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joelmillerisapunk · 2 days ago

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Lonely Hearts Club

Joel Miller x His Hand ★ 2.5K

Summary: idk Joel meets Sarah's teacher, masturbates about it, and then buys a sex toy about it?

-Or-

Joel's first time with a sex toy

Warnings: male masturbation, use of a female sex toy with female anatomy and breasts.

Notes: I have no words, only a big tysm to @thundermartini for always listening to me ramble off ideas and always being their number one fan I love you so much. A big tysm to my wifey @evolnoomym & @syd-djarin for reading this over as well you're the mvps & finally thank you @enchanthings-a for the divider

Joel Miller wasn’t sure what he expected when Sarah asked him to come to her school for parent-teacher night. Maybe some stern-faced woman with reading glasses and a pencil skirt, the type to make him feel like he was back in high school and getting scolded for not paying attention.

What he didn't expect was you.

When he stepped into the brightly lit classroom, his eyes were immediately drawn to you. You stood by your desk, shuffling papers with a warm smile as you greeted parents. Joel felt like he’d been hit by a truck. You were gorgeous—radiant in a way that knocked the breath out of him. The kind of pretty that made his chest ache, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

Sarah tugged at his sleeve, snapping him out of his daze. “Dad, c’mon,” she urged, dragging him closer to the desk where you stood.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you said, looking up at him with a smile that made his heart stutter. “I’m Sarah’s teacher. She talks about you all the time—says you’re the best dad ever.”

Joel felt his face flush. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like an awkward teenager again. “She, uh... she says that, huh?”

“She does,” you confirmed, your eyes sparkling with warmth.

He found himself staring, his gaze lingering on the curve of your lips, the way your hair framed your face, the faint scent of your perfume that drifted in the air between you. It had been a long time since Joel felt... this. Like the ground beneath him was suddenly unsteady.

“Daddy, stop staring,” Sarah whispered loudly, nudging him with her elbow.

Joel blinked, mortified, and quickly turned his attention back to you. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

You laughed softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. “Don’t worry, Mr. Miller. Happens all the time.”

He couldn’t tell if you were teasing him or not, but damn if it didn’t make his pulse race.

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur. Joel listened as you talked about Sarah—how bright and inquisitive she was, how she always made you laugh with her clever observations. He nodded in all the right places, even managed to ask a question or two about her progress, but his brain was still stuck on how pretty you were. The way you smiled, the way you spoke, the way you looked at him like he was the only one in the room.

Later that night, back home, Joel sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. Sarah was already asleep, her laughter from earlier still echoing faintly in his mind.

When it was finally time to leave, Joel thanked you, his voice gruff but sincere. You gave him another one of those dazzling smiles, and it took everything in him not to trip over his own feet on the way out.

But his thoughts weren’t on Sarah anymore.

They were on you.

He could still see the way your lips curved when you smiled, the softness in your eyes when you talked about his daughter. Could still hear the lilt of your voice, feel the phantom warmth of your hand when you’d shaken his at the end of the meeting.

Joel leaned back, his breath hitching as his mind wandered further, the images of you becoming more vivid. He imagined what it’d feel like to have you close, to run his hands over the curves he’d tried so hard not to stare at in the classroom.

His hand drifted lower as he let himself sink into the fantasy, his body responding to the thought of you—of how soft you’d feel, how sweet you’d sound whispering his name.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. He knew that. But, fuck, he couldn’t stop himself.

For the first time in a long time, Joel allowed himself to want.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes slipping shut as he let the memory of you take over. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his sweatpants suddenly feeling too tight as his mind conjured up the soft lilt of your voice and the curve of your smile. He thought about the way your shirt hugged your body, the delicate slope of your collarbone, and how your lips had parted just slightly when you laughed.

“Jesus christ,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand over his face like he could scrub the image of you away. But it was no use.

With a frustrated groan, Joel shifted, his hand trailing down to undo the string of his pants. He hesitated for a brief moment, guilt prickling at the edges of his thoughts. You were Sarah’s teacher, for god’s sake. This wasn’t right.

But the ache in his body drowned out the protests in his head, and before he knew it, his hand was wrapping around himself, his calloused palm stroking slowly as he let out a quiet sigh of relief.

He imagined it was your hand instead, soft and teasing, guiding him with a confidence that left him breathless. In his mind, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, your lips curved into that sweet, knowing smile as you leaned closer, whispering his name like a secret.

Joel’s hand moved faster, his breaths turning ragged as the fantasy deepened. He pictured you on top of him, your hair tumbling around your face as you smiled down at him, your hips rolling slowly, deliberately, as you took him in.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the headboard, his mind consumed by thoughts of you—how you’d feel, how you’d sound, how perfect you’d look with your lips parted around his cock.

The tension coiled tighter in his stomach, his strokes growing uneven as he chased the release he so desperately needed. He imagined the way you’d moan his name, soft and breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pulled you closer, deeper.

It didn’t take long before the fantasy overtook him completely, and with a low, guttural groan, Joel’s body tensed, pleasure crashing over him in waves as he spilled into his hand.

He sat there for a moment afterward, his chest heaving and his mind still clouded with thoughts of you. Guilt tried to creep in again, but it was dulled by the lingering warmth in his body and the memory of your smile that refused to leave him.

Joel sighed, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand and cleaning himself up.

Joel sat at the edge of his bed the next night, the box on his nightstand catching the faint light from his bedside lamp. His jaw tightened as he stared at it, an undeniable pull gnawing at his resolve. He’d been alone for far too long, and no amount of guilt was going to extinguish the ache in his chest—or lower—that had been consuming him.

“You're gonna be trouble,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he laid back against the pillows. But even as he closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep, all he could see was you.

He hadn’t planned on walking into that adult store. Hell, he’d almost turned around and walked out. But the memory of you, with your bright smile, the way your laugh lingered in his ears, and the warmth in your eyes when you spoke to him—it haunted him. Every detail of you was seared into his mind, a constant presence he couldn’t shake.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but his hands were already working to pull the contents free. The toy, a Body Banger Silicone Masturbator, felt heavier than he expected as he set it down on the bed.

The masturbator sat there mocking him, with its realistic breasts, curves, and inviting openings, seemed absurd—and yet, his imagination filled in the gaps. It wasn’t you. It could never be you. But in the dim, lonely quiet of his room, it was the closest he would get to feeling you beneath him.

“Goddamn it what am I doin’,” Joel muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

He placed his hands on the toy, testing the lifelike silicone under his fingers. It was soft—uncomfortably realistic—and when he gave the butt a firm smack, the flesh jiggled slightly in response. Joel froze, his lips twitching into a half-smile despite himself.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. He slapped the toy again, harder this time, watching the way it moved under his hand. “Huh,” he said, his voice low and rough as his fingers kneaded the soft silicone.

His hands roamed over the curves, squeezing the hips and brushing over the small of its back. He flipped it onto its back, his gaze drifting over the chest, the inviting curves of the molded breasts. “They really went all out on this thing,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over the silicone nipples.

A spark of heat flared low in his stomach as he explored further, trailing his fingers along the narrow waist and down between the thighs. The openings were tight, smooth, and designed to feel as real as possible. Joel’s breath hitched, his arousal stirring as his imagination filled with thoughts of you—how you’d feel, how you’d react to his touch.

“Shit,” he murmured. His pants were already uncomfortably tight, and he tugged them down. He positioned the toy on the bed, his hands once again roaming over its chest and hips.

Before long, he was lost in the moment, his rough hands squeezing and teasing, his hips shifting as his arousal grew impossible to ignore. He turned it over and slapped the ass one more time, groaning softly at the way it bounced under his palm, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet room.

“Yeah,” he rasped, his voice low. “This’ll do just fine.”

His palms lingered on the roundness of the ass, giving it another firm squeeze before he flipped it back onto its back.

The chest rose invitingly, and his fingers instinctively found their way to the breasts. He squeezed one, his thumb circling over the firm peak, marveling at the lifelike feel beneath his hand. His other hand slid down the toy’s waist, brushing over its soft surface as he adjusted it on the bed.

He paused, his gaze settling on the toy’s inviting opening. For a moment, he just stared, the vivid image of you flashing in his mind. He imagined you lying beneath him, your body trembling as his hands roamed over you. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the heat in his stomach flaring as his arousal grew harder to ignore.

“Goddamn,” he muttered under his breath. His hand moved lower, his rough fingertips brushing over the toy’s entrance. The soft material yielded under his touch, and he groaned quietly, his imagination filling in the details of how it might feel if it were you instead.

Joel leaned closer, his thumb teasing at the opening, spreading it slightly as he explored it with his fingers. He slid one thick digit inside, the tightness making him suck in a sharp breath. “So fuckin’ tight,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. He worked his finger in and out slowly, adding another as he imagined the way you’d react—your soft gasps, your body shifting under his touch.

Unable to help himself, he spat directly onto the entrance, watching as the wetness coated the material. He worked it in with his fingers, twisting and curling them as if testing how it would feel to have you clench around him. His breathing grew heavier, his hips shifting against the bed as his arousal pressed painfully against his boxers.

The thought of you consumed him, and before he realized it, he leaned down, his tongue darting out to taste the opening. The silicone was smooth under his tongue as he licked a slow, deliberate path, his breath hot against the toy. He teased the entrance with the tip of his tongue, groaning softly as he imagined the sweet taste of you instead.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to spit onto the opening again, his fingers spreading it wide to coat it thoroughly. His arousal throbbed in response, the thought of finally sinking into the toy was almost too much to bear.

Sitting up, he tugged his boxers down, freeing himself. He spat into his hand, slicking himself up with a low groan as his cock twitched in anticipation. His hand gripped the base as he positioned himself, the tip pressing against the entrance.

He paused, exhaling a shaky breath as he imagined it was you—your warmth, your softness, your voice whispering his name. “Wish it was you, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice rough with longing.

Joel pushed forward, his tip slipping inside, and he groaned at the sensation. The tightness was almost too real, and he sank deeper, his hips moving slowly as he buried himself to the hilt. “Shit,” he hissed, his head falling back as his hands gripped the toy’s hips to steady it.

His rhythm was slow at first, his body adjusting to the overwhelming sensation. His hands roamed over the toy’s chest, squeezing the breasts, teasing the nipples, but his mind stayed on you. He imagined your body arching beneath him, your lips parting with gasps as he filled you completely.

“Goddamn, you feel so good,” he murmured, his hips moving faster now, the sound of his body meeting the toy filling the room. He slapped one of the breasts, groaning at the way it jiggled beneath his palm. “So fuckin’ sweet, darlin’. Could have you like this all night.”

His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, his need taking over as his fantasies consumed him. He pictured your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your nails dragging down his back as you begged him for more. His breathing was ragged, his voice hoarse as your name spilled from his lips like a prayer.

The tension inside him built rapidly, his muscles tightening with every stroke. “Fuck,” he groaned, his grip on the toy tightening as his hips snapped forward. The thought of you—your warmth, your voice, the way you’d feel around him—pushed him over the edge.

With a guttural cry, Joel came hard, his body shuddering as pleasure crashed over him. He stayed still for a moment as his chest heaved with every labored breath.

When he finally pulled away, the room was quiet except for his ragged breathing. He cleaned himself and the toy carefully before setting it aside.

Collapsing onto the bed, he draped an arm over his eyes, his thoughts a mess of guilt, relief, and a longing for you that refused to fade. Next time he saw you, there was no way he’d be able to keep himself together.

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction

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kiwriteswords · 2 days ago

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I am devouring your Hotch and shy!reader fics! Would it be okay to request a blurb/fic about Hotch asking reader to call him Aaron for the first time?

Call out my name when I kiss you so gently [Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 1k|| AN: I hope you enjoy! Thanks for sending this in xx!

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, hinting to intimate moments, shy reader

It was an unusually quiet evening when Aaron Hotchner decided to break the formality that had subtly lingered between you. Though the hours were dwindling into night, his mind was nowhere near the looming shadows of criminal profiles and cold cases that typically occupied his thoughts. Instead, Aaron was wholly fixated on the woman sitting across from him at his dining table, your shy smile lit by the soft glow of the candle between you both.

The night had already gone a bit backwards, with certain…indulgences happening before dinner, but here you both were, sitting across from on another at his dining room table.

You had met him with that same gentle smile several times outside the tense walls of the BAU, on quiet dates that Aaron had arranged to be as normal as possible—a stark contrast to the grim realities of both of your day jobs. Tonight marked another milestone; just hours ago, you and Aaron had crossed a line that had previously only been hinted at with coy glances and hesitant touches. Now, after experiencing a closeness that neither words nor time could adequately encapsulate, Aaron found himself grappling with a new kind of urgency.

As you laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of your hair behind your ear—a nervous habit he’d come to recognize and adore—Aaron watched the way the candlelight danced in your eyes--framed by thick lashes that fluttered like the wings of a nervous bird whenever his gaze lingered too long. Despite the warmth of the room, you hugged your arms around yourself, the sleeves of your oversized sweater slipping slightly to reveal the delicate skin beneath.

Aaron cleared his throat, shifting his focus from the flickering candle to your eyes. “You know,” he started, his voice softer than usual, “I’ve been thinking…”

You tilted your head, curiosity painting your features as you met his gaze. “About?”

“About us,” he replied, folding his hands on the table. “And how different this—what we have—is from everything else in my life.”

You nodded, encouraging him to continue, though your fingers fiddled with the edge of your napkin, betraying your nerves.

Aaron took a deep breath, choosing his words with the precision of a man who spent his life weaving through verbal minefields. “When we’re here, like this, it’s not about the job or the cases… It’s about you and me. And when you call me ‘Hotch,’ it feels like we’re still there, back at the office, not here.”

You paused, the napkin now still in your hands. “I didn’t realize… I’m sorry, I just thought—”

“It’s okay,” Aaron interrupted gently with a reassuring smile, reaching across the table to cover your hand with his. “It’s what everyone calls me there, and it makes sense. But here, with you, I’m just Aaron. And I’d like it if you called me that, especially when it’s just us.”

Your cheeks colored, and you looked away briefly before meeting his gaze again. “Aaron,” you tested the name, and his heart skipped at the sound. It wasn’t just the name, but the way you said it—softly, intimately—that marked a departure from the ‘Hotch’ he was to the rest of the world.

He smiled, his usual stoic expression softening in the candlelight. “Thank you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

There was a warmth in his chest, a lightness that Aaron seldom felt in the confines of his role at the BAU. Hearing his first name from your lips, not as a superior or as an abstract figure of authority, but as someone personal, someone separate from that life, grounded him in a reality he wanted more of.

This was a world where he could be a man, not a unit chief, where he was defined not by his job but by these quieter, cherished moments.

The rest of the evening passed with a new, tender rhythm. Aaron listened intently as you shared stories of your childhood, your voice growing stronger with each memory. He noticed the way your body relaxed, the initial stiffness from your nerves dissolving into a comfortable ease around him. Every laugh, every candid confession, seemed to stitch a tighter bond between you, threading your lives together with each shared secret and smile.

Later, as you stood together in the quiet sanctuary of his living room, Aaron pulled you close, his hands resting on your waist. “I’m glad you’re here…with me,” he whispered, bending his head to catch your gaze. The proximity, the shared breaths, the way your eyes searched his—all of it felt profoundly right.

You smiled, your earlier shyness melting into a quiet confidence. “Me too, Aaron,” you replied, standing on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was a simple act, yet it held layers of meaning. Each time you said his name, it reinforced the intimacy they were building, a stark contrast to the formal barriers that usually surrounded him.

In that moment, as the distance of formalities and last names faded into the background, Aaron felt a profound sense of peace. Here, in the quiet intimacy of his home with you, he was just Aaron—and that was more than enough.

He cherished the way his name sounded coming from you, not just as a term of endearment but as a symbol of the unique place he occupied in your life, distinct from everyone else’s perceptions.

This Aaron was someone only you knew, and as the night deepened, he realized just how much he had longed for someone to know this part of him.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #kiwriteswords #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine

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tkwrites · 16 hours ago

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Soft Launch; Hard Launch - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @kawhh

Title: Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc)

Warnings: Though most of this is fluff, there is a really nasty comment left on a social media post and mentions of poor self body image.

Summary: 4 times Quinn soft launched his relationship with Sarah, and one time he did it for real.

Word Count: 2,900

Comments: The idea of writing a 4+1 fic for my 500 mark has been rolling around my head for a while, so when I hit 500 followers about a week ago, I thought I'd try my hand at it. Many thanks to @aloragrace and @captainlexaproluvr for looking over this piece and calming my fears about doing new things. I’ve never written in this format before, but I quite like the way this turned out. I’d love to know what you think!

I'm just bowled over and so excited! Thank you all so much. Knowing people enjoy my writing has been so fulfilling to me. I’ve wanted to write since I was about thirteen, but never had the guts to publish anything for people other than my friends to read. Now that I have and know that people like it, it feels a bit like I’m giving my little inner awkward teenager the best gift she could ever ask for. Thank you for your encouragement, kindness, and support! I can’t tell you how much it means to me.

If you did enjoy this Snapshot, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing.

Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

The first time Quinn put Sarah on his social media was after they got home from the family reunion. The Monday after she left, he was looking back through his photos while he waited for her to get off work. He found one from their beach day he’d completely forgotten he’d taken. Sarah was kneeling over a tide pool with a few of his cousins, pointing to something in the water, while they looked into her face with rapt attention.

Even though her face was mostly hidden from view, she looked beautiful in that casual way he loved so much. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a pair of denim shorts along with her orange swim top.

Do you mind if I put this on my stories? he asked later that night, once she'd texted that she’d arrived home safely and would call as soon as she changed.

“I don’t mind,” she told him after they said their initial hellos, caught up on each other's day, and he asked again. “I’m a little surprised this is the first photo you want to go with,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d want to go with something more…” she trailed off, unsure exactly how to phrase what she was thinking. She’d only glanced at it, but from what she remembered, the photo wasn’t anything special. It was from the tide pools, and though it fulfilled the mission of showing her without showing her whole face, she didn’t look excessively beautiful or anything. In fact, the first thing she’d zeroed in on were her stomach rolls. Echoes of girls calling her too fat to be with NHL superstar Quinn Hughes rang in her mind.

“I like it,” he defended before she could find the right words or slide down the slippery slope of body image woes. “You’re doing what you love.”

It melted something in her that he looked at that photo and saw her passion. “That’s really sweet, Quinn.”

“So it’s okay?”

How could she say no now? “Yeah. It’s okay.” She reminded herself she wouldn’t see any of the things people were saying about her unless she sought them out, which she had no intention of doing.

He put it up with nothing more than an orange heart in the corner as soon as they hung up from the FaceTime call.

Less than a minute later, Eunice raced into Sarah's room. She was so overly excited, she ran into the door jam, bouncing off of it before regaining her balance. She thrust her phone into Sarah's face. “Quinn put you on his stories!”

Glancing at the screen, Sarah smiled. “Yeah, he just asked me if he could put that photo up.”

“Oh my god. This is so dreamy,” she gushed, turning the phone back around to look at the picture again. “You look so pretty.”

The second soft launch was on his main feed at the end of the summer, though he still didn’t show her face.

It wasn’t until they got home from Hawaii and all shared their photos that Quinn realized just how many pictures his mom had taken. He was used to her snapping pictures of them - it was a very common occurrence to look around at any given moment, especially on vacation, to find her brandishing a camera to document everything she could.

He’d never appreciated it more until he was looking through the shared album and saw all the moments his mom caught. There were photos of him and his brothers and him and Sarah once she got there. There was even a video of his and Luke’s shock at their girlfriends’ arrival.

His favorite picture she took was from the beach outside of their vacation rental. Anxious for a quiet moment together, Sarah pulled him outside to watch the sun set.

The rest of the family was inside, debating something about dinner. They had been on a kayak and hiking tour that day, and he was so tired, he was beyond caring. As long as some kind of food was provided, he’d be fine.

His mom must have walked out onto the back porch to snap the photo.

The sun, sinking into the ocean in front of them, turned them into shadow as Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder. It was the kind of photo people put in vacation advertisements, and when he’d seen it, he knew it had to be included in his end of summer review.

He uploaded it with a carousel of six other photos before captioning the post, One for the books.

After receiving sixty notifications in the first five minutes, most of them from people he didn’t know asking who the girl in the 5th photo was, he muted the app.

It wasn’t until he looked at the comments that evening and saw, I think this must be that fat bitch he was dating during the season. I was hoping they’d broken up since he didn’t stay in Vancouver this summer and she did, that he disabled comments all together.

He’d been so angry that someone who didn’t know either of them would say anything like that, he had drafted a reply before realizing he was about to engage in a reactionary argument with someone he didn't even know or have any emotional ties to. He wanted to correct them, but knew he should really get PR help to do that.

When they talked about social media for the first time in their relationship, Sarah explained how the comments from these so-called fans made her feel. Even though she knew they didn’t know her as a person and didn’t have any place in their relationship or lives, it was difficult not to let them get to her.

He knew the feeling well. He’d gone through the same thing when he accepted the captaincy. The pressure to perform had been so immense, it had turned him into a snappy, short-fused, irritable person until, at the advice of some other captains in the league, he started putting his phone down regularly.

The third came when it was his turn to sit for a 32 Thoughts podcast episode with Elliott and Kyle, and they were shooting the breeze before the actual interview began.

“We missed you at dinner,” Elliott said, referencing a banquet that the league had hosted the night before for all players and press on site for the whirlwind pre-season media tour.

Without really thinking about it, Quinn found himself explaining, “my girlfriend's family lives here, so Jack and I had dinner with them last night.”

“She's not here?” Elliott asked.

“No, she has stuff going on back home so she couldn't be, but it was nice to see them.” Some players brought family to the media tour, but not many. It was a short stint, shorter than most road trips during the season, so most didn’t bother.

Their producer, Shanna, flashed a red light, letting them know it was time to start the formal interview. Kyle counted down, “three two and one,” before introducing Quinn and starting with the questions.

At the end of the recording, both Elliott and Shanna asked if he wanted them to cut his talk about his girlfriend and her family from the episode. Usually, they left those anecdotal conversations in, especially on the youtube videos, but this one was a bit more nuanced.

“I think it should be fine, but can I talk to her about it and get back to you?”

“Of course,” Shanna said, smiling. “It’s not slated to go up for a few weeks, so just let us know by the 17th.”

When he'd asked Sarah about it that night after arriving home, she seemed unconcerned.

“I think that's kind of up to you.” She knew from their FaceTime conversation the night before that Quinn, Jack and their agent had eaten at Rachel's house, so there was no risk of someone posting photos and making the connection they were with her family.

“I mean, people have been speculating you have a girlfriend, right?” she asked.

“Yeah.” It was more than speculation at this point - most people knew he had someone. They just didn’t know who she was.

“And people who found my instagram already know I’m from Nevada, so I don’t really see what the worry is.”

He’d expected her to be more worried about it, but now that she was responding to him with cool logic, he had to admit she had a point.

The next day, he messaged Elliott along with his agent to let them know they could keep the anecdote in the recording.

When it hit the airwaves, Sarah purposefully didn’t check any of the messages Eunice sent her for a few days. Eunice had taken it upon herself, and continued at Sarah’s request, to report big gossip to her so Sarah wasn’t tempted to go on the blogs or fan accounts.

Most responses were sort of victorious bragging, posting about connections with Sarah’s instagram “about me” section where she talked about being from Nevada, feeling that this interview proved them right.

The fourth time wasn’t planned.

When Quinn got home from their first regular season road trip, the apartment was dark. It was past two in the morning, and Sarah had a therapy appointment at eight, so she hadn't waited up for him.

In his trek through the apartment, he paused by the dining room table. Until Sarah moved in, walking into the apartment after a road trip was often the worst part of the whole thing. He was always glad to be back in his own bed, but nothing seemed to exasperate his singleness more than coming home. Not only was he going from being surrounded by the team to being totally alone, he was coming home to an empty house. The combination of the two felt stiflingly lonely.

The mess of textbooks, highlighters, and notebooks left out on the dining room table was such proof of someone else living in the house, it made his chest feel full.

In a spur of the moment act, he snapped a picture of the dimly lit chaos and posted it to his Instagram stories. No caption, no explanation. Just the simple proof that he wasn't alone.

“Why did you put a picture of my books on your instagram?” she asked the next day after getting home from her appointment.

He shrugged, “I liked it.”

The season before, anytime she would study at his house, she would clean everything up, organizing it all back into her bag before going home or coming to bed.

Now, her books often stayed out on the dining room table on weekends. He offered to convert one of the spare bedrooms into an office for her, or let her use the office he had a computer in now, but she turned him down.

“I like studying out here,” she'd said, glancing up to look out of the windows. “If it bothers you, I can put everything away.”

“It doesn't bother me,” he'd said, leaning down to kiss her temple. “I just want you to be comfortable here.”

She had beamed at him and turned her head to brush her mouth over his.

Quinn waited until the one year anniversary of the day he and Sarah met to officially announce their relationship.

He knew by that time that they could go the distance. He'd seen her through every month and every season and saw no major red flags. Not to mention the fact that everyone in his life liked her, and her family and friends seemed to like him.

Over the course of the year, he'd moved pictures he liked of Sarah and pictures he liked of them together into a favorites album he simply called S. So, in late January, he put together a post and sent it to his PR rep to look over. After they sent it back with some edits, he showed it to Sarah.

Sarah, who for her part, knew this was coming but wasn’t quite sure what to expect, was taken a bit off guard. She knew Quinn read a lot and was thoughtful with his words, but reading his simple summary of their relationship made her melt.

He’d included 5 pictures of her that were interspersed with 5 pictures of them together. The first photo was that perfect, golden hour sunset selfie. The rest were all photos she knew he loved. She’d seen some of them, and some of them, she hadn’t. There was a candid shot of her laughing with Jack and Luke that she hadn’t seen before as well as a picture she never knew he’d taken of her sitting at the dining room table with her laptop, looking pensively at the screen, fingers poised to type. There was the photo of them in front of their Christmas tree, and one of them laughing so hard, they were falling all over each other on a beach in Hawaii.

Under the photos, he’d simply written, The best year. and tagged her in the final photo - the dreamy picture Kaitlyn had taken of them under the mistletoe.

“Quinn,” she breathed, looking up to find him smiling expectantly at her.

“You like it?” he asked.

“I really like it,” she said, fighting back the tears that pushed at her eyes.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

He was ready for the world to know that not only was he taken, he was taken with her, and not afraid to say it, but he knew it would likely open up another door of criticism she’d never been exposed to before.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready.”

The fact that Quinn wanted the world to know, without a doubt, that she was the one he was with made her heart race.

They didn’t have to hide anymore. To her, it was the last, final cementing block in their relationship. It spoke of his faith in their future and his dedication to staying with her. He wouldn't put it out for the world to see if he had any doubts.

He posted it right before practice two days later so he could work the anxiety of it off.

When he got back to his locker an hour and a half later, he had 1,654 likes and over 200 comments. At first glance, they all seemed positive. Not that what random strangers thought of him meant much, but it was nice to know his fans were happy he was happy.

Bonus scene:

On the afternoon of the anniversary of their one year of meeting, Reece stopped Sarah as she walked into the building after work.

“I’ve got a delivery for you, Ms. Roberts,” he said, walking with her over to the security desk.

Before he’d even picked them up, Sarah knew it must be the large bouquet of flowers that were an absolute riot of color - purple and yellow, red and pink, white and green.

Quinn was out of town - playing in Toronto at that very moment, in fact - and she knew he must have sent them in place of being there in person.

“Thank you, Reece,” she said, accepting the flowers and a card from him before heading upstairs.

Trying to manage the vase, card, and her school bag, as well as press the button in the elevator, resulted in her accidentally slopping a large amount of water down her front. Thankfully, the large bouquet hid the spill from anyone else in the elevator, and she was the only one to get off on the top floor. Upon entering the apartment, she set the vase and card on the bar and went straight up to change.

It wasn’t until she wandered down to make dinner during the second intermission and saw the bright flowers that she remembered the card.

Her full name was on the envelope in someone else’s writing, and the front of the card was completely blank, so when she flipped it open, she was surprised to find Quinn’s handwriting filling most of it.

It’s been one year since I took refuge in the aquarium, only to stumble upon a beautiful woman giving a talk about octopus and took the chance to ask her out. Back then, I just thought she was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. Now I know that not only is she beautiful, she’s smart, kind, supportive and so driven she inspires me to do better. I don’t like to think what my life would be like if she’d turned down my offer for lunch, or I didn’t get up the guts to talk to her. This time with her has been a whirlwind and the best year of my life.

I wrote this for the caption of the post that went up today, then realized the only person I really wanted to read it was you.

Happy one year of meeting, Sarah. I’m so glad you took a chance and went out with me even though I was more than a little awkward.

I love you.

Love,

Quinn

Moved to tears by his thoughtful words, Sarah snapped a picture of the flowers to put up on her stories, adding the caption, Love you, @_quinnhughes, before texting him.

I love you. I can’t believe it’s been a year. Here’s to a million more.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #qh43 #captain quinn #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes au #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x #4 + 1 #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #hockey romance #500 followers #thank you thank you thank you #500 follower celly

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demonic0angel · 17 hours ago

Note

a mermaid anger management idea:

"Damian's orca is back," Jason deadpanned, looking at the black face in the water. The orca didn't really belong to Damian, but the boy had befriended it by feeding the thing fillets of fish before the sinking of their boat.

Jason tuned out Bruce's refusal for any more pets as the orca noseyed its way over to Damian's raft.

"Shadow," a voice whispered called from the water, sending the bats into high alert. The orca chirped in response and turned to look at whoever called him.

Jason followed its line of sight and spotted a flash of red moving in the water, "I think he brought a friend."

(A tear fell down my face when I saw this ask. I LOVE it when I can tell that people look at the stuff that I post. It got long bc I got so excited lmaoo)

Damian gasped. "Is that your name? Shadow?"

The newly named Shadow gave a soft cry. Then it turned and began to leave. Damian nearly fell out of the raft to follow it, which caused Jason to grab him by the waist before he could leave.

Shadow paused and then turned to look at him. Damian gave a grunt, elbowing Jason in the gut, before beckoning Shadow closer. "C'mere! It's okay, we won't hurt you. You can bring your friend too."

"Damian," Bruce groaned. Jason couldn't help but snicker at the exhaustion in his voice.

Shadow trilled and then swam closer again, allowing Jason to let go of Damian, who happily stroked the orca's snout and fed him more fish.

The red blur came moving back and then stopped underneath the raft. Jason stared at it, tilting his head thoughtfully before he said, "Hey, you can come up too if you'd like. We don't hunt anything but fish."

The red blob in the water seemed to have heard him, but didn't react. It wasn't until Damian repeated the same thing that it finally moved and swam up, breaking the surface of the water with a splash to drape itself over Shadow's back.

"Shadow, I told you to come," a sweet voice said and Jason's eyes widened at the large female Mer that was now gazing at them all with sharp turquoise eyes.

Shadow chirped, but everyone (but Damian, that crazy brat) flinched backwards and clapped their hands over their ears.

Mer were beautiful, humanoid creatures with beautiful singing voices that often lured humans to death. They were different from sirens, whose favorite food were humans, but they were no less dangerous when provoked.

This Mer looked large and long, with pale skin hidden under wet layers of crimson hair and a bright, turquoise tail. She stared at Jason blankly before looking at Damian.

"Little one, are you feeding Shadow?"

Bruce lunged forward to grab Damian, who was still at the edge of the raft, but Damian answered before anyone could stop him.

"Yes. They're really cute," Damian praised, rubbing at Shadow's nose again. "Would you also like some?"

The Mer blinked her wet eyes at him and then beamed. "Thank you." Damian fed her a sliver of fish and Jason nearly bashed his head over the raft's edge. How could his little brother have so little survival instincts in the face of a creature?!

Damian then asked, "Could we ask for help from you?"

Jason blurted out, "Damian! Do not!"

"Do not talk to her!" Bruce ordered.

The Mer turned to look at him and Bruce with a blank stare. Then she turned to Damian and nodded. "Of course. Shadow likes you, so I don't mind at least hearing you out."

"Our ship sank from the storm a few nights ago. Would it be alright if you helped us get to land? Preferably near a city."

The Mer hummed. "And in exchange?"

Jason grit his teeth and spoke up. "We can get fish for you. And I've heard that Merpeople like collecting the metalwork that we have. We can get you other things as well."

The Mer smiled. "Deal." She flicked her tail, scattering water droplets all over them. She looked at Jason and said, "You will help attach the raft to me."

Jason couldn't help but raise a challenging eyebrow. "You can pull the whole boat by yourself, princess?"

The Mer slid off of Shadow to swim over to him with a small smile. "I will have Shadow help me. And you will call me Jazz, little man."

"Jason," he said, gesturing to himself with a smirk, "And nothing about me is little." Jazz gave a little melodic laugh, narrowing her eyes at him.

They both stared at each other with intense gazes before Jason snapped out of it with a start, face reddening as both Damian and Bruce stared at him with completely identical looks of disgust and disbelief. Jason coughed.

"Uh. What do I need to do first...?"

Jazz chuckled, making Jason's face heat even more, and then she began to give orders around. Even Bruce sucked up his protests as he helped out. Damian didn't help for awhile as he just petted Shadow, but when Shadow left to be strapped to the raft as a lead, Damian stood up to help around.

Soon, they would be back on land.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #jazz fenton #anon ask #jason todd #damian wayne #jazz has a shadow friend #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jason x jazz #tysm for the ask <3 #mermaid phantom family #ideally I would want Jazz to be a blue whale and ginormous but I like this too lmao #jazz + damian duo

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croissantsandblackcoffee · 18 hours ago

Text

luigi mangione ⊹ conjugal visit

— part two to this! luigi is seriously starting to grow on me, and i truly stand for what he’s for. might send him a letter soon

you were currently in a taxi, heading on your way to the prison. due to the strict rules of riker’s, conjugal visits are a very hard thing to get approved for, but luckily, you had saved up quite the money to convince the lawyers and prison system to allow you to have it.

the taxi eventually comes to a full stop by the prison, and you pay the driver before hopping out. this is it.

as you slowly approach the main entrance, you feel your heart thump a bit louder and a bit faster. you’re finally going to get to see luigi again — and not only that, but you’d be getting that alone time you’d been craving for months now.

the security guard standing outside looks over at you, eyeing you with a look you can’t read. you give them a silent nod, and he walks over to you.

“name?” he asks, pulling a pen and a clipboard from a small pouch hanging on his waist.

you give him your full name, for good measure. even though you’re incredibly anxious, you try your best not to show it outwardly.

the security guard writes something down on his clipboard, before looking back up to you and nodding. “let me see some ID, for confirmation.”

you reach into your purse and dig through it as quickly as possible, desperately searching for the ID. there’s some rifling for a moment before you pull out your ID and hand it over to the security guard.

he takes a look at it, checking it over to make sure it’s not a fake before handing it back to you. “all good,” he says, taking a step back. “go through the main doors, the other guards will take care of the rest from there.”

“thank you,” you say, swallowing down a lump in your throat.

you step around him and head towards the main entrance doors, taking a deep breath as you lay your hand on the door and push it open.

once you step inside, you’re immediately hit by the overwhelming smell of prison — dirt, concrete, sweat, and God knows what else. there’s a few guards standing at the doorway, and they look up at you the moment you enter.

“visitor?” one of the guards asks with a gruff voice.

you nod, holding your purse tightly. “i’m here for a conjugal visit,” you say, a little shiver evident in your voice.

the guard looks you up and down, before taking a moment to reach for the pocket radio secured on his hip. he brings it up to his mouth and murmurs something into it, before letting go of it. the same guard turns to a different one and nods once — and that’s when the other guard steps forward.

“follow me,” he says.

you nod once again, and the guard gestures for you to follow him. you do as you’re told, and silently obey to walk alongside the guard. he keeps a quick pace as he leads you down the first corridor, past a couple of guards and inmates, until you get to a different hallway.

he stops at a door labeled “conjugal,” and holds it open.

“you’ll be in there until your time is up,” the guard tells you firmly. “If you go past the time limit, we’re kicking you out and the visit is over.”

“okay,” you say a little nervously. as anxious as you may be, you still appreciate getting this much time alone with luigi, let alone getting it approved by the system itself.

“thank you,” you say, trying to offer a small smile.

the guard doesn’t smile at you. he stares at you, his expression completely stone cold. this is a prison, after all. he makes a hand gesture for you to enter the room, and so you do.

as you enter, you see that the room is rather small — it’s got four walls around you, a bed, and that’s really it. there’s a tiny window right by the top of the ceiling as well, and not much light is able to come in.

you stand awkwardly in the center of the room, the door shutting with a loud clank behind you. you place your bag on the floor before sitting on the edge of the bed gingerly, trying to ignore the fact that you’re literally in a prison to have some intimate time with your boyfriend.

you wait there, fidgeting anxiously. you’re not sure how long it’ll take for the guards to bring out your boyfriend, and the anticipation is already killing you — as excited as you are, you know you’re going to be a bundle of nerves once he finally gets here.

it’s only a few moments before the door is opened again, and you quickly turn your head to see a guard bringing in luigi, giving him a small push to force him to go inside.

as soon as you and luigi make eye contact with each other, you both freeze. you haven’t seen each other in, what, a month? even though it isn’t that long, it’s still felt like eternity.

you take a long look at him, noting how different he looks now than he did a month ago, as he does the same to you. there’s no window to separate you two, so he can fully look at you — and the hungry look in his eyes tell you that he’s missed you terribly.

the guard behind your boyfriend gives him a rough pat on the shoulder. “three hours,” he says bluntly before going to close the door. the loud clank! makes you jump a little, but you’re too busy looking at your boyfriend currently.

as you both sit and stand there, staring at each other, it almost feels like you’re both frozen in time. you’re both unable to move, frozen in each other’s gazes. He looks like he wants to pounce on you, but he’s holding himself back.

you gulp, and your mind goes nuts — oh, gosh, what if he didn’t want the conjugal visit? after all, you weren’t sure if luigi even wanted to get intimate with you. what were you thinking? he’s not stupid enough to want to get laid with some girl that’s been sending him letters and visiting him for the past year—

you’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel the bed shift under you, and once you’re out of it, you see that he’s sat down next to you.

he’s silent as he stares at you, his eyes roving over your body. It’s like he’s committing you to memory, the way he’s looking so intently at you — as if he’s trying to memorize every single detail on you.

“you look...” he starts to say, his voice sounding rough. “you look…”

he can’t find the words to describe how absolutely beautiful you look to him right now, so he decides to show you instead.

before you even notice it, he’s leaning towards your lips and capturing them in a painfully slow, deep kiss — he kisses you like a man starved, like he’s been in a desert for a year and you’re his only drink of water. his tongue pushes against your lips, searching for any kind of entrance to slip in and deepen the kiss.

he brings one hand to your cheek, caressing and holding you close as he slips in his tongue into your mouth. the way he’s kissing you right now is desperate, like a man starved for so long that you’re his only salvation now.

the kiss is wet, sloppy, and messy, but you hardly care. his tongue moves against yours with a fervor that you hadn’t expected, and you swear you can feel yourself melt under it.

you whimper into the kiss, bringing one tentative hand to his bicep and gripping the fabric of his jumpsuit tightly. he’s leaning over you now, and your back is hitting the cheap mattress as he traps you underneath him.

he pulls away from your lips for a moment to catch his breath, a line of saliva still connecting you two by your mouths. he takes a long moment to look at your face, before diving back in to kiss your jaw and neck with fervor.

his tongue and teeth graze over your skin as he takes his time to map over the expanse of your neck, nipping and sucking and biting at your flesh. he’s still so gentle with it, being weary of not leaving any actual marks and signs of bruising.

your hands now move to his back, gripping at his jumpsuit as he makes his way over your neck, your collarbones, the top of your chest. he’s taking his time, wanting to worship every inch of bare skin on you.

you can feel the heat emanating from his body as he continues to caress, kiss, and nip at your skin. he brings a hand to the front of your blouse, quickly fiddling with the buttons and undoing them a bit too fast.

he eventually finishes unbuttoning your blouse, and once you’re open, he starts to kiss down the valley of your breasts. his lips on your skin feel like he’s burning you, leaving an intense and searing heat in their wake.

your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest at this point, your pulse fast and heavy as he continues his descent down your body. he moves with purpose, as if he’s on a mission to explore your body.

“you’re so beautiful,” he mutters against your skin. “you’re so perfect.”

his words make something twist in your stomach, and you shiver a little. you feel a little vulnerable underneath him right now, but in a good way — he’s making you feel like the only thing that means anything in the world right now is you and only you.

he pulls away from your skin for a moment, sitting up and staring down at you. he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, lying on the bed, blouse unbuttoned and showing a bit of cleavage. he licks his lips before he reaches for the hem of your skirt.

he tugs at it once, and his hand brushes against your skin. you shudder a bit, but nod once when he looks at you for confirmation.

he takes another moment to admire you before slowly pulling your skirt down and off of you, tossing it to the floor.

you’re only in your bra and panties now, with him still in his grey jumpsuit, but he doesn’t look bothered. he takes a moment to look over you, making sure to appreciate every inch of you.

your panties are the first to go, him pulling them off your legs and letting them fall to the floor, joining your skirt on the ground. he takes his time with your bra though, fumbling with the hooks and clasps of your bra in an attempt to undo it.

the moment he manages to undo your bra, he pulls it off of you with a little force, letting it fall down on the floor. he’s back on top of you the moment that happens, and he’s quick to go to your neck, pressing kisses and licks up and down in quick succession.

“you’re beautiful,” he pants in between kisses. “you’re so, so beautiful. i can’t… i can’t even get enough of you—”

he pushes himself up a bit, his hands going to your waist as he continues to look at your body with utter reverence. he’s still looking at you like you’re one of the wonders of the world, like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his life.

“i wanna make you feel good.”

you shiver a bit at that, a small chill running up your spine. you nod again, unable to form words right now.

he moves his hands to your hips, shifting himself over you to get a better angle. you can feel the bulge in his jumpsuit press up against you, and you shudder at the contact.

“i want you to feel so good,” he repeats, his words coming out more like a breath against your skin. “i want to make you feel so, so good—”

he gives your hip a squeeze, pressing his bulge up against you, and you whimper and squirm underneath him.

you can feel your panties starting to grow more and more damp with every little touch and press of his body, and it’s almost embarrassing how fast you’re getting needy and desperate. your head is starting to feel hazy as he continues to shower you with kisses.

you’re growing restless now, almost frustrated, and he knows exactly what to do to help satiate the fire he’s ignited in you. he brings one hand under your body, finding its place right in between your thighs.

he palms you through your panties, and you let out a strangled moan — the sound comes out before you can stop it, and you cover your mouth with your palm.

he lets out a small chuckle against your neck, the slight puff of air making you shudder even more. his palm is still pressed against you, and he rubs against your panties with a sort of expertise that you didn’t even know he had.

“gosh,” you manage to stutter out, your words breathy as you try to find them. “luigi, please—”

your words are interrupted by another press of his palm against you, and you let out another strangled moan against your hand.

the way you’re squirming and mewling under him is starting to drive him wild, and as much as he wants to keep up being gentle, he’s starting to feel a little desperate himself.

“please, what?” he whispers hotly against your skin. “you gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

he pushes against you with a bit more pressure, and your hips grind up against his hand, trying to chase after the pleasure he’s giving you. you feel a little desperate right now, and it’s definitely showing.

you bite back a moan as he continues to rub against you, his touches getting a little rough now as he starts to toy with you.

“c’mon, baby,” he pants. “say something. use your words.”

you whine a bit, bringing a hand to thread through his curls as you try to find your voice. he’s still touching you roughly, and the way he’s rubbing against your clothed clit is driving you absolutely crazy.

“please,” you gasp aloud, closing your eyes tightly, “please, please, please, i need you—”

even with the barrier of your panties between you two, his touches are making you burn with a fire you never felt in your life.

“need me to what, sweetheart?” he murmurs, his voice sounding rough in your ear. “be specific. tell me what you need.”

he presses down on your clit a little harder, and the pressure makes you writhe underneath him, your fingers gripping at the fabric on his back.

your breathing is becoming more labored, your words escaping in gasps and whimpers that are starting to sound like moans. you’re not even able to complete a full sentence with how distracted and overwhelmed you are, and he’s not making it any easier by the way he’s rubbing circles into you.

“i can’t hear you,” he teases, the tone of his voice bordering on sadistic now. “you’re gonna have to speak up.”

his hand starts to toy with the waistline of your panties, tugging a little at the elastic.

“i— i need you,” you manage to choke out, your voice sounding desperate and needy. “i need you, i need you, lu—“

he shushes you with a kiss, silencing you for a moment as he slides his tongue into your mouth.

he lets his tongue press against yours, silencing any other words that might escape you for the moment. while he’s kissing you, he slides his hand into your panties, and you gasp into the kiss at the feeling.

he takes advantage of your open mouth and lets his tongue delve in even more, trying to savor the taste of you. he slips a finger in you, and you have to pull away from the kiss to gasp, your arms digging into the broad expanse of his back.

“oh, shit—“ you can’t even control the words anymore. “luigi, please…”

“please, what?” he repeats, as if he has you on the edge and he’s loving it. “keep talking, baby, be specific, and i’ll give you exactly what you want.”

he’s teasing you, playing with you. you’re practically panting now, your body a writhing mess of need and desperation.

“please,” you pant out, your head thrown back against the pillow as you try to control your breathing. “i need you, oh please, oh, please—“

“need me to…?” he prompts once again, his voice dripping with fake innocence as he teases you. “i have no idea what you’re trying to say, sweetheart—“

“you know what I’m trying to say,” you whine, your back arching from the bed when he brushes against a particularly sensitive spot. “you’re just being mean, oh, please—”

“mean?” his voice is still dripping with that fake innocence. “i’m not being mean. i’m only trying to help. all you have to do, is tell me what you want, baby—“

his hand is still working at you, and the want that’s burning in your core is starting to feel agonizing.

“i need you,” your words are strangled now, your breath coming out in gasps. “i need you — i need your mouth—“

that makes him pause, the hand in your panties halting its movement as you hear him chuckle above you.

“my mouth, huh?” he sounds a little smug now. “you want my mouth, baby?”

you whine a little, and it almost sounds like a plea. “yes, yes, please,” you beg, your hips arching towards his hand. “please, i need it, luigi, please—"

“i’ll give it to you,” he says, his voice practically a growl as he moves down your body. “hold still for me for a moment — and don’t you dare cover your mouth, you hear me?”

you nod frantically, lifting your hands away from your mouth and gripping at the bed sheets instead. you’re panting already, your chest rising and falling in rapid succession as you wait for him.

he gets your legs over his shoulders now, his hands running up and down your thighs as he looks you over. you look positively wrecked already, your cheeks flushed, your back slightly arched. you need to use every bit of your willpower not to cover your mouth.

“look at you,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “you’re so perfect.”

he spreads your legs a bit more before he finally moves in, and you have to bite your lip in order to stop yourself from mewling out loud.

the moment the tip of his tongue connects with your core, you let out a shaky sigh, and your hands immediately go to his hair, tangling in the dark locks and tugging at them. it’s a good thing he likes having his hair pulled.

he works his tongue slowly at first, just exploring you first, learning you, trying to figure out what kinds of things make you tick. you writhe and writhe under him as he touches you, your fingers digging into the soft expanse of his hair.

“luigi,” you pant, your voice sounding strangled, “luigi, oh, please, oh, please—“

he seems to pick up the pace a moment before he looks up at your face. “louder, baby,” he says, his breath hot against your center. “i can’t hear you if you don’t speak up.”

you can’t help the whimper that escapes you at that, your body writhing as he continues his ministrations. you don’t want to be loud, you’re a little embarrassed. he seems to notice it though — he’s observant like that, the bastard.

“c’mon,” he coaxes, “don’t be shy. i wanna hear your pretty voice. be loud for me, baby.”

you look down at him, and his eyes seem to sparkle as you lock gazes.

he gives your core a swipe of his tongue, and your head falls back to the pillow as you let out the loudest moan you’ve ever let out. his grin gets wider when that happens, and he takes it like a damn challenge.

“oh, there it is,” he says, his voice almost purring as he goes at you with a fervor. “yeah, just like that, baby. go ahead and call my name.”

the way he’s working at you right now is driving you absolutely crazy. His tongue against you has a way of making you see stars, and you’re almost ashamed by the way you’re reacting to his every move.

“luigi, please,” you gasp in between moans. “oh, gosh, luigi, please—“

“yeah, you like that, sweetheart?” he pants between licks, his voice hot against your center. “tell me you like it, baby.”

you nod vigorously, not trusting yourself to speak right now. you’re practically writhing now, your hands gripping at the sheets and moaning with every little touch he gives you.

2 months later…

when you find out — the positive result of the pregnancy test clear as day in the small restroom of your workplace during your precious break— you’re more than a little stunned.

you’re pregnant. with luigi’s child.

you stare down at the pink plus sign on the test for a long moment, and you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken.

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader

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strawberriesoup · 3 days ago

Text

24 to 25٠࣪⭑

── .✦ A snowstorm forces you to take refuge with Jisung on christmas eve

word count: 6.6k

genre: fluff with a little angst, jisung x female reader, mutual pining, comfort, acquaintances to lovers

warnings: cursing, feelings, reader is down horrendously bad for jisung, kisses, jisung is a sweetheart

a/n: this has been in the works for a while (i’m bad at writing stuff fast) SO IM SUPER HAPPY THAT I WAS ABLE TO GET IT OUT FOR THE HOLIDAY SEASON

any/all feedback is highly appreciated!!

taglist: @jisunggy @holly-here @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools

if you would like to be added to my general taglist, send me a comment or an ask! <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The holiday season is a time for joy, a time to share laughter and meals, a time to wear fuzzy socks and fall asleep watching bad Christmas movies. Well, that’s what it’s supposed to be anyways. It’s a little hard to get into the Christmas cheer when each snowflake swirling outside your windshield is somehow concerningly larger than the last.

Wind whistles past your car as you squint your eyes, trying — and failing— to get any sort of visibility through the rapidly thickening blanket of snow and darkness. The gas light flashes on with a ping. Damn it. Continuing on whilst the best you can make out of your surroundings is a screen of nothingness and the occasional telephone pole doesn’t seem like the best course of action right now.

Eventually, you manage to pull into a small gas station about five minutes away by reluctantly putting your life into the hands of Google Maps.

Blowing warmth onto your hands, white-knuckled from your death grip on the steering wheel, you yank your phone out of the cupholder. Stranded in some dingy parking lot a good forty-five minutes away from your apartment is definitely where you needed to be on Christmas Eve, thanks so much universe. And your feet are cold.

You had really wanted to surprise them. The last time you’d seen your family was back in March, well over half a year ago. You thought Christmas as the perfect opportunity to visit. Just imagining the look on their faces alone was more than enough to spur your enthusiasm. But, then again, you hear the worries in the back of your mind. You hadn’t visited in so long, rarely even sending a text their way. And coming over with zero warning? They might not be as happy as you hoped.

No, of course they would be happy to see you, right? Right. Either way, there’s no way you’re going anywhere tonight.

Warm air from the AC fans across your face as you slump back in your chair, unfastening the top clasp of your coat that suddenly seems to be suffocating you. What do you even do in this situation? Call someone?

Scrolling through your contacts, your eyes alight on a familiar name.

Han Jisung

You face lights up with hope. Didn’t he say something about living around here? You open his contact, immediately faced with the looming call button in the top right corner of the screen.

Jisung is somewhat of an aquaintance of yours. Calling him a friend might be too bold. Being partners on a group project doesn’t automatically equal friendship, but you two had gotten along quite well. At least, you thought so. Maybe that was wishful thinking coming from your fat crush on him and his gorgeous smile, but still.

What are you doing? You hardly know this guy, and you’re going to call him on Christmas Eve night so he can, what, pick you up? You have to admit, the thought sets off little warning bells in your head. But what other options do you have?

Finger hovering over the button, you hesitate for a moment longer before pressing call.

The line rings once, twice. What if he doesn’t answer? He’s probably busy, it is Christmas eve after all. Did he ever mention leaving town for the holidays?

You’re so busy trying to recall previous conversations with him that you almost don’t notice the line picking up before the third ring. Shit, that was faster than you were expecting. Jisung’s voice greets you through the speaker.

“Heyy, what’s up?”

At the sound of his voice, your heart does a little leap in your chest. You take a deep breath before answering.

“Hi Jisung. I, uh, have a bit of a favor to ask.”

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

You were right about him living close, because less than fifteen minutes later the bright flash of headlights announces Jisung’s arrival. You know that looking nice should be the least of your priorities right now, but that doesn’t stop you from flipping open the sunvisor and briefly inspecting your appearance.

Jisung’s car door thuds shut as you hop out of your own car, met with a brisk rush of air that fills your lungs, chilling you from the inside out. He wasn’t far, but with the heavy snow you can just make out his form from across the lot. You’re quick to hustle towards his dark sillouette, eager to get out of the cold as soon as possible.

Meeting in the middle sooner than you had expected, both you and Jisung halt in tandem, breaths coming in puffs of condensation. The zipper of his puffer jacket is half undone, complimented by a scarf thrown haphazardly around his neck. His hands that are shoved deep in the pockets of his coat give hint to the fact that he’s probably not even wearing gloves.

Neither of you had spoken a word. The silence is painfully awkward, and you can tell he feels it too, if the way he glances down at his feet in favor of meeting your eyes is anything to go by.

“So, do you—”

“Should we—”

Speaking simultaneously, you both cut your sentences short, falling into a silence that’s somehow louder than the last. God, you had expected it to be awkward but not this awkward. Meeting with Jisung outside of a college setting feels so foreign, the only way you’ve interacted with him thus far has been through school. You can feel your ears burn as Jisung clears his throat.

“Sorry, uh, you were saying?” He pulls his hand out of his pocket to gesture at you, confirming that he is indeed not wearing gloves.

The question hangs in the air as Jisung pushes his glasses up with two fingers and looks at you expectantly. His cheeks are tinted with blush from the prickling cold. Lips slightly parted, his breath hisses through his teeth with every inhale, as if trying to supress them from chattering.

“Oh, yeah,” you begin your sentence again, shaking your head to focus. You’re standing in a parking lot in the middle of an actual snowstorm, now is not the time to be fawning over him. “should we, like, head to your car? I’m freezing. I’ll just leave my car here because it’s— yeah.” You twist around to look at your drab little car. It’ll be fine.

He lets out a little puff of laughter, sending a cloud of frost into the air.

“Yeah, good idea. c’mon let’s go.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The car ride to Jisung’s place is less awkward than your experience in the parking lot, but not by much. A comment is occasionally made about the storm, but other than that the ride is filled with silence and the steady swishing of windshield wipers.

Jisung glances at you from the corner of his eye. You’re examining the fluff on your gloves with your head down, not seeming too intrested in conversation.

Or maybe you’re uncomfortable. That would make a lot of sense.

Wincing internally at himself, Jisung draws his attention back to the road and furrows his brow, trying to remember if he’s done something wrong. Although, he supposes that being alone with, well, not a stranger— Jisung would like to think he’s at least a good aquaintance to you— but with someone you don't know too well, is enough to put anyone on edge. He has to remind himself that this was your idea.

When your contact info had popped up on his screen, interrupting his very important business (scrolling), he promptly froze, had an intense mental battle on how he should answer, dropped his phone, picked it back up again, and hit answer, all in the span of about four seconds.

Jisung has to admit he does have a slight thing for you. Well okay, maybe a big thing. Like, he has your class schedule and favorite study spot memorized kind of big. Also you wear your hair up on Tuesdays.

But thats besides the point really.

After what feels like a lifetime of driving and the occasional buzzing of muted christmas music playing through the radio, you two finally arrive at Jisung’s place.

It’s nicer than you had expected. The house is dimly lit, but perfectly tidy. Best of all, it’s warm. Behind you, Jisung’s keys jingle as he hangs them up next to the door.

“Uh, make yourself at home, okay? There’s instant ramen, some milk… actually, that’s about it but hey, at least there’s ramen.” He beckons you in, tugging his scarf off while smiling ruefully at the lack of food options to offer.

“That’s okay, I believe in instant ramen supremacy,” you state confidently, earning a laugh from Jisung as you follow him into the kitchen, resting your weight on the counter.

“A woman after my own heart I see,” He jokes, closing his eyes and placing a hand dramatically over his heart. His knuckles are still flushed pink from the cold.

If only he knew.

You can feel the awkward tension from earlier start to melt away now that you’re here. Thank God, because you were seriously considering going back to your car and just waiting out the night there. You couldn’t do that though. Jisung was so willing to help, coming as soon as you had called. Which is kind of crazy, if you stop to think about it for a second. Going out of your way to drive out in a snowstorm and picking someone up on Christmas Eve would be absolutely out of the question for most people, let alone someone you aren’t even close with.

Jisung is busying himself with running some warm water in the kitchen. He rests one elbow on the counter, testing the water tempature. You find yourself watching his movements, how he runs a hand through his hair, the dark strands dampening with the moisture from his hand, and how his eyebrows pinch in concentration until the tempature is just right. Jisung seems more comfortable and relaxed now that he’s here. He’s not a tall man, by any stretch of the imagination, but his confident demeanor makes his presence seem much larger.

Running his chilled hands underneath the warm faucet to bring the warmth back, Jisung looks to the window. You blink and follow suit. Fortunately, he hadn’t caught you staring.

“Holy shit, we must have made it here just in time,” He laughs incredulously, shutting off the sink and shaking the rest of the dampness from his hands.

The window is completely engulfed in white.

Outside, the wind angrily laments that you’re inside and safe. You can’t imagine being stuck out there in that, alone. Just the thought of it makes your insides churn with a strange mixture of anxiety and relief, and you realize that you haven’t even thanked Jisung yet for saving your sorry ass. You open your mouth, but the words seem to dry up on your tongue.

Jisung tilts his head at you, questioning.

“No for real, I haven’t seen a snow this crazy in a while,” Running your hand along the cool countertop, you fix your eyes on an unlit candle to the left of Jisung’s form. Why can’t you just say thank you? It’s not that hard, yet you find yourself avoiding the two simple words like the plauge.

A beat of silence falls over the two of you, but this time it’s comfortable. There’s no rush or pressure to say anything, just a quiet presence while gazing out at the bright sheet that blankets the night.

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

You have an idea.

Is it a good idea? Probably not, but it’s an idea nonetheless.

While you had been absentmindedly thumbing through your Pinterest homepage in an attempt to pass time, you came across a recipe. And not just any recipe, it’s a sugar cookie recipe in the likeness of a snowman. With a little face on it.

The tantalizing image stirrs your sweet tooth, and you glance over at Jisung on the other side of the couch. He seems to be putting an obviously large amount of distance between the two of you, as the entire middle section of the couch remains empty with you and Jisung perched on either side.

“Hey, so… are you any good at baking?”

Jisung’s head jerks up at your question.

“Uhhh. I plead the fifth.”

You find yourself grinning.

“How about this, do you like baking?”

“Now that. Is a different story.” His knees spread apart as he adjusts his position on the couch, slouching lower and crossing his arms across his chest. He looks at you sideways. “What, did you have something in mind?”

You definitely do have something in mind, and it doesn't have anything to do with baking.

“Hear me out,” you point your phone screen at Jisung, who leans in to squint at it. “we make christmas cookies. In the shape of snowmen.”

“You know what, hell yeah. Nothing better to do,” Jisung stretches his arms towards the ceiling, hands balling up into fists. Your wandering eyes betray you, and you can’t help but notice the little sliver of smooth skin that peeks out from where his shirt slides up as he stretches. He needs to stop being so casually sexy right now or you might go crazy. “Cross your fingers though, ‘cause I dunno if I have any eggs.”

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

Currently standing in a neat line across the countertop are all the gathered ingredients necessary for the cookies. Jisung had miraculously acquired two eggs from the depths of his fridge, which now sit next to the flour, and you had spent a good five minutes opening and closing cabinets in search of all the dry ingredients.

You’ve baked a couple of times before. Granted, the first time the cookies were still soft in the middle and the second time may or may not have involved the fire department, but third time’s the charm right? You’re determined to make and eat these cookies.

Next to you, Jisung is staring at the ingredients, hands on his hips. Seemingly at a loss, he looks over to you for instructions.

“Okay, step one: combine the dry ingredients…”

So far, so good. Jisung was put in charge of the flour mixture, while you had started the task of creaming the butter and sugar together.

When you glance up to check on Jisung after a bit, you find him leveling out a scoop of flour, meticulously brushing any stray lumps of powder off of the top with a butter knife. His eyes squint in concentration until he is satisfied with the measurement, proceeding to dump it into the bowl. A faint cloud of white powder dusts the air.

You watch him with amusement as he scoops another cup out of the flour bag, starting the whole process over again.

He must have felt you staring, because his head darts up, eyes finding yours. You quickly duck your head back towards your work.

You wonder if Jisung is a perfectionist with most things in his life. He’s mentioned before that he writes and produces music, you figure that has a certain degree of perfectionism to it. Then again, during the car ride here your feet were resting on several bags of fast food from various restaurants. Maybe his perfectionism is selective.

The undeveloped batter clings to the mixer as you switch it off and pull it out of the bowl. You swipe a finger over one of the whisks and pop it in your mouth. It might just be sugar and butter, but hey, that shit’s good.

Turning your head to offer Jisung a taste, you let out a gasp of surprise upon realizing that he’s standing right behind you. He leans forward, lowkey trapping you between him and the counter as he crosses an arm around you to scoop up some of the mixture from the edge of the bowl. Your breath catches at his proximity. His warm breath brushes againt your neck, causing a shiver to run up your spine.

He draws away, licking his finger while you remain frozen in place. What happened to him keeping a good distance from you? You don’t think he even realizes what he just did, because he just strolls on back to his little station, quietly humming a tune as he goes.

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

As soon as the oven door slams shut, Jisung is immediately squatted in front of it, dutifully watching the uniform balls of dough through the yellow tint of the oven light.

“You know those will take, like, thirteen minutes to cook, right?” Leaning over the countertop, you raise an eyebrow at his crouched form.

“Thirteen? No way. I’ll basically be dead by then.” Jisung stands up, brushing some of the remaining flour off his pants. That’s when you notice a patch of white just above his left eyebrow. How did that even happen?

You step forward without thinking, reaching up to rub the spot off with your thumb. His skin is ridiculously soft, and you find your treacherous fingers lingering for probably longer than was strictly necessary.

Jisung’s eyes are twice as wide as normal as you pull your hand away. He blinks at you and swallows, causing his throat to bob up and down.

Oh so now he’s flustered. You’re beginning to think your little crush is reciprocated after all.

Momentarily confident, you send him a sweet smile.

“That’s better.”

Jisung doesn't say anything in return, but you don't think you’re imagining the slight red tint to his ears.

Three loud beeps announce that the cookies have completed their oven time and are now ready to be taken out and consumed.

Jisung arms himself with oven mitts and carefully slides the cookie tray out of the oven and onto the potholders that you had placed on the countertop a few minutes prior.

They look good. Like, really good. You can feel your mouth starting to water.

“Holy shit, I think we actually did it! Thank God they didn't catch on fire this time,” you exclaim, poking one experimentally with a finger.

Jisung’s eyebrows fly up and he shoots you a bewildered look.

“I thought you said you could cook??”

“Hey now, I never said that…”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Throughout the night, you have become painfully aware of the fact that you are wearing jeans.

Thankfully, since you were heading to your family’s house anyways, you have an entire suitcase packed with the works. Your comfy pajamas from last year are sounding really good right now.

Jisung is propped up on the corner of the couch with a cookie in one hand and his phone in the other. His cheeks are stuffed with probably half of said cookie right now, making him look like some sort of rodent. It’s cute.

You need to ask him where his bathroom is to change, but you find yourself hesitating. Jisung looks up at you with a confused expression and a cookie crumb clinging to his cheek.

Realizing that you’re just looming over the side of his couch ominously, you are quick to blurt out your question.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Goddamnit. Of course he knows where his own fucking bathroom is. What kind of question is that?

Jisung, luckily, seems to have found it amusing, his eyes squinting up as he lets out a hearty laugh. Which almost, almost, makes up for the fact that you just asked the stupidest question in the history of mankind. It doesn’t stop your cheeks from heating up though.

“Yeah, I think it’s down the hallway to the left,”

He’s playing along. You wonder if he has any idea how much better that makes you feel as you break into a wide smile and thank him, scurrying off to go grab your…

Suitcase.

Your suitcase. Where was it? You don’t remember bringing it to Jisung’s place, where could it be? Did you- oh. You remember your dingy little car, sitting out there in the gas station parking lot. Your dingy little car that happened to have your suitcase in it.

Sometimes you surprise yourself, because how can one be this much of a mess? Everything has gone wrong tonight, and now this? You couldn’t even make it to your family’s house to surprise them. The weight of it all is beginning to crush you, forcing tears to well up in your eyes.

Stopping in the hallway around the corner, out of Jisung’s eyeshot, you shove your impending emotions down your throat, the roughness of the wall against your fist keeping you steady. You are not going to cry right now. You’ll find a solution. You just need to calm down first. Closing your eyes, you take in deep breaths, letting each exhale push you farther away from tears.

Once you’re sure you have yourself under control, you consider your options. You could ask Jisung for something to wear, or you could remain uncomfortable in your jeans for the remainder of the night. Now, you wouldn’t be upset about wearing Jisung’s clothes, not even in the slightest. They’d probably smell like him, too. How that man always smells so damn good is beyond you.

He’ll understand if you ask him for his clothes. You know he will. Hopefully, he won’t take it in the wrong way. It’s not like you want to wear his clothes, you just have to because you don’t have any other option.

Yeah no, you really just want to wear his clothes.

Rounding the corner, you expect to see Jisung on the couch only to find that he’s no longer in his spot, or in the living room, for that matter. He’s not in the kitchen either (which still has various baking supplies and smears of flour scattered about. You make a mental note to clean that up later). Huh. Maybe he went to his room. You settle down on the couch to wait for him, busying yourself with counting your knuckles.

Sock-padded footsteps cause your head to perk up in their direction. Jisung emerges from his room, closing the door behind him with his foot. His face lights up when he finds you on the couch.

“I wasn’t sure if you had brought any PJs or not, so, I grabbed some things you can wear,” He says, then seems to check himself and quickly adds, “If you want! You don’t, like, have to or anything, just thought I would offer.” In his arms he carries a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.

You could kiss him right now.

“Oh my God, Jisung, are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course, it’s no problem at all.” He reassures you.

Jisung had offered the clothes purely out of wanting to make sure you’re comfortable. Sleeping in jeans is pretty awful and he didn’t see you bring a suitcase or anything. Maybe he also wanted to give you his clothes but that’s irrelevant.

He watches as you skip off to the bathroom to change with a newfound pep to your step. Jisung shakes his head, grinning despite himself. You’re just so damn cute.

This storm might just be the best thing that’s happened to Jisung in a while. Getting to spend time with you? And on Christmas Eve no less. If you’d have told him that yesterday, he wouldn't have believed it one bit. It’s like all his prayers have been answered.

He finds himself wondering, what were your plans before you called him for help? Are you upset that you’re here, at his place, instead of wherever you were heading to? Jisung hopes not. As much as he’s happy you’re here to keep him company, he can’t help but worry about how you’re feeling about the situation.

As if on cue, you appear once again at the entrance to the hallway. This time though, you’re all cozyed up in his clothes.

Jisung’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you. The sweats nearly swallow your feet whole, and his hoodie— which is oversized in the first place—fits almost comically large on your frame; hanging off of one shoulder.

It’s not the exposed shoulder that gets him necessarily, this isn’t the 19th century, it’s the fact that you’re in his clothes and in his house.

He swallows.

“You look- you, uh, yeah. You look good. Warm?”

Jisung’s reaction tells you all you need to know. You laugh in response.

“Mhm! Add this to the list of things I definitely owe you for,”

“Pshh, nah don’t even worry about it, i’m happy to help,” Jisung figures that if he doesn’t look at you too hard, he’ll be able to keep his brain from short-circuiting. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Sparing a careful glance back up at you, he pats the couch to back up his offer.

The couch dips as you plop down next to him, sporting that smile of yours that has him weak. You had looked so distraught just a couple of minutes ago, and just the simple act of him offering his clothes and a movie had brought your spirits right up. Cute.

Jisung rests his chin on his hand and listens as you lay out your christmas movie options, but he’s only half-paying attention. He knows that he’ll enjoy whatever movie you choose, as long as you’re there to watch it with him.

He also knows that he’s probably more than a little bit head over heels for you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The smell of freshly-microwaved popcorn fills the room as you and Jisung take your respective places on the couch, the silent agreement apparently being to keep at least a foot between your bodies at all times

You settle in and get comfortable while the opening credits roll across the screen. Jisung is tossing some popcorn in his mouth, having already eaten nearly half of his bag. You get the feeling that he’s going to be asking to steal some of your popcorn sooner or later.

Even with him being a foot away, you are hyper-aware of his presence. The movie is starting, but you know there’s no way you are going to able to maintain any sort of attention span with Jisung sitting right there.

Still facing towards the screen, you sneak a quick look at him from the corner of your eye, only to find his eyes already trained on you.

The unexpected eye contact makes your heart jump to your throat, and you quickly jerk your gaze back to the television.

Why was he looking at you? Is he still looking? You consider turning again to check, but then decide against it, preferring to live in ignorance for the time being. You’re not sure you can deal with knowing he’s looking at you right now.

Not even ten minutes into the movie, a particularly loud whistle of wind rushes past the windows. The lights flicker once. And then again.

Fuck.

You barely have time to turn and look at a now wide-eyed Jisung before both of you are plunged into absolute darkness.

A small yelp of terror escapes from Jisung, and you feel his weight shift on the couch.

Blinking rapidly as though that would make the lights magically turn back on, you find yourself scooting towards Jisung. A heartbeat of silence passes, with only the sound of your and Jisung’s soft breaths cutting through the darkness.

“The power’s out,” He observes helpfully, voice noticably higher than it’s normal tenor.

“No shit.” You pull out your phone to turn on the flashlight, illuminating your faces. Jisung squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden intrusion of light, peeking one eye open at you after a moment.

The light reveals that he is a lot closer than you had thought. Barely an inch of space was left between your legs, and you swear you can feel warmth radiating off of him. Huh. That little mole on his face is visible from here.

Jisung swallows hard (apparently a habit of his) and quickly combs a hand through his hair, pulling himself up from the couch.

“Hold on, I think I have a candle somewhere,” He still looks a bit frazzled, but heads towards the kitchen nonetheless.

You turn and cross your arms over the back of the couch, illuminating his path.

“You do, it’s on the counter,” You point at it, having noticed it earlier when you’d first arrived. “‘Spiced apple toddy’, huh?”

You grin at the offended look on Jisung’s face as he approaches, candle and lighter in hand.

“Hey! They’re seasonal,” he objects to your teasing, placing the candle on the coffee table.

T he lighter sparks into a flame as Jisung drops back down on the couch and lights the candle, bathing your surroundings in a soft, warm light.

Well. So much for the Christmas movie.

“That sucks, I really wanted to see what was going to happen to Frosty this year,” Jisung mirrors your thoughts with a sigh, crossing one ankle over his leg and shaking his head with a tsk.

You giggle, giving him a light shove on the shoulder. In the back of your mind, you feel like you should be upset about yet another thing going wrong tonight. But how could something be wrong, really, when Jisung is smiling like that. Smiling like that because of you. The thought ignites little butterflies in your stomach.

The power doesn't seem to have any plans to turn on again anytime soon, so you and Jisung break out a deck of cards. Turns out he’s a big trash talker when it comes to competition, which has you laughing your head off at the creative insults he throws at you. Seriously, how does he come up with these?

After losing your third game of speed, you realize that goosebumps have began to form all up and down your arms. Not wanting Jisung to notice, you try to smooth them down as nonchalantly as possible.

Of course, he immediately notices.

“Are you cold?” He furrows his eyebrows in concern, drawing his attention away from his hand of cards to you.

“Nope!” A shiver decides that it’s the right moment to shake your whole body. “Okay maybe a little,” you admit, “but I’m totally fine, it’s not bad at all.”

In all honesty, that was a complete lie. It’s cold as shit. You just hope your smile is enough to distract from your clenched teeth and slightly runny nose.

Jisung raises an eyebrow at you skeptically, obviously not buying it.

“So I guess if I got a blanket, you wouldn't want it, right?”

“Hey, thats not-” you start to protest to him poking fun at you, but your confidence shrivels when Jisung places his cards on the table, batting his eyes at you in mock attention.

It’s flustering, to say the least. He directly offered you the solution to your discomfort, and didn’t really leave you with the choice to say no. Which, you decide, is kinda hot. That seems to describe most of what Jisung does, though.

You drop your hands down on the table in defeat. “Fine. Can I please have a blanket?”

As a response to your request, Jisung simply hoists himself up once more, tapping you twice on the top of the head as he passes.

“Attagirl.”

The sideways grin he flashes you tells you that he knows exactly the effect that that little word had on your insides.

He’s going to be the death of you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

You had just barely managed to compose yourself when Jisung returns with not one, not two, but an entire armful of blankets. In favor of just dropping them all on the couch, he decides to launch both himself and the blankets onto the couch simultaniously. His legs fly up behind him as he lands belly-down onto the pile of blankets, face buried in the soft fabric.

Whether he’s trying to draw out a laugh or not, you bark out a laugh that’s probably louder than the situation called for. You slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment as he lifts himself up to sit on the empty cushion of the couch.

It’s intresting, the way he moves. Every motion so natural, every curve so perfect, it traps your attention to him like a moth to a flame. His muscles are lean, tensing when he pushes himself up. You follow the lightest trace of a vein trailing down from his bicep to his hand, absentmindedly wondering how his hand would feel in yours. Wondering if he would ever so lightly run his fingers over the back of your hand, your collarbone, your jaw…

“So do you want a blanket or what?” Jisung waves his hand, snapping you out of your head. You hope he hadn’t noticed the way you were essentially ogling him just now. He most likely had though, given how annoyingly observant he’s proven to be.

The corners of Jisung’s mouth quirk up, a witheld laugh brimming behind his eyes. Okay scratch that, he definitely noticed.

Too humiliated to say anything, you take a seat next to him and toss a blanket over your head. The outside noises dim significantly from under the shelter of the blanket. The blanket that— unfortunately for you and your creative imagination— smells quite strongly of Jisung. You find yourself having to refrain from burying your face in the cloth. Because that would be weird.

It’s warm at least. Staying here forever sounds like a good plan.

A wave of fresh, cool air washes over you as the edge of the blanket lifts up to reveal Jisung peeking in at you.

“May I join you?”

You nod, hoping the darkness will conceal your flushed face. Jisung scootches to sit next to you and flicks the blanket back over both of your forms. Darkness encases you once more, only this time you aren’t alone.

Jisung’s phone light shines out, lighting up your faces in such a way that makes you think he might break into some cheesy horror story; the kind that you were genuinely terrified of in second grade.

He’s close. Like, really close. You could count his eyelashes if you wanted.

His eyes crinkle slightly as he gives you a little close-mouthed smile. He looks so lovely right now, you can’t help but smile right back at him. Except your smile definitely isn't lovely since you’re cheesing so hard.

When he chuckles, a breath of warm air puffs over your face, making you warmer than you think you’ve ever been.

Despite being a good bodily temprature already, the urge to wrap your arms around Jisung and bask in his physical presence is getting stronger by the second.

“I’m still cold.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them, such a blatant untruth that it makes your heart speed up.

Jisung’s head drops, shoulders bouncing slightly with silent laughter.

As if your ears couldn't get any hotter than they were already.

“Still cold, huh? You know what’s crazy?” He leans in just a touch further as if about to tell you some great secret, his voice quieting almost to a whisper. “Me too.”

Jisung arm wraps around your shoulders, and he turns you sideways, pulling you flush to him. How you seem to fit perfectly in the curve of his side, you’ll never know. Resting your head down on his shoulder and tentatively reaching a hand up to curl on his chest, you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. His heartbeat pounds in your ear, slower than your own jumping pulse, but much louder.

Wrapped in Jisung’s arms, you are definitely warmer than before. Which—since you really weren’t cold in the first place— has you sweating, the space under the blanket suddenly feeling small and suffocating.

You toss the top of the blanket off of your heads, inhaling the cold, crisp air now available to your lungs.

You’re not sure what comes over you. maybe it was the way that he tilts his head back to lean on the back of the couch, or maybe it was the little sigh he lets out, his breath just barely visible in the chilled air surrounding you. The hand that’s gently rubbing up and down your upper arm definitely isn't helping either.

You reach up and plant a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Jisung instantly tenses under you, every muscle tightening. You pull back to look at him, finding him frozen, staring straight ahead. a gorgeous pink tint graces his cheeks.

Always so confident until he’s the one being flirted with. Cute.

He’s silent and still for just a hint too long, and you start to get worried. Did you read the energy wrong? Was he just being nice?

You open your mouth to blurt out some sort of apology, but Jisung turns his head to look at you, eyes wide, searching your own. Your mouth snaps shut.

“Can you do that again?” His request is quiet and mumbled, nervousness evident in the way his knee starts to bounce up and down rapidly.

You reach up to grab his chin, his skin soft beneath your fingers. He’s real. He’s here and under your fingertips, gazing at you like you hung the moon.

You lean in, but pause to hover just millimeters away from his lips, your breaths mingling in the space between.

It’s not until Jisung makes a noise in his throat that is somewhere between a huff and a whine that you close the final distance between you two.

A white-hot flame ignites in your stomach when your mouths connect, only blazing brighter when Jisung runs his hand up the length of your back to rest it on the back of your head, holding you softly but firmly to him.

He wants you, everything about you. And you want him too, you always have.

When you part, you let out a breathless giggle. What just happened?

It seems as though Jisung is feeling the same way, a look of disbelief of his face as his eyes flick between your own.

“Thank you.” The two words that you’ve been skirting around all night finally slip past your lips.

“For what, the kiss? Anytime, babe.” He sends you an over-exaggerated wink, which of course doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it is drowned out by the slightly more pressing fact that he just called you ‘babe’.

Not that you mind. At all, actually.

“First of all, I’m the one who gave you the kiss, thank you very much, and secondly I just- well, it just means, y’know, a lot to me that you picked me up… and stuff…” You wince as your confidence audibly dwindles, looking at the couch beside him, “So yeah, thank you. So much. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“Hey, hey,” He brings your chin back up to look at him. “Seriously, it was no trouble at all. To be honest, I was so not looking forward to being alone on Christmas eve.” His gaze lightens, “So really, I should be thanking you because this is probably the best thing that could have happened to me.”

His genuine words paired with that soft look on his face make you realize that you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else or with anyone else tonight.

For the nth time tonight, you smile.

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blackenedsnow · 1 day ago

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helloooooo, your writing is amazingggggg and i was hoping it would be okay if i requested a shadowww x reader. Where Maybe sonic ask shadow to bring medicine to you (to try and introduce you to shadow as your sick with something or have a major injury, etc). Shadow prehaps is annoyed but agrees anyways, then however when he meets you sees maria in you. Then veryday to be sure you get better shows up in the morning to help take care of you, and slowly the two become friends then prehaps at the end share a kiss and become lovers? Idk it sounded cute in my head lol.

familiar

WARNING: Illness

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Sick! Reader

NOTE: This is such a cute request and I'm pretty proud of this! Sending you all the love, and I hope this brightens your day a little! Take care of yourself <333

SUMMARY: Shadow reluctantly delivers medicine to you at Sonic’s insistence, but upon meeting you, he’s struck by a haunting familiarity.

It was late afternoon when Shadow approached the house tucked away at the edge of the city, a small bag of medicine clutched in his gloved hand. The only reason he was here, he reminded himself, was because Sonic had all but begged him to.

“Come on, Shadow,” Sonic had said earlier, exasperated but hopeful. “They’re too sick to go anywhere, and I’m tied up with something. Just drop it off and say hi. You might even like them!”

Shadow had scoffed at that. “Highly unlikely.”

Yet here he was, standing at your door. He knocked, sharp and deliberate, and waited.

A muffled voice from inside called, “Coming!”

The door creaked open, revealing you. Despite the exhaustion evident in your eyes and the pallor of your complexion, you greeted him with a weak but genuine smile.

“Oh, you must be… Shadow?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded curtly, holding out the medicine. “Sonic sent me. He thought you might need this.”

You accepted the bag with a quiet “thank you,” looking up at him with an expression so open, so trusting, that it stopped him in his tracks. For a fleeting moment, he was no longer standing at your doorstep but aboard the ARK, looking into the kind eyes of someone he thought he’d lost forever.

Maria.

The resemblance wasn’t physical, but there was something about your demeanor—gentle, unassuming, and kind despite the pain you were clearly in—that tugged at a memory buried deep in his chest.

“You okay?” you asked, noticing his prolonged silence.

He blinked, snapping himself out of the moment. “Fine. Just… don’t forget to take the medicine.”

You chuckled lightly, the sound hoarse but pleasant. “I won’t. Thanks again, Shadow.”

He nodded again, turning on his heel and disappearing into the fading daylight.

To Shadow’s own surprise, he returned the next morning.

It had been a restless night. Thoughts of Maria swirled in his mind, but they mingled with the image of your weary yet kind face. He told himself he was simply being thorough, ensuring you were following the instructions for the medication.

When you opened the door again, wrapped in a blanket and looking just as surprised as you were grateful, Shadow felt the smallest pang of relief.

“You’re back,” you said, stepping aside to let him in.

“You didn’t seem capable of taking care of yourself yesterday,” he replied bluntly, though there was no malice in his tone.

You laughed softly. “Fair enough.”

It became a routine. Every morning, Shadow arrived with something—soup, tea, a fresh supply of tissues—and checked on you. At first, his visits were brief and businesslike. He would make sure you had what you needed and leave with little more than a nod. But as the days passed, the conversations grew longer.

You learned to expect his dry wit and sharp observations, and he found himself oddly drawn to your quiet resilience. Despite how miserable you felt, you always thanked him sincerely, your gratitude genuine and unassuming.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” you said one morning as he set a cup of tea on your bedside table.

“I know,” he replied simply, sitting in the chair he’d claimed as his own.

“Then why?”

He hesitated, his crimson eyes flicking to the floor. “You…” he paused, looking back at you with a sigh. “I don’t know.”

You didn’t press him, sensing the weight of his words, but your soft “Okay, thank you.” carried more meaning than either of you acknowledged.

By the time you were well enough to venture outside again, the bond between you and Shadow was undeniable.

“You don’t have to come by anymore,” you said one evening as he walked you back to your door after a short outing. “But… I’d miss you if you didn’t.”

He paused, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unspoken in his eyes, something vulnerable.

“I’d miss you too,” he admitted, the words slow but sincere.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened, and for the first time since you’d met him, Shadow looked genuinely flustered.

“Thank you, Shadow,” you whispered. “For everything.”

His lips quirked into the smallest of smiles, a rare and precious sight. “I... You’re welcome.”

And from that moment on, his visits were no longer about ensuring your recovery—they were about seeing you.

#shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedgehog fanfic #shadow x reader #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfiction #x reader #ask #fanfic #request #oneshot

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katyawooga · 3 days ago

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pLEASE sevika x idol/singer reader? :( I WANNWA DO THOSE CUTE DANCES INFORNT OF SEVIKA TO GET HER REACITON AEAEHAHAUAUUUAUAUAUAUAU

oh my gosh anon this is so cute!!! :3

men and minors DNI pretty pleaseee

also let's pretend the meeting at the vander statue didn't end in attacks from noxus for the purpose of this ask 😊 i started writing this when act 2 came out so imagine this is in between act 2 and 3

to absolutely no one's knowledge, sevika was a superfan of yours. zaun had very few 'celebrities' of sorts, but you, a breakout singer that used to be a girl-for-hire at margot's, had made a name for yourself.

you regularly held gigs around the undercity, most frequently on the roof of the chembarons' little lair at the very peaks of the underground. ever since silco shoved off, you've been able to spot his number two in the front row at nearly all of your shows.

the riots going on recently because of the colourful spectacle topside had temporarily paused your gigs, but that didn't stop you from supporting zaun and doing pop-ups to raise morale. sevika herself somehow got your contact and convinced you to come to a rally near the vander statue. you were excited to be apart of something so directly involved with jinx and protesting. you wore jinx-er attire and even brought flares for the audience.

"come onnn, shoot faster!"

you had also gotten jinx herself on stage with you. she happened to be a big fan of yours and one of the reasons sevika reached out for this gig. you sang jinx's favourite song together with the crowd bumping. her presence made the attendance a lot bigger and the atmosphere a whole lot more exciting.

"just a little bit of energy, yeah!"

you spotted sevika in her usual front row spot, admiring your act and jinx for finally getting out of her lair. sevika was holding the hand of a small blue-haired girl jumping around like a maniac watching jinx. it was a sweet sight, especially since they were both mouthing along the words of the song and sevika dancing a little with the girl hanging off her mechanical arm.

"i wanna try somethin' fun right now!"

the crowd set off their flares of blue and the scene was clouded with aqua while you and jinx continued to sing and entertain.

"i guess some people call it anarchy!"

—

after your numbers were over, you thanked the crowd, thanked jinx, and thanked sevika for planning it all and giving her credit where it was due. she was a little bashful but it made her all the more authentic to you.

"this was really fun!" you approached sevika once she had pawned off the small girl to jinx, the two of them giggling together. "i'd love to show more spots like this. i've never seen zaun so pumped up."

"you were great. you and jinx really hit it off on stage, the people loved you two."

it was your first real conversation with the left hand of zaun and it was a little silly how starstruck you were. she was a bigger fan of yours and you were the actual pop star here.

"i saw that you loved us too," you poked a little fun with her. "knowing all the lyrics, dancing along..."

she, of all people, got flustered and scoffed, waving off your words. she had a good time watching your act, just like she always did, but someone actually noticing it for once kind of embarrassed her.

"well, if ever you wanna see a little shimmy from me again, don't hesitate to reach out for a gig. with how much jinx, the kid, and i love your act, zaun'll be in the clouds with how high you've lifted our spirits."

parting ways with sevika and waving goodbye to jinx and (seemingly) her younger sister, you couldn't help but feel giddy. the most revered and loyal person in zaun was a fan of yours, she wanted to keep spotting your act, and now you had jinx as a wingwoman on stage. you never thought life could get any better as a little singer from the underground.

i'm sooooo sorry this took me so long But i am back to getting requests and asks written since i'm on break now :) feel free to send some!

#sevika #sevika arcane #arcane #sevika x reader #arcane x reader #arcane s2 #dee's drabbles #dee's asks and requests

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shukumeinorivals · 3 days ago

Text

Dear KaiShin Nation,

I have been getting questions about fanfic recommendations lately, but that's not my area of expertise, so once again I'd like to humbly ask for your help to update the fanfic rec list. If anyone has a fic or an author they love and they are not already on the list, please let me know. You can send an ask or put it in the comments of this post. Recommending several at once is fine, too. Thanks a lot for any help you can provide. Ao.

#DCMK #KaiShin

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day ago

Text

compos mentis 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this decrepit pervert is back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’re restless. What’s worse, is you have no energy. You never really do. Living is the most exhausting thing you’ve ever done.

You lean in the window sill, half hunched as you stare out at the suburban street. It’s a nice neighbourhood. Your mother lives in a condo, on one of the highest floors. You hate it. This place isn’t so bad. It’d be nice if it was just you.

That last thought makes you sad. You don’t know that you’ll ever be able to be alone. You hate being such a burden. What you hate most, is feeling like you’re on a leash. Sometimes literally as your oxygen tube keeps you bound to the tank.

All your existence, there’s been something wrong with you. In high school, it got so much worse. You didn’t even realise until your mother pointed it out. Then the appointments doubled, the tests too, and it never stopped. Will it ever?

You’re trapped in a holding pattern. If living is so difficult, should you even try? That’s a bad thought but you can’t help it. You see your mom, you see Andy, and they don’t need all these medicines or this thing to breathe for them. They have lived full lives, they have jobs and a home. You have nothing.

You turn away from the window. The tall trees and peaked rooftops are no longer so beautiful. They’re just another reminder of everything you don’t and will never have.

A knock at the door startles you. You cross the room and inch it open. You peer out, disappointed to find Andy again. How long is your mom going to sleep?

“Hey, sweetheart, I was thinking you might want to come with me. It's pretty quiet around here,” he says.

“Come with... where?” You rasp.

“I was going to go to the pharmacy and get your script filled, like your mom said,” he explains and holds up the doctor’s paper. “Found it in her purse.”

“Oh, uh...” you hesitate. You don’t know what to do. That he’s even asking makes you feel obligated. “Sure, I... okay.”

“Take your time, I’ll warm the car up,” he assures you. “Anything I can help with?”

“No, sir, I’ll grab my bag.”

You shut the door before he can respond. You pause and feel bad. You hope that didn’t seem intentional. You go and grab your belt bag. You check that everything is in it, then drag your tank back to the door.

You come out and the hall is empty. You go around to the bathroom and rinse off your face. You don’t have a toothbrush so you use your finger to spread some paste around your teeth and rinse your mouth. You’re overly aware of your day-old outfit. You do what you can for your hair then resign yourself to being the same mess you always are.

You take the stairs slowly. One at a time as you prevent the wheels of the tank from thumping. Andy’s house is so nice, you don’t want to ruin it. You get to the front door and pull on your jacket. You put on your sneakers and awkwardly angle out the front door.

The SUV whirs in the driveway. Before you can get to the first step, Andy is there. He helps with the tank and sets it on the flat ground. You quickly take the handle and thank him.

“You alright?” He asks. You wish he wouldn’t be so worried. Your mother doesn’t ever ask, only if it’s for show.

“Fine,” you assure him.

You roll the tank past him and he calls after you as you get to the SUV. “Hey, you don’t gotta sit in the back.”

“Uh, right,” you say.

You go around to the passenger door and he opens it for you. Once again, he lifts the tank. Before you can react, he does the same to you. You lurch up into the seat and wriggle until he lets you go. He doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort.

You sit straight and steady the tank between your knees. He shuts the door and you get the seatbelt clicked in. As he climbs in the other side, you take out your vaseline and smear it under your nose. It’s particularly raw this morning.

“Shoot, is that from the AC? I can turn it down.”

“No, it’s... okay,” you stare through the windshield. You want to get this done and over with. Your brows furrow at the thought of your mom waking up to the empty house.

“What’s the matter?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you insist.

“You look worried,” he says.

“I... my mom. She’s in rough shape.”

“Hungover,” he clucks, “it’s a good thing you don’t take after her with that.”

You nod, not sure what to say. He does up his seatbelt and checks the mirrors. He shifts and backs out of the driveway.

“Feel free to put on some music. I don’t think you want to listen to my oldies,” he chuckles.

“It’s okay,” you hug yourself with one arm, your other hand on the tank.

The silence buzzes in your ears. It’s too late now to change your mind. Besides, you’re so indecisive about your music. You wouldn’t exactly brag about your taste either.

The drive stretches on as you huddle into the door, distracting yourself with the passing light poles, houses, and so on. You don’t know this area. It’s not anywhere near your usual pharmacy. You often wait in the car when you do go with your mom.

He pulls up along the curb and park. It’s a nice quaint street in the neighbourhood. There’s a park on the corner and an organic store on the opposite side. You peek out at the local pharmacy’s moniker, hand-painted unlike glowing banner of the department store where your mom usually goes.

“Should be able to get this filled,” he says as he shuts off the engine.

You just nod and hum. He gets out quickly, easily. You envy that. You can’t do anything easily. He comes around as you push the door open. He once more brings down your tank but you’re certain to climb out on your own. You nearly stagger as you do.

You wheel out of the way as he closes the door. You look around at the other pedestrians. A woman with a stroller, a family just across the way babbling in glee. You turn away before the scene can make you morose.

Andy leads you to the pharmacy door and pulls it open with a chime. He lets you in first. There’s only a few aisles inside, the pharmacist’s counter is at the back, another till near the front where they sell chocolates and candy.

You linger until Andy points you down the center row. You go ahead of him and stop before the long counter. He unfolds the prescription as he greats the man behind it boldly. Good mornings and niceties you struggle to get right.

“Hm, we have these on hand but it’ll be a wait. Been a busy morning,” the pharmacist explains.

“That’s fine, we can keep ourselves busy.” Andy says. You squirm. You can? Waiting that long will only add to the tension that makes your chest even tighter.

You back up as he turns around. He looks around for a moment, as if he thinks you wondered off, then smiles at you. “There’s a cafe across the street, how about it?”

“I don’t... drink coffee,” you say.

“I know, sweetheart, I remember,” he gently strokes your shoulder, “they have tea, too. Or smoothies. You must be hungry too.”

“I... if you want to, I guess...” you shrug.

“You know, I’m not your mom. I won’t say no,” he intones. “You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“I know, I... I’m sorry.”

“And you don’t need to be sorry,” he counters.

You almost apologise again, only to fill your cheeks with air and nod. You feel like you should be though. Like everything you do is a disappointment.

You go back down the middle aisle. Andy reaches past you to hold the door again. You come out and narrowly avoid a collision. You wait for the family of three to pass by before Andy nudges you to the curb. He takes your free hand as he tugs you with him, jaywalking through the lazy traffic.

The effort is enough to make your head spin. You get your wheels over the other curb and sway. Andy doesn’t let go. He takes you past the patio area of the cafe and swings back the door before he releases you, pointing you within.

The smell of coffee, the grind of a machine, and the chatter of diners greets you. You wait behind the two teenage girls at the counter as Andy comes up next to you. He stands close but you assume it’s because it’s such a tight space.

“Do you want to find somewhere to sit?” He wonders.

“No, I’m okay,” you say.

“Sure, uh, so what do you want?”

You look up at the hand-written menu. You might get a tea after all.

“The brioche egg sandwich is one of my favourites,” he says.

“You come here... a lot?” You wonder.

“Sure. I like to run in the mornings. I’ll grab a coffee on my cool down. And weekends I’ll have breakfast. Your mom’s usually still asleep if she’s around,” he tuts.

“Right, uh... that sounds fine. Brioche.”

The girls go to the further end of the counter and Andy waves you forward. The barista greets him by name. She’s very pretty. She has amber coloured braids with a zigzag pattern and cute freckles over her cheeks. You want to ask how she did her hair like that but you don’t want to be rude.

“Andy, how are you?” She chirps in recognition.

“Good, we were just walking through the neighbourhood,” he says, You adjust the tube under your nose self-consciously. The barista is gorgeous and reminds you of everything you’re not.

“Oh, is this your fiancee?” She asks. “She’s finally come around.”

Andy chuckles and you blanch. He doesn’t offer a protest and neither do you. You wait for him to correct her. He doesn’t.

“Sweetheart, what did you want to drink?” He looks at you and you nearly choke.

“Can I have the pomegranate tea, please?” Even your voice sounds ugly.

“Sure, what size, hon?”

“Small,” you croak out.

“Small pomegrante, and your usual?” She asks Andy.

“Yep, and two of the brioche breakfast sandwiches. Oh, and something sweet for dessert. Those cherry tarts look delicious,” he points to the display.”

“Got it, anything else?” She taps the till screen.

“That’s it,” he slips out his card and waits. He selects a tip amount before he taps, the machine beeping in acceptance. You spy the total right before it disappears. Oh, that’s expensive.

“I’ll bring it to you, Andy,” she smiles brightly, “you two enjoy.”

Andy takes your hand again before you can react. He brings you to the table and you sit across from him, right by the window. You feel like you’re on display. You hate it.

You push the tube into your nose as you think then trail your hand down the length. You stare off into the distance. You don’t know, it feels weird. It feels like he’s doing too much. Like maybe he feels bad for you.

“Whatcha thinking about?” He interrupts your trance.

You flinch and look at him, then avert your gaze to the table.

“You didn’t...” you begin then shake your head.

“What?” He prompts.

“Nothing.”

“Go on, sweetie, you don’t have to be shy with me. You can say whatever you need,” he leans forward as he crosses his arms over the table, “you know, your mom told me you’ve never really had a father figure. I’m here to help, to support you.”

You nod and pick at your dry lip then stop yourself, hiding your hands under the table. “You-- that woman... she thought I—that we—you didn’t say no.”

“Oh, I didn’t want to embarrass her,” he laughs. “It’s funny, don’t you think?”

“Yeah...” you nod at your lap. “It is really... funny. No one would really want to marry me.”

You cover your mouth as the thought slips out. You shake your head. Why did you say it?

“Huh? Sweetheart?” He leans in even closer, “you don’t think that’s true, do you?”

You shrug and peel your hand away, chewing on your sleeve as you slump low in your seat.

“You’re a nice girl. Pretty too.”

“I’m not,” you murmur into your cuff. “You don’t have to lie.”

“Well who says you’re not?” He urges. You shake your head again.

“Your mother?” He suggests. You shake your head harder. She would be livid if you told him that she did. He clicks his tongue, “well, however it is, don’t listen to them.” He reaches across to you, “hey, sweetheart, look at me.” You obey, trembling in humiliation, “you are very pretty.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #compos mentis #defending jacob #au #dark fic #dark!fic #fic

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genderqueerdykes · 2 days ago

Note

We're appreciating these pro-endo posts as an endogenic, especially the fact you account for traumatized endogenics (we at least notice "usually" and other such words in a lot of posts, and were taught at a young age how to analyze shit because of being autistic) so like...thanks. :)

Hopefully y'all are okay, anti-endos are really showing their asses this time in your asks. And we hope everyone else realizes they have always been that bigoted.

hey of course, thanks for sending this ask!

yeah i don't know why people don't understand that endogenic systems can... also have trauma. like. endogenic doesn't mean 100% free from trauma. anyone can have trauma. trauma doesn't always manifest in the most extreme forms possible like dissociative disorders. like i cannot stress enough that dissociative disorders are a very specific kind of plurality, and should NOT be used as a metric to gauge whether or not someone's plural experience is legitimate or not. the diagnostic criteria for dissociative disorders is so painfully restrictive that a lot of people who probably do have a dissociative disorder don't get the diagnosis because it's so fucking specific

and again, i just want to stress that endogenic systems literally are not hurting anyone. you are not spitting in my face or talking over me as a system with DID. you are being respectful by using a term that suits your experience way better. like idk how that is offensive to people. endogenic systems developed a term to express a specific type of plurality. that's not trying to mock or ape on dissociative plurality. it's not an attempt to talk over dissociatives. it's creating an entirely new conversation that needs to be had

people getting upset about endogenic systems are creating mountains out of mole hills. it is quite literally a nothing burger of a problem. there IS no problem. nothing wrong is even happening. like i cannot overstate how fucking annoying it is when other dissociatives decide its time to get on their high horses and act as if they're suddenly experts on psychology and mental health. like it really pisses me off when other plurals with dissociative disorders decide the entire plural community is about them. the dissociative disorder communities are about plurals with dissociative disorders. specifically. you can still occupy spaces made for people with DID, OSDD and so on and leave endogenics alone and the world will keep turning. the sun will rise tomorrow regardless.

learn to mind your own goddamn business if you can't respect that other people experience the world differently than you do. maybe, just maybe, the dissociatives who are intentionally going out of their way to mock and harass endogenic systems are the fucking problem, here. you don't get to be a fucking bully just because you have trauma. you don't get to attack and hurt people who haven't hurt you just because you were abused. that's literally fucking perpetuating the cycle of abuse. if you think to yourself that because you are traumatized, that it's okay to take your anger out on people who have no trauma, you seriously need to reassess your life. what does that do for you? temporary catharsis? a rush of dopamine that lasts mere seconds? chasing the high of harassing strangers will not undo what was done to you in the past.

as a dissociative- i only understand what dissociative plurality is like. i do not understand other forms of plurality. and you know what? i don't find the fact that other types of plurality existing offensive to me. it's just not. i've been very close friends with so many endogenic, spiritual, natural, etc. systems out there over the years. i have never found it offensive for anyone to say "oh hey i'm plural too!" and then explain a different plural experience than the one i have. thats why the term plural even exists, because it encompasses a broad range of plural experiences, not just dissociative ones.

like, to the dissociatives who are pissed off that endos exist: literally stay in dissociative disorder-centric spaces and tags. they're right there. you HAVE a community that you can interact with who understand exactly what you're going through. if it offends you that you find a VARIETY of plural experiences in the general plural community- that community isn't for you. like seriously. if it offends you that deeply that other types of plurality exist- the general plural community is not for you. it's literally not made for you if you can't except that numerous types of plurality exist. you have spaces you can occupy that ARE made 100% for people just like you. you can quite literally stay in spaces made for dissociative plurals only. like. you can do that. that's an option. and you can stop bullying other people out of spaces that they rightfully belong in.

trauma is never excuse to be a fucking jackass. it's perpetuating the cycle of abuse. that's nothing to be proud of. break the cycle. stop abusing people just because you were abused.

#asks #answers #plurality #plural gang #endogenic system #endogenic #endo safe #endo friendly #endogenic safe #endogenic friendly #pro endo #pro endogenic #plural community

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hhughes · 3 days ago

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𓈒 ୭ৎ you belong with me 𝅄 ۪ ݁ 𓈒

(fic) — in which will's gf (lauren - sorry if ur named lauren) doesn't treat him right and you're waiting for Will to realize he belongs with you! you could probably already tell but it's based on you belong with me by taylor swift!

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. will smith x bsf!reader. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. language. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎��. this is a repost that I just edited a bit. need to write more for will asap. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

You open the door to your apartment, kicking your converse off and lining them up neatly on the shoe rack at the front door. You sigh when you see two pairs of shoes lying on the floor, bending down to pick those up and placing them there as well. You immediately go to your room and change into comfy clothes quickly, wearing shorts and a familiar worn out ‘US hockey’ shirt that belonged to your best friend will. A small smile forms on your face when you hear laughter coming from your living room, walking towards the sound and being met with a familiar sight.

Gabe, Ryan and Will lounging on your couch, looking so comfortable anyone would’ve thought it was their apartment.

"Hey, look who's finally here!" Ryan yells and you grab a slice of pizza from the box before taking your seat on the same couch as Will, placing your feet on his lap and his hands automatically fall to your calves, caressing them softly.

"You don't get to complain that I'm late when you two left your shoes laying around again," you say and Will smiles, shaking his head, knowing what a big pet peeve that was for you.

"How do you know it's ours and not Will's?" Ryan asks, throwing a piece of popcorn in will’s direction, only smiling sheepishly when you send him a glare about the mess he’s making

"First of all, I know every pair of shoes he owns and he doesn't own the ones that were laying around. Secondly, Will would never let his shoes get that dirty, it's the pretty boy in him. One speckle of mud and he has to wash them. And lastly, he knows better than that." you say and Will squeezes your knee in retaliation for the "pretty boy" comment, smiling when you kick him in the thigh.

"What are we watching?" you ask

"IT," Gabe answers and you immediately protest.

"Absolutely not," you say and Gabe laughs.

"It's not even that scary." Gabe says

"It's not scary, it's just creepy. I hate clowns, they shouldn't exist, especially not to amuse kids," you mumble and grab a pillow when Gabe starts the movie anyway. It was his turn to pick and if you were gonna make him watch all your movies then you had to watch his.

Movie nights were something you and Will started when you were still in highschool, and the tradition carried on to college. You can't really remember when Gabe and Ryan joined in but they haven't missed one since.

You miss half the movie anyway since your attention is focused solely on Will, as it is most of the time. He looked good tonight, but then again he always looks good. He was wearing grey sweats and a tight fitted white T-shirt, his hair a little messy as if he took a nap earlier and just came over without fixing it. His hand was still absentmindedly tracing patterns on your leg and you shivered when his hand slipped to the inside of your thigh.

"You cold?" he asks and you nod, not wanting him to know you were shivering because of something else.

"C'mere," he says and you move closer as he grabs his hoodie he took off earlier, pulling it over your head.

"Thank you," you say as you cuddle into his side more, his arm around you and hand resting on your hip.

You spend the next thirty minutes or so there, nearly falling asleep when Will's phone rings. You sit up a little as he reaches for his phone, letting out a big sigh as he stands up and answers the call.

"Hey baby," Will answers and your chest tightens at the soft way he speaks to her.

"I'm watching a movie with the boys and—," he says and lets out a big sigh at whatever she's saying.

"Yeah okay, I'll be there soon," Will says and you frown when he starts collecting his stuff.

"Where are you going?" Gabe asks, beating you to it.

"Lauren invited people over to her place tonight and apparently we're hosting together and people have been asking for me," Will explains, grabbing his keys from the coffee table.

"She didn't tell you earlier?" Ryan questions, a frown on his face

"No. I told her I was busy tonight," Will says and Ryan scoffs, shaking his head and giving his friend a disgruntled look

"And she still hosted it tonight? Without you knowing...and now she's telling you to leave and go there?" Gabe asks, trying to get Will to see how weird that is but he just shrugs.

"I don't know man, she probably just forgot. I'm fucking exhausted though. I gotta go," Will says but stops right beside you on his way to the door, bending over so he can speak softly to you.

"You're not upset with me are you? I hate when you're upset with me," Will says, hand playing with the ends of your braid and you shake your head.

"No, it's all good. Do what you gotta do," you say with a smile. one you know he could tell was fake.

"Rain check on movie night? Maybe next week it can be just you and me, like old times. Feel like I haven't spent much time with you since these two are always around. i’ll make it up to you. I promise," Will says, kissing your cheek before making his way out of your apartment. You'd have liked to tell him that it wasn't because of Gabe and Ryan that you guys weren't spending as much time together, it was because of her.

Will met Lauren at the first tailgate you guys had attended at BC, after that they went on a few dates and after a few dates they were together.

It wasn't one of those classic situations where you were in love with your best friend and hated every girl he paid attention to but you. It was about the fact that she treated him terribly, and he deserved so much better. And maybe it did hurt your feelings a little bit that he was dating someone like that. Because if he was dating a girl that gave him all these things that you couldn't because she was just that great then maybe you'd understand why it wasn't you he was dating. But you didn't understand why he would be with someone like Lauren, when you were right here, where you've always been.

"I'm not the only one who doesn't like her right?" Gabe asks when Will is gone.

"I can't stand her. She's so rude and she treats him so badly. I don't know what he sees in her honestly," Ryan says with a frown on his face and they both look at you expectantly.

"I mean as long he's happy I don't have anything to say," you say and both of them scoff

"He's obviously not happy. All of us can see that, you probably most of all with how well you know him," Ryan says and you just flick your attention back to the TV.

"When are you two gonna stop pretending you don't have feelings for each other and just get together?" Gabe asks

"He doesn't have feelings for me, if he did he would have acted on them a long time ago and he certainly wouldn’t be leaving my place to go see his girlfriend," you say, emphasizing the word

"What if he was holding back cause he didn't know if you felt the same way?" Ryan asks and you just shake your head.

"It doesn't even matter now. He's got a girlfriend and whether we like her or not, we still have to respect that," you say, your tone making it clear that you didn't wanna talk about this anymore.

The next time you saw Will was later that week, you were sitting at a table at your favourite café, reading a book when he took the seat across from you.

"What's wrong?" you ask, immediately noting the annoyed expression on his face.

"The beanpot is next week," Will says, as if he didn’t circle it in red on your calendar on the fridge.

"I know. Everyone's been talking about it for weeks, I had four people corner me in the hallway this morning asking if I could hook them up with tickets cause it's already sold out and they know i'm friends with you," you say and Will frowns, taking your hand in his and rubbing circles on your palm with his thumb.

"They cornered you? Who?" he asks, the furrow between his brows deepening

"It doesn't matter, Ryan took care of it, but the point is. . . trust me everyone knows the beanpot's coming up," you say and Will's frown doesn't disappear but he allows you to divert from that topic

"Not everyone apparently. Lauren told her parents l'd be coming up to New York to meet them that weekend," Will says and your jaw drops

"She did not. Why? How can she not know? You've told her like 20 times, you even bought her and her 50 friends tickets to go," you say exasperated and Will sighs shaking his head

"I don't know, but she wants me to tell coach I'm missing it and still go to New York," he says and your jaw drops even further if that's possible

"Oh my God, she's insane. There's no way you'd miss any game, but especially not the beanpot games. You've been dreaming of playing in the beanpot since you were a little kid," you say and Will smiles at you

"Yeah that's what I told her and we got into a pretty big argument about it. It's okay I know she's not that into hockey so maybe she really did just forget," Will says, the frown back on his face

"You're not that into reality TV, or dance, or any of the things she's into really, but you still make time to see her or do those things with her, or at least remember when it happens because what's important to her is important to you. That's just what a good partner does," you say and Will nods

"Yeah, it's fine though," he says but you know him better than that. You can obviously tell it really hurt his feelings that she forgot and then she argued about it with him too? What was he doing with a girl like that?

"For what it's worth, l'm really excited to watch you play in the beanpot. I know you're gonna do amazing and I think it's the coolest thing ever that you get to do something you've dreamed about doing for so long. And I'm so excited to be there and cheer you on," you say and Will grins, bring your hand up to his lips to press a kiss against your palm.

一

Later that night you were laying in bed, watching a show on your laptop, your eyes drooping closed every few seconds before you peeled them open again, when you heard a knock on your door.

"Will, it's the middle of the night, what are you doing here?" you ask as he steps into your apartment, closing the door behind him.

"I called my mom, and I told her about stuff with Lauren and you know what she told me?" he asks and you shake your head, head still a little foggy from your in and out naps.

"She said I'm with the wrong girl. That the right girl would listen to me, and support me, understand me. Make me laugh when I feel like I'm gonna cry. The girl who knows all my favourite songs, and I tell about my dreams. The one who feels like home. So I went to see Lauren, and I broke it off and then I sat there for about three hours because I realised that the girl I'm looking for is you. And I feel like the biggest idiot because you've always been there, and all this time how could I not know that you're the one I belong with. and i’m so sorry," Will says and you take a deep breath trying to keep your tears from falling as you let out a little laugh

"I've been giving you the biggest heart eyes since forever, it's about time you noticed," you joke, and he smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his forehead against yours.

"Well can I be your oblivious boyfriend, instead of your oblivious best friend?" Will asks teasingly and you nod, connecting your lips to his in a soft, long-overdue kiss.

#꒰ 🗄️ ꒱ — 𝓗hughes #꒰ 📂 ꒱ — 𝓗hughes > fics #will smith hockey x reader #will smith x reader #will smith hockey #will smith hockey fic

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