Ink & Lilly

───── ✦ ───── Romanticizing life one chapter at a time. ───── ✦ ─────

[otterbeesfanficblog]

Learning Experience

Dean Winchester x Reader (Male pronouns)

A/N: I NEED MORE BISEXUAL DEAN WINCHESTER IN MY LIFE. An, come on, let’s be honest, there aren’t enough gay fics out there for this handsome man. S0, here we go!

Keep reading

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

#know your fandom history

[urfavvginger]

Quinn Hughes x chef!reader - Part 2

masterlist

wc: 2,998 pairing: Quinn Hughes x f!reader warnings: reader is very self-disparaging in her POV, Quinn’s overthinks a lot, language, let me know if I missed anything.

Winters in Minnesota, she’s learned, are unforgiving. She’d been lucky enough thus far, the weather taking pity on her to not impede on her ability to make it to and from work however she thinks that pity is running out. 

Her stomach coiled as she stood in Quinn’s dining room, watching the snow fall in heavy flakes. She begins contemplating on sending him a text to make sure he’s able to make it home safe however she doesn’t want to bother him. The news on the tv doesn’t help her anxiety but she can’t bring herself to turn it off. 

“With temperatures continuing to drop well below freezing, snowfall is expected to continue throughout the rest of the afternoon into later tonight.” The weatherman advises. She takes in the screen, a traffic camera shows the highway completely obscured by the thick blanket of white. “Officials have started the beginning stages of road closures. We’ll be sure to keep you updated as things progress.” 

He’s probably already on his way home. His practice was probably cut short; there’s no way anyone in their right mind would keep them when it’s so dangerous to drive. She tried to convince herself to stay calm. Vancouver didn’t get snow all that often. Her own hometown got snow but not like this. 

Turning back to the kitchen, she finishes washing the dishes from prepping lunch and dinner. Quinn requested soup for both meals since he feels like he’s starting to get sick. She made sure to add many ingredients that not only boost his immune system but warm his bones. His off day tomorrow came at the perfect time, now he can spend the next three days taking it easy before his next game. 

The savory aroma of the soup simmering on the stove adds to the already serene living space. Her book laid open to a page she knew she’d have to reread, her mind occupied by numerous thoughts. She reads the first sentence again, eyes skimming over the words that aren’t sticking to her brain. Distracting herself isn’t working, the knot in her stomach fails to loosen. 

By the third or fourth time repeating the page, she’s unable to stand the nerves. She sends him a text, using the soup as an excuse to see when he’ll be home. To her relief, he responds almost immediately. 

Quinn: Can’t wait. I’m getting ready to leave the rink in a few minutes. The roads are starting to close but I can make it. 

Y/N: Please stay safe. Drive carefully. 

The typing bubble pops up but then disappears. She stirs the soup, waiting for a response but it doesn’t come until minutes later. 

Quinn: I’ll be okay, I promise. 

Satisfied, she pulled two bowls from the cupboard and sliced some of the bread she made earlier in the week. Since the night they had dinner together about a week ago, Quinn has asked her to eat with him ever since. Their friendship has slightly gone past the standard pleasantries and surface level conversation. 

In the beginning, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to consider her boss her friend. At any other job, she wouldn't, however this job is slightly unconventional. In her eyes, the developing connection wasn’t inappropriate, just out of the ordinary. 

She’s happy to eat with him, she would usually just sit alone at her apartment, only accompanied by the dull hum of her tv. 

Once Quinn got home, he gave her a gentle smile and told her the soup smelled amazing. “I can feel my bones and they hurt.” Black sweats hang off his hips and his arms are stuffed into the pocket of his Wild hoodie. His voice sounds hoarse and scratchy as he grabs a soup bowl before plopping down on the abnormally large couch. She follows right behind him, asking if anyone else got sick. He shakes his head, “Not that I know of. I think it’s just the weather.” 

She sighs, knowing now is usually when he starts to feel the weight of everything and it manifests itself into a cold. “I think you’re just at that point of the season where you’re exhausted and the weather isn’t helping.” They sit in silence, slurping their scalding soup as best they can without burning their tongues. 

After a few minutes, “Do I feel like I have a fever?” He leans close to her, his head tilting down. 

She drops her spoon into her bowl and places the back of her palm against his forehead. He’s clammy and warm to the touch. “A little.” She mumbles, sliding her hand to his cheek and neck. He’s feverish everywhere. “Your body is definitely trying to burn out whatever is making you feel icky. Do you have medicine?” 

He nods, “Yeah in my bathroom. I’ll take some after I eat. The soup is really good by the way.” She hums a ‘thank you’ in response and goes back to eating, watching the news in the comfortable quiet that had become so familiar with Quinn. The meteorologist continues to warn against driving in the snow and mentions some road closures. It slowly dawns on her that specific closures could prevent her from getting home. 

“H-how was the drive? Do you think my car will make it?” She cautiously asks. If I can’t drive, I’d have to walk home. Her apartment wasn’t far, a twenty minute walk on a good day but with the storm, it could easily take an hour and a half. 

It’s almost as if he expected her concern. “Y/N, I’m not going to make you dive in this. If I had known it was going to be this bad, I would’ve told you to stay home.” He casually dips his bread in his broth. 

Her head snaps to face him. “My car can’t make it?” She dreaded the idea of walking home; her socks and shoes getting soaked, her being thigh deep in fresh powder… The idea alone sends a shiver down her spine. 

“My truck barely made it. I almost got stuck twice. Plus it looks like,” He points to the screen, drawing her attention to it. “They’re going to call for an all road closure. No one will be allowed to drive.” Sure enough, a bright red box fills the lower portions of the screen. ALL ROADS CLOSED.

Her pulse quickens as she stands to check outside. From her vantage point, she estimates that the snow is as high as her knees. “I’m going to have to head out soon if that’s okay. If I’m going to walk, I want to get a head start before the snow gets higher.” She crosses her arms around her waist, hugging herself at the thought of snow settling onto her hair and shoulders, soaking her to the bone. 

He raises an eyebrow and almost scoffs. “You can’t be serious. Just stay here for the night.” He shrugs. She stares at him in disbelief. No, he can’t be serious. Seeing the reservation on her features, he doubles down. “You’ll freeze to death if you walk or if your car gets stuck.” 

It’s not like they haven’t slept under the same roof before. She stayed at his and Jack’s lake house over the summer but there were other people in the house. Her staying tonight would only be the two of them. Deep down she knows he’s right. Deep down she knows it’s logically the only option. But staying with him at his apartment just felt so out of character for her. 

“Look, I’m not going to let you walk in the snow. The guest room is made up. I have extra sweats and a toothbrush.” His eyes glisten from the brightness of the snow reflecting off the walls. She hesitates before finally agreeing. 

They finish their soup quietly before Quinn goes to his bedroom, saying he’s going to take some medicine. She decides that while he’s occupied with that, she’s going to wash their bowls and try to not overthink her staying the night. 

It’s only 3pm however the idea of taking nighttime cold medicine quickly turned itself into me gulping a capful of it and rinsing my mouth out. 

“What the fuck were you thinking Quinn?” I whisper-yell at my reflection. I can still feel the soft flesh of her hand on my cheek from when she checked for a fever. I can’t help but feel like it looks like I planned this whole thing and I feel sleezy. And then offering her my clothes? I would love nothing more than to see her in my clothes but under different circumstances.

God what if she’s weirded out and uncomfortable? What am I going to do? Do I just turn in early and leave her alone in the living room? Don’t be a bad host, Quinn. I can hear my mother’s warning bouncing around in my head. Okay so then do we just sit on opposite ends of the couch in awkward silence? I don’t want to go above and beyond to find something to do when I’m sick because then it’ll look like I invited her to stay the night just to make a move on her. 

I fumble my phone out of my pocket, clicking on Kirill’s contact. After a few rings, I hear his voice in the distance like he has his phone on the other side of the room. “What’s up?” 

I didn’t realize how shallow my breathing had become until I tried to talk. “Y-Y/N’s staying the night because she can’t get home in the snow. Any advice on how to not look like a complete weirdo?” 

He chuckles. “Have you guys talked about being friends?” Other than Jack, Kirill is who I talk to about Y/N since, like me, he thinks getting together with her presents moral dilemmas. 

“I mean, I consider her a friend. We’ve known each other for years.” 

“Okay but Quinn, do you think she’s your friend more than you’re her boss?” 

My answer tumbles out of my mouth before I have time to process his question. “Yes.” 

He hums. “Does she know this?” 

If I’m being totally honest with myself, probably not. We’ve slowly been blurring the lines between having a professional relationship and a friendship when she stays for dinners. I try to steer the conversations away from work as much as I can but I’ve never explicitly told her I think of her as a close friend. 

“You not answering is my answer. Stop overthinking.” Kirill breaks through my thoughts with a giggle. “I think tonight you should just talk to her. About her. What she does when she’s not at your place, ask about her life.” 

I ponder his recommendations. He’s right. I just need to get out of the mental quicksand I always seem to get stuck in when I think about her. “Thank you.” 

“Let me know if you need anything. And I share hotel rooms with you, try not to snore tonight. You don’t want to scare her.” With that, he disconnects the line. 

I sigh, knowing that with the cold medicine, snoring is inevitable. 

The movie Quinn suggested runs in the background of their conversation in the dark living room. It’s just past dinner time, empty bowls of reheated soup litter the coffee table with tissues and fever reducers. 

He laughs as he leans his head against the back of the couch while facing her. Her embarrassing story from her childhood always makes her laugh when she thinks about it, she’s glad Quinn found it endearing. “Wait so how did you end up getting unstuck if your feet couldn’t reach the ground?” 

She covers her face with her hands to hide her reddened cheeks. “Drunk sixteen year old me had to do the only thing she could; I had to call my dad.” His eyes widen and she continues before he can ask. “No, I didn’t get in trouble. That’s why I called my dad. My mom would’ve been livid seeing me dangling from that fence by my beltloop. My dad was just glad I was safe and bought me french fries after.” 

He snorts, “He sounds like a cool guy.” She agrees, reminiscing on the many times they got in trouble. She’s pretty sure her and her dad are responsible for the early graying of her mom’s hair. Their laughter dissolves into the peaceful quietness. 

Her eyes drift to the tv, the colors of the screen flood and dance along the blank walls that Quinn hasn’t had the chance to cover. Her fingers play with a loose excess thread on the sweatpants he lent her while his long sleeve shirt hangs loosely at her wrists. She had changed just before the movie started, not wanting the physical discomfort that comes with sleeping in compression leggings. 

“Can I ask you a question?” His voice is light, as if treading the idea of not wanting to speak up at all. She nods. “What do you do when I’m not here? Or like on your days off?” 

She’s taken aback by his question. She couldn’t fathom the thought that anyone would care enough to ask about her outside of work. “Um, nothing much. If I’m here, I usually listen to an audiobook or read on my phone. Unless you’re playing, I’ll turn on the game.” She doesn’t notice it, but Quinn’s lips tug upwards. “But if I’m home, I like to write or crochet. I’m basically a grandma.” She jokes but Quinn doesn’t laugh. 

“What do you write?” He asks in all seriousness, it sounds almost as if he’s invested in who she is outside of his apartment. 

For several seconds, her mind seems to have gone on vacation. “Short science fiction stories. Mostly space horror or dystopian.” He nods his head, waiting for more information. “Uh like the most recent one, the main character wakes up in a spaceship with plants and she’s on her way to Mars to establish a colony but her crew that was supposed to be with her are all dead and she can’t contact Earth. On Mars, she finds the plants in places she never put them.” 

He slightly leans forward, completely engaged. “Oh my god, was someone else on the ship?” 

She giggles. “No, the plants are genetically altered and they evolved. The plants, engineered to survive at all cost, killed the crew. She woke up just in time before the plants were going to kill her.” 

Something in his demeanor urges her to want to tell him about everything she’s ever written but it’s probably just her being hopeful. “Does she kill the plants?” 

She shrugs. “Not sure. I haven’t finished it yet.” 

He throws his hands up in exacerbation. “Please let me know when you finish it. I want to read it.” 

He’s just saying that out of obligation because I kept blabbing about it. She nods her head, fully aware that he’ll end up forgetting about it and she’ll keep it unseen in her drive forever. 

They spent hours just like that, sitting on the couch facing each other, asking questions the other didn’t expect. He tells her about his latest book he’s reading, going in depth on the plot. She tells him about how some of the people she sees at the park when she goes there to people-watch when he’s on road trips. He asks her about her hometown, what she did growing up. She listens to him about his time in Toronto with his family. 

Eventually Quinn’s eyes start to droop with his head propped against the couch. She knows the cold medicine is doing its job and his body is starting to surrender to rest. She gets up, careful not to disturb him. Grabbing the blanket from its home on the couches matching loveseat, she gently drapes it over him. She plugs the charger connected to the couch into his phone, making sure he can see it when he wakes up. 

The domesticity of it doesn’t go unnoticed. In fact, for a brief moment she allows herself to embrace it. Her heart races at the thought of having someone to take care of, of someone taking care of her. Not just someone but Quinn. Someone she’s known for awhile yet feels like she’s constantly being introduced to him again and again. 

After cleaning up the table and dishes, she leans against the counter and looks around the apartment. The apartment she spends most of her week in. It’s become so familiar to her but in that very moment, it’s like she’s seeing it for the first time.

He had let her walk into the apartment first, trailing behind as if he was gauging her reaction to it. She immediately went to the kitchen, excited to work in it once she got into the flow of things. To her, it was perfect. Then he did something she hadn’t expected, he gave her the ‘grand tour’ as he called it. She indulged him, smiling at the proud look on his face. 

She recalls the memory of him showing her the rooms as she tiptoes her way to the guest room. Being in New York at the time of the trade call, he didn't have time to prepare for such a big move. They had talked about it in advance, of course. Quinn knew a trade would be happening and he was adamant that he wasn’t going to leave her hanging. He gave her a couple options; she ultimately settled on relocating alongside him to continue her employment.  She brushed her teeth and settled into the plush bed, trying to ignore the warmth spreading in her chest. I can’t believe I almost decided to talk home in this. The window next to the bed showed a cascade of white. She’s beyond grateful for Quinn, a friend helping a friend. She just wonders how she can repay him for his generosity.

——————————————————————————

Authors note: Thank you so much for the support on the first two parts! I've decided that I don't want to write things in chronological order for this universe - I don't want to put myself in a box and have to work on things from point a to point b. I'd rather draft out ideas, edit them, and post them so that they can be read as either stand-alones or all together. I did get a couple requests which I'm super excited to work on 🤍 Keep 'em comin'! - Honey🪽

[a-tangled-mermaid]

Sigh. At least I have this.

[autistichalsin]

Bad writing is great!!!!

Bad writing means you took the time to write something, you, a real human being. It means you created something! And you have the awareness to see that there's room for improvement, too!!!

Bad writing is wonderful!!! Bad writing is a platform from which you can build your masterpiece! Bad writing is the backbone of good writing!

Give yourself permission to write badly. No, actually- give yourself permission to write something TERRIBLE. Give yourself permission to write such drivel that you can barely read it.

Nothing comes out a masterpiece the first time!! You think Isaac Asimov never wrote a total stinker he had to rebuild from the ground up? You think Jules Verne never wrote utter slop for a first draft?

WRITE SOMETHING AWFUL!!! Write something so bad you cringe about it years later!!! And then when that's done, write some more!!!!!

[natti-ice]

[urfavvginger]

Quinn Hughes x chef!reader

Disclaimer: I accidentally deleted this part when I was trying to fix an error (I know, I'm a dummy). Nothing has changed story wise. Please see the AN at the bottom. Quinn's POV wc: 2,146 pairing: Quinn Hughes x f!reader warnings: basically none other than mild language and horrible writing.

The quiet lull of the music blanketed the apartment around her as she spooned butter from the bottom of the pan on the salmon laying beside it. Only illuminated by the stove and low warm ceiling light, the rest of the world seemed to melt away. Contentment settled into her chest and it allowed her joints to ease from the tension that plagued them. 

After finishing the entree, she pulled the sheet pan of potatoes out of the oven, ensuring that she still had enough time to finish the vegetables before her client returned home from his game. 

The day he interviewed her in Vancouver, Quinn advised her that he had a tight after-game routine he followed once he got home. Being rigid in her own schedule, she understood. After a few years of cooking for him - mostly every day during the season with some weeks during summer - they’d molded to each other’s routines. 

In the beginning, he only needed her to cook breakfast and prep lunch as needed during the mornings he had home games. Eventually he requested her to cook for him every day; breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She had to leave her other clients, something she didn’t want to have to do, however the substantial pay increase Quinn had offered was too enticing to turn down. He invited her to continue her employment with him once he was traded to Minnesota and she graciously accepted. 

Since working for him full time, she’s worked for him nearly every day during the season when he’s not on roadies. She can’t complain, she finds comfort in constant work and consistent paychecks. After knowing him for as long as she has, she can’t lie that she also finds comfort in his company. 

The vegetables - roasted seasoned broccolini and squash - take their place in the oven. On the  two plates that Quinn had requested, she placed a salmon fillet alongside the potatoes. 

She tried to ignore the small twinge of jealousy when he asked for a second plate to be made, the assumption of company not lost. She’d ignored it for the most part of the day, distracting herself with picking up groceries or her book. He’s my boss. She constantly had to keep reminding herself any time there was a subtle reminder and that stopped any further overthinking.

He’s had family, friends, girlfriends, and teammates over for countless meals. Pretty girls sideeying her as she made polite conversation or laughed while serving their food. Teammates and friends would joke alongside her, always playfully teasing Quinn to make her feel more at ease. His parents and brothers would compliment her cuisine and take a genuine interest in talking to her while she cooked for everyone at the lake house. 

It could literally be anyone coming over. Even if it was a woman, it’s none of my business. Her heart still races regardless. 

As she plated the food, her phone buzzed in her apron pocket. Like clockwork with his late night games. 

Quinn: On my way home. Did you make extra? 

She confirmed with him that she did indeed make double servings before taking both plates to the table with a water pitcher. She didn’t want to be seen by a woman if he did bring a date home; not because she wanted to avoid a potentially awkward introduction, but because her stomach couldn’t possibly handle it. 

Her phone lights up again. 

Quinn: Perfect.

By the time she was almost done cleaning the kitchen up for the day, she hears the unmistakable sound of his front door unlocking followed by a dull thud and a sigh. 

“I’m home, Y/N.” His tired voice carried down the hallway like a gentle ripple in a calm ocean. She had forgotten to check to see how the game went so she quickly checked the score on her phone before he could get to the kitchen. Minnesota Wild - 3. Florida Panthers - 2. “It smells delicious in here.” He rounded the corner and greeted her with a smile. 

His mess of chocolate brown curls are pushed away and framing his face perfectly and he’s in the same clothes he left in; dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt. To her, he’s never changed even though she knows that’s not true - he’s always been handsome and soft. 

She mentally prepared herself to see whoever’s behind him. I did my job, the rest isn’t my concern. 

“Lemon salmon, roasted sweet potatoes, with broccolini and squash.” She tried not to overthink her greeting. “Great job tonight. Florida can suck it.” 

Quinn chuckled, glancing at the plates as his smile faltered. “Thanks.” He looks back to her, meeting her eyes before he shifts. “Oh you did plate it.” She peered behind him to glance down the hallway but didn’t find anyone. It was empty. 

She ignored the knot loosening in her chest, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I assumed you wanted it plated.”

“It’s okay. I was going to have someone over for dinner but plans changed.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. The knot that was loosening is now tightening like a boa constrictor. Gosh she feels so pathetic. 

She asks if he wants her to put it away. “I can skip making lunch tomorrow and you can take it with you to the rink?” She suggested, trying to sound cheerful enough to avoid embarrassing him more. 

He quickly interjects. “Have you eaten yet?” He knows the answer already, she usually skips out on dinner during late night games. 

“N-not really. Just ate lunch at the store after you left.” She stammered. His apartment is pretty much her 9-5 office. Regardless of what time his games or practices are, she’s there in the mornings to make breakfast. Then depending on what time he has to leave for whatever reason, she’s either making lunch then headed to the market for dinner. 

“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” The only time she and Quinn have ever had meals together is when Ellen insisted on her joining them for dinner during weeks she’d spend with them during summer. He would always make sure to sit next to her to interject if anything made her uncomfortable. Nothing ever did but it was nice to know he was there as a buffer.

What is the protocol on sharing a dinner with your boss without other people around? Would it be inappropriate? Or is it a friend asking a friend? Her previous clients never offered to have her at their tables and when she ate during work, it was always secluded in the kitchen. 

He must’ve noticed some hesitation. “Unless you have somewhere to be-” 

“Are you sure? You’re probably tired and want a quiet dinner. I don’t want to be a bother.” Okay, give him a chance to get out of this in case he doesn’t mean it. 

Instead he looked almost… relieved. A small smile played on his lips. He walks over to the table and pulls out the guest chair before his own. “Not a bother at all, Y/N.” 

She discarded her apron and slowly made her way to the seat next to him. He stabs at the vegetables before taking a bite, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he groans. She giggles while picking up her fork. “I’m glad you like it.” She pops a bite of salmon into her mouth and feels the unusual appreciation she has for her cooking skills. The lemon mixed with the seasonings that are crusted onto the fish is just heavenly. 

“It’s so freaking good.” He tried the salmon next and looked at her. “Can we add this to the weekly rotation?” Laughing, she nodded. 

He asked how her day was, something he usually does after coming home. It’s out of politeness and a way to fill the gaps of silence. “Really good. The market finally had the fresh dragonfruit you like in your smoothies so I grabbed some of those.” 

He nodded, “Oh nice. I think we were almost out of the frozen pieces.” 

“Yeah because you keep eating them by the handleful.” She joked and he lightly kicked her leg in response. “How was your day? Was it a rough game?” 

“Florida always plays rough.” He shrugs. She knew they did all too well. Since working for Quinn, she’s just barely kept up with the hockey world. She’ll put the game on here and there when the silence of the apartment becomes too much and the music isn’t helping. 

“I don’t know how they get away with what they do. Did they hurt you?” 

He pauses a moment, fork still in hand. The corner of his mouth tilted up for just a moment. “A little in the second. Nothing too bad though. Their chirping kept getting on Zuccarello’s nerves. Refs had to keep stepping between him and their players.” He chuckles. 

She shakes her head. “You’re okay though?” 

“Yeah, they just slammed me on the boards and messed up my shoulder for a bit. It’s nothing. Other than the market, how else was your day?” 

After telling him you finished your book, you guys talk a bit until your plates are cleared. Quinn leans back in his chair and stretches his arms. The front of his shirt lifts slightly, showing the pale skin of his bare stomach just above his waistband that slightly lowers… 

She shook her head at the invasive thoughts. Oh my gosh I need to go home. What is wrong with me? She quickly grabbed both plates and took them to the sink to wash. Quinn’s chair scrapes against the hardwood floor. The clink of the water glasses ring loudly in the quiet kitchen.

She hoped Quinn couldn’t hear her heart, it was racing so fast she was sure she could see it through her chest. He came up next to her, his arm slightly brushing hers and sent a hum of electricity through her. Her breath coming in uneven puffs masked with soft humming she uses to fill the silence. 

He watches her scrub the plates, she can feel the weight of his gaze. She tries to move her hands quickly as she scrubs the plates, not wanting him to see how much they’re shaking. 

“Thank you for staying. It was nice to have company.” Quinn’s raspy voice sends a shiver down her spine. He grabs the plate from her hand, ready to rinse it off. 

She clears her throat, “O-of course, Quinn. Thank you for offering to let me stay.” 

A noise comes from deep in his chest that sounds like an acknowledgement. She knows it's her mind showing her what she wants to see; the way his hands linger near hers while grabbing the utensils to rinse, the unnatural stillness of his chest like he’s holding in his breath, his shoulders leaning towards her ever so slightly. She knows it’s not what’s actually happening no matter how much she wants it too. Remember, he was going to have someone else here. Even if it wasn’t a date, this is just out of politeness. 

She dries off her hands and her eyes catch on his long fingers as they finish putting the washed dishes in the drying rack. She takes notice of his shoulder, the way his shirt sits along his neck, the pinkish hugh of his skin just under his ears. 

Oh dear God. He’s already looking down at her by the time she meets his eyes. Her breathing stops entirely and her palms get clammy. He saw me looking. He thinks I’m a creep, I’m out of a job, I’m going to have to move back home in shame. 

He smells of gentle soap and mint. The bridge of his nose shines just enough under the sink light, a stark contrast from the stubble that textured his jaw. Due to the busyness of the season, shaving has been put on the backburner while his hair curls around his face to the base of his neck. 

He holds her gaze before closing a bit more room between them, as if testing the waters and daring her to do something they both may regret. Suddenly he seems to have come to his senses and pulls back. 

She adverts her eyes and stares at the ground. He coughs, trying to break the silence. “Thank you for dinner. It was really good.” He mumbles awkwardly. Oh my God I made him uncomfortable. Fuck how am I going to fix this?

“Of course. I’ll see you in the morning?” She hangs her apron on the hook he installed as soon as he moved in. Grabbing her purse, she looks at him but he just stares at the wall above the sink. 

“See you in the morning, Y/N. Drive safe.” She takes her leave, worried she fucked up. 

——————————————————————————

Author's note: I'm a goober - please see disclaimer above fic. I still don't know where this is headed. I'm trying to work on multiple ideas at once (I'm thinking of doing a collection of fics that can be read together or as standalones). OK, luv u bye 🤍 - Honey🪽

[sariahsue]

@sketchy-panda​

[carpisuns-archive]

[brightlotusmoon]

[strangeboyonearth]

HURTS SO GOOD

. ✦⫘⫘⫘ˎˊ˗ ꒰ tyriq withers x male reader

. ✦⫘⫘⫘ˎˊ˗ ꒰ angst, fluff

. ✦⫘⫘⫘ˎˊ˗ ꒰ the star quarterback tyriq, who you happen to have a crush on, pulls you aside at the party one day before graduation.

Author: May I just mention that this is based off an LITERAL DREAM i had last night, i know i miss my high school but why was yo boy Tyriq randomly there 😭

"hey," surprise flushes your body like cold water as the familiar deep voice vibrates behind you. his tall shadow swallowed your frozen frame, still clutching the clear laddle for the raspberry punch dancing with the spotlight. "you might not know me, but i'm tyriq."

you pull back the laugh that attempted to escape your mouth. was he kidding? you'd have to live on the earth's core to not hear about the star quarterback who brought home the state championship gold to your school since he was a freshman. the one flocked by scholarship scouts on college tour day. "uh, yeah, i know you." you mumble, keeping your eyes fixed on the glistening surface of the glass bowl. "d-do you need a drink? i'm just about done here."

"actually, i wanted to talk to you." tyriq follows with a casual chuckle. as if his request didn't still your world for one long second. "do you think you could follow me out the hall?

before you could even respond, his broad shoulders pushed past the crowds of students and out the double doors. your brain failed to connect through the fuzz while your heart gained control of your legs, walking until you were out of the room. the darkness swallowed the hall, sudden silence so stark it knocked you off the slightest. a part of you didn't believe that tyriq acknowledged your existence.

the man standing before you extinguished the fire of doubt. the denim jacket and jeans outlined his large muscles, pulled together by a dress shirt and tie. you crook your neck to be able to see his wide smile, part of his face illuminated by the strobe lights inside. "hey," his voice rattled your core. "how are you doing?"

"fine," was all you managed through tyriq's intoxicating presence. he was a mad scientist, his cold metal scent mixed with the sea breeze bringing life to your veins you didn't even know was dead. you feared that if you breathed him in too much, you might end up revealing more than you should. "what is it that you wanted to tell me?

"straight to the point, hm?" tyriq adjusted the knot of his tie, straining the veins of his hands. he took one step forward, and your back hit the locker behind you. his glacier eyes burned as hot as hell, and comforted as clouds of heaven could. "i used to like you."

your jaw dropped. suddenly, your lungs forgot how to take air. your mouth forgot how to use words. "junior year. we didn't have any classes together, but you had the same lunch period as i did." tyriq pressed one hand on the locker behind you. "thought you were the most interesting thing. with your collared shirts and books. and i wouldn't be lying if i didn't follow you into the library once or twice. did you notice me?"

you shook your head slowly, arms slightly raised to your chest. "good to know i was discreet." tyriq smirked. "but you would probably remember the game against southport that year. you were one of the students that had to go there to cheer for us. kept looking at you then, you almost threw me off my game." he dropped his head and laughed to himself. "best win ever."

the memory came out of a jewel box in your mind. the logical explanation when tyriq ran the field or caught the ball with his head turned to your direction was because you were sitting with a hundred others from your school. but catching his eyes through his helmet still felt special, and for a time, you let yourself think it was you in your mind the way he stayed in your thoughts. "i remember," you breathe. "i-it was a good game."

"nobody's had that effect on me, boy. felt like i was holding in hurricanes whenever i passed you in the hall. you're the kind that hurts so good." tyriq closed in the distance between the both of you. he had to slightly bend his 6'5" height that didn't even reach 5 and a half. "at least, until 12th grade."

the revelation was a fruit sweet upon first bite, but bitter as it lingered on your tongue. "w-why?" you asked, trying to ignore the drop of your stomach.

tyriq shrugged. "just died down. cleared my head, somehow you weren't that magical anymore." he pulled himself straight again, leaving you to freeze in your own desecrated expectations. "anyway, just wanted to let you know so i'd graduate with no baggage. we all deserve a clean slate, don't we?"

"n-no," your words came out in a tremble, still reeling on how quickly a dream could turn into a nightmare. "you can't do that!"

"do what?" tyriq cocked his eyebrow, more curious than angered.

"tell me you like me just to tell me you got bored!" your hands flew up, unsure if you wanted to push on his stomach- the only part you could reach. or punch the wall. anything that could undo the pain. "don't you know how unfair that is? i liked you too! you should've told me! we could've- we could've done something!"

"oh," tyriq bites his lower lip. he looked just as unsure as you. "i didn't know this would upset you."

"of course it would, tyriq! christ, i liked you since i started high school. had i known, i probably wouldn't have pitied myself for being such a hopeless romantic for 4 years. wanting someone way out of my league." you grip your sleeves, tears falling to the polished floor. all the lonely nights and wasted wishes came back at once. "maybe i still believe in happy endings. but you managed to break me twice." before you could even unload more onto the man that still held your heart in his powerful hands, you turned on your heel.

"wait," tyriq called out your name. "don't leave. i'm sorry. come on, let's talk this out."

"goodbye tyriq. i hope you find the clean slate you want." you say without turning around. like everything he has done to you, you'll forever remember the way his eyes scorched your soul and his mere existence ran through your blood like an addiction. the worst part wasn't the moment coming to an end like a fairy tale. it was the fact that he won't remember your story the way you'll remember his.

[urfavvginger]

Quinn Hughes x chef!reader (Quinn’s POV)

reader’s pov

wc: 2,978 pairing: Quinn Hughes x f!reader warnings: mild language, yearning, self-doubt, mediocre writing

Fuck my shoulder hurts. Medical took a look and said it wasn’t anything to write home about, no need to miss practice or any games. It's just going to be sore for the next few days. 

The locker room was loud and boisterous. Coach’s talk was kept short, thank goodness. I just want to take my gear off and let my skin breathe. 

“What’s Y/N making for dinner tonight, Huggy?” Faber came up fully dressed. 

I’m suddenly reminded of the fact that Y/N is making extra food tonight and I want to curl up in a hole to never be seen again. I was going to have a date over however I cancelled soon after making the plans to begin with. It didn’t feel fair to have Y/N work so hard to cook for me just for another woman to eat it. I don’t even know why I entertained the idea of having company over in the first place, maybe to just not sit in empty silence after Y/N leaves.

However I forgot to not have her cook double so my idiocy came to bite me in the ass. It’s not like the extra food won’t get eaten, I’ll eat whatever she makes me but I know she still went through the effort. 

“Uh salmon, I think. Why?” Maybe Brock could be my guest. 

“Just wondering. I still think about those ribeyes she made us a few months ago. Still the best one I’ve ever eaten.” He smirks and something in my chest tightens. I’ve had a few of the guys over since becoming a part of the team and they all raved about her cooking after. 

I don’t think it’s necessarily jealousy that settles in my stomach whenever they talk about her, it’s just that now they know how her food tastes, and how her laugh sounds, and how the light in her eyes sparkle when you compliment her cooking even if she herself doesn’t think it’s good.

“She’s making extra food tonight if you want to come over.” I offer. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Why is she making extra? Is she finally staying over?” My eyes widen and his smirk turns into a grin. “No way. You finally asked her out?” 

From across the room, Boldly whoops. “Kirill owes me a Rolex, thanks Quinny!” 

I groan, sliding my hands over my face in an attempt to wipe away my shame and jealousy. “I didn’t ask her out! I just asked her to make extra tonight. I was going to have someone over but cancelled. So if anyone wants salmon for dinner, you’re more than welcome to come over.” I open the invite to any of them. 

“Why haven’t you taken her to dinner yet?” Boldly questions, clearly sad he isn’t winning any bet. 

I sigh. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. I’ve spent more time with her than my family in the past few years and have considered her a friend since the very beginning. Every time I’ve so much as entertained the idea of a possible future with her, my morals stop me in my tracks. “I’m her boss. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.” I look at Kirill who’s changing out of the holey shirt he’s always wearing. “And why do you have a bet?” 

He laughs nervously but Matt claps him on the shoulder. “He doesn’t think you have the balls to tell her how you feel. I have 100% faith in you,” He beams proudly. “I’ve seen you pick up women, total lady’s man.” I glance between the two, heat creeping up my neck. 

“Like you said Quinn,” Kirill sheepishly smiles. “You’re her boss.”

I’m almost too quick to agree. “Exactly. Wildly unethical.” 

Brock raises an eyebrow. “If you don’t, some other guy will. And that guy will be the one she tries her new recipes on first, not you.” 

I know he’s trying to get under my skin. Not maliciously, just chirping. But he’s successful. “Why the fuck would you say that?” I groan. “Why even bring it up?” 

He laughs. “Because you need to hear it. She watched you bring so many girls home so the least you can do is hear about it. Didn’t Jack even try to get at her?” Dear God, that's the last thing I wanted to think about. He did last summer and even though she politely turned him down, citing me as the reason, I still didn’t talk to him for a few days. “It would be some random guy next.” 

“We’re not saying that it couldn’t end horribly but it’ll end that way for you regardless.” Matt shrugs before bidding his goodbyes. 

Finally finished getting my gear off, I head to the showers. “I’m not listening to you guys anymore. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hear Brock and Kirill giggle as I walk away. 

After showering the stench of sweat and frustration off, I feel my muscles begin to unknot. As I take my sweet time in getting ready to leave, I check my phone. Nothing in particular stands out other than a text from Jim and one from Y/N before the game started. 

Y/N 🙂: Good luck tonight! 

I smile at the message, liking it before flicking through the others. The girl that was supposed to come over tonight sent a dm but I decided it's not worth the trouble anymore, blocking her. I text Y/N to let her know I’m on my way home before gathering my things. 

The walk out was filled with silence and counting the cement squares that it takes for me to get to the garage, like always. The idea of Y/N still playing in the back of my mind, warmth spreading through my chest before guilt creeps in. Even if she’s not aware of my feelings for her, which I go out of my way to make sure doesn’t happen, I shouldn’t have invited someone over and had her cook for us. It makes me feel gross and sleezy. 

My phone starts ringing as I get in my truck causing me to sigh. I don’t want to talk with anyone right now, I just want the peace and quiet I get on the way home to let my ears ring out and my adrenaline to come down. My phone connects to my Bluetooth and I see Jack’s picture pop up. 

“What’s up, Jack?” 

“Nothing. Just got out of a game. How’d yours go?” Based on the background noise, it sounds like they won. 

“A win. Headed home.” He hums in acknowledgment. I should talk to him about Y/N, I know I should at least get it off my chest before seeing her. “If I ask you about Y/N, would you be straight up with me?” 

There’s shuffling on the other end before the chattering fades out, like he went somewhere quieter. “Yeah of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

I chuckle despite myself. “Because you made a move on her when she was at the lake house. Well, tried to before she painfully shut you down.” 

He laughs. “Yeah but I wasn’t trying to actually get with her. I was just trying to see how you’d react but you never said anything so I thought I just embarrassed myself for nothing.” 

“I’m her boss, Jack. Do you think anything about this would be right?” I confess. “I’d lose the best chef just because I can’t get her out of my head.” 

He sighs. “Bro you’re already acting like she’s rejected you.” He takes a beat to think his answer over. “Quinn I wish you could see the way she looks at you because that would answer any doubts you’re having. She looks at you like you make the sun rise just for her to wake up.” 

Breathing starts to become something I have to think about. Deciding that the parking garage wasn’t the place I wanted to have this conversation, I threw my car into drive and pulled away. My jeans dry my sweaty palms before I grip the steering wheel as my heart rate speeds up. Boldly was right, regardless this won’t go in my favor. “I’m either going to mess up a really good friendship or she ends up with another guy sooner or later.” I mumble. 

“Or,” Jack quickly interjects. “She feels the same way you’re feeling right now. Like she’s thinking her feelings for you aren’t right because she works for you. But what if once you both acknowledge it, that feeling of it being wrong goes away?” 

Even though he’s my younger brother, Jack’s always been my voice of reason, always brought my thoughts back to reality and gave me alternate points of view. 

“What do I do?” For once in my life, I don’t have a plan. I don’t even know where to start. Since I was born, my life had been mapped out for me by everyone else. But the only thing that wasn’t considered was something like this. The street lights and neon signs pass in a blur of mixing colors while I make my way home. 

“You’re already her friend dude. Not just the guy who signs her paychecks so she can keep her lights on. How often do you guys hang out when you’re not at your apartment?” 

I try to think of the last few months since the season started and then moving to Minnesota. We really haven’t had the time. Both of us uprooted our lives for the sake of our careers and each of us have been trying to settle ever since. “Alone? Probably not since summer when I took her out on the boat for the day.” 

“Oof that’s rough.” Luke’s voice chimes in out of nowhere. “This about Y/N?” 

“Yep.” Jack confirms. “He doesn’t think she’s into him.” 

Luke scoffs. “Yeah okay pal. I thought you were the smart one.” 

“Oh dear Lord.” I park my truck into the designated spot next to Y/N’s and sit there. “Alright Einstein, what do you suggest I do?” 

“What do you think you should do? Let’s see if we have matching answers.” 

I ponder for a moment before drawing the only conclusion my doubt will let me come to. “Confess and look for another chef when she inevitably quits because I made it too uncomfortable.” 

“Bingo.” Luke clicks his tongue. 

“Luke! Not helping!” Jack scolds. I laugh regardless. 

“What? Dude was a total chick magnet like 6 months ago then he realizes that he’s in love with Y/N and forgets who he is! That’s on him.” Our youngest brother defends himself. “Listen, tap into the Quinn from before you got big boy feelings. Where you were hoeing yourself out. What would he do?” 

‘Past Quinn’ wouldn’t hesitate to make a move. He’d also have a line of other women behind her ready to go. “That’s not who I am anymore.” I whisper as the cold creeps into my car.

“That’s not the point.” Jack says. “Take what he would do but just make sure it doesn’t lead to anything short term like every single one of your other relationships.” 

“So that means drop your manwhore ways. Use the charm to let her know you’re interested, see if she feels the same WHICH SHE WILL,” Luke emphasizes. “And build the relationship from there. There doesn’t have to be this grand gesture, it can be gradual. ‘Past Quinn’ wouldn’t be scared.”

“‘Past Quinn’ doesn’t deserve this woman.” I mumble into my jacket. “But I get your point.” Maybe current Quinn deserves a chance. 

“Finally. Come on Jack, I’m starving.” Sometimes Luke is the most little brother that’s ever little brothered. 

We hang up and I make my way to the apartment. The words of my brothers are beginning to sink in. Be her friend. Use the charm. I feel like once these feelings started to develop, I slowly forgot how to be charming. Whenever I brought girls home, I didn’t even try. They already knew me as ‘Quinn Hughes’ and that was the selling point. To Y/N, I’m just Quinn. 

I don’t like feeling like I don’t know what to do. I always know what to do but now I get nervous like a teenage boy right before his first kiss. Y/N is just a woman I’m interested in, why is she taking away my ability to think? 

Luke’s right. My feelings for her grew over time so there’s no reason a relationship has to start any differently. No more dating apps. No more dm-ing girls. That’s the start.

I unlock my front door and gently close it right behind me. I toe off my shoes next to Y/N’s, it’s all so domestic. “I’m home, Y/N.” 

The scent of a home cooked dinner lightly lingers in the hallway but it gets stronger as I walk closer to the kitchen. Lemony fish with smoked spices have me floating around the corner like Yogi Bear. “It smells delicious in here.”

She’s standing behind the island in her apron. The kitchen is clean around her, she must’ve just finished cooking. I can’t help but grin seeing her with the game stats clearly on her phone even though she’s trying to hide it. 

“Lemon salmon, roasted sweet potatoes, with broccolini and squash.” She beams. “Great job tonight. Florida can suck it.” She’s always hyping up our wins and sympathetic when we lose. Hearing her praise never fails to give me heart palpitations.

I laugh before my eyes drift to the dining room and see two plates with water glasses set on the table. “Oh you did plate it.” 

She looks behind me expecting to see someone but finds no one following me. Her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. I assumed you wanted it plated.” She sounds almost relieved. 

Recovering quickly, I told her someone was supposed to come by for dinner but things didn’t work out. “Have you eaten yet?” Alright Quinny, didn’t think you’d ask this soon but here goes nothing I guess. 

“N-not really. Just ate lunch at the store after you left.”

“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Asking her feels like my lungs releasing all air in my body at once, my heartbeat climbs to my throat. She leans against the counter for a moment, shocked. Okay, maybe I came on too strong. “Unless you have somewhere to be-” 

She cuts me off, a mercy I will thank her silently for later. “Are you sure? You’re probably tired and want a quiet dinner. I don’t want to be a bother.” I did want a quiet dinner but a dinner with her sounds so much better.

To show her I mean it, I pull out her chair and then mine. “Not a bother at all, Y/N.”

Dinner was incredible as always, heavenly if I had to give a better description. It feels like I haven’t had food like this in years but she cooked lunch for me earlier and I said the same thing then too. 

We converse lightly about our days. Hearing about her day is always the best part of mine so I always make sure I ask even if my day was shit. It feels so normal that I catch myself so relaxed and at ease that I don’t even overanalyze every little movement I make. However I do make a note to overthink about her making sure I’m okay after I tell her playing hurt my shoulder. 

Y/N carries our empty plates to the sink and I follow behind her with the cups. I lean to place the cups in the sink under the water and when I do, my bicep grazes her shoulder. I stand against the sink, almost frozen in place and entranced by the way her fingers run over the plates and squeeze the soap out of the sponge…

Quinn, get it together. My mouth is as dry as cotton even though I was nearly salivating moments prior. “Thank you for staying. It was really nice to have company.” I say, mostly as a way to distract myself. I start to rinse off the soapy dishes. 

She stammers, “Of course, Quinn. Thank you for offering to let me stay.” God her voice is so angelic, and has a way of bringing you closer to her because you want to hear whatever she has to say just as long as she keeps talking. 

She finishes up, drying her hands while she still stands close to me. Her warmth radiates off of her like a heater. I don’t want to look like a creep but I can’t help staring when her hair falls out of her ponytail that way. And she’s looking at me too, her eyes trailing up my shoulders before meeting my own. 

It’s like the world stills even though I can hear the hum of the heater kicking on. A warm blanket draped over me, tugging me closer to her. 

Do I want to do it now? Oh God what if she’s uncomfortable and I’m just a pervert? If I kiss her, what happens when she doesn’t like me that way and that power dynamic just creates more problems? 

Before I could do anything, I cleared the thoughts from my head and stepped away. “Thank you for dinner. It was really good.”

“Of course. I’ll see you in the morning?” I can’t tell if her sweet voice sounds hopeful or embarrassed or scared. But I can’t chance a look at her or else all my resolve will melt and who knows what I’d do or say to get her to stay the night. I stare straight ahead, suddenly finding the tiled wall extremely interesting. 

“See you in the morning, Y/N. Drive safe.” I don't see her leave however I hear the door shut and the lock click into place. “I’m so royally fucked.” 

_______________________________________________

author’s note: Oh my goodness I didn’t expect such a positive reaction with reader’s POV. If I’m being totally honest, this was just an idea I bouncing around in my head - I don’t have any idea where this is story headed (if anywhere). I do have some ideas for other parts that I’ve been throwing at the wall but nothing is sticking unfortunately. I’m sure I’ll figure it out ☺️ - C.

[urfavvginger]

Quinn Hughes x chef!reader

wc: 2,146 pairing: Quinn Hughes x f!reader warnings: basically none other than mild language and horrible writing.

The quiet lull of the music blanketed the apartment around her as she spooned butter from the bottom of the pan on the salmon laying beside it. Only illuminated by the stove and low warm ceiling light, the rest of the world seemed to melt away. Contentment settled into her chest and it allowed her joints to ease from the tension that plagued them. 

After finishing the entree, she pulled the sheet pan of potatoes out of the oven, ensuring that she still had enough time to finish the vegetables before her client returned home from his game. 

The day he interviewed her in Vancouver, Quinn advised her that he had a tight after-game routine he followed once he got home. Being rigid in her own schedule, she understood. After a few years of cooking for him (mostly every day during the season with some weeks during summer) they’d molded to each other’s routines. 

In the beginning, he only needed her to cook breakfast and prep lunch as needed during the mornings he had home games. Eventually he requested her to cook for him every day; breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She had to leave her other clients, something she didn’t want to have to do, however the substantial pay increase Quinn had offered was too enticing to turn down. He invited her to continue her employment with him once he was traded to Minnesota and she graciously accepted. 

Since working for him full time, she’s worked for him nearly every day during the season when he’s not on roadies. She can’t complain, she finds comfort in constant work and consistent paychecks. After knowing him for as long as she has, she can’t lie that she also finds comfort in his company. 

The vegetables - roasted seasoned broccolini and squash - take their place in the oven. On the  two plates that Quinn had requested, she placed a salmon fillet alongside the potatoes. 

She tried to ignore the small twinge of jealousy when he asked for a second plate to be made, the assumption of company not lost. She’d ignored it for the most part of the day, distracting herself with picking up groceries or her book. He’s my boss. She constantly had to keep reminding herself any time there was a subtle reminder and that stopped any further overthinking.

He’s had family, friends, girlfriends, and teammates over for countless meals. Pretty girls sideeying her as she made polite conversation or laughed while serving their food. Teammates and friends would joke alongside her, always playfully teasing Quinn to make her feel more at ease. His parents and brothers would compliment her cuisine and take a genuine interest in talking to her while she cooked for everyone at the lake house. 

It could literally be anyone coming over. Even if it was a woman, it’s none of my business. Her heart still races regardless. 

As she plated the food, her phone buzzed in her apron pocket. Like clockwork with his late night games. 

Quinn: On my way home. Did you make extra? 

She confirmed with him that she did indeed make double servings before taking both plates to the table with a water pitcher. She didn’t want to be seen by a woman if he did bring a date home; not because she wanted to avoid a potentially awkward introduction, but because her stomach couldn’t possibly handle it. 

Her phone lights up again. 

Quinn: Perfect.

By the time she was almost done cleaning the kitchen up for the day, she hears the unmistakable sound of his front door unlocking followed by a dull thud and a sigh. 

“I’m home, Y/N.” His tired voice carried down the hallway like a gentle ripple in a calm ocean. She had forgotten to check to see how the game went so she quickly checked the score on her phone before he could get to the kitchen. Minnesota Wild - 3. Florida Panthers - 2. “It smells delicious in here.” He rounded the corner and greeted her with a smile. 

His mess of chocolate brown curls are pushed away and framing his face perfectly and he’s in the same clothes he left in; dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt. To her, he’s never changed even though she knows that’s not true - he’s always been handsome and soft. 

She mentally prepared herself to see whoever’s behind him. I did my job, the rest isn’t my concern. 

“Lemon salmon, roasted sweet potatoes, with broccolini and squash.” She tried not to overthink her greeting. “Great job tonight. Florida can suck it.” 

Quinn chuckled, glancing at the plates as his smile faltered. “Thanks.” He looks back to her, meeting her eyes before he shifts. “Oh you did plate it.” She peered behind him to glance down the hallway but didn’t find anyone. It was empty. 

She ignored the knot loosening in her chest, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I assumed you wanted it plated.”

“It’s okay. I was going to have someone over for dinner but plans changed.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. The knot that was loosening is now tightening like a boa constrictor. Gosh she feels so pathetic. 

She asks if he wants her to put it away. “I can skip making lunch tomorrow and you can take it with you to the rink?” She suggested, trying to sound cheerful enough to avoid embarrassing him more. 

He quickly interjects. “Have you eaten yet?” He knows the answer already, she usually skips out on dinner during late night games. 

“N-not really. Just ate lunch at the store after you left.” She stammered. His apartment is pretty much her 9-5 office. Regardless of what time his games or practices are, she’s there in the mornings to make breakfast. Then depending on what time he has to leave for whatever reason, she’s either making lunch then headed to the market for dinner. 

“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” The only time she and Quinn have ever had meals together is when Ellen insisted on her joining them for dinner during weeks she’d spend with them during summer. He would always make sure to sit next to her to interject if anything made her uncomfortable. Nothing ever did but it was nice to know he was there as a buffer.

What is the protocol on sharing a dinner with your boss without other people around? Would it be inappropriate? Or is it a friend asking a friend? Her previous clients never offered to have her at their tables and when she ate during work, it was always secluded in the kitchen. 

He must’ve noticed some hesitation. “Unless you have somewhere to be-” 

“Are you sure? You’re probably tired and want a quiet dinner. I don’t want to be a bother.” Okay, give him a chance to get out of this in case he doesn’t mean it. 

Instead he looked almost… relieved. A small smile played on his lips. He walks over to the table and pulls out the guest chair before his own. “Not a bother at all, Y/N.” 

She discarded her apron and slowly made her way to the seat next to him. He stabs at the vegetables before taking a bite, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he groans. She giggles while picking up her fork. “I’m glad you like it.” She pops a bite of salmon into her mouth and feels the unusual appreciation she has for her cooking skills. The lemon mixed with the seasonings that are crusted onto the fish is just heavenly. 

“It’s so freaking good.” He tried the salmon next and looked at her. “Can we add this to the weekly rotation?” Laughing, she nodded. 

He asked how her day was, something he usually does after coming home. It’s out of politeness and a way to fill the gaps of silence. “Really good. The market finally had the fresh dragonfruit you like in your smoothies so I grabbed some of those.” 

He nodded, “Oh nice. I think we were almost out of the frozen pieces.” 

“Yeah because you keep eating them by the handleful.” She joked and he lightly kicked her leg in response. “How was your day? Was it a rough game?” 

“Florida always plays rough.” He shrugs. She knew they did all too well. Since working for Quinn, she’s just barely kept up with the hockey world. She’ll put the game on here and there when the silence of the apartment becomes too much and the music isn’t helping. 

“I don’t know how they get away with what they do. Did they hurt you?” 

He pauses a moment, fork still in hand. The corner of his mouth tilted up for just a moment. “A little in the second. Nothing too bad though. Their chirping kept getting on Zuccarello’s nerves. Refs had to keep stepping between him and their players.” He chuckles. 

She shakes her head. “You’re okay though?” 

“Yeah, they just slammed me on the boards and messed up my shoulder for a bit. It’s nothing. Other than the market, how else was your day?” 

After telling him you finished your book, you guys talk a bit until your plates are cleared. Quinn leans back in his chair and stretches his arms. The front of his shirt lifts slightly, showing the pale skin of his bare stomach just above his waistband that slightly lowers… 

She shook her head at the invasive thoughts. Oh my gosh I need to go home. What is wrong with me? She quickly grabbed both plates and took them to the sink to wash. Quinn’s chair scrapes against the hardwood floor. The clink of the water glasses ring loudly in the quiet kitchen.

She hoped Quinn couldn’t hear her heart, it was racing so fast she was sure she could see it through her chest. He came up next to her, his arm slightly brushing hers and sent a hum of electricity through her. Her breath coming in uneven puffs masked with soft humming she uses to fill the silence. 

He watches her scrub the plates, she can feel the weight of his gaze. She tries to move her hands quickly as she scrubs the plates, not wanting him to see how much they’re shaking. 

“Thank you for staying. It was nice to have company.” Quinn’s raspy voice sends a shiver down her spine. He grabs the plate from her hand, ready to rinse it off. 

She clears her throat, “O-of course, Quinn. Thank you for offering to let me stay.” 

A noise comes from deep in his chest that sounds like an acknowledgement. She knows it's her mind showing her what she wants to see; the way his hands linger near hers while grabbing the utensils to rinse, the unnatural stillness of his chest like he’s holding in his breath, his shoulders leaning towards her ever so slightly. She knows it’s not what’s actually happening no matter how much she wants it too. Remember, he was going to have someone else here. Even if it wasn’t a date, this is just out of politeness. 

She dries off her hands and her eyes catch on his long fingers as they finish putting the washed dishes in the drying rack. She takes notice of his shoulder, the way his shirt sits along his neck, the pinkish hugh of his skin just under his ears. 

Oh dear God. He’s already looking down at her by the time she meets his eyes. Her breathing stops entirely and her palms get clammy. He saw me looking. He thinks I’m a creep, I’m out of a job, I’m going to have to move back home in shame. 

He smells of gentle soap and mint. The bridge of his nose shines just enough under the sink light, a stark contrast from the stubble that textured his jaw. Due to the busyness of the season, shaving has been put on the backburner while his hair curls around his face to the base of his neck. 

He holds her gaze before closing a bit more room between them, as if testing the waters and daring her to do something they both may regret. Suddenly he seems to have come to his senses and pulls back. 

She adverts her eyes and stares at the ground. He coughs, trying to break the silence. “Thank you for dinner. It was really good.” He mumbles awkwardly. Oh my God I made him uncomfortable. Fuck how am I going to fix this?

“Of course. I’ll see you in the morning?” She hangs her apron on the hook he installed as soon as he moved in. Grabbing her purse, she looks at him but he just stares at the wall above the sink. 

“See you in the morning, Y/N. Drive safe.” She takes her leave, worried she fucked up. 

_______________________________________________

Please let me know your thoughts! I have another draft of this but from Quinn's POV, let me know if I should post it :)

[captain-ariel-rogers]

Skin

Summary: Bucky finds a way to keep you with him, always.

A/N: This was originally posted under my old user captain-ariel-barnes and was my most popular Bucky one-shot! This is a modern biker AU. Gender Neutral Reader, no use of (Y/N), and no pet names. I did have to edit it to be that way though, so if I missed something let me know and I will fix it asap!

Keep reading

[imaginemalereader]

Masterlist

List of all the fics I’ve written so far (will be updated frequently) Last updated 10/3/2025

Avengers Bucky Barnes Imagine taking Bucky to a farmers market (X) Imagine Bucky teaching you how to fight (X) Imagine being genderfluid and dating Bucky (X) Imagine impressing Bucky and Thor with your energy powers (X) Imagine Bucky comforting you when you bind for too long (X) *trans reader Imagine Bucky helping you through a bad dysphoria day (X) *trans reader

Steve Rogers Imagine having a picnic with Steve Rogers (X)

Tony Stark Imagine being Tony’s younger brother and him being overprotective (X) Imagine being Tony Stark’s son and getting into fights at school (X) Imagine being Tony’s trans son and having panic attacks (X) *trans reader

Peter Parker Headcanons: Being Peter’s tall, black boyfriend (X) Imagine being Tony’s trans son and flirting with Peter (X) *trans reader

Loki Imagine connecting with Loki like a sibling (X)

Pietro Maximoff Imagine cuddling by the fireplace with Pietro (X) Imagine learning that Pietro didn’t die and seeing him again (X) Headcanons: Being Pietro’s trans boyfriend (X) *trans reader Snow Day (X) ❄️ Skating (X)  ❄️

Clint Barton Imagine being Clint Barton’s trans son (X) *trans reader Imagine being Clint’s son and a vigilante (X)

Natasha Romanoff Imagine checking in with Natasha after a mission (X)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer Faith Lehane Imagine having history with Faith and trying to win her back (X)

Oz Headcanons: Being Willow’s best friend and falling for Oz (X)

Chicago Med/Fire/PD Jay Halstead Headcanons: Jay Halstead going on his first date with a guy (X) Imagine being a new intern and Jay having a crush on you (X)

Adam Ruzek Take my coat (X) ❄️

Kelly Severide Imagine being a firefighter and getting a crush on Severide (X)

Ethan Choi Home for Christmas (X) ❄️ Imagine being a doctor at Med and in love with Ethan (X)

Will Halstead Imagine dating Will and him taking care of you when you get sick (X)

Criminal Minds Spencer Reid Imagine Spencer asking you, a trans guy, out (X) Imagine Spencer noticing you having a panic attack at a crime scene (X)

Doctor Who 10th Doctor Imagine coming out to the Doctor as trans (X)

11th Doctor Christmas Sweaters (X) ❄️

12th Doctor Imagine being in love with the Doctor but believing it’s not reciprocated (X)

Enola Holmes Sherlock Holmes Imagine Sherlock being tasked with finding you (X) *~trans reader, young reader Imagine working on a case with Sherlock (X) Imagine confessing your feelings for Sherlock when you’re on a risky case (X) Imagine going to a dinner party with Sherlock and getting involved in a murder mystery (X) Imagine reconnecting with Sherlock after transitioning (X) *trans reader Resolutions (X) ❄️

Mycroft Holmes Headcanons: Being married to Mycroft (X)

Enola Holmes Headcanons: Being Enola’s brother and her helping you with your depression (X)

Tewkesbury New Year’s Eve (X) ❄️

Fantastic Beasts Newt Scamander Imagine Newt showing you how to care for his creatures (X) Headcanons: Falling asleep in Newt’s arms (X) Imagine dating Newt and being an animagus (X) Imagine being Newt’s boyfriend and playing quidditch together (X) Imagine Newt comforting you when you have cramps (X) *trans reader

Theseus Scamander Snowflakes (X) ❄️

Newt and Theseus Scamander Headcanons: Being the youngest nonbinary Scamander (X)

Gotham Jerome Valeska One shot: His Quinn, His King (X)

Jim Gordon Imagine getting into an argument with your boyfriend Jim Gordon (X) Imagine dating Jim and getting jealous of Lee (X)

Harry Potter Draco Malfoy Imagine Draco falling in love with you, a trans man (X) *trans reader

Cedric Diggory Imagine going on a date with Cedric Diggory (X)

Ginny Weasley Imagine confessing your feelings for Ginny (X)

Hawaii 5-0 Daniel “Danno” Williams Imagine being Danno’s first boyfriend (X)

House MD Dr. James Wilson Imagine working for House and having a crush on Wilson (X)

Hunger Games Finnick Odair Imagine cuddling in bed with Finnick (X) Imagine reuniting with Finnick after being taken by the Capitol (X) Imagine falling in love with Finnick during the Quarter Quell (X)

Peeta Mellark Imagine Peeta and Cato calming you down when you have nightmares (X)

Lord of the Rings Legolas Imagine Legolas falling in love with you (X)

The Old Guard The Old Guard Imagine being a young immortal and them being protective of you (X) ~young reader

Once Upon A Time Henry Mills Headcanons: First kiss with adult!Henry (X) Headcanons: Being married to Henry (X)

The Sandman Desire Imagine being trans and Desire taking you shopping (X)

Sherlock BBC Sherlock Headcanons: First kiss with Sherlock (X)

John Watson Imagine being a young assistant of Sherlock’s and confusing John (X)

Sons of Anarchy Jax Teller Imagine Gemma finding out you and Jax are dating (X)

Juice Ortiz Imagine being Juice’s trans boyfriend and the Sons finding out (X) *trans reader

Happy Lowman Imagine being Happy’s partner and getting revenge on Clay (X)

Star Wars Poe Dameron Imagine being a pilot in the Resistance and dating Poe (X)

Kylo Ren Imagine asking Kylo not to push you away (X) Stranger Things Billy Hargrove Imagine being confused when Billy flirts with you (X)

Steve Harrington Christmas Party (X) ❄️

Supernatural Dean Winchester Imagine coming out as trans to your dads Dean and Cas (X) *trans reader

SWAT (2017) Jim Street Imagine being Street’s first boyfriend and reconnecting (X) Headcanons: First date with Jim Street (X) Imagine Street introducing you to his team (X) Imagine getting a call that Street got hurt on the job (X) Headcanons: Jim Street proposing to his boyfriend (X)

Daniel “Hondo” Harrelson Imagine Hondo accidently reveal to the team that he has a boyfriend (X)

Twilight Emmett Cullen Imagine Emmett helping you with your powers (X)

The Umbrella Academy Diego Hargreeves Imagine taking Diego on a date (X) Imagine being Buck’s (911) brother and dating Diego (X) ^crossover

Klaus Hargreeves Imagine Klaus tracing your tattoos when he gets overwhelmed (X)

The Witcher Geralt Imagine helping Geralt on a quest (X) Imagine Geralt being your bodyguard (X)

Jaskier Imagine Jaskier comforting you on your period (X) *trans reader Imagine Jaskier braiding your hair (X) Imagine following a voice and meeting Jaskier (X) Imagine being a prince and falling in love with Jaskier (X) Imagine another bard trying to steal your attention from Jaskier (X) Carols (X) ❄️

X-Men Scott Summers Mistletoe (X) ❄️

911 Evan “Buck” Buckley Imagine being Buck’s trans boyfriend (X) Imagine transferring to the 118 while dating Buck (X) Imagine being an actor and dating Buck (X) Imagine being Eddie’s HS friend and dating Buck (X)

Eddie Diaz Imagine being an old friend of Eddie’s and coming to LA (X) Imagine doing a couple’s costume with Eddie (X)  🎃 Imagine Eddie taking care of you after an accident on a call (X) Imagine being Eddie’s friend from childhood who’s trans and joining the 118 (X) *trans reader Headcanons: Being a doctor and dating Eddie (X)

911 Lone Star Mateo Chavez Imagine joining the 126 and falling for Mateo (X)

[targetedknowledge]

[dat-physics-gal]

i can't not reblog that

[skyrigel]

me: feels unloved *searches x reader tag*

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I read an AITA post a few weeks back about a woman who liked having snacks in the bath when she's had a long day (a result of residual trauma iirc - the bath was her safe space). Her brand new husband of three weeks, a man twice her age who had no job, made her pay all of his bills and do all housework, and spent all day every day gaming because he wanted to make it as a Twitch streamer, had always been fine with this; but, on the day in question, had whisked her bath snacks out of her hands as she was on her way to the bathroom and tried to bin them, telling her it was time to 'break her of that filthy habit in his home'. She told him if he ever actually paid anything towards the house she owns outright he might get a say, took her snacks back, and had her lovely bath. He was since giving her the silent treatment.

(Obviously the judgement was an avalanche of 'NTA and also he's abusing you', which she agreed with, and decided to kick him out, so happy ending.)

Anyway I told my husband about this and he was outraged. "I would never do that!" he told me, furious. "I would find it adorable if you had bath snacks!"

Since then, every time I try to have a bath (which I only do as a rare treat) after about ten minutes there has been an anxious scrabbling at the bathroom door.

"Elanor!" he says. "Do you have bath snacks? Do you need anything?"

My answer is irrelevant. He brings me wine and poptarts. Now I have bath snacks. I'm a bath snacks person. Last time he was literally sleeping on the sofa when I went for the bath. Somehow this still happened. I now have an eager bathroom butler. How did this happen. I have never been so decadent yet bewildered.

[mylittleredgirl]

some asshole: tries to control his wife by withholding bath snacks

op's husband:

[naamahdarling]

If someone ever tries to control what you eat, make exit plans IMMEDIATELY, and I am not kidding.

[luvzayne]

i didn't mean it.

synopsis: your boyfriend says something and makes you insecure.

characters: suna, kita x gn!reader

warnings: angst to fluff

note/s: reuploading my old haikyuu works so don't mind me!

suna:

“rin, you should eat.” you said, placing a tray of snacks in front of him. the team’s practice dragged on and suna was drained by the time that practice was over.

suna grumbled, sitting up before narrowing his eyes on what you were wearing.

“is that my hoodie?” suna asked, you smiled a bit and nodded at him.

“yeah, why?” you plopped a chip on your tongue, savoring the salty taste as you chewed.

“well, don’t you have your own?” he asked, no hint of amusement in his tone at all, causing you to stop midchew. you nodded, swallowing the chip and biting back a frown.

“then why don’t you wear your own clothes? i’m not paying for the hoodies for you, (y/n).” you looked at him, trying to find signs that he was only saying that as a prank, but as you look at his fox-like eyes, you see no signs of him kidding.

“i’m sorry if it bothers yo-” “yes, it bothers me. i’ve been looking for my hoodies only to see you parading them around as if it were yours.” you take note of the tears building up in your eyes as you look away and nod at him.

“i’ll wash them and return it to you tomorrow morning, rin.” you said, fighting the lump that built up in your throat. you could feel suna nod at your statement as he pulled out his phone and began scrolling. you took out yours as well before sending a quick text to your friend to ask her to call you. without question, your friend did. your ringtone blasting, effectively breaking the tensed silence.

“i’m sorry, rin. (y/f/n) needs me for something. i have to go.”

“wait, (y/n).” he stopped you as you stood up and gathered your things.

“yeah?” “can i have that hoodie back?” you wanted to laugh bitterly at that, but you stopped yourself. nodding, you took off the hoodie and placed it on his table.

“be safe on your way out, (y/n).” you give him a smile and thanks before closing the door shut as you leave.

when you got home, you sought out every hoodie that belonged to suna before folding them up and placing them in a bag after ensuring that it was clean.

his words rung through your head as you finally let a few tears slip.

you opened your closet and pulled your own hoodies, once you were done. you let yourself fall asleep, not noticing the texts that suna was sending you.

the next day, you walked to your lockers and saw suna already waiting for you. once he felt your presence, he looked up from his phone and pocketed it before giving you a hug.

“sorry for being kind of an asshole yesterday, baby.” he said as you hugged back, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“oh, right. here are your hoodies, rin. i cleaned them before folding them.” you said, giving suna the bag. he gave you a conflicted look. he was about to say something before he was cut off by the morning bell.

“better go to your class, rin.” you said before pecking his cheek and walking to your class.

suna felt like there was something off about you. he shook his head at the thought. ‘if it bothers them, they will tell me.’ he thought before heading to his class.

you managed to get used to not asking your boyfriend for his hoodies, it was hard, but you managed. even though you wanted nothing more but to inhale the cologne that left his hoodie whenever you wore them. suna, on the other hand, felt like there was something wrong, especially when you stopped bugging him.

he noticed you went out shopping more with your friends. your closet intaking more and more articles of long sleeves, he thought it was a good thing before he noticed that his hoodies stopped feeling warm after a while.  

suna, who was supposed to be over the moon after his hoodies had been returned to him, felt like there was something missing whenever he pulled his hoodies over his figure.

your scent. it was your scent that was missing.

suna then noticed that after you returned his missing hoodies, you stopped asking for his ever since. he thought of anything that he could’ve done for you to stop approaching him, then his mind went back to what he said when he was in a bad mood.

‘fuck.’

suna almost beat himself up mentally for not noticing how much his words affected you, he had to make this right.

“hey, baby.” he said, opening your room’s door before plopping himself next to you on the bed, you gave him a smile and a peck on the cheek before scrolling through your phone.

suna peered at your phone to see you on a shopping application, scrolling through various clothing, his heart feeling heavy when you pressed on a hoodie design.

“hey.” he called out, you looked up from your phone, silently asking to continue his statement.

“it seems a bit cold in your room, do you want my hoodie?” he asked, you were tempted to say yes but his words once more evaded your thoughts.

“ah, no thank you.” you smiled at the offer even though you were having a battle inside your mind for being stubborn. “i have my own.” you said before reaching out to the foot of your bed where a hoodie rested, for nights where your blanket wasn’t enough.

“oh.. yeah.” suna awkwardly said, his heart dropping at the blatant rejection.

“are you sure you don’t want mine? it’s your favorite hoodie.” he attempted once more. you shook your head before you started to pull your hoodie over your figure.

“no thank you, it’s yours.” you said, before you knew it you were wrapped around in suna’s arms.

“rin… what?”

“i didn’t mean it.” he mumbled. your eyes pricked, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“i just really had a bad day that day, i’m so sorry for saying those words to you. i miss the scent you leave on my hoodies. i want it back.” he said, tightening his hug on your body. you ran your fingers comfortingly on his back knowing how hard this must’ve been for him to let out, especially knowing that he tends to not show off any emotions.

“aw, rin.” you sighed, he grunted in response, burying his face on your chest, trying to memorize the comforting scent that he was too foolish to let go of.

“i’m sorry too.”

“you have nothing to apologize for. don’t say you’re sorry.” his voice mumbled out. you pulled his face from your chest to face you, his eyes filled with guilt as you smiled at him.

“if it makes you feel any better. i forgive you.” you smiled.

“take my hoodie.”

“what?”

“i’m going to feel better if you take my hoodie and forget the stupidity i said before.” you laughed before letting him pull off your hoodie before he replaced it with his.

his scent overfilled your senses as you pulled on the collar to sniff it.

suna’s heart swelled up at the sight, before plopping himself beside you and cuddling against you.

“baby?”

“yes, rin?”

“let’s go to sleep.”

 kita:

it was a tense practice. the team was feeling pressured due to kita’s unwavering presence. atsumu and osamu kept yelling at each other. suna was just filming the whole thing, unbothered. no matter what kita said, his voice was overpowered over atsumu and osamu’s argument.

their manager, rui, had managed to quiet the twins down. the team finally letting out a breath that they held. kita showed her his thanks as the team went back to practice properly. the tension was still there.

you came in, having a small skip to your step. smiling as you went inside the gym with a bag of snacks to give to the team. you were a second-year manager, having been convinced by suna to join the volleyball team. you were glad you did because you have somehow managed to catch the attention of the cold-logic captain.

not noticing the tension in the room, you placed the snacks down and you went to the place beside your senior manager and talked about the events you missed while you were out.

after a practice set was done, rui walked out of the gym to retrieve the jerseys that were washed. you walked over to kita to relay some good news on your part.

“you’re late.” his cold voice started. your smile dropped a bit at his tone before apologizing.

“i’m so-”

“how are you supposed to fully take charge of the team as a manager if you can’t even make it into practices on time.” by now, everyone was listening to the exchange. atsumu was looking at you worriedly as you shook your head slightly, a smile still on your face.

“look, shin. it’s not as if i wanted to be late-”

“but you were.” he cut you off, you swallowed and nodded your head. he was right. however, it wasn’t your fault that the teacher asked you to stay back in order to relay news that you were one of the students who climbed up in the academic ranks. unable to contain your excitement to the news, you thought of buying the team some food to brighten up their day as well. being selfless was one of the traits that made kita fall for you.

“if you could just let me explain then maybe you-”

“(l/n)-san. whatever reason you have is inexcusable. you should know that as a manager you are expected to be courteous in these types of assemblies.” he stated, still with a straight face.

you are no exemption to kita’s cold logic.

“kita-san, i don’t think (l/n)-san wanted to be late.” akagi tried to help you out.

kita looked back at him with piercing eyes, the latter letting out a shiver. “however, they are still late. am i correct?” akagi hesitantly nodded, shooting you an apologetic look. you smiled in thanks for his defense.

kita turned to look back at you, “we do not need a manager who thinks that they have all the time in the world and show up late to practice.” he started, your smile dropping at his words.

“how are the third years supposed to leave when they know they are about to leave the team in the hands of an incompetent manager.”

“oi, kita.” aran warned, kita turned to face him. “you’re going too far.”

“i have not said anything that is not based on observations.” he stated, before looking at you once more.

“you are nowhere near rui's level of duty.” and with that, you blinked the tears you didn’t know you were holding. the action shocked everyone in the room as they did not expect kita to say such words to his (s/o).

“i get it, kita. you need not remind me and i apologize for dragging the team down.” you said as loud as your voice can muster. at this point, the whole team wants to desperately console you, but you surprised them both with a smile.

“i guess you are right, kita-san.” you started. “maybe this job is not meant for me, i apologize for not being like rui.” you bowed before making your way out the door, momentarily stopping to face suna. “i apologize for not meeting your team’s expectations, rinta.” and with that you left the gym.

the gym was quiet. no one wants to make a sound. no one knows how to approach what just unfolded in front of their eyes.

everyone eyed each other awkwardly, suna stood up from his place and looked at kita who was cleaning a volleyball with a blank look on his face.

“well, i’m done with practice.” suna called out, zipping his practice bag.

“practice isn’t over, we still have 2 hours!” ginjima said, looking nervously between the captain and his teammate.

“yeah, well. if i see my best friend crying due to the insensitivity of their boyfriend, i think it is my responsibility as a best friend to check up on them.” suna said, kita’s head perking up at his words.

“practice will still be practice tomorrow, but (y/n)’s wellbeing is my priority right now.” with those words, osamu stood up and packed up as well, deciding to side with suna on this.

“see ya.”

 ever since that incident, you have avoided kita like the plague. which was made easy due to your year difference.

osamu and atsumu update you on his well-being, even though you don’t ask. they know that you still care about their captain.

your phone is filled with countless unread messages from kita who asked about how you are and if you and him can talk. you did not reply to a single one, leaving him on delivered since the past few days.

it doesn’t mean that he did not try to talk to you, because he did. it was only because suna and the twins never left your side so he did not get the proper timing.

“are you really sure about this, (y/n)?” atsumu asked as you signed the resignation form of your managerial responsibilities.

“i think it would be for the best, my own boyfriend did say that i’m not competent enough to manage you.” you smiled bitterly as flashbacks from that day evaded your mind.

suna and the twins frowned at your statement, the four of you walking to the coach’s office.

“text us if you need up to pick you up, (y/n)-chan.” osamu said, ruffling your hair a bit. you scoffed at his actions.

“we’re in school, as if i’ll get lost.” you joked as you bid the three of them goodbye and knocking on the coach’s door.

“pardon me for intruding-” your words were cut off as you realized the coach was not alone and was with kita, reviewing different reports.

“ah, what brings you here, (y/n)?” the sound of your name made kita perk up, looking at you with longing despite his deadpan expression.

“i can come back at a better time, sir.” you said, the coach shook his head before gesturing to the documents on your hand.

“i came to drop off my resignation paper, i’m sorry, sir.” kita’s eyes widened at those words and he uncharacteristically dragged you out of the room with a small goodbye to the coach, your papers in kita’s hands.

“you are not leaving the team, (y/n).” kita plainly stated. you scoffed, trying to retrieve back your documents.

“i don’t think you have a right to say what i can or cannot do, kita-san.”

he looked down on the ground before sighing and looking back at you. next thing you knew he had his arms wrapped around you, you wanted to struggle. but you know you don’t want to lie to yourself and say you do not miss your boyfriend’s presence.

you sighed, arms hanging limply at your sides, itching to hug kita back.

“i’ve been a terrible boyfriend.” you almost wanted to laugh at that. you tried pulling away from his hug, but you noticed his grip tightening and his arms slightly shaking, as if you would disappear if you pulled away from his grasp.

“i’ve said some things that i am not proud of.” he started, “i broke my promise to you and hurt you with my words.”

“kita-san, it’s okay.”

“it’s not okay, love.” your heart swooned at his pet name.

“i shouldn’t have said those words, i wasn’t thinking.”

“well, kita-”

“since when did you call me kita, it’s shin to you.” he cut you off, earning a short laugh from you, before your voice turned somber.

“i know you don’t mean it, but like as you said. those came from observations. and you’re right. i do not deserve to be the manager.”

he pulled away slightly, “i cannot express how sorry i am to have made you doubt your capabilities like that.” he placed his chin on top of your head, you felt tears building up once more as you blinked them away, kita felt your slight shaking, he pulled away before placing his thumbs under your eyes.

“i’m sorry, love. hurting you was my last intention.” he said before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, you gripped the hands that caressed your face before giving him a small smile.

“it’s fine, shinsuke.”

“please stay.”

you give him a nod as his eyes softened, a small smile on his face as he leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

“i missed you.” you smiled as you pulled away.

“as have i, my love.” kita responded.

“not to ruin your moment, but it’s time for practice.” atsumu’s voice interrupted your moment, followed by a sharp thwack on his head, courtesy of aran.

[sanguineterrain]

YES. BODYGUARD JASON TODD.

He's used to being looked over, just seen as meat & muscle (he doesn't mind, it's part of the job) but you're the first "job" who actually sees him, talks to him, makes him laugh 🫠 he doesn't know what he'll do if someone actually tries to put their hands on you 🙂

hiiii aud thank you for the scrumptious jaybird thoughts <3 so begins my bodyguard!Jason agenda!

bodyguard!jason todd x gn!reader. fluff, pining, and tension so thick you could cut it with a batarang.

All fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

"Y'know, I think you just keep me around to carry your bags."

You grin over your shoulder where the Red Hood trails behind you, always five paces behind. Your takeout bag is in one hand, your new shirts in another. He wears a red mask over the lower half of his face, like always. Only seeing his eyes used to unnerve you, but now it's a comfort, finding his gaze in a crowd.

"That's not true. I also keep you around for something nice to look at," you say.

He tilts his head. Your belly flutters. "Flattery will get you nowhere, trouble."

"Flattery got me outside of my hotel, Red."

He sighs. "Tricking the hotel concierge doesn't count."

You laugh. "Sure it does. I think it does." You stick your arm out. "Will you walk next to me?"

"You know my rule."

"But you can easily cover me if you're next to me! And I'm so good at ducking. See?"

You duck and straighten a few times in a row to demonstrate. A few people stare. You ignore them. Hood's eyes crinkle in a way that tells you he's smiling.

"Mm, incredible technique. Wonder who taught you that. A ruggedly handsome bodyguard, perhaps?"

"Always hungry for the credit," you say. "Despicable."

"Ain't I?"

You turn around and stop. He stops five paces behind. You take a step forward. He takes a step back.

"I wanna see your face when we talk," you say, face pinched.

"Not in public, trouble. It's for your safety. You know that."

"Can't you come a little closer?"

None of your friends are like this with their personal guards. A moment from a friend's birthday party resurfaces when she'd given you an odd look.

It's almost like you'd rather be with him than us. You know he's just doing his job, right?

Hood stays exactly where he is. "This is the ideal spot for covering you. Now, c'mon. Thought you wanted to shop."

You sigh and let your arms flop to your sides. He must be nervous today. You can't imagine why.

"Fine. Be that way."

You hurry ahead. Hood doesn't lag behind. Stupid long-legged bodyguard.

"You can be mad at me as long as you stay safe," he says.

You turn again, about to really bitch about how strict he's being. But his proximity stops you short. He's inched closer, so close that you can properly see his eyes.

"This close enough for you?" he asks.

Hood's eyes are warm in the light, mossy and rich. His lashes and brows are dark and thick. Once or twice, you've seen a splash of freckles across his nose. The bridge of his nose is crooked like it's been broken one too many times.

Dear God, you yearn to know him.

Your stomach does more flips. Hood watches you, half-lidded.

"What're y'doing, trouble?"

His voice is soft, the way it gets when he's trying to smooth over a tiff between you. You can't figure out why he does that. You always get over it. And so does he. He has no choice.

"I'm looking at you, Red," you say.

"Yeah? What're y'lookin' at me for?"

"'Cause I want to."

He blinks. "Me? Not much to look at."

You look at each other for another minute. The want bubbles up again, spills out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"Please walk next to me," you say. "I need to know you're there."

He leans in to speak, black curl tumbling over his forehead. He smells sweet, like apples and spice. You almost appreciate the danger in your life because it keeps you in the Red Hood's line of sight.

"Wha's the matter? Y'nervous? I'm right here."

Oh, you're nervous, alright. Just not in the way he thinks. The way you ought to be.

You turn around. For your sake and his.

"Not nervous. Just... just... never mind. You pick where we go next, Red."

"It's your day. 'M just the driver," he says.

"If you won't walk next to me, the least you can do is pick where we go."

"The least I can do, huh?"

It's clear he isn't going to choose. So you watch him instead. You turn the corner and sneak glances over your shoulder. You don't care much about shopping anymore anyway. It's only an excuse to go out. To be alone with him.

Your answer comes. It's only for a split second, but you catch it anyway. He taught you to notice things after all. Says it could be the difference between living and dying.

You immediately change course. Hood follows you easily, and you breeze through the bookstore's entrance. You sneak a look to gauge his reaction. He's looking around, but that could just be him clocking the exits and obstacles. You grab his hand. He looks at your joined hands, then at you.

"Feeling lost?" he asks.

"No. Just trying to keep you present. Nothing’s gonna happen in a bookshop, Red."

That crease in the middle of his forehead returns. "'S my job to plan for the worst. Keeping you safe is the only thing that matters."

"Not the only thing."

His eyebrows rise. "Whaddya talking about? 'Course it is."

You look at your joined hands. This is bad. This is really, really bad. You'd might as well pull your heart out of your chest and let Hood carry that too.

You start to walk, fingers slipping out of his. Hood doesn't try to rejoin them.

He stays closer in here, close enough that you can talk quietly and smell his apple pie scent.

"What do you like to read?" you ask.

Hood glances at you. "Clocked that about me, did you?"

"I was taught by the best," you say sweetly.

He hums. Doesn't joke or laugh. Just makes a soft sound. It's not often you render him speechless.

"I loved Frankenstein as a kid. I always hoped he'd love his monster, but..."

Hood disappears for a moment, lost in his head. You take his hand, heart be damned.

"My... my dad used to read it to me," he says. "One time I asked if he'd love the monster anyway. He promised he would."

"Red?"

He looks at you again. His eyes are wild. Sometimes, it seems like they glow.

"Someone's devotion to our monstrous parts is something we all want," you say.

You rub his knuckles. He flinches, like he's forgotten where he is. 

You spend more time in the bookstore. Hood attracts a few stares, like always, but you're left alone. He carries your shopping without complaint, without strain, and you wonder if your friend was right, if this is just a job.

You buy a special edition of Frankenstein under his attention. Then you turn around and hand him the book. He keeps it under his arm.

"Ready to head back? Y'hungry?"

"That's for you," you say.

"Hm? What is?"

"The book. It's for you, Red."

Silence. The second time that you've stunned the words out of him. You're on a roll.

"Y'don't have to do that," he says, gentle as can be.

"It's a present for you. A thank you."

Hood shakes his head. "You don't need to thank me for protecting you. Just doing my job."

"I'm thanking you for being my friend. Because... you are, right? My friend?"

This time, Hood's eyes on you are heavy. You wonder if he can see your heart beating, see your belly fluttering, see the real reason why you get nervous around him.

"Yeah, trouble," he says, book cradled to his chest like it's precious cargo. "I'm yours."