look really nice in it.”

Luke leans in conspiratorially. “You should do it. Mostly because if you don’t, Quinn will spend the entire dinner sulking and staring at you like a sad puppy.”

You roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at your lips. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Jack smirks. “Nope. That’s how we end up with emo Quinn, and nobody wants that.”

Quinn groans. “I hate all of you.”

Ellen hides a smile as she flips another pancake. “You love them,” she corrects.

Quinn sighs, shooting you a hopeful glance. “So, the dress?”

You shake your head, amused. “Fine. But if I do, Luke and Jack owe me dessert.”

Luke claps a hand over his heart. “Done.”

Jack nods. “Easiest deal of my life.”

Quinn smiles to himself, satisfied. One step closer.

Dinner starts out promising enough. The table is set, the food looks amazing, and the sunset paints the lake in warm hues. It should be perfect.

And then… things start to go sideways.

First, Luke—being Luke—tries to help bring the dishes to the table and nearly drops the salad bowl. In his panic to save it, he elbows Jack, who’s carrying a basket of rolls. The bread goes flying, one roll landing directly in Jim’s drink.

“Nice,” Jim mutters, plucking it out with a sigh.

Ellen shakes her head, clearly unimpressed but used to this kind of chaos. “Can we go one meal without something ending up on the floor?”

Jack, unfazed, shrugs. “Technically, it landed in Dad’s glass.”

You try to hold back a laugh as Quinn pulls out a chair for you, but the moment you sit, you realize something is… off. The seat wobbles, just enough to be noticeable, and before you can react, one of the legs gives way entirely.

“Shit—”

You barely manage to catch yourself before fully hitting the ground. Quinn moves fast, steadying you before you can completely fall, but the damage is done. Luke is doubled over laughing, and Jack is wheezing so hard he can’t breathe.

“I—” Jack tries, but he’s laughing too hard to finish. “I swear—we didn’t—touch—that chair—”

Quinn glares at them before looking at you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, face burning as you straighten up. “Just my pride taking a hit.”

Ellen sighs. “That chair was wobbly this morning. I told you boys to fix it.”

Jack wipes a tear from his eye. “Well, now we know it was definitely broken.”

Dinner resumes, and for a few blessed minutes, everything is normal. The conversation flows, the food is delicious, and you almost forget about the earlier chaos.

Until Luke, in all his wisdom, decides he needs more steak sauce. He reaches across the table, miscalculating just how close his elbow is to your glass of wine.

The second the glass tips, it’s over.

Red wine splashes everywhere—your dress, the table, Quinn’s sleeve.

“Oh my God,” you exclaim, pushing back from the table as the cold liquid soaks into the fabric.

Luke freezes. “Oh—oh, shit. Oh, no—”

Ellen is already up, grabbing napkins. “Luke.” Her voice is the kind of exasperated that only comes from years of dealing with sons who can’t sit still. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Luke looks at you with pure panic. “I—I can fix this—”

Jack leans back, shaking his head. “Man, you just ruined her dress.”

“I know!” Luke groans, looking like he genuinely feels terrible. “I’ll—uh—I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

Quinn, who’s been silent through all of this, takes one look at you and then turns to Luke with the calmest voice imaginable.

“Get up.”

Luke blinks. “What?”

“Get. Up.”

There’s a long pause before Luke, sensing the very real possibility of Quinn throwing him into the lake, slowly pushes his chair back and stands.

Quinn doesn’t hesitate—he grabs Luke’s napkin and dabs at your dress, his brows furrowed in frustration. “I told you not to sit next to her.”

Luke throws his hands up. “How is this my fault?!”

Ellen sighs again. “Alright, alright, it’s just a little wine.” She turns to you. “Honey, let’s go see if we can salvage your dress.”

You follow her inside, but despite her best efforts, the stain refuses to come out.

You sigh, looking at Ellen through the mirror. “Ellen, I think it’s unsalvageable.”

She looks up at you, guilt evident on her face. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

You shake your head with a small smile. “It’s fine, really.”

When you return downstairs, Luke looks like a kicked puppy, eyes glued to the floor. Quinn scans your dress, his jaw tightening.

“Goddammit, Luke,” Quinn mutters.

You step beside him, nudging Luke lightly with your foot. “It’s fine, really,” you say softly.

Quinn exhales, rubbing his jaw before looking at you. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

You blink at him. “Right now?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now, more certain. “Right now.”

You hesitate, then nod. “Okay.”

The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and the lingering warmth of the lake. The sound of crickets hums in the background as you and Quinn walk in comfortable silence, his fingers laced through yours. The chaos of dinner fades into the background, replaced by the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath your feet.

“You okay?” you ask softly, glancing up at him.

Quinn exhales through his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Just… today didn’t go exactly how I planned.”

You squeeze his hand. “You had a plan?”

His smile grows slightly. “Believe it or not, yeah. Kind of.”

You smirk. “Well, that was your first mistake.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Tell me about it.”

You keep walking, but the farther you go, the more familiar the path becomes. It’s only when the trees thin, revealing a quiet clearing, that you realize where he’s leading you. Your steps slow as you take it in.

Strung between the branches, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon and the fairy lights Quinn must have set up earlier, are dozens of photos—memories captured and preserved in time.

Your breath catches as you step forward, reaching out to gently touch one of them. It’s a picture from your first hockey game together, noses nearly pressed together as you grinned at the camera. Another of you mid-laugh, eyes crinkled with joy. One from a lazy morning in bed, sunlight spilling across your tangled limbs.

Every single one tells your story.

You turn back to Quinn, your chest tight with emotion. “You did all this?”

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I—I wanted you to see what I see. Every time I look at you, it’s just… it’s all of this. Every moment, every memory, everything that makes us, us.”

Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I wanted everything to be perfect,” he continues, voice quiet but steady. “I had this whole idea in my head—this big, perfect moment. The dinner, the dress, the way tonight was supposed to go.” He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “And then Luke knocked wine all over you, and Jack wouldn’t stop chirping, and everything kind of fell apart.”

You smile, tilting your head. “Sounds about right.”

Quinn looks at you, his blue eyes searching yours. “Yeah. But then I realized… this is perfect.” He lets out a small, breathy laugh, almost like he’s realizing it in real time. “The chaos, the interruptions, the fact that nothing ever goes exactly how we plan it. That’s us. That’s our life.”

Your breath catches slightly.

He takes a deep breath, then lets go of one of your hands, reaching into his pocket. And suddenly, he’s kneeling before you, a small velvet box in his palm, slightly illuminated by the moonlight.

“I don’t need the perfect moment,” he says, looking up at you. “I just need you.”

Your heart pounds, your vision blurring as you try to take in everything at once—the way he’s looking at you, the way his fingers tremble just slightly around the box, the way the entire world feels like it’s tilting on its axis.

“Marry me?” he asks, voice soft but sure.

You let out a shaky breath, a laugh breaking through the tears already forming in your eyes. “Quinn, of course I’ll marry you.”

A breath of relief escapes him before he grins—grins in that rare, open way he only does when he’s truly happy. He stands quickly, slipping the ring onto your finger before wrapping his arms around you, holding you close.

You bury your face in his shoulder, laughing through your tears. “God, I love you.”

His grip tightens around you, his voice warm against your ear. “Love you more.”

By the time you and Quinn make it back, hand in hand, the Hughes family is waiting—Jack and Luke perched on the couch, Jim leaning against the counter, and Ellen practically bouncing in place.

Jack spots the ring first. “Oh my god—”

Ellen claps her hands together, her eyes shining. “You said yes?”

You hold up your hand, and the room erupts.

Jack groans dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. “I can’t believe this. Quinn won at life.”

Jim claps Quinn on the shoulder with a proud nod, and Ellen pulls you into a tight hug, murmuring how happy she is for you both.

Luke hangs back, hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes darting toward you before dropping to the floor. His face is tight, like he’s been debating something in his head.

You don’t give him the chance to overthink it. Without a word, you step toward him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

Luke stiffens in surprise before slowly relaxing, exhaling a breath. “I—I really didn’t mean to ruin your dress,” he mumbles, voice small.

You smile against his shoulder. “I know, Luke. It’s just a dress.”

He hesitates before hugging you back, his grip a little tight, like he’s still worried about the whole thing. “I felt really bad.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. “Well, you can make it up to me by giving a really good speech at the wedding.”

His eyes widen. “Wait—I can do a speech?”

Quinn sighs, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I never said that.”

Luke smirks. “You didn’t have to.”

Jack groans. “Oh god, this is gonna be unbearable.”

Quinn shakes his head, pulling you back to his side. “I should’ve proposed in private,” he mutters under his breath.

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “Nah. This is perfect.”

And as the Hughes family falls into their usual rhythm of chirps and laughter, as Quinn’s hand tightens around yours, you know that nothing—no chaos, no spilled wine, no wobbly chairs—could have made this moment any better.

beachy’s notes: hello babes please please, please send me fic requests

[w1ll0wray]

A VERY RISKY GAMBLE ft. jinx x fem!reader

⊹₊⟡⋆ summary: you were known as the greatest dancer of the whole school, a perfectionist who always had her check list attached to her hip. however, when final exams roll around, your teammates recommend you to loosen up with the help of a certain dealer. 

⊹₊⋆warnings: sub!reader x dom!jinx, slightly nsfw, sexual content, minors/men dni. r!receiving head, pet names (sugar), dancer/popular reader x infamous dealer!jinx, high school au, getting caught, other characters mentioned, fem!reader x jinx, jinx on her knees, reader goes by ‘you’.

wc. 3.6k

𐙚 note | I’d really appreciate it if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you:)

“Coach really loves you, huh?

Your best friend, also your dance teammate, eyed the boxes of materials you were holding. 

Trying your best to not seem affected by the huge weight of the box, you shrugged, a toothy grin forming, “I try my best.” To be fair, you were dying from the pounds you were holding. The coach always asked you to help her out after practice, trusting you to not mess it up. 

But during these days, you found it extremely hard to deny, especially when the coach praised you in front of everyone. Maintaining the title was hard work, however, you were motivated to continue. Bidding your best friend bye, you hurried to the gymnasium, huffing out a breath of relief when you finally placed the box down in the storage room. 

Stretching out your arms, you quickly went back out, the sun not helping with the sweat starting to trail down your forehead. All your teammates, also known as your friends, beat you to the cafeteria. You rapidly grabbed your shoulder bag and bottle, arriving to the cafeteria after a couple of minutes, spotting your friends at the signature round table. 

Walking towards them, still in your dance sweats and cropped top, you frowned at the sight of them surrounding someone sitting with them. Coming closer, your friends saw you, smiling at your presence, one of them speaking, “You need to stand up for yourself— tell coach you can’t continue doing all her work!” 

You nervously giggled, tucking a hair strand behind your ear, settling down beside your friends, finally noticing the girl they were chatting with. 

Blue hair, untucked tie and unbuttoned buttons, colorful accessories and messily colored nails…

“Jinx.” Your friend said, prompting the blue-haired girl to snap her head up from her phone underneath the table. Jinx looks up, not realizing another person had joined the table, her dark colored lips forming into a grin. 

“Yeah— It’ll be 250$ for the amount you want.” Her eyes didn’t meet yours, instead resting on your teammate. Your friend groaned, pulling out some cash, “They better work.” 

Jinx chuckled, taking the cash, “Oh you have no idea.” After counting them up, she hummed, “Meet me at the spot, they’ll be there.” 

You were frowning, lost on what they were talking about, nudging your best friend’s side, “What’s this about?” You whispered. Your best friend gave you a ‘are you fr?’ look, before leaning into your ear, “She sells weed, idiot.” 

Your eyes widened, eyes darting back at the blue-haired girl, who got up from her seat, turning to the group.

“If any of you need me, just ask Ekko and he’ll probably know where I am.” She winked, finally glancing at you in the process. You looked away, a bit weirded out by the thought of her selling such vile stuff. Jinx walks back to her table, leaving you with your friends. 

No one spoke until you brought it up, “So, you’re all buying from her?” They nervously peered at you, shrugging. 

Shocked, you placed your hands on the table, “You do know this could affect your dancing..right?” 

One of them shrugs their shoulders, “It’s exam season— we need the stress relief somehow.” Appalled, you rubbed the space in between your brows, how could they be so dumb? 

“You can just do some pilates, I gave you guys a free subscription from my aunt’s place!” You tried negotiating but they all shut you down with them needing the relief immediately. 

This wasn’t the first time you took notice of Jinx. Yeah— she was in your class but nothing ever prompted you to speak to her. Her presence always stayed in the back with all her friends, whilst you sat somewhere in the front to pay attention. 

But, a tiny interaction did happen. 

One that made you dislike her a bit. 

It was on a regular school day, you were seated in your signature place, writing down notes in class as the teacher explained the lesson. You should’ve known— Jinx’s laughter in the back was clearly heard. So, in the midst of copying down information, something quickly hit your back. 

Tensing up, you slowly turned your head, spotting Jinx’s friend group cackling. Touching the back of your head, in your hair, pieces of chips were found. Gasping out loud to catch the teacher’s attention, you tried to pick them out of your once neatly styled hair. 

You knew it was her doing, the way she pretended to have a shocked expression and chuckled with her friends. Excusing yourself to the washroom, you tried your best to not let those frustrated tears spill as you hand-picked the junk off your hair. The reason to why they had decided to target you out of everyone is still unknown. 

And that was it. 

Currently, you were sat on a seat in the gymnasium, watching your PE teacher, Sevika, pick out groups for the dance course. 

Thankfully, you could show off some of your skills this course. But something about Ms. Sevika picking out the teams made your hopes plummet down. You sat with your friends, giggling at a stupid joke one of them had said— 

“I have decided on the teams.”The teacher pulled out a sheet of paper, clearing her throat before starting. 

Soon, she started calling out names until she finally turned to you, grinning, “Our best dancer will be teamed up with…Jinx, Mylo and Ekko.” Your friends immediately winced, patting your back as you stayed frozen in place. 

What the actual f—

“I request a change.” You instantly said, walking up to the teacher, “I can’t be with them.”  Sevika gave you an unimpressed look, snorting,

“Request denied.” 

You were about to butt in, but her hand meets your face, “You’ll get extra points.” She bargained, patting your shoulder before handling other issues. 

Clenching your palms, you tried to spot your team. Mylo was busy untying his laces….

Ah— Jinx and Ekko both enter the gymnasium, trying to blend in even though they arrived way too late for class. Rolling your eyes, you approached Mylo and crossed your arms, “Could you tell those two that we have group work?” 

He peered up at you, shrugging his shoulders before getting up from his spot, taking a deep breath. 

“Jinx! Ekko!” He yelled out, causing you to wince, shaking your head in irritation. 

Both of them noticed him, Ekko waving as they came up to him. Jinx glanced at you, brows knitted at your presence. You took that as sign to introduce the situation, 

“We’re all in a group for dance.” You inspected the way Jinx was still in her regular uniform. She gazes at Sevika for a split second, “I’m dismissed.” 

You frown, nose scrunching up, “You can’t be dismissed unless—?” 

“—Well I’m dismissed, sugar.” She mindlessly spits out the nickname, harshly dropping her bag on a seat. Ekko nods, gesturing at the blue-haired girl, “It’s true.” 

You scoff, waving a hand towards the boys, “How is this supposed to work then?” These boys would never follow a choreography you would put out. Glancing at your friends having fun together, you defeatedly sighed. 

Soon, you exclaimed the choreography you had planned. Mylo didn’t care whilst Ekko tried to catch on to your moves. Jinx however, slouched on a seat, watching with a bored expression. You didn’t miss the way Sevika gave her a lecture on skipping so many days. 

Regretfully, Sevika let her lack of partner-work go. Resisting the urge to bash your head against the hard floor, you took out your frustration on finishing the choreo. Though, in the next hour, you could feel Jinx’s gaze burning your back every time you would yell at the boys to keep up with your leg work. 

After numerous banters, they finally finished the choreography. Mylo and Ekko were heaving, drinking from their bottles. You felt water droplets starting to trickle down your back and forehead, wiping it off with your forearm. 

Ekko took a deep breath before turning to Jinx, her eyes set on her phone, “Hey pow-pow, could you rate the dance for us?” 

She peered up, scoffing but nodding nonetheless. They forced you to come along, positioning yourselves in front of her seated form. Standing in the middle, you kept your focus pointed at her, choosing her as your spot. Mylo quickly pressed play on the music they picked, rapidly taking his place beside you. 

The dance went by quick, Mylo and Ekko’s steps simple compared to yours. Effortlessly dancing across the floor, you finally got to do your favorite part—turns.

Stopping, and twirling around to raise you right leg up in the air, you smoothly started, all these years of practice resulting in perfect turns. After quick 15 turns and a grand ‘jeté’, you took a leap and slid into the final pose onto the floor, attention on the stunned Jinx right in front of you.

The corner of your lip raised, used to the shocked expressions of people whenever you caught them off guard by the dramatic leaps. Ekko and Mylo clapped, Ekko helping you up, “You make us look so shit!” 

Nervously giggling, you shrug, “I’m used to it.” His offended face led to you actually laughing. Still out of breath, you turn to Jinx, who just stared at them both, still slouched. 

Frowning, you grabbed a bottle, “So..how’d we do?” Swallowing down water, you waited for the blue-haired girl’s response. Though, she just shrugs, nodding her head, “It was good.” 

Slightly disappointment from her bare minimum opinion, you just rolled your eyes, hopeful for an excellent mark.

You ended up getting a full mark, both Mylo and Ekko thanking you for a free grade. 

You never spoke to them until a few weeks later, when exam season was starting to get really stressful. It was on a day where you were presenting in front of the class for an assignment. You were explaining the subject— until a whiff of smoke caught your attention.

The smell suffocated your nostrils, causing you to fall into a fit of coughs. Mr. Heimerdinger raised a brow at your sudden sickness. Still coughing, you searched for the person who created it. 

Your gaze landed on Jinx. 

A sneer formed on your lips, and before you knew it, your legs moved on their own, storming towards the girl. Her eyes widened, quickly throwing the cigarette out the window. 

Out of nowhere, you forced her up by her collar, dragging her out of the class in an instance, hearing gasps all around you. Jinx tried to get your hands off, but gave up when you pushed her against the wall.

“Quit ruining every single thing I do!” You yell out, your index finger close to her face. Jinx’s eyes narrowed, nose scrunching up, before falling into a fit of laughter. 

Crossing your arms, you scowled as she covered her chuckles behind her palm, not acknowledging the fact that you were completely serious. 

“I don’t know how I ruined the presentation, sugar.” She said in between giggles, mocking you. You let out a huff, rubbing the space in between your eyes. Suddenly, her hand rested on your forearm, a grin etched on her lips, “You seem tense.” Her hands squeezed the muscle, prompting you to shove her off. 

She clicks her tongue, nails softly scratching your forearm, “I can help you loosen up…in many ways.” She added, fingers hovering over your hand. You wrapped your hands around yourself, 

“Absolutely not.” Your eyes narrow slightly up at her, shaking your head in disappointment, “Just stop smoking around me.” Jinx shrugs, obviously thinking you were no one important to tell her what to do.  

This wasn’t the last encounter involving her smoke. On a regular afternoon at school, you had dance practice, getting ready for the finales. In the middle of kicking your leg up in the air, you smelt the grim scent of smoke. You forced your teammate to cut the music, stomping to the open window, peeking your head down. 

Though, you’re not surprised to find her older sister, Vi, with Jayce, sharing a stupid blunt together. Snapping their heads up, they rapidly hide it. 

“Out of all the places?” You huff out, shooing them away with a wave of your hand. Vi shrugs apologetically, “Jinx said this was the best place.” She then nodded her head so Jayce followed her. 

You saw red. Jinx— of course. Of course she’d want to torture and interrupt your therapeutic sport. That day, you let it slide just because she was no where to be found. 

Plus, you got so consumed by your studies, that you didn’t pay attention anymore. A couple of months passed, days filled with dance practice and assignments. You got so fed up by the stacks of work you had— even your coach stopped asking for your help. It made you upset, seeing her treat the other dancers the same as you. Sometimes, you had to skip dance to study, hurting your heart immensely. 

Soon, you got enough and sport activities didn’t help you relax. You felt like you’ve been sucked into a hole, desperately trying to get up. Teachers were always calling on you to respond— puzzled by your less enthusiastic participation. 

One day, your teammates noticed during lunch how pale you looked, like an elderly on their death bed. Waving a hand in front of you to catch your attention, your friend snapped you out of lala land. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, worry evident on her features. Nodding, you continued eating the dry salad you ordered for lunch. But she didn’t stop there, rubbing a hand on your shoulder, “Is it finals?” 

You paused, staring in front of you, “Yeah.” Glancing at your teammate, she grinned. 

“I have an idea.” She was definitely up to something. Your brows knitted together, dropping the fork on the bowl, “What idea?” 

She took a deep breath, smiling before continuing,

 “How about you visit Jinx?” 

The girl’s name made everyone on your table interested immediately. They all gushed about how her products helped them relax. 

“Absolutely not!” Your hands come up to rub your face, not convinced enough. It would be the utmost disaster if you went. Weed and cigarettes were not the correct way of relaxing. 

“I’d rather do a thousand pilate workouts.” You mumbled to them, chin resting on your  palm. They all groaned, 

“I swear it works!” 

“You’ll regret it so bad.” 

“Just try it and see.” 

You left the table before they could continue whining in your ears about it. You didn’t end up meeting Jinx that day. However, the next week, you received a D on an exam. Stress was sucking you into a bubble, your anxiety heightened. 

No amount of self care and podcasts helped you calm down, so you resorted to the ‘bad’ way of relaxing after plenty of pleads from your friends. 

Letting out a shaky breath, you prepped yourself and dressed up a bit nicer to motivate you for the day. Your friends gave you the instructions to find the place Jinx sold. 

Sneaking into the third floor during break, you slid into the girls bathroom, spotting the blue-haired girl leaning against the sink with two girls, cigarette in between her lips. Her eyes snapped up, hand coming up to remove the cig, an ego-filled smile crept on her face. 

“Changed your mind, sugar?” The two girls glared at you, one had their hand around Jinx’s shoulders, trying to threaten you. You barely glanced at the other two, taking a few steps closer, “Just get this over with.” 

Jinx’s narrowed stare at the girls informed them to get out. Once the door closed after them, Jinx threw the put out cig in the bin, pulling away from leaning against the sink, hands in her skirt’s pockets as she approached you slowly. 

“Hm…what can you offer?” Her intensive stare stayed on your hands as they fumbled to grab cash from your wallet. Handing her some cash, she raised a brow, “This’ll barely do.” She inspected the dollars, mocking the bill. 

You frowned, glancing at the 60$ you gave her, “That’s the only thing I bought today.” 

The corner of her lip raised, scoffing at your words, “…Well, I can give you an offer.” She suggested. You gulped, thinking about it. As you thought about every way her offer could lead to destruction, she was blowing her bubblegum until it popped and brought you back to reality. 

Sighing, you shrugged, “Fine, what is it?” You knew it was a risky gamble, but a little piece of you hoped she’d give u a discount. 

Her manicured index finger landed on her own lips, pretending to think before grinning, “I’ll give you head for 20$.” 

Your eyes bulged out of their sockets, gasping at her obscene suggestion, “Are you insane?” 

She chuckled, hands resting on her hips, “It’s a healthier way to relax!” Jinx took a couple of steps closer, waiting for your response. Her eyes shined as she watched you struggle to decide, glancing around the room nervously. 

She chewed on her bubblegum, blowing and popping it, her impatience heightening, “…Is that a yes?” You rubbed the space in between your eyes, stuck on what to do. 

“I’m not exactly sure—“ You peer up, but a hand on the back of your head cut you off. Gasping, you felt her lips suddenly slam against yours, soft skin pressed to your glossed ones. Her other hand rests on your lower back, pulling you closer to her front. 

Unintentionally, your hands touch her shoulders, going on your tippy-toes to meet her height. She grins at your attempt to match her level, dark-colored lips pulling away. You frown when she fully pulls away, but your confusion is replaced by uneasiness when your back met the wall. Her face then dipped into the crook of your neck, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your collarbone. 

Squirming against her firm hold, your hand comes up to grab her hair, tugging her closer. Once she sucks on a sensitive spot, your head tilts back to let out a whimper. Leaving your neck, she instantly gets on her knees. Gulping, you try to push away any anxious thoughts when you felt her nails lightly trail up from your thighs. 

You shoot her an unsure look, one she reassured with a grin. Instantly, her slender fingers touched the lining of your thin lingerie. Flinching, you rested your weight on the wall, elbows burning against the marble. Soon, Jinx pushed your lingerie to the side, exposing yourself to her. She doesn’t leave you any time to register before nuzzling her head in between your legs.

Teasing with her breath over your pussy, you whined, shoving her further to ease the throb. Her hand grips your wrist, prompting you to let go. Taking a deep breath, you let her do her thing. 

After a couple of minutes of her edging you with her soft kisses on the inside of your thighs, her tongue finally glided over your cunt in one smooth motion. You shudder, fingers tightening on her hair, forcing her deeper. She continues to slide her tongue over your wet folds, a firm hold on your thighs to keep you up. 

Jinx’s lips occasionally hugged your pussy, sucking and then releasing with a kiss to your clit. She seemed composed, relaxed, whilst you struggled to restrain yourself from collapsing. 

She was amazing. 

Giving up on silencing your moans, you arched your back, grinding your cunt against her lips to quicken the pace. Jinx chuckles at your impatience, breath tickling your center. She then ate you out like she was starving— tongue licking in a circular motion, leading to your eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Fingers intertwined in her blue locks, you guide her face into you, whimpering as her tongue pushed in deep. 

“Jinx—Fuck!” You whine out, fisting her hair, ready to let the rope snap—

“Ladies.” 

A woman’s voice came out of nowhere, your eyes snapping open, widening at the sight of a furious deputy head Ambessa. 

Her eyes darted at Jinx on her knees, hands still under your skirt, but face stunned. 

In an instance, she forced Jinx off the floor, pointing at you both, enraged, “To the principals office, at once!” Pulling Jinx’s ear and grabbing your arm, she dragged you both to Principal Silco’s office. 

When she sat you both down, she explained the horrific sight she walked into, adding way too much detail. Shrinking in your seat, face reddened, you shoot Jinx a glare, who was busy wiping her lips.

But what the blue-haired girl does is only grin, manspreading shamelessly. Silco dismisses Ambessa with a wave, turning his attention to you both. 

He sat in his expensive seat, eyes narrowing, “So, I see that Jinx is still causing trouble.” He mumbled, hands clasped together. Jinx scoffed, crossing her arms and glancing away, “It’s not my fault I couldn’t resist.” 

You stare at her, dumbfounded by her openness to Silco. He hums, rubbing the space in between his eyes, “Just do that obscene stuff somewhere else.”

Peering up in surprise, you were puzzled by his relaxed demeanor that never showed before. Jinx nodded instantly, grinning like a maniac, “Absolutely.” 

Silco had then let you both go with no detention or suspension, surprisingly. Once you made it out, Jinx stood in front of you, a sneaky smile creeping up her lips, “Up for another round, sugar?” She whispered, slowly guiding you to another washroom. 

Rolling your eyes, you both snuck into the next restroom, your hands cupping her cheeks, “Hm—got to make those 20 dollars worth it.” 

And the next thing you know, she leans down and presses her lips against yours.

leaf divider bannerat the start: @anitalenia

thank u for reading:)

i’m new to tumblr so if there’s smth wrong I’m sorry lol

no stealing my work thanks !

[kissingmilfs]

𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓… | 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂

18+ minors please dni

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ summary: sevika’s greediness gets you both in trouble with ambessa.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ content warnings: cnc (if you squint), spanking, and other stuff i don’t wanna spoil

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you should have known better—of all people you should have known better. and you were doing well all day too. you had done all the things on your to-do list. even managed to get into the gym and followed the routine your girlfriends created for you. you’re not sure when it all went wrong.

maybe it was when you came home and saw sevika drinking milk straight out of the carton. it was messy and almost downright erotic. the milk trickles down sevika’s chin and on her skintight muscle tee. her muscles are more swollen from her recent work out too.

hearing you drop your gym bag and keys prompted sevika to tear away from the carton and give you a heated look that trails the length of your body. she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. sevika stalks towards you, her pupils dilating the closer she gets.

and you know better. no playing around without ambessa’s clear permission. you promise you do. so you awkwardly step away from sevika’s movements and shake your head.

“we can’t.”

sevika growls and immediately lurches out to grab you by the waist. “and why not? she’ll never know.”

you shake your head and pressing hands against sevika’s shoulders—a weak attempt to stop sevika from getting both of you in trouble. “sevika please…”

sevika tightens her hold on your waist almost to the point it bruises. she revels in your tiny whimpers and the slight frantic look in your eyes. she can deal with whatever consequences ambessa decides on. sevika just needs you now.

“oh come on baby…just a quick taste…she’ll never know…” sevika pulls you taut against her chest. “don’t make this hard, doll. you know what i want.”

your eyes widen at sevika’s firm tone. your teeth bite the inside of your inner lip. there’s a few hours before ambessa comes home. before you can even formally announce your thoughts, sevika’s fingers are rolling your gym shorts and underwear down your hips. instinctively, you bend your knees to step out of the shorts. sevika peels your underwear from their confinement. she does the unexpected and brings the crotch to her nose and takes such a big inhale.

“sevika…” you whisper faintly with evident shock making your voice sound shaky.

the woman in question lifts her eyes to yours. sevika’s pupils are blown out and she’s breathing heavy—similar to a feral beast. you don’t remember how it happened either. one second you’re staring in shock at sevika and the next second your face was buried in the pillows.

your voice is hoarse from the crying and begging. pleading that falls on deaf ears as sevika’s tongue is buried in your cunt and her fingers circling your clit. whining loudly for sevika not to leave any marks, or to stop before ambessa comes home, and more pitifully for her to make you come again.

you remember passing out with exhaustion once sevika has her fill of you. she falls asleep between your legs and you should know better. you should have woken her up. forced you both to shower and clean up the room. but gods above, you were so tired. drained.

your eyes shoot open hearing the front door slam close. you immediately sit up and see sevika’s gotten even more comfortable. her arms wrapped around your waist and literally drooling on your thigh. ambessa’s work boots threateningly inch closer and closer to the bedroom. the boom of each step fills you with dread.

“sevika…” you hiss lowly and shake her shoulder. “sevika wake up…she’s home…” you frantically attempt to find your clothes but then you freeze in fear and remembrance. “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

sevika barely wakes from her slumber. she mumbles something sleepily before tightening her arms around your waist. the looming footsteps stop somewhere in the living room. oh gods, ambessa’s definitely analyzing the scene of discarded clothes. you close your eyes tightly. waiting for ambessa to summon you and sevika. but it never comes.

instead the heavy steps belonging to ambessa and her boots eventually move towards the bedroom door. you find yourself holding your breath. ambessa’s rules are not to be challenged. sevika knows this and still finds continuous ways to get you in trouble. then ambessa knocks on the door. it’s not a loud knock but rather soft. it rouses sevika more out of her sleepy state too.

she frowns with a grumble hearing the knock. lifting her head with confusion written clearly on her face. grumbling even more, sevika rolls out of bed and reluctantly swings the bedroom door open. ambessa stands behind it with her arms crossed and an unusually neutral expression on her face. her and sevika are similar in height so they both catch each other’s gaze at the same time.

sevika sighs and rubs the back of her neck. there must have been some silent understanding because sevika stands aside without another word. ambessa takes one step into the room. her eyes immediately find yours and your naked form on the bed. something unrecognizable flashes through her golden eyes as she crosses the room to you. ambessa lowers herself on the bed. one hand comes out to grasp your jaw. you refrain from making any noise and instead wait for ambessa to say something.

ambessa rotates your head from one side to the other. she carefully takes account of the deep bite marks on your neck and shoulder. the hickeys have formed as purple wounds splotched anywhere sevika could muster. ambessa tuts her tongue disapprovingly.

“now what happened here, my love?” ambessa’s tone is alarmingly calm and unwavering.

your eyes nervously drink in every last expression on ambessa’s face. “i…i guess me and sevika happened…”

ambessa hums knowingly and nods. “i see that, dear. seems she really got you good.”

you, shamefully, drop your eyes. sevika all but snickers from her leaned position against the now closed bedroom door. “ah whatever. she had fun.”

“i did not give you permission to talk, sevika. i’ll deal with you later.” ambessa sounds…upset with sevika. more upset than she sounded with you. ambessa refocuses her attention. “i bet she was really convincing, huh? you probably told her you’d both get in trouble and she didn’t care, hm?”

a slow nod comes from you. ambessa is luring you into a false sense of security. but your brain is screaming not to fall for the trap. dropping your guard with ambessa never plays out well. the woman hums thoughtfully to herself. sevika is across the room with her arms crossed and staring furiously at the interaction. from the looks of it, ambessa is intent on blaming the whole thing on sevika. which she probably deserves but it wasn’t, as if, you hadn’t begged for sevika. begged and whimpered and moaned and scratched.

ambessa sighs and drops her hand from your jaw. her sigh is filled with exhaustion maybe even a hint of irritation. “what am i gonna do with you both, huh? i give one simple instruction and everyone decides they know better. you know, i’m entirely convinced you, sevika, enjoy testing my patience.”

her words are punctuated and hit the air as sharp as a new blade. you nervously track every time ambessa’s flexes her fingers, or taps them against her thigh. you can tell she’s thinking. deep in thought about your punishments. you knew it’d be futile and lost on deaf ears if you plead your case. nothing short of licking the ground ambessa walks on would make her listen or care. ambessa bend her neck to the left—crack—then to the right—crack.

“sevika, go get my boot shining kit.”

sevika grumbles at the command but regardless shuffles out of the bedroom and into ambessa’s suite. she returns rather quickly with a 4x4 black box with ambessa’s family symbol engraved in red on one side. ambessa scrutinizes sevika as if even the method of transporting the box is wrong.

ambessa let’s sevika approach the bed before commanding, “kneel.” she’s left no room for argument or sevika’s usual reluctance to submit to ambessa. now is not the time to defy ambessa’s authority. so sevika kneels with the box in hand.

“i see you can listen to instructions then, sevika.” a purely rhetoric statement meant to get underneath sevika’s skin. ambessa regards her with a tilt of the head. it’s fairly easily to recognize the annoyance and defiance in sevika’s grey eyes. the clear restraint it’s taking sevika not to retort back with a sassy remark.

“good.” ambessa comments. “open the box and pull out only the brush, cloth and wax. don’t even comment on what else is there.”

sevika huffs out her clear annoyance but drops her eyes to the box. resting it next to her kneeled legs, sevika opens the box, pulling out what ambessa instructed. she notices the other object but behaves. this time. ambessa watches her momentarily before turning her attention back to you.

her eyes and expression visibly become softer once she does. it’s no surprise and probably safe to say—ambessa has a soft spot for you. you’re the human embodiment of her heart. everything decent and right in ambessa’s universe is intertwined with your existence. you help the woman remember her humanity. however soft spot or not, ambessa rules are her rules. nonsensical or not—ambessa’s rules are final.

ambessa reaches out again but this time her hand encompasses your cheek. “darling…you know i have to punish you, right?”

you nod slowly with understanding. “yes, ambessa.” her confirmation of punishment does not stop you from leaning into her touch.

“it’s not entirely your fault and i’m aware. sometimes you can only seem to think with your cunt.” ambessa tuts her tongue as she sees you parting your lips in defense. “no, no. none of that. lay across my lap, dearest.”

you intake a sharp breath knowing whats to come next. outstretching on ambessa’s lap, you position your hips snug against her thighs. ambessa hums her approval. in this position with your cheek pressed against the mattress, you can catch a side glimpse of sevika. she’s already begun polishing ambessa’s black boots. knowing sevika she’s sporting a severe pissed off expression right now.

a shiver jumps down your spine once ambessa’s calloused hands grope your ass. eventually one hand comes to the dip of your back, adding pressure to keep you grounded. she guides you to take a deep breath. then as you exhale her hand comes down on your ass. it causes you to close your eyes and tense from the impact. but she bends forward and presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“keep breathing, my love. what’s your safe word?”

“sword.” you reply instantly without a second thought. that earns you another kiss on your shoulder. but the tender action is juxtaposed with ambessa’s hand leaving a stinging sensation against your left butt cheek. this time you don’t tense but breathe shakily through your nose instead.

ambessa smiles down at the way she feels your body react. she can feel you breathing deeply despite how unsteady it may be. your body isn’t bracing for each spank. she’s certainly trained you well. her hand alternates between each plump mound. after your mental count of 12, ambessa stops. her hand comes to soothingly trail across your skin. you whimper at the feeling. it feels comforting with how slow and delicate ambessa’s moving them, but at the same time it emanates low range stings across your skin.

“no more shining, sevika. you think you can use your head for something other than torturing y/n and figure out the mechanism in the box?” ambessa chides.

sevika, all but snarls, at the question and reaches into the box. her fingers find the black leather harness. curiously lifting it to her eyes, she inspects how small it is. certainly not meant for around the waist. ambessa watches sevika’s curiosity—wondering how long it will take the woman to figure it out. as sevika twists and turns and analyzes the contraption, she adjusts it in a way that clicks. seeing the lightbulb set out in sevika’s head—ambessa lifts one foot a few inches off the ground. sevika quickly gets to work securing the harness on the boot. it takes two attempts until she’s successful.

ambessa, lowering her foot, taps your hip once. “up, love. sit on my lap.” ambessa watches you wobbly lift yourself from your laid position. palms pressed against the mattress as the affects of the spanking still radiates off your skin. she doesn’t bother helping—somewhat enjoying you taking your sweet time. but eventually you secure yourself to straddle ambessa’s lap.

“did you know i missed you today, love?” ambessa casually utters as her hands find the swell of your ass pulling you closer.

your eyes eagerly lift to ambessa’s golden ones. “you did?”

ambessa hums as she gently massages and grips the reddened and now bruising skin. “it was such a long day. back and forth negotiations, uncooperative officials…ridiculous and foolishness.”

ambessa sighs and looks over your shoulder to sevika attaching now the hitachi vibrator to the straps, securing it with a button. it hangs from the top of the boot—resting parallel to the shoelaces. the dildo is already secured and upright in the harness. ambessa’s not too much in the mood for a harsh punishment (surprisingly). she did miss her girls, both you and sevika. she did want to come home and hold you against her chest and watch sevika ravish you. but now because of sevika’s greediness plans changed.

sevika huffs out once she’s done and sits back against the heels of her feet—eyeing her handy work. “this for the brat?”

you perk up, knowing sevika means you, and attempt to twist around to figure out what the woman is talking about. ambessa shakes her head disapprovingly, guiding you head to rest against her shoulder. you pout faintly but opt for obedience—listening to the conversation that transpires.

“and why would it be for her, sevika?”

sevika’s eyebrows push together in confusion. her focus drops to the harnessed boot then back to ambessa. “me? seriously?” to you, sevika sounds baffled as a scoff graced her words.

ambessa’s acknowledgment vibrates against you. “seriously. i’m not in the mood today, sevika. don’t take advantage of my mercy.”

“i hardly consider this mercy, ambessa! it’s humiliating.”

you can hear the irritated inflation in sevika’s voice and the scratch behind her throat. you’re almost desperate to learn what ambessa’s planned for sevika. and you’re not sure what happens next because the room is dead silent. you’re unexpectedly holding your breath with the thick tension filling the air. ambessa’s unnaturally still and you can barely tell if sevika’s in the same room anymore. it feels like an eternity passes before the sound of buzzing fills the room.

your body instinctively twitches with the familiar sound. and if only you could see the sight behind of you. sevika cockwarming the red dildo attached to ambessa’s shoe with the vibrator sending faint waves right to her clit. you’d probably be astonished sevika’s still holding a furious look while her cheek is pressed against ambessa’s knee. and ambessa is lovingly stroking sevika’s hair while keeping firm eye contact with the woman.

once ambessa’s convinced sevika won’t lash out again, she returns some of her attention to you. you’re beautifully still on ambessa’s lap. your eyes focused on nothing as you gaze over her shoulder. ambessa delicately runs her hand along your sides to jolt you back to her. the older woman guides you to look into her eyes once again.

“can you be a good girl and ride my fingers?” ambessa’s intonation didnt leave room for a, no. you knew it was a command but phrased as if you had much free will. you notice the way ambessa’s pupils gradually dilate the longer she takes you in. and why would you even say, no? you’re convinced her eyes are forming into hearts so you eagerly nod. anything to please ambessa. anything to have her forgiveness.

ambessa’s hands don’t even need to guide your hips upwards. the light touch is enough for the action to come second nature. and ambessa certainly doesn’t need to waste time getting you ready for her fingers. you’re still soaked from your romp with sevika. and the second ambessa’s eyes found yours—you felt the mess pooling even more. two fingers brush against your folds—spreading you open like the delicate flower ambessa thinks you are. her middle finger glides down without any regard to paying close attention to your throbbing clit. no, her middle finger finds solitude rubbing circles over your entrance. testing if you were indeed wet.

you realize ambessa’s laughing before the noise can properly hit your ear. and before you can form the thought to ask why—you realize your cunt is greedily sucking in ambessa’s finger without any effort from her. that produces a needy whine from you as you’re gradually filled with one finger by your body’s own doing. but ambessa isn’t done yet. you’re already so eager, so wet that ambessa wastes no time adding her ring finger.

ambessa is determined to do the least amount of work for the rest of the night. your hips don’t move yet—momentarily forgetting ambessa’s command to ride. it only clicks after ambessa’s still for a second too long. but when you hear sevika’s groan of pleasure—you needily react with grinding your hips forward.

“fuck…” you hear sevika grunt out as if she’s out of breath.

sevika’s, not necessarily out of breath, moreso she has the optimal view of your cunt stuffed with ambessa’s fingers. she can see how pathetically wet you are. you’ve already left a trail of slick on ambessa’s knuckles. sevika desperately wants to rise on her knees and lick ambessa’s fingers clean as you ride them. her mouth waters thinking about sucking on your clit and feeling you squirt down her throat.

ambessa’s two steps ahead of sevika. “don’t even try it, sevika.”

you furrow your eyebrows at ambessa’s admonishment but quickly realize you don’t care too much. your cunt is stuffed with ambessa’s fingers and you’re feeling too needy to get yourself off. yet you know ambessa won’t make it easy for you. but then you hear sevika’s disgruntled moan and your hips respond.

ambessa chuckles at the revelation. so she leans down quickly to turn the vibrator to the highest setting. sevika bucks her hips, groaning with the sudden intensity. her fingers flex and scrape against the woven fibers of the rug. each sound sevika makes entices your hips to move forward. it’s such a marvel sight for ambessa to witness. you eagerly grind your hips, whimpering into the crook of ambessa’s neck. the sounds of sevika’s deep moans paired with your high pitched moans sounds like the inside of a brothel.

this wasn’t exactly how ambessa anticipated her night of unwinding but she certainly cannot find the thought to complain. her body’s relieved of all tension. now left floating in utter bliss as she watches and listens to you both fall apart. all under her guidance and not moving an inch. and when ambessa feels you bite her shoulder in a loud pitched cry—she actually moans. if ambessa focused enough, the older woman is convinced she could come.

ambessa can see sevika’s resolve breaking. and she can feel yours shattering too. you’ve given up your half ass grinding. now actually lifting and sinking your hips on ambessa’s fingers. your hips and ass moving in a hypnotic, tantalizing motion that has sevika almost drooling at the sight.

sevika growls in frustration and takes it out by biting into ambessa’s thigh. not that ambessa minds. in fact she widens her legs in appreciation which causes her fingers to shift deeper inside you.

“close…i’m close…please…” the words stumble out of your mouth in a hazed rush. you’re not sure if you’re warning or asking.

both women reply in unison. “come.” that one simply word shatters you and the coil tortuously building within. your hips stutter their actions. your nails dig into the expanse of ambessa’s back as a moan is caught in the back of your throat. ambessa holds you close, pressing you securely against her chest as your body spasms with such intensity. you start seeing white and black spots in your vision.

after a few seconds, your body slumps against ambessa’s. the only sounds you can hear are the pounding of your blood and your heavy breathing. unbeknownst to you, sevika came a mere second after you. her eyes glued to your cunt clenching ambessa’s fingers.

ambessa is utterly filled with satisfaction from the scene that unfolded. despite her annoyance walking into the house earlier—now she can curl up with her two favorite girls and rest.

[punkshort]

Sweater Weather

Thank you @canteenee4 for this prompt!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: A famous popstar's Christmas Eve concert brings an unexpected love into your life.

Warnings: language, flirting, fluff, shitty exes - not much else!

WC: 4.1K

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"Oh, thank god!" you exclaimed under your breath when you saw it. You didn't even care what size it was, Ellie was going to wear that damn sweater if it was the last thing she ever did. "Ellie! Over here!" you called out into the busy store as you hurried over to the table.

Of course the merchandise for the most popular singer in the world would be almost gone so close to the holidays, but compounded with the fact that tickets were going on sale in just a few hours for the only show she planned on having in Austin caused your chances for finding what Ellie wanted even slimmer. But when you spotted one singular sweater folded and all alone on a display table, the very same one Ellie had pointed out on the website where it was listed as sold out everywhere, you let yourself for just one moment imagine your parents were looking out for you somehow.

With a sigh of relief and the smallest flicker of Christmas spirit, you reached out to grab the sweater, but your smile slipped from your face when you were met with some unexpected resistance in the form of another person's fist curling around the fabric from the other side of the table.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, eyes darting up to glare at the person who dared try to steal your victory. But when you locked eyes with quite possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen, your throat went dry and your grip on the sweater loosened.

"Shit, uh," he stammered, realizing your predicament. You both still held onto the sweater, unsure what to do. You blinked and looked around the crowded store.

"Maybe we can ask a worker if there's any more?" you tried, knowing full well there was close to a zero percent chance of there being any more in the back. It was a miracle you had found the one you did. Your handsome stranger seemed to have the same thought.

"Doubt it. Me and my kid have been searchin' all over town for this... stuff," he replied, motioning towards the empty table with a stunning photograph of the pop star in the center. "What do you want for it? I promised her I'd get somethin' for Christmas."

"Well, I promised my little sister the same thing," you argued with one hand on your hip. "I'm gonna try to get tickets later for the show and she's insisting she needs something with this girl's face on it to wear-"

"Yeah, same here," he said with an exasperated huff. It seemed as though you were at an impasse: two guardians who wanted to give the perfect Christmas to their respective teens, no matter how silly or frivolous it seemed to the two of you.

"Sarah?"

"Ellie?"

You each turned your heads towards the familiar voices. Both girls all wrapped up in bulky winter coats and scarves looked at one another in delight as they approached the table, ignoring you both and the sweater still held firmly in your hands.

"What are you doing here?" the curly haired girl, apparently named Sarah, asked your younger sister.

"Christmas shopping, duh!" Ellie laughed while holding up an armful of bags. Her eyes flickered to yours, then to Sarah's father, and then the sweater. "Oh, no," she said softly. Then Sarah glanced down and mirrored the same look as Ellie.

"How do you know each other?" you asked Ellie, hoping to deflect and buy some time.

"We go to school together. Sarah's a year older but we're in the same science class," she explained.

"Is this the last one?" Sarah asked her dad. Your eyes met again, neither of you wanting to let down your girls but still not sure what to do.

"Yeah, babygirl, but this nice lady had it first," he said, finally letting go of the fabric. You swallowed thickly, surprised by the kindness he showed you. It wasn't even true. If anything, you had both grabbed it at the exact same time.

You watched Sarah try to hide her disappointment and finally a lightbulb went off when you came up with a great idea.

"Hey," you said before they could walk away. The man turned to you with the softest pair of brown eyes you'd ever seen and your heart skipped a beat. "What if we all went to the concert together? The girls can share the sweater or something-"

"Yes!" both teens exclaimed while jumping on the balls of their feet. A slow smile stretched across the man's face before shrugging and extending his hand.

"Guess that's the plan. Name's Joel," he said. You told him your name and slipped your hand into his, both of you jumping when the static charge shocked you. Each of you laughed softly when you pulled away and the girls exchanged mischievous looks behind your backs.

"Well, alright, first thing's first - let's buy this damn thing before another person tries to take it and then maybe we can get something to eat in the food court. It's just a few hours til the tickets go on sale, we can make sure to get the seats together," you said, protectively bunching up the sweater under your arm.

After one quick disagreement over who should pay for the sweater (Joel won and you promised to buy him a beer at the concert to repay him), you found yourselves in the food court finishing up Panda Express and Cinnabon while you listened to the girls talk excitedly about the concert and which songs they'd hoped to hear.

"Can we go to the arcade?" Ellie asked once she got rid of your trash. You pretended to be annoyed but couldn't stop yourself from grinning when you handed over some money.

"Sure, just bleed us dry," Joel joked when handing over some cash to Sarah. She kissed him on the cheek before tossing a thanks, dad! over her shoulder and disappeared with Ellie into the arcade shoved in the corner of the food court.

You pressed your lips together and looked around, suddenly feeling a little nervous now that you were alone. For the past hour you had tried your best not to get caught giving googly eyes to the man sitting across from you, but it was hard when he was so painfully attractive.

"So, uh," you said, clearing your throat and pulling out your phone. "How many seats are we looking to get together? Just the four or is Sarah's mom going to be joining us?"

You knew he would be able to see right through you so you kept your eyes locked on your phone screen. The tickets weren't even on sale yet but you still pretended to scroll the website while you waited for his answer.

"Nah, just us. Her mom ain't in the picture anymore," he replied. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling when he shifted in his seat and asked, "Uh, what 'bout you guys? You wanna bring a boyfriend or somethin'?"

"No, no boyfriend," you told him quietly, eyes shyly flickering up to his once before chickening out and looking back down at your phone. Joel smirked and leaned forward on his elbows.

"I ain't got anyone, either. Case you were wonderin'."

You nodded and pursed your lips while your heart did cartwheels in your chest.

"Good. That's good. You know, it's easier to get four seats together."

"Yeah, 'course," Joel replied. He watched you closely, catching the way you tucked your hair behind your ear and bit your lip. You heard Ellie's familiar laugh somewhere within the depths of the arcade and you smiled.

"Sounds like they're having fun," you said before forcing yourself to look him in the eye. It was then you noticed the first hints of grey in his beard dusting the corners of his jaw. He probably wasn't much older than forty and damn, did he wear it well.

"You're a good sister for doin' all this," he told you warmly. You sighed and began to rip up an unused napkin left on the table.

"I try to make the holidays extra fun for her ever since our parents passed away."

Joel's face softened and his eyebrows knit together.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he all but whispered. You saw his fingers flinch like he wanted to reach out across the table for your hand, but he kept them linked together. "When'd it happen?"

"Ellie was eight so, six years ago," you told him. "Car accident. Luckily they had me when they were young so I was already twenty-two when it happened. I had no idea what to do for the longest time but somehow we made it work. She's been so incredible. She's tough and strong and smart..." you trailed off and gave Joel a little smile. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it. I can relate. I mean, sort of. Sarah's mom took off when she was only a year old," Joel began. Your fingers paused their destruction on the napkin to listen. "I had no idea what to do, either. I had just started my construction business and for months I thought I'd have to sell it, but we just focused on gettin' through one day at a time. I had help from my brother and our parents but goddamn, there were days I was afraid I would fall asleep sawin' two by fours," he said with a chuckle.

"Crazy the things we're capable of when we're put to the test," you told him quietly. He nodded solemnly, scanning your face for a moment and you could have sworn his eyes lingered on your lips. The tips of his ears went a little pink when he tore his eyes away and you hid a smile behind your hand.

"So... you sure you wanna spend Christmas Eve at a concert with a stranger and his kid?" he teased, dragging his gaze back to you. He grinned when you leaned back and laughed.

"Yeah, why not? You're not gonna murder me, are you?"

"Nah, if I was gonna do that, I woulda done it back at the store," he joked, making you laugh even louder.

You were about to say something snarky in response when an alert went off on your phone and you gasped.

"Shit! The tickets! We have, like, two minutes before they go on sale!"

Joel scooted his chair closer so he could peer over your shoulder while you feverishly refreshed the page on your phone. It was a miracle you were able to think straight and snag four tickets together in a pretty decent section when all you could smell was his heavenly cologne insanely close to you.

"Okay, we did it!" you exclaimed when you got the confirmation email, then smiled when you got a Venmo notification with Joel's picture as the icon for his half of the tickets.

"Cute picture. Looks like you had a little too much fun that night," you giggled when you zoomed in on his heavy lidded eyes and the drink in his hand.

"Alright, alright, that was taken a long time ago," Joel chuckled while covering your phone with his palm. You swore you saw his cheeks starting to tint and it just made him even more adorable.

"Hey, so, uh... what's your number? You know, so I can send you the tickets," you tried to say casually, but he arched an eyebrow and leaned in so one arm rested on the table and the other on the back of your chair.

"If you just wanted my number, darlin', you coulda asked. Don't gotta pretend it's 'bout the tickets," he said with a smirk.

Your jaw dropped and you felt your face grow warm, making him laugh and lean in a little closer.

"Oh, you wish," you shot back when you got your bearings.

"Yeah, I do, actually," he replied smoothly. His laughter died down but his smile remained. "No pressure or nothin'," he added when you didn't answer right away.

"Oh! Um, well, ye-"

Ellie and Sarah interrupted your terrible attempt at flirting when they came racing up to you from across the food court, seemingly unphased by how close you and Joel were sitting.

"Did you get the tickets?" Ellie asked breathlessly when they made it to your table. Ah, no wonder they didn't seem to care.

"'Course we did. We're makin' Christmas dreams come true over here while you two are off wastin' our money in those damn machines," Joel said while gesturing towards the arcade.

"We?" you repeated while holding up your phone. Joel glanced at you with a twinkle in his eye and shrugged. But the girls didn't hear you because they were jumping around excitedly and babbling to one another about the concert. While they were distracted, Joel pulled out a pen from his shirt pocket along with a business card and flipped it over to jot down something on the back.

"Here," he said, handing you the card and standing up. You looked down at it briefly, Joel Miller, Miller Construction with a business number and fax with a little black and white house next to it. You flipped it over and your heart skipped a beat when you saw he had scrawled his cell phone number on the back.

"For the tickets or... anythin' else," he told you with a wink that made your knees weak.

"Okay," was all you could muster as you watched him and Sarah walk away. It took Ellie poking you in the ribs for you to snap out of it.

"Ouch!"

"You got the hots for Sarah's dad," she teased in a sing-song voice.

"I do not!" you argued. Ellie stood and began to walk in the opposite direction, back towards the part of the mall where you parked your car.

"So you won't mind if I ask Sarah what her dad thinks of you?" she called back over her shoulder with a smirk. You gasped and jumped up to chase after her.

"Don't you dare!"

Then you took a moment to think it over before adding, "Just don't let him think I was asking."

Ellie threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, boy, you got it bad."

Christmas Eve

You weren't sure why you were so nervous, but you were. The entire ride to the stadium had you fidgeting anxiously in your seat, every mile closer making your heart beat faster and faster.

It would be the first time seeing him since the mall, but it certainly wasn't the last time you spoke.

After about three days of trying to stay strong, you caved and texted Joel.

Saw a Miller Construction truck on the highway today but sadly, it wasn't you

To your delight, it only took him a few minutes to reply.

You need some work done, darlin? Cuz I can stop over any time ;)

You giggled to yourself, happy you didn't even need to tell him who you were. You were partly relieved that he wasn't talking to several women at once, and partly pleased that you made a big enough impression to be memorable.

After that, you somehow found yourself texting him almost every single evening. Like clockwork, Ellie would take a shower and do her homework in her room with music pumping from her speakers while you snuck away to your bedroom to text Joel. It started out simple. Questions like, How was your day? Did you get caught in that nasty storm? Are you going to the science fair? And eventually it morphed into more personal questions.

Joel: how do you take your coffee in the morning?

You: excuse me?

Joel: what? don't drink coffee?

You: why do you want to know? what popped into your head that made you ask that question?

Joel: I think I struck a nerve. Let me try another one - how do you like your eggs?

You: OMG

One night you both happened to be watching the same movie. You found it kind of endearing you were two of the few people left who still watched cable television, and you told him so when he got sick of texting you back and forth about the movie and opted to call you, instead.

At first, your nerves spiked when you saw him calling your phone, but you quickly shrugged it off and answered before you changed your mind. And you were glad you did. Talking to Joel was easy. You could sit in a comfortable silence and watch the movie with your phone pressed against your ear without feeling the least bit uneasy. Most of the time, your conversations were casual, but typically towards the end of the night they got a little flirty.

"Anyone ever do that for you?" he asked through the phone.

"What? Ask me to marry them?" you replied as you watched the two main characters on the television jump around happily with a sparkling ring on the girl's finger.

"Yeah."

You shook your head. "Nope. Been a little busy the past few years, haven't had time for much of a love life," you admitted, then cleared your throat, praying you didn't sound too pathetic. "What about you?"

"Nope. Never."

"Not even Sarah's mom?"

Joel scoffed. "Thought 'bout it once or twice but glad I didn't. Would've made shit a whole lot worse, lemme tell you."

You hummed sadly, not wanting to pry too much but also intensely curious. But right as you were about to change the subject, he spoke again.

"I think she hated bein' a mom," he suddenly said. You went quiet, eyebrows raised in surprise at his cold tone. "Blamed me for everythin' towards the end. Said it was my fault we even had a kid in the first place. Who the hell checks expiration dates on condoms? It was in my goddamn wallet for Christ knows how long and in the heat of the moment she expects me to turn on the light and look at the date?"

You could hear his hand dragging roughly through his beard when he sighed.

"Sorry. Anyway. She took off. Tried to stay in contact with Sarah but the second she found another guy she lost interest. Is what it is, I suppose," he said tiredly. Then he clicked his tongue and you heard his sheets shuffle. "What 'bout you? When was your last boyfriend?"

"Sarah's mom was your last relationship?" you asked, mentally doing the math. Joel chuckled.

"Last serious one. Had a few dates with a few women here 'n there, nothin' lasted more than a month. Now don't change the topic, tell me 'bout you."

"Uh, well, last year I guess. I was dating a guy named Tim. We were together... nine months? Give or take?" Your nose scrunched up as you tried to remember, surprised at how much time had passed.

"And what happened to the honorable Tim?" he asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.

"What always happens," you said, "People grow apart. People get busy and don't have the time to give." You lowered your voice to a grumble when you said, "Some people have to grow up fast and take care of their sister and can't look after a grown ass man at the same time."

Joel whistled on the other end of the phone and you felt the corner of your mouth twitch.

"He was lookin' for a mama, not a partner," Joel stated plainly. You nodded.

"Yeah. That's a good way to put it."

"Well, his loss is my gain."

You laughed, completely ignoring the movie by that point.

"Did I miss the part where we're dating?"

"We ain't?" he asked. "We talk every damn day. Tell each other everythin'. We just haven't made it official yet."

"And what would make it official, exactly?" you pressed with your heart hammering in your chest.

"First date, of course," Joel said, "Christmas Eve. It'll be our first date and we'll make it official."

You laughed nervously, cheeks on fire from how forward he was being.

"Well... okay."

That was four nights ago. Now you had parked your car and you were following Ellie towards the stadium along with thousands of other fans buzzing with excitement in every direction, completely unaware your excitement was for an entirely different reason.

"C'mon, this way! They said they'd meet us by gate seven," Ellie said, grabbing your hand to make you move faster. She was clad in the sweater her and Sarah promised to share: Ellie got it the first act of the concert, Sarah the second act. A week ago they had stayed after school to decorate tshirts to wear anyway, and it had you wondering why they even cared about the sweater anymore when they had so much fun making the shirts together, but you decided not to point it out and just be grateful the stupid sweater brought you and Joel together.

You spotted him before Ellie even pointed them out. The stadium was decorated with Christmas trees and the television screens mounted in every direction flashed pictures of the famous popstar wearing a Santa hat or other holiday garb, but you still saw him through all the noise. He was one of the few men in a sea of women, to start. But he was tall and broad and exactly as you remembered him: loose, dark curls that sat perfectly on top of his head, a slight dusting of grey at the corner of his jaw, and gorgeous dark eyes that you could drown in. When he turned his head and spotted you, your heart rate spiked and you raised one shaky hand in their direction.

The girls were oblivious practically the entire night. They were on cloud nine, screaming this is the best Christmas ever! and dancing to every single song while you and Joel watched them have the time of their lives.

It was impossible to talk. It was too loud and everything you wanted to say was too important to be yelled into his ear around eighty thousand people. So you stood next to him, hips swaying to the music, lips mouthing the words to the songs you recognized from the radio, and smiling as the girls screamed when they heard the first chord of the next song.

When the music quieted down to a ballad, the stadium grew more still and people brought out their phones with the flashlights on. It was kind of beautiful, you thought, to see so many tiny little lights moving in sync around the crowded arena. It felt like you were a part of something bigger and you finally understood why Ellie and Sarah were so excited to see the concert live.

"Pretty damn good first date," Joel said in your ear now that it was quiet enough to hear him. You grinned and tilted your chin up to look at him.

"Better than mini golf."

"Better than a movie."

"Better than bowling."

"Now, hey, wait," Joel said, making you laugh. He smirked. "I happen to like bowling."

"We can go bowling on our second date, then," you told him when your hand nervously found his at your side. Your fingers laced together and he drew you half a step closer.

"Deal," he replied, eyes flicking down to your mouth briefly before leaning down and pressing his lips tenderly against yours. You shouldn't have been surprised, but you were. However, you recovered quickly and immediately retuned the kiss while looping your other arm around the back of his neck. You could feel him smile as his lips continued to massage yours, temporarily forgetting where you were until you heard -

"Ew!" Sarah giggled somewhere behind you.

"Gross! Come on!" Ellie added, but you knew her well enough to know she was smiling. When you broke away and turned around, you confirmed your suspicion was correct. Both girls were staring at you with huge smiles plastered across their faces.

"Sorry," you told them, grateful for the dim lighting so they couldn't see how embarrassed you were. Joel's arm snaked around your waist from behind and tugged you close.

"Well, I ain't," he said firmly. "You two enjoy the concert and mind your own business."

Both girls dissolved into a fit of giggles and began whispering amongst themselves when Joel spun you back around. He cupped your face and dragged his thumb across your cheek with a smile.

"So, it's official?" he asked you. You grinned and nodded.

"Yeah. It's official."

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[captain-huggy-bear]

"Can- Can you come over please?" (I believe prompt list 1 number 80?) with whoever you're inspired for please 😊 thank you! - em

Em, it was giving soft boy Luke who's maybe feeling shitty after a bad game, so I hope you like it. First time writing Luke so I'm super sorry if it doesn't feel right for him (as we think of him because obvs we don't know him but still) Also I like how I was like let's write something short and then...just kept writing...😂 Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You'd been friends with Luke Hughes for almost as long as he'd been in New Jersey, both of you new to the city at the time had stumbled into each other quite literally one wintery afternoon. Your coffee going all over his hoodie, his doughnut squishing chocolate icing over your sweater. You'd expected him to yell, instead you learnt that day how utterly sweet and kind Luke Hughes was. He replaced your coffee and refused to let you buy him a new doughnut, but did let you invite him over so you could put some stain remover on his hoodie.

You might be thinking, 'are you crazy? Inviting a strange man to your apartment?', but you can only explain your risk through two pieces of information: 1) You knew roughly who he was. You weren't a fan of his by any means but you followed Hockey and had heard about the newest addition to the Devils, so you at least knew he wasn't a criminal, 2) Luke Hughes had been wearing snoopy socks and something about that had screamed 'non-threatening'.

Looking back it was probably slightly insane on your part, but it bagged you a close friend who you may or may not have had a massive crush on, so you couldn't really say you regretted risking it.

It wasn't unusual for Luke to phone you after a game, more often than not you got a quick phone call or a few texts sent through while he was out celebrating or commisserating with the team, often being invited out even when he knew you weren't much for late nights out on the town.

It was unusual though for that phone call to come in at 1 in the morning while you were sleeping.

You're groggy and half awake, hand patting the bedside table until you grip your phone, Luke's ringtone blarring through the speakers only because he was one of your few exceptions. One of a handful of people who could call you after 11pm without being sent straight to voicemail, the others being your family.

"Lukey? It's..." You stop to squint at your alarm clock, "1:41 in the morning, what's wrong?" You knew the game had ended late, but Luke should have been in bed by now or he should have been out partying with Jack and the boys, definitely not phoning you. You half expected him to be drunk on the other end of the line, maybe having phoned you while out with the team.

Instead his breath is shaky on the other end of the line, voice raspy like he's been crying and that's what has you sitting upright and swinging your legs out of bed before he even finishes his question.

"Can- Can you come over please?" His voice is scratchy and strained, a rasp that sounds defeated. You don't even considering getting changed from your pajamas, you just throw a jacket on from your closet.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, what's wrong?"

"Just...just come over please, angel" You're quick timing it as you shove your feet in a pair of shoes and grab your keys off the side, locking your apartment door behind you. It didn't matter to you that it was nearly 2am or that you hadn't brushed your hair or that you were half-asleep, all that mattered was Luke and the way he sounded like the world might be just a little too much for him right now.

"Okay, okay, want me to stay on the line?"

"No, just...drive safe?" You pause in the hallway, heart hurting at his concern, that even now when he's begging for your help he cares that you're safe.

"Yeah, course, Lu, i'm leaving right now, sweetheart." He lets out a shuddering breath on the line, right before he hangs up and you're certain you might cry because God, Luke shouldn't sound like that, so utterly defeated, so fragile.

You do your best to honour his request on the drive to his and Jack's apartment, even as you want to break a hundred traffic laws just to get there sooner, but you don't. It doesn't take long, but ten minutes feels like one hundred when all you want is to be see Luke and make sure he's okay.

He's at the door from the first knock and you don't say anything, just take him in. His tall form hunched at the shoulders like he's trying to hide within his hoodie, hood pulled over his head and eyes red rimmed, blotchy. There are dark, deep circles beneath his eyes and his lip is bruised and split, a few neatly placed stitches holding it together.

You don't say anything, just step forward and wrap him in your arms as best you can, tiptoeing to press your chin to his shoulder, arms tight around him as if you can protect him from whatever is going on in his head.

He grasps as you like you're a lifeline, fingers digging into your jacket, face pressed so tight to the crook of your neck that you're certain he'll fuse there.

He doesn't protest when you pull him into his apartment, door slamming shut. Doesn't protest when you pull him to his room, asking where Jack is, only to get a short clipped reply of 'club'. Doesn't protest when you sit him on his bed and join him, shoes being kicked off. It's not until you try to pull away from him that he really seems to come to life, hands grasping you firmer, pulling you back, "Don't go, please don't go..."

"'m not going anywhere, Lu, it's okay..." You pull back just enough that you can pull his hood back, fingers carding through his brown curls gently like he might break. "What happened?"

"Just needed you..." His face presses back into your shoulder as your fingers work through his hair like it's a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend, like he didn't call because he had a shit game, because he doesn't want to talk about it."

"Lu...talk to me, baby"

There's a stark silence, broken only by a shaky breathe that comes from Luke as if the idea of talking is enough to make him cry for the second time that night. "I'm...i'm not good enough for the team, did a shit job tonight and we lost...it's my fault. Played like shit."

"What did Jack say?" You're gentle with it, soft voice, soft fingers on the nape of his neck. It's silly, he knows he's being dramatic, he also knows that it's not a friend thing to do. Knows he wouldn't call any of his other friends at near 2am because he needs them, knows he wouldn't beg for their fingers in his hair to sooth him or feel better just by the smell of their laundry detergent and shampoo. Luke knows he called you because he loves you, pretty sure he loved you the moment you excitedly showed him you'd gotten the coffee stain out of his UMIC hoodie.

"I was being too hard on myself, that it wasn't the 'Luke Hughes show'." He immitates Jack's voice, a pouty sort of tone riding his voice because he knows his brother is right even if he refused to sit moping with him and went out drinking instead.

"He's right. Hockey is a team sport, Luke, you aren't even on the ice the entire time! You do not get to decide that you're the reason a game is won or lost, you don't get to shoulder that."

"But.." Your palms cup his face, pulling him up to look at you. Your face is dead serious brows furrowed, lips pursed.

"No, you're a good hockey player. They picked you to play for them because of what you bring to the table and maybe you didn't play your best tonight , but you deserve to be on the team. You can't always be at 100." Your thumbs brush his cheeks under his eyes, like you might be able to wipe away the dark bags there. He looks worn, exhausted, tears just welling in those green eyes of his.

You're not entirely sure he believes you, "If I said I wasn't good enough because I had a bad day at work, what would you say to me?"

"To shut up and stop being mean to yourself..." Luke frowns at you like you're insane for even suggesting something like that, and it's what makes you smile for the first time that night, as if to say I told you so.

"Exactly, so stop being mean to yourself, Lu. You're amazing, i'm always in awe of how you skate..." You brush a curl from his eyes and watch them flutter closed slightly, throat tightening a little because you know this isn't the way you're supposed to feel about your best friend.

"Really?"

"Really..." You watch him carefully, the way he just leans more into your hands like he trusts you entirely to hold him up, the deep swelling of his lip, the beauty marks across his cheeks. "What do you need from me, right now?"

He takes a moment, like the words are stuck on the tip of his tongue whether unsure of how to ask or worried to make things weird. Both of you always toeing the line between friends and something decidedly more romantic.

"Can...can you just hold me? Just stay the night?" He blinks up at you with such big sweet eyes that you're not sure anyone would be able to refuse him, so you don't.

"I can do that."

You treat him delicately, like he's not a nearly 200 pound hockey player that regularly gets body slammed against boards and ice, who's covered in bruises and currently sporting a split lip. You pull him to lie down with you, curling around him like a protective blanket, pulling his face back into the crook of your neck, legs twisting with his. It's definitely not what friends do, but it's what he needs, so he grips you back tight, presses his face firmly into your neck and pulls your leg over his hip to be as close as possible.

You don't move more than the brush of fingers through his hair or down his arm, across his back. Even when you can hear soft snores, the sign of him having fallen asleep, you don't move because as much as Luke said he need this, you kind of need this too.

[ssahotchnerr]

i rlly wanna see how aaron would react to reader accidentally starting her period and leaking on his white sheets. i just know he would be so caring and conforming !!

stains

he soooo would cw; fem!reader, period talk, blood mentions, language, fluff <33

Even on the weekends, Aaron doesn't tend to stray from routine.

Apart from setting an alarm - he presses a kiss to the first patch of your skin he can find, rolls out of bed, and then opens the blinds so the morning light can naturally assist in waking you. Trailing into the en-suite bathroom, he hears you let out a gentle squeak, stretching from your laid position in bed.

He preps his toothbrush, blinking once, twice, in attempt to rid the heavy sleep from his eyes. Brushing his teeth is number one on his morning agenda; not only because it was the hygienic thing to do, he simply could not stand having horrid breath.

Despite the brushing sounds echoing in his head, he doesn't miss your low,

"Shit."

"Honey?" His attempt to speak was muffled, as his toothbrush was in his mouth. He tilted back from the sink, just enough to allow him to peer into the room, to see you.

You were sat upright, a handful of sheets in hand, meeting his eyes guilt-stricken. "I'm sorry. It wasn't due for another three days and you know I'm typically always on schedule and always prepared-"

"Hm?" Freeing his mouth from the toothpaste, quickly flicking the water on/off to rid the residue and wiping his mouth with a washcloth, he re-entered his room.

As he came closer, your flushed cheeks were vividly noticeable, the remorse in your eyes even more intense. You clarified, "My period."

"Oh," his expression softened, before alternating to deep concern. "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright? Aaron your bed-"

"What about it?"

"It's stained - the sheets. Fuck," you scrambled up, not wanting to ruin them further, wincing in pain as you did so. You quickly padded past him to the bathroom, the plush carpet soft under your bare feet. He followed behind.

"And? Sweetheart if you think I care about that," he chuckled, sweetly shaking his head. "Do you have...?"

"In my bag."

Feminine products - Aaron redirected himself, finding your overnight duffle tossed hastily near the foot of his dresser. As he rummaged through it, he mentally cursed himself for not already having a supply waiting under his sink, and mentally added such to his future shopping list.

He grabbed the other necessities - an extra pair of underwear, t-shirt, opting to grab your favorite pair of shorts from his drawer. One he hadn't worn in quite a while as you had claimed sole ownership.

You sheepishly accepted the items from him, refraining from lifting your gaze. "Thank you."

"Hey," With a finger he lifted your chin, causing you to meet his soft, brown eyes. "It's okay."

You shook your head in shame, prompting his hand to fall.

"It's your body. It's natural. It's- this is not an inconvenience to me, it is for you. Plus, this is exactly what they invented stain remover for."

Despite yourself you laughed, wrapping your arms around your middle. "I suppose."

The ends of Aaron's lips itched upwards, successful in his goal to crack a smile. Although, his amusement sobered back to concern, "You never answered my question from before. Are you alright?"

You grimaced. "Crampy."

"Advil then?" Aaron asked and you nodded. He placed his hand on your lower abdomen soothingly, the warmth of it calming your tensed muscle. That was the thing about his touch, it never failed to relieve any aches or discomfort, physical and emotional. "And a bath? I recall you saying that helps, with easing the pain."

"Please."

He quickly obtained the pain reliever, started the bath. "Don't worry about the sheets, I'll strip and get 'em in the wash. Hand me your clothes too." He ran his hand under the stream of water, regulating the temperature as you immediately began to protest, claiming, 'it was your mess, your doing,' but Aaron kindly shut you down, "Nope. Let me handle it, I insist."

"And if the stain doesn't come out?"

"I've been meaning to dispose of them anyway. They're getting old, they've fulfilled their job well." After flashing you a sympathetic smile Aaron stood, his age vaguely showing when his knees cracked as his legs straightened. He placed a kiss on your forehead, hoping to dissolve your current, growing pout. "Just relax."

You willingly met his eyes this time. You tousled his hair, still disheveled from sleep, paying extra attention to the short hairs behind his ears. Your nails scratched at his scalp, expressing your gratitude silently.

"And if it makes you feel any better, this isn't the first time I've had to soak blood from linens."

"It doesn't," you rolled your eyes at his injury-prone occupation, but he did however manage to pull yet another smile from you. A gentle laugh came from deep within his chest at your response. "But thank you."

[wolvietxt]

ᰔ the little things !

pairing : dean winchester x fem!reader warnings : fluff, slight injury, established relationship au, teasing, prompt list here wc : 1.5k a/n : ignore the fact i posted a logan drabble w/ the same name yesterday😭 anyways this is just something little while i finish another dean fic :3

the first time you realized you could curl up on dean no matter the position, it felt like something out of a dream. his chest was broad and steady, his arms always finding their way around you without a second thought. on the couch, in bed, or even crammed in the backseat of the impala, he never shifted to make himself more comfortable. instead, he adjusted to you. "you gonna start charging me rent?" he teased once, his voice low and rough, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. the truth was, he loved it, even if he didn’t say it outright.  

feeding him snacks became another routine. it started when you were lounging together, a bag of chips in hand, and you absentmindedly held one over your shoulder. he leaned in, catching the chip between his teeth, and gave you a cheeky grin. "thanks, sweetheart." after that, it became a habit. popcorn during movie nights, bites of your sandwich when you were too lazy to pass it properly - he never asked for it, but he never refused either.  

your fingers found their home in his hair more times than you could count. the first time, he had leaned his head into your lap while you were watching tv, his eyes closed as he relaxed. your hand naturally drifted to his hair, carding through the soft strands. "you’re gonna mess it up," he muttered, but his voice was too soft to carry any real protest. after a while, he stopped pretending to complain, even tilting his head slightly to guide your hand to his favorite spots.  

"text me when you get home" became one of his go-to phrases whenever you were apart. it didn’t matter if you were only driving back from the store or coming home after a hunt. he wouldn’t rest easy until he knew you were safe. "just humor me," he’d say when you rolled your eyes, but the worry in his eyes told you it was more than just a habit - it was a necessity.  

you couldn’t help but smile whenever he did. sometimes it was a full, toothy grin after he nailed a joke, other times it was just the soft curve of his lips when he was focused on something small. either way, your chest tightened at the sight, and before you realized it, you’d be grinning too. "what’re you so happy about?" he’d ask, pretending not to notice, but there was a warmth in his voice that gave him away.  

he always stole bites of your food when you were cooking. you’d be chopping vegetables or stirring a sauce, and suddenly, his hand would sneak in to grab a taste. "dean," you’d scold, trying to sound annoyed, but it was impossible not to smile when he looked at you like that. sometimes, you’d hold out a spoonful for him instead, cupping your hand under his chin to catch any drips. the first time you did it, his eyebrows shot up, and he stared at you like you’d hung the moon. "you’re too good to me," he murmured, licking his lips.  

whenever dean cooked for you, you made sure he knew just how much you appreciated it. even if it was something as simple as bacon and eggs, you’d rave about how good it was, savoring every bite like it was the best meal you’d ever had. "you’re gonna give me a big head," he’d say, but you could see the pride shining in his eyes.  

breakfast in bed wasn’t a regular thing, but on the rare mornings when he surprised you with a tray of pancakes or scrambled eggs, it felt like the ultimate luxury. he’d sit beside you, watching as you took the first bite, and you’d catch him smiling to himself like he’d just won the lottery.  

"you look gorgeous. stunning. jaw-dropping. breathtaking," he said one evening, his eyes scanning over you with a playful smirk. "do you see what i’m getting at here?" you laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly, but the way he looked at you made your cheeks burn. there was no doubt in your mind that he meant every word.  

holding hands with dean felt effortless. it wasn’t something you planned or thought about - it just happened. whether you were walking down a crowded street or wandering through the woods on a hunt, his hand would find yours, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. it was grounding, comforting, like a silent promise that he was always there.  

people noticed the way you looked at each other. you didn’t realize it at first, but there was something unmistakable in the way your eyes softened when they met his, or the way his entire demeanor shifted when you walked into the room. "you two are disgusting," sam teased once, shaking his head, but there was no malice in his tone - just a hint of envy.  

before dean left for a hunt or even just a grocery run, you always made sure he looked put together. fixing the collar of his shirt, smoothing out his jacket - it was a small thing, but it mattered. "you don’t have to fuss over me," he’d say, but he never stopped you. if anything, he leaned into your touch, letting himself be cared for in a way he wasn’t used to.  

when you were apart, you’d send each other little pictures - nothing fancy, just quick snapshots of your day. a selfie with a cup of coffee, a picture of the impala with some smart-ass caption from dean - it was a way to stay connected, even when miles separated you.  

you could sit together in silence for hours without it ever feeling awkward. sometimes he’d be cleaning his guns while you read a book, or you’d both be on your phones, the quiet companionship as comforting as any conversation.  

napping with dean was a kind of magic all its own. his arms wrapped around you like a cocoon, his steady breaths lulling you into the deepest, most peaceful sleep. sometimes he’d wake up before you, his hand gently tracing patterns on your back as he waited for you to stir.  

one of his more protective habits was guiding you to the inside of the sidewalk whenever you were walking. he never said anything about it, just casually reached for your hand and steered you away from the road. it was such a small thing, but it spoke volumes about how much he cared.  

"have you eaten today?" was a question he asked more often than you realized. it didn’t matter if you were busy or distracted - he made sure you took care of yourself. and when you turned the question back on him, he’d grin sheepishly, knowing he couldn’t get away with skipping meals either.  

massages became your go-to whenever he seemed stressed. you didn’t have to ask - he’d sit on the edge of the bed, his shoulders tight with tension, and you’d slip behind him, your hands working out the knots until he finally relaxed. 

whenever you tripped, even slightly, dean’s hand shot out instinctively, ready to catch you. "you okay?" he’d ask, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury. it didn’t matter how small the stumble was - he treated it like a near disaster, his protective instincts kicking in without hesitation. 

hugs from behind were his weakness, even if he’d never admit it. you’d wrap your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, and he’d melt instantly. sometimes he’d reach back to rest a hand on yours, grounding himself in the warmth of your touch. 

"i’ve got this, you go rest," he’d tell you, gently nudging you toward the couch or the bed. dean was stubborn, always taking on more than he should, but when it came to you, he made sure you were cared for first. 

he had a habit of wiping crumbs or smudges from the corners of your mouth. it wasn’t something he did consciously - it just happened. his thumb would brush over your lips, his eyes focused with a softness that made your heart ache. 

"i love you," he said one afternoon, out of nowhere. you were sitting together, doing absolutely nothing, but the words fell from his lips like they’d been waiting to escape. it wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but it felt just as powerful as the first, like he needed you to know, again and again, just how much you meant to him.

ᰔ dean winchester : @person-005, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[daisymbin]

48. "you’re the best part of my day."

seungcheol comes home after a long day at practice and gets to “turn off his brain” when he’s with y/n, allowing himself to be loved and doted on instead of feeling like he’s in leader mode all the time

this is so wholesome 🥺

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

fluff prompt #48: "you're the best part of my day."

the front door clicks shut, and you hear the familiar sound of seungcheol’s sneakers being kicked off in the hallway. you glance up from the couch, tucking your legs under you as he steps into the living room, shoulders slumped and face drawn with exhaustion.

“long day?” you ask softly, already setting down the book you weren’t really reading.

he nods, his movements slow as he drops his bag to the floor and shrugs off his jacket. “yeah,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “felt like it was never going to end.”

you stand and cross the room, wrapping your arms around his waist without a word. his body melts into yours instantly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he exhales a deep, shaky breath.

“i’m glad you’re home,” you murmur, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his back.

“me too,” he whispers, his voice muffled against your hair.

you pull back just enough to look at him, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his forehead. “come on, let’s get you comfortable,” you say, taking his hand and leading him to the couch.

he follows without protest, flopping down with a heavy sigh. you grab the blanket draped over the armrest and tuck it around him, earning a soft smile as he leans back into the cushions.

“want me to get you something to drink?” you offer.

he shakes his head, reaching out to grab your wrist before you can step away. “just stay here,” he says quietly, tugging you down to sit beside him.

you oblige, settling in close as he pulls you under the blanket with him. his arm wraps around your shoulders, and you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“what happened today?” you ask gently, your fingers playing with the edge of the blanket.

he groans, tilting his head back against the couch. “practice ran late, and there’s just... so much to do. schedules, performances, making sure everyone’s okay. sometimes it feels like there’s no room to breathe.”

“you’re always looking out for everyone else,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “when was the last time you looked out for yourself?”

he lets out a dry laugh, but it lacks humor. “hard to do that when there’s so much on my plate.”

you sit up slightly, turning to face him. “cheol, you don’t have to carry everything on your own. you know that, right?”

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the weight he’s been carrying is plain to see. “it’s hard not to,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’m supposed to be the leader. if i don’t have it together, who will?”

“you don’t always have to have it together,” you tell him, reaching up to cup his face. “it’s okay to lean on the people who love you.”

his lips curve into a small, grateful smile, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. “you always know what to say,” he murmurs.

“someone’s gotta take care of you,” you tease lightly, brushing your thumb across his cheek.

he chuckles, the sound soft and genuine, and pulls you closer until your head is back on his chest. “you know,” he says after a beat of silence, “you’re the best part of my day.”

your breath catches at his words, warmth blooming in your chest. “yeah?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah,” he says, his tone soft but certain. “no matter how stressful things get, knowing i get to come home to you... it makes everything worth it.”

you don’t know what to say, your heart too full for words. instead, you tighten your arms around him, holding him close as if to say, i’m here. i always will be.

his fingers trace absent patterns on your arm, his breathing growing slower and steadier. “you make it so easy to just... be,” he says, his voice laced with gratitude. “when i’m with you, i don’t have to think about anything else. i can just... turn it all off for a while.”

“that’s the idea,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“lucky for you,” you say, your voice teasing but warm, “you don’t have to find out.”

he laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest. “thank god for that.”

you stay like that for a while, the world outside fading away as you sit wrapped in each other’s warmth. for now, there’s no stress, no deadlines, no expectations—just the quiet comfort of being together.

and for both of you, that’s enough.

[ylangelegy]

the way of the work husband 📋 chan x reader.

going back to work after the holidays sucks, but at least you've got your 'work husband' lee chan to get you through it.

★ office worker!chan x f!reader. ★ word count: 1.8k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: office, alternate universe: co-workers, fluff/romance. vernon is a menace (affectionately). not proofread. ★ footnotes: been itching to write chan lately and this was the result. dedicating this to my favorite corporate girlie!dinonara @chanranghaeys, who i have been threatening a chan fic with for a little over a week now ෆ sana all may lee chan sa office. 😔 + a special shoutout to @diamonddaze01 for educating me on the how work spouses operate. 🙏

“Is Lee Chan, like, your work husband or something?” 

The look on Vernon’s face is perfectly innocent, but his arched eyebrow gives some indication of just how amused he is. You shoot him a scathing glare before turning back to your work-sanctioned laptop. 

You don’t answer Vernon’s question. Not at first, anyway. Instead, you opt to wryly ask, “Why do you always have to use his full government name whenever you’re talking about him?” 

“Eh. Just ‘Chan’ is too short,” Vernon responds noncommittally. He should be focusing on the grant that he has to write, but he seems intent on quizzing you on your relationship with the company’s newest program assistant. 

Vernon leans a little further into his computer chair. He’s always been a pretty amicable seatmate; he just liked to poke the bear every so often. 

“So?” he prompts. “Are you and Lee Chan… you know.” 

When Vernon makes a vague, crude gesture with his hands, you groan out loud. “Don’t make it weird,” you snap. “And no. Chan and I are just friends, asswipe.”

“But you guys display peak work spouse behavior.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be grant writing?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting your afternoon coffee with Mr. Program Assistant?” 

Vernon’s rebuttal has you glancing at the digital clock on your desk. Shit. 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you say as you grab your wallet and get to your feet. You hate to admit it, but Vernon is right. You’ve started dedicating your fifteen-minute afternoon breaks to cafeteria trips with Chan. 

All in the name of friendship, you insist.

“‘Course it doesn’t,” Vernon sing-songs. Just when you think he’s done, he throws in a final jab. 

“I’ll have an itemized list of my observations,” he calls after your retreating back. “Just you wait!” 

You don’t turn around to dignify Vernon’s taunt with a response. Instead, you flip him off over your shoulder as you contemplate what coffee to get with Chan today.

Rarely are you late to work. Some mornings are just harrowing, littered with minor inconveniences like your alarm not going off or the bus making one too many stops. 

When you finally make it to the office, you can already imagine the CEO’s backhand comment about punctuality. Something like ‘early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable,’ probably. 

That’s why you feel an immense pang of relief when you notice a vacant seat near the back of the room, one that you undoubtedly know is yours. 

You make your way to the chair as discreetly as you can. The bag atop it is taken off the moment that you arrive, and you flash an appreciative grin at the one who made it possible. 

Chan— who is already shifting his bag onto his lap— gives you an exaggerated wink in return. 

You mouth a wordless ‘thank you’ at him. He doesn’t respond verbally, just smiles at you in that way that lights up a whole room. It’s the type of grin that has you forgetting just how bad of a morning you had; you’d lose yourself in it if weren’t for the ominous presence of Vernon a couple of seats down.

The meeting grabs your attention soon enough, but not before you notice Vernon inconspicuously typing something into his phone. 

☑ You always sit next to each other at meetings

“Who’re you texting?” 

“Hm?” 

“Hellooo! Pay attention to me!” 

There’s a guilty expression on your face as you finally glance up at Seungkwan. “Sorry,” you say meekly. “What were you asking?” 

Vernon lets out a huff of laughter at Seungkwan’s side. “I’ll bet a dollar that it’s Lee Chan,” says Vernon. 

Seungkwan responds with a roll of his eyes. “That’s a given.” 

“Yah,” you begin to protest, ready to justify the way you’ve only been half-present throughout your entire lunch break. 

Your attempt falls flat when your phone pings, and the screen lights up. 

One (1) new text from Channie. 🦖LOLOL I have the perfect reel for this!! Wait a minute~~ 💖💙

Seungkwan scoffs. Vernon snickers. 

Your eye twitches, and you shoot back a text underneath the table in a bid to avoid your friends’ teasing. 

☑ You message each other all day long

It’s hard not to laugh when Chan is looking at you like that. 

Despite the fact that there’s a whole brainstorming session going on— preparation for the company’s next fundraising event— the two of you can’t help your silent communication. 

Especially when Soonyoung starts running his mouth about the fundraiser potentially being tiger-themed. 

One glance is all it takes. Chan’s lips are drawn into a thin line, and you know he’s also trying his darndest not to laugh. It’s a mammoth effort to hold back yourself, but you manage— not wanting to suffer from your eccentric boss’ line of questioning. 

It’s all free game once the session ends, though. 

You make a beeline for Chan. He takes one look at your quirked lip before jerking his head towards the door, urging the two of you to have this discussion somewhere you won’t be lynched.

Still, you and Chan can barely resist your peals of laughter as you leave the meeting room with your heads bowed together. Vernon watches with bemusement as the two of you trade incoherent mumblings about Tigger and Pompompurin. 

Not that Vernon has any idea what those have to do with anything. 

☑ You exchange knowing glances from across the room ☑ You share inside jokes about work and life

“Hey, Lee Chan, where’s your work wife?” 

Chan doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s in a meeting with finance,” he answers without even looking up from his keyboard. 

A corner of Vernon’s lip twitches upward. Aha. 

Chan seems to pick up on Vernon’s smug silence. The younger boy’s head snaps up, his expression quickly becoming guarded. “Not my work wife,” Chan sputters. “Just— I knew where she was, okay?” 

“Riiight.” 

There’s a redness in the tips of Chan’s ears as he goes back to the Google Doc he’d been slaving away on. Vernon doesn’t say anything more, but he does feign like he’s texting someone instead of adding to his ever-growing list.

☑ Your other colleagues wonder where the other’s at when you’re not together

It’s a bit of an epilogue in its own right, how Chan is the one to know why you’re out for the morning.

The CEO had asked it mostly as a rhetorical question— has anyone seen her?— but Chan’s easy answer has the meeting coming to a stuttering halt. 

“She got stuck at her dentist’s appointment,” he says. 

Several pairs of eyes turn to Chan. The look on his face is comically caught.

He fumbles for his phone and waves it around awkwardly. “We were texting,” he adds hastily. “That’s why I know.” 

How that was supposed to help Chan’s case, Vernon has no idea. 

“Well, tell her that we hope she gets better soon,” the CEO says coolly. A corner of her lip is upturned, like she’s finding this entire interaction a little too amusing. 

Chan manages a mumbled “Will do.” 

The meeting pushes through. Vernon watches Chan from the corner of his eye. Aside from looking absolutely mortified, there’s just a bit of dullness to the latter’s demeanor. A slower uptake, a dimmer grin. 

Gee, Vernon muses as he types away on his laptop. Wonder why. 

☑ You’re kind of bummed when they’re out of office ☑ You cover for each other when one is MIA

Vernon’s running list is a fun little gig, but it all comes to head on the evening of the company’s monthly night out.

The table at the speakeasy is full of boisterous laughter and greasy finger food. Everyone’s in high spirits for the upcoming weekend, and Vernon has to hold back on teasing those who he thinks are having just a little too much fun. 

You and Chan have spent much of the evening acting like you’re in your own world. Sure, you’re not touching each other— this is technically a work event, after all— but you’ve shared laughter and whispers throughout the night that nobody else is privy to. 

And, alright, fine. Maybe your knees knock into each other more often than not. Maybe Chan puts a hand over your ear whenever he wants to point something out, and maybe you lean in just a little more than necessary. 

It’s obvious to anybody with two eyes that you two are fond of each other. That much is certain.

That’s what gives Vernon the boost of confidence to play wingman by the end of the night. 

“You know,” he says coolly as your group spills out onto the sidewalk. “I think the two of you live in the same neighborhood.” 

What Vernon is scheming is plain as day to you. You narrow your eyes at him, but he’s undeterred. He only smiles at you and Chan like the menace that he is. 

Chan, for his part, raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. He glances at you with a quizzical expression. 

“You’ve never mentioned that.” He raises his hand to his chest, as if feigning hurt at being kept in the dark. 

A snort of laughter escapes you. “Didn’t feel like it was particularly important information,” you say dryly. 

“Of course it’s important!” Chan’s always been a little louder when he’s drunk, so his voice raises an octave or two. “‘Cause that means we can carpool together, or, like, y’know—” 

Vernon interrupts with a sage, “You can probably book the same cab for tonight, actually. Make it a double stop.” 

Chan’s face lights up. “Great idea, man!” 

Before you can protest, Chan is already whipping out his phone to pull up his ride-hailing app. This is not a battle that you’re going to win. 

All the while, Vernon grins triumphantly. 

☑ You go home together after happy hour 

“Can we—” 

“Shhh. No, not yet.” 

“But nobody’s looking!”

“Wait until we’ve rounded the corner, idiot—” 

And so he does. 

But the moment the corner has been rounded, Chan is sagging against your side like he’s wanted to the entire night. “Oh, thank God,” your boyfriend sighs. “I didn’t think I’d survive another minute without touching you.” 

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you. The feeling is mutual, though, so you reach out to rest your hand on his knee.

“Commendable self-control tonight,” you note. “All the whispering was a little too obvious, though.” 

Chan huffs in protest, but the sound loses its edge as he cuddles up to you in the back of the cab. “No one suspects us. It’s just Vernon,” he complains. 

“And Seungkwan,” you say. “And Jeonghan, and Minghao, and Wonwoo—” 

Your boyfriend gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter.” His hand rests on top of yours, just barely resisting the urge to intertwine your fingers. “They don’t know a thing about us, sweets.” 

The smile threatening to fill your face finally breaks. When you laugh, your shoulders shake against Chan’s body. You’re not sure if he’s entirely right— you know of Vernon’s whole iPhone note, after all— but you’re willing to indulge your boyfriend if it makes him happy. 

“Yeah,” you concede. “They don’t know a thing.” 

[scorchieart]

Characters: Gilbert von Obsidian x F!Reader

POV: 1st person Genre: Slice of Life

Prompt #4: “I'd agree with you, but then we'd both be lying.”

Wordcount: 999

A/N: I did it, you guys! Thank you Mary Ellen for the request and the vote of confidence, and pretty much laying the groundwork for this entire fic, it could not have been done without you. And thank you to everyone else who believed I could write Gilbert, this one goes out to you all!

I missed the little rabbit the moment I sent her away. Each day in her absence was like blindly wading through the thickest bog, pushing and pulling with no end in sight, as though the sun had forgotten to dawn. I missed the way she happily hopped into my sights like a footloose bunny, spun poetry from the even most mundane of topics like a morning dove, and warmed my skin as heartily as a babe seeking her mother’s embrace. 

All these things and more I wanted to convey upon her return, to tell her of the heartache that flowed through my veins as organically as my own blood, both sustaining and rotting me from the inside out, but one look at her glittering smile dissolved those woes quicker than any antidote, and we were back to our daily routine.

My little bunny and I, side-by-side. Nothing in between.

“Won’t you at least try one of Prince Yves’s danishes? He prepared four entire batches before agreeing to let me bring some back for you.”

Her words were sincere and earnest, and I could tell she truly had my best interest at heart as she carefully arranged three pastel pastries from a rose-draped basket onto a plate. A gentle breeze whistled through the gazebo where we sat, and though our shoulders were flush against each other, the sweets she carried seemed to separate us once again, like a border between winter and spring.

“I’d much rather have one of your famous double-chocolate dipped cookies instead,” I said, lightly pushing the plate back onto the table with the hilt of my cane. “Or a dozen.”

She frowned and picked the plate up again. “But I can make those for you any day. These were prepared only just this morning, and I went through a great deal making sure they stayed level on the journey. The meringue in the batter will deflate if we wait any longer.”

“And that is precisely what I want,” I said. Though we have known each other for quite some time now, I still wondered whether she could pick up on all my cues. Visual ones she mastered instantly, as did most who met me, like when I tap my cane on the ground to grab attention or tilt my head to emphasize a point. But she still needed to work on subtext, because while I meant my comment to be endearing and praiseworthy of her talents, she responded by turning the other cheek and letting out a snide “Humph!”

I truly enjoyed this playful side of her. It assured me that what I believed in was shared by another soul; that one was never too old to cling to childish habits. But what I wanted more than anything now was a return to our normal relationship, back to when the sun dawned brightly on my days like I heard it does in Rhodolite.

“Have I gone and upset my little rabbit? This simply will not do, especially in the midst of my terrain,” I said, a playful rumble gurgling in my belly as I pronounced each word. “Of course, the ill-manners of a beast left alone to prowl in his big empty castle are expected upon the first meeting of his beloved bunny after ages of crippling solitude, yes?”

She turned to face me, and in an instant I knew she had fallen yet again for my renowned duplicity, innocent as I was today.

“It wasn’t exactly ages,” she began, her face clouding with guilt. “But… I guess I have been gone longer than usual this time. I thought bringing the sweets would cheer you up, but is there any other way I could make it up to you? Besides the cookies, I mean.” She added, and the rumble in my belly released in a low chuckle.

“I have several ideas,” I said, the childlike sensation surging inside me. I raised my hand between us, palm facing upward. A few moments passed as she stared blankly at it before she caved.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked, poking my hand with her forefinger.

“Well, that’s your mission now, isn’t it?” I said, stretching my cheeks in a wide grin. “There are many answers to this riddle, but only picking the best will absolve you of your misdeed.”

“And if I don’t pick the best answer?” she said.

I tilted my head and her eyes went wide. Yes, I do believe she has my visual cues down pat.

“You’re just bluffing, aren’t you?” she stammered. “Come on, it’s not like me staying away for that long was so bad. It’s not that big of a deal, right? Right?”

“Hmm. I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be lying,” I said. Of course, I was only playing this up for my own amusement, but seeing her urgently wanting to keep in my good favor gave a certain rebelliousness I could only find enjoyment with in her, my little bunny. I lightly shook my hand. “Tick tock.”

She lowered the plate and frantically looked around the gazebo, eyes darting to the table and the exit and our seat and the flora surrounding us. It was a little difficult concealing my excitement; she wouldn’t find what she was looking for around us. I could have sprung up this game in the middle of a wasteland and it would make no difference. 

Her eyes finally shut in concentration, and I took in the subtle beauty of her musings. It was like looking through a mirror of my time when she was away. Lost in thought, with no lifeline to cling to.

But in an instant, her eyes shot open and she beamed. Before I could react, she seized my upturned hand in both of hers and lunged at me, burying her face in my chest, my once-nippy fingers held captive in the compressed space between us. Touching. Nothing in between.

“Did I get it right?”

At least I can say I was able to write him before canon complicity shunted him from my grasp for the next year.

Tagging: @atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @gilbertvonobsidian

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

[svtiddiess]

Hiii I’m back hehe I just saw that you said you in the mood to write a Drabble and I went through the list and the one that caught my eye was

126. “They gave us... One bed?” “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” (could end in smut, or simply fluffy teasing) I was thinking maybe with Mingyu *I just love him* us being low key rivals (nothing too serious)

"They Gave Us...One Bed?" + "Don't Pretend You Don't Like It."

Pairing: Mingyu x gn!reader

Genre: suggestive, non-idol! au, drabble

Rating: suggestive

Word count: 0.4k

Request a drabble from me using these prompts!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

You drop your bag in utter disbelief as you step into the bedroom you’ll be calling home for the next week. You were supposed to be on a fun trip with a group of friends, but thanks to some last-minute chaos, you ended up having to share a room with someone.

And not just someone—no, of course not. It had to be Kim Mingyu, the one person who gets under your skin like no one else. Some might call you dramatic, but they don’t get it. They weren’t there when Mingyu humiliated you on the first day of university, an incident that still sends a cold shiver down your spine whenever it crosses your mind. They don’t know how he manages to annoy you to the point of wanting to rip your hair out every single day. They don’t understand how he refuses to give you a moment of peace, no matter how many times you tell him to "fuck off".

And now, here you are, forced to share a room with him for the next week. Curse your mutual friends for putting you in this situation.

You frantically scan the room, hoping your eyes are playing tricks on you. This can't be real. There’s no way this is happening.

"They gave us…one bed?" you mutter, your voice dripping with disbelief.

Mingyu, ever the picture of nonchalance, drops his bag and flops onto the bed with a chuckle, stretching out like he owns the place.

"Don't pretend you don't like it," he smirks, his tone teasing.

Damn him and his stupidly handsome face. It makes you want to wipe that smug grin right off his face.

"I'd rather sleep on the street," you snap, crossing your arms.

Mingyu clutches his chest dramatically, as if your words have physically wounded him.

"Ouch, doll. You're so cruel," he fake-pouts, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Your cheeks burn at the nickname. No matter how many times you've told him to stop calling you that, he never listens. And you hate the way it makes your stomach flip, the way it sends a traitorous flutter through your chest.

"I'm not sharing a room with you," you hiss, turning on your heel to leave.

But before you can take a single step, his hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back. In one swift motion, he pins you against the wall, his tall frame caging you in. Your eyes widen as your heart races, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze. He leans down, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear as he murmurs,

"Don't even think about it. You're stuck with me all week, doll."

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @cherrybb96

[be4chywritez]

lucky you | luke hughes

luke hughes x fem!reader

rec:#37 with Luke? Maybe he goes down on the ice and the reader freaks out when she sees him laid up? Thanks! Love your writing 🫶

prompt: Shit. Shit, shit, shit, c'mere."

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

Luke had been wired since the moment he woke up.

Jack had noticed it immediately—the way his little brother was practically bouncing from room to room, energy barely contained, constantly checking his phone. Jack had been willing to ignore it until the loud, painfully obnoxious country music started blaring from Luke’s room.

Jack groaned, rolling over in bed and grabbing his phone, but one look at the time made him throw the blanket off instead. Storming down the hall, he banged a fist against Luke’s door. “Jesus, LUKE!”

The music lowered—not off, just low enough to be tolerable. A second later, Luke stepped out, wearing his good suit. Not his usual game-day one, but the one he only pulled out for interviews. Or—

Jack narrowed his eyes. “What’s with the good suit?”

Luke didn’t answer right away, but the small twitch of his lips gave him away. That stupid, dopey smile that made Jack want to shove him into a locker.  He looked ridiculous, lovesick in the most obvious way.

“Oh, never mind,” Jack groaned. “Your girlfriend’s coming.”

Luke didn’t even try to deny it. Jack didn’t blame him—he likes you, actually. You were funny, sharp, and most importantly, you were one of the few people who could shut Luke up when he was being a pain in the ass. But watching Luke act like this? Jack could do without it.

Luke ignored the way Jack grimaced as he grabbed his bag off the floor. “Shut up, man,” he muttered, brushing past his brother. But Jack caught the way he checked his phone one last time before locking the screen.

Jack shook his head, following him out the door.

By the time you got to the arena, warm-ups were already underway. Your seat—right by the glass—gave you the perfect view as the Devils took the ice. Your eyes immediately searched for Luke.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, he spotted you.

And, just like that, his entire expression changed.

He skated over, tapping his stick against the glass. “You come here often?” he mouthed.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at him.

Luke reached into his glove and pulled out a puck, holding it up dramatically before flipping it over the glass. You caught it easily, tucking it into your lap as he gave you an approving nod.

“Lucky catch,” he mouthed, flashing a grin before skating off, but not before sneaking in a wink over his shoulder.

Your heart fluttered. He was such an idiot.

The first period was fast, aggressive. Luke had been playing well, making quick plays and smart decisions. You could tell he was locked in.

And then—

It happened so fast.

Luke was chasing the puck into the corner, his focus locked in on the play, when an opposing player came barreling into him, shoulder first. The hit landed hard.

Too hard.

The sound of the collision—Luke’s body slamming into the boards before crumpling onto the ice—made your stomach drop.

Something wasn’t right.

He wasn’t moving.

Your grip on the railing tightened as you watched, waiting, willing him to get up. Nothing.

The hit was hard. Too hard.

Luke didn’t get up.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

He always got up.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the ice, willing him to move. Nothing.

Jack was already there, skating over in record time. His whole body was tense, eyes darting between Luke and the guy who hit him. His fists clenched at his sides like he was seconds away from throwing down, but his focus kept shifting back to his brother.

Come on, Luke. Get up.

You barely registered the trainers rushing onto the ice, kneeling beside him, talking to him. The whole arena felt eerily silent, the energy completely different from the roaring crowd just moments ago.

Finally, Luke stirred.

Your breath whooshed out of you as he groggily pushed himself onto his side, barely nodding to the trainers. He winced when they helped him up, his weight leaning into them as they guided him toward the tunnel.

Straight to the training room.

Not the bench.

That wasn’t good.

Your stomach twisted.

Jack was still on the ice, his gaze flicking toward you, as if to check that you were seeing this too—like he knew you were probably freaking out. But his glare quickly snapped back to the guy who hit Luke, a murderous look in his eyes.

For the rest of the game, you barely paid attention. Your fingers drummed anxiously against your knee, your eyes constantly flickering to the tunnel, hoping for any update.

Nothing.

And then, finally, your phone buzzed.

Jack: Training room. I’m outside. You can come see him.

You didn’t hesitate.

By the time you made it to the hallway outside the training room, Jack was already there, still in his gear, arms crossed, looking impatient.

“He okay?” you asked, slightly breathless.

Jack sighed, tilting his head toward the door. “See for yourself.”

Luke was slumped against the training table, his good shoulder resting against the wall, looking like he was seconds from either passing out or saying something incredibly stupid. His jersey and pads were long gone, replaced by a thick wrap of ice around his left shoulder. His whole body was loose, almost boneless, but his eyes were sluggish and unfocused in a way that made it obvious he wasn’t fully present.

“Baaaaabe,” he slurred the second you stepped inside.

Jack, who was still lingering by the door, groaned audibly. “Kill me.”

You ignored him, exhaling as you stepped closer. “Jesus, Hughes. How many did they give you?”

Luke blinked at you, a slow, lazy grin spreading across his face. “Dunno. But I feel so floaty.”

Jack sighed, crossing his arms. “I told them to only give him half a dose, but he was already feeling it before I could stop them.”

Luke squinted up at you like he was trying really hard to focus. “You came,” he said, like he was just now registering that fact.

“Of course I did,” you murmured, finally reaching him, letting your hand rest lightly on his uninjured arm. “How’s the shoulder?”

Luke’s brows pulled together. He shifted like he was about to sit up straighter—

And then immediately sucked in a sharp breath, his face twisting in pain.

“Shit,” you cursed, reacting instantly. “Shit, shit, shit—c’mere.”

Your hands were on him before you even thought about it, guiding him gently back against the table. His whole body had gone tense, jaw locked, breathing uneven.

Luke let out a shaky exhale, his head tipping back against the wall as he blinked up at the ceiling. “That sucked.”

You swallowed, pressing your lips together. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Jack muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like idiot, but you didn’t acknowledge him. Your focus was entirely on Luke—on the way he was forcing his muscles to relax, blinking sluggishly as he readjusted his position.

You reached out again, this time more careful, brushing your fingers lightly over his forearm. “You need anything?”

Luke hummed, tilting his head toward you. “A kiss.”

Jack immediately gagged.

You sighed, shooting Luke a look. “Try again.”

Luke huffed, his lips twitching like he was fighting a smirk. “Mmm… a ride home?”

You softened. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Jack perked up from his place by the door. “Wait, she’s driving?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

Jack glanced at his brother—who was still slumped against the table, barely holding himself upright—then back at you. “…No.”

“Then shut up.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue.

Luke, meanwhile, had a very pleased look on his face. “I love you,” he murmured, voice still slightly sluggish.

You exhaled, shaking your head with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Getting Luke into the car was an ordeal.

He was heavy—not in the way where he was too big for you to help, but in the way that he wasn’t doing much to help himself. Jack was the one who had to sling his arm over his shoulder and maneuver him into the passenger seat, muttering curses under his breath the whole time.

You climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusting until you were comfortable. Luke’s car was nice, but it definitely wasn’t your car.

Jack barely got himself buckled in the back before Luke was adjusting in his seat, slumping slightly to the side so his head rested against the window.

You glanced over. “You good?”

Luke made a vague noise of confirmation, eyes half-lidded. “Mmhmm.”

Jack snorted. “He’s gonna be out cold in five minutes.”

You hummed, starting the car. “Good. That means I don’t have to listen to him whine the whole way home.”

Jack huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t argue.

The first few minutes of the drive were quiet, save for the occasional sound of Luke shifting.

Then—

“Hey, babe?”

You flicked your eyes toward him briefly. “Yeah?”

Luke sighed, tilting his head slightly toward you. “You’re really good at driving my car.”

Jack let out a loud groan from the backseat. “Oh my god.”

You smirked, keeping your eyes on the road. “Glad you think so, Hughes.”

Luke hummed in response, already sounding half-asleep.

Jack sighed, resting his head against the window. “This is gonna be a long night.”

You just smiled, shaking your head as you drove the two of them home.

Luke wasn’t completely out of it—just slower, his movements lazier, his usual filter missing. He walked fine, if a little unsteady, but there was a looseness to his posture, a sleepy, heavy-lidded look in his eyes that told you the meds were still doing their job.

You kept a steady hand on his lower back, guiding him toward his room. Jack had already disappeared into his own, muttering something about not dealing with this shit before slamming his door. That left just you and Luke.

Once inside, you flicked on the lamp. “Alright, Hughes. Let’s get you changed.”

Luke sighed, dropping onto the bed. “You just wanna get my clothes off.”

You shot him a look. “Not with you like this, dumbass.”

He smirked, eyes half-lidded as they raked over you. “So you’re saying you would under different circumstances?”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to help him with his hoodie. “That’s not what I said.”

Luke let you tug it off, his smirk never faltering. “Didn’t say it, but you didn’t deny it.”

You huffed. “Shut up, Hughes.”

His grin widened, but he let you work. He even managed to push down his dress pants himself, though when you knelt in front of him to help, he made a low, thoughtful hum.

“This is kinda nice,” he mused, voice dipping lower. “You, on your knees for me.”

Your hands froze on his waistband. “LUKE.”

He laughed, head tipping back against the pillows. “I’m just saying.”

You smacked his thigh—not too hard, given the state he was in—and yanked the fabric off the rest of the way. “Try saying something that doesn’t make me want to kill you.”

Luke stretched out, smug and unbothered, as you tossed his clothes aside. “Can’t help it, babe. You’re taking such good care of me. It’s kinda hot.”

You ignored him, moving toward his dresser. “I need to change, too.”

That got his attention. “Into what?”

You grabbed one of his T-shirts. “Jeans aren’t exactly comfortable to sleep in.”

Luke watched, eyes darkening slightly, as you pulled off your jersey, leaving you in just a sports bra. His gaze dropped, flickering over your bare skin, then lower to the spandex hugging your thighs.

His good hand flexed slightly against his thigh. “Jesus.”

You turned back to him, pulling his oversized shirt over your head. “What?”

Luke blinked slowly. “That’s my shirt.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I know. I just took it from your drawer.”

His tongue flicked out over his bottom lip. “Yeah, but it’s my shirt. And you’re in it. Looking like that.”

You frowned, tugging at the hem. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Luke let out a slow, low breath, his fingers drumming once against his thigh before he muttered, “It means I should be injured more often.”

You huffed a laugh, moving toward the bed. “Get under the covers before I make Jack put you to bed.”

Luke smirked but did as you said, shifting under the blankets. The second you slid in beside him, his good arm immediately pulled you in, his fingers finding your waist.

“You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple, “if I wasn’t so tired, I’d make you regret putting that on.”

His fingers skimmed just under the fabric. “Yeah. I’d take my time peeling it off… starting real slow.”

You snorted. “Mmm. Sounds like a lot of effort for someone who could barely put his own pants on.”

Luke tensed slightly. “…I could still do it.”

You bit back a laugh. “Sure, Hughes.”

His fingers twitched. “Don’t ‘sure, Hughes’ me.”

You turned your head, letting your lips graze his jaw, voice dropping to a whisper. “Then prove it.”

Luke inhaled sharply—actually sharp—before going completely still.

You grinned. “What? No snarky comeback?”

He blinked, processing. “I—I…” He huffed, shaking his head. “Not fair.”

You laughed. “Oh, it’s completely fair.”

Luke groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus. I’m never getting injured again.”

You patted his chest. “Good plan.”

Luke sighed, finally relaxing again. His voice was softer when he murmured, “You’re taking good care of me, babe.”

You smirked. “Well, someone has to.”

Luke huffed, eyes already slipping shut. “Lucky me.”

You smiled, letting your fingers brush lightly over his side. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Lucky you.”

And with that, Luke Hughes—NHL player, hockey menace, and normally way too cocky for his own good—fell asleep with a slight pink tinge to his ears.

And that? That was a win.

[wileys-russo]

alessia, “stop taking my sunglasses”, car

sunglasses II a.russo

"okay we have the picnic blanket, food, we're about to get coffees...what else do we need?" you listed off on your fingers as your girlfriend paused to think.

"mm nope! i think thats everything." the blonde hummed in agreement, grabbing her car keys and twirling them around on her finger.

"i think there is one thing we might be forgetting lessi." you prompted with a smile of amusement, your girlfriend frowning in confusion as she ticked it over in her head.

"oh my god wait the dog!" alessia realised, dropping her keys and turning on heel and sprinting off into the backyard where her brothers bulldog was taking a nap in the sun. "bella. walkies!" alessia grabbed her lead off the table and waved it happily.

"look baby she's just like you in the morning." you teased from the back door as bella merely rolled onto her back, showing her stomach to the sun expectantly awaiting a tummy rub.

"ha, ha, ha." alessia's voice dripped with sarcasm as she shot you a dirty look and you tossed her bella's collar. "come on bella! up we get!" alessia clapped encouragingly, patting her stomach and trying to roll her over.

you snickered in amusement as the bulldog made no move to aid her, alessia grunting with effort as she clicked the collar around bella's neck and still tried to roll her over onto her stomach.

"babe you could help!" the striker huffed as you snickered again, shooting you a glare as she heaved and tried to pull bella up to her feet. "bella. car time!" you whistled, alessia squealing and falling over as bella suddenly shot up and inside.

"aw do you want a tummy rub?" you teased as the striker huffed and held her hand out expecting you to help her up. "how do you whistle like that?" your girlfriend huffed as you grabbed her hand.

"family secret." you grinned, always having refused to teach her because you knew it wound her up. "alessia!" you yelped as with a firm yank to your hand you were pulled down to the ground, the blonde hovering over you.

"you're such a child!" you huffed, hitting her chest as she easily hopped up to her feet, sending you a wink and heading on inside. "oh don't help me or anything babe!" you huffed, standing up and brushing the dirt from your knees with an annoyed grumble.

"come on love we haven't got all day!" alessia sung out teasingly as you stepped inside, sliding and locking the back door closed, flipping her off as she clicked bella's harness on over her chest.

"luca gets back on wednesday yeah?" you asked for clarification as the striker hummed in confirmation. "can bella live here and you go back home with him instead?" you gasped sarcastically, washing your hands with a roll of your eyes.

"don't be grumpy! you'd miss me too much babe." alessia's arms snaked around your torso, tenderly kissing your cheek as you scoffed. "i'd miss your cooking maybe. you? not so much russo i'll take cuddles with the dog anyday!" you squeezed her face in your hand and wiggled out of her grip.

"excuse me!" alessia huffed grabbing her keys as you took bella's lead, tucking the picnic blanket under your arm. "you're excused." you shot back with a wink as your girlfriend grabbed the bag of snacks and rolled her eyes, closing the front door after herself.

"this is supposed to be our date day and you've spent the majority of it bullying me!" alessia protested as you clipped bella's harness into the ring holder on the backseat securing her into place.

"well you've spent the majority of our relationship bullying me, so it evens out!" you smiled, stealing a kiss before the striker could utter another protest, sliding into the passenger seat and closing the door.

you pulled open the console and plucked out a pair of sunglasses, settling them over your nose and clicking in your seatbelt as alessia's door opened and she sat down closing it after her.

sticking her key in the ignition she opened the console you'd just closed, frowning when she couldn't find the sunglasses that always sat inside. you were too preoccupied with your phone to notice as she glanced up to ask if you'd seen them.

"less!" you huffed as she snatched them off your face, settling them on her own and turning the key as her engine roared to life. "these are mine. my car, my sunglasses, my girlfriend, my brothers dog." the blonde smirked smacking your hand away as you tried to take them back.

"well someone woke up and forgot what sharing is! what happened to whats mine is yours?"

~

"babe please teach me how to whistle!" alessia whined as you did it yet again sending bella sprinting over toward you as you tossed her tennis ball and she raced off again.

"no! teach yourself." you smiled in amusement, squealing as your girlfriends hand smacked against your ass and she scowled at you, somewhat resembling a toddler having a tantrum.

"aw did someone not get her designated twelve hours of sleep?" you cooed teasingly, pinching her cheeks and pecking her lips, knowing how sacred her daily naps were to the footballer.

"i think you'll agree we both missed out on some sleep last night." alessia smirked suggestively as your cheeks flushed pink and you shoved her, the two of you sitting back down on the picnic blanket watching bella race around in circles.

"zoomies." you both chimed in unison, sharing a grin as the sun peeked back out from where it had hidden behind the clouds and you squinted, shielding your eyes with your hands.

waiting until she seemed off in her own little world daydreaming you leaned over and snatched the sunglasses off her face, rolling away from her when she tried to take them back.

"less baby its sunny! my eyes hurt!" you protested trying to fight her off and grunting as she flopped herself down on top of you. "stop taking my sunglasses. you should have brought your own!" your girlfriend laughed, easily pinning your arms down with one hand and plucking her sunglasses back with the other.

"i'll teach you how to whistle?" you bargained, alessia pausing to clearly think it over, letting go of your arms and sighing, offering you the sunglasses back as you happily sat up and took them.

"okay you form a little o with your lips, and blow!" you instructed, demonstrating as your girlfriend gave you an odd look. "i know how to whistle you idiot. teach me your whistle!" the blonde demanded as you shrugged.

"i said i would teach you how to whistle, not how to do my special whistle." "thats-but-no! show me!" "sorry baby, family secret."

"alessia!" you squealed as she tackled you back down onto the picnic blanket, hovering over you with a tut and a shake of her head. "what am i going to do with you hm?" the striker sighed, however before she could do anything a bundle of fur barreled right into the pair of you, knocking the wind out of her.

"good girl bella!" "you and that stupid whistle."

[femmeroll]

✦•·················• 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐳 •·················•✦

abby anderson x fem reader | wicked au

wicked has taken over my brain completely this week and i had this idea while watching gelphie edits on tiktok! i might make this a series if it does well 🤍

your arrival to shiz was nothing short of magical. the scenery is something out of a storybook, the buildings resemble the palace from your favorite fairytale.

you step off your boat, kissing your dear parents goodbye and stepping into the quad with as much courage as you could muster. it’s overwhelming, truly, being thrust into a new environment.

the illusive madame morrible takes center stage, introducing herself and welcoming us all.

“welcome, students, to shiz university. your roommate assignments are posted at each corner of the quad.”

you walk over to one of the signs, searching for your name. you hope whoever you’re paired with is nice enough. that’s what you had the most trouble with. you heard stories of girls being stuck with awful roommates at shiz. your finger trails the list until you spot your name.

y/n and abigail anderson

abigail. okay. a new best friend, perhaps? you wonder what she’s like. what’s her major? does she play sports? is she more introverted or extroverted?

the room is on the second floor. you carry your pink bags up the stairs, eyes landing on room 201. opening the door brings a bright smile to your face. it’s gorgeous. the dark wood and floral ceiling details make your heart swell. it’s perfect.

the door clicks, and your eyes widen.

at least five foot ten, skin adorned with the cutest freckles you’ve ever seen. her biceps strain the fabric of her shirt. she has a stoic expression on her face, practically unreadable.

“you must be abigail! i’m y/n, it’s great to meet you” you greet her, glossed lips perking up in a sweet smile.

“uh, yeah. that’s me. just abby” she replies awkwardly. she looks around and sees what you’ve already set up. pink desk, pink vanity, pink bedding and a closet already filled to the brim with frilly pink clothing.

she sighs, opening her bags and getting her side of the room ready in silence. she’s the complete opposite of you. no decorations apart from a framed picture of her and a middle aged man, assuming her father. her clothes are plain, a lot of grays and blacks.

“so…” you start, “what’s your major? i’m in sorcery.”

“same” she replies shortly. you find her disinterest with you a bit strange. she doesn’t even look at you as she speaks, focused completely on unpacking.

“are you taking oz history? i have it at eight tomorrow with dr. dillamond.”

“yeah, same” she says. “i’m a morning person, so i should be fine.”

you smile. even if it’s small, her adding to the conversation is worth something. you hope that she’ll warm up to you eventually. you’ve always been friendly, and maybe some of that will rub off on your new roommate.

the first week of school at shiz is decently successful. you make some friends, meet your professors, and your adjusting just fine without your parents. abby, however, is still an issue. she leaves early for your shared class, seemingly so she doesn’t have to walk with you. she eats in the dinning hall by herself, studies in the library alone, and never talks to you without being prompted. she doesn’t even interact with you in spells and sorcery club.

you’re so frustrated. why doesn’t she like you? is she just bad at making friends? you don’t understand.

on sunday evening, while abby is at the library, you get ready for bed. you slip on a silk, pink nightgown and matching pink slippers. you grab a pen and paper, and begin writing.

dearest mumsie and popsicle,

this week has been good, but my roommate is not fond of me. i’m trying to be friendly, but i thinks it’s safe to say that she detests me. i miss you both dearly, i can’t wait for oz day break!

love,

y/n

the door opens, and abby eyes you up. you look so pure in your little nightgown, holding your pink pen. it makes her skin crawl, her face flush, and her head reel. she has a hard time describing her feelings towards you. but she settles on one word.

loathing.

she loathes the fact that you occupy her thoughts. she loathes the fact that she can smell your sweet perfume in any room you were in before her. she loathes how social you are. she loathes how effortlessly pretty you are. with your stupid makeup and stupid pink dresses that barely reach your mid thigh. she loathes how kind your words are. loathes how every word you say sits in her head for hours. it drives her insane.

“hi, abby. how was your studying?”

“it was fine. i’m no good at history.”

you giggle. god, she loathes that adorable giggle too. “aren’t you from the emerald city? i assume it was shoved down your throat.”

“i guess so,” she sighs. “i kinda tuned it out. it being shoved down my throat had the opposite effect.”

“i could help you, you know. i’m good at history.”

abby huffs. why are you so insistent? she doesn’t need help. from you or for anyone. but when you look up at her with those precious eyes, her mouth opens before her brain even works.

“that’d be great.”

you internally cheer. finally, you’re getting somewhere!

“good! we can go to the library tomorrow.”

that next week, you and abby spend every day in the library. while the conversations are mostly about oz history, you learn a little bit more about abby. you learn that she likes to read old books. she plays desertball in her free time. she takes walks off campus often, with no destination. she just enjoys being outside.

around eight pm on friday night, you and abby are still in the library. it’s empty, besides the two of you and the librarian.

“you’re really improving, abs!” you smile, sneaking in a new nickname. “i think you’ll do great on monday’s quiz.”

there you go with those sweet words. the words that make abby’s stomach twist.

“a bunch of us are going down to the ozdust tonight. do you wanna go?”

“i don’t think so,” abby replies. “not really my scene.”

you pack up and start walking back, a bit disappointed.

“if you won’t come, will you at least help me pick a dress?”

“uh…i guess so.”

back in the dorm, you hold up three dresses. one is pink sequin, one is pink with with lace, and one is white with pink flowers.

“i think i should try them on, so you can see what they really look like.”

abby’s mouth goes dry the second you start taking your uniform off, face to face with your pink lace bra and matching panties.

that’s the final thing abby loathes.

how much you turn her on.

she doesn’t mean to look at you like that, but she just can’t help herself. every time she sees you in your tiny dresses, her eyes linger. when you come back from the communal showers with your pink silk robe, her brain short-circuits at the thought of you being completely nude underneath. it drives her insane.

“abby? what do you think of this dress?”

she snaps out of her thoughts, you’ve already put one of the dresses on. you look gorgeous, the dress highlights all your curves, the lace on the sleeves is absolutely stunning.

“u-um…it looks nice. really nice.”

you giggle. “i guess i’ll go with this one, then.”

abby sits on her bed while you get ready, curling your hair and applying your makeup. she feels sick. you’re so nice, you look so pretty, and now she has the imagine of you in nothing but a bra and panties burned into her brain. and you’re going out in that tight dress and abby feels like her head is gonna explode.

“i’ll be back before midnight. bye abby!”

she waves goodbye and collapses onto her pillow the second you leave.

she tries to calm down. she goes to the gym, she takes a freezing cold shower, she studies for her remedial sorcery class, but no amount of distractions will get rid of the picture of you in her head. she loathes this feeling. maybe she loathes how you make her feel, not you yourself.

she’s trying to sleep, but every time she closes her eyes she sees you. and then her imagination starts to go against her will.

“abby, will you take my dress off?”

“abby, you’re so muscular and strong.”

“abby, please kiss me.”

“abby, you make me feel so good-”

her thoughts are interrupted by the door swinging open. there you are, hair slightly frizzy but still as perfect as ever.

“hey abs? why are you still up?”

“couldn’t sleep. did you…have fun?” she asks

you pout. “not really. my friends left me to go hang out with a group of boys.”

“why didn’t you go with them?”

“they were all paired off. plus, i’m not really interested in flirting with boys.”

abby’s eyes widen.

“will you unzip my dress for me? i’m so sleepy.”

oh, this is horrible. abby feels like she’s gonna faint as she unzips your dress. this is exactly how her stupid fantasy started. the stupid fantasy where she gets to taste every inch of your sweet body.

“thanks, abs. you’re so sweet” you say. you change into your nightgown and turn back to face abby.

“i hope you’ll come out with me next time. it’d be much more fun with you.”

“yeah…maybe.”

you stand on your tiptoes to kiss her cheek, getting a pink, shiny mark on her face. “goodnight, abs.”

you crawl into bed, falling asleep immediately. abby is stilling standing there, jaw dropped.

she didn’t loathe that. not one bit.

i hope yall enjoyed! this is my first actual long fic. let me know if you want a part two 🤍🤍🤍