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desert-fern · 10 months

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The Walls Are Caving In - Jake Seresin X Reader

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin X Fem!Reader (Known as Honey Bee/Honey)

Summary: You are sunshine incarnate, the life of the party who is so free with your affection. Jake finds himself struggling to express his desire to be like you while wrestling with his past, what happens when it all comes crashing down around him? AKA Jake is both touch-starved and in love.

Warnings: Jake has a shit dad, angst, still fluffy tho (lmk if I missed anything)

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: This one-shot is inspired a little by the song In my Blood by Shawn Mendes. That and I really wanted to explore what could be going on inside the cocky man we all know and some of us fell in love with, so please enjoy 5k words of me putting Jake under the microscope.

===

Jake Seresin was a mystery to you.

The blonde man had always been standoffish around you, almost like he couldn’t stomach the thought of being near you. Yet when the other pilots came together, it was like Jake couldn’t be close enough, knocking elbows with Bob as he tried to take a sip of his drink and chuckling when the WSO had to set his drink down to give him a bewildered look. Jake would start teasing shoving matches with Rooster out on the beach, laughing as he got absolutely rocked back into the sand.

But when you were in the group? He was as far away from you as was considered polite.

The unfortunate thing was that you thrived on physical contact. You loved hugs, both giving them and receiving them. Fanboy had figured it out early on and would now run up and pull you off your feet to spin you around. It was nothing but playful, yet why did Jake always look at you strangely?

You’d given up on finding out, choosing to focus on your career as a base medic. It had been a dream of yours to be a doctor while growing up, but as you got older, you had to face the fact that it wasn’t the most financially sound decision. So you joined the Navy and found your calling as a medic. Between treating a few base personnel for coffee burns, the occasional broken toe from jamming it against a bench in the locker room, and the pilots and crew members who would pass out when the weather got too hot, you were thriving on your ability to always try and bring a smile and a listening ear to whoever came through the door needing help.

It was why you had become known as Honey Bee by the base dwellers, as you had taken to calling them. You were sweet and were genuinely interested in getting to know people, but if someone fucked around, you always had a whole swarm of people willing to makes sure they found out.

What you weren’t expecting from the job was to catch the eye of several of the Navy pilots, not for a lack of trying to dissuade them. You knew better than to shit where you ate, knew better than to mess around with a Navy man who could very well have a girl at any and every port of call. You were here to do your job first and foremost.

But that started to change. Jake had caught your eye, not just because of the blonde hair that always seemed to glow in the late afternoon California sun, the green eyes that seemed to clock where you were in a crowd, or because he was magnetic in a room of people, but because you wanted to know more about him. He was an enigma to you aside from his medical record. You knew that he’d broken his elbow in high school playing football, that he’d sprained an ankle tripping over a step, hell you even knew his medication allergies. But anything personal, you could forget about.

So you stuck it out, keeping your distance and content to smother the other pilots in your affection.

===

It was late in the evening as you watched Rooster play yet another song that was older than he was, his squadron around him yelling along to the words. You and Bradley had been close since the mission he refused to talk about, only that he and his godfather had nearly died. You two had also engaged in a casual relationship, hooking up on the off chance neither of you had a partner, but other than the occasional romp in the sheets, you two were as close as best friends. It’s why you were here tonight.

Taking a sip from your drink, you turned to watch the crowd around you, scanning the room and enjoying your people watching. You didn’t know how long you’d been staring around the room, but it had been long enough that Bradley had stepped away from the piano to stand behind you. “Hey Honey.”

You spun around, hand pressed to your chest. “Jesus fuck Bradshaw! You better not give your favourite medic a heart attack. Who else would treat your ass after you fell off another ladder?”

“That’s just rude, Honey Bee,” he teased, winking at you over his sunglasses that had fallen down his nose. “You know no one else fixes me up like you do.”

“Damn right. So watch it,” you shot back, snatching his sunglasses off his face and putting them on your own face. “Also sunglasses at 10 pm? Who are you fooling?”

He snorted, rolling his eyes at your smirk. “Okay, okay. I came over here to give you a hug ‘cause you’ve been sitting over here by yourself. But since you decided to be rude, I’m just gonna walk away.” Bradley turned, moving through the crowd away from you and towards his team on the other side of the bar.

“Fuck you!” You yelled after him, downing your drink and chasing after him. You caught up to him, tapping him on the shoulder and when he turned, you wrapped your arms around his middle, hugging him tightly. “You’re a real jerk, Bradshaw. You know that?”

He laughed, hugging you back. “And you’re a real smart ass for being as sweet as you are, Honey.” Bradley grinned down at you, pulling his aviators off your face and tucked an arm in the collar of his shirt. “Sometimes it feels like I gotta wrangle you.”

You pulled back grinning at him. “You love me.” You felt energised, like that one simple hug had been injected with jet fuel. You were a social butterfly if you had enough hugs throughout the night and thankfully the Daggers had a number of people who loved your playful teasing and joyous affection. It was how you spread your love and you would be damned if Bradley or his friends felt like you weren’t appreciative of how they kept him and each other safe.

“Regretfully,” he quipped, slapping your shoulder and moving over to where Phoenix and Coyote were chatting.

“Dick!” You called after him, laughing when he flipped you off, his back still turned.

You fell into easy conversation with Bob and Fanboy, grinning when Bob pressed his side to you for a moment after a particularly funny joke. And you continued to bounce around the little groups, laughing loudly and uproariously even though you’d only had one drink hours earlier. “How do you do it, Honey?” Payback asked after you’d come back from dancing with his WSO.

“Do what?”

“Have so much energy. I’d be exhausted if I were you.”

You grinned at him, a wide one showing your teeth. “Well Reuben, I see so many people because of work, but I’ve always been like this.”

“Now that,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “That I can picture. Little baby Honey with two braids making friends with everyone on the playground.”

You laughed with him, feeling alive with the energy in the room. It was only when you glanced around at the other Daggers did you notice a storm cloud underneath the ray of sunshine you were casting over your friends.

“Why don’t you turn your charm on Bagman over there? Seems like his battery is wearing out.” You jumped nearly elbowing Phoenix in the face.

A shrug. “He’s not my biggest fan,” you said simply, missing how Reuben and Nat gave each other a look over your head. “Besides, I don’t want to ruin his night even more than it seems to be going.”

“Mmm,” Natasha hummed noncommittally. “Still, I think you should at least try.”

You turned around. “Why? You all see how he seems to always stand on the opposite side of the room from me, how he barely says two words to me.” There was a frown on your face, something so uncharacteristic that it nearly had Payback choking on his drink as he saw it cross your face.

Natasha just raised an eyebrow and you folded like cheap cardboard. “Fine, but he’s not going to like this.”

You wove through the crowd, making your way over to the jukebox where Jake stood contemplating a song choice. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He didn’t look up at you, choosing instead to stare at the song list you know he’d practically memorized.

A beat of awkward silence passed. “So…” you started again. “You have a song in mind or is it going to be a random choice?”

“Why? You have something you want to play instead?” His tone was sharp, like he was trying to brush you off and it startled you. You could feel Nat’s curious eyes on you and were half tempted to turn around and shout ‘See?!’ in her direction.

“N-no. I was just curious.” Now you were feeling unwelcome. Everything about his body language screamed ‘leave me alone’. He was tense, speaking through gritted teeth, hand white knuckling his beer bottle. “Especially since Rooster always seems to hijack the music whenever you pick a song.”

Jake didn’t say anything, going back to faking his pondering over song choices. You stayed for another moment, before nodding to yourself. “O-okay.” You gave him a hesitant smile before slipping away back towards Natasha. Seconds later, you heard Def Leppard begin to blare through the bar as Jake strolled through the crowd, using his size to gently pass a group of what looked like college girls, whose giggles seemed to carry over the music.

“See?!” You hissed at Natasha. “He would rather fake stare at a music selection he has memorized than talk to me. He clearly can’t stand me!”

Natasha just gave you a cryptic look before drawing you into a conversation about the strangest accident you had ever seen or had. It was enough to draw you focus away from the blonde pilot icing you out, but it also prevented you from catching Jake’s glances your way.

He’d managed to escape your notice for most of the night, choosing to keep to himself or chat with Coyote on the off chance you hadn’t barged into their little group. Contrary to what you thought, Jake didn’t hate you. In fact, he was almost envious of your ability to shine in a room this big. You bounced around like the light off a disco ball, your personality as vibrant as the colours that radiated off as it spun.

The biggest thing he was jealous of though, was the fact that you were free with your affection. You always had a hug and a smile for everyone and if anyone tried to dull your shine, it was like you couldn’t be touched. Jake was jealous of the easy way in which you could ask for a hug to satisfy you.

He couldn’t. Jake yearned for the freedom to be openly affectionate, craved the feeling of being held, but he had spent so long being told that men didn’t do that, that he had to suck it up and be a man. The few girls that had stuck around longer than just one night had never wanted to be close. Sure they had cuddled, but they had all drawn the line at him holding their hand, hugging them from behind. They had only seen him for the prowess and personality he exuded as Hangman, but he was tired of splitting himself down the middle. He wanted someone who wanted Jake too, not just the cocky persona he used to show off. The persona that had made his father spare half a glance his way. He wanted hugs. He just couldn’t ask for them, so he stayed away from you and your sunshine. Created distance between himself and your vibrancy, if only so you wouldn’t pick up on the fact that he desperately needed the affection you distributed in excess.

The half a day he’d spent under your care weeks ago stuck in his memory. Jake hadn’t managed to grab breakfast or lunch on a hot day, hadn’t had much sleep or water, and between the endless up and down, pulling G’s, and push-ups from losing an exercise, the heat became too much for him. He’d passed out halfway through his push-ups, falling face first to the tarmac and scaring the hell out of Hondo who was supervising.

He had been rushed immediately into the infirmary, falling into your capable hands. You had been incredibly gentle checking vital signs, your voice as soothing as a cool damp cloth pressed against feverish skin. You’d stolen his breath when you asked the questions you had memorized due to their frequency of use, and Jake felt like he’d been sucker punched. He didn’t remember much, having spent most of the experience sleeping, but he dreamt of you and every facet of you that had captured his heart and mind over the weeks you had gotten to know one another.

That experience was beside the point though. Instead of asking and being as open and carefree as you were with your love, Jake left himself to revel in the pats on the back, the handshakes, and bro hugs that were “appropriate for a man”. He let himself watch as you hugged Bradshaw, danced with Fanboy, and seemed closer to his squadron than he himself.

So he pushed you away and hoped you didn’t see through him.

===

Days later, you were bustling around the infirmary. You hadn’t seen the Daggers since the night at The Hard Deck and it was kind of taking a toll on your usual bubbly energy. You still had a smile for everyone, but it had started to become forced the longer your shift went on.

Earlier in the day, a pilot had passed out from the summer heat and hit his head hard enough that he bled. You had been filling out reports when the wall of noise hit you and you were on your feet in half a heart beat.

You hadn’t sat down since. That one accident had set off a never-ending queue of people walking through the doors and your feet hurt.

Sat at the desk at the front of the infirmary, you blew out a sigh. 10 more minutes. 10 minutes and then you could go home and relax.

“You good, Honey?” Bradley. You could recognize that smooth voice anywhere.

You nodded tiredly. “Yeah. Just really busy today.”

“I get that.”

“So.” You drew yourself up from your chair, stretching out your arms. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“I was hoping that you could check on Hangman.”

You blinked at him, thoroughly confused. “What?”

Bradley gave you a flat look. “You heard me.”

“Why?”

“Because he's been reckless lately. He’s going to get himself or someone else killed if he keeps flying like he has.” There was nothing but seriousness in his amber eyes. Every micro expression that flickered over your friend’s face was one of deep concern.

You nodded. “Okay. It will have to be tomorrow though, Roo. I just finished my shift.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry Honey, but I’m worried about him. He won’t talk to anyone and Mav is at his wits’ end. Can you swing by today?”

Internally, you groaned. Jake hated you, you were convinced of that. Yet Bradley seemed genuinely concerned for his teammate and despite your best attempts, you hadn’t been able to put him from your mind. “Yeah, okay. But if he blows up at me, Roo, I swear to God I will hurt you.”

Rooster grinned. He knew your threat was an empty one, you both did. You cared about him too much to actually follow through with it. “Thank you, Honey. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you grumbled as you walked forward to hug him, burying your face in his flight suit. “You really do.”

You felt him scoff as he hugged you back, pressing a gentle kiss to your head. You stayed like that for a moment before pulling back. “Have a good night, Honey.”

“Thanks Roo. Drive safe.”

And then he was gone.

Fuck. What had you just agreed to do? You buried your face in your hands and blew out a long breath. This was going to be a long night.

===

Bradley had texted you Jake’s address as you finished changing out of your scrubs. You knew he was worried, but a part of you was anxious about what would happen should Jake open the door and see you. Would he slam the door in your face? Would he invite you in and then hit you with the cold-shoulder?

Jake Seresin made you nervous. Pretty people always did, and Jake was no exception. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about the two of you, but you never let your fantasies go too far. They were delusions. Jake avoided you at any chance he could, so you had one chance to make sure that he understood that you didn’t resent him even if he so clearly did.

Twenty minutes later, you pulled into his driveway behind the black truck that was so quintessentially Jake it hurt. You walked up to the front door, ringing the doorbell and trying not to look as awkward as you felt.

The blue door opened up and Jake stared at you with confusion written all over his face. “What are you doing here?”

You swallowed, mustering up some courage to say “Rooster sent me. Can I come in?”

“Sure?” Jake held the door open, stepping aside to let you pass by him. “You have strange timing. I just got Bradshit off my ass.”

“Heh yeah. It’s almost like an intervention or something.” Inwardly, you were cringing. Why had you said that? God, it was like any social skills you had vanished the minute you were around the blonde man. “Your house is nice. I love the colour of the hardwood.”

“Thanks.” Jake’s voice was back to short and clipped. It was clear that he was on edge now. Likely thanks to your stupid comment. Why couldn’t the floor just crack open beneath you right now and spare you the awkwardness? “So why are you here?”

You took a deep breath, letting your eyes meet his own. “Rooster is worried about you. He didn’t say why, just that I should check on you.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, averting his gaze. His arms were crossed over his chest, the black T-shirt clinging mouthwateringly to his arms and shoulders- you shook yourself mentally, cringing again at your thoughts. “You can go now.” Jake’s rushed voice cut through your self-judgement and brought you immediately back into his entryway where he stood not quite glaring at you.

Your interest was piqued by his rush of words. “That was awfully quick,” you remarked as casually as you could. “Jake, whatever it is, I’m not going to judge you. I only want to help.”

“Like I said, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” Deep down, a part of him was screaming at himself to let you in. To let you help. He would tell you everything if you only asked, if you stayed a little longer. Jake clenched his hand into a fist, restraining himself from capturing you in a hug and never letting go. He shouldn’t have these thoughts. You were just being nice. It didn’t mean anything. Right?

“But I am going to. And your team is worried too.” You tried to reason with him, as you watched him closely.

Jake shook his head. “How many times do I have to say this? I. Am. Fine. Okay?” His voice was raised and he seemed just as shocked as you by his outburst. “I’m sorry, but I am fine.” No. God no. Why had he shouted? Even he could see right through himself, couldn’t you? He really hoped you did.

You gave him a kind smile, before replying “It’s okay, Jake. I’d offer a hug, but I know how much you hate them. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.” You turned back to the door, opening it up and slipping past Jake, your arm brushing his chest and his breath hitched.

Turning around, you faced him and watched his eyes land on everything but you. “Jake?” Your voice was quiet, like you were afraid to push him. “Are you really okay?”

He shook his head, still looking at the floor. “No,” he whispered. The fight had drained out of him, his resolve crashing down around him. When he did meet your eyes, you were astounded by the myriad of emotions you found swirling deep within the green irises.

“Where’s your living room?” You asked gently, hoping that you both could have this conversation in a more comfortable place. Especially since Jake looked like he would collapse at any moment.

“Down the hall,” he said hoarsely, pointing ahead of you both.

You offered your hand to him and could barely contain the shocked noise when he took it. You felt the calluses on his palms, the rough parts that scratched at your own hands, but there was also a softness in them. The parts he tried to keep out of the light. “Come, let’s go sit.”

You perched on the edge of the brown couch and patted the space next to you. When he sat, you noticed how it seemed like he had purposely left space between you both. “So,” you began cautiously. “What’s happened?”

There was silence for a moment, before Jake spoke. “Too much,” he mumbled so quietly that you barely heard him. “And I just… I don’t know how to fix it.” He was still lying to himself. He knew how to fix it, he was just scared of losing the persona he’d spent most of his life perfecting. He knew that he craved the closeness that you could give him, he just couldn’t ask for it.

“Hmmm…” your hum was soft. Everything about you was soft, Jake thought. It’s why you were so liberal with your love. “Well, can I help you?”

He nodded before he could stop himself. Jake risked it and finally glanced up at you. Where he was expecting judgement or pity, all he saw was empathy, kindness, and compassion. It nearly stole his breath at just how much you cared. You cared about him, even after everything. “Y-yeah. You can,” his voice cracked on the words, but he steeled himself and refused to look away.

You gave him a soft smile, watching his face carefully. Jake seemed to be at war with himself, torn between choosing what he always had or finally allowing himself what he needed. Swallowing, you spoke gently. “How can I help?”

Those four words were the breaking point for Jake who had been strong for too long. The bottle holding in all his yearning, his wishful thinking, all of it, exploded in his chest and he began to sob.

Your eyes flew wide and you immediately gathered him in your arms, turning him into your shoulder. A moment passed before you realized what you had done and you made to let go, but found that Jake had clung to your sweater as he cried.

Each tear set free something deep inside him and Jake knew that nothing would be the same after this. His grip on his feelings had slipped and here he was, sobbing into your shoulder like a child who’d lost their favourite toy. But despite the shame he felt, Jake couldn’t stop and a part of him didn’t want to. You were here, whispering soft words of comfort, your touch grounding him in a way that reminded him how long he’d been floating on his own.

His mind could only focus on the pain he was trying to purge from his body. With each sob, his resolve on his self-judgements snapped and they floated away on the river of tears he cried for the parts of him he had spent too long hiding for fear they would be stripped from him.

Then, with sudden clarity, Jake realized what he was doing. He was mourning everything he’d lost. Everything that had made little Jake Seresin who he was. The excitement of flying, loving his friends with everything he had, all of it gone to appease someone who had been gone from this world for years now. He only cried harder at the thought of his younger self watching who he was now and being disappointed, asking him why he’d stopped hugging people. Why he’d pushed away someone who loved hugs as much as he had.

His face was buried in your neck, the tears wetting your skin. He clung to you, so afraid that if he let go that you’d vanish. And when you vanished, you’d take with you your kindness, the love you spread around so easily, everything Jake knew he didn’t deserve. How could he? You were a sunbeam that had fallen from the heavens above, casting your warmth on everything and everyone you touched. You were magic to him.

Your heart broke for the man in your arms. You silently cursed the pressure he was under as a pilot and whatever rigidity in his upbringing had made it so he didn’t or couldn’t express his true feelings. It hurt to hear his sobs but you knew that this was years of pain, frustration, and anger pouring out of a narrow bottle he had tried so long to keep shut. “I’m here, Jake. Shhh, I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m so sorry, Honey.”

He felt you stiffen and pull back just a little. “Look at me Jake.” He chanced it, looking up at your beautiful face, cataloguing the fierce look in your eyes that was offset by the gentleness of your touch. “Never, never apologize for your feelings. You hear me?” Jake nodded tearfully, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “You can let go of your burden right now. I’m here for you, Jake.”

Your words only set him off again. They reminded him so much of his mother’s own and it cut him deep. She was the light in his life until somehow you’d eclipsed it. She had always given him the love he had craved and had been denied by his father, who had raised him never to express his emotions, yet he’d forgotten about anger. Mark Seresin was an angry man trapped inside the supposed standards of how a Texan man ought to be. He was needlessly hard on his boys, believing that it was his duty to ensure that every emotion had been beaten and worked out of them. He had raised his sons that crying was for babies and little girls. But he would never know how much damage had been done from his ‘tough love’. Mark Seresin would never see his sons snap under the pressure he had placed upon them and Jake was more than okay with that.

And so Jake poured that story out between tears, keeping his hands caught in the fabric of your hoodie, desperately trying to keep you close. He couldn’t have you slipping away from him, but even though he’d cried all over you, ripped open the deepest darkest parts of himself, you didn’t move except to slide backwards on the couch, settling yourself. You had cemented yourself in his life just by holding him close and Jake knew that you could never be aware of just how much that meant to him, how much he loved you for that.

You were going to stay. You held him as his sobs petered out. Held him close as he brought his breathing back to normal, and even as he tried apologizing. But you refused to hear it. “I said I wasn’t going anywhere and I meant it, Jake. Okay?” Your voice was still soft, your hand rubbing circles on his back as you both lay on his couch. He had his head pillowed on your chest, lying there despite the late hour. “You know you can talk to me, right? I meant it when I said I wouldn’t judge.”

“I know.” Jake hated how small his voice sounded, but he was so tired. Tired of the judgement he inflicted upon himself, the arbitrary scale he used to compare himself to others. He just wanted to rest and he was scared. His hard shell had been weakened under his breakdown and this was so new to him. Jake felt exposed, like he’d been stripped naked before you and left to face your judgement.

The only question was: would you still love him after this?

Jake was shaken from his thoughts when you said his name in that soft voice of yours. “What are you thinking about?”

He hummed. “How much I regret crying. I have a headache,” Jake let out a little chuckle at his words. “God, Honey, what do you think of me right now?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled at him. “I’m thinking about how strong you are, how much courage it took you to be so brave. You let your guard down and I am so proud of you for that, Jake.”

Jake’s cheeks pinked. “I might cry again if you keep that up,” he said thickly, swallowing the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him.

“I mean it. I am so proud of you, Jake Seresin, and I will say it as many times as I need to so it gets through your thick skull.” Your tone left no room for argument, but you were still smiling down at him, and the warmth of it washed over him like pulling a thick quilt over oneself during the deepest winter storm.

“I-I think I…” Jake trailed off, catching the end of his sentence before he could say it, before he could confess right then and there. “I have shit timing, holy fuck.”

You only raised a confused eyebrow at him. “Jake, what…?”

“I love you.”

He felt your giggle against his cheek, heard the peals of laughter go ringing through his ears. “I know, you sap. I love you too.”

“Wha- How did you know?”

“The infirmary. When you passed out a few weeks ago because you hadn’t had enough to eat, you were mumbling in your sleep. I just assumed you were calling your partner honey, but then you called me Honey Bee when you woke up and I just knew.” When Jake met your gaze, he saw your eyes full of what could only be described as the purest love. “I think I knew before you did.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head. “Well then,” he began. “Think I should make it official then?” He’d pushed himself up onto his elbows on either side of you and smiled down at you.

You looked adorably confused under his gaze, so he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You hadn’t expected it so you let out a muffled squeak that made Jake chuckle against your lips when he pulled away. “Honey…”

A wide grin nearly split your face in two as you looked up at Jake hovering over you. It took nothing for you to cup his face in your hands and pull him down into yet another kiss, this one more intense, intoxicating one another on the feeling of your lips slotting together.

Jake rested his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy and those green eyes, the ones that had enchanted you from the minute you met, fell shut. “Honey. My Honey Bee…” he whispered millimeters from your lips.

“Yours,” you whispered back, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek so lightly Jake thought he’d imagined it. “I’m yours, and you’re mine, because you know that I will not be an idle partner in this relationship, mister.”

He laughed and it had never sounded so carefree to his ears. You had broken through his walls, forcing your way in with a touch so gentle Jake hadn’t seen you coming until you held his heart at your mercy and by the grace of whatever God sat in the heavens, you had breathed joy and light back into his soul. Jake was utterly devoted to you and your light, wholly captivated by you. You had remade him with laughter in his heart, reshaped his broken heart in your capable, yet gentle hands.

“-ake? Jake? Where’d you go?” Worry had seeped into your tone, your brows furrowing under the concern you felt. He’d spaced out a few times now, and while you were worried, you knew that it was likely residual doubt and his own way of trying to process the events prior. “You should go to bed, Jakey. It’s late.” Your thumb traced the ridge of his jawline, bringing him back into himself.

“Stay.” The words were out before he could stop them. “Please.”

“Okay.”

One word, and Jake knew that he’d be alright, that he was safe.

You were here to stay, his Honey Bee.

===

A/N: big thanks to Star for proofreading and telling me that this wasn’t absolute hot garbage! And for the record, this isn’t Jake’s Dagger Comfort fic. That is still in the pipeline somewhere lol

Taglist: @sarahsmi13s @startrekfangirl2233 @lovinglyeternal @bradleybeachbabe @horseshoegirl @roosterforme @cherrycola27 @dakotakazansky @thedroneranger @aviatorobsessed @csmt-m

#the walls are caving in #fern writes #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fluff

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shelbgrey · 11 months

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Perfect(Seth Clearwater)

Paring: Cullen!Imprint!Reader x Seth Clearwater

Summary: Seth never expected to turn into a wolf, let alone imprint. But after the new born army Seth imprents on the youngest Cullen. they become love sick puppies and just try to have the time of their lives at Edward's wedding. (sorry for any spelling errors)

Twilight Master list

I found a love, for me

Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Me and Seth hung close together as we walked around the sea of people, Bella and Edward's wedding reception was going off without a hitch. I didn't really want to be here, I hate huge croweds, but it was my big brother's wedding. It also helped I was with Seth.

He knew I didn't really want to do this, so he succeeded at spending the whole making me laugh. During the ceremony we couldn't stop giggling and making jokes about Bella, Sue had to literally sit in between us in the middle of my brothers vows. She found out that separating us wasn't gonna stop us.

This was Seth's first real party and he was always willing to try anything. We were know as the the sweet and innocent couple, we do are best to uphold that name.

“you guys are so cute together” Rose smiled, you knew Seth must be doing something right if someone like Rosalie saw him more as just a 'mutt'.

We tried to run off and get some cupcakes but Rosalie stopped us to get a photo. The first one was sweet but then they started to slowly become unhinged to the point Rose dismissed us. Emmett laughed as we went to sneak some cupcakes behind Alice's back.

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love, Not knowing what it was. I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow

Your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine...

If your wondering I'm the only human in the Cullen family and the only one who has actual documents of Carlisle and Esme adopting me.

I didn't know much about the pack till I befriend Jacob. Dispite my family he had a soft spot for me, I met Seth threw him even. Of course I didn't get to officially meet Seth intill the newborn Fiasco.

What my family nor the pack was prepared for was Seth imprinting on me. Jacob had invited me to a bonfire with the pack and that's when it happened. This of corse cuased some problems with the treaty and all, but with the newborn army coming everyone let it go.

I never felt so happy to have him, I watched my siblings get married and fall in love and I was left by myself, thst was unitll Seth. He had my heart from the start.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

When you said you looked a mess

I whispered underneath my breath, But you heard it

Darling, you look perfect tonight...

“come on! Dance with me” I said pulling him towrds the swarm of other couples. Seth laughed and spung me around before pulling me to his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and we swayed to the music in a uncoordinated way, we didn't have to dance like Baby and Johnny from Diry Dancing to have fun.

He took my arms and we just kinda playfully bounced around and bumped each other. Things didn't really calm down till a slow song started to play, wonderful tonight by Eric Clapton started to play.

“may I have this dance?” Seth playfully bowed. “you may” he smiled and pulled me to his chest and way slowly swayed to the soft love song.

Well, I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a lover, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own...

I looked into his chocolate eyes never wanting this to end. We never really had a moment that didn't involve danger, so it was nice to just have a night of fun and laughter.

“have you ever thought about having a wedding?” Seth asked taking my hand in his and twirled me. I smiled softly. “of course, but we're too young to get married” I chuckled.

He smiled. “I know that...I want get a job and a maybe a small house on the res for us before we do all that”

“sounds like a plan” I smiled.

I knew in the future when it came down to either Seth or the family, I would chose Seth. I love my parents and siblings, they gave me a second chance when they adopted me. But then we move all the time and I'm not taking Seth away from his sister and mother.

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

“you got somthing on your face” I said to Seth as we were eating the cupcakes we we're not supposed to eat yet.

“where?” he asked licking the frosting off this thumb.

I smiled and wiped the frosting on his nose. “there”

“hey” he laughed and his eyes went crossed to look at his now white nose. He stuck his toung out and tried to get it. I laughed at his failed attempts, he gave me an 'oh yeah?' look and wipped some frosting on my cheek. I laughed and pushed him away.

He stumbled backwards and accidentally bumped into Alice. “sorry Alice” he quickly said. She rolled her eyes.

“you guys aren't supposed to eat those yet and please act your ages” I rolled my eyes, Alice wasn't used to Seth yet but I didn't care what she thought. I would fight Seth for as long as it takes.

“we are acting our ages, we're at the prime of our youth and we only live once” I said smiled big, Seth nodded agreeing.

I ment the 'only live once' because that's what I wanted, as much as I loved my family I want to grow old with Seth and have a happy, normal future with him.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark,

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favorite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this... Darling, you look perfect tonight

“have I told you how pretty you look tonight” Seth asked as we walked around the house, the music was getting old so we went somewhere more quiter.

I blushed. “Yes, about a million times” I playfully blumbed his shoulder.

“well it's not enough.. I don't deserve to be in the presents of such beauty” he said in his best medieval voice as he playful bowed to me then pulled me into his arms.

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person, And she looks perfect...

Everything seemed to be perfect when I was with him and even if we were just 'kids' I couldn't wait for the future... And whatever desserts we can steal behind Alice's back tonight.

#Seth Clearwater #Seth Clearwater x reader #Seth Clearwater imagines #Twilight #New moon #Twilight imagines #Cullen family x reader #leah clearwater #twilight headcanons #Wolf pack #wolf pack x reader #booboo stewart

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wileys-russo · 6 months

Note

mrs Williamson ficlet

mrs williamson

"done for the week then love?" you smiled at the receptionist linda who addressed you. "yeah thank god. couldn't come sooner if i'm honest! i love them dearly but four days of rain and cooped up energy...i was losing my mind just as much as they were." you chuckled, waving her goodbye and wishing her a good weekend.

tomorrow a public holiday meant a three day weekend for you and you couldn't be happier about it, you and leah already having made plans to make the most of it. first and foremost was date night tonight, you'd left everything to your wife to organise at her hasty insistence so you were excited for whatever she had planned.

the two of you could just eat cereal together in your sweats and you'd still be a happy woman, so long as your favourite blonde was by your side it didn't matter how your time was filled.

you frowned a little in surprise as you switched your phone on and notification after notification began to pour in, and eyes glancing over the countless messages of congratulations your confusion only deepened.

you were expecting, only two and a half months along so it was early days. you hadn't told a single soul you were trying, you and your wife agreeing to keep it between the two of you just in case it didn't work out, and therefore less people to need to break the bad news to.

leah had been nothing but the most supportive life partner you could ever hope for. despite her insanely busy schedule she made sure she was there for every scan, every doctors appointment, every treatment, until finally things clicked and you'd gotten confirmation that it had worked.

once again you'd agreed not to tell people until at least twelve weeks, again hoping for the best and fearing the worst. so with your phone now blowing up with congratulations on the pregnancy you hadn't announced, your head was a jumbled mess.

driving home you declined call after call, from family members, leahs team mates, friends, every sort of person from every sort of social circle that existed within the support unit you and leah had wrapped yourself in.

"what the-" you slammed on the brakes as you tried to pull into your driveway, only to find it full of cars that were not yours or leahs. "god leah what have you done." you mumbled chewing on your bottom lip anxiously as you backed out and parked on the curb.

"leah!" you yelled out for your wife right as you opened the front door, but you didn't get more than two steps inside before you were absolutely swarmed by a small crowd of her arsenal team mates, who were of course your friends as well.

"why didn't you tell us!" "oh my god are you showing yet?" "can we feel for a kick?" "is it a boy or a girl?" "are you finding out? will there be a gender reveal?" "have you got a list of what you need yet?" "have you thought about names?" "i better be godmum!"

"leah!" you yelled loudly over the top of them, pushing through the throng of women who followed after you, still firing question after question in your direction.

"what are these painted on? or does pregnancy affect your hearing?" you felt hands tug at your ears and a familiar voice snicker in your ear as you rounded on her.

"alessia i am pissed off, pregnant, moody and full of hormones. do not fuck around with me right now!" you growled, grabbing the much taller girl by her hoodie and promptly slamming her into the wall.

"where is my wife?" you ordered, your sister immediately pointing upstairs bright blue eyes wide in shock as the rest of the girls fell silent at your outburst. with a huff you let go of alessia, dropping your bag to the floor and storming upstairs.

"leah!" you yelled again, turning into your bedroom and promptly running right into the woman you were after. "hi love. what's wrong? are you okay? is the baby okay?" leah worried, grabbing your shoulders and sitting you down on the edge of the bed, dropping swiftly to her knees and placing a hand on your stomach.

"firstly; why on earth is there a starting eleven in my living room?" you asked, narrowing your eyes and pushing off her hands. "team bonding night, my turn to host." leah quickly answered, recognizing you were clearly upset and not wanting to make things worse.

"and that had to be tonight?" "yes.." "and why would i have an issue with that leah? i'll give you a moment." "oh my god its date night. baby girl i am so sorry i completely forgot fuck! can you get sympathetic baby brain?"

you knew she was trying to make a joke but the stony look on your face sucked any and all humour right out of the room. "secondly; would you care to explain why my phone is blowing up with congratulations for the pregnancy we haven't announced?" you thrust your screen in her face as she grabbed the phone, scrolling through with a confused frown.

"um...i might have told lia. but she's the only one and that was only a couple of hours ago!" leah winced apologetically as you inhaled sharply and stood to your feet. without another word you grabbed the taller girl by her ear, dragging her out of the bedroom and downstairs ignoring her childish whines.

"walti!" you yelled, the swiss looking up in fear at the tone of your voice, the room of footballers again falling silent as you appeared. you let go of leah who grimaced, standing in front of the group with crossed arms.

"you only told her?" you questioned your wife once more, eyes warning her not to lie. "swear on my life, only lia." the blonde promised as your hardened glare turned to the girl in question. "lia?"

"...i might have told laura." "i told beth." "i told viv." "i told vic." "i told less."

"and i told many, many, many people." your sister admitted with a wince as you squeezed your eyes shut, the room so deadly silent you could hear a pin drop and you pinched the bridge of your nose.

"hey gorgeous i'm sure she didn't mean to-" leah fell silent at the withering look you sent her way. "alessia. what do you have to say for yourself?" you asked your younger sister who looked around for some sort of support, all of her friends avoiding her eyes as she opened and closed her mouth.

"um. i'm really excited to be an aunt?" "oh no, the baby doesn't have any blood related aunts." "what do you mean, of course it will?"

"no it won't because i'm going to fucking kill you!" you all but screamed launching yourself at her as leah sprung into action, you only getting one hand on your sister who quite literally hauled her body over the back of the sofa to get away.

"put me down leah i swear to god!" you yelled, thrashing and kicking as your wifes arms locked around your waist and she lifted your shorter form effortlessly off the ground.

with a word the older girl carried you off to the guest bedroom a few feet away, the girls wincing at the foul language which spewed from your mouth toward your sister who peeked over the top of the sofa in pure terror.

"get off me or i'll divorce you!" you growled, your wife quite literally pinning your body to the bed with a soft shake of her head. "i understand you want to murder less my love but i'm so sorry i just can't allow that, i at least need her for the match on sunday. and you need to calm down and then i will let you go and we will go and talk about this."

it took a further ten minutes before you finally stopped fighting her, promising you had calmed with a soft kiss as she let you up, taking your hand and leading you back out to the living room.

"alessia, come here please." you beckoned your sister to join you, in a much calmer tone as the blonde cautiously stepped a little closer. "i'm not going to hurt you, do you want to feel a kick?" you gestured, lifting up your shirt slightly as her eyes lit up.

within seconds she was bending down in front of you, hand reaching out to touch your stomach. though within a millisecond you'd jumped on top of her, wrapping an arm around her neck and grabbing a fistful of her hair.

"what the fuck you said feel a kick!" alessia grunted, trying to throw you off as chaos exploded in the once quiet living room, leah trying her best to drag you off as you clung on, choking your younger sister out as she swore and smacked at you.

"yeah big mouth me kicking the living shit out of you!"

#alessia russo x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #engwnt #woso blurbs #alessia russo #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso

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jwonsite · 7 months

Text

after concert sex w jake cause you got jealous of him flashing his abs to engene😩

you would be waiting for jake to finish the concert backstage, but on one of the screens you could see jake flashing his abs to engene holding a poster that said “JAKE ABS?” in big bold letters. you watched as your boyfriend teased his fans, lifting the hoodie that he was wearing up a bit so they could only see the bottom half of his abs. you couldn’t help but shift in your seat at the sight, both from jealousy and arousal. your boyfriend was hot, you knew that, he knew that, the entire world practically knew that, but his looks never failed to make you flustered. when the concert was over, you see jake running to you with a big smile, expecting you to run and hug him as usual, but instead you stay in your seat, an unamused look on your face. after realizing that you’re not getting up nor smiling, his smile fades a little bit. “what’s wrong baby?” he asks as he approaches you, a worried look on his face. you stay silent as you roll your eyes and pull out your phone, directing your attention to that instead. jake gets visibly annoyed by this, grabbing your arm a bit harshly and pulling you past all the people swarming around in the after concert chaos. he opens the door to his dressing room and pushes you inside, shutting the door behind himself. “what is your problem?? why are you ignoring me??” he said, a bit annoyed, but more confused and hurt as to what he did to earn this reaction. “well what would you need me for when you have that girl you flashed your abs to out there? you both seemed to enjoy it a lot” you fired back, crossing your arms. jakes face visibly softened, glad to know that you weren’t seriously upset at him. “ayyy, you know im yours baby. they’re just my fans, i have to do stuff like that. it’s for fan service” he says grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. your arms are still crossed despite the close proximity, but you maintained eye contact with him. after a moment in silence with no answer from you, he speaks up again. “if you’re so jealous about it, how about i show you that i’m only yours” he says with a smirk, his hand moving down to grope your ass. he moves to kiss you passionately as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. he moves down your neck kissing and sucking hard, sure to leave a mark later. when he hits that sensitive spot on your neck you throw your head back in pleasure, moaning his name. his hands move underneath your shirt as he continues kissing your neck and chest hungrily. “jakey please i need you” you whine as his fingers run over your hard nipples. “need me to what baby? need you to use your words” he says in between his kisses. “please i need you to fuck me” you say as you whine, putting your hand in his hair to pull slightly. “well how can i say no when my pretty girl asked so nicely?” he says as he lowers his hands down to your pants, quickly sliding them down before sliding his own pants and boxers down to his thighs. he turns you around so your face is pressed against the door, and your ass sticking out towards him. “so wet for me already baby? how long have you been like this?” he asks teasing your opening with his dick. “since i saw you showing your abs on stage” you say in a whine as you push your ass back to gain more friction. “awww my poor baby, been waiting all this time. it’s okay i’m gonna fuck you so good you’re never gonna doubt that i’m yours” he says as he pushes himself into your hole, both of you moaning from the stretch. “fuck baby you’re so tight, i love watching you take my cock” he says as he bottoms out, your moans incoherent at this point. you push your ass back a bit to signal that you’re ready for him to move and so he does, bringing his hips all the way out and slamming them back into you. you’re a moaning mess as he whispers praise into your ear as he fucks you. “you’re such a good girl for me baby” “you look so pretty with my dick inside of you” “you know you’re the only girl in the world that could ever make me feel this good” “fuck baby i love you so much” and soon you’re both cumming all over his dick🫶🏼

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seonghwaddict · 3 months

Text

EYES DON’T LIE — iii. a worthy competitor.

synopsis. you've always resented jeong yunho, and you were positive that the end of high school would've marked the end of your rivalry and hatred. yet now you find yourself in the same crappy hotel as him. assigned to be right next to each other much like the good old times.

pairing. jeong yunho x fem! reader. genre. mini-series, fluff, slice of life, mature, academic rivals to lovers, non-idol au. chapter warnings. swearing.

word count. 2.1k. rating. pg-13

chapter ii. chapter iii. chapter iv.

yunho’s life post high school was blissful, to say the least.

he went to his dream university and just like you graduated as the top student of that year. not long after that he landed a job at a relatively large tech company and after promotion upon promotion, he became the multi-billion-won company’s CTO. He lived lavishly; a shining example of what he was able to achieve thanks to his determination and unwavering passion.

at least until all of that came crashing down.

because the CEO just had to get involved in activities that became the downfall of the company. unbeknownst to him, the CEO had been part of an underground piracy organisation and sold the private information of millions of users to malicious parties. when the news got to the police, well… it was chaos. law enforcement swarmed the headquarters to detain the CEO as well as anyone that was identified on the list of people involved. a mess that he had no part of.

in hindsight, yunho should be carrying more than the company card and a suitcase when traveling for business trips, during which all this news got out. but how was he supposed to know he’d go from a highly respected worker to jobless in a matter of 24 hours?

and so he found himself in a shitty hotel, paying with the few bills he could find after rummaging around in his bag. the company card declined when he tried booking a different hotel—the fancy one the company had paid for forced him to leave after they found out he was affiliated with that company. for obvious reasons, he had been confused until he checked his phone for the first time that day and found hundreds of notifications flooding the lock screen that depicted picture of him and his best friend.

speaking of his best friend.

as soon as got into his his temporary bedroom—aka the hotel room that smelled so odd he opened the window as wide as he could and stuck his head out to avoid the stench—he called the man he’s known since they were toddlers, ranting about the situation. unsurprisingly, he found the situation immensely funny.

“so you’re poor now?”

“no, mingi, i just don’t have my personal card. i’ll go withdraw money tomorrow morning.” yunho propped his camera up on the small desk opposite the bed, leaning back in the creaking wooden chair as he rubbed at his temples, dreading the oncoming headache he was starting to feel. “but i’m jobless, for now.”

mingi pursed his lips, nose scrunching as he looked at his phone screen, watching how distressed yunho looked. “how can i help you, then?”

a shrug was the first response he got. “just-” the rotating chair squeaked as yunho leaned a bit further to stare up at the ceiling for a moment before reverting his gaze back to his phone. “just talk to me about something else, distract me for now.”

“okay then,” the fake blond’s face brightened and a wide grin spread across his face as he sat up and leaned closer. “so, you know my boss hongjoong, right?”

and so the next ten minutes were filled with him gossiping about how his boss seemed to have the hots for a cute reporter. yunho listened, grateful to get his mind off his current predicament, but barely registered any words being said. he occasionally replied with agreeing hums or other reactions suitable for the context, but he couldn’t help but feel the tell tale signs of his body wanting to rest. mingi seemed to catch on as he paused his story and squinted at his phone screen, catching the way his best friend’s eyes drooped with fatigue.

“hello? earth to yunho?”

he stirred awake, snorting in a breath before yawning. he checked the time on his very expensive watch briefly before his eyes flickered back up to mingi.

“you look tired, man,” worry was written all over his face, sure he could already see dark circles forming under yunho’s eyes. “get some rest.”

“yeah… yeah, that’s a good idea.” yunho spoke through his yawn, hand covering his open mouth.

they said their goodbyes and ended the call. yunho sat in silence for a moment. he turned the chair, inspecting the bed. it was sad, small and pretty empty. wishing he was back home on his soft king sized bed, he poked the mattress, frowning at the firmness before pulling back and looking at the pillows. well, pillow. singular. while the mattress felt to stiff, the pillow the opposite. he got up to check the little closet for another pillow that he could stack on top to add some firmness, but to no avail.

after a moment of hesitation, he decided to ask the guy at the lobby if he could possibly have an extra pillow. before head for the door, he stopped in the bathroom, checking his teeth and brushing his hand through his dark hair, a little overgrown and resembling a mullet. he fixed the tie of his suit that he had yet to take off and left the bathroom, his hand wrapping around the door handle of the room and pulling it open.

as he stepped out, his temporary neighbour seemed to have just arrived. turning to greet the stranger, he stopped in his tracks just as she had.

what a perfect end to his day. the cherry on top, really.

truthfully, he hadn’t given you much thought after your high school graduation. (he actually did. a friend of his went to the same university as you and he’d occasionally ask him if he knew how you were doing). but seeing you now, he realised you hadn’t changed much. of course, you seemed to have a grown a tiny bit and you looked more mature, but those eyes—those soft eyes, so pretty, red and puffy through your tears—were undeniably yours. he recognised you before he recognised the state you were in, a sobbing mess. in all the years he had known you, he doesn’t recall ever seeing you cry. seeing you like this, with flushed and tear stained cheeks, made his head spin for a moment.

before he could open his mouth to say anything, you were gone. he watched the door of your room fall shut, followed by a thud from inside the room. what it may have been—a kick to the wall, a punch, an item thrown across the room—he wouldn’t have been able to tell as he stared at the door dumbly. he wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but what else was he supposed to do when he ran into you of all people in this obscure hotel and somehow ended up next to each other?

watching you disappear through that door reminded him too much of the last time he saw you.

though it had been a warm summer, it rained on the last day of school. having checked the weather, he brought an umbrella with him. but as he watched you stand front of the entrance of the school, alone and looking out into the rain without a jacket, let alone an umbrella, with a conflicted frown and nothing to protect you from the rain but the roof, he found himself caring about you. before he realised it, he stood in front of you, holding out his black umbrella and consequently getting a little wet.

you couldn’t help but stare at him, your gaze switching between his unusually sincere face and hand extending the red handle of the umbrella. you shook your head, insisting that you won’t take it, but he cut you off.

“come on, it’s just an umbrella, i have no problem walking home in the rain.”

“no, please, yunho, it’s your umbrella, i’ll figure something out. you’ll get sick.”

after some more back and forth, he offered a compromise. you could walk home together.

and that’s exactly what the two of you did. you walked side by side, squeezed together under the umbrella, droplets of rain occasionally hitting your right shoulder or his left shoulder. despite the weather, it was oddly peaceful. a steady conversation flowed between the two of you, free of any teasing or insults. you weren’t quite sure why he was being so nice, but you supposed it was the last you’d see each other before heading separate ways.

unfortunately, the two of you thought at the time, you lived in the same apartment building. while you lived on the third floor, he was up on the fifth. he decided it only made sense to walk you to your place first. unlike your walk outside, the short journey from the elevator to your front door was dead silent. even when you got to the front door, neither of you spoke for a moment until he cleared his throat, his voice almost… emotional?

“i guess this is it, huh?”

“yeah… i guess… have fun finding a better, funnier, smarter rival in college.”

“nah, i don’t think i’ll even bother.”

“hm? really? i thought you’re all about that competition.”

“yeah, but you’re the only person worth competing with.”

he’d never forget the way your eyes widened comically as you looked at him after that, a blush so faint it was easy to miss in this horrible lighting. maybe all the people saying you’d make a good couple were on to something. still, he knew you’d never see each other again, there was no point in trying anything. his cell phone rang, interrupting the tense silence. it was his mother, telling him to hurry and get home.

“i… uh, i have to go… but i’ll see you around, someday?”

you smiled, a smile so genuine his stomach did a cartwheel.

“i’ll see you around, someday.”

you stared at each other for a moment, stood across from each other in the hallway. he wasn’t sure what to do. should he hug you? should he just turn and leave? you seemed just as conflicted. after a long minute, you both extended your hands for a handshake at the same time. a small laugh was shared as your hands intertwined in a slow handshake, holding onto each other a few moments too long. his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand gently. he gave it a small squeeze before letting go and bowing his head, winking playfully.

“good luck out there, y/n.”

“likewise, yunho.”

and with the you disappeared through the front door, much like you had moments ago. though at that time you didn’t look so heartbroken. eventually he got himself to put one foot in front of the other and head to the lobby for his original mission.

he thanked the lobby man quietly as he was handed two more pillows, his mind still occupied with you. you’d think that whatever he felt for you on that last day would’ve dissipated by now, but that was quite the opposite. despite it having been so many years, seeing you again felt like a punch to his throat.

on his way back to his room, he thought about knocking on your door for a split second. in the end, he concluded you probably wouldn’t want to talk to him. he wasn’t sure what he would’ve said anyway. hey, it’s really nice seeing you again, by the way did i mention that i’ve realised i had a massive crush on you that time we said goodbye and those feelings haven’t gone away?

no, absolutely fucking not.

he nearly slapped himself at the hypothetical monologue, dragging himself to his hotel room. a soft thump resounded as he tossed the pillows on his bed before undressing and getting under the thin covers. the time it took for him to fall asleep was unclear as he stared up at the ceiling. whoever rented the room above him seemed to want to make a joke in the ground, thundering stomps making the ceiling and his open window shake.

had he not stepped out at that time to get pillow and bumped into you, he would’ve probably been cursing and swearing to himself to get out of this place first thing in the morning. but, considering who his current neighbour was, he couldn’t help but think…

would one or two more days really be so bad?

[ lilo's notes . . . ] hii sorry it took so long to update this, i hope this makes up for it 💔💔 we finally get a little gimped into yunho’s feelings!! yippee!! i’m sorry he comes off as a little stuck up near the beginning, but please understand he went from a luxurious suite to a hotel on the brink of falling apart; i think most people would be a little disappointed 🙏🙏 he’s not a bad guy i promise

[ networks . . . ] @cromernet @wonderlandnet

[ taglist | series + permanent . . . ] @yuyusuyu @diorwoo @loveyluv7 @ad0rechuu @h-nji @nakiiko @lelaleleb @moon-gyus @baribaaari @bvidzsoo @kunikku @kyeos4ng @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbbg @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

#★ — › EYES DON'T LIE !#cromernet #wonderlandnet #yunho x reader #yunho imagines #yunho reactions #yunho angst #yunho scenarios #yunho headcanons #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez drabble #yunho drabble #yunho fluff #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez angst

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christinebloodwrittings · 2 months

Text

To hunt or be hunted #2

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer

Summary: Strong statements from the "feared" king of hell, deadly oversights, cute duck-shaped cupcakes and the forgotten terror that lives beneath the hotel enjoying a certain demon's broadcast.

Warnings: Self loathing, a bit of a scare, nothing else I can think of.

Taglist: open...

The crowd, and 102 notes have spoken. Funny enough, things I consider drabbles blow up, and stuff that I like and post stays forgotten, anyways that's life. Feedback is always appreciated btw.

For the ppl that voted One-shot, my request box is open if you guys want to drop something Hazbin related.

Charlie had habilitated a back door for the kitchen, heading to the street, so that groceries and the kitchen supplies that you order could arrive unnoticed and would not bother her guests. Also for you to come and go as you may see fit without drawing, as she called it, ‘Unwanted attention’.

Of course she wasn’t thinking of the swarm of questions that may come your way, but more like if they found out, she would have to break the little image she had worked on all this years, the controlled, nice and loving princess everyone knew; to show a bit of the real menace she can be. She hated exercising her authority over others because of what happened with you, it felt wrong and invasive, so she never wanted to re-enter the same void she had fell through when her mother left.

She still used a more severe tone when addressing to you and her orders, or as she calls them ‘mandatory suggestions’, orders nonetheless, and when she asks you for what you’ve heard around town. She wants to keep up with what the people say about the hotel? Not entirely, she just likes gossip.

When either Angel Dust or Husk asked Charlie where did the food come from, she either said that she ordered it, or rely on the fact that sometimes Nifty cooked, per Alastor’s suggestion, but only when he wasn’t around to bring out the fact that she was lying.

Your ears perked up at some noise coming from the renovated parlor, usually it was just Alastor messing with the king of Hell, which made your eyes roll in annoyance given his lack of battle IQ, but the stubborn stag was mildly protected by the princess’s favor, without it, his head would hang on the king’s wall, probably as a coat rack. Now, that thought brought you a smile and a small laugh.

Later at night, when most demons were fast asleep, Angel Dust tiptoe his way inside the hotel, after a long session demanded by Valentino. He tried no to groan given the fatigue, and as he stretched backwards, making his back crack.

“What the fuck?” he muttered when a candle lit up on top of the new bar table, on top of it lied a plate with a medium rare cooked stake sided with homemade mash potatoes and some sauteed vegetables, next to it a glass of wine and silverware, along with a note that read:

“You failed to attend to dinner, saved you a plate. Enjoy”

He reluctantly took a bite, but after realizing that if it were spiked with anything he would’ve already died, given that drugs in hell had a fast effect when it comes to assassination, he enjoyed every last bit of it, making small moan sounds as he did. He also complimented the selection of the wine. You enjoyed the praises as you saw him eat.

As soon as he made his way back to his room, you took the plate and various items to give them a wash. The next day, Husk earned a kiss on the cheek without knowing what he did to deserve it.

It gave you a warm feeling in your chest when the guests liked your food, even more so when they expected anxiously what would it be for the next day, as you never really published the menu for the week, only the princess knew.

Given Angel’s constant praise, you started leaving protein shakes in his night stand before he woke up, always with a ‘Drink me for strength’ note, same with Vaggie when she started working out in the mornings. Charlie took your gesture and assured that she made them out of concern, which was well received by the rest, but not so much from her towards you.

“What did we talk about laying low?” she turned a bit demonic as she whispered harshly, “If you want to starve yourself to death, be my guest, but you made me the chef of the Hotel since day one, and no one inside this walls will die of malnourishment if I can help it” you well knew of the nasty habit the princess had towards food, by sometimes (often) forgetting to eat, or drive herself to an extent of stress, that she just dismissed breakfast or launch, even both on some occasions.

“Fine. On another subject, my dad will start living here, permanently. He’s Celiac, just so you know” Gluten allergy, that caught you off guard. You made a mental note to replace flours, rice and pastas into a non-glutinous option, same as your pastries for tea time from now on.

“About time you made peace with him” she shot you a warning look but didn’t correct you, “Yeah well, I’m happy about it, it took too long” for a while she felt that it was her fault for her parent’s split, as any child of divorce would begin to feel in the first period of the breakup. That feeling diminished, but hasn’t left her system entirely, no mater how much her girlfriend reassures her of the contrary.

“Arrange his room please, I left a few things lying around, but I have a session, so, can you handle it?” you nodded, satisfied with your answer, or rather lack thereof, she turned into her cheery self. “He left to pack up a few things from the castle, he’ll be back in a few hours, please don’t let him see you” with that last bit, she left the kitchen.

The king’s room wasn’t messy, Nifty wouldn’t allow it, so there were just a few items to place around, and a massive bed to put together, piece by piece no less. It was a Belphegor’s elite brand bed, no less, it had an insane amount of screws and parts, for someone known as the queen of Sloth, it took a serious amount of effort to put up with her products.

Took you two hours to set the whole thing up. Why did it take so long to put together a bed? because when you had it perfect, you noticed that you had three leftover screws, you weren't supposed to have leftover screws, so you disassembled it piece by piece until you found a place for the damn screws. The instructions were worse written than a menu in a Cantonese restaurant when the owner is obviously not Cantonese and wrote up the whole thing in google translate.

You took a big breath, satisfied with your work only when you put on the last blanket over the foot of the bed. “Weight blanket” you muttered with the fabric in between your fingers. Right in between the bedspread and the sheet there was a fairly heavy blanket, it lead to something obvious, two, either anxiety, or the king was missing his wife to the point he needed a weighted hug over him.

Your ears caught the sound of wings, he would arrive in no time.

You only had a millisecond to think, either run to the door and risk being seen, or put on the veil, jump out the window, but you were at penthouse level, that would probably leave you quadriplegic, on the other hand you transferred your tunnel system between the walls from the old hotel to the new one, you would just have to push the fake tile behind the bathroom door.

You ran out of time.

Still in your place, like a statue, you put the veil carefully over your body, this time without your eyes being able to be seen through.

The fallen angel dropped one single portfolio, the same blowing up into a swarm, no, a tsunami of rubber ducks, pieces of clothing, all ending up scattered all over the room, giving you an opportunity to make your way behind the bathroom door.

“Oh Charlie put together my bed? That ought to be a lot of work” he ended the sentence with a singsong tone before jumping onto the mattress. ‘That’s a shit ton of baloney, I bust my ass and the little devil gets credit for it? Fucking fantastic’ you mentally growled.

“Lily, if you could see her, she looks more like you every day” his voice cracked, “I wish…I wished I knew how to help. What could I possibly offer her? Advice? Experience? On what?! falling, being a constant disappointment? She did more things than you and I did in ten thousand years”

“I feel so useless” peeking over the door you saw the tiny king, wrapping himself in his six enormous wings. ‘Majestic’ you thought, after seeing millions of demons since you died, it was the first time you saw someone so beautiful. It made sense, he was indeed the prettiest angel God ever created, the best singer too.

How can someone like that, ethereal, could be troubled by things so…earth bound?

In an instant, he jumped out of bed, brushed up his hair a little, then walked out the door with the most fake smile you had ever seen. Boy you knew about fake smiles.

Later in the afternoon, around tea time, you changed up your regular flour for almond, it was definitely a different experience in terms of texture, but in terms of flavor, it could pass for regular flour, no one was going to notice.

Three types of cupcakes: Salted caramel, red velvet with vanilla stuffing, and cookie dough cupcakes shaped as ducky ones.

Alastor wasn’t a fan of sweets, so a mildly coffee infused cake with a caramel dressing with coarse salt on top, did the trick amazingly. Paired with a nice cup of Orange Pekoe tea to send him down memory lane. When you picked his plate up, there wasn’t a single crumb left.

The rest of the Hotel fancied your pastries, and loved sweets. Red velvet was a well-received classic, but it consisted of a vanilla flavored cake, and pair it with a filling of the same flavor might over do it. Instead, you added orange juice to the mix, the citrus smell with the sweet vanilla swirl on top were the sensation in the redemption session.

The only questionable thing about the mix was the berry tea that Charlie liked to drink during her sessions.

You baked small batches of cookie dough balls only a quarter of time, then poured the gluten free vanilla cupcake batter on top of it, keeping the cookie cooking at the bottom while you prepared the chocolate icing. When still warm you used a duck shaped scraper for the cake to take shape, then use the icing to make spikes, horns and little faces on them when it had cooled down a bit.

Why were you making special things for him? Pity? Empathy? Maybe both, but you were far too busy remembering the steps to the king’s room to bother.

All the ducks seemed organized, it definitely was the same mess, but perhaps there was some sense in his insanity. The plate was placed carefully in his night stand, along with a saucer and the tea cup filled with chamomile tea.

“Stop, freeze right there” you were about to place the hand written card when the distorted voice of the king froze your nerves in place, good thing that you were wearing the veil.

“Riddle me this, I’m connected to your every step, but I’m not your shoe. What am I?” he was near but stayed right in your blind spot, as he walked towards you. “Answer” his voiced sent chills down your spine, made your teeth sharpen as well as your claws, and your ears perk up defensively.

“You’re a shadow” your answer brought in him a subtle laugh, “Even through that shield of yours, dear, you cast a shadow, I saw a glimpse of it make it’s escape through the bathroom” was it that simple? Did anyone else in the Hotel had been as perceptive as him, no they would’ve ask Charlie or Alastor about it.

“So? How long have you been lurking in the Hotel?” walking past you, he brought up the tea cup to his lips, making a grimace, “Drink it, you look either sick, or worse, anemic, you’re three tones paler than your daughter” he shrugged, apparently aware of his state.

“I believe I asked you a question” his eyes shifted colors, just like Charlie’s, “None of your beeswax” you couldn’t tell him even if you wanted to, “I’m your King” the little heavy step he did was hilarious, but laughing would’ve get you killed.

“So what?” he widened his eyes at your boldness, dismissing it entirely after a laugh, “Mm, how about you answer my question and then I might consider letting you go?” his boot was on the edge on the veil, one move and he would see you, “How about you stop being a bull on me and enjoy my cookin’?” he took a moment to actually see the cupcakes, a tender smile drawn on his face.

When he looked back at where you where, all he saw was the veil falling gracefully to the ground, likewise it dissolved into the air.

“I fucked up” your heart throbbed painfully in your ear; the rush was real.

Your room was underneath the Hotel, a system of catacombs led to different fates to those stupid enough to enter, only you and the princess knew of the correct way. The space wide consisted of black brick walls, a twin size bed placed on the corner, a wooden wardrobe, the rustic eighteen hundreds themed bathroom, and a set of seven iron candle holders screwed to the wall.

“Good afternoon Hell!” Alastor’s voice became present through the radio you kept on your night stand, “I’m in a jolly mood on this occasion, a well baked pastry would put a smile on anyone, even in the crankiest demon in hell” he laughed, then continued on topics from a simpler time, then the screams of his new victim.

You rested your tachycardia on your bed, focusing on your breathing and Alastor’s voice, to make your heart slow down to a normal pace.

“Thank you for listening, it was a pleasure to entertain you. Now, a small request from a friend in between the walls, I hope you enjoy this one, dear” he placed the dusted vinyl on the player, allowing it to roll one of your most liked songs, Cuban Moon by Carl Fenton’s Orchestra.

Slang, jazz, the demoness that haunted Alastor’s brain was definitely from his timeline, probably the same state he lived in. But what really itched his brain, was the axe. “It’s an unorthodox method to kill someone, the blade loses its edge quickly and it would require a brutal force to cut through bones…unless” he pondered over an open binder with pieces of old newspaper that fell with him, parts of the news were about him, but the front page was about someone else.

The next day, Lucifer walked fast down the stairs, grabbed Charlie by her shoulders and demanded, “Who is she? The demon living in the walls?”.

Your note for Lucifer read the following: "Someone who swore to love you through sickness and health, and still left, is not worth your tears."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Baloney: same as nonsense or bullshit

None of your beeswax: Slang for 'none of your business'

Bull: Slang for police-man

Stay tuned ;3 Part 3

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flemingsfreckles · 3 months

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Be a Good Teammate pt. 2

Jessie Fleming x USWNT!Reader (also Seattle!Reader)

Read Part 1

Warnings: none, this is a pretty relaxed chapter

WC: 2.8k

A/N: thank you so much for the support on what is now Part 1. Due to how many people requested a continuation of this fic, I figured I’d go for it! This is more of a filler/plot mover part of the story. There will be at least one more part that will be a lot more interesting but if there’s enough interest and I have the ideas, maybe it’ll be many more parts.

It had been a couple weeks since you had talked with Jessie on the field in San Diego. You haven't heard anything from her, not that you were expecting to after she had told you she had a lot on her plate. Not hearing from her had bothered you a bit in the beginning, thoughts of her constantly popping up in your mind. She was a minor distraction. As time went on and you didn’t hear from her you went back to the way you had been before you had seen her. You were able to brush off the thoughts of her easily, getting back into your routine as if you hadn’t even seen her.

Something deep down hoped you’d wake up to a text from her. That hope diminished as the days passed. It wasn't until the week before your team was supposed to take the trip to Portland to play that you heard from her.

Unknown: Hey, this is well overdue but I just wanted to apologize, I was rude to you after the gold cup game. Not an excuse but I was in a pretty rough state. Thanks for what you said too.

Unknown: by the way this is Jessie, I had to get a new number to use in the US. Feel free to delete my UK number. Keep the Canada one, I still use that.

Unknown: I got your number from Coffey.

Unknown: Hope that’s okay. You can just delete this number if you’d rather.

Reading her texts made you smile and let out a small laugh, she texted exactly how she would talk. You can practically hear her voice while reading through the texts, how she probably sat there overthinking each text only to then feel guilty for not just double or triple but quadruple texting you. You clicked on her number, changing her name in your phone to Jessie (USA).

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard as you thought about responding. Deciding against replying at the moment, you lock your phone again and climb out of bed. You throw on your clothes for training then head to your kitchen to make a quick breakfast and coffee.

Training was rough. It was less that the physical workout was hard, it had actually been a lighter day being only 2 days away from game day. It was rough because you couldn't focus.

Your mind kept drifting to the few texts you had received from Jessie. Had she been thinking about you all these weeks? Why did she wait so long? Maybe she was only thinking about you since you would be seeing her this weekend. But maybe she was thinking of you for other reasons. Maybe she was ready to start being friends? Maybe you could end up as more? All the thoughts related to her were swarming around your head, leading you to be in a fog at practice.

It was embarrassing to say the least, missing touches, overpowering or underpowering your passes, even tripping over your own feet a couple times. After you had fallen to your knees while doing individual dribbling drills, for the third time that day at practice Quinn stepped over to you extending their hand.

“Are you good?” Concern in their eyes as they pulled you up.

“Yeah, just in my own head today.” trying to give a convincing smile shaking your head at your own behavior. You had managed to push Jessie so far back in your mind for years, why was she messing with you now.

“Alright, if you need to talk let me know, or go see the psychologist. The team has them for a reason. We need you to stay on your feet Saturday.” They pat you on the back and go back to finish their dribbling drill.

“Thanks.” You gave Quinn a smile, knowing damn well you wouldn't bring yourself to talk with them. They were one of the best listeners on the team and had heard out your other issues, anxieties and just general venting. There was no way you were going to talk to Quinn about their own national team teammate. You didn’t need it coming back to Jessie that she was on your mind.

You were so thankful when you were called to huddle up and end practice. Heading back to the locker room you peeled your sweaty jersey off, throwing a sweatshirt on instead, grabbing your phone and heading to the trainer’s room. You greeted the staff, walking over to the ice bath and hopping in. The icy water causes goosebumps to appear across your skin. It felt good, you knew it would, you often would use a cold shower to clear your mind, but this counted as your recovery as well so it was a bonus. You stripped off your sweatshirt leaving you standing shivering in your sports bra. You took a deep breath and let your knees give, sinking your whole body under the water.

Under the water was peaceful, quiet, the freezing water causing your brain to go blank, no thoughts of the bad training, no thoughts of Jessie, no thoughts of what to make for dinner tonight, nothing. So you waited, sitting on the bottom of the tub prolonging your peace. Running out of air, you resurfaced to find a few teammates and members of the training staff to be looking at you. Feeling suddenly self conscious you grabbed your sweatshirt throwing it back on. “What?” you harshly asked in the general direction of your teammates. None of them responding, shaking their heads or just looking away.

Before you could make it out of the locker room you heard your name called and saw your coach standing behind you.

“Can you come to my office before you head out?” She asked.

“Yeah no problem, just give me a second to change my shorts, I’ll be right up.” You tried to appear calm on the outside. On the inside you were stressing. Why did she need to talk to you, maybe you were being traded and you'd be able to dodge Jessie longer. Maybe she was taking you off the travel roster, maybe she was going to yell at you for your performance today. You quickly changed into some dry pants and walked over and into the coaching office.

“Go ahead and shut the door.” She pointed behind you when you walked in. Her words make your stomach sink. You sat down, not saying anything, just looking at her across the desk. She finishes up something on the computer, hitting the power button and turning back to face you. She taps her hands on the desk and starts talking. “Look, I’m going to tread lightly here, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Your best attempt at a smile comes across your face.

“You realize why I have to ask, right?” you just nod at her question. “I don't mean to be crass but that was the worst practice you've had since you started here. I get it, everyone has an off day, but that to me looked like a lot more than just an off day.”

“I’m good, I just had a bit on my mind.” She wasn't telling you anything you didn't know but hearing her criticism of your performance hurt, you didn't want to disappoint her.

“Do I need to take you off of our roster for this weekend's game?”

“No!” You're quick to protest her offer. “I promise, I’ll have it sorted by then.” Not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or your coach at this point you keep talking. “You can count on me.”

“I want to believe that, I do. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt on this one, I’ll leave you on the roster, we really need you for this game, but I’d rather not put you out there if your performance is going to look like it did today.”

“Yes Coach, I understand. I’ll be good.”

She turns back to a stack of papers, grabbing off a small slip from the top. She hands it to you, you look at it recognizing the name and contact information of the team’s sports psychologist and the team’s standard psychologist. “Take this, I’m not saying you need to talk to anyone, but it's good information to always have.”

You look up from the paper, thinking it's silly how now two people had recommended that you needed professional help, all over the fact that you had a silly little crush on an old teammate.

“Thanks Coach, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You stood up pushing in the chair behind you, leaving her office. You walked down the hallway back toward the locker room to grab your bag. Before you head out you quickly pack your travel back, throwing in your boots, shin pads, extra socks, tape before dropping the bag at the front of the room where your teammates had placed theirs. You moved back

Part of you cursed Jessie for reaching out, you had been able to push your thoughts of her back in your mind after you had talked but now that she had reached out she was back in the forefront. Opening your phone as you walked out of the training facility, you opened your messages and clicked on Jessie’s name. You opened her contact, frustrated from your performance at practice and causing your coach to consider benching you, you wanted to blame it on her. You hover your finger over the delete button. You then moved your thumb to where it read Block This Number. Before you could think twice you pressed it, the messages from her disappearing, no trace of her new number on your phone. While you were at it you proceeded to delete her number from the UK. You left her Canadian number, she never used that one to talk to you, no harm in it staying. You were hoping blocking her new number would also block the thoughts of her.

You learned very quickly though the night that if anything, blocking her number made Jessie more prominent in your mind. She was in your mind while you drove home. You thought about her while you stood under the cold water of your shower, she was in your mind while you cooked. Trying to distract yourself you grabbed a book and the book worked. It kept Jessie out of your mind until you realized how much you liked the book, one of the best ones you had read in a while. You decided to open GoodReads, immediately closing it when the first thing you saw upon opening the app was Jessie’s name, she had recently rated a book. You had forgotten that you were even friends on the app, you hadn't read or rated a book in a long time. Deciding you’ve had enough, you pull yourself off the couch and into the bedroom to try and get some sleep.

Setting your alarm for the next morning, you climbed into bed, deciding to count sheep to prevent your mind from wandering. It took many minutes of tossing and turning before you were able to fall asleep. Despite the long day you had mentally and physically, sleep did not come easy. Unfortunately, once you were asleep, you didn’t stay asleep long, feeling restless when you woke up for the fourth time that night, the sky was still dark outside. You roll over checking the time 3:18am. Still half asleep you reach for your phone, sliding it open. Squinting at the bright light you find your settings, opening your list of blocked numbers, finding Jessie’s you click unblock. You open your messages, type in her name and then a message.

You: No problem, see you Saturday.

You're not sure what you're saying no problem to, if it's because she apologized, if it's because she thanked you for talking to her or if it's to the fact that she had asked Sam for your number. Sleep is still fogging your brain. You hit send, shut off your phone and roll over hoping you can get some more sleep before your alarm wakes you.

You wake up to the sound of your alarm. You gave yourself an extra hour in the morning to pack before you had to meet at the stadium to travel. You threw on your travel sweats and shirt before throwing an assortment of sweatpants, t-shirts, and shorts into a bag, not caring what you packed for the 3 day trip. Moving into the bathroom you packed your toiletries, before heading back to your bedroom to grab your phone and the charger.

Jessie (USA): See you Saturday.

You do a double take at the message, last remembering that you had blocked her number. You open it, seeing that you, in fact, had not blocked her but instead you had texted her at 3 in the morning. “Oh you idiot,” you insulted yourself. You threw your phone in your pocket while packing your charger in your bag.

It wasn't long until you were sitting on the bus, stretching your body across two seats, trying to get comfortable. The buses had to be one of the most uncomfortable parts of playing, unfortunately Portland was considered too close to justify a plane ride. You were reading over the itinerary that had been handed out. You were scheduled for a light practice this evening followed by designated stretching and recovery time, then it was dinner and lights out. Looking to Saturday you saw the early arrival time, the game starting at Noon, pitch walk just before that, and time to warm up. After the game you had recovery for an hour followed by the words “Free Time” It wasn't uncommon for you to get freetime after game days when you were traveling, it was nice to explore where you were playing or just getting to hang out, unregulated, with your teammates. Sunday consisted of a practice in the morning, then more free time, followed by the bus ride back in the evening. The large amount of free time on this trip caught your eye, giving you an idea as you dig your phone out from your pocket. You open it to Jessie’s messages again and start typing.

You: If you're up for it, dinner Saturday night?

You realize that feels a bit forward, adding a second message.

You: You can bring a teammate too if you want, it doesn't just have to be us.

Seconds after you send it you see the bubble indicating Jessie is typing pop up, you lock your phone and toss it as if it's on fire into the seat that your legs are resting on. You feel it vibrate against your calf, indicating she had responded. Instead of reaching for your phone you remain still, staring at it. It’s only once the phone vibrates again reminding you that you had a text that you reach and pick it up. Involuntarily you hold your breath and turn on the screen.

Jessie (USA): That would be nice.

The gray bubble appears again.

Jessie (USA): just us

You let the air out of your chest, feeling relieved at her response. She wanted to see you. She wanted to see you, just the two of you. A smile grows on your face as you read over her messages again and again.

You: sounds good, may need some recommendations on dinner locations

This time when you see her typing you hold onto your phone. Watching as the bubble appears for a few seconds before disappearing and reappearing

Jessie (USA): I’ll figure something out and let you know

You begin to type out “sounds like a date” before deciding that it’s a little too forward, against it, deleting it and changing it.

You: perfect!

You waited, seeing if she would respond, not that there was much to respond to but part of you hoped she’d say something else. When she doesn't you shut off your phone. You lean your head back so it rests against the window and you're looking at the ceiling of the bus. You let out a sigh of relief. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest for the first time in two days. You now knew she didn't completely hate you, you knew she was willing to let you talk with her again.

Feeling last night's lack of sleep catches up with you, your eyes close and you’re able to drift peacefully asleep, your brain no longer filled with anxieties or concerns about Jessie, you remain asleep until the bus stops and you hear your teammates gathering their belongings to get off the bus. You were finally in Portland.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #canwnt #canxnt #portland thorns #jessie fleming imagine

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c4ttheart · 2 months

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prev • mlist • next

i feel like sae is ooc bc what is characterisation

did you miss me guys ☝️

sae doesn’t really know how to react when his teammates ask about you. if he didn’t know any better, he’d probably be a stuttering mess but sae is not foolish. and he is not weak. his composure will not falter. every five seconds, the camera flickers to you, with your nonchalant face until someone on his team scores.

you gave up on trying to cover your face up at this point, your cap is discarded somewhere and he can see you slightly shivering. you’re close enough to blind his eyesight every time he turns to look at you, even though he will deny that he even glanced your way. he can see that you’re trying to look as invested as possible, but it’s very obvious that you aren’t. sae would usually say that he doesn’t really care, as long as this whole ordeal brings back money, but he finds that he does kind of care. maybe just a little.

and then what he thought was a tiny bit of pity turns into a whole lot of it. he finds himself impatiently counting the seconds till halftime to talk to you. he runs across the field, again, and then again, hoping time will just go by quicker. it usually always does when he’s playing soccer. he’s lost count of the number of times his name has been pronounced by the people on the speakers. normally, he would care; having his name being said more than the others gives him some sense of pride, even though he will never admit it.

when halftime finally comes by, he rushes into the locker rooms. he doesn’t really care, the game is already over for him, it’s quite clear his team has won by a long shot. so he sacrifices five minutes of his time and comes out early, only to stop right in front of where you’re sitting. wordlessly (much to his dismay) he tosses his windbreaker to you, and you smile at him. he is blinded again, but he thinks that the aftereffect is less damaging to his eyes now. is that a good thing ? no it probably isn’t. it’s alright. maybe. you do not make eye contact. you trouble his vision until all he can focus on is you. it sounds pathetic, probably. it’s alright. he’ll live. it’s fake anyways, right ?

the authenticity of the relationship has yet to be proved, but the pit of swarming emotions he feels in his stomach is slowly starting to materialise. he’s not used to not having what he wants. it’s odd to know he has you but he doesn’t really. he hopes that is what he feels. the crowd roars. you smile. he smiles back, for what is most likely the first time ever in public. you laugh slightly, for the cheers of the people all around are louder than the screams they let out whenever someone scores. you blow him a kiss, and he rolls his eyes, but he still walks away with an almost grin on his lips.

his teammates holler when he enters the room again. they’re not stupid. he receives countless nudges, and suddenly the light hanging on the ceiling feels dimmer than before.

sae skips every interview at the end of the match. the reporters are persistent, screaming your name all over and over again to get a bit of his attention. you slipped away before anyone else, afraid of getting caught in the crossfire. it’s alright, he understands. you text him, congratulating him on his victory. it’s not as dry as he makes it out to be, but he is sour from the fact that you’re not here in person to congratulate him. maybe he is slightly disappointed in the fact that he doesn’t get to see you outside the planned dates his manager sets up. he shouldn’t be, though.

he likes the message, even though his fingers tentatively hover around his keyboard, looking for something to write. he barely knows you, you barely know him. why is he so attached already ? he sighs, and turns off his phone instead because sae has never been the greatest with emotions. you look like you don’t feel anything deep at all. but it’s all for the cameras.

why does he care. why does he keep on trying. why does he feel this way, why why why why.

he feels as if his eyesight is damaged now, and everything is less bright. the vibrant green of the field turns shallow and dull, and he can’t help but miss the colour of your eyes.

a reporter shouts in front of him, loud enough to make him hear, and wince. "mr. itoshi ! how much do you like (name) !?"

the question catches him off guard. he notices how formally he is adressed, contrarily to you. you do have that sort of aura that lures people in, he remarks, and he ponds on the question again. his manager is besides him, looking at him expectantly. sae pretends not to see, and he is so close to walking away when his mind rushes to you again. you and your small smile, you and your profile picture on twitter, you and his windbreaker, you and your bright, bright eyes. and he wonders how you would react if he said the words sitting on the tip of his tongue.

so he lets them cascade out of his mouth, erasing the crease between his brows and turning his lips the slightest bit upwards. "a lot." and he walks away again before he can hear the next question, wondering if you feel as giddy as him.

taglist (open!)

@rroxii @hellothere9597 @melon-garden @kurowvie @icvlybru @is2sae @iroriorigamii @sagejin @gyuville @tamimemo @saeskiss @gskill @comet-kun @itoshilvr

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nevvdrinksteaa · 6 months

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favors pt. i

~~~

i think that this sounded better in my head, but i went ahead and wrote it anyways because i really couldn’t stop thinking about it. also kinda leaned into the horny vibe i was feeling, i’ve never written smut but i’ve read a lot and i think i could do it lmao

~~~

pairing: mike schmidt x reader

prompt: idea from sweet child o’ mine @macfrog (it’s amazing i suggest you read it)

you’re abby’s babysitter and mike can’t pay you just quite yet and he asks if he can do anything for you in return and you mention that you need a date to your brother’s wedding.

warnings: uhmm fluff, angst, suggestive content, i think that’s it, let me know if i missed something!

word count: 1.7k

PART TWO HERE

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Waking up from your uncomfortable position on the couch, you heard the rain pattering on the window. The cold air suddenly swarming your body as you woke from your slumber. You reach over and tap your phone on the coffee table, watching the screen light up and checking the time. 5:48 AM Mike should be home in about 30 minutes. You reluctantly decided to slowly remove the blanket, standing up and reaching your hands in the air, stretching your stiff body as much as humanly possible.

You decided to help Mike and start cleaning up the mess you and Abby made from your activities. You start picking up the crayons, markers, and pencils and place them in the pink basket you picked out for Abby hours before coming over, smiling at how she colored in the paper hearts that were stuck to the sides, picking up the loose paper and sticking it in a neat pile on the desk on the dining table for Abby to use when she wakes up. You walk directly towards the hallway, taking clothes from the hamper and starting a load of laundry. Softly chuckling to yourself about how manly the laundry detergent Mike picked out smelled, you filled up the cap with the green goop and threw it in the washer.

Mike walked through the door as you were finishing up the dishes, drying off the big bowls you and Abby used to make brownies. He kicked his shoes off by the door and placed his keys on the little hook above the light switch. He looked at you for a few moments, taking in how cute you looked dancing to the soft music that came from your phone, how pretty your hair looked slightly knotted from your nap on the couch, the shorts you were wearing creeping up your legs with every step you take.

Mike loved watching you, in the least creepy way possible. He adored everything about you, taking the little extra time he had to notice things he never had any interest in noticing in anyone else before. You were so different and he was so infatuated, interested in getting to know you, getting to know your interests, getting to know your body. He thought about you constantly, something about you made him feel like a teenage boy. He was deep in thought when you turned around, yelping when you noticed him staring at you.

“You want to take a picture? Some people say they last longer” you say smirking, crossing your arms at the brown-eyed boy.

He chuckled softly at your flirtatious comment, a light pink dusting spreading across his tired face, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You were listening to music and didn’t hear me come in.”

“It’s okay, I was just finishing up some dishes, I didn’t think it would’ve been fair to leave you with the brownie mess” His ears perked up with excitement “You made brownies?”

He faked surprise, ‘Of course, you made brownies’. You were always doing extra things, it was his favorite thing about you, always doing the most and expecting nothing in return.

You grabbed a brownie for yourself before sliding the plate over to the pretty boy. You stayed leaning against the island, smirking to yourself when you saw Mike's eyes dart to your chest.

“Abby and I made them, she said that she wanted to surprise you when you got off work”

“I swear that kid is only nice to me when you’re here,” he said, partially to you and partially to himself.

Rolling your eyes “You know that isn’t true, she adores you”

“I would strongly disagree, She told me I was the ‘dumbest person ever’ when I told her she needed to eat more than just spaghetti and pizza”

“To her defense, she ate brownies today, that's more than spaghetti and pizza”

“I cannot believe you would rather agree with a 10 year old than me” He put a hand over his heart, sighing heavily to show he was hurt by your words. “I always knew you liked Abby more than me.”

You looked at him, eyes wide at his comment. “Sorry, I thought it was clear that I liked her more than you” you paused, for dramatic effect “I never tried to keep it a secret.”

He laughs grabbing a second brownie, and moving away from the kitchen island toward the couch. “You coming?”

“I could be” you winked, smirking at him. He shook his head, thinking of all of the ways and positions he really could make you cum.

You start to follow him, scolding yourself for flirting with him, staying behind for a few seconds to click the lid back on the Tupperware container.

You walk around to the left side of the couch, opposite to where Mike was sitting. After your comment, you got nervous, thinking you pushed it too far. You started noticing the quietness that suddenly arose and not knowing what to say to make things less awkward.

Mike was the first to break the silence, “How was she today?”

“She was good, I was able to pull her away from her drawings long enough to watch a movie. We watched Coco and the end made her cry, then she called me a monster for making her watch it and walked right back to the bedroom to color” You giggle at the memory of the evening you had with the younger sibling.

“Sounds like Abby” Mike sighed “At least she’s warming up to you enough to sit and watch a movie with you, I can’t remember the last time we sat down for a movie”

You grabbed his hand, noticing the sadness that started to form on his face. “You know she loves you, she talks about you constantly, you’re front and center of every one of her drawings. You’re her favorite person”

He smiled softly at your kind words, grateful to have you there to comfort him. “Thank you”

“Of course, that’s what I'm here for”

“Technically you're here because you babysit my sister, but it does make me feel good to think that you’re here only for me”

“Yeah yeah Schmidt, keep telling yourself that”

“Speaking of” Mike trailed off, “It’s going to be just a little bit longer before I can pay you, the new job doesn’t offer insurance so I have to pay for everything out of pocket and Abby was just sick-” You cut him off

“Mike you know I’m not worried about it” he sighed and you could tell by the look on his face that he was still bothered by not being able to pay her.

It had been three weeks since you started babysitting for Mike, coming early to help him make dinner before he leaves for work and staying late to get Abby dressed and feeding her before driving her to school so Mike could get more than an hour of sleep.

You enjoyed helping Mike and loved taking care of Abby, you were the oldest child in your family, so you were used to caring for people.

Mike hated it, it made him feel so guilty. He felt like he was taking advantage of your kindness, promising you every day that it would be only a little bit longer before he could pay you.

“You know, if you feel bad you could just repay me with a favor”

Mike perked up. His mind was filling with ideas of what could fall out of your pretty little lips. He would do anything you asked him to, make you dinner, give you a massage, eat you out for hours and hours. ‘God, why was he suddenly so horny?’

“What kind of favor are you thinking?” slightly squeezing his hand that was placed across your soft thighs. As soon as the words came out of his mouth he felt like a cheap whore, suddenly nervous that he was coming onto you so strong and you wouldn’t reciprocate.

“As tempting as this favor is,” you say placing a hand on his chest “I was thinking something else”

He was suddenly so embarrassed. He quickly pulled his hand away, placing it in his lap, and looking away from your beautiful face. You felt bad seeing a pitiful look on his face, hurting Mike’s feelings was the last thing you wanted to do.

“My brother is getting married in two weeks and I need a date.” He was ecstatic, pushing his horny feelings aside, he could picture it in his head; you two hand in hand, his tie matching your dress, sharing a kiss after your first slow dance-

“My boyfriend has a work conference and he has to be at” You have a boyfriend? “and my family is so annoying if I know if I come without a date, all they would do is tell me that I’m wasting my life away and I’m going to forever be so lonely and-” You have a boyfriend? How could he not know that?

“Mike, are you listening to me? If you’re uncomfortable pretending to be my boyfriend then I could always ask someone else”

“I’ll do it” Against his better judgment, he agrees, hoping that something could come out of it

“Really? Oh my god, thank you so much!” You lean over and hug him “You’re really saving my ass”

“Anything to help” he laughs, trying to make it seem like you didn’t just stab him in the chest with a casual mention of your boyfriend.

Suddenly, your alarm goes off and you pull away from the hug. Mike felt cold at the loss of contact.

“It’s 7:30, you should get to bed” you state standing up from your spot on the couch “I’ll get Abby ready from school so you can catch up on some sleep, I’ll text you the details of the wedding after I drop her off”

Mike watched as you walked away, feeling like he just got punched in the gut. You didn’t feel the way he did and god that was embarrassing. He never had time to even think about a relationship and the first time in a long time he does, the girl in question has a boyfriend.

Mike let out a deep sigh and got up, heading towards his bedroom ready to close his eyes and forget about the miserable conversation. As he walks past Abby’s room he notices you crouched beside her bed, softly shaking her awake.

Fake boyfriend or not, at least he knows he won’t be pretending about his feelings for you to your family.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #nev writes

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loveshotzz · 5 months

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Is It New Years Yet?

steve harrington x fem!reader ✨Part One✨

Santa Tell Me

summary: When you meet Steve Harrington the first time it’s by accident, the second time a coincidence, and by the third he’s calling it fate.

wc: 8.1k

warnings: 18+ series, a christmas meet cute with steve who’s in his 30’s, smut in later chapters, drinking, smoking, eddie munson is our best friend/roommate, him and steve don’t know each other in this AU.

authors note: this wasn’t supposed to be this big or long but here we are. thank you for all your patience and sweet words, I’m so excited to share this with you.

series masterlist -> ✨ part two

The Marshall Fields feels alive with only three weeks left until Christmas, making it a next to impossible mission to get to your job in the restaurant that sits on top of the seven story tourist attraction. At least on time.

Bing Crosby’s ‘It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas’ spills from the speakers overhead, the deep baritone of his voice is barely audible over the low murmur of conversation happening all around you. Lush, large boughs of green pine hang pristine from the historically tall ceilings, shimmering tinsel draped with purpose at the ends of them catching in the light. It reflects off the gold ornaments that cover it in a perfect pattern. It’s almost enough for you to forget how annoyed you are.

Your slip resistant shoes catch and scuffle along the deep crimson carpet as you move through the shoulder to shoulder crowd. It doesn’t take you very long to find a break in it, still scratching at your nose that itches from your walk through the fragrance department. Your small victory is quickly diminished when you see a swarm of families standing in front of the golden doors of the elevators.

You silently curse yourself for not leaving earlier, completely forgetting that Santa was on the fifth floor today. As if on queue, a little girl with perfect blonde curls that bounce as she runs smacks into your legs just like your realization, falling back on her butt with a thud. Her pearly white dress flutters around her, and the two of you stare each other down for what feels like an eternity until her mother rushes over with panicked apologies right as her daughter breaks out the waterworks.

The noise makes you grimace, mumbling a ‘it’s fine’ under your breath before turning on your heel. Reaching behind, you pull your phone from your back pocket to see just how late you really are, accepting defeat with having to take the scenic, much more time consuming route up the escalators. The bold white numbers that flash across the screen tell you that you’re already five minutes past the start of your shift. A long sigh slips from between your lips as you give up on trying to rush.

Moving with the flow of the crowd, the beginning jingle of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ starts to play, and with the grand spectacle of the yearly decorations, it’s hard not to feel all the emotions of nostalgia they’re trying to pull from you, making you roll your eyes singing along with her under your breath.

The big water fountain in the middle of the men’s department comes into view from the tops of bobbing heads, one of the many physical markers in this building you’ve had to use so you don’t get lost in the retail maze they’ve created, letting you know that you’re close to your destination. Weaving through the sea of people, you try to gear up to break free from the human traffic jam, the signs pointing to the escalators in your sights. His panicked voice is what you hear first, an obvious friendliness still hidden underneath it despite the way it shakes every time you hear him say “excuse me?”

Your eyes search for the owner, and when you find him, regret buries itself deep in your gut when they land on his face.

A perfect mess of dark chestnut hair, with tips that look like they were dipped in honey sits on top of his head. The hints of gold hidden inside shimmer under the lights, as it curls wildly behind his ears. It almost looks styled that way, that is until you see his big hand run through it twice in the span of a few seconds. Warm brown eyes squint as he turns in a full circle glancing between his phone and the signs the point to the city street exits on either side of him. The hoards of people surrounding him completely ignoring his existence as he looks around painfully lost.

His nose is sharp, just like his jaw that’s dusted with the faint hint of a five o’clock shadow. The two prominent moles that sit side by side on his cheek stick out on his unseasonably sun kissed skin that seems to glow against the dark maroon color of his sweater. It’s snug across a broad chest, just like the washed out black jeans that fit a light too well around his thighs. His chocolate colored peacoat looks tailored to fit his biceps, with shiny gold buttons that match the buckle on his russet leather loafers, and the chain that dangles from around his neck.

You watch him try to ask a few friendly faces for help, only receiving a shrug and a half smile by the ones that actually acknowledge him. He mutters something that sounds sarcastic to himself as you get closer, his hands moving animatedly before he huffs pinching the bridge of his nose.

Maybe it’s the Christmas decorations, or the Mariah Carey, or maybe it’s just the fact that you’d rather take pity on a handsome stranger than go to your job. Whatever reason it is, you decide to make the stupid mistake to help him.

“Hey,” you greet timidly, getting just close enough to smell the cedar and cinnamon that seems to cling to the expensive wool of his coat, ignoring the way your stomach flips because of course he smells good right?

“Are you lost?”

He doesn’t hear you over the internal battle going on inside his head, not even registering that someone is finally stopping to offer the help he’d just been pleading for, quietly grumbling, ‘you wanted to move to the city, now you can’t even find your way through a damn store’.

You clear your throat before it can get anymore awkward, alerting him of your presence while letting your curious gaze wander up his tall broad frame. Those squinted brown eyes look big now as they meet yours, and you can see green inside them that you couldn’t before and it sparkles brighter than the tinsel hanging from the boughs behind him.

Yeah, you’ve made a huge mistake.

He blinks a few times, before a wide smile stretches across his face somehow making him even more handsome as he reveals a set of perfectly straight teeth. The smile pushes up his cheeks, and crinkles the skin around his eyes, and you watch all the aggravation from before melt off of his perfectly sculpted face and you wish you could go back those few minutes in time and abort the mission. This is no damsel in distress.

“Hi” is all that he says, peony’s painting his cheeks as he runs his hand through his thick hair again. It looks even softer up close.

“Hey,” you giggle, nerves taking over and you want to pinch yourself for it. “I just wanted to see if you needed some help, you look a little lost.”

You try to seem indifferent when you catch the way his gaze roams quickly down your body, thankful you did laundry last night and had on your tight fitting work slacks today that showed off your curves.

“So lost!” He groans, the blush on his cheeks deepening with the tips of his ears. “If I’m being completely honest with you, I don’t even know what floor I’m on.”

You try to hide the way you snort, slapping your palm over your mouth.

“Hey, be nice!” He laughs, trying his best to fight it to put on a hurt expression, “this is like my first time here, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you try to fight off you smile, “I didn’t mean to laugh at you —“

“Steve,” interjects with a grin, those perfect teeth biting at his full bottom lip as he sticks out one of his hands for you to take, a gold band wrapped around his middle finger you didn’t notice before gleaming when it hits the light.

“Well, Steve,” you try not to laugh, which ends up being easy to do when you slip your hand into his and watch it disappear behind his long fingers when they wrap around them. “You’re on the first floor if you can believe it.

“That’s fucking embarrassing. Wow.” He groans, letting your hand go to run his palm down his face, and you hate that you feel the loss in your gut. “Sorry I didn’t mean to cuss.”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” You tease with a wink, enjoying the way it only makes the color on his face deepen. “Where are you trying to go? I work on the seventh floor. I might be able to take you on my way.”

It takes Steve a minute to formulate an answer to your offer, still stuck on the fact a complete stranger was being so nice to him, and the silence between you goes on just long enough to make you second guess everything.

“Or I could just try and give you directions if that’s more comfortable for you.” You offer, adjusting the straps of your backpack nervously.

“I’m trying to get to the women’s department,” Steve finally blurts out, sensing the shift in your energy and quickly tries to recover with another card through his hair and a crooked smile, “specifically the handbags, and I absolutely think you should take me.”

His gaze narrows the color in his eyes darkening into something more flirtatious than nervous.

“Who knows how long it’d take me to get there without a beautiful, clearly smart woman such yourself to help me anyway.”

Your stomach does that thing that you hate again, and all the heat in your body licks at your cheeks like flames. You can’t remember the last time a man actually used the word beautiful. Hot? Absolutely. Cute? Sure. Pretty? Yeah, a few times, but never beautiful. It sits in your chest where it blossoms into another painfully big smile that pushes your cheeks up even more, and you have to look away from his face for a moment when he matches it with his own.

“O- okay, if you just, uh wanna follow me?” Words get lost on your tongue and it comes out more shy than you would’ve liked, but you turn on your heel before you can think too hard about it when he gestures you forward.

You hear him mutter ‘are you kidding me?’ under his breath as you lead him to the escalators just around the corner, making him realize how close they were this whole time and you wonder just how long he was actually looking for them. The smell of mint hits your nose as you pass the Frango chocolate stand and it mixes with the spice of his cologne as he trails close behind. Butterflies threatening to break from cocoons hearing the way his steps match yours.

He stops next to you as you come to halt to wait your turn to hop onto the moving metal steps. You look up at him and there’s an awkwardness that threatens to fill the small space between you that has you giving him a tight lipped smile that he returns with the kind of confidence that makes your palms sweat and you have to look away.

“I say we make our move after white puffer coat comin’ up here.” His voice startles you when it comes out low, close enough to the shell of your ear that you swear you can feel the whisper of his lips. Spearmint stings your nose from the gum that snaps between his teeth, and the heat of his breath makes goosebumps jump along the back of your neck.

Why did you do this?

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eye, letting him see the playful glint that dances in them before giving a curt nod of your head.

“On the count of three…” You play along, despite everything inside you telling you to stop flirting back and it makes Steve’s whole face light up, long fingers flexing at his side with the need to find yours again.

“One..” He starts, and your eyes meet ‘white puffer coat’ who’s now only a few steps away before finding Steve’s again who’s stare very obviously never left your face.

“Two..” You giggle trying to hide the way your body starts to buzz and if it wasn’t for Steve’s giddy expression you’d be more embarrassed than you actually are.

“Thre-“ His final count gets cut off by the feeling of your fingers wrapping around his, tugging him onto the stairs early with a loud cackle that has you throwing your head back and he swears the sound tilts his world off its axis.

His cheeks dust pink under the bright light looking down his nose at you with a wide smile that shows all his teeth. An expensive loafer sits wedged between your work shoes and the other on the step above, caging you against the side as you ride up to the next floor, and he’s close enough for you to see a smattering of more freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and the side of his neck, even one on the tip of his earlobe.

He’s still holding your hand.

Your fingers twist and flex at the realization, dropping from his hold and Steve clears his throat because of it. Adam’s apple bobbing as you land on the second floor, he shoves his hand in his pocket, standing a more appropriate distance from you as you get on the next set of stairs going up.

“So what’s on the seventh floor?” He asks, finally breaking the silence that crackles with something you aren’t prepared for today.

“Oh, um, The Walnut Room.” you know where the big Christmas tree is?” You answer with a small smile and it makes him snort, the noise making your eyes go big and the corners of your lips twist up more.

“I couldn’t find the escalators, you think I know where the big Christmas tree is? Don’t flatter me so much or I’ll think you’re flirting with me, honey.” Steve grins, the cool air of confidence from before coming back and you hate that it makes your cheeks burn even worse the second time around.

“Well,” you start unable to bring yourself to meet his gaze as the two of you make your way to the next set of escalators with nerves rattling in your chest as the new floor brings more people, and it makes it impossible for him to keep his distance this time, “now you know where it is.”

“Is that an invitation?” He smirks looking down at you, teeth gleaming even whiter from this close and butterfly wings tickle at your rib cage.

“Getting a new purse for your girlfriend?” You ask in an attempt to dodge his obvious flirting, doing your best to ignore the way his fingers keep bumping into yours as you share the same step.

“Mom, actually. No girlfriend.” Your obvious prying makes something smug flash behind his eyes. “Is that the answer you were hoping for?”

You huff with a roll of your eyes, unable to fight the way your cheeks push up again despite the shake of your head earning a deep chuckle from Steve who can see right through you.

“I actually just moved here, maybe a month ago,” he starts, your heart sinking a little at his reveal and your walls that had started to slowly retreat quickly go back up the few inches they dared to come down. “M parents, they’re….they’re tough to impress, and I’m just trying to find something nice for my Mom. Something that screams ‘Hey! Merry Christmas! I didn’t make a big mistake moving here!’ You know?”

You nod with the kind of laugh that makes his eyes sparkle at the noise.

“A purse absolutely says that, I think.” Your words drip with sarcasm as the two of you make your way onto the third floor, shoulders bumping as you turn towards the next set of moving stairs, both your feet landing on the same metal step again.

“You know, I thought so too.” He beams, not missing a beat. “What about you? Got any fun plans with your boyfriend for Christmas?”

Before you have a chance to answer, an impatient woman choosing to walk the escalators in the kind of rush you should really be in knocks into Steve’s back with her shoulder, making him lose his balance and stumble into you. Large hands grab at your waist to steady himself, the warmth of his palms spreading through your body as it seeps through the thin material of your slacks. The steady beating in your heart stutters before your pulse kicks into overdrive when the mint on his breath fans against your neck for the second time as he mutters an apology finding his balance again. You bite at the inside of your cheek when he finally lets you go, straightening up to his full height again.

“Gotta love the holidays.” You laugh, letting out a shaky breath that threatens to give you away.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year, or that’s what they say.” Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair again.

He somehow leaves it even messier than before, and you have to fight the urge to fix it for him, as the top of the fourth floor comes into view along with the end of your time with the man you only half way regret helping now.

“The answer to your question is no, by the way.” You finally speak up, a mischievous glint in your eye that matches your smile.

“No you don’t have any fun plans? Or No you don’t have a boyfriend?” He tries to clarify, with the kind of lopsided grin that has your knees wobbling under it.

You don’t have time to recover when the ground underneath you stops moving as you both hit the bright red carpet of the women’s department. The fast moving crowd and the fact that you’re pushing nearly twenty minutes late for work is the perfect escape you need to get yourself out of making the mistake of staying long enough for the charming new to the city bachelor to ask for your phone number.

“Handbags are over there.” You point to the giant Michael Kors logo that shines gold against a hot pink wall behind him, and you seize the moment he turns to follow the direction of your finger to hop back onto the escalators without a word.

You laugh echoes and bubbles over the even happier sounds of the Christmas music when Steve turns around to find you already half way up to the fifth floor.

“Really?” He throws his hands up, watching as you climb higher.

“I’m late for work! I hope your mom likes her gift!” You wave with the kind of smile that he’s sure will haunt his dreams tonight, that makes the corners of his lips twitch despite himself. “It definitely screams you didn’t make a mistake! Nice meeting you Steve!”

It had been four days since your run in with Steve, and much to your dismay that disheveled head of hair didn’t want to leave your mind no matter how much you tried. His breath stealing smile, and freckled skin invaded every day dream and even found their way into the ones in your sleep. No matter how many times you tell yourself that a man who looks like that has endless opportunities in a city like this, and he’s not going to tie himself down with a waitress who still splits her rent with a roommate.

A change of scenery and a day off spent alone at the Christmas market is almost enough to do the trick as you search for ornaments to put on the tree your roommate Eddie tried to stop you from getting, arguing that he’d have to be the one to take care of it if you got a real one. Which to be fair, ended up being true, but when you catch him reading Lord of the Rings under its twinkling lights, you don’t think he minds it all that much.

A few ornaments, two hot ciders, and a record shop later, you find yourself waiting for the train home looking at the sunset that paints the skyline in sherbet orange and red behind shimmering buildings. Lost in the music that spills from your AirPods, flashing lights catch at the corners of your eye, and the sounds of the holiday train start to get louder as its bright presence rolls up to the platform. The Santa that you know has to be freezing waves at everyone that’s waiting as it pulls in, and you can’t stop the way your cheeks push up despite the annoyance you would have normally felt if you were actually commuting somewhere in a rush.

The workers dressed as elves greet you with baskets of candy cane’s and bright smiles when the doors open, and relief floods your system when you see the train car is mostly empty. You give them a friendly wave and a nod, accepting the sweet treat before claiming your seat for the nine stops you needed to pass to get home. Red and green string lights flash strung up from the ceilings, and the silver metal poles that stick through the middle now resemble the candy they're passing out. The white fluorescent lighting that usually washes everyone out is replaced with a deep blue, and the faint sounds of Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ battles for dominance with the music in your headphones.

Relaxing into your seat, you let the steady rocking of the train lull you back into your thoughts, disappointed when they inevitably go back to the man you’ve been trying to forget. Thighs pressing at the memory at the feeling of his hands grabbing at your hips on the escalator, you huff and cross your arms in a silent pout. How can you have a crush on someone you don’t even know?

The car starts to fill up more and more as the stops go, and by the third one you’re squeezing your tote bag to your chest with people surrounding you as they hold onto the plastic handles above your head. It’s hard to see anything above anyone’s waist, and you shuffle a little awkwardly in your seat. The spot in front of you frees up by the next stop and at the same time your AirPods die, a sigh of relief slips past your lips at the brief reprieve before the group waiting outside scurries in. That’s when you hear him…again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. First the damn bus, now the train? Jesus fuck- exuse me, god, I’m gonna be so late.”

The familiar smell of cedar and cinnamon envelopes your senses when a pair of black dress slacks fill your vision with a gold belt buckle on his waist that matches the chain you already know is dangling from his neck, and the ring on the hand that’s gripping the handle above you.

You curse under your breath, taking your AirPods out and the muffled sound of Dean Martin’s ‘Let It Snow’ becomes full volume, along with the clinking of the metal tracks when the train lurches forward. Leaning back in your seat, you let your eyes wander up his broad torso you’ve reluctantly thought so much about. Steve’s a little more dressed up than the last time you saw him with a white button up tucked into his slacks. You can still make out the outline of his tank top underneath, despite the dim lighting, and the way he leaves the top two buttons undone flashes you a little bit of chest hair. The chocolate peacoat is replaced with a black one that has buttons to match. It fits around his arms just as good as the other one.

His five o’clock shadow is gone now, and he somehow has even more freckles than before. Too distracted by him to scold yourself for having the urge to find and kiss them all, his messy bed head look he had the other day is replaced with something a little more controlled, and you wonder how much product he needed to use, especially that despite it all, a stray still threatens to fall across his forehead.

“Not a fan of the holiday train are we?”

Steve jumps at the sound of your voice, his eyes looking every direction but down until you clear your throat. They widen when they land on you just like the smile that spreads across his face, wiping away any signs of annoyance that plagued his features just seconds before.

“You!” He almost laughs, and he’s even more handsome than you remembered and you wonder how long it's going to take you recover this time, “Oh wow —“ even in the blue light you can see the way the color in his cheeks redden when he realizes that his crotch is unintentionally in your face, “let me just -“

He scoots back as far as he can which isn’t much but it’s enough to make the position the two of you find yourselves in less awkward.

“Well, well, well so we meet again.” He practically beams taking in your appearance now that you’re not dressed to go wait tables, catching the way he licks his lips before bringing his eyes back to yours.

“It would appear so Steve.” Your smirk, proud of yourself for keeping up the act of playing hard to get.

“What do they call these things? Christmas Miracles?” His confident demeanor reappears and you’re disappointed that it sets your body on fire just like before.

Your snort loud enough for him to hear, earning you a deep chuckle from his chest that gets him that smile of yours he can’t stop thinking about.

“You think you’re so smooth don’t you?” You tease, biting at your bottom lip, meeting his eyes from under your lashes watching the way it makes the green and gold inside them turn into something darker.

“Not really, but I think it’s working for you.” He winks, closing the space he made between you to let someone off behind him holding your stare from down the slope of his nose.

You narrow your eyes at him before you roll them but the twitch of your lips gives you away making his grin turn Cheshire.

“Where are you off to this dressed up? Hot date?” You question with an arched brow.

“For someone who’s pretending not to have a crush on me, you’re certainly fixated on if I’m dating someone aren’t you?” Shaking his head, he’s even more smug than he was on the escalators, “but no, beautiful, I’m on my way to meet a business partner for dinner.”

There he goes using that word beautiful again.

“What about you? The missing uniform tells me it must be your day off, spend it with that boyfriend of yours?” Steve smirks trying to get the definitive answer you refused him a few days ago.

“You’re calling me fixated? I’m not the one obsessing over an imaginary boyfriend I made up for someone else.”

Steve throws his head back in a booming laugh as a bright smile lights up his face in a way that rivals the train.

“I bet you think you’re so funny don’t you?” He mimics your previous sentiment with an intensity in his gaze that has you squirming in your seat.

“Not really, but I think it’s working for you.” Biting your lip as you wink, his hold around the handle tightens, and the gold in his eyes darken more. “I’m surprised you’re heading out of the loop so dressed up, where’s this hot business date?”

Steve’s smile falters, and the color you’re so used to warming his face drains along with the intensity of his gaze.

“What do you mean out of the loop?” That panic you’d heard shaking his voice a few days ago returns, as he tears his eyes away from you to look at the map above your head.

“Oh no, Steve.” You realize the mistake he’s made before he does.

“No, no, no, no,” he groans, stomping a shiny wingtip oxford on the dirty ground. “God, Richard, fuck - he’s going to be so pissed at me.”

He says the last part more to himself, regripping his hold on the handle, brows furrowing as he pinches his eyes shut in frustration. His chest heaves a few times, and the veins in his neck start to show before you hear his quiet exhale over the sounds of ‘Jingle Bell Rock’.

“Hey,” You start, and sweetness drips from your tone as you resist the urge to reach out and comfort him, “I’m getting off on the next stop, you can come with me if you want and I’ll help you get on the right train. It’s an easy mistake, really. We’ve all done it.”

He doesn’t open his eyes immediately, and you can tell that he’s trying not to completely break down but slowly they blink back open and meet yours. The teasing edge behind them is gone as they soften around the edges with exhaustion.

“I think I owe you my life at this point, honestly.” He huffs with a weak laugh and you know if his hair wasn’t done his hand would be running through it right now.

“Just a little bit.” You tease pinching two fingers together with a scrunch of your nose.

“Thank you,” he holds your stare, sincerity painting his features with something that makes you want to stand up and hug him.

“Anytime,” you shrug and it’s harder to fake being nonchalant when he looks at you like that.

The train starts to slow down as it approaches your stop, and the people around you become restless as they prepare to push through the crowded car to get off. Your body reacts like muscle memory when it comes to a halt with another lurch, and you stand up without thinking about the little bit of space that separates you and the man you haven’t been able to stop thinking about all week.

Your chest brushes against a hard set of abs before and even harder set of pecs, the cedar and sandalwood of his cologne is stronger than the last time it took over your senses like this. Fresh. The faint smell of his aftershave tickles your nose, and the heat of his breath warms against the berry chapstick on your lips. The realization of your mistake hits right as you lose your balance, and your body falls flush against his.

“Whoa, honey.” Steve chuckles, one of his big hands grabbing firmly on the soft curve of your hip to hold you in place, and you swear you can taste the spearmint of his gum against your tongue from his proximity.

Your hands reach out on instinct grabbing at his waist, making the muscles underneath flex from your touch and you can just faintly hear his sharp intake of breath because of it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m so sorry.” You bumble, instantly regretting looking up to meet his gaze. The smirk of his pink full lips has all your blood rushing to your cheeks as you quickly try to untangle yourself from him.

“You’re fine,” he laughs in your ear as you push past him, and it sends a shiver through your bones, especially when you can feel the heat of his body behind you as he follows.

The wind hits your face stepping onto the platform and the chill in the air feels good against your skin. People rush and zoom all around you as they try and make their next connection while you and Steve stand under the sign that flashes the next train times. In a loud roar, the holiday spectacle departs with jingling bells that ring off into the distance along with the whir of the crowd leaving you and Steve alone. You try to ignore the tension that bubbles under his stare against the back of your head, threatening to spill over any second as you pull out your phone.

“You live around here?” He’s the first one to break the silence stepping next to you, his gaze shifting curiously to your phone screen.

“Yeah, like three blocks away.” You answer absently, scrolling through the train lines too distracted by your search for the right directions to give him.

He hums quietly in response, pulling out his own phone from his coat pocket. His energy shifts from the panic on the train to something calmer, and you can’t quite put your finger on it. A nervousness still lingers in his shaky exhale that pushes through his nose, rocking back on his heels before shoving his phone in his pocket.

“What if we went out to dinner instead?” Steve blurts out, and his hand that’s been itching to run through his hair finally does, “I mean if you don’t have any plans right now.”

“Didn’t you say it was a work dinner Steve?” You laugh, finally daring to look up at your phone at him. Big mistake.

The wind catches his hair, and that long dark honeyed strand falls against his forehead while his teeth gleam at you in a hopeful smile.

“I feel like I kind of already missed it,” he chuckles, “I’m supposed to be there now and if I read those directions on your phone correctly it said what? - 45 minutes to get there?”

You glance down and see the bold numbers that only seem to go up as the minutes pass and rush hour starts to kick in.

“Besides, I owe you dinner for coming to my rescue twice in one week. I think the universe is really trying to get us to go get drinks if you ask me sweetheart.”

You laugh a little nervous, rolling your eyes to try and hide how you aren’t immune to his charms but the glint that sparkles in his stare tells you that it’s not working.

“I mean, I guess it’s only fair. I don’t want to mess with fate and all.” You sigh, and it makes his whole face light up, “but if Richard fires you, that’s not my fault.”

“You have my word, if this dinner ruins the entire reason I moved out here. I will not blame you.” He raises his hand in the air like he’s swearing under oath.

“Steve!” You gasp, shoving his arm, and it has him throw his head back in a loud laugh that echoes through the empty platform.

“I’m kidding, that’s not going to happen. I don’t think.” He grins, earning another eye roll from you, but he’s too giddy to care.

You choose the cozy little Ramen spot on the corner called The Furious Spoon that’s only two blocks from the train station. It’s a close enough walk to easily brave the deep chill that follows with the setting sun and casual enough so that this doesn't feel like something you’re telling yourself it’s not.

A date.

The warmth of the restaurant hits your frozen cheeks, thawing the parts of you that got bitten from the cold. Ainese hangs thick in the air, making your mouth water while the two of you make your way to the empty seats at the end of the long table that lines the side of the restaurant. You pretend not to feel his hand on the small of your back despite it burning a hole through your jacket as you push through the puffy coats that drape over the stools on either side of you.

Shrugging your layers off, both of you follow suit finding a home for them on the wide rectangular seats. Steve tuts at you when you go to pull your seat out waving your hand away.

“Seriously? No.” You half whisper yell, but the corners of your lips twist up and he decides it’s an empty objection pulling your seat out for you with a wave of his hand gesturing you to sit.

“My mom would kill me if I didn’t,” he swears but his smirk tells you not to believe a word he says as he puts both his hands on either side of your stool, spearmint hot on his breath against the shell of your ear. Cedar and clove on the fabrics of his clothes, it feels like he’s everywhere as he gives you two pushes in.

His knee bumps into yours as he takes the seat next to you, and another waft of his cologne hits your nose. Biting your lip, you decide to distract yourself with the menu as you actively try to make sure your leg doesn’t bounce with anxious energy. The restaurant is more crowded than you expected and Steve’s closer than you wanted. Your heart thumps wildly against your rib cage, scaring the butterflies that laid dormant for the few days in his absence right as they had started to stretch their wings.

“This all looks so good,” he hums, eyes scanning over the menu before bringing his attention back to you, chestnut and gold shimmering in the low light as he looks down the slope of his nose, licking his full lips, “Do you have a favorite?”

You can’t stop your gaze from flicking down to his mouth, words threatening to get caught on the tip of your tongue watching the way the corners curl up into a grin, small dimples pushing into his tan skin when he catches you.

“Depends on what you like protein wise, but my go to is The Mother Clucker.” You manage to get out, trying to clear out the nerves out of your throat.

“Excuse me,” he snorts, “the what?”

Rolling your eyes, you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth as you lean over tapping a red polished nail to the chicken option on the top.

“Do you need glasses Steve?” You giggle watching him squint to read it.

The question makes him look at you out of the corner of his eyes with a narrow stare.

“I’ve had perfect vision since high school. Thank you very much.” He scoffs holding the menu further away as if to help him focus on the small bold lettering.

“Sure looks like it, my mistake.” Raising a hand in mock surrender, the gesture makes him knock his knee with yours earning him a giggle.

“Here I am skipping out on an important work dinner to spend my night showing you how grateful I am and you’re just bullying me.” Steve only manages to keep a straight face until you hit him with a soft smack on his shoulder, a full bellied laugh escaping him when whatever retort you’re ready to give gets cut off by your server finally coming to the table.

Steve’s charm flows from him with ease as he speaks to the young guy with a big septum ring and spiked hair. He talks to him like they’ve been lifelong friends when you place your orders and it reminds you how easily he got that same genuine smile from you just a few days ago at work, and again now as you sit next to him for dinner instead of writing him off like you told yourself you would. Your stomach twists in knots when his knee bumps against yours and stays there, the warmth of his body seeping through the fabric of his slacks and your jeans.

“So did you end up finding your Mom a gift that screams ‘I didn’t make a mistake’?” You question resting your cheek in the palm of your hand as you lean on the table with your elbow, you lift your chin up a little at him and it makes him flush.

“Oh yeah,” he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck, “I-I didn’t actually, so that's great. I’ll probably just get her a nice set of earrings or something, it won’t matter in the end anyways.”

His eyebrows knit together and for the first time all night he purposely avoids your gaze with a sip of his water. Your eyes follow the movements of his throat as he swallows.

“What do you mean it won’t matter?” You press, curiosity getting the best of you watching his confidence slip.

“My parents aren’t exactly thrilled that I moved out here to help with this start up, instead of taking over their family business back home. It’s a long story, but it was a big argument, well - multiple big arguments when I told them I was leaving.” He sighs, and you can see the dread of their arrival start to hang over his head like storm clouds. “Besides we never really spent Christmas together my whole life anyway, they were always traveling for work, so this whole thing is just -“ He rubs at his temple, “a thing.”

He runs his fingers through his hair without abandon this time.

“Ahhh,” you hum as missing pieces of Steve’s puzzle are revealed and you hate yourself for finding him more attractive because of it.

“What about you?” He nods his head in your direction, mimicking your stance resting his head in his hand, “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Well,” you start, more nerves settling deep in your chest as you start to lay some of your cards down, “I don’t go home for the holidays cause I usually have work. But me and my family get along fine, I guess. But my roommate usually goes to visit his uncle so I’ll probably order something really expensive to eat and watch a Christmas movie I don’t hate.”

You shrug trying to hide that sometimes it does get to you, not having a full house of loud laughter or even someone to spend the day with, but the look in Steve’s eyes makes you feel like he sees you. He gets it.

“Favorite Christmas movie?” He asks without missing a beat.

“Oh, easy, The Grinch.” you snort.

“Fitting for you.” he winks, despite the tips of his ears turning red when your shoe finds his under the table.

“Rude. What about you? huh?” Your lashes flutter as you bite your lip feeling him start to play footsie with you.

“Jingle All The Way, Arnold’s my guy.” He smiles big at the giggle you give him, and it warms your face just like his hand that slides further down his thigh, dangerously close to yours.

The bubble you find yourselves in pops abruptly when the smell of your soup hits your nose. Two large bowls get set down in front of you, steam pouring off the tops so much it fogs the glass window.

“You would like Arnold,” you manage to whisper yell over your servers arm and it’s Steve’s turn to roll his eyes, ignoring you giving the waiter a pat on the back with a ‘thanks man.’

The rest of your dinner is filled with easy conversion and touches that linger more than they should, just like the secret paths heavy lidded gazes make to each other’s lips that aren’t so secret in the dim lighting with your feet still intertwined. You hate that as you learn more about him, the more you want to know. The questions come with follow up questions as he tells you about the life that he left behind, his best friend Robin who he hasn’t spent more than six hours without for the last five years and how it feels like he’s missing a limb.

It feels mutual as both of you sit there long after your bowls are empty, snow falling from a now completely dark sky as Steve listens to you tell a story from high school like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. Just like the stories about you and Eddie before that, or the one about how you lost your I.D on a crazy night out. All of them felt like he was hanging on every word, and having his full attention like this made your stomach flip. The buzzing of your phone is what ends the night when your eyes catch how late it really is.

“Oh my god, is it really almost nine?” You gasp, but Steve seems unfazed, just like the tip of his shoe running up your calf.

“I’m actually surprised they didn’t kick us out,” he smirks, chuckling to himself before straightening his back. Deep crimson filling his cheeks when you both can hear the loud pop.

You’d tease him but you were too busy already missing his touch. God. Dammit.

“I should really get going, I didn’t realize we’ve been here for like three hours. I gotta be at work super early for this breakfast with Santa we’re doing,” You huff, standing up and the change in energy is almost enough to make Steve’s head spin.

“You live like a block away, I think you’ll get home fairly quickly.” He looks at you confused as he stands up, watching you stuff your arms in your coat with a struggle with tangled sleeves.

“I just, I promised Eddie I’d be home at a certain time and he gets all worried when I’m not,” It’s a lie but you aren’t going to tell him that your panic is from the fear that spending this much time with him has now pushed you past the point of no return.

He’s never going to leave your mind now.

“Let me walk you,” He insists, slipping on his coat with ease, broad shoulders filling it perfectly.

“I think you should worry about getting yourself home,” you tease, buttoning your coat that you won the fight with.

“Yeah, I can’t chance it, not without my good luck charm,” he winks and your knees wobble, “I’m calling an Uber. Can’t get lost that way.”

“Let’s hope so,” you smirk, bumping shoulders with him despite yourself as you walk past.

“Hey! I thought we were friends now.” He whines following close behind, both of you giving a small wave to your server on the way out.

The cold air hits you the moment the swinging glass door opens, sending a shiver up your spine, tugging your coat closer, you silently curse the hint of cedar you catch on the fabric.

“Are we friends now?” You arch a brown turning on your heel to face him as you both hit the sidewalk.

“I was hoping,” he gives you that smile, the kind that you know always gets him what he wants, and god do you want to give it to him. But the gold shimmering on his belt and the reminder that he just moved here makes you stubborn and weary. “Maybe if you give me your number, we can do this again sometime and find out?”

“How about this,” you suck at the inside of your cheek loudly, and you almost feel bad when you see how his face drops, “If we run into each other again, you can have my number.”

Steve stares at you for a second, disbelief painting over all of his pretty features, but he’s quick to recover with a hand through his hair and a new poker face.

“Deal.” He sticks his hand out and now it’s you who has to take a minute to recover, “What? I accept.”

You narrow your eyes at him before you place your palm into his, that charming smile outshining the white snow that falls onto his long lashes. He purposely holds it longer than he should, the butterflies in your stomach coming to life when the warm pad of his thumb starts to rub small circles into your soft skin.

“Till the next time beautiful, who knows, maybe I won’t take an Uber home. Take a gamble. I wonder who could possibly show up to rescue me.” He starts, earning another shoulder slap and a gasped ‘Steve!’

“Do not do that, Uber home you maniac.” You pull your hand away no matter how much you don’t want to, especially when he trails the tips of his fingers down your palm as he lets go.

“You win this time,” He grins pulling out his phone, and you watch him click the app before you start to walk towards the direction of home.

“I win every time, Steve.” You wink, taking a mental picture of the way it makes him bite his lip before you turn away hoping you didn’t just make some huge mistake.

Secretly hoping Steve Harrington gets lost again.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrrington x reader

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notiddygxthgf · 4 months

Text

prologue

★ pairings: choso x f!reader

★ synopsis: World famous rock star Choso Kamo’s new live-in assistant is convinced that she can fix him – substance abuse issues and all. Tensions ensue, and as new feelings rise to the surface, the two find it difficult to maintain an appropriate workplace relationship (or; the one where an unstable musician struggles to keep it friendly with his assistant).

★ c.w.: none (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: don't be a stranger! leave some comments for me to read teehee

★ w.c.; 2.8k

smoke and mirrors; chapter index

THE MUSIC INDUSTRY BLEEDS YOU DRY. That’s just the truth. It takes every ounce of your creative passion and tramples on it. It takes everything from you, and then it takes more. I find myself reconsidering my career path on a daily basis. There’s only one thing, in fact, that keeps me grounded.

“Choso! Choso! Choso! Choso!”

That. The chant of the crowd. The endless bodies waving their hands over the venue, reaching for me, singing for me.

I leaned my head back, feeling the cool breeze of the backstage air against my neck, against my trembling skin. Crewmembers swarmed around me like gnats, tweaking little details of my outfit – one had a black eyeshadow palette up to my eyelid and another was messing with my hair. She had said something about needing to look intentionally messy.

The low hum of their conversation was only background noise to me. I blew a bubble with the wad of gum in my mouth – a nervous tic that clearly betrayed the calm exterior I was trying so hard to maintain.

The girl who was touching my eyeliner up snapped the palette shut. My mind was elsewhere – it was out there.

“Choso! Choso! Choso!”

I took a deep breath to steady my racing heart. The chant of my name reverberated through the walls, a frightening reminder of what lay just beyond the curtain.

People. Thousands of them.

“Choso! Choso! Choso!” The chorus of voices seemed to grow louder. I shut my eyes, visualizing the sea of faces, the outstretched hands, the passion in their voices. The crowd– my fans; they were my lifeline.

Another crew member informed me, “You’re on.”

I nodded solemnly, feeling that strange pit in my stomach. It was terrifying, it was familiar, it was… exciting.

I took another breath, then I stepped forward. With each step towards the stage, the chanting intensified. The noise was like this strange, palpable force, urging me onward. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins the moment I reached the edge of the stage. The anticipation was almost… suffocating.

I stepped out. Then, for a blissful moment, it all seemed to go quiet.

I took a moment to look at them, really look at them. All of them. The mass of humanity blurred into one collective wave of joy. From here, I couldn’t even make out faces. Only smiles, flashing lights, and limbs flailing. Signs with my name on it. People with love in their hearts.

Nothing but them and me, hearts beating in tandem. I wondered how nervous they felt – if they knew how nervous I felt standing here before them. If they knew I had been nervously chewing on a piece of gum only moments prior.

Thousands of people who all came together for one purpose – to see me. A mosaic of adoration.

I glanced down at my trembling hands, fingers clutching the edge of my guitar. The weight of the crowd’s expectations pressed down on me. The realization hit me a second time – they were all here for me. That both terrified and humbled me.

I licked my lips, gave my old guitar a strum, feeling those familiar vibrations amplified a hundred fold. It was loud, so loud that I could still hear it reverberating throughout the venue when I reached for the microphone.

I stole another glance at the crowd as a smile broke across my face.

Deep breaths.

I shouted, “What the fuck is up, Paris?”

The response was deafening. The crowd erupted in cheers. I could feel their energy merging with mine – the lights, the love, the screams. In that moment, I remembered why I endured the trials of my industry. I remembered why I was still living – what I was fighting for. It was all for them, the countless faces who found solace and inspiration in my music.

And with that realization, I felt my heart begin to race.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” I asked.

They screamed back at me in response. I grinned.

“God, I love you guys,” I laughed. Strummed my guitar a second time. Looked at them. “I got a special show for you tonight!”

It was all for them. I do it all for them.

Life on the road was pretty crazy. I wish I could say that I had family to miss back home, but that wasn’t the case. I had been in and out of foster care for most of my life; had to grow up pretty fast so my brothers and I could stay off the streets. Other than the three of them, I never really had a family.

I turned to music as a crutch. I bought my first guitar with the first paycheck I earned – I was 16. I bandhopped for a while, alternating between the roles of lead singer, bassist, and rhythm guitarist. I found a passion for writing lyrics somewhere along the way. It felt nice, being able to put pen to paper and make my fucked up life sound appealing.

It was great.

I did basement shows right up until I turned 21. I would have been more than happy to keep on doing them – hell, sometimes I found myself wishing I could still fit those small, shitty little venues – but some big, music industry talent hotshot came and found me at one of my shows. He handed me a card. Told me he liked my sound, that I could be famous.

Who could have refused?

I never anticipated hitting it this big. Not that I’m complaining. It keeps a roof over me and my brother’s head – to say the least. I have more than enough money to live lavishly for the rest of my days. I found my new family in my music team: my manager, my coordinators, my publicist. All of them.

The music industry is notoriously blood-sucking. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. I realized that rather quickly, though by the time I was hot enough to hire a whole team, I was in too deep. It all seemed so… superficial.

I grew to hate it.

My hatred only grew when I lost two of my beloved brothers – Eso and Kechizu. There was a shootout at the mall. They found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. I remember rushing to the hospital as soon as I heard the news.

It was too late by that point, though. They had bled out long before I was able to see them.

I didn’t sleep for a week after that – I developed insomnia that would last for years to come. I spent my evenings curled up on my shower floor, sobbing into my own arms. It was the same after that, and then the day after that. I found myself spending all of my time replaying the memories in my head, thinking about where I went wrong.

It didn’t take long for me to find comfort in the lifestyle of the rich and famous – the drinking, the partying, the drugs. I would go on week-long benders, drinking myself into a sickened stupor, rolling up two joints a day, popping pills I didn’t know how to pronounce. Doping myself up so I couldn’t think about it.

Ecstasy, Molly, Coke, LSD, Acid – I’ve taken them all. Shit, you could probably find trace amounts of them in my blood at any given point in time.

Or… however the hell that shit works.

I took Adderall every day to keep me grounded. That’s what I told myself, at least. No doctor in his right mind would ever prescribe someone like me 80 milligrams on a daily basis. Good thing I paid mine enough to forget his hippocratic oath.

I wasn’t completely lost, though. I didn’t feel good about it. Yuuji, my only living brother, told me multiple times that I needed to cut down on my consumption. He wanted me to go to rehab. Shit, over my dead body.

He stopped bringing it up, but I could see it in his eyes – I was breaking his heart. I had to remind myself that he had lost his brothers, too, that day. Probably felt like he was losing the only one he had left.

I try not to dwell too hard on it, though. Got better shit to do.

Fucking hate the music industry most days. Everyone expects you to be all put-together, even though you wake up feeling like you dragged your feet through a field of broken glass shards. Even though you wake up every goddamn morning feeling you’re reliving the same day over and over again.

It’s like a painful reminder that the only people I have in my life are paid employees. I have no one – other than Yuuji – who I could confidently say would be there for me if I no longer had the funds to compensate them.

It fucking blows. I drink to forget about it. Drink and… well, everything else I put in my body.

Never put a needle in there, though… at least not for drugs. I’ve got more tattoos and piercings than I can count.

Enough about my unhealthy coping mechanisms, though.

My “family” never let me put out music I like making. They stripped my creativity from me. I lost all enjoyment in songwriting along the way. They turned me into a husk – a shell of the man I used to be.

I couldn’t recall the last time I felt real happiness. You know, the kind you got from taking a walk in nature and not from snorting and ingesting copious amounts of illicit substances. You would think that someone would see me greened out on the couch and know I was crying for help.

Nah. No one ever listens.

They never noticed. The only reason they cared about whether I was dead or alive was because I kept them well-fed and their pockets full.

That’s the fuckin’ music industry, baby. Nothing but a bunch of soulless, drugged-up puppets pumping out music they hate making. Begging for help.

But no one ever listens.

My head hung low as I snorted a line of powder off the tray my housemaid – or some other woman I didn’t know – had brought me. As quickly as she had appeared, she vanished. In her absence, I relished in the rush that hit me all too fast.

I sniffed and coughed, shaking my head with remnants of the powder clinging to my nose. I blinked slowly, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

The studio’s walls were adorned with gold, platinum and silver records, a shark contrast to the disheveled state of the room. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor. The air hummed with companionable conversation and the distant echoes of a repetitive beat.

As I raised my head, the scene unfolded before me. Half-naked women, draped in a hazy glow from neon lights, raised their glasses in a toast. The shots went down smoothly, accompanied by the thumping bass of my latest creation, reverberating through the studio's speakers.

The instrumental was infectious, quick and catchy, resonating with a bass that seemed to throb in sync with the erratic pulse of the room. My eyes fell to the scattered papers on the coffee table in front of me – lyrics scribbled in messy script on lined paper that had been torn straight out of my composition notebook.

Cigarette smoke, a whiskey glass,

Fading memories, like shattered glass,

Every sunrise feels like the last,

Trapped in the echos of the past.

Stuck in the rhythm of a broken clock,

Every tick’s an echo, every tock’s a shock.

A carouse of monotony,

Lost in a loop, just try’na break free.

Guitar wails like a distant scream,

Reality blurs, just like a dream.

Drift through the hours, like a ghost,

In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost.

Pouting, I wiped my nose, feeling the dull burn of the coke as it tingled in the back of my throat. I was congested as all hell. Still, I tried to sing the bridge beneath my breath.

“Drift through the hours, like a ghost. In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost…” I hummed, pouting again when I realized I still didn’t like it.

The women in the back of the room continued their celebration, completely oblivious to my internal struggle. They were too busy shooting the shit with my friends.

More glasses were poured, and one was handed over to me. I took a sip without looking – because it honestly didn’t matter what was in the cup, could’ve been piss for all I knew. The familiar burn of bourbon warmed me momentarily. Humming in recognition, I traced my finger over the rim of the glass, lost momentarily in the verbiage of my own creation.

Something felt off.

Furrowing my brows, I stared down at the words on the page. I sniffled again. Then I downed about half of my glass of bourbon, standing up on unsteady feet. The room swayed slightly, especially when I walked over to the corner where the producer was set up – a lone figure surrounded by the chaos.

I nodded at him, muttering, “Play it again from the chorus. I’m try’na see somethin’.”

The producer – Chris, or some shit like that – nodded back. He pressed a button, and the beat started over. The room’s ambiance, fueled by laughter and friendly chatter, didn’t quiet down.

I tried my best to immerse myself in the rhythm, but the distractions were just… it was just too much.

‘Guitar wails like a distant scream,

Reality blurs, just like a dream.

Drift through the hours, like a ghost,

In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost.’

I hadn’t realized I had forgotten to actually sing the words until my producer looked over at me expectantly. I shook my head, huffing out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit, sorry, take it from… take it from the chorus again, please?” My voice cut through the noise – or tried to, at least.

The beat started over again, a few measures behind where I needed to be.

“Guitar wails like a distant scream…” I attempted once more. “Drift through the hours, like a lost– fuck, I fucked it up.”

The collective revelry around me was a wall – it fucked me up. I could feel a headache coming on.

“Can we pipe down a bit?” I groaned, massaging my temples. My ears began to ring a bit, growing louder with every passing second that the chatter continued. “Guys, shut the hell up.”

My pleas fell on deaf ears. The ringing persisted, drowning out everything else in the room.

“Yuki,” I directed at her, a little louder now. She seemed to have been leading the conversation. “Yuki, please.”

No one ever listens.

And they didn’t. They weren’t fucking listening. I tried to make eye contact with her, but I couldn’t seem to make out her face from the rest. The room was blurry, moving side to side, hazy around the edges. I held my forehead, groaning quietly.

They were so fucking loud.

No one ever listens.

Downing the rest of my bourbon in one go, I – in a fit of frustration – hurled the glass against the wall above the couch where my friends were comfortably seated. It shattered, sending shockwaves through the room as stunned silence replaced the previous chaos.

“Yuki,” I mumbled, swaying slightly on my feet. “Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to.. Try’na fuckin’...”

“Choso,” She began quietly, her mouth slightly agape. Had she always had a twin sister, or was I dreaming? “Your… your nose– are you okay?”

I put a hand up to my nose, feeling around for anything out of the ordinary. My fingers were red when I brought them back, painted with a viscous crimson fluid. Another fell from my nostril onto the pale skin of my wrist.

My nose is bleeding.

I wiped my nose, waving them off. “I’m fine,” I slurred – I wasn’t, least I don’t think I was, but the show must go on, or some shit like that. “Can we just… keep going, please?”

A thick, heavy silence enveloped the studio. With all of them finally keeping their mouths shut, I could hear myself think again. The ringing in my ears began to subside, and I, looking over my shoulder at Chuck– Chris, whatever the fuck– demanded, “Play that shit again.”

He swallowed nervously, clearly caught off guard by my outburst. Still, he pressed a button or two, and the song started all over again.

Drift through the hours like a ghost,

In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost.

a/n: hiiii! I hate the way this was written, but I always hate my first chaps hehe. NEXT ONE WILL BE SM BETTER I SWEAR!! this is gonna be a long, slow burn, smutty ass fanfic (loosely [very loosely] based on the show 'the idol'). and by based on ofc I mean I watched an ep and I was like damn I could make this better. Enter our beloved emo boy choso kamo. anyway!! comment your thoughts/wishes/etc!! I love an interactive community of loyal commenters and I loveee reading all of ur thoughts and lovely remarks!! keep them coming, and ill keep the chapters coming in retribution! love you bunches!

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

credits: @/2OARIN on twitter (cover art). If you know the other artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work! I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @ynjimenez , @soraya-daydreams , @nonksity , @hinata7346 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @sad-darksoul , @sasuke-slut , @yuunie135 , @bratkuna , @aydene , @mshope16 , @pretentiousteentrash , @galactict3a , @kokos-property , @moonriseoverkyoto , @lyn-soso , @arilostie , @violetmatcha , @markleeisdabestdrug , @erensdior , @hp-simp505 , @fushiguro-kyuuuuuu , @bontensbabygirl , @switch-godess , @honey-yuh , @ddotsie

wanna join the taglist? | smoke and mirrors; chapter index

#smoke and mirrors ☄. *. ⋆#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#choso kamo #choso #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x jjk #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso fluff #choso angst #choso smut #choso kamo fluff #choso kamo smut

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 months

Text

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 7)

Summary: Dean and the reader are in it now. Max and Sam are safe but how do they get themselves out of danger?

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 8,800ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

Reader POV

You knew there was no way in hell either of you were going to send your brothers back to this fucked up place. Or Eric and Sloane who would surely be killed. But Dean wasn’t going to risk you either. Which meant there was one option.

And thankfully the crowd was still watching the show before them, even if it was much harder to see you and Dean behind the guards.

“Do you know what a blitz is?” you asked. Sebastian looked at you like you were nuts, momentarily distracted exactly how you wanted him. Dean threw a punch, a hard one, connecting directly with Sebastian’s nose. Blood poured out as Dean tried to hit the guard directly behind you and make a hole for you to get away. They were on him like that though, Sebastian’s gaze turning murderous.

“Take these two to my office. Figure out how to dispose of them. Find those fuckers that ran off and kill them,” he growled. He popped Dean in the face once, twice, three times, your blood boiling. You took the opportunity to kick the guard behind you while the focus was on him, chucking your heel at another guard on your left and sending your fist flying towards Sebastian’s nuts. He nearly doubled over, ignoring Dean for the moment, his attention back on you. His very angry attention.

His fist flew out fast. You’d been hit plenty of times accidentally in dance rehearsals. High kicks. Wayward hands. Hell, even Eric had gotten you in the face on occasion when you boxed. But those were accidents. Or you were wearing padding. A mouthguard.

Sebastian Monroe hit you so hard you felt your bones rattle. Your left cheek felt split open, though you doubted it was more than scraped up, a stinging pain to accompany the throbbing that echoed in your skull. Maybe a tinge of blood was dripping down your nose.

You stumbled backwards straight into a guard but had enough time to whip your head around and show your still present crowd of party goers your very clearly injured face.

“He just attacked us!” you shouted, Sebastian glowering as you looked back to him with a smirk. “The world just saw you hit the damn princess of pop on a livestream. Do a thing to us and I don’t give a fuck who you know, you’re going down too.”

“Dad, stop.” Cecilia forced her way into the crowd of people when Sebastian reached for me, smacking his hand away. She stared up at him, fury in her eyes. “It’s over.”

“Stay out of-”

“Everyone is watching. They know what she said. They saw your men move first, you attack them. No one in the world will believe that she’s drunk. Look at them.” His gaze momentarily went over her head and past the bodies in front of him to the crowd of guests nearby.

The room was absolutely silent. Three hundred pairs of eyes dead set on you, Dean, and their host with bloody knuckles. Three hundred phones aimed straight at you. Three hundred witnesses. Too many people to persuade that you’d lost your mind. Too many to convince that you were wrong. Maybe before but after decking you right in front of them? Crazy or not, that was a line in the sand he couldn’t undo.

You yanked Dean to his feet and stepped back from the guards while Sebastian contemplated his next move. He could run or fight. Try to take you and Dean again. Try to buy his way out of this mess.

But he simply stood there, staring at his daughter, as if he knew there was no good option left. He kept standing there, the room still quiet, everyone still holding their breath.

Cecilia said something you couldn’t make out, something that made him recoil as if she’d struck him. As she backed away, flashing lights filtered in through the windows, your nerves only receding when you saw a swarm of people in FBI jackets and members of your security team.

It was only then that you realized something was covering your shoulders. Dean’s suit jacket. His hand was on your shoulder, arm curled around your back. Wait, why did your shoulder hurt? And why was Dean murmuring, his lips against the top of your head?

You lifted your head, Dean wearing a sad smile. “You back with me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, closing your eyes when Barry and Owen reached the two of you. They got you outside away from the very confused party guests but you had to stay put for the moment. The feds were busy rounding up every guard they could find, more and more lights flashing in the dark night, more and more cars heard in the distance.

“That was so fucking stupid of you,” said Dean, taking a seat on the front steps, guiding you down with him. His thumb grazed your jaw, careful to avoid your cheek. You smirked, Dean returning it. “You lost your cool. It was a little scary. A little hot too.”

Your eyes wandered down to the bracelet on your wrist, bottom lip wobbling before Dean was pulling you into his lap. “E-Eric taught me how to win a fight. How to beat people twice my size. How to beat a group when I was outnumbered. But the most important thing he taught me-”

“Words are your greatest weapon.” We both looked up, Eric frowning as he inhaled sharply. You eased slightly. He wouldn’t have left Max and Sam unless they were safe.

“That bad?” I asked when he knelt down in front of me, flickering his eyes up.

“I told you to always fight as a last resort, kiddo,” he whispered. “What happened?”

“She started screaming at him after the text,” said Dean, his arm around my shoulders, holding me close. “They tried to grab her after that and it escalated.”

Eric stared at Dean’s black eye and split lip for a moment, raising an eyebrow at you. “So you baited him. Smart girl.”

“Huh?” asked Dean. You pursed your lips. “What’d I miss?”

“You tossed me the phone so I could read the text.”

“Yeah? Then you left it on the table when you hopped down.”

“Not exactly.” You reached behind you, under Dean’s jacket and your tight one shoulder sleeve, pulling out the phone. You held it out to Eric, his head shaking as he saw the video was still recording. “If I was shouting and screaming, then people were looking at me but they weren’t looking at me. While Sebastian was worried about the fact that Sam and Max were apparently two very famous people’s brothers, he didn’t see me slip the phone away and he definitely didn’t see me catch him threatening to kill us on tape.”

“Hot damn,” said Dean, staring at you with wide eyes. “You came up with all that in a few seconds?”

“When Eric started working for me, he sat me down one on one and told me I could listen to him, learn his rules, let him keep me safe. Or I could not be a damsel and learn how to take care of myself and know he had my back. Pissed me off so much calling me a damsel I decided I’d show him and learn how to do his job better than him.”

“Never suspected that’s what I wanted her to do all along,” said Eric softly, surprising you by taking Dean’s cheeks in his hands, turning his face gently. “When you’re no longer concussed, which you totally are, you and I are going to start meeting for an hour a week, teach you to be safe too. Alright, sport?”

“Sport? Eric Clayton, you don’t care about me now do you?” teased Dean. Eric scoffed, rolling his eyes as he looked you over quickly. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone what a softie you are.”

“I really need to find a new job,” he sighed, pecking a kiss to your forehead as he stood. “I don’t think you have a concussion. A scrape and nasty bruise. Maybe that got your nose but the hospital will check. Don’t do that again, kiddo.”

“I’ll do my best,” you said, catching his hand when he headed for someone in an FBI jacket. “Are they okay?”

“We got in the car before this scumbags cronies knew what hit them. They’re both a little skinny but otherwise seemed alright. Sloane and the rest of the team is escorting them to a hospital where some agents are waiting. You two are going to have to give statements but I’m going to hand this over and check that I can get you out of here first.”

“Can you ask when we can see them?” asked Dean, Eric parting his lips, hesitating.

“Yes but…please try to understand what I’m about to say,” said Eric, squatting down in front of both of you. “When someone is abducted, and found, it’s not like a movie. They have to be checked medically. Psych evaluations. Debriefed by authorities. They have to be cleared to see their families again and the process can be…lengthy. It could be six hours, it could be twelve, it could be three days. Your brothers have been gone a very long time. There are a lot of people involved in making sure that they are as prepared as they can be to see you again. These are not your teenage brothers who were barely going through puberty when you lost them. They’re grown men. They need time to adjust.”

Dean took your hand, interlacing your fingers with a nod. “We’ve waited a long time. We can wait a little longer.”

Eric excused himself while you sat in silence together. Ten minutes ago, your brain was going a million miles an hour and now…

“We should call our parents,” said Dean quietly. “They’re going to feel so guilty for thinking they were gone.”

“It’ll be alright,” you said, Eric waving the two of you over to where he chatted with an agent. “Come on. Let’s go get you settled.”

Four Hours Later

It was a shade past midnight when you found Dean in a hospital room. It hadn’t taken long for you to discover you were trending on every social media platform. Worldwide. Your entire team showed up to the hospital along with Dean’s agent. While you were expecting them to want to spin some story, instead they came with changes of clothes for each of you and word that your parents were booked and on a private flight out to LA already.

Max and Sam had been taken to a different hospital but you knew they had federal agents with them so you didn’t worry too much.

“Hey handsome,” you said quietly, taking a seat on his hospital bed. Dean smiled in his joggers and long sleeve henley, reaching a finger out to brush your cheek. “Won’t even scar. Apparently all the plastic surgeons at this hospital were chomping at the bit to work on my face. One even offered to fix my nose at a discount.”

“I love your nose,” he said, wiping his thumb over the black and blue crossing over the bridge of it. “Not broken?”

“No. Burst blood vessels is all.” You pushed up the sleeve of his hoodie you wore and scooted up closer to him, his hand resting on your gray sweatpants.

“Oh these are soft,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m not sleeping. Don’t scold me.”

“That’s more Sloane’s job, isn’t it?” you teased, Dean agreeing, fluttering his lids open. “Your parents are at FBI headquarters. Mine should be there soon.”

“S’good. Maybe they can see the guys in a few hours. Sloane said a friend in the agency gave some intel. Clean bills of health. They have some old scars on their backs and what look like a healed burn though.”

“Well if the boys want them gone apparently there’s enough plastic surgeons here to take care of it,” you said, Dean humming. You were both quiet, trying to ignore that they’d been hurt at some point. Badly. “Did she find out anything else?”

“Not a lot. They’re still undergoing their mental evals before they take them to the headquarters but it seems promising? Definitely a lot of trauma and PTSD but like the guys have likely learned how to manage on their own I guess? I mean, in my opinion we get those two into the best therapist we can find but in the meantime they’re like…doing better than expected.”

You leaned back in the bed, cramming into his side with a content sigh. “It’s because they had each other. They weren’t alone. I hope.”

“We’ll learn more the next few days, figure out what they need,” said Dean, brushing his lips over your temple. “They should live with us, not our parents.”

“I don’t disagree but why?”

“S’like Eric said. Max and Sam are not teenage boys anymore. They are both twenty eight and fuck, Y/N, they deserve to be adults. Our parents will suffocate them with concern. We can tow that line. Be there but let them be independent, let them be free. Obviously it’s their choice but with the attention that’s going to be on them, we can keep them safe too. We can show them how much fun there is to life in a way our parents can’t.”

“That makes sense. I just want them with us,” you said, closing your eyes, hoping the medicine they gave you for your headache kicked in soon. “I’m sorry I called you those nasty things.”

“It wasn’t real. All’s forgiven,” he said, his arm wrapped firmly around my shoulder. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s okay. Emma said there’s a clip going around of you going all Alpha and stepping in front of me to protect me. Apparently you are in fact, not quite the bad boy people thought.”

“We got our brothers back and I’m no longer a scoundrel? I’d call that a successful night,” he teased, adjusting himself so he sat upright. “Can you do me a favor and get me a snack from the vending machine? I need some sugar.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back,” you said, sharing a quick kiss. A moment later you were down the hall, grabbing a package of swiss rolls for Dean. Your ears pricked up at the sudden noise in the quiet hospital wing. The staff had blocked off a corner of it for you and currently was restricted to your people in the waiting room.

But someone was definitely making noise in a hospital room nearby.

You poked your head in a large dark room, big enough to hold eight beds. There was a grunt and you frowned. The staff said you had these rooms to yourself. They hadn’t forgotten a patient had they?

You quickly walked through the dark space, towards a dim light coming through the windows.

“Excuse me-” You pulled back a curtain, jaw snapping shut as two very naked people quickly scrambled to pull up the sheet at the end of the bed. You shut the curtain and spun around, loud shuffling occurring behind you. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize…”

You quickly walked for the door, barely outside of it before a hand caught your shoulder.

“Y/N.” You turned and faced Eric, his tuxedo pants pulled up but buckle undone, his undershirt halfway tugged down his torso. “I uh, don’t apologize. I’m the one on duty. We are on duty. We should-”

“Stop,” you said, holding up a hand. Eric frowned but remained silent. “I walk in on you and Sloane screwing and you apologize to me? No. Just, no.”

“We are on duty-”

“And there are how many cops and feds outside those doors over there? You know it’s safe here so don’t…” you trailed off as Sloane cleared her throat, walking out barefoot in her dress. You looked between them, Eric glancing down to stare at her hand.

He slowly laced their fingers together, sharing a small smile with her.

“Are we…good?” you asked, the two of them sharing a look and smiling, heads nodding. “Are we happy?”

“Yeah,” said Eric, not giving you the time of day as his eyes wandered all around Sloane’s face, nothing but adoration in them. “I think so.”

“Tonight was a bit of a needed reality check. We wasted a lot of time by not talking to each other. So we talked it out. We’ll talk more about it but…” Sloane trailed off, giving Eric a soft smile.

“We’re going to give us a chance.” He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, his sole focus on her.

“You both deserve it,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Which is why Eric, you are suspended until further notice.”

He slowly turned his head, giving you his best bitch face. “You’re being checked for a concussion again because if you think I’m going anywhere after everything that happened tonight-“

“Dean and I are safe. We can’t do anything but wait for Dean to get released and then to see the boys. So you two are dismissed. Go talk or whatever you guys want. But I don’t want to see your faces-Eric!” you said when he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. Sloane, you understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she said, cocking her head. “But there’s no way in hell we’re leaving you guys.”

You frowned, Sloane slipping past you, heading for the women’s room. You gave Eric a glare, a cocky smirk staring back. “Why are you being difficult about this? We are safe. You two have been in love for years and you’re finally working it out. Take her home, Eric.”

“Nah,” he said, crossing his arms, chuckling when you huffed.

“I will fire you.” He laughed, choosing to wrap his arms around your body, giving you a tight hug. “I’m not joking.”

He hummed, ignoring your repeated grunts at him. Finally you sighed, his chest warm against your achy cheek. After a few beats, you let out a small shake, Eric kissing the top of your head.

“What did your parents say on the phone that made you cry?” You stiffened momentarily, Eric’s chin coming to rest on top of your head. “You think I didn’t catch that? I know everything that happens around here. Spill.”

“Promise me you won’t get angry because when you get angry at them you go all crazy and I need the version of you that’s like my older brother, not my scary protection agent. Please.”

“You do realize older brothers are far more protective than people in my line of duty.” You pouted, staring upwards, his finger booping your nose. Tears filled your eyes, his own full of worry. “I promise to be good. Don’t worry-”

“No it’s…do you actually care about me? Like an older brother would?” you asked quietly. He smiled, leaning back to look you up and down.

“You remember a few years ago how you thought you asked me to have sex the night of your 30th birthday? Yeah, see, you actually asked every single man on the security team and they all saw how clearly plastered you were and said no.” You blinked away your tears momentarily, holding up a finger.

“I did what?” Eric laughed deeply, rubbing your arms.

“It was a bit adorable really. But me? No, I didn’t get an ask because it would have been ‘like fucking my brother.’ I put you to bed after that. You were shaky on the details in the morning and knew you asked somebody to screw you so I took the heat so you didn’t feel embarrassed around the boys. So. Do I care about you?” He cocked his head, hiding a smile. “Yeah. I care a fuck ton. You’re my best damn friend, little sister and the world’s biggest pain in my ass all rolled into one. I love you kiddo which is why as much as I’d love to take Sloane home, she understands I’m not leaving my family alone tonight. Especially not when your parents are vile because I had a dad like that and I know how it fucks you up.”

You swallowed thickly, Eric bending down to be at eye level with you.

“Just because Max is back does not mean you have to have a relationship with them. They-”

“It wasn’t my fault,” you whispered. He furrowed his brow, Sloane’s footsteps heard behind you, coming to a stop. “They called and asked me not to tell Max what they said because…b-because I was never supposed to pick him up that day. They were. They blamed me so they wouldn’t get scrutinized. T-They blamed me and told me…for years I thought…”

You hiccuped, Eric’s grip on your shoulders hard, so hard it hurt. He was pissed. More than pissed. But his face was strangely calm.

“You punched a mob boss in the dick tonight. A very, very violent man that’s killed god knows how many people. You’re strong and you know that. I saw the tape and damn it kid, you are amazing. I am begging you, do not let these people hurt you anymore. They don’t deserve your protection. They are abusive and manipulative. My dad was the same way. Exactly the same. Don’t be like me and wait your whole life to acknowledge it. Don’t give them a second more of your time. Be a big sister instead and do what you have to in order to protect Max.”

“It’ll break his heart,” you breathed out.

“Look at his life. His heart’s already broken.” You looked past Eric and spotted Dean, green eyes downcast. “Those people told you to die. Fuck them. Max still has a family, right here. Hell, he can have my parents too. But we are not letting him go from one manipulative monster straight to another. And you already decided that, didn’t you?”

“I just…I don’t…what if he thinks I’m lying?” you whispered. Eric moved aside, Dean sighing as he gently tilted your chin upwards. “What if he picks them? They’re his parents. I’m-”

“Y/N.” Dean shook his head. “You’re forgetting something very important.”

“What?” you breathed out, his hand cupping your uninjured cheek.

“He probably remembers every single detail of that day. He knows you weren’t meant to get him. Even if you were, it wasn’t your fault. As far as we know, he’s spent a long time living with a manipulative bastard. The second they blame you to his face, he’s going to figure out exactly what life’s been like for you while he was gone. You’re not going to have to say a thing. They’re going to fuck it up themselves. All you have to do is be there for him after the fact, sweetheart.”

You nodded, Dean wrapping you up in a hug, Eric and Sloane leaving to give you some privacy. “Dean?”

“Hm?” he hummed.

“You want your swiss rolls?” He laughed and let out an agreeing hum. A moment later you were in his bed, splitting the package, a pit forming in your stomach. You left your snack in the opened plastic wrapper, Dean’s heated gaze on you when you went to the dark window. You glanced downwards to the parking lot, catching at least nine different news vans with bright lights on. “They’ll never have normal lives. Sam and Max. Even if we weren’t famous, they are in their own right. They didn’t get to be normal kids.”

“What’s really wrong?” he asked. You glanced over your shoulder, Dean sat upright in bed, lips pressed into a thin line.

“How do you know something’s wrong?” you whispered, crossing your arms. His lip twitched up, if only for a brief moment.

“How’d you know I’d pick up on what cherry blossoms meant in that fake fight?” You bit the inside of your cheek, shrugging a shoulder.

“Because you’re smart. I trust you.”

“Why cherry blossoms?” Dean asked again. You stepped away from the window, stopping in front of him.

“Because it means a safe place to me.” He took your hands in his, stroking the backs of them with his thumbs. You met his gaze, Dean staring up with big green eyes that eased some of the worry in your gut. “My childhood house, there’s a cherry blossom in the front yard. It was weird because no one in the neighborhood had one. But we did. It was the tree that was always safe when Max and I played hide and seek. It was the finish line whenever we had races. I had my first kiss under that tree. I wrote my first song under it. The day Max didn’t come home, I sat out there for hours crying and then just feeling numb.”

The pit in your stomach rose up, eyes quickly fighting back hot tears.

“It was safe. He knew it was safe. It was always safe or home base or where he’d wait for me to get home from practice so we could play after school. So I’d sit under that stupid tree everyday for hours hoping he’d just come back to where it was home, where it was safe. To our stupid finish line.” You wiped off your face with your sleeve, Dean’s chest rising and falling slowly. “Finish Line is about that damn tree. Homebound? That tree. Cherry Lipstick? Tree. Blossom? Tree. Jungle Gym? Tree. They were all for Max. All for him just in case he heard them so he’d know. So he’d know I was still looking, that I wasn’t giving up on him. It’s the only reason I signed my first record deal at all. I thought the more popular I got, the more power and money I’d have and maybe I could find him. I thought it’d be enough but it wasn’t. It all came down to dumb luck.”

“Y/N.” Dean chuckled, pulling you down to sit on his lap. You put your arms around his neck, Dean shaking his head. “You’re the best damn big sister in the world. Max might be losing his parents but he’s got nothing to worry about.”

“I worry about things,” you said, Dean laughing again.

“No shit,” he said, his deep chuckle helping ease away some of the lingering concerns in the back of your mind. “Now sit down and relax. Tonight’s a good night.”

“I know,” you said, Dean handing you the swiss roll. You took a bite, Dean scooting back on the bed, bringing you with him. “That’s why I told security the all safe code was cherry blossoms. But I still don’t get why would Eric tell you that when we didn’t know each other much yet?”

“I think he saw the way we were together at the restaurant and that afternoon. It was probably as obvious to him as him and Sloane are to us. It’s inevitable.”

“Inevitable? Good song name,” you said, Dean grinning. “You know I totally caught them fucking in a room down the hall.”

“Eric!” shouted Dean. Approximately six seconds later he was in the doorway, gun in his hands and wide eyed. “You and Sloane, eh? About fucking time!”

“I swear to god I’m quitting this job,” grumbled Eric, flipping Dean the bird as he left.

“That’s his love language,” you said, Dean laughing. “You know what mine is?”

“Cuddles, orgasms and swiss rolls?” You looked him up and down, nodding your head. “I’m just that good.”

“Oh my god,” you said, rolling your eyes and slipping out of bed. “I’m getting more snacks, cocky bastard.”

“You love it,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, playboy.”

Dean POV

“Thanks,” I said the next morning at the local FBI headquarters. I was tired, my face hurt, and I definitely had a concussion which meant sitting out tonight’s game and the next few weeks worth. Y/N’s cheek had swollen to a nasty purple color but she’d gotten a few hours sleep at the hospital. I hated to see her hurt but she took it in stride, her focus elsewhere.

Sam and Max were somewhere in the building, as free men, which made my stomach do this weird flipping thing akin to the first time I’d seen Y/N. It was nerves but good ones. We’d be able to talk to the guys soon but they were wrapping up talking to some special investigator which meant Y/N and I had time to kill. While our parents were using that time to scream at each other in a conference room after I not so subtly slipped to mine about what her parents plans were, Y/N got dragged into signing autographs for the people in the office. It was fucking ridiculous and unprofessional of these people but she needed something to do to keep her mind occupied.

Which meant I had a chance to talk to someone I’d been dying to since last night.

“Hey,” I said. Cecilia looked up from the table she’d been staring at. Her pretty blue dress from last night was gone. Now she wore way too big sweatpants, an FBI shirt and had a pair of cheap flip flops on her feet. “The agent said you’re okay if I talk to you for a minute?”

She nodded, pulling her hands down to under the table. I took a seat across, giving her a smile.

“I uh, went to the LA concert at the end of August too,” I said, holding up my wrist so she could see my friendship bracelet. “That was before Y/N and I knew each other.”

She only stared, vacantly almost. Poor kid looked like she’d been up half the night.

“Why did you protect us last night?” I asked. “You stepped in and your dad just…it was like he realized it was over.”

“He was going to kill you both. He tends to do that to people.” I took my turn to stare, Cecilia sighing. “He would have, even if everyone was live streaming it. He didn’t care at that point.”

“But why would you protect two strangers? I don’t even understand how you got him to stop-”

“Just because he’s a bad person doesn’t mean I’m one.” I parted my lips, the right words to respond not coming. “It’s why I lied for Sam and Max when they slipped your guys names to the party planner. I always knew my dad was violent and something was up with them. I figured they always worked to send money to their families or he’d threatened them. But a man like my dad…”

“What he says goes,” I filled in for her. She nodded, relaxing her shoulders. “Thank you for covering for them. I’m guessing they would have been killed if you hadn’t.”

“It’s not a guess,” she said, breathing deeply. “I’m the only thing in the world my dad cares about more than keeping his power.”

Cecilia leaned back in her chair, glancing down for a split second.

“I told him if he touched either of you, touched anyone, he would never see or speak to me again. We fight enough that he knows I’m telling the truth.”

“Is that why you’re helping the feds? You hate your dad?”

She got up, pacing back and forth. “I don’t hate him. He was never bad to me. He was overprotective if anything. But he bought two boys off the black market to be slaves for him. Shit Max started working at my house two months after I was born. My whole life. My father doesn’t deserve to be free ever again. I just wish I said something sooner.”

I rose to my feet, Cecilia stopping in her tracks. I took a few tentative steps closer, her arms firmly crossed over her chest. I paused a few feet away, her short frame practically dwarfed by the large clothes, making her look even smaller.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to tell you something and I need you to listen to me, really listen.” I crouched down to meet her at eye level, finding her gnawing on her bottom lip. “It was not on you to save Max or Sam. Or even Y/N or myself. But you did. At fucking fourteen years old. You’re still a damn kid and you went way above and beyond for us. Don’t you ever blame yourself for anything your dad ever did. He might not be a good person but you are an amazing one and I will owe you for the rest of my life. I may hate your dad but I don’t hate you. Y/N and I both feel that way. I’m sure our brothers do too. Now, life is going to get rough for you because all of us are all over the news. But we’re going to help you get through it. Whatever you need, we will help. Understand?”

She nodded after a moment, her eyes still full of worry.

“They said your mom is flying over from Europe right now,” I said, going to the table and jotting down my number on the notepad in there. “This is my cell. I want you to give it to your mom when she gets in. Tell her to call me anytime, okay?”

“Why would you help me?” she asked quietly. I stood upright, handing her the paper. She took it, carefully folding it and putting it in her pocket.

“Because you’re a good kid and you can’t help having a shitty parent. Now, do you need anything while you wait for your mom?” Cecilia shook her head. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Can…can you tell the guys I’m sorry? And Y/N too?”

“Sorry, no can do. You only apologize when you’ve done something wrong you see.” She rolled her eyes, quickly frowning when she realized what she’d done. “Do me a favor? Keep being a normal teenager.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, Cecilia,” I said, offering her a smile. “I’m sure we’ll talk again. Maybe we can catch one of Y/N’s concerts together next year.”

She blushed and nodded. I had my hand on the door when she cleared her throat behind me. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“This is probably going to come off as super creepy but Y/N is happier with you. Take it from a teenager that’s obsessed with her. She is so much happier in pictures lately. I saw the way you stepped in front of her. You’re a good person too.”

“I try,” I said. “I’ll see you around.”

I was in the hallway for less than two seconds when Sloane rounded a corner, taking my hand. “The boys are ready. They want to see you and Y/N first.”

I didn’t have time to get nervous as Sloane dragged me down the hall and back around the corner, Y/N and Eric waiting outside a door with a few agents. Sloane released me as I took Y/N’s hand, one of the agents opening the door for us.

I spotted an unfamiliar young man spinning around in a conference chair first, the room full of light from the large windows on the back wall. He had the same color hair as Y/N, his eyes filtering over and meeting mine, finding those the same as hers too.

We both looked away at the same time, my eyes drawn to the figure by the windows. Holy shit Sammy got tall. His hair was a longer and I could see the beginnings of stubble along his jaw, probably in need of a shave.

But that smile when he saw me? That was still my Sammy’s smile.

At least that hadn’t been taken from him.

“Wow. Can you believe it Sam?” asked Max, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “It’s the three time superbowl winner Dean Winchester!”

“I know! And the Princess of Pop? I think we’re supposed to be meeting our brother and sister, not celebrities. Where are those untalented hacks anyway?” teased Sam.

“No clue. Maybe we can get autographs while we wait. Our siblings definitely aren’t as cool as these guys,” said Max with a shit eating grin aimed at Y/N. He winked and she dropped her jaw. “Hiya, horse hair.”

“I don’t have horse hair you little shit,” she said, storming over, Max catching her in a crushing hug as he stood.

“Hey jerk,” said Sam as he approached me.

“Hey bitch,” I whispered, meeting him in a deep embrace. He chuckled deeply, squeezing me way too tight. “What’s so funny?”

“I’ve been dying to show you for years I ended up taller than you.” I rolled my eyes, holding him harder. “It’s alright. Only one of us could be blessed to be tall and good looking I suppose.”

“Oh I fucking missed you, you asshole,” I laughed. There was a squeal beside us, both our heads turning as Max quickly released Y/N. “Don’t break her on me, Max. I like that one.”

“Eh, she’s alright,” he said, Y/N wrapping her arms around his waist in a side hug. “A little clingy.”

“You’re a dick,” she said with a smile. “I missed you Maxie.”

“Yeah I guess I missed you too,” he said with a roll of his eyes and a smile. He gave her another squeeze and looked to me, eyes flickering down to my arm. “Nice tat.”

“Thanks. Little brothers go on the arm,” I said, Max glancing back up. “Come here, shrimp.”

I pulled him into a hug as Sam reached for Y/N, the two of them sharing some words. Max relaxed against me, letting out a very deep breath.

“You don’t know this yet but I really love you, kid.” He burrowed his head in the crook of my neck, nodding once. “You can cry you know.”

“I did enough of that over the years,” he said, raising his head, smiling wide as he looked me in the eye. “It’s just like being able to take a full breath for the first time in a long time.”

“I understand the feeling,” I said, ruffling his hair, spotting the faded bruise on his cheek. “What happened here?”

“It was part of our plan. Well…getting punched wasn’t but it was part of it,” he said. I cocked my head when Sam threw an arm around my shoulders, Y/N sneaking in between the both of them.

“Plan? All we heard was you guys slipped our names onto some guest list,” said Y/N. They shared a look, silently communicating, the sudden realization hitting me that there was so much we didn’t know.

“We’ve made…a few escape attempts over the years,” said Sam. “The last failed one was eight years ago. We knew if we tried again, it had to have high chance of success which meant outside help.”

“Because we only had one shot left and we knew both of you had some level of infamy…we always thought if we could reach out to one of you, we knew we’d be able to get out. But it was kind of impossible until we found out you were dating.”

“Seb, that motherfucker, loves the Wolves and Dean. Cecilia loves Y/N and those two had a pretty argumentative relationship to say the least. We figured if we could somehow get you guys invited to one of his parties, he wouldn’t think twice because maybe it was a way to get some good grace with his daughter and it benefited him at the same time,” said Sam. “So we risked it.”

“How’s she doing by the way? We heard Seb was arrested. She doesn’t really have anyone else beside her mom who Seb has banished to Switzerland most of the year,” said Max.

“She’s uh, alright. Pretty sure the kid is beating herself up for not saying anything about you guys, said she had a gut feeling something was always off,” I said. They shared a look again and frowned. “She’s just a kid, guys. She-”

“Cecilia is the only person we like,” said Sam with a laugh. “Trust us. She’s how we know so much about you guys.”

“She was also the only person that was ever nice to us. No, we have no problem with her. We should talk to her before we leave if we can,” said Max, Sam agreeing. “But I guess we should save the explanations for when mom and dad are here.”

Y/N’s face fell, Sam giving her a side hug. “He means my parents. Max decided they were his a long time ago cause yours kind of suck. No offense.”

Y/N snapped her head up to Max who shrugged. “They blamed you when it wasn’t your fault. Maybe they didn’t spell it out but I heard enough from Cecilia and caught enough snippets from interviews she’d watch to know that they tried to pin my kidnapping on you. I gave them up years ago. I hear John and Mary are nice.”

“They are,” she said, closing her eyes. “I was freaking out last night about telling you and…we can talk about it later. I’m sure your guys parents are chomping at the bit.”

“They’re going to smother us,” sighed Sam.

“Yeah. Isn’t it great?” asked Max, giving both me and Y/N a hug, Sam completing it on my right side. “Alright. Let’s let ‘em in.”

“So why was that pass interference?” asked Y/N as we lay on her large sectional late that night watching football.

“You can’t hold the guy,” said Sam, walking around the chaise and taking a seat beside me.

“That was not a hold,” said Max and Y/N in sync.

“Yes it was,” I said, Sam echoing my sentiments.

“It wasn’t but the angle is bad,” said Eric, Sloane leaned back against his chest over on the love seat. “Aren’t you supposed to route for the Wolves by default, kiddo?”

“We are a Chiefs family thank you very much,” said Max, Sam rolling his eyes. “Oh you want to start again, Winchester?”

“We are formerly a Chiefs family, Maxwell,” said Sam, narrowing his eyes. “How many times have we been over this?”

“I am a Wolves fan when they are not playing against the Chiefs. How many times have we better over that, Samuel?” shot back Max.

“Here we thought they’d be traumatized shells of themselves. Instead you’ve been bickering over football the past decade?” asked Y/N, turning her head to look at both.

“It’s a coping mechanism,” said Sloane, taking a piece of popcorn from the bowl in her lap. “Although your guys psych eval report was shockingly positive. Some stuff to work through but manageable. I always figured you’d be super fucked up. No offense.”

“One of the shrink people said it’s cause we had each other,” said Sam, glancing at Max. “Healthy codependency.”

“We probably should go to therapy though,” said Max, Y/N ruffling his hair.

“Of course. When you’re ready. Take a few days before you try to start unpacking. And when you’re ready we can see a doctor about getting those scars removed,” she said. They were both quiet for a moment, Sam’s head resting on my shoulder.

“So why aren’t you at your game tonight?” asked Sam.

“Oh I wonder,” I scoffed, giving him a noogie. “Coach said if I set foot in the stadium he’d bench me the rest of the season. He’s a good guy.”

“That’s nice considering you get paid a gajillion dollars to show up, even if you’re half dead.” Sam snickered beside me, letting me pull him into a noogie.

“Probably helps that Y/N personally spoke to the commissioner of the league and threatened to pull out of the halftime show if they didn’t quote ‘Make accommodations for not only an injured top draw of the league but someone who’s personal life they’ve capitalized on all season.’ Girl don’t fuck around,” said Eric. He took a sip from his beer, Max raising an eyebrow at his sister.

“Seriously? You’re that famous?” he asked.

“She’s that powerful,” I said. Y/N tilted her head upwards, a small smile on her lips. “Excuse us for a minute.”

I took her hand, Y/N following me down the hall to her studio. Y/N slid her hands up my arm, holding on tight. “What are you thinking about big guy?”

“Do you remember last night before the party when I was talking about football?” She hummed, tracing her thumb under my black eye. “My contract runs out this year. My agent was about to start negotiations.”

Y/N pulled me over to the piano, sitting on the bench before patting the spot next to her. Slowly I sat, her right hand reaching across my body and hitting a key. She took my hand and hit the same key with it, doing it a few times.

“What are you doing?” She moved my hand down the keys, hitting another one.

“You like the piano. We’re going to have to find you a hobby in retirement and this is one we can do together.” A stupid smile spread onto my face, Y/N lacing our fingers together. “You were halfway out the door last night. Now that the boys are back…maybe you take a year, we take time with them while you figure out what you want to do next.”

“I told coach earlier this is my last season,” I said. “I need to be home more.”

“Just don’t give up what you want for us,” she said. I shrugged, turning in my seat.

“I’m not giving up anything. I’m gaining something new.” I took her hands into my lap, Y/N shifting closer. “I do want one thing though. Live life for you, not Max. He’s going to be alright. So no more songs trying to talk to him. No more pushing yourself to the extreme. Let’s start making you the priority and what you want.”

“I want you to move in permanently. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to write the sappiest love songs about you. I want to do only twenty shows next year and focus on our family for the rest. I want-”

“Damn girl, you’re greedy,” I teased. She punched my arm, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I think we can arrange those things, sweetheart.”

“Oh and I want to plan Eric and Sloane’s wedding,” she said. I laughed, tugging her into my lap, her legs wrapping around my waist. “Can you imagine? It’ll be full of like badass action movie kind of people.”

“Eric’s going to hate it. I’m in,” I said, chuckling lightly. “It’s a little presumptuous though. I mean, they started dating twenty hours ago.”

“Those two are so going to be engaged within a month.” I hummed, cocking my head. “That isn’t me saying I need…you don’t have to-”

“We don’t have to rush. Someday,” I promised.

“Someday,” she whispered, brushing her lips over mine. “So if brothers go on the arm, where do I go?”

“Where do I go?” I teased, Y/N grinning. “Oh? Do we have an idea?”

“Oh yeah I’ve got one of those.”

Reader POV

Four Months Later

You jogged down the hall of the stadium, buckets of sweat pouring off you. Even Eric was having a hard time keeping up. You kept running around a corner though, smiling when you saw an equally sweaty Dean in his uniform and pads, helmet by his side talking to Benny and Michael.

“Hey!” You ran over and found yourself in a big hug, Dean squeezing you tight. “You’re doing amazing sweetie. But you, Benjamin, are favoring your right shoulder and making a hole and the Chiefs are taking advantage. Get your shit together. He’s going out with a superbowl win, got it?”

He held up his hands, Dean chuckling to himself. “Didn’t you guys like it better before I taught her all the rushing routes?”

“She’d make a good offensive coordinator,” said Michael. “Great show out there. Normally these suck but yours was actually watchable.”

“I’ll bring you up next time,” you winked. “I’ve heard you sing karaoke.”

His face went white and you laughed, Dean kissing your sweaty forehead. “How are the boys doing?”

“Max is in a Wolves jersey. Win or lose, you get to make fun of him for switching his team after making such a big deal about it.”

“Oh I definitely will,” he said, people moving around and heading back onto the field. “Walk with me.”

You followed by his side, Dean taking your hand in his. “They seemed like they’re having a blast. They had on matching shirts making fun of us earlier so we’re going to get memed the hell out of.”

“Good. I’m glad they’re having fun,” he said, the stadium loud when you stepped foot onto the fake astroturf. “Are you?”

“Are you kidding me? I just performed at the superbowl. You’re up by ten. Our brothers are having the times of their lives. I’m pretty sure Eric and Sloane got caught on camera staring adorable into each others eyes which I’m totally printing out onto t-shirts we can embarrass them with.”

“I’m literally right here, asshole,” said Eric behind you. You spun around with a smile, Eric rolling his eyes. “You got a minute before we head back if you don’t want to miss any of the game.”

“You mean you don’t want to miss any of the game. You know I appreciate my number one fan, Eric,” said Dean with a cheeky grin. Eric flipped him off, hanging back once you were closer to security.

“Kick it in the ass, babe.” You held up your hand, Dean high fiving it before your fist bumped into an explosion, a tradition you’d started before each of his playoff games.

“Always do. Ready to have a trophy husband in about three hours?” he teased.

“Trophy husband?” you said, Dean thumbing over the heart tattoo on your wrist, his own sporting a matching one. You weren’t married. Technically. There was a time for that down the road. But you’d gotten the tattoos a few days after Max and Sam had come home. The media had guessed what it meant and landed on it was some stupidly cute couple thing. Only a few knew the true meaning.

You were his, he was yours and that was that.

“I mean you do have a cute butt. I guess you can be one of those,” you laughed. Dean grinned and pecked a kiss to your lips, a thunderous roar in your ears from the thousand of onlookers. “I love you so much.”

“I love you girl with the obnoxious orange sneakers,” he said. You glanced down and blushed, Dean curling a strand of slick hair behind your ears. “Want to grab some chicken nuggies with me after my game? I mean, last time I was there I ran into the love of my life. Maybe I’ll see her again.”

“Yeah I think you will,” you said, kissing him quickly and winking. “I’ll see you soon, playboy.”

“See you soon, princess.” You let him jog over to his team, quickly jogging out of there with Eric by your side.

“I love your sneakers!” shouted someone as you ran through a stadium hall, trying to make it back upstairs to grab a quick shower and change.

“Thank you!” you called back, Eric shaking his head. “What?”

“I can’t believe you wore those godawful orange sneakers in front of a hundred million people,” he said. “The Winchester jersey makes sense but the shoes?”

“I didn’t do it for them,” you said, smiling when you glanced down at the shoes.

Your original sneakers from college. It’d taken some hunting down but you’d found them still in your old roommates possession. More than one of your designers and members of the team tried to persuade you to not wear them. They clashed. They were ugly. They didn’t match anything.

But you didn’t care.

While the world was watching you perform in those orange sneakers, you only cared about one person watching.

The boy that fell in love with the girl with the obnoxious orange sneakers. And that smile on his face when he saw you in them?

You’d never forget that smile for the rest of your life.

___________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fanfic

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