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Autistic People Are Often Told to Change Ourselves…
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Neurodivergent_lou
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valeskafics · 2 days
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"Nothing Compares To You" - Feyd Rautha x Wife!Reader
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a/n: grouped a few similar anon requests together, hope y'all enjoy. just some fluffy feyd hehe 🩷
Summary: Things change between you and Feyd when he learns of an attempt on your life.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, physical violence, arranged marriage, pregnancy, tooth rotting fluff
Word Count: 2,000
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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Feyd’s uncle always taught him that love was weakness. That he should never let it cloud his mind or judgment. So, when he saw you for the first time, the young woman he was fated to marry, he did his best to ignore the pang in his chest, the longing brewing inside him. He ignored your kind smile, your gentle demeanor. He laid with you on your wedding night, doing his husbandly duty, but beyond that? He rarely sought you out. Feyd knew his coldness confused you. But he couldn’t afford to let himself fall in love with you. So keeping you at an arm’s length was the best option for everyone. Feyd has never known how to care for something, for someone. All his life, he has known only violence and pain. How in the world is he meant to know what to do when it comes to you? His sweet, gentle wife? The one who looks upon him with such sadness when he goes to his concubines after dinner every night instead of to her bed?
Feyd has never been cruel to you. But he has refrained from showing you the warmth it is that you so clearly crave. You share your meals together in sustained silence, you make your appearances together without him giving you the affection it is you desire. And each time he sees you, his will to keep you at a distance weakens. His resolve hangs on by a thread that grows more and more precarious with each passing day. Every gentle smile you give him despite his aloof demeanor, every graze of your hand against his. Slowly, but surely, you have begun to wear him down.
The day you are attacked is the day everything truly changes for the two of you. He receives word from one of his slaves that you are in the hospital wing. Feyd races as fast as his feet can carry him, finding you laying there, your body battered and bruised, your body and face marred by injuries. There is an unpleasant sinking in his chest as he gazes upon you, turning to the doctor and demanding to know what happened. He shouldn’t be surprised to learn that this was the handiwork of his Harpies, but he is. Rage bubbles up inside him. He had explicitly demanded that they never touch you. And the simmering flame of his rage grows to a fiery inferno at the doctor’s next words.
“We are lucky the na-Baroness was found when she was and that she didn’t lose the baby, na-Baron.”
His child. That one night, your wedding night, had borne fruit. You were carrying his heir. Feyd grits his teeth, the steady rise and fall of your chest the only indication that you are still alive. You look so small and fragile laying there in that bed. It makes him sick. It shatters everything in him that he thought he knew. Feyd’s only thoughts are of you now, of his need for you to wake up and look at him with those soft eyes, to hear your sweet voice once more. He stays at your side for the next three days. He ignores his uncle’s demands that he join him in matters regarding the administration of Giedi Prime, roaring with anger that his first and foremost duty is to protect you and his unborn child.
Three days later, you wake, your eyes fluttering open, your voice raspy and weaker than he’s ever heard it before as you question, “Feyd…? What happened?”
He whispers your name, rushing to be at your side, helping you sit up. It physically pains Feyd as you groan and wince in pain, his touch uncharacteristically gentle and doting as he brings a cup of water to your lips. After a few moments of allowing you to catch your breath, you speak again.
“The last thing I remember was the Harpies…”
Feyd does his best to hold back the snarl of rage that threatens to escape his lips, wiping your feverish brow as he explains, “They tried to kill you.”
“Kill me?” You question incredulously, your blood pressure and heart rate rising on the monitor, “Why? You haven’t even touched me since the wedding night! I’m no threat to them!”
He takes a deep breath to calm himself, his fists clenched as he remembers how you looked. Lying there unconscious, vulnerable and defenseless. A sweet, innocent woman caught in a cruel fight that was never yours to begin with. Everything has changed for Feyd in this moment.
“They attacked you because they know you carry…”
Your eyes go wide as the realization hits you, lips parting in shock, “I’m pregnant? But we only… We only ever slept together on the wedding night! Surely just one time couldn’t have resulted in a pregnancy.”
The corners of Feyd’s lips turn up in a slight smile, his gaze soft as he murmurs, “Sometimes it only takes one time, little one.”
You frown at the pet name ever so slightly. Feyd knows that you must be confused by the sudden tenderness he is treating you with, his complete 180 in demeanor. However, you shake your head and face him again, a new determination in you. A mother’s strength as you rest your hand on your stomach, protecting the unborn baby in whatever way you can, fire in your eyes and a steely resolve to you that makes Feyd feel a strange rush of desire.
“I want them gone, Feyd,” you demand firmly, gazing into his eyes, “I don’t care that they’re your concubines. Find new ones. I want them gone.”
He nods, “Do you want them punished as well?”
“Banish them, execute them, I don’t care. I just want them away from my baby.” It’s strange, but he relishes in your demand. In the power in your voice. Something stirs inside of him at the sight of you like this as you continue speaking, “And I promise you, Feyd, if they don’t leave? I will. I don’t care who you spend your time with. I know this wasn’t a love match. But I’ll be damned if your Harpies touch my baby ever again.”
Feyd’s head is spinning as he nods, your voice still echoing in his head, answering without a moment’s hesitation, “They will be executed. It will be done.”
“Good.” You lean back, wincing slightly in pain, waving him away when he tries to assist you, “I’m fine.”
“I don’t want you to feel pain,” he blurts out, your pain becoming so unbearable as if it’s being inflicted on his own person, “You are not fine. You’ve been hurt. I cannot have that.”
You scoff, “Really? You haven’t cared about me at all these last three months. Is it different now that you’ve bred me?”
Feyd’s heart sinks, anger spiking inside him. There is truth to your words. He has done his best not to care for you since the day you came to Giedi Prime. But he is done pretending. He clenches his jaw, meeting your gaze.
“Don’t speak to me that way. I’m your husband.”
“I will speak to you in whatever way I wish,” you retort sharply, your glare harsh enough to intimidate even the bravest of men, “Your playthings nearly killed my baby. I want those murderesses gone.”
It’s strange. The old him would have snapped back with a callous remark. But the man he is now, the man who thought he was going to lose you? He feels something he has never felt with another woman. He feels like he is yours. Completely yours. Your servant. He tries to give you a stern gaze.
“You are bold tonight.”
“I am a mother now. It is not only myself I have to protect.”
Your doctor returns, declaring that you will require two weeks of bedrest. That you will need to be accompanied at all times. You scowl, exclaiming that the whole thing is ridiculous, but Feyd smiles, saying he will be glad to care for you as you recover from your injuries. He lifts you into his arms, spiriting you back to the bedchamber the two of you were meant to share. The one he never came back to after that first night. He smiles to himself at seeing how you’ve made it your own, little touches here and there that make it so quintessentially you. He lays you down on the bed, watching you glower up at him.
“I have slept alone every night even since we’ve been married. I intend to continue doing so.”
Feyd shakes his head resolutely, “No. You will not. I will stay here and care for you.”
He watches as you struggle to make yourself comfortable in the plush bed, his heart squeezing uncomfortably as he catches a glimpse of the bruises that litter your body. You lay on top of the quilt, groaning slightly as he moves to help you.
“You don’t need to look so guilty. It wasn’t your fault.”
You sit up and he moves to sit beside you, his fingertips gently tracing the bruise that goes up your neck, whispering, “How could it not be my fault? I have failed you. As a husband and as the father of your child.”
You shiver slightly as he continues, his hand moving down to rest against your chest, feeling the beating of your heart, “You couldn’t have known how ambitious they were. You’d given them an order and expected them to obey. They were yours, you thought better of them.”
Feyd leans in, resting his forehead against yours, rasping, “They were mine, yes. But you are mine as well. You are my top priority.” His hands move to caress the curves of your body, groaning at the feeling of your soft flesh against his palms, “Don’t keep me away. I was selfish. And scared. My uncle always taught me love was a weakness. And when I first saw you, I knew you were the only woman who could ever make me fall in love. My body, my heart. They ached for you every single day. I was so afraid of losing myself to you. You tempted me with every smile. Every kind word. Every touch.”
“You’re a fool,” you murmur softly, your hand reaching to touch his cheek, “Temptation is when you are not meant to have something. Feyd, you’re meant to have me. To love me. You chose to slake your lust with your Harpies. Did you think I would not have welcomed you into my bed? You’re my husband.”
“They never compared to you,” he replies, his fingertips tracing the Cupid’s bow of your lips, “Nothing compares to you.”
“I’m well aware.”
He chuckles as you grant him the greatest gift he could have ever asked for. That sweet smile of yours. Aimed at him. Feyd leans in and kisses you, his touch rough and demanding. He does not know how to love gently, but when you trace his cheekbones with your fingers, your touch so soft and soothing, he nearly freezes in place. He moans against your lips, laying beside you, holding your body close to his as you continue to engage in this languid kiss, slowly exploring each other’s bodies. He refuses to take you, not in this fragile state. In two weeks, when you are recovered, he will claim your body once again. But for now, he’s perfectly content to lay here like this, kissing his sweet wife.
“I don’t mind your nature,” you whisper against his lips, “Your love is violent. Mine is gentle. We can have both. We need both.”
Your words, your presence, it all lights a fire within him as he continues to explore your mouth with his tongue, the taste of you being committed to his memory, wrapped in each other’s arms, finally experiencing the marital bliss you two had robbed yourselves of.
Feyd knows now that love is not a weakness.
His love for you makes him strong.
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"Friends with feelings" - Luke Hughes x Reader
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Summary: In which forgetting a glass of water before bed might just be the best thing you've ever done. Based on this blurb.
Warnings: Kissing, a lil ass grabbing, alludes to self-pleasuring, mentions of abs, nipples and pretty curls.
A/N: Hi! It's been a while since I've written a longer fic (it's 5.5K words, that's a lot for me HAHA) like this, and I would be sososososo very appreciative of any feedback at all<3 Also, I've written Luke slightly differently than I usually do, a little bit more cocky and confident and probably a bit more like how he'd be with his actual friends/ a girl he's liked for a while and is close with, but anywassss, I hope you enjoy! __________________________
Usually, you like to think you're a person with little to no regrets, always finding a way to appreciate the memory or use the situation as a valuable life lesson.
Not bothering to go downstairs and get a glass of water before you got into the air mattress on the floor next to Jess, your best friend and designated roommate for the week, though? That's probably the biggest regret of your life. Or, at least that's how it feels when you wake up at two-thirty in the morning, mouth dryer than the Sahara (the effect of a few too many beers and cups of Pink Whitney trying to exit your system, no doubt). The last two days have mostly consisted of varying types of drinking; day drinking, night drinking, drinking games, you name it, but that also always seems to be the case when your college friend group meets up over summer break.
This year, Luke Hughes, despite not actively being in college anymore but still a valued member of the friend group, has so graciously been allowed to borrow his big brothers' lake house for the week, saving your group money on an Airbnb and the struggle of finding something big enough to accommodate ten people. Despite not having enough rooms for everyone to get their own (hence the air mattress and the sharing of a room with four girls), the lake house is by far better than whatever cramped shoebox of a house Mark and Ethan managed to book you into last year.
Truth be told, you were thankful for Luke even asking his brothers in the first place, especially since you had been walking around with a slight fear of not getting to see him this summer, considering the whole NHL-Star-Rookie-Thing. You and Luke had always had a weird thing going on, good friends, maybe slightly more but also...not?
 The youngest Hughes had never made a move on you, despite people telling you on multiple occasions that he "definitely has a thing for you" and that "it's obvious you like each other". And sure, you hadn't chanced your luck either, too worried about a possible rejection, that people were overanalyzing his feelings and it all would end up one awkward mess you would then have to navigate on top of your broken heart and bruised ego.
So, Luke and you stayed just friends until his inevitable departure to the big league, your daily coffee meetups now replaced by the occasional call or Facetime.
 Despite the inconsistent calls, your string of texts never seemed to waiver.
 Luke telling you about the smallest, seemingly insignificant, updates in his life, you complaining about school and the dad-joke competitions, all came together to silence the voice inside your head yelling at you that he'd forget you into nothing more than the faintest of whispers.
Nevertheless, it's nice to see him again, to hear his voice and his laugh, and to see his smile in real life and not through a tiny pixelated screen. The way you had fallen straight back into your old rhythm is nice too, if you're being honest.
Combined with the presence of your other most precious friends, the amazing weather and having the big lake house all to yourselves, you can't be happier about how great this summer is going.
Well, except for one teeny, tiny, insignificant thing: seeing him again made you realise your feelings for him hadn't disappeared one singular bit, as you have otherwise spent months trying to convince yourself and your friends off. Every touch, laugh, look into his eyes and comments from your friends about how "close the two of you look" disguised as friendly banter throws you off your game, making you nervous and self-conscious about how much your feelings are showing and if he notices. You're still debating with yourself if you want him to or not.
But that is also a lot of deep thoughts considering the time of the night, and as five minutes of laying wide awake turn into ten (mainly contemplating the pros and cons of getting up), you finally decide to do something about your predicament. You're hardly going to be able to fall back asleep now anyway, the dryness of your mouth combined with the constant quiet psst of the air slowly leaking out of the mattress beneath you and thoughts of your crush coming together in a lovely way of torture you like to call sleep deprivation.
Pushing the duvet aside and trying to make the least amount of noise as you rise, you decide to forgo the effort of putting any additional clothing on besides your oversized t-shirt and panties (because, really, who would be up at this hour?) and walk on your tippy toes towards the door. Slow, slow, slowly you turn the golden knob, freezing instantly when a loud click echoes throughout the otherwise dead silent room.
"Where are you going?" Jess mumbles, face pressed into her pillow, making the voice slightly incoherent.
"Water," you whisper back, hoping to not wake any of your other friends, could you help it. A brief pause leaves you wondering if Jess is even actually awake, but then her sheets rustle and she hums. After a few seconds, a mumble meant to sound like Bring me some comes from her general direction, your best friend no doubt already crossing back over the border to dreamland before the sentence is fully out. You nod in confirmation, not sure why considering she can't see you in the dark, and once more move slowly and quietly when opening the door.
The feeling of success from not waking anyone else doesn't last long, though, replaced by remorse of not at least finding some socks. Silently cursing the Hughes Brothers and trying not to yelp as your feet leave the warm fluffy comfort of the guest bedroom and are instead met by the cold hardwood floor of the hallway, you try to navigate your way to the kitchen through the still-unfamiliar house.
 Despite it being your second night here, the layout of the upstairs interior still confuses you, even more so in the dark, and it takes you a while longer than it would in daylight to find the correct staircase. Which, by the way, seems a ridiculous thing to even have. What house, what people need not one, not two, but three whole staircases? It's like those idiots (affectionate) want their guests to get lost.
 You're still grumbling about the absurd amount of staircases when you turn the corner into the huge eat-in kitchen, foregoing turning on the lights, and your faux annoyance only fueled by the water glasses of course having to reside in the top cabinet. The poor brothers receive a string of new curses.
Ever the problem solver, you swing one leg over the white marble counter, plant both hands on the cold stone, pray the limited hours in the gym working on your biceps could just be a little help, and count to three before hoisting yourself onto the counter. With it taking far more effort than you're proud of, your knees hit the marble, the wood of the beige cabinets scratching against your palms as they close around it for balance. So far so good.
 Despite a fair amount of wobbling, you manage to grab a glass, choosing the one looking most like it will help bring your ice-cold-water-chug-in-the-middle-of-the-night desires to life.
 "I was planning on asking if you need help, but this is far more amusing to watch," a voice brings you out of your deep concentration on your mission, startling you and having your neck turning so fast a whiplash almost sounds. Your mouth drops open, eyes going wide and cheeks heating up faster than the new induction stove your mom was recently raving about to you.
Because there Luke stands, not only proving your nonchalant dismissal of anyone being awake wrong but also making you incredibly aware of a few things you'd like to change at this very moment. Like the fact you're currently perched on top of not his, but his brothers' marble counter, gripping a glass like it's a precious painting stolen from a gallery. Or maybe like how his stare, amused and holding your own, ever so often dipping down a few inches, reminds you how you aren't wearing pants. With that realisation, you drop your arms, hoping the t-shirt is long enough to provide you with some sort of modesty. A sort of half-smirk paints his lovely face, eyes shining with amusement, as he leans against the archway into the kitchen.
Mouth opening and closing a few times, you try your best to come up with something witty, anything to not let it show how his mere presence in the room affects you - or how you feel a little guilty for sneaking around in the middle of the night, despite his instance of make yourselves at home!
"How long have you been standing there?" you land on instead.
 A hint of accusation laces your words like he's the one who should be ashamed in this situation.
Luke cocks his head to one side, sleep-riddled messy curls bouncing a little at the motion, drawing your attention to them and the way you would really, truly, like to run your fingers through them. They've grown to the perfect length since he sent you a picture of the fresh cut earlier this summer, still holding the mullet form but longer overall, only adding to his attractiveness.
 "Long enough to watch you calculate how to climb the counter," you jump at his words, not having noticed how he's slowly been stalking towards you, now across from you, leaning against the island parallel to the counter you still reside on. Crossing his arms over his chest, Luke carefully watches as you gently place the glass down next to you like this is the most intriguing yet amusing thing he's seen in a while. The remaining steps of the plan don't involve accidentally splintering a glass into tiny little pieces, so you're playing it safe, okay?
Deciding to ignore him, you focus on the next task at hand: getting off the counter. Or, at least turning around. You sorta manage to do it without much damage, the only victim a small pot with salt falling over after contact with your knee, leaving a trail of the white mineral on the blank surface.
"Not helping a damsel in distress isn't very gentlemanly of you," you say matter-of-factly once you've managed to manoeuvre around on the limited space, finally facing him without having to turn your neck in an uncomfortable direction.
 Luke simply shrugs at your words, his chain, one you gifted him, you realise with gleeful pleasure, catches in the moonlight shining through the window, in return making your breath catch in your throat. It has you questioning if he's been wearing it since Christmas when you gave it to him, or if he just recently thought to put it on. Maybe to make you think he enjoys the present, wearing it in your presence and all. Or perhaps, it's been a permanent fixture around his neck since the cold months?
 Could the silver jewellery be joining him at games? On road trips, in the shower, in his bed- electricity shoots through your mind as it wanders too far, conjuring up images of him in bed, but soon turning sour at the thought of him sharing those sheets. The green monster inside you jolts awake, clawing at its bars, begging to be let out and riot at the thought of him with another girl. Somehow, some way, you manage to silence it, throw on some extra locks and throw away the keys.
If Luke wants to sleep with other girls, he can. Now, that's a bitter pill to swallow, but nevertheless, the reality is that he can do anything he wants. After all, he isn't yours.
 He could be, Holden the Hope whispers, caressing your mind with lovely images of shared confessions of love, kisses of adoration and tangling in sheets.
 Don't let flowers bloom in the false spring, Reese the Realism scolds, burning the images with a snap of her fingers.
"You're not a damsel," he finally says, clearing his throat like the words hurt him to sound out. Molten eyes meet yours, so green and distracting that you don't even notice yourself leaning forward, less than a centimetre, but enough to make the fun little thing called gravity suddenly decide it wants to play. Fate, or maybe just pure clumsiness, seemingly joins in, giving you the final push, and before you know it, your arms are flailing, your body unable to stop the descent towards the floor.
Strong arms move quickly, engulfing your waist and bringing you to a stop, steadying you against the counter with the added press of a body against yours. "Just in distress then?" your voice comes out breathy and unsteady, craning your neck to look up at him, the closeness of your bodies rendering you unable to do anything else if you want to see the self-satisfied smirk on his face, obviously proud of his heroic action and quick reflexes (thank you, hockey).
 And you do, gosh do you want to stare at any and all expression he makes for the rest of his, and your, life. "You had it under control," he drawls, noticing your body shaking at the same time you do. His first instinct seems to be to tighten his arms around you, muscles twitching at the motion. You hope your peeking isn't noticeable.
Instead of thirsting over your friend's arms, you try to focus on not shaking (the near-fall may have shaken you a bit more than you'll willingly admit), grounding yourself in the feel of the cold tile beneath your feet, toes scrunching to limit the contact. On the other hand, you can't help basking in the way Luke's body seems ten degrees hotter than yours, engulfing your body and sending heat throughout it- okay, maybe that isn't the best thing to focus on either.
"Yeah, until I fell."  "Can't all be perfect."
A smile threatens to break free on your lips at the lighthearted banter returning to your conversation, willing you out of your Luke-induced haze and giving you enough strength to push him away with a soft palm flat in the square centre of his chest. Mentally, push him away, that is. Physically, it would have been impossible without his compliance.
A funny look flashes briefly across his sharp face, something looking a lot like disappointment, but the likelihood of you misjudging that is high. The mop of curls dances once more as he shakes his head, letting that gorgeous lopsided grin out of its box and completely disarming you. The executive board of directors in your brain forces you to look away.
"Why are you up, anyways?"
 The inquiry brings you back to your briefly forgotten quest, having you spring into action, hurriedly turning to locate the abandoned glass. Luke snickers at your eagerness but stays silent, awaiting your answer.
"Getting water, overthinking," you explain, keeping it vague, as you turn the tap to cold and wait for it to forget its previously warm preference. The stark sound of running water fills the otherwise quiet kitchen and even quieter house, and you internally wince, hoping it doesn't wake anyone up. You'd be lying if you said that hope doesn't stem from a bit of selfishness, quite like the way this little meet between Luke and you is panning out. Like a little pocket in time, it's almost as if anything goes, anything can be said and maybe, just maybe, anything can be done.
"You?" You interrupt him just before he opens his pouty mouth and asks just what you're overthinking exactly.
 So, maybe not everything can be said, you think, suddenly finding yourself not fully prepared to take the embarrassment of telling him he's a part of the whole not-sleeping thing.
Luke's eyes flicker away as you bring the now-filled glass to your lips, fixating on a spot above your head, suddenly very interested in the cabinet you have yet to close. A few seconds pass before he deems it safe to look at you once more (criteria? unknown) and answers your inquiry.
"Was wondering why a robber would be yelping each time they take a step down the hallway, needed to see I would have to defend the house," he teases, immediately bringing a pout to your face and getting you defensive. Placing the glass back down on the counter with a thump, you close the distance between you and press your pointer finger into the middle of his chest.
"Hey, you guys keep this house concerningly cold!"
 Luke catches your hand in his before your finger can do any more damage to his chest, all amusement flickering out of his eyes as quickly as a gust of wind passing by a fickle flame.
"Yeah..." he trails off, eyes moving downwards, like something's drawing his gaze in and he can't control it the moving of his pupils.
Suddenly, you find yourself acutely aware of the way your nipples have hardened from the low temperature, now straining against the thin material of your sleep shirt and you silently beg, plead and pray like a sinner about to enter hell, that he doesn't notice. Okay, who are you kidding here, he definitely does, he's practically making eye contact with them, but to his credit, though, it looks like he's trying really hard not to. Jaw clenching and unclenching, he almost manages to tear his eyes away each time he tries.
 Hopefully, he thinks it's just from the cold.
If you guys could stop standing attention just because he keeps looking, that would be great, you mentally scold, choosing not to dwell too hard on the fact that A) you're scolding your nipples and B) how Luke can't stop staring.
You decide it means nothing, part B, at least, (you should probably deal with the slightly concerning part A), because Luke is merely a boy and honestly, you should probably be concerned if he didn't stare. Yet, a tiny flicker of hope blooms in your chest, fueled even more so by the way he clears his throat a few too many times to be casual and lets go of your hand to drag his own over his face.
 Your wrist burns from where he held it, branded by him and his touch and god do you wish you could feel that brand everywhere.
Not sure where to go from here, you decide to put him out of his apparent misery and make light of the situation once more.
He almost beats you to talking, though, and your voices blend as you ask, "Well, you've established I'm not out to rob you. Going back to bed?" at the same time Luke asks "This my shirt?"
 You didn't realise it was his, or maybe you did and you didn't realise he would notice the plain fabric once belonging to him. You stole it way back at one of your first visits to his dorm.
"Don't think I can sleep now." "Yes."
Time stops and words seem to have different meanings, the lightheartedness you went for not having the desired effect, only adding to the tension slowly building between you, leaving the air hot and heavy. You're not sure what the change is this summer, and if your mind wasn't currently clouded and preoccupied with having him so close and looking at you like that, you'd probably reason your way into it being the fact you had been a part for months. Seeing him again has surely unlocked a part of your heart, the part wanting to throw caution to the wind and finally feel what it would be like to not be just friends. Seemingly, hopefully, a similar part has been unlocked in Luke's as well.
Summer being his best season didn't help your case either. Luke always looks more relaxed in the warmer months, healthier and more vibrant, the tan he so quickly manages to obtain has you wanting to lick him all over, the sun practically dripping from his skin and his curls, your favourite curls, looking their best. You never fail to notice his happiness in the off-season either. Sure, he loves hockey and he loves playing it all season, you know that, but he's also confessed to you on multiple occasions that the pressure gets to him, residing just under his skin like a rash never quite going away.
Here, at his brothers' lake house, surrounded by his favourite people, he laughs more, smiles more and reminds you more of the boy you knew in those very first few months of your college career. Summer Luke is the real Luke, your Luke and the Luke you so desperately want to pull close and kiss silly.
Yet, it's also the Luke in front of you now, confident and with all the power in his hand, as he, at once, brings you back to your previous question and both of your apparent dilemmas of not being able to sleep.
"I'd challenge you to a game of ping pong to get us tired, but you tend to get loud when you get worked up."
 White, hot flashes of embarrassment fill you up from the inside out, wondering if he's alluding to yesterday's weak moment of self-pleasure. You had allowed yourself it after seeing him shirtless on the boat wakeboarding, the motions making his hard abs twist and turn deliciously, droplets caressing his stomach and- "losing, I mean..." he clarifies, the smirk on his face making a return, hinting that he may or may not know exactly where your mind went just then. He had definitely heard.
Seemingly deciding to cut you some slack, Luke offers you an out. "What do you usually do when you can't sleep?"
 It doesn't help, not at all, because now you're thinking of your usual way of tiring yourself out, and that looks a lot like what he apparently heard you doing last night. The pink on your cheeks deepens to a healthy red and Luke no doubt notices, judging by the small grin appearing on his face. You huff out a nervous laugh, one that quickly dies out as a yawn stretches over Luke's face. He wipes it off, or at least tries to, by bringing a hand to his mouth. The motion makes his shirt rise the tiniest of bits, just as you open your mouth to speak.
"Usually I'll try to distract myself, try to get my brain to stop working overtime," you say, eyes finding a life of their own, drifting down to the peak of skin between his plaid pyjama pants and white t-shirt. That would make for a nice distraction.
"Are you still drunk?" your face scrunches up in confusion at his words, the change of subject catching you off guard. Turning your head, you search his face with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out his angle. "No, it wore off a few hours ag- oh," you cut yourself off as the counter hits the top of your ass, not even having noticed Luke backing you into it until he's right there. Caged in, you once more have to tilt your head to stare at his pretty face. The intense look he's giving you leaves you stumped, lips parting slightly- maybe in a silent invitation. At this point, your brain has switched off, his closeness and the way his cologne overpowers your senses leaving you completely at his mercy.
The little people in your head seem to have taken over your actions, leading you like a puppet on a string and you don't mind. Not when Luke moves his hand to rest on your hip and the other on the column of your throat and they allow him.
Not when they move your hands to rest on his broad chest, his heart pounding against your hands and letting you know he isn't as unaffected as he appears.
Not when he leans down and hovers over your lips and they don't make you pull away. Luke's hot breath mingles with yours and you can almost feel the way he's holding himself back, letting you decide if you want this. In the end, you regain control from your puppeteers, rising to your tiptoes, just that last bit needed, and meet Luke's soft lips.
It's like the restraint he's been having over himself snaps, the hand on your hip tightening and bringing you close, close, closer until he's got you completely caged between him and the counter. You get braver too, your fingers finding the curls you've been so desperate to touch. As you tug ever so slightly, Luke lets out a gasp and you can't help but use the opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth.  
A thousand tiny explosions go off in your body, angels sing and the sun comes out behind the dark clouds. Too cheesy? Perhaps, but it’s like your world is clear again, your focus turning sharp and honing in on Luke, his touch (soft, urgent, guiding), his taste (mint, did he brush his teeth before coming down here?) and the delicious way his teeth are tugging on your lower lip.  “Been waiting…so…long,” breathy words tumble out through breathy kisses, Luke's confession spreading warmth throughout your whole body. Sure, you are putting two and two together just from the heavy make-out session you’re currently partaking in, but either way, it’s nice to know that it isn’t just you who has been harbouring the very same desire. 
Taking you by surprise, Luke grabs ahold of your shirt and in one swift motion lifts you onto the countertop so you’re both in a more comfortable position. His big hand slides up your thigh and under your shirt, stopping just over your panties. Hesitantly, Luke pulls away from your lips to look you in the eye, removing his other hand from your waist in favour of running it through his hair. The messy curls fall all over the place, even though he tries to shake them out, and you can’t help but grin at the fact that you messed them up.
Reaching behind you to rest his hand on the counter, effectively caging you in, Luke opens his mouth to no doubt ask for permission to move his hand higher. The words yes, god yes are on the tip of your tongue, but instead of sticking to the script, Luke yelps out instead. His eyes go wide, quickly shooting to his hand beside you before an annoyed expression overtakes his face.
"Salt," he mumbles into your lips, already on them again like he just can’t help himself. Reaching under your shirt, you guide his hand higher, silently letting him know it’s okay. Your whole body feels on fire with the way he’s touching you, thumb swiping over your underboob, goosebumps erupting in its wake. If you could stay like this forever, you would, with no hesitation. It feels like you’re sinking, deeper and deeper into the abyss that is Luke Hughes. The harness is off and you’re barrelling straight to the bottom with no regard for your safety. But that’s just the thing; you feel safe. So very safe with the way Luke is touching you, kissing you and wordlessly assuring you that he’s got you. Forever, if that’s the case.
Unfortunately, the universe isn’t a fan of forever. Or at least, it just has a very poor sense of humour. Because just as you’re about to spread your legs a little more, let Luke in a little closer, the kitchen door bangs open. Two drunk idiots, otherwise known as your friends, tumble inside, arms around each other holding on for dear life, one more gone than the other. You would later learn they had been out and about crashing all the nearby house parties.
“Dude, I so could have taken him- what the fUCK?” Mark screeches when he notices Luke and you, who just barely manage to tear your lips apart before Ethan straightens himself up and turns in your direction. 
And so a period of awkward silence and confused glances begins. Mark and Ethan are not quite sober enough to put the evidence presented before them together, their brows drawn together in funny angles. Mark lifts his hand and motions between you and the boy still pressed to you, now just with his back facing you. Probably to spare your friends from seeing you in just your panties, you realise and just like that, your heart turns to mush. You sneak your hands around his waist and prop your head up on his shoulder. Luke leans back into you, hands going to your knees, as he levels Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum with a warning look. 
Never one to let his friends off easy, though, Ethan flashes a megawatt grin before copying Mark’s actions.  “What’s going on here?” 
“Late night snack.” “Luke had something in his eye.”
Silence. Luke’s hands squeeze your knees, you press your eyes closed. Surely they would catch on.
Then, a slow nod from a contemplative-looking Mark and a slap to Ethan’s chest as the blonde’s too-talkative mouth starts to open once more. “Sure, have a good night, guys!” Mark rushes out, a firm hand on Ethan’s shoulder guiding his friend out of the kitchen and up the stairs to their room. There’s no way Mark believed that lie (your suspicions would later be confirmed when you walk past their room and hear him explain how it “would make no sense since the lights were off”) but as Luke lets out a deep sigh and turns around, you can’t find it in you to care. 
The second he’s fully facing you again, his hands come up to rest on either side of your head, pressing a soft, much sweeter and slower, kiss to your awaiting lips. As he pulls back, a different Luke stands before you, all traces of his previous confidence leaving him, nervousness taking over as he brings a hand up to the back of his neck. Your favourite crooked smile returns, but this time filled with awkwardness and uncertainty. 
“Would you, um- Would you want to go out with me? Tomorrow, maybe? Or later today, I guess, considering the time and all-”
“Yes, god yes,” You say, finally getting the chance to voice the words, immediately getting flashbacks to a mere ten minutes ago when they had been on the tip of your tongue and his hand had been under your shirt. At your agreement, confident Luke returns, not wasting any time before he’s diving back in for your lips.
Half an hour later, you’re standing in your bedroom, leaning up against the door. Touching your fingers to your lips, no doubt a dazed expression on your face, you will your heart to stop galloping like a thousand wild horses. Maybe, if you pinched yourself- nope that just hurt. Luke kissing you in the kitchen hadn’t been a dream and neither had it been when he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and then your forehead, only a mere minutes ago. You had said goodnight with the promise of seeing him when you’re both well rested. When you asked him about the upcoming date, he only smiled and told you it was a surprise. You do not doubt that the speculation will keep you up for at least another few hours. Or perhaps that will have more to do with you replaying every kiss and touch over and over in your head.
“Did you get me water?” A voice croaks out in the darkness, duvets and sheets shifting loudly in the silence. Water, Jess. You had completely forgotten. 
"Shit, I’ll be right back," you promise, this time determined not to get swept up in stolen kisses.
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ellecdc · 1 day
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Hiii, so i got really excited about all the new ships and i wondering if i could request a poly!prongsfoot x female reader where maybe the reader completely matches their energy and its like a college au and the boys bring reader to meet all their friends for the first time and everybody is like… woah… now theres 3 of them. Just some super energetic cutesy fluff if you dont mind, thank you for considering this i really appreciate it!!! Hope your doing amazing🫶🏻
omg so I saw a post the other day and there's another ship name for Sirius x James = starbucks!! How cute? Thanks for your request and your patience - it took me some time to flush this out (I think any new ships likely will take me longer!)
poly!prongsfoot x fem!reader who's just like them
Remus doesn’t think he’s ever seen his two best friends as excited as they currently were, sitting and waiting (rather impatiently) for your arrival. 
Peter, Mary, and Lily were sitting on the booth against the wall, with Remus and Regulus sat together to the right of them, with Sirius and James to their right.
Sirius and James had been talking about this ‘perfect girl’ they met in their psych 101 class last semester, likely since the very day they met you if Remus assumed correctly. 
“She’s so pretty, Moons! I’ve never seen eyes as beautiful as hers.”
“She’s so funny! You should have heard her snarking the frat boys behind us in yesterday’s lecture.”
“She’s brilliant! She helped us study and I got 88% on our last exam!”
And now, a whole semester and a half later, they’d finally convinced you to meet their friends.
Lord knows how two of the most hyperactive and mischievous people Remus has ever had the pleasure of knowing managed to trick another person to put up with them voluntarily, but he did really like seeing them so happy and excited in life; both so deserving for different reasons. 
James deserved all the love that he so openly and willingly shared with others, and Sirius had worked so hard to become the man he is and deserved to be celebrated for it.
So, if what made them happy was a cute girl from their intro to psychology course? Well, Remus couldn’t argue with them. 
“I can’t wait until she gets here; you’re all going to love her.” James declared, shifting closer to Sirius in his excitement who quickly threw his arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders. 
“So, don’t embarrass us, alright? We want to keep her around.” Sirius added, placing a chaste kiss to James' shoulder as James practically vibrated in his seat.
“I assure you, Sirius, you do not need our help embarrassing you.” Regulus drawled, not bothering to look up from the drink’s menu in his hand.
“Oi! You take that back!” Sirius barked as he flicked the menu up into Regulus’ face. 
Remus had to quickly grip his boyfriend’s shoulder to hold him in his seat as he looked like he was about to crawl over the table to strangle his brother.
“Easy, babe.” Remus commented teasingly, “I doubt Pete, Lily, or Mary will bother calling 999 if you kill him, but their new girl may not be as understanding.”
Sirius harrumphed earning him a conciliatory kiss from James as Pete and the girls just snickered. 
Regulus’ muttering was interrupted by a commotion at the door as a group sitting near the entrance cheered at a new arrival.
“Yay! Are you finally joining us for a pub night, Y/N?!” someone shouted, causing both James and Sirius’ head to snap to attention; Remus was sure if they were dogs, their tails would be wagging and their ears would have perked up. 
“God no! I wouldn’t dream of it!” You called back teasingly, pulling away from someone who had stood to give you a hug. 
“Foul!” The person called back as their friend group laughed.
“Next time!” You promised as you moved through the crowd, face lighting up somehow even brighter when you spotted James and Sirius.
James was up on his feet the second you made eye contact with him and he all but carried you over to the group.
“Hi angel! I’m so glad you could make it!” He cheered at you as he kissed your cheek. 
“Of course, Jamie. I was looking forward to it.” You responded as you beamed at Sirius who stood as well to give you a proper hug.
“Hiya, dollface! How was your day?” Sirius asked as he held you to his chest.
“Good! Good, I’m looking forward to a drink, though.” You laughed, shucking your jacket off which James was quick to take from you to hang it on the hook attached to the booth. 
“Everyone; this is Y/N! Y/N, that there is our best mate Remus, that’s his boyfriend and less importantly my brother Regulus,” Sirius introduced, causing Regulus to scowl and Remus to chuckle as he consolingly squeezed Regulus’ knee. “And that there is our other best mate Peter, and these beauties here are Lily and Mary.”
You enthusiastically exchanged handshakes with those you could reach and no less enthusiastic waves with those who you couldn’t.
“It’s so nice to meet you all! I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Which is concerning, considering you guys met in class?” Regulus commented, earning him a booming laugh from you.
“I was doing too well in that class anyways; it’s good to keep your GPA well rounded.” You responded in jest, gently nudging a furiously blushing James with your elbow as Sirius beamed at the two of you from your other side. 
As the group of you spoke, Remus noticed a number of people coming up to clap James or Sirius on the shoulders who knew them from their classes or various extracurriculars., though that wasn’t all that unusual when attending a pub night near campus. What Remus found to be quite phenomenal was how many people happened to come up to you to do the same.
Remus supposed it made sense for his two social and quite popular friends to find a kindred spirit, but he couldn’t believe that there were three of you who appeared to be so universally liked.
Well, Remus was sure some of Sirius’ notoriety was less from his likeability and more for his flirty nature. 
Mary had a lot of fun talking to you about her Instagram feed and your TikTok, which was full of videos of you, Sirius, and James doing trendy dances to various degrees of success. 
You were eager to discuss your latest reads with Remus, Regulus, and Lily, and you all laughed at the furious blush that took over Regulus’ face when the three of you started discussing the erotic books you’d enjoyed recently. 
“I mean, really; is that appropriate to be discussing in such a public setting?” Regulus had muttered as he looked over his shoulder to ensure other patrons hadn’t heard the scandalous books the three of you had read.
“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Reggie. I’ve seen the love bites you’ve left on my mate; you’re no saint.” Sirius had drawled, causing the blush to migrate all the way down Regulus’ neck.
You even joined in with some of Peter's quick-witted jests at the boys' expense.
In the end, it was the way you fell easily into the friendly banter with the group as if you’d been part of it all along that really won Remus over, had his friends’ lovesick smiles not already thoroughly convinced him of your worth. 
“I really like Y/N.” He commented to Regulus as he finished flossing his teeth that night. Regulus scoffed without lifting his head from the book he’d been reading already comfortable in bed.
“You would.”
Remus furrowed his brow as he turned the bathroom light off and climbed into bed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s exactly your type.”
Remus barked a laugh and pulled Regulus (quite rudely, if you’d asked Regulus) into his side, forcing him to lay the book flat on the bed lest he lose his place for good.
“I’d argue that’s not the case, seeing as you’re my type.” He murmured into his boyfriend’s neck.
Regulus rolled his eyes though his face betrayed the fondness he felt for Remus. “That’s not what I meant, tosser.”
“What’d you mean then?” He asked, trailing kisses along Regulus’ collarbone.
“I mean she’s bubbly, she’s bold and outgoing, she’s mischievous, and she seemed to put up with the lot of you quite well.”
Remus lifted his head to look at Regulus bemusedly.
“She’s a carbon copy of two of your best friends, she’s basically Sirius and James.” Regulus clarified, looking smug as Remus’ face fell in understand.
“Oh my God...” Remus whispered in horror. “There’s three of them.” 
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sweetestdesire · 1 day
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ON THE ROAD AGAIN
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WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.
PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: in which Quinn Hughes leaving for road games is always hard.
Y/N absolutely loved that Quinn got to play in the NHL, that he was happy doing what he did best, that much was true. What she didn’t love, however, was when he left to go on roadies. She watched with sulky pouts and sullen expressions every time as he packed his bags for road games, huffing as he’d take that hoodie she liked instead of leaving it for her.
“I like that one.” She’d always say bitterly. It was a different hoodie every time, and Y/N knew that he knew she said that just to be whiny, but he never said as much, and a small part of her appreciated it.
“You like all of them.” He’d always say blankly, and then she’d sit and mourn that one hoodie she couldn’t have from him, even as he left her the rest of them at her disposal.
This time was no different. Quinn left the first day of winter, the frigid air kissing her skin as she shivered at the front door, standing with a pout on her face as he turned to her. "I’ll see you in two weeks, sweetheart." He said, an arm looping around her to give her a hug.
Y/N sniffled, and she felt silly. She felt like she must seem pathetic every time. It was two weeks, not two decades. But the bed was colder without Quinn to keep her warm in the harshness of winter nights, and breakfast was lonely without someone to listen to her babble away, and the TV was boring when she couldn’t share snacks and make fun of the poor choices of blandly written main characters. She was silly and a bit childish to cry like this every time, but she couldn’t help it. She was happy that Quinn got to play, but she just couldn’t ever get used when he was away.
Quinn lightly traced his fingers down her cheek, watching the way she leaned into his palm. This was the worst part about his job, the only part he hated: saying goodbye to her. Her eyes fluttered closed as he ran his thumb along her lower lip, his fingers trembling slightly. “Be good for me, okay?” He softly spoke.
“Always am.” Y/N wrapped her hand around his, bringing it to her lips. “I’ll miss you.” She croaked. “Don’t forget about me, okay? I’ll die."
"So dramatic.” Quinn playfully rolled his eyes, but his voice was soft and his hand rubbed those soothing circles into the small of her back, and she thought maybe she wasn’t so annoying if he treated her so softly, so gentle and sweet.
It was cold and dry, and the wind was harsh and Quinn should really get going if he wanted to make it to the airport on time, but Y/N was sniffling into his shoulder. Perhaps there were more pressing things to worry about for now.
"Are you gonna miss me, too?" Y/N asked, poking his shoulder a few times. “You will, right? You’ll be so lonely without me and super sad?"
"You’re too much.” Quinn grunted, but his grip tightened around her anyway as if to say, yes. As if to say, I’ll miss you every day, and I’ll keep missing you even when I’m back. "It’s two weeks, baby.” He reassured. “You’ll live."
"What if I die? Would you come back for my funeral even if you'd miss your game? You would, right? Don’t let them pick a bad picture of me.”
"I’ll pick the ugliest one I can find.” He grumbled, making her slap his shoulder with a gasp.
"I hope you get stuck sitting next to a crying baby on your flight.” Y/N sulked.
"I’m stuck with a crying baby at home, too.” He teasingly muttered. “What’s the difference?" She could almost feel him smile even if she couldn’t see it.
Quinn didn’t smile too often, that's what everyone else said, anyway. Y/N told them differently though, that he smiled often, that he was pretty and soft and innocent underneath the dim lights of their living room or the gentle rays of sun under the morning sheets. And it was always small, the way his lips stretch. It was barely noticeable and all too brief, but his muscles moved before his brain thought, and just a quick glance at her was enough to make his eyes soften and his mouth twitch.
Quinn tugged her back into his arms when she tried to leave his embrace. His body always ran warm, but he’s grown used to her touch, and he found he became cold without it. And come to think of it, his lips were a bit cold right now, he realized, and there was only one thing that could warm them up quick enough to his liking. Cupping her cheek, he leaned down and kissed her, soft and sweet to make up for the sharpness he couldn’t help but always expel.
Quinn left her alone at home on the first day of winter, and he realized he fell in love with her a little more every season. He loved her through the gentle breeze of summer and the vibrant petals of spring. He saw pieces of her in the warm hues of autumn everywhere he went, and when winter came and the harsh chill settled under his bones, he realized it was her body he wanted against his to ease the ache of the brittle cold.
"You’re so rude." Y/N said, looking back up at him. His eyes were so soft, so tender. So full of adoration. There were too many words to say and no time to say them. None of them could help though, they both knew that. Saying goodbye was gut wrenching, no amount of soft words would heal the emptiness he’d leave behind. She stretched up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, trying to pretend that time wasn’t looming over her shoulder.
"I’ve gotta go, baby.” was all he said. "I’ll see you in two weeks?" And he always did that, always asked if he'd see her like he had to make sure she’d be here with warm arms and a soft smile and those kind eyes of hers that he didn’t deserve but couldn’t possibly forget.
"Yeah.” Y/N mumbled softly. “Yeah, I’ll see you in two weeks. Be safe, Quinn.” She mumbled against his shoulder.
This was the hard part. If she had to pick, the hardest part was where she let go. The part where her body screamed for the heated press of his as it pulled away. It was always easier for Quinn than it was for her, always simpler for him to reason it was only two weeks. He’d come back, he always did, and she didn’t think he'd ever stop. But it was the hardest part anyway, and she hated it. She wished, selfishly deep down, that it'd be just a bit hard for him, too.
"I’ll see you in two weeks.” Quinn repeated again, as if to reassure her. But this time, he still didn’t let go. He didn’t make a move to leave like usual, and it hit her all at once. She realized maybe it wasn’t just her he said it for, that maybe Quinn, underneath his blank stare and blunt words, didn’t think it was any easier than she did when he walked away.
Y/N nodded slowly. “Two weeks. Shouldn’t be too bad.” She whispered.
"No.” He said quietly. “You’ll live." And then his arms squeezed her tighter, and his breath exhaled slowly, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead that couldn’t be anything other than stalling. And suddenly, Y/N realized maybe it had never been as easy for him as she thought it had been.
"I’ll live.” Y/N agreed softly. “I’ll have to since I can't let someone get away with picking an ugly picture for my funeral."
Quinn chuckled at that. It was a sound he didn’t really make that often, but somehow, it was one that bled into every moment with her. Y/N turned her head and kissed his shoulder, squeezing around his waist and keeping him warm outside the door as the cold wind of winter grazed her skin.
"Don’t die.” Quinn said. “I’ll be back."
"I won't.” Y/N giggled. “Bye, Quinny. I love you, and I’ll see you in two weeks." She said, and this time, it was her lips that craved his warmth, to feel the heat that he radiated, the simple yet overwhelming passion he carried. She cupped his cheek much softer than he did, but she kissed him a lot rougher too, pressing her lips to his like it was the last she’d ever get of him.
"Yeah.” Quinn hummed. And finally, he pulled away. Her body was gone and so was her warmth, but he wasn’t cold and didn’t think he could be when his heart burned like that in his chest. “I love you, too.” He mumbled before he turned around and walked out the door. “And don't forget to watch me win."
To most people, Quinn Hughes seemed like he didn’t know anything about love, that he was just emotionally stunted and a little clueless to his own feelings. But the truth was, he knew more than anyone. He knew himself better than anyone did because for the longest time, that’s who he's been around for most of his day.
So Quinn knew pretty early on that he was in love with Y/N. The reality was that he fell in love first because when she accidentally leaves a few strands of hair in his sink, his first response isn't to roll his eyes, it's to chuckle. He knew she was special enough to get away with that because when she teased him about things, he got excited that she’s comfortable enough with him to mess around, not annoyed that she was poking fun at his expense.
At times, Quinn felt as though he needed Y/N more than she needed him, so he tried to give her more of him, even if there were days he felt like there was nothing left to give. He fell deeper and deeper for her, hopelessly plummeting into her arms and praying they were open for him to fall into. He didn’t want to feel the cold again after knowing the warmth of her embrace. But she always let him fall into her, wrapping her arms around him and entwining herself against his figure. He simply loved her because she’s diligently pieced the jagged shards of himself into something whole again.
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cevansbrat0007 · 1 day
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New In Town
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Summary: Introducing Chapter One of my Sweet Renegades Series. Sparks fly when you accidentally find yourself sitting next to Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson.
Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Death and Grief, Mentions of Book Boyfriends, Allusions to Disordered Eating, Cursing, Minors DNI
A/N: Major thanks to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me plot out this chapter. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!
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It was happening again. You could feel him doing it. You knew without turning your head that the bastard had gone back to staring.
At you.
Gritting your teeth, you make a point of adjusting the skirt of your dress before returning your focus to Reverend Turner at the pulpit. Trying your best to ignore the hum of electricity in your veins, you find yourself wishing that you’d opted to stay home today. After all, you hadn’t been to church in ages. 
So what on earth possessed you to return today?
It’s not like you were concerned for your immortal soul or anything. On the contrary, you and God were good. You were even on speaking terms again – now that you’d finally forgiven him for calling your Uncle Leon home before you were ready to let him go.
That had been nearly three years ago.
These days, your grief has taken a backseat in favor of running the town’s only bookshop, Baubles & Quills. Once owned by your Uncle, the store had become your sanctuary as you’d struggled to cope with the loss of the only family you’d ever had. 
And now that you’d deemed life worth living again you’d apparently decided that attending Calvary Baptist Church’s Sunday morning service was a good idea. But the one thing you hadn’t counted on when you’d politely – and strategically – taken a seat in the pew closest to the door was that you’d end up sharing it with the likes of him.    
That bounty hunter fella that you’d been hearing about for the last week. His arrival had practically sent your little town into a regular feeding frenzy. Word on the street was that he was investigating something that had to do with your old high school pal, Martin Westbrook.
At least that’s what Charline Marshall had said when she’d stopped by your shop to return a book she’d purchased because she didn’t care for the ending. While you weren’t usually one for gossip, you’d been intrigued by her, ah, description of the handsome stranger that had taken up residence just a few blocks south of where you lived.
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Two Days Ago…
“His name is Ari Levinson. Kinda strange, right?” She’d whispered conspiratorially, running a hand through her copper colored tresses . “But he’s a tall drink of water with the prettiest blue eyes I‘ve ever seen.”
“Oh really?” You’d mumbled, frowning at the crease that adorned the spine of the paperback book in your hands. Another one for the discount rack.
“Mhm. He’s handsome all over.” Charline had continued, picking up one of your more elaborate looking bookmarks and pretending to study it before using it to fan herself. “And not only that, but…” She’d leaned in then, allowing her freshly manicured nails lightly graze your arm. “I think he likes me.”
“Oh? Has he come out and said that?” Your eyes had gone wide with feigned interest. Because of course the man would be into Charline Anne Marshall. Who wouldn’t be? The woman was beautiful and, what’s more, she knew it.  
“Well, I mean…not yet.” The woman had let out a disappointed little sigh. “But I’m almost certain he will. I’m just giving him time to get settled in, you know?” She’d said, her perfectly painted lips curving into a smile as she held out a hand for her change. 
“How kind of you.” Good Lord how you wished you could hurry things along so you could go back to enjoying your peace and quiet. 
“Ari has already interviewed me twice. He even gave me his number, just in case I happen to remember anything else.” She’d tucked the cash from her return into her purse. “I think I might call him up and tell him that my memory works best after a couple of drinks. Think that’ll work?”
“I guess you’ll never know if you don’t try.” Even though you were annoyed, you’d pasted on a fake smile and closed the register, hoping that might be enough to convince her to end the conversation and move on already.
“Why, I think you just might be right.” Your unwanted guest held up the bookmark that was still in her grasp, her unspoken question left hanging in the air. “And this?”
“It’s on the house, Charline.” You’d patiently replied, bracing your elbows on the counter. “Best of luck landing your bounty hunter beau.”
“Well, aren’t you just a gem?” She’d all but squealed, sounding positively giddy as she took a step back. “You know, I bet if you spent a little more time out in the real world instead of holed-up in here with all these books, you’d probably be able to land a man too. You’d be awful pretty if you’d just put in a little bit of effort into it. I mean –” 
“No thanks.” You’d simply shrugged, unable to summon up enough energy to be outraged by the dig. 
It wasn’t worth the breath you would've wasted trying to explain why you were better off keeping the company of your book boyfriends. A real man required too much care and feeding for your tastes. 
“If you say so, sugar. But–” She’d responded as she strode towards the door. “Oh! You should come to my next party. We’ll let Mary Kay sponsor your makeover.”   
'No offense, Charline, but I’d rather put a campfire out with my face than attend your next Mary Kay get-together featuring you and ten of your mother’s closest friends.' You'd thought to yourself.
“Uh, maybe. We’ll see.” You’d hedged before turning on your heel and heading in the direction of the stockroom. “Enjoy the bookmark!” God, you’d never been so happy to hear someone exit your shop than you were at that moment.
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Which brought you back to the present. You’re startled out of your reverie when the congregation erupts into thunderous applause, signaling the end of Reverend Turner’s sermon.  You knew you were going to have to move quickly if you wanted to avoid any unwanted attention from other members of the flock. 
Or worse yet: be forced into making small talk with Ari Levinson. Assuming that beast of a man actually possessed enough brain cells to actually string together a sentence or two. Which was a shame because he really was easy on the eyes. 
Unfortunately for you, you don’t realize that now you’re the one who’s staring until you notice the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smirk. Shit. The cocky lawman nods his head in your direction before having the audacity to mouth the word: “howdy”. It almost makes you wonder what his voice would sound like. 
Would his southern drawl be thick and rough, or smooth and easygoing? Assuming he was southern, that is.
Feeling your cheeks heat, you make fast work of grabbing your things before scooting out of the pew, doing your best to sneak out of the service before everyone is formally dismissed. The absolute last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were like every other woman in this town who was willing to practically trip over herself just to get a good look at him. 
On your way out you brush past Sister Mary Jo Winans, who is all too eager to follow you out the door and halfway down the front stairs.
So much for making a clean getaway.
“You’re not staying for the potluck?” She wheezes, gripping the railing as she struggles to catch her breath. 
“Afraid not, Sister Winans.” You tell her while digging through your purse for your keys. “I’ve gotta go home and change so I can head over to the shop.”
“But it’s Sunday, honey.” The matronly woman huffs, adjusting the angle of her wide-brim church hat. “This is the day that the Lord has made. We are to rejoice and be glad in it. It’s all right there in the good Book.”
“Be that as it may, Sister, I’m afraid I can’t stay. Plus I wouldn’t feel right about eating when I didn’t bring a dish to contribute, so…” You offer up a one-armed shrug. “Next time.” 
You also weren’t a fan of eating in front of people. You were always self-conscious about whatever you put on your plate, convinced that you were being judged for your choices. Your stomach growls at the mention of food, reminding you that you’d left some cottage cheese and fruit behind at the shop. That would just have to do until you found the wherewithal to make it to the grocery store.   
“But–”
“Next time. I promise.” You kindly interrupt, hoping that she would just let the issue drop. “By the way, I set aside a copy of Joyce Meyer’s latest book for you.”
“You did?”
“Yep.” You confirm as you begin walking backwards towards the nearby parking lot. “Stop by anytime. We’ll consider it an early birthday present, alright?” Smiling when she nods, you toss her a little wave before speed walking the rest of the way to your car. 
Unlocking it, you climb in the driver’s seat and slam the door before gunning the engine. Finally free, you peel out of the lot and turn onto the empty street. Needing to focus on something other than your thoughts about a certain bounty hunter, you decide to turn up the radio, praying for your traitorous brain to cooperate. 
Yeah, no such luck. 
“Fuck you, Levinson.” You spit, wishing that he was close enough to hear you right then. Because the way you saw it, the sooner he packed his shit and moved on, the better off you and everyone else in this godforsaken town would be. And if he knew what was good for him, he’d stay far away from you.
He’d have more luck getting information out of a drunk Charline than he would trying to get you to spill your guts. And the moment he threatened you, you were planning to call Bell’s Creek PD to let them deal with it. Until then, you had some empty shelves to stock. But first…
You were gonna need to find someone to cut you out of these damned spanx.
END 
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Comfort Zone
Matt Sturniolo x Reader
masterlist (series)
Preview: Y/n starts the new semester at school. She happens to have the same exact schedule as one guy, Matt Sturniolo. He's known to be a 'bad boy.' Constantly ditching, tattoos, and not giving most people the time of day....but will that apply to you?
WARNINGS: 18+, smut, alcohol, parental abuse/neglect, overall mature themes, and more. (This is made for all parts)
A/N: Reblogs, likes, comments, and interactions are all VERY appreciated!!!
Comment to be added to the taglist!!
CHAPTER 5: Genie In A Bottle
Walking into school felt like being naked on a stage. Matt and I walked to our class with whispers clouding around us like smoke in a fire, suffocating me. I attempted to keep my composure, but overhearing everything made my feet stutter on the ground at an uneven pace. 
“--she must give really good head or something.” 
“Do you think she lost her virginity to him?” 
“She’s not even that pretty. I mean, look at her!” 
Every word was a devastation. I liked being looked over, no one analyzing my every move as if they knew me. Because, they didn’t. Now, that didn’t matter. Everyone was already forming their own perception of me–ones far from the truth. 
“Don’t listen to them, okay?” Matt says. I nod my head silently as we step through the threshold of the classroom. 
I plop down in the plastic chair. I brush my hair down as the static pulls it up to the back of the seat. Looking back towards the front of the classroom, I’m taken aback by the sight in front of me. 
The classroom is still semi-empty, but every seated student is turned around and looking at me. Every single person turns back around quickly once I make eye contact. Except one. 
The guy in front of me, someone on the football team of the school from my vague knowledge. “Hey, I’m Brandon. Heard you knocked up my boy Chris, hm?” He says. I feel my heart plummet in my chest. I’m speechless, not a single word forming in my mind. 
“Brandon,” I hear Matt’s voice spit from beside me. “--turn around and shut the fuck up.” He threatens. I sit frozen in place, my body unwilling to even take a breath of air. The tightness in my chest is impossibly constricting. 
Brandon scoffs, rolling his eyes at Matt before directing his gaze back to me. “Whatever, man.” He grumbles. “Didn’t even know you could talk, to be honest. Does Chris share with you? Does she give good-”
“Don’t talk to him like that.” I grit out from my clenched teeth. Who would want to talk to this idiot anyway? My blood boils as my knuckles crack from clenching my fists. 
“Knew Jeffery called you a bitch for a reason.” He mumbles, turning back around in his seat. I sigh roughly, pulling my elbows up on the table and burrying my head in my hands. My hair creates a shield around me as I focus on the table in front of me. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. A sudden gleam of light catches my attention. I look down, seeing Matt’s hand sliding under my gaze, his phone lighting up in front of me. The glowing screen is opened on the Pokemon-Go game. 
I bring my head up, looking over at him as he gives me a small smile. He looks down at the phone and back up at me. I let my eyes wander back to the screen, tapping on the animated creature. 
_
Before I knew it, the bell signaling the end of the first block had rung. I snap out of my trance, looking over at Matt with his phone in hand. When my eyes shift, I see him already staring directly at me. His head is leaned against his propped-up arm, his whole body shifted inwards towards mine. 
I watch as his cheeks shift to a pink hue, his eyes averting to his backpack on the desk. He pulls out a small pack of gum from his front pocket of his bag, holding out a piece for me. I hesitantly take the piece of gum, unwrapping it and placing the minty wad in my mouth. 
He stands up, putting his hand flat out. I grab his phone, setting it in his hand as he laughs. I look around in confusion. What’s funny? The classroom is pretty much empty besides Mrs. Evans sitting and organizing papers on her desk. 
“Your hand.” He says. I watch as he slides his phone in his sweatshirt pocket, bringing his hand back out. I place my hand in his as he helps me get out from the desk chair. 
“Thanks,” I mumble. I drop his hand, noticing another student walking in for the next class. Looking at the time on my own phone, I notice two things. One, we only have a couple more minutes of passing period. Two, a text notification from my dad that skyrockets my anxiety.  
“You get going, I’ll meet you in class–I’m just gonna head to the bathroom real quick.” I state. He nods his head as we walk down the hallway. Walking up to the restrooms, I see him lean up against the brick wall, pulling out his phone. “You can go to class, I’ll just meet you there.” I suggest. 
He shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll wait.” He says. I huff, nodding my head and walking into the bathroom. 
As soon as I walk into a stall, I open my messages. 
[From Dad: Don’t come home until you learn not to touch my shit. I’m fucking trying, you’re making it worse.]
I’m not even just not enough–I make things worse. My eyes become blurry with tears. I stare up at the ceiling, trying to blink the wetness back, failing miserably. The warm liquid darts down my cheek, leaking un-comfortingly into my ear. 
Have I ever even been home? I wish she was here–maybe if she was here then things would be different. Maybe, he wouldn’t always be so bitter. Maybe, he would hug me. Maybe, my heart wouldn’t feel so broken through every single repetitive behavior. 
Why does it still hurt so much? 
I choke back a sob at the sound of the door to the bathroom creaking open. My eyes shut tight as I let out a sigh of pure exhaustion. It’s not even noon. 
“Y/n?” I freeze hearing Matt’s voice. I hear his footsteps pattern against the tile flooring. I watch as his sneakers peek out from underneath the stall door. “--are you okay?” He asks. 
I bite down on my cheek, hard. “Um, yeah-yeah, I’m…I’m okay.” I wince at my poor attempt to conceal the weakness in my voice as it cracks. I’m not weak, please don’t think I’m weak. 
“You’re not a very good liar.” He breathes out. I let out a dry laugh, clearing my cheeks from the wet tears. 
“I know.” I state. I hear him let out a heavy sigh. 
“Let’s just take you home, okay?” He voices. I let my hand fly up to my mouth, but I’m not faster than the cry that leaves my lips. Home. What home? “--hey, hey, hey, we can go back and take Trevor on a walk–or anything you want, okay? Can you come out?” His voice is soft, breathier than normal as if talking with his regular voice would make me break. 
I’m not weak. Am I? I shakily reach out, sliding the metal lock and pulling the door open. I keep my eyes trained to the floor with pure shame. I see his hand reach out, grabbing my own as he pulls me out of the stall. 
I follow his lead out of the bathroom, seeing the empty halls barren of any students. Did the bell already ring? 
_
The car ride back to his house was settled in a comfortable silence. I stared down at the text message on my phone, waiting for the words to not feel as if I was having a knife twisted in my back. But, each time I read over the words–it hurt just as much as the first time, if not worse. 
I see Matt reach over me from the passenger door propped open. When did he even park? He unbuckles my seatbelt, grabbing my backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. I shut off my phone, clenching it in my hand as I step out of the car. I hear the thud behind me as he closes the door. “Come on, Trevor definitely misses you.” He says. 
I squint my eyes at the bright surroundings. The thin layer of snow coating the ground reflects the sunny sky, making everything impossibly bright. Matt holds up his elbow as I let my hand twist around his arm. 
He jiggles his keys in the lock of the front door, scratches from the other side being heard. The door swings open, revealing Trevor, wagging his tail from side to side like a helicopter. “Hi, Trev!” Matt says in the baby-voice. I feel the smile creep onto my face, not being able to contain the joy from the sight before me. 
We both slide off our shoes, leaving them by the door. Matt walks forward with me still attached to his arm. I hear the light paws tapping behind us as we make our way into his room. His blinds are closed, a soft halo of light streaming in through the cracks. I breathe in the air, relaxing at the familiar scent. 
My chest starts to feel lighter. I set down my phone on his desk, running my hands through my hair. Matt plops down our bags, leaning them against his wall as he stands back up, placing his hands on his hips. “So,” he looks around. “--what can I do to make you feel better?” He asks, rubbing his hands together. 
His eyes meet mine as I suck in my bottom lips. “Honestly?” I start, meeting his soft gaze. “--distract me. Please.” 
“Say less, I got you.” He says with a gentle smile. 
_
The car ride had pursued with soft music playing in the back. I could hear him hum, strumming his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. We had been in the car for quite some time, but stopped as we pulled up outside of a large building. 
I turn to face him as he pulls the keys out of the ignition. “What is this?” He scoffs, laughing dryly under his breath. “Out of my comfort zone, that’s for sure.” He mumbles. The building looks like some sort of fancy apartment complex, shooting up endlessly to the sky with large windows covering it almost entirely. 
I hear Matt’s door shut, watching as he jogs around to my side of the car. I open the door, seeing him pout. I laugh softly, grabbing his outreached hand. “I’m gonna start putting child-lock on.” He says in a completely serious tone. My gut clenches as I lean into him, letting out a chain of giggles as he continues pouting. 
“Yeah, okay.” I tease. I feel him squeeze my hand. “Now, what are we doing here exactly?” I ask. He sighs deeply, biting in his bottom lips. 
“Well,” he opens the front doors, gesturing for me to walk in. I do so, turning around as he reaches out, grabbing my hand back in his grip tighter than before. “I, um…I’m kinda scared of, um, elevators?” He says, his voice sounding higher. 
I nod, looking in front of us to see elevator doors and a bunch of buttons with different numbers to the side. I tug on his hand, but his feet stand in place as he gulps looking directly at the closed elevator doors. I walk back up to him, placing my hand on his chest. “You okay?” I ask. 
He doesn’t look down at me, only shaking his head furiously. I bring my hand up, rubbing his shoulder. His eyes shoot down to mine. “Nevermind, let’s–” I cut him off, tugging his hand along with me as I pressed the highest number button, thirty-two. 
“How about,” I turned back around, seeing his eyes fall down on me. “--we make a deal?” I voice. I see his eyebrows furrow as he starts rubbing along his jaw with his free hand. 
“Deal?” I nod my head, “Yep–anything. Whatever it takes to get you on this elevator, within reason obviously, we’ll make a deal.” I explain. His eyes dart around, his hand now running through his hair that falls perfectly. 
An innocent smile grows on his face. “I have three requests.” I push my head further, urging him to continue. He holds up his pointer finger. “One, you have to make sure I don’t have a panic attack on this death-trap.” He says. 
I laugh, nodding my head. “Got it, what’s your other two wishes for your genie?” I tease. His nose scrunches up as his head turns to the side in embarrassment. 
“Well…” he trails off. “I can’t think right now seeing the floor numbers–oh my god.” He exclaims, his eyes trained on the little screen above the elevator doors that shows the floor number it’s on. 
I pat his chest, “Give me the other two later, hm?” He gulps, nodding his head. I hear the ding sound behind me, turning around to see the elevator doors sliding open. The backside of the elevator is completely glass, the other sides being metal. 
I step in, hearing Matt’s feet drag on the floor before the elevator sinks in gently from the added weight. His grip on my hand becomes almost painful as the doors close. I squeeze his hand in my own, looking up to see him staring at the ceiling. 
“Hey, what’s your favorite color?” I ask. His eyes are shut tightly, his head pointed up to the ceiling. I tug on his hand, drawing his attention. 
“Huh?” He asks, letting out a large huff of air. 
“Your favorite color?” I repeat. He shakes his head, his eyes darting all around the elevator. I feel him start to wobble on his feet, swaying. I grab his shoulder, letting our hands drop. “Hey,” I grab the back of his neck, forcing him to look down instead of up at the mirror ceiling. “Look at me, Matt.”
His ocean eyes gleam down at me, glossed over with fear. I bring my hands up, cupping his face as his hands clasp around my forearms. “What’s your favorite color?” I repeat. He shakes his head, shutting his eyes tightly. “Matt, look at me, come on.” I plead. 
His breaths come out more uneven. I feel my heart clench at the sight of his face twisting in discomfort. I reach my hand up, running my nails along his scalp. He lets out a heavy breath, leaning into my touch. He winces at the sound of the elevator beeping from going up another floor. “Do you want to get off, Matt? I can press a button right now, this can all be over.” I voice softly.
His head falls forward, his silky hair covering his eyes. “No,” he whispers, looking back up at me. “--I just need you to distract me, but I can’t think.” He looks around, whipping his head back at me as he accidentally gazes out the glass pane wall. “I…I don’t even know what my favorite color is right now, I can’t think, I can’t think.” He mumbles. 
My eyes fall on his lips, my hands falling to rest on his shoulders. “Matt?” His eyes flicker to mine, his face relaxing as I stand up on my tip-toes, leaning closer. I feel his breath fan across my face, his eyes trailing down and back up from my lips to my eyes. 
“Please.” He says. I close the distance between us, his hands holding either side of my waist securely. His lips move against mine passionately. He leans down, pushing his lips harder against mine. I stumble back from the sudden change of balance. He pulls my waist closer to his front side. I take a couple steps back, following his lead as I feel my back press against the cold steel wall. 
He pulls away from my lips. I take a large gasp of air, my arms looping around his neck to hold myself up. He sucks in a breath, not hesitating before placing his lips back onto mine. A fiery heat swells in my body, tingles fluttering in my chest and stomach as I let his tongue dart into my mouth. 
Our lips fit together in perfect sync, dancing like choreography imprinted in our minds. His hands squeeze around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer. I hear a loud ring. We separate breathlessly as he rests his forehead against mine. I look up, meeting his eyes that are squinted from a soft smile. 
I attempt to catch my breath as the elevator doors start to slowly glide open. I blush, letting my hands fall as a elderly lady walks in the elevator. “Hello.” She greets with a gentle voice. I wave back as Matt tugs my hand. 
I walk in tow of Matt, watching as the lady laughs to herself as the doors close. As soon as the doors to the elevator close, I direct my attention to Matt. “Are we taking the stairs now?” I tease. He shakes his head, reaching out behind me. 
“Nope,” he says, retracting his hand with a smile. I turn around, seeing a glowing elevator button on the main floor level. I turn back to him, raising my eyebrows with a smile. 
“Trying to get me alone again?” I hear the elevator ping from behind us. His hands rest on my waist, back me into the empty elevator. He pressed me against the glass pane as I heard the doors shut. 
“Honestly?” He says, moving the hair from my neck and gleaming down at me. “Yeah.” He states, crashing his lips back onto mine.
I tangle my hand in the back of his hair, tugging slightly at the root. He groans against my mouth, the vibration shooting tingles through my entire body. His hands squeeze up and down my waist, landing on my hips. He tugs me by the hips closer to him, making my body slouch on the glass wall. 
He looks down at me with a smile. “Best,” he lands a kiss on my cheek. “--distraction,” his lips trail down my neck, leaving a wet kiss. “--ever.” he says. His lips trail up, making me shiver as they brush against my ear. I feel his teeth gently tug on the sensitive lobe, the hairs on my neck standing straight up. 
“How do you feel about elevators now, hm?” I tease. 
“Fucking love 'em,” he mumbles, trailing his hands up and down my sides. 
_
The elevator ride had ended with sore lips and flushed cheeks. We had driven back to the house, settling on his backyard swinging sofa. We sat in the familiar position, my bent knees over his lap as he let his hands massage my calves. 
The birds chirped happily as the sun loomed over us. I let the warmth sink into my skin, appreciating the moment. “What’s our other two wishes, hm? Aren’t I your genie?” I recall. I tilt my head down, watching him laugh softly. 
“Yeah…” he trails off, scratching at his stubble on his jaw. “Hmm….oh!” He looks over at me with a proud smirk. “My second wish is for you to go on an official date with me.” He requests. I feel the anxiety bubble in my stomach from the excitement of his words. 
“M-kay.” I responded. I feel an itch on my forearm, reaching under my sleeve to scratch the area. My fingers rub against the skin, my nails softly grazing my forearm. I feel a bump, the bump from my scar. Dad. “Hey, Matt?” I voice. I hear him hum in response, looking at me as I gulp loudly. “Can I–can I sleep over tonight?” I ask. The nerves rack down my body, my eyes starting to feel watery. I have nowhere else to go.
His lips tug up into a smile. “That was gonna be my third wish, of course.” He says. I feel my cheeks heat up as I look back up at the bright blue sky. My favorite color of blue, pale and soft. 
“What is your favorite color?” I ask, repeating the question from earlier.
“Blue.” He says. I look down at him with a smile, “Me too.” 
_
We had sun bathed in silence until Nick and Chris came home. When the two boys entered the household, they immediately brought ideas of what to do. We had settled on playing video games, Fortnite in specific. I had watched as Matt pressed the remote in his hand aggressively, cursing at the screen when bullets and explosions sounded. 
“You think you’re ready to give it a shot?” He asks. I shrug my shoulders while sitting on the edge of the bed. 
“I don’t really understand it–I have no idea what I’m doing.” I say.
He takes his headset off, placing it over my ear and onto my head. He adjusted it, making one ear uncovered. “I’ll help you, come here.” He directs. I stand by the monitor, crouching down as he types on the keyboard. 
I turn around, hearing him clear his throat. His hands grip me from behind on my hips. “Is this okay?” He asks, looking down at his lap. I blush, nodding softly. I feel him tug me onto his lap, his arms enveloping around my own. “Comfortable?” He asks, his breath fanning on the side of my head. 
My insides feel as if they are burning with excitement as I hum in response. He laughs gently, caressing my cheek. “You’re so cute.” he compliments. I feel my eyes widen as I scrunch my nose. 
“Shut up.” I whine. He dryly laughs at this, mumbling under his breath. 
“Okay, so,” he brings his hands over mine, making my fingers twitch on the controller. The character starts moving as I hear Chris and Nick through the headset, cursing and arguing. Matt reaches up, pulling me closer to his chest as he hits the soundboard on the keyboard. “I can hear them, sorry that they’re so loud.” He says. 
“Anyhow,” he shifts, guiding my actions as I begin to understand how to move the character.
_
The streams of sunlight had faded peering in from his blinds. I was still situated in his lap, but playing Club Penguin. He could tell when I had started to get stressed out from the overwhelming game, switching it and teaching me the cartoon penguin one. 
“I can’t believe you’ve never played this before! I would’ve assumed you have–especially given that your favorite animal is a penguin.” He says. I feel his chest shake with laughter from behind me. 
“DINNER!” I hear Chris shout. Matt taps my thigh as I get up from his lap. I feel my head get light, becoming dizzy as I sway on my feet. 
“Hey,” he grabs my hips, pulling me against his chest as he stands. “--you okay?” He asks. I nod my head lazily, regaining full vision as my body adjusts. 
“Just dizzy.” I remark. 
“Here, let’s go eat. I know my mom will be happy that you’re here.” He says. She’ll be happy that I’m here? The statement makes my heart fill with warmth as my lips turn upward. 
We make our way out to the kitchen, the aroma of food filling my nostrils. Homemade food. An actual meal. 
“Ah! Y/N! I was hoping I’d see you around soon! I made meatballs–the boy's favorite!” Marylou exclaims. I smile at her excitement. She sets down the pan in the middle of the counter, a stack of plates next to it. She wipes her hands off on each other, walking over to me with open arms. 
I laugh as she squeezes me in a tight hug. “Mom, don’t hurt her.” Matt says. I let myself fall more relaxed in Marylou's embrace as she loosened her grips slightly. 
“I’ll get the baby pictures out.” She threatens. My eyes darted to Matt’s, seeing him wide-eyed. He holds his hands up in defense. 
“Nevermind, I’ll shut up.” He says. Marylou pulls me back, even tighter. “Jokes on him–I’m showing you anyway.” she whispers loudly. I hear Matt groan from beside me, burying his face in his hands. 
_
Marylou was not kidding. We had eaten dinner, mostly Chris yapping about random things. The meatballs were heavenly–a family recipe that Marylou was happily offering to me. His father still hadn’t come home, caught up in some type of work apparently. 
We all made our way over to the living room sofa. Chris and Nick sat on one side of the ‘L’ sofa, while I sat between Marylou and Matt on the other side. She had a scrapbook in her lap, pointing at pictures of the young triplets. 
“How did you tell them all apart?” I ask. 
“Well,” she points to Chris. “--he has a birthmark on his back. Nick had always been a bit bigger, too.” Nick's lips tug into a straight line.
“What a lovely reminder.” He sarcastically remarks. 
Matt leans, placing his elbows on his knees. “Y/n has a birthmark too.” He says. Marylou looks over at me as I pull my hair to the side. “It looks like a smiley face, see!” He explains, his fingertip touching gently on my neck. 
“Oh! That’s adorable! Chris’s is just a blob.” She states, completely serious. I look over, seeing Chris throw his hands in the air. I laugh at his offense, Marylou turning over her shoulder to look at him. “--but he has such a cute smile! They all do!” She compliments. Nick softly shuts his eyes, shaking his head from left to right. 
“Mom.” They all whine in sync. 
“Do you have any baby pictures of yourself?” She asks. I shrug my shoulders. Did I? 
“I think I might, hold on, I’ll go check my phone.” I get up from the couch, grabbing my phone off the counter. It’s almost ten, no notifications from my dad. I huff in disappointment, opening my near-empty camera roll. I smile, seeing a picture of me as a toddler. 
The picture is sometime before I was ten. It was me, holding my moms hand. My mom was standing outside with me, we had just gotten back from a walk around the block. Her beanie on her head covered her thinning hair. She didn’t even look sick except for her deathly pale skin. 
Mrs. Evans had taken the picture. It was back when she used to teach at my elementary school in the next town over. She had sent me the picture out of the blue as soon as I had arrived in Somerville. She had asked to meet up, which I had initially ignored. But, when she told me she had something she wanted to give to me that belonged to my mom, I couldn’t refuse. 
It was my baby blanket, the one my mom had hand-knitted while laying in a hospital bed on bed-rest. She had been bored out of her mind. She had kept knitting, undoing the same ball of yarn to preserve material because we didn't have the money to buy more.
I watched her give up, her hands too weak to hold grip on the knitting-needle. 
“Actually,” I sat back down, Matt’s arm wrapping around me. “--this is the only one I have.” They both lean, looking at the picture displayed on my phone screen. 
“Oh…?” Marylou voices. Her tone grabs my attention, but Chris is quick to interrupt my thoughts. 
“You only have one picture on your phone? How!” Chris exclaims. I feel my body go rigid. It’s the only picture I have at all. Matt’s arm that rests behind me curls, his hand rubbing on my shoulder. I let myself sink into his hold, letting out a soft sigh. 
“You were just the cutest, huh?” Marylou says. I hum, not trusting my voice. I feel the cushion move from beneath me, watching as Matt stands up. He holds out a hand. 
“Yeah, now, if you’ll excuse us–I don’t need her seeing us naked in a bathtub together. Goodnight everyone.” He says. Marylou laughs, giving me a wave with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 
“Goodnight.” They all chime. 
Matt pulls me up, holding my hand by his side. His feet slap on the ground softly as I follow his lead. He closes his bedroom door behind us. “Are you okay?” He asks. I nod my head, still unsure of my own voice. 
“Come on, wanna borrow some clothes?” He asks. I look down at my body, looking back up at him as a smile clouds his face. “--well, more.” He laughs. 
I shake my head, letting out a dry giggle. “I’m stealing your whole closet at this point.” I reason. He shrugs, rummaging through the clothes before yanking out numerous pieces of clothing.
“You look good in my clothes.” He points out. I feel my ears heat up as I let my eyes fall to my lap. “Here, a clean sweatshirt. I might ask if Nick has any bottoms for you–Madi sleeps over a lot, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.” He walks out of the room, leaving me with my thoughts and the sweatshirt. 
I greedily bring my hands down to the material, appreciating the soft material. It’s green, having stars embroidered on it. I look at the logo, seeing a price marked on it. 
$325
My eyes bulge out, dropping the sweatshirt on the bed as if it was poison ivy. I hear the wooden floors creek, footsteps seeming closer and closer. 
Matt walks through the door, tilting his head in confusion. He lets out a nervous laugh. “You good there?” I stand frozen, my mouth running dry. I shake my head. Matt walks over, setting a pair of PJ pants down on the bed. I feel the weight of the bed dip to my side, his arm curling around me. “What’s up–talk to me.” He urges. 
I bury my face in my hands, embarrassed beyond belief. “Can I just have a different sweatshirt?” I ask. He nods, walking over and flipping through hangers. 
“Do you not like that one? It’s one of my favorites.” He says, peeping over his shoulder to look at me. 
I shake my head furiously. “No,” I let my eyes falter to the green sweatshirt. I look over the fabric, scared I may have even left a fingerprint. “--it’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just…” I look back up at him to see him now facing me completely, a confused expression painted on his face. 
“It’s just…” He repeats. He walks closer. I watch as his feet plant right in front of my own. I let my eyes wander up to his, seeing him standing in front of me. His face holds a quick sympathetic smile. 
I let out a sigh, running my clammy hands over my thighs. “It’s just, I don’t even think I’ve ever held something worth three hundred dollars. Let alone–wear it.” And the fact that it’s his favorite weighed heavily on my subconscious. 
HIs hand pets down the side of my head, lifting me up by the chin. My eyes meet his, a soft smile apparent on his lips. “I want you to wear it.” I open my mouth to reason with him. He stops me by giving me a warning look. “--wear it for me, okay? I trust you. Plus, it’s just a hoodie.” He says. 
Yeah, a hoodie worth more than anything I own. 
I feel his warm hand caress my jaw. His thumb reaches up, dragging my bottom lip down as he stares into me with an unreadable gaze. His thumb glides down, my lip revolting back to its usual position. I nod my head, hypnotized by his pale eyes. 
He reaches over, setting something in my lap. “I’ll be back, I’m gonna go talk to my mom real quick. Do you need anything?” I shake my head. “--alright, I’ll be back in a couple minutes. Don’t miss me too much.” He remarks. 
I roll my eyes, making him laugh. He walks out the door, shutting it softly behind him. I look down, grasping the green hoodie carefully in my hands. I strip from his clothes I had been wearing, leaving myself in just my underwear. 
My eyes wander up, catching my own figure changing in his mirror leaned against the wall. I stand still, analyzing myself. Although I didn’t get to eat very much–I wasn’t very thin. It was as if my body learned to preserve any fat possible. I was grateful for it, it made everything not so obvious. 
I looked like a regular person. My hands wander over my semi-dry skin. I hadn’t even remembered the last time I was able to just go out and buy lotion. My skin has always been sensitive, especially in the dry winter. Everytime my nails scratched over my skin, a red mark identical to the path scratched appeared almost instantaneously. 
I pull the soft, heavy hoodie over my head. It drowns my entire arm, covering my hands. The waist of it falls slightly above mid-thigh. I pull the pants on, fitting them nearly perfect to my body. When’s the last time I had clothes that fit? 
All my clothes were baggy. Partly because of how worn down they had become over the years. Also because it was a lot of my dads old clothes. I refused to steal–my anxiety simply wouldn’t allow it. However, I would often wander to the lost-and-found at my previous school, picking up an item if I needed it and it sat longer than a week with no owner claiming it. 
I fold the clothes I had previously been wearing, setting them neatly on the nightstand. While setting them down, I hear a clank. Fuck, his cologne. 
Immense panic devastates my entire body. I whip my head, seeing the cologne bottle on the floor, seemingly in one piece. A knock sounds at the door, “Are ya decent?” Matt says, heavy with his boston-accent. 
My heart feels like it’s pulsing out of my chest. I reach over, seeing no cracks in the glass and sighing with relief. I place the bottle back in its original spot. “Yeah.” I answer. 
The door props open, Matt walking in and shutting it behind him. “Are you okay? I heard something–did you fall?” He asks. He walks over to his bathroom as I watch him from the edge of the bed. 
“Yeah, I’m all good. I accidentally knocked over your cologne–but it’s okay! It didn’t break! I am sorry for being so klutzy though.” I voice. He turns around, holding out a toothbrush to me with toothpaste on it. I take it, scrubbing my teeth as he does the same. 
He stops for a minute. “You’re fine, I like that you’re so clumsy.” He winks, continuing to brush his teeth. I blush, spitting in the sink and holding the toothbrush cluelessly. He rines his brush, placing it in the cup next to the faucet. Taking the brush from my hand, he does the same thing. 
I smile looking at his blue toothbrush next to my green one. I look over, seeing him smiling at me. A blush crawls onto my face as I quickly turn back to his bed. I plop down on his comforter, getting under the soft duvet. I pause, “Oh wait, what side do you sleep on?” I ask. 
He’s already laying down on the other side of the bed, placing a folded arm behind his head. His eyes are shut, but he slightly opens one. “I don’t care which side unless you do.” He says. I shake my head with a nervous smile, snuggling into the sheets further. 
I turn on my side, my back facing him as I curl into the pillow with my arms. The warmth curiates around me. “Actually,” I hear him shuffle, my body falling back as the mattress leans from weight. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me to his chest. “--I want whatever side you're on–if that’s okay with you.” 
I nod my head. I feel him nuzzle his face into the crook of my neck. Shivers run from the bottom of my feet to the top of my spine. I let his body heat warm me up further, appreciating every ounce of warmth that my body desperately craved. 
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blueraineshadows · 1 day
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A Kiss Between Friends
Sebastian Sallow x You ♥️
A one shot fic based on this artwork here by @rhewart As soon as I saw it, I was inspired ✨️
4.5k words. Tags: first kiss / teen romance / fluff / friends to sweethearts
“Are you going to ask Violet to Hogsmeade this weekend?” You asked, looking up from the book that lay open before you on your spread out robe. 
The sun was warm on your head, and Sebastian had to shield his eyes against the rays as he turned his head to look towards you from where he lay on his back, his own robe shrugged off and spread out beneath him on the grass. His face was a riot of freckles from the early summer sun, and his unruly hair was beginning to show hints of coppery gold through the brunette. His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced your way, his fingers pinching at his lower lip as he considered your question.
“And, why would I do that?” He asked.
“Because you fancy her,” you smirked, one hand propping up your chin whilst the other flipped the page in your book.
“I do not,” he scowled, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks as he feigned interest in a blade of grass he had plucked, twisting it between his fingers. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You stare at her in class, and at the dinner table. I’ve seen you,” you said, your smirk widening into a grin. “You should ask her to Hogsmeade. You might even get a snog.”
Sebastian blew air through his lips in a huff of amusement. “I do not stare at her, and how would you know?” His eyes swung back to her, narrowing slyly. “Does that mean you have been staring at me?”
You felt your own cheeks flood with colour. “Absolutely not. There are far more attractive boys to drool over than you, Sallow.”
He slapped a hand to his chest dramatically and groaned. “Oh, you wound me, sweetheart. Such cruelty from your lips. Who do you drool over, then? Please, don’t tell me it’s Weasley or Prewett. I’m surprised I managed to lure you away from them this afternoon as it is, I shall go mad if you start snogging one of them.”
Your laughter spilled from your lips as you sat up straighter, reaching across to shove your Slytherin friend on his shoulder. “You’re not jealous are you? At least one of us would be getting some action if I managed to get a snog with one of them. I feel like I am the last girl in my dorm to even hold hands with a boy, let alone kiss one.”
Sebastian rolled onto his side, his lips twisted into a smirk as he caught your hand in his, his long fingers grazing gently along your palm as he grasped you more firmly. “I’ll hold your hand. I can’t have you feeling left out.”
Looking down at your joined hands, you uttered a little sigh, appreciating his efforts to be playful with you. The banter was not unusual between you both, you had been best friends for quite a while now, shared many adventures and secrets. Whilst chatting with the girls after lights out in the dorms was always fun, especially when it came to snogging, you appreciated the fact that you could also talk to Sebastian about such things. You knew he would never judge you, and he always had your back.
“Maybe I do feel left out,” you said quietly, your gaze dipping shyly. “I really am the last girl to kiss anyone in my dorm. Sometimes, I wonder if there is something odd about me.”
Sebastian immediately sat up. “There is nothing wrong with you at all. Just because you are waiting for someone worth kissing, it doesn’t mean you are odd. I think it’s actually quite lovely. I mean, I’ve never kissed anyone either.”
Your lips parted in surprise, your eyes meeting with his. “Really?”
His lopsided smile was unbelievably adorable, his blush spreading quickly as he shrugged his shoulders. He let go of your hand and brushed strands of hair from his forehead. “I’ve just never really had the opportunity to, I suppose.”
“If you ask Violet to Hogsmeade you will,” you suggested brightly.
Sebastian pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms about his legs as he frowned. “I hear you, however, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. Violet has definitely kissed someone before, and I would rather not make an idiot of myself.”
You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him. “Sebastian Sallow, top duellist and currently top of the 7th year academic table, is scared of kissing a girl. What would your fan club say?”
“Oh, shut up,” he muttered, shaking his head. He poked his tongue out at you before throwing his blade of grass into your lap. “You are supposed to be a brave Gryffindor, and yet you haven’t dared to kiss anyone either. I guess that makes us both scaredy cats.”
“We could always practise on each other,” you joked, hoping to take the frown off his face. It worked. He turned stunned eyes your way, his mouth agape.
“What?”
For some reason your pulse fluttered, heat flooding your cheeks at the stupid suggestion. “I…I was joking, of course. Don’t look so horrified.”
His face deepened into thought as he sat up straighter, his fingers pinching at his lower lip again. “Hang on, though. You might be onto something there,” he said slowly.
His eyes met yours, the depths gleaming with the excitement of an idea. You knew that look and swallowed hard. “If we kiss, it would break that pressure of the first time for both of us. A little bit of practice between two friends who trust each other, without all the expectation that comes along with impressing someone. It’s perfect!”
“Merlin…you’re seriously considering it!” You gasped.
“Think of it as unsanctioned research,” he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.
You stared at him, stunned, your eyes drifting down to gaze upon the shape of his mouth, and you actually began to wonder what it would feel like to press your own lips against the pink softness. Heat flooded your cheeks and you pressed your hands to them. “Wouldn’t…wouldn’t it be weird? I mean, we’re friends…”
“I guess there is only one way to find out.”
“Now?” You gasped, glancing hurriedly around you to see if anyone was nearby. There wasn’t. The pair of you had chosen a well secluded spot to sit and read during a free afternoon. The only sounds were the gentle waters of the nearby Black Lake, and the buzzing of summer insects.
“Why not?” He grinned and leant towards you, puckering up his lips with a teasing glint in his eyes.
Suddenly, your lungs felt rather tight, and your pulse throbbed with panic and anticipation. This was not how you had envisioned your afternoon with Sebastian panning out. Half of you was tempted to shove him away, scolding words on your tongue about him being indecent and a scoundrel. The other half of you was licking your lips and fighting the urge to lean in closer, to jump off the ledge into exploration, just to see what all the fuss over a snog was about.
Was Sebastian right? What harm could it do? You were friends. You trusted him.
“Okay,” you said quickly, summoning that Gryffindor courage.
Sebastian’s eyes widened and he stilled, sucking in a shaky breath. “Alright,” he said, a little nervously, perhaps not expecting you to agree.
But, you were all in now. 
Staring at him, you shuffled a little closer, your robe scrunching up beneath your legs. You were sure you were breathing too quickly, too loudly, and tried to steady the rush and flutter of nerves in your stomach as you wiped a sweaty palm against your knee. “One kiss on the lips, agreed?”
Sebastian nodded, his hair bouncing, his eyes fixed firmly on yours. Your breath was shaking as you leaned your head towards him, closer and closer, his scent filling your nose. It was familiar and comforting. He had hugged you before, many times, but you had never been this close to his face. You were sure you could see each defined freckle, the pores of his skin over his nose, long enviable lashes that framed wide, expectant eyes. You could pick out flecks of hazel and gold in the brown of his irises, the pupils enlarging as you came within inches of his face. As his lips parted with a soft breath, your gaze dipped to the slope and curve of his mouth. Bloody hell, you were going to kiss him!
Nerves squeezed you, a shaky breath quickly becoming a giggle that burst from your mouth, your cheeks flaming as you brought your fingers to your lips. Sebastian looked mortified. “I’m so sorry,” you gasped, more giggles spilling from you. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous…”
Sebastian flinched and pulled back, his own cheeks flooding with colour. “We don’t have to, you know,” he said awkwardly, pushing a hand through his hair. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“I’m sorry,” you said again, reaching out to put your hand over his. “My nerves got the better of me. Perhaps I am more shy than I thought. Maybe…maybe if you closed your eyes or something, so that you aren’t looking at me. It might be easier.”
Sebastian’s brow furrowed with uncertainty as he shifted, but then he nodded. “Alright,” he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Try again. I’ll close my eyes this time.”
You watched as his eyes closed, his lashes fanning out across the tops of his freckled cheeks as he tilted his face expectantly towards you. Taking a deep breath, you leant forwards again, nerves making your heart thunder in your ears.
Aiming for his mouth, you closed your eyes and pressed your lips to his in a quick kiss that made a smacker of a sound in the quiet surroundings. The soft warmth of his mouth was a shock against yours. Bloody hell, you had just kissed a boy!
Leaning back, your heart in your mouth, you opened your eyes to see his reaction. You were almost rigid with nerves, expecting him to have hated it. Sebastian’s eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted, and his cheeks crimson.
“Again,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Properly this time.”
Again?!?
Speechless, you stared at him, but his eyes remained closed. Eyes fixed on his mouth, you brushed the tip of your finger over your lips, taking a deep breath before leaning forwards again. Now that you had done it once, you felt bolder, and you took your time as you pressed your mouth against his in a soft kiss. Lingering against the warmth, your pulse flickering like a dancing flame, you felt his lips apply pressure to yours in a return kiss.
Oh my…
All of a sudden, one kiss became two kisses, soft and tentative touches that made your lips tingle, and your stomach felt like liquid warmth. Three kisses…four…
Each press of lips became longer as you relaxed into the feel of it, your body feeling so hot and flustered, and yet, you also wanted to melt against him. Who knew that kissing could feel so…nice?
Sebastian’s lips were soft, and they slotted so perfectly against yours that it was so easy to keep doing it. As he tilted his head, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek as he pressed a longer, harder kiss against your mouth at a different angle, a thrill of searing heat spiralled up through your core. It was shocking, exciting, but also overwhelming. Gasping softly, you pulled back, your eyes opening to meet the deep, warm brown of Sebastian’s.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He said, his habitual smirk on his mouth.
No, it really wasn’t. In fact, you were at a loss for words as you looked at him. Managing a shy smile, you shifted backwards, biting your lip as they burned with the feel of his kisses. It was hard to ignore the rush of heat, the flutter of every nerve ending as you thought about it. The sneaking suspicion was already creeping over you that you had enjoyed kissing him a little too much, and that could make this very awkward.
“I guess that breaks the kissing barrier now,” you said, tucking strands of hair behind your ear. “There is nothing to stop you asking out Violet anymore.”
“Perhaps,” Sebastian said, adjusting his trousers and fiddling with his tie as he looked out over the lake, his cheeks still flushed. “I’ll think about it.”
Closing your book with a soft thump, you slid another glance his way, a strange, crushing disappointment beginning to snake up through your stomach at the realisation that he might actually ask Violet out this weekend. It was a rather startling and unnerving realisation that you didn’t want him to.
Touching your fingertips to your lips, you wondered if you had just made a huge mistake kissing Sebastian, because now it was all you could think about.
….*....
The Great Hall was bustling with students having dinner, the ceiling mirroring the soft summer sky outside filling the room with a warm, evening glow. You sat at the Gryffindor table, poking at the food on your plate as you replayed, yet again, the soft kisses you had shared with Sebastian near the lake this afternoon. Your head was consumed with the memory, your fingers straying to your mouth to touch where his lips had pressed so softly against yours. It left you breathless to remember the tingles and flare of warmth that had awoken within you, leaving you confused as to what this meant now. 
What had been a playful suggestion of experimentation between friends was now a suggestive promise of something new and enticing. Even now, sitting at the table, surrounded by your fellow housemates, your gaze was drawn towards the Slytherin table where Sebastian was sitting with Ominis.
Keeping your eyelids slightly lowered, you watched Sebastian through your lashes, noticing the way his hands moved when he spoke, the little tilt of his mouth when he was amused. How had you not noticed how handsome he was before? Was it simply that he had been right in front of you, so close that you hadn’t taken a moment to really study him? Was it because you were so comfortable within your bubble of friendship that you had not thought to seek anything more from him?
The touch of his kiss had changed all that, and you were staring at your Slytherin friend through new eyes.
“You have been poking at that potato for a good five minutes, and I’ve not seen you eat a mouthful yet,” Garreth said, leaning towards you. Looking up at him, you could see the glimmer of concern in the depths of his green eyes. “Is everything alright? Are you not hungry?”
Looking down at the dinner you had been pushing around your plate with an awkward smirk, you put down your fork with a sigh. “Not really, but I’m alright,” you said, managing a small smile for him. “I was just miles away.”
“Somewhere nice I hope,” he smiled, lifting his juice goblet. 
Your gaze drifted back towards the Slytherin table. Somewhere very nice.
Sebastian was smiling, leaning across the table as he spoke to someone, and you realised it was Violet. Perhaps he had plucked up the courage to ask her out after all. The dreamy look on your face froze, your eyes dropping down towards your uneaten dinner. Sickened at the sight, you pushed the plate away and moved to stand. Pausing as Garreth spoke your name with a look of concern, you waved him off with a strained smile. “I’m fine, honestly. I think I just need some air.”
Avoiding any more glances Sebastian’s way lest you see something you didn’t wish to, you swiftly left the Great Hall, wishing you could turn the clock back a few hours and get that comforting feeling of friendship to return that you feared you had lost.
….*....
The sun was setting when you returned to the castle, lights beginning to appear in the windows as you walked slowly through the huge doors and into the coolness of the corridors. Walking around the lake hadn’t really done much in the way of easing your troubled thoughts. Worried that you had damaged your friendship, you debated bringing it all up with Sebastian, worried that doing so would just hammer in a whole new level of separation between you. 
Unwittingly, your feet took you towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower, the soft tap of your boots on the marble echoing down the halls as you headed towards the Undercroft. Checking over your shoulder, you slipped behind the staircase and entered through the clock, making your way down into the depths of the secret chamber. Laughter reached your ears, and as the iron grate lifted to grant you access, you could see Sebastian and Ominis sitting on a rug playing Exploding Snap. 
You smiled as Sebastian turned at the sound of your entrance, his gaze lingering on you, making you wonder if you were imagining the look in his eyes as they wandered downwards as you approached. Of course you were imagining it, he wanted to ask Violet out after all, you were just his practice kiss. Heart squeezing, you turned your attention towards Ominis, his head tilted as he listened to your steps, his lips curving into a slight smile.
“Good evening, little lion,” he said softly. “Would you like to join us?”
Glancing at Sebastian, you nodded and moved to sit down, choosing to situate yourself next to Ominis. The move didn’t go unnoticed, your gaze meeting with Sebastian’s as warmth flooded your face, the look between you lingering as he reshuffled the cards.
Pushing away any tempting thoughts about staring at his mouth, you focused on the game, feeling some of the tension relax from your shoulders as you laughed along with your two favourite Slytherins. Ominis was as sharp as ever, still managing to win two out of three games you played, his haughty smug pride making you chuckle as your gaze met with Sebastian’s yet again. Each look felt loaded with something heavier this evening, his eyes seemingly drawn to you and lingering for longer, your own gaze seeking him out and noticing more things that just hadn’t occurred to you before. 
His shirt sleeves were rolled up exposing his forearms, and this wasn’t something you hadn’t seen before, and yet now you noticed the defined lines of his muscle, the graceful way he held his hands. How had you not noticed how his long fingers splayed out in a way that made you wonder how it would feel to have them against your skin. His shirt collar was loosened, a tempting glimpse of collar bone peeking through the gap above where his tie was hanging scruffily about his neck, and your eyes were drawn to it against every effort not to stare at him. 
The angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the way his hair flicked around his ears, the dusting of freckles on his arms that had you wondering if he had them elsewhere on his body. His laughter sounded richer, his smiles more beautiful, and the wicked gleam in his eyes when he teased was now fanning the new flames that were igniting swiftly inside of you.
Godric’s balls. You were getting a crush on Sebastian. 
….*....
After a night of restless dozing, any sleep filled with dreams of smothering heat and soft lips, you struggled to keep focus in potions the next morning. The lack of concentration led to a rather impressive failure that rivalled anything Garreth could have caused, much to Sharp’s disgruntled disapproval. Feeling like a failure, and utterly baffled by the way your body was betraying you, it was with a resigned smile that you left potions as Garreth gave you a conspiratorial pat on the shoulder. 
Wandering along the corridor on the way to lunch, you wondered how long this apparent crush was going to cripple you, making you stare longingly across the classroom at Sebastian’s gorgeous face, only to blush furiously and dip your gaze when his eyes shifted your way in return. It was all rather foolish really, and he was going to wonder what on earth was wrong with you if you kept this up for too long.
“There you are,” a deep voice sounded in your ear, making you jump. Clutching your bag tighter against you, a blush staining your cheeks, you looked up at familiar brown eyes. His hand ghosted at the small of your back, invoking a shiver that you immediately tried to suppress, but he was already taking hold of your elbow. “Come on, I need to talk to you.”
Pulse quickening, you let him hurry you along, your other hand nervously tucking hair behind your ear. “Where are we going?”
Sebastian merely smirked and turned corners, marching along until he came to a door set amongst portraits in a quiet corridor, a swift unlocking charm had him dragging you inside and the door closed behind you both with a soft click. It was a cupboard stuffed full of all manner of oddities, your eyes glancing around in confusion.
“Did you just drag me into a cupboard?” You asked, incredulous, turning to look at him.
Sebastian blushed furiously, his hand scratching at the back of his neck. “I did,” he said, biting his lower lip. “I er…well, I was wondering...I was hoping…”
He groaned and closed his eyes, turning to pace up and down, tugging at his collar.
You frowned and began to fiddle nervously on the hem of your sleeve. “What is it?”
“Yesterday…” He paused, his look sheepish as he stepped closer. “Our unsanctioned research by the lake…”
Heat flooded your own cheeks and you shifted awkwardly. “Oh no, it’s going to be weird between us, isn’t it,” you said, your voice wobbling slightly.
“Oh, no, no,” he said quickly, his eyes widening as he held his hands up. “I don’t want it to be weird, not at all! You know me, I rather enjoy research, particularly the unsanctioned kind, and especially with you.”
You stilled, staring at him, your heart beginning to thump a beat harder.
His lips twitched with a hopeful smile. “I was wondering…maybe we should try a proper kiss, just in case…”
A gasp left your lips as you stared, your blood now fizzing madly with your racing pulse. You could see the hope and fear in his eyes, knowing him well enough to see that this had taken some courage to drag you in here and ask this of you. A glimmer of hope bloomed in your chest that maybe, just maybe, he had been thinking similar thoughts as you after yesterday.
As on edge as he looked, it was just too tempting to taunt the poor boy further, and you let a slow smirk spread across your face.
“Are you suggesting that yesterday, I did not kiss you properly, Sebastian?”
His mouth worked as a slight wince creased his brow, and your smirk widened. Then, his eyes narrowed, and his stance shifted into something much more like his usual bold, confidence. “I wouldn’t say that you didn’t kiss me properly, it’s more a case of I don’t think we gathered enough evidence to make a definitive conclusion.”
You raised one eyebrow and folded your arms. “Oh really?”
The smirk that lifted his lips made you swallow hard, threatening the demeanour of control that you were aiming for. How had you not noticed how utterly gorgeous he was before? It was borderline shameful how you had missed it. 
Sebastian stepped even closer. “Absolutely, and therefore, I recommend a second experiment. A more thorough experiment, if you’re willing.”
Dropping your bag to the floor, you stepped forward to meet him, tilting your head just so in order to look up into his eyes. Staring into their depths, you couldn’t even begin to question how right this felt. Apart from one little niggle.
“Did you ask Violet to accompany you to Hogsmeade?” You asked, holding your breath.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “How could I when I’m already going with someone else?”
Your brow furrowed. “Who?”
He leaned in, his mouth dangerously close to yours, his eyes blazing like a glorious sunset. “You, of course,” he said softly.
It was his turn to make the first move this time, pressing his mouth against yours in a firm kiss that made your eyelids flutter closed, your hands sliding up the front of his green plaid waistcoat. You had no idea how good it would feel to have his fingers glide along your jawline and sink deeply into your hair, pushing loose any pins you had used to try and make yourself look respectable this morning.
This had never been the plan when you had talked about this yesterday, you had only been meaning to prepare yourselves for kissing someone else, but your head was empty of anything but his kisses and touch in the low light of the storage room. It felt so right to cup his face, holding him in place as he kissed you with a slow thoroughness that made you part your lips in a soft gasp. But, he wasn’t done yet…
Taking advantage of your parted lips, he swiped a deliciously slow slide of his tongue along your lower lip, your heart racing as he tentatively pushed it into your mouth. You had read about kisses such as this, the very thought of it invoking day dreams that filled you with longing. The real thing stole your very breath, your mouth welcoming the silky, soft warmth of him with a low moan. His quickened breaths filled your ears as he kissed you deeply, the taste of him making your head spin as his hand moved to grasp your waist.
Sliding your hands up the back of his neck, your fingers explored the soft strands of his hair, your back arching as he urged you closer against him. He was solid and warm, he was everything you found comforting and familiar, and yet his mouth and hands were waking something new and so very exciting inside of you. 
It probably wasn’t skilled, or refined, your hands and mouths carefully exploring with daring and curiosity, but it felt so good. Sebastian felt so good. Why didn’t you see it before? How could it be anyone else but him?
Pausing, his lips damp and his breaths quick and hot against your cheek as he pressed his forehead to yours, you gazed up at him with your hands still curled into his hair.
“What’s the conclusion?” You asked. 
His hand caressed your cheek, his smile warm and soft as he brushed back your hair and traced the curve of your ear. “We need to keep practising,” he whispered, his thumb tracing the curve under your lower lip. “I reckon, in time, we could be rather good at this.”
“Well, don’t stop now,” you said, returning his smile. 
“So, I’m worth all the waiting then, am I?” He asked, that teasing gleam in his eyes.
“Easy now, Sallow,” you chuckled, a grin curving your mouth. “It’s going to take a few more practice sessions before I could possibly comment on that.”
“That can most definitely be arranged,” he murmured, before claiming your mouth once more in a bone melting kiss.
As always, huge love and thanks to my Discord girls for keeping me inspired. 💜✨️
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redocity · 3 days
Note
Evan Buckley x fiancée reader
Reader and Evan are recently engaged. Reader gets shot by the sniper instead of Eddie, Buck gets covered in her blood and attempts to save her (like the episode) and then just go from there please ❤️‍🩹. Please include lots of angst, sadness and happiness too 🫶
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EMERGENCY ROOM - E.BUCKLEY
after a completely normal day on the job, you get shot seemingly out of nowhere. buck does not handle it well.
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WARNINGS: spoilers for 04x13 and 04x14, established relationship, major character injury, blood, guns, buck is on the verge of a mental breakdown for most of it
buck x fiancée!reader II flangst Il 4.2k Il requests open!
a/n: i had so much fun writing the little fluffy bits at the beginning and the end i love them your honour
₊ ⊹ masterlist!!
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“I know right?” You finally had a few minutes to fawn over your newest accessory now that you’d managed to secure Charlie away from his mother and get him into an ambulance, holding your left arm up in front of you and wiggling your fingers to show off the shiny rock on your ring finger towards Eddie. “Who would’ve thought he was so focused on the details?”
“Hey!” Buck nudges you as he walks past, shaking his head with a smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“People like you aren’t exactly known for their ‘detail orientation’ Buck,” Eddie laughs as he walks past him, pushing his head with the palm of his hand. “Good job on defying expectations,”
“Hey I am plenty detail oriented thank you,” gestures outwards exasperatedly, glancing at you for backup for his statement. You give him nothing more than a shrug of your shoulders.
“Shannon was the same when I bought her ring don’t worry,” Eddie pats Buck’s shoulder. “Went on this whole rant about how she never expected me to put so much thought into how it looked, I think it’s just a girl thing,”
“It’s not-” You scoff, putting a hand up in front of him in absolute astoundment. “I am trying to show my appreciation for the thought that went into making this ring fit my preferences, and you are making me feel disrespected,”
You point between the two boys in exaggerated disappointment, turning your face away from the two with a click of your tongue and a shake of your head.
“Oh come on baby seriously?” Evan sighs dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his head fall back until he’s facing the sky.
“You’ve hitched your wagon to a tank,” Eddie pats Buck’s shoulder once more, and the two share a short laugh.
“I’m gonna ride with Charlie to the hospital, you two good to get back to the station and tell Bobby?” Buck nods towards Eddie, giving him a small nudge towards the ambulance. “Yeah go ahead, we got it from here,”
“Thanks,” He returns Buck’s nod and then sends a finger salute in your direction. “See you later Mrs. Buckley, try not to kill him before the wedding,”
You laugh shortly at Eddie’s jest, shaking your head. “See you Eddie, give us a call if anything happens,”
“Will do!” He shoots the two of you a wave as he jogs towards the ambulance, climbing inside before the doors get shut behind him.
“Mrs Buckley,” Buck takes a few steps forward to grasp gently at your hips and pull you close to his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I could get used to the sound of that,”
You give a soft hum as his lips press to your temple, turning your face upwards to kiss him properly. “I’d hope so,”
You pull out of his grasp with a soft laugh, pressing the keys to the paramedic car against Buck’s chest for him to take before actually beginning to walk towards the vehicle.
“We’ll have to get you a new turnout jacket too,” Buck follows behind you with a smile etched onto his face, eyes scanning over the last name printed on the back of your jacket. One you wouldn’t have for much longer.
“It’d be pretty confusing to have two Buckleys in the same station, the jacket might have to stay,” You turn around to face him once more with a smile of your own, arms crossed across your chest. “We’ll know the truth though,”
You shoot Buck a wink and he laughs, stopping a few feet in front of you and mirroring the way your arms are crossed with his own. “Are you saying that I can’t show off the fact that you’ll have my last name to every single stranger we meet on the job? Because I don’t know if that’s gonna fly with me,”
“I’m sure you’ll find an excuse to let them know, you’ve got a talent-” Your retort is halted by a sharp sound, then a searing pain in your right shoulder, and then you can feel yourself tumble to the floor as your legs give out underneath you under no will of your own.
Buck flinches as you do, a mix of shock from the noise and an instinctual reaction to the splatter that covers side of his face and stripes of his button down shirt.
Then it feels like the world just stops. Buck stands there with wide eyes as he watches you hit the pavement, in an awake state of sleep paralysis as a pool of blood begins to seep onto the pavement and stain the tarmac red underneath you.
He wanted to shout, to run, to move, Anything.
But he couldn’t so much as curl his hands into fists as he stood stationary in shock, eyes wide and locked onto where you’d crumpled into yourself on the concrete.
It took one of the other firefighters on the scene physically tackling him down to the ground for him to move, and even then his eyes never left yours, just barely open as you slip in an out of consciousness.
“Get down!” Mehta yelled across the group of vehicles as he pulled Buck behind one of the trucks, covering him with his own body as he tried to radio for help. “Shots fired. Shots fired a firefighter is down. I repeat, a firefighter is down!”
Buck can feel himself hyperventilate, his hearing going quiet until the sounds of the civilians nearby are drowned out and replaced with his own racing heartbeat. He watches as your hand crawls forward along the pavement in his direction as if silently trying to confirm to him that you were okay, but the far away look in your eyes wasn’t reassuring him at all.
Then your eyelids fluttered and you weren’t looking at him anymore, your hand left still in front of you with the stones on your finger glinting in the sunlight like a sick taunt of Buck’s anguish.
Shots continued to rain over the fire engines, and as Mehta moved from Buck to radio dispatch again he mustered all of the strength he physically could under the rush of adrenaline in his system to make a break for where you were laying, crawling underneath the bed of the truck as cover as he watched you roll from your side onto your back. “Come on baby! I’m coming I got you!”
You groan through the pain as you roll over, still conscious despite the agony raging through your shoulder and down the rest of your arm as you squint your eyes from the harsh sunlight.
Buck gets as far out as he can without exposing himself to the raining shots, grasping at your wrist as soon as he’s close enough and tugging until you’re dragged under the engine and onto the other side protected by the metal of the truck.
The friction sends another sharp wave of pain through your body, a sharp yell leaving your throat as you’re dragged across the concrete.
“Get her in the cabin! Quickly!” Mehta and a few other firefighters from station 133 rush to open and prep the back of the truck to cover you inside, and Buck pulls you into a fireman’s hold over his shoulder as quickly — and carefully — as he can to secure you safely.
Another shot is fired in the group’s direction as you’re pulled out of Buck’s hold and onto the seats, shattering the glass of the window and only further hastening the efforts of the firefighters as everyone clambers into the truck to rush away from the scene, leaving the paramedics car you’d driven over in erupted in flames on the side of the road.
“Okay, we got you, we got you you’re okay,” Buck lays you down across the back of the truck with help from one of the paradmedic’s from station 133 with panic written all over his face, continuing to speak reassurances to you in haste, mostly trying to reassure himself that you would be alright.
He rips open the top of your uniform shirt, paying no mind to the buttons that are pulled from their stitching in his haste to cover your gunshot wound in gauze and stop it from bleeding out. “We got you baby you’re okay, just- just stay with me okay?”
Your vision is blurry as you blink up at him, and you can vaguely hear Mehta calling for a trauma unit on standby as you attempt to lift your head slightly to clear your vision of Buck’s face. “…Are you hurt? There’s a lot of blood..”
Buck follows your eyes as they trail down the stains covering the front of his torso, and he shakes his head quickly as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face. “No no no, I’m good baby, you just hang on for me okay?”
The hand that’s not stopping your wound from bleeding all over the place moves to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek softly, a stark contrast to the way he practically barks at the driver of the truck to hurry up.
You barely manage to lift up your arm to cover his hand with your own over your cheek, shaking your head slightly under his palm. “You shouldn’t shout at people…”
“I know baby I’m sorry-” He takes a sharp breath in as he turns his attention back to focusing on you and not on the fact he felt like this drive was taking forever.
The paramedic in the back helps to stabilise your head as you start to slip out of consciousness again, and buck rubs his thumb over your cheekbone to get you to keep your eyes on his. “Hey, three minutes away, you’re so close, I just need you to hang-”
It wasn’t working very well.
The paramedic preps and secures an oxygen mask over your mouth as your eyes start to flutter closed.
“I just need you to hang on…please…”
This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.
He’d just asked you to marry him, you were supposed to be spending the evening celebrating.
You were supposed to get married and have children and grow old together.
Not get shot and bleed out in the back of a fire truck.
Buck jumps out of the vehicle the minute it stops in the hospital, practically screaming for the doctors to come and get you out.
“Through and through, upper torso,” Mehta explains your injury with just as much panic as Buck, although remains decidedly more collected as he barrels out of the front to watch you get pulled onto a gurney. “Large caliber-”
“We’ve got transfusion ready-” One of the nurses gives Mehta a nod before stopping as she takes in the last part of the explanation. “Did you say large caliber?”
“It was a sniper-”
“Pulse is weak! Trauma bay 2, quickly!” The medical team rush with you on the gurney towards the entrance of the hospital’s emergency unit with Buck watching on like everything was happening in slow motion. “Let’s set up for a thoracotomy-”
“Buckley, are you okay?” Mehta looks over at Buck with concern written all over his face as he examines the stains of your blood covering his face, torso, and hands, and Buck waves him off with nothing but a dismissive nod as an answer as his eyes remain locked on the door you disappear into, the the 133 firefighters, Mehta included, following after you inside.
He was not okay.
“Hey,” Eddie approached Buck carefully, but he still jumped at his voice anyhow. Eddie gave a short sigh through furrowed eyebrows, face contorting in concern. “She’s gonna be okay man, she’s strong, you know that don’t you?”
Eddie placed his hand slowly on Buck’s shoulder, immediately able to feel the trembling in his hands that traveled up his arms and into his back. “She was standing right in front of me I-”
“Hey.” Eddie swerved Buck to look at him, shaking his head. “This was not your fault. Nobody knows what happened. When’s going to be alright, you’ve just gotta put faith in her,”
Buck took a series of short, staggered breaths through his nose with a small nod, clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking. “I need to change- And have a shower-”
“You need to take a second to breathe,”
“You don’t get it I-” Buck exhales heavily, his eyes flickering as he turns to face Eddie. “I can still feel it under my fingernails and no matter how many times I wash my hands it won’t go away-”
“Okay slow down for a second,” Eddie raises his hand up to stop Buck from falling into a spiral. “You can’t go home alone like this, you’re not okay,”
“I don’t know what to do-”
“Alright, you’re coming back with me, come on,” Eddie pats Buck’s shoulder, guiding him through the parking lot towards his car.
A sniper who was specifically targeting firefighters, who would’ve thought.
Being sent back out into the field wearing bullet proof vests and swat protection didn’t feel any more secure than proceeding unprotected Buck thinks. If they were going to get shot with a bullet proof vest on then the sniper would just aim for somewhere not covered by the vest.
And it only proved to remind him that you didn’t have the protection you needed when you were shot. Why should he be surrounded by swat agents and covered in kevlar when you weren’t afforded the same luxury.
You ‘took one for the team’ as people would say. But you shouldn’t have had to. Why you?
It was such a selfish thought, but he would’ve rathered any other firefighter on the scene get shot as long as it wasn’t you. He’d’ve rathered get shot himself than it being you.
But apparently the universe was conspiring against him, making him watch and suffer from the sidelines as everything he cared about got ruined one by one.
Maybe that was why he was so reckless. Maybe that was why he climbed the crane with zero protection when he knew he could’ve been shot at from any of the windows of the surrounding skyscrapers and loose his own life whilst still debating how he would live if you lost yours.
He could see the look Bobby gave him as he was lowered down to the ground again, preparing himself for another scolding about him being ‘reckless’ once they got back to the station.
But it never came.
In fact, Bobby didn’t speak to him at all.
“Are you gonna say anything to me?”
Bobby puts down the chopping knife with a sigh, turning around to see Buck leant against the kitchenette sink. “I don’t know Buck, what would you like me to say?”
“Uh… I mean- I mean usually it’s- ‘what were you thinking?’ or ‘that was reckless’ or my… personal favourite ‘you could’ve been killed’.”
“It doesn’t seem like I need to have that conversation, you know it by heart already.” Bobby gestures exasperatedly before picking the knife back up to continue chopping the onion on the table in front of him. “And still, you went full Buck.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing-” Buck approaches Bobby slowly, arms braced over his stomach in a self-soothing fashion.
Bobby sighs once more as Buck doesn’t drop the conversation, giving up his chopping to put his full attention on Buck. “You’ll never be the guy who thinks before he acts. And i’ve learned to come to terms with that,”
”In part because I realised I don’t have a choice, you’re never gonna change,” Bobby gestures outwards with his hands before clasping them together. “But also because… I know no matter what actions you take, no matter how dangerous or impulsive they may be, they come from your heart because you care.”
“Wow, uh, thank you,” Buck gives a soft chuckle as he claps his fist into his hand, clearly happy that he wasn’t getting a scolding this time around.
“Today was not that.” Bobby paused for a second before continuing. “You didn’t get caught up in some moment and rush in where angels fear to tread, you made a deliberate choice to make yourself a target.”
“Yeah.” Buck shrugs his shoulders exasperatedly. “I made myself a target because I wasn’t gonna let any of you guys take that risk because I cannot handle anyone else getting hurt right now.”
“And what about her? How do you think she would feel if she wakes up in the hospital to find out you got yourself killed because you weren’t being careful?”
Buck didn’t really have an answer to that question.
“You have responsibilities Buck. You have a responsibility to this team, you have a responsibility to your fiancée, and most importantly you have a responsibility to yourself.” Bobby shakes his head disappointedly, crossing his arms over his chest. “You cannot keep putting yourself in reckless situations Buckley because there are people around you that need you alive.”
Buck exhales heavily, biting the inside of his cheek. “Look I couldn’t protect her from getting shot, but today? I had an opportunity to protect the rest of you. So I did.”
Bobby sighs as he turns back to the half diced onion, finishing chopping it slowly. “We are a team, and we’re supposed to protect each other.”
There’s a small moment of silence before Bobby turns to look at Buck for a final time, a stern expression on his face, although lingering traces of gracefulness simmer into the wrinkles by his eyes. “Don’t do it again.”
The doctors said the surgery went well. It was probably one of the most relieving moments of his life.
He didn’t have time to visit you immediately though, the team had to go on a call out first.
And of course, because nothing was ever easy, the man who’d called 911 from the fire was also the sniper who was targeting firefighters.
Bobby ended up with a pistol shot to his abdomen, and after helping Athena get into the building dressed in firefighter gear to subdue the sniper the team headed straight to the hospital, now with two team members induced for bullet wounds instead of just one.
Bobby’s was much less severe than yours, but he was still put in for surgery, and Buck decided that it was a good time to visit you down the hall in the recovery unit.
You were still unconscious when he arrived, and it physically pained him to see you hooked up to so many machines as he took a seat at your bedside.
“Hey baby…” He took your limp hand in his own, fingers brushing over your knuckles and the ring still resting on your finger. “The doctors said that your surgery went well… So you should wake up soon…”
He lets out a small stunted exhale as he lifts your hand up to his mouth to press a kiss to your fingers. “I was so worried about you… God you scared me half to death-”
He continues to fiddle aimlessly with your fingers as he recounts the events of what happened to your sleeping self, how he risked his life, how Athena ran into a burning building to find Bobby and how he’d been bothering Eddie and Christopher for the last few days so he wouldn’t have to be on his own.
He told you how he’d moved the reservation of your engagement dinner so you wouldn’t have to miss it, laughing softly to himself at how excited you were to go to that specific resturaunt and try everything they had to offer.
He stayed after regular visitor hours were over, using his position as your fiancé to stay just a little while longer as a priority visitor, not wanting to miss the moment you woke up.
He ended up missing it anyway.
You woke up slowly, eyes fluttering open to the florescent lighting and the rhythmic beeping of the heart rate monitor.
The most prominent thing though, was an added weight on your left thigh, right near your stomach.
A mop of sandy blond hair is what meets your sight first, then your follow it down to his broad shoulders and his back, awkwardly bent forward in his chair to lay his weight on top of you. Then you noticed your hands caged together, his fingers intertwined with yours and held close to his chest.
The sight makes your heart melt a little, and you smile softly as you achily pull your right hand over to thread your fingers through his hair.
He stirs almost immediately, and you can feel his eyelashes brush against your thigh through the thin hospital bedsheets as he pushes himself upwards slowly until he’s supporting his own weight again.
“Hi baby…”
Buck lets out a short breath as your voice meets his ears, features flooded with relief. “Hi…”
You mirror the smile that breaks onto his face with your own, expression still laced with fatigue but also filled with your absolute love for him. He’d really stayed with you in the hospital for so long he’d fallen asleep.
“How’re you feeling?” Buck’s gaze flickers from your face to your bandaged right arm, and you give him a small shake of your head to dismiss his worries.
“I’m okay, takes more than puny bullet to put me out of commission,” You give him a soft wink and he gives you a little chuckles in return.
“You’re one tough lady…” he leans forward towards you until your foreheads brush against each other and your noses bump together. “I’m glad you’re okay…”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” You laugh softly, shaking your head against his and causing your noses to brush back and forth. “You put a ring on it remember?”
You pull back enough to flash your hand at him and show of your ring like he wasn’t the one who bought it for you.
He pulls your hand down into his lap without a care in the world for looking at the gemstone on your finger, his eyes not wavering from yours for even a second as he cups your face for a kiss, one filled with all the love and pain and anxiety and relief that he’d felt over the last few days.
“I love you so much-”
His lips leave you almost breathless, and you give his hand a soft squeeze. “I love you too Evan,”
He pulls you in for another kiss almost before you can even finish your sentence, and you laugh softly against his lips at the fervour. as you return his enthusiasm.
He shifts his hand down from your face closer to your neck as the kiss continues, and you groan against his mouth as it brushes a little too close to the brushing around your shoulder, pulling away with a hiss of pain.
“Ow ow ow-”
“Oh I’m so sorry-” Buck brings both his hands up away from you like he’s not exactly sure what to do with them, eyes wide in imminent panic of hurting you further.
The expression on his face sends you into a small for of giggles, and it’s enough to ease his panic back into calmness as you prove that he hadn’t actually hurt you.
“You always were a little rough with your hands,” You tilt your head against the pillow with an amused expression on your face, and it’s enough for him to crack a smile himself as you reach up your hand to pull his head back down towards yours.
Your lips connect more with his teeth than his own lips as you kiss him through his smile, and he laughs softly into your mouth at your statement. “You’ve never complained,”
“I never will complain,” You shake your head against his softly with a laugh of your own, one that’s cut off by his lips on yours once more.
All’s well that ends well he supposes.
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Text
With Love From
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~800
Warnings: fluff
Request by anon: Hey can i request a Dean Winchester x wife reader that she spoiled and pampering him to much but she don’t cared and she love giving him love, attention, affection, and etc all things him always dreamed?. something cute and fluffy because him deserve all the love from the world. 
Summary: You take Dean on a much-needed vacation and give him everything he wants and deserves.
Square Filled: driving in the impala (2022) for @spndeanbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
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“Got your pajamas?”
“Yes.”
“Toothbrush and toothpaste?”
“Yes.”
“What about your chargers? I put an extra one in your bag just in case.”
“What are you, my mom?” Dean jokes. “Yes, I have everything.”
“Okay, don’t come crying to me when you’ve forgotten something and ask to use my toothbrush. I won’t do it again.”
“That was one time.”
“One time too many. We’ve done a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but sharing a toothbrush is gonna be a no for me.”
“Yes, I have everything. Why are you bugging out? You’re never like this whenever we go on a hunt.”
Dean takes both yours and his bags to the library where Sam is. He has his laptop and plenty of books all around him. There is a case not far from here that he is reading up on since he is going to be the one to tackle this case.
“We’re not going on a hunt,” you reveal when he sets the bags on the table.
“What?”
“We’re not going on a hunt.”
“Sam’s been working like crazy about this case a few towns over.”
“Yeah because he’s going to be the one to take care of it. We’re not.”
“Sam, what is she talking about?” Dean asks.
“Dude, I am just as clueless as you,” he chuckles and closes his laptop. “All I know is that I’m doing this one solo.”
“If we’re not going on a hunt, where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“You know I hate surprises,” Dean practically whines.
“Well, you’re getting one today. No hunt. No monsters. Definitely alcohol. Does that sound like a great time?” you smile.
“Sounds like a Saturday to me.”
“Come on, we’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.” You see the look on Dean’s face and immediately shuts down what he is going to say next. “If Sam needs help, he can call Garth.”
“Yeah, go have fun. I got this,” Sam backs you up.
You and Dean pack up the Impala and say your goodbyes to Sam who barely waves you two off. Dean is always the driver unless otherwise preoccupied, so he gets behind the wheel even though he has no idea where he’s going. You’re going to be the navigator for this special trip, only telling him what turns to make right before he needs to do them.
“Shall I put on the special playlist?”
“Special playlist? What’s the occasion?”
“I love you. Is that enough?”
“More than enough,” he smiles.
His special playlist consists of songs he could listen to on repeat for hours. Sam doesn’t let him put the playlist on since Sam complains he needs to listen to more than just classic rock. He claims they all sound the same even though each has their own unique sound.
About halfway through the trip, you stopped to get food at Dean’s favorite diner. He often comes here while on hunts even if it’s hours out of the way. There’s something about the way they make their burgers that has his mouth watering every single time.
“Okay, tell me where we’re going,” Dean chuckles with his mouth full.
“I told you it’s a surprise,” you smile. “You’re going to love it.”
Dean has no choice but to trust you. Once you two get done eating, you get back on the road and tough out the last half of the trip. You took over driving for the last hour just so he wouldn’t be suspicious of where you two were going but as soon as Dean sees the town’s name, he gets so excited.
“Wait, we’re in Mt. Sterling?”
“Yeah.”
You drive to one of the best gun stores in America. They have such a high rating since people from all over the country come here just to buy guns. Dean has been wanting to come here for a long time, and you figure it’s time to bring him. Dean is practically bouncing in his seat when you park, and he jumps out of the car in excitement.
You watch him run into the store with a smile on your face, and you make sure the car is locked before following him inside. He is like a child loose in a candy store or a toy store. He is admiring all of the guns on display, holding them just to feel how they would fit in his hands.
“Pick any you want. I’ll get it for you.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah.”
“I love you so much,” he grins and kisses you.
Seeing him so happy brings you so much joy. He doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to be this happy. He doesn’t allow himself to be this happy most of the time, so taking time to give him this is very important. He channels his inner child and goes wild. He settled on another handgun that closely resembles the one he has now, but it has a silencer on the end of it which will make for easy hunting.
After he got all that excitement out, you two headed to the bar across the street to have a few rounds on you.
“How the hell did I ever get so lucky?” he smiles.
“I’m the lucky one, my love. You deserve all the love in the world.”
Dean leans in and kisses you, happy to be yours.
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Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)
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mikkeneko · 10 hours
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Obviously the debate about "what is art, really" is not and should not be at the core of the discussion around procedurally generated imagery, and for the most part, I don't talk about it! But man, as a photography enjoyer (not participant) it's been so frustrating to see the nature photography channels here on tumblr increasingly being filled up with AI generated imagery.
I like photos, and I like photos that look striking or astonishing most of all, because I know they required some serious finessing on the part of the photographer -- either to get in the right position, or use the right equipment, or know the tricks for getting the light just so.
But the reason I love it is because I love to be reminded of how beautiful the world we live in is, and seeing some of that beauty get highlighted and centered for a moment makes me appreciate both it and the people who saw it and wanted to share it.
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AITA for refusing to make my grandmother a piece of art?
I (17x, they/them) graduated high school about a year ago, and as a graduation gift, my grandmother (70s) bought me a $400 art tablet, since I'm well known in the family to be an artist. I had mentioned it to her as something that I wanted, but since her and I are not that close, I had expected her and a few other family members to all pitch in. My grandmother has quite a lot of money, though, and frequently spends hundreds of dollars on her grandkids (for example, she bought each of my sisters (8 + 12) 200+ dollars worth of LEGO sets a few months prior to my graduation party, and spends even more money on my cousins, who ask for things more than me and my sisters.), so she just bought it and some accessories for it.
I had thanked her profusely for the art tablet several times, as it was something I really wanted. I use it all of the time, it's very good quality, and I enjoy making art.
I make art entirely for myself; I don't do commissions, and I rarely make art pieces for other people. If I do, it's as a birthday/Christmas gift. I do not share art that I make for myself with other people, partly because I get nervous about criticism, and partly because my family generally reacts negatively to anything that they perceive as "weird" (i.e. elves, OCs with non-human features, religious imagery, etc, all things that I draw regularly.)
My mom (44) told me that I should make a piece of art for my grandmother, using the tablet. I told her I did not want to do that, as I don't enjoy making art for other people, especially if I am told to.
She says that it would a nice thing to do, and while I agree that it would be nice, I don't draw things would appeal to my parents, much less my grandparents.
I have attempted a couple of times to sit down and make a nice piece of art for my grandmother, but my art style tends to be very contrasting to the sort of thing my grandmother likes, and I have no idea what I would draw for her. And again, I don't like sharing my art that much, so I just decided not to do it.
I've written my grandmother a thank you card, and thanked her in person several times. When she asks about it, I tell her enthusiastically that I enjoy it, and appreciate it, telling her about some things that I've drawn.
I think that this is good enough, and my grandmother has never asked for an art piece, but my mom still makes comments about it almost a full year after the party-- "You'll draw an elf lady, but you won't draw something for Grandma?". It's been getting increasingly annoying, so I finally just told my mom that no, I don't plan on drawing something for her.
My mom said that I was being rude, and that I should consider "how happy Grandma would be" if I made something for her.
So, am I the asshole for saying I wouldn't draw something for her?
What are these acronyms?
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valeskafics · 1 day
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"Moonlight Girl" - Aegon Targaryen II x Niece!Reader
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a/n: i'm sorry in advance lol
Summary: Try as he might, Aegon will never be able to forget his moonlight girl.
TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, arranged marriage, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, angst, hurt no comfort, character death
Word Count: 2,035 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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He had loved you from the moment he saw you, when he watched his elder sister place a dragon egg in your cradle. At the same time he placed in your tiny hands a locket with the emblem of a dragon, the sigil of your house, smiling at you as you reached out to snatch it from him eagerly. Neither Rhaenyra nor Alicent wished to encourage Aegon’s affection for you, but he was not so easily deterred. You were a mere two years younger than him and ever his constant companion. While your younger brothers constantly sought Aegon’s approval, you never had to. He gave it to you readily. The two of you grew so close that those who lived in the Keep knew you were all but inseparable. So often did you sneak out to Godswood or into the city in the dead of night together that Aegon began calling you his moonlight girl. He would come to your usual meeting place, at the hour of the ghosts every night, the fountain where the birds would come to drink. Ever since your shared childhood, you enjoyed bringing seeds for them, feeding them alongside Aegon.
And he enjoyed watching you, how you smiled and how your aura shone in the moonlight. His sweet moonlight girl. Every memory he had with you he held near and dear to his heart, from the most trivial to the most consequential. It was all equally important and treasured by him.
When your Aunt Laena passed and your family in its entirety was reunited on Driftmark for her funeral proceedings, you begged and pleaded with your mother to offer your hand in marriage to Aegon. She resented the idea, opposed it vehemently, but she saw that look in your eyes. She did not wish to subject you to the same fate she had been. So, Rhaenyra Targaryen swallowed her pride and approached the woman who was once her dearest friend. Queen Alicent cruelly rebuffed her, declaring that arrangements had already been made for Aegon to wed Helaena in the Valyrian tradition. Rhaenyra knew this was meant to be a slight against her. Alicent had always considered the traditions of the House of the Dragon to be queer, an affront to the Seven. She was only doing this so that Aegon could not marry you.
Your mother allowed you to scream at her, your rage pouring forth from you like rain from the heavens. But she vowed then and there that she would not allow you to be humiliated by the likes of Alicent Hightower. She would find you a match more suitable. She would not let her beloved firstborn be insulted by her father’s second wife.
You ran to Aegon, telling him what all had happened. Until that night, Aegon had not understood the extent of his feelings for you. He did not realize just how deeply he loved you until he learned he would never be able to have you, that he was to be wed to his sister. Aegon took your hand, pressed a kiss to it, and vowed to you that the two of you would reunite one day. That he would be your husband and you his lady wife.  And your lips met in a tender first kiss. He gave you a lamp, bidding that you keep it lit for him. That you keep the flame burning until the day you were finally reunited, the day you would finally be together.
Surprisingly, the day of your nuptials came before those of Aegon’s to Helaena. In his wisdom, your stepfather brokered a peace treaty between House Martell and House Targaryen by way of you - Rhaenyra’s rightful heir. You were to marry Prince Qyle, thereby bringing Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms upon your ascendancy to the throne. It was a wise choice, one you had no reasonable objection to. You had long held out hope for the betrothal between Aegon and Helaena to be broken. But your hopes, your dreams… They were not to be.
He sent you a raven, the day you turned six and ten. You opened it, bright-eyed, hoping that it would bear news of his betrothal being annulled, that you would finally be able to be with him.
My sweet moonlight girl,
I must beg your forgiveness. It was folly to believe that love could ever exist between the two of us. I implore you to forget about me. To forget any words I ever spoke to you that gave you hope of a match between us being possible. You must move on from me. We are not meant to be, and we never will be.
Aegon
Jace rushed to your side as the letter fell from your hands and your body dropped to the floor, racking with sobs. Your brother knew the truth of what occurred between you and Aegon, the love that was shared. And all he could do was try to offer you the comfort of his arms, whispering that Prince Qyle was a good man, that he would make you happy. And all you could do was sob, your spirit utterly broken at Aegon’s rejection. Even so, you keep Aegon’s lamp lit, hoping beyond hope for a miracle.
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The entirety of the Targaryen clan attends your wedding ceremony in Sunspear. Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena serve as part of your bridal party, painting your hands and feet with henna, preparing you for your new life as a bride. The two of you will live at the Water Gardens until such time you take the Iron Throne. You do your best to smile for your mother and Daemon’s benefit, to feign happiness at marrying a gentleman like Qyle. After all, he has been nothing short of warm and welcoming to you ever since you and Aegerax set foot in Dorne. You may not love him, but he is a good man. And you hope he will make a good husband.
Helaena gives you a soft smile as she fastens your payal around your ankle, “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.
You do not hate Helaena, nor do you begrudge her for marrying Aegon. You know neither of them had a choice in this. But that does not mean you do not envy her. That it does not hurt when you look at her and see her sweet face, knowing that she is the one who will be wed to the man you love, the one to bear his children and spend her life with him.
You stand outside just before you are meant to walk down the aisle, gazing up at the moon. That is when he comes to you. Aegon drops to his knees before you, taking your hands in his.
“You look so beautiful, my moonlight girl.”
You shake your head, eyes stinging as you struggle to rein in your sadness, “No. No, you cannot do this to me. Not when I am about to be married.”
“Run away with me,” Aegon pleads, clutching at the skirt of the lehenga you wear, his eyes watering, cheeks stained with the tears he has been shedding all day at the thought of losing you, “I was wrong. I love you. Gods, I have always loved you. I was a fool to allow my mother to sway me into writing that letter. She said it would be for the best. That it would allow you to move on from me.” He gives a furtive glance at the lamp in the chambers where you were just getting ready. His lamp. He smiles ruefully, “There is no moving on from each other when it comes to us.”
You look at him, choking on the words you wish to speak. You wish to take Aegerax and Sunfyre and fly far from here. But you cannot. This is your duty. You could never forsake your family. Your mother. Your responsibility to the realm. You kneel down to Aegon’s level, resting your forehead against his, your voice coming in a shaky whisper.
“I cannot. You know I cannot.”
And he does know. As you move to get up, Aegon grabs at your locket, a last minute plea for you not to leave him. But with a strength you did not know you had, you walk away from him. The locket’s chain breaks, falling from your neck into his waiting hand, neither of you knowing that Prince Qyle has witnessed this entire affair.
And Aegon is helpless to do anything but watch as the love of his life weds another.
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It is said by many that from the time Aegon picked up his cup of wine at your wedding, he never put his cup down again. He drowned his sorrows in drink, in the brothels of Flea Bottom. He sought refuge in Helaena’s arms, sobbing, wishing he could love her the way he loves you. But he cannot. He vows to her that in another life, he would never have been able to resist her. But she just gives him that serene smile, running her fingers through his hair as she tries to soothe her brother’s aching heart.
But there is no reprieve for Aegon. He drinks and he drinks, his health deteriorating with every passing day. He is killing himself with this habit. Helaena pleads for him to see reason, but he cannot. His only wish is to see you one last time before his disease claims him.
So, with the last vestiges of strength that remain in his body, he flies to Dorne atop his golden mount, calling out your name as he stands at the gates of the Water Gardens, begging to see you one last time.
You move to answer his call, but are stopped by your lord husband.
Qyle scowls, shaking his head, “No! She will not see him! Guards, secure all the doors. My wife is not to leave the palace.”
You turn to your husband, shocked, “How dare you presume to command me? I am your wife, not your slave! If I wish to see my uncle, I will see him!”
“Oh, it is not your uncle you wish to see, Princess,” Qyle spits, “I know of your past with that drunken fool, and I’ll be damned if I let you make a fool of me in front of all of my kingdom.”
You hear him calling for you. Your Aegon. Your beloved calling for his moonlight girl. Tears prick at your eyes as you race through the hallways of the palace, doing your best to reach him. You can feel it in your heart and you can hear it in his voice that he grows weaker with every passing moment.
“Aegon!”
You get closer and closer to the main door, seeing him standing there, dark circles under his eyes, his hair a mess, sinking to his knees with fatigue as his hand reaches out to you. You run as fast as your feet can carry you, your heart pounding like a drum, praying that you will not be too late to see him, speak to him one last time.
Just as you are about to reach the Water Gardens gates, your hand outstretched toward Aegon, a melancholic smile on both of your faces at the thought of reuniting, the gates are closed. You sink to your knees, bawling hysterically, while Aegon? He falls to the ground, clutching at his chest. He does not know if it is the drink that has killed him or the pain in his heart. The last thing he sees is your blurred figure racing toward him.
Aegon’s last word is your name, falling from his lips in a weak whisper as his eyes close for the last time, clutching your broken locket to his chest as if holding you before he left this world.
Sunfyre lets out a mighty roar, one that many who heard would come to say sounded akin to a sob.
And the lamp you lit for your beloved Aegon, all those years ago in the hopes of him returning to you, of your love finally prevailing, flickers for the briefest of moments before finally going out.
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robogart · 3 days
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no hate at all whatsoever, just an inquiring mind who has never understood adoptables or things like that - are you not concerned that people will just take the outfits you designed and use them for their characters anyway? or, derivatives of it? what kind of rights do you have as the artist and like, what makes it a worthwhile business for you?
Adoptables are honestly something I'm extremely new to, so I feel like I'm not as informed in the business of it as others are (so feel free to chime in anyone who has bought/makes adoptables and has more insight)!
When it comes to people just taking the designs, I feel like you could argue that's a concern for any piece of art/design that's out here on the internet. As wild as the internet is, I truly believe most people are cool and see that ripping off a design from someone is unkind and hurtful. And more often than not, people will notice if someone plagiarized an artists work and will reach out to the artists to let them know.
On the whole, I think for everyone 1 person who will steal a design, there are at least 100+ people who think that's shitty and will back up an artist for it. Word gets out and for as big as the internet is, the art spaces and communities are quite small. People look out for one another here and grifters and art theft isn't tolerated in these spaces.
For rights it varies for everyone, but I usually give personal/non-commercial rights (although I'm open for buying commercial rights for some adoptables) and I retain the ability to use the design for promotional work (I don't usually end up doing this, but I put it in just in case)! And also I ask to be credited as well.
I enjoy making adoptables simply because I like designing things and instead of having them sit in a folder, it's nice to put them up for sale so they can get a new life somewhere! I wouldn't call it a huge part of my business right now because I'm still pretty fresh at it and do it rather infrequently (and I'm still learning a lot about it)! But it's fun nonetheless and if someone grabs a design, it's always really cool and super appreciated! 🙏💖
I hope this helped answer the question a little bit for you! I apologize again that I'm pretty shallow on my information for adoptables themselves, but I hope I could share a little insight with at least the bits that I know! 🙏💕💖
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suga-kookiemonster · 6 hours
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ctrl alt del | jjk (teaser)
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summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader teaser word count⇢ 1.4k genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ nothing too bad for this teaser! just a mention of oral
a/n⇢this fic has literally been sitting in my wips for YEARS lmao. i feel like it's finally time to set it free 🕊️✨ it's looking like it's gonna lean more towards pwp, but there's definitely still enough plot in there to keep it interesting. not sure when it will be up, but wanted to share a snippet to get your thoughts and get myself excited to finish the last leg--fingers crossed for the next month or so 🤞🏾🙌🏾💜
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When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.
Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.
You’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every couple of weeks, the company sponsors an employee barbecue were everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.
“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”
Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though as sweet as can be, she has no filter, and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in some situations where you found it inappropriate. Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate (instead of your measly Assistant)means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started, and she is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing.).
“I think it’s nice,” you reply. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”
“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”
Your eyes dart to said Sales boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?
An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”
“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.
“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”
“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”
“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.
The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards speaking about inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.
“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.
He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue buttonup. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.
The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.
“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”
Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”
“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”
“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”
“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”
He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up. 
“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.
“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”
“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.
Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.
Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”
“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”
“IT guy?” you ask, hoping to slide past that last remark.
“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. The rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.
Wendy scoffs. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”
“Soccer game?” you ask.
“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy informs you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”
To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching him run back and forth across the grass.
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Absolutely no one asked for this but I really needed to get these out of my system, so today I present to all of you, my:
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General Lia and Cal Headcannons
Please please please share if you have random headcannons about these two! I would love to hear them! I also may make a Part 2 to this because I think about them a lot.
Lia
Lia is a very sappy drunk. When she drinks too much she'll be very emotional and teary eyed. She'll actively tell Cal and Rolan how much she loves them. Cal is very used to it, but it throws Rolan off every time.
She absolutely loves animals! If Tav doesn't beat her to it, she would absolutely take every stray cat in Baldur's Gate and keep them, much to Rolan's dismay. If he put his foot down about them not staying in the tower, she would at least go out and feed them when she has time.
When she was very young, despite odds of her losing, she would've absolutely stood up for both Rolan and Cal when they got bullied. Not just standing up for them, she would genuinely beat the shit out of anyone who dared to hurt them.
Their mother would chastise her for it at first, but eventually, she would've taught little Lia how to properly defend herself in case it happened again. She would also tell her how proud she is.
In their dynamic, Lia usually is hunting or foraging food for them if they run out on the road. She's fantastic with a bow, so she successfully hunts down rabbits, squirrels, and pick up safe berries. She has a little booklet with her that tells her which are poisonous or not.
I think she would be genuinely fascinated by druids, but the Grove incident would've put a very sour taste in her mouth. She'll probably revisit the topic in the future, but definitely not soon.
She loves doing arts and crafts of sorts! It absolutely her favorite past time outside of training or shooting her bow, such as shaping clay or building small trinkets out of wood. She also really likes puzzles, and would spend some quiet time by herself solving them no matter how long it takes her.
Lia can be forgetful of dates. She often forgets Rolan's birthday, Cal's, and sometimes even her own. The only date she remembers clearly is the day of their mom's death. When it happened it destroyed her, same with Cal. Rolan helped picked up the pieces, and she didn't realize until much later he didn't even get the chance to grieve properly.
She doesn't like fighting with Rolan, she really doesn't, but sometimes she feels as though he lacks empathy. That he should care about other people more, not just themselves. This has caused the start of many fights, much to Cal's misery. Sometimes she would go as far as calling him selfish.
She won't admit it out loud except when drunk, but she's inspired by Rolan. Not as much as Cal maybe, but his ambition and seeing his determination left a huge impression on her. It's partially why she's still so headstrong.
Cal
Cal is a talented cook! When he was old enough to do so, he took over Rolan's kitchen role when they were still young. While many mishaps happened in the kitchen due to some clumsiness, he made fantastic dishes with what they had. They didn't look pretty, but tasted amazing.
Cal, without fail, always remembers Rolan's birthday. Rolan has mentioned the date once in passing, and he never forgot it. He always gets a gift for him, whether something he bought with his own money or something handmade.
Their mother was usually the one who got Rolan gifts, including a small cake. After she passed away, he was determined to still get Rolan something. Anything.
That is the first time Cal ever baked a cake. It was an absolute mess; flour everywhere, some batter on the ground, and some icing on his face. The cake, in all honesty, looked awful. But Rolan insists it was the best cake Cal has ever made for him. Rolan cried later that night because he's never felt so appreciated.
He had no money as he was too young, so this would also be the first time he's ever stolen something. There was an higher class noble talking down to a commoner one day, so he took the opportunity and snatched one of the books in their stack when they weren't looking. That was Rolan's first ever magic book; he still has it with him always.
As their mother was a seamstress, Cal also picked up sewing. His other job within their sibling dynamic is clothing repairs, but mostly for himself and Lia. Rolan insists he can fix his robe by himself with a simple mending spell.
Cal is a very giggly drunk, though I don't believe he drinks that often in the first place. Only on special occasions such as the Tiefling party. If he drinks a little too much, he'll get real sleepy and end up passing out somewhere quiet.
When he was younger, any time he would cry after having a nightmare, he would go straight to Rolan. His big brother always held him close and put on a light show, no matter the time of night. Sometimes he goes to him and lies about the nightmare, just to see the magic show. It helps him go to sleep.
Cal looks up to Rolan more than Lia, though he loves Lia just as much. He sees Rolan as an inspiration, even when he can't do magic himself. He never fails to remind him that he's family and that he'll always love him.
I don't believe Cal is a crybaby, but he's definitely more prone to crying than the other two. He feels his emotions very strongly and aggressively. He's not afraid of crying either, he thinks it's very healthy to let yourself weep once in a while, even if there's no good reason for it. He honestly wishes Lia and Rolan would cry more; maybe then they won't explode at each other so often.
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