#if we fail it will not be through my doing

[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 thank 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.”

Later That Day – The Shopping Trip

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.

[wayneskluv]

Wonder Woman's daughter x Bat-fam - Chapter one

summary: Your mom—Wonder Woman—just dropped you off at Wayne Manor like a kid because she apparently couldn’t find a “suitable babysitter.” Never mind that you’re a fully grown adult and more than capable of taking care of yourself. Now you’re stuck in a mansion full of brooding vigilantes, chaotic adopted siblings, and a butler who’s already silently judging your life choices.

You survived battles, monsters, and Olympian family drama—but can you survive living with the Batfamily?

word count: around 1.6k before i made final touches on tumblr editor

pairing/s: platonic!alfred x reader, platonic!damian x reader (he's a child in this fic!) and then maybe romantically dick x reader or jason x reader perhaps even tim. probably not bruce x reader. if anyone has any preferences, do let me know!

warnings: basically none at the moment. haven't pre-read. no beta, we die like jason todd. damian being a bit of a demon brat. demigod!user.

a/n: all images edited by me! if there’s an artist i haven’t credited, please let me know! i usually get my images from pinterest, and the credit is.. not great. if i’ve written something twice or misspelled something please PLEASE don’t hesitate to tell me. i very much appreciate it. but please be kind! i promise the next parts will be longer, this is sort of an intro into it. even if they aren’t longer, i’ll write a few.

# ── chapter one's POLAROID design - DAMIAN’S:

WAYNE MANOR is.. a lot.

It’s not just the size—though the sheer magnitude of the place is ridiculous—it’s the atmosphere. There’s a certain weight to the air, something woven between the old wood and polished marble, between the paintings of long-dead Waynes and the ever-present shadows stretching down the halls. It’s a house of ghosts, of past lives and quiet grief, but also of something more. Something alive.

You follow Alfred through the halls, the weight of multiple sets of eyes trailing behind you.

“So,�� Dick says, effortlessly slipping into step beside you, “how long are you crashing with us?”

“Not sure,” you admit. “Mom was vague. Something about a ‘diplomatic mission’ and ‘needing someone to keep an eye on me.’”

Jason makes a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “You’re a grown adult. You need a babysitter?”

“Right?!” You throw up a hand. “I told her that. But apparently, my ‘tendency to attract trouble’ means I need supervision.”

Tim, still lounging on the couch with his coffee, raises an eyebrow. “You’re in good company, then.”

“I fail to see why we should be responsible for you,” Damian mutters, arms still crossed. “You’re more than capable of defending yourself. Do you require assistance dressing yourself as well?”

You smirk. “No, but thanks for the concern.” How old was this kid?

Damian bristles. Jason outright laughs.

Bruce, who had been silent up until now, finally speaks. “You’re here. You’ll train, patrol, and follow house rules. No exceptions.”

Ah. There it is. The Batman speech.

You tilt your head. “Define ‘rules.’”

Jason grins.

Bruce ignores him. “No reckless fights, no engaging Gotham’s rogues without backup, and no breaking my city.”

You cross your arms. “Define ‘breaking.’”

Tim groans into his coffee.

Dick pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

You look around at your newly acquired dysfunctional family and resist the urge to sigh.

Mom really did just dump you here like a stray dog, huh?

—

You’re led to your new room—temporary room, you remind yourself—as Alfred sweeps open the door with his usual poised efficiency.

The space is huge. Bigger than necessary. A four-poster bed, heavy oak furniture, a massive window overlooking the eternal Gotham gloom. Everything is dark wood, old money, and class. The whole place smells faintly of leather-bound books and expensive cologne. It’s… nice. In a cold, excessively rich, mildly haunted sort of way.

Alfred clears his throat. “I took the liberty of preparing the room to your specifications. If anything is unsuitable, do let me know.”

Your specifications. Right. You’d told your mom you didn’t need anything, but she must have sent a list anyway, because there’s ambrosia nectar in a crystal decanter on the desk, a thick training mat rolled up in the corner, and a wardrobe that probably contains battle-appropriate outfits tailored to your measurements.

She really did just drop you off and send instructions like you’re a dog.

“Thanks, Alfred,” you say, running a hand over the desk. Solid mahogany. You could probably suplex a god onto it, and it would hold.

He nods approvingly. “Dinner is at seven. I trust you will have no issue finding the dining hall?”

You smirk. “I don’t know. This place is a maze. You sure I won’t end up lost and starving in the east wing?”

He doesn’t blink. “Then I shall inform Master Wayne that a search party may be required.”

Alfred departs, leaving you to take in the ridiculousness of your situation. You sit on the bed—comfortably firm, definitely high-thread-count sheets—and drop onto your back, staring at the ceiling.

Your mother owes you so much for this.

—

You spend the next couple of hours getting familiar with your prison.

It’s quiet for a while. Peaceful.

Then the knocking starts.

“Hey, Newbie.”

The door opens before you can answer. Dick. Of course it’s Dick.

He leans in, all easy grins and big brother energy. “Figured I’d check in. You settled?”

“As settled as I’ll ever be,” you say, sitting up.

Dick saunters in like he owns the place (which, okay, technically he used to). He glances around, nodding at the Amazonian touches. “Mom went all out, huh?”

“She thinks Gotham is held together with duct tape. She’s probably right.”

“Oh, definitely right.”

Before you can ask what he actually wants, another figure appears in the doorway.

Jason.

He crosses his arms, giving you a slow once-over. “So. You’re an Amazon.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Dick chokes on a laugh. Jason grins.

—

The next few hours are a crash course in Batfamily survival.

Tim appears just long enough to tell you that “if you touch my coffee, I will kill you” before vanishing into the night like a cryptid.

Damian tests your reflexes by casually throwing a knife at you in the hallway. You catch it without looking. He says nothing. Just nods and walks away.

Jason decides to test your strength. By handing you a gun. You crush it in your bare hand. “…Well, okay then.”

Dick drags you into the living room for an impromptu movie night. Apparently, it’s a tradition. Jason spends half the movie making snarky Amazon jokes. Damian complains about historical inaccuracies.

By the time dinner rolls around, you’re half-convinced you’ve walked into a madhouse.

Alfred serves a massive feast (courtesy of your inhuman dietary needs). You sit at the table, surrounded by Gotham’s weirdest vigilantes, eating like an Amazon in the middle of a completely normal family meal.

It’s bizarre. It’s horrifying.

It’s… weirdly nice.

Bruce, sitting at the head of the table, barely says anything. He’s watching you, but it’s not that usual piercing Batman stare—it’s more like a curiosity. Maybe he’s wondering what kind of trouble you’ll stir up. Maybe he just doesn’t know what to make of you. You’ve barely had a real conversation with him, just him dropping you here with all the grace of a father figuring out how to deal with his kids’ newest problem. But then again, Bruce Wayne isn’t exactly father of the year.

Dick’s usual charm is in full swing as he tries to make small talk. “So, you’re a demigod, huh? You’re gonna have to teach me some moves sometime. You know, to keep up with all the crazy stuff we have to do around here.” His smile is big, open—like he’s trying to make you feel at home, but you can tell there’s a nervous energy under it. He keeps glancing at you, like he’s trying to figure out how to approach someone who could probably snap him like a twig. You almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

Jason, sitting next to you, shovels food in with no care for finesse. “So, you’re Wonder Woman’s kid. That explains the whole glowing warrior princess thing you’ve got going on. What do you actually do with all that godly power? Sit on mountaintops and brood or do you, like, break people’s faces for a living?” His voice is laced with amusement, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes. He’s testing you.

“You’d be surprised,” you say coolly, setting your fork down. “I’ve had a bit of experience with face-breaking.”

Jason laughs. “Good, because Gotham needs a lot of that.”

Damian, who had been silently poking at his food, suddenly looks up from his plate. His eyes narrow with some strange mix of suspicion and mild interest. “You will be trained, I assume?” he asks, not bothering to hide the condescension in his voice. “Or do you believe that your divine abilities will suffice?”

You almost choke on your drink. “Oh, I’m definitely trained, kid. What, you think just because I’m half-god I don’t need to learn how to fight like a human?”

Damian’s lips curl up into something that might be a sneer, but it’s more like the equivalent of a raised eyebrow from someone who’s always trying to one-up everyone. “I suppose that’s a good attitude, for now.”

You raise an eyebrow back, feeling the tension between you two starting to spark. “Keep thinking that.”

Tim, who’s been glaring into his phone the whole time, suddenly looks up. His expression is the usual deadpan, but you catch a flicker of curiosity. “You know,” he says, tapping on his screen, “if you really want to get the most out of this place, you’ll have to figure out which of us is your mentor. Bruce is… well, Bruce, so don’t expect much from him. But if you’re looking for a solid training regiment, maybe ask Dick or Jason. Just—don’t get too attached to the idea of normal training. This is Gotham, and we all have our… quirks.” He’s about to say more when Bruce interrupts with a sharp look.

“That’s enough, Tim,” Bruce says softly, but with authority. The room falls silent for a moment. Tim’s eyes flicker up at Bruce, then down at his phone. No more words from him.

It’s… strange. You’re used to the chaos, but this feels like a whole other level of dysfunction. They bicker like siblings, but there’s this undercurrent of something deeper—loyalty maybe? You can tell that whatever happens between these people, they’re bound by something stronger than just the weight of their shared lives.

You take a breath and cut in, trying to ease the tension. “Look, I’m just here for the short-term. All I need is a place to crash and a bit of guidance while Mom does whatever it is she’s doing.”

“Short-term?” Damian asks, raising a brow. “How short is short-term?”

You glance over at him, the corners of your mouth tugging into a smirk. “Not long enough for you to start calling me ‘sis,’ if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He glares at you. “We shall see.”

The dinner continues, awkwardly at first but slowly finding its rhythm. There’s a comfortable noise in the air now—the kind that only happens when people are used to each other’s company. And while you’re still very much the outsider in this strange little family, for the first time since you arrived, the weight of the world outside feels just a little bit lighter.

@hjgdhghoe @linnygirl09

[gwydionmisha]

My parents did it similarly, though not entirely the same as the OP (I'm an Xer) and I absolutely agree with their conclusions. I can not stress enough how good the explain why thing is.

We were expected to stop if an adult yelled stop. We could ask why after, but generally, there was a very good reason, like a car was coming. (We did do logical consequences, like throw a tantrum and we leave, so you don't get to do the thing we were going to do. Scream in the restaurant, and we don't get to eat in the restaurant. That sort of thing).

The answers to why made sense. It gave us the idea that rules had reasons and you should think about reasons before deciding to break one.

We had a process for rules changes. We could go and say, "I think this rule should be changed, and here's why." We could then make a case for it using reason and wherever possible evidence. They would discuss it and get back to us, usually in a day or two, never longer than a week. They might change the rule. They might offer a compromise or a negotiation towards a compromise. They might say, "We think you're a little too young, ask again in a year." They might say no and here's why. At which point there was a chance for a counter argument. If that failed wait a year and try again.

This is a far better preparation for adulthood than because I said and violent punishment. Sure, I would break rules now and then, but I always did it with forethought, weighing reasons and risks and consequences. If caught, I could explain why. Ex.: "I snuck out because a friend was at a party turning ugly and I went to take them home." I avoided a lot of stupid and dangerous behavior my friends and relatives my age got into because they were stuck in a punishment and rebellion cycle with their parents or parent. (I wasn't an angel, but every rule I broke was something I decided was worth it after thinking it through).

My parent's relationship style of discussing things calmly and negotiating solutions with each other served me pretty well in my own dating life, as did the fundamental sense that we were all on one team, working together as a family to achieve goals and solve problems. If you are all on one side, you don't fight to win or fight to hurt the other person; instead you negotiate to get your needs met and to make sure everyone can live with the outcome whether the issue is dishes or not having enough money for the electric bill or big life questions.

It also is way better prep for living in a Democracy. I think the reasons why are pretty obvious. Rational argumentation and negotiation is a way healthier approach to government than the one authoritarian parenting sets you up for. It's good to question the whys of rules and systems in place and if they aren't working, look for ways to fix them. Preferably as a group.

Because we do better as a group when we are all trying to improve things instead of putting all our energy into winning or hurting the other person.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[bbrissonn]

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 - 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ in which luke has some plans for the two of you during the 4 nations tournament break

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wc: 3.1k

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ warnings: reader is a nail tech !!! slight swearing,nsfw content read at your own risk, not proofread

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ started listening to old money by lana del rey about half way through writing this, im sure you'll be able to figure out what part...

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ reader's instagram is public !!!

"so, you talked to mom for next week?" jack asked luke from besides him on the plane. the team was currently on their way back from pittsburgh after a short two game roadtrip. the 4 nations tournament was less than a week away, meaning luke had 2 weeks where he could finally get his mind off of hockey for a while.

more importantly, he got two spend 2 whole weeks with you and only you. he had been looking forward to february since the announcement of the tournament, having a feeling he wouldn't get picked for team usa because it was only his second year in the league. meaning he had had almost a whole year to plan these two weeks he'd get with you.

luke had almost forced to take your two weeks of vacation off during those specific weeks, and you were quick to alert your boss about it. the two of you had been together for a year and a half now, having met during luke's short stay in new jersey at the end of the 2022-2023 season. you had decided not to go to university, opting to attending cosmetology school. you eventually focused nails, your parents letting set up a small salon in their garage. you had met luke when you were shopping for supplies, the boy looking lost as he looked around himself and down at his phone constantly.

as a native new yorker, it pained you to see someone looking as clueless as he did. most people covered it up well, walking with confidence but having no clue where they were going. him on the other hand, he looked like a lost puppy. you decided to approach him, hoping you could help him.

𓇢𓆸

"lost?" you asked as you approached the stranger, a couple of bags in your hands. the stranger turned his head slightly, looking down at his phone quickly, before his head snapped up towards you. his eyes stared into your for a moment, his jaw dropping slightly before snapping back to reality.

"y-yeah, a bit." he mumbled, suddenly finding himself pushing his shoulders back, fixing his posture slightly. you tried your best to hold in a giggle as he then ran his hand through his hair a couple of times.

"where you going?" you asked, stepping a little closer trying to take a peak at his phone. luke leaned his hand towards you, letting you get a better view, but all he could focus on was you.

"meeting some friends... and my brother."

"visiting?"

"uh... just moved. i actually live in new jersey, we all do, but they insisted we come here so..." he explained, his soft gentle as his eyes stayed glued on you. you looked up at him as you figured out mentally where to send the boy. you hadn't noticed just how much taller than you he was.

"work?"

"something like that, yeah."

"head up that way, about three streets down turn left, you'll see it right away. its got a bright neon sign, hard to miss." you instructed him with a smile.

"you'd think phones would be better at directions by now." he joked awkwardly, making you smile slightly. you finally took a good look at his face. he was cute, a lot cuter than any boys you had seen in a while. "i'm luke, by the way."

"y/n." you smiled at him.

𓇢𓆸

luke had kindly asked for your number before making his way to meet his friends. the two of soon started talking almost everyday, luke had been glued to his phone all summer, making everyone around him a little curious by his sudden change. his brothers eventually figured that he had been talking to you the whole time, but failed to convince him to let them meet you.

when luke had gotten back in new jersey in september, he was quick to asked you to be his girlfriend. you didn't have to think twice as the word "yes" slipped from your mouth before your brain even registered what he had said. you were now nearing your year and a half mark, and luke couldn't be anymore in love with you than he already was.

"oh, uhm. i made plans with y/n/n." luke answered his brother, making jack looking over him.

"she can come too, you know. ma would love for her to be there too."

"the uh, plans, their not plans in new jersey."

"make a detour to montreal?"

"i mean, we'll be there for the games in boston, but we're uh, going away before." jack was now very confused as to what luke was saying. never had his brother, or you, mentioned the two of you taking a trip. for all he knew, you had been talking about how excited you were to explore montreal.

"what do you mean?"

"just, i planned a little something special for her, that's all. non-refundable and all."

"where you guys going?"

"i'm not telling you." luke scoffed, making jack look at him with a fake hurt expression.

"why not?"

"'cause your shit a keeping a secret. and she doesn't know yet, so i'm not telling you." luke explained, making jack scoff slightly before putting in his headphones. luke shook his head at his older brother's childish behaviour before texting you. the two of you had agreed to meet up for lunch between two of your clients, and he wanted to make sure there was no delay within your schedule.

𓇢𓆸

"so, baby, i know you're excited and all about montreal-"

"oh, luke, it's gonna be amazing! we're gonna shop, we're gonna explore. go to that cool thing cole keeps talking about." you said with a smile before taking another bit of your plate. you had met cole the previous summer, when you had flew to michigan to visit luke and his family for a couple of weeks. thankfully you had met his brothers and parents, so the only knew people were their friends.

"about that... we're not going to montreal, babe." luke watched as your smile dropped, and he cursed himself for his words.

"what do you mean? what about jack, and quinn, and all your family?"

"we'll go see them, in boston. i was, uh, hoping you'd wanna take a trip with me. get away from everyone, just you and me. and i'm really hoping you say because it's not refundable, so..." he muttered, scratching the back of his neck slightly.

"o-okay, yeah, that's... that's fine. where are we going?" you were glad you had decided not to schedule any clients during luke's two week break, seeing as he had been talking about this moment since the beginning of the season.

"a lot of places, places you're gonna like. took of everything, housing, transport, it's gonna be amazing, love." the boy said with a grin on his face.

"where?"

"europe."

𓇢𓆸

"oh, my gosh, this place is amazing!" you gasped as you walked the streets of london. your plane had arrived early in the morning, and the two of you waisted no time explore the city. your hand was holding on tightly to luke's, his smile matching yours.

"i'm glad your enjoying this, love." the boy spoke as your eyes looked over at him. you bit your bottom lip as luke softly smiled down at you.

"you're amazing, you know that?" you asked the boy as he threw his arm over your shoulders, bringing you close to his side. he chuckled slightly as he pressed a kiss to your temple before answering your question.

"i try." he whispered sweetly before the two of you entered a shop. you spent the rest of day walking around london, getting snacks from almost every food place luke's eyes landed on, eventually sitting down for dinner, and finally making your way to your hotel room.

"we got an early morning tomorrow, babe, get some sleep." the boy mumbled as your mouth trailed down his neck. luke was laying on his back, with you snuggled to his side.

"what are we doing?"

"we're getting on a train." his answer made you look up at him, your mouth leaving his skin as you gave him a weird look.

"a... train?"

"yes, y/n/n, a train." he giggled.

"where to?"

"france." he shrugged with a proud grin as a gasp left your mouth.

"we're going to paris?" you exclaimed, fully pushing yourself so you were straddling luke's lap.

"we are."

"oh my god, luke!" you said before throwing your arms around him. you had been dying to visit paris since you were a little kid, and the want grew even stronger over the summer as you watched the olympics.

16 hours later, you found yourself sitting in a restaurant near the eiffel tower. the night had set, the tower lighted up, people roaming the busy streets of the city, people were talking, laughing, yelling, so much was going. but all you could focus and think about was the boy in front of you.

"you're starring."

"i am." you answered with a smile. luke flashed you his lopsided grin before taking another bit of his food.

"your food's gonna get cold."

"i don't care." you answered, making luke sigh slightly before placing his fork down.

"alright, what is it?"

"nothing... nothing i just, i love you, you know. a lot. this trip... it means a lot." you stuttered, suddenly feeling like a school girl again. luke's hand reached for yours across the table, rubbing you skin softly with his thumb.

"i know, and i love you." he answered, making you blush as you looked down at your lap. you nodded slightly before finally starting to eat your dinner. the two of you ended your night by the eiffel tower, your camera roll getting filled with pictures of the tower itself, you in front of it, luke in front of it, selfies taken together, and pictures a kind stranger took for the two of you. you then made your way back to a hotel near by, the two being seen from your window.

"baby... baby, slow down." luke mumbled as your hands attacked his button up the second the door closed behind the two of you. your lips quickly connected with his neck, making him throw his head back with a groan. luke's hand found their way to your waist, before pushing you up against the wall. you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with a grin as you arched your back, pressing yourself into him.

"no." you answered sweetly before connecting your lips together. luke felt like he was floating up in the clouds at this moment, your hands pushing his button up off of his body before you hands started touching every single part of his upper body.

"you drive me crazy, you know." the boy stated as your hands squeezed his biceps, which were flexed from his grasp on your waist. they quickly moved to find the hem of your shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion, leaving you topless in your lace bra. another groan left his mouth as his lips attached themselves to your neck.

"i know." you said, smirking as your hands now found luke's belt. another groan. just as you were about to undo his belt, you felt luke's strong arms pick you up, and suddenly you were over his shoulder. your giggle echoed through the room as luke dropped you softly on the bed, before crawling over to you.

"i'm so in love with you." he mumbled as he approached you slowly. you were resting on your forearms barely holding yourself up as luke's large figure towered over you. his hands were resting right next to your arms, his forehead inches away from you.

"i'm crazy in love with you, lukey." you mumbled before the boy quickly reached down and connected your lips together, the two of you smiling into the kiss as luke softly pushed you down on the bed.

"luke..." you whispered as his lips slowly trailed down your neck to your chest, his hands locking with yours next to your head.

"yeah, baby?"

"please." you begged as luke pulled your bra down, his lips quickly attacking your boobs as you bit your lips. it had been so long, too long, since the two of you had been completely alone without jack being in the room next to you. it had been so long since the two of you had been able to take your time and truly enjoy yourselves.

"i got you, m'love. don't worry, just wanna take my time with you, show you how much i love you." he whispered as his lips moved further down your body. as he approached your waist, his hands found your skirt, pulling it down along with your panties. you were now fully bare underneath him.

luke pushed himself back on his knees. his eyes admiring your body as he rid himself of his belt and pants, leaving him in only his underwear. "you're so perfect, y/n/n." he whispered as he kneeled back down, his lips kissing your inner thighs softly as he came closer and closer to where you needed him the most.

the rest of the night was filled with soft i love yous, passionate kisses, intense eye contact, your bodies tangled as one, the night was filled of love. luke had fallen asleep first, his arms holding you close to his chest as his chin rested on your head. your face was stuffed into his neck, his cologne being the only thing you could focus on.

it had taken you almost an hour to fall asleep, not because you weren't tired, but because your brain couldn't stop thinking. thinking about how lucky you were, how happy you were, and how grateful you were to have luke in your life. he was the man of your dream.

you still couldn't wrap your head around the fact that you were currently laying in a hotel bed in the middle of the city you had been wanting to visit since you were a kid. that you were laying next you the man who made your dream come true, laying the man who had completely stolen your heart.

and you honestly could not believe this was your life. never in a million years did you think that approaching who stranger who looked completely lost in the middle of new york lead to you laying in his arms in the city of love. it felt like a dream, one that you never wanted to wake up from. luke was everything you ever wanted in a man. he was caring, always want out of his way to make you happy, even if it meant just stopping by your salon to give you coffee in the morning, or just to see you for a short 10 minute before your client came. he was perfect. you never had to worry about if he was out cheating, simply because he could never stop texting you and sending you pictures of his teammates blackout drunk when he was out. you were all he could think about, and he was all you could think about.

it was almost like you were scared you'd fall asleep, and wake up all alone in your bed back in new york, and there was no way you wanted that. but the loud snore coming from luke quickly brought you back to reality. this was real, this was your life now, and you couldn't be happier about it.

𓇢𓆸

it was now wednesday, you had taken a flight to barcelona, where you arrived in the early afternoon. you spent your day exploring the city, it wasn't the hottest, but compared to the weather you were having back home, this was way better. the two of you had decided to stop by a couple of local shops, finding the objects perfect to bring back as souvenirs. after your dinner, the two of you had taken a walk on the beach, after you begged luke for the whole dinner to go. he was going to say yes, of course he was, but the way you would always pass pity comments about it always made him laugh. so, he pretended to be hesitant the whole time, but he knew even before you landed in the city this how your night would end.

then early on thursday morning, the two of you flew to rome. you repeated the same process as always, spend the day exploring the city. only this time the two of you got onto another flight that evening, landing in split in croatia. you knew this city. you had been seeing tons of videos on tiktok about it lately. sadly, it wasn't exactly peak beach season, but luke had promised you that you'd eventually come back the summer.

the two had gone to bed right when you arrived to the hotel, the clock nearing morning hours. and when you woke up the next morning, you were all alone in bed. your eyes wondered around the room, only to land on luke standing at the small round table in your room. you let out a groan as you stretched your arms, making your boyfriend look over at you.

"good morning, baby." the boy mumbled as he walked over to you with a smile. he was wearing a robe, and his hair was slightly damped, and you could only guess he had taken a shower recently. he sat down on the bed next to you, his hand reaching for you.

"hi." you smiled, your eyes struggling to stay open. this was probably one of the comfiest bed you had ever slept on, and you did not want to get up right now.

"how'd you sleep?"

"amazing!" you exclaimed, trying to shove yourself deeper into the mattress. luke smiled at you before leaning down and pecking your lips.

"breakfast." he whispered, his head nodding over to the table. his words quickly made you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. just as you were about to pull aways, luke's hands, which were laying on your back, made their way to your thighs and picked you up, standing up from the bed. you squealed as he walked over to the table before placing you down, but keeping his arms around you.

"happy valentine's day, my love." he whispered before kissing your lips. you had completely forgotten that was today. all you had been thinking about was this trip, and the days started just blending one into the other. you smiled as you pulled the boy down, kissing him harder.

"you're amazing!" you exclaimed, bringing the boy into a thigh hug as your lips parted, luke chuckled as he let his head rest on yours.

"when i saw that we had a break this week, knew i had to make it the best valentine's day ever."

"you're amazing!" you repeated, and luke took it as an answer that you loved it. "this is amazing, luke!"

"i'm glad you like it-

"i love it! almost as much as i love you."

"sap."

"shut up." you whispered before connecting your lips again. "i don't ever wanna stop loving you."

"good, 'cause i plan on loving you forever."

𓇢𓆸

- feb 11, 2025 -

youruser

📍 london, uk

liked by lhughes_06, jackhughes and other

youruser yesterday💗💗

👥 lhughes_06

view all 273 comments

lhughes_06 🩵

lhughes_06 obsessed with you

user485 he brought her to london omg 🥹🥹

jackhughes so this is where you two snuck off to

friendsuser so so cute

user5459 may a love like this find me

user234 the booth photos omg

_quinnhughes where was my invite?

youruser @/_quinnhughes lukey said no :( lhughes_06 @/youruser woah now don't make me the bad guy

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- feb 12, 2025 -

youruser

📍 paris, france

liked by _quinnhughes, friendsuser and others

youruser dream come true 🩵

👥 lhughes_06

view all 403 comments

lhughes_06 anything for you 🩵

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 oh ew 🤣

user869 WERE THEY NOT IN LONDON YESTERDAY??

user927 @/user869 man said "i got a week and im making the most of it"

_quinnhughes still no invite?

youruser @/_quinnhughes lukey is still saying no :( lhughes_06 @/youruser do you really want him here after last night 🤣 jackhughes @/lhughes_06 OKAY THAT'S JUST GROSS

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- feb 14, 2025 -

youruser

🎵 call it what you want - taylor swift

liked by lhughes_06, _quinnhughes and others

youruser so in love with you 🩵

view all 649 comments

lhughes_06 my girl 🩵

lhughes_06 i love youuuu

jackhughes GROSS GROSS GROSS

friendsuser im so obsessed with you guys

user0194 oh.my.gaush. 😭

user847 she won the lottery frfr

_quinnhughes i would've lovedddd to go to europe to

youruser @/_quinnhughes no.

_quinnhughes so much kissing 🙄

user6749 when is it my turn...

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[eelliotss]

— Borrowed time

‼️Caleb x reader. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst!

Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely doesn’t stop you from falling for him—even when you know you’re just a stand-in, a place holder.

“Can’t we just enjoy the moment without making things complicated?”

word count = 5.3k

i poured my soul into this pls be kind 😭

The fresh scent of flowers lingered in the air as a cool breeze rushed past you. You tucked your hair behind your ear, gripped your bag tighter, and glanced at the university entrance.

A nervous breath escaped your lips. “Here we go.”

Laughter and chatter filled the air, students scattered across the school grounds. Some waved goodbye to their parents, celebrating their child’s first day at the country’s top university. Others rushed toward their friends, voices overlapping in a symphony of excitement.

“Do you even know the way to your class?” a concerned voice rang out.

“Pfft. Pa-lease! I can find my way around on my own,” the other answered confidently. “You, on the other hand, should not be late to your class, up-per-class-man.” She jabbed a finger into his chest, punctuating each syllable.

His laugh overtook all the others in the area. “Right, right. Text me when you get to your class, pipsqueak.” He smiled and ruffled her hair.

“Ugh! You’re messing up my hair!” she groaned, swatting his hand away.

She pushed him—harder than she realized.

A sudden force knocked into you, sending you off balance. Your stomach lurched—before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you, steadying you in place. A shriek escaped your lips.

“I’m so sorry!” he blurted out, pulling back just as quickly.

You pushed him off, steadying yourself, ignoring the faint trace of his cologne still lingering in the air.

“Oh my god, I didn’t see you!” A girl rushed forward, grabbing your hands like she’d known you forever. Her enthusiasm pierced through your ears, but her wide-eyed concern softened the frustration building in your chest.

“Are you okay? That was my fault!”

Your eyes met hers—bright, warm, and completely sincere.

“…Yeah, I’m fine.” The irritation dissolved as you took in her worried expression. “It’s okay.”

She beamed, relief washing over her. “I’m Michaela. What’s your name?”

It was history from then on.

•

You found out she was in the same year and major as you, and you became best friends almost instantly. Naturally, that meant getting close to him too—Caleb, as he introduced himself.

You also learned that you shared the same minor with him, so despite everything, you’d be seeing him in class.

It is another mundane day. You get to class and put your bag down on a seat, plopping your body down on the chair. A sigh leaves your lips as you look at your phone to check the time.

8:45. Having a class this early should be illegal.

You put your earphones on, hushing the quiet of the room with a faint song. You close your eyes as you wait for the others to reach.

“You’re early, kiddo,” his hand on your head pull you out of your daze. Your eyes shoot open and is met by a large yawn.

“I cant afford to be late again. I’m one mark away from failing the morning classes,” you groan as you tug off your earphones.

A sheepish smile tugs at his lips as his hand lingers a little too long in your hair, ruffling it just enough to mess it up before pulling back—slowly, like he enjoys the way it falls back into place.

He settles into the seat next to you, elbow propped against the desk, body angled toward yours.

“You need someone to wake you up in the morning?” he teases, his voice dipping just enough to make it sound like an offer.

“Are you offering?” you tilt your head, raising a brow.

Caleb grins, lazy and amused. “I wouldn’t want my shortcake failing a class I’m in,” he muses, tapping a knuckle lightly under your chin. The touch is fleeting, barely there, but enough to make your breath hitch. “Who else would I have to mess with?”

You’re used to the nickname he has given you now. It used to annoy the shit out of you, how he used to tease about you being below his shoulders or how you have to tiptoe to reach for something— shortcake, that’s where the name came from. You scoff, swatting his hand away. “Wow, I feel so valued.”

He chuckles, low and effortless, settling into his seat. “You should. I don’t just give my attention to anyone, y’know.”

“Oh? So I’m special?” You flash him a smug look, crossing your arms.

Caleb tilts his head, pretending to consider it. “Mmm… yeah, let’s call it that.”

He leans in just slightly, just enough to invade your space but not quite touch. His lips quirk up as he lowers his voice just for you to hear.

“…Or maybe I just like how cute you look when you get all flustered.”

You blink, heat creeping up your neck, but you refuse to let him win.

“So you admit it,” you say, keeping your tone light and teasing. “You think I’m cute.”

Caleb laughs, leaning back like he’s completely unbothered. “Shortcake, I’ve been saying that since day one. Keep up.”

His confidence is so insufferable you can’t help but roll your eyes. “God, I feel bad for all the freshmen falling for your charm.”

“Falling for it?” He raises a brow, smirking. “You say that like you’re not included, sweetheart.”

The nickname makes your stomach do a stupid little flip, but you mask it with a scoff. “Please, I’m completely immune to your antics.”

“Uh-huh.” Caleb leans in again, resting an elbow on the desk while watching you like he’s amused by a private joke. “Is that why your ears are turning red?”

Your hand immediately flies to your ear, and Caleb bursts out laughing.

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Upperclassmen really are the worst.”

“Aww, but I’m your favorite, aren’t I?” He tilts his head, smiling like he already knows the answer.

You roll your eyes at him. “Your confidence is getting to your head.”

Caleb’s hearty laugh fills the room, his presence naturally drawing attention. More students trickle in, filling the seats, and as expected, the weight of lingering gazes settles around you.

The girls steal quick glances at the man beside you, their whispers barely concealed. The boys, on the other hand, greet Caleb with easy familiarity, taking their places around him like it’s second nature.

It’s nothing new. You’re used to it.

“Hey, Yn,” a voice cuts through the chatter.

You glance over as Matt slides into the seat beside you, grinning.

“Hey, Matt,” you reply, offering a small smile.

“You coming to the party tomorrow?” he asks, leaning in just enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne.

Before you can answer, Caleb hums beside you, loud enough to interrupt.

“What party?” he asks, resting an arm on the back of your chair like he’s settling in for the conversation.

Matt glances at him, unfazed. “The one at James’ place. Pretty much everyone’s going.”

Caleb nods slowly, then shifts his gaze to you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “And here I thought shortcake wasn’t the party type.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I can be fun.”

“Oh, yeah?” Caleb smirks, tapping a lazy rhythm against the desk. “Guess I’ll have to see it for myself, then.”

You raise a brow. “Wait—are you going?”

Caleb shrugs, his smirk never faltering. “Wouldn’t want my shortcake getting lost in the crowd, would I?”

Matt laughs, shaking his head. “Man, you’re acting like she needs a babysitter.”

Caleb tilts his head, looking at you like he’s thinking about something. Then, with obnoxious ease, he says, “Nah, just wouldn’t want her getting scooped up by some guy with bad intentions.”

Matt raises a brow. “And what, you’ve got good intentions?”

Caleb grins. “Not at all. But at least she knows mine.”

The room erupts in laughter, but your heart stumbles over itself for half a second.

Because there’s something about the way he says it—like it’s a joke, but not entirely.

You roll your eyes, forcing a smirk. “Right. So you’re just going for me, huh?”

Caleb doesn’t even blink. “Why do you look surprised?”

And maybe it’s just your imagination, but for a moment, his gaze lingers, just a second too long.

Matt scoffs, turning his attention to the professor entering the room. “Text me once you’ve made your mind, Yn.”

“Sure,” you answer, unaware of the furrow crawling its way up Caleb’s face. However, you don’t miss the way Caleb’s fingers stop their lazy tapping against the desk.

The class went by agonizingly slowly. You twirl your pen in your hands, scribbling stuff down to keep yourself from knocking out. The next thing you know, you feel a poke on your cheeks.

“You better get up before people see your drool,” Caleb smirks.

You quickly covered your face and wipe off the drool as Caleb laughs. You furrow your brows, feeling the embarrassment crawling up your face.

“I didn’t drool!”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, shortcake,” he chuckles.

You both left for your next classes and the day quickly came to an end.

•

“You going to the party tomorrow?” You ask MC as you walk out of the campus.

She ponders for a second before answering, “Nah. I’m not big on parties and have so much work piling up,” she whines. “You should go, though! Have fun for both of us.”

Her sheepish smile never fails to bring one to your face as well. “I’m still deciding too.”

MC suddenly stops in her tracks, an excited gleam sparkles in her eyes.

“Are you free today, though?”

“Yeah… Why?” You suspiciously eye her.

Before you know it, you are at the mall, arms linked with hers as she weaves through the racks of clothes. “I just need one dress,” she says. “Fifteen minutes, tops.”

You should’ve known better.

It’s been forty five minutes and counting.

You dont mind, really. Shopping with her is familiar, easy. She’s the type to hold up dresses in front of you and make you spin for her, laughing as she debates which colour would fit her best.

And then her phone buzzes.

As soon as she unlocks it, her smile grows wider.

You dont even have to ask who it is.

She taps on her phone, giggles, and shoves her phone in your face.

Caleb [5:36 PM]: wya?

MC [5:37 PM]: Shopping. Why?

Caleb [5:37 PM]: Need me to carry your stuff? ;)

MC [5:37 PM]: You know me too well

“Caleb’s coming,” she beams.

You nod. It isn’t really anything out of the ordinary.

Unsurprisingly, a few minutes later, he’s here.

He slides into the store like he belongs there, like he already knew exactly where MC would be.

“Alright,” he sighs, grabbing the bags from her hands with ease. “What am I hauling this time?”

MC beams at him, poking his side. “A gentleman and a mind-reader. No wonder all the girls want you.”

The Caleb smirks, like it’s a well-worn joke between them. The joke mirrors the one you had with him this morning. But somehow, the interaction feels much… different.

Deeper. Warmer.

Like it belongs to them.

You watch as MC doesn’t hesitate to press a dress against Caleb’s chest, measuring the colour against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t joke, doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

Like it’s always been this way.

Just like the way he doesn’t just carry her bags— he takes them before she even asks. The way he doesn’t just respond— he already knows what she’ll say. The way she doesn’t have to tease to get a reaction— he’s already looking at her like she’s the only thing in the room.

And you— watching. Like you always do.

Eventually, MC disappears into the dressing room, leaving you and Caleb alone.

“Having fun?” Caleb drawls, lazily shifting the shopping bags in his hands. His gaze falling onto you for the first time this evening.

You huff, crossing your arms. “Oh, the best time. Watching you two be so disgustingly in sync is exactly how I wanted to spend my evening,” you joke. But somehow, it stings a little.

Caleb laughs, light and amused. “What, jealous I didn’t offer to carry your stuff too?”

You raise a brow, feigning thoughtfulness. “Maybe I just wanna see if I get the same VIP treatment.”

His smirk wides, “You want me to spoil you, shortcake? Should’ve just said so.”

It’s easy, the way he flirts with you. But it’s just that— easy.

MC steps out of the dressing room, and immediately— probably unconsciously too— he straightens.

“Thoughts?” she twirls.

“Get it.” His response is instant.

MC laughs. “What do you think, Yn?”

You smile, pushing the uneasiness down. “You’re pretty in everything you wear, MC.”

“You got a good eye, Yn,” Caleb adds, his eyes never leaving her. “It looks good on you.”

The warmth in his voice is undeniable.

It’s the way he doesn’t say it playfully, doesn’t throw in a teasing nickname, doesn’t smirk.

It’s the way you fall into the background.

The ride home was unbearably normal. MC chats away about weekend plans, upcoming assignments, something funny she saw on TikTok.

Caleb hums along, adding in a sarcastic comment here and there. His eyes are glued on the road sparing a few glances her way.

You sit at the back seat, nodding at the right moments, but your mind is already made up.

You need a break. From this. From them.

From him.

So when you see Matt’s notification—

Matt [7:03 PM]: You coming tmr?

You don’t even hesitate.

You [7:24 PM]: Yeah

•

The bass thumps against your chest the moment you step inside. The air is thick with laughter, sweat, and the sharp bite of alcohol.

You exhale, rolling your shoulders back.

You’re here to forget.

Forget the way he looks at MC like she’s his entire world. Forget the way your own heart stupidly flips when he looks at you.

“Yn! You finally show up!” Matt calls out to you as you maneuver through the thick crowd, pulling you into the group he is in.

“Guys, this is Yn,” he introduced you to the group. “Hi!” you shout through the music, a nervous smile crawls up your face.

You’re not used to this setting— the alcohol, the mingles, the thumping of music, the proximity, the lights and colours. Every thing is making you drunk, even before you’ve touched any alcohol.

One of the guys whistles. “Oh! You’re that third wheel between Caleb and Michaela!”

Hah.

The third wheel.

“Forget it, we’re here to have fun tonight!” someone else chirped in as he handed you a drink. You’re not sure what it is— it’s not like you care anyways.

“Yeah,” I force a smile as you drown the drink. The alcohol stings your breath, its heat slowly goes down your chest. You slowly exhale, welcoming the warmth that spreads through you.

The alcohol burns, but it’s a different kind of ache—one that numbs instead of sharpens. It’s exactly what you need.

You roll your shoulders back, forcing yourself to relax.

Forget it. Forget him.

The music pounds through your veins as Matt laughs beside you, clinking his drink against yours. “That’s the spirit.” He’s a bit too close. You can feel his body pressed against yours.

But maybe thats what you want right now.

You let yourself sink into the noise, the bodies moving around you, the way everything blurs at the edges. Someone pulls you into a conversation, another offers you another drink, and soon enough, you’re laughing at something you barely even hear. Bodies push and pull, you sway with the beats, lost in the moment, the lights, the colours, the intoxication.

For the first time in a while, you almost feel—

“You didn’t tell me you were coming, shortcake.”

Your stomach drops.

That voice—smooth, amused, effortlessly familiar.

Your entire body tenses before you even turn around.

And when you do, there he is.

Caleb.

Standing way too close, a drink in one hand, the other shoved lazily into his pocket. His hair is slightly tousled, his sleeveless shirt making it impossible not to notice the way his toned arms shift as he leans in.

But none of that matters.

Because Caleb doesn’t go to these parties.

Everyone knows that.

And yet—he’s here.

Your jaw tightens as you glance at him, forcing a smirk. “Didn’t think you liked these things.

He grins. “I don’t.”

Your brows knit together. “Then what are you doing here?”

He hums, taking a slow sip of his drink before tilting his head at you. “What do you think?”

Your grip tightens around your cup.

He’s messing with you. Like always.

And you should ignore it, should walk away before you let him ruin this night for you—

But you don’t.

You can’t.

Instead, you match his energy, your own lips curling into a smirk.

“Well, hope you’re not expecting me to entertain you,” you quip, voice light, teasing. “I’m actually busy.”

“Busy, huh?” He raises a brow, clearly amused. His gaze flickers past you, scanning the group you came with.

Your pulse quickens.

He’s not jealous. You know that.

But the way his eyes narrow just slightly, the way he lingers—like he’s assessing something, calculating something—

It almost feels like he is.

And for some stupid, reckless reason, you want to test it.

So you shrug, taking another sip of your drink. “Yeah. Matt has been real good company today.”

Caleb’s laugh is slow, deep, and entirely too amused.

“Interesting,” he repeats, nodding slightly. “Guess that means I should try harder, huh?”

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the music.

“Caleb!”

A girl stumbles forward, eyes wide. “Oh my god, I didn’t think you’d actually come!”

Heads start turning. More people flock toward him, pulling him into their circle.

And just like that—you’re being pushed back.

You watch as Caleb greets them with that easy, sheepish grin—the one that makes everything look so effortless. The crowd bombards him with the same teasing remarks as always.

“Damn, what happened? Where’s your girl tonight?”

They don’t need to say her name. Everyone knows.

MC.

She’s not here. And somehow, Caleb being here without her is more surprising than him being here at all.

But he doesn’t seem bothered. He just chuckles, shaking his head.

“She doesn’t need me today.”

The words shouldn’t mean anything. But they do.

But before you can even process it, his gaze shifts and

Lands on you.

And his next words knock the breath from your lungs.

“Besides,” Caleb muses, voice light, playful, teasing— “Someone else probably needs me more right now.”

The crowd erupts.

“Ooooh, damn! Who’s the unlucky girl getting swept off her feet while your girl isn’t here to keep you in check?”

Caleb’s smile grows. Slowly, lazily.

He tilts his head, feigning innocence.

“What do you mean, unlucky?”

They laugh. They cheer.

You stand there, watching, feeling every single emotion crash into you at once.

Because they’re joking. Because he’s joking.

But somehow, you cannot muster a smile up your face.

He probably saw your face, or the look in your eyes, or probably the way your lips seem to tense a bit more.

He quickly finishes the drink in his hand, and someone quickly hands him another.

“Thanks,” he flashes a warm smile to the girl who hands him the drink as he reaches for it, brushing his hands softly against hers.

She’d probably replay the scene over and over for the next week.

His eyes finds yours once more before swiftly slipping out of the group of people.

You quickly turn away, desperate to vanish somewhere.

Anywhere.

Today was supposed to be a day without him.

However, your body betrays you. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, perhaps it’s the lingering sting of his gaze, perhaps it’s just him. The world tilts, and before you can catch yourself—

A strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his chest and stabling you on your feet.

“How many drinks have you had?” His voice low, edged with amusement, but there’s something else in it, something almost concerned.

You barely process his words because his chest is against yours, his breath warm against your temple.

You exhale, hands instinctively gripping his shirt as you try to steady yourself— not just from the dizziness, but from everything else.

Too close. He’s too close.

And he knows it.

His grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens, his fingers pressing just slightly against the curve of your waist.

“You good?” he murmurs, voice dropping just a little lower.

You swallow, ignoring the way your heart pounds against your ribs.

“I’m fine,” you manage, but your voice betrays you— it’s softer, breathier than you meant it to be.

Caleb smirks.

“That so?”

He doesn’t let go.

Instead, he leans in just a fraction closer, eyes flickering down—to your lips, to the way your breath hitches.

It’s a game. You both know it’s a game.

“I heard people say you were looking for a distraction,” his voice dips, low and deliberate. His fingers trail lightly along your spine, just enough to make you shiver.

“Was Matt a good distraction?”

A pause.

His thumb brushes against your hip.

“Or do you want something more… intoxicating?”

Your breath catches.

All you can feel is the thumping of your heart against your ears, his low voice teasing your pulse, his warmth consuming you.

“I see the way you react to me,” he murmurs.

His fingers tighten, pulling you closer, his lips barely grazing your ear now.

“The distraction you want… it’s a distraction from me, isn’t it?”

His hand trails up, brushing the exposed skin of your arm.

“You don’t have to say it,” he muses, eyes glinting.

Your hands clutch at his shirt, unsteady, breathless.

“You like this, don’t you?” Caleb murmurs, his voice impossibly smooth, seductive.

Your throat tightens, but you don’t pull away.

You don’t deny it.

You can’t.

And he smirks, because he knows.

“Good.” His lips ghost over the curve of your jaw, not quite kissing, just enough to tease.

“Because I like yours too.”

His voice dips lower, slower— almost like a confession.

The world spins, but this time, it’s not from the alcohol.

Your grip on his shirt becomes tighter, if it’s even possible. He leans even closer, his breath warm against your lips, hovering— teasing, testing, waiting.

For you to pull away.

For you to stop him.

But you don’t.

You close your eyes, letting him consume you. He closes the distance his lips pressing into yours with slow, unhurried intent. There’s no rush, no urgency— just a deliberate pull, like he wants you to feel every second of it.

His hand on your waist tightens, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath catch. His other hand finds the curve of your jaw, tilting your face up, deepening the kiss like he’s memorizing the shape of your lips.

He moves— presses deeper, pulls you closer—

And deliberately, it turns hungrier. Slow, but consuming.

Like he’s claiming you— if only for this moment.

His teeth graze your bottom lip, a light tug, a silent dare.

Your fingers snake to the crevice of his neck, pulling him in like you don’t want this to end.

You somehow find a way to a secluded corner, and he pushes your back against the wall. He rests his arm on the side of your head, balancing his weight on the wall as his other hand rests protectively at your waist. His lips leave yours, trailing kisses down your neck. His teeth grazes your skin, earning gasps and small involuntary noises from you.

His lips drag along your pulse, slow and teasing, a deliberate contrast to the heat pooling between you.

You don’t even realize your fingers are tugging his hair, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you steady.

Caleb chuckles against your skin, the sound low, smug— satisfied.

“You sound so sweet,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the spot just below your jaws.

“Caleb…” you breathe. “What does this mean?” The air suddenly turn thick as the words slip out before you can stop them.

Maybe it’s because you don’t want to believe that the one towering you right now is simply using you as a distraction from the girl he longs for. Maybe it’s because you want to hear an answer that would put the pit in your stomach at bay. Maybe you want to hear a lie that’ll at least make this moment feel more real. Or maybe you’re just too drunk on everything.

You swallow. “What are we?”

You feel his smirk against your skin before he nips at it, just enough to make your breath hitch.

His hand on your waist tightens, grounding you, holding you in place as he trails even lower. Then he exhales a quiet laugh— low, breathy, like you’ve asked something ridiculous.

His lips brush your ear.

“Why do we have to be anything?”

He leans back just enough to look at you, and there’s something in his eyes— something unreadable, something you wish you could hold onto.

“Isn’t this enough?”

His fingers trail up your arm, slow, lazy, desperate. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

Your breath catches.

His thumb strokes along your jaw, coaxing you, soothing you. “I know you like this,” he murmurs, his voice a slow, dangerous drawl.

And then—he smiles.

That same playful, easy, charming smile.

Like this is just another game.

Like it isn’t breaking you apart.

“Just enjoy it, shortcake.”

He kisses you again before you can respond.

“Don’t over complicate things.”

You should say something, you should fire back—

But then he sucks at the sensitive skin near your collarbone, and all that escapes you is a sharp gasp.

He chuckles again, pleased. “That’s what I thought.”

His hand slides up your side, slow, lingering—like he enjoys the way your body reacts to him.

Like he enjoys this.

And somehow, that’s what makes your stomach tighten the most—

Not just his touch, or his lips, or the way he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to let go—

But the way he seems to want this as much as you do.

Like for once, he’s here with you.

Not her.

You let that thought sink in, drown in it, just for tonight.

Because tomorrow, this moment won’t exist.

But then, the dream came to an abrupt pause.

PING

The sound cuts through the haze, through the heat, through everything. Caleb stops whatever he was doing. His hands leave your body, his warmth fades, leaving you a breathless mess against the wall.

He exhales, sweeping his hair back as he pulls out his phone.

Your eyes fall to his lips, the way it’s a bit swollen with smudges of your lipstick faintly staining him.

Then— a smile.

Not the teasing, cocky smirk he likes to throw your way. It’s a warm, heart-wrenching smile that reaches his eyes.

You don’t need to see the screen to know.

MC.

“I gotta go,” he murmurs, eyes still glued to the phone, fingers moving quickly as he types.

You don’t say anything.

You cant.

“Don’t get home too late, shortcake,” he states, eyes still on the phone.

Without sparing you a glance, he turns away and disappears into the crowd.

And you—stupid, foolish you—

Just stand there.

Waiting for something that was never yours to begin with.

•

You force your eyes open only to be met with light piercing into your eyes. You are not sure how the night ended, or how you managed to pull yourself home. You shot up, quickly checking the time.

8:45. Fuck.

You push yourself from the bed, ignoring the pang in your head.

Running into class, you quickly open the door, heaving as you scan the room for seats.

“Yn!” a voice calls out.

You turn to the source, and sure enough, it’s him.

He pats the empty seat beside him. “Here.”

You hesitate.

For a second, just a second, you think maybe he’ll say something. Maybe he’ll acknowledge what happened last night.

Maybe he’ll give you something.

But Caleb just leans back in his seat, grinning like always. Like nothing happened.

Like his hands weren’t all over you.

Like his lips weren’t on yours.

Like he didn’t leave you standing there, breathless and alone.

“C’mon, shortcake,” he drawls, patting the empty seat beside him. “I saved you a seat.”

You swallow, legs moving before your mind can catch up, and you take the seat.

And he smirks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes like he wasn’t out ruining you the night before.

He’s joking.

Laughing.

Acting like last night was nothing.

Like you’re nothing.

And you force yourself to laugh along.

•

The day goes by like any other day. You find yourself sitting with MC and Caleb, grabbing dinner at a nearby restaurant you frequent as soon as the day ends.

“So… how was last night?” she asks.

You pause, unsure of what to say. “It was okay,” you finally say. “I was a total mess.”

“Caleb told me he dropped by. Did you guys meet there?”

“No,” he answers. “There were too many people, I wouldn’t have been able to find shortcake there even if I was sober!” he jokes.

A pit builds in your stomach. You’re not sure of what to feel, how to react.

So you smile.

“True.”

MC drabble on, talking about how she suddenly had an urge for a late night meal and Caleb was kind enough to bring one to her in the middle of last night.

“I didn’t ruin your fun, right?” she turns to Caleb.

“You know I have the most fun with you, pipsqueak,” he chuckles, pinching her nose.

Oh. So that’s why he left.

They probably talked more about useless stuff. You can’t really comprehend what the conversations are about anymore. You excuse yourself, blaming it on the hangover and saying that you drank a little too much last night and need a sleep.

The moment you step out, the weight in your chest collapses. Your fingers tremble as you clutch your bag tighter, as you force your legs to move, one step after another, out the door, down the road, through the crowd.

Everything feels too bright, too loud, too much.

MC’s words echo in your head.

“I suddenly had an urge for a late-night meal, and Caleb was kind enough to bring me one.”

Your stomach twists.

That’s who he belongs to.

Not you. Never you.

You don’t even remember the walk home.

It’s a blur—like the rest of the night, like every moment you spent trying to convince yourself you were anything more than temporary.

By the time you come to, you’re curled up in the corner of your room, knees pulled tight to your chest, the darkness swallowing you whole.

You feel empty.

Not just sad, not just hurt—hollow.

Like last night never even happened.

Like you never even happened.

Your fingers tighten against your arms, nails digging into your skin as if pain could anchor you to something real.

But nothing about this is real.

You were a moment.

A passing indulgence.

A warm body for him to hold when the one he truly wanted wasn’t there.

And the worst part?

You let him.

Because even if it wasn’t real, even if it was just for a second—

At least for that moment, he was yours.

PING

Your phone lights up.

Caleb [7:04 PM]: I’m free tonight

Caleb [7:04 PM]: You didn’t eat a lot earlier

Caleb [7:05 PM]: You want porridge?

Caleb [7:07 PM]: I’m coming over

You stare at the screen until the phone dims once more.

PING

MC [7:10 PM]: UGH I have to stay late at the library tonight

MC [7:10 PM]: Some last minute thing came up with my group project

MC [7:11 PM]: Gotta be stuck here forever T_T

Oh.

[atinystaypixie]

A Husband's Present

Summary: It's Kento's birthday and your husband deserves his presents. WC: 2.5k+ CW: 18+, MDNI, Smut, (brief) biting, creampie (with intent of pregnancy)

Kento was the best husband one could ask for. Attentive, understanding, patient. He was a natural provider and made it easy for you to always be in a state of ease. Even when you first started dating, you never had to ask, he would always do. The sink was broken? He was fixing it without a second thought. Tires looking flat? Pumping air in them and going to take you for replacements.

He was romantic as well. Dates were well thought out and never boring. Why go to an expensive restaurant when he knows you prefer picnics with a movie projector? Just because you were a homebody didn’t stop him from showing up with your favorite snacks and making pillow forts. He also loved being in the kitchen with baking. It’s how he proposed to you when he presented you with a cupcake topped with a ring. You still don’t know how he managed to put it on there without you seeing  when you both were decorating at the same time.

You never would have thought such an amazing man would be in your life. It’s why you are planning on creating life with him tonight. You’ve seen the way he’s looked at families lately whenever you two have been out. Along with him being amazing, he was respectful of your body and never wanted to push the topic unless you were ready. You’ve been married for four years now and dated for three. Your biological clock was ticking too and you are more than willing to give him kids. 

It’s why your acrylics were done in his favorite color with his initials, your hair styled in a high ponytail that he loved pulling, and your plump lips glossed to perfect. He would be home soon. Sadly work pulled him away for the day due to his birthday falling on a weekday this year. Awaiting him was his favorite hot meal, go to item from the local bakery, and of course, you wrapped up pretty for him. There was just something about how delicious you looked when dressed for his eyes only. A sacred, precious being crafted just for his touch.

His hands made sure to never leave an inch of you untouched. Gripping at your hips, smoothing over your thighs, fingers pressing into your back. Pink lips pecking at the skin of your neck, molding to your own lips, and whispering endless sweet vows to you. Your mind started to slip off into thought as you stood in the middle of the kitchen thinking of the love your husband never fails to give you. 

The timer on your phone pulls you out of thought with a jump. You tighten your robe and make your way to the stove pulling out the last of the food. It’s getting close to time for him to be getting home so you start setting the plates. It should all be finished as soon as he walks through the door.

Well, it should, but why do you hear the front door opening already? 

“Baby,” the man of the hour comes around the corner, loosening his tie, “I’m home.” He says making his way towards you.

“Kennie, you’re home early. Everything okay?” You ask, kissing his cheek. You’re more than happy to see him, but you weren’t expecting him so soon.

“Mm. I missed my wife, didn’t want to be there anymore.” He says while pulling you closer, arms wrapping around your waist, and lips pressing kisses to your jaw. His hands slide down to the fat of your ass, gripping them. “What’s under here?” A smirk etching itself on his face.

“That’s for you to find out after we eat,” you emphasize the after and slip out of his hold. 

It doesn’t take long for you both to settle in and enjoy the food you made. He tells you about his day and you do the same. It’s obvious he is distracted throughout dinner though. His eyes lingering on your lips as you speak, scanning down to the cleavage peeking from the slight opening of your robe, and some responses are just mere hums and nods. Kento doesn’t care how long you have been together, he will never not be attracted to you.

Once finished eating, you clean up while he goes to shower. It took convincing since he hates not helping you, but you finally got him to go. You needed him to go so you could set up in the bedroom. After all the neverending spoiling he gives you, you at least want to attempt to take control for one night.

Your tall, blonde man finally emerges from his shower with a towel around his waist. The candlelit room and soft music playing makes him smile. If there is anything he loves, it’s the scents that come from you. Whether they are on you or filling the house.

“What’s all this, love?” 

“I wanna take care of you tonight, Kennie. It’s your birthday. Let me show my husband how much I appreciate him.” How can he resist when you are looking at him with those eyes? Your voice causes his heart rate to quicken. 

You have Kento feeling like it’s his first time again. He knew you were his peace and place of relaxation, but you were really working a number on him. Your soft hands worked all the knots out his muscles, leaving occasional kisses in their wake. It wasn’t helping that you now had him on his back and was straddling him. His stomach clenching as you teasingly raked your nails low, close to his hardened dick.

“Kennie, open your eyes. Look at me, baby.” Your voice was soft, seductive. All the touching and teasing alone you have been doing was about to send him over the edge.

“Love, stop teasing me please.” His voice was raspy and eyes were low. You loved when your husband got like this for you. That was all it took for you to hook your fingers in the towel and loosen it exposing his member. It was pretty and long, a darker shade from need, and a strong stance as it laid against his stomach.

You ran a hand up and down it, making him do a sharp inhale. It didn’t take you long to maneuver yourself down with your face in front of it. Kento pried his eyes open in time to see you peppering the underside with kisses. Every touch makes him twitch in your hand causing a seductive giggle to come from you. One thing about Kento is that he would always flip a switch in your brain. You thrived off of his sexual needs, eager to please.

“Fuck, love, are those my initals?”

“Mhm, you like?” He tried, he really did, but he can’t sit back any longer when he’s married to a vixen. 

He sits up, his veiny hand wraps in your ponytail tilting your head back while the other runs a thumb over the designs. “You really know how to mess with me,” his eyes locked on yours, “open.” A simple command that leads to him tapping his tip on your tongue, slowly feeding you his cock. “Good girl - fucckk- good girl,” he breathes out as he guides you down, pushing him to the back of your throat. Your tongue massages him as he finds relief in the wetness. You’ve made it a habit over the years to cockwarm him with your throat and it pays off with how easily you can keep him there. Your mouth is always warm and the moans you release around his length only add to the pleasure.

Kento loves stuffing your throat, the sight always making his balls tighten. It’s a slow, repeated process of pushing in and dragging himself out after a few seconds. He goes in all the way to the base and almost pulls completely out, stopping at the mushroom tip. One hand in your hair and the other cupping your chin, catching the stray tears that fall from your pretty eyes. It’s a beautiful sight having the woman he would die for trust him with her body in such ways.

He pulls out of your mouth tracing his tip over your lips thoroughly running whatever gloss you have left on them. “Let me unwrap you now, doll.” He guides you back up into his lap and undoes the belt to your robe. 

Exposed. You’re so exposed for him. Your perky breast sitting out pretty with the lace accentuating them, your stomach only covered by thin patches of the lace, and your pussy. Your pussy was completely uncovered sitting between the material. It’s easy access, perfection. He knew just how to play your body like a string on a guitar.

“Is this all for me, my love? Hm? Dressing up all pretty for me?” You would answer straightly, but it’s hard when his thumb is swirling your clit just right. “Answer me, doll. Did all this so I could fuck you real good?” It’s just something about the way he looks in your eyes and speaks with that tone that has you attempting to close your legs around his hand. You would be successful if he didn’t have you straddling him still. “Haven’t even done anything to you yet. It’s okay, love, I’ll take care of you.” He pushes the remainder of the robe off your body, throwing it off to the side somewhere.

“Wait,” you whine, “Kennie, I was supposed to be taking care of you.”

“Shh, shh. You know there's nothing I love more than loving on my beautiful wife. Let me enjoy my present thoroughly, yea?” He knew he had you when your eyes glazed completely back over. He laid you down and littered kisses across your face, down your jaw, and stopped at your belly. 

“Baby,” you mumbled.

“I know, I got you.”

“No. I want…I want you to put a baby in there.” You spoke a little louder, but timid making the man pause for a moment. Did you know he had been wanting to have a child with you? Since when did you want kids? Was he hearing things? His brain was trying to process the words. “Kennie, did you hear me? I want to have a baby with you-,” He cut you off with a deep, slow kiss. His tongue is swirling with yours and claiming your mouth as his for the second time tonight. 

“I’ll give you one, don’t worry.” It was all he said before you felt him lower himself again. This man is magic with his tongue and fingers, both were working open your sopping hole. His lips latch onto your clit while his fingers curl deep inside of you. In the process of working him up earlier, you made yourself needy too. You didn’t even need the extra foreplay, but Kento knew just how much your body reacted when his mouth connected to your pussy.

“Cum on my tongue and then I’ll give you everything you want.” His voice was so soothing, it was supportive almost, encouraging you to coat his taste buds in your juices. A few more sucks and curl of his fingers was all it took to have your back arching off the bed and pussy releasing. 

He groans out a collage of curses before sitting up and dragging you closer to him by your thighs. “My pretty wife,” he says while spreading your pussy lips. This is a present he will forever be happy to open. Your folds are all shiny as evidence of your activities, ready to indulge in more. While using his thumbs to hold you open and taking his time to admire you, your soft hand wraps around his length stroking it. 

“I love you.” Another smile blossoms on his face. How did he get so lucky? 

He thrusts forward into your hold a couple of times before removing your hand and interlocking your fingers. “I love you more.” His free hand guides his cock through your folds, the tip pressing against your clit with each one. He doesn’t stop until you whine at him again. He loves when you need him. Both of you are in love with one another needing each other.

He finally lines himself up to you and pushes in. You would think he hasn’t fucked you in months with the way your pussy squelches as it drags him in. “Shit, you’re taking me in so well, baby.” Once he bottoms out, he brings his chest yours, dragging your hands above your head. Both of you are panting as you hold eye contact, a silent conversation between lovers.

Your legs wrap around his waist and he doesn’t hold back from plunging into you. The sloppy musical happening between your bodies is enough to know he’s fucking you with purpose. Knowing he’s working to impregnate his wife gives him a new drive. He’s so deep in you and only pulling his length halfway out with each stroke leaving little breaks between each rush of pleasure you feel. You two are so close that your bodies are almost one. Layers of sweat covering you both as you moan out his name.

There’s a knot forming in your lower belly already making your insides slipperier. “Kennie,” your breath out. 

“Let go, baby. I got you.” He feels your fingers grip at his harder, the squint of your eyes and raise of your voice almost push him over the edge. Your gummy walls pulse around his member letting him feel every second of your release. He slows his thrusts working you through it while muttering sweet words into your ears.

When he sees you coming back down some, he raises up from you and puts both of your legs over his shoulders. “Saw that this was a good position to ensure pregnancy.” Your fuzzy brain barely has time to think about what he said before he is speeding up his thrusts again. He looks down to see his cock coated in white as he moves in and out of you. His hands have found home on your hips, his head turning to the side to kiss at your calf. Kento is getting close and you can tell from the way he brings your leg closer and sinks his teeth into the skin trying to hold on.

“I’m so close, baby. So close.” He rasps out feeling his balls tighten. Your pussy working to milk him. 

“Come on, Kennie. Fill me all up.” That’s all it takes for him to explode, hips stuttering and broken moans falling past his lips. You lower the leg he isn’t holding and sit up some to reach at his dick. Your fingers massage the amount that isn’t stuffed in your cunt making him rock back and forth from sensitivity. 

When he finally calms down, his eyes land on you. He places your leg to his side and pulls you up by the neck for a sloppy kiss. 

“Happy Birthday, Kennie.”

“Thank you, baby,” he smiles and kisses you again, “but I’m not done enjoying my present yet.” Kento was going to keep you here all night until he felt you were stuffed enough with his cum.

✨

Pixie’s Flying 🧚🏽‍♀️

This a repost! I posted this back in July but it never showed up in tags! Hopefully it shows up this time and you can read and enjoy it🥹

ENJOY! Reblog, like, and comment💜!

Pixie’s Masterlist

[destroyerofnoone]

@an-alarming-amount-of-bees okay so here’s the explanation to the best of my memory

Keep in mind this is my memory of the events, and I am absolutely certain I am going to be wrong about a number of things, but this is the connection as I can piece it together from my own recollection of things.

HPMOR is considered a keystone piece of literature of the chronically-online rationalist ideology. The person who wrote it, Eliezer Yudkowsky, was very important in this sphere. This group was very prominent online in the 2000s through to about the mid-2010s, although they’ve always been present online as generally edgy contrarians. Generally this group took pride in mocking things that they considered irrational (e.g. religion, books, people being emotional). They were very self-righteous and very self-important.

Following Gamergate this group took a marked shift towards mocking blue-haired liberals, who were the new target of being “irrational” and getting easily “triggered.” The prior group was generally fundamentalist christians. If you want an example of this, look at the Critical Drinker or Sargon of Akkad or similar Youtubers. They once focused primarily on mocking flat-earthers and creationists, but this pretty quickly shifted to whiny liberals. Anytime somebody on the right says “facts don’t care about your feelings?” That has its roots in the rationalist movement. As far as I’m aware, Yudkowsky did not follow this trend and has remained a self-righteous liberal. Notable right-wing thinkers that originate from this movement and moment include Ben Shapiro, Jordan Peterson, and Curtis Yarvin.

Enter Curtis Yarvin. Yarvin was very active in the rationalist sphere of the time and followed the rightward shift of the movement. He would create (more akin to codify) something called the “Dark Enlightment,” an online ideology claiming democracy and liberalism (not modern American Liberalism, like, John Locke) to be a failed experienebt that results in moral and societal degredation and collapse. The best form of government would be an Enlightened Monarchy, where an enlightened monarch has absolute control over the state and is capable of moving it according to his will and his will alone. The Dark Enlightenment very much has its foundations in the rationalist movement of Yudkowsky.

Peter Thiel is an American tech billionaire and christian nationalist. He bankrolls far-right groups in America alongside being a large GOP donor. He is also the person I know the least about and I am very likely to get this part of the story wrong. His views are heavily influenced by the writings of Yarvin, though with more of a christian bent to them. Him and Russ Vought believe that we are living in a post-constitutional moment and that the full force of the federal government should be used to enforce a “moral” Christian Theocracy, rule of law be damned. They do not call it a Christian Theocracy, but that is what they are advocating for. His views have strong sway over, most notably, JD Vance.

I don’t know enough about Elon Musk to determine if he falls more on the Peter Thiel or Curtis Yarvin side of the Dark Enlightenment, but he seems like much more of a Yarvinite than a Thielite.

TL;DR: Yudkowsky wrote HPMOR and became an important figure in the rationalist movement. When the online rationalist movement took its swing right and Curtis Yarvin started the Dark Enlightenment, it was with heavy influence from Yudkowsky’s writings, including HPMOR. The Dark Enlightenment ideology has since taken hold of two very prominent tech billionaires, Elon Musk and Peter Thiel, who have throw their entire weight into making it a reality. The Vice President is a true believer in Thiel’s Christian Nationalist version of the ideology.

This tweet made me feel the xkcd normal familiarity comic emotion bc wdym not everyone knew this

[yarnabee]

What kinks do you think the doctor would be into?

(I boldly ask as I sit in my bed kicking my feet like a schoolgirl whenever I see something about that guy)

OH ANON. i have a LOT to say about this. (me too anon i always twirl my hair and giggle like a schoolgirl whenever i think of him 😵‍💫) also: check end for a little note!

THE DOCTOR HEADCANNONS — THE THINGS THAT BRINGS HIM PLEASURE? (NSFW 18+)

tags/warnings; NSFW! MINORS DNI, gender neutral (pound town but with no mention of spesific genitalia! hell yeah!), dom! harley sawyer x sub! reader, impact play, degradation, predator/prey dynamics, dacryphilia, size difference (you know how tall his physical body is compared to the player? yeah.. 🙂‍↕️) rough and raw all day and all night long,

we all know how our dear doctor sees himself as some sort of god among men. he created something almost as perfect as life itself—someone with such intelligence and capabilities surely makes a difference than others of his own kind, no?

of course—such a narcissistic, apathetic, struck-up sociopath would need his ego to be constantly fed well. and sawyer has just the perfect prey to feed himself off.

what other source could he get it from if it weren't from you? you were his perfect little lab rat, his dearest prized trophy—someone he could easily break for his own satisfaction.

sawyer loves it when he gets to hunt for his prey. there's no victory sweeter than having you—a clueless, pathetic little rat—trapped in his so-called 'experiments', forcing you into oblivion as he watches your defenses slowly crumble before his eyes. oh, how he lives for the thrill of hunting—your figure cowering under his tall one, his grip on your neck tight enough to snap it in half. "shush now, little rat. you don't want to know what happens to noisy little rats, do you?"

it's also quite obvious how sawyer possesses some sort of sadistic trait: he finds it amusing to toy with those under his mercy. he loves hearing you plead, your cries growing desperate from his rough touches—hell, you don't even know what you were begging for in the first place. was it to make the pain stop? or is it because of the overwhelming pleasure? either way, sawyer feasts on the meek chants of his name as you beg him to be more gentle—your entire body twitching in bliss as he lends no mercy. he'd purposefully go faster, rougher than before—his hoarse chuckle echoing through the room with a following taunt, "lab rats don't get to decide what happens to them, do they? now keep me amused, little rat, i expect you to take it well."

his ego thrives the most when he finds you drooling over his mean, mocking words—oh, what a lovely sight it is to have your body tremble to such lowly words—he finds it amusing how you react so eagerly everytime he calls you worthless. the way his gentle voice coax his cruel words never fails to drive you insane, just enough to push you over to the edge. "look at you, pathetic little wretch. just a moment ago you were so confident, yet now.. nothing more than a worthless whore begging to repent, hm? " god, his voice will be the death of you.

sawyer loves pushing you to the brink of tears—there's something about seeing you in tears that.. satisfies him. he would purposefully rip his hand away from your aching core just as you were getting close to your high—earning him your needy gasp as your body trembles from the sudden loss of contact. oh, what a pretty sight it was to see you wail and sob underneath him, tears pooling on your lashline, soon making its way down to your cheeks. it almost had him.. pitying you. almost. sawyer would simply let out a chuckle, wrapping his fingers around your jaw tightly as he eyed the beautiful sight beneath him in awe. "now would you look at yourself, little rat.. you look like a pathetic, lost little puppy. it suits you very well."

oh, how your stomach dropped when you found out that your sobs and whimpers only pushes the doctor further to his edge—his actions completely unhinged as he uses you for his own pleasure. he'd slap your cheek across until it's burning red; leaving trail of bruises all over your body from his tight, clawing grasp; or gently grabbing a lock of your hair only to yank it roughly, holding your head in place as he carelessly uses you like a ragdoll. you'd scream, beg, wail, and sob—but those were the exact response he craves from you.

the size difference between you and sawyer pushes him further to the brink—realizing how he could easily snap you in half like a dried twig if he wanted to. i mean, his figure alone is almost as twice bigger than you are. god, how he loved seeing those delicate, trembling hands of yours reaching out to his arm for support as he presses your thighs against your chest into a mating press, pounding into you with no care as he constantly hits the deepest part of you, eyeing the bulge imprinted on your stomach—it makes you look like a little rat who dares to take more than what they can.

sawyer will make sure that everyone knows you belong to him. he wants everyone to see you as his little lab rat, his only to toy with and to use to his liking. he'll make it clear as daylight with the bruises all over your delicate skin, an impact from his rough claws—enough to even draw blood from it. he'll make sure to let everyone else know that it wouldn't end well if anything other than him dares to leave even the tiniest scratch on his dearest lab rat.

despite the roughness of his act, sawyer would never cross the line of breaking you apart. don't get him wrong though, the genuine act isn't simply out of the kindness of his heart—oh, that's even if he has any. he'll make sure to tend your wounds well, feed you with proper food, and make sure you get enough rest—all this just without the sympathy. all he knew is that broken toys are never fun to play with.

note; HEY GANG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK LONGER THAN IT SHOULD !! honestly this isn't my proudest work, i feel like i can do better but dang the writer's block and uni assignments fucked me up real bad ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 so i wanna say sorry in advance for this work :( but i do hope this can still bring a lil treat to the table 🍴

[chuellas]

Initiation | I is for Intimacy

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

V. A. L. E. N. T. I. N. E.

Warnings | Fem!Reader, N.SFW, 18+ only, use of the names “Doll” and “Baby”, physical and emotional intimacy, oral (Reader rec), fingering, unprotected sex, WC: 2.2k

A/N | This one is a lot tamer than the rest and once again I got wayyyyy too carried away but can you blame me? My baby deserves the world 😔

His hands tremble slightly as you both reach your apartment building’s entrance. The two of you have been dating for about 3 months now and Chuuya has held off on being physically intimate with you up until now. But he could tell your patience has been waning and tonight was your tipping point. You’ve been hinting to him all night that you want him to follow you up to your apartment. The extra touches that linger just a little longer than usual, the longing gaze at any part of him you find attractive, which apparently is every inch of him. 

You fiddle with your fingers and keys, watching them before steeling yourself and inviting him. “Y’know, it’s still pretty early…Why don’t you come up? We could have a cup of tea or a glass of wine and watch a movie?”

Your eyes are filled with so much hope, how is Chuuya supposed to say no to that?

He doesn’t of course, as a matter of fact he’s quick to accept your offer and follows you anxiously to your apartment. The Port Mafia executive couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous. He’s slept with plenty of people before this. He’d even goes as far as to say he’s skilled in this subject, never having left a partner dissatisfied. 

So why are you different? 

Realistically Chuuya knows why but he doesn’t want to admit it to himself because if he does that then it means all of this is actually real. It would mean he cares for you far beyond anyone he’s cared for previously. So he’s avoided the subject with you altogether, letting himself stew in denial.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t also incredibly excited. It’s depraved, the amount of times Chuuya has fucked his hand to the thought of you, playing the little voice memos you like to send him every once in a while when you’re at work and typing takes too long. He always comes at the sound of your fluttery giggle, the sound casting a spell over his body every time without fail.

He wonders briefly, what the real thing will do to him when he’s nestled inside of you. 

The ginger can feel himself getting worked up just at the thought of it. He needs to calm himself down. The two of you just got to your apartment. You let him into your home and he’s immediately greeted by a small cat that can’t be more than 6 months old. He’s never been too keen on cat’s but the little ball of fur takes to him immediately and you let out an incredulous laugh.

“She usually hides when I have company, you must be really good with animals.” You crouch down and hold your finger out for the kitten to sniff, just as expected she does so and rubs herself against your hand, clearly recognizing you as her owner. “This is Rika. She may not look it, but this little girl is feisty. She started out as a foster but I fell in love with her and couldn’t fathom the thought of life without her anymore. Sorry, I should have asked if you were allergic before bringing you up…”

Chuuya smiles fondly at you and the small creature, crouching down and mimicking your actions to gain the kitten's trust. “Nah, don’t worry, Doll. I’m not allergic, just- Never been the biggest fan of these guys. She’s cute though, just like her owner.”

You let out a groan and fall onto your butt, knees still bent, to make yourself comfortable on the floor. Rika starts at the movement but once she realizes that it was just you, she continues to headbutt Chuuya and even starts to purr. His attention is still on you despite the little furballs attempts to get him to pet her. 

“That was so cheesy.” You’re covering your face with your hands and peek through them to look at Rika, then back up at the ginger. “...but, I suppose, she’s quite fond of you…just like her owner.”

Chuuya lets out a chuckle of his own because, yeah, that definitely sounded awfully cheesy now that he heard you say it. Yet, it still calmed his previous nerves. The Port Mafia executive stands up and offers his hands for help. You take them with an appreciative smile and he hoists you up. He’s aware that he used far too much force than he needed to but it’s entirely on purpose. You stumble into him and he’s ready to steady you, grip firmly set on your hips to hold you against him.

His lids droop down to look at you through his lashes and the air in your apartment thickens. Your lips part, Chuuya thinks you were going to say something, but he doesn’t give you time as he dips his head down and steals a kiss from you. Then another.

And another.

He continues to kiss you until you both find yourselves stumbling almost blindly into your room. You toe the door shut and start ridding Chuuya of his clothes with trembling hands. You’re nervous too, somehow that makes the ginger just a little more confident and he aids you in taking off his jacket and lifting his shirt over his head. He watches your reaction closely, the way your chest quickens with your breath, the way your pupils dilate in excitement, and most of all the way your face flushes in the prettiest way.

Chuuya is in trouble. Normally his interactions like this are only filled with desire and pleasure. Something only transactional or to itch a certain scratch. That’s it. But this is clearly different. 

The ability user wants to take his time with you, wants you to feel good. He wants to touch and kiss every surface of your skin. Chuuya wants to mold your insides to only take him, to remember the shape of only his cock.

You're the most dangerous person Chuuya has ever encountered and you don’t even know it.

Chuuya makes good on his desires, slowly and carefully peeling your clothes away, making sure to kiss every bit of new skin being exposed. You aren’t as patient but you have no control over what he does right now. The ginger had a plan and you weren’t going to deter him from it. 

When the executive gets you down to your underwear, he makes work of your bra first, expertly unclasping your bra with the snap of his fingers. You let out a pained whine, clearly enjoying just how easy it was for him to take off the usually tricky garment. He wastes no time in cupping your breasts in his now ungloved hands and kneading gently at the plush skin. His fingers run over your nipple and you let out a broken gasp. 

A grin stretches at his lips, he can’t help it, pleased with the reactions he’s drawing out of you when he hasn’t even come close to touching you how he’d like to. 

The ginger drags his hands down your abdomen at an agonizingly slow pace and you squirm impatiently in his hold. “Chuuya…Please, just- oh my god- just fuck me already.”

Your breath catches in your throat when Chuuya flips you around and has your back crashing into his chest and he dips his head to leave a trail of kisses down your neck.

“Gotta be patient f’me, Doll. I gotta make sure you’re ready to take me. Can’t have you uncomfortable, now, can we?” Your head falls onto his shoulder as you let out another whine.

You’re walked to the edge of your bed before you’re being flipped back around and pushed onto it, your legs hanging off the end. Chuuya kneels and pushes your legs together so he can guide them to one side of his head to slip your underwear off with ease. The ginger pries your legs apart once more and settles your legs on each of his shoulders. 

When you’re finally fully exposed, slick cunt practically drooling for Chuuya, he lets out a groan. He has a physical reaction to the sight of you, his cock jumping in his very tight pants. If you would let him, he thinks he would be content with drowning in your pretty glistening cunt. 

You reach for the ginger’s hair and let out another whine. “Chuuya…”

“Fuck, Baby. You been hiding this pretty little thing from me this entire time? A damn shame I’ve let this go to waste till now.” He doesn’t let you respond, diving right in and helping himself to your taste.

With expert precision Chuuya finds your clit with one swipe of his tongue up your folds. He’s quick to attach himself to the sensitive bud and starts sucking on you and then releasing, creating a delicious rhythm with his mouth. You grip at his hair with trembling fingers. It’s cute, really, how worked up you’re getting. The executive has a sneaking feeling you’ve never had someone who actually knows what they’re doing eat you out like this before. 

As if you could read his mind you gasp out, “How- shit- how are you s-so good at that? It feels s’good…”

The ginger knows better than to deem that with an actual response, so instead he brings a hand up to your entrance and coats his middle finger in your slick before inserting it and immediately pumping it in and out of you. It happens fast. You pant out his name and twist your body as you try to almost crawl away from the pleasure building up in your stomach. Chuuya doesn’t let you, of course. He makes sure to bring you flying off the edge. You cum without warning and the sounds of Chuuya drinking you up bounces off the walls. 

You twitch from the oversensitivity and subconsciously push at Chuuya's head. He gets the hint and pulls away. His face is a mess, lips, cheeks and chin glistening with your juices. What's worse is he licks it all off like a parched man, not satiated until he’s licked all of it off.  

Chuuya finally pulls down his pants and climbs over you, dragging you up all the way onto the bed. He takes another moment to admire your lucid state. Body sheen with a small layer of sweat, hair splayed around you in a halo, chest flushed and heaving from your pants. You’re more beautiful than he could ever have tried to imagine. Whatever Chuuya had previously pictured, was put to shame tenfold with you here finally bare right in front of him. 

He gingerly strokes some hair stuck to your face out of the way and lets his finger linger, traveling down the outline of your face. “Think you have one more in you, Doll?”

Chuuya doesn’t think he’s ever had to ask that question before. His usual partners are always selfish, having no problem asking for what they want. You on the other hand? You were far too soft, too kind to ever ask for more when this is your first time getting into bed with him. 

Your eyes close momentarily and he watches your intently. Your eyelashes flutter as you lean into his hand that’s now cupping your face tenderly. When you open your eyes to look up at him through your lashes Chuuya swear he almost cums right then and there. How the hell is he supposed to survive the night with you when you look so stunning underneath him like this?

“Yeah. I want you, Chuuya.” You’re killing him—you really will be the death of him he swears, no dramatics, it’s simply factual. 

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Okay, you got me, all of me.”

Chuuya leans closer into you and rests his forehead on yours before guiding his tip to your entrance. He swipes himself through your folds a few times, making sure he’s wet enough to slip into you easily before finally sinking into you. Your eyes screw shut and your arms fly to his back, desperately looking for something to slutch onto as he stretches you so deliciously. Your mouth drops open but no noise falls out. 

Instead of letting himself get overwhelmed by how velvety and warm and inviting your walls are, Chuuya distracts himself by crashing his lips to your. You finally let out small whines and whimpers and while he’s running his tongue across your lips, asking for another entrance, you impatiently roll your hips. He lets out a surprised grunt but gets the hint and starts a slow but pointed pace. 

Chuuya is used to having sex, he’s slept with countless people thanks to the nature of his job. It’s been seen as a skill for so long that he forgot that it could feel like this. This was something more than just a physical connection, it’s also emotional. 

Chuuya thought he knew everything there was to know about sex, but he has a lot to learn about intimacy, and he doesn’t think he’d want to learn it from anyone else other than you.

[cosmiclily]

chapter nine: the edge

wc: 2.8k

notes: next chapter will be the interview that i mentioned a couple of chapters ago!!! pls send some questions to our fellow rock stars

Apparently, sex was, in fact, a fantastic creative exercise—or at the very least, an excellent incentive for spitting out lyrics. Once you figured that out, the entire process of choosing lyrics, organizing tracks, and brainstorming ideas became a hell of a lot easier.

Writer’s block? Fixed with Vi’s hands gripping your hips, her mouth marking a trail down your stomach.

Frustrated over a melody that wouldn’t click? Easily solved by the way she pressed you into the mattress and pulled sounds from your lips sweeter than any song you’d ever written.

Tension from long hours in the studio? Well… she had a very effective method of dealing with that.

Of course, you weren’t oblivious. You knew exactly what Vi was doing—using you as a distraction, a way to keep from drowning in whatever emotions those songs dragged back up. You knew she was using you to not think about her. Caitlyn.

But when Vi held you like that, when her fingers tangled in your hair, when she bit down on your neck just enough to make you shiver, when she touched you exactly the way you needed to be touched? None of that mattered. Not even a little.

And, honestly? It was a great way to de-stress.

The long nights spent cramped in the studio became more bearable when you knew you could go home and have Vi all to yourself.

It was like having a place where the weight of the world could just melt away. You got to pull her closer, scratch, bite, and touch every inch of her as if she was yours to do with as you pleased.

And the memories were almost addictive. Every time the pressure of the studio, the deadlines, or a fight with someone built up, you could close your eyes and retreat to your happy place.

“We’re almost finished here,” Archie said, barely looking up from his tablet. “Mark was talking to me about promotions, interviews, appearances—the whole deal. So clear your schedules.”

You sat back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied sigh. For the first time in months, the studio didn’t feel like a pressure cooker. No one was snapping at each other out of frustration, no one was sulking over failed ideas, and—most importantly—no one was on the verge of throwing their instruments against the wall.

The hard part was finally done.

You’d recorded a couple of solid tracks, and almost every song you wanted for the album was ready. The weight that had been crushing your shoulders for months had finally eased, letting you breathe a little easier.

“Finally,” Jinx groaned, throwing herself onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “If I had to listen to one more version of that last chorus, I think I’d start hearing it in my dreams.”

Ekko smirked, tuning his bass idly. “You say that like you don’t already.”

Jinx pointed a finger at him without lifting her head. “Shut it, time boy.”

Vi chuckled from her spot by the drum set, twirling a drumstick between her fingers. “Admit it—you’re gonna miss all this once we’re done.”

Jinx peeked up at her with a lazy grin. “I’ll miss driving you crazy. That part was fun.”

You shook your head, laughing, before glancing back at Archie. “So, what’s next?”

Archie scrolled through his tablet before giving you all a pointed look. “Now? We get ready to *sell* this thing. That means promo shoots, interviews, maybe even a live session or two.” He narrowed his eyes. “So, try not to look half-dead for the cameras, alright?”

You snorted. “No promises.”

“Great. Love the enthusiasm,” Archie deadpanned before turning back to his notes. “Now, let’s talk deadlines…”

He turned his tablet to us, displaying his calendar.

“This month, we’ll be finishing the recording, and the producers will take care of the rest. Next week, we want to shoot some pictures for the cover and also do some introductions for your channel—you know, fan stuff,” he rushed through, glancing up at us, his finger hovering over the screen. “And we want to do an interview, answering questions from your fans, and some general stuff.”

He continued explaining the calendar details, but you couldn’t help but notice the way everyone else’s faces seemed to blur into confusion. You weren’t the only one who was a little lost in the whirlwind of the plans. With everything that had been happening in the studio lately, the reality of the promotion process felt like a whole new beast to tackle. The recording was one thing, but now there were public appearances, live sessions, photo shoots, and interviews to manage too.

Vi, sensing the shared hesitation, shot you a quick, silent look across the room, one brow arched in that familiar, unspoken question. Is this what we’re really getting into?

You couldn’t help but grin and shrug. “Fan stuff, huh? Sounds… fun.”

Jinx leaned back in her chair with a loud groan. “Wait, wait, hold up. So now we’re gonna have to look good for the cameras too?” She ran a hand through her messy hair. “I mean, sure, we look good, but I’m not exactly camera ready.”

Ekko chuckled, clearly amused. “Jinx, I think the camera is going to need a lot more than a filter to handle you.”

Jinx shot him a glare. “If you’re trying to be funny, it’s not working.”

Archie’s face was a mixture of professional concern and barely-contained amusement. “Look, I know this is a lot, but we’ve been working for this moment. The album’s almost ready, and now we need to give people a taste of what’s coming. You want them to care, right? Then we have to make them care.”

Vi, ever the voice of reason, raised her hand, leaning forward to address the group. “We’ve been locked in here for months. It’s time to show the world what we’ve been working on. Let’s just get it over with, yeah?”

There was a brief silence, followed by murmurs of agreement. Everyone seemed to acknowledge the inevitable.

“Alright,” you said with a deep breath, sitting up straighter, “let’s just get this done. We’ve made it this far.”

Archie nodded, satisfied. “Good. So, here’s the schedule for the next two weeks. Let’s get moving on it.” He handed out the specific tasks and assignments, detailing each member’s role in the upcoming photo shoots, interviews, and other appearances.

As he wrapped things up, the room fell into a quiet hum of anticipation. This was the next phase—one where the music wasn’t the only thing that mattered anymore.

──────────────────────

You were paired off in twos to film a short introduction video for yourselves and the album—Vi and you, and Ekko with Jinx. Archie gave you the freedom to choose where you wanted to film and what you could talk about (as long as you stuck to the schedule, of course).

Vi suggested filming at your place, claiming “the plants give off a nice vibe.” You didn’t argue—if it made things easier, you were all for it. So, to your apartment you went.

As you both stepped inside, Vi kicked off her boots near the door while you tossed your keys onto the table, the familiar clatter echoing in the quiet space. The apartment felt weirdly calm compared to the chaotic energy of the studio. But now came the hard part—figuring out what the hell to do for this video.

“So, what do you think we should do?” Vi asked, her voice casual as she wandered over to your living room, eyeing the plants like they’d give her the answer.

You trailed behind her, chewing on the inside of your cheek. What could you film that would actually reflect your energy without coming off as too much… or, worse, boring?

“Honestly? I’ve got no clue.” You flopped onto the couch, sighing. “Ekko and Jinx are doing some painting session or whatever since they’ve got that in common. But us?” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “What do we do? Besides, you know…” You trailed off with a smirk, your mind flashing back to Vi's very creative methods of stress relief.

Vi chuckled, flopping down beside you and tossing her legs over your lap. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s exactly the vibe Archie’s looking for.” She shot you a teasing grin. “Though I’m sure it’d get us a hell of a lot of views.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, not trying to get us banned off every platform before the album even drops.”

Vi leaned back, staring at the ceiling in thought. “Okay, so… no painting, no X-rated content.” She tapped her fingers against the couch rhythmically. “What about something simple? Like us just talking about the songs, the process, you know?”

You made a face. “That sounds kinda… stiff. Everyone’s gonna do that. I mean, sure, we talk about the songs, but there’s gotta be something more us in it.”

Vi was quiet for a second before her eyes lit up. “What if we do something more casual? Like, we’re just hanging out, talking shit, maybe playing some old tracks and reacting to them?” She grinned, nudging your shoulder. “You know, let people see the real us—chaotic mess and all.”

You laughed, the idea settling in your mind. That actually sounded like fun. “Alright, yeah. I like that. Maybe we can even throw in some behind-the-scenes clips? Like the time Jinx nearly set the mic on fire?”

Vi burst out laughing. “Or when Ekko tripped over his own bass cable and tried to play it off like nothing happened?”

The two of you were already in stitches, the tension from earlier melting away. This felt right—natural, fun, and totally you.

“Okay,” you said, standing up and grabbing your phone. “Let’s set this up before we lose the vibe. You grab the speaker, I’ll get the camera.”

Vi gave you a mock salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

In no time, your makeshift filming set was ready. You grabbed some snacks, adjusted the lighting just enough to look effortless, and set the camera to start recording.

You both introduced yourselves, diving into the story of how the band came together. It felt natural, almost like reminiscing with an old friend rather than filming something for fans.

“At first, it was just the two of us,” Vi said, pointing between the two of you with a grin. “We were messing around, trying to figure out our sound. Then my younger sister decided to be extremely annoying while we practiced—always yapping about how two people weren’t a real band. Eventually, she dragged Ekko into this mess, and, well… here we are.”

You laughed, the memory still vivid. “Oh, I definitely remember the first time Jinx quite literally dragged him into that old room at school—the one we used for practice. She barged in, shouting about how Ekko had a garage we could use, and how she had all these brilliant ideas.”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah! I remember that. Poor Benzo looked so displeased with a bunch of teenagers making a racket in the back of his shop. I’m pretty sure he aged ten years in that first month alone.”

You both laughed, the camera kept rolling, but for a moment, it didn’t even feel like it was there.

As Vi continued talking about the process of creating the album—how the songs and lyrics meant so much to all of you—your mind began to wander. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful she looked, sitting there comfortably, her voice steady and confident as she spoke to the camera. The black hair dye had almost completely faded from her hair, leaving the natural pink vibrant and bright against her skin. Her hair had grown out a bit, just enough that it curled slightly at the ends, and you found yourself fighting the urge to reach out and drag your fingers through those soft, messy locks.

Your eyes traced the freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way they bridged her nose, delicate and familiar. And her eyes—God, her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about, like the music, like this. It was the kind of sparkle that pulled you in, made you want to listen to her forever, just to keep that light alive.

It was almost like…

Oh.

Oh.

No, no, no, no.

You were not catching feelings. That was impossible. This was supposed to be casual—just fun. You both knew that from the start. So what the fuck were you thinking?

Panic tightened in your chest, a cold, sharp edge to the realization sinking in. You were spiraling, and you barely registered Vi’s voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Hey,” she said, her brows furrowed, concern softening her features. “You good? Do you want to take a break?”

You blinked, trying to pull yourself out of the fog. “Huh? Sorry, what was the question?”

She tilted her head, studying you carefully. “Are you okay? You look kinda out of it.”

Your heart was still racing, but you forced a tight smile. “Yeah, that would be great.” You stood up from the couch, barely meeting her eyes as you made a beeline for the bathroom.

Once inside, you shut the door behind you and leaned heavily against the sink, gripping its edges like it could anchor you to reality. Your reflection stared back, wide-eyed and flushed, like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

This is NOT happening. You mentally shouted at yourself, trying to shake the feeling off. *You’ve known her for years. The moment you start sleeping with her is the moment you catch feelings? Seriously?*

You turned on the tap, splashing cold water onto your face, hoping the chill would snap you out of it, wash away the thoughts clinging to your mind. But as the water dripped from your chin, pooling at the edges of the sink, the tightness in your chest remained.

Staring at your reflection, you whispered under your breath, “Get it together.”

But no matter how many times you repeated it, the weight of what you were feeling didn’t budge.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping out of the bathroom. The moment you did, you saw Vi in the living room, methodically packing up the filming equipment. The casual ease with which she moved, like this was just another normal day, only made the knot in your chest tighten.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice sounding steadier than you felt.

Vi glanced up, pausing as she turned off the camera. “I think we’ve got enough material for today—maybe even the whole video,” she said, her tone light but tinged with something softer, more careful. “I can see you’re tired. I’ll come over tomorrow, and we can go through the footage, see what we can use. For now, you should rest.”

Her words were simple, but the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips wasn’t. It wasn’t just the usual smirk or playful grin—it was something else. Genuine concern. And that look … it hit you like a sucker punch.

Because all you could think about was how easy it would be to want this every day. To have her not just in fleeting moments, not just in casual touches or hurried nights. But fully. Completely. The idea burrowed itself deeper into your mind, wrapping around your thoughts like vines.

“Yeah,” you forced out, your voice quieter than before. “That sounds good.”

Vi gave you one last glance, like she wanted to say something more, but instead, she just nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder before heading for the door. The soft click of it shutting behind her echoed louder than it should have.

And then it was just you. Alone.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the now-empty room, expecting some sense of relief to wash over you. But it didn’t. If anything, the silence made it worse.

You should’ve been able to crash the moment she left, but sleep was the last thing your body wanted. You were confused, frustrated—mad at yourself, mad at her, for making you feel this way. Your body felt heavy, physically exhausted, but your mind was running on overdrive, replaying every glance, every touch, every word she’d said.

You sank onto the couch, rubbing your hands over your face.

You’d told yourself from the start—this was supposed to be casual.Just a way to blow off steam, nothing more. But somewhere along the way, those lines had blurred, and now you didn’t know how to pull yourself back from the edge.

──────────────────────

masterlist - chapter ten

taglist: @saturnhas82moons @oidloid @vaebear @wicked-laugh @baylegend6 @nomarksonelegance @antobooh @80saturn

[amynchan]

"Another one."

The file is slapped on my desk, courtesy of Jack's hand. I do my best not to sigh, but some endeavors are honestly just doomed to fail.

"New recruit or job transfer?" I know I'll see the answer in the file, but if Jack's gonna be like that, then I can be like this. I don't even open the file.

"New recruit, asshole." Wow. Someone's in a bad mood. Wonder what crawled up his ass. Okay, fine, I open up the file this time.

Oh.

Oh...

You know, years and years ago, this might have been considered a conflict of interest. When there were enough people around, working jobs, that the work could be moved from an involved or easily affected party to an uninvolved one.

Maybe there was a reason for that.

"Hey, if you need to take a lunch break—"

"Don't. Just— just don't."

Well... what else can I do? I swallow up my words, nod, and look at the beaming face of Jack's niece again. Seventeen. Sweet girl. Her grades, like everyone else's, meet standards that might have been actually necessary so many years ago. Technology's moved forward. Life has moved forward. Humanity, as a whole, has evolved out of needing so many jobs that most of today's problems are manufactured. Enough to make people think about them but not enough to cause lasting damage to... well, anything if they aren't taken care of. And the people who skim the jobs we've given them? Nothing really happens. We make the fake problems go away one way or another, and nobody and nothing gets hurt in the process. No real loss.

It's busywork is all I'm saying. People like Sarah get to do busywork. The really exceptional people get hired here. Doing this. Keeping the world running on one side and keeping the population controlled on the other.

"All she wants to do is make a difference in the world." Jack doesn't have anyone else who can do this job for him. I don't think he'd want to, either. Once you know about how the world works, there's not really a way to unknow.

Well...

No need to tempt fate with thoughts like those. I go through Sarah's file.

"There's gotta be something else she likes." And there's lots in here. She's got friends. A robust social life. There are a few ambitions, but we can make some scenarios to fit and satisfy those.

But that's not the problem, and Jack knows it. I know it.

"How am I supposed to face her?" he asks. "She's going to come to family dinners, all smiles, talking about how much better the world is because of her and her coworkers and her friends. How much good she's doing for the world. How she's going to make it better for the rest of us, just wait and see. She's going to barrel headfirst into making humanity a utopia again!"

I'm smart enough to keep my mouth shut. Jack and I both know what utopia can do to people.

When Jack yells, I'm not surprised. His brother was never like Sarah. His sister in law was never like Sarah. As far as I know, nobody in his family has been like Sarah. Sweet. Determined. Good-hearted.

All determination and heart. None of the skill sets or natural talents we need in order to make her fantasy come true.

It would make a lot of sense to make Sarah a politician. Protected. Safe. Somewhere her ambitions can at least feel fed and her dreams feel real, at least.

Enough to make her feel proud. Worthy. Dignified. In this world where corruption is nipped in the bud and no one ever gets shot or goes hungry, a politician's job is easy, and the problems they deal with are minor.

But I know it would also be also enough to drive Jack insane. Meeting with his niece throughout the years, watching her be so proud of achievements that are real to her and hollow to everyone who knows. Hollow to him. It's a special kind of hell we live in.

One hell of a utopia.

In the end, Sarah will become a small business owner. We'll lay down the trail for her to run something that runs along the lines of 20th century ethical practices. She'll have her pick of products, and she'll run the operation in the best way she knows how. We can lay down breadcrumbs of opportunities and support the infrastructure and the product line from where we sit. She'll live a perfectly respectable life in her ethical and lovely shop for as long as she wants until she wants a transfer.

Maybe she'll be a politician then. Who the hell knows.

Not me, and not Jack, by the look of it. I look at him, and he glares back.

Yeah. Okay.

Jack slaps another file on my desk. This time, I just take it. There are some days where turnabout just isn't fair play.

In the near future, 85% of all jobs have been automated, and everyone's basic needs are met for free. You work for a secret organization that creates fake busywork jobs for the majority who aren't qualified for the few real jobs left, but need perceived meaningful labor to stay sane.

[superbat-lmao]

Bruce shows up at the Kent farm because he wants Martha’s blessing to marry her son.

It’s an outdated custom, but Clark is sentimental about the oddest things, so Bruce resigns himself to it.

He made sure to show up in some of his most relaxed clothes and brought some of Alfred’s cooking. To anyone else he would appear to be any random passerby, which was the objective. Ma Kent expressed a distinct distaste for Bruce’s masks, either as Brucie or Batman.

It was difficult to hide his nerves.

He hoped by following all of her past critiques of him he would pass muster. You aren’t at a board meeting, million dollar suits have no place in a pig pen, or, You must bring that butler of yours with you, I would love to trade recipes.

When Martha eventually opened the door she smiled easily until she really took in his appearance.

“Bruce! What’s happened? Are you alright? Where’s Clark?”

Caught off guard, Bruce blinks.

“No Mrs. Kent, it’s just me. I had something I wanted to discuss with you-”

“Dressed like that? And what have you got there?”

“Alfred sent it with me. Everything’s alright, I just wanted to abide by your suggestions.”

He bears her scrutiny for 37 seconds before being ushered inside. He cannot stop himself from going over his actions and the best course for rectifying them. He is unaware of what would be a cause for such concern.

She fusses over him and Alfred’s dish until he is sat at her kitchen table, empty handed.

“So, Bruce, honey, what was it you wanted to talk about? Must be important if it got you to fly all the way out here by yourself. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you, but you boys are a rare sight indeed these days.”

Without appearing obvious, Bruce tries to brace himself for a moment. The words are difficult for him to say, and Martha’s kindness has always been hard to bear the full brunt of.

“I had hoped to discuss something with you.”

There is no exasperated sigh, but he does see her patience at his silence as he tries to string together what he’d like to say.

“I would like to ask for your blessing.”

Martha’s eyebrows pinch together for less than a second before her face slackens in surprise. Bruce does his best not to fidget, or indeed move a muscle.

“My blessing.”

“Yes.”

“In marriage.”

“Yes.”

“To Clark.”

“Yes.”

Martha sits down on the chair across from him, keeping a hand on its armrest to steady herself.

“Goodness.”

Martha turns almost mechanically to face him. He still hasn’t moved.

“You haven’t discussed this with him?”

“Two years ago we discussed the institution of marriage and its surrounding customs as part of a mission involving marital law.”

“But you haven’t discussed the possibility of you two getting married on Earth?”

“No.”

Martha holds the fabric of the table cloth between her thumb and forefinger, pressing it against itself to make slow circles.

“Why do you think you need my blessing?”

There is a distinct pause as Bruce thinks this over.

“Clark values your opinion as well as Earth’s customs. It is not exactly standard practice, nor a custom rooted in a particularly ethical social mores, but it is one I think he would see sentimental value in. If I have overstepped-”

Martha is kind enough to cut him off.

“No, no, no. It’s just. You’ve really surprised me is all.”

“I will, of course, submit to any questions or trials you require to illustrate my sincerity.”

Her forehead wrinkles as her eyebrows race toward her hairline. It’s a look Clark has made after some of Bruce’s more severe injuries when he had suggested returning to patrol. It is endearing to see where he gets it from.

“Trials.”

“Any requirements or standards that I must meet.”

“Ah.”

They lapse back into silence for 3 minutes and 12 seconds before Martha sighs gently. A cold feeling passes through Bruce at the realization he has somehow already failed.

“I’m so sorry honey. This is just such a surprise. I think I have a couple of questions for you, but I had just never considered anyone would be asking for my blessing. Being a Mother of the groom doesn’t usually have that in the job description. Is there a reason you picked Earth customs instead of Kryptonian ones? Clark says you’ve spent an awful lot of time in that ship of his.”

“Kryptonian marriage customs do not place emphasis on courting rituals, only the ceremony itself. I had planned to ask Clark if he wanted us to follow them or incorporate them into Earth’s customs or even forgo customs altogether, but that’s only a consideration if he accepts. As it stands, I would estimate there are two aspects of Kryptonian marriage customs he would likely incorporate and a majority he would be disinclined to, given his current frequency of preference for Earth customs. Although I have prepared everything in case he does wish to follow Kryptonian customs.”

“Prepared everything?”

“I would have to substitute the Hall of Justice for the Palace of Marriage, but I have done my best to acquire a jewel from Diana that could stand in for the Jewel of Truth and Honor. I have also acquired rings or bands to the specifications of custom, depending on his preference, and commissioned the parental statues.”

“Parental statues-?”

“However, I estimate that Clark would choose that option if Superman got married. I believe his original preference would be to have a ceremony here. Though if he agreed to a ceremony with media presence, it would likely be at the manor. I do think he may find three separate weddings to be excessive, but if he did want more I would be willing to-”

“Bruce!”

He paused, looking up from the checkered pattern of the tablecloth to see Martha smiling, faintly. The cold feeling had spread while he was talking and he tried to push it away.

“Honey, I think I’ve done a poor job of this. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a shock, you showing up here dressed like you work in town, with a home cooked meal and detailed wedding plans, but you must forgive me. I feel my age catching up to me sometimes and it can take a minute for my brain to catch up with you youngsters.”

She rubbed at her eyes for a moment before continuing.

“Lord knows that Clark was always an idealist, he was a happy child who loved so much. I used to quite literally have to ask him to come down from the clouds.”

“I don’t think I have ever met another person as grounded as you are. Literally, Clark has told me stories about that cave of yours. All that to say, in my own marriage, Jonathan and I tried to strike a balance.”

She paused, looking out the window in the kitchen for a moment.

“I think the both of you have polar opposite approaches to the same thing. That your practicality balances out his optimism. And that he is a counterbalance to your cynicism.”

“I am so proud of the both of you boys. To have found each other and support each other. That boy loves absolutely, and while I can’t speak for him, I would support him in whatever decision he would make.”

“But I have also come to know you and your children. I see your dedication and commitment to everything you put your mind to. Family is important to you, and I am glad my son has met someone who loves as fiercely as he does, even if it looks a little different on the outside.”

Martha’s hand reaches across the table and folds neatly over his own. Bruce finds it’s the easiest thing in the world to match her smile.

“Of course you have my blessing. I’m sorry if I made you think you didn’t. It’s just that “bat-preparedness” as Kon puts it, is a bit beyond my speed. I’m so glad you came by. I’d be delighted if you stuck around for a while to really explain to me what some of those ceremonies entail, but then I don’t know how much time you set aside today.”

The cold feeling had morphed into a warm sort of liquid, like Alfred’s hot chocolate. Slowly, Bruce relaxed his muscles and posture to be more at ease.

“Thank you. I would love to stay. My schedule is free for the next few days actually. I had been planning to ask if you wanted anything done around the place, or for me to take a look at that tractor again. Jon mentioned you were having trouble with it and I know none of my boys have been by in a few weeks or I’d have asked them to take a look.”

Martha leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Bruce’s temple, effectively stunning him for a moment. She laughed at the look on his face.

“Oh you sap, you better get used to it. Come on, you’ll have to show me how you’re setting that thing to rights each time.”

As they got up and made their way towards the tractor, Martha asked one final question.

“I’m surprised Clark didn’t stop by halfway through your explanations. He told me he showed up once during one of your patrols unannounced because your heartbeat suddenly picked up. Lois made fun of him for weeks. How did you know he wouldn’t be listening?”

Bruce smiled slightly as he rolled up his sleeves to take a look at the well worn machinery.

“Easy. I’m on light duty for the next two weeks and the rest of the League got called on a mission for the Lantern Corps. He won’t be anywhere near this solar system for at least four more days. Perfect opportunity to stop by.”

Martha snorted beside him as he pointed out the different systems. She was warm and solid next to him, something that made him smile and think distinctly of family.

Bonus Below the Cut: Kryptonian Marriage Customs from Google.

[cherry-coffees]

Caitlyn Kiramman (as your gf) when you fail a test

Caitlyn picks you up from university most weekends. It's not an issue for her; on the contrary, she enjoys getting to hear about your day as you head back to the Kiramman manor. She loves to look over at you in the darkness of the car, your face lit up by the glow of the passing street lamps, and it feels almost domestic in a way.

This day, though, you get in the car with a single, quiet "hi." No immediate kiss of greeting or a smile. You just slide into the passenger seat of Caitlyn's car, somewhat avoiding her gaze.

Caitlyn glances over in concern of your lack of usual greeting, and her eyebrows furrow when she sees your red-rimmed eyes and trembling lip. "Darling? What happened?" Her voice goes soft, one of her hands gently tugging your arm from covering your face. "Talk to me."

You sniff, willing your tears to subside. "I just- I just bombed a test. It's fine, I'm okay."

"Oh, sweet one," Caitlyn murmurs, her palms coming up to cradle your jaw, fingers sliding over your cheeks. "It's okay to be upset. I know you were studying hard for it. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

You swallow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "I understand what we learned for the test, but I made so many small mistakes that I only realized after. They'll take so many points off for that."

"That's okay," Caitlyn soothes, and her eyes are so full of soft understanding that it just makes you want to cry again. "It's okay if you make mistakes. I'm sure so many people made the same mistakes."

"But it's more than that," you bite the inside of your cheek, more tears welling up in your eyes to your horror. "I just feel so stupid. Like I just can't seem to get it. Even when I understand the content, I always mess up somehow."

"You're not stupid," her response is immediate. "You're so, so smart. How many things have you done well on this year? Far more than you've been disappointed on, right?" Caitlyn waits for you to nod before continuing. "Darling. You're upset because you care so much. That's the best thing you can have when you're learning something new. You just have to figure out the ways to study that help you the most, and that can take time. But you don't have to do it by yourself."

You nod again, head buried in her shoulder as you lean across the center console of the car. "Okay."

"Okay," Caitlyn repeats, gently carding her fingers through your hair. "Everything will work out, I promise you. And I'll be right here the entire time. Now, let's go to that one takeout place you always like, yeah? Let's get you some comfort food."

"Thank you," you mumble, angling your head up to press a kiss to the corner of her jaw. "I love you."

"I love you more than words can say, my darling."

This is purely for me bc I failed a test in university today that I studied really hard for. And cried like this. So! For anyone that's feeling frustrated because they didn't do as well as they hoped on something, I get you. So here's some comfort from Caitlyn!

Much love <3

~Cherry 🍒

[nodoubtily]

ni-ki helping reader with her big boobs insecurity 😫

TW: smut so MDNI, receiving head (f received), fingering, body insecurity, angst, happy ending, body positivity, loving boyfriend.

You’re so upset. Of course it wasn’t working.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, breath shaky, heart beating irregular. You look behind you through the mirror, admiring Niki, your boyfriend, as he adjusts his hair to his liking. He looks so good, so attractive, so expensive. Glancing at your own reflection, you can’t help but tear up.

Niki had picked the dress for you, envisioning the event. It was a sleek red wine, backless dress and he just knew you’d look so pretty.

Except he was wrong. All because of your chest. The chest that had overcame you with so many raw feelings of hatred. Your eyes can’t tear away from the flaw. They stick out, causing the dress a look of discomfort and stretch, and it’s unflattering. You can’t ignore it. The sight you see floods your brain, and it becomes more difficult to keep the tears at bay. You feel so close to breaking.

Every day, this disgusting feeling bubbles in your soul, causing genuine heartache. Without fail, this insecurity ruins every outfit you wear. If only you had smaller tits. All your small chest friends complain about how little their’s are, but you’d give anything to lose the jugs. Tears prickle down your face, stinging, eyes and nose red, mascara smudging with every tear that drops.

You look behind you again, to see Niki sitting peacefully by the foot of the bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone as he patiently waits. Your chest quivers, your bottom lip pouting unintentionally.

“Baby,” you break the ‘comfortable’ silence. He looks up at you. “You should go without me.” Your pain taints your voice, and you sniffle louder then you’d want. His ears perk, and his eyes flash with worry.

“Hey, what’s wrong.” He gets to you as soon as he sees the smudged mascara, and the way your hands twitch. He comes up right behind you, spinning you to face him, and not the mirror. He drinks in the sight. Your eyes red, flooding with tears, nose snotty and the sadness overflowing everywhere. Your arms cross against your chest, hiding them from view. “What’s going on? Why can’t we go together?”

“I just don’t really…” your voice breaks off, finding a reason to not want to go. You really do, but you also don’t want to subject yourself to a whole night of more sadness. You didn’t want to ruin what is supposed to be a fun atmosphere. “I don’t really feel well.”

“Then I’ll stay and take care of you.” Your eyes widen.

“No!” You say at once, shaking your head. “You haven’t seen all the guys in so long. And I know you were excited to see Jay’s and his Ms’s child. So go, I’ll just stay in bed, resting.”

“What’s going on baby? Why are you lying?” Of course he knew you were lying. He knows so much about you. More then you do about yourself.

Your eyes meet his, and you can’t help but break down. He really looks amazing. The casual suit tailored to his body so well, creating a look of class. You can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever find someone else. Someone else who looks pretty. Who is confident. Who is so beautiful in every aspect. Someone who is definitely not you.

Tears stream down your face like waterfalls, and the only time you move your arms from your chest is when you cage your face, hiding the ugly away from someone who’s just so gorgeous.

“Y/N…” Niki’s heart breaks without you knowing. He hates you seeing so upset. “Why are you cr—“

“Why me, Niki?”

That question caught him off guard. “Wha-?”

“I’m not pretty. I’m not confident. I don’t have the appealing body— like look at my fucking chest. It makes everything I wear so disgusting, and unflattering. You must be embarrassed to be seen out in public with me because I am such a eyesore it’s pathetic. Why me. Why me out of all the pretty girls who gawk at you, ignoring me who’s right there with you. It’s like I’m invisible. I’m not pretty. I’m not funny. I’m just a boring, ugly person who so happens to be dating someone so pretty as you—“

Niki’s lips find yours quickly. His hands gently holding the sides of your face. When he pulls away, his eyes gleam with such sadness. “I don’t like hearing you speak about yourself like that. Baby, you’re so much more than that. You’re so much more than all the other girls who stare. I love you for you. I love you because you’re my girl. My pretty, funny, kind, warm girl.” His words only bring more sorrow. “And your chest…” he sucks through his teeth, groaning. “Baby, I love your chest.” His words fluster you.

“I-“

“I love your tits. When you’re riding me, and they bounce so cutely. When you’re bent over the counter and they’re smushed against it, your sensitive nipples pressed against the coldness of the surface, clenching your pussy because of it. I love your body. But I especially love your tits.”

He turns you around again, and you face the mirror. His words had done something to you, distracting you from the sadness that had overcome you.

His hands danced along your hips, before leading their way to your collarbone, before placing his hands on each of your breasts. He squeezes them, and you twitch. His hands massage and caress, his index and middle fingers rolling your nipples around, adding more sensitivity. You can’t help but whine a little.

“Want more?” Niki asks you, low in your ear. You nod. “Yeah? Want me to show you how much I love you?”

“Yes please.” You reply airily.

“Still a good girl, even when you’re sad.” Niki leads you to the bed, gently laying you down.

“What about dinner with the boys?” You ask, remembering about the reservation.

“I’ll explain it to them tomorrow.” He shrugs it off. “They’ll understand what I mean by when I’ll tell them my girl needed me.”

His hands glide the silk off of you, down your hips, tickling your legs when it’s pulled off. He sighs loudly. “Fuck. You’re so pretty.” He sighs, drinking in the sight of you, naked, make up smudged, your body proportions speaking to him in a different language. A language only him and his growing boner can speak.

“Please touch me, Niki.” He chuckles as you wriggle, embarrassed by the shameless staring. As if he would say no to your politeness.

Niki’s hands trace down to your inner thighs, and he gently pulls them apart, settling on his stomach, his eyes levelled with your aching pussy. He licks along your slit. You shudder. He only softly laughs.

“Needy baby..” he mumbles, before he leans right in. His mouth makes out with your clit, lips latched around the bundle of nerves, sucking powerfully. A loud moan elicits from you, ripped out of your throat.

Your thighs buck, and you find grave difficulty to keep your legs spread. Niki pokes his middle finger inside your cunt, sliding it in with ease due to your arousal. Another moan rips from you, and you unintentionally lock your legs around his head. Niki doesn’t seem to care, as he doubles in the pleasure. The band in your stomach only tightens, and you don’t know when you’re going to cum.

“C-close.” Your breathe is shaky, and you’re becoming only more sensitive. Niki pulls away from your cunt.

“Gonna cum on my tongue? Be my good girl?” He slides another finger in, stretching you slightly. You whine at that, hands clawing the bed sheets.

“Yesyesyesyesyesyes!—oh my god!” You chant like a mantra, chest heaving as you breathe heavily. “Fuck! Please let me cum.”

Niki fingers you with a fast pace, his goal to reach you to the orgasm you so desperately want. Your insides clench tightly around his fingers, and he leans down again, licking through your folds continuously, and that does it for you.

Your pussy explodes, walls clenching uncontrollably as your washed over with waves upon waves of ecstasy, a string of breathless moans flowing out your throat, deep from your chest. Niki groans, the taste of you sweet on his tongue.

Once you calm down, you whine in sensitivity as Niki continues to suck your clit, and he stops when he successfully slides his fingers out of you.

“You taste so good.” He grins, and you sleepily gaze at his face, drenched with your juice. He licks his lips clean, lifting the bottom of his dress shirt to wipe around his mouth. Your eyes fall to his abs, and you can’t believe how handsome he is. You’re truly lucky to have him, and you don’t plan on leaving. “Go to sleep. I’ll clean you up.”

“But..” you voice trails off, a yawn interrupting your speech. He only chuckles. Your eyes flow to his prominent bulge, and his eyes follow.

“Don’t worry about that. You just go to sleep, pretty girl.” He leans over to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue. If you weren’t so tired, that’d start you up again.

“But-“

“Sleep, baby. It’s okay.” With that, your eyes sleepily drift, and the last thing you remember is Niki gently wiping you with a clean towel.

FIN

perm taglist: @jyikeu @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby

[jsooly]

Can I make an ask for the sully seriessss? I wanna see what would happen if y/n got into a fight with one of the sullys (idm which one) so at the ended of the day she started going back to the lab with spider instead of being around them and like they kept going back to the lab like for atleast a week and a half, and she basically sleeps there, eats there, doesn’t actually leave it and the sullys haven’t seen her in dayssss and this sort of thing has never happened before

If you don’t wanna do this it’s okay but tysm!! :)

taken in by the sullys (10) / sully family x human!daughter/sister!reader

synopsis, flashback to when you get into a fight with neytiri and stay at the lab for a day or two… or twelve…

try not to put lore in the filler chapters challenge: failed. lol

thank you for your request <3 sorry if it isn't what you intended, but i hope i did it justice! i'm slowly working through my inbox so if you sent a request in, dw, i haven't forgotten them :D

(1) / . . . / (8*) / (9*) / (10 - ur here! ☆)

+ chapters with an * beside it means that it’s following atwow plot line as opposed to disconnected scenarios

years before the RDA returned. . .

as we’ve talked about in the earlier chapters, you can owe your strength and skill to neytiri, who was very diligent in training you.

you started earlier than any of your siblings. you learned to string bows, build arrows, proper technique for handling knives, etc...

it was clear to anyone that neytiri was the hardest on you. she put a lot of pressure on you to be the best.

in the early years, she was hyperaware of the clan's opinions of her. of jake, of the half-blood children she would eventually have one day. even though they were triumphant against humanity, she still held a bitterness for them.

so she was shocked when she felt so strongly about keeping you as her own. jake was more than ready to respect her wishes if push came to shove, but despite her grudge against the sky people, she was 100% on board with your adoption.

neytiri loved you very much, but sometimes other people's opinions were more important than your happiness.

"again." neytiri snapped, circling you like a hawk. her golden eyes were focused on you, constantly assessing your form for any missteps.

your eyes darted to her before you swallowed your nerves and pulled the bowstring taut.

"not quite. again."

you let the bow drop, clenching your eyes shut. what am i getting wrong? you inhaled sharply, drawing the bow once more, the thin string digging into the joints of your middle and index finger. your gaze flickered to neytiri in preparation for her critique.

she pursed her lips before she sighed, shaking her head lightly. "you must be faster, ma'ite."

you frowned, gently releasing the bowstring. the disappointment in her voice made your skin hot with embarrassment. "i'm pulling it as fast as i can."

"not good enough." her eyebrows furrowed. "we will do more strength training. forget the bow. for now we will build your muscles."

she stalked off, swiping the bow from you. you watched her leave before dropping onto the ground in exhaustion. you stared at the leather stitching in the ceiling, your heart thumping in your chest as you entered a resting state.

it was hard to impress neytiri, much less meet her expectations. you were working yourself to the bone, and still you weren't scratching the surface of her approval.

it only got worse as you got older. you were capable of more, so neytiri pushed you harder.

unfortunately, you were also in an age where you were increasingly self-conscious. this anxiety was only fueled by the strife within the clan. strife centered around you.

they didn't like that you were participating in their training rituals, especially since you regularly outperformed the other children.

and this isn't to say you just happen to be able to achieve such feats despite being human—

neytiri had you working all the time.

the other kids wanted to win. you had to win.

unknowingly, and unintentionally, neytiri conditioned you into thinking being the best would make you worthy of your family.

"what is the use, neytiri?" a clan member asked her, the judgement clear on his tone. he consoled his own child who was just beaten in combat by you. "the child is human. no matter how much time you pour into teaching her, she will never be part of the clan."

"i am aware," neytiri shoots back dismissively.

"you have sons. neteyam is the next olo'eyktan, and you waste your time on a demon."

"demon or not, she is a part of my family. we train all our children, y/n is no different." neytiri hissed, whirling to face her challenger.

the man stepped back but didn't step down. "what is the goal of her training? she cannot complete iknimaya. she cannot bond, she cannot see, she cannot connect with the great mother—"

"there are many things y/n cannot do. to make up for it, she will be everything the sky people are not. she will be clever, quick, and deadly like any other na'vi child, otherwise there would have been no point in keeping her." neytiri snarled, her anger bubbling over the surface.

the man was putting her own fears into words. she was unforgiving to sky people, wishing they would remain with their kind rather than infiltrate her and her people's space. she was aware she was being hypocritical when it came to you, and it ate her up inside when she thought about it. but that's just a mother's love—paradoxical.

she was determined to mold you into perfection so that no one would think you didn't belong among them.

she stormed away from the man and his child, her thoughts so clouded that she didn't even notice you standing right there, hiding behind a branch as you eavesdropped.

you stared at her until she vanished from view, her words stewing in your mind.

some part of you knew that she felt that way. simply observing the differences between how she trained you versus neteyam or lo'ak were clear as day. she handled you with an urgency as if you were stacked against a ticking clock, as if you had to fight to be able to stand in front of her and receive her instruction.

she would only respond to excellence. and even then, her praise was weighed down by an unspoken burden.

you sat behind that branch for a very long time.

demon. the man called you that, and she didn't deny it.

—

the dinner table was filled with the pleasant chatter of your younger siblings, reveling in their various feats and findings in the earlier hours.

"what about your day, y/n?" jake asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing.

you sighed, nudging the food on your leaf. "just training."

"this reminds me, y/n," neytiri spoke up, wiping tuk's face before glancing over to you. "we can fit in another burst of strength conditioning before bed."

your expression hardened, your eyes falling to the ground. "i'm pretty tired..."

"that's why you're fueling up." she said, almost confused that you would shirk training.

"i won the races today." you said sharply, your eyes narrowing. "isn't that enough?"

"you must be faster, ma'ite." neytiri stressed, her brows furrowing in that oh-so-familiar disappointing look. jake sent her a silent message from across the table, warning neytiri to back down and maybe be encouraging for once.

"i—faster?" you shot back incredulously. you won. forget being faster, you were the fastest.

"our world is unforgiving. even a second can be the difference between life and death." neytiri said matter-of-factly. pity swam in her eyes as she gazed upon you.

you slammed your hands down, glaring outright at your mother. "stop acting like that's the reason you want me to train so hard."

a slow blink. neytiri froze, her ears flattening as she barely contained her reaction. "watch your tone, daughter."

you throw caution to the wind, springing to your feet with clenched fists hanging at your sides. "i do everything you ask. i train, i win, i fight, i hunt—"

"you are not fast enough!" neytiri doubled down, rising to her feet and towering over you.

"i am not enough, period." you correct her, and you didn't miss the flicker of guilt in her expression. got you. the child in you hoped she would deny it, to tell you that it wasn't like that. but the subtle wince told you all you needed to know.

a beat passed as neytiri breathed hard, collecting the scattered thoughts in her head and reigning in her emotion.

"you are alive," neytiri began slowly. "because i made you strong. because i did not coddle you like a helpless child. i did not give you the luxury of softness, because no one would else would. you think you suffer because of me? you won today because you are better than them. both na'vi and sky people alike. because i made you more than what they expected."

"you pushed a narrative on me! you don't see me for who i am."

she snarled, striding around the table. "the clan is the one that does not see you. i see fire in you, y/n. the drive to be more than what you were born as."

"none of this is for my sake! you want me to prove that i'm worth something to the clan. that i'm worth something to you. and i'm trying." your voice tapered off into a whine.

"you're human. you have needed to prove yourself from the minute you set foot on this tree."

you blinked back tears, your face flipping between emotional distress and anger, shoulders rising with every heavy breath.

"what—" your voice broke, and you breathed in deeply before continuing. "what if i didn't want to fight for my place? what if i just wanted to be your daughter?"

she opened her mouth to retort but the gravity of your words hit her like a truck.

frustrated with her lack of response, you spun on your heels and booked it out of the marui with a aggravated scream.

there was a lengthy silence that hung in the air after you stormed out. neytiri said nothing further, dropping back into her seat.

they didn't see you for days after that.

jake and neytiri initially panicked, fearing you were victim to pandora's nightly dangers

but norm put in a call and informed them that you were just hanging around them in an old bunk.

jake visited you in the beginning, coaxing you to return. but you refused.

when he put his foot down and ordered you to come home, you said you'd come on your own time, later that day.

you never showed up. when he went back looking for you, you were nowhere to be found. you were straight up avoiding them.

he knew that he wasn't the one you needed to see. but neytiri was just as stubborn.

"she will come back." neytiri said calmly, but she churned her spices with more aggression that jake's ever seen before.

"you're her mother," jake gently spoke up. "it's your job to chase after her."

she hissed at her husband. "she cannot understand that i am the way i am with her for her own benefit."

"she's a child. barely a teenager. she's doesn't care why you're doing it."

"she doesn't listen."

jake snickered, earning a hard smack to his chest from neytiri. "what?" she snapped.

jake's laughter trailed off as he gave her a knowing look. "now you know how i feel with your sons."

she rolled her eyes.

"she has a lot stacked against her." jake reasoned, scooting closer to her. "she doesn't need to fight her mom, too."

the kids were insufferable.

with you gone, there were lots they couldn't do—namely go out and play in the forest, which was their favorite.

in your absence, jake sometimes found the time to take them out, but he didn't let them have fun like you did.

you let them explore their surroundings, only cautioning them when they were doing something seriously stupid. jake's dad brain didn't allow for much wiggle room, and he wanted them in his sight at all times.

all that to say they were bored. they missed you.

"when is y/n coming back?" lo'ak's little voice whined, climbing on neytiri's back.

"soon." she muttered, her voice clipped. she could feel her resolve slipping.

parenting never came with a guidebook. she was young, freshly 20 when she had neteyam. she didn't know what she was doing, and she hoped the lengths she took to prepare her children for the real world would pay off. the reality was she was stuck.

she also missed you.

"i wanna go outside." kiri raised her arm, pointing to the expanses of the forest.

neytiri groaned. "kiri, we've told you. no outside if your father can't watch you."

she stomped her foot, complaining. "ugh, neteyam's only four years younger than tsmuke. can't he watch us?"

neytiri gave her daughter a warning look. "neteyam is a baby, just like you. he can't fight off viperwolves or save you from a hammerhead stampede, can he? do you want to be flattened?"

"no." kiri muttered, her glare dropping to the floor.

"you can go outside when your father returns from his duties." neytiri sighed.

neytiri was beginning to reach her limit.

she was anxious. when they went to bed at night, there was always something missing. she itched as if something was left undone.

she struggled to sleep. at the least, jake was also in a similar state. they often lay awake beside each other quietly, but the air between them was charged with a million unspoken thoughts.

the next morning, on the twelfth day you've spent away from them, neytiri finally had enough.

she got up at the crack of dawn. by her understanding, you actively avoided them. how you got wind of their arrival without even seeing them was beyond her. or perhaps it wasn't—she probably taught you that.

she slinked through the wet forest, the morning mist kissing her skin with dew drops. it smelled like rain, like dirt and musk. she just hoped she would be able to outwit you.

she found herself smiling, pride sneaking its way into her heart. how funny that you were using everything she taught you against her.

she didn't make her presence known. she was careful not to trip any of the perimeter alarms, peeking through the foggy windows for any indication of your location.

her ears stood at attention at the sound of rustling behind her. it was faint, barely recognizable, and worth pursuing.

she raced after the sound before it got away from her. she caught sight of your skin against the dull earthy tones of the forest, her eyes brightening.

abandoning your stealthy approach, you broke into a sprint.

"y/n!" she yelled after you. your burst of speed caught her off guard and she scrambled to her feet to chase after you. "wait!"

"i don't want to talk to you!" you yelled over the wind.

unfortunately your legs stood no chance against neytiri's massive strides. you were within her reach in seconds. her hand shot out to grab you. you dodged her, shifting your direction and running between her legs. you yanked on her queue, surprising yourself when you packed enough strength to throw her off balance.

when neytiri got a hold of her bearings, you vanished. she did a 360, scanning the area before turning her gaze up. picking a random tree, she began to climb.

"y/n." she said softly when she climbed high enough. you were already leaping across branches. she followed you, pushing hard to catch up.

"stop—" neytiri grunted as her foot barely found purchase on the tree she was leaping to. "stop running!"

by eywa, you were crazy fast. at least that was something your smaller stature allowed—exponential agility. she grumbled to herself, changing course.

when you jumped and landed with an oomph, you swung your head back to see if she was there. you were annoyed she was chasing you, but now you were even more irritated that she stopped so easily.

with a frown, you straddled the branch.

"aha!" neytiri dropped down from above you.

"what—" you barely looked up before she fell on top of you, screaming as you both slid off the high treetops.

she held you against her, her arm firmly fastened around your stomach, your back pressed to her. her free hand gripped onto a vine, the water shielding her skin from the burn.

you came to a complete stop, swaying just a foot above ground. she dropped down, refusing to let you go even when you got over your shock.

"please, ma'ite, mawey."

"let me go." you grunted, pushing her arm away with little success.

"no."

you probably looked so silly, squirming in neytiri's arms while she battled against your flailing limbs to fully and properly embrace you.

"let's hug."

"what? no."

"give me a hug. we need this."

"ugh." you groaned, going rigid in her arms.

pride ran in the family and neytiri was no different. she struggled to find the right words.

"i am sorry for how relentless i was. i know i'm supposed to have all the answers, but i don't. i'm learning that my way isn't always right, and making you feel out of place was the last thing i wanted to do."

you pursed your lips, hanging limp in her arms.

"you... confuse me, y/n. i have a hatred for sky people and everything they took from me, but i love you. dearly. and this is a feeling i cannot explain to my people. i hoped my methods would help you fit in with them, but i pushed you too hard, too fast."

"i don't mind the training. i know i need it especially." you mumbled. "but doing it constantly—"

"i know, i know." she hushed you, cradling your head. "i don't want you to question anything anymore. you are my daughter, however inexplicable it is."

you smiled warmly at her, finally returning her embrace.

she sat down, setting you in her lap as she undid the hairstyle in your hair, reweaving it with her skillful fingers. "i get scared. you've grown, but i still see you as that toddling baby. pandora is dangerous enough for na'vi as is. i can't help but multiply those dangers by one thousand when you go out there."

she sighed. "i must admit something to you. i have visions of you—one recurring one in particular. it comes and goes. you, bruised and bloodied, a massive slotsyal threatening to swallow you whole." she rested her hands on your shoulders. "i don't want to send you out there and see you hurt, or worse. not when i know i can prepare you."

"you've trained me well," you reassure her. "and you will continue to do so. i won't get into trouble thanks to your lessons. there's no way a stormglider would eat me, either."

she chuckled, standing and holding out her hand in invitation. "perhaps you're right. you are pretty fast."

you beamed up at her.

your bond with neytiri only grew stronger from that point. you were locked in together, and she couldn't be more proud of the fighter you've grown into.

and if anyone had anyone to say about it, they better be ready for a knife fight.

. . .

thanks for reading! <3

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @dae-dreamer @delirious-dolce @strawbaerriesvt @avatar-lover @ryiana @lxon-kxnnedy @zukki33 @chalahyung01 @ssc7514 @shmaptainbonky @aureolinb @whosbibi2000

© jsooly ‘25

[knight-dwx-09]

The Angel With Devil Wings

Oscar open the door with joyful expression.

Oscar: Hey guys! I am back from Vale!

However, instead of a happy greetings or group hugs, he was met with silence as team RWBY and (J)N(P)R sat on the bed with haunted look, as if they were about to go to war.

Oscar: uhh… guys? Is there something wrong? Did Salem announced that she will attack or is she coming to here at this moment?

Ruby: Jaune just message us just now…

Oscar: oh! What did he said? Did he want to watch a movie or play games together? It has been years since I last interact with him with how busy he is after he work with medical department. I really miss him

Ruby: He said that… that all of us should head to the combat arena in a hour…

Oscar: I… see?

Nora: *Clung desperately to Ren’s hand* Renny! I don’t want to train with scary fearless leader today!

Ren has a calm expression unlike anyone else, however, the young boy could see that his whole body was gray out completely. Even then, when Oscar focus just a bit more, the trembles in Ren’s hands was noticeable.

While Blake was the opposite, she was visibly scared while wrapping her hands around Yang’s waist and bury her head onto the shoulder, her cat ears were flat as she whispered something but he couldn’t made out what it was.

Yang had her eyes in two different color, one red and one purple. And only end of her hair was in ablaze. Oscar didn’t even know that was possible for her to do so but she give off a different vibes whenever she use her semblance. Instead of the fiery spirit, one that made her feel like undefeatable, she felt more like a small animal being backed into a conner and try its best to look big.

Weiss: *holding a small doll version of Jaune when he was still at Beacon with tiny version of Croceo Mors* I am sorry dad, I will be a nice girl for now on

Ruby hugs her legs and rocking back and forth.

Oscar: Come on guys, this is Jaune we are talking about. He is one of, if not, the nicest person we have ever met. What are you all so scared of?

Yang suddenly appeared in front of Oscar, scaring him a bit as he try to take a step back but was stopped when she grabbed him by the shoulder with a serious look. However, the slight tremble in her hands reveal her unease and fear.

Yang: Oscar, I know you haven’t see him for a while so I understand why you are confused, but believe me when I said this…

She leaned closer so they were inches away from each other as she whispered to his ear in a scared and timid voice.

Yang: He had change…

Last week

Yang: Tell me where did you hide the weapons?

Criminal: Up your ass!

Yang gritted her teeth at the another fail attempt of extracting information, he was very closed to give him a good knuckle sandwich between his eyes but that was stopped when a yellow haired man in a white coat, hands inside pocket, barged into the room.

Yang: *Scared* Oh, h-hey Jaune! I-it’s nice to see you here

Jaune: It’s nice to see you as well… But can you give us some alone time, firecracker?

Yang: Of course! I will be waiting outside whenever you need me *Hurriedly escaped*

Jaune: So you are one of the White Fang who stole the military’s weapons and mechs this morning?

Criminal: *smiled* So what? Are you gonna give me bitter medicine to ge-

Before he could finish, Jaune’s right leg struck him in the chest through the cuff, breaking it and sent him flying that cause him to bounce off the wall before landed on the ground on all four as the airs crawl out of his lungs.

Jaune: Well, I have been accumulating some stress lately and miss out on hours of my training thank to my dolts of a friend this morning, so…

He bring his hand and make a gesture that say bring it.

Jaune: Give your all and fight me. if you managed to shatter my aura or kill me, the polices will let you go and all of your criminal record get wipe clea-

But before he could even finished what he have to say, the man spring to action as he try to claw Jaune’s face. But it didn’t surprised the doctor as he nonchalantly dodged the strike, leaving a faint trails of energy in their wake, and before the criminal could react, Jaune’s hand were wrapped around his mouth as he were slam into the floor, causing all the air and spit wanting to escape but failed to as his mouth being blocked by a firm grip.

Jaune: You should at least let me finish before accepting my deal, oh well, your funeral, Russet

The criminal, named Russet, grab Jaune’s hand to hold him down while to twist his body enough to bring his leg for a kick that has a similar glow. However, Jaune counter by simply throwing him into the same wall he had kick him to a second ago, like what happened at that time, he bounces off and land on all four.

Jaune: I have read your documents and I know you have a semblance that allow you to produce claw made of Aura from your hands or foot that could cut through steels. Simple and pretty useful semblance that consume small amount of aura *Slowly walk closer, stretching his right arm for another strike* I guess that is fitting for you since you are a tiger Faunus

Russet: STOP! I’M IN RED! ONE HIT FROM YOU WILL SHATTER MY AURA AND SNAP MY HEAD OFF!

Jaune: *Frown* So that is your aura reserved? It’s not that large it seems *Raised his hand toward the man in front of him*

In instinct, he raise both hand to protect himself but his eyes widen from such power rushing through his vein, staring at his own hands glowing in green aura as the feeling of hundreds of drugs were just being injected into his body.

Russet: what the…

Jaune: There, I just recovered and amp your aura so you could continue to fight *Began to pop some bone in his neck*

Hearing this, Russet smiles sinisterly at the doctor as his semblance active, aura covering both hands and take shape of a sharp, long claws that accidentally sink into the ground with ease. Amazed by this turn of event and how powerful his power has become, he gazed at the doctor, thinking he was a fool and dead meat. In second, he leap forward with claw ready, aiming for the neck… Only to be stopped by using his left hand. No, Jaune did not grab his hand to stop the attack or strike him first… he simply bring the hand up and let it hit him as it stop dead in its track… it was as if it refused to slice or even dig into his flesh.

The smirk was instantly evaporated and was replaced with confusion.

But he froze immediately at the sight of Jaune, smiling and cracking the right hand.

Jaune: Now we can keep fighting until I feel satisfied

His whole body tense out of nowhere as his instincts told him to move his head at this instance and so he did. The moment he did so, Jaune’s right leg plummeted down and narrowly miss his head, letting out a gush of wind that come from his strike, that blown him away, and digs through the metal floor like it was butter.

The sense of dread suddenly invaded, a cold shiver run through his spines as sweat began form. In his mind, there were voices to tell him escape as he immediately face towards the door and run.

And Jaune, with a smirk, appeared in front of him with insane speed that was impossible for a huntsman and huntress to achieve without a speed related semblance. Then the blonde struck Russet at the stomach and cause him to spit saliva and get sent flying toward the wall, dented deeply into it.

The hit had made his vision becomes blurry, star appearing in front of him as he didn’t register what had just happened nor the pain. And this time, he feel something began to rise from within his stomach, something that was burning and stinging his throat.

His body slowly loosen from the grip of the wall and fall towards the ground knees first, hand on his stomach and mouth.

He try to hold it in but failed as he release his stomach contents all over the ground and his hands. At the same time, lungs trying to refill all the air that had been stolen from him. But this only cause some of the vomit to crawl back into his throat, causing the acrid burn of vomit flooded their nose and throat as the pain finally spread out like a wild fire.

It felt like a giant Goliath had step on his stomach all of its weight and refused to take another step away. The pain was too much for him that his mind swirl in dizziness and pain, body tremble like a leaf as he vomit more.

He could only cough and hold his stomach to try to minimize the agony he was in, tears began to emerged and slide down his face and to the ground. All he could do was to look up the Angel/Devil slowly walking closer with vomit in hand and in tears.

Russet: P-please! I WILL FUCKING DIED IF YOU CONTINUE TO HIT ME!

Jaune: What are you talking about? Your aura is still full.

The man’s eyes widened, feeling that his Aura were indeed still full.

Russet: W-wh-what? JUST FUCKING HOW!

Jaune: You won’t have to worry about your aura shattering, I will recover and amp each time I hit you so you won’t died or go to a coma on me. And I basically have bottomless Aura, mean that we could keep go at it for a long time. It doesn’t matter if your bones fracture, muscles and flesh torn, organs disfigure. Cause your Aura will protect you from any of those injuries and heal back any damage that has been inflicted. But of course, that won’t save you from the pain you are about to go through now.

Russet: How could you do something like this? Don’t you have a shred of humanity in you!

Jaune: Bastard, I am a doctor, keeping humanity together is my job. *Slowly walk towards Russet* And you should think the of the child you almost killed while stealing the weapons first before asking about my humanity. Cause trust me, this pain isn’t something you will forgot any time soon.

The scream of a man could hear throughout the building for 15 minutes until it becomes dead silent.

And where was Yang this whole time? She was waiting outside the room, sweating bullet after she listened to the scream, whole body shake like a pudding, eyes dilated while focusing on the door, waiting, waiting for the angel from hell to come out.

Every minutes felt like a hour, It was as if time had slow down and being stretch out. She didn’t realize that she was holding in a breath when the door finally opened with Jaune calmly walking out.

Jaune: I will write the coordinate of their base where they keep all of the stolen weapons

Yang: Wow… that man really is tough if he can stay quiet for this long

Jaune: Nah, he already give me the place after 5 minutes in of our session but I still have some stress to steam off so he continue to desperately attack me until he fall unconscious from the blow on the liver. I already call the police to pick him up… I should have informed them to bring cleaning kit with them though

Yang open her mouth but it becomes too dry to even speak. Or that she didn’t dare to ask.

A call then rang out as Jaune grab his scroll and answered it.

Jaune: Hello? What?! Those two idiot are injured because of Dust explode in their face? Fine, I will go there right now

He put away the communication device, grumbling with a deep frown, and takes a few steps, which cause Yang to sigh relief, before stopping to turn towards her with a dagger look.

Jaune: Don’t think I have forgotten of our spar this month, meet me in the arena at 11 after I am done healing Crater Face and your Kitty Cat

Jaune walk away once again, grumbling as usual, leaving Yang as she falls to her knees thank to her legs become really weak. Eyes then wandered back to the room for a split second and that was almost enough to cause her to faint.

Back to the present

Yang: And you don’t want to see the state of that man in. But after that, he was perfectly fine, no injuries, no lastly damage, no anything… However… when he woke up… he was a broke man of who he was before… he would always flinch at the sight of any doctor with white coat, breath hitched, eyes dilated, hearth beat spike to a dangerous level, most time he would scream and try to run away. At night, he would wake up, screaming “I AM SORRY!” or “GET AWAY FROM ME!” with tears in his eyes

Oscar: wow… that… doesn’t sound like him… and this is why you are afraid of sparring with him?

Yang: N-no… Jaune would never cross the line for us… it just… *Look Away*

Ruby: Jaune’s training are simply too intense…

Oscar: What?

Nora: Scary fearless leader would make us to run…

Oscar: That doesn’t sound too bad

Nora: 75 laps around the whole academy

Oscar: Oh…

Blake: He then made all of us to do some weight training to build some muscle… by placing 800 Kg vest and 125 Kg weighted on each of our limbs while running… we won’t even make it to halfway before most of us fall. The worst of it, he will give us time to rest so we could finish the laps and give us that damn encouragement smiles

Weiss: And that is just one of the training he thought of. Sometimes, each one of us would do different exercise to make up our weakness. And they are as intense as the first one

Ren: However, there’s one training we all would always do at the end, we were told to fight him all at once… and that usually end with all of us vomit our meal at least one… but he doesn’t hurt us that much or simply wanting to beat us up, he does help us to get stronger with Qrow telling our mistake and what we need to train

After all of it been said, Oscar stay quiet to finally digest the thing his brother from another family apparently had done while he was away.

Out of nowhere, a familiar voice boomed through out the academy that send dread in everyone, except Oscar, stomachs,

Jaune: REN, NORA, AND TEAM RWBY! YOU ARE 10 MINUTES LATE! IF I WAIT FOR ANOTHER 5 MINUTES, ANOTHER 50 LAPS WILL BE ADDED!

And not even a second when their name called that their eyes widen and run out of the room, leaving the farmer boy in the room alone.

Oscar: Ozpin… is this a normal thing that happened to everyone?

Ozpin: While it’s not common to develop such habit, some people need some way to cope with the stressful situation they are in. Whether it was to drink, have intercourse with someone, write a book, draw an art, or something else

They gazes at a table which has a mountain of books about medicine, the anatomy and physiology of the body of Faunus and humans, brain, disease, genetic, etc.

Ozpin: In Mr. Arc’s case, he use extreme training and sparing to used up the stress he collected during his work life

Oscar: That does not sound very healthy for the body…

Ozpin: No, it’s not. However, it seems like while we were at Vale to help Glynda on rebuild the whole kingdom and Beacon. Mr. Arc has a better understanding about his semblance and his body. Remember what we have heard, there was a doctor in Vacuo who always use his semblance to help huntsmen and huntress recover, even the civilians. And it seems like that man was Mr. Arc

Oscar: Wait, how can his semblance help the civilians when they haven’t unlock their Aura? Doesn’t his semblance only allow him to boost other people’s Aura

Ozpin: As for that, I’m afraid even I don’t have the answer. But we could ask Mr. Arc for it. But allow me to continue with my theory

Oscar: Okay, go on

Ozpin: There’s also some rumor spreading out that there was a doctor with yellow hair, which we can concluded to be Mr. Arc, and massive shield that always stay in front lines of a battle. While he does fight, but that wasn’t his main objective. Some huntsmen and huntress has say that they see him, always running around the battlefield, Killing a few Grimms so they won’t be overwhelmed. However, most of the time, he could be seen carried injuries one back to the back line to be heal before going to the battle to do it all over again, not even taking a single second for a rest or breather, saving many lives while doing so. because of that, he was given many nickname by others. “The Unbroken Aiges”, “White Flame Saint”, and “The Angel From Underworld”

Oscar: You know, after hearing Yang’s stories. I am afraid to ask as to how Jaune got that last nickname *Shudder from the imagine he had just imagined*

Ozpin: I believe all of this healing other, all of the battle, all of the training, had develop his semblance to the point all the negative side effects of such physical labor become null to him. I’m even fear his body and soul had become accustomed to such taxing environmental, giving him one of, if not, the strongest body in Remnant… and we do not know what’s his semblance could do now… or what it could not…

Oscar: I am not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. *Stares out of the window towards the sky*

Ozpin: So do I

————————

AN: Hello there, it has been a while since I last posted. But I am just writing this for those who like the AU I have written so far. I will mainly focus on the Wrath Of A Healer AU (This one), Wanderer Knight AU, Developer AU, and maybe Cat Arc AU for longer post like this. But of course, I will still write more short funny post on other stuff.

And the reference where I got this idea is called “The Wrong Way To Use Healing Magic”. It’s a hilarious manga I read a while ago but I haven’t catch to the recent chapter so I don’t know where the stories goes or would I recommend it so I just say the title and leave it to you all if you want to read it.