#we should probably cut him some slack

[nadvs]

watch and learn (part one)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

At first, you cut your neighbor some slack. Over freshman welcome week, you figured it wouldn’t be reasonable to expect him to be quiet.

But it’s Thursday of week two, well past quiet hours, and the bass of his music is nearly making your bed shake.

You assumed the guy you’ve heard but haven’t seen yet would settle down once classes were underway. So much for that.

You have a lecture early tomorrow. It’s past midnight and his music and loud conversations are still drumming through your wall.

You’d call the resident advisor, but you’d rather talk to him yourself so not to risk any bad blood that could form from you snitching on him. You sigh, get out of bed, and decide to finally face him.

Rafe takes another hit of his joint, leaning back in his desk chair while three of his frat buddies talk about the past week of rushing.

He just got accepted into his top choice frat and he’s elated. And if he proves himself, he’ll be able to move into the Sigma Chi house next semester.

He probably will never get used to living in such a small room compared to the mansion he grew up in, but at least the frat house will be an upgrade.

“Dude, I think someone’s knocking,” Blake says, slapping Rafe’s knee.

“Oh, shit,” Rafe laughs, high out of his mind. He pauses the music and ambles out of the circle he’s been sitting in.

When he opens the door to see a girl in pajamas looking up at him, her arms crossed and her lips pinched, he’s taken aback for a second. Damn, you’re pretty.

“Hi,” you say, failing to force a smile at the man towering over you. The smell of weed hits you instantly. “I live next door. I wanted to ask if you could please keep it down?”

He grimaces as his unseen friends jeer behind him. You notice the Greek lettering on his t-shirt. A frat boy. Of course.

“You’re in trouble, Rafe!” one of them taunts.

He props a big arm against his doorframe, his blue eyes trailing down your body.

“Were we being loud?” he teases, purposely playing dumb. He’s obviously wasted. And is giving off strong fuckboy vibes.

“I have an early class tomorrow,” you try to explain. “Can you at least keep the music off?”

“What, you don’t like it?”

“Listen… Rafe, right?” you say. He nods, his grin still so fucking smug. You tell him your name. “I’m not trying to ruin anyone’s fun, but-”

“That’s kind of what you’re doing,” Rafe interrupts. The way your face screws up when you’re pissed off is too cute for him to stop fucking with you.

“Don’t you have a frat house you can do this at?” you finally snap, gesturing to his t-shirt.

“You telling me I can’t be in my own room?” Rafe says, annoyance starting to prick at his skin.

“Not if you’re gonna keep people up,” you say.

“Turn around.”

“What?” you snap.

“I wanna know if I can see the stick up your ass from here,” he says.

His friends explode in laughter and he looks back with a wide smile.

“I fucking hate frat boys,” you mutter more to yourself than to him. Rafe brings a hand up to his chest in mock offence. “And you’re not allowed to smoke in your room,” you add.

“You gonna tell on me?” He cocks his head, his hair falling over his forehead.

“Yeah, actually, I might.”

A man appears behind Rafe with a charming smile.

“Okay, okay,” he drawls to you, gesturing to dap Rafe up. “We should get going anyway.”

“Nah, man, you don’t have to,” Rafe says, immediately disappointed that his fun is ending.

“It’s late,” he says. The man nods at you with a smile.

“Blake,” he introduces himself to you. “Sorry about the noise.”

“Thank you,” you say through gritted teeth, wishing Rafe had half the manners his friend does. He shuffles past you, followed by two other guys who say their goodbyes to Rafe.

“Happy?” Rafe mutters, all the playfulness from his tone now gone.

“Thrilled,” you say, turning to get back to your room.

The next afternoon, you’re on the phone with your friend, Liv, as you make your way back to your dorm room after a full day of classes.

She’s trying to convince you to come to a party at a frat house tonight. You’re exhausted after a long day, but she’s right that you need some fun.

“I can’t be out long,” you say on the phone, pushing your key into the lock. “I’m tired. And honestly, already kind of stressed out over school.”

“Maybe you’ll meet a guy who’ll take your mind off things,” Liv suggests. You snort.

“The last guy I hooked up was such a disappointment,” you tell her. You try to twist your key. It won’t budge. “I almost faked my orgasm, then was like, it’s not even worth it.”

Liv laughs.

“They should know when they suck,” she says.

You wiggle your key, your fingers starting to hurt.

“Exactly,” you say. “Plus, he wanted to try this position and… I don’t know, I felt too nervous to do it. It was just a failure all around.”

Finally, your key twists and make it into your room, clueless to the fact that Rafe heard everything.

That night, you’re at the Sigma Chi house, two drinks in, when you spot your neighbor playing beer pong across the room. Shit. You’re sure this is his frat.

You already told Liv about your encounter with Rafe, so you nudge her and point him out.

“That’s my fuckboy neighbor,” you say.

“You didn’t mention how hot he is.”

“Wait until he opens his mouth,” you tell her, earning a laugh.

Honestly, Rafe does look good. He fills out his t-shirt so well, his backwards hat pushing his hair out of his handsome face.

Rafe glances around the crowded room and catches you staring at him. Even though you irritated him the first time you spoke last night, heat fills his body once he realizes your eyes are on him.

You quickly look away.

Despite how much of a tight-ass he thinks you are, he’s glad to see you tonight. What he overheard you say on the phone a few hours ago has been weighing on his mind. And his ego.

He finishes up his game of beer pong and the alcohol rushing through his system convinces him to find you and ask you what he’s been mulling over.

“Are you lost?” a voice says behind you.

You turn to look up at Rafe, who’s ducking down so you can hear him over the music. You glance back at Liv, who raises her eyebrows and turns away to give you privacy.

“Or do you actually know how to have fun?” he asks. You sigh as you glance back at him.

“I do, without the expense of people’s sleep,” you reply, a sarcastic smile on your face. “Crazy concept, right?”

“I figured it out,” he says. “Why you’re such a tight-ass.”

“I am not a tight-ass,” you reply.

“It’s ‘cause you can’t get off. I heard you,” he says. He sees embarrassment wash over your face. You know exactly what he’s referring to. “And I’m the loud one?”

You look away, regretting that you didn’t stop to think your voice would float into his dorm room. Fuck.

“Does that actually happen?” Rafe asks. “Girls fake orgasms?”

Your eyes dart up to meet his and you scoff a chuckle.

“Yes,” you say. “What, you didn’t know that?”

Rafe shakes his head. Admittedly, he’s been wondering if any girls faked cumming with him since he overheard you. It’s kind of a blow to his ego.

“Ouch,” you laugh, regaining your confidence. “Let me guess. You thought you had a perfect track record.”

“How can you tell that a girl’s faking it?”

You take a sip of your beer and he can’t help but notice the enticing way your lips look glossed with moisture.

“Every girl’s different,” you say. “But for the most part, you can… feel it. You know… down there.”

You’re glad you’re drunk for this conversation. You doubt you could have it sober.

“How?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“I’m not helping you with this,” you say. “Especially after you were such a dick to me.”

Rafe smirks, looking down. You notice he has really cute dimples. Shit. The fuckboy is charming you.

“Let’s start over,” he suggests. “I have an idea.”

“You can have those?” you ask.

“I heard you say you were nervous trying a new position,” Rafe says, ignoring your chide. You look down in unease again.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he says. You look at him again, speechless over how forward he is. “We can help each other. You show me how to make a girl cum and how to know I actually did it. And I’ll let you practice whatever you want with me until you feel confident.”

You freeze for a second. Is he seriously suggesting you two fuck… to get better at fucking?

“Oh, you’ll let me?” you say, his proposal admittedly making your stomach numb with anticipation. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Rafe says with a shrug. You realize he’s being totally and unabashedly serious. “What? Do you need time to think about it?”

You take another sip of your drink, the cold beer spilling down your throat.

He is insane. But he’s also attractive. Charming. Confident. Would it be so crazy to start hooking up with him?

You’d have the guarantee of an orgasm, without wondering if the guy you’re with cares enough about getting you there, and you’d get practice so you don’t feel as insecure next time you’re with a guy you actually like.

“I’m in, only if you promise to actually respect quiet hours from now on,” you finally say.

“Great sex isn’t a good enough deal?”

“Who’s to say it’ll be great?”

“So, I have to tiptoe around my own room,” he says, his temper flaring.

“If you consider not blasting music at night tiptoeing, then yeah,” you retort.

If Rafe wasn’t sure of it before, he is now: you’re hot when you’re pissed off.

“Fine,” he relents. He’ll probably be moving out next semester anyway. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens a new conversation. “Text yourself so I have your number.“

You hand him your cup in exchange for his phone. You send an eggplant emoji to your number. He takes a sip of your drink and you scowl.

“Are you that selfish in bed, too?” you say.

“You can let me know,” he quips. You roll your eyes at him and take your drink, giving him his phone back. Rafe chuckles when he sees the emoji you sent yourself.

“I will,” you promise. “I’ll call you out on everything you do wrong. If you can take it.”

“Okay,” he says. “Tonight?”

Wow. He’s eager. It’s kind of thrilling that he wants you this badly.

“Maybe,” you say. “If I’m not too tired when I get home, I’ll text you.”

Rafe’s chest tightens with excitement. His hot, mouthy neighbor is actually doing this with him.

“Sure.” Rafe juts out his bottom lip, nodding, as if this conversation is completely normal. He’s so casual about it. This feels unreal.

You give him a small smile. Probably the first genuine one you’ve offered him. Okay. You can admit to yourself that you’re looking forward to hooking up with him.

You stay at the frat house for another hour, hanging out with Liv and a few other friends you made, before you make it to your dorm just before midnight.

After changing into pajamas, and the nicest set of bra and panties that you own, you text Rafe: i’m home if you want to come over.

About ten minutes later, you hear a knock at your door. You open it to see Rafe standing with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his gray sweatpants.

You’re sure he knows how good he looks when you notice the outline of his length. He did this on purpose.

“Eager,” you say. “Were you already home?”

“I was quiet, huh?” he boasts, stepping into your room. He takes a second to soak in your space, eyes travelling over the way you’ve decorated.

“What the fuck? Your room’s bigger than mine,” he says.

“They’re all the same size.” You settle on your bed, glad he’s so comfortable about this, not making it awkward at all. Truthfully, the beer has worn off, and you’re kind of freaked out.

But this is what you’re doing this for. So you can stop being so nervous about sex.

“I’ll show you my room and you’ll see for yourself,” Rafe says. You watch him pace across your space to study the photos on your wall.

His eyes travel over the snapshots of you with your family and friends, your smile bright and pretty in every image.

With Rafe’s back turned to you, you take in the way his broad shoulders stretch out his white t-shirt. By the slight curve in his back, you can tell he’s not just lean, but muscular, too.

“How long are you expecting this… arrangement to go on for?” you ask.

“Until we’re both satisfied,” he says confidently, turning to meet your eyes.

“So, you’re aware you won’t be coming out of this with a girlfriend, right?” you assert.

While Rafe is attractive and charming, he’s also rude and narcissistic. You don’t want him to think you’re interested in him in that way. This isn’t a romance.

“Oh, yeah,” he huffs. “I’m not gonna be in college tied down to one chick.”

You scoff. Yup. Definitely no romance here.

“Maybe don’t call a girl a chick,” you say. “At least not to her face.”

“Right,” Rafe says with an easy laugh. He slowly steps towards you, his eyelids heavy as he looks down at you. “You have nice tits.”

You feel your skin burn, looking down at your chest in your tank-top. Rafe hardens the longer he looks at you.

“How sweet,” you say flatly.

Rafe smirks and sits down next to you, getting right to business as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips are warm and surprisingly soft. He tastes like cinnamon toothpaste and smells like aftershave.

He’s a good kisser. But you expected as much. By his confidence and the fact that he prepositioned you the way he did, you can tell he’s experienced with girls.

You feel his hand slide up your body and squeeze your breast. You sit back, disjointing your lips.

“Slow down,” you tell him. “Do you always go right into groping a girl like this?”

“Yeah?” His brows furrow.

“Okay, some might like it,” you say. “But most want foreplay. You have to give me some time to get turned on.”

“Aren’t you already?” he asks. “We’re kissing.”

“We’ve been at it for like, a second, Rafe. Just because you’re…” You look down at the tent in his sweatpants. “Ready, it doesn’t mean I am.”

“So, what should I do?” he asks.

“Just… don’t rush,” you say.

Rafe nods and leans into kiss you again, his hand cupping your waist this time. He doesn’t usually like kissing that much, typically wanting to jump right into sex, but the way your tongue runs over his is actually sort of nice.

A few moments later, his fingers dip to pull your top off. When Rafe sees you in your bra, he swallows hard. Why does he feel like this is his first time seeing a half-naked woman?

Probably because he’s being graded, he realizes.

“Wow,” he breathes. You look down, scratching your neck. “Damn, you do get nervous.”

“What?” you say.

“When a guy says wow, take the compliment,” he states.

You shyly shake your head and pull him in for another kiss to brush past the moment. He catches on, pushing you back.

“I’m teaching you shit, too, remember?” he mutters. “Don’t be shy. You’re hot.”

“Alright,” you groan, tugging at his shirt. “Take this off.”

He smirks and obeys, hoping he at least partly got through to you.

When your eyes roam Rafe’s bare torso, your heart pounds harder.

You continue making out, and he eventually slowly unhooks your bra. He peels it off and slowly cups your breast, fondling and gently squeezing.

“Is this too hard?” he asks.

“No, it’s - it’s good,” you sigh. You remind yourself this is supposed to be instructional. “You should… um…”

“What?” he asks against your lips. “Stop being shy.”

“Play with my nipples,” you say, cheeks burning. “Some girls like that.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He looks down at your chest and softly pinches you, then rubs his thumb back and forth. “Good.”

Rafe is entirely hard now, your praise making him ache to be inside you. But he’s here to learn. He needs to go slower.

He dips to put his mouth on your chest, his lips locking around your nipple. You let out a shaky moan and he knows he’s doing something right.

Big hands gently press against your hips to push you onto your back. You settle on your firm bed, hands roaming over his smooth back.

He shifts to give your other breast the same amount of attention, coating your nipple in his warm spit. You bite your lip, feeling your stomach tighten in arousal.

“Can I go down on you?” he rasps.

You meet his eyes. Rafe realizes just how pleased you look already. It’s really gratifying.

“Yeah,” you whisper. He eagerly pulls down your bottoms and panties in one move, losing his breath when his eyes take you in.

“Goddamn.” His voice is strained. You’re already glistening and he wants to put his mouth on you immediately.

“Go slow there, too,” you say. “Kiss my thighs first.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding urgently. It’s satisfying seeing him listen to you like this, considering he doesn’t seem to care for rules.

Your thighs are so damn soft against his mouth. He peppers kisses up your skin. It’s taking all his willpower not to start eating you out right now.

Your breaths are shallow as he leaves languid, tender kisses on you. You feel his fingers stretch your lips apart and hear him sharply inhale.

“Now?” he asks impatiently.

“Yeah. Lick everywhere,” you say, “but pay the most attention to my clit. You know where it is, right?”

“I’m not that fucking helpless,” he mutters. You can’t help but laugh.

He lowers his mouth onto you and you tremble immediately. He laps at you for a few seconds, a groan escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You taste really fucking good.”

“Do you always talk like that?” you ask.

“Yeah, is it okay?” Rafe says, suddenly tense.

“It’s amazing,” you admit. “Keep doing it.”

“Yeah?” he says with a smile. He points his tongue over your clit, wriggling it over your flesh.

“That’s good,” you tell him. “Make your tongue flat, too. Switch between the two.”

You feel him nod against you, avidly taking every tip.

“And suck a little,” you tell him. Rafe didn’t think he’d like being bossed around, but the way you’re telling him what feels good and making him better at eating pussy is rewarding.

He starts to suck at your clit and the way you moan tells him everything he needs to know. He sucks harder and your breath gets shaky.

Rafe is desperate to see how the inside of you feels, even if it’s just with his fingers. He shifts to slowly dip a finger in your cunt and glances up to look at you.

“Can I finger you?” he says.

“Yes,” you nod. “It’s good to ask. Start with one.”

He slowly sinks into you, stopping at his knuckle. You’re so tight.

“Shit, baby,” Rafe whispers. “I know you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good.”

Your head is spinning. You’ve never had a man talk to you like this before. This is what you’ve been missing out on, hooking up with guys who didn’t care about your pleasure? It feels unfair.

He adds a finger, curling into you and feeling you clench around him as he continues to work your clit. You look down to enjoy the sight of his head between your legs, the tips of soft dirty blonde hair tickling your skin.

It’s intoxicating, being taken care of the way you want to be.

Rafe’s jaw starts to get sore, but your noises give him the drive to keep going. Eventually, your thighs press against your ears.

“I’m gonna cum,” you mumble. “Don’t stop.” Rafe’s stomach twists with excitement, fully alert and eager to take mental notes.

Your breath stops, your muscles tense, and your walls flutter around him as you meet your peak. Sparks of pleasure fire throughout your body and you tug at the roots of his hair.

He keeps sucking and licking and pumping his fingers until you shuffle beneath him, overstimulated.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Good, that’s good.”

Rafe sits up, his lips wet with your arousal. You look happy, yet somehow kind of guilty. He makes a mental note to figure out how to make you unashamed for having a sex drive.

The way you’re panting is making him so fucking turned on that it hurts.

“I need to fuck you,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, hoping he’d say that. “Do you have something?”

He nods, pulling a condom wrapper out of his pocket. He takes his pants and boxers off at the same time and he springs out.

You never thought you’d think a cock could be perfect, but there’s no other way to describe it.

He leans over you, looking down as he lines himself up and slowly sinks into you. You watch him shut his eyes with pleasure, but when he opens them again, you look down at his body.

“So shy,” Rafe teases, his voice thick. “Make eye contact.”

You listen to him, meeting his eyes. It adds an entirely new level of pleasure and vulnerability, looking at each other while he starts to rock in and out of you.

He starts to thrust faster, revelling in the way your tits are bouncing with his force. His strokes are deep and powerful and you whimper over how nice it feels.

His balls feel tight already. He never cums this fast. There’s something about you that’s making his body react like this. But knowing you already orgasmed, he doesn’t let himself overthink it.

“Feels good?” Rafe asks with amusement in his tone. You moan in response. At least he doesn’t need to improve on this part.

He goes harder, losing his rhythm as he reaches his climax, trembling over you. The way he breathes through it is so unbelievably hot to you.

Once Rafe slows down, he collapses on top of you, his chest pressed against yours.

“How was that?” he mumbles.

“I don’t think your ego needs to get any bigger,” you say breathlessly. “But that was good.”

“Just good?”

You laugh. Okay, it was fucking mind-blowing. He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Yup,” you say, patting his shoulder. “Let me up.”

“What - what could I have done better?” he asks, sitting up off of you, pulling out. “I listened to everything you said. I swear, I never cum that fast.”

You smirk. He’s desperate for the praise.

“Fine,” you say. “It was amazing, okay? Don’t let it get to your head, frat boy.”

It definitely gets to his head. You can tell by the way he’s smiling.

“What position did that guy want you to try? Wanna do it?” he asks. You shake your head in disbelief. He could probably go all night.

“Next time,” you say, exhausted, your muscles weak.

Rafe’s disappointed, but he doesn’t show it.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Next time.”

part two

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[lovlidollie]

Can we get a prequel to how Rafe Cameron and Crybaby reader met and got together? Please 🙏

of course !! i’m so sorry it took so long 😓 also i personally think crybaby!reader can be either kook or pogue, but for this she’s a pogue <3 not proof read ^^

cw crybaby flinches when a character raises his hand but nothing happens, slightly pervy rafe ;)

the first time rafe saw crybaby!reader was when she was working up at the little cafe inside the country club, eyes red ‘n face wet as an older man yelled at her. she was wearing an apron over a brown short-sleeved top that looked one size too small, with hair tied up using white ribbons, and a pair of roughed up sneakers on her feet. her skirt isn’t that short, perfectly acceptable for workplaces, but it has rafe wondering what her panties look like. he was sure he would have noticed the pretty little thing long before, so he assumed she was a new hire. automatically rafe knew she was one of the pogues. everyone on figure 8 knew each other, had grown up around one another from the very beginning. but she didn’t look like she belonged on the cut. no, she had the face of a kook, someone who should have more money than they can count, someone who deserved to live in luxury.

it’s like some sort of instinct comes over him, vision blurring around the edges as he watches her shrink further into herself, head shaking as she spews out stuttered apologies he’s too far to hear properly. when the man’s hands come up in frustration and she flinches back, rafe can’t stop his feet from marching towards the guy, chest puffed out ‘n shoulders squared. “hey man. what’s uh — what’s goin’ on?” his voice is gritty, barely restrained, as he looks him up and down.

“she messed up my order!” the man — bob, rafe recognises as a regular — snarls, lip upturned as he looks at her with utter disgust. “been coming here every single weekend for the past ten years and not once have i ever been given the wrong thing. disgraceful is what it is!”

rafe spares a glance down at the little thing next to him, heart flaring at the way her eyes widen and fill with fresh tears. “i-i- ‘m real sorry — sir — it - it was a mistake ‘m really sorry!” her voice is all blubbery, airy and high the way someone talks when they’re trying not to burst into sobs. it makes rafe dizzy with desire, makes him furious.

he gestures between the two, “i mean, shit man — she looks like a freshie, ‘s probably her first shift,” rafe drawls out, charming smirk on his face. “cut her some slack, yeah? if you don’t want her servin’ you then tha’s fine. we’ll go get someone else for you, a’ight?” she’s shaking like a leaf and it’s taking all of him not to reach out and clasp her shoulders, to get down on his knees and talk her out of it.

“yeah whatever. fuckin’ pogues can’t never do shit right..” bob mutters, eyeing crybaby distastefully once more before strutting away, barking at another waitress to get him a drink.

rafe sighs, rubbing a hand across his mouth, tongue poking his cheek as he thinks about whether or not it would be worth beating him up. he’s brought back to earth when he hears the distressed sniffles next to him. she’s wrapped her arms around herself, right thumb placed suspiciously close to her mouth crybaby’s eyes are all bloodshot, mascara smudged around her puffy lids, ‘n she’s bitten through her lips so hard that rafe can see the previous indentations. with a furrowed brow, he notices that she’s biting on the tip of her thumb, pink tongue peeking every now and then. (rafe tries not to groan at the sight.) he gently, ever so slowly reaches out with his larger hand, pauses when she jerks slightly, and continues to softly pull her hand away from her mouth.

“‘s not a nice man is he, huh?” rafe says quietly, trying to ignore the way her mouth chases the finger he’s pulling away. the action sends a jolt of heat through to his stomach, mind going straight to the gutter. the sane part of him understands it must be some sort of self-soothing technique, but the images it plants in his head are anything but innocent.

crybaby shakes her head roughly, eyes on her scuffed shoes. “‘m sorry — i - i really am,” she stutters, voice so soft rafe almost doesn’t hear it over the noise in the background. his jaw tightens as he tries to focus on anything but how close she is, how nice she smells. “y’don’t gotta ‘pologise to me,” he says almost affronted. “not your fault he’s an asshole.”

rafe takes a step closer, eyes flickering down to her chest where the tiny little name badge was pinned. “you — uh — you come here often?” he says her name ‘n it feels so right on his tongue. he tries to joke and it looks like it works, crybaby’s eyes blinking rapidly at his question. “i- um — yeah. jus’ started today..” her glassy eyes reflect his face in them as they begin watering again moments after. “… ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry - i —.” her lips look so fucking delectable in that little pout, he just wants to shove — rafe shakes his head and reaches out before he can stop himself. “look at me,” he says, voice firmer than before as he tilts her chin up. her skin is so soft and smooth he’s almost too distracted by it to talk. “it is okay,” he enunciates for her. “alright? jus’ — uhh — take a deep breath — yeah, do that. no more sorry’s, yeah? i got you.”

rafe’s never been good at handling emotions — his or anyone else’s — but there’s something about her that wills him into being just a smidge more patient. he feels the urge to say something comforting, something to make her feel better, but the only thing that comes out is, “y’too pretty to be crying over some dickhead.”

it’s not the most appropriate thing to say — this being their first meeting and all — but he can’t help himself. it seems to do the trick though, so he can’t really complain can he? the way her cheeks warm at his words, the way her eyes grow wider — it’s almost too much. she’s so innocent, so naïve, and he knows he shouldn’t be thinking about her on her knees for him, but he just can’t stop.

“y’doing just fine. first day’s always rough, mistakes happen. you’ll get the hang of it.” not that he’d know, rafe’s never had to work a day in his life. the reassurance soothes crybaby enough for her to nod her head jerkily, teeth catching the flesh of her lips again. rafe has to look away for a second, pretending to glance around the cafe so he doesn’t do something stupid like drag her into the back room and let his hands roam. “y-you really think so?” she asks softly, voice all small ‘n shaky, like she needs his answer in order to believe it.

“i know so,” he responds, full of confidence. “how ‘bout this. anyone gives you any trouble — ‘n i mean any — you come find me ‘n i’ll deal with it.”

crybaby looks up at him starstruck, almost honoured that he’d be willing to do that for her. “that— tha’s so nice of you,” she mouths, sniffling. shyly, with her fingers rubbing away the drying tears on her cheeks, she adds, “wh-what should i call you? like — like what’s your name?” she seems flustered, embarrassed for even asking.

rafe smirks, shit eating grin on his face as he steps back and crosses his arms. oh there were plenty of things she could call him he sucks his teeth and arches a brow at her. “name’s rafe. rafe cameron.” he assumes that because she’s a pogue, she at the very least has some sort of idea of who he is, of his reputation. he knows johnb and co have nothing better to do than shittalk, but when she gives him a tentative smile instead of shrinking away in disgust, rafe knows he’s got her.

“r-rafe,” she repeats, like she’s committing it to memory, and it does something to him, hearing his name on her lips like that. he wants to hear more. needs it more than air and it should scare him how quickly he’s developed a fixation on her. “mmh — don’t you forget it.”

crybaby’s clearly not used to this sort of attention, with the way she can’t keep her eyes on him, the way she fiddles with her fingers ‘n can’t stay still. it only makes rafe want to push further, but he forces himself to reel it in. there was plenty of time to explore this later, to see how far he could take it before she broke.

“i - uh - gotta go,” rafe says, voice a little scratchier. “boys are waitin’ f’me on the green. but i’ll uh — see you ‘round, yeah?” she wipes her hands against her apron, nodding again with the tiniest, cutest smile on her lips.

he spares her one last look before he pushes through to the golf course, already making up reasons to blow of top ‘n kelce so he can instead find out as much as he can about crybaby. immediately, rafe’s thinking of excuses to come see her again tomorrow.

[satowooo]

" YOU'RE THE ONE I WANT IN PAPER RINGS. . ."

I like shiny things but I'll marry you with paper rings ft. gojo satoru, geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento.

contents. fluff, fluff, fluff, not proofread.

౨ৎ GOJO SATORU

“Shush, don't look!”

Satoru had been focused on folding a piece of paper for the past 30 minutes now, ever since you two sat on a table and planned to make paper flowers for the students to celebrate the year end. You just asked him about what he's doing, only to be replied with a scolding and him turning his back on you to hide the piece of paper. You could hear his small grunts and complaints every single time he messed up and redid it all over again, noticing him folding it in a different way from a paper flower and it was even cut smaller. It was the first time you had seen him struggling over a matter as small as folding papers, when he wasn't even having a hard time on the paper flowers earlier though, and Satoru seems to not be fond of not getting everything his way on an easier path either.

Since when did making paper rings become so difficult anyway?

“Okay. You don't want me to help with whatever that is?”

“No. Just stay put.”

You bite your lip to stop a chuckle, noticing the way his shoulders slumped when you heard him accidentally tore the paper, so you obeyed and looked away. He turned around again, leaning on the table to get another paper, and got to work. His slender fingers carefully folding and twisting, his eyes solely focused on it, with his brows furrowed in determination and even a small pout for the thousand of times he messed up and probably on the verge of giving up, if not because he was making a paper ring because wanted to please you.

It took him another good 15 minutes to do it right, a little wrinkled on one side but the heart on the ring was perfect. He scooted over to your side, and you finally looked at him.

He took your hand, and slipped the paper ring on your ring finger, making you gasp as you finally see the blue material fit you perfectly. “I did my best, baby.”

“Satoru!”

“I know it's not much, and I mean, I can probably give you a more expensive one with diamonds and shiny crystals but I just thought this one would mean more and much more endearing and I tried to make it after watching a video that I saw using my memory and I just think–” He stopped, blinking as he realised how much he had rambled. Satoru sighed, gazing at your hand, lifting it up to press a kiss on your knuckle, right next to the ring. “Do you like it?”

“Of course, I do!”

“Then should we call a priest right now?"

౨ৎ GETO SUGURU

It was originally Mimiko and Nanako’s ideas. The two girls lay on their stomach right by the floor with their feet swaying in the air, their homeworks long forgotten on either side of them. There were tons of papers around them, in different colours and shapes when Suguru caught them slacking around in their bedroom.

“Papa! Make a paper ring for Mama!” Mimiko suggested, patting the space between them so Suguru could join in the fun.

“Are you done with your homeworks, sweethearts?” He chuckled, taking his spot, laying flat on the stomach with his feet also high in the air like some teenage girls.

“Of course!” Nanako, who was obviously lying for the way she blushed and can't look Suguru straight on the face, as she pressed something on the origami that she made which was shaped in a frog, and it jumped towards his side.

Suguru couldn't help but be amazed, but also wanting to tease his girls. “Really? Can I see?” He said as he reached for their notebooks.

Mimiko was quick to act, slapping her dad’s big hands away with her small ones so he would drop it, then thrashing a bunch of paper in front of him instead. “Mama would like paper rings!”

And that's exactly how he found himself making one. With the help of his daughters, they instructed him on what to do for a good 15 minutes. He'd get confused sometimes every time they talked at the same time, instructions unclear when they talk about different things. But he got the hang of it, and it was perfect, as expected from Suguru.

Now, he's sitting on the bed, with his back pressed on the headboard, as he got you straddling his lap as you two talked about your day, while the two girls had gone to sleep.

“The girls were very enthusiastic today.” He said, his thumb caressing small circles on your inner thigh as he gazed at you. “They taught me how to make origami, and something else…”

“Hmm? What is it?” You replied, eyes filled with curiosity as you waited for him to continue.

You watched as he pulled something out from the bedside cabinet, a red paper shaped in a small circle. You couldn't see much because his hands were covering it a bit, but when he took your hand and wore it on your finger, you realised what it was.

“I made it, but it took all our efforts.” He whispered, watching as you gaped at the paper ring. “They're not the best teachers though.”

“It's beautiful…”

Suguru didn't expect the next thing you did. As you clutched on his shirt and immediately crashed your lips together, your hands coming to the back of his neck and deepening the kiss. Your lips dancing in harmony to the rhythm of your heartbeats.

He pulled away, breathless as he cups your cheek. “I'd ask you to marry me right now, but we'll save that for some other time.” He chuckled, pulling you in for another kiss.

౨ৎ CHOSO KAMO

It was a sweet gesture. Your boyfriend prepared all the materials needed and even borrowed his brother Yuji’s ipad so you could watch tutorials on YouTube. Ever since he saw you scrolling on your Instagram reels about making paper stars, flowers, little animals, hearts, and all other cute things, he was determined to do the activity with you. And he wanted to make sure that you'll enjoy it as much as he would.

“Let's make this one!” You scrolled onto a video, showing him a tutorial on how to make a scrapbook, which he agreed to.

You two worked on it right away, both of you busy while you cut some papers and draw on it, while he folds some others into shapes that would look good on the scrapbook. Once in a while, he would try to steal kisses on your lips every time he finishes one.

After a few minutes, you got up to go upstairs and print some pictures that you'd add on the book, leaving Choso alone with folding a new set of papers. This time, he made a mini bouquet, which was unexpectedly quite easy. And then last, the paper ring.

When you got back, you placed the printed papers on the table as you two got to work again. But your eyes caught the mini bouquet resting beside the others, and your eyes glinted.

“Choso! That's so cute! How did you make that?” You scooted closer to him, taking the mini bouquet in your hands, the paper tiny in your hands. “Are you putting this on the book?”

Choso blushed, nuzzling his face on your neck. “It's actually for you.” He muttered, his breath fanning on your skin that made you shiver. “They're small and cute, I thought you'd like it.”

You smiled, cupping his cheek so he could look at you. “Really?”

“Mhm. And I have another one too.”

He showed you the pink paper ring, and your eyes widened in shock. He was about to put in on your ring finger when you turned around, snatching something from underneath the table.

“Cho! I made you one too!”

Was it fate? But nevertheless, it got Choso blushing and almost kicking his feet as butterflies filled his stomach. His palms covering his mouth to probably stop him from reacting exaggeratedly while you slipped the paper ring in his finger. It was even the same colour as the one he made, and he swears his heart was about to burst.

౨ৎ NANAMI KENTO

How many times did you and Nanami get married this year? Three. Three times in a row. The first time was in a shrine, doing the Japanese traditional way of weddings, a wedding held privately with only your families. Second was at the church, with both your families and friends this time, with you wearing a beautiful white wedding dress as your husband awaits in the altar, looking as dashing as ever. And this might be the third.

“Honey, marry me.” He muttered, his feet tapping on the floor impatiently, watching you type on your laptop for a school document.

“We're already married, Kento?” You asked, glancing back at him once before you're back to rapidly tapping on your keyboard. The noise filled the air, together with Nanami’s sighed.

“I know. But you seem married to your laptop for the past few hours, honey.”

Nanami is not one to complain about this type of thing, in fact, he's a very understanding man that he wouldn't mind if you're stuck doing paperworks all day, unless you wouldn't be sparing him a glance, giving him a kiss, or a hug during the said day, and that would make him open up his concerns a bit. How many hours had passed anyway? Four long hours of torture for him, that he had convinced himself enough that he was the clingy one in the relationship and not you.

“Are you asking for my undivided attention, Kento?” You laughed, finally tearing your gaze away from your laptop as you spun your swivel chair at him.

He pulled the chair from underneath so you're closer to him, his right knee between your thighs as he leaned down to press his lips against yours. “Indeed. And I don't think I can live another second of you not talking to me for another hour, not even a kiss since this morning.”

“I'm sorry,” you giggled, kissing him one more time to show that you were truly apologetic. “Were you lonely?”

“A bit.” He sighed, caressing your cheeks, then pulled away as he leaned back on his chair. “You do look adorable when you're focused, honey, which I'm always pleased to see. But I have to give you something.”

He slid his swivel chair backward a bit, grabbed something on a nearby table and went back to your spot right away. He took your hands, sliding a white paper ring right next to your wedding ring. “I don't think you noticed me making this while you were busy.”

“Kento, how..?” Your eyes smiled with you, a testament of your appreciation and affection towards the man you love. You knew Nanami Kento had always been perfect, but he's even more perfect now that he took his time to make this for you.

He laced your fingers together with his, his heart warming up to the sight of you appreciating his small efforts. Kento loves it when you're happy, and would do anything to keep it that way for as long as he can.

“A few videos.” He shrugged, pulling your chair closer to him again. “Now, will you marry me?”

[yorshie]

hi sweetheart!

how do you think the turtles would feel with a really petite reader? I mean, we are all small for them, but what if the reader is below average even by human standards like 5.0 f. t? will it bring something animalistic in them?

(I want to hear that reader will be carried on their hands 👏constantly👏 and treated like doll, I crave for that kind of comfort ty and sorry for my poor english 😭✋)

Whelp. I wanna start this by saying nonnie I’m so sorry, I plugged that height into a comparison generator with my head canons heights and I’m a little cursed by the image so someone else has to see it.

Like. Damn. I’d run from Donnie. Straight up yeeerrrrm like *thats a runner* probably run from raph too like. Yikes. Tiddie height to him is terrifying.

Literally everyone but Mikey is terrified that they’ll accidentally bump you and break something. They all get onto Mikey even more for swinging you around or grabbing you to toss up into the air.

Raph carries you anytime he can get away with it. In his mind, your legs are so short, they must get so tired, he’s really doing you a favor. Hope you don’t get too mad over being carried like the short stack you are, because he absolutely cannot get it through his thick skull that you would rather hurt your neck craning to look up at him than be carried

Leo so badly wants to teach you self defense, but he finds it so comical when you try to hit him while only coming up to his pec that he struggles to breathe. Yes he knows this is serious yes he’s trying but the poor turtle is also dying inside cut him some slack and maybe squish his cheeks when he dramatically leans over to talk to you.

Donnie sometimes feels like he should sit down when talking to you. He definitely has a spot in his lab that is your spot so he knows where you are at all times so he doesn’t accidentally hit you with his shell.

Cuddling them is super easy now at least. Normally they don’t even strain to lift someone but with you it’s more like they forget they’re holding you. They get hyper aware of where you are exactly in relation to them when it comes to turtle piles or relaxing no the couch though. It only took one almost squishing accident to bring them all on the same page of no rough housing when you’re around.

Mikey sometimes puts you on his shoulders while running around the lair, or scoops you up in his arms while doing parkour stunts just to get you to squeal in surprised delight/terror. It drives Leo up the wall.

They are all four hella protective, to the point that if you don’t catch on and tell them to stop, they’ll shadow you every time you head to/from the lair, if they can’t convince you to let one of them give you a lift.

If you told them you could “take care of yourself” I’m sorry but they are bro dudes they would straight up laugh like maybe Donnie would be self aware enough to try and hide it at first but if the other three break he’s gonna giggle too.

At the end of the day I just imagine it getting obnoxious like I’m pretty sure I’d kick them in the knees repeatedly, but as long as you like being treated like you’re fine china you’ll be heaven lol.

[kjupchurch-xx]

💋 Sexiest Man Alive 💋

November 19th, 2008

                    New York City, New York

              

✨ Author's Note: In this one shot, for story purposes, Hugh is not married. We'll say he divorced from Deb recently to keep the flow of the story.

I double checked my appearance in the mirror before heading out. Today is the day I will be interviewing Hugh Jackman for his People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive crowning. The interview will be filmed and broadcasted live on national television. I decided to go business casual, wearing black capri slacks, a white and pink flowered cami tank top with black 6-inch heels. My dark brown hair was shoulder length and wavy. My makeup was flawless. To say nervous would be an understatement whenever you're interviewing someone that's been named the sexiest man alive.

Everything seemed perfect, so I rushed out to my 2008 Ford Mustang and sped off to our studio in downtown NYC. Traffic was hectic, but I managed to get there with 25 minutes to spare to go over the interview questions before our guest of honor arrives. One question in particular stood out to me, it was a question pertaining to his sexuality due to circulating rumors that he's gay. I'm normally shameless, but this would be an awkward thing to ask him.

"You ready?" My co-worker/camera man Justin asked, stepping in front of me.

I nodded, "As I'll ever be! Just going over some of the questions. 'How do you feel about the circulating rumors of you being gay?', 'What turns the sexiest man alive on?', Justin, what the hell are these questions?" I asked with a humorous horrified look spreading across my face.

He failed to contain his laughter, "I didn't write 'em, I just control the cameras."

I shuffled the cards, "This is going to be the weirdest interview. This dude is probably going to leave the set mid interview." I laughed.

Justin shook his head, "Hugh is a pretty good sport. He should take it in a humorous way. You should be good. He'll be here any minute, so get ready."

I nodded, "Alright."

I stood to double check the set and make sure the props were in their correct location, making sure the set was clean and presentable before sitting back down in my chair. I stood back up, hearing an Australian accent coming from the hallway, that must be Mr. Jackman.

"Glad to be here, mate. Thanks for havin' me." He said, shaking hands with our producer Mack, while walking into my view.

Mack smiled and pointed in my direction while walking Hugh up to me, "Mr. Jackman, this is Kaitlyn. She'll be doing your interview."

I smiled, extending my hand out to Hugh, "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm a huge fan and honored to be doing your interview today, Mr. Jackman."

He gave me a smile, shaking my hand, "Call me Hugh. Nice to meet ya, Sweetheart."

I can see why he was voted sexiest man alive now. No photoshop or CGI needed. This man was cut. He had the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen and did not look a day over 28 despite just turning 40 last month. He was wearing dark colored blue jeans with a white t-shirt adorned with a black blazer that made his biceps pop. I could swear the temperature in the room went up at least 20 degrees since he'd walked in.

As we sat down, I noticed him smiling at me and looking me up and down as if he were checking me out. I smiled back while grabbing the cue cards with the questions for the interview and looked towards Justin, who gave me a slight nod to let me know we were rolling,

I smiled from ear to ear as the camera zoomed in on only me, "Good afternoon, New York! Today's guest was just crowned People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive of the year. You can purchase his edition today in stores. Please allow me to welcome Mr. Hugh Jackman!"

The camera zoomed out showing Hugh and I both sitting in the chairs at the small table separating us. I looked over smiling in his direction, allowing him to speak.

He gave a huge smile towards the camera and then towards me, "Thank you for having me! How're you doing today?" He asked.

I smiled, "I'm great. How are you? How have things been since being named People's Sexiest Man Alive?"

"They've been quite interesting. I was told Brad Pitt wasn't available this year." He said with a cheeky laugh.

I failed to contain my laughter, "I believe a lot of people feel that you've earned the title, especially given your portrayal of Wolverine in Marvel's X-Men."

I could see him blushing, "Honestly, things have been great. I just finished up a movie with Nicole Kidman called Australia, which comes out next week. We're pretty pumped for that."

I shifted in my seat, "How was filming that with Nicole?"

He got serious for a moment, "It was great. She's a good friend of my ex wife's, so it was a bit awkward at first, but overall a great experience. Shooting the film back home in Australia was exciting."

I nodded, "We'll be sure to check that out next week once it premiers." I felt a slight smirk appear on my lips, "Okay, now for the good stuff you all have been waiting for. Juicy questions for the sexiest man alive. Are you ready for this, Hugh?" I asked with as much confidence as I could possibly muster.

He giggled, "Baby, I'm always ready. Let's go."

I took a dramatic deep breath for dramatic effect, "Alright, so given you're now the sexiest man alive, what are some of your turn-ons? What's something you find sexy in a woman?"

He chuckled, giving me a smirk, "Oh, getting a bit cheeky, are we? You waste no time." He noticed me trying to keep a straight face and continued, "What turns me on? I'd have to say confidence, a strong woman that can sometimes put me in my place. I also love a woman in summer clothing. I'm from Australia, I love the outdoors, I love the water. I feel like a woman comfortable in her own skin, enjoying herself on the beach is very attractive to me."

I smiled with a nod, shuffling the cards in my hands, "Good answer."

He smirked at me, shifting in his seat, "I have a question for you. When are we heading to the beach?"

I looked a bit flustered, "I didn't know we were! But I'm happy to go with you any time!" I said with a small laugh.

He chuckled, "Dually noted." He tapped his forehead as if he were retaining the information.

This man was gorgeous. I'm sure he's just being funny for the camera, but I'm still enjoying this.

Attempting to stop chuckling, I went with the next question, "So Hugh, what do you make of the circulating rumors of your sexuality?"

He shrugged, "I think they're funny. They don't really bother me."

I nodded, "What did your friends and family say after you broke the news of being the sexiest man of 2008?"

He laughed, "My mates found it funny. My kids think it's funny but also gross their father is being called sexy. My family also, but they were proud of the accomplishment."

"Given your recent divorce, the ladies would like to know, is Hugh Jackman on the market?" I asked curiously, with a slight giggle.

He looked at the camera, "Hugh Jackman is on the market, ladies." He turned to me, "Is my interviewer also on the market?"

I failed to hide the red blush appearing on my cheeks, "Is Hugh Jackman hitting on me?" I said to the camera acting as if I were in shock with a tilt of my head.

He laughed, "You didn't answer my question."

I smirked, "I'm the interviewer. I ask the questions."

He shook his head, "Feisty, are we?"

I chuckled, "Mr. Jackman, do you have a secret talent?"

He smiled, "I'm very well trained. Not toilet trained, but I'm trained in other things. Barbara Walters told me I give phenomenal lap dances."

I laughed, "Did she? Barb is a great judge, so I trust her judgment."

He immediately stepped up from his chair, looking towards Justin, "Do we have music? I'm going to demonstrate." Looking back towards me he continued, "I have to showcase my talent for you."

This has definitely been the most interesting interview of my two year career.

I looked at Justin as music began playing, "Oh? I'm getting a lap dance too?" I asked playfully throwing the cue cards across the room. "Forget the script."

Justin failing miserably to contain his laughter watched on as Hugh began swaying his hips, removing his blazer and stepping to me. I sat not knowing how to react or if this was some odd dream I was having. He was in front of me with both of my legs between his, while still swaying his hips in a seductive motion.

His voice now seductive shook me from the thought, "How're you feeling, love? Isn't this your best interview yet? C'mon, look at me, baby." His finger grasping my chin pulling it upwards to look at him with the cheekiest, sexiest smile on his face.

I nervously laughed, blushing, "Oh my god." Was all I could manage to say. His other hand gripping my shoulder as he moved closer, almost putting his crotch 2 feet from my face.

He immediately began dying laughing as he sank to the floor, placing both hands on my knees. "How was that?" He asked.

I shook my head with a smile, "That was... I mean, I've never had an interview leave me speechless."

I could hear the film crew failing to contain their laughter as Hugh reached up and hugged me, straddling my lap. This must be every woman's wet dream. His laughter piercing my ears as he hugged me.

"Job well done then." He said cockily. "Turn off those cameras. We're headed backstage." He managed to say through his laughter.

I squealed, dying of laughter, "And that concludes our interview with Mr. Hugh Jackman, ladies and gentlemen! Go pick up your issue of People's magazine's Sexiest Man Alive-" I struggled to grab the magazine but finally reaching it, holding it up towards the camera, "Today!"

The cameras immediately cut and Hugh hopped off of me, laughing at the crew's reaction as their laughter grew louder now that they didn't have to worry about the rolling cameras.

"Best interview of your life?" Hugh asked me with a knowing smile.

I laughed, shaking my head, "Definitely. I was not expecting my day at work to end with a lap dance from Wolverine."

He pulled me in for another hug, "Next interview I'll be giving you another lap dance."

I playfully rolled my eyes, hugging him back, "I'll be sure to remind you."

He got serious for a moment, "Would you like to grab lunch with me? I've got a bit before my next press."

I nodded, "Sure. I'd love to."

He gave me a smile, "Seriously though, are you on the market and when are we gonna go to the beach?"

I looked at him nervously, "I am on the market, and I'm available anytime after 3."

He grabbed my hand, leading me towards the hallway. "Great. All I needed to know. I'm looking forward to that next lap dance, beautiful."  He said with a smirk.

[lafleshlumpeater]

Could you please do a Luke x sunshine reader where Luke asks the reader on a date, and they agreed. Then, when he comes to pick them up at her cabin, their siblings interrogate him and threaten him a little if he hurts their sibling.

I hope you’re okay with child of aphrodite reader<3

Warnings: fem!reader, teasing, very slightly suggestive comment- lmk if there’s anything else<3

luke castellan masterlist

Luke didn’t know whether to be nervous or slightly flattered that he was receiving looks from the window which were impossible to ignore.

Dressed in an unbuttoned blue flannel which he’d borrowed from one of his siblings and a plain white t- shirt underneath, he wonders whether he should have opted for something more formal instead when he sees slightly mocking smirks and giggles from your fashion expert siblings.

Or maybe it was too formal.

He was unsure as to which way round he had it wrong.

And then there were the flowers. What would be more romantic, fancy, cellophane- wrapped roses or something simpler with just a satin bow? After consulting Katie Gardner, his brother’s girlfriend, about his dilemma she had snipped off some lush, crimson roses for him so the stems were short and wrapped around with a thin piece of white ribbon. Only now he realised how stupid he probably looked, a small gift so classy and somewhat luxurious and in an attire so casual.

It wasn’t an everyday occurrence for Luke Castellan to feel hot all over and want the ground to swallow him whole, but there were few and rare occurrences. Like the first time he had been at camp he had been wandering aimlessly to find where everyone was getting their food from (why had no- one thought to tell him that all he had to do was think about the food he wanted?), or when he had somehow managed to singe some of his hair off that one time he was in the Hephaestus cabin since they were in the same team as him for capture the flag (he had told them the flamethrowers were too much for their chariot) and, well, like now.

Just as he was weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of knocking on the cabin and asking for you (he’d be able to escape the taunting laughter sooner, but the overpowering smell of all the cosmetics and perfumes gave him a headache) the door finally swung open and oh if his heart wasn’t beating a thousand miles an hour before it definitely was now.

You were dressed in a sundress of pure white, that was snatched in places and hung loose in others perfectly. Your skin was smooth and glassy, reflecting the glow of the white fabric. Lips curled upwards into an easygoing smile, painted a pretty bubblegum pink colour Luke often associated with your personality. Two tendrils of hair carelessly free from the confines of the simple yet elegant style of your hair framing your face perfectly- the very embodiment of Aphrodite’s kin.

It was only when you giggle a small “Hi,” that Luke realises his jaw is slack, lips slightly parted. He clears his throat, standing up straighter and hand running through his hair.

“Hey,” he stammers. “You look…”

“Oi, loverboy!” His flustered compliment is cut- off with a shout from the open cabin window. His head whips towards the sound, slightly miffed that the moment was interrupted.

Mitchell. One of your brothers.

“Treat her well, alright?”, the smug boy yells, self- satisfaction written all over his face. “And no touchy- touchy business.”

Luke’s half- tempted to grab your hand and run away from the teasing. “Uh, you-”

“Yeah, what he said! Treat her well!” Lacy’s head pops out next to her brother’s, nails half- painted where they grip the window frame. “And be back before eight, okay? We have a girls’ night planned! No forgetting, or I swear I will interrupt whatever frisky business-”

“Okay, okay!” You interrupt, vivacious laughter escaping your throat. “That’s enough, I think we get the message.” You slip your delicate hand into his, looking up at him through long eyelashes. “Right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke mutters with an abashed smile, relieved to be saved from the incessant torture and just wanting to get to the destination of your date as soon as possible. Just as shyly, he holds the flowers out to you, awaiting your approval.

You take them. “For me? They’re so lovely.” You inhale them, eyes fluttering closed at the fragrance. “Thanks, so much!” You reach up on tiptoes, even on white heels, and quickly kiss his cheek.

As the two of you walk away, hand in hand, Luke curses at the way his cheeks flush at the titters and hollers of your siblings under his breath.

Not proofread- pls lmk if there's any mistake/it doesn’t make sense

taglist: @quickslvxrr @bibliophile-dendrophile

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

[wannabehockeygf]

Feels Like - Quinn Hughes

“We almost got away, we cut it close,

The city’s getting loud, if I choke,

It’s only ‘cause I’m scared to be alone,

Been trying to work it out you should know,

I would do whatever you wanted.”

***

part 2 // quinn hughes x gracie abrams albums fic trilogy

part 1 part 3

***

Summary: Quinn’s been up to no good, and it’s about time you find out.

Word count: 6.8k

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Warnings: cheating, alcohol

Notes:

- me saying I’m so busy and won’t have time then I crank this out in a day !!

- this was so heart wrenching to write …

- not proof read as always

***

Quinn Hughes had a good head on his shoulders. At least, that’s what everyone always told him. Coaches, family, even the media—they all saw Quinn as the level-headed one, the smart one, the kid who knew what he wanted and went after it.

Except when it came to you. When it came to you, Quinn's head was anything but good. It was a mess—confused, conflicted, weighed down by the guilt that had been gnawing at him since last night.

Quinn ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. He sat on the edge of his hotel bed in Boston, staring at his phone like it was some kind of bomb he had to defuse. Your name was still at the top of his recent calls, your last text a blue bubble of worry and reassurance.

“Heading your way, Q. On a train. Didn’t book a flight because it was too much, but I’ll be there in the morning. I love you.”

He swiped out of the messages and into Instagram, his thumb hovering over the search bar. His heart pounded against his ribs, each thud a reminder of just how much he had screwed up. He was still in last night’s clothes, a blue Hawaiian shirt that Jack had bought him as a joke and black slacks that clung to him uncomfortably. He hadn’t slept; instead, he’d gone out, did so much more than emotionally cheat on you, and then spent the night pacing his room, trying to figure out how to make this right—how to fix something that might be beyond fixing.

His phone buzzed in his hand, a new message from you: “Quinn, are you awake? Call me when you see this.”

Quinn's stomach twisted. He could picture you right now, curled up on that train seat with your eyes heavy from lack of sleep, your hair mussed from running your hands through it too many times. You were coming all this way for him, despite everything. You were coming to see him even after he’d hung up on you. He felt a pang of guilt so sharp it made his chest ache. You deserved so much better.

He knew that. God, did he know it. But knowing it didn’t make things any easier. If anything, it made things worse, because he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop needing you. And yet, he was too weak to stop what he was doing—the other thing he couldn’t seem to stop needing.

His fingers hesitated over the search bar for just a moment longer before he typed in the name, quick and almost subconscious, like he was on autopilot. The profile came up instantly: smiling photos of her on some beach, her hair wild in the wind, sunglasses perched on her nose. She looked carefree, happy. The last photo was from a week ago, captioned with a simple heart emoji.

Quinn’s heart clenched. God, she was beautiful. And she made him feel things—things he didn’t feel when he was with you, his girlfriend, things that scared him as much as they thrilled him. She was everything you weren't: spontaneous, wild, a bit reckless. She didn’t make him feel like he had to be perfect all the time.

Which was probably why he’d ended up here in the first place.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to quell the guilt that surged up his throat like bile. He thought back to last night—the way she’d looked at him across the bar, her eyes dark and knowing, the way she’d smiled like she knew every secret he was trying so hard to hide. The way her lips felt against his, the heat of her breath, the sound of her voice when she whispered in his ear.

And then he thought about you. About your laugh, your smile, the way you looked at him like he was the most important person in the world. How you never hesitated to drop everything for him, even when it meant putting your own life on hold. Like right now. Like this very moment, when you were probably sitting on some cold, uncomfortable train seat to get to him because you thought he needed you.

He was such an asshole.

Quinn tossed his phone onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. He felt like he was being torn in two—one part of him screaming at him to get his shit together, to be the guy everyone thought he was, the good guy, the guy who didn’t screw over the people he cared about. And then there was the other part—the part that was scared, insecure, the part that wanted so desperately to feel something real that he didn’t care if it meant hurting the one person who had always been there for him.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, the word barely more than a sigh. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know. He was in too deep, caught between two worlds that couldn’t coexist, caught between two versions of himself that he couldn’t reconcile.

He stood up, pacing the small hotel room, the carpet rough under his bare feet. His mind raced, thoughts bouncing around like ping-pong balls in his head. He couldn’t keep doing this. He had to make a choice. He had to choose.

But how do you choose between the girl who makes you feel safe and the one who makes you feel alive?

His phone buzzed again, and this time he couldn’t ignore it. He snatched it up, expecting another message from you, another plea for him to call, but instead, it was from the other girl. A simple text: “Had fun last night. When can I see you again?”

Quinn stared at the message, his heart hammering against his ribs. What was he doing? What the hell was he doing? He wanted to smash the phone against the wall, to shatter it into a million pieces, to shatter himself along with it. But instead, he just stood there, staring at the screen, torn between guilt and desire, between what he wanted and what he knew he should do.

“Quinn?” A voice called from outside his door, sharp and insistent. It was Petey, knocking lightly. “You in there, man? We gotta head out to practice soon.”

Quinn stood frozen in the middle of his hotel room, his phone buzzing persistently in his hand. The screen glowed with the picture of you he had made his lockscreen, and every time he looked at it his heart dropped. His stomach churned, a sickening mix of guilt and anxiety that had been gnawing at him for the good part of twelve hours. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the mess of curls that he hadn’t bothered to tame since last night.

Last night. God, what a disaster.

He could still taste the remnants of whiskey on his tongue, still feel the phantom touch of her lips against his. She had been all over him, pulling him in with that damn magnetic smile of hers. And Quinn, the idiot that he was, hadn’t done a damn thing to stop it. Now, standing here, he felt like he was drowning in the aftermath.

“Huggy?” Elias’ voice came through the door again, more insistent this time. “You good?”

Quinn glanced at the clock—barely enough time to get his shit together before practice. Not that it mattered. His head was so scrambled, he doubted he’d be of any use on the ice today.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to move. One foot in front of the other, like he was on autopilot. He tossed his phone on the bed and headed for the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face in a vain attempt to shock some sense into himself. The water dripped down his cheeks, and he stared at his reflection in the mirror, searching for some sign of the guy everyone thought he was. The guy who had it all together.

But all he saw was a mess. A guy who couldn’t make up his mind, who was screwing over the one person who had always been there for him. The guy who, deep down, was terrified that he was going to lose everything if he didn’t get his shit together.

He grabbed a towel and dried his face, then ran a hand through his hair again, trying to make himself look halfway presentable. But no amount of water or towels could wash away the guilt that clung to him like a second skin. He was stuck with it, like a tattoo he couldn’t scrub off no matter how hard he tried.

“Fuck,” he muttered, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He shook his head, running his hands through his hair once again, feeling the strands tug against his fingers. He needed to get it together. He needed to get out of this room before he went completely insane.

He grabbed his practice gear from the chair by the window, where he’d tossed it last night when he’d stumbled in. The memory made his stomach twist: the way he’d pressed the button to hang up on you, the way his thumb had hovered over it like it weighed a hundred pounds. And then the other girl’s laugh, soft and sweet in his ear, her fingers trailing down his arm as she whispered something he couldn’t quite remember anymore but knew had made him feel like he was floating.

Quinn pulled off his clothes, replacing them with a questionable smelling sweatshirt and gym shorts, his movements jerky and stiff like his body was protesting every step. He glanced at the mirror on his way to the door, catching sight of himself—his face pale and drawn, his eyes shadowed with fatigue. He looked like hell. He felt like it, too.

With a sigh, he opened the door to find Elias leaning against the wall, one brow raised. “Dude, you look like you got hit by a truck.”

“Feel like it too,” Quinn muttered, stepping out into the hallway. The bright lights made his eyes sting, and he squinted, wishing he’d grabbed his sunglasses. Or maybe he just wanted to hide behind them.

Elias clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving him a once-over. “Rough night?”

Quinn forced a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Something like that.”

“Yeah, well, better shake it off. Coach is on one today, and he’s not in the mood for anyone dragging ass.” Elias started down the hall, and Quinn followed, trying to push everything to the back of his mind. Practice. Focus on practice.

But his thoughts wouldn’t settle. They kept bouncing back and forth like a damn tennis match: his girlfriend’s face, her worried messages, the way she always seemed to know when he needed her without him even having to say it. And then the other girl—the way she made him feel like he could breathe, like he could forget everything for just a little while.

He clenched his fists as they reached the elevator, trying to steady his breathing. Elias was rambling about something, but Quinn couldn’t focus on the words. His mind was a blur, a mess of emotions that he couldn’t untangle.

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside, the metal walls reflecting their distorted images. Quinn caught sight of himself again and grimaced. “I look like shit, don’t I?”

Elias snorted. “You said it, not me.” He glanced at Quinn, his expression shifting to something more serious. “But seriously, man, you okay? You’ve been off for a while now.”

Quinn swallowed hard, his throat dry. How could he even begin to explain what he was feeling? How could he tell Elias that he was standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering between falling and flying, and he didn’t know which one he wanted more?

“I’m fine,” he lied, the words heavy on his tongue. “Just tired.”

Elias didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he just nodded, letting the subject drop as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to the lobby.

They walked out into the warm Boston morning, the humid air biting at Quinn’s skin through his clothes. He shivered, shoving his hands into his pockets as they made their way to the team bus. He tried to lose himself in the routine, in the familiar motions of getting on the bus, finding his seat, putting in his headphones. But even the music couldn’t drown out his thoughts, couldn’t silence the nagging voice in his head that kept telling him he was screwing up.

He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes, willing himself to focus on the day ahead. Practice. Game plan. Not on the texts waiting on his phone, not on the girl he was supposed to love and the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about.

But his mind wouldn’t cooperate. It kept circling back, like a dog chasing its tail, never quite catching it but never stopping either. He thought about you, about the way she made him feel grounded, like he had a purpose. And then he thought about the other girl, about the way she made him feel alive, like he was on fire.

God, he was an idiot. A selfish, stupid idiot who didn’t deserve either of them.

He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the seat in front of him. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to choose between two things that felt like they were pulling him in opposite directions, like they were tearing him apart?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out without thinking, his heart lurching in his chest. It was a text from you, and his stomach twisted as he read it:

“I’m here. Just got to the station. Can’t wait to see you.”

Quinn closed his eyes, a wave of guilt washing over him. You were here. You were here for him, because you thought he needed you. And maybe he did. Maybe he needed you more than he’d ever realized.

Quinn’s mind was spinning as the team bus rumbled through the streets of Boston, the city waking up around them in a blur of brick buildings and early morning light. He stared out the window, his reflection a pale, drawn ghost in the glass, looking back at him with tired eyes. The weight of his phone in his pocket felt like a lead ball, dragging him down deeper into the mess he’d made for himself.

He glanced around the bus, his teammates absorbed in their own routines—some with headphones on, nodding along to whatever music was blasting in their ears, others chatting quietly, their voices low and relaxed. Elias was beside him, scrolling through his phone, occasionally chuckling at something he saw. Quinn tried to mimic that ease, but his stomach was tied in knots, and every breath felt like it caught in his throat.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to find a position that didn’t make him feel like he was about to crawl out of his own skin. But no matter how he twisted or turned, the guilt was there, gnawing at him, a constant reminder that he’d messed up in a way that couldn’t be easily fixed.

His phone buzzed again, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip, his hand twitching towards his pocket before he stopped himself. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—look at it. Not yet. The last thing he needed was to see another text from you, filled with love and concern, when all he could think about was how he didn’t deserve any of it.

But of course, his brain wouldn’t let him rest. As much as he wanted to ignore it, your last message played on a loop in his mind: “I’m here. Just got to the station. Can’t wait to see you.” He could picture you standing there, suitcase in hand, maybe looking around for him, your eyes bright with anticipation. The thought made his chest tighten, a painful squeeze that sent a ripple of nausea through his gut.

He thought about how you’d always been there for him, how you never hesitated to drop everything and come running when he needed you. And now, here you were, doing it again, without knowing that he’d spent the night with someone else, that he’d betrayed the trust you’d placed in him so completely.

God, he was a piece of work.

Quinn shifted again, his knee bouncing nervously as he tried to focus on anything else—the pattern of the bus seat, the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, the hum of the engine beneath his feet. But everything came back to you, and the way he was going to have to face you in a few hours, knowing what he’d done.

A part of him—the rational, level-headed part that everyone always said he had—knew that he should come clean, that he should tell you everything and deal with the consequences. But the other part, the part that was scared and ashamed and desperate to keep you in his life, was louder, drowning out the voice of reason with a hundred excuses and justifications.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to look you in the eye and pretend that everything was okay, when he knew it wasn’t? But then again, how could he tell you the truth and risk losing you forever?

He pressed his head against the cool glass of the bus window, staring out at the passing streets of Boston. The city looked bright and sunny, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in his mind. It was the kind of day that would normally have him in good spirits, maybe even cracking jokes with the guys. But not today. Today, he felt like he was carrying a mountain on his back.

The bus jolted as it hit a pothole, and Quinn’s head banged against the glass. “Ow, fuck,” he muttered, rubbing the sore spot. Elias glanced over from the seat next to him, eyebrows raised.

“You good, man?” he asked again, his tone a mix of concern and exasperation. Quinn knew Elias was just trying to help, but right now, all he wanted was to be left alone with his own stupidity.

“Yeah, just...headache,” Quinn lied, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. He didn’t know how to explain the real problem without sounding like the world’s biggest jerk. He wasn’t ready for the questions that would follow, the judgment, the inevitable “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Elias nodded, turning back to his phone, but Quinn could feel his eyes lingering, like he was trying to solve some kind of puzzle. Quinn wished he could give him the answer, wished he knew it himself. But all he had were a bunch of jumbled pieces that didn’t seem to fit together.

As the bus pulled up to the arena, Quinn grabbed his gear and followed the rest of the team inside. The familiar smell of a rink—ice, rubber, sweat—usually calmed his nerves, but today it just made him feel queasy. He trudged to the locker room, his legs feeling like lead, and sat down on the bench, staring at his skates like they might somehow offer him some guidance.

“Hey, Huggy,” Brock called from across the room, already halfway into his gear. “You gonna put those on, or are you just gonna stare at them all day?”

Quinn blinked, realizing he’d been sitting there for way too long. “Right, yeah,” he mumbled, pulling off his shoes and shoving his feet into his skates. The process felt mechanical, like he was going through the motions without really being there. He tied the laces tight, almost too tight, like he was trying to squeeze out the guilt that sat heavy in his chest.

As he laced up, his mind wandered back to last night. He remembered the way her fingers had grazed his wrist, the light touch sending sparks through his skin. He remembered the look in her eyes, that dangerous mix of desire and something else—something that made him feel like he was balancing on a razor’s edge. And then he remembered your text, the way your voice had sounded over the phone, so soft, so worried. The contrast made him feel like he was being split down the middle, two halves of a person who didn’t know how to be whole anymore.

Quinn dragged his skates across the locker room floor, the sharp blades scraping against the concrete as he walked to the bench. His hands moved on autopilot, grabbing pads, buckling straps, all while his mind replayed the same scene over and over again: your smile, your eyes, the sound of your voice. The guilt gnawed at him, relentless, like a dog with a bone it refused to let go.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Brock sidling up next to him until the guy was practically in his lap.

“You look like someone ran over your puppy,” Brock quipped, pulling on his jersey with a grunt. “What’s up with you today?”

Quinn forced a laugh, but it came out more like a wheeze. “Just didn’t sleep well, I guess,” he lied, his stomach twisting into another knot. Brock, bless his soul, nodded, accepting the excuse without question.

“Yeah, well, try to pull it together, man. You’ve got that ‘I just accidentally liked my ex’s Instagram post from 2017’ face.”

Quinn blinked, momentarily pulled out of his spiraling thoughts. “Is that...a thing?”

“Definitely. Don’t ask me how I know.”

Quinn couldn’t help but chuckle, a real one this time, and for a moment, he felt a little bit lighter. But the moment passed quickly, like a cloud drifting over the sun, and the heaviness settled back in.

He needed to tell someone. He really did, and he thought about telling Brock, someone a little older, with a little more experience, but he knew it wouldn’t go well. The man had a wife and kid, and admitting to him that he’s a cheater couldn’t go any way but sideways.

He finished gearing up, the ritual of it providing some small comfort, like if he could just get everything on right, he’d be okay. But as he stepped onto the ice, the cool air hitting his face, he knew it was only a temporary reprieve.

The practice rink the Bruins had given them was buzzing with activity, the sound of skates cutting into the ice, pucks clattering against the boards, the low hum of voices. Normally, this was his sanctuary, the place where he could clear his mind and focus on nothing but the game. But today, the rink felt like a prison, every noise amplified, every movement too sharp.

Quinn skated a few laps, trying to shake the feeling, but it clung to him like a second skin. He saw you in every reflection, heard your voice in the echoes of the arena. And every time, it was like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him.

“Quinn! Heads up!”

He barely had time to react before the puck came flying toward him, and he fumbled to catch it, the black rubber slipping off the tip of his stick and skidding across the ice. A chorus of laughter erupted from the other guys, and Quinn forced a grin, trying to play it off.

“Nice hands, Huggy,” one of them called out, and Quinn gave a mock salute, his heart pounding in his chest.

As practice dragged on, Quinn found it harder and harder to focus. His mind kept wandering, and every time it did, it went straight back to you. He thought about the last time you’d visited him, how you’d spent the weekend curled up together on the couch, watching movies and talking about everything and nothing. He thought about the way you’d looked at him, like he was the only person in the world, and how he’d felt like the biggest fraud alive.

He thought about a few mornings ago, when he’d kissed you goodbye before heading to the rink, your sleepy smile still lingering in his mind. He hadn’t known then what he was going to do later, hadn’t known how everything would spiral out of control. But now, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop replaying the night in his head, wondering how he’d let it happen.

The worst part was, he knew he didn’t deserve you. Not after what he’d done. But he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, couldn’t imagine his life without you in it. And so, he found himself trapped, caught between his guilt and his fear, unable to move in either direction.

When practice finally ended, Quinn was the first off the ice, practically sprinting to the locker room. He needed a moment to breathe, to think, to figure out what the hell he was going to do. But as soon as he sat down on the bench, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he knew without looking that it was you.

He stared at it, his heart in his throat, his fingers trembling as he reached for it. The screen lit up with your name, and for a split second, he considered ignoring it. But he couldn’t do that, couldn’t just pretend you weren’t there, waiting for him, loving him, trusting him.

With a deep breath, Quinn swiped his thumb across the screen and brought the phone to his ear. “Hey,” he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

Quinn swallowed hard, his heart racing as he heard your voice on the other end of the line. It was like a balm and a burn at the same time, soothing yet searing into him with the heat of his own guilt.

“Hey! I’m here at the station,” you said, sounding bright and cheery, completely unaware of the emotional storm that was tearing him apart. “I was just wondering if you’re on your way or if I should grab a coffee or something?”

Your words were so casual, so normal, that they felt almost surreal to him. He closed his eyes, the images of last night flashing like a movie reel against the backs of his eyelids—her laughter, the way she’d leaned in close, her lips brushing his neck in a way that had sent shivers down his spine. And then he’d see your face, smiling up at him with that same soft look you always gave him, the one that made him feel like he was exactly where he needed to be.

He forced a laugh, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, I’m, uh, just finishing up at practice. I’ll be there soon.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he didn’t know what else to say. How could he tell you the truth? How could he explain that he’d been weak, that he’d betrayed you, that he didn’t deserve to have you waiting for him?

“Great! I can’t wait to see you.” Your voice was so full of warmth and excitement that it made his stomach twist. He could picture you standing there, probably wearing that old Canucks jacket of his that you loved, the one that was two sizes too big but somehow looked perfect on you. The thought made his chest tighten with an ache that he couldn’t shake.

“Yeah, me too,” he managed to say, his voice cracking just a little. “See you soon.”

As he hung up, Quinn let out a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The guilt felt like a heavy stone lodged in his gut, pressing down with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. He dropped his head into his hands, fingers tangling in his hair as he tried to make sense of his own stupidity.

He should have never gone out last night. He should have stayed in, watched TV, gone to bed early—anything other than what he did. But instead, he’d let himself get swept up in the moment, let himself be led astray by a smile and a soft touch, and now he was paying the price for it.

Why couldn’t he just have said no? Why couldn’t he have just kept his distance, like a rational human being?

But no, Quinn Hughes had to be an idiot. A complete, utter, monumental idiot.

He glanced around the locker room, hoping for some kind of distraction. Most of the guys were still milling around, showering, changing, talking about the upcoming game, like it was just another day. Like his whole world wasn’t collapsing around him.

Quinn stared at the locker room ceiling, the fluorescent lights casting harsh, white beams that felt like an interrogation spotlight. The thought of meeting you at the station had his stomach in knots, guilt gnawing at him like a relentless beast. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to find some semblance of calm, but the images of last night wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Why did I do that? Why am I like this?” Quinn muttered to himself, rubbing his temples as if he could erase the memory with enough pressure. The smell of sweat and damp gear filled his nostrils, a stark contrast to the sweet perfume that had lingered on his skin just hours ago. He grimaced, suddenly aware of how sick it made him feel.

His phone buzzed again. Without even looking, he knew it was another message from you, probably asking how long he’d be. He couldn’t ignore you forever, but he also wasn’t ready to face you. He needed more time—time to figure out what the hell he was going to say, time to gather the pieces of his shattered conscience.

With a groan, Quinn grabbed his phone and quickly ordered an Uber. The bus to the station was out of the question; the last thing he needed was more time to wallow in his guilt with nothing but his own thoughts for company. As soon as the confirmation buzzed through, he grabbed his gear, barely acknowledging his teammates as he rushed out of the locker room.

Within minutes, a car pulled up, and Quinn slid into the backseat, barely managing a greeting to the driver. He stared out the window as the city blurred by, the buildings and people blending into a haze of colors and motion. His reflection in the glass looked haunted, a man on the brink of losing everything.

His mind kept replaying the events of last night, a relentless loop of regret and self-loathing. He thought about the way he’d let himself be drawn in, the way he’d ignored that little voice in his head telling him to stop, to walk away. But he hadn’t listened. He’d let his guard down, let himself be led by his desires instead of his brain, and now he was stuck in a mess of his own making.

Quinn squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the images, but they kept coming—her smile, her touch, the way she’d looked at him like he was the only man in the room. It had been intoxicating, a rush he hadn’t felt in a long time. But now, it felt like poison, spreading through him with every thought, every memory.

He opened his eyes, staring down at his hands, noticing the way they shook. He felt sick, his stomach churning with a mix of fear and guilt. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have thrown away everything he had with you for a moment of weakness?

The driver made a comment about the weather, but Quinn barely heard him, his thoughts too loud, too chaotic. He just nodded absently, his mind a million miles away. He couldn’t focus on anything but you, waiting for him at the station, completely unaware of the storm raging inside his head.

The car finally pulled up to the station, and Quinn could see the throngs of people milling about, all of them blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil raging inside him. He thanked the driver and stepped out, his legs feeling like they might give out beneath him. With every step towards the entrance, his resolve weakened, the weight of his guilt dragging him down like an anchor.

There you were, standing near the entrance with your suitcase by your side, your face lighting up as soon as you spotted him. Quinn’s heart lurched painfully in his chest at the sight of your smile—so warm, so genuine, so undeserved. He forced a smile in return, even though it felt like a mask, a flimsy attempt to cover up the disaster he’d become.

“Hey, you,” you greeted him, your voice as bright and cheerful as ever. “I missed you.”

Quinn swallowed hard, the lump in his throat nearly choking him. “Missed you too,” he replied, his voice cracking just slightly. He leaned in to hug you, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation that he hoped you wouldn’t notice. But even as he held you close, the guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the mess he’d made.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with those eyes that always seemed to see right through him. “You okay? You seem…off.”

“Yeah, just tired,” Quinn lied, his smile faltering for a moment. “It’s been a long morning.”

Quinn watched your expression as you searched his face, and he felt a pang of anxiety strike deep in his gut. He couldn’t remember a time when lying to you had felt so awful. You were the one stable thing in his chaotic life, the person who always knew him better than he knew himself. And now, all he could do was lie to you, feeding you half-truths like they were the easiest thing in the world. The guilt twisted in his stomach like a knife.

“I get it,” you said, giving him a small, understanding smile that made him feel even worse. “Traveling always wears you out.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said, trying to muster a laugh that sounded more like a cough. He reached for your suitcase, needing something to do with his hands. “Here, let me grab that for you.”

As he lifted the bag, he could feel your eyes on him, studying him. He turned his head slightly, avoiding your gaze, afraid that if he looked at you for too long, he might break down right there in the middle of the station.

The two of you walked toward the exit, and Quinn’s mind raced, trying to find a way to change the subject, to steer the conversation away from any topic that might reveal just how messed up he was feeling inside. He felt like he was standing on a tightrope, trying to balance between the truth and the lies, between who he was and who he pretended to be.

“So, how was your trip?” he asked, hoping to sound casual, but his voice came out a little too high-pitched, like a teenager caught sneaking in past curfew. “Everything go okay?”

“It was fine,” you replied, glancing at him sideways, deciding not to tell him about the woman with the accent who preached how much men sucked. “Kind of boring, actually. I kept thinking about you.”

Quinn’s heart sank. Of course, you were thinking about him. You always were. And here he was, thinking about someone else. His stomach twisted with a fresh wave of nausea.

“Yeah?” He forced a grin, trying to keep the mood light. “You didn’t have too much fun without me, did you?”

You laughed, the sound like a melody he didn’t deserve to hear. “Not a chance. You’re the fun one, remember?”

Quinn managed a weak chuckle. “Yeah, right. Me, fun. That’s a good one.”

As you two stepped outside, the warm air hit him, and he took a deep breath, hoping to clear his head. The sunlight was blinding, making him squint as he tried to navigate through the crowds. He was grateful for the distraction, for anything that would keep him from focusing on the dark cloud hanging over his head.

Quinn tried to focus on the city around him, on the way the skyscrapers loomed overhead, their glass windows reflecting the blazing sun. He tried to lose himself in the noise of the traffic, the blaring horns and the distant chatter of people passing by. Anything to distract him from the overwhelming guilt clawing at his chest. He wished he could just disappear, sink into the pavement, and let the earth swallow him whole.

As you reached the hotel, Quinn fumbled with his key card, his hands shaking so badly he could barely swipe it. You gave him a puzzled look, and he managed a weak smile, hoping you couldn’t see the panic in his eyes. The door finally clicked open, and he hurried inside, dropping your suitcase by the bed.

“Home sweet home,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, but his voice cracked, betraying him. He turned away, pretending to adjust the air conditioning, but really just needing a moment to collect himself. The room felt stifling, the walls closing in on him, each breath a struggle.

You wandered over to the window, gazing out at the city below. “It’s a nice view,” you said softly, and Quinn’s chest ached at the sound of your voice. You were always so kind, so thoughtful, and here he was, lying to you every step of the way. He hated himself for it.

“Yeah, it’s… something,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the tension coil up his spine. He knew he needed to tell you, to come clean about everything, but the words felt like lead in his throat, heavy and impossible to get out. How could he explain something like this? How could he make you understand when he didn’t even understand it himself?

He took a step closer to you, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. He hesitated, his hand hovering over your shoulder, before finally giving in and wrapping his arms around you from behind. You leaned back into him, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, breathing in your scent, feeling the familiar warmth of your body against his. It was almost enough to make him forget, to pretend that everything was okay, that he hadn’t completely screwed up the best thing in his life.

Almost.

“Quinn, are you sure you’re okay?” you asked again, turning in his arms to face him, your brows furrowed in concern. Your eyes searched his face, and he felt like you could see right through him, like you knew every dirty secret he was trying to hide.

“I…” He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “I need to tell you something.” His voice was barely a whisper, the words sticking to his throat like glue.

“What is it?” You tilted your head, looking up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and he felt like the worst person in the world. How could he do this to you? How could he destroy everything you had together?

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he leaned down and kissed you, hard and desperate, like a drowning man grasping for air. You gasped in surprise, your hands coming up to cup his face, and for a moment, he lost himself in the kiss, in the feel of your lips against his, soft and familiar and everything he didn’t deserve.

When he finally pulled back, he was breathing heavily, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You blinked, confusion etched across your features. “Quinn, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

“I messed up,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I messed up so bad, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if I can.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and Quinn felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He wanted to hold you, to comfort you, but he knew he had no right. Not after what he had done.

“I need you to know that I love you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I love you so much, and I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“What did you do?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Quinn took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he tried to steady himself. He knew he couldn’t keep lying, couldn’t keep hiding the truth from you.

You deserved better than that.

You deserved so much more than he could ever give you.

[bomber-grl]

New years kiss

Damian Wayne x Gn!reader

Now that the holidays were wrapping up there was just one more around the corner, new years.

You honestly spend such a good time with the Wayne family on Christmas, which is celebrated in the family more as a way to be with one another rather than religious purposes.

That day was spectacular, honestly more so since you got even closer to kissing your boyfriend.

Ok ok sure, it’s a bit weird to not have kissed earlier but you’ve only been dating for a little while, you should really cut yourself some slack.

Your train of thought was wiped away as soon as Damian called your name.

“Huh?” You look up from your seat at school.

“I said if you’d like to spend new years with my family” he said, more than obviously trying to seem nonchalant about it all.

“Ummm sure! I don’t mind” you said in response and Damian just shrugged and walked away once the bell rung.

-

It was so cold in Gotham and although you were initially reluctant at accepting Damian’s offer of having Alfred pick you up, you’re glad as hell you did.

The car soon stopped in front of Wayne manor and Alfred opened the door for you.

The sharp contrast of outside making you really want to just stay inside the car but you really shouldn’t keep Alfred, or Damian for the matter, waiting.

Once you stepped inside and removed your coat and scarf Damian approached you and took you into his arms.

“Your cheeks are cold” he said as he touched your cheek with his hand.

“Yea I guess so” you leaned your head against said hand that was then yanked away.

“Awww how cute” the voice said teasing the both of you

You whipped around and saw Tim.

“when’s the wedding?”

“Ugh shut up Tim” he took you by the hand and walked off into his room while you heard Tim laugh.

Damian quickly plopped down onto his bed and motioned you to lay besides him just as fast.

“What’s got you all worked up?” You asked, half teasing half genuine.

“Nothing” He turned around and had his back to you.

You probably would’ve been a bit upset at his reaction but his more than evident blush on his ears and neck just made you even more curious.

Well for now you’ll leave it, next time tho, you’ll definitely pry.

The next thing you knew you were being called down to dinner that you’d best describe as chaotic.

I mean sure, there was teasing from more than enough people but more than anything everyone was having a good time, yourself included.

Eventually though, the sun set and the sky darkened, the time that everyone had been waiting for finally arrived.

“Finally” cass said in passing as she stretched a bit and got some of the fireworks and passed them out amongst everyone with the help of Grayson.

You and Damian stayed with the group and lit fireworks for the majority of the night but eventually you two broke off from them and chose to sit on the roof.

Of course only after you were told to keep safe and not to do anything risky.

“Here take my hand” Damian offered you a hand at finally climbing to the top of the roof, a mission you successfully accomplished.

“Phew I was honestly kind of worried that while climbing up here things would go south” you said as you let out sigh and sat comfortably.

“Same but I’m glad we just got this view” Damian motioned to the fact you can see a good part of Gotham and it’s lights.

“Yea…” you said as you stared in awe and Damian was doing something else you didn’t quite register.

No! You had to focus, this was the night you were going to have your first kiss with Damian.

“Wow I can’t believe it’s almost 12” he said as he held his phone, finally breaking you out of your train of thought.

“Yea, it’s crazy how long it’s been since we met” you said reminiscing.

“Yea.. remember when -“ you were quickly shut up by Damian’s hand over your mouth, his head was hung low and spoke softly.

With obvious confusion blatant on your face he began to speak louder, “don’t… don’t say anything while we’re at the manor, anything we say can possibly be listened to and… I’d rather not have Tim or anyone else black mail me”.

With him saying this you’d assume he was angry, but it was difficult to take him seriously when there was blush from his ears to his cheeks.

“Pffffttt— haha! Seriously Damian you’re too cute!” You start laughing as you playfully push him.

“No I’m not!” Was what Damian said among other things that were lost to the sound of your laughter.

After you finally calmed down you looked at Damian and took note of his obvious pout.

“Hey” you placed both hands on his cheeks and gently moved his face to mirror that of your own.

“What?” He said trying his best to keep stoic

“What if… we kissed?” Immediately Damian’s eyes widened and his blush returned at full force.

“Like..right now?” He asked, clearly treading carefully with how it came out as a whisper.

“Yes, only if you want to though” you said bashfully but still giving him room to back away if he didn’t want to.

His eyes avoided yours but ultimately his body language told you all you needed to know .

The two of you calmed down and there was nothing but silence.

Then the two of you leaned in, you could sense his body stiffen up and so you moved your hand over to grab his.

His body relaxed into the kiss and interlocked your hands.

The two of you flew apart and looked towards the source once you heard the loud bangs, fireworks decorating the night sky and illuminating Damian’s flushing face in the dark.

You quickly grabbed your phone and it read-

12:00 a.m Jan. 1st

-

“Hey Damiannnnn” you said as you chose to call him on your cell while lazing around.

It as only a few days later and you were talking to Damian once again, at first it was a bit awkward and Shy but baby steps.

“Yknow Damian…” you said trailing off

“What?” He said obviously distracted with something else.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year since I saw you-“

*beep*

….

He hung up…

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY TALKING ABOUT AEGON'S RELATIONSHIP WITH HELAENA AND RHAENYRA TARGARYEN FOR THE MARY SUE MAGAZINE.

AEGON AND HELAENA ARE DEFINITELY MORE BROTHER AND SISTER THAN HUSBAND AND WIFE.

“There’s not the love in the way that we all understand love to be between siblings and spouse."

"It isn’t that kind of love.”

“He wishes well for her. I don’t want to speak for Phia [Saban] and her approach to Helaena and the relationship with Aegon, but I feel like he sees a purity in Helaena."

"He doesn’t quite understand it, and he’s quite happy to not understand it. They’re not having conversations about, like, working with the relationship and improving things."

"It’s like, ‘I know my place. You know your place. We’ve been forced into this.'”

Those siblings were allowed to express their love freely and without judgement. But the truth is, they may have been romanticizing history a little bit.

TALKING ABOUT EPISODE 2.

When Helaena and Aegon’s infant son Jaehaerys is murdered in the Season 2 premiere, famously known as the “Blood and Cheese” incident.

They don’t comfort one another.

Helaena goes to her mother, not to Aegon.

“The aftermath of the whole Jaehaerys situation is heartbreaking.”

“Because all they need is to communicate and give each other some time and love and other things that we all need.”

But that isn’t the kind of partner they are to each other. On one hand, it’s a relief because they are siblings. It would be nasty if they acted like grieving spouses in that moment.

But on the other hand, it’s tragic that they don’t have that person to lean on after such a harrowing event.

ABOUT RHAENYRA TARGARYEN.

“There’s a lot of resentment built up over the years about how Rhaenyra was favorite child.”

“She was first. She was the one that Viserys always gave the attention to; Aegon hates that."

"I think if anything it strengthens the dislike and the bitterness–the fact that they are siblings and the fact that they should have had an equal amount of love and attention as children and that didn’t happen.”

Glynn-Carney notes that Aegon has a lot “bubbling underneath.”

“I think I’ve tried to cut him some slack this season."

"Get in his head in that sense and kinda make sense of his neuroses, and insecurities, and his questionable decisions. It all stems from … it’s the question of nature and nurture, I think, unfortunately for him.”

Without a support system, it’s probably not going to get any better for Aegon.

[serxinns]

idk if u do angst or not but i love me so good angst so if u dont mind can u do some kiribaku x reader angst plz i would love that thx like they cooking for kiri and bakugo and bakugo complains about how little reader dose and kiri agrees cuz they just kinda stay at home and clean do the laundry and so like after he says that she gets mad so the next day she does nothing and like just reads like doesn't cook for them that night doesn't do there laundry and doesn't clean the house that day and at first bakugo's mad about it and kiri doesn't know what to feel and this go's for a few day and kiri and bakugo have to do everything and the see how hard it is and apologizes to reader! i think it cute

thank you plz dont feel like u have to! i love ur writing

*evil laughter* you fool I AM THE IDEAL ANGST WRITER AND IM A KIRIBAKU FAN IM A YUZUYA FAN AFTER ALL 😈

You were humming along to your favorite song as you were carrying 3 baskets of both your husband's clothes "That's About all of them" you huffed in relief you then grabbed and poured all the bleached cleaning chemicals in there and the clothes and turned on the washing machine "ok so I cleaned the room unclothed the sink and the toilet went and got groceries what else..." you were thinking for a while until a delight smell met your nose

"Man whatever Kats is cooking must be good I might sneak a bite or two.." a mischievous grin started forming on your face you crept out of the laundry room in the halls to where the kitchen to hear Kiri and Katsuki talking, you leaned your ear closer and it seems like they were talking about you

"And then when I came back I saw y/n tried and laying on the couch sleeping like a layout sloth with MY favorite chips in hand! " You giggled as you heard Katsuki angrily rambling on to his other lover Kiri about you slacking off thinking he was still holding a grudge about the snack incident"God I wish she could just do SOMETHING around the house rather than clean and BARELY cooking shes so..LAZY" "bakugo don't be so mean but yea I kinda agree I wish she could do more in the house rather than clean.."

Your heart stung at that very moment tears started to swell up in your eyes you had to carry Kiri's 2000-pound dumbbells when it was delivered at his home which bruised your hands and arms pretty bad, another time you saw permanent stainsmon Akatsuki's hero suit due to a battle with a notorious villain and decided to spend all your savings try and get it off, the more rambling they went on about you being "Lazy" the more angry and hurt you were

You then ran up the stairs and stuffed your face into the pillow and cried softly were you not working hard enough? After all the bruises cuts and money worth nothing? Were you actually Lazy? Thoughts swirled around your head and you lost your appetite you didn't feel like sleeping with them so you grabbed a pillow and blanket and slept in the guest room for tonight, you locked the door making sure they wouldn't barge in

Suddenly a knock on the door alerted you "Hey baby you there why are you in the guest room?" Kiri asked concern filling his voice but you ignored him getting the pillow and putting it on your head, Kiri tried a few more times getting more worried for you so he quickly ran down to get Katsuki about the situation "hèy blast y/n locked herself in the guest room... I think they're ignoring me" katsuki rolled his eyes while brushing his teeth getting ready for bed

"She's probably in her "dramatic bitch phase moods" or whatever she calls it she'll prob get over it in the morning," he said waving it off "but it feels like shes mad at us.. I think we should-" he was cut off by katsuki kissing him on the lips "El they'll be fine I'm sure of it plus she'll prob crawl back into bed without us knowing in the middle of the night now good night" katsuki pecked kiri on the cheek and jumped into bed Kiri took one last Glance in corners and slowly climbed in the bed feeling a bit empty even katsuki felt it so he clung onto Kiri but it was still empty and cold without you

The next morning they woke up and there was still no you, katsuki glanced at the space and rolled his eyes maybe you are mad.. or you woke up early to cook breakfast? Katsuki then took a shower and then got ready, you normally already had his warm dry clothes in the drawers but to his surprise, they were all soaking "Y/N!" He yelled out stomping around to hunt you down for this cruel prank but to find out you already left without their breakfast... only but a note and plain grain cereal saying "Here's your breakfast breakfast 😁"

Katsuki was stunned knowing that you would go all out making them a big breakfast with their drinks and everything decorated Kiri followed behind him yawning he glanced at the table and looked a bit worried "Katsuki what if we did make her upset" Katsuki groaned at his boyfriends whining and turn towards him "she's not mad she's probably was too lazy to do it and even if she was she can't go that far we can outlast her rebellion" he said with confidence

It's been 2 days and it's been hell you weren't lifting a finger for them and both of your boys weren't too pleased with that, katsuki wasn't used to washing clothes so he accidentally mixed the colored clothes with the white clothes which stained some of the white clothes to his annoyance, Kiri was freaking out that there was red hair dye left and he had hero meaning to go and his hair was almost turning black he begged you to go to the store but to his defeat you just stared at him and politely said no and got back to your reading

Katsuki was getting enraged by your sudden behavior so he confronted you with a beaming glare "Oi what's with this shitty attitude your pulling?" "Blasty no!" You tilted your head innocently at the 2 Men "What do you mean I'm doing something" You were about to go back to your read when Katsuki snatched the book and slammed it on the counter you glared at him "I had enough of this shitty attitude woman you have been doing less and less work each day and we're paying the consequences"

you scoffed "But is this what I am right a Lazy bum" Katsuki was about to question you about your statement but then it hit him..the memory of him and Kiri talking about you... "you heard our conversation" you looked over to him as your eyes narrow "at every single last word" Kirishima swelled up with guilt avoiding eye contact with white katsuki was still glaring

"Listen, baby, we're sorry it won-" "Oh don't give me that half ass apology you're gonna have to work for it BIG TIME" "Oh please like we deserve your forgiveness just because you're not doing much" You laughed sarcastically and got in his face

"I bet your ass wouldn't last a week without me doing the housework" "Fine winner gets to use the others credit card for the day and make them breakfast in bed for almost a week" "what!? Bakugan I dont think-" "Deal" you cut off Kirishima as you shook hands with the blond "what have I gotten into"

The next few days were hell! Most of Kiri and katsuki's colored clothes were bleached due to Kiri accidentally putting them in the colored clothes rather than putting them in the white clothes all their clothes were full of dye stains that day while you happily shopped you some clothes,

Katsuki, on the other hand, was worse he didn't have any time to make breakfast or lunch so he went on for the day cranky and hungry having to eat cheap instant ramen in his break and was questioned by fans on why was there Clear dye stain on his suit and kiri got laughed by both his friends and in the agency about his hair drooping and all black colored making his fans chased after him with questions or stating they liked his hair red which was to his annoyance

You watched as the two boys struggled with doing their jobs as you sat there secretly giggling to yourself and talking with your friends on the phone like a form to brag it to them

"Katuki im gonna apologize it's getting too much..." Kiri told Katsuki as he was struggling to mow the lawn (you also do that) "Are you kidding you giving up that easily because she was a" "No Bakugo because I know to feel what's it like its hard, look at you, your struggling to turn on the lawn mower your clothes are stained and we haven't eaten no good meals in over a week I'm tried katsuki and you are too"

katsuki stood they're quietly he didn't wanna admit but it was true it had been torture without you hell even if they kept going like this the whole house would be a disaster but not inky that their relationship would be stained and he didn't want that he truly loved you two even if he doesn't show it and he doesn't mean or intentionally wanna hurt you was he really taking it to far? That's what he made his final decision

"Fine.." Kiri turned slowly turned into smirk a bit "what was that couldn't hea-" "I SAID FINE DONT PUSH IT YOU DAMN ROCK" he chucked putting hands up in defeat "alright alright I heard you thr 1st time kats!" He chuckled as both was finding a way to make it up to you when you got home

You arrived at your home signing it's been a long day for you even tho you barely did anything you had a lot on your mind wondering was too far but were still confident that they needed to learn their lesson!, you got to your doorstep seeing a note that said "come in there's a surprised" in both Katsuki and Eljirou handwriting you raised your brow a bit but curious to know what was the surprise about

You slowly open the door revealing a fancy dinner table with all your favorite foods' petals on the floor what's next to the dish is a small gift right beside it "You look over to see both Your husbands' faces guilt written all over, you narrowed put your hands on your hips pretending to not be happy "so what's all this" katsuki sighed knowing that you were still mad at them which was reasonable "an apology i-no we're sorry for what we say I know this isn't much" you glanced I silently "but we also ran a warm bath for you with your favorite show recorded-"

you cut the men off by tackling them with a hug happy tears fllow "I COULDNT DO IT ANYMORE I HATED THIS CHALLENGE" Kiri's face was starting to swell up in tears as well "ME NEITHER" Both you and Kiri cried dramatically while Katsuki stood there genuinely smiling and chuckling a bit

"What are you laughing at blasty" glaring playfully at the blond who was on the edge of wanting to bust out laughing at his partner's dramatic performance

"Nothing" he smirked he was just glad everything was back to normal "So who wanna watch (favorite show)"

[betty-gb]

Under the Stars | Luke Castellan

Warnings: none as far as I know, it’s unedited 🤭🤭, also the reader is not gender neutral (female)

AN: this is terribly short but I pulled it together at midnight so cut me some slack, it’s third person idk if that matters but ya, I am so desperate for show Luke stuff as I’ve been saying so here’s a little something

The night was quiet, not quite silent. Camp was never silent. If one listened closely they could make out the faint wails of the patrol harpies or the waves sloshing onto the north shore of Long Island.

A girl moved through this night, quiet footsteps blending into the environment. Trembling from the cold, she approached cabin 11. Cracking open the wooden door, cautious and slow, she crossed the room to the back right corner. It was a familiar path, one she had retraced many sleepless nights, but tonight something inside her hesitated. Despite her boyfriend’s constant reassurance and support, she couldn’t help but feel like a burden. Luke woke her too, night after night and she remained unbothered, but that logic didn’t shake the pit of guilt pooling inside her.

Sparing one last glance at her boyfriend’s sleeping face, she grabbed his sweater off of the trunk near his bed and re-entered the night. Often times when both demigods couldn’t sleep, they would climb to the roof of cabin 11, exchanging quiet whispers and knowledge of the night sky. Tonight the girl was alone as she scaled the ladder behind the cabin. With her legs curled beneath her and the familiar scent of Luke from his sweater engulfing her, she sat with her solitude, contemplating the dream that has disturbed her sleep. Typically demigod dreams were not peaceful, they were reoccurring, they fed on your fears. Tonight’s was no exception. She was so lost in thought she almost missed the creak of the ladder and second pair of footsteps that approached her.

“Hey baby,” her boyfriend greeted.

“Luke,” her smile was half-hearted, happiness to see him masked by guilt. His arm instinctively came to wrap around her shoulder and the girl leaned into him as he planted a kiss in her hair.

“Are you alright?” He inquired, eyebrows knit with concern.

“I’m okay, just a nightmare,” she reassured.

“You should’ve come to me.”

“I knew you would say that,” she sighed, “I don’t know, I felt bad. If I woke you every time I had a nightmare neither of us would ever sleep.”

“I don’t mind that. I’d chose you over sleep any day,” his eyes met hers and she could tell he was genuine, “but seriously don’t ever feel like a burden.”

“Ya, ya, okay,” her smile was more sincere this time.

“Do you need to talk about the dream?”

She shrugged her shoulders gently, “It wasn’t really anything new.”

He hummed in response as the two fell into a comfortable silence. Before long, he noticed the girl begin to drift off, tousled hair falling onto his shoulder. He knew he should wake her before she was truly asleep.

“Come on, you’re tired and we probably shouldn’t fall asleep on the roof,” his lips curved into a teasing grin, “you remember what happened last time.”

The girl let out a breathy laugh, recalling her punishment of cleaning the stables and Mr. D’s exclamations of “filthy teenagers!”

She accepted her boyfriend’s outstretched hand and together they made their way back into cabin 11 and out of the night.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hold My Hand

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Jack Kline & teen!reader

Requested by @gabrielasilva1510

Synopsis: you and Jack are always there for each other

Warnings: fighting, people want to kill Jack, angst with a happy ending, probably continuity errors because season 12-14 is kind of a blur to me

“We have to find her.”

“We don’t even know where to start.”

“There’s gotta be something we can do, she can’t have gotten far.”

“Why don’t we just let her go?”

All eyes turned to you when you interrupted Team Free Will in the middle of an argument.

“That’s not an option,” Dean scoffed. “She’s carrying Lucifer 2.0, we’ve got to stop her before he’s born.”

“Just because Lucifer’s his dad, doesn’t mean he’s gonna be evil,” you argued. “He didn’t do anything, and if Kelly wants to have this baby, why should we stop her?”

“It will kill her,” Cas said.

“And yet she said she wants to have him anyway,” you countered.

“Whoa whoa, can we back up to when I said, Lucifer’s son?” Dean said. “It’s evil, we kill it, no argument.”

“It’s not like he’s done anything!” You said. “He’s innocent! He didn’t ask to have Lucifer for a dad, and he can’t be evil before he’s even born.”

“Look, does any of this matter?” Sam cut in before the argument could get more heated. “We can’t find Kelly, so there’s nothing we can do yet anyway.”

“Fine,” Dean huffed. “But when we find her, there’s no argument. We can’t take a chance with that thing.”

“He’s not a thing, Dean.” You glared at your brother, but nobody said anything more to continue the argument.

…

The argument was inconsequential—you didn’t find Kelly in time. Well, you and your brothers didn’t.

But Cas did, and he paid the price.

You didn’t reach Jack fast enough to stop Dean from shooting him, and once he knocked the three of you out and disappeared you weren’t able to stop Dean from going on a hunt to end him. Once Cas was gone, Dean was more convinced than ever that killing Jack was right, and you just didn’t seem able to get Dean to listen to you anymore.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sam observed when the two of you got a moment away from Dean.

“Why won’t he listen?” You sighed. “I-I know he’s hurt because of Cas, but we all are. Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean it’s Jack’s fault, and it’s not fair to hunt him down because of it.”

“Jack?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Well, I think. I saw it painted on the wall in Kelly’s house, I think that’s what she wanted to name him. He’s not just Lucifer’s son, Sam, no matter what Dean thinks. He has a name, and he doesn’t have to be evil just because Lucifer’s his dad, or-or because Kelly died in childbirth, or because Cas died to protect him. Those are all decisions that other people made, not Jack.”

“I understand what you’re saying. I just don’t think Dean does.”

“I’ve tried to tell him,” you said. “I’ve tried a hundred times. He doesn’t want to listen.”

“I know,” Sam said. “But he’s in pain. We’ve got to cut him some slack.”

“If we cut him too much slack, then we’re just signing Jack’s death warrant.” You sighed. “I can’t do that, Sam. If I do, then Kelly and Cas died for nothing.”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but closed it quickly when he saw Dean returning to the Impala.

…

Finding Jack wasn’t as hard as Dean was afraid it would be. On the way to a lead, Sam and Dean restarted the argument about Jack.

“I’m sorry, are you defending the son of Satan?” Dean scoffed after Sam tried to calm Dean down.

“I’m not defending anything, it’s just—“

“I am,” you butted in. “The only reason Jack attacked us is because you shot him!”

“Hey!” Dean smacked his hand against the steering wheel. “I shot the monster, that’s what we do!”

“Jack’s not a monster!” You blurted.

“Jack?” Dean scoffed. “It’s Lucifer’s son, not some new best friend. And he killed Kelly, and…” Dean’s voice stuttered. “And Cas…”

“Jack didn’t kill them!” You insisted. “They wanted to protect him, that doesn’t make it his fault!”

Dean opened his mouth to yell at you, his fingers whitening on the steering wheel, when Sam interrupted.

“Guys, we’re here.”

Dean gritted his teeth as he pulled into the parking lot.

“The only plan I have right now is killing that thing before he kills anyone else.”

“Is Cas…” Sam swallowed. “Is Cas really gone?”

“You know he is.”

…

Once the three of you finally tracked Jack to a police station, Sam managed to taser him before the three of you got arrested by the very suspicious cop.

You and Sam were left with Jack in a holding cell while Dean talked to the woman—no doubt, he was trying to convince her to help him kill Jack. At least, that’s what you were afraid of. Even Sam, who you considered much more on your side, was pressing himself against the farthest wall from Jack when he woke up.

Once Jack relaxed and his yellow eyes faded, you approached him even as Sam held back.

“Y/N…” Sam whispered warily, but you ignored him, opting to sit next to Jack on a hard metal bench. Jack watched you silently for a moment before offering a small smile and turning his attention back to Sam, who was trying to ask him some questions.

“Will you tell them I’m sorry?” Jack asked him. You saw the guilt in his eyes, and it twisted your gut—Jack had never meant to hurt anyone, and he must’ve been so scared when Dean shot him.

“Um…yeah,” Sam agreed.

Sam continued to question him, and you continued to remain by Jack’s side. You were sure it was making Sam nervous—his eyes kept glancing towards you, and his hands were twitching, as though he was prepared to act at any moment. But you could also tell that it was calming Jack. The changes were subtle, but you could almost feel rather than see him…not leaning in your direction, but more like relaxing towards you, like a flower growing towards sunlight.

Once Jack announced that he’d had to grow up quickly because the world was dangerous, you felt yourself understanding him more and more. Sam seemed to relax when Jack claimed that Castiel was his chosen father, not Lucifer. The more Jack spoke, the more the two of you realized that this was not some monster, some devil-spawn—he was just a kid.

And it all was going so well until Dean returned.

Jack was still stiff and silent after learning that Cas was dead, so he didn’t acknowledge Dean’s presence. You wanted to go and make sure that Dean didn’t still plan to kill Jack, but Sam beat you to Dean, and you didn’t want to leave Jack alone. Still, you listened carefully as Sam tried to convince Dean that Jack was just a kid.

The brothers were interrupted by a cry for help—Dean went to investigate, leaving the three of you stranded in the cell. He wasn’t gone thirty seconds when to angels broke down the door. Once they were inside, Jack doubled over in pain, stumbling against the wall.

“Jack!” You cried out, reaching over and steadying him. One of the angels ripped the door off its hinges, and Sam and the angel fought while you stayed by Jack’s side, keeping yourself between him and the other angel.

Sam was on the floor in a minute, overwhelmed by the angel. You were conflicted for a moment—did you help Sam, or Jack?—but the angel ignored Sam once he was on the floor, going straight to Jack. It only took one swift blow to get you out of the way, your head slamming painfully against the rough stone wall of the jail cell.

“Jack…” you whimpered, watching as the angels grabbed him and marched him towards the exit.

“Hey!” Sam yelled, and you turned to see him press his bloody palm against the angel-repelling symbol he’d finger-drawn in blood. The angels were gone in a bright flash of light, and Jack remained, kneeling in pain by the door.

“Jack.” You jumped to your feet, staggering a little as the blood rushed to your head, but you still managed to reach Jack and grab hold of his shoulder. “Jack, are you ok?”

Before he could answer, the door slammed open to reveal a third and final angel wielding an angel blade. Sam grabbed one the other angel had dropped and jumped in front of Jack. You stayed right by Jack’s side as he stood to his feet.

“Don’t.” Sam said.

“Or what, other one?” The Angel scoffed.

“Guess.” Dean grunted, entering right behind her.

You felt your hand subconsciously finding Jack’s as you took a half-step forward, trying to block his body with your own. You saw Jack glance at you out of the corner of your eye—he looked confused—but his hand squeezed yours even tighter.

“If I can’t have him, no one can,” the angel promised, twisting her blade and driving into Jack’s chest.

“No!” You cried as Sam killed her with one swift jab. The three of you watched with bated breath as Jack grabbed hold of the angel blade and slowly removed it.

“I…I’m fine,” he breathed.

Sam and Dean stared at each other, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bloody hole in the middle of Jack’s chest.

“I’m fine,” Jack repeated, his hand once again finding yours.

…

You sat with Jack while Sam and Dean discussed the options. It didn’t take long to decide—Jack would be going with you. Of course, you were almost certain that it was because Dean was looking for a way to kill him, but you would take what you could get for now.

You finally separated from Jack when the four of you returned to the cabin. Dean went in to prepare Cas’s body, and Jack wanted to see his mother one last time. You couldn’t bring yourself to go in—to see what you’d lost. So you waited outside until both bodies were brought out to burn.

You saw Sam speaking to Jack while Dean poured gasoline on the pyre, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen. Sam and Dean spoke, but it was like you were in a play, one where two characters went off to talk but no one else on stage was supposed to hear what they were saying. Their words weren’t quiet, and they were mere inches from you, but you couldn’t make it out anyway. Then Dean tossed his lighter into the fire, and you watched as flames engulfed the two covered bodies. You wanted to look away—to close your eyes, as if that would somehow make anything better—but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. You felt like an unwilling witness to the burning blaze that took your friends away—away to somewhere better, you hoped. The smoke rose up, and you watched it as if hoping to see their souls rising with it—off to a better world, a world without so much pain.

Jack’s hand on your arm snapped you out of your daze. He looked for a moment as if he didn’t know what he was doing. But then his hand found yours, and you felt it—a reassuring squeeze. His hand was warm, and his touch was comforting. Your gaze met his for the briefest of moments, before both of you looked back at the fire.

But not before your hand squeezed his back.

…

“I don’t like that,” Dean grumbled to Sam. Sam looked at him, confused, and Dean gestured to the back seat. Jack was asleep against the window, and somewhere along the line you’d gone from sleeping on your own window to sleeping on Jack’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t be letting her get that close to it. As soon as we figure out how to kill a nephilim, he’s gone.”

“Dean, we don’t know that he’s evil,” Sam reasoned.

“Yes we do, Sam. And every time we try to cheat, try to pretend that the bad guys aren’t so bad, people end up dead. So now we’re gonna do what we should always do—end the problem.”

Both boys halted their conversation when they saw you stir—getting you involved would only make the argument worse; they knew where you stood on the issue.

“Dean, the problem might be the only way to save mom,” Sam argued.

“Mom is gone.”

…

You awoke to a blinding motel sign blinking above the Impala.

“We should be on the road,” Dean was arguing to Sam.

“Dean, you were hallucinating sheep. We need a few hours,” Sam countered.

“This is nice!” Jack said enthusiastically when he saw the dingy, near-rotting motel room. You found yourself smiling at his eagerness while Sam and Dean dropped their bags on the ground.

“Wow,” Jack breathed when he turned on the tv and a Scooby-Doo episode started playing. “This is…wonderful.”

You grinned, settling down next to him on one of the beds to watch, when Dean stepped over.

“Hey, no,” he said, moving to turn it off. He hesitated when he saw the show, almost smiling at what it was. You were just starting to hope that Dean was coming around when the smile dropped and he clicked the tv off. “You’re on the couch sport, move,” he said to Jack. “Y/N, I guess you’re sharing my bed tonight.” Dean snatched a bible off the counter and tossed it to Jack. “Here, why don’t you read a book.”

“I’m gonna stay up for a little bit,” you said, going to sit by Jack on the couch. Dean pursed his lips, but said nothing.

Sam left and returned quickly with burgers. The four of you chowed down—you watched as Jack started to mimic all of Dean’s movements, and you had to bite back a smile when Dean started to get annoyed with it.

After dinner, you dozed off. Sometime in the night, Donatello arrived, but you didn’t wake until you started to hear raised voices. You sat up on the couch and noticed Jack next to you. He was watching Sam, Dean, and Donatello argue about him—mostly Sam and Dean.

“He doesn’t have to be evil!” Sam was saying. “We don’t know that he isn’t more like Cas and Kelly than Lucifer!”

“I’m right here you know!” Jack argued, but no one listened.

“Yeah but he’s not Kelly, not Cas, he’s the freakin devil!”

You flinched in surprise when Jack disappeared from next to you. Dean turned to look at him, growling in annoyance when he saw Jack was gone.

“Nice going, Dean,” you huffed, jumping to your feet and running out to find Jack. You slammed the door in Dean’s face before he could respond.

…

“Hey Jack.” You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Jack, sitting on a crate in an alleyway outside of the motel. You had a feeling he could’ve just as easily transported himself to Hawaii, so you were more than relieved that he hadn’t gone far.

Jack tucked his head into his arms as if trying to escape you.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Everyone was so angry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed.

“I guess you just wanted to be away from it all.” You hadn’t noticed Sam following you until he spoke.

“And suddenly, I was,” Jack sighed. You felt your gut twist at the guilt in his voice—he didn’t want his power, you could feel it. It must be so overwhelming for him, to just think or feel something and have it happen.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “I’ll tell you what, you’ve got some special skills, Jack. We just need to make sure you get a grip on them, so you don’t hurt anybody.”

“Is that why Dean hates me?” Jack asked, and you had to remind yourself to stay calm—you loved Dean, but right now you’d never wanted to hit him more.

Jack and Sam continued to talk about Dean, and about Jack’s own powers, but again you found your mind wandering. You didn’t know what to do, but for some reason you felt that more than anything, you wanted to protect this kid. You’d never met anyone like him—he was so kind, so inquisitive, so bright and happy—and you felt like he was someone you needed in the world.

“I just don’t know if I’m worth all this.” Jack’s tearful confession brought you back to the present.

“You’re mom thought you were,” Sam told him. “So did Cas. So do I.”

“Me too,” you jumped in. “Jack, I believe you can control your powers. And I believe that you deserve a chance here. I believe that you’re worth that.”

You weren’t sure if he moved or if you did, but somehow Jack’s hand was grasped in yours once again. It just felt right—like he was a wind chime, beautiful when moved in the right direction, and you were the string holding him up—you made each other better; you made each other work.

…

Dean’s relationship with Jack didn’t change much after you guys brought him back to the bunker—even after Jack saved you all from Asmodeus. Dean tried his best to keep you away from Jack, but he was never successful. The only thing he could do was never leave you alone in the bunker with him—which he made sure to do.

That plan backfired one day when Dean took you with him for a supply run—he didn’t need you, but you’d been “spending too much time with the devil’s kid” recently, so he took you out anyway.

Which would have been fine, if a certain Knight of Hell hadn’t been on the loose.

You’d wandered away from Dean in the parking lot—he was heading inside the store, but you turned off at the last moment, something catching your eye in the alleyway just outside. You didn’t know what it was, or why you turned; instinct, maybe. Nonetheless, you hadn’t taken two steps into the alley when you heard—

“Ah, yes. You’ll do nicely.”

—and you felt something smack the back of your head with a sickening crunch, bringing darkness to your vision and numbness to your bones, before you suddenly couldn’t feel anything at all.

…

Pain. After a time, it was all you remembered. You woke to it every day, and passed out from it every night. At least, that’s how you imagined it—you couldn’t tell the difference between night and day in the dank, gloomy stone tomb that you’d spent the last few…days? Weeks?—in. You didn’t know anymore. It didn’t matter anymore.

The slow scrape of stone on stone forewarned more pain as you sagged against the rusted chains that bit into your bloody-soaked wrists.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name was jarring in a place where your identity never seemed to matter. You struggled to lift your head, seeing first the shadow of the stranger, then his shoes, all the way until you could make out the silhouette of a face.

“Y/N! Dean, I found her!”

The voice felt familiar, but in an indistinct way; like seeing someone who recognized you, but you couldn’t place their face.

Large hands on your face had all the breath leaving your lungs as you whimpered in fear.

“Hey, hey it’s ok. N/N it’s me, you’re ok.”

The name came to you as if from a nearly-forgotten dream.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Sam’s voice was gentle as he reached over and started to work at the locks holding your chains in place. You didn’t notice Dean approaching, but when your chains gave way and your knees buckled, Dean was there to catch you.

“It’s ok sweetheart. We’re gonna take you home.”

…

You’d been in your room for three days. Sam and Dean had been going in and trying to coax you out, but you hadn’t moved, spoken, or even had anything to eat. Dean had kept Jack out of your room completely, despite both Jack and Sam’s protests.

“Look, I know you don’t trust him, but he and Y/N…they’ve connected, Dean. She likes him, and she trusts him. He could help her.”

“What, you think he can do something we can’t?” Dean scoffed.

“Maybe,” Sam answered honestly. “But it can’t hurt to try.”

“Yes it cou-“

“No, no it couldn’t,” Sam stopped Dean before he could even finish. “Jack won’t hurt her, Dean. He just won’t. I know you hate it, but they care about each other, and you can’t stop that.”

Dean gritted his teeth, mulling over Sam’s words.

“Fine. But if it doesn’t work, then he stays away.”

Sam sighed.

“Deal.”

…

Sam grabbed Dean’s arm, stopping him before he could follow Jack into your room.

“Just give them a little space,” Sam whispered. Dean scowled, but stayed in the doorway.

“Y/N?” Jack’s voice was quiet, but you flinched anyway. “It’s ok, it’s me, it’s Jack.”

Your head lifted, only about an inch, and your eyes flicked up to Jack before you looked back down.

“I really missed you around here,” Jack continued, climbing up to sit next to you on your bed. Dean stiffened, but Sam held his arm to keep him from interrupting.

You stayed silent, but Jack was patient.

“Nothing was the same around here. I’m glad you’re back, I just…I wish you felt safe now, because you are. You’re safe here, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.” Jack’s hand inched towards yours, but Dean interrupted.

“Ok, you tried. Now come on.”

“Dean—“ Sam began, but Jack didn’t argue. He just stood slowly to his feet and started towards your door.

“Jack.”

Your voice stopped Jack in his tracks. He turned to look at you, and his worried brow relaxed when he saw your hand reaching out for his. He took two steps and was in front of you again, reaching forwards and grasping your hand in his.

“Hey Y/N.” Jack smiled. You returned his smile with a weak one of your own.

“Hi Jack.”

And Jack knew that it would all be ok.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

[i2ycat]

mr. obvious

pairing friend!jay x fem!reader synopsis jay as ur friend who secretly likes you genre friends to lovers(?), fluff warnings mentions of jumping off a cliff (jokingly), not proofread main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

you and jay knew each other by being in the same circle of friends, but it’s only recently that you’ve started to get closer

between the small talks and late night group movie marathons, jay starts to question his feelings towards you

jay wouldn’t admit to his feelings for you at first, probably because of 3 things; 1) he wants to save himself the embarrassment: 2) he’s scared of rejection: and 3) he’s scared of losing you as a friend

he would constantly have to stop himself from staring at you way too long, from thinking about how cute you are even when you’re not around, from falling in love even deeper than he already is…

after a few tortuous months

jay would come to full terms with his feelings after seeing you the week after easter holidays;

it would be mid spring, wind rustling the trees and petals falling onto the concrete pavement

you and the rest of enha are walking back home, bikes in hand instead of riding it, just enjoying the spring breeze and each other’s quiet company

he would look over at you and in that moment, he knew he couldn’t deny it any longer… the way your hair fluttered just like the petals around you, the warmth in the apples of your cheeks…

he was a gone man FOR SURE

there was just no way he could deny his feelings for you anymore

so from then on, he decided that he would just love you as silently as he could

and that he did

more under cut!

he didn’t want ANYTHING to get out, not even a single word about his feelings for u so he didn’t tell any of his friends about his crush on you, not even his mom who he tells absolutely EVERYTHING to

he wouldn’t be taking any chances of you ever finding out

he would jump off a cliff with this secret if he had to

jay would be the type to subconsciously try to match your fashion sense, or anything you do really

you like wearing greyish tones? jay would be finding clothes to match that

you like wearing semi-casual clothing? jay is already buying slacks, a dress shirt and some other pieces of clothing that fit the vibes the you go for

he wouldn’t even notice that he’s doing that until someone else points out how you guys are always matching

“eh? you guys are basically wearing the same outfits.” jungwon teases, nudging jay at the sides

jay would be blushing HARD, trying to shut jungwon up by slinging an arm around his shoulders and pushing the poor boy down

little does jay know that his little crush is PAINFULLY PAINFULLY obvious to all his friends, INCLUDING you

someone save my poor boy from his misery PLEASE 🙏🏻

if it wasn’t already obvious enough, jay has an extremely soft spot for you, always taking your opinions as his very first consideration

“where should we eat?” jay would ask

“i kinda wanna eat sushi…” sunoo replies, scrolling through his phone as the rest of you wait in front of a 7-11, deciding on what to eat for dinner

“i wanna eat italian!” you beam

jay is immediately searching for all the nearest italian restaurants in the area

“italian it is!”

everyone, except you, huffs and rolls their eyes in disbelief at how jay folded so fast

like BOY STAND UP!!

you think you know the extent of jay’s feelings? WRONG, you don’t even know the half of it…

he can’t even get mad at you because to him, you could do no wrong or harm… you’re too cute for that

jay would even let you be the first to taste test anything he cooks before everyone else, because he silently wants you to know just how much your opinions matter to him and that you’re the most important person to him, above everyone else (not including his family that is)

to him, it would be action >>>>>> words

you wouldn’t expect this but he’s probably the type to watch romance tarot readings with you in mind, giggling to himself whenever something remotely related or similar to you comes up

he’s just a silly little lover boy :(((

he’d even ask his mom how he could help when a girl is on her period because he wants to take care of you the best he can, bringing you chocolate, ice cream, all the snacks you could ever want

he would keep an extra pad in his locker just in case you needed it

he’d give you all his hoodies because you just look so much cuter in it, even if they were his favourite ones or he just bought them (he secretly buys them for you)

jay as your friend who secretly likes you can’t even keep it a secret, even if he tries to hide it

you’d eventually decide to put him out of his misery and confess to him first

“i like you.” you bluntly say, not nervous enough because you already knew how he felt about you

jay’s mind would completely short circuit, his feet stopping, his heart stopping, everything stopping

and when he finally comes back to his senses, he would jump around like he’s won the lottery or something

“I FINALLY GOT THE GIRL OF MY DREAMS??!?”

© i2ycat 2024 not my best eatery i’m afraid… and i was supposed to post this yesterday for jay day but umm… it’s out now! ^^

[dragonfly0808]

How the Squad Found Out About that One Time Riven and Flora Kissed

First part of the chapter takes place during s4, second part is back in s2 ch28, right after the end of the chapter.

I’d originally planned to have Flo and Riv kiss in that chapter but decided against it last minute cause I just wasn’t sure how to make it clear that, while there could’ve been something there, and they both feel that, there are no actual romantic feelings between the two.

The possibility of them? Yes. the reality of them? No.

I feel like Riven and Flora have the most distinct platonic soulmate relationship, mainly because they’re the main ones I really could see falling for each other if things had been different and if they hadn’t meet Musa and Helia and I wanted to get that across in a poetic way but not a tragic way ya know? They didn’t lose anything for not falling for each other in this universe and they are still a huge part of each other’s lives if that makes sense?

Whatever, I’ll stop rambling, hope u enjoy this little drabble! I will be posting it on AO3 probably later on

***

It’d been a slow week, no activity from the Wizards and Roxy’s classes progressing nicely.

The squad had decided to have a quiet game night, with some alcohol coming into the mixture at some point.

At the moment, they were playing Truth or Dare.

In all honesty, there was very little they didn’t know about each other, but even after so long, there were still a few things that could surprise them from time to time.

Stella considered her turn, the bottle on the ground dictating that she’d gotten Riven.

The coward had chosen truth.

There were few things she could ask him that could result in anything majorly interesting.

Unless… Stella glanced towards Flora, who was leaning against Helia, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Anyone who had eyes could tell Flora and Riven had adored each other since their first year. That was obvious. At this point it was also obvious that, while they didn’t see each other as siblings, they didn’t see each other in any kind of romantic light either.

…but she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t curious about whether or not they ever had, even for a fleeting moment. Especially since she did remember one particular evening during their second year in which they’d both seemed… almost bashful with each other.

Should she?

Stella slowly leaned back against Brandon’s chest, meeting Riven’s challenging look, “Okay, I know what I want to ask.”

Riven spread his hands, “Go on then buttercup.”

“Have you ever… kissed someone in this room-” she ignored the snorts, continuing, “who wasn’t Musa?”

Riven froze for a split second, clearly flabbergasted before casting a single quick glance towards Flora, who had sunk into Helia’s arms, covering her face as she flushed.

“Listen-”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Stella shouted, slamming a hand against the ground.

Musa broke down into giggles as she turned to Riven, “What?”

“No- it- it was before we were dating obviously. It was dumb we just…”

“We were fucking up a lot with you two so we got a little drunk and we kissed to seal our depressing marriage pact.” Flora explained.

Helia chuckled under his breath before turning to Riven with mock anger, “You got a marriage pact with my girl? What happened to the bro code?”

“We were drunk, depressed and hating on love. She was obsessed with you, I was obsessed with Musa but we were fully convinced we’d just fucked everything up for good- cut us some slack man!”

They all burst out laughing, clinging to each other as they Flora somehow sunk further into the floor and Riven hid his face in Musa’s neck.

***

Flora was thinking, unable to focus on the book in her hand. She could feel the alcohol at the base of her skull, a dull thump, barely there but just present enough to make her think.

She’d freaked out on Helia.

Riven loved her. He was her person.

Did that mean something? Or did she just want a connection that her baggage didn’t impede?

She turned to him, watching him as he tinkered on one of his projects, trying to think objectively.

He noticed after a moment, meeting her gaze, “Something wrong?”

“No, I was just… thinking.”

“About?”

He’d freaked out on Musa.

Flora loved him. She was his person.

But how did she love him? Was her mind playing tricks on her?

“Have you ever thought… that maybe… you and I should try?”

One of his eyebrows slowly rose up as he set down his tools and fully turned to face her, crossing his arms and leaning back, “I won’t lie… the thought did cross my mind once or twice… before I really started catching feelings for Musa. You?”

“Same. Before I fell for Helia… I don’t know, maybe I thought about it in passing.” But she would’ve never acted on it even back then because she knew Musa had a crush.

“It’s weird isn’t it… if not just sad. That we’ve had so little love in our lives that now we’re doubting what we have.” Riven muttered under his breath, letting his head fall back as he sighed.

“Yeah… should we… do something about it?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Riven raised his head, inspecting her before going to join her on the small couch, sitting besides her.

“Should we kiss?” He asked, it sounded like he was asking himself just as much as he was asking her.

Flora considered, “I mean… could be like… sealing the marriage pact?” She took a deep breath, shaking off her nerves, this was her person, worst case scenario, it might be a bit gross, “Okay. I’m in if you’re in.”

Riven nodded along, “Okay.”

He leaned down to meet her halfway. It was a hesitant, yet gentle kiss, soft and slow as they both tried to figure out how they felt about it.

Seconds passed and they pulled apart, both leaning against the couch, staring at the wall before them.

“I mean… it didn’t feel… wrong.” She started hesitantly.

“But it didn’t feel right either.”

“Exactly.”

They glanced at each other before laughing light-heartily. Blushing out of embarrassment and awkwardness.

“If things were different… maybe then.” He said after a long minute.

She shrugged, bumping her shoulder against his, “Maybe in another life.”

He snorted, “Yeah, maybe in another life.”

[calliesmemes]

ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE (2001)

SENTENCE STARTERS PULLED FROM THE DIALOGUE FEATURED IN THE ANIMATED FILM ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE, with some quotations slightly modified for roleplay purposes.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

   “   Uh, would you gentlemen please excuse me for a moment?   ”

   “   If I ever hear the word "Atlantis" again, I'll step in front of a bus!   ”

   “   You have a lot of potential.   ”

   “   Who... who are you? How did you get in here?   ”

   “   I'm acting on behalf of my employer, who has a most intriguing proposition for you.   ”

   “   Relax. He doesn’t bite … often.   ”

   “   Did you really know my grandfather?   ”

   “   We stayed close friends ‘till the end of his days.   ”

   “   He spoke of you often.   ”

   “   I've spent my whole life studying dead languages.   ”

   “   I will stake everything I own, everything that I believe in... that this is the genuine Shepherd's Journal.   ”

   “   I'll show them! I will make them believe.   ”

   “   For years your granddad bent my ear with stories about that old book.   ”

   “   Your grandpa was a great man. You probably don't realize how great.   ”

   “   Don't let her age fool you.   ”

   “   Our lives are remembered by the gifts we leave our children.   ”

   “   Atlantis is waiting. What do you say?   ”

   “   Boy, I’m so excited, l-l-l-I can't even hold it in.   ”

   “   Excuse me? I need to, uh, report in?   ”

   “   Blondie, I got a bone to pick with you.   ”

   “   If you're lookin' for the pony rides, they're back there.   ”

   “   You can’t put a price on the pursuit of knowledge.   ”

   “   This should be enriching for all of us.   ”

   “   Now tell me your story, my little friend.   ”

   “   This is an outrage! You must leave at once! Out, out, out, out, out!   ”

   “   Now, what have I told you about playing nice with the other kids?   ”

   “   Back to the pit from which you came!   ”

   “   OK, everybody. I want you to give Mr. Thatch your undivided attention.  ”

   “   Cartographer, linguist, plumber. Hard to believe he's still single.   ”

   “   Captain, you'd better come look at this, sir.   ”

   “   Do you want to do my job? Be my guest.   ”

   “   How much time do we have?   ”

   “   I don't think he's comin' back.   ”

   “   Move it, people! Sometime today would be nice!   ”

   “   I won't sugar-coat it, gentlemen. We have a crisis on our hands.   ”

   “   Looks like all our chances for survival rest with you, Mr. Thatch.   ”

   “   We’re all gonna die.   ”

   “   Looks like we have a little roadblock.   ”

   “   That thing is going to keep me up all night, I know it.   ”

   “   You know, we've been pretty tough on the kid. What do you say we cut him some slack?   ”

   “   Hey, Milo! Why don't you come sit with us?   ”

   “   Hey, Milo, don't you ever close that book?   ”

   “   I know, I know. Sometimes I get a little carried away.   ”

   “   You know, that's what this is all about, right? I mean – discovery, teamwork, adventure. Unless, maybe, you're just in it for the money.   ”

   “   Hey, how’d you learn how to do that?   ”

   “   I never got to meet your grandfather. What was he like?   ”

   “   He was like a father to me, really.   ”

   “   My parents died when I was a little kid, and he took me in.   ”

   “   That is so cute!   ”

   “   Uh, no... no offense.. but how does a teenager become the chief mechanic of a multimillion dollar expedition?   ”

   “   So, what... what happened to your sister?   ”

   “   I just like to blow things up.   ”

   “   All right, who's not dead? Sound off.   ”

   “   Maybe that's our ticket outta here.   ”

   “   I gotta hand it to you. You really came through.   ”

   “   They can smell fear just by looking at ya.   ”

   “   We are explorers from the surface world. We come in peace.   ”

   “   Come. You must speak with my father now.   ”

   “   Someone's having a good time.   ”

   “   Commander, there were not supposed to be people down here. This changes everything.   ”

   “   This changes nothing.   ”

   “   You presume much to think that you would be welcome here.   ”

   “   I know what you seek and you will not find it here.   ”

   “   Your journey has been in vain.   ”

   “   May I respectfully request that we stay one night, sir?   ”

   “   Your heart has softened, Kida.   ”

   “   A thousand years ago, you would have slain them on sight.   ”

   “   We were once a great people. Now we live in ruins.   ”

   “   The kings of our past would weep if they could see how far we have fallen.   ”

   “   Our way of life is dying.   ”

   “   When you take the throne, you will understand.   ”

   “   Well, the King and his daughter don't exactly see eye to eye.   ”

   “   Well, if he's hiding something, I want to know what it is.   ”

   “   Look, I have some questions for you, and I'm not leaving this city until they're answered!   ”

   “   Oh, there is so much to ask about your world.   ”

   “   You are a scholar, are you not?   ”

   “   I got a few questions for you, too. So let's do this, OK? You ask one, then I'll ask one, then you, then me, then...well, you get it.   ”

   “   how did you get here? Well, I mean, not you personally... but your... your culture. I mean, how did all of this end up down here?   ”

   “   Wh... what... what … are you telling me… that you remember what happened because you were there? No, that... that's impossible...   ”

   “   How was my accent?   ”

   “   You know, you deserve credit for even... even gettin' this far.   ”

   “   By the way, we were never properly introduced. My name's Milo.   ”

   “   Uh, hey, you got a nickname?   ”

   “   You know, my grandpa used to tell me stories about this place as far back as I can remember.   ”

   “   I just wish that he could be standing here with me.   ”

   “   We are not thriving. True, our people live. but our culture is dying.   ”

  “   I wish there was something I could do.   ”

   “   Why don't you lead the way, because I have no idea where we're going.   ”

   “   This is amazing! A complete history of Atlantis!   ”

   “   I am such an idiot.   ”

   “   This is just another treasure hunt for you.   ”

   “   I would've told you sooner, but it was strictly on a need-to-know basis.   ”

   “   Welcome to the club, son.   ”

   “   Mercenary? I prefer the term "adventure capitalist."   ”

   “   You don't know what you're tampering with, Rourke.   ”

   “   Academics. You never want to get your hands dirty.   ”

   “   I got to admit, I'm disappointed.   ”

   “   You're an idealist, just like your grandfather.   ”

   “   For once, do the smart thing.   ”

   “   I really hate it when negotiations go sour.   ”

   “   Well, as usual, diplomacy has failed us.   ”

   “   You've got to listen to me. You don't have the slightest idea what this power is capable of.   ”

   “   Let’s get this over with. I don’t like this place.  

   “   Doesn’t anything surprise you?   ”

   “   Talk to me, Thatch. What's happening?   ”

   “   So I guess this is how it ends, huh?   ”

   “   You've read Darwin. It's called natural selection. We're just helping it along.   ”

   “   Be serious. This is wrong, and you know it.   ”

   “    You pick now of all times to grow a conscience?   ”

   “   She has been chosen... like her mother before her.   ”

   “   I followed you in, and I'll follow you out.   ”

   “   it's been my experience that when you hit bottom, the only place left to go is up.   ”

   “   What do you think that you are doing?   ”

   “   We're going to save Atlantis, or we're going to die trying.   ”

   “   Well, I have to hand it to you. You're a bigger pain in the neck than I would have ever thought possible.   ”

   “   Tired? Aw, that's a darn shame, because I'm just getting warmed up.   ”

   “   There's a hero's welcome waiting for the man who discovered Atlantis.   ”

   “   I don't think the world needs another hero.   ”

   “   I'm going to miss that boy. At least he's in a better place now.   ”

[sunflowersandsapphires]

hello my darling love i would like to purchase a peony!

Matt and Foggy trying to cook dinner in college once they finally get a room with access to a kitchen 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

i just think they’d both be hilariously clueless

Flinching at the sound of thick metal slabs clanging together, you dug your nails into clammy palms. “Are you sure you don’t need any help in there?”

”NO!“ ”All good, bug!“ Were the two responses that flew from the warm light of the kitchen, the men yelling them still concealed by the thin wall separating you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you willed your anxiety to quiet, running through the quickest route out of the building in case a fire broke out. Which seemed far too likely at this point.

You couldn't blame the boys for their excitement, living a whole year without a kitchen must've been torture. But you didn't quite trust the pair of them with knives. Or open flames.

Unfortunately for your anxiety, they'd insisted on cooking you dinner when you got back to town. It was sweet and so adorably them that you agreed to the idea, only regretting it when their smoke alarm was set off. For the third time.

Abandoning the code of manners you'd been bound by, you darted into the kitchen, fanning a hand in front of your face to waft the pale smoke away from your nose. Blinking through the sudden irritatant assaulting your vision, you made out the shadowy outlines of your two best friends, the shorter of the pair straining to reach the ceiling to reset the smoke detector. Poor Matt had his hands mashed over his ears, hunching further and further in on himself as the white disc shrieked from above.

Jogging past Foggy, you placed a hand on Matt's shoulder, leading him out of the room when he toppled into you with a whine. Once you'd half-walked, half-carried Matt over to their second-hand couch, the beeping ceased. Both of you sighed heavily, tilting farther into each other's space with relief.

”Ow,“ Matt chuckled weakly, nudging your pulse point with his nose.

Humming sympathetically, you brushed his fringe from his forehead. ”You should take some aspirin before you get a migraine.“

”I would, but all my stuff is still in boxes.“ He murmured with a shudder.

”Well,” Foggy entered the room, looking like a weary housewife with a scorched tea towel hanging over his shoulder and a fraying apron tied around his waist. “Chicken's toast. No coming back from that. Ideas?”

“Pizza?” Matt suggested, his voice still hushed, as if he were still hearing the beeping and his vocal chords hadn't adjusted.

“I could eat pizza.” You agreed, stomach grumbling its assent. Looking to Foggy, you beamed at him when he gave a firm nod.

“Great plan kids. Hang tight.” Whipping out his phone, he paced toward an armchair while dialing.

“Probably for the best,” Matt remarked with a smirk. “There was no way you were making it out tonight without food poisoning if we cooked for you.”

With a shrug, you elbowed him gently. “Cut yourself some slack, trouble. You have plenty of time to practice.”