#seeing himself through another person eyes is also something new to him

[b3ach-bunn7]

RIGHT SIDE OF MY NECK

You hate your coworker Jason Todd. Despite this, the tow of you have been given the same client and are forced to work together

enemies to lovers, NSFW, office sex, confessions

(This is quite long 😓 a fair warning!)

—————————————————————————

You hate Jason Todd. So much. So impossibly so. 

You’d met three years ago when you’d joined the RH firm. It was one of the biggest in Gotham, known for its impeccable lawyers and cutthroat attitude. You don’t lose a case when you hire someone from RH, and especially not when it’s Jason Todd.

You’d been excited to meet him at first. Any lawyer worth their salt would be. You always looked out for his name in the news, when he’d be on the stand once more. You’d even sat in on one of his trials, watched in awe at the way he commandeered a room, his strong voice bouncing off the walls. There was no doubting, even now with your ever present hatred, that Jason Todd is amazing at what he does.

He’s also so gorgeous.

You’re sure he was some sort of superhero in another life, because he is so jacked. You remember the day the office had gone to the bar on a random Friday, and he’d worn this tight fit short sleeve shirt. And his muscles were almost tearing the fabric, and you’re ninety nine percent sure when he stretched up, the hem of his shirt lifted and he had a six pack hiding underneath there. His hair was greying but it made him look better, soft brown and white curls always perfectly styled over his face. And those eyes. So piercing, so guarded. When he looks at you it feels like he can read every single thought racing through your brain.

It is just such a shame he is so insufferably annoying.

So cocky, so vain. It’s no surprise that he is, most lawyers are. You need to think that you’re the best because that confidence boost does wonders in court. But he is just so annoying with it. Always bragging, always has something smart to say to you. And the worst part is he looks so proud of himself afterwards, a stupid smirk on his face after he successfully pisses you off. 

You can’t even remember when it started. A few days after you’d started, a petty squabble here and there and a disagreement every now and then. You were a strong personality and he wanted everything his way, and it didn’t end well for either of you. The icing on the cake was when you’d been given a case that he had wanted, and it seemed to solidify the little squabbles between you two.

You can hear him before you see him. Footsteps that command respect as they thump up to your door. He doesn’t knock, just swings it open and invites himself in. Shirt perfectly ironed and pressed against the hard planes of his chest. Perfect knot on his tie. It’s not fair he can look this good at work. Your eyes flit over him once more, before you look back down at your screen.

“Knock before you walk into my office.” You snap.

“Woah, what’s with the attitude? It’s still early, love.” 

You scowl at him and the smile on his face widens. You mumble some choice words under your breath and shut your laptop.

“Don’t call me that. And what do you want?”

Jason drops some files on your desk. You flick through them, biting the end of your pen as you scan them quickly. There's a client that needs help settling a dispute over some plot of land in some important part of Gotham. Not that any part of Gotham is that important.

“Is this for me?” When a reply doesn’t come quickly, you glance up, and Jason is just staring at you. 

You wave a hand in the air. “Hello? Did you come in here to stare at me?”

He seems to snap out of it quickly, reaching forward and grabbing the papers from in front of you. “Boss wants us to work on this together.”

Fuck.

“Why?” You groan. “Does he want me to kill myself?” 

“My dreams are not common, unfortunately.”

You make a face at him and he huffs a laugh. “The guy is a real tool. I’ve worked with him before, so be prepared to get pissed off.”

You sit back in your chair, hand over your face. You wave him off. “Okay. Goodbye.”

“Meeting is at three.”

“Goodbye.” 

“In conference room B.” 

“Jason Todd, so help me.”

He leaves then, hands up in surrender, ignoring your shouts to shut your door behind him.

You finish up the stuff you need to do, and psyche yourself up for this meeting. You kid yourself that you won’t need to spend that long with Jason. Everything will be fine.

When you walk into the conference room, Jason is already talking to him. Micheal Battersby, a man whose money was the only good thing about him. You don’t like him the second you lay your eyes on him, especially with the leery way he’s looking at you. But you plaster on a smile, holding out a hand and introducing yourself.

“Wow. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He grins at you and his teeth are too white.

“Thank you. I assume Jason’s run over most of the agenda with you?” You decide not to comment too much on his compliment.

When you turn to Jason, he looks angry. He’s clenching his jaw and when his eyes meet yours you almost fall back a bit. But in a moment it’s gone, and he’s back to his customer service smile.

“Yes, the first half.”

You spend the next few minutes working through the rest of your paper with him. Jason doesn’t talk as much as you’d think, just occasionally chimes in when need be. Just when you think you can finish up and get away from Michael’s horrible attempts at flirting, one of the office interns pops her head through the door.

“There’s a phone call for you, Y/N.” 

Of course there is. You turn to the two men, quickly getting up. “I’ll be back shortly.” You smile.

And it’s your mother. Asking when you’ll see her. How she can only ever reach you when she calls your work. 

“Mom, please, I’m busy.” You whisper into the phone, looking back at the rooms door.

“Oh, I won’t be long, darling.”

You entertain her for as long as you can, before you’re rushing back to the conference room. Before you can walk in, Jason storms out the room. He shoves past you and you frown. A peek tells you Micheal is still sitting down, looking a little fussed. Jason’s annoying, but you’d much rather be around him than creepy Micheal, so you quickly rush after him.

“What happened?”

“We’re done. Told him to go home.” He grunts, not even turning to look at you. Irritation laces his voice and you wonder what you missed.

“So now what?”

Jason reaches his office door and sighs irritably. He turns to look at you and you take a quick step back at how close he’s standing. 

“Come to my office at five, we can work on the terms. I’ll set a meeting for tomorrow to give them to him.”

You don’t have time to reply before he’s slamming the door in your face.

—-

Time does not seem to fly waiting for five o’clock to come around. Jason had given you two hours, probably to finish up the work you were doing before, but for some reason you’re so nervous about being alone in his office, that you just sit in your office, thinking.

You play a random show in the background and decide now is a good of a time as any to eat your lunch. You chew slowly and purposefully and watch Ross and Rachel argue about something for the millionth time.

You decide, after the clock strikes 2:47, that being thirteen minutes early won’t hurt. You grab your laptop and walk your way to his office, adjusting your pencil skirt and making sure you haven’t sweat through your white blouse. You make sure there’s no mascara under your eyes and knock very impatiently on the door, until an annoyed voice tells you to come in.

You shoot Jason a too sweet smile and he raises a brow. “You’re thirteen minutes early.” 

“What can I say, I have a good work ethic. You could learn a thing or two.”

Jason scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you left our client in the conference room on his own, and stormed out.”

“I didn’t storm out.”

“Uh, yeah, you did. You look super pissed too.” You sit down in the chair in front of his desk.

You’ve been in Jason’s office a couple of times before, but you let yourself take a proper look at it this time. It’s quite minimalist. You have pictures of your friends and family, and gifts from clients all over the room. But his office is void of most things personal, or just most things at all. 

There’s a few plants on his shelves, and only one picture frame with him and three other guys, one of them quite younger than the rest. Jason’s never mentioned his brothers but then again, you guys don’t really talk.

The one thing that is all over his room is books. You find yourself reading the titles from where you’re sitting, head tilting slightly.

“You alright there?” 

You turn back to him to find him staring at you again. You feel like that’s been happening a lot recently. “Just surprised you could read, is all.”

“Ha ha. Shut up.”

You keep looking at the books. “Hey, you have Agatha Christie’s books. I love her books?”

Jason tilts his head a little. “Really?”

“Yeah! My mum got me into them when I was younger. The ABC murders is my favourite.”

Jason studies you for a moment. “Who knew you knew good literature?”

“I know good everything, Todd. Now what does flirty old Micheal want?” You say, flipping Jason’s laptop around to read what he’s writing.

You laugh a little at the way his face falls. “What is your problem with him?”

“He’s fucking annoying. And every word out of his mouth is a brag, and it’s never even things worth bragging about.” 

“True. He likes to look too. At things he probably shouldn’t be looking at.” You say, eyes still on the laptop.

“What?”

“Yeah, he's kinda leery, but. It’s fine. I’m not going to be around him long, so. I’ll make do.” You shrug.

“It’s not fine. That’s fucking gross.”

Your eyes widen slightly. He seemed so annoyed for you. It was weird. Usually he was just annoyed at you.

“Yeah, well. What am I going to do? This is good business for the firm, and it’s not like he’s going to do anything.” 

Jason scoffs. A prickle of annoyance runs through your body. “You don’t know that.”

“I think I can handle myself.” You frown.

“Sure you can.”

You don’t like the tone in his voice. “You disagree?”

“What? I didn't say anything.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“Oh my god. Can we just get this done?”

The two of you work in silence for a few minutes. There’s a weird tension in the room, and you’re more confused than anything else. You can’t tell if Jason was mad at you or at Micheal. You don’t even know why he’s so mad. It’s all very confusing, and the pathetic sandwich you’d bought for your lunch, that you didn’t even finish, has done nothing to ease your hunger.

After about half an hour of silent work, you glance up at Jason. He looks good when he’s focusing like that. It’s unfortunate your brain supplies you with such thoughts, because you are supposed to be mad at him. But he’s biting the inside of his cheek and he looks so good, it cannot be helped.

“You have a real bad staring problem.”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up.”

You close your laptop quickly, eager to change the subject. “I’m hungry. Can we order food?”

You are almost 100% sure he is well aware you’re trying to do so, but he lets it slide. “We need to work.”

“We can work and eat. We’ll force one of the interns to get us food.” You whisper the last words and he smiles slightly.

“I guess.”

“Great. Thanks for paying.”

“I didn’t-“

“Thanks for paying!”

—-

You’re kind of excited for the meeting with Micheal. Not because of Micheal. Because of Jason.

Yesterday was fun. He did actually pay for the food, and the weird little argument you had about Micheal was forgotten once it had arrived. You’d gotten shawarma sandwiches from the place down the street, the owner a guy who you’d been buying from forever.

It was weird. You don’t think you’d ever have a conversation that’s lasted longer than five minutes with Jason that didn’t end in someone saying something snarky or rude or petty. But it turns out that he’s actually fun to be around, oddly enough. Maybe your hatred was far-fetched.

You’d worn your red blouse today, and the same penciI skirt you wore most days. You wanted to look good today, it’d help you feel good. That’s what you told yourself at least. There’s no other reason you’d want to look good. You walk into conference room B, at 12:45 in the afternoon, fifteen minutes before the meeting. You plug in some headphones and play some solitaire to pass the time.

Then it turns to one, and nobody walks in. Not Jason and not Micheal. You drum your fingers against the desk impatiently. It’s fine one of them being late, but both? Something feels off. 

You get up, heels clicking against the floor as you walk over to Star, the red-head receptionist everybody is obsessed with. She’s kind and bubbly and from abroad, her innocent curiosity about everything in Gotham made her fun to be around. She gives you a beaming smile as you walk over.

“Hi, Star.”

“Hiya! May I be of any assistance?” There’s a little foreign twinge to her accent you’ve never been able to figure out.

“Yeah, actually. Have you seen Jason? We were supposed to be meeting with a client at one but they both haven’t showed.” 

Star looks confused. She blinks big green eyes up at you. “But Jason already had his meeting.”

You freeze. “What?”

“Well, he called me last night and told me to move it to 11:30. And they finished up and left. Jason is in his office.” Star gets quieter as the look on your face gets angrier.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“No! No, you can go ask him.” 

You take a breath in, steeling yourself. “I’m sorry, Star. It’s not you I’m mad at.” 

You can’t believe him. Just when you think he’s different, that he’s not as big of a dick as you’d thought, he pulls some shit like this.

You leave your stuff in the conference room and all but run away to his office. You don’t knock, don’t even announce yourself. You’re sure that the angry click of your heels down the corridors was tell enough you were arriving. The door swings open and Jason is sitting at his desk. He looks up at you, eyes lingering on your body for a second, before he looks back down. He doesn’t say a word.

“You’re just gonna fucking sit there? Not say anything?”

Jason shrugs, leaning back in his chair. Long legs stretch under his desks. “What is it you’d like me to say?”

You frown. “Something? We were supposed to talk to the client together. We planned everything together. And not only did you do it without me, but you changed the date so I wouldn’t even know about it!”

He just looks at you. Those piercing eyes stare right through your soul. 

“Todd, fucking say something!” You yell.

“There’s no need for all the hostility. You can discuss this with me like a mature adult, you know.” 

And his voice is so condescending, and he looks at you with this look on his face that makes you want to throttle him. 

“You are not the mature one here. I mean, changing the times so I would show up to an empty room? That’s middle school shit.” You scoff and he just sighs.

“Look. I meant nothing by it.”

“So you’re a dick and a liar. Very good to know.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Can you calm down?”

You laugh, a hand halting from where it was toying with your hair. “No. I can’t calm down. Because you are so insufferable. And I knew working on this stupid client with you would drive me crazy.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m insufferable? You’re the one freaking out over shit that doesn’t matter.” He stands up, and you try not to let his towering height intimidate you.

“It does matter, because it means you don’t respect me and my work. It was a shitty thing to do, Jason. How can’t you see that?”

He scoffs. “That little meeting means that much to you? If you wanted to see Micheal so bad you could I’ve just told me.”

“What- What are you even talking about?” 

Jason just looks angry. He turns away, not replying, and you’ve had enough. You don’t want him to see the hurt on your face so you turn away too.

“God, I actually hate you, Jason. So much.” 

And you storm off. Fully intending to, at least. But the soft way he speaks his next words, so jarring from the yelling only moments ago, stops you with your hand almost at the door.

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t turn when you speak. “And how do you figure that?”

“Because I’m not stupid. Or blind.”

When you finally look back at him, he’s still standing behind his desk, but he seems much more relaxed. Like he’s just figured out something especially difficult, and he smiles.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You don’t think I notice how much you stare at me?”

Your face burns and his smile turns into something much more dangerous. “I- I don’t stare at you.”

“Oh, that stutter is not very convincing. I know you better than that, love.” 

He slowly starts making his way towards you. Very 

 slowly edging around his desk. You back up the small distance remaining between you and the door, to try and assert some dominance. 

“Always staring when you think I’m not looking. And those rare times I do catch you, your face turns that delicious colour it’s turning right now.” He nods. He slowly reaches up and undoes his tie, fingers curling under the knot until it lies flat against his chest.

“You get so worked up when I tease you. Why do you think I do it so much?”

“Because you’re annoying.” You try to sound as rude as you can, but your voice sounds awfully breathy.

Jason slowly undoes the buttons in his cuffs. “Nah, you love it. I can tell. I’m very good at reading people, see. And I’ve been testing you. How well you respond to me.” 

Fucking hell. What is going on right now? You think the logical thing to do is just leave, but Jason is now pulling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, rolling them carefully, and the sight is enough to throw every ounce of logic out the window.

“You wanna know why I didn’t let you in on the meetings? Because Micheal likes you. A lot.”

“I don’t-“

“You should’ve heard the way he spoke about you when you walked out the room.” 

He’s closer now, enough that if you walked three steps forward you’d be touching. 

“Made me punch him in the face. Kick him out the building right there and then. Did you know that?”

Your heart stutters in your chest, hope fluttering in your stomach. “No. I didn’t.”

He just nods again. And his eyes don’t leave you for a second, not even when you shamelessly take in the sight of him in front of you.

“I was jealous, you see. But it was dumb of me to  be jealous because you don’t like him. You like me.”

You scoff, laughing nervously. You shake your head. “No. No, I don’t like you. What-“

“It’s why you’re so mad about the fact you weren’t there. You want me to notice you. You want my attention.” 

And he closes the distance between you two. His hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach up and touch you, but he doesn’t. His height is so much more obvious this close, and you have to look up to meet his eyes.

“You have it. You always have.” He swallows roughly. 

“So I’m giving you a choice. You can leave right now, and it won’t change anything between us, and we can pretend this never happened.”

You just look at him. You don’t think you could speak if you tried. Not when he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you.

“Or you can stay. And I’ll give you that attention you’ve been begging for.”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

He’s waiting. He’s waiting patiently but you can see the flicker of doubt and rejection growing bigger in his eyes. And you think about how much you hate him, how angry he makes you feel, how much he goes out of his way to tease you, how mad you were literally seconds ago.

And you reach up and kiss him.

It’s hot and heavy and desperate, and you feel like two teenagers hooking up before your parents get home. His hands slide up your waist, your chest, land on your face to pull you closer.

“Knew it, I knew you liked me.” He says between kisses, breathing hard.

“Shut up.” You mumble kissing him harder.

Your lipstick stains his mouth and your stomach turns at the sight. Jason fingers the collar of your blouse, the deep red fabric sliding between his fingers. 

“You know my favourite colour is red?”

“I do now.”  

He smirks into your skin, kissing down to the small triangle of skin showing from your three open buttons. He sucks a mark into your skin and you sigh, hand tangling in his hair. 

“You’re so soft. Can I take this off?” He asks and you nod, immediately reaching up to help him unbotton it.

Your shirt falls to the floor as it slides off your back and Jason groans at the sight of you in front of him. You smile slightly, face heating a little at those eyes looking at you so hard. 

“Like what you see?”

He just nods, hands reaching back to fumble with your bra. It brings his face closer and you press a kiss on his lips again, tongue tangling with his. His fingers stutter in their movements, but the bite to his bottom lips spurs him back to action. Your bra joins your shirt, and his hands reach up and cup your chest, calloused hands massaging your skin, thumb brushing against your nipple. You sigh, head leaning back on the door.

You jolt slightly as he pinches one hard, and you glare at him. He just kisses you again. 

“I love when you look at me like that.”

“Masochist.”

“Oh, you don’t even know, baby.”

You pinches your nipple again and swallows your protests in his mouth. Your hands travel against his chest, trying to unbutton his shirt. He stops his ministrations on your breast to grab both your hands in one of his.

“No touching.”

“I’m literally half naked and you’re still fully dressed. This doesn’t feel very fair.”

Jason just grins. “I wanna take my time with you. I’ve been waiting forever for this.”

His words distract you enough that you don’t react immediately when he kneels down, pushing your skirt up past your thighs and bunching it around your waist. He toys with your underwear and your face burns.

“Jason-“

“You need to be quiet, okay?” He reaches up and locks his office door, his eyes focused on something different for once.

“Okay. That’s fine.” You nod frantically, gripping his shoulder for support.

Jason slides your underwear down your legs, lifting up your feet so he can throw them to the side. He hooks one leg over his shoulder and you wonder how mortifying it would be if someone walked in, saw how exposed you were and the pure lust that Jason is looking at you with. He presses a kiss to the side of your leg, travelling up slowly.

“Fucking hell, Jason, come on.” You whine.

He tuts, biting the soft skin on your thigh. “Let me savour this.”

“Savour it faster. I’d have thought you of all-“

And you’re interrupted as Jason licks a stripe up your cunt, tongue dipping in to graze against your clit. You gasp slightly, and it spurs him on, licking deeper and faster, and you’re embarrassed at how wet you sound from just kissing him. But you don’t have much time to be embarrassed because your eyes are fluttering shut as he eats you with a fervour that makes your skin flush.

And of course Jason is the best head you’ve ever had, because of course Jason needs to be the best at everything. He sucks your clit once, twice and you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your moans. He grins, bringing his hands up to spread your lips open.

“You like that, huh? Didn’t think you’d be so sensitive.” 

He kisses your lips and you sigh, hands tugging at his hair. He groans as you do so, and you’ll remember that little tidbit for later. Your breathing stutters more as he speed ships ministrations, and with each muffled moan and twitch of your hips he draws you closer and closer to finish. And it’s after one more long, exaggerated suck of your clit that you cum, and he drags you through it.

“Oh, such a pretty mess for me.” He groans, and you twitch as his fingers slap your cunt once.

You feel like you might pass out, but when he stands back up you can see yourself glistening on his lips. And when he starts unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a six-pack (you were right before) you think you could go another hundred times. You’re about to slip of your heels but he tells you to keep them on. It’s hotter, apparently.

He pulls you over to his desk and you watch the ripple of muscle in his back. He leans you against his desk. You let your hands trace down his body, muscles and abs stretching beneath your skin. The rush from before feels different now, and you want to savour him too.

“Fuck, you’re so ripped.”

He laughs, nosing the crook of your neck. He licks a stripe against your pulse and you push him away.

“Hey, no marks. Visible ones, at least.” You scold and he rolls his eyes.

He traces lightly over the ones he left earlier. Looking at you fondly. You reach down and unbuckle his belt. You slide it out slowly, placing it on the desk. He just watches you closely.

“You have no idea how gorgeous you look right now.”

You smile bashfully. Your hair is a mess where he’d been tangling it in his hands, your chest covered in marks and your skirt wrinkles from where it’s still bunched at your waist. You’re sure you look a mess, but you appreciate the thought. 

“Are you gonna fuck me now?”

Jason’s breathes deeply, and his hold on your waist tightens as you unbutton his trousers. 

“That what you want?”

“Mhm.”

He places your hands at your side. Kisses into your mouth once more, wet and teasing. And when his hand reaches into his boxers you have to stop your mouth from dropping, because, of course he’s as well endowed as he is.

“You like what you see?” He teases and you sigh.

He leans forward until his forehead brushes yours, and he guides himself to your entrance. And just waits. You buck your hips and it pushes him against your clit and you whine.

“Jason. What are you waiting for?”

“Tell me what you want.”

You glare at him. “You know what I want.”

“No, I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” 

Your face heats slightly. “I. I want you to fuck me.”

Jason nods. “Again. Without the stutter this time.”

Fucking hell. “I want you to fuck me, Jason. Please, oh please will you- fuck!”

And he presses into you so suddenly, and fills you up in a way that has your mouth open in a silent scream, your head falls on his shoulder, nails digging into his back. He doesn’t move, lets you adjust for a moment, and when he does, he drags deliciously against your walls. He’s so thick, and you moan as he moves faster.

“You’re doing so well. Taking me so well.” He moans into your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

The room smells like sweat and sex, and it’s so easy to forget everything when your eyes are screwed shut and he is leaning his arms either side of you, bracing himself on his desk.  

It’s not so easy to forget when someone knocks at his office door. It’s then you remember that you’re actually at work and you are having sex at work in your coworker’s office at work. 

You and Jason immediately freeze, and you think you might die if the two of you get caught.

“Who is it?” 

“It is Star!”

You curse under your breath, leaning your head on his chest. He runs a hand through your hair. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yes. I just had some papers to give you. And also Y/N was very angry with you.”

Jason grins down at you. “Really?”

“Yes. Did you speak to her?”

He nods. “Mhm we hashed things out. She understood that I was right, and it was fine.”

You scowl at him. Star tries the door again and he rattles some excuse about how he’s in an online meeting. You then remember the position the two of you are in, and you think a little bit of payback is necessary.

“Yeah, when I finish off we can- fuck.” He groans as you push your hips forward, and he fixes you with a look so dangerous it nearly makes you stop. Nearly.

“Is everything okay?” Star yells.

“Yes! Yes I just- I- I stubbed my toe.” Jason squeezed out.

“Oh. Would you like me to bring some first-aid?”

“Not necessary and I’m really sorry but I need to go. Just leave the papers at the door.”

“Okay. Goodbye!”

He waits a second until he hears her walking away, before he thrusts into you harshly and you gasp.

“You think that’s funny?”

You moan, bracing yourself on his chest. “A-A little.” You grin.

“Yeah?”

And then he lifts you up effortlessly, like you weight nothing, sitting you on his desk. And like this he can reach that spot that only so many men knew even existed, and you have to bite your fist to keep from screaming. And he’s consistent, pumping into you long and hard every time. His brow sweats and you can feel tears brimming in your eyes.

“You like that?”

You can’t even respond. Just try to keep your noises to a minimum.

“Aw, why are we so quiet now? Where’d all that confidence go?” He drawls, and some tears do fall when his fingers reach down to rub fast circles on your clit.

“Want you to cum for me. And I want you to look at me when you do it. I wanna see.”

And the eye contact is so intimate, and you can’t imagine that just yesterday you were loathing at the thought of him. And when you cum on his fingers his face scrunches as you tighten around him. 

“That’s my good girl. Fuck, so good for me.” He mumbles.

He doesn’t stop though. He still hasn’t finished and you don’t know if you can take it. You tell him as much and he shakes his head.

“You can. I know you can, baby. Because you’re so needy for it. Letting me fuck you in my office at work. Anyone could hear you, could walk in. And see you spread on my desk like this..” He says, his words interrupted by heavy breaths and stutters.

And it’s only a few seconds before you break away from the overstimulation and it feels good again. You nails scratch against his back and kisses your chest, your neck, your face. Whatever he can get his lips on.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Want you to come with me, yeah?”

“Jason, no, I- I can’t.”

He presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Cum one more time. I know you got it in you, baby. 

You shake your head but there’s no protests on your lips as his fingers find your clit once more. And its to the sounds of the two of you breathing and moaning and Jason’s whispered praises that you both finish, and he whimpers, and you think you can die happy.

“Baby, you did so well.” He sighs.

He reaches down again. Before you can tell him to really fuck off, you feel the familiar lace of you underwear being slipped around your heels, your feet. He drags them up your leg and he stands you up, and you have to hold onto his arm so you don’t fall. He pulls up your underwear and you wince, the feeling of his cum still inside of you, and he pulls down your skirt and pats your ass.

“Jason. This is gross, how am I gonna work for the next three hours like this?”

“You can go home and shower. Tell them you’re sick.”

“With your cum dripping down my legs?” You drawl.

“Think of it as a little reminder of me on your way.”

—————————————————————————-

ugh jason Todd let’s make OUUTTTTTTTTT. My last jason Todd fic is on like 500 notes!!!!! Thank u sm for the love everyone

If u couldn’t tell I like writing characters in just the everyday life.. I love an alternate universe and I was watching suits and that’s how this fic came to be!

For those new to my account, this is the third NSFW fic I’ve written so plz be nice 😖 I have also never felt the touch of a man so… this is also probably inaccurate

And I also just wanna say thank you so much to every who leaves comments and reposts and likes my stuff. It genuinely means so so much to me that you enjoy the work I put out, because I love writing it!

anyways I hope u all enjoyed 🩷 I am struggling to think of ideas, so now is the best time to leave me some asks!!

[mamuzzy]

*offers you a lil guy as a bday gift* ♡

Fives: Shots! Come over here! Fives: Hey, Deadshot! Fives: Shots! Shots! Fives: ShooooOOOOoooOoooOOooooots! [Shotso 6x10^23]

Deadshot: WHAT. Fives: Hihi.

Fives: Look! That cool and nice person on the holonet made an art about you!

Fives: I mean, look at that!

Fives: Imagine someone managed to stalk without you noticing and capture those details!

Deadshot: But why would someone... what am I supposed to do...? Why? How? [incoherent shy mumbling] I don't [incoherent shy mumbling continues] nyööööhhhhhh [incoherent shy mumbling part 3] I'm not even that pretty... Fives: They love you silly, they just have to get to know you more. Speaking of pretty... Fives: You can now challenge Tup for the title of "Prettiest Hair in the whole GAR"!

Tup: NO! I ABSOLUTELY REFUSE! NO WAY! NOT WITH THAT HAIRCARE ROUTINE! NO! Deadshot: Like I care for such stuff...

---------------------------------- AOSJAOFHUSDGUSTUEOHFOSDHGUOSDGOUSHDGSDGKHWÖ84TZOSDJBDV

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE IT OMFG THANK YOU SO MUCH COREY!!!! OMG YOU HAVE DRAWN MY BABYGIRL DEADSHOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!

*devours the whole chair*

[angelicsoka]

THE HAT RULE, t. owens

word count | 1.7k words

pairings | tyler owens x meteorologist!fem!reader

summary | where tyler owens decides to show the reader what the hat rule is. 

warnings | MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY!! HEAVY smut! reader doesn’t know the hat rule. not proofread. lowercase intended. 

a/n | first of all, sorry for disappearing, i've had NO motivation to write on here, but i saw twisters yesterday and seeing glen powell in a cowboy hat changed me as a person, and also gave me motivation to write. i’ve never written a full smut so i apologize if this sucks, i've stepped out of my comfort zone for this one.

the first time you had ever encountered a tornado was a memory you were sure to never forget. growing up in new york meant rain and snow but no tornadoes. so when traveling to nebraska on a field trip in high school, you were unprepared when the sirens sounded, sending everyone into a frenzy. you had watched as the rain pelted from the sky, a funnel forming up above. you were mesmerized as your teacher pulled you to safety, a sort of thrill tearing through  your body. from that moment on, you knew what you wanted to do. you went to college for meteorology, graduating near top of your class before going onto to work at a local news station. but it never quite settled the feeling that something was missing, until you stumbled across tyler owens’ youtube channel. 

tyler owens had become a sensation, a daredevil who did more than just chase the storms, he rode into them. and that seemed to heighten that need of a thrill. so, you hit him up and to your surprise, he replied. and what had started out as a week off of work to storm chase with the daredevil, turned to going part time at your job and joining him on the road.

that was a season ago, and now you were sat at a dingy bar, sipping a beer with tyler and the team. the man himself was sat on the stool next to you, nursing his own beer and listening to lily speak. you ignored the slight butterflies that entered your stomach as he laughed. you had learned to never mix work and love, but something about tyler had you questioning that lesson. he looked mighty fine in his blue jeans and button up, supporting a cowboy’s hat on his head. you noticed your beer was gone, standing up you turned to your crew.

“i'm gonna get another beer, can i get anyone anything?” no’s were murmured around the group except for one.

“i could use another, how ‘bout i come with ya?” you shrugged, tyler getting up to walk with you. lily let out a low whistle, stopping at your glare. 

“be my guest.” you two walked over to the bar top, signaling the busy bartender. “can we get two more, when you get a sec?” the bartender nodded, going to make a few drinks before he could grab their bottles. 

“so, miss city girl, how you likin’ riding with us? ready to go back to the big apple yet?” tyler questioned, turning to look down at you slightly. damn the height difference.

“don’t think you’re getting rid of me that quick, i have a lot more storm chasing left in me, cowboy.” you winked, tyler laughing. you debated for just a moment before reaching up and taking the cowboy hat from his head.

“the hell you think you’re doing?” tyler questioned as you placed the hat on your own head, admiring your reflection on your phone.

“you wear this hat all the damn time, i just wanted to see if there was something special about it? maybe it has some magical powers or something.” the bartender came back around, beer bottles in hand. you thanked him, handing him some cash before turning back to tyler, who had an odd look in his eye. you quickly took off the hat, worried you had pissed him. you went to hand it back to him, when tyler shook his head:

“keep it on, it suits you.” tyler picked up his beer, beginning back to the table. the comment caused a light blush to dust your cheeks. shaking your head, you hoped it didn't show too much as you followed him back. you sat in your seat, confused by the odd looks you received from the crew. nobody said anything about the hat as the night went on, but that didn’t stop the odd looks.

by last call, it was you and tyler left of the crew. thankfully the bar was across the street from the motel, tyler paying the tab much to your protest, before setting off back to the motel. you had forgotten you still wore tyler’s hat upon your head, only remembering when you went to brush your hair from your eyes, your hand bumping the rim. “hey, do you know why everyone kept giving me weird looks after i put your hat on? and why boone and dani wouldn’t stop snickering?” tyler looked over to you as you climbed the stairs of the motel.

“you don't know?” you shook your head in response, tyler holding a bewildered look. “you don't know the hat rule?”

“there’s a hat rule?” tyler stopped at his door, which neighbors your’s and lily’s. “what?”

“you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” he deadpanned, your eyes widening and a heavy blush coating your cheeks. 

“oh my god! i promise i wasn’t trying to imply that or anything. not there’s anything wrong with you, because you’re– well you’re you, and–”  you fumbled over your words, stopping mid sentence when tyler laughed.

“hey, it's fine. if you weren’t trying to insinuate that, that’s fine. but if you were, well, now's your chance. and i’d be more than happy to show you how that rule works.” tyler walked closer, a minimal amount of space between you, just enough to allow you to choose whether you close that gap or leave. 

you stood there for a moment, stunned at his offer. and without much thought, you closed the gap, hands going to grip his face and pull him closer to you. his hands moved to your hips, fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts. the kiss was feverish, all unspoken feelings surfacing. tyler began to pull away much to your dismay, one hand leaving your hip to fish out his keys from his pocket as he moved his other arm to hold your waist. he unlocked the door with ease, pulling you inside and shutting the door before pushing you up against it, the hat falling as he did so. he went to town on your neck, enticing soft moans and whimpers from your lips. the way he sucked at your neck and how he had previously handled you had conjured up a pool of wetness in your panties. 

your arm wrapped around his neck, holding him to your throat, as your fingers tugged at his hair. he groaned against your skin, biting down ever so softly when you tugged on his hair. he gripped at your leg, pulling it up to give him better access to your cunt. he rubbed his clothed cock along you covered cunt, pleased with the moans that escaped your mouth.

“god, keep moaning like that and i might have to take you right here.” you blushed once more, pulling tyler to meet your lips once more. you pushed off the door, lips still connected to tyler’s as you blindly pushed him back to the bed. his legs hit the edge of the bed, tyler breaking the kiss as he pulled off your shirt, both of you kicking off your shoes and socks before lips were reattached once more. 

you pulled back, tyler unbutton his shirt as you began to work on his belt buckle. “woah, easy, pretty girl. you’ll get a taste, don’t worry. the night’s still young. but for now, i gotta show ya what happens when ya wear the hat.” tyler pulled off his shirt, walking to pick up the forgotten hat, placing it on your head. “this stays on.” you nodded, eyes hooded as tyler pulled your shorts and panties down. “you’re even more perfect than i had imagined.” before you could question him, tyler pulled his jeans off, his boxers next as his cock sprung up. tossing them to the side tyler pulled you onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, “you sure ‘bout this? i don’t have any condoms.” tyler asked, different from how he just was. you nodded, kissing him softly.

“i’m on the pill, and i trust you.” tyler nodded, holding over his cock as he slowly guided it along your pussy. you held yourself up as tyler’s thumb rubbing your clit, enjoying your whimpers. “please, tyler.” you begged, tyler aligning his cock with your entrance before guiding you down. you hand went your hat as your head rested on tyler’s shoulder, almost pornographic moans escaping from your lips. “oh my god.” he slowly eased himself into you, whispering praises as he did so.

“god, feels like you were made for me.” your cunt hugged his cock beautifully. when his cock was fully in, he allowed you to get used to the stretch, “tell me when you're ready.” you stilled for a moment, adjusting to his size. you kissed and sucked on his neck, slowly beginning to rock your hips. “fuck, let’s get this off of ya.” tyler’s hands skillfully unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, fingers ghosting over your perky nipples. you pulled off his shoulder, giving him better access to your tits. “you’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.” tyler attached his mouth to one of your nipples, enticing a soft moan. you continued to ride him, hips moving faster as you chased your incoming orgasm. your left hand gripped tyler’s shoulder, fingernails digging into his bare skin as your right hand held onto the hat that adorned your head. 

as your orgasm inched closer and closer, your movements became more erratic, chasing your high. tyler moaned, whispering praises as your walls clenched around his cock. he knew you were close, mouth moving to your pulse point as he pounded into you, taking over. tyler clapped a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit, muffling your screams so you didn't wake up your neighbors. his movements however did not slow as he worked you through your orgasm, chasing his own high. your legs trembled as he continued to pound into you, your second orgasm of the night approaching quickly. “fuck! fuck, ty-” you cut yourself off, body shaking as you hit your climax once more. tyler began to huff and moan, pulling you impossibly closer as he reached his own high. you blubbered, unable to form actual words as tyler’s hands roamed your body. you pulled back, kissing him roughly.

“goddamn,” he helped you off his cock, helping guide you onto the bed, “think you’ll be able to handle a round two?”

“don’t go thinking you can get rid of me that easily.” 

[happy74827]

Feels Like Home

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You decide to take it upon yourself to become best friends with Wade’s new grumpy addition to the family (much to Logan’s dismay).

WC: 2453

Category: Fluff, Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Logan trope {TW: Bar Fight, Handsy Drunk Dude, Mentions of Blood + Bruising}.

[Dedicated to: @iluvloganhowlett] I finished it for you!! (I’m shocked at the speed too don’t worry 💀). Hopefully this fluffiness will help add onto the low supply out there.

And incase anyone hasn’t seen it yet: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

『••✎••』

You’ve always had a keen eye when it came to others. It’s mostly why you and Wade get along so well; you’re the one person who can see straight through him. And while it means you are very close, it also meant that you can easily tell when something is going on with someone you don't know that well, like the tall, brooding man named Logan, who had just joined the club of misfits.

You could tell by the way he carried himself that he had been through hell and back. He was quiet, grumpy, and had a tendency to snap at Wade, which, most of the time, was a well-deserved snapping.

You could also tell that there was more to him. He wasn't just a grumpy guy; there was something about him that made you want to be his friend. Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes, or maybe it was how lonely he looked.

Either way, you knew he was in need of a good friend, and you wanted to be that friend. Not a pestering one like Wade, but the kind of friend that just makes you feel a bit better.

So, when you spotted him, downing glass after glass of whiskey for the third day in a row, you just knew you had to help.

And he hated it. Oh, man, he absolutely hated it. You were such a happy ray of sunshine, always smiling, always laughing. He found it so fucking annoying. He couldn't deal with you and your constant positivity. It was like you were the PG-13 version of the breathing ballsack next to you.

But you wouldn't give up. Every time you saw him, you would try to cheer him up by making silly jokes, giving him small gifts, or even just sending him encouraging smiles.

He didn't want any of it, but it seemed you were too stubborn to listen. Every small note you’d given him was left crinkled in the trash; every gift was placed away without ever being touched. Your smile never got a response.

That is, until one day, as you walked by him, he mumbled something that almost made you trip over.

"Thanks."

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him, a look of disbelief on your face. You had tried so hard to cheer him up for the past few weeks, and this was the only thing you got from him? You couldn't believe it.

You had spent so much time and effort trying to make him feel better, and this was all he could say to you?

You wanted to hug him. To scream to the skies and celebrate that he finally accepted your kindness.

You held the restraint to do so, though. You didn’t want to cause him to close off again, and so instead, you sent him a soft smile, and a small nod, before you resumed walking (running) to your friends.

The next day, however, you were met with the biggest surprise of your life.

Logan was sitting at the bar, drinking. He didn't look too different, still dressed in his trademark blue jeans and flannel shirt, but his face was still holding that sadness you had grown used to seeing on him.

You walked over to him and sat down beside him, that classic smile of yours plastered on your face.

"Hi!"

He groaned. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"Nope!" You replied cheerfully, popping the 'p.'

He grumbled under his breath and downed the last of his drink, signaling to the bartender for another.

"Come on, Wolvie," you said, nudging his shoulder. "Lighten up. Life's not that bad, is it?"

He turned to glare at you, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. "It's Logan," he said, his voice a low growl.

You shrugged and leaned closer to him, propping your elbow on the counter. This was the usual part—the part where he would give vocal responses while you carried on your one-sided conversation with him.

The difference this time, the surprise of it all, was when a person approached the both of you. Mind you, a very drunk person.

"Heyyyyy, baby girl," he slurred, his hand landing on your shoulder.

You turned to him, and he was looking you up and down with that gaze you knew had only one intention. You still smiled, though, and politely moved his hand off your shoulder.

"Uh, hi?" You answered unsurely.

He slammed his elbow on the counter, his palm on his fist. "You are gorgeous," he commented, and you had to hold back the laughter that was bubbling in your throat.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes, but you paid him no mind. Usual behavior from him, nothing new.

"No, really," the stranger continued, moving his arm around your shoulders, "I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," you answered, still chuckling. "But, I think you're a little drunk."

"Drunk on love," he responded, "Say, wanna get out of here? I'll show you a real good time."

Here comes the awkward part, you thought.

You shook your head, and removed his arm from around your shoulders. "Thank you for… uh, the kind offer," you answered, "But, no, thank you."

You expected him to shrug it off and leave or to just be a dick, as many drunken guys are. But no, this guy did not know how to take a hint.

Instead, he tightened his grip around you and pulled you closer to him, his free hand moving down your waist. "Come on, baby," he said, his words slurring. "You know you want to."

You sighed. You were really hoping it wouldn't have to come to this.

You were about to speak, to politely, yet firmly, tell him to leave you alone, but before you could open your mouth, a gruff voice beat you to it.

"She said no,"

He didn’t even look at the man or you. His eyes were still fixated on the counter as if he was talking to his glass, but he had turned his head a bit to the side so that you could hear him clearly.

The drunk stranger was startled by the sudden intervention. He let go of you and looked over at Logan, confusion clear in his face.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his brows furrowed.

"Does it matter?" Logan grumbled.

"Yeah, it does," the stranger retorted, his slurring voice suddenly getting serious. "If I'm gonna be having fun, I don't want an audience."

Oh, how you hated confrontations.

Logan just scoffed with a slight hint of a smile, shaking his head as he still refused to turn around.

"Trust me, pal," he replied, "I ain't interested in watching you do anything."

"Good." He went back to his obnoxious grin, now directing his attention back to you. Oh, man, he was an eyesore.

"So, how about it, beautiful? Wanna head somewhere else?" He slurred.

You were about to reply, again, with a polite rejection, but your shoulder was being grabbed at again, and if it wasn’t for the small training session that Colossus had put you through, you were sure you would have lost your footing.

"Can you let go of me, please?" You asked politely, but the man was a brick wall.

"Nah, sweetheart," he shook his head, and the movement was so intense, you could almost hear the alcohol sloshing around in his head, "You're comin' with me. Trust me, you’ll be perfectly taken care of."

That was when the sound of glass slamming against the counter reached your ears, and you didn't have to see the source of the sound to know it was Mr. Grumps.

What you struggled for what seemed like an eternity, he took that needy arm away from your shoulders within a fraction of a second. It was almost shocking how quick he was, but then again, you knew what he was capable of.

With you safe against the counter, Logan turned to face the stranger, his face still showing that same neutral expression as before, though his eyes held an intensity that made the man flinch.

Normal people would believe he had the patience of a saint. But you weren’t a normal person. You knew this was dangerously close to making him lose it.

"Uh, Logan… maybe we should—"

But your words fell on deaf ears. The only thing that Logan could hear was the weak excuses the guy was trying to give as he tried to pull his hand from the tight grasp Logan had it in.

"Hey, man," he stuttered, his words slurring as the panic set in, "What’s your problem? Let go of me!

But Logan had no intentions of doing so. He held the stranger's arm firmly, his grip growing tighter until he could hear a small crack coming from the guy's bones.

"What's your damage, huh?" the guy continued, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking. "It's just a little fun, right, baby?"

You cringed as his eyes fell back onto you, and the pleading tone of his voice was beginning to make your skin crawl.

"Look, uh," you started, looking anywhere but his eyes, "I don't think—"

"Listen," the man continued, and your eyes fell shut. God, he was just not going to stop. "Maybe you can join us? Huh, big boy? That’s what it is, right? You want her all for yourself?"

Uh, oh.

"Logan, don’t—"

It was too late. He had already snapped, and with a grunt, he pulled the man closer to him, his other hand forming a fist around his shirt.

"Wanna say that again?" He growled. "Do it. I dare you."

The man was trembling in his grasp, but he was clearly too drunk to understand the danger he was in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you her boyfriend?" He taunted, and the fact that he had the guts to do so while his hand was in a painful hold was astonishing, even for you. "Or are you just some guy with a crush? Cause, honestly, it's pretty pathetic. You can't even ask her out."

His words had Logan seeing red, and before you could do anything, the guy was pushed away and was about to be on the receiving end of one of the strongest punches you've ever seen.

So, riskily, to protect yourself and him from being thrown out of his favorite place, you jumped off the stool and slid in between them as he launched his punch, just stopping inches away from your face.

"Please," you said, your palms up and in front of you, as if that would do anything to stop the rage he was feeling, "Please, calm down."

"Calm down?" He repeated, his voice rising. "Are you kidding me?"

"You need to let it go," you told him. "He's drunk, Logan. He doesn't know what he's saying."

"And, what," he retorted, his anger slowly fading away, "Does it look like I give a single fuck about that?"

You sighed, your eyes meeting his, and that was enough for him to finally give in. His clenched fist dropped, and he released a frustrated sigh.

The dude behind you started laughing, his voice sounding as if he was trying to make fun of a fight scene.

"So," he chuckled, "That's it, huh? You're not gonna do shit? You’re just as pathetic as a—"

He gently moved you aside, and in an instant, the man was lying on the floor with a bloody nose, a black eye, and a few broken ribs.

You could only hold your head in your hands, knowing very well the mess you were about to have to deal with.

And it didn't take long.

As soon as Logan stepped away from the drunk idiot, security was on him, grabbing his arms and restraining him. He couldn’t care less, though, as he held a sadistic grin on his face, pleased with his work while being escorted out.

And, so, there, the two of you were on the steps of the apartment building. You, holding your hands in your lap, and he, staring up at the night sky.

The air was warm, the city lights were dim, and the sky was covered in clouds. There was an odd silence between the two of you, which wasn’t really all that odd, but the events of the night had changed the atmosphere.

"Thanks," you spoke, breaking the quiet. "For, you know, standing up for me."

"He was a douche," he stated, his voice gruff. "Someone had to send that fucktart crying home to mommy."

"You shouldn’t have done that, though," you told him. "Now, you’re probably banned from the bar. I know it's your favorite."

"Eh," he shrugged, "Booze is booze. There are plenty more places to get drunk."

You didn't respond. Instead, you focused your attention on the small bugs flying around the dim light next to the door.

"You shouldn't be thanking me, anyway," he continued, turning to you. That was new. "I should be the one thanking you."

You looked at him, your brows furrowed. This whole conversation was getting weird. "Uh, what for?" You asked, confused.

"For putting up with me," he replied, shrugging.

"Putting up with you?" You repeated, not understanding. "I don't understand."

"Y'know," he continued, his gruff voice a little less gruff. "Sticking around. Being friendly. Having… patience. I can be…I can be a real dick. Honestly, I still don't get why you keep trying."

The smile that found its way to your lips waa the most genuine one he's ever seen. Your eyes were full of kindness and understanding, and your lips, which usually held a grin or a smirk, were turned upwards in a soft, gentle smile.

"Logan," you said, your voice low. "You may be a grump, and you might not be the friendliest guy, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve kindness. Everyone deserves that… or at least a little bit of it."

He scoffed. "That's funny," he replied, turning his head away.

You furrowed your brows and cocked your head, confused. "What is?" You asked.

"I used to think," he began, "That no one would ever look at me in the way you do. Not after what I’ve done… not after what I am."

"You're a good man, Logan," you told him. "You proved who you were when you willingly helped Wade."

"Maybe," he sighed, his gaze meeting yours. "But, there's still a lot you don't know about me. I'm not exactly a knight in shining armor."

"Oh, my dear, Wolvie," you said playfully, leaning closer to him and placing your palm on his shoulder, "You never were."

[physalian]

How To Make Your Writing Less Stiff 5

Movement

Dredging this back up from way back.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much during heavy dialogue scenes. E.g. two characters sitting and talking—do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them…

Gesture

Wave

Frown

Laugh

Cross their legs/their arms

Shift around to get comfortable

Pound the table

Roll their eyes

Point

Shrug

Touch their face/their hair

Wring their hands

Pick at their nails

Yawn

Stretch

Sniff/sniffle

Tap their fingers/drum

Bounce their feet

Doodle

Fiddle with buttons or jewelry

Scratch an itch

Touch their weapons/gadgets/phones

Check the time

Get up and sit back down

Move from chair to tabletop

The list goes on.

Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t—what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

As in, you could say “he’s nervous” or you could show, “He fidgets, constantly glancing at the clock as sweat beads at his temples.”

This site is full of discourse on telling vs showing so I’ll leave it at that.

Epithets

In the Sci-fi WIP that shall never see the light of day, I had a flashback arc for one male character and his relationship with another male character. On top of that, the flashback character was a nameless narrator for Reasons.

Enter the problem: How would you keep track of two male characters, one who you can't name, and the other who does have a name, but you can’t oversaturate the narrative with it? I did a few things.

Nameless Narrator (written in 3rd person limited POV) was the only narrator for the flashback arc. I never switched to the boyfriend’s POV.

Boyfriend had only a couple epithets that could only apply to him, and halfway through their relationship, NN went from describing him as “the other prisoner” to “his cellmate” to “his partner” (which was also a double entendre). NN also switched from using BF’s full name to a nickname both in narration and dialogue.

BF had a title for NN that he used exclusively in dialogue, since BF couldn’t use his given name and NN hadn’t picked a new one for himself.

Every time the subject of the narrative switched, I started a new paragraph so “he” never described either character ambiguously mid-paragraph.

Is this an extreme example? Absolutely, but I pulled it off according to my betas.

The point of all this is this: Epithets shouldn’t just exist to substitute an overused name. Epithets de-personalize the subject if you use them incorrectly. If your narrator is thinking of their lover and describing that person without their name, then the trait they pick to focus on should be something equally important to them. In contrast, if you want to drive home how little a narrator thinks of somebody, using depersonalizing epithets helps sell that disrespect.

Fanfic tends to be the most egregious with soulless epithets like "the black-haired boy" that tell the reader absolutely nothing about how the narrator feels about that black-haired boy, espeically if they're doing so during a highly-emotional moment.

As in, NN and BF had one implied sex scene. Had I said “the other prisoner” that would have completely ruined the mood. He’s so much more than “the other prisoner” at that point in the story. “His partner,” since they were both a combat team and romantically involved, encompassed their entire relationship.

The epithet also changed depending on what mood or how hopeless NN saw their situation. He’d wax and wane over how close he believed them to be for Reasons. NN was a very reserved character who kept BF at a distance, afraid to go “all in” because he knew there was a high chance of BF not surviving this campaign. So NN never used “his lover”.

All to say, epithets carried the subtext of that flashback arc, when I had a character who would not talk about his feelings. I could show you the progression of their relationship through how the epithets changed.

I could show you whenever NN was being a big fat liar about his feelings when he said he's not in love, but his narration gave him away. I could show you the exact moment their relationship shifted from comrades to something more when NN switched mid-paragraph from "his cellmate" to "his partner" and when he took up BF's nickame exclusively in the same scene.

I do the same thing in Eternal Night when Elias, my protagonist, stops referring to Dorian as "it" and "the vampire" instead of his name the moment they collide with a much more dangerous vampire, so jarringly that Elias notices in his own narration—the point of it being so explicit is that this degredation isn't automatic, it's something he has to conciously do, when everyone else in his clan wouldn't think twice about dehumanizing them.

—

Any literary device should be used with intent if you want those layers in your work. The curtains are rarely just blue. Whether it’s a simile with a deliberate comparison or an epithet with deliberate connotations, your readers will pick up on the subtext, I promise.

[earthtooz]

x : LUST FOR LIFE *+ﾟ

in which: sunday discovers a new emotion when he's under you.

warnings: 1.5k words, sunday is B(h)ORNY and doesn't know how to deal with it, he wants reader so bad, lowkey implied switch!sunday, gn!reader being sunday's freak awakening, NO SMUT BUT UNDER 16 DNI, not edited

a/n: five likes and i'll write nsfw for sunday

What good is a leader who can’t empathise with the lives of the people he was supposed to be leading?

This thought has plagued Sunday ever since he exiled himself from Penacony, since he joined the Astral Express in a journey of self-discovery and reflection, embracing the Nameless lifestyle so he can broaden the horizons that Penacony had restricted. There, he was so detached from the reality of the people he was trying to help, so trapped in a whirlwind of his own ideals to experience humanity, too buried in official duties to rejoice in the many wonders of the universe, the simple pleasures and the grandiose ones.

Since boarding, the former head of the Oak Family has experienced humiliation, desperation, and many close calls with death. It seems he underestimated how easily trouble found the Trailblazers, and the diary he carries with him has been updated with multiple entries, filled with exasperated recounts that ended with him being grateful that he is still well and unscathed.

Sunday has also experienced laughter, connection, and the bond of humankind- something he did not have before. When he controlled the Oak Family, had everyone under or at his fingertips, the only person he could depend on was himself. When Robin left to travel the cosmos, what was he to do than learn the bitter truth of independence and self-sufficiency? 

Yet, he sits on the couches of the Astral Express and there is bound to be another by him, trying to converse with him like an old friend. He is mentioned in the conversations like an individual who they keep around because they want to, not because he is crafty, not because of what he can offer. No, he can’t offer anything right now, and the crew still wants him to stay.

He learns more about humanity with each passing day.

However, perhaps one of the more puzzling feelings Sunday has had to confront was… infatuation. 

It’s a tricky feeling. It sends his heart into overdrive and his limbs to become jelly, and at the epicentre of this hurricane of uncharted territory, is you. 

“Sunday?” Your voice comes through muffled from the other side of the door. He almost jumps off his mattress at the sound. 

“Door is open,” he responds as calmly as possible, heart thrumming alive at the sound of your voice, beating in time with the rapid succession of your knocks. 

The door slides open slowly to reveal you on the other side. “Pom Pom just wanted to let everyone know that we will be jumping soon.” 

“I see, thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem,” your gaze then flickers to the angels that flock around him and he watches as your eyes gleam with fascination.

Then, without any hesitation or reluctance, you enter his room and approach him, the door sliding closed without your weight to hold it open. You stop before him without a bow, without a formal greeting of ‘Mr. Sunday’- no, you stop before him like an equal, which you most certainly are. In fact, he would even think of himself below you, but Sunday needs to unlearn this assumption of hierarchy, needs to not let it define the relationships he forms, even if he looks up to you and finds you reverent. 

“Hey, I’ve never seen these little guys before!” You exclaim, sticking out a hand to act like a perch for the angel-like summons. One of them flits up to you and stays on your outstretched finger. “Well, not this close, at least.”

It keens at your praise. Like owner like summon, Sunday supposes.

“I don’t tend to bring them out. They are for combat purposes,” he explains. 

Your eyes widen slightly. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?” 

“What? No! That’s not it-”

“-I’m kidding, Sunday,” you snicker. “We’re friends, I wouldn’t want to fight you.”

“Right,” he exhales, “I wouldn’t want to fight you either.”

“Besides, we already did once.”

He freezes at the memory, remembers when he got hit with the exact train he is currently boarding. 

You, however, are unphased by the recollection, and even continue to rub salt in the wound. “I remember fighting against these little summons too, your owner was a real meanie, do you guys know that?” 

They flock around you, spinning and fluttering like little fireflies.  Instinctively, Sunday covers his flustered expression with his wings, and he doesn’t budge, even when he hears your laugh, the sound almost enough for him to melt into a puddle by your feet.

“Hey, hey, I was kidding, sorry if I took the joke too far.” 

He uncovers himself with an embarrassed sigh, not meeting your eyes. “It’s okay, I think the memory is just… humiliating, more than anything.”

“There are no more hard feelings. Everyone has accepted you on board and none of us think of you to be the same person you were when we first met, I promise.”

Your words are completely earnest, Sunday knows it, can feel it in the way you tell him so unabashedly. So who is he to deny it?

“Thank you,” he says, finally looking up at you, “it means a lot to hear that.” 

“I’ll say it as much as you need. Well, I’ll get out of your hair now, just prepare for the jump-”

Your sentence is interrupted by a shriek when you lose your footing, and Sunday feels it too, the force so strong that even he, while sitting, feels as if is being stretched and pulled into a miniscule hole. What he also feels is your body colliding on top of his, and his hands come to your waist to catch you in an attempt to prevent you from slipping, but it’s not enough and he’s falling with you onto the expanse of his made bed.

The Express is warping to some expanse of the universe, and his stomach drops at the sensation, spreading to the ends of his nerves before disappearing, just replaced by the extremely odd feeling of being pulled through the stars. He just hopes you’re comfortable, standing up whilst warping is tough, he heard the stories of when Stelle first tried to do it and how she fell flat on her face. 

When the feeling of normality returns and Sunday doesn’t feel like he has been stretched out, he opens his eyes and tries to take in the sight before him.

You. Your face. Centimetres away from his.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but seeing you this close… perhaps just pretty is an understatement. His gaze unwillingly flicks to your lips and he wished he hadn’t because suddenly the urge to sit up and lick into your mouth is raging; a fire that can’t be contained. 

Sunday wants you to push him down by the shoulders, with no gentleness or mercy, and just… devour him whole. His hands want to find you by the hips and pull you into him more than humanly possible, he wants you to indent yourself onto him so he can remember your taste forever, so that, in a way, you couldn’t ever leave him. 

Alternatively, he would happily flip around and pin you against the mattress. He would pry you open, explore the cavern of your mouth with his tongue and suck your sacred essence out of you so that it can stay and settle in his bones instead, replacing where marrow should be. He wants to lay you vulnerable so his hands can explore places only you want him to touch, wants to take you so that you stay forever, wants to feel your tongue against his, wants to hold your face and feel how you react when he takes his time cherishing you, revering you. 

This feeling is too much, these thoughts are overpowering, yet nothing has ever been more clear. Sunday wants you, lusts for you, even, and he’s never felt so intensely for someone before. 

How would the symphonies sound when they learn of the atrocities he wants to perform? 

Temptation holds him close and infects him with a desire so strong, he’s practically frozen in place as you recover from the shock, holding yourself up with your arms that were on either side of his head. 

“Ow, I’m sorry!” You immediately exclaim, before realising exactly what position you are in, your chests are pressed together, and you’re mortified to think about how close you were before you picked yourself off him, and- his… his hips… are pressed against yours- okay, you needed to leave as soon as possible.

You scramble off him like he had burnt you, frantically shouting apologies whilst doing so, the words clumsy and rushed, but neither of you can deny how you miss the warmth that was suddenly ripped away. 

(If he wanted to, you could have stayed in that position with him.)

Then, before you could get anymore thoughts, you turn and practically bolt out of his room without another word, leaving a hot and bothered Sunday behind.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I have been binging your work!

I don't know if this breaks your trauma rule or not, but (with the guys of your choosing as long as Ratio is there) how would the guys react to losing reader (they haven't confessed feelings yet) during a mission and thinking they died. Then, the reader reappears a week later bandaged up, but alive. Maybe spouts their confession first? ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

I adore your writing. Thank you!

This is way too fucking long, so be warned. It’s like I rammed 4 mini stories in one but got lost at some point cuz I left this ask to collect dust. Also thanks for enjoying my writing it’s much appreciated. :) 🦦🐿️

Sunday:

The moment he got news that you’ve been assumed dead in the aftermath of a dangerous mission, he looses composure really quickly.

Loosing Robin was one thing but loosing you on top of that was the straw that broke the camels back.

He originally doesn’t believe that you were gone, he refuses to as he practically tears his office to shreds in a fit of anger and grief before forcing himself to regain composure and clean up after his outburst. He needed to in order to keep up the illusion that he was the levelheaded leader The Family needed in these moments of chaos and mistrust.

Even if he himself was breaking down internally alongside everyone else, hellbent on finding the culprit for your death and punishing them so severely that they’d beg for death. He’d avenge you in anyway he could, even if it meant sending out the bloodhound family on a wild goose chase that only ends in dead ends, he would get you justice no matter how it may come.

His heart had died alongside you that day.

So when a week passes and he finally has you back in his arms, all the while being carful with your wounds as his eyes searched you over in a way you weren’t use to.

‘You’re alive.’ He breathes out in relief as he then begins to laugh and rest his head against yours, breathing you in deeply as he relishes in this long awaited moment. ‘Of course you’re alive.’ He mutters.

‘Sunday,’ you began but Sunday was quite to cut you off.

‘Do you know how I felt thinking you were dead? Driving myself insane to prove that you were still alive anyway I could as not to bear the idea of walking through this life without the one person I love so dearly.’ Sunday takes a brief pauses in his monologue, feeling out of breath after having put everything out into the open before continuing. ‘I thought my heart had stopped beating that day and now I have you bad in my arms.’ Sunday then chuckles darkly as he gripped you tighter. ‘I’ll ensure that I’d never have to revisit that part of my life ever again.’

‘Sunday-‘

‘Shhh.’ Sunday cuts you off once more, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he holds you close to his chest, rubbing your back soothingly. ‘Just know that what I do after this, I do out of my love for you.’ He says against your forehead before pressing another kiss there for good measure.

Jing yuan:

Loss wasn’t new to Jing Yuan.

He has experienced it in multiple forms throughout his life, but that didn’t made the news of your death any less painful for the General.

While his mind might’ve made peace with the fact that you were gone, his heart however did not as he would find himself in the places that you often vacated to in moments of stress, or to just be left alone for a while with your thoughts. So to no longer see you in any of those hidden spots -waiting for him to find you like you usually did- only worsened the grief he felt in his heart as he sat himself down and allowed the memories to pass over him in waves.

You were both so happy together and felt a sense of fulfilment that could only be achieved when you were within the other’s presence; A feeling that was uniquely yours and yours alone that could never be replicated, ever. For no one could ever come close to replacing you, nor the companionship you and he had for each other that many assumed would blossom into something more; Jing Yuan also shared the same sentiments as they did, but just as he built the courage to push that boundary between the two of you, you were taken from him before he could utter a single word.

So when a week passes and Jing Yuan found your battered and beaten form in one of your secret spots, back resting against a tree with your eyes closed.

‘Y/n?’ He called out and your eyes opened upon hearing his voice and looking at him with a weak smile. ‘Hey General, miss me?’ You said as you struggled to get up to your feet, only to stumble forward and into Jing Yuan’s chest as his strong yet gentle hands hold you in place.

‘More than you could ever hope to know.’ Jing yuan said as he focused on how you felt beneath his hands, warm and alive.

‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ You muttered against his chest as his warmth made you realised just how tired you were from everything you’ve experienced this last week alone. ‘I never meant to keep you waiting in fear that you’d forget about me if I don’t stay in your life long enough.’ You admit and Jing Yuan instinctively presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, holding you protectively.

‘I could never forget about you my beloved.’ Jing Yuan reassured you as he looked you deep into your eyes. ‘You’ve managed to carve your place within my heart and soul, so much that there isn’t a day where you aren’t all I think about, regardless of whether or not your by my side or far away.’ He finished by pressing a gentle kiss to the gauze on your cheek, chuckling upon seeing your cute attempts of burrowing your face into his chest.

‘How long have you’ve been waiting to say this.’ You asked, thankful that he was the one to admit his feelings first, as you would’ve had a hard time articulating your words as fluidly as he could.

‘For a very long time.’ Jing Yuan replied with a small smile as he then proceeded to lift you into his arms, cuasing you to squeal in surprise, as he made sure to be carful of your wounds and began walking to the nearest medics to make sure your wounds weren’t going to be trouble later on.

Aventurine:

He didn’t know what to think when you were pronounced dead, all Aventurine could feel in that moment was an overwhelming numbness that encased him entirely.

The only light left in his life had been snuffed out, plummeting him into utter and total darkness he had once been well acquainted with until you came along, giving him a reason to keep looking forward despite everything.

You were no longer here to hold onto his left hand before he could even think of hiding it behind his back out of habit, you were no longer here to be his reason, his comfort, his safe place. You were taken away from him unfairly and once again Aventurine found himself asking the same question he has been asking himself for a long time; why everyone was born into this life just to die.

So when a week passes and Aventurine finds himself sat on a bench somewhere, still not dealing well then than he was the week of your assumed passing, lost in his own thoughts when someone took a seat next to him. Aventurine was just about ready to tell them to go away, when he saw just who was sitting next to him; you.

‘I know, I look like shit but you don’t have to look at me like that.’ You spoke upon feeling his eyes gaze upon the gauze on your cheek, then towards the array of bandages that littered the rest of your body.

‘I thought you died.’ He hissed, emotion was heavy in his voice as his eyes became bleary with unshed tears as he felt his breathing become heavy with the reality that you were alive. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t in that moment as his mind raced. And it wasn’t until you reached out to grasp his left hand and intertwine your fingers together, squeezing, did everything finally became clear to him.

‘I thought I was too at one point but there was something that kept me from journeying over to the afterlife.’ You admit, looking over at him and smiling sweetly, wanting nothing then to calm his thoughts and reassure him that this wasn’t a dream.

‘And what was that?’ He laughs humourlessly as he stares back at you, wanting to hear what excuses you could come up with for faking being dead for a week. ‘Willpower? Determination?’

‘You Kakavasha.’ You replied straightforwardly and his breath hitched in his throat. You rarely used his actual name unless it was absolutely serious. ‘You were all I thought about as I pushed through my injuries.’ You told him as you continued. ‘Kakavasha is waiting for me was just about all I could think about for a week straight.’ You finished as though you didn’t just confess that he was your soul motivator in staying alive.

‘Really?’ Aventurine said softly, finding it impossible that he could possibly be your reason for anything. ‘Why?’

‘Yes really.’ You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder. ‘As for why, it’s because I like you more then did let myself admit, but i just wanted you to know incase anything truly bad were to ever happen to me-‘

‘No.’ Aventurine cut you off suddenly, squeezing your hand as though he were afraid. ‘Nothing is going to happen to you, not now. not ever. I just got you back.’ He adds resting his head against your own in a desperate attempt of feeling more of your against him. ‘Just stay with me…please.’ He begs you in a whisper as he nuzzled further into you. ‘and don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I don’t think I can bear the thought of loosing you again.’

You smiled softly as you just whispered back against the skin of his neck. ‘As long as you don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I like my crush to be alive and close by even if he can be a pain in my ass sometimes.’

Aventurine chuckles, his heart becoming whole again as he made you cuddle into his side, kissing your head once more as you took this moment to familiarise yourselves with each other. ‘At least I’m a pleasurable pain in the ass.’ He teased and you pinch his side, causing him to flinch, but his smile remained and this time his smile was genuine.

His light has came home.

Ratio:

Fully believed that he’d see you when the mission ended, knowing just how talented and dedicated to the craft you were, and having faith that this would be a measly walk in a park for you.

Only to receive word that you were one of the many who were assumed dead when you weren’t found amongst the living nor the dead.

Veritas tries to remain as levelheaded and logical as possible during this time and continue life as normal. However found himself retracting from everyone else and going none contact, more so specifically with the people you were once associated with, and instead focused heavily on his studies and academics to an unhealthy extent.

A week passes and Veritas feels as though he’s seen a ghost the moment he saw you in his peripheral vision, bandaged and dressed in ripped clothing but still somehow finding it in you to smile.

‘You idiotic Buffon!’ He exclaims as he walks towards you.

‘Well that’s a nice way to greet someone you care about.’ You replied as you readied yourself for a massive rant about how stupid you were and so on, but instead you were held against his chest as he burrows his head into your neck.

‘I thought you died.’ He says in a whisper as he breathed you in. This went against all logic but in that rare moment Veritas didn’t care, you were alive but he still couldn’t let go of the fact that you didn’t tell anyone you were still alive. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone that you were alive, send a signal, anything.’

You shrugged as you made yourself comfortable in his strong arms. ‘All communications were badly damaged or completely cut off.’ You told him. ‘I was on my own for a long while before finding my way back to you.’

‘Me?’ Veritas asked, pulling away from you. ‘Why not a medial facility for a proper treatment of your wounds? Have you hit your head so hard that common sense had been left on the back burner when making that decision?’

‘I wanted to see you first you dickhead!’ You exclaimed, shutting Veritas up rather quickly with your confession but you didn’t care. ‘is it so wrong of me to let the man I love know that I’m okay? So go ahead and call me an idiot all you like but that won’t change the fact that I felt more fear about not telling you how I truly feel then dying on some stupid mission.’ You finished your rant.

‘You’re insufferable.’ Veritas said after a moment of silence and you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed at this that you didn’t notice that Veritas has began to close in the distance between the two of you.

You scoffed. ‘Oh sure call me insufferable as if you-‘ Veritas cuts you off by cupping your cheeks and planting a sweet short lived kiss against your lips before pulling away with a smirk.

‘Glad to know that the feelings are reciprocated.’ He says, taking enjoyment of rendering you speechless as he gently guided you to medical, and remaining by your side for the remainder of the day.

[st4rpiece]

sleeping separately after an argument pt. 2

SFW

characters: mihawk, crocodile, and buggy x fem! reader summary: how cross guild would react to you sleeping alone after an argument CW: mainly fluff, slight angst others: not proofread, lowercase intended, and pictures found on pinterest

—————

Dracula Mihawk

mihawk is known for his stoic and composed demeanor. however, an argument that leads to you sleeping in the guest bedroom would shake his calm exterior. mihawk values control and precision, not just on the battlefield but also in his personal life. The argument would leave him feeling a sense of imbalance, disrupting the harmony he strives to maintain.

initially, he would analyze the argument with the same meticulousness he applies to his swordsmanship. he would replay the conversation, seeking to understand your perspective and where he might have gone wrong. he would be restless and his castle, usually a sanctuary of peace, would start to feel unusually empty and cold.

his conclusion? being right wasn't worth you being upset and distant with him. especially not when it meant sleeping alone.

"dear?" his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he enters the room.

"I would save this for the morning, but that would not sleeping in your arms tonight," he says, kneeling beside the bed and lifting you up bridal style. his actions catching you by surprise as you subconsciously wrap your arms around his neck for support.

"you can tear me a new one in the morning," he jokes (something he rarely did), before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as he made his way back to your shared room.

Sir Crocodile

crocodile would initially react to an argument and subsequent separation with a sense of indifference. or at least that's how it looks on the surface. the argument would leave him brooding as he is not one to easily admit fault, and his pride would make it difficult for him to do so immediately.

he would spend the first half of the night in his office, surrounded by the trappings of his power, telling himself that you'd get over it soon.

as the night wore on, your lack of presence would make him realize that you weren't going to get over it soon. and by this point, he has had enough. he would make his way to the guest bedroom. without even bothering to knock, he would burst through the door, staring down your curled-up form. a pang of guilt would run down his spine as he looked at you.

"when are you coming to bed?" his voice rough, a complete contrast to the worry in his eyes and the guilt that he felt. he already knew the answer, so when you don't respond he would just lift you up, throwing you over his shoulder before landing a firm slap on your ass.

"you're mad? fine, be mad, but be mad in our room," he says sternly as he walks back to your shared room.

Buggy the Clown

buggy with his flamboyant and often comical personality would react to an argument with you more dramatically. the idea of you sleeping separately would initially infuriate him causing his pride and insecurities to flare up.

he would spend the initial moments of the separation grumbling and throwing a minor tantrum to anyone who could listen, convinced that he was right (he wasn't). however, as the night wore on, his anger would give way to the loneliness and regret he felt.

he would pace outside you door, muttering to himself as he debates whether to knock or not. not sure if you even wanted to see him after what he has done.

she's probably waiting, arms wide open, for me

or maybe she's packing her bags finally tired of my antics

oh nika i hope it's not that

in the end, he would knock on the door and try putting on a confident front even though he's low-key expecting you to ignore him. so when the door opens, the first thing you are greeted with is a shocked buggy, making another one of his goofy faces. this subconsciously cracks you up unknowingly breaking the ice for him.

"sugar! oh, how i've missed you," he would immediately pull you into a tight hug. and without much of a warning, he would start word-vomiting his apologies.

"i'm so sorry about my actions from earlier sugar and i’m sorry for being so stubborn about it. I understand now that i went too far and that i should’ve acknowledged that instead of arguing with you. but i promise that it won't ever happen again. so please forgive me this once, sugar?"

you don’t have it in you to send him away after all that so instead you would simply pull him into the room before turning and going back to bed this time with him following suit.

—————

part 1

hi guys! thanks again for reading, this is the second part and honestly the last, for op at least. buggy was surprisingly the easiest to write while mihawk was the hardest TvT. hopefully i did them all justice tho!!

i have a few ideas of what i want to write but if you have any suggestions for plot or character please let me know, i’m open to any ideas :).

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ when the love and deepspace boys get jealous

warnings: pouty men, jealous xavier is a warning in itself, sorry if i mischaracterise…. and i also have favourites LOLL

characters: sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier

link to master list here!

author notes: all i can think of is pouty rafayel and jealous xavier my brain is a melted goop of lnds brainrot… also sorry for not posting in a while i was on holiday!!

also quick reminder that i have requests open but 1. i’ll get to them slowly and 2. please read my pinned post about rules!

more under the cut ~

out of the four men i think sylus is the least jealous - now let me elaborate that possessiveness and jealousy (in my eyes) are very different

if you talk to another man, sylus both trusts you and has enough faith in himself to know that no matter what the dude does, sylus is yours and you’re his

he trusts you 100%, without a shadow of a doubt. and this translates through his lack of jealousy when you spend time with other people

however, if the man even attempts to lay a finger on you, his tone becomes too sweet or his hand inches a bit too close and you’re getting uncomfortable?

you bet your ass sylus is interfering.

immediately shifts his body to create distance between you and the other party

he flashes a dangerous look at the other man, evol glowing dangerously as it whispers a small warning into the other’s ear

“Stay away and you get to stay alive.”

he seriously doesn't fuck around when it comes to your comfort and safety, and if he feels that another man is compromising it or pushing the boundaries it really ticks him off

when does sylus get jealous?

mostly when you start to spend less time with him and more time with others

it’s not as if as soon as you spend time with someone else he gets jealous, but if it causes you to start to ignore him/spend less time with him he gets jealous

when he gets jealous, he doesn’t hide it at all

sylus isn’t one to keep his feelings from you, so when you see his displeasured frown you know immediately something is up

he doesn’t get angry or petty when jealous, he just makes it clear that he’s not happy with the division of attention

when you ask him what’s up, he gives you the answer plain and simple

“Getting bored of me already? How come you’re spending more time with […] than me, I’m jealous.”

his voice is slow and clearly unimpressed, crossing his arms as he looks you up and down.

luckily for you, he’s not hard to win over

spend time with him, even if it’s not active such as going out to restaurants or to one of his formal events

the two of you sitting in comfortable silence, him reading a magazine and you looking through moments, that’s more than enough for him

he’s not opposed to displays of physical affection either, cuddling or kisses to his face - anything that tells him “you’re mine/i’m yours” will satisfy him

just make sure not to spend TOO much time with the other person, otherwise sylus might seriously hunt them down

he’d never make you jealous on purpose, he had no interest in other women/men at all and respects you way too much to pull petty moves like that

when sylus accidentally makes you jealous, he’ll definitely pamper you, spoil you with gifts and spend time with you

wanted to get the new limited edition plushie? he’ll stay in the arcade with you until you get all of them. wanted a new game on steam? he’s bought both the game, all the dlcs and any in game passes and currency.

Somewhere at some point during the day he'll simply come clean about it, after all he's a straight forward man and he trusts you.

"I'm sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to make you jealous. Forgive me, please?"

tldr; sylus is a love sick loser that knows you’re equally in love with him as he is with you

here goes the award to the most composed LI - zayne gets jealous alright, not nearly as much as the coming two but he still gets jealous

it's not that he doesn't trust you, but watching you smile so brightly to the café employee or get a little too friendly with another doctor sets him on edge

if you're talking to male friends/giving them friendly hugs zayne's completely fine with it, he's happy to see you surrounded by people who care for you and for you to be happy too

at first it's hard to tell when zayne gets jealous, he has a poker face that would put lady gaga to shame

however, after a while you discover the few subtleties that give away his disgruntled state

for example, if you're talking a bit too excitedly or friendly to the barista - especially one you'd both met just today - there'd be a little crease in his forehead, his mouthwould be a fraction more downturned and his eyes a bit narrower as if he was squinting

or if you talk to him about a male colleague when you two were supposed to be out on a date, he'd definitely be jealous... however the only give away would be the faintest purse of his lips and twitch of his eyebrow

if you ask him if he's jealous he's going to deny it, he usually doesn't lie but when it comes to vulnerable emotions such as jealousy i feel he'd have difficulties expressing them

"Jealous? I'm not jealous, don't worry about me."

but then the right side of his mouth is twitching a little and if you focus hard enough he gives the impression of a kicked puppy, a very subtle hint of 'give me attention'

if you manage to learn the art of 'zayne expression reading' and finally notice that he's not 'lactose-intolerant-and-having-stomach-issues-causing-him-to-look-like-that' but in fact jealous, here's a few ways to heal your zayne!!

zayne specialists recommend a good dosage of subtle affections - e.g. bringing up one of his interests or reminiscing upon something you two did in the past, basically indicating to him 'hey, i still love you most in the world!'

he's a perceptive man and will pick up on what you're doing relatively quick, and his little grumpy face will relax back into the unconscious, soft smile he adopts when in your presence

if he accidentally makes you jealous, he makes sure you know more than anyone else in the world that he's yours and yours only.

reciprocates the small gestures such as holding your hand in public or introducing you to his colleagues

"Good afternoon to you too. I believe you haven't met [Y/N] before?"

and then he'll adjust his hand placement, sliding from patting your shoulder to gentle resting on the small of your back, a little intimate gesture that screams "I'm their partner."

makes sure by the end of the day he's got the message across, and at one point brings it up (even though you've basically forgotten what he did to make you jealous anyways)

"I didn't mean to upset you, [Y/N]. I love you only, no one else could replace you, I promise."

okay, yeah, we made it to jealous, pouty, bratty man territory

there’s an evident gap between zayne level jealousy and rafayel level jealousy

don’t get me wrong, rafayel would do anything you asked of him - partially because of his whole lumerian bond and also because he’s utterly whipped for you

does he love you? that’s a stupid question to ask oh course he does… but does he truly trust you?

i’d like to think that rafayel (if he was dating you in this situation) is absolutely devoted to you and trusts you wholeheartedly, but in reality rafayel has deep engraved fears and uncertainties

he has a fear of being forgotten about, and likely (as a consequence of being forgotten multiple times) - the idea of being abandoned or replaced sends physical chills down his spine

so honestly, rafayel’s jealousy stems from the unwavering fear of being left alone, lost and forgotten again…

the pain of being forgotten, it’s not something he’s willing to go through any more, causing it to be difficult to fully reassure him that you’re his.

on a more lighter, more playful level, rafayel’s jealousy would probably lay with animals - specifically cats and sea creatures

one day he finds that instead of lazing about with him indoors, that you were outside napping with a cat on your lap

if he wasn’t so afraid of the cat concerned for your quality and length of sleep he would’ve had a go at the cat as it smirked triumphantly at him, licking its paws as it rolls around in your lap.

when complaining later on he would be his usual, petulant self, pouting and crossing his arms, tilting his chin up etc

“I guess you prefer those furry monsters over a fishie like me, why don’t you just leave me for one?”

to fix this petty brattiness is simple!

simply devote all your attention and affections to rafayel, as in when you two are alone and spending time together you can just pat his head or trace his beauty marks

he’ll be pouting the whole time, but after a few pats he’ll get embarrassed and his ears will go red as he says something like “I’m not a cat…” yet he still lets you pet him lol

rafayel especially likes it when you gently stroke at the roots of his hair, leaning into your touch a little every time you thread deeper into his hair

however, if you spend too much time with another man rather than rafayel, it’s a whole different type of jealousy/insecurity

he’s quiet, too quiet, and withdrawn

the situation was deeply confusing the first time around

it’s as if you ordered the wrong rafayel, what happened to his usual bratty and playful personality? this wasn’t like all the other times.

unlike his childish display of jealousy when you were with the cat, this time he had a schooled expression, blank, a facade

his expression was eerie, you’d never seen him like this, so… emotionless seeming

rafayel, really, was emotionally detaching from the relationship - he still loves you oh my god he adores you so much he’d sacrifice everything he had for you, but the idea of you preferring that other person over him?

it sends him into panic, and all he (believed he) could do was numb himself, anticipate the leave or him getting forgotten

(am i projecting too much here… avoidant attachment rafayel believer and lover 😞🙏)

if he withdrew from the relationship first, maybe it would hurt less being left again

of course you weren’t intending to leave him, so how do you fix this?

well, as unhealthy as this may seem, spending less time with the new person and more time with rafayel really would be the only way i could think of making him feel better

saying things such as “Rafayel I would never leave you.” can only provide him with short-term reassurance, after all how many times have you said that before and then still proceeded to leave him?

instead, caress him gently, give him time to feel safe in the relationship again. late night calls where you two fall asleep together or hold him in your arms as you two both sleep at night

this avoidant attachment style will, however, probably go when you two start dating, since in dating you rafayel has probably decided to let you into his heart and whole heartedly trusts you now :)

if rafayel accidentally makes you jealous, depending on the severity (again) here’s what he’d do

if it was a simple thing (such as spending too much time with the shakes idk something more tame) he’d definitely tease you

“Awwh cutie? Getting jealous of the sharks? Don’t worry, I prefer you over them any day.”

he’ll have this smug ass grin that pisses you off, as much as it makes you love him too

rafayel will give you more hugs and gifts than usual for a while after, claiming it’s ‘nothing’ and that you’re ’hallucinating things’ when you ask what he’s doing

really he’s apologising, but you don’t need to know that

if he made you really jealous/upset he’ll make is extremely clear to you that he belongs to you, his heart and will is yours

will become more clingy and affectionate with you (not that he does it on purpose infact he’s only showing his true desires more), forever. like, you get jealous? don’t worry, literally for the rest of your life you’ll know that rafayel is head-over-heels for you.

tldr: he needs a hug :( also i ended up writing way more than intended but im a rafayel lover, writer and if he has no stans left im dead

here he is, the most jealous and arguably possessive man in lnd.

xavier tries to hide it, but everyone knows that he’s yours, without a shadow of a doubt

we all saw what happened with jeremiah, don’t make me pull out the receipts LOL. like jeremiah was just happy to finally see the girl xavier was lining over for centuries and xavier was already losing his shit 😭

literally anyone talking to you too affectionately will tick him off, but xavier’s too sly to make it obvious

you’re talking to a doctor (cough zayne) ? xavier brings up some sort of old medicine they don’t or asks about their speciality so you stop talking to them

talking to a protocore specialist? he’ll all of a sudden be holding a textbook worthy protocore, worth the poor persons whole shop

a florist? he’s pointing at every flower and naming them, both common and scientific name.

“Oh [Y/N], look at that flower. I believe it’s called a Lonicera periclymenum?”

*turns to face the clearly shocked and flustered florist with a polite smile*

“Well, maybe you know it as a honeysuckle, is that correct?”

after living for so long he’s learnt many things, and boy does he use it to his advantage

when xavier gets jealous, he doesn’t expect anything from you, no no, this man is a service boyfriend if i’ve ever seen one, he was MADE to please you

rather than thinking “oh you don’t like me anymore i’m so upset“ he thinks “i need to serve and show you i’m yours.”

do you like sweet things? he’s buying you chocolates of all kinds, if that’s not your jam he’s got pastries, or candy, or fresh fruit, maybe everything in a little gift box

prefer savoury foods? he’ll cook you a meal that he knows you like (even if you don’t trust the food) he’ll practice making it until you like it

if you talk about another person when you’re one on one with him, he’ll do little things to get your attention, maybe bite your finger softly or tuck hair behind your ear, little fleeting touches and such

cheeky little grins and conversational diversions such as 'Oh? What about you, how did you do in the exam?' or 'What were you buying in the supermarket?' - more ways of saying "i'm yours, don't forget"

but if you wanted to reassure xavier, physical affections such as cuddling and kisses can win him over

nap with him for a few nights (really he forgave you the first night, he just pretended to be grumpy with you for a while longer for more naps) and he’ll be satisfied (for now)

“Come cuddle with me starlight, I’ve still not forgiven you.”

(he’s lying, he forgave you like a week ago)

likes it when you play with his hair when you two cuddle - now this makes me want to write abt how the men cuddle lol

if he accidentally makes you jealous it’d probably be when the two of you are on a mission and he flirts with another woman to easily progress through a mission

the two of you are in the hotel room and you’re sulking in the bed, turning away from him and clearly displeased

xavier knows you’re jealous, and can only huff out an amused breath - he doesn’t like that you’re feeling bad but he’s happy that you’re jealous… means you like him as much as he likes you!

he gently walks over to the bed, shifting onto the duvet beside you and reaches out to touch your shoulder - making sure you’re okay with him touching you

if you let him, he’ll lie down next to you and slowly wrap his arms around you, spooning you from behind as he slowly kisses the top of your head

slipping your shirt down to just below your shoulder, he gives the skin of your back gentle kisses as he apologises

“I’m sorry, it was for the mission. I’ve only ever loved you, so please don’t be angry.”

and then he nuzzled into your back until you finally cave in, twisting around and hugging him back.

he’ll be seriously apologetic about it though, and in the future avoid such intimate forms of gathering information even *if* you told him it was okay

AN; i got way too carried away with rafayel ANYWAYS hope you enjoy and now i want to write smaller hcs on how the men cuddle lolol

also this isn’t proofread no beta we die like caleb ig

[yanderefarm]

Can I request Emil catching one of his maids flirting with us

yandere king emil

cw;; violence, stalking, yandere stuff, manipulation

im gonna post this bc i don't think its bad per-say but i don't know if it fits exactly what you wanted. if you're not satisfied feel free to send your request again!!

i don't really imagine this as the reader being oblivious but more like looking past all the obvious red flags because they thought they had a friend who could understand them better than the other people around them including emil.

also im a whore for rofan manhwa bullshit. please check off "cartoonishly evil maid/noble woman minor love rival" on your bingo cards.

usually emil wouldn't feel threatened by the lower class, obviously you wouldn't be interested in them. except you are.

he notices it first when she comes into your shared bedroom in the morning. she's not the usual maid and the way she goes about pouring the morning tea is atrocious, probably because her eyes are glued to your half dressed body. you smile at her and thank her even though she spilled some of your tea with her gawking. when emil mentions dismissing her for her unacceptable behavior you just brush it off saying she was just nervous.

apparently that day the normal maid was sick. and she's still sick a week later. you're currently in the garden trying your hand at some embroidery but you're not very good at it. emil watches from his office window as that maid comes up and offers to help you. you are too excited to accept her help, can't you see she just wants something from you? he finds himself hoping she accidentally pricks you with the needle so he can have a good excuse to kill her. she didn't.

then there's the bath incident. usually he likes taking baths together but you wanted to be alone. that would be fine if he hadn't just watched that annoying maid slip into the bath room. he finds himself following her. the bath room is full of steam as you soak in the hot water making it hard for emil to see anything exactly. but he'd recognize your relaxed form anywhere. the maid steps through the thick steam and asks if you want her to apply some new oils to your hair. its something she found at a market and its supposed to be relaxing lavender. its technically her job to do these tasks so emil can only watch in frustrated silence as she gets to run her fingers through your hair. you smell like her for the rest of the night and god it makes him angry.

every time he sees you with her his stomach twists in anger. he can't be angry with you, you're a kind person and you've proven it time and time again. but this maid. she doesn't deserve your kindness, she doesn't deserve to gently touch your arm, she doesn't deserve to laugh with you. he's asked you what you think of her and you tell him it's so nice to have a friend and how apparently she was born in your home kingdom before moving here. it makes him want to kill her even more. but he holds back because you're just so happy.

finally she goes too far. you're outside excitedly talking to her about a new book you read. you showed him that one too but he didn't share your excitement for the story. not like she was. he wanted to run over there, to run her through with his sword. but he couldn't stop it. he watched helplessly as she touched your arm again and with a blushing face she shyly confessed her feelings. he watched her try to kiss you. he watched the way your face changed from shock to horror. your eyes darted around until they landed on him, you always knew he was nearby if you needed him.

apparently she'd lied about being from your home country to get closer to you. apparently she'd learned your native tongue at another job and used it to manipulate you. apparently she heard a rumor that you would take concubines and she saw it as her chance to climb the ranks. emil was standing behind her, his blade through her chest and his eyes dark with anger. you stood there with tears in your eyes looking at him with so much hurt.

emil isn't lenient with maids that flirt with you anymore. they get a warning from the head maid and if they continue the behavior then emil reserves the right to punish as he sees fit. its not always violent, sometimes he just sentences them to jail for 10 years.

[pucked-bunnie]

never have i ever ⎜l.hughes

pairings: luke hughes x reader genre: romance ⎜angst ⎜ college AU ⎜ warnings: mentions of a bet ⎜hurt/comfort ⎜ luke is a silly boy ⎜ none tbh ⎜ unsatisfying ending ⎜ synopsis: when his friends spot the new girl at the teams halloween party - luke agrees to a bet he know he shouldn't be making. word count: 7.6k authors note:  this was requested and ended up a little longer than anticipated! I hope everyone enjoys.

+

+

Luke had been watching you for an hour now. 

Not in a creepy way. 

He was just entranced by the way you weaved through the crowd - being welcomed into each group you passed as you say a bight hello to anyone who looks your way. Your bright yellow raincoat had caught his attention as soon as you walked through the door - shining like a beacon as you made you way straight for the house kitchen, carrying around that small bottle of water as you started to mingle. 

“Who you so enamoured by, Lukey?” A slightly slurred voice says as the body of his friend and teammate slides into his personal space - Ethan’s shoulder rubbing against his, their matching costumes a joke to anyone who looked over at them. 

“A Weather-Girl.” Luke says shortly, taking another sip from his half flat soda - nudging the hood off his costume off his head. 

“Weather-Girl?” Ethan repeats to himself skimming over the crowd trying to find the described person. “I don’t see a Weather-Girl.” 

Luke doesn’t elaborate, his eyes still fixed on you as Ethan follows his gaze.

“Ohhh,” Ethan drags out the word, spotting the unmistakable yellow coat bobbing near the living room couch. You’re laughing at something one of the senior players said, your head tilted back just enough to catch the low, golden glow of the decorative Halloween lights strung up around the room. “Weather-Girl, huh? That’s new.”

Luke just shrugs, feigning indifference. He doesn’t need Ethan making this more of a thing than it already feels in his head.

But Ethan being Ethan, the subtle hint of interest is like blood in the water. “You know, Lukey, I think we should introduce ourselves. Friendly team spirit and all that.” He’s already grinning like a devilish accomplice in a bad crime movie, and Luke knows nothing good can come of this.

“No.” Luke’s voice is flat, firm. But he doesn’t move to stop Ethan as he leans in conspiratorially.

“C’mon, what’s the harm? You’ve been staring for what, an hour? Two? Don’t be a coward.” Ethan’s smirk widens as he straightens up and crosses his arms. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to make things interesting.”

Luke sighs, already regretting whatever’s about to come out of his friend’s mouth. “What do you want, Ethan?” Luke’s gaze flickers back to Ethan, who’s watching him with the kind of grin that only spells trouble. It’s a setup, Luke knows it is, but he also knows Ethan won’t back down until he’s either embarrassed himself or dragged Luke into some ridiculous scheme. That’s just Ethan.

“You know,” Ethan starts again, his tone sly, “I think this is fate.”

Luke arches a brow. “What are you talking about?”

Ethan leans in, lowering his voice like they’re plotting something top-secret. “The new girl. Weather-Girl. I bet you couldn’t even get her to go out with you if you tried.”

Luke blinks, his head snapping back. “What?”

“You heard me,” Ethan continues, his grin widening. “She’s got this whole sunshine-and-rainbows vibe, and you’ve got… well, you’ve got ‘quiet, brooding hockey guy’ energy.”

“I wouldn’t really say quiet and brooding.” Luke says taking another sip of his drink, “more like quiet and anxious.” Ethan just shrugs as Lukes correction, watching you move with an equally appreciative look. 

“I mean it’s not like you’re her type anyway.” 

Luke glares at him. “And you’d know that how?”

“I’m observant,” Ethan says smugly. “Like I said, she’s sunshine-and-rainbows and you’re you. But hey, prove me wrong. I’m willing to make this interesting.”

Luke sighs. “I’m not playing your games, Ethan.”

“Not even if there’s something in it for you?” Ethan’s eyes gleam with mischief. “If you get her to go out with you and be the first one to say she has feelings—even just an I like you—I’ll do all your house chores for a month. Every single one.”

Luke hesitates. 

That’s… tempting. 

Too tempting. 

But then he shakes his head. “And if I don’t?”

Ethan leans back against the wall, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Then you buy dinner for the whole team after every practice. For a month.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s fair,” Ethan counters. “Besides, you’ve been staring at her all night anyway. Might as well make it worth something.”

Luke doesn’t respond, but his jaw clenches. He knows this is a bad idea—knows Ethan is goading him on purpose. But then his eyes drift back to you, and he catches the way you’re laughing at something, the way you light up the space around you without even trying. It’s magnetic, and he hates that Ethan noticed too.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Luke mutters, “Fine.”

Ethan’s grin could rival the devil’s. “Fine, what?”

Luke glares. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Ethan claps him on the shoulder. “Atta boy. Just don’t forget—one date. Real effort. No half-assing it, Lukey.” Luke mutters a curse under his breath and shakes Ethan off. The smugness radiating from his friend is almost enough to make him back out, but then he glances at you again. You’re standing by the couch, the yellow raincoat still draped over your shoulders, your head tilted as you listen to someone talking. There’s something about the way you seem so at ease, like the party could crumble around you and you’d just smile through it.

Taking a steadying breath, Luke squares his shoulders and heads your way. The closer he gets, the louder the sounds of the party become—music pounding, laughter ringing, snippets of conversation floating through the air. He rehearses a dozen opening lines in his head, but none of them stick.

When he’s just a few steps away, you look up, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, Luke forgets how to breathe. Your expression shifts, recognition flickering in your eyes as you offer him a small, curious smile.

“Hey,” you say, your voice cutting through the noise like it’s meant just for him. “You’re Luke, right? From the team?”

Luke nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. That’s me.” Your smile widens, and you take a small step closer, tucking a strand of your blue wig behind your ear. 

“I thought so. I’ve heard a lot about you. Big hockey star and all.” Luke’s mouth feels dry, but he forces himself to speak. 

“Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

You laugh softly, and it’s the kind of sound that makes the whole room feel smaller, quieter, like it’s just the two of you. “So, what brings you over here, hockey star? Didn’t peg you as the mingling type.”

Luke rubs the back of his neck, cursing Ethan silently. “Just thought I’d say hi. You’re… new, right?”

“Guilty,” you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “Just transferred. My roommate dragged me here. Thought it’d be a good way to meet people.”

“And?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady. “How’s that going?”

“Pretty good so far,” you say, your eyes sparkling. “Especially now that I’ve officially met Luke Hughes-the-hockey-star.” Luke chuckles nervously, and for the first time all night, he’s not thinking about anything other than right now. 

He’s thinking about you—how you look up at him like he’s the only one here, how your smile feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. Ethan’s words echo faintly in his mind, but Luke pushes them aside. He might have agreed to the bet, but right now, he’s not doing this for Ethan.

He’s doing this for you — well for him but what’s the difference.

“So what’re you?” Luke asks, gesturing down at your costume. “I’m guessing a weather girl.” He says with a soft smile, your eyes glittering as you shake your head. 

“I’m Coraline - you know the terrifying kids movie?” The costume makes so much more sense now - your bright yellow raincoat, the gumboots and the button sunglasses propped on the top of your head. 

“Nope, never seen it.” Luke lies, his neck flaming red as your mouth falls open, your eyebrows lifting. “Maybe you should show it to me sometime.” Luke gets out quickly, his heart slamming against his ribs as a knowing smile grows on your face. 

Your grin is equal parts amusement and challenge. “Oh, I absolutely will. You’re missing out. It’s iconic.”

Luke’s stomach twists, but not in the usual anxious way—it’s something lighter, almost hopeful. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says, surprising even himself with how steady his voice sounds.

You tilt your head, studying him with a curious expression, and for a second, Luke wonders if you can see right through him, if you can tell that his hands are clammy, or that he’s replaying every word of this conversation in his head to make sure he hasn’t completely embarrassed himself.

“Deal,” you say finally, extending a hand like it’s an official agreement. Luke hesitates only for a heartbeat before taking it. Your hand is warm and soft, and he hopes you don’t notice the way his lingers just a little too long before letting go.

“So, Coraline,” he says, grasping for something to keep the conversation going, “are you into horror movies? Or is this just a one-time thing?”

You laugh again, a bright, genuine sound that makes his chest feel tight. “I like them when they’re creepy but not too gory. Psychological stuff, you know? Keeps you on your toes.” You pause, eyes glinting playfully. “Why? Are you scared of scary movies, hockey star?”

Luke shakes his head, though the truth is closer to yes. “Not scared. Just... prefer movies where I don’t have to watch an episode of SpongeBob after to sleep.” Your laughter this time is louder, drawing a few glances from people nearby, but you don’t seem to care. 

“Fair enough. I’ll make sure to ease you into it.”

Luke nods, pretending to weigh his options. “I guess I can handle that.”

“You’d better,” you tease. “I don’t usually offer private screenings, you know.” Luke’s cheeks heat, and he hopes the dim lighting hides it. 

“I’ll try not to ruin it with my... quiet, brooding energy,” he says, quoting Ethan with a faint smirk. Your brows lift, and there’s a flicker of recognition in your eyes. 

“Quiet and brooding? That doesn’t sound like you. Quiet - maybe, brooding - no way. ” Luke huffs a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.  Before he can think of a response, someone calls your name from across the room. You glance over your shoulder, and Luke follows your gaze to see a girl waving at you, her phone in hand. 

“That’s my roommate,” you say, turning back to him. “She’s probably wondering if I’m still alive.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” Luke says quickly, though part of him wants to. “It was nice talking to you.”

“You too, Luke.” You hesitate for a moment, then smile again, softer this time. “See you around?”

“Definitely,” he manages, watching as you make your way across the room. As soon as you’re out of earshot, Ethan materialises at his side, looking far too pleased with himself.

 “So, how’d it go?” Luke glares at him, though there’s no heat behind it. 

“You’re insufferable.”

Ethan just grins. “Good then?” He claps Luke on the back and saunters off, leaving Luke to process what just happened. He takes another sip of his now-warm soda, his mind replaying the way your smile seemed to light up the room, the way you said his name like it was already familiar. For the first time all night, the noise and chaos of the party don’t feel overwhelming. 

Because for just a few minutes, you made everything else fade away.

Until his head shoots in your direction - he never got your number. 

+

+

“You’re really gonna stick up posters to try and find her?” Ethan questions as he looks over Luke’s shoulder at the posters his teammate was currently printing out. 

“I have no other option, how else am I going to find her?” Luke hisses back, collecting each poster as it’s spit out of the machine. 

“What kind of idiot forgets to get their number.” Ethan chuckles to himself, throwing his hands up in defence as Luke shoots him a sharp glare. 

“I was distracted.” Luke clarifies. 

“Maybe she didn’t actually like you, she didn’t seem to be trying hard to make sure you got her number.” Ethan hints as Luke tucks his posters in his bag, throwing it over his shoulder before trudging out of the library not waiting to see if Ethan was following behind him. 

Ethan’s words replayed in his mind as the shorter man catches up the two of them making their way to the morning practice. 

Maybe she didn’t actually like you. 

It stung, even though Luke wasn’t sure if it was true. Maybe she had just been polite, humouring him with that radiant smile that had practically seared itself into his memory. Or maybe she really did want to see him again but figured he’d be the one to bridge the gap.

Except he hadn’t.

He’d blown it.

Luke glances down at the one loose flyer in his hand, the bold block letters read:

 Looking for Coraline (or the girl in the yellow raincoat) at the hockey teams halloween party. You left an impression. Let’s finish the conversation. - Luke Hughes (the hockey star) 

Luke had concerningly been willing to attach his own phone number, knowing that in the end this might spell disaster but he couldn’t think of any other way.  Ethan peered at the flyer and let out a low whistle. “Wow. Really laying it all out there, huh?”

“Shut up, Ethan,” Luke muttered, his ears burning. He started toward the cork-board near the vending machines, where countless other notices, ads, and lost-item flyers were pinned. The board wasn’t exactly the romantic reunion he’d hoped for, but it was a start.

As he tacked up the first flyer, Ethan leaned against the machine, chuckling to himself. “You know, you’re making this way harder than it needs to be. Just ask around. Someone’s bound to know her.”

“That’s not the point,” Luke shot back. “I’m not going to embarrass her by asking the whole world if they know who she is.”

“But flyers are subtle?” Ethan teased, folding his arms and smirking. “You’re like a lost puppy, man.” Luke holds the poster up to the board, looking around for a free pin as he feels Ethan tap his shoulder lightly. 

“Dude look.” 

“Ethan I’m a bit busy can you knock it off.” Luke hisses as he tries to shake off Ethan’s hand but his friend was unrelenting continuing to tap on his shoulder until Luke couldn’t take it anymore, smacking at his friends hand turning away from the cork board. 

“Hey Luke.” Your voice was like music to his ears. His hand quickly tucking the poster behind his back as his mouth falls open in surprise. “Someone said I might be able to find you here.” You laugh, Luke taking you in like he did at the party. 

You were still as stunning as he remembers, your cheeks flushed slightly from the cold of the hockey rink, your coat buttoned all the way up your neck and your ears tucked under a beanie. You worse glasses this time, the large brown frames sitting high on your cheeks. 

“Oh my god she’s a secret nerd.” Ethan whispers letting out a heavy ‘oof’ as Luke shoves him away, “Shut the fuck up.” Luke says through gritted teeth before stepping towards you, a lazy grin spreading on his face. 

“You never got my number.” You say softly.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I kinda noticed that... after the fact.” You laugh — soft, warm, like the first sign of spring after a long winter.  Luke glances down at the crumpled flyer behind his back, then at Ethan, who’s clearly struggling to contain his laughter.

“He found a creative solution,” Ethan says, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Your eyes flick to the paper in Luke’s hand  and then back to Luke’s face in surprise. “Flyers?” Luke winces, pulling the paper out from behind him and holding it up sheepishly. 

“Yeah. I, uh… wasn’t sure how else to find you. I thought maybe you’d see one.” For a moment, you just stare at him, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re kind of a dork, aren’t you?”

Ethan snorts. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Luke glares at him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Ethan?”

“Not really.” Ethan shrugs, but when Luke’s glare sharpens, he throws his hands up. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.” He backs away, shooting you a wink as he goes. “Don’t be too hard on him, Coraline.” As soon as he’s gone, Luke turns back to you, his nerves creeping back in.

“I, uh… didn’t mean to make it weird,” he says quickly. “I just thought you were—well, I mean, are—really cool, and I wanted to keep talking to you. But I totally get if this is too much, and—”

“Luke.” You cut him off gently, stepping closer, your boots making soft taps against the tiled floor. “It’s not weird.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” You smile up at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s kind of sweet, actually.” Luke’s heart stumbles over itself, and he tries to play it cool, even though he’s sure his face is giving him away.

“So… can I get your number now?” he asks, his voice quieter, more vulnerable. You reach into your pocket, pulling out your phone and unlocking it before handing it to him. 

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Luke takes it, his fingers brushing against yours briefly — just enough to send a spark through his chest. As he types in his number, he can’t help but smile to himself.

When he hands your phone back, you glance at the screen and grin.

“Luke Hughes, hockey star,” you read out loud, teasing. Luke groans, his cheeks burning.

You laugh again, sliding your phone back into your pocket. “So… when’s this Coraline screening happening?”

“Whenever you want.”

“Good.” You tilt your head, studying him with that same curious expression from the party. “Because I wasn’t kidding — you really need to see it.”

Luke chuckles, his nerves finally settling. “I guess I’ve got some things to come clean about?”

“You have watched Coraline, haven’t you?” There’s a pause — not awkward, but filled with something unspoken. Luke just nods his head, surprised when your smile grows. 

“Good, then we can go for something a little scarier.” 

“Scarier then Coraline, doesn’t exist.” Luke jokes, letting out a breath of laughter as you join, quickly glancing toward the rink doors more of Luke’s teammates filing through the doors.

Luke shifts awkwardly on his feet, watching you carefully as you tuck your phone back into your pocket. His heart is pounding louder than the distant thuds of sticks on ice from the rink nearby. He can’t believe you’re standing here in front of him — smiling at him like you’d been hoping to run into him, too.

You’re still here. 

You came looking for him.

“Do you have practice now?” you ask again, glancing at the double doors that lead to the rink.

Luke nods. “Yeah, just drills.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Shouldn’t take long.”

You tilt your head, considering something. “And after practice?”

Luke blinks, caught off guard by the question. “Uh… nothing planned. Why?”

A grin tugs at your lips, and you glance down for a second before looking back up at him, your gaze steady but playful. “I was thinking maybe we don’t have to wait too long for that movie watch.”

Luke’s heart skips a beat. “You mean tonight?”

“Unless you’re too busy, hockey star.”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “Nope. Not busy. Definitely not busy.” You smile, the kind that makes Luke feel like the luckiest guy in the room — maybe the whole world.

“Good,” you say, taking a step closer. “Because I’d hate for you to back out after going through all the trouble of printing out those flyers.”

Luke groans, his face flushing again. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” you tease, your eyes sparkling.

Luke ducks his head, a shy smile tugging at his lips. When he looks back up, there’s a quiet determination in his gaze. “So… movie night?”

“Movie night,” you confirm. “My place?”

Luke blinks, surprised. “Yeah, sure. I mean, if that’s cool with you.”

“Definitely cool with me.” You pull your phone out again and hand it to him. “I’ll send you a text with my address.”

Luke watches you, his heart thudding faster as you step back. “So, tonight?”

“Tonight,” you agree, pulling your coat tighter around you. “Say… seven?”

“I’ll be there.” You give him one last lingering look before turning toward the door. Just as you reach it, you glance over your shoulder with a playful smile. 

“Don’t be late, Hughes. I’ll be waiting.” Luke stands there for a moment, frozen in place, replaying the whole interaction in his head like a highlight reel. He barely registers Ethan stepping back into view, his expression smug as ever.

“Well, look at you,” Ethan says, clapping Luke on the shoulder. “Got yourself a date, huh?”

Luke doesn’t even bother with a glare this time. Instead, he just shakes his head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess I do.”

+

+

Luke finds himself standing outside your door, holding a small bag of snacks and feeling more nervous than he’s ever been before a big game. He’s replayed every possible conversation in his head, hoping he won’t make a fool of himself. The door swings open before he can knock, and there you are — standing there with a soft smile, dressed comfortably in a hoodie and leggings, your glasses perched on your nose.

“Hey,” you say, your voice warm and inviting.

“Hey.”

You step aside, motioning him in. “Come on in. I’ve got the movie queued up and everything.” Luke steps inside, taking in the cozy space — blankets piled on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, and the faint scent of something sweet lingering in the air.

“My roommate decided to give us some peace so she’s at her boyfriend’s place for the night.” You start slowly, before spinning around to face him, your hands thrown up in front of you. “Not that I’m expecting you to stay the night or anything.” Luke watches the way your face starts to burn, the tips of your ears a bright pink - a soft laugh leaving him as he nods. 

“No expectations.” Luke agrees, pulling out his snacks and placing them on what he’s assuming in your bed. “So what are we watching?” 

“I was thinking we should do a modern classic - have you seen any of the Jordan peele movies?” You question, busying yourself with laying out the food on the bed. 

“No, my brothers aren’t big movie watchers so I never got the chance.” Luke says quickly, hovering awkwardly besides you as he waits for you to settle on the bed. He watches as you hoist yourself up, swishing yourself against the wall before patting the empty space besides you. 

“Well you’re in for a treat.” You smile, throat bobbing as Luke climbs onto the bed besides you, his broad frame taking up most of the bed, his feet almost hitting the end. You had made the effort of setting up the projector your sister had gotten you before you went to college, the stupid machine notoriously hard to set up but it was worth it to not have to watch the movie on your tiny laptop screen. 

“Can you turn off the lights, horror movies only work if it’s dark.” You say quietly, pointing to the lamp switch besides Luke, who reaches without having to hand off the bed like you normally do, the room shrouded in darkness as you press play on your phone connected to the projector. “Be prepared of the best psychological horror of the past ten years.” You tease, settling against your cushions as you reach forwards to grab the bowl of popcorn. 

As the opening credits roll, Luke glances over at you. You’re focused on the screen, but there’s a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips. He knows that he’s here because of a silly bet, but right now, none of that matters. What matters is this moment. You, beside him. The warmth of your presence chasing away the cold outside. The way your laughter fills the room when you catch him flinching at a particularly eerie scene.

Luke has to admit that though the movie was very entertaining he couldn’t help but look away from the projector - his eyes one the side of your face almost the entire time, watching every tiny reaction you had. His gaze only flicking back to the screen as the movie comes to it’s crescendo your eyes briefly flicking over to him, a smile growing on your face as he panics and looks away as your eyes meet. 

“Good movie, huh.” Luke says as he stretches his arms above his head, the credits playing as you let out a snort of laughter. 

“You were certainly enamoured.” 

“Sorry.” Luke sighs, his shoulders folding in on himself, the hockey player somehow shrinking to half the size he was before. “You’re just really pretty.” He admits, scolding himself in his head for his confession, the words slipping out before he even got a chance to stop them. “And now I sound like a ten year old boy telling the girl at the playground that he has a crush.” Luke laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as more words slip out. 

You blink, processing Luke's words, your heart skipping a beat as the playful smirk on your lips softens into something more genuine.

"Really?" you ask, voice quieter now, almost hesitant, as if you're afraid to break the fragile moment hanging between you.

Luke nods, his gaze darting to the floor before meeting your eyes again.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not just that you're pretty. You're... more than that. Smart, funny, kind. Being around you feels—I don't know—easy. Comfortable. Even when I'm panicking inside, like right now." He chuckles nervously, his hand rubbing the back of his neck again. "And I know I'm probably making this awkward."

You shake your head quickly.

"You're not," you whisper, your voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering wildly in your chest. Luke watches you carefully, his eyes searching yours for any sign that he's misstepped, but all he finds is warmth and something that makes his breath catch in his throat—hope.

“You’re almost falling off the bed.”  you say softly, shifting a little on the bed to make more space. Your hand reaches out, fingertips brushing against his arm in a way that feels both tentative and electric.

Luke hesitates for a moment before scooting closer. The bed dips under his weight, and suddenly the space between you feels almost nonexistent. His knee bumps against yours, and he can't help the shy smile that tugs at his lips when he hears your quiet giggle in response.

Your fingers linger on his arm, tracing a light pattern along the sleeve of his hoodie before curling around his wrist. The movie’s end credits roll on in the background, forgotten, as the room’s only source of light comes from the soft glow of the projector casting faint shadows on the walls.

"I've been watching you too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "During the movie. I thought you didn’t notice."

Luke lets out a soft laugh.

"I didn’t” he murmurs.  There’s a pause—a moment of quiet, charged with unspoken words and shared breaths. His gaze drops to your lips, just for a second, before flicking back up to your eyes. You catch the movement, your heart thudding louder in your chest.

"Luke..." you start, but whatever you were about to say gets lost as he leans in, slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you don’t. You close the remaining distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that feels both inevitable and surreal. His hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing gently along your jawline as he deepens the kiss, his touch careful, as if he’s afraid to break the moment.

Your hands slide up to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you pull him closer. The scent of him—clean, with a hint of something woodsy—fills your senses, grounding you in the reality of this moment.  When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you share a quiet, contented laugh.

The kiss was sweet. Innocent, but left Luke’s chest buzzing as he left your dorm, sneaking past the RA’s room with you, the two of you pausing at the front door as you lift yourself onto your tippy toes placing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Luke asks softly, your head nodding as you promise to meet him at the cafe near the hockey rink. 

“Luke?” You call out as he makes his way down the steps, his body turning back towards you as you whisper, “I really like you.” The words make Luke’s heart drop to his stomach. 

The stupid bet. 

But no one heard it right? 

And surely Ethan wouldn’t hold him to it? 

Luke rushes back up the steps, his hands gripping your hoodie at your waist as he pulls you towards him, leaning down and capturing your lips with his own, the two of you lost in each other for a moment before he pulls away, whispering back “I really like you too.” Luke releases you, your lips tingling as you watch him dart down the steps, bolting from sight as his cheeks flush a bright red. 

+

+

“You going to invite her to the party?” Ethan questions, his eyebrows raised as Luke glances up from his coffee. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” 

“This thing is getting kinda of serious isn’t it?” Ethan asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks down at his friend taking the lid of his drink to pour an excessive amount of sugar in the hot coffee. “I didn’t picture you as a dating kind of guy.” He adds, Luke just shrugging his shoulders as he straightens ups, placing the lid back on his drink before taking a long sip. 

“I’m not usually, but she’s something special.” Luke sighs, “I like her and I think she likes me too.” He adds noticing the way Ethan’s smile grows. 

“So you’re going to tell her, or are you waiting till you win the bet?” Ethan teases, his eyes catching the way Luke flinches slightly, a shocked expression transforming his features. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.” Ethan coos.  Luke’s jaw tightens, his mind racing. The warmth from the night before—the laughter, the kiss, the way you’d whispered that you really liked him—all of it feels fragile now, like it could shatter at any moment.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Luke repeats, his voice firmer this time. He doesn’t meet Ethan’s gaze, focusing instead on the swirl of steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Come on, man,” Ethan presses, leaning forward on the table. “We made that bet months ago. You were supposed to ask her out, take her on a couple of dates, and then call it quits. It was just supposed to be a joke—a way to get you out of your shell. But now? Now it’s looking a little more serious than that.”

“It is serious.” Luke’s voice is low, but there’s no mistaking the conviction in his tone. “I like her. A lot. And I’m not going to let some stupid bet ruin that.”

Ethan leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what’s your plan? Pretend it never happened? Hope she never finds out?”

Luke runs a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Then maybe you should tell her before someone else does.” Ethan’s words hang heavy in the air, the weight of the truth pressing down on Luke’s chest.

“I will.” Luke agrees, “Tonight at the party, I’ll tell her everything so just keep your mouth shut.” Ethan nods throwing his hands up in agreement as the both slip past a smaller figure holding the door open, a black oversized hoodie thrown up and over their head, Luke nods in thanks to the person, continuing his argument with Ethan as the continue on their way. 

The message dings on your phone as you wait for your coffee, your black hood now pooling around your neck as you let out a long sigh. 

Luke Hughes (hockey star) : I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party with me tonight - it’s at the frat house next to the rink? I can pick you up from your dorm?

Weather - Girl ☂️: I don’t know… I’ll just meet you there? 

Luke Hughes (hockey star): Ok. See you at 7.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket as you step forwards to grab your drink from the counter. 

A bet? 

Of course that’s why Luke had approached you that night. 

Someone like him would never go out with someone like you. 

+

+

You arrive at the frat house just as the sun begins to set, the amber glow of the evening stretching across the sky. The music blares from inside, the bass vibrating through the walls as you hesitate at the door, your hand resting on the knob. You’d never been a fan of parties—too loud, too chaotic. But tonight, everything felt different. It wasn’t just about the party. It was about Luke. The way he’d asked you to come, the way he’d kissed you like he meant it... and now, this lingering doubt.

A deep breath. You turn the handle and step inside.

The scene is exactly what you'd expected—college students scattered across the living room and kitchen, cups in hand, the occasional burst of laughter, music spilling into the air. You scan the crowd, trying to pick out familiar faces, until your eyes land on him. Luke’s standing by the pool table, talking with a couple of teammates, his eyes scanning the room every so often. He’s dressed casually, but he still looks effortlessly handsome. The tight fit of his shirt accentuates his broad shoulders, and his dark hair is slightly tousled, like he’s been running his hands through it all day. Your stomach tightens at the sight of him, and for a moment, all the noise around you fades. It’s just Luke, and it’s just the two of you, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you.

He notices you then, his expression shifting as his eyes lock onto yours. His lips curl into a small, tentative smile. And for a moment, you wonder if maybe this is all worth it. Maybe he really does care. But then the nagging thought about the bet creeps back in, like a shadow in the corner of your mind. Luke steps away from the table, pushing through the crowd of people as he approaches you. His smile widens, but you can see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he gets closer.

“Hey,” he greets you softly, his voice a little too calm. He’s studying you, trying to read your mood.

“Hey,” you respond, your voice a little tight. You force a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’m glad you made it,” Luke says, his gaze dropping to your hand before meeting your eyes again. “You okay? You look... tense.”

You hesitate, debating whether to tell him how you’re feeling. How everything seems off. But you don’t. You don’t want to seem like you’re overthinking things, especially not in front of everyone. Instead, you just nod.

“I’m fine. Just, you know, not really a party person,” you admit with a half-laugh, trying to make light of it. “But it’s... nice.”

Luke chuckles, his hand brushing against yours as he gestures toward the side of the room. “Want to grab a drink? I can introduce you to a few people if you want.”

You hesitate, your heart hammering in your chest. What are you really doing here? Was this all part of the game to him? Or was he genuinely trying to make you feel comfortable?

Before you can answer, a voice calls from across the room—Ethan, Luke’s friend, who’s standing with a few of his teammates, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the two of you.

“Luke! Come on, man. Get over here!” Ethan calls, clearly in the middle of some kind of banter. “We’re going to play a game, the cute girl besides you can join in too.” Luke glances over his shoulder, then looks back at you. His smile falters slightly before he gives you an apologetic look.

“Only if you want to” he says, turning away from his friends to focus completely on you, your head nods before you can think about it Luke lacing his fingers through your before walking toward Ethan and the others. 

“Thank you for joining us, weather-girl.” Ethan coos as you and Luke reach the group, a bunch of people huddled in a tight circle at the back of the house. “We’re playing never have I ever, know how to play?” You nod again, watching as Ethan clears a spot for you and Luke to join the circle, the two of you squishing between some other players from the team - Ethan quickly handing you both a red solo cup full of beer.

“I’ll go first.” Ethan cheers, “Never have I ever kissed a boy” The girls of the group chuckling amongst themselves before taking a drink, you cup raising to your lips as you take a slow sip as well the round continuing as each player having a turn in saying something they have never done. 

The circle all turn towards Luke as the person besides him finished their turn, “Never have I ever regretted asking out a pretty girl.” He says with a beaming smile, watching as Ethan groans before taking a sip of his drink shouting across the room. 

“That was a lame one.” Ethan turns towards you next with anticipation, your throat clearing as you say, “Never have I ever made a bet with my friend to ask a girl out.” The group falls silent as they all look at you, Ethan’s gaze flicking between you and Luke with a grimace, Luke gaze dropping to you in surprise as you look up at him expectedly, hoping to any higher power that he wouldn’t take a sip of his drink. 

“I can explain.” Luke whispers, recoiling a little as you let out a harsh scoff, lifting yourself from you spot on the floor in a hurry. 

“I think I’m done playing.” You hiss, pushing your way through the crowd as you bolt for the front door, ignoring the sound of Luke calling after you - letting out a shaky breath as the fresh autumn air hits your face. 

“I swear I can explain.” Luke says as he comes up behind you. 

“So I really was just a bet? What is this some fucking wattpad fanfic.” You let out a bitter laugh as you push your hair off your face. 

“Yes...well no…kind of.” Luke sighs, not knowing how to answer your question.

“What did you even bet anyway.” 

“Ethan said he’d do my chores for a month if I got you to go on a date and say you liked me first.” 

“You tricked me because of chores.” You scoff, “Was it worth it?” 

“Yes.” You let out a shocked laugh at his response, taking a few steps away from him as you throw your hands up in defeat. “It was worth it cause it meant I got to talk to you.” Luke takes a deep breath as he looks back to the party before taking a few steps towards you.  “The whole stupid thing was worth it cause it mean I actually got to meet you, instead of just staring at you from across the room, and things moved a little faster then I was anticipating but I’m not mad that it happened.” 

You blink at him, the words settling over you in a wave. You want to be angry, want to shout at him for making you feel like a game piece in some dumb bet. But as you look at Luke, there’s something raw in his expression, something that makes you hesitate. His eyes are sincere, even if the situation couldn’t be further from what you’d imagined.

“Are you telling me you really liked me? Even before this… game?” You ask, your voice coming out more fragile than you intend. Luke’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks unsure. Then he steps closer, the distance between you growing smaller with each second, the warmth of his body making you feel suddenly aware of how cold the night air is.

“I know how it sounds, and I don’t expect you to just forgive me because I’m telling you this now,” he says, his voice rough, like he’s been carrying the weight of it all for longer than he should. “I spent an hour watching you at the party that night, but I just couldn’t work up the courage to go over and talk to you and when Ethan made that bet, I saw it as a stupid way to break the ice—get us talking. And yeah, I should have told you everything upfront, but I didn’t. I messed up. I’m sorry.” The confession hangs in the air, a delicate thing between you. You feel the heat from his words, but your heart is still tangled in the doubt. He’s here, standing right in front of you, apologising. 

“I don’t know, Luke.” You shake your head, trying to process everything. “This whole thing just feels… wrong. Like I was some pawn in a game that didn’t even matter. And now you’re telling me that it did? That you really wanted to get to know me?” Luke nods, his gaze unwavering. 

“Yes. It matters. You matter. And I know it sounds like a bad excuse, but I’ve never done something like this before. I wasn’t thinking about how you’d feel, I was thinking about how I felt—and I was being selfish. I should’ve respected you more than that.” The wind picks up, tugging at your hair, and you shiver, more from the tension building between you than the cold. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say to all of this. Part of you wants to run. Part of you wants to let it go, to believe him, to give him a chance. 

You cross your arms, staring at the ground, trying to make sense of everything. The weight of the night presses on you, every sound from inside the house now distant, muffled. “I don’t know if I can just forgive you like that, Luke.”

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right away.” he says, his voice softening. You meet his eyes then, something in the way he says it making your heart race again. 

“Then what are you asking for, Luke?” You whisper, the question heavy with every word.

“I don’t know.” He says softly, his eyes dropping to the floor for a moment, before flicking back to you.  “I’m not asking for anything, I just want you to know that even if the only reason I worked up the courage to talk to you was because of the bet, it doesn’t mean that anything else had anything to do with it. I do really like you and if you want me to back off I will but I really, really don’t want to.”  Your stern expression falters a little at Luke words, your brain battling to keep your icy exterior up. 

“Please, I’ll do anything for one more chance.” Luke pleads, his hands reaching out for you before quickly dropping back to his sides. You watch as he fights with himself in his own head, trying to decide whether to pass the invisible border you had put between the two of you. 

“How about we make our own bet?” You say softly, not missing the way Luke’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “You get one date to prove that none of this was fake if you can manage that then maybe you’ll get a second one.” You say Luke’s head already nodding before you even finish your sentence. 

“And if I don’t manage to prove it?’ He asks softly. 

“Then you do all my errands for a month.” You answer finally cracking a soft smile, Lukes body visibly relaxing at your words, the joke clearing something as he takes a few steps forwards his arms wrapping around you and lifting you from the ground before you even get a chance to protest. 

“I promise I’ll prove that the bet had nothing to do with anything, and I’ll do all your errands for the rest of the year.” Luke coos, his heart throbbing in his chest as you let out the sweetest laugh, the one that makes his legs turn to jelly as he gently sets you back on the ground. 

“I think I can make that work.” You smile, the doubt remaining in your chest as Luke keeps his arms around you, a part of him needing to keep you wrapped up in his arm to truly believe that this was real. 

[jezebelblues]

dress to impress | h.s

summary: in which you're a famous streamer n you finally let harry join one of your streams. (though the evening ends a bit differently than you expected)

cw: smut18+ oral (m receiving), daddy kink if u squint, spitting, fem!reader, unedited

word count: approx 3k

| yes yes i know that dti didn’t come out till last year just pretend 😔 also btw if this is cringe random then pretend i don’t exist fr i got this idea cause caseoh randomly posted a dti update while i was at the gym so thank u caseoh

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

masterlist

December 2021 | London

Snow dusted the window softly, frosting the glass and sending melting droplets downward against the pane, dancing in the direction of the wind. The world was still in the throes of the pandemic, which allowed the lines between professional and personal to blur a bit. 

YN had been a popular streamer for a few years now, but her numbers only grew once her relationship went public with the award winning, globe-trotting man that was Harry Styles. 

She had been avoiding this moment for months. Not because she didn’t want it to happen—oh no, she had definitely wanted Harry to join her on a stream, like a thousand times—but Harry had this way of throwing himself into new situations with such confidence that it was bound to lead to some seriously chaotic results.

But her fans, their fans, had been relentless. Every single time she went live on Twitch, no matter what game she was playing—among us, fortnite, mario world—the chat exploded with one resounding request: Get Harry on the stream!

At first, she’d brush it off with a smile and a laugh, always saying something like, he’s busy in the studio, or, he’s still getting in the hang of gaming, you don’t want to see him struggling on stream, trust me. But by the time December rolled around and the UK was stuck in another lockdown, YN realized she ran out of excuses to give. It was time to bring Harry on camera.

And so, on a cold December evening, she caved.

Harry was sitting in the same room. It was originally supposed to be an office, but since YN’s online career began to take off, it slowly transformed into a streaming room. Three monitors sat on a white desk in front of a large window. The one that sat in the middle showed the view of the stream and chat, while the other two were to be used for whatever.

Harry sat on a small couch in the center of the room, his head against the arm as he lazily scrolled through his phone, completely unaware of the chaos he was about to unleash on the internet. He looked effortlessly perfect, as per usual, in his gray sweats and oversized lavender hoodie, His growing curls were clipped into a tiny bun that sat on top of his head, a pair of brown glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

The glow of the computers illuminated the room as she finished up last minute technical checks, string lights twinkling around the edge of the room for a warmer glow. YN adjusted the camera, smiling brightly as the viewers started to pile in, the chat exploding from the sight of Harry in the background. “So,” she began with a giggle, averting her eyes from the screen to her boyfriend that sat comfortably behind her. “y’ready to join us, lovey?”

He looked up from his phone, his features softening as he shut it off. His eyebrows quirked in that familiar way as he chuckled. “Oh, honey.” He sighed playfully as he stood up, ambling over to the spot behind her chair. “I was born ready.”

“Uh-huh.” She laughed, tilting her head backward to catch a glance from underneath him. “Sure you were.”

He placed a quick kiss against her forehead before he sat in the chair beside her, settling in and staring at the center monitor which revealed the chat that moved in an insane quickness. He leaned over toward YN, shoulders barely touching as he waved at her camera with a wide smile.

She snorted, pushing against her boyfriend as she leaned over to point to the other monitor with a smile. “Look, baby.” She said softly, adjusting the camera that belonged to that computer before pulling up the game roblox. She gently explained to him the set up of the stream, informing him that all he had to do was sit in his space and the chat would see him just fine. 

And they would, it took YN over twenty minutes to set the stream up in a split screen sort of way, which would allow the viewers to see both YN and Harry, and their respective screens for gameplay. 

“Oh.” Harry giggled, as he scrolled throughout the roblox website randomly. His gaze shifted between his screen and the center monitor, reading out whatever messages he could since the chat moved so quickly. He scoffed, shaking his head. “How hard can this be? Look at this!” He laughed, nodding toward his screen.

His girlfriend snorted, shaking her head as she pulled up the game dress to impress. “This isn’t grand theft auto or fifa, I don't think you'll magically be good at this.” She grinned as she leaned over again toward Harry, pulling up the same game on his monitor.

“Oh ye of little faith.” He chuckled as he watched the game load in, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera. “I’ve got this.”

harryfan1: OMG ur kidding i literally knew it

ynfan2: no WAY LMFAO

harryfan2: HES ON 

YN couldn’t help but laugh as she read the chat aloud. “You guys are way too excited for this,” she teased. “Harry’s not that big of a deal.” 

He feigned offense as he looked into the camera with his jaw slack, a huff escaping his lips. “Absolutely bonkers.” He laughed breathily, referring to his girlfriend that sat beside him. He let his shoulders falter as he settled in a bit more, a grin spreading across his lips as the neon lobby of dress to impress loaded in.

YN’s eyes flickered between both the camera and Harry as she explained the premise of the game, smiling at his cocky eye rolls and the flood of heart emojis and keysmashes from the chat that seemed to express a collective internet scream.

“Would you like my help?” YN asked, humor lacing her words as she stared at the theme that flashed over the screen, winter wonderland.

Harry cracked his knuckles, tongue in cheek as he shook his head, darting around the game’s lobby in search for the exact outfit he envisioned. 

She laughed at him, quickly putting on a cute outfit with hair and makeup that went along perfectly. Something elegant, a cream colored warmth. Her smile grew as she glanced at the chat, then to Harry’s screen.

user3: whos gonna tell bro

user4: oh honey…

His avatar was dressed in white, baggy jeans with a puffy winter jacket that had a hawaiian pattern on it. Harry could feel her eyes on him as he placed a santa hat on his avatar for the finishing look. The skin tone of the character was still a default gray, completely bald with no face. His smile began to falter as he looked over toward his girlfriend’s screen. “How’d you do that?” He pleaded, his mouth falling into a frown as he watched the timer go down. “I’ve got no face!”

She laughed again as she showed him how to put hair and makeup on, as well as put an actual skin tone on his little avatar. She couldn’t help but ask what the hell he was envisioning for his outfit.

He grinned as he spun his avatar around the lobby. “She’s wishing for Florida.” He said, pointing toward the screen. “She’s dressed in warm clothes but the patterns show she wishes to be elsewhere.”

user5: this guy has got to stick to writing songs

When the voting started, YN’s outfit was praised by the chat and those in the server—many of whom were fans who were able to join the same lobby.

And then came Harry’s turn.

The second his avatar strut down the runway, there was a moment of lag in the chat before it quickly exploded once more. 

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, pointing at the camera with a snap. “Five stars or m’not releasing the third album.”

YN’s mouth fell agape as she watched Harry place first, watching her boyfriend fold his hands together and shake them in victory as he hummed the tune to as it was. (a tune his fans were completely oblivious to) which only let his smirk grow wider. 

The next theme was royalty, and YN figured this one would be easier for Harry. After all, the man was basically British royalty in his own right. Surely he could nail this one.

But once again, Harry’s choices were questionable, but of course it made complete sense to him in his own mind. 

While YN opted for a pretty gown and tiara, Harry—ever the wildcard—dressed his avatar in what could only be described as a pirate. For royalty.

She stared at his screen, dumbfounded. “H..that’s a pirate.”

“Royalty of the seas, love.” He winked, “captain Styles at your service.”

The chat went ballistic again, loving every second of Harry’s presence on screen.

user6: h pulled out the arrgh 5000s

user7: HARRY PLEASE

They played a few more rounds, with Harry’s outfits growing increasingly outlandish each time, much to the delight of the viewers. The banter between them never let up, and the stream quickly became one of YN’s most popular broadcasts ever.

As the night wore on and the final round came to an end, YN leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. “You guys are so spoiled.” She grinned in the direction of the camera. “I hope you enjoyed.”

Harry nodded, his smile unwavering. “And what did we learn tonight?”

“That this is why you have stylists?”

He scoffed before he muttered out a no, raising a finger like he was about to make a profound statement. “We learned that I am a roblox fashion icon in the making.” 

She burst out laughing again, and this time, she didn’t stop. Her laughter was infectious, and soon Harry was laughing alongside her, neither of them able to take the game—or themselves—too seriously. 

“Well baby, fashion icon or not.” She said, poking her boyfriend’s cheek gently. “I think we all learned this might not be your true calling.”

He gasped in mock offense, swatting her hand away and clutching his chest dramatically. “Rude. Just y’wait—next time I’ll come prepared. I’ll have a roblox fashion strategy ready t’go.” 

She smirked, titling her head in his direction. “Next time, huh?”

He paused with a smile, considering. “It was a bit of fun, but next time it needs to be guitar hero or something. I’ll wipe the floor with you on that one, gorgeous.” 

The chat immediately lit up again, the fans going wild at the thought of Harry in the streams more often than not, especially if he got to show off his musical side. Some were already throwing out more ideas for the future: 

Play minecraft!

Get this man on the sims! 

Releasing an album simulator (but irl) 

YN smiled again, clearly amused by the flood of suggestions. As the stream began to wind down, she and Harry took a few moments to read some of the comments and thank the viewers for tuning in. They said their goodbyes, waving at the camera and promised to do something like this again soon—though YN wasn’t sure if Harry had fully processed just how much the fans would hold him to that.

As she logged off, Harry stood from the chair and stretched his hand above his head with an exaggerated groan, revealing his belly button and the ferns peeking out from the hem of his sweatpants. She rolled the chair in his direction, resting her head against his waist with a content sigh. “Everyone loves you.”

He smiled, letting his hands fall onto her shoulders and rub them gently. “What can I say?” He hummed, a cocky sarcasm laced in his words. 

“You’re impossible.” She whispered against the wrinkled fabric of his hoodie, though the words held no bite. 

“Oh, please.” He laughed, “You enjoyed it, watching me flounder around.”

She shrugged innocently, tilting her head upward so her chin rested against his abdomen, their gaze fixed onto each other. Her smile was lazy as she parted her lips, “It was funny watching you struggle.” 

His breaths caused her head to jut softly back and forth as she continued to lean against him, his fingers running through her hair as he hummed. “Funny huh?” His tone was gentle, delicate, as his fingers ran down from her hair to caress her cheeks, making her shiver. “Y’think its a game to tease me, hm?”

She felt her pulse quicken, a tension settling around them that replaced the previous banter. “I wasn’t teasing.” She said, her voice softer than before, but the hint of a smile still played on her lips.

Harry took the teeniest step back as his hand fell from her cheek to her chin, gripping it ever so slightly. His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, beckoning her mouth open. “No? Cause you’ve been doing it all night.” His voice was low, authoritative, and sent a rush of heat through her. He tutted toward her as he gazed down at her through his eyelashes, wanting her to part her lips a bit wider. His thumb slips into her mouth, the pad of it pressing down against her tongue.

“I think y’like pushing me.” He murmured, his breaths even and slow as he continued to hold her mouth open–which only allowed it to salivate even more. His eyes flickered from her lips to hers, a smile beginning to play upon his lips.

“What should we do about that, hm?” He cooed as he dragged his thumb away from her tongue, wetting her chin as his hand dropped to the side of her neck. Her own salvia glistened in the warm glow of the fairy lights around the room.

Her breath hitched as he bent at the waist, pressing a kiss onto her lips with his hand still cupping her neck. She melted into it, a heat pooling between her thighs as she felt his tongue against hers. His breath was cool with peppermint, his hair the scent of lavender and vanilla. 

They part slowly, strings of saliva snapping from the mutual disconnect. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth as he reaches him, gripping the back of his hoodie’s collar and pulling it off overhead. His chest rises and falls quicker than before as YN’s fingers lightly trace over the ink of the moth of his abdomen, the wings fluttering with every breath. His hands find hers as he pulls it toward the hem of his sweats. “Now,” He sighs heavily, watching her through half-lidded eyes, “be good f’me.”

She nodded as looped her fingers underneath both his sweats and his boxers, tugging them down in one continuing, slow motion until his cock slaps against the skin underneath his belly button. 

Her eyes find his, to which he grabs her chin once again, jerking it to face upward toward him. He leaned down as her lips parted, kissing her hungrily before pulling her bottom lip down gently. “Open.” He muttered, watching as she held her tongue out for him. She watched as his lips curled before spitting onto her tongue, saliva drooling from his lips to pool onto her tongue. 

She could feel her heartbeat in her core as he straightened back up, especially when he combed his digits through her hair and gripped as he reached the crown of her scalp. With her tongue still out, she neared the head of his cock—slick with precum already and the prettiest shade of pink. She swirled around the slit, watching through her eyelashes as his jaw clenched shut, a heavy exhale falling from his nose.

Her lips formed an ‘o’ as she enveloped the tip completely, closing her eyes as she savored the taste of him. She started off slow as she bobbed up and down his length, closing her inner cheeks around his cock with a hum. “Fuck.” He grunted, tightening his grip on her locks as he bucked his hips slightly. YN wrapped her hand around his length as her lips fell from his tip with a wet pop. She spat onto his cock, stroking him as she dipped her head down toward his balls, lapping and gently sucking the skin there, which had him tilt his head back in pleasure. Veins were more prominent in his neck as he groaned, the coil in his belly tightening. “Such a good girl.” He moaned softly as she wrapped her lips around his cock again, taking him deeper, her throat convulsing around the head that swelled with the threat of release. “Taking daddy’s cock so good.”

She hummed again, the reverberation causing his toes to curl against the carpet. He gathered her hair into a makeshift ponytail in his fist, guiding her movements as moans continued to fall from his lips. She could feel him begin to twitch in her throat as she gagged on his length, his movements sloppy. She could feel his quickened breaths from the way his lower abdomen fluttered against her forehead. “M’close baby–” He grunted, loosening his grip on her hair only slightly. “W-where.?” He choked out in pleasure, his abs rippling and tensing under the glow of the fairy lights, glistening from sweat. 

She only trailed her hands up his bare thighs, gripping his hips as if to keep him in place. She wanted to taste him, to suck him of every drop entirely. 

His cock pulsed against her tongue as he thrusted once more into her throat, shooting white ropes of come into her mouth with a moan. Her head continued to bob as she swirled her tongue around him, licking every drop of his release to the sound of his whimpers–the prettiest sound she’s ever heard. 

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as she parts from his cock, placing a few lazy kisses along his navel with a smile. He swallows hard, brushing strands of hair from her face with a lopsided smile. “I could get use to this.” He teases breathlessly, watching as his girlfriend shrugged his pants back up his long legs with a grin. 

She stood from her chair, pulling Harry into a kiss. His tongue brushes past her lips, his knees weak at the taste of himself mingled with her saliva. She hums against him, cupping his cheek as she parts. “Don’t get use to it, pretty boy. You still sucked.”

He laughed, his cheeks flushing a shade of pink as he shot a haphazard wink toward her. “Actually baby, that was all you.”

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

An Affair

⚡Pairing⚡→ Chris Hemsworth x femboy male reader ⚠⚡CW⚡⚠→ gay sex, rough sex, femboy reader, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, slut shaming, cheating (In this, he’s not married to his actual wife in real life, but to another woman), oral sex, blowjob, groping (Chris loves ass), anal sex, infidelity, feminization, top Chris, somnophilia, and bottom reader. I would consider this a dead dove. Also, the reader is lowkey (implied) a whore. A/N→ dont be that person to wreck a marriage/relationship home. This fic doesn’t NOT advocate for such behavior! ⚡Rating⚡→ Explicit

⚡Word Count⚡→ 1.8k

⚡Summary⚡→ You were Chris’s new neighbor. Although married and having kids, Chris was willing to risk everything if it meant getting in bed with you.

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! 

Chris was royally screwed.

When he heard they were getting new neighbors, his wife wanted to meet and welcome them to the neighborhood. A feeling in his gut told him to deny his wife’s offer to meet the neighbors, but consequentially, he decided to go. Looking back, it didn’t matter whether or not, they went to see you. It didn’t matter what path. It all came to the same outcome.

When he first saw you, his mind short-circuited. You were alluring, wearing a simple shirt with shorts that hugged your thighs. Chris never had inappropriate thoughts about another man but he couldn’t help but think about how thick your thighs were. He wanted to bite and bury his head in between them and have you suffocate him.

His gaze continued to roam your body. Below average height, around 5’6 to 5’7 (167 cm to 170 cm), and a small but plump body. Chris was having an internal crisis. He wanted to grab and squeeze every part of your body, but he was married.

He snapped out of his gaze when his wife told him to introduce himself. “My name is Chris, Chris Hemsworth.” He said as he reached out for a handshake. His mind short-circuited again when your hand fit perfectly with his. Chris’s breath hitched as he looked to see your face. You were grinning. Chris could tell you had other ulterior motives: another married man wrapped around your fingers. 

“It’s a pleasure meeting you. I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

XXXXXXX

The next few days were hell, or heaven, for Chris. His wife thought it would be a good idea for him to help move all the heavy furniture and forced him to go. Chris regretted wearing a see-through white shirt as it was an extremely hot day. He was sweating so much that the shirt clung to his skin, showing his muscular body and biceps. His shorts didn’t help the situation as they clung to his thighs and showcased his large bulge.

Things were made worse (better) when you were home, where you constantly teased and flirted with him at every chance. Wearing only a shirt that goes down to your waist and panties, his cock throbbed every time you bent down to pick something up, giving him a full view of your plumped ass, even going as far as shaking it.

Other times, whenever he needed a break, you would come behind him and start massaging his aching muscles. Chris groaned at the way your hands delicately handled his body. He didn’t stop you when your hands ventured dangerously close to his cock.

Chris’s breath hitched before a throaty groan escaped his mouth after your hand grazed over his throbbing erection. The logical side of his brain kicked in as he pushed you off of him. When he looked at you, there was no shame in your eyes. You were giggling! In his face! Chris stormed upstairs with the excuse of rearranging the furniture.

He wasn’t doing that. 

He slammed the bathroom door open before closing it. He stumbled to pull his pants and briefs down. When he finally took off his pants, he wrapped his hand around his aching cock. Chris groaned loudly as he started thrusting into his hand. His cock was leaking copious amounts of precum, coating his hand and the counter with the translucent substance.

Chris’s muscles were tensing as his orgasm was nearing. The loud sound of fapping filled the bathroom along with his heavy balls slapping against his hand. He can’t think of anyone else but you. You kept invading his mind, not even the thoughts of his wife could stop you.

It didn’t take long before Chris’s cock was spurting its thick load, coating his hand, the floor, and the counter with the thick white substance.

XXXXXXX

Chris thought that would be the last time he saw you. He was wrong, so wrong. 

Not only were you coming over every day, but you were also bonding with his wife and children. You both have the same taste in fashion, and she loves it when you dress like a girl. Chris also loves that, but won’t say that outright.

He would see you coming in wearing thigh-highs and a skirt that barely covered your ass. He knows what you’re doing and it was working. Chris would pop a boner every time he saw you, and it got to a point where he didn’t care anymore and began responding to your teases.

One example was when you were grinding your ass against his cock. Chris responded by grabbing your hips and thrusting his aching cock in between your thighs like a fleshlight. Another time, you would stroke his cock, and it didn’t even matter if his wife was nearby.

Everything climaxed when his wife told him to deliver food to you. He would be alone with you. 

Chris knocked on the door, waiting for you to answer, but then he realized the door was open and he entered the quiet house. He looked around before his eyes came down on your sleeping body. You were only wearing panties while laying down on your stomach, your back arched to make that ass prominent. 

Chris could feel the blood pumping down to his cock. His breathing got heavier as he watched you. There was nobody here, nobody would find out. Pushing all rational thoughts aside, Chris stalked towards you, pulling down his pants and letting his cock out.

His heart was pounding faster in his chest and his breathing got heavier. His weight sank into the couch as he came face-to-face with your ass, his large hands came down and started groping your thick ass. He marveled at the plush flesh and the softness; it was like he was in a trance.

His hands sink into your flesh as he gropes it faster, grinning when he sees your ass jiggling side-to-side. Chris leans closer, pulling your panties to the side, and begins to lick and bite your cheeks, leaving behind marks and bruises before pulling your cheeks apart, revealing your puckered hole to him.

Chris didn’t waste a minute and began eating you out, licking long strips against your hole, smirking when he saw the hole spasming. He continued these actions before thrusting his tongue inside. Chris’s eyes rolled back as he could smell your sweet scent. He could get drunk from this and he only wanted more.

Suddenly, Chris could feel your body move away from his grasp. You had awoken from your slumber. He froze in place but was suddenly pushed onto his back before he felt your weight on his chest, your ass pressing against his face.

Being faced with Chris’s large cock was everything you wanted. You began stroking the large piece of meat, mesmerized by the copious amounts of precum from the tip. The room filled with loud squelching sounds from slathering Chris’s cock with his precum and the groans of Chris as you suffocated him with your ass.

You began licking the sides of his cock, tracing the prominent vein, whimpering at the taste and smell of Chris’s cock. It was causing your mind to turn into mush from lust and need. Chris was no different as he was in the same position.

Chris groans into your ass, feeling his cock being surrounded by the wetness and warmth of your mouth. He could feel your tongue masterfully swirl around his tip and sides, groping his heavy balls. He couldn’t stop thinking that you were much better than his wife.

You could feel Chris press two fingers into your ass. Your moans sent vibration through Chris’s cock which caused him to thrust his fingers faster as he also wrapped his other hand around your cock and started stroking. The living room was filled with muffled moans and groans. 

The room was getting hotter. Chris could feel his orgasm coming and could feel yours too. You pulled back from the large cock with a loud plop and Chris pulled his fingers back. 

After a few minutes of recollection, Chris manhandled you and pushed you onto your stomach. With a single thrust, he rams his throbbing cock into your aching hole.

Your eyes rolled back as your hole was filled. Chris groaned loudly as his cock was swallowed deeper into your ass. It was tight and warm like your body was made for him to touch. After a few minutes, Chris begins his hard thrusts.

Moans groans, and the sound of skin-on-skin filled the room. Chris’s grip on your hips tightens as he leans down and bites your ear.

“Fucking slut. Seducing a married man. How many other men have you seduced?” Chris growls as he pulls out before slamming back in. You could feel his hot breath against your ear, your cock throbbing and aching, precum soaking the couch cushions.

“Fuck, baby. Oh my… fucking god. So good…” Chris groans as your moans got louder, his cock hitting your prostate continuously. 

“So much better than my wife… doesn’t let me touch nowadays… much tighter. Good thing I have you willing to be my cumdump. Let me breed you, baby? Please let me breed you.” Chris says as he gets desperate at the end of his sentence. His cock was throbbing more, heavy balls tightening.

“Gonna cum soon. Gonna let me breed this ass? Maybe I’ll knock you up.” Chris groans. He knows you can’t get pregnant but that only heightens his breeding and pregnancy kink.

You nod your head, desperately wanting Chris to flood your guts with his thick load. The thrusting got sloppy as Chris bit down on your neck and gave one final thrust.

Chris lets out a roar, his cum was like an apocalyptic flood. “Get pregnant, get fucking pregnant!” Chris continued giving sloppy thrusts, pushing his thick load deeper, some of it leaked out onto the cushions.

You came hands-free, your cock spurting its load all over the cushions and your stomach. Chris tried pulling out but stopped as you begged for him to not pull out, wanting to keep his cum inside.

“Okay, baby. I won’t pull out.” Chris says tenderly as his hands groped your sides, giving small kisses. 

Chris was the best conquest. You may stay with him longer. A man has his needs, and you are happy to satisfy them.

THE END

A/n: Hello, my strawberries! I hope y’all, enjoy this, and again; I don’t advocate cheating! Special thanks to @sagethegaywitch!

Taglist: @spnfanboy777 @meyocoko @buckyshusband0 @mack-thedork @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @zamfam4272 @ghostking4m @maxxioislost

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[stove-top96]

Water Colour Eyes

Chapter 01

Y Batfam x Gn Reader

Featuring: platonic Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne (no Jason in this chapter)

2.3k words

Im very new to tumblr and was recently inspired by @acid-ixx to try writing my own story, please go easy on me but any and all advice will be greatly appreciated. (Im still trying to figure out how this app works but I know the basics). The only knowledge I have of working in a restaurant is bistro huddy.

Rubbing your temples you could just feel the headache forming. It was going to be one of those shifts, the kind that drags on and on. Standing behind the hostess stand shuffling through the reservation book scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Flipping through the pages only pausing once you spot his name “Bruce Wayne”. That name became a fixture in the book, always booking at 6:30 and specifically requesting you as his server. Within the past 2 months he’s definitely become your regular, and although he is technically your only regular, he just has a certain quality that sets him apart from your co-workers regulars. Sure he’s a pleasure to have as a customer, always punctual, kind, and very generous with the tips. There’s just something you can’t quite place your finger on, he tends to get a little personal. He started calling you by your first name, and always asked you about your life. But you’ve always chalked it up to him being a ditzy guy who’s never been told no. Even if he carries himself with a certain air, alluding that he knows much more than he lets on. it seems like no one else questions it, so why should you? Regardless, his tips were good enough to let him call you by your name and ask you about your personal life.

La Vie Royale was always busy on Fridays. Swarming with creeps who always stared too long, and buzzing with heiresses who always had something to complain about. For being Gothams richest they almost never tipped well, and when they did it was some lonely wealthy old weirdo on a date with their sugar baby. Co-workers weren’t much help either, specifically the superiors always criticizing and critiquing never bothering to hide the contempt in their voices when speaking. The Kitchen was like another world, one you weren’t welcome in. The other servers stayed in their lane, and always kept to each other. That’s what it’s like for every newbie who somehow snatches Gothams richest billionaire for a regular. The only saving grace was the hostesses who, like you, were at the bottom of the La Vie Royale food chain.

Glancing at the clock reading 5:47, plenty of time to mentally prepare for dealing with Albertine while you serve the playboy billionaire. Albertine was possibly the worst manager for the night, she’d always get so on edge when she’d find out he was dining here for the evening. Glancing over and you can see her talking to one of the other servers, eyes locked on you. God, you could just feel that headache getting worse, and after a long day of classes you pray he’d be a no show for once. Wishful thinking though, the best you can hope for is getting through this shift without a lecture. Rather than contemplating how dreadful this shift will be at the hostess stand, you might as well look busy and get a head start on your side work.

Once the minute hand hit 30 like clock work, Bruce Wayne walked in. Smiling at the familiar face of the regular, this time he wasn’t alone. Three young men walked in right after. Raising an eyebrow, they were clearly in the same party. Why didn’t his assistant say he’d have guests when they booked him the reservation? Looking more closely at the boys it’s clear they also have that odd quality in common with Mr Wayne. One looked barely out of high school, and had been scrolling on his phone with a smirk on his face. The youngest, likely in middle school, had an aura that demanded a respect unfit for his age. The oldest, probably in his mid twenties, seemed to have a natural charm to him. You had always known Wayne had his fair share of children, he talked about them often although you could never put a name to a face.

“Wow Mr Wayne, you finally brought some guests with you today” you tease as you greet the group and check them in for their reservation. you hear a chuckle and glance up to see Bruce’s smile, it’s warm and reaches his eyes. “Well I figured it was about time I took my kids out with me”. Giving a polite nod and smiling as he introduces his kids. “I see, your table will ready in a few minutes, we didn’t expect you to bring any guests tonight” Mr Wayne huffs eyeing the oldest “I apologize it was a last minute change in plans, Dick was visiting and insisted on going out” The oldest Dick chimes in “you’ll still be able to fit us in right?” His voice is calm, like he knows the answer and just wants you to hear you talk. “ I’m sure we can, I’ll just have to go clear the table” eyes glued to the reservation book, moving some other reservations around to accommodate the new change. Something a restaurant as refined as La Vie Royale would never do, although Albertine and every other superior insisted that Mr Wayne be accommodated in any way possible. He brought good press, and according to a rumour amongst the staff he even considered buying it a while back. Giving the group a polite nod as you rush off, to clear the other tables. Missing the brief dejected look on the oldest boy's face.

Albertine noticing the Wayne family standing alone makes a beeline towards them. “Have you been helped yet?” She asks in a voice the family could only describe as sickly sweet. “Yes our server is just clearing the table” Tim’s voice monotone, not even bothering to glance up from his phone. Albertine pauses, eyes widening for a split second then back to the false smile “I see” she says as if contemplating something before walking away, sending a sharp glare in your direction as she does. The interaction not going unnoticed by the Wayne’s. “you will be at fault if they get reprimanded” Damian pipes up glaring at Tim. Staring down at the younger Wayne, “she’ll find something to get mad at tonight no matter what” he argues back, knoe he doesn’t have the best excuse. A small feeling of guilt starts to bubble in his chest. Tim realized his slip up too late. It's likely you’ll get yelled at for keeping such “prestigious guests waiting” once they’ve finished with their meal. Glancing at Dick’s and Bruce’s faces, it’s clear they’re planning ways to ease the consequences you’ll likely face later tonight. Tim glances back down to Damian only to find his glare still present.

“Thank you for your patience” your voice pulls them out of their trance, calming down the rising tension. It reminds them of why they came tonight, to see you. Oblivious to their true intentions you smile, grabbing the menus “follow me”. As you lead them to their table Bruce and Tim make note of how many others are sitting in your section for the night, some of them they recognize from galas others are unimportant. however your section is completely full. Finally reaching their table, it isn’t Bruce’s normal table much to his disdain; he doesn't have the vantage point to subtly watch over you. Although one thing he can see from his seat is that horrid woman glaring at you, waiting for the chance to take you away from them only just to scold you. After dropping off the menus and giving a rundown of the night's specials, you leave telling them you’ll be back in a few minutes for their orders. As you walk away Bruce notices your manager snapping with her hands and glaring at you with that permanent scowl on her face. She motions for you to follow her to the back.

After witnessing that interaction the boys are only left to imagine what she’s yelling at you about. Most of the family members are able to hide their contempt after seeing your manager's rude behaviour, the witch’s actions will likely dictate the mood for the rest of the night. Dick is the only one visibly upset, Blüdhaven has been so chaotic recently getting to see you tonight had been the only thing that kept him from falling apart. Now because that wicked witch of the waste is on some power trip, whatever lecture she’s giving you right now will weigh on you the whole night, leaving you to be even more reserved than you already are. How is he supposed to be a good brother to you if you don't let him in?,The rest of the family comes to a similar conclusion. It's clear that this job environment is an unhealthy one, they would rather you work somewhere else, or better yet not at all. The only reason they’ve allowed you to work here for so long is because it’s the most practical way to grow closer to you. Once they’re further along with the plan, you won’t ever have to step foot in this place again.

“Sorry about the wait” your voice soft, eyes not meeting theirs, face carrying a faint frustration. their prediction clearly came to fruition, much to the family’s displeasure. “What can I get y’all to drink” you smile, attempting to remain composed as you take their orders. A quality of yours the family admired, although they often wished you’d take your mask off and allow yourself to be vulnerable around them. But for now they’re your guests, not your family. Writing down their order smiling the same forced smile “perfect I’ll be right back with those” once again walking away. “Why can’t that women understand they’re not meant to handle that much pressure, it’s absurd how she expects them to perform optimally now” Damian voices his opinion, his expression unreadable to most but it’s evident to the family he’s unbelievably angry at just how much you let that women affect you. “Why can’t you just fire her, it would make our baby bird's life much easier” Dick who is also in aggrence, his protectiveness evident in his voice. Dick’s question goes unanswered. Truthfully even if some of the family tries to dénie it, the reason they kept all these horrible coworkers around you was selfish. They wanted to push you to your limits, before they swooped in to save you.

3 minutes is the standard time for a table to wait for drinks. However with the Waynes your managers instilled into the whole staff that they never wait for a table, 1 minute 50 seconds is their standard for drinks and 25 minutes for food. With Albertine breathing down your neck, having 4 other tables to attend too, and a pounding headache. there’s not much keeping you from breaking down. The only thing you want right now is your bed, but that won’t happen for at least another 4 hours depending on when you're cut. At least Roa clocks in at 7:00, which is in roughly 10 minutes. Finishing off the drinks with Bruce’s red wine, you push down your stress and prepare to head over. “Here you go” you place everyone’s respective drinks in front of them. “Is everyone ready to order” hand instivily reaching for your notebook, but remembering what Albertine told you in the back “if you want to look somewhat professional at least memorize their orders, no notepad” you stop yourself, and pray they don’t order anything too complicated. “I’ll have the 8oz steak, medium rare” Burce’s order wouldn’t be a problem, he always got the same thing. “Can I get the Coq au vin” the oldest boy orders, who you’re pretty sure is dick. Tim goes next “I’ll get the boeuf bourguignon”, he has a satisfied smirk, probably because he has the best pronunciation so far. “may I have the ratatouille” The youngest orders, clearly annoyed by his brother’s antics. “Perfect I’ll go ring those in”, mumbling their orders to yourself as you ring them in, thankful they didn’t ask for any accommodations or changes you should be able to remember them just fine.

“They won’t make a mistake will they?” Dick asks, stressed at the fact they didn’t grab their notebook. “They shouldn’t, although if you ordered what you originally wanted they definitely would have” Bruce’s answer’s straight to the point. Although there’s a subtle praise in his wording, appreciating how they eased your workload. “It’s despicable just how much they're overworking them here” Damian's scowl seems to be permanent as he watches you attend to other tables, he knows it’s your job but they’re the Waynes they should be the only table you attend to tonight. That good for nothing manager who cares far too much about their opinion can’t even get that one thing right. “You got that right, and with how the night’s going I bet they’ll only check on us two times, three if we’re lucky” Tim’s voice piss’s Damian off even more, even if it is in agreement. “You don’t actually mean that” Dick pipes in,his voice radiating a sense of distress. “Of course I do, look at them. barely keeping it together” Tim points out. It’s true the tension in your shoulders is evident and your mask is already slipping, the worst part there’s almost nothing they can do besides tip you. Although even that doesn’t feel like enough. The server’s here tip out not only to the hostesses and busboys but also to the back, additionally you all have to pool your tips and split them evenly amongst the staff. This fact does nothing but motivate the Waynes to get you out of here as soon as possible.

23 minutes tick by, as the Wayne family watches you talk to other customers, complete your side work, and narrowly avoid another scolding from that damn manager. It bothers them that Tim was right, accepting that tonight is just an evening of observing you rather than growing slightly closer. It's moments like these that makes Bruce wish his name wasn’t as influential as it is. Thankfully you approach them once again with their meals. Although, the stress on your face is more prominent than earlier, the smile is even more forced, with the way you carry yourself you’re clearly being pushed to the limits. “Here you all go” even your voice sounds so much more tired, compared to when you were greeting them. At least you got their order right, not that any of them would say anything if you didn’t. “Anything else I can grab you?” You ask, so considerate they really should be the ones taking care of you, but all in due time. “I believe we’ll be alright” Bruce replies, not wanting you to strain yourself even more.

Only approaching them once as they ate, only to ask them if everything was to their liking. They knew it was protocol to ask each table that question, but they still wished you’d approach them, and initiate a conversation about anything but the food. As they ate in silence it’s clear tonight they didn’t make as much progress as they’d like. Maybe Bruce should have kept these outings to himself for a little longer. Or perhaps they should go on a day Jacques is the manager, he tends to be somewhat more lenient. Whatever the case may be this evening has been bittersweet for the entire family, and they’ll plan accordingly for next week to make up for the lost progress. Because that’s what family does for each other, they go above and beyond.

Next

[doctorho]

dripping velvet, purring dark

Academy era Viktor x fem! curvy reader, 4.5k, no warnings only love in this house (ok there is a conversation about some people being idiots which can be interpreted as the reader getting unwanted attention at a party but it's nothing graphic or anything i promise and no-one is mean to her) also i made viktor horny and slightly subby because that's what the gremlins in my brain wanted. you're welcome. yeah! hi! not sure what this is, but here you go. the reader is described as she/her here (and curvy, and soft, and she is wearing an evening gown, because i wanted to think about pretty dresses). idk. have a thing. happy friday.

Viktor likes to think of himself as a person who's usually capable of focusing on things pretty well. On the task at hand. Give him a faulty circuit and he'll poke at it long enough to find the broken component, no problem. An error in the calculations? He'll find that missing minus sign or forgotten exponent, easy. He'll strip a wire in his sleep.

The task at hand now, though? The problem?

He had to sit through a whole evening of presentations at the academy end-of-year party, put on a polite face for the investors, and pretend not to care that one idiot after another was lining up to flirt with you while he was watching from the sidelines. You were wearing a dress that felt sinful to look at, and there was something primitive gnawing at the inside of his chest begging to be let out, and he had to just stand there and nod through the conversations, pretend he wasn't slowly boiling from the inside out.

And he was failing miserably. 

He’d known he was in trouble from the moment he saw you that night – all expensive fabric covering smooth curves and soft-looking skin, sparkling eyes and easy smiles, and he’d been done for. Before this, it’d been much easier to compartmentalize his feelings; before this, it'd been easier to ignore them. 

Before he’d kept his distance, emotionally and physically speaking, because, well, it’d been easier. He'd seen you around the Academy, all bubbling laughs and raw-honest radiant smiles and confident solutions, and he'd known that you looked…appealing, but he wasn't in the habit of holding up any illusions about what you might think of him in return. His place was in the dark dusty corner of the lab, turning over the ever-ticking problems, while you were out there shining like the sun. And sometimes you came by the lab, with new ideas or suggestions or just to borrow some equipment or ask about a shipment, and he had resigned to his role of staying at his desk pretending he wasn't burning to be closer to your orbit. 

But when he sees you in the low lighting of the party, leaning to the bar and laughing, something just breaks in him. And then he can’t pretend to ignore it any longer. And sure, maybe he’s a little bit drunk, it was easier to stand these events that way, but it still feels like a solid-honest truth in his bones that he wanted to get closer to you, and suddenly he couldn’t stand the conversation he was in the middle of. Because one of them – the sour idiots he’d catalogued in his head for the whole night, the stupid people trying to impress you with their embellished stories and inherited wealth who weren’t worth your time – one of them was circling you like a hyena again, smiling.

You were wearing a dark, floor-length gown that wasn’t, on a purely technical level, much different from what about 50% of the other guests were wearing. However, it seemed to create a significant caveat that even though there wasn’t anything indecent in the dress itself, seeing it on you made him feel like maybe he shouldn’t look at you for too long or he might spontaneously combust. There was a slit on the side that revealed a more than generous amount of leg when you walked, and his focus kept wandering from that to your silhouette, the soft curve of your hips, your chest, your face – no, that’s worse, don’t stare, she'll notice – and truly, he had to force himself to keep his eyes at least vaguely on the vicinity of the person who was currently talking to him. Something about statistics and return investment. Yes. 

He nods, pretending to look interested.

The dress drapes over your hips in soft little cascades, the fabric shimmering lightly as you moved, and something in his brain was itching, begging to run his fingers over it, to know what it feels like, to know what you feel like under it, all soft and warm and pliable under his fingers, and preferably sighing something into the crook of his neck, and–

“We'd like to get our investment back within a year,” the guy that's talking to him says – Viktor can't even remember his name, and he doesn’t really even care – and he just shifts his eyes back to the guy slowly. 

“A year?” he repeats, with the barest amount of feigned interest, and the guy goes off in a whole new tangent. Viktor shifts his posture, and lets his eyes glide over to where you were again. 

One of those idiots, one he thankfully doesn’t have the displeasure of knowing personally but who must be the son of some crooked diplomat, says something to you and you scoff through a smile, roll your eyes, and lean further into the counter at the bar. Viktor has to pretend to be present for his own conversation – yes, the new coating material for the wires was more heat-resistant, no, there was still the issue of mechanical stress, they were working on it – and you say something in answer to the current idiot (third of the night, he’d counted), and it is killing him that he doesn’t know what it is. 

You’d turned down the first two, from what he could tell. But this latest idiot was still talking to you, like he was in any way entitled to your company. And it's making something inside Viktor raise its hackles, and he doesn’t especially like feeling like that, because he couldn't justify feeling like that to himself in any tangible way, and then it all just boiled down to a resigned even if she deserves better than that i have no business dictating that for her. 

He's just about to focus on the conversation he was supposedly participating in again when something happens. He can't make out the details, but imbecile number three seems to lean way too close to you, says something, and smiles in a way that makes something cold creep down the back of Viktor's neck. And your expression coldens, too, and you say something to him, and turn away, more rigid than you'd been the whole evening. 

“Excuse me,” Viktor is saying to the Investment Guy before he can fully think it through, his own voice feeling distant in his ears, and then he's walking to the bar. 

You're alone – the idiot had had the sense to leave you alone quickly, at least. That's good. Viktor isn't sure what he's doing, but then he's leaning to the bar next to you and ordering another drink and trying to look like he isn't thinking too hard about what to do next. 

“Whatever he just proposed to you,” Viktor says slowly, looking over the bar instead of directly at you, “I assure you you can do better.”

He can hear you take a deep breath, shift a little, and sigh it out with what sounded like almost a laugh. 

“Yeah,” you agree, “I don't know what it is about people like that that makes them think they can just…” You sigh again, and make a hand gesture towards the room. ”You know.”

“Unfortunately,” he answers, resigned, “yes. I do.” 

He gets his drink and thanks the bartender, and then leans to the counter too, mimicking your posture, holding the drink and letting it swirl around in his glass. “Have you talked with anyone actually worth your time tonight?” 

You hmm. Then, “there was a little girl earlier that told me some fascinating things about insect metamorphosis.” You say casually. 

And Viktor laughs. Without meaning to, he laughs, and you smile in response, visibly relaxing a little.

“I don't think she was on the guest list though.” You continue. 

He hums in response, and rearranges his grip on the handle of his cane. “Sounds much more interesting than the conversations I've been in tonight.”

“I know,” you answer, and he can hear the smile in your voice, “you think we could swap out one of the main speakers with her?” 

He hmms again, looking over the stage thoughtfully. “I think it would count as a public service,” he nods a little, considering the list of speakers yet to come, “what do you think, who'd be a good target?”

You shift in your place, looking over the same list of speakers, plastered over the walls on both sides of the stage. “The financial talk,” you answer, “Mr. Ross. I'd much rather listen to insect facts than another boring talk about investing.”

Viktor nods. “You distract him, I'll whack him unconscious?” he offers, and you laugh. You laugh, and it warms something in him. 

“And then what?” you continue, still smiling, and he has to look away to keep his composure. 

He shrugs. “Eh,” he answers, “we drag him to a bathtub somewhere and act like he just passed out there?" He shrugs, "I happen to know three ways to get out of this room that I'm pretty sure we could use unnoticed.”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, “and then we just find the girl and ask her if she wants to talk about bugs for half an hour. Easy.”

“Exactly,” he agrees, “and then we congratulate ourselves for making the evening better for everybody.”

"Except maybe Mr. Ross."

"No," he counters, looking over the crowd, "I think he would prefer a nice little nap. Surely not even he wants to hear himself talk all the time." He takes a sip of his drink, "and I think waking up in a bathtub would be a nice change of pace to the rumors of other places he seems to have a habit of waking up in after events such as these."

“Good point,” you shift in your place, settling to lean to the counter a bit closer to him. “Perfect plan. But why'd you get to whack him unconscious and not me?”

Viktor blinks. Lifts one eyebrow. “Because you are by far more distracting than I am,” he answers, “and I thought the plan could use the distraction.”

“I don't think that's true,” you answer, “I think you're plenty distracting on your own.”

Now, he lets himself look at you. Really, properly look at you, and not even half-trying to hide it. You're smiling now, shoulders relaxed, holding your drink with fingers wrapped loosely around it, and in the warm lights of the bar there's a golden glow on your skin, and something breathless at the bottom of his stomach is aching to get closer to you, to touch you, to see if his hand would fit on your waist as well as he thinks it would, to see how you would react to that, if he could make you smile in a different way, what sounds he could get you to make for him–

“Agree to disagree,” he says, averts his eyes, and takes a sip of his drink. 

Tries to tell that wild-hungry purring thing in him to behave. 

Someone reasonable comes to talk to you – and it's about work, which is…something, probably, he has to stop himself from thinking it's better than those earlier idiots, because who's he to decide that for you? He gives you a casual wave and a nod as you depart with a smile and get swept up in the conversation about new ideas and solutions and this-new-thing you've been looking at. And he watches as you start talking excitedly, all golden and glittering, easy conversation and confident smiles, and quietly (not-so quietly) he concludes that maybe you hadn't had many worthwhile conversations with any of the guests that night because you were the most worthwhile person in there to talk to. 

He stays there sipping his drink and wondering what would be the closest appropriate time to slip out. He'd made an appearance, and technically nothing could be expected from him beyond that point. Sure, Jayce might tell him he could've stayed a bit longer, he could use the support, but nothing dramatic would happen. 

The party drones on, and he makes no effort to move – and really, he tries not to think about it too much, but that was at least in part because he wanted to keep looking at you. He promptly ignores this, even when you're laughing at something someone else said and that heavy-dark-purring something at the bottom of his stomach doesn't like it very much. 

Someone comes to ask for his opinion on something, and with a tiny sigh, he lets them pull him into the loop of conversations again. Yes, we are trying to simplify the design, no we can't cut back from the materials, they are what they are for a reason. 

Somewhere around his third ‘Why would you think that?’ of that particular conversation, he's had enough. People were stupid, and he's had enough. He's just trying to come up with ways to get out of the conversation preferably without starting a scandal of some sort, when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turns around to look at who it belongs to, and then everything in his head is quiet for a moment. 

“Hey,” you say, smiling, “sorry to interrupt, but can I steal you away for a moment?” you ask, slipping your hand feather-light down his arm, and he has to suppress a shiver. 

Viktor furrows his brows and opens his mouth, and then, like an idiot, says nothing. But he turns to leave, thankful for the window of opportunity.  

“You remember that thing we talked about before?” you continue as you steer him away from the earlier group smoothly, “I found someone who's interested in those three escape routes you had up your sleeve.” 

“Who?” he asks, because that's the only thing he can think of. You've linked your arm with his, and you're leaning on him, and you're soft and warm and you smell good, and he doesn’t trust his ability to form a full sentence. 

“Me,” you answer, “and judging by how you just looked out there,” you continue, “you.”

Viktor swallows, and something in his brain purrs at the idea. 

“This way,” he says, nodding towards an old stage exit, and honestly, he doesn’t even care why you want to leave, he's just grateful for the distraction and the company and drinking in every warm square inch of skin contact that you're willing to give him, even if it is just walking with your shoulder pressed against his. 

If it turned out to be a plot where you actually wanted to whack someone unconscious, he'd worry about that later. For now he was just happy to leave, and happier that you were leaving with him. 

It's easy to slip away from the crowd, and into the space between the stage curtain and the wall, if you know where you're going. You effortlessly fall a bit further from his side but keep his hand on yours, letting him pull you along, and quietly he wonders how and why and holy shit. He decides not to question it though, and keeps walking through the dim space between the cold old wall and the cascades of warm heavy velvet curtains. 

“Do you want to leave the party,” he asks, voice quiet now that the background buzz of people was muffled by the curtain, “or just get away from it?” 

You hmm behind him, clearly through a smile, and he makes the mistake of looking back at you. Surrounded by the dark red velvet curtains and only slivers of light from each side, his head – and the rest of his body – get entirely the wrong idea of what you're doing in there, because you look like a goddess in the small dim space, and he might crumble into ashes if he keeps looking at you, or he might do something stupid like pull you closer and press you into the wall, to see if your eyes would widen, if you'd gasp from the cold wall, if he could find other ways to make you gasp–

so he turns his eyes away and keeps talking. 

He quickly finds he has to clear his throat before he can do that. “There is a staff entrance that goes past the kitchen a little ways further,” he says, and motions forwards, “or there is a disused indoor balcony surrounding the stage. You would be able to see the party, but it'd feel…removed.”

You lean closer, close enough that when your voice is muffled by the surrounding velvet, it feels like you're speaking right in his ear, and he has to swallow and remind himself that that's just situational coincidence, nothing more. 

“Why do you know so many ways to get out of here?” you ask, “You sneak out a lot?” 

“I am a fan of interesting architecture,” he answers, “and not as much a fan of pretentious social gatherings.” 

“Fair,” you answer, then lean your chin on his shoulder, and he feels like his spine might spontaneously melt. “In your expertise, what would you recommend?”

“Well,” he says, trying to make it sound casual and like he wasn't breathless at all, “I think the balcony has some fairly interesting architecture.” And the lights of the party would look pretty from there. And you'd both get a breather away from the crowd. And he'd get to keep talking to you a little bit longer. And, as selfish as the thought felt, he couldn't deny it; he'd get to keep having you to himself for a little bit longer. 

“Show me the balcony,” you smile, and he obliges. Happily, he obliges. So he pulls you into a narrow staircase, and then, up. 

At the end of it there is a room that could, only by technical definition alone, be called a balcony – it was more like a hole carved into the wall, having at some point been used for seating or equipment space at events and concerts, and now just served as half-forgotten extra storage. It had, he supposed, once upon a time looked like the banquet hall did, all smooth surfaces and warm lights and thematically switched-out decorations, but now it was mostly the standard red velvet and dark wood and light marble, forgotten by the party and some of the golden light from the hall spilling into it by pure coincidence. There were velvet curtains on each side of the room, and you drop his hand to go look over the railing, and down at the party. 

His hand instantly feels cold without yours in it, but he tries his best to ignore this, and follows you to look down at the party, too. 

It looks much smaller from up there. Less chaotic. 

“I didn't know there was a space like this here.” You say quietly, “can they see us?” 

“Part of the design,” he answers, “you're not supposed to notice these spaces unless people want you to. Good place to hide extra orchestra pieces and make it feel like the sound is coming from nowhere. And–” he looks over at the people, colorful and mingling, “no, they can't. Not unless you want them to.” Then, he smiles, just a little. “But they'll be able to hear us, if we direct our voices upwards and wait for things to quiet down there first.”

You turn to look at him. 

“Sloped ceilings,” he explains with a shrug, “again, good for a hidden orchestra accompaniment.” 

“But they can't hear us talking?*

“Not over themselves,” he answers, “ironic, I know.”

You hum thoughtfully and turn around, with your back to the railing, and then you look at him and he needs to kick his brain back in line. You were gorgeous in the dim lighting, all relaxed and smiling, and–

He grips the handle of his cane a little tighter. 

“Good,” you say, and the way you say it – all quiet and warm and liquid – makes something in him purr again, entirely against his better judgement. 

“Why is it good?” he asks, because he has to hold on to some semblance of logic here, because otherwise he might just vaporize out into the atmosphere. 

“Why do you think?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, and oh that just isn't fair. You're just there, just a warm breath of space away, all soft and pretty and languid–

He doesn’t know what to say, so he goes with what feels like the safest course of action. 

“In case we want to plot any more ways to violently derail the evening's program?”

You exhale a small laugh and lean back. 

And then you lift a hand on his chest, and he's pretty sure his heart might be overheating soon. 

“Sure,” you answer, “that.” You inch closer, and Viktor is having a hard time remembering how to breathe. “Or anything else we might not want them overhearing.”

“Like?” He exhales, careful not to break the moment, and then you smile, warm and private and for him, and his insides liquify into warm, honey-thick goo, and oh, he’s not going to recover from this. 

“Like,” you repeat slowly, and then you push yourself away from the balcony railing, just slightly, into the side of the wall covered by the velvet curtain, and he lets you pull him with you, he's not stupid. His brain – along with the rest of his body – might be in the process of actively melting, but he's not stupid. If you wanted to pull him into a shadowed, velvet-covered corner, he would follow no questions asked, especially on a night like this when his insides were buzzing and you looked like that. When you looked at him like that. You smile again, and stop moving when your back hits a wall, and then you pull him just close enough to whisper into his ear. “...Anything else we might not want them overhearing.” you repeat, and, yeah, Viktor is close to becoming the best documented case of human combustion in recorded history. 

In the dim lighting, he searches your eyes into his, and you watch him, waiting, radiating heat between him and the velvet-covered wall. He's not sure why you were acting like this, but all signs were pointing towards you wanting the same thing he did, and he's not sure what he did to get this lucky, but with his every cell buzzing and vibrating and keening over to get closer, he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass. 

He wants to ask ‘why me’ or ‘are you sure’ but what comes out is a broken, desperate whisper of a “can I touch you?”, and you answer with a grin and with your fingers tangled to the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“Yes,” you breathe, “please.”

And really, he wouldn't have thought it would be so simple, but it's the please that does him in – just one whispered word and his brain short-circuits in an overflowing flash of white-hot need. Need to trigger that again, need to please, and need to finally give in to the pleasure waiting to boil. And then it all comes rushing out; the hunger. 

His hands are on your waist in an instant, and his cane clatters to the ground as he leans his weight on you and the wall and for a moment, he has the sense to hope the curtains don't come tumbling down, and they don't, which is good enough for him, because then he can let go of that particular worry and focus solely on finding your lips to his and making the most of every second of this that you're willing to give him. 

The sensations hit his brain like flashes of bright light; how soft you are under his fingers, like he'd hoped, the fabric smooth and silky, giving away easily under his touch. How warm you are, warm and breathing in a fluttered little gasp, the dusty old velvet mixing in with your sweet scent, and then when he gets his lips on you–

After that it's just golden-dark-velvet-honey-thick bliss. You breathe out a small sound that drips down his spinal cord and goes straight to the purring pit at the bottom of his stomach, and he swallows it with a hungry, greedy, desperate groan that comes from somewhere deep inside his chest, and his head is swimming with warm and real and soft and for me–

He is happily overloading his brain with this, and he doesn’t even care. He presses closer to you and you exhale another sweet little sound that makes him bare his teeth, and then his lips are on your neck and he doesn’t know anything except that he wants you to keep making those sounds and he likes the way your hands tangle in his hair and tug. 

“Tell me what you want,” he mutters to the skin of your neck, pulling you closer by the waist, and absolutely relishing in the way your chest rises and falls with short little pants he can hear you take in and out. In and out, and as he tugs at your waist again, just a bit closer, and drags his teeth against your pulse lightly, one of those exhales turns into a sweet little whine. 

He grins against your skin. 

He doesn’t waste the time or energy pretending he isn't an absolute mess over you, right now – his own breathing ragged and fast and his heart hammering in his ears, his whole body buzzing with want – but that didn't mean seeing you react that way didn't make him want to purr. 

Didn't make his insides heat up with I did that. I got her like this. She made that sound for me. For me. It's mine. 

You take a breath, slow and rugged, and then you tug him towards one of the velvet-covered seats. And he moves like he's floating, letting you guide him, because what else is he going to do? You tug him into the seat and he sits on it, gladly, and stays there looking up at you with his eyes wide and only half-lidded and his heart hammering, waiting for more. 

You give him another one of those small, private, knowing smiles, your eyes hazy, and then you step to stand right in front of him. 

And then you hover over him, just waiting for him to pull you into his lap. He does, because he is selfish and greedy and burning, and he's pretty sure he's going to implode if he doesn’t get that delicious pressure on him soon, and his hand fits your waist perfectly, and then when when you do straddle him, your hips pressing down on his, he whines. He lets out a breathless little whine, he can feel it in the base of his spine, and it makes that hunger in him want more. 

“Only the voices directed upwards travel down there, right?” you ask, voice quiet and dripping right into his ear and pooling at the bottom of his stomach. 

He swallows. “Yes.” 

You hum thoughtfully, and press your body closer to his, all soft and warm and perfect, sinking your lips down to his neck and he shivers, instinctually tilting back his head with a sigh, exposing more of his neck to you. 

“Better keep quiet, then.” 

[freeabortionslol]

cozy pinterest time (a lake house series fic)

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parings: luke hughes x reader, quinn hughes x reader, jack mentioned summary: fluff! reader and luke get bundled up during the christmas lake house trip to scroll through pinterest warnings!! cursing a/n: FIRST LAKE HOUSE CHRISTMAS FIC AHHHH I have more to come!! this one dives into her dynamic with luke, along with jack and quinn wc: 3.9k lake house series masterlist

Luke’s room was shoved in between yours and Jack’s. Jack got the bigger bedroom, of course, considering he shared ownership of the lake house with Quinn. Quinn’s master bedroom sat downstairs by the kitchen, something almost everyone in the house was jealous of. Trevor and Cole had a room tucked in the back of the house, one that was big enough for the both of them to share after the bedroom fiasco of last summer. Quinn was upset that his office would be turned into another bedroom, but when he remembered the tired look in your eyes after sharing a room with Trevor and Cole, he was quick to give it up. Upstairs, you and Luke’s rooms connected with a bathroom in between. Luke knew the rules- he knew to knock loudly before entering, and he knew not to enter between the hours of 9pm and 9:20pm because that’s when you’d shower. You were a good person to share a wall with. You weren’t loud, you didn’t snore, and you definitely didn’t fuck, loudly almost every night. Unfortunately, Luke also shared a wall with Jack and he did all of those things. Luke was curled up in his bed, hoodie over his head as he scrolled through instagram. He really tried to drown out the sound of Jack with his new puck bunny in his room, but it was impossible. He scoffed, stepping out of his bed quickly. It wasn’t too late, about 11pm. No one was asleep quite yet, but the day was dying down. Luke knocked on the bathroom door and walked in when he didn’t get a response. He could see the soft light glowing from your door, hearing the faint sounds of christmas music. He knocked on your door twice before hearing a quiet. “Come in,” He opened the door, stepping into your room just a foot. He glanced at you curled up in your bed, sitting against the headboard. You had a Devil’s hoodie on, the hood over your head. You were surrounded by a plethora of soft blankets and fluffy pillows, laptop on your lap. The soft glow from both of your bedside lamps bathed the entire room in cozy, warm light as quiet christmas music streamed from your speaker. 

“Hey,” You said, glancing up from your laptop at Luke. He had his arms crossed, his curls poking out from underneath his hood. “What’s up?” 

Luke sighed, looking down at the floor before looking back up at you. “Jack and whatever that girl’s name is are fucking.” Your brows furrowed as you listened. “Like really loudly.” He said with an annoyed tone, slightly swaying his body side to side.

You pouted your lip, trying your best not to cringe as hard as you wanted to. “Aw, poor baby.” You said gently. “No one should have to hear that. Do you want to hang out with me?” Luke’s eyes lit up in an instant. He quickly got in your bed, making himself comfortable under the covers next to you. You smiled gently as he leaned back against the headboard. 

“It’s so cold in this house.” He said before shivering slightly.

You let out a gentle laugh, glancing over at him. “I know, that’s why I have so many blankets.” You pulled up another blanket, placing it over Luke’s lap. “Get comfy.” Luke took the blanket gladly, settling in further to your bed. You turned your attention back to your laptop, taking a sip of your water from the nightstand. 

“Whatcha doin’?” Luke asked, his tone laced with curiosity. 

“Cozy pinterest time.” You said like it was the most known thing in the world. Luke’s brows furrowed as he leaned his head on your shoulder, trying to get a better look at your laptop. He saw the page full of pictures of kitchens, bedrooms, room decor, and decorations as you scrolled through.

“What's-” He paused, taking a moment to clear his throat. “Cozy pinterest time?” 

You let out a soft laugh, shifting your laptop an inch closer to him. “Every night when everything dies down, I get all cozy in my bed with christmas music and hot chocolate, and I scroll through pinterest.” Luke looked over to you whose eyes were locked on the screen, and then down at the laptop in front of him.

He smacked his lips, still trying to understand. “So, you just look at pictures?”

“Yes, and save them into boards.” Luke inched closer as you spoke, his head still rested on your shoulder. “This is my christmas board, then I have my lake house board, my beach house board, my NYC apartment board, and so many others.” You glanced down at him, his eyes still on the screen. “It's just like-...ideas for stuff.”

Luke nodded slowly, still looking slightly perplexed but intrigued. “So, like...you just imagine all these lives in all these places?” he asked, voice quieter now, as if trying not to disturb the cozy bubble you’d created.

You shrugged softly. “Yeah, kind of. It’s like...planning out a future that might never happen, or just enjoying the aesthetic of it. Sometimes I’ll see a pretty living room and think, ‘If I ever get my own house, maybe I’ll decorate it like that.’ Or I’ll see a rustic kitchen and think it would be perfect for a lake house meal, you know?” You scrolled a bit, pointing out a particularly warm-toned living room scene. “See this? Picture it. A fire crackling, big blankets everywhere, mugs of cocoa on the table, and everyone piled on the couches telling stories.” You paused, glancing down at Luke. “It’s kind of fun to think about.” 

Luke let out a soft hum, his shoulders relaxing further as he pulled the blankets closer around him. He was quiet for a moment, processing. “I never really understood Pinterest,” he admitted, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his tone. “My ex-girlfriend was always on it. She once tried to show me her wedding board and it freaked me out.” He cringed a little, making you stifle a laugh. 

You patted his arm reassuringly. “Wedding boards can be intense,” you agreed, eyes dancing with amusement. “But this is just about comfort and inspiration. No pressure.” 

He looked back at the screen, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “This one’s nice,” he said, nodding at an image of a small cabin living room draped in fairy lights and evergreen garlands. “It’s like...if we had a smaller lake house, just for Christmas. Not so many people, not so much noise.” You tilted your head, catching the wistful note in his voice. Luke was younger, and sometimes you forgot he experienced this house and these family gatherings a bit differently. With all the commotion, Luke often floated in a middle space, old enough to understand the chaos, young enough to still crave the simpler comforts.

“Exactly,” you said softly. “It’s imagining all these little retreats where life’s simpler, quieter. Maybe no late-night hockey gear lying around, no weird hookups through the wall.” You scrunched your nose, making him chuckle quietly. “Hey, go get your laptop. We can pinterest at the same time.” Luke lifted his head, looking at you with a slight smile before racing to his room. He returned, laptop in hand, quickly making his way back to the bed. He sat next to you, both of you against the headboard. You helped when he got his laptop open, making him an account to save his ideas. The two of you fell into this cozy moment, the small christmas tree in the corner making his eyes sparkle a bit. Luke would lean over ever so often and say something like, “Wouldn’t this look good in my apartment?” or “This, but like in the foyer of the lake house.” You were happy to have a pinteresting buddy, and you were thankful that Luke was able to sit there for a long period of time and manage to stay quiet. The soft hum of christmas music played in the background, grounding you slightly as you tried not to think about Jack and his lady friend. You were managing your lake house board when you heard the door knock.

“Come in,” You said softly. The door opened gently, telling you that it wasn’t Jack, Cole, or Trevor. Quinn stood there, not having noticed Luke yet.

“Hey sun-” he started before glancing over at Luke. He let out a soft chuckle. “What are you guys doing?”

“Cozy pinterest time.” Luke said, his eyes not leaving his screen. 

Quinn leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a small, bemused grin. “Cozy pinterest time, huh?” he repeated, his tone gentle and teasing all at once.

Luke scoffed quietly. “You wouldn’t get it.” He mumbled. Quinn let out another soft chuckle as he made his way to your side of the bed. He leaned his head down, his hand resting on the headboard as he looked at your screen. 

“It’s uh…ideas for the lake house.” You said, whipping your head over to Quinn. He was staring at you, not your screen. It was a gentle surprise when you turned your head, seeing your faces were now only inches apart. Your cheeks flushed slightly at the sudden intimacy, trying to keep yourself content.

Quinn licked his lips, smiling softly. “Looks good,”

Your heart did a small flip at the closeness, the faint scent of Quinn’s cologne lingering in the small space between you. You managed a quiet smile, trying to focus back on the laptop. “It’s just a few designs,” you said softly, your voice carrying a note of self-consciousness. “Some decorations, maybe some new furniture for the living room next summer.” Quinn nodded his head, his lips pursing slightly. “Hey, Quinny. While you’re up, could you get us some hot chocolates please?” You said with a pleading tone. 

Quinn’s brows furrowed as he stood up. “And, why would I do that?”

You and Luke looked at each other before turning back to Quinn with a pouty lip. “Because you love us.”

​​Quinn raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your playful antics. He couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at his lips as he looked between you and Luke. “You two are dangerous when you team up, you know that?” You both just exchanged a knowing glance, completely synchronized in your effort to charm him.

“Please?” You added, your voice soft, almost like a challenge, as you leaned back against the headboard, batting your lashes dramatically. 

Luke joined in, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “You’re basically the king of hot chocolate, Quinn. Can’t let us down now.” 

Quinn’s face softened as he sighed, clearly not immune to the collective force of your charm. He rolled his eyes but it was all in good humor. “Fine, I’ll get the hot chocolates. But only because I’m a good guy.”

“Thanks, Quinny!” you and Luke chorused in unison, both of you grinning wide, already feeling victorious.

“Don’t think this means I’m gonna start doing this every night,” Quinn warned, but his tone was warm. He gave you one last glance, the flicker of something unspoken passing between you two, before he headed toward the door.

“Of course not,” you called out with a playful tone, already turning your attention back to your cozy pinterest session.

Luke looked up at you, his face still relaxed from the quiet moment. “You’re good at getting people to do things for you,” he commented with a grin, his eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and amusement.

“No, I'm good at getting Quinn to do things for me.” You said just before turning to face Luke, a small smile twitching at his lips. You squinted your eyes, nodding your head in deep thought. “And Cole, sometimes.”

Luke let out a soft laugh. “I need to know the secret.”

You smiled slightly, your eyes widening. “Uh, I think the secret is being a hot girl.”

“Yeah, don’t think I can achieve that one.” Luke said, shaking his head “Don’t love the idea of being constantly gawked over by Cole.” 

You laughed softly, a pink tint spreading across your face. “It’s not bad, actually. It got nice after a little while,” You paused, licking your lips. “And, the little moments when Quinn does it, makes up for everything.”

Luke rolled his eyes playfully, crossing his arms. “Then there's the rare moments where it’s Jack.”

You scoffed, leaning back slightly. “Yeah, but then ten minutes later he’s got some random blonde in his bed and his baby brother comes to me for comfort.”

Luke chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yeah, that's Jack," he teased, his tone light but with a hint of understanding. "I don't get it. He’s got the attention, the girls, the whole thing. But then he comes running to you when it all falls apart." 

You shrugged, trying to hide the slight bitterness in your tone. "Jack's Jack. He loves to make things complicated, even if it’s just his love life. But at least I know he’s always there when it gets messy. Even if it’s just because he messed things up again." 

Luke’s expression softened a little, the teasing fading as he processed your words. "He’s lucky to have you, you know?" He said quietly, looking over at you with an unexpected sincerity. 

You met his gaze, feeling a little caught off guard by the weight of his words. "I guess so," you said softly, trying to mask the emotions that stirred beneath the surface. "But sometimes it feels like I’m just the safety net, you know?" 

Luke leaned back against the headboard, eyes fixed on you. “Well, I think you deserve more than being a backup. You deserve someone who doesn’t just come to you when everything else falls apart.” His voice was low but clear.

You let out a long sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “You know, Jack and I have never been…” You looked back at Luke, your eyes narrowed. “Romantic?” Luke nodded his head, genuinely interested in your words. “But, there’s always this weird tension. I-I don’t know,” You let out a soft laugh. “Sometimes it feels like I'm like- settling? In this friendship? Like, Jack acts like we're a couple pretty much, just without the-”

“Kisses, sex, ‘I love you’s?” Luke cut you off, finishing your sentence perfectly. 

You let out a quiet laugh, looking back up at the ceiling. “Exactly. It’s so…weird. A-And it’s nice, you know? Until I realize that it’s not actually like that.”

Luke smacked his lips, his brows furrowing. “Do you…have feelings for Jack-”

“No!” You shouted, abruptly cutting him off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.” You said with a soft smile. “No, I don’t. It’s just-...it’s nice for things to feel normal like that.” 

“What?” Luke asked, leaning in closer. “Like domestic, In a way?” 

You paused for a moment, chewing over your thoughts carefully. "Yeah, I guess. Like...we’ve been friends for so long that sometimes it feels like we’ve already crossed into that territory, without actually being in a relationship. It's comfortable, but it’s not real, you know?"

Luke nodded his head, relaxing his posture a bit. “Well, trust me, bunny. You’re a beautiful, smart, funny, young woman. You’re gonna find someone.”

You groaned, throwing your head back against the headboard. “Everyone’s so quick to say that, but it never happens.”

Luke chuckled slightly, glancing over at you. “It’s true! Some guy will come along someday and treat you like an absolute angel. I know it.”

You smiled, fighting back giggles as you looked over at him. “Yeah,” You said loudly, your giggles intensifying. “Because my future husband is just gonna walk right through the door-”

“Hot cocoas here!” Quinn exclaimed, kicking the door open. Your smile quickly faltered, looking over at Luke who was trying so hard not to laugh. Quinn walked over, a confused look on his face as Luke let his laughs escape. 

He finally finished laughing, leaning in closer to mumble in your ear. “So, does that mean Quinn is-”

“Shut up, Luke!” You groaned, shoving him with your elbow.

Luke smirked, clearly enjoying the playful chaos, but he quickly adjusted his expression to something more innocent, though his eyes still twinkled with mischief. "Alright, alright, I’ll stop." He leaned back against the headboard, clearly satisfied with the reaction he’d gotten.

Quinn shrugged his shoulders before handing over the mugs. “I think I'm future husband material.”

Your cheeks flushed in an instant as your heart dropped to your stomach. “Y-You uh…you heard that?” You stammered out, taking the mug from his hands. 

Quinn gave you a sly grin, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Oh, I heard everything," he said with a teasing lilt in his voice. "But hey, you’re not the only one with ideas about future husbands, right?"

You glanced nervously at Luke, who was now struggling to hold back another laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "You guys are impossible," you muttered, trying to focus on the hot cocoa in your hands to distract from the heat rising to your face.

Luke smirked, leaning closer again, his voice barely above a whisper. “So, does that mean I’m off the list, or...?” He glanced at you with a teasing look, his eyes searching yours for any sign of a reaction.

You quickly shot him a look, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up your neck. "I swear, if you two don’t stop-”

Quinn, still holding his mug, raised an eyebrow. "What? Just saying, I went all the way downstairs to make you a cup of hot chocolate. It's a quality husband trait." 

You groaned, pressing your hand to your face in exaggerated frustration. "You both are ridiculous."

Luke, unable to keep his grin at bay, nudged you gently with his shoulder. “Hey, it’s not a bad idea. I think Quinn’s onto something. Future husband material, right here.”

“Luke, you are about to get booted from cozy pinterest time.” You said with a stern voice, pointing a finger at him.

Quinn chuckled softly, putting his hands up in innocence. “I’m gonna go back downstairs. You guys have fun doing…whatever the hell this is.” You rolled your eyes as Quinn left.

You sighed dramatically the second Quinn disappeared down the hall. As his footsteps faded into the quiet hum of the house, you fixed Luke with a pointed glare. “This is all your fault,” you teased, setting your hot chocolate down carefully on the nightstand. 

Luke snorted, stretching his legs out under the blankets. “My fault? I believe you’re the one who said, ‘Because you love us,’” he replied, raising his pitch to mimic your voice. “You practically cornered him into the husband territory.” 

You scoffed, trying not to let your fluster show. “I was going for hot chocolate, not a lifelong commitment,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. The mug of cocoa still steamed gently, the scent of chocolate and marshmallows lingering in the air. You shut your laptop, setting it down on the floor, which Luke mirrored.

“You’re so in love with him. It’s so obvious.” Luke murmured, shaking his head as he attempted to stifle a laugh.

Your face turned pink as you faced him. “Wh- you- I-...I-I’m not!” You stammered out. Luke mimicked your stuttered sentence with extreme exaggeration and you pressed your lips together, determined not to give Luke any more reasons to grin. “You’re being a child,” you said, voice low but steady. The warmth in your cheeks refused to subside, and you knew Luke could see it. 

He shrugged, unabashed. “A truthful child,” he countered, leaning back into the headboard and tucking one arm under his head. “Come on, you’re not fooling me.”

You folded your arms, looking anywhere but at him. “Luke,” you began, keeping your tone calm, “I am not in love with Quinn. Can we just…not?”

Luke smirked, tilting his head. “Sure, we can not…as soon as you admit that you at least like him. Maybe a little.” His voice softened on the last part, not quite a taunt, more curious. He was your friend, after all, and he had a protective streak even when teasing. You let out a quiet sigh, fingers picking at the blanket’s edge. The truth was tangled. Quinn’s easy kindness, the way he always seemed to know when to show up with hot chocolate or a warm blanket, the subtle looks you’d share, it all made something fluttery settle in your stomach. But you weren’t about to open that up in front of Luke, not when he was enjoying this far too much.  

“Let's just…watch a movie and forget about it.” You said, reaching for the remote on the nightstand. Luke stifled a laugh, shrugging his shoulders. Luke propped himself up against the headboard, stretching his legs under the blankets as you fiddled with the remote. The tension from a moment ago clung faintly in the air, but now you were determined to let it evaporate into the soft glow of the lamp and the hum of the heating vent. You scrolled through the streaming apps, your gaze fixed on the screen, resolutely avoiding Luke’s amused glance. 

He kept quiet, respecting your wishes for a truce, though a small, knowing smile still played at the corners of his mouth. After a few beats of silence and aimless browsing through movie options, Luke gently cleared his throat. “Something lighthearted?” he suggested, his voice neutral, careful not to push your buttons again.

You paused, your thumb hovering over a title. “How about a rom-com or that animated holiday special they’ve got listed?”

Luke tilted his head to get a better look at the options. “The animated one might be nice,” he said, voice softening. “Something cozy and brainless. Exactly what we need.” You hummed in agreement, selecting the animated film. The screen faded to black before the gentle opening credits rolled in soft pastels. Settling back against the pillows, you tugged the blankets tighter around yourself. Luke leaned in just a bit, not crowding you, but close enough that you felt his presence. A comforting reminder that, despite the awkward teasing, he was still on your side. A soft melody drifted from the TV speakers, and the warm animation glowed on the screen. Winter landscapes, cheerful characters, no drama or complicated love triangles to navigate. Perfect. You let your shoulders ease down, exhaling quietly. The movie’s gentle storyline began unfolding, scenes painted in soft color and gentle humor. Neither of you bothered commenting much, it wasn’t necessary. The hush of the room, the quiet breath of the house settling into the night, and the simple warmth of being here, together, provided all the comfort you needed. About thirty minutes into the film you felt a weight fall onto your shoulder. You looked down to see Luke, eyes closed as he softly snored beside you. You managed a warm smile, shifting down so your head rested on top of his. With your head resting against his, you felt the subtle warmth radiating from him. His hair tickled your cheek, a reminder of the easy closeness you both shared. Despite the teasing and the earlier embarrassment, here you were, ending the night side by side, each other’s quiet anchor as the rest of the house slowly shut down for the evening. Outside, you could imagine the wind stirring the evergreens or the lake shifting under the ice. Inside, all felt calm. The entire house seemed to hold its breath, allowing you and Luke this brief pocket of stillness. You tucked the blanket more snugly around him, careful not to wake him. Whatever happened next, you were content with this moment. Just a whisper of blankets, gentle music, and Luke’s steady heartbeat close by, perfectly enough to end the night on a note of peaceful belonging.