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xhazzz · 3 days ago

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Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Bagman

warnings: none.

summary: the cute blonde pilot trying to get your number. and you’re Maverick’s daughter, btw.

a/n: hi to anyone who’s reading this, its my first post so i hope you like it. This might be the first part to a small serie about how you and hangman fall in love. Anyway, enjoy. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIST LENGUAGE, so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong :)

masterlist || request’s are open

READER’S POV:

Being back home felt strange, like traveling back in time. I remembered how, when I was a kid, my dad and Uncle Goose would sit Bradley and me on the piano and play and sing for hours. Now, here I was, standing behind the bar helping Penny on a busy night.

The Hard Deck was packed—classic for a Friday night. The jukebox music blended with the chatter of the crowd. The place had been full of naval aviators for over an hour, most of them still in uniform, using it as a strategy to attract women. I recognized a few faces—besides Bradley’s—since I had snooped through my dad’s files on the pilots he’d be training.

“What do I have to do to get the pretty girl behind the bar to give me another round?” one of the pilots asked, leaning his elbow on the bar and placing his empty beer bottles in front of me.

“Maybe you just need to ask nicely,” I said with a smile, grabbing the bottles to swap them for fresh ones. His uniform tag read “Seresin”. He was one of my dad’s squadron members. I wouldn’t deny it—he was very attractive: blond, green eyes, and every bit the charming prince. “Here you go, handsome.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, taking the beers but staying put, leaning against the bar more comfortably. “And if I wanted your number, would I just have to ask nicely for that, too?”

“Is that the line you use on all the girls?” I teased, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You think I’m one of those guys?” he said, pretending to be offended as he took a sip of his beer, never breaking eye contact. “Ouch.”

“I know pilots. You all pretend to be charming and different from the rest,” I replied with a sigh, wiping the bar with a rag. “You think you’re irresistible and that every girl falls for you—even with a stupid mustache, like Rooster’s.”

He glanced over, laughing, and spotted Rooster playing pool with the other pilots.

“The problem is, you’ve only met Chicken. I’m way better than him,” he said, making me pause and lean on the bar in front of him. Bradley had already told me about him.

“You must be Bagman,” I said, laughing.

“Hangman, sweetheart,” he corrected instantly, winking. Okay, he was very attractive. “How do you know my callsign?”

“Oh, trust me, I know way more than you think,” I said, winking back before turning to serve some other guys who had come up to the bar for refills.

It took me about five minutes to serve everyone, and the whole time, I could feel his eyes on me as he sipped his beer, patiently waiting for me to finish.

“So, since you know who I am, maybe you could reconsider giving me your number,” he said, leaning closer from the other side of the bar.

“I don’t know. I don’t think you’re ready for it.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad walk in and head straight for the bar to take a seat.

“Hey, darlin’. You know my usual,” my dad said with a smile.

I started preparing his whiskey the way he liked it, aware that Hangman was still waiting at the bar.

“I think I’m more than ready. It’s not every day I meet a gorgeous girl like you,” Hangman said. “All I’m asking for is your number—or at least let me buy you a drink.”

I laughed, shaking my head. Poor guy had no idea what he was in for. I garnished my dad’s glass with a slice of lemon and set it in front of him.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“No problem, Dad,” I replied, turning to face the blond pilot with my arms crossed. He took a sip of his beer and nearly choked.

“Dad?” he asked, glancing between me and my father.

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?” my dad asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“No, sir.”, he replied, pressing his lips together.

“Then you’d better keep your fake charm away from my daughter,” my dad added.

I burst out laughing and leaned over to swap out the pilot’s beer.

“I told you, you weren’t ready for my number,” I said with a smirk before walking away to serve someone else. After saying goodnight to my dad, Hangman finally moved over to the pool table where Rooster and the others were.

“Poor guy, Dad. You scared him,” I said, approaching my father.

“I don’t care. No one’s good enough for my little girl,” he said, rubbing my arm affectionately. “Besides, if he’s really interested, he’ll have to work for it.”

The rest of the night passed quietly, picking up glasses and serving drinks until Penny told me I could clock out. Every now and then, I caught the blond pilot glancing my way, and I couldn’t deny I felt a little disappointed when he backed off after realizing my dad would be his coach. Maybe he was a jerk, like Bradley said.

After saying goodbye to Penny and my dad, I grabbed my denim jacket and stepped out of the Hard Deck. My ears welcomed the silence after the noise inside. As I walked toward the street, I heard someone coming out behind me.

“Hey, wait,” Hangman called out. “Have you reconsidered giving me your number?”

“You never quit, do you?” I laughed, crossing my arms.

“Not when it comes to the prettiest girl in the bar,” he said, mimicking my stance and stepping closer.

“You don’t even know my name—and I don’t really know yours, either, Bagman.”

“Hangman. And it’s Jake,” he said, closing the distance between us and extending his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” I said, shaking his hand. Mine was noticeably smaller than his, but they fit perfectly.

“Now that we’re properly introduced…” he started, still holding my hand.

“If you figure out my name, maybe I’ll give you my number,” I teased, pulling my hand away. “Goodnight, Jake.”

I took a few steps away and glanced back at him. He stood there, shaking his head and laughing softly, hands on his hips.

“Hope you’re free tomorrow night, sweetheart,” he called out loud enough for me to hear as I walked away.

“We’ll see, Bagman,” I replied.

__________________________________________________________

JAKE’S POV:

“Give me 200 more, Hangman,” Maverick shouted with a grin on his face, standing in front of me. This man was enjoying himself.

“What’s up with you, man?” Fanboy asked after finishing his push-ups. “Is it because of that girl last night? The one who didn’t give you her number?”

“She’s not just any girl, dude,” I replied between sets. “She’s Mav’s daughter.”

“No way,” my friend said, laughing. “Maverick’s daughter is what’s got you so distracted today?”

“Shut your mouth,” I muttered, noticing Rooster laughing at me from a distance.

By the end of the day’s training, we were all in the locker room, peeling off our flight suits. While everyone else was chatting about who should buy drinks tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Not just because I didn’t get her number—though, to be honest, that didn’t happen to me often—but because she was truly stunning. I knew that the more I saw her behind the Hard Deck bar, the more she’d catch my attention.

“So, Hangman… last night you met Daddy’s little girl,” Rooster teased as he pulled on a clean T-shirt, followed by one of his ridiculous Hawaiian shirts. “Must be the first girl who didn’t fall at your feet.”

“Don’t start, Chicken,” I shot back, slamming my locker shut and leaning against it, arms crossed. “I’m sure that happens to you all the time.”

“You wish,” he said. “At least I can call her whenever I want.”

Rooster closed his locker and started walking out of the room.

“Don’t you dare, Bradshaw. I saw her first,” I said, following after him.

“God, how old are you? Eight? What is this, ‘I saw her first’?”

“Shut up, will you?” I sighed. “I can’t deny I’ve been thinking about her all day, and I don’t even know her name. But you, my friend, are going to help me.”

I threw an arm around his shoulders playfully, and he shrugged me off, pushing me away.

“So now we’re friends?” he scoffed, crossing his arms. “Y/N would never go for you anyway.”

“Y/N,” I repeated, biting the inside of my cheek with a grin. “Even her name is cute.”

“She’s not going to be one of your one-night stands, got it, Bagman?” Rooster said, walking toward the exit again.

“Come on, Bradshaw, I just want to take her out to dinner,” I said, trailing after him.

“Why don’t you ask Mav for her number? I’m sure he’d be thrilled to give it to you.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Chicken. I’ll buy you a drink too if that’s what you want.”

Bradley let out a laugh, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll buy all my drinks this week, and I’ll give you her number,” he said, challenging me.

“You’re insane. I’m not paying for all your drinking this week.”

“Then I’ll call her and ask her out myself,” he said, pulling out the keys to his old Bronco and heading toward it.

Was it worth paying this idiot for Y/N’s number? Even knowing she might turn me down again—and that her dad would punish me in every damn training session? Screw it. I’d take the risk.

“Deal,” I said, catching up to him at his truck.

“What?” Rooster asked, incredulous.

“I’ll cover your tab this week, as long as you give me her number and stay out of my way, Chicken.”

The idiot just laughed, pulling out his phone and typing on it. Seconds later, I got a notification—he’d sent me her contact info.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Bagman,” he said, climbing into his truck. “And just so you know, I wasn’t planning on asking her out. She’s like a sister to me, you idiot.”

“You’re an asshole, Bradshaw,” I shouted as he drove off.

______________________________________________________

READER’S POV:

I had just gotten out of the shower when my phone started ringing. “Unknown number.”

“Hello?” I answered, putting it on speaker while wrapping myself in a towel.

“Hi, Y/N,” said a voice on the other end. It was the blonde pilot from the Hard Deck.

“How did you get my number, Bagman?”

“It’s Jake to you, sweetheart,” he said. Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he had that stupid grin on his face. “So, are you finally going to let me take you to dinner?”

“Don’t you ever get tired?” I asked, sitting on the edge of my bed.

“Not when it comes to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I laughed and stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“Pick me up in 30 minutes. I’ll send you the address,” I said, smiling.

“At your service, ma’am..” he replied, and I hung up.

It was just dinner with Hangman. What could possibly go wrong?

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x y/n #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x you #glenn powell #top gun maverick #fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #oneshot #jake seresin #hangman x reader #top gun hangman

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ohsugar-honey-iced-tea · 2 days ago

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can i make an angsty request where wanda brings reader to one of stark’s parties as her date & reader excuses themself to go to the bathroom only to come back and catch wanda and vision sharing a kiss? maybe reader starts to leave when wanda catches her out of the corner of her eye and tries to explain.

idk if this is any good but this would be cool to do bc i kinda want to cry a bit haha

If Only

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

A/n: This is my very first time writing an angst so please be kind 🥲

Warnings: angst, harrasment

Summary: where hope and dreams turn into sadness as you see your biggest fear come true

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You were absolutely over the moon.

After months and months of pining, longing, stolen glances and shared smiles, you finally found the courage to ask out Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda was everything you were looking for. Kind, smart, funny and witty. Beautiful with a smile that could light up the whole room and emerald green eyes that sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about.

See, the thing is, you have been having a crush on Wanda as soon as she joined the Avengers. Long months were spent dreaming of her and hoping she would one day give you the honor of dating her.

You still weren't sure why she said yes when you asked her to go as your date to one of Starks parties. But you were so glad she did.

As you were getting ready, putting on your best dress, Wanda send you a text.

'Be ready in ten, detka. x W'

You smiled. Detka. That one word already had your cheeks hurting from how big your smile was.

As you were putting on the finishing touches on your makeup, you heard a soft knock on your door. You opened the door to your room and there she was.

A stunning red dress with black high heels to match with them. A golden necklace with two gold bracelets to finish the set. Red hair put up, revealing small diamond earrings and makeup done to perfection.

So goddesses do exist. And one was standing right in front of you.

Wanda must have thought something was wrong because she looked at you worriedly.

"Y/n, is everything alright?"

"You... you look perfect."

Wanda blushed, clearly flustered by your compliment.

"Well you don't look so bad yourself, ma'am"

You giggled, quickly getting the last of your things so you could head to the main floor where the party was held.

As you two walked down the stairs, hand in hand, you couldn't help but think that this felt right. You and Wanda, holding each others hand and being next to each other.

You didn't want to get too ahead of yourself, but you couldn't contain your smile.

"What's so funny over there?"

You gave her a cocky smile and a sly wink in return.

"With a little luck you will find out later"

As the two of you stepped in the big crowded room, you started feeling a little overwhelmed. Big parties and busy crowds were never really your thing, but Wanda was worth it. She would always be worth it. You turned to Wanda.

"You stay right here, and I'll get us some drinks, okay?

Wanda gave you a little kiss on your cheek, making you blush furiously.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, detka"

You smiled and you made your way over to the bar as you ordered your drinks. A strawberry daiquiri for Wanda. Pretty and sweet, just like her.

As you were waiting for your drink your mind began to wonder to your plans for later tonight.

Wanda didn't know, but you went up to the balcony earlier today to hang up some fairylights and a little blanket for you to sit on, so you would have your own little starry midnight sky.

You were hoping tonight would finally be the night where you would feel Wanda's lips on yours. You were so sure that would be what true happiness would feel like.

As you took the drinks and made your way over to Wanda, your heart dropped.

There he was. Wanda's ex, Vision. He was with Wanda and they were making out against the wall.

You felt your heart shatter into pieces. Surely you were insecure, but you were so sure Wanda felt the same about you than you did for her.

Perhaps you shouldn't have allowed yourself to have hope. After all, hope is only seconds away of crushing reality kicking in.

Your legs were starting to feel weak and your hands let go of the drink, clattering to the floor as you let out a poorly concealed sob. Wanda suddently jumped off of the wall she was pressed against.

"Y/n, this isn't what it looks like!"

But it was too late. All sound got quiet, and you felt a panic attack rising. You needed to get out of there, now.

"Come on baby, this is what we both want"

As Wanda saw you running she tried as hard as she could to get out of Vision's arms, who has started to rub his hands all over her body. Eventually she got out and followed you, running as fast as she ever did.

See, the thing is, Vision cornered Wanda. He had pinned her arms down and had forced his lips onto Wanda's. She tried with all might to do something, scream, hit, anything. But she couldn't. Until she heard you.

Vision even had the audacity to look at you and smirk.

With all her might Wanda tried to catch up to you, but as she walked outside all she could see was your car speeding off.

Was the one thing that could truly make Wanda happy ruined before it even had a chance to start?

As you drove off, your eyes began to swim with tears. How dare you be so stupid to believe you actually had a chance?

As you turned left, you put the volume of the radio to the max. You needed to hear something, anything, other then your thoughts.

Maybe your parents were right. Maybe you weren't deserving of love. After all, they were the ones who never went out of their way to show that to you, starting at an early age.

Was any of it Wanda showed you real? Were the little inside jokes only meaningful to you? The small hints that Wanda wanted this as much as you did?

If only you weren't so naive. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling how you are feeling now.

If only you didn't believe in love and happiness. Maybe then you could have been at peace with yourself, making a happy little life with just yourself.

If only you would have seen the car on your right running the red light.

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Let me know if you want to be added to the Wanda taglist! If you have any requests, send them! Reblogs are much appreciated :)

Taglist: @wandanats-goodgirl

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #asks #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #angst

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rafeysdeer · 12 hours ago

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valentine (aka sunshine reader and in love jason)

civil!reader x jason todd

prompt: valentine's day wasn't exactly jason's favorite holiday, he didn't really care about it, that's until his very excited girlfriend decided to surprise him.

a/n: okay, that's my second imagine, and i think it looks better, i was giggling and kicking while writing because these two are just soo cute, and the detail about the candle being syntactic is from a hc that jason just doesn't deal well with fire because of the explosion. english is not my first language, hope you guys like it 💗

It had been at least two weeks since you started leaving little hints about the big day that was coming, Valentine's Day. A cute romcom about the holiday, some cute couple videos, anything to try to get your boyfriend in the mood for the day, but he simply didn't seem to care about it.

You figured it was because he never really had the chance to properly celebrate, or anyone to spend the day with, before you, his only focus was the whole vigilante thing, he never would have dreamed that on a saturday night he would be curled up on the couch, eating ice cream and watching 'How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days', but he was, and with a pretty girl resting her head comfortably on his shoulder.

"Jay? Do you have patrol next friday? I thought we could go out for dinner or something?" the girl asks, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him with her bright eyes and a little pout on her face.

"I think Steph can cover for me, it's just routine patrol, why? some special occasion?" he asks with a naughty smile on his face as he pulls her close to him again, leaving a kiss on her forehead.

"Nothing really special, I just miss you," she says and his laugh immediately fills the room, leaving that comfortable energy in the air. "Baby, you're literally wrapped around me, like, right now." He hears her snort and shove him playfully. "Doesn't stop me from missing you." The silly smile on his face took over as he stroked her hair. "You're just one of a kind, aren't you?"

Turns out that missing him was only half true, not that you didn't miss him, but coincidentally, next friday was also, Valentine's Day, and the closer the day got, the more anxious she looked like.

When friday finally came, she already had everything planned out to the last detail, she convinced him to finally go out with Tim (who had been trying to go out with him for weeks by now), and put her plan in action, she had all the classic stuff, flowers, chocolates, a beautiful dress, a set table on the roof, and the best part, a limited edition of Pride and Prejudice packaged methodically with a red bow, matching her dress.

You managed to convince Tim to join you on the plan, stalling Jason until 7 pm, when he came back to the apartment, just to find everything in complete darkness except for a trail of synthetic candles leading to the window.

"Honey? Are you ready yet?" No answer, the only option was to follow the candles to the window, where he found a table set on the roof, with a bouquet of red roses, synthetic candles lighting everything up, and his favorite girl with a smile from head to toe in a long red dress.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Jay," she says as she tries to strike a sensual pose, leaning on the table, but she's so excited she can't hold it in for long, running towards him and stealing a kiss. "So? Did you like it? I know you're not the biggest fan of Valentine's Day, but I just wanted you to be able to experience it and it's okay if you think it's too much, we can just go back inside and order pizza or something-" her nervous speech is interrupted by an anxious and completely passionate kiss.

"I loved it, sweetheart, I really did, how did you manage to do all this without me noticing?" she smiles playfully, shrugging her shoulders and pulling away from him slightly. "I may have had some bats helping me, and wait, there's more," she says excited, her smile as bright as the candles as she runs to the table, grabbing a package, her heels making a clicking sound along the way.

"I remember you told me you really wanted it and I just couldn't help it, I hope you like it" she hands him the book, wrapped with a big red bow that matched her dress, and the happiness on his face made all the effort she put on it worth it. "You're so fucking perfect, how did I end up with you, huh?" he asks, showering her with kisses, while the smile never leaves her face.

"I guess it was fate."

#jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd thoughts #red hood thoughts #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood #batfam

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usoinked · 3 days ago

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Hii! I love your last jey fic with him being possessive! Could you pls do one where he & the reader get into a fight over her being insecure with his story line with Rhea so he keeps her in their hotel for a whole weekend to show her who he truly wants. Maybe some toxic comments like "you think she gets this dick ma? Nah only you"

Love your writing!! Hope this makes sense haha <3

Omggg thank you so much and ofc!! Y’all know I love writing about Jey 🫶🏽🌚

CW: Toxicity, Arguing, Begging, Praising 18+ MDNI, SMUT, cursing, use of n word, unprotected p in v, creampie

Word Count: 5.4k+

You and Jey Uso were in a 2 year relationship, going on 3 years and for the most part everything was fine….was. There were always the usual bumps—scheduling conflicts, long road trips, and the occasional argument—but you had always managed to work through them. The love between you both was solid, built on mutual respect and understanding. That was, until the recent storyline with Rhea Ripley started to change everything.

At first, you could brush it off. You knew that wrestling was just that—wrestling. A scripted, fictionalized world where interactions were meant to stir emotions and get fans invested in the show. You were okay with that. You understood the boundaries and had even joked about how you’d have to share Jey with his fans and his colleagues. But something felt different this time. Rhea wasn’t just a colleague—there was something in the way she interacted with Jey that rubbed you the wrong way. It wasn’t just friendly banter; it was flirtation, and you couldn’t ignore it.

It started small—a teasing smile, a lighthearted comment during interviews, or the occasional touch on his arm after a segment. You told yourself it was just for the cameras. But the more you watched, the more it became clear that there was more to it than that. Every time Jey was near Rhea, he would act differently—more animated, more playful, more engaged. The two of them seemed to have a connection that went beyond the usual working relationship, and it left you feeling…uneasy.

Weeks passed, and the playful flirtation continued. Rhea would smile at him in a way that made you feel like you weren’t even in the room. The way her eyes lingered on him, the way her hand would rest on his shoulder a little too long, the way she laughed at his jokes—it wasn’t normal. It felt personal, and you started to feel like you were on the outside looking in. The jealousy was subtle at first, but as time went on, it began to eat at you more and more. You couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more between them, something you weren’t being told.

You were currently at the apartment you both shared when you saw a segment on your screen involving Jey and Rhea Ripley…again….she was cool at first until Jey and her started flirting back and forth. You knew that this was his job, but that still didn’t make you any less jealous…insecure even. The way she smiled at him when he made the motion to call him, the way she looked him up and down while smiling at him because of his appearance alone, and especially them being that close….it was enough to make you want to turn your tv off. You wanted to watch your man wrestle and look good but not while he was flirting with another female. Fuck no. Not only was it pissing you off, but Jey wasn’t answering his phone after the show ended. Granted you did give him a 30 minute grace period in case he had any dark matches or needed to pack up anything extra…but then it became 45….then an hour…then two hours. You might’ve been born at night but not last night.

Jey had always made an effort to check in after the show, even if it was late. He’d send you a text, make sure you were okay, let you know that he was thinking of you. But recently, that was happening less and less. He’d be busy after the shows—either with the crew or on his phone—and by the time you tried to reach him, his phone was either off or set to “Do Not Disturb.” You tried not to overthink it, but the frustration was building. And the anger was showing.

You sent him a long grueling text message full of swearing making sure he knew how pissed off you were. As much as you were pissed, you were also hurt. Ever since he’d started that storyline with Rhea, it began to seem like the same game over and over again. They would both flirt with each other on camera and then Jey’s plans of calling you after the show seemed to never have existed to begin with. Your face got hotter and hotter every time you thought about it and soon enough, came the tears. Your eyes began to water and slightly sting as the tears fell down your face. You made your way to the bathroom, the cool tiles under your feet offering little comfort as you moved. You grabbed your blue washcloth and ran warm water over it, squeezing out the excess before pressing it gently to your face. The warmth helped to soothe the sting in your eyes, but it didn’t take away the emotions swirling inside of you. You needed to feel something else, anything else. “Stupid ass nigga bruh” you sighed out after taking the rag off your face gently and putting your pink shower cap on, stuffing your braids underneath it.

Turning the water on for the shower, you let the steam fill the room. The sound of the water hitting the tiles was oddly calming, a gentle rhythm that drowned out everything else. You undressed slowly, as if peeling away the layers of frustration and hurt with each item of clothing that hit the floor. Stepping into the shower, the hot water cascaded down over your body, washing away the lingering tension in your muscles but not the ache in your heart.

As you stood there under the spray, you let the water pour over your face, the heat sinking into your skin. It felt like the shower was a way to cleanse not just your body but your mind. The emotions of the night—the jealousy, the anger, the hurt—flooded out of you, but they didn’t leave. They just sat there, heavy, under the surface, simmering quietly. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts of Jey and Rhea out of your head, even for just a moment.

The sound of the water became a small comfort, but it couldn’t block the pain that lingered behind it. Your mind kept drifting back to him, to the moments when you’d felt ignored, pushed aside. Why didn’t he understand? Why didn’t he see how this was affecting you? You didn’t want to keep playing this game, but it felt like he wasn’t even trying to meet you halfway.

You finished your shower with a deep sigh, letting the water wash the worst of your frustration away. But the truth still stung—no matter how many times you scrubbed away the tears or the pain, it was still there. And that feeling, the one that came when you felt like you were losing something you cared about, lingered as you stepped out and wrapped yourself in a towel. It wasn’t just about Rhea or the flirtations—it was about the space that had been growing between you and Jey for what seemed like weeks now.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. And it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

The next morning hit you like a brick. You woke up to an empty bed and as you ran your hands onto the smooth cotton sheets, they found an empty space next to you. Sometimes you’d wake up and Jey would be there because he’d arrive early and surprise you but not this time. In times like this, you gave yourself therapy which was doing an entire skin care routine. You needed your mind off Jey especially since your phone notifications were just as empty as the space next to you.

As you got out of bed, the soft stretch of your limbs was accompanied by the satisfying sound of your muscles cracking, easing the tension from the long night. You rubbed your eyes, still groggy, and slowly made your way to the bathroom. With a quiet click, you flipped the light switch on, filling the room with a warm, comforting glow. You grabbed your blue washcloth, running warm water over it before wringing out the excess and gently pressing it to your face. The warmth felt soothing against your skin, helping to wake you up as you sighed deeply, mentally preparing for the day ahead.

You started your morning skincare routine, reaching for your cleanser first. The gentle formula lathered as you massaged it into your skin, focusing on any areas where you felt the remnants of makeup or the wear of sleep still lingering. After rinsing it off, you followed up with a toner, its refreshing scent and cooling effect instantly tightening your pores and balancing your skin’s pH. You swiped it across your face with a cotton pad, feeling the freshness settle in.

Next, you reached for your serum. A few drops went onto your fingertips, and you pressed it into your skin, allowing it to absorb deeply. The light texture and the nourishing ingredients felt like a treat, giving your skin that healthy, radiant glow you always craved. You followed up with a delicate application of eye cream, tapping it gently around the sensitive skin beneath your eyes, trying to reduce the slight puffiness and dark circles from the late-night argument.

After a few moments, you smoothed on your moisturizer, letting the rich cream hydrate your skin and lock in the previous layers. It felt thick enough to give your face a protective barrier but light enough to absorb quickly, leaving your skin plump and soft. Then you finished with a few drops of face oil, massaging it into your skin to lock in moisture and give you that dewy, healthy glow that lasted throughout the day. Finally, you topped it off with broad-spectrum SPF 30 sunscreen, making sure to cover every inch of exposed skin, knowing how important it was to protect yourself from the sun’s harsh rays.

Before you finished up, you reached for your toothbrush. You carefully brushed your teeth, the minty freshness of the paste helping to awaken you even more as you scrubbed away the remnants of sleep. After rinsing, you took a moment to check your reflection, satisfied with the glowing, refreshed version of yourself staring back at you.

Around 2:30 in the afternoon, you were sitting at the kitchen table, finishing up a fresh Caesar salad you had thrown together. The quiet hum of the apartment was interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open, followed by Jey’s heavy footsteps. You didn’t need to look up to know it was him; his presence was felt before he even reached the doorway. His bag was slung over his shoulder, and his furrowed brows and tense posture told you everything you needed to know—he was upset.

“What the hell is yo problem Y/N? You texting my phone and shit buggin’ out!

“Whatchu mean buggin’ out? You literally on camera flirting with another woman!”

“That’s my job! You knew that when we got together!”

“I ain’t know another bitch was gonna be all over you and then your ass wasn’t gonna be answering the phone! Joshua yo notifications were silent, you didn’t call me, and yo shit was on do not disturb bruh! Y’all have been flirting on the show for weeks! What? You had her in your hotel room too huh?!”

“It my fuckin’ job Y/N! Me and Rhea are friends outside of the ring and in the ring, but this is just a storyline! The most we’ve done is hug on camera! As far as me not answering my phone, my ass was tired! Tired as fuck and you on my ass for that cuz you think somethin’ going on! Hotel?! You think she was at my hotel f’real?! Ight, I tell you what. Come wit me on the road and see who I got in the hotel room.” He said stepping towards you. “Cause you ain’t gon find shit!”

“I don’t know she might be! Y’all might as well be fucking each other with the way y’all look at each other! Everybody on the net see that shit! You got a whole girlfriend at home Joshua!” You said taking a step towards him where the tension between you both grew even worse.

“That’s yo problem! Yo ass stay on the net Y/N, that don’t got nothin’ to do with me! With us!”

“You want me to come with you on the road? Bet!” You said before dissolving the tension completely due to storming to your shared bedroom and grabbing a few clothes from your closet starting to sort them on your bed. “You not finna have me looking fucking crazy nigga” you mumbled before grabbing your pink suitcase and beginning to throw your clothes inside of it. You were fuming, the argument didn’t make it any better and Jey not even attempting to understand where you were coming from made you even more pissed than you already were.

The drive to Smackdown was a long and quiet one. The silence between you and Jey stretched on, thick and heavy, like an unspoken wall you both couldn’t seem to break. Seven hours on the road with the person who had left you feeling so alone, was torture in its own right. The miles seemed to stretch endlessly, each passing minute feeling like a reminder of everything that had gone unsaid between you two. The hum of the tires on the highway was the only sound, broken only by the occasional change of gears and the low growl of Jey’s engine. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white, and his jaw remained clenched, as if holding in a thousand words that neither of you had the energy to speak.

Every time you looked over at him, there was that flash of gold from his fang teeth when he briefly parted his lips. His dark eyes remained locked on the road ahead, never meeting yours, and you wondered if he even realized how much it hurt that he hadn’t tried to reach out in any meaningful way. There was something about the way he held himself—so guarded, so distant—that only made the frustration and anger you’d been feeling more tangible.

The hours passed with nothing but the occasional hum of the radio and the drone of the road. The tension between you two seemed to increase with every mile, a pressure that built up with every unsaid word. Even though you were sitting next to each other, it felt as though you were on entirely different planets. You tried to push the swirling thoughts in your head away, but they kept coming back—thoughts of Rhea, of Jey’s evasiveness, of your own growing doubts. You couldn’t ignore it any longer.

When the GPS signaled that you were nearing your destination, Jey took the exit for the Marriott. The hotel looked standard—modern, with sleek lines and a minimalist design that spoke of business rather than comfort. The large glass windows caught the last few rays of sunlight, making the building look polished and professional. As Jey parked the car and cut the engine, you both got out in silence. The stillness in the air was deafening as you walked towards the entrance. Neither of you made eye contact, and the shared understanding that this trip—like everything else between you two at the moment—was shrouded in unresolved tension, hung in the air like a thick fog. As Jey got his bangs and your suitcase out of the car and handed the key off to valet, you took some time to examine the lobby. Securing your Pink Christian Dior bag on your shoulder, you made your way inside.

The lobby was bright and clean, with polished floors and neutral-colored decor that didn’t seem to offer much warmth. The hum of the air conditioning and soft murmur of other guests checking in was the only sound in the space. The reception desk was manned by a young woman with a friendly smile, her eyes lighting up when she saw Jey. Despite the tension you felt, a knot twisted in your stomach at the way she greeted him, too eager, too familiar. You couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it than just politeness.

Jey didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. His demeanor was casual as he approached the counter, flashing the woman a quick smile before grabbing the room key. You stood off to the side, feeling the bitterness rising again. You knew it was irrational—he was friendly with people, that was just part of his job. But something about the way the woman looked at him felt too personal, too much like an insider joke, something you weren’t part of.

You followed him through the lobby, your steps slow as you tried to ignore the discomfort building inside you. The elevator ride was equally silent, the small space between you and Jey seemingly amplifying the emotional distance. He didn’t look at you once as he pressed the button for the floor, the ding of the elevator breaking the quiet as it moved upward.

When the doors opened, you both stepped out into the hallway, and Jey led the way to your room. The keycard swiped easily into the door, and it clicked open. You entered the room, and the soft, neutral tones of the decor did little to soothe your frazzled nerves. The king-sized bed was made neatly, the sheets crisply white, and the space felt sterile. There was a desk by the window and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The curtains were drawn, casting a soft shadow over the room, but even the quiet comfort of the space couldn’t ease the tension that followed you inside.

Jey set his bag down on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, but there was still no attempt to break the silence. You stood by the door, your body tense, wondering if you should say something or just let the silence settle. But the words didn’t come. There was too much to say, too much that had been left unsaid for far too long.

Instead, you took a deep breath and walked over to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect yourself. The hotel room, with its impersonal design and sterile comfort, seemed to reflect the state of your relationship with Jey—something that was once warm, but now felt cold. The mirror in the bathroom caught your reflection, and you sighed. You didn’t even recognize the woman staring back at you. She looked tired—worn out from the constant emotional back-and-forth.

You ran your hands through your braids, staring at your reflection. What am I doing? You thought as you sat your bag down, but the answer was unclear. On one hand you thought that maybe you were reading into things too much because Jey had never actually cheated on you throughout your relationship or given you a reason to believe he was going anywhere. But on the other hand, the amount of insecurity and jealousy you had seemed to be taking over you all because you thought your man was entertaining other women…especially Rhea.

The sound of Jey moving around in the other room broke the silence again, but it didn’t bring any comfort. To find some form of therapy, you grabbed your bonnet out of your bag and put it on, stuffing all of your braids underneath the silk fabric before turning the shower on, hoping the sound of the water would give you a moment of peace, a moment to think. But you knew it wouldn’t. You wanted things to feel right again, but it was starting to feel like you were living in a version of reality that didn’t belong to you anymore.

As you undressed and stepped into the shower, the water rushed over you, but it couldn’t wash away the unease. The more the hot water streamed over you, the more you felt the weight of everything—of the confusion, the jealousy, the hurt. Even the soap and small bubbles couldn’t cleanse your mind. And when you stepped out and dried off, you knew it wasn’t just the hotel room that felt empty. It was the space between you and Jey.

After stepping out of the bathroom, you grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around yourself, the soft cotton providing little comfort against the swirl of emotions that still clung to you. You dropped the clothes you’d been wearing earlier into the laundry bag you found tucked in the corner of the closet, the fabric brushing against your legs as your mind raced. When you turned around, your gaze immediately landed on Jey. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands tightly intertwined in front of him. His posture was tense, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at you with those dark eyes that seemed to carry all the weight of unspoken words.

It was clear he was upset, but instead of speaking, he just watched you—his jaw set, his gaze unwavering. The tension in the room thickened with every passing second, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were being scrutinized under a microscope. His silence spoke louder than any argument, and it was almost like he was daring you to say something. It was as if he wanted you to stay quiet and let him carry the weight of whatever this was, to allow him to make the rules for the weekend—rules that seemed to say you were his and this trip was a way to show you that.

“Is there somethin’ you wanna say?”

“Do you see anybody in here?”

“This still don’t prove anything, why would she be here when I’m here. And again you and her are all over the net.”

“See what I’m sayin’, yo ass trippin for no reason. Ain’t nobody coming up in here. You always listening to what people on the net saying and letting them get inside yo head and shit.” He said before kissing his teeth and taking the remote turning on Peacock and putting on a random Raw taping to play in the background.

You were too in your feelings to notice it and ended up looking at him with straight anger. “Nah Joshua, you look at her like you way too comfortable. It ain’t about listenin’ to no net shit, it’s bout what I see nigga. And what I see is my man flirting with another female like he really wanna be in between her legs f’real.”

Jey let out a soft chuckle, his golden grills on his fangs lining up perfectly with his bottom teeth, but that wasn’t a funny laugh. That was a ‘I’m getting sick of this shit’ laugh and you knew it all too well. “You think I wanna be in between her legs?” He said as he turned to you and started walking toward you no longer laughing but looking deadass serious. His voice dropped a bit having the same deepness from when he was in the bloodline.

“We finna be here all weekend Y/N and you still convinced I got another woman coming to my hotel room and that I wanna be in between her legs and shit. Let me show you who legs I’m really tryna be in between since you think you know everything” he said backing you into the wall pinning both his hands on each side of you trapping you right in front of him. He then leaned forward before planting a rough but passionate kiss on your lips.

At first you gave a bit of hesitation but with the feelings and thoughts from earlier slowly starting to dissipate with his tongue sliding over your bottom lip, you gave in as you opened your mouth allowing him inside of your cavern. Your tongue collided with his as your arms wrapped around his neck deepening the exchange between you two.

With one swift motion Jey’s hands left the wall and made their way to your towel instead snatching it off your body as well as your bonnet letting your most of your braids fall down your back as some fell to the sides of your face. As you began to run out of air, you slowly pulled away before taking Jey’s shirt off revealing the beautiful work of art underneath. His tribal tattoos were never failed to catch your attention, especially with how they contorted when he was mad due to his muscles tensing. Dammit Jey. You were too busy admiring him that you didn’t even notice him picking you up before your attention suddenly snapped back to him as your back hit the soft fabric of the king sized bed.

Jey kicked off his low panda dunks before crawling on top of you, you both getting into another passionate make out session before this time it was him who pulled away as he made his way to your neck. His kisses and his teeth grazing your skin made your body shudder as you leaned your head back to give him more room, while soft moans slipped from your lips. Jey’s hands glided down your waist and to your legs pushing them open as he slowly kissed down your chest, then to your stomach, and stopping just above your entrance. Now he could’ve dived right into it but he wanted to make you…wait. He placed tender kisses between your thighs making sure to go agonizingly slow before dragging his tongue between your folds and up to your clit. His hands gripped onto your legs, as he slowly dragged his tongue over your folds again.

What started out as anticipation and soft moans of pleasure quickly turned into full on moans, inappropriate sounds, and squirming. His tongue started to twist and slide through your folds and over your clit as you could do nothing but squirm as your legs began to shake. You bucked your hips as your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you. “Ughhh!” You couldn’t help yourself, you knew you two were in a hotel and the walls were paper thin but that didn’t stop you from letting out those sounds Jey loved so much.

“Hell nah ma, none of that runnin’ shit” he murmured pulling away just slightly before pushing your hips down and going back to putting his tongue to work. God. He moved that tongue so well. There was no way you could stay mad at him when he was making you feel this good. You couldn’t buck your hips so you were forced to literally endure the feeling of the knot in your stomach tightening along with your legs shaking. The slurping and lapping sounds of Jey eating you out didn’t help the situation as your nails found their way into his scalp. “J-Jey!” You moaned out his name as a slew of curse words left your lips due to your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, your body jolting as it did so. Gasps of air left your lips as Jey still didn’t let up knowing you loved to be overstimulated.

“S-Shit! I c-can’t, I can’t!” You said feeling another knot build up, still not fully recovered from your previous orgasm. “One more time” was all he mumbled against your folds as you suddenly felt two of his fingers enter your walls beginning to pump in and out of you. The pleasure was becoming more overwhelming by the second, with one curl of those two fingers against your g-spot you completely broke, spilling all over his fingers and his mouth. His moans beneath and the fact he was cleaning up the aftermath caused your legs to almost completely go numb, they were shaking already still reeling from the massive orgasm you just had. But it was nowhere near over yet.

Jey slowly pulled away not minding that some of your juices dripped down his beard. With one quick wipe with his hands, it was gone. With one swift finger motion, he beckoned you over as you obeyed and swung your legs to the side positioning yourself on your knees before connecting your lips with his. The taste of yourself on his tongue was driving you crazy because it was you and no one else. He returned the kiss and you being the sneaky girl you were decided to get a feel of that Samoan dick you missed so much. It was so hard, large, and you could tell he was eager based on the precum leaking from the head of it. A low growl slipped from his lips before Jey pulled away from the kiss and gently put you in doggy style position where you were facing the TV before getting behind you grabbing your hips. “You wanna feel this dick don’t you?” he asked before starting to rub his dick against your throbbing pussy, it was drenched due to the orgasms you had from earlier and that was all the lube he needed. He pushed inside of you with a quick thrust of his hips as he immediately let out a low moan with a mixture of a grunt. “God damn, baby you tight as fuck f’real” he said easing his way deeper into you which evoked a moan from you. “Yeah take all this in, all f’ me” he praised.

Your walls clenched around Jey as his soft and gentle movements turned into much more rough and faster ones. Jey was paying full attention to you right now and that’s how you liked it. He was too busy giving you back shots to think about anyone or anything else. This was how it was suppose to be. He was showing you who he truly wanted, and your body was reciprocating it. Your pussy was the one thing Jey would always get drunk off of, you’d end up in different positions afterwards and today was no different. The faster and rougher his thrusts got, the more your walls gripped him with desperation.

Your eyes were rolling in the back of your head as one minute you were letting out loud gasps and the next your nails were digging into the bed as Jey was pounding you from behind before forcing you to look at the tv screen in front of you. On the screen was Rhea and Damian currently attempting to take on the judgement day with just the two of them. But the numbers game was too much, you heard the YEET chants from the crowd but with Jey’s dick inside of you, it was nothing but background noise. You remembered this RAW, a lot of people expected him to be there due to the storyline. In reality he wasn’t there because they were prolonging it. But even though this was an old taping, your mind went to him not being there due to the events currently unfolding in your shared hotel room and the fact that he chose you over Rhea. Something about Rhea being dominated by the judgement day and your man being behind you made your pussy throb and your walls completely clench around Jey. “Look at that” he said while taking a hand full of your box braids into his hands. “You think she gets this dick ma, nah only you do” he said as his movement in his hips sped up and he made it a point to purposely brush over that spot of yours which caused your body to shake all over. “Uh huh, found that shit didn’t I? Doin’ all that yellin’ for no reason just to end up like this under me” he muttered before suddenly nailing that spot straight away being completely satisfied by the loud moan that left your lips. “J-Jey! P-Please…” you begged as the sound of flesh slapping against each other filled the room along with your moans and his grunts. Your braids slowly fell back down over your face as Jey’s hand let go of your hair but slowly wrapped his hand around your neck instead lifting your head back making you look up at him instead. “Please what? Look at me when you talk to me ma” he said as he hit that spot over and over again. “Ughhh! F-Fuck!” You moaned up doing your best to attempt to look at Jey but the pleasure was too much. “Whatchu say ma? You ain’t telling me nothin’” he said as his strokes drove you wild. The knot in your stomach was becoming tighter and your pussy was becoming wetter and wetter. “P-Please c-cum inside me!” You screamed out, your voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes from the pleasure. “You want me to nut in this pussy huh?” He said as his thrusts started to become sloppy indicating he was close. “Y-Yes Daddy!” You screamed as you came undone all over his cock unable to hold yourself back. Seeing you come undone was enough to send Jey over the edge as he let out a number of curse words, slamming into you one final time letting his seed cover your walls. “God damn, mmm” he said before letting out a sigh of pleasure.

Your body was slowly coming down from its third orgasm of the day before you looked at Jey panting. “We ain’t done right?” You asked not being able to help yourself.

“Done? Hell nah. We got all weekend.”

♡

Note: I really hope you liked it! 💕 also if there’s any spelling errors I’m so sorry😭

Divider credits: @enchanthings & @anitalenia

Taglist: @punksyeet @binnieaddict @sheaabuttaababyy (if I did not tag you, it would not let me and you will have to comment!)

#wwe #fanfic #smut #wwe fanfiction #18+ mdni #jey uso #wwe fandom #jey uso smut #main event jey uso #jey uso x reader #jey uso x black reader #black reader #fanfiction

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yaniluvs · 10 hours ago

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and i'll still be right next to you, my dear 日 ── your boyfriend comes to your rescue, after uni, when your pms turns you into a gremlin..?

𓍯 bf!seungmin ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ） 1.6k ── ༯ DRABBLE, domestic fluff, humour, flirting, comfort, mentioned pms, kisses, uni au, pure love, dying jokes. req. by ml ! ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY. 𖦹ࡇ𖦹

yani's note ˖ ˙ ᰋ this was an absolute TREAT to write omg. i love love love love seungmin sm i'll explode >< thank you mama @cosmicalily for the request, i really hope it comforts you, at least in the slightest !! please take care of yourself and continue get pampered by your people ;) ! comments, requests, asks, likes, follows and reblogs are always appreciated ! comment/ask if you want to be added to my mastertag ! oh god that was a lot of exclamation marks happy reading <3

it starts with a dull ache in your lower abdomen, the kind that makes sitting through lectures feel like an olympic sport. your mood swings follow shortly after, along with an unshakable craving for chocolate. by the time you make it back to your shared apartment with your boyfriend, you're ready to flop onto the couch and disappear into a blanket cocoon.

your boyfriend in question, raises an eyebrow when he sees you shuffle through the door like a defeated sims character. "rough day?" he deadpans, his voice laced with sarcasm.

you groan in response, dropping your miffy tote that he had gotten for you merely two weeks earlier; kicking off your shoes with a dramatic flair. "i'm dying," you announce, flopping onto the couch face-first. "just let me perish here in peace."

he snorts, closing his laptop and setting it aside. "what's the cause of death this time? bad grade? forgot to take your charger? or is it the apocalypse of your own making?"

you flip over and glare at him, your energy too drained for a proper retort. "you’re walking a very thin line, kim seungmin. keyword, very."

that gets his attention. his teasing expression softens, and he stands up, walking over to you. "ah," he says simply, sitting down on the edge of the couch. "that explains why you’ve been texting me in all caps about chocolate and why you cursed out a squirrel this morning."

"i still stand by that," you reply, crossing your arms. "that squirrel was judging me."

seungmin rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. he nudges you gently. "move over."

you grumble but comply, scooting over so he can sit beside you. he throws a knitted blanket that was earlier draped on the side of the couch, over both of you and settles in, his arm casually slung over the back of the couch.

"what do you need? heating pad? snacks? my undivided attention to watch you be dramatic?"

"another retort and you're gonna be-"

"begging for mercy? your highness, i am so deeply sorry to have offended you in this state of-"

"you're insufferable."

"and yet, here i am, ready to be your personal butler," he smirks, leaning back like he’s got all the time in the world. "...your highness." he adds.

"tell me what you want, and i'll think about it."

"actually, on second thought, don't. stay here, i'll be back in the speed of sound."

"it's said as the speed of light."

"too bad i'm not a science major. now you," he leaned in to press a soft kiss on the temple of your head, before patting the top and standing up, draping the blanket over you once more. "..stay here, with all your miffy plushies, and watch some tv. i'll be quick, okay?"

ten minutes.

it had been only ten minutes since he had gone, and then that was when you heard the familiar rattling of keys from the doorstep.

he stepped inside, balancing two loaded grocery bags of goodies and what not. his eyes flicked over you with a keen, knowing look. your cheeks were puffed, a tell-tale sign of bloating, and the slightly pinched expression on your face made his heart tug.

"i told you to stay seated."

"i had to change, mister." you shrugged.

"so that's the excuse for wearing my hoodie? again?" he remarked, raising an eyebrow as he placed the bags on the table. "did i leave anything behind that you haven't stolen?"

you got up from the couch with a dramatic groan. "i don’t steal, i borrow."

"you mean like how pirates 'borrow' treasure?" he said, shrugging off his jacket. “how’s your mood? should i brace for impact or am i safe for now?"

you shot him a glare, but it lacked heat. "hey!"

"sorry, sorry," his lips twitched, but instead of firing back, he reached for your waist, his cold fingers brushing against your arms. his touch was both gentle and grounding. "is it getting worse?"

the softness in his voice melted your defenses immediately. you sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder as he held you tightly in his arms. "i hate this. i feel gross and tired and…" you trailed off with a wave of your free hand.

he squeezed your hand. "and?"

"hungry," you whispered.

he smirked, his teasing demeanor slipping back into place. "lucky for you, i come bearing gifts." he reached into the bag, pulling out your favorites—chocolate, a lot of chips, and the sacred comfort food: ramen.

he waved them in front of your face. "all for the lady, thanks to her knight in shining armor."

you made grabby hands immediately, eyes lightening up. "gimme."

"what do we say?"

"seungmin, i will literally punch you and have zero remorse, right now."

"eh.. i doubt that. but i'd love to see you try, darling."

. . .

just as you were about to go for his hair, he laughed, surrendering the snacks. "alright, alright. eat your feelings, grumpy little gremlin."

"what did you just call me?" you cringed.

"a gremlin?"

"you've been spending way too much time with felix."

"what's with the face?" he asks, sitting back down. "i’m not a monster, you know. i have my moments."

"rare moments," you quip, taking a bite of the chocolate.

he rolls his eyes again but doesn't argue. instead, he adjusts the heating pad and plugs it in, gently placing it against your lower abdomen. the warmth is instant, and you let out a content sigh.

"better?" he asks, his tone softer now.

"better," you admit, giving him a small smile.

the two of you settle into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes with years of friendship and understanding. seungmin picks up the tv remote, scrolling through options before landing on a rom-com you secretly adore but would never admit to liking.

"really?" you tease. "i didn’t peg you for a rom-com guy."

he shrugs, his expression carefully neutral. "i’m not. but you are. and you’re unbearable when you’re bored, so consider this a self-preservation tactic."

your heart does a little flip at his words, even if he disguises them in sarcasm. you lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder. he stiffens for a second but quickly relaxes, letting you get comfortable.

"you’re not so bad," you murmur, your voice barely audible over the movie’s opening scene.

he glances at you, his features softening in the dim light of the screen. "don’t get used to it," he says, though there’s no real bite in his words.

the rest of the evening passes in a haze of warmth and quiet companionship. at some point, seungmin shifts, pulling you closer so you’re practically curled up against him. his arm drapes around your shoulders, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on your abdomen, slightly massaging.

you sat in comfortable silence, with the distant hum of the tv, for a few moments as you tore into a bag of tortilla chips, the faint outline of the heatpad that he had prepared resting on your abdomen, visible. seungmin watched you with a fondness he rarely let anyone else see.

he wasn’t one to be overly affectionate in public, always opting for sarcasm and well-placed retorts instead of grand gestures. but here, with you curled up against him, he let his softer side surface.

"do you need some tea or water?" he asked after a while, brushing a few stray strands of your hair away from your face.

you nodded, too busy munching to reply.

he stood with a sigh, muttering under his breath. "you’re such a queen, making me do all the work."

"you fucker- you literally just admitted to being a 'knight in shining armor' and 'butler' like less than half an hour ago!" you called after him.

"okay, easy with the language, sailor," he raised his hands in defence, 'i take it, it's still terrible?" he frowned, looking into your eyes.

"not as bad as earlier though, thanks to you." you grin.

"...and the mood switches.. you're scary."

. . .

by the time he returned with two cups of freshly brewed chamomile tea, you had sunk deeper into the beige couch, looking more like a cozy lump than a person. he handed it to you and sat back down, pulling your feet into his lap.

"thank you," you murmured, being handed the floral teacup in your hand.

he nodded, rubbing small circles, giving slight pressure at certain points into your calves, trying to ease your pain. "don’t mention it."

a comfortable lull settled over you two again. you closed your eyes, letting the pain and discomfort ebb away under his gentle touch.

"you know," he said suddenly, "if you just stopped having a uterus, this wouldn’t be a problem."

"oh, brilliant. now why didn’t i think of that?" you rolled your eyes. "but now that i think of it, it might give rise to someone else's problems, not affecting me though." you spoke with an innocent grin on your face.

he stared at you, unable to understand for a hot second. until it came to him- and you could swear you saw his ears shading crimson.

"wow, you're so thoughtful." he murmurs, catching your hand before you could hit him again and holding it tight. "you’re so violent."

"you’re so annoying."

"and yet, here we are," he quipped, threading his fingers through yours.

you squeezed his hand. "here we are."

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the late afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over your intertwined hands.

seungmin looked down at you, the usual sarcastic smirk replaced with something softer, quieter. "i know it sucks," he murmured. "but you’re doing great. you’re strong. and i’ll be here… even if you eat all my hoodies and make me buy half the store every month."

your lips quirked. "you’re the best, you know that?"

"as if it wasn't obvious," he deadpanned. "but it’s nice to hear it."

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger

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luv-beam · 11 hours ago

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HI TARA!!! my thoughts while reading are under the cut :'))) but i gotta say that i fall in love w ur writing every time i read something from u:

• i would like to start off w the fact that u set the scene so incredibly well, like im in awe and envy at this beautiful scene ur painting for us 😭 not to mention that it all flows really well too; just a strong opening paragraph

• awwwh PLS THE BIG BROTHER LITTLE SISTER DYNAMIC!!! when the little sis thinks the absolute world of her big bro :'))) and when she's even more mad than he is LMAO the TOAD LINE??? damn seokmin i was not aware of ur game

• lowkey i would have folded that fast too if duke lee seokmin of lancaster played along and kissed my hand

• this starting line ^ crazy good... like i'd like to sear this into my mind so i never forget it?? the social szn unfolds like a delicate fan??? adding another layer to the tapestry of ur life??? lee seokmin????

• HE HAS AN UNCANNY ABILITY TO ELEVATE THE ORDINARY UGHHHHH WHAAAAT A LINE i love that so, so much and it's so true as well

• awwwh yn and seokhao's goodbyes are so sweet :'')))) im so glad they all hold so much affection for one another

• "your penchant for wool is far more than my eyes could bear" im cryingksnfkdnjf seokmin sulking over the wool while he's away,, sometimes i like to imagine him as a damsel draping himself out of the window sill of a tower

• i love how yn describes herself feeling empty while hes away like heh... i know something u dont... heh :))))) and crocheting? me too!!! so cute that she made him smth

• TARA U R A MASTER AT IMAGERY!! the opening lines of age 15 are mwah chefs kiss like if i could draw/paint, i would literally turn this fic into a graphic novel for u

• tulip... brb while i burst into tears

• started grinning like an idiot while reading this ^ i can see his playful melodrama and the smile on his face,,, im so down bad like i would fold like a lawn chair if we played around like this irl (i say as a grown ass woman)

• oh how i do love the classic brushing of the limbs that gets the mcs blushing like hell... also love what u did there w the planting seeds in ur mind to decode later while they're literally planting flowers... i see u tara u genius

• oh wow the total 180 w the reveal of the duke's death (also seokmin addressing her as my dearest tulip TT) — thinking of seokmin entering the social szn as a recently-made duke and all the girls hounding after him in his fresh grief......

• this section (seok and hao just got back after the death reveal) is short but so bittersweet. like when u give seok the swords from the flower bed and he just kind of chuckles like yes... days gone by huh... UGH

• it breaks my heart to know that seokhao now have their dead fathers as something in common 😭😭😭 its sweet tho to know they're all looking out for each other. im w yn tho, i hope hers and haos relationship isnt negatively affected by this :'))

• THE RETURN OF THE TAPESTRY METAPHOR

• okay i have to confess something... this is my second time reading thru... and so im reading the part where minghao and yn talk in the garden and he's warning her of the whispers springing up abt her and seok and im like... freaking out bc i KNOW WHAT HAPPENS 😭 IM GNAWING MY FIST LIKE IK THAT HAO'D CONCERN IS SINCERE AND IM JUST SJFNKENFKFJF THIS SCENE HOLDS SO MUCH MORE WEIGHT DURING A REREAD (why i love comparing my thoughts btwn a first and second read tho, like u see things /differently/)

• i love the teasing and sweet assurances in the letters 😭 like they're so genuine and cute (rip minghao)

• AHHHHH THE SMOKING SCENE FROM SZN ONEEEE i like this change of dynamic tho instead of being btwn siblings, it's now btwn two love interests friends

• WE CANT ALWAYS HAVE WHAT OUR HEARTS DESIRE???? WHILE LOOKING AT US LIKE THAT LEE SEOKMIN????????? HHEHDJDJFJFJKFKFK

• sure sure fencing BUT YEARNING TO FIND LOVE?? BUT MY DEAR SIR?? YOUR GRACE, YOUR LOVE IS RIGHT NEXT TO U

• THE LONGING AND ASPECT OF THE FORBIDDEN MAKES THE SMALL DISTANCE BTWN U YAWN LIKE A CHASM AHHHH THIS PASSAGE!!!! like oof... i love angst and yearning like this, where im screaming at my phone screen to just kiss her already (knowing the... perilous journey ahead... heh...)

• friend.... FRIEND???? brb gonna go waltz into oncoming traffic

• oh the way this ends 😭😭😭 like my heart is being squeezed,,, the way he whispers tulip and the roots of ur love for him take hold UGGGHH!!! I CANT DO THIS

i will have to endure for another day tho and i will return for chapter two tmrw! i loved this even more than the first time i read it (and i loved it a lot then too)!! i was really able to sit w ur words this time, and i do have to say tara that u have such a talent for imagery, like omg this was so beautiful TT but thank u for writing this!! hope ur having a lovely day/night and i'll be back o7 💖

The Somerset Affair | Chapter 1: Whispers in the Garden

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.2k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, eventual smut, more to be added a/n: CHAPTER 1 IS FINALLY HEREEEE // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // 2nd chapter will be up soon!!!

summary: lee seokmin is a scoundrel for having beaten your brother at fencing. or... is he?

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here!

Age 8

Mayfair is alive today. The Somerset estate hums with energy, a ripple of excitement passing through the gathered crowd, their eyes all fixed on the fencing match taking place in the wide, manicured garden. The afternoon sun casts a golden haze over the scene, warming the air and wrapping everything in a soft, honeyed glow. Laughter and chatter float like music across the grounds, underscored by the occasional ring of steel clashing against steel. The sweet fragrance of roses drifts on the light breeze, mingling with the fresh scent of cut grass. You sit near the front, your small hands gripping the edge of your chair, bouncing with excitement as you watch your older brother, Minghao, spar against a boy you've never seen before.

This new boy stands tall, his dark hair tousled in the breeze, and a sharp determination shines in his eyes. The way he moves—it’s confident, with an energy that seems far beyond his years. Your brother, usually so self-assured, falters as the boy steps onto the mat. A flicker of unease passes through you, twisting in your stomach. You can feel the tension, see it in the way Minghao adjusts his grip on his sword. The match begins, and every time the swords collide, the sound reverberates through your chest. Your heart sinks a little more with each point your brother loses, and soon, the inevitable happens—the newcomer disarms Minghao with a flourish so smooth it draws gasps and murmurs from the audience.

"Such skill!" someone whispers, while others erupt in applause, their cheers filling the air. But you remain still, arms crossed tightly over your chest, brows drawn into a deep frown. How dare this boy defeat your brother? And so effortlessly! You want to scowl, to hold on to your anger, but the sound of the crowd’s cheers washes over you, making your resentment grow.

Seokmin—that’s his name, you overhear—steps forward, offering Minghao a hand, his smile wide and bright like the afternoon sun. "A splendid match, my lord," he says, his voice rich and full of youthful pride. "I must confess, I didn’t expect to come away unscathed!"

You narrow your eyes, watching as your brother, ever gracious, accepts the handshake. There's a mixture of admiration and annoyance in his expression, a good-natured acknowledgment of defeat. They exchange lighthearted jests, their laughter mixing with the lingering applause. But you? You're fuming. This boy, with his easy smile and seemingly endless charm, had just bested your brother, and you feel a burning need to dislike him for it.

Then, as if sensing your discontent, Seokmin turns to you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah, you must be Lord Minghao’s sister?” he says, his grin widening into something playful, teasing. “Goodness, you make him look like a toad by comparison!”

Your mouth drops open in shock, a wave of indignation rushing through you. How dare he say such a thing? And worse—how could your brother laugh? "I beg your pardon?" you snap, standing as tall as your small frame will allow, arms crossing even tighter across your chest.

"Oh, I mean no offense, miss," Seokmin chuckles, clapping Minghao on the shoulder. "I jest, of course! Merely saying that you’re far lovelier than your brother—though, admittedly, it’s not a particularly high bar."

Despite yourself, your scowl begins to soften. There’s something about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the lightness in his voice. It’s hard to stay angry when he looks at you like that, as if daring you to join in on the joke.

“Mama says men who try to charm without revealing their titles aren’t to be trusted,” you counter, lifting your chin with defiant pride. The quip comes out sharper than intended, but you’re determined not to let him get the better of you.

Minghao gasps, hands raised in mock horror. “Sister, truly, must you always speak so boldly?” He turns to Seokmin with an exaggerated sigh. “Please Seokmin, do forgive her. I assure you, turning eight has done little to improve her temperament.”

“You’re only two years older than me, brother!” you huff, your voice a touch more indignant. Before you can continue, though, Seokmin drops into a low, dramatic bow, the movement exaggerated and theatrical.

“The fault is entirely mine, my lady,” he says in mock seriousness, rising and extending his hand toward you. “Lord Lee Seokmin, future Duke of Lancaster. At your service.”

Two years of etiquette lessons flood your mind, and with a sudden burst of excitement, you place your small hand in his. Seokmin bows once more, this time dropping a playful kiss on your knuckles as you curtsy. You can hear Minghao’s exasperated sigh as he rolls his eyes, but you ignore him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Maybe Seokmin isn't such a scoundrel after all.

As the day wears on, you find yourself watching Seokmin from the corner of your eye. Despite your earlier indignation, there’s something undeniably captivating about him. You notice the way he treats everyone with kindness, far beyond what’s expected from someone his age. When a younger child stumbles near the fencing ring, it’s Seokmin who rushes to their side, kneeling in the dirt, his voice gentle as he asks, "Are you alright?" He helps the child up, brushing off their clothes with such care, you can’t help but be touched. "Fear not," he says, a smile returning to his face, "you’re not a toad—you’re a knight in training!"

The sight makes your heart soften further. How could someone so infuriating also be so kind? The lines of irritation you had drawn between you and Seokmin begin to blur, shifting into something more like curiosity.

As the sun sinks low, casting a warm amber glow over the estate, you find yourself gravitating closer to where Seokmin and Minghao stand, their voices rising and falling in animated conversation about fencing techniques. Seokmin’s laughter, bright and carefree, fills the air like music, and before you know it, you’re smiling too; there’s something undeniably magnetic about him.

Despite your best efforts, you can no longer deny the strange fluttering in your chest—a curiosity, perhaps even fascination, that you hadn’t expected. Maybe, just maybe, Seokmin isn’t such a scoundrel after all.

The days of the social season unfold like a delicate fan, each gathering adding another layer to the tapestry of your life, and with every event, Seokmin becomes a constant presence. He is no longer just an occasional guest—he’s a breath of fresh air, his laughter ringing through the halls of your family’s estate, turning even the dullest moments into something lively and bright.

The lively soirées your parents host become a stage for his effortless charm. Ladies in the latest fashions exchange flirtatious glances in his direction, while gentlemen engage in animated debates about politics and sport, the buzz of conversation always punctuated by Seokmin’s easy laughter. His presence transforms these gatherings, turning what once felt like routine social maneuvering into vibrant affairs filled with warmth and genuine joy.

Whether he’s lending a hand to your mother in the garden, his sleeves rolled up and face relaxed in concentration, or sparring with your brother in a friendly match, Seokmin has this uncanny ability to elevate the ordinary. What might be a simple afternoon stroll or an idle conversation becomes a moment of significance when he’s around. Sun-drenched afternoons spent wandering the estate take on a new glow, each moment painted with the sound of his voice, the infectious energy he brings.

Age 14

The day Minghao and Seokmin leave for Eton is etched in your mind with vivid clarity, every detail sharp and impossible to forget. The morning is cool, yet the sun spills across the courtyard in golden rays, casting long shadows from the trees that sway gently in the breeze. The scent of dew-laden grass mixes with the faint perfume of your mother’s rose garden, but even the beauty of the estate feels muted by the melancholy lingering in the air.

Minghao, ever composed, stands with the straight posture expected of him, his hands clasped behind his back, looking every inch the young man ready to step into his responsibilities. His face, though calm, carries the weight of leaving home, but he hides it well, his eyes betraying only a flicker of the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Seokmin, on the other hand, struggles more visibly with the impending farewell. His usual cheerful grin falters, the lightness of his presence dimmed as he glances between you and Minghao. He tries to keep up his usual charm, cracking jokes that feel just a little too forced, his laughter not ringing as true as it normally does. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness you haven’t seen before, as if he’s trying to hide his own sadness behind that well-worn mask of joviality.

As they load their trunks into the carriage, a heavy knot forms in your chest. You know you’ll miss your brother, but it’s Seokmin’s departure that stings deeper. He’s been more than a friend these past years—he’s been a constant, a steady warmth you’ve come to rely on. His laughter, his easy charm, the way he could turn even the most mundane day into something special. The thought of him being gone, of not seeing him wander the estate with his boundless energy, makes your heart ache in a way you didn’t anticipate.

You step forward, your fingers trembling as you reach for Seokmin’s hand, your grip tighter than intended. “Promise me you’ll write?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, each word trembling with the effort to hold back tears.

Seokmin’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, his usual grin giving way to something gentler. "Of course," he says, his voice steady but quieter than usual. He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture meant to comfort. “I’ll make sure you get the best letters—no boring stories, only adventures, I swear.” His grin returns, albeit a little weaker. "Besides, my lady, your brother and I will be back to torment you again come springtime!"

Minghao coughs politely. “No tearful goodbye for me, sister?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of affection in his words. His eyes flicker between you and Seokmin, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, though his posture remains upright and composed as ever.

You tear your gaze from Seokmin and offer your brother a watery smile. “Do not fret, dear brother,” you say, a bit of your usual wit returning. “I’ll save the tears for later, when the house is quiet without the two of you causing chaos.”

My Dearest Y/N,

I trust this letter finds you in fine spirits, though I daresay it is far more likely that you are wrapped in the cozy embrace of your favorite blanket, lost in a book, while the world outside continues on its merry way. I cannot help but smile at the thought, for you have always possessed the rare gift of finding joy in the mundane.

Eton is quite a spectacle, I must confess. The architecture is enough to make one feel as though they have stepped into a storybook. However, I must admit my fellow classmates lack the charm and wit of my beloved friend.

Oh, how I miss our little chats! It is a curious sensation to feel so far from home, yet I am bolstered by the knowledge that you are there, keeping our little world intact. Do tell me that you have not yet taken up knitting—your penchant for wool is far more than my eyes can bear.

Yours most fondly,Seokmin

My Dearest Seokmin,

Eton sounds positively enchanting.I must admit, the thought of you amidst all that grandeur brings me no small measure of joy—though I do hope you have not yet been swept away by the grandeur of it all! I find it impossible to imagine anyone there being quite as dashing as you.

Life here, as you suspected, is a touch quieter without your vivacious presence. I feel compelled to admit that I found myself rather melancholic the day you left. It was a curious sadness, one that clung to me like a shadow. The house feels a touch emptier, and while I do find solace in my books, nothing compares to the ease of our conversations. The warmth of your laughter is a melody I find myself longing for, especially on the coldest evenings.

Do keep writing, dear friend. Your tales from Eton are the very lifeblood of my days, and I shall regale you with the ongoing drama of our little realm. Until then, consider me your most devoted fan, ever eager for your next missive.

With all my affection,Y/N

P.S. You will take great pleasure in knowing that I have, in fact, taken up crocheting. A lovely cap, perfect for early springtime chill, awaits you at the estate.

Age 15:

Seokmin’s return each spring is as reliable as the first crocus peeking through the thawing earth, marking the true end of winter. His arrival is never just an event—it’s a burst of life that sweeps away the dullness left by the cold months. Every year, your excitement bubbles over as you anticipate that familiar moment when the world feels a little brighter with his return. The sunlight bathes the garden in warmth, a golden hue spreading like liquid over the well-trodden path he walks down, Minghao beside him. Their laughter floats through the air, a melody that harmonizes with the soft rustle of blooming flowers and the hum of spring.

When they finally come into view, your heart quickens, as if drawn into the rhythm of their steps. With Minghao’s ever-amiable grin and Seokmin’s radiant energy, they are a pair that seems to make the world tilt just a little toward joy. Every spring, it's the same—they stride toward you as if no time has passed, as if the long months apart were nothing but a brief blink in the grander scheme of your lives. And each time, the three of you fall into the same routines as though nothing has changed.

It usually begins with some mischief. They never fail to poke fun at you until you’re red-faced with exasperation. Seokmin, with that teasing glint in his eyes, will say something absurd or playfully condescending, and Minghao, ever the instigator, will back him up with a sly smirk. It’s only a matter of time before you lose your patience, yell, and stomp your foot, your protests ringing louder than you’d intended.

Your raised voice inevitably draws the attention of your mother, who reprimands you from the kitchen window with her usual fond disapproval. "Now, now," she’ll chide, a soft laugh hidden in her voice. "There’s no need to shout, dear. They’re only playing."

Of course, that’s the cue for Seokmin and Minghao to burst into laughter, doubling over in amusement at how easily they’ve ruffled your feathers. You scowl at them, but it’s hard to keep a frown on your face when they’re both so gleeful, their joy infectious, lighting up the entire garden.

One afternoon, not long after their return, Seokmin and Minghao find their old practice fencing swords—long forgotten and buried deep in the flowerbeds, peeking out from beneath the tulips. You watch as they unearth the swords with a mixture of surprise and amusement, both of them laughing as if uncovering a treasure trove of memories. Their faces are bright with nostalgia as they pull the dirt-encrusted weapons free, brushing off the petals clinging to the blades.

It's then that Seokmin starts to call you "Tulip," a private little nickname he utters only when it's just the two of you. The first time he says it, there’s a lightness to his tone, his lips curling into that mischievous smile of his. “You know,” he says, leaning in closer as you both watch Minghao attempt a ridiculous fencing stance in the distance, “it only makes sense. After all, you’ve been hiding our swords with the tulips. I think ‘Tulip’ suits you.”

At first, you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance, but there’s a warmth in your chest at how easily he’s assigned you such a tender nickname.

One particularly warm afternoon, your mother summons you to help her with the flowerbeds, a chore you reluctantly take on. The sun beats down, the heat pressing into your skin and the earth beneath your fingers, while the scent of soil and fresh blossoms hangs thick in the air. You sigh, resigning yourself to the tedious task when, suddenly, a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Ah, the fair lady in her noble endeavor!” Seokmin’s voice rings out, full of his usual playful grandeur. He strides through the garden gate, sweeping an imaginary cape behind him with exaggerated flair. His smile is as bright as the sun itself, lighting up the whole space. “Fear not, for I shall be your loyal squire in this quest for botanical beauty!”

Despite your earlier annoyance, a reluctant smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. Seokmin has a way of making even the most mundane tasks feel like an adventure. You watch as he bounds toward you, his movements light and full of energy. With an exaggerated show of determination, he rolls up his sleeves, pretending to prepare for battle. The weight of the day feels lighter already.

Together, the two of you dig your hands into the soil, your fingers dirty and the air filled with the soft rustling of the leaves around you. Laughter bubbles up between the two of you, mingling with the breeze as Seokmin’s animated voice brings life to the still afternoon. As you plant flower after flower, he regales you with tales of his fencing matches at Eton, his voice lively, arms waving dramatically to mimic the grand duels he’s fought.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he says with mock gravity, “this boy was at least twice my size, and I won the match with nothing but clever footwork and a flick of the wrist!” He pantomimes the move, his arm cutting through the air like a sword.

You laugh, shaking your head at his theatrical retelling, the tension of the task dissolving with every story. It’s impossible not to get caught up in his enthusiasm. “Is that so?” you tease, barely holding back a grin.

“I daresay, footwork in fencing is quite the advantageous skill,” Seokmin says, dropping to his knees beside you with faux-seriousness, inspecting the flowerbed as though it holds the secrets to the universe. “If one can move with the grace of a dancer, one can—”

Just as he gestures again, his elbow brushes against your arm, and suddenly, time seems to slow. The lighthearted atmosphere is pierced by a spark, a ripple of warmth that travels through you. Both of you freeze, his eyes widening in surprise. His cheeks flush a light pink as he quickly pulls back, his confidence faltering for a brief second.

“My sincerest apologies,” he stammers, the usual brightness in his voice now tinged with uncharacteristic bashfulness. He resumes his work, his fingers trembling slightly as they sift through the soil. The warmth of the sun suddenly pales in comparison to the heat between you.

“It’s quite all right,” you reply, your voice shaky, your heartbeat far more rapid than you’d like. “Just... gardening, after all.” You try for casualness, but the words sound ridiculous even to your own ears, given the charged air lingering between you.

Moments later, you stand to stretch, hoping to shake off the strange energy that has settled over the both of you. Seokmin leans in to grab a nearby tool, and his shoulder brushes against yours again—this time, the contact lingers for just a second too long. The heat of it sends another jolt through you, making your heart stutter.

You gasp, startled by the unfamiliar sensation, your breath hitching. The warmth spreads from your chest down to your fingertips, a strange, foreign feeling you can’t quite name.

“Goodness! I beg your pardon again,” Seokmin says quickly, his sheepish smile returning, though this time it’s softer, more hesitant. His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place. “It seems I have a propensity for unintentional collisions today.”

That smile—it makes your chest tighten. His presence, usually a source of comfort, now awakens something new within you, something unsettling yet undeniable. Gardening, once nothing but a mundane chore, has transformed into something far more intimate with Seokmin by your side. The flowerbeds seem to flourish under his laughter, vibrant blooms swaying as if they, too, revel in the joy of the moment.

But that foreign sensation? You tuck it deep into your mind, burying it along with the seeds you’ve planted, afraid to decode what it could mean. After all, this is Seokmin—your friend, your constant. And yet, the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin longer than it should, as if it’s quietly asking you to look closer.

My Dearest Seokmin,

I hope this letter finds you in moments of solace amidst the tumult of your recent loss. It is with a heavy heart that I pen these words, having heard of your father’s passing. The news struck me with such a weight, as though the very air around me had grown thick with sorrow. I cannot begin to fathom the grief you must be experiencing, yet please know that my thoughts and prayers are ever with you during this difficult time.

Your father was a remarkable man, a beacon of kindness and integrity, and his absence will undoubtedly leave a profound void in the hearts of all who had the privilege of knowing him. I remember fondly the stories you shared, of his wisdom and warmth, which have clearly shaped the exceptional person you have become. His legacy, I have no doubt, will endure through you.

With his passing, I know you now bear the title of Duke. While this new responsibility may feel daunting, I have every confidence you will honor his legacy with the same grace and strength he embodied. I want you to remember that you are not alone. I am here, dear friend, steadfast and unwavering, ready to support you as you navigate this uncharted territory.

I eagerly await the day when I can see your smile again, and we can talk about the flowers in the garden, just as we always have.

With all my love and deepest sympathies,Y/N

My Dearest Tulip,

Your letter brought me a flicker of light amidst the shadows that have enveloped me since my father’s passing. It is a solace to know that you, too, share in my grief, and your words resonate deeply within me, reminding me that I am not alone in this turbulent sea of sorrow.

Thank you for your kind remembrance of my father. He often spoke of you with such fondness, and knowing how he impacted your life brings me a measure of comfort. His lessons of kindness and integrity remain etched in my heart, and I strive to honor his legacy in every decision I make as Duke. It is a weight I carry with both pride and trepidation, yet the knowledge of your unwavering support gives me strength.

Though this season feels uncharted and daunting, your friendship is a cherished constant. I, too, long for the day when we can stroll through the gardens, exchanging thoughts about the flowers and sharing laughter, just as we once did. Until then, I will hold onto the warmth of your words and the memories we’ve created.

With heartfelt gratitude and affection,Seokmin

Age 16:

When Seokmin and Minghao return home the next spring, it’s clear that Seokmin carries more than just the usual joy and liveliness he always brings with him. A new weight settles over him, one you haven’t seen before. The responsibility of the Dukedom starts to bear down on him, heavy as the cloak he will one day wear. His laugh remains bright, his smile still warm, but there’s something different now—an unspoken awareness that the carefree boy of the past is slowly giving way to the man he is becoming.

He has grown taller, his limbs long and strong, and the way he carries himself now commands attention. The once-boyish face is now defined, the angle of his jaw sharper, while his arms, corded with muscles, show the signs of hard work and training. It’s as if each inch he’s gained has come with a newfound strength, and when he meets your gaze, his eyes hold a certain seriousness, as if he is seeing everything with a fresh perspective.

The easy rhythm of your old routines stays intact—Minghao teasing you until you yell, Seokmin’s booming laughter echoing across the fields, and the reprimands from your mother when your playful shouts interrupt her afternoon peace. It all feels the same, yet beneath it all, you know things are changing.

On one such afternoon, you discover their practice swords—once lost and forgotten—buried haphazardly in the flowerbed among your mother’s beloved tulips. You pull them free with a gasp, the soil still clinging to the metal, and when you bring them to Seokmin, he chuckles, the sound a little sadder than you remember.

“Well,” he says, wiping the dirt from the hilt, “seems like even the tulips want to keep us from growing up too fast, eh, Tulip?”

Despite the weight of responsibility that now shadows him, he still calls you “Tulip.” The name slips easily from his lips, playful and tender, a thread that ties your past to the present. The quiet nickname carries the bittersweet truth: your days of carefree adventures and playful banter are slowly fading, giving way to the responsibilities of adulthood. And while the world around you shifts, that name—whispered in secret—feels like a promise that some part of him, some part of both of you, will always stay the same.

My dearest Tulip,

It is with a heart full of sorrow that I write to you, upon receiving the most distressing news regarding your father’s passing. The world seems dimmer without him, and my thoughts are consumed with the weight of your grief. I wish I could be there, to hold your hand and share in the memories of a man who undoubtedly brought so much light into your life.

When the silence envelops you, when the days stretch long and heavy with unshed tears, know that I am here for you. You need not wear a mask of strength; I shall not expect it. Life has a way of changing in an instant, and though we are thrust into roles we may not be prepared for, there remains solace in companionship.

Please remember, my dear friend, you are not alone in this journey. I stand with you, ready to lend my support and share in whatever you need.

With the utmost affection,Seokmin

My dearest Seokmin,

Your letter reached me at a time when silence has settled heavily over the estate, wrapping around us like a shroud. It feels as though the laughter that once danced through these halls has been swallowed by a void, leaving behind a hushed emptiness. My mother, once so vibrant, now moves about with an air of resignation, her spirit dimmed as if she carries the weight of the world upon her shoulders. The joy that once bloomed within her seems to have withered, and even the flowers in the garden appear to droop, their colors muted in sympathy for our grief.

I often find myself worrying for Minghao. The new title of duke weighs upon him like a heavy cloak, and I fear that the responsibilities thrust upon him will change him in ways I cannot yet understand. I can only imagine the burden he feels, trying to uphold our father's legacy while grappling with the uncertainties of leadership. It frightens me to think of how this shift may alter our relationship, how he might feel compelled to step into a role that distances him from the brother I’ve always known. I fear I may lose him just as I have lost my father.

Yet, amid this uncertainty, your words bring me a flicker of comfort. The knowledge that you stand with me during this turbulent time is a balm for my spirit. I long for your return, for the laughter and warmth that you bring.

Until then, I hold your friendship close to my heart, a gentle reminder that even in the darkest of times, I am not alone.

With all my affection,Y/N

Age 17:

At the onset of spring, when Minghao and Seokmin return to the estate, the world feels subtly transformed. The air is perfumed with the scent of blooming flowers, yet there’s an unmistakable weight in the atmosphere, a quiet acknowledgment of the changes that accompany their new titles. As dukes, both acquire an aura of responsibility that overshadows the playful ease they once share.

The lighthearted teasing that characterizes your interactions is now less frequent, often replaced by a more thoughtful camaraderie. It’s as though their titles impose a certain decorum upon them, one that even the most mischievous of spirits cannot easily shake off. Their laughter, while still present, bears the faintest echo of seriousness that wasn’t there before.

Yet, despite this change, you find immense joy in their company, particularly when they engage in spirited sparring sessions in the training yard. As wooden swords clash and echo, it’s impossible not to feel a thrill at the sight of them—two young gentlemen, once boys, now embodying a gravity that demands respect even in their play.

The matches become a spectacle, each clash of wooden swords accompanied by shouts and laughter that echo through the estate. You perch on the sidelines, an amused spectator, as Seokmin and Minghao banter playfully between bouts. “You call that a strike?” Seokmin teases, deftly dodging your brother’s advance with a lightness that seems almost effortless. “I’ve seen more ferocity from a kitten!”

Minghao rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth betraying a grin despite his best efforts to maintain an air of dignity. “One day, Seokmin, you shall learn that mocking your opponent is a perilous game.”

You perch on the sidelines, unable to stifle the laughter bubbling forth at their antics. Each exchange between them is a delightful dance, weaving a tapestry of shared history and unspoken affection. Yet, as you watch, you cannot help but feel a twinge of wistfulness; the exuberance of their banter now seems to emerge from a place tinged with nostalgia.

The sun dips low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the training yard; both young gentlemen wield their wooden swords with a fervor that sends a thrill through the onlookers. You remain at a distance, your heart pounding in rhythm with each clash of wood, an exhilaration mingled with unease coursing through you.

Seokmin, with his characteristic bravado, flashes a teasing grin as he engages your brother. “Come now, my lord! Surely you can do better than that!” The laughter in his voice rings like a bell, though you can’t help but feel a knot of apprehension tighten in your chest.

As the match continues, you find yourself transfixed by Seokmin’s agile movements, the way he dances about the training yard with a carefree spirit. However, just as you begin to relax, a delicate butterfly flits past, capturing Seokmin’s attention momentarily. It is in this fleeting distraction that your brother seizes his opportunity, lunging forward with surprising speed.

“Seokmin!” you cry out, the word escaping your lips before you can restrain it. Time seems to elongate as you watch, breathless, as Seokmin turns just in time to evade the wooden sword’s path. He stumbles slightly, regaining his balance as he casts a quick glance your way, surprise etched upon his handsome features.

With your heart racing, you dash to his side, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Are you quite well?” The urgency in your voice is unmistakable, for the thought of his injury sends a chill through you.

“Indeed, I am unharmed,” he replies, though the forced joviality of his laugh belies the tension of the moment. “Merely caught off guard, I assure you.”

Yet your heart refuses to calm. “You cannot be so reckless! What if you had been injured?” The fervor of your concern envelops you, and you see a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes as he steps closer, the air between you thick with a burgeoning intimacy. That same foreign sensation – the one from years ago when he had brushed against you in the gardens – ignites within you, one you had tucked away and kept hidden, rearing its head in this moment of vulnerability.

“Thank you, Tulip, for your ever-present concern for my well-being,” he murmurs, his voice lowered as he meets your gaze, the world around you fading into an indistinct haze. Just then, Minghao loudly clears his throat, and Seokmin drops his eyes, a bashful blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

You step away, embarrassed, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Minghao corners you in the gardens that night, the cool summer breeze brushing against your skin as you take a walk, seeking solace from the tempest of thoughts swirling in your mind. The encounter with Seokmin lingers like a gentle whisper, an unsettling mixture of warmth and confusion that dances at the edges of your consciousness, teasing you with emotions you struggle to understand.

“Sister,” he begins, his voice so soft that you nearly startle. In an instant, he presses a hand against your mouth, his finger raised in a quiet plea for silence. “It’s only me, Y/N. I fear you’ll wake the entire estate.”

“It’s your fault for skulking about the gardens like a common thief!” you whisper back, fiercely. “What on earth could possibly require such urgent discussion that you couldn’t grant me one night of peace?”

His expression grows serious, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “You must be careful, sister,” he admonishes, and in that moment, he seems less like your brother and more like the Duke of Somerset—tall, proud, and formidable. “There are whispers… about you and Seokmin.”

“Whispers? Whatever do you mean?” You search his face for clarification, anxiety bubbling within you.

Minghao shakes his head as if dismissing the very idea of this conversation. A wave of indignation washes over you, eager to burst forth. He may be only two years your elder, yet he still insists on treating you like a child. “Your debut into society draws near,” he continues, his voice measured and resolute. “You mustn’t jeopardize it.”

“But Minghao—” you begin, but he raises a hand, silencing you with a mere gesture.

“Listen. You know how these things unfold. A mere hint of impropriety could tarnish your reputation. I don’t want you to suffer from the kind of gossip that twists the truth.” His tone softens, revealing a hint of genuine concern that pierces through your indignation. “I only want what’s best for you.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “I am not a child anymore,” you protest, the tremor in your voice betraying a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. “I am capable of making my own choices.”

“Perhaps,” he replies, his eyes steady and unwavering. “But I have a responsibility to protect you, Y/N. I don’t wish to stifle your spirit, but you must grasp the implications of your actions.”

The night air grows thick with unspoken sentiments, and as the stars twinkle overhead like mischievous spectators, you grapple with the tumult in your heart. There’s something about Seokmin that sends ripples of confusion coursing through you, a fluttering sensation that stirs your chest whenever his name crosses your mind. You do not fully comprehend what it is, but it’s undeniably present—a flicker of something more, leaving you teetering on the precipice of feelings you are not yet ready to confront.

My dearest Seokmin,

As I sit here with this pen in hand, I find myself quite at a loss. The arrival of my debut looms on the horizon, and while I am certainly filled with anticipation, I must confess that trepidation dances in my chest, quite uninvited. The notion of standing before an audience of peers—well-bred and well-mannered—fills me with an unease I cannot quite articulate. Will my words tumble forth in a jumbled mess? Or worse, will they fall on deaf ears?

I cannot shake the dreadful thought that I may never find a match. What if I enter that grand ballroom, adorned in my finest gown, and am met with indifference? Will the charming suitors twirl past me, whisking away others while I stand, forgotten, on the periphery? The idea sends a shiver down my spine, as I fear I may spend the evening watching the festivities unfold without me.

As I consider the expectations that accompany my debut, I can’t help but reflect on how you and Minghao have gracefully embraced your new roles as dukes. You carry the weight of your responsibilities with such elegance, while I find myself yearning to flourish in a world that feels daunting. Will I, too, be able to navigate this landscape of expectation and propriety, or will I falter under its weight?

Forgive my ramblings, dear friend. I suppose I am merely hoping for reassurance, a kind word from you. Perhaps if I know you will be there—your presence a familiar balm—I might muster the courage to dance and revel in the splendor of the evening.

With warmest regards and hopeful heart,Your Tulip

My Dearest Tulip,

Your recent letter has landed in my hands like a most delightful spring breeze, though I must confess it carries with it a hint of unease that quite unnerves me. How is it that my steadfast friend, who has faced the world with such spirited determination, now frets over the prospects of the ballroom?

First and foremost, allow me to put your mind at ease. The mere thought of you standing in that grand ballroom, adorned in the finest gown, is enough to illuminate the dimmest of corners. Your charm will be as radiant as the most exquisite of chandeliers, drawing the gaze of all who are fortunate enough to cross your path. I assure you, the gentlemen will hardly be able to focus on anything—or anyone—else.

Now, I cannot let this opportunity pass without a bit of teasing – regarding your step upon my toes during our lessons – I daresay I must bring up a rather amusing memory. I cannot help but recall how you sent both Minghao and me reeling across the room, much like a pair of wayward marionettes! One can only hope that with age comes grace—or at the very least, a better sense of foot placement! If not, I shall be prepared to don the most resilient shoes in all of England.

Worry not, dear Tulip. I shall be by your side the entire season, if you shall have me (although, I am not entirely certain your dear brother will be entirely pleased by this idea).

Your most loyal servant,Seokmin

Dearest Sister,

As I sit at my desk, I cannot help but feel a mixture of pride and exasperation as I pen this letter. Our infrequent exchanges have become quite the tradition, have they not? I find it amusing that as your brother, I am often left to await your words while Seokmin is constantly regaled by your stories.

With your debut looming closer, I feel it is my solemn duty as both your brother and your Duke to remind you of the delicate nature of polite society. Your debut is not merely an occasion to don a gown and curtsy to the queen; it is a rite filled with expectations and decorum. I implore you to be mindful of the company you keep and the propriety that is expected of you as a young lady and the sister of the Duke. I have taken it upon myself to speak to Seokmin, warning him of the same – he has a habit of forgetting his own station in moments of levity.

While I know you must find these constraints stifling, know that the eyes of the ton will soon be upon you, not only assessing your beauty but also your character. You are the jewel of our family, and I trust you will shine brightly, even amidst these expectations.

Write to me when you can, dear sister, even if it is infrequent. Your musings are treasures to your dear elder brother, and I await them constantly.

With all my love, Minghao

Dearest Brother,

I say this with the utmost love and devotion:

Damn you.

(Please forgive my language, and please, do not show this letter to Mama. I fear her admonishments may never end if she hears of my vernacular)

I am acutely aware of the expectations that accompany my debut – how could I forget when both you and Mama loom over me like a pair of hawks? While I recognize your intentions, your words do little to alleviate my anxiety.

Your warning regarding Seokmin only serves to make me laugh. It is amusing, truly, to envision the Duke of Lancaster being chided by my brother on the virtues of propriety. I promise to keep my wits about me and to present myself with all the elegance expected of a young lady of my station (the sister of a Duke, no less!).

I will do my utmost to avoid a scandal – or at the very least, I shall ensure that you do not hear of it. I shall write again soon, if only to unleash more of my exasperation upon you.

Yours, in (implied) rebellion, Y/N (Sister of the Duke of Somerset)

Age 18:

On the eve of your debut, you find yourself seated on the swing in the garden of the Somerset townhome, the night cloaked in an almost palpable tension. The sounds of Mayfair filter through the stillness—a symphony of distant laughter, the soft clatter of carriages, and the occasional rustle of silk skirts—as the ton settles into slumber. The air feels electric, crackling with anticipation, as if the entire world is holding its breath, waiting for the events of the morrow to unfold.

You take a deep drag from the cigarette you swiped from Minghao’s rooms, the smoke spiraling into the night like a fleeting thought. With each inhale, you hope to drown out the anxious fluttering of your heart, a dissonant rhythm that accelerates at the mere thought of tomorrow’s debut.

“Why, Lady Xu Y/N, are you smoking?” The voice breaks through your reverie, causing you to sputter and cough, hastily attempting to conceal the cigarette behind your back. You turn to see Seokmin, leaning casually against the sturdy oak tree that secures the swing, his figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

His presence is both familiar and disarming, the boyish charm of his smile juxtaposed against the weight of his title. “No, Seokmin, I—” you stammer, flustered.

“Shove over,” he commands lightly, and before you can protest, he plucks the cigarette from your frozen grip, taking a deep, leisurely drag. The sight of him—so confident, so carefree—sets your heart racing in a way that both delights and terrifies you.

“What on earth are you doing here?” you ask incredulously, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“I was with your brother at White’s,” he replies, amusement dancing in his eyes. “It was my mistake to forget how little he can imbibe before devolving into an utter fool. I was merely making sure he returned home safely.” His tone shifts, curiosity sparkling in his gaze. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Excited? Hardly,” you grumble, kicking at the scattered rocks beneath your feet. “What my heart truly desires is to run away—pack my things, flee to Paris, and open a quaint little bookstore. Perhaps live out my days as a spinster, surrounded by novels and solitude.”

Seokmin’s expression shifts, a shadow of understanding passing across his features. “We cannot always have what our hearts desire,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow as he exhales a plume of smoke. “Sometimes, we must accept that we can find happiness in what we have, not in what could have been.”

You watch the smoke dance and dissipate into the night sky, thoughts swirling as restlessly as the tendrils of fog around you.

“And you?” you ask quietly, the question escaping before you can catch it. “What does your heart desire?”

“Desired,” he corrects, taking another deep drag. “I once dreamed of being a fencer, of dueling beneath the sun. But above all, I yearned to find love.”

Your heart stutters at his admission. His thigh brushes against yours, an electric touch that feels so scandalously intimate you can hardly breathe. You suddenly become acutely aware of the nightgown you wear, the thin fabric doing little to shield you from the heat radiating from his body. If Minghao were to catch you in this moment, you are certain he would demand that Seokmin either marry you on the spot or duel him for your honor.

The very thought sends a shiver down your spine—an improper thought that both terrifies and thrills you. You are a young lady, poised to make your debut, and here you are, perched so closely to an eligible duke, the expectations of the ton looming like a dark cloud. What would society say if they were to discover you in this clandestine moment? The whispers would be deafening, your reputation in tatters, and yet… the thrill of it, the danger, pulls at you like a siren's song.

“And you believe you shall never find it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I am a Duke, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it barely pierces the night air. “Duty must come first. If there is any part of me left, which there rarely is, only then can I pursue love.”

The distance between you feels both impossibly vast and achingly close, the weight of his words pressing against you like an invisible force. You can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the unspoken longing that mirrors your own.

You hum, encouraging him to continue, yet the weight of his words presses down on your chest.

“But how fortunate am I,” he continues, his gaze piercing through the night like a beacon, “to have found such a remarkable friend who stands by me even as duty threatens to drown me where I stand.”

A friend. The word lingers between you, heavy and loaded. Is that truly all he sees you as? The realization sends your mind reeling, your heart racing in an entirely different way.

No, the trees whisper, urging you to reconsider.

Could it be…love?

That foreign sensation, long buried beneath layers of propriety and friendship, now unfurls within you, roots taking hold. You realize with a start that you have loved Seokmin, perhaps from that very first kiss on your hand all those years ago, long before you could articulate the feelings swirling in your heart.

Panic courses through you, and you leap up from the swing as if it has burned you. “It is late, Lord Lee. I must take my leave now,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “I hope you find your way home safely.”

He reaches out, his hand brushing against your wrist, and your breath hitches at the contact. “Wait,” he says, his voice low, almost laced with concern. “Are you alright? You seem... distant.”

His eyes search yours, and you feel the weight of his gaze, an anchor that both comforts and terrifies you. Your pulse quickens, a frantic rhythm echoing in your ears. What would it mean to linger here a moment longer, to let the night wrap around you like a cocoon?

But all the books you’ve read offer no preparation for the heartache that comes with knowing he regards you as merely a friend. A friend, just like your brother. You are his friend, and the shattering realization settles in: he will never love you back.

“Tulip?” he adds softly, the word a whisper that brushes against your skin like the wind.

You swallow hard, every part of you aching to give in, to lean into the connection pulsing between you. But the truth looms like a storm cloud overhead, dark and inevitable.

You love Lord Lee Seokmin, Duke of Lancaster, but he will never love you.

And with that heavy knowledge weighing on your heart, you turn to leave, every step toward your room feeling like a betrayal to the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

You don’t sleep at all, thoughts consumed by a boy you had once known and the man you now love.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits @moondustmemories @shinwonderful @ivehypnosis @gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13

#seventeen fic recs #lee seokmin x reader

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pro-cycling-primers · 2 days ago

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🚴‍♀️🚴‍♂️ So, you're interested in starting watching cycling in 2025 (I hope), but have no idea where to start? 🚴‍♂️🚴‍♀️

Before the start of the road cycling season this year, I thought I'd post some information for people completely new to the sport. You might have seen some Tumblr posts going crazy about men and women in tight lycra, or watched a bit of the Tour de France on TV once, or maybe this post found you some other way! Let's get to it.

When does it happen?

Cycling doesn't have a set timetable nor are races only at weekends. It's mostly the same each year, but there have been some changes over the hundred-plus years professional cycling has been around.

The WorldTour (highest level of pro cycling, more about that in a later post) season lasts officially from January until October, with the full women's calendar for 2025 looking like this:

And the men's like this:

Don't try to watch all of them. Or do, I'm just a Tumblr blogger hoping more people get interested in this great sport 🤷

Okay then, which races should I watch?

The answers to this are many and varied; every list of 'best races to watch' will have at least one cycling fan clamouring 'But HOW could you ignore [x]!?'

In terms of basic introduction to the sport, I think this would give a solid season-wide grounding:

Five one-day races have mostly arbitrarily been declared The Monuments: Milano-Sanremo, Paris-Roubaix, de Ronde van Vlaanderen, Liège-Bastogne-Liège, and Il Lombardia. (A more detailed post about these will be coming later in the season). All but Lombardia have men's and women's versions, with Milano-Sanremo Donne running for the first time in 2025, though Trofeo Alfredo Binda is a more well-established women's race in a similar region at a similar time.

Each has its own quirks, history, and favour different kinds of riders. The big names (except the pure stage racers) will be there.

I'd also recommend one of the early-season one-week stage races, Paris-Nice or Tirreno-Adriatico. They run at the same time, for one week in March, and present the first opportunity for the top stage racers to stretch their legs (another post about different types of riders will come). On the women's side, Itzulia Women or Tour de Suisse.

One of the Grand Tours is in my view, essential: Giro d'Italia, Vuelta a España, or the big one, the Tour de France

If you want, you can disregard this entire section and just watch the Tour. It's the biggest race there is, the most-covered, and teams bring their best riders in their best shape. It's a massive cultural event. If you take nothing from this post other than following a little closer in July, then it has been a success in my book.

How can I watch cycling?

Cycling has a serious lack of easily accessible coverage. Every race organiser has different TV rights arrangements, varying MASSIVELY from country to country, with some having free-to-air coverage of most races on national television but some having no option other than the paid services Discovery+ and Eurosport.

For an international suggestion there is a lovely site: tiz [dash] cycling [dot] io has free (!) livestreams of every race you could feasibly ever want to watch, and a back catalogue covering most of the last decade +

5-15 minute highlight videos from YouTube channels such as Eurosport, FloBikes etc. are also available a few hours after a race finishes! The Tour de France has its own channel with decent highlights and interviews.

See you later in the season!

#cycling #pro cycling #pro cycling primers #road cycling #sports #sportsblr #pro cycling primers: general #sports tumblr

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deantfwinchester · 3 days ago

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Gingerly

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader, same timeline

This one is set not long before the events of "A New Chapter" - before Reader & Sarah pick out Halloween costumes :)

Summary: Early mornings in the first trimester present a new set of challenges for the growing Miller family. Joel does his best to find remedies for their dilemma.

Warnings: pregnancy, so many euphemisms for vomit, so beware

A/N: this one isn't very long. it's lowkey a prequel to the one I'm posting next. Very similar stories at two different points in their lives. <3

Word Count: 1.8k.

____________________________________________________________

You’re spending longer than usual this morning hugging the porcelain. It didn’t take long after discovering your pregnancy for the morning sickness to kick in, and it’s a killer. This is happening more often than you’d like, but at least it’s over pretty quickly most days — just a little eviction of last night’s dinner to make room for breakfast, apparently. Isn’t this kid supposed to make you hungrier? What’s their deal?

Today’s a little different, and you’re left retching long enough to impact your punctuality to work. Gotta send a text to some coworkers to get your class covered. You hate it, but it’s not exactly a willpower game at this point — this kid wants all of yesterday’s food GONE, but your stomach is putting up a fight. Unfortunately, you’re the one losing.

Joel’s wandering anxiously in and out of the bathroom, worrying like hell. He’s going back and forth between sitting with you and rubbing your back —he’d pulled your hair up for you after the first evacuation — and checking on Sarah, making sure she gets ready for school. He’d hovered for a while until the two of you heard Sarah come downstairs, and you insisted he go get her some breakfast, just please don’t tell you what it is. He’s in and out as Sarah eats, and she pops in to check on you and tell you she made him sit down for a minute and eat something too. You shoot her the most grateful smile you can muster on the green-around-the-gills visage you’re sporting at the moment. He’s got a full day ahead as well, and you’d been worrying right back… from your position on the bathroom tile, at least.

When they’ve both finished breakfast, Joel returns to your side, waiting until the last possible second to leave before Sarah’s late for school. You assure him it’s not a big deal, you’ll be okay in a little while. He knows this, and that it’s normal, but it breaks his heart to leave you there on the floor.

“How ‘bout I drop Sarah off and come right back? Tommy can get everybody started at the site, and I’ll just stay long enough to get you to work,” he questions, placing the back of his hand to your cheek to check your temperature again “just to make sure that’s all it is!” before sighing and tucking some loose hair behind your ear. You shake your head slowly, trying to minimize the nausea.

“There’s not really anything for you to do, sweetie. As much as having you here with me afterward makes me feel better, we can’t both be late to work every day for the next month. Maybe longer than that. I’ll probably be fine by the time you get back anyway. Just be a wasted trip.” You huff at the end, hoping the nausea is reaching its end for this morning and you can get up and get ready to leave.

Joel looks at you with a pained expression and cringes at the word month. Just seeing you dealing with this the last few weeks has been agonizing for him — he doesn’t even want to imagine how it feels.

“No such thing as a wasted trip when it comes to you, darlin’. ‘S my job, you know that,” he responds, with a sympathetic smile, and continues before you can rebut. “But alright, I’m goin’. Promise you’ll text me if you’re feelin’ any worse?,” he lifts a pinky to you, and you hook yours right back, turning your cheek when he tries to kiss your lips. You chuckle at his disappointment when his own lips meet your cheek.

“Gross, you do not wanna kiss me right now,” you laugh through. He begs to differ but understands your reluctance. He tells you to hang tight for just a minute before he finally leaves, and returns with an armful of supplies. Next to you on the floor are a water bottle, some plain crackers, some tylenol, and something with bubbles to settle your stomach.

He asks you to “please try and eat a little somethin’ before you leave, baby”, to which you nod and assure him you’ll do your best, trying to get him satisfied as possible and light a fire under him before Sarah’s late for school. He bends down, kisses the top of your head, squeezes your shoulder, and heads out the door to meet Sarah in his truck.

______________________________________________________________

Joel's texting to check on you around the time you get off the floor. You’re nibbling the crackers he left and trying small sips of water like he asked — which he’s reminded you of again — but you’re struggling with it. He calls you as you’re packing your things to leave.

“Hey sweetheart, how you feelin’? Get any of those crackers down for me?” he inquires.

“I’m fine, just about to leave. I ate a couple of them, and I’ll bring them with me,” you respond, trying and failing to keep the exhaustion from your voice. He pauses for a moment.

“Level with me, baby. You don’t sound up for it, you sure we don’t need to talk to the doctor? I can come home, we can go today, I’ll just—” but you cut him off before he can spiral any further.

“Joel. You’re sweet, and I know you’re worried, but it’s not any worse than normal. It’s just sticking around longer today. Yes, I’m still a little,,, blech,,, but it’ll be gone in a bit. I’ll make some tea before I leave, that’ll help,” you affirm. He lets out a sigh that tells you he’s not convinced, but resigned to the fact you’re going to work regardless. Soon enough, he arrives at the site and asks you to keep him updated, which you promise and wish him a good day and an “i love you” to get you both through the day.

______________________________________________________________

You get to work right before the switch to 2nd period, still not feeling great, but stable enough to drive there safely and get your kids started on something to keep them busy. Today’s a good day for a documentary, a worksheet, and a dark classroom. The kids will thank you for it anyway, but somehow still need something every three minutes. That’s at least one thing that won’t be unfamiliar when the baby arrives — even though you have high schoolers.

You shoot Joel a text, letting him know you got to work okay, and that you’ve chosen something to help you take it (slightly) easy today. You hope this message will ease his mind so he can get back to work as well.

Joel responds with a brief message in the affirmative, but he’s still worried sick. He’s seen you deal with this each day for the last couple of weeks, but this morning your voice was shaking and your face was ashen. What if this isn’t just today? What if it’s getting worse? He's afraid you’ll end up dehydrated or won’t bother to eat enough at work. You struggle with remembering lunch on days you feel good, he knows you won’t even bother today, and it’s eating at him while he works.

He decides to surprise you at lunch time with something filling that won’t upset your stomach, and that’ll entice you to eat. He wants to make sure you’re fed today, and that there are some more options at the ready — for your sake and his own. He does a little research and stops by the grocery store to grab an array of plain foods and a bunch of liquids. By the time he leaves there are multiple types of crackers in tow, applesauce packets, a few bone broths, some of your favorite juices and teas, a bag of ginger candies plus a jar of ginger gummy vitamins, and more. He’s no technology wiz, but the man can google up a storm when the need arises.

He rolls up to your classroom’s back door when he knows it’s time for lunch and texts you, grabbing his things and stepping out of the truck to meet you. You walk out to find him with a big bottle of cold gatorade and a takeout bag hanging from his fingers. You muse that the pretty big gatorade bottle looks normal-sized in Joel's large, gentle hands. You don’t even take anything from his grasp before you lean forward into his chest and wrap your arms around his waist. He smiles, and wordlessly puts his chin atop your head before wrapping his free arm around you, rubbing lightly up and down your back.

Neither of you has to say a word for him to tell you’re still not feeling 100%, and he’s whispering sweet things while you stand there in his embrace. You hide your face in his chest trying to quell your tears before they start. You know him well enough that this gesture doesn’t exactly surprise you, but he’s so thoughtful that his kindness moves you every damn time. It’s not something you ever felt before Joel, but he’ll never stop trying to get you accustomed, and you know that.

You look up at Joel like he hung the moon, memorizing every warm shade in his bright eyes, hoping your own reflect the appreciation and admiration dancing in your chest. He holds you tight and sits you in the passenger seat of the truck before pulling out the takeout boxes and cracking open your gatorade. The cool, lightly-flavored liquid soothes you in a way water hasn’t quite accomplished today — doesn’t even matter that neither of you knows what “Glacier Freeze” means, it’s effective.

You lean against his shoulder while you both eat lunch, talking to each other and the baby. Joel laughs and praises you for putting on a movie for your kids before recounting the events of his morning. He shares everything he learned from his research, and even more he heard at the grocery store from a couple of older women who saw him contemplating the ginger options by the prenatal vitamins. You imagine him staring intently at bottles in the pregnancy aisle of the Health & Beauty section and laugh, thinking of how his concentration and concern would’ve made the old ladies he spoke to melt. You’re surprised he didn’t get a cheek pinched at this rate.

You sit together until the school bell breaks your reverie and you have to kiss him goodbye. He hands you an already prepped ziploc baggie of even more shelf-stable snacks he bought to keep in your desk to settle your stomach as needed. You grin at him again, shaking your head.

“Joel, this is too much trouble. I can’t believe you did all of this just this morning!” you exclaim, before he scoffs and responds.

“I told you — no such thing as a wasted trip for you, baby.”

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faithisyours · 1 day ago

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Skinny Dipping

Chapter 2 of The List

Vi x Fem!reader

Summary: you surprise Vi with a trip to go do something off her list, skinny dipping. + a little extra at the end.

cw: Heavy petting but no actual smut, nudity, mentions to smut, mentions of food, a little emo Vi at the end, overall tooth rotting fluff

Word Count: 2.6k

an: Howdy! Hope everyone’s 2025 is off to a good start. As promised, here is chapter 2. This fic can be read as a stand alone, but it would probably make more sense if you read chapter 1. Also I’d like to mention that the time frame is off in this whole fic but I’m gonna try and speed run through the seasons to match up to what it is where I am. Next week we’re building a blanket fort. And if you have any ideas, let me know. Men and minors dni.

It had been almost a week since you pitched the idea of the list to Vi. She had been taking it very seriously, adding at least one thing every day. She had also been quite protective of it, keeping it close whenever you wanted to see it, moving it away from your gaze, blatantly closing it when you walked in the same room as her. You reminded her that it had been your idea to begin with, and that in order to do all of the things she was writing down, you would eventually have to see it. She simply claimed she wanted to be done writing it before she shared it with you. Fair enough.

Her not sharing it wasn’t an issue, though, considering you supplied the first thing on that list. You remembered the giddy look in her eye when you told her to add it, the way she wrote it as the first thing on the list, the kiss she gave you on the cheek as thanks for the idea. And since it was about the only one you knew for a fact was there, you were determined to surprise her sooner rather than later with it. It was also nearing late fall, and the nights were growing colder. You would have to plan fast in order to make this an actually enjoyable experience and not just turn yourselves into human popsicles.

So, you kept an eye on the weather, thought of a nearby lake that would be a good spot, and planned all the logistics down to the T. And then, you waited.

—

You were sitting at the kitchen island when you heard the sound of a key unlocking the door to your apartment, announcing Vi was finally home.

“How was work?” you asked as you stood up and walked towards her.

“Oh, ya know…same as always,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around you and giving you a quick kiss.

“Well, I was wondering if you maybe, possibly wanted to accompany me this evening for a surprise?” You said it innocently enough, but Vi still gave you the most suspicious look in the history of suspicious looks.

“Did you get your hands on my notebook?” she asked accusingly, squinting her eyes and pulling away from your hug slightly.

“No, I did not. And this has nothing to do with that,” you lied, tilting your nose up in mock-indignation. She squinted her eyes even more at you.

“Right, okay,” she surveyed you, then dropped her suspicion. “Well, yes, I would love to join you. Where are we going?”

“I’m not telling you that, it’s a surprise!” You pushed her lightly on the shoulder, playfully annoyed.

“Okay, okay, fine. Just tell me what I need to do,” she surrendered.

“All you need to do is nothing. And then meet me in the car in ten minutes.” You gave her a kiss on the cheek, grabbed your bag and keys, and hurried your way down to the car.

You wanted to make sure nothing gave away the surprise, so you made sure any damning evidence was in the trunk, and then covered it all with a blanket. When you were satisfied, you plopped down into the driver's seat and waited for Vi, which didn’t take long considering you took a big chunk of that ten minutes finagling the trunk.

When Vi got into the passenger seat, the suspicious look was back on her face. You had your poker face on, however, and would not be giving anything away until you got to your destination.

You were half way into the drive, the sun setting slowly before you, when Vi decided to start grilling you on where you were going.

“Is it something off the list? At least tell me that!” she prodded. You figured there wasn’t any harm in telling her it was. It narrowed the options down, sure, but it would get her excited.

“Okay, yes, it is something off the list. But before you go accusing me, no, I did not go snooping. I remembered some of the things you wrote down and this is one of them. But just stop speculating, alright. It’s supposed to be a surprise.” You squeezed her hand, which was holding yours on her lap.

Your admission settled her speculation, and for the rest of the drive the two of you listened to music and chatted about your day. The conversation seemed to distract her, because when you pulled into the small, blessedly empty, dirt parking lot, indicating you had made it to your destination, her suspicion finally returned. She eyed you up, but you only gave her a smile as you got out of the car and popped the trunk.

Pulling the blanket aside, you grabbed the duffle bag with the towels in it and threw it over your shoulder. Vi finally came around to join you at the back of the car, but by that time you had already fixed the blanket back over everything and were closing the trunk. She eyed the duffle suspiciously, but when you beckoned her to follow you, she did.

You were a little surprised she hadn’t said anything yet. You had taken her to this lake a couple summers ago when everyone came out to celebrate Ekko’s birthday, but you would admit that it looked much different now that autumn was upon it.

You took Vi’s hand in yours as you walked down the short trail towards the lake. And once you rounded that corner and the shore opened up, Vi gasped, gave you a look that said, “oh my god, THIS is what we're doing?!?!” and kissed your cheek so hard you thought it might bruise.

The lake wasn’t big. You could probably swim from one side to the other in less than 5 minutes. But it got the job done. And it was empty, thank goodness. The last rays of light bounced off the water's surface, making it sparkle. And the thick forest surrounding it made for good privacy. It was all absolutely perfect.

You walked your vibrating-with-excitement girlfriend down towards the shore, plopping the duffle bag down next to a big oak that’s canopy arched over the water. And then you began to strip.

It wasn’t super cold out yet, but as you removed layers of clothing, goosebumps spread all across your skin. And you knew the water was guaranteed to be colder. Vi started stripping, too, only when she stopped ogling the fact you were taking your clothes off in front of her. You watched as she peeled her sweatshirt off, pulled her shoes and socks off faster than you’d seen anyone ever do that, took off the worn grey tee-shirt you sometimes slept in cause it smelled so much like her, and stepped out of the black cargo pants she had a million pairs of. She ogled, you ogled.

With both of you left in just your underwear, Vi closed the small space between the two of you and kissed you, hard, with tongue, bringing her warm hands up to caress your face. She pulled away just as fast, but it still left you both a little breathless. You don’t know exactly why you started giggling, but whatever it was, Vi was feeling a similar way, because she giggled right along with you.

“May I?” she asked, pulling lightly on the strap of your bra.

“Of course. May I?” you asked, pointing to her sports bra.

“Well, it's only fair,” she responded, a goofy smile tilting her lips.

She unclasped your bra, which was a hell of a lot easier than you attempting to pull her sports bra off, but you made it, now both topless. You leaned in, kissing her long and deep as you pulled the hem of her boxers down over her hips, getting her completely naked. She mirrored the act, and soon enough you were both completely naked, shivering slightly.

“Okay,” you grabbed her hand and faced the water, “on the count of three, we run in.” Out of the corner of your eye you could see her nodding, albeit reluctantly.

“One,” You took a step forward, “two,” you took another one, this time Vi taking it with you, “three!” and then you were running towards the water, Vi right next to you, laughing breathlessly.

“Holy fuck, its cold.” You were now chest deep in the water, the sandy bottom squishing between your toes. Vi was right next to you, grinning ear to ear, and even though it was fucking cold, you couldn’t help but grin right back at her. Sure, this had been your idea to begin with, but as soon as Vi had added it to her list, it had become one of her goals, one of her dreams. And you couldn’t help but feel over the moon about helping her bring it to life.

After a minute or two in the water, the cold wasn’t as noticeable, but it didn’t really matter considering Vi had started kissing you, again, and you had a hard time considering anything else when that happened. Her hands had come up to your face, pulling you deeper into it. You grabbed her waist, pulling her closer, wrapping your arms around her. One of her hands came down to your chest, cupping your breast, fingers gliding over your nipple. You moaned, the sound getting caught by Vi’s mouth. You needed to be closer, were going to die if you didn’t get closer. One of your hands skated all the way down her back and grabbed her ass, pulling her in, causing legs to tangle. It was her turn to moan, a sound you would kill people to hear again and again. Both of you were frantic to get flistfulls of the other. You were lost in it, nothing unusual, but you had to remember you were in a potentially public place. And that was not a kink you wanted to find out you had today.

So with unbelievable effort, you pulled away, the space between you being filled now with hot, panting breaths. “As much as I would love to fuck you in this lake, I’d like to remind you that we are in a semi-public space,” you said.

She sighed. “Alright. And it is pretty fucking cold, isn’t it?” You nodded in response. “And it's getting pretty dark. Better get back to the car,” she reasoned.

“Only if you want to, babe. This was your surprise, I want you to get everything you want out of it,” you countered. You didn’t want to cut her surprise short just because you were cold. If she wanted to stay longer, you would gaslight yourself into believing you couldn’t feel cold. Anything for her.

“Well, considering I’m naked in a lake, I’d consider this a success. And it is getting late, and I’m getting kinda hungry. I think it’s fair to say we can head back to the car now.”

You nodded in response, giving her an acknowledging smile. Hand-in-hand, you walked out of the water, only to be met with the chilly night air. You rushed over to the duffle bag, flung it open, and cocooned yourself in the first towel within reach. Teeth chattering, you watched Vi follow suit, albeit not as frantic.

“We should do this again,” you said between gritted teeth, “when it’s warmer, though.”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m just glad you remembered to bring towels.”

“Oh, I brought a lot more than just towels,” you said, your attempt at cockiness negated by your shivering. “Just wait till you see what else is in the car.”

“Well, now I’m even more excited,” she responded. Vi had been toweling herself dry and was about to get redressed when she surveyed you, still dripping in places and shivering. “Okay, let me help you dry off, since I seem to be more immune to the chill than you.” She gave you a crooked smile, stepping closer and grabbing the edges of your towel.

“Ya, alright,” was all you managed before Vi started patting you down, moving the towel over your arms and belly, then pulling it completely off you to dry your legs. She made sure you were pretty much completely dry before grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head, forfeiting your bra. She grabbed a sweatshirt next, which happened to be the one she had been wearing earlier, but she didn’t seem to mind when she pulled it down over your head.

“I can manage the rest, I think,” you said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. She nodded, then started redressing herself, also forfeiting her bra and eventually pulling on your sweatshirt. Once you both were dressed and adequately warmed up, you shoved the wet towels, dirty socks, and both bras into the duffle bag. And then arm-in-arm, you walked back to the car, giggling as you went.

When the car came into sight, you popped the trunk using the key and watched it slowly rise open. You put the duffle bag down and removed the blanket, revealing a wicker basket, a medium sized cooler, and an extra pile of blankets.

“I figured alongside skinny dipping we could also have a picnic,” you said as you pulled the wicker basket and cooler forward, flipping the top on both to uncover what you had packed. In the basket there were meats, cheeses, crackers, fruit, and veggies, and in the cooler was a bottle of sparkling cider, dip for the veggies, and some ice cream sandwiches you were praying weren’t completely melted yet.

You glanced towards Vi, concerned slightly by her silence, and found her pouting, holding back tears. She scooped you up into a hug, squeezing tight. She was so incredibly thankful, but you knew that if she said it out loud she'd actually start crying, so you just nodded your head, gave her a small, knowing smile, and kissed her on the forehead.

You watched as she took a couple deep breaths and collected her thoughts, then looked around back towards the lake, her eyebrows knitting in concern. Before she could say anything though, you said, “We can eat here, if that's what you're thinking.” She nodded, giving you a knowing smile. You seemed to always be able to read her mind.

Collectively you laid out one of the blankets on the bed of the trunk, turned on the car to blast the heat and provide some toons, and unpacked the food and arranged it between the both of you. You ate, talked, and simply enjoyed each other’s company.

Eventually, though, it came time to pack up, so you reloaded the car, making sure you didn’t leave anything behind, and began the drive back home. With the radio low and a blanket draped across her lap, however, Vi was helpless to the call of sleep, and began softly snoring half way back to the apartment. You watched her out of the corner of your eye, admired how peaceful she looked, and recounted everything that had just happened. You don’t think you had ever seen Vi this happy consecutively ever. This whole list business was going to take some serious effort to complete, but if it was all going to be this fun, all going to make Vi this happy, you’d do it a million times over.

Tip Jar

#vi arcane #vi fanfic #vi x fem reader #vi x reader #lesbian #vi fluff #vi smut #fluff #wlw fanfic #vi arcane fic #arcane x reader #arcane league of lesbians #arcane league of legends

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cailinsblog · 1 day ago

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Caring for You | macklin Celebrini

Macklin celebrini x reader

So for some reason it won’t let me put any of my new story’s to my masterlist so I’m sorry about that🙏🏻🙏🏻

Y/N sniffled miserably from her spot on the couch, bundled up in a mountain of blankets. A box of tissues sat beside her, along with an untouched cup of tea Macklin had made before he left for practice. She felt like a total mess—her nose was red, her throat was sore, and her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

It had started with a tickle in her throat a couple of days ago, but she’d brushed it off. Now, it was a full-blown cold, and all she wanted was to sleep it off and hope Macklin wouldn’t fuss too much when he got home.

But, of course, Macklin did fuss.

The sound of the front door opening pulled Y/N from her groggy haze. Macklin stepped inside, his hockey bag slung over his shoulder and his cheeks still pink from the cold outside. His smile immediately turned into a look of concern when he saw her curled up on the couch, looking pale and tired.

“Y/N?” he asked, dropping his bag by the door and rushing over to her. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

He crouched down beside her, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up! Why didn’t you call me? You should’ve told me you were feeling this bad!”

“It’s just a cold, Mack,” she said, offering a weak smile. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” he repeated, his brows knitting together. “You’re never a bother, Y/N. I don’t care if I’m on the ice or on the moon—you call me if you need anything, okay?”

Before she could protest, Macklin stood up, determination in his eyes. “Alright, first things first. You’re staying right here. I’m going to take care of you.”

“Mack, you really don’t have to��”

“I do have to,” he insisted, already heading toward the kitchen. “You’re my girlfriend, and I’m not letting you suffer alone.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile despite how awful she felt. Macklin was always so thoughtful, and she knew there was no stopping him when he got into caretaker mode.

He returned a few minutes later with a tray holding a fresh cup of tea, a bowl of soup he’d quickly heated up, and a cold compress. “Here we go,” he said, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “Tea to soothe your throat, soup to help you feel better, and this,”—he gently placed the compress on her forehead—“to bring down your fever.”

Y/N reached for the tea, but Macklin beat her to it, carefully holding the cup to her lips. “Let me,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to spill it on yourself.”

She took a small sip, the warmth soothing her scratchy throat. “You’re too good to me, Mack,” she murmured.

“You deserve it,” he said simply, sitting down beside her and tucking the blankets more snugly around her.

The rest of the afternoon passed with Macklin fussing over her like a mother hen. He kept her hydrated, made sure she took her medicine, and even queued up her favorite rom-coms to distract her. At one point, he disappeared into the bedroom and came back wearing his favorite oversized hoodie—the one she always stole.

“What are you doing?” she asked, laughing weakly.

“Sacrificing my hoodie to the cause,” he said dramatically, pulling it off and helping her into it. “This is scientifically proven to make you feel better.”

“You’re such a dork,” she said, her voice thick with affection.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” he replied, kissing her temple.

As the evening wore on, Y/N started to feel a little better, thanks to Macklin’s TLC. He sat beside her on the couch, her head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly stroked her hair.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said softly, looking up at him.

Macklin shook his head, his eyes filled with sincerity. “Y/N, I’ll always take care of you. That’s what you do when you love someone.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she reached up to cup his cheek. “I love you, Mack.”

He smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “I love you more.”

The two of them stayed like that for the rest of the night, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. And while Y/N still had a ways to go before she was fully recovered, she knew she’d never felt more cared for or loved in her life.

#hockey #nhl #nhl x reader #fanfic #macklin celebrini #macklin celebrini x reader #san jose sharks #san jose #nhl imagine #nhl x y/n #nhl x oc #nhl x you #macklin celebrini x oc

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mattsobvimyfav · 2 days ago

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neighbors (Matthew Sturniolo)

pt.5

It was a quiet afternoon in the house. Charlie and I were sprawled out on the couch, each of us scrolling aimlessly through our phones. The soft hum of the ceiling fan filled the silence until Charlie shifted beside me, clearing her throat.

“I’ve been thinking…” she started, her voice hesitant.

I raised an eyebrow, setting my phone down. “Uh-oh. That tone always means trouble.”

She rolled her eyes but grinned. “I’m serious. You know how we’re going to Hawaii next week?”

“Yeah…” I said slowly, unsure of where this was going.

“Well,” she began, her voice softening, “I was thinking it might be nice if I invited the triplets to come with us. You know, so I could spend some time with Chris.”

My stomach twisted at her words, but I kept my expression neutral. “You want them to come on our vacation?”

“Not all of them,” she clarified quickly. “I mean, Nick and Matt could come too if they want, but mostly for Chris and me. We haven’t had much time together, and I thought it could be fun. Plus… I think it might be good for you and Matt to spend some time in the same space without fighting.”

I let out a long sigh, leaning back against the couch. The idea of spending a week with the triplets—especially Matt—wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for a relaxing vacation. But I knew how much Chris meant to Charlie, and the thought of holding her back from that didn’t sit right with me.

“Okay,” I said finally, the word feeling heavy in my chest.

“Wait, really?” Charlie’s face lit up with surprise.

I nodded, forcing a small smile. “If it means that much to you, I’m okay with it. Just… promise me you’ll keep them in check if it gets awkward.”

Charlie practically tackled me in a hug. “You’re the best, you know that? Thank you! I promise it’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

I hugged her back, though my mind was already racing with all the ways this could go horribly wrong. “I hope you’re right.”

As Charlie pulled out her phone to text Chris, her excitement was contagious, and I couldn’t help but feel a small glimmer of hope. Maybe, this vacation wouldn’t be as disastrous as I feared. Or maybe it would. Either way, it was going to be an unforgettable trip.

The morning of the trip started with the shrill sound of my alarm blaring at 6:30 a.m. I groaned, rolling over to see Charlie already sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes. Even though we had our own beds. We loved a good sleepover.

“Vacation time,” she said with a sleepy grin.

I dragged myself out of bed, rummaging through my drawer for something comfortable to wear. I grabbed my black Gymshark sports bra and matching biker shorts and pulled them on. Charlie followed suit, opting for the same set in purple.

“Twins,” I joked, tying my hair into a ponytail.

“Power duo” she replied, slipping on her sneakers.

Once we were ready, we grabbed our suitcases and dragged them into the living room. Chris and Nick were already there, buzzing with energy. Chris was carefully stacking suitcases by the door while Nick paced around, sipping a coffee like he was preparing for battle.

“Finally,” Nick teased when he saw us. “We’ve been up since sunrise.”

“Nick, you woke up at 6:15. You’re not a martyr,” I shot back, rolling my eyes.

Chris couldn’t take his eyes off Charlie as she walked down the stairs. She was wearing the tight purple sports bra and biker shorts, her toned figure making every move she made look effortless.

"Damn, Charlie," he said, voice hushed but heavy with admiration. "You look good, baby. I can barely focus right now... you're making it hard to keep it together."

Charlie smirked, clearly used to his flirtatious comments, but there was a glint in her eye that suggested she wasn’t playing along today. Before she could respond, Nick’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and annoyed.

“Chris, knock it off,” Nick snapped, his eyes narrowing at the two of them. "Some of us are trying to get out of here without you making everything weird."

Chris raised his hands in mock surrender, but the smirk never left his face. "Just saying what we're all thinking," he shrugged, winking at Charlie.

Nick scoffed. “Why don’t you do something helpful for once.”

Chris grinned. “I got this covered. Just point me to the suitcases.”

Charlie and I watched as Chris and Nick carried our bags out to the car. Chris even managed to squeeze in a cheesy, “Anything for our ladies.”

Matt appeared last, already holding car keys in his hand. He looked more awake than any of us, dressed casually in a black t-shirt and sweats. He glanced over at me and Charlie, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before turning his attention to Nick.

“You ready?” Matt asked Nick, his tone clipped. Before Nick could answer, Matt's gaze flicked back to me, scanning my outfit with a raised brow. A sharp scoff left his lips.

"Are you serious right now?" he muttered, shaking his head slightly. "You going out dressed like that?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "What’s wrong with it?" I asked, crossing my arms defensively.

Matt gestured vaguely at my outfit, his tone dripping with judgment. "A sports bra and biker shorts? Come on, Y/N. Cover up or something. You’re not about to walk around like—"

"Like what?" I cut him off, my voice sharp.

"Like a whore," he said flatly, the word dropping into the room like a bomb.

The silence was immediate and suffocating. Charlie and Nick both froze, their heads snapping toward Matt in disbelief. My chest tightened, but before I could say anything, Charlie’s voice rang out.

"Excuse me?" she said, stepping forward, her tone sharp and fiery. "I’m wearing the exact same thing, Matt. So what, am I a whore too?"

Matt hesitated, clearly not expecting her reaction. "Charlie, no, that’s not—"

"Not what?" she demanded, cutting him off. "You don’t get to throw that word around like it’s nothing. Especially not at Y/N. You think this is okay? Fuck you."

Before Matt could stumble through another excuse, Chris, who had been leaning quietly against the wall, pushed off and stepped forward. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"So what, Matt?" Chris said, his voice sharp and cutting. "You think my girl looks like a whore too? Is that what you’re saying?"

Matt’s head snapped toward Chris, his eyebrows furrowing. "No, Chris, I wasn’t—"

"Because she’s wearing the same thing," Chris continued, his tone rising. "You wanna explain to me how you’re fine with Charlie wearing it but not Y/N?"

"I didn’t mean it like that," Matt muttered, his voice faltering. "I wasn’t trying to—"

"No, you meant it exactly like that. You were trying to make Y/N feel like shit." Chris snapped, stepping closer. His protective instincts were on full display now, his voice deadly calm but laced with anger. "You don’t get to talk to either of them like that. Ever. I don’t care who you think you are."

"Chris, I—"

"Apologize," Chris demanded, cutting him off again. "To Y/N. And to Charlie. Right now. And make it good, because I swear to God, Matt, if you ever talk about Charlie—or Y/N—like that again, we’re going to have a real problem."

Matt shifted uncomfortably, clearly realizing he’d crossed a line he couldn’t talk his way out of. "Fine," he muttered, looking at me first. "I’m sorry, Y/N. That was out of line." Then, turning to Charlie, he added, "And I’m sorry, Charlie. I shouldn’t have said that."

Charlie crossed her arms, still glaring at him, but Chris wasn’t done.

"Not good enough," Chris said coldly. "You don’t just apologize when you’re caught being an ass. You need to figure out why you thought saying that was okay in the first place. Fix it. Now."

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, I get it," he muttered, but his tone lacked the venom from earlier.

Charlie glanced at me, her expression softening as she gave me a reassuring nod. Chris stayed close to her, his arm protectively around her waist, and Nick finally exhaled, muttering, "And this is why I stay out of this shit."

“Car’s ready. Let’s go,” Matt said angrily, walking toward the door, leaving everyone behind.

We piled into the car, Chris and Nick crammed in the backseat, while Charlie slid in between them. That left me in the front passenger seat, much to my dismay. I didn’t say a word as Matt adjusted the mirrors and pulled out of the driveway, his expression as neutral as ever.

“Alright, next stop: the airport!” Nick said, holding up his camera filming a travel vlog.

“Just don’t miss the flight,” Chris muttered, leaning back in his seat.

I glanced out the window as the car sped toward the airport, trying to shake off the uneasiness settling in my chest. It was going to be a long week, and this car ride already felt like a marathon.

The airport buzzed with activity as we all stood together near our gate, luggage piled around us. Charlie and Chris were whispering to each other, grinning like schoolkids, while Nick scrolled through his phone. Matt stood a little apart from the group, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“Alright, everyone squeeze in!” Nick suddenly announced, holding up his phone for a picture.

“Nick, what are you doing?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Commemorating this historic moment,” he said with a smirk, motioning for us to line up.

With a dramatic sigh, I shuffled into place between Nick and Charlie, and the rest of them fell in line. From left to right, it was Nick, me, Charlie, Chris, and Matt.

Nick held out his phone, snapping the picture. “Perfect,” he said, typing furiously.

“What are you doing with that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

“Just posting it to my story,” Nick replied casually, lifting his phone to show me the screen.

The photo showed all of us standing together, Nick grinning, me with a smile, Charlie and Chris looking like they’d just stepped out of a rom-com, and Matt… Well, Matt looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The caption read: “Family reunion, but make it complicated. ✈️🌴”

“Nick!” I hissed, snatching for his phone. “Take that down!”

“No way,” he said, holding it out of my reach. “It’s already up. Besides, this is iconic content. People are gonna eat it up.”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “You’re going to start a firestorm with that.”

Charlie laughed, nudging me with her elbow. “Relax, Y/N. Let him have his fun.”

Meanwhile, Matt’s voice cut through the chatter, low and annoyed. “Did you really have to include me in that?”

“It’s a group shot, dumbass,” Nick said nonchalantly, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “You’re part of the group. Are you not?”

Matt muttered something under his breath, but I didn’t catch it. I could feel his eyes on me, though, and I did my best to ignore the weight of his gaze.

As the boarding announcement crackled over the intercom, I grabbed my carry-on, pretending not to notice the notifications already lighting up my phone. Nick was right about one thing—people were definitely going to have opinions about this.

“Here we go,” I muttered to myself, following the group toward the gate. This was going to be a long trip.

Once we were all settled in, I took out my phone, eager to pass the time as the plane took off. Nick was next to me, leaning over to see what I was looking at, and we started scrolling through the comments from the selfie he’d posted earlier. The comments ranged from positive, like “they are all so attractive,” to some not-so-nice ones, “she’s such a slut”

I couldn’t help but laugh at some of the ridiculous comments. “People really think they know me?” I said, shaking my head in amusement.

Nick joined in with a smirk, scrolling through the comments too. “It’s hilarious,” he said, “Like, these people don’t have a clue what’s really going on.”

Matt, who was sitting right next to us, leaned over, glancing at my phone. “Let me get in on this,” he said, reaching for his own phone. Without missing a beat, he held it up, and before I could say anything, he and Nick were already putting their middle fingers up, and I joined in.

“Are we really doing this right now?” I asked, trying to stifle my laugh but failing miserably.

“Hell yeah, we are,” Nick replied, looking way too proud of the ridiculous photo.

Matt quickly posted it to his Instagram story with the caption: “with my favorite “slut.””

I chuckled, shaking my head. “MATT!” I yelled, hitting his shoulder

“You love it, admit it,” Matt teased, already scrolling through the responses.

“I’ll admit you’re insufferable,” I said, laughing along with Nick. Despite everything that had happened in the past, there was something oddly comforting about just laughing it off with them.

As the plane began to soar higher, the comments kept coming in. Some people were still commenting on the tension from our past, but most were just amused by the photo. The mood was light, and for a moment, it felt like everything had returned to some sense of normal.

I glanced over at Matt, catching his eye. “You know, we’re never going to live this one down.”

Matt gave me a playful grin, shrugging. “Who cares? It’s just us, right?”

I nodded, feeling the weight of everything we’d been through slowly lifting. It wasn’t perfect, but right now, it was enough.

The plane touched down smoothly, and after a slightly chaotic retrieval of our luggage, we made our way outside to find the rental car Matt had arranged. The warm air hit me as soon as we stepped out of the airport, a stark contrast to the chill of the plane.

Matt led the way to a sleek black SUV parked nearby, popping the trunk and helping load everyone’s bags. “Alright, different seating this time,” he announced, looking at me with a slight smirk as I slid into the window seat in the back row. Rolling my eyes.

Nick plopped down next to me, tossing his carry-on into the space at his feet, while Matt climbed into the driver’s seat. Up front, Chris took shotgun, and Charlie sat behind him.

“Are we there yet?” Nick joked as soon as we pulled out of the lot, and I rolled my eyes, laughing.

“You’re like a five-year-old,” I teased.

The ride to the Airbnb wasn’t long, but everyone was buzzing with energy. Charlie was scrolling through TikTok, while Chris peppered Matt with questions about the house. Nick and I quietly plotted content ideas, already thinking about how we could document this trip for the vlog.

When we finally arrived, the sight of the Airbnb took my breath away. It was massive—practically a mansion—with sleek modern architecture and large windows that reflected the glow of the late afternoon sun.

As we stood in the massive living room of the Airbnb, everyone was still buzzing about the place. Charlie flopped onto the plush couch dramatically, her arms stretched wide.

“This place is insane,” she said, taking it all in.

Chris looked over at her, smirking. “Shotgun the master bedroom.” He darted for the stairs, Charlie hot on his heels.

“Unfair!” Nick yelled, dropping his bag and sprinting after them.

Matt, still standing by the kitchen counter, let out a loud, commanding voice. “Uh, no. Everyone stop.”

We all froze and turned to look at him.

“I paid for this place, so I’m getting the master,” Matt said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Chris and Charlie exchanged a look at the top of the stairs. “That’s not fair! We’re the only two sharing a bed! We deserve it!!!” Charlie called down.

“Fair doesn’t matter when I’m footing the bill,” Matt shot back, his tone final.

Nick, halfway up the staircase, groaned dramatically and turned to trudge back down. “Fine. But I’m calling the second-best room.”

“Y/N and I are neighbors,” Nick added, shooting me a grin as we headed upstairs to claim our rooms.

Charlie sighed as she came back downstairs with Chris. “I guess we’ll take the next-best room,” she muttered, leaning into Chris as they headed toward the third bedroom.

I walked into mine, dropping my suitcase onto the bed and glancing out the window at the pool. It was cozy and had a great view of the backyard, so I didn’t really mind not getting the master.

Once we were all settled, we gathered in the living room again. Charlie plopped back onto the couch, giving Matt a side-eye. “Still not fair,” she muttered under her breath.

“I don’t care,” Matt replied flatly, scrolling on his phone.

“Alright, who’s hungry?” Chris asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“We can either cook or go out,” Nick offered, glancing at me for input.

“Out,” I said immediately.

“Agreed,” Nick chimed in.

“Not happening,” Matt interjected. “I’m getting a home-cooked meal in this place I paid for.”

“Are you serious?” Charlie asked, sitting up.

“Dead serious.” Matt’s tone left no room for argument. “We can go out and drink after”

With a collective groan, we all accepted our fate and headed for the kitchen, rummaging through groceries we’d picked up earlier. It wasn’t how I thought the first night would go, but as Nick and I started chopping vegetables while Charlie and Chris argued over seasoning, I couldn’t help but laugh.

After dinner, I went back to my room to get ready. The thought of going to a bar on the water felt like the perfect way to kick off this trip.

I sifted through my suitcase, eventually deciding on a wine red bikini and a tan knitted cover-up skirt that tied at the side. It was revealing but cute—exactly the vibe I wanted for the night. I slipped on my sandals and gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror before stepping out of my room.

By the time I reached the living room, Charlie was already ready, wearing a flowy white skirt over her yellow bikini, and Nick was complaining about Chris taking too long in the bathroom.

“Y/N, you’re a lifesaver. Tell Chris to hurry up before the Uber cancels,” Nick whined, looking dramatically annoyed.

“Chris, let’s go!” I yelled up the stairs, grateful for the distraction from my thoughts.

“Coming!” Chris called back.

Charlie glanced at me, smirking as she adjusted the strap of her bikini. “Cute swimsuit. Matt see it yet?”

I rolled my eyes, feeling the familiar heat rise in my cheeks. “It’s not like that.”

She laughed, clearly unconvinced, and grabbed her phone. “You say that now.”

The sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs, and we turned to see Chris coming down in matching yellow swim trunks, perfectly coordinated with Charlie’s bikini. He looked effortlessly confident, his grin widening when his eyes landed on her.

“I’m ready!” he sang, pulling her closer the moment he reached her. He took a moment to blatantly admire her, then smirked. “Damn, you look good. Like, really good, baby.”

“Chris,” Charlie said, rolling her eyes, though a small blush crept up her cheeks.

Chris wasn’t done. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he leaned down to murmur something that made her giggle, before he gave her a playful smack on the ass. “Let’s head out. I don’t want to waste any more time when I could be showing off my girl.”

Matt appeared next, holding his car keys and wearing... the same red colored swim trunks as my bikini. My stomach dropped the moment I noticed, and judging by the way his eyes briefly scanned me with a smirk tugging at his lips, he noticed too.

"Matching suits?" Chris teased, breaking into a laugh as he glanced between me and Matt. "Aw, how cute. You wanna be us so bad. Was this planned?"

"It’s not," I snapped quickly, my cheeks burning.

Matt, on the other hand, seemed unbothered. “Great minds think alike, I guess,” he said casually, his tone light but his eyes lingering on me for just a moment too long.

Charlie raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead nudging Chris toward the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

The Uber was waiting outside, and we all piled in—Nick in the passenger seat, Chris and Charlie in the back together, leaving me to slide into the last seat beside Matt. I tensed as his arm brushed mine, his presence feeling suddenly overwhelming.

As the car started moving, I tried to focus on the passing scenery, but my thoughts scattered when I felt Matt’s hand rest lightly on my upper thigh. My body went rigid, my eyes snapping to his hand.

“What are you doing?” I hissed quietly, my voice low enough that the others wouldn’t hear.

Matt met my gaze, his expression unreadable but oddly calm. “Relax,” he murmured, leaning slightly closer. “I’m just trying to apologize for what happened earlier. You know I didn’t mean anything by it, right?”

"Matt," I started, but my voice faltered as his thumb began tracing slow circles against my skin. There was something so casual yet deliberate about the way he touched me, like he knew exactly how it would mess with my head.

"You know," he said softly, his tone low and smooth, "This color looks really good on you."

I swallowed hard, trying to come up with a response, but my brain felt scrambled. My heart was pounding, and I was hyper-aware of every small movement he made. His hand crept just a fraction higher, and my breath hitched.

“Matt, stop,” I whispered, though my voice lacked conviction.

He smirked, his gaze flicking down to where his hand rested. “Do you really want me to, sweetheart?” He murmured softly, the old name slipping from his lips, sending a shiver through me at the sound of the nickname he once called me.

I was about to say something—anything—but the car suddenly stopped, jolting me back to reality. “Here,” Nick announced, opening the door and climbing out.

Matt leaned back slightly, his hand finally leaving my thigh, though his eyes lingered on me for a moment longer.

I sat frozen for a moment, my thoughts spinning. Whatever this was between us, it was crossing into dangerous territory—and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

tag-

@tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @sturnsvelocity @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend

#nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #neighbor

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aylacavebear · 2 days ago

Text

Watermelon Crawl

You knew Dean didn’t like country music. The man had a love affair with the same five cassettes that he played on repeat any time he was in his Baby. If he wasn’t listening to one of those, he was hunting for a classic rock station on the radio. You knew the rules, Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. You knew the rules, but that didn’t stop you from attempting to listen to other stuff. Pushing Dean’s boundaries wasn’t the smartest idea, and he always gave you that glare whenever you tried. There were rare occasions when Sam would drive and let you fiddle with the radio, but it was only the two of you, so to you, it didn’t count.

Dean x OCF Reader/You

Word Count: 5777

Warnings: Angst, Longing, Fluff, Reader Insecurities, Dean being Dean.

----------------------------------------- A few times, you had tried to talk to Dean about other music, but he would just hold his hand up to stop you, not even looking at you. It was his way of ending the conversation without it ever getting started. You even tried playing music in your room, extra loud so he could hear it. His response, he’d go into his room, put his headphones in, and turn on his music. Half the time, he left the door open, just so he could smirk at you that he couldn’t hear your music over his, making sure to mouth the words to you. The other half of the time, he’d just smirk when he did that.

It was infuriating and had been going on for nearly six months now, and you were somewhat dumbfounded about how to get him to listen to at least one song. His argument was that country music was depressing and slow. The whole ‘tear in my beer’ sort of bias about it. Sam found your insistence and Dean’s instant shut-down somewhat amusing the longer it went on.

Now, the three of you were sitting in a bar after a case. It’d been successful, and this time, the three of you hadn’t had the crap beat out of you. So, it was time to celebrate. However, the moment the three of you had entered, you smiled but Dean was instantly in a sour mood.

“Hope the whiskey isn’t as crappy as the music,” Dean grumbled as he slid onto one of the barstools.

You just frowned. Why does he have to be so damned stubborn? And, as you slid onto your barstool next to him, your mind began working overtime. You needed to figure out a song that would really get his attention, help him see that country wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. The downside, half the time, you couldn’t remember the name of the song, and the other half of the time, you couldn’t remember the artist. And inbetween that, sometimes all you could remember were certain lyrics to the song.

So, there you were, sitting at the bar and staring at the counter while all sorts of words sped through your mind. You were so lost in thought while trying to place a song with just the three words from the chorus that you didn’t notice the beer that had been set down in front of you, or how both brothers were staring at you.

Dean had ordered, like he typically did. Whiskey for him, and a beer for each you and Sam. Sam had even lifted his beer and said, “To a successful hunt.” But you hadn’t heard, and now both of them were staring at you. Sam had to lean forward so he could see around Dean, though.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asked, slightly concerned at the far-off look in your eyes.

His voice made your head snap up, blinking blankly at him for a moment. “Yeah, I’m okay. I was just lost in thought,” you replied, repeating those three words in your head so you wouldn’t forget them so you could try to remember the song they went to.

Neither of the brothers were sure they should believe you. “You sure?” Sam asked, just as concerned as Dean.

“Yeah. I was just lost in thought,” you repeated, still repeating those three words in your head, wishing they’d let you get back to the conundrum in your mind.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, a silent but concerned conversation passing between them before Sam held his beer up again, “It was a successful hunt, and no one got hurt. To a win.” He smiled a little, but was still concerned with what would have you so lost in thought.

You smiled, raising your beer as Dean raised his whiskey glass. “To a successful hunt,” you repeated happily before your glasses clanked together, and each of you took a drink.

Then, you were right back in your head, mentally cursing at yourself for forgetting those three words you’d been repeating. So, you pulled out your phone, opened your notes app and began typing things out that you could remember. Dean tried to glance over your shoulder, but you moved so he couldn’t see. The brothers watched you as you typed and sipped your beer, concern etched in their features, but you didn’t notice.

Even back at the bunker, you only waved good night over your shoulder as you went to your room, your phone still in hand. Once inside your room, you changed into pajamas, let your hair out of its braid, then plopped onto your bed and continued the list you’d been working on.

The two had stopped halfway through the war room, watching as you walked off. With how you had hidden your phone from them, they would have thought it was due to you talking to a guy, but you hadn’t dated anyone since you had started hunting with them. “What do you think has her so quiet?” Sam asked, still staring toward the hallways where you disappeared down.

Dean stood there, just like Sam, staring down the hallway. He’d been trying to figure that very thing out since back at the bar. “Well, it’s not the case. And she’s not dating anyone, so it’s not a guy. I honestly don’t know.”

For a moment, Sam tried to put the pieces together but was still clueless. “Maybe she’ll be up for talking tomorrow,” he offered before finally heading to his room for the night.

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean murmured before following Sam, both ready to finally get some much-needed rest.

—---------------------

Over the next several months, while not on cases, you spent your time making a list of country songs that were upbeat, suggestive, or just plain fun. It was a decent list, and you were quite proud of yourself. Now the question was, which song would you use to try to get Dean into country music?

The brothers had tried to talk to you, find out what had you so completely focused on, but you brushed them off. You could tell they were worried. However, you weren’t ready at the time to tell either of them what you’d been up to. You knew Dean would have instantly shot you down, and Sam would have lost it laughing.

“I’m going for a supply run,” Dean stated, getting up from his seat in the library, but you didn’t respond, concerning him further.

Sam glanced over at you; your entire focus was on your laptop in front of you. You’d turned it slightly so neither could just look over to see what you were up to. “Kitten, you gonna go with him?” Sam asked, concerned. You always went on supply runs so you could get a sweet at the store.

You looked up, a little puzzled, only having half heard both of them. “No. I’m good,” you replied plainly before returning your focus to the screen in front of you.

Dean and Sam exchanged another worried look, then they both looked at you, trying desperately to figure out what the hell you were so focused on. “But, you always go on supply runs,” Sam pointed out, this time, you heard his concern and met his gaze.

“I just really need to work on this. You know that if I walk away from it mid-focus, I’ll forget where I was at, and it’ll take me an hour to figure it out,” you told them apologetically, hoping they’d both understand.

It was true, and they both knew it. Just one of your weird little quirks that they both found cute some times, and annoying other times. “Do you want me to grab you anything?” Dean asked, a little dejected that you weren’t going with him. He loved it when it was just the two of you, but he’d never admit that to you or Sam.

“Pie?” you asked, already back to what you’d been doing.

Dean sighed as his shoulders slumped a little. You missed how his lips slowly turned downward before he walked off to the garage. Sam watched him go, then listened as the Impala drove away. “Alright, spill,” he told you bluntly, his gaze now on you.

Slowly, you lifted your head and looked at him over your laptop. Being short was a bit of a perk, since, right now, all he could see was from the bridge of your nose and above. “Promise not to tell Dean?” you asked apprehensively.

Sam’s brow raised in curiosity. “Depends on what it is.”

“Nothing bad,” you replied.

“Then I can promise not to tell him,” he told you, sitting up a little more as he leaned on the table.

You looked down at the screen, then back up at Sam. “I’m trying to find a country song that would get Dean to at least listen to the song,” you began explaining, then got a little quiet. “...and maybe even like it.”

Sam stared at you, blinking blankly for a moment before he erupted in laughter. You instantly deadpanned, leaned back in your chair, and crossed your arms while attempting to wait patiently till he stopped laughing.

His hand was now over his chest, attempting to catch his breath. What you were attempting sounded utterly absurd to him; Dean, liking county music. The thought alone made him laugh again. Sam’s eyes teared up the longer his laughter lasted, only annoying you.

“I was serious, Sam,” you told him bluntly when his laughter died down enough that he’d hear you.

He instantly froze, mostly from surprise. You were serious. Sam cleared his throat, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “Okay,” he replied, drawing the word out a little, trying to get you to elaborate.

Sam was like a brother to you, and since he seemed interested, you perked up, getting a little excited to tell him about your ‘plan.’ “So, I have been making a list of all the country songs that are upbeat, suggestive, and just plain fun. I want to pick one from the list and learn the dance to it. Then, now with your help, set it up so that Dean can’t get out of not only hearing the song but also seeing the dance and how much fun country music really can be,” you explained quite excitedly.

He wasn’t sure how to react to what you’d said. The mere thought of Dean staying in any place for the length of a country song sounded impossible. Although he’d seen the way Dean would watch you when you’d walk away or when you had your nose stuck in a book helping them with research, so he thought your idea might just work. Sam moved from across the table to the seat next to you. “Alright, I don’t know much about country music, but I’ll try to help,” he offered with a genuine smile, bringing a smile to your lips that went all the way to your eyes.

You then began emphatically showing him the playlist you had made on youtube of the songs, then on the dances for each one. Sam watched intently. You’d done your research, but that was something you had always been good at. Luckily for the two of you, Dean took his time on the supply run, half-lost in his thoughts about what was going on with you.

“Watermelon Craw, definitely,” Sam chuckled after watching the dance for it.

Looking over at him, you tilted your head a bit, “Why that one?”

“Well, I just think it’s the best one to get him thinking a bit more about country music,” he replied, stifling a knowing smile that was toying with his lips.

You looked from him back to the laptop. It wasn’t a difficult dance. “Okay. But you gotta help me figure out how to set it up so that Dean will stay put long enough for the whole song.” “I can do that. You just focus on learning the moves, Kitten,” Sam chuckled, already devising a plan.

By the time Dean got back, Sam was in the library alone. “Gonna help unload?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Sam replied, getting up from his seat. “Y/N! Come help unload,” he hollered, already heading toward the garage.

“So, you find out what’s been up with her?” Dean asked quietly as they grabbed bags out of the Impala.

Sam loaded several bags into his hands, “Yeah. She’s working on something for you. It means a lot to her. So, don’t be a dick when she goes to show you.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, you were working on something, for him? “I think I can do that,” he replied fairly nonchalantly, grabbing several more bags. At least she’s not upset. Whether he would admit it or not, he’d been worried about you since that night at the bar.

That was about when you finally showed up in the garage, wearing your typical pair of jeans and some random shirt with a flannel pulled over it. With how big the two of them were, you had to wait till they moved before you could grab anything. Dean gave you a gentle smile before he and Sam headed to the kitchen.

You were just as stubborn as they were when it came to trips back and forth to the car, so loaded up with almost as many bags as they had grabbed before joining them. Dean watched you as you began putting things away. If he was being honest with himself, you hadn’t looked upset over the last month, just… focused, and perhaps even determined. Now, though, you looked relaxed.

He wanted to ask you about whatever this thing was you were working on for him, but with how Sam had told him, he couldn’t. Clearly, whatever it was, you wanted to surprise him with it. Dean loved watching you when you were relaxed like this. You typically had a small smile on your lips and a softness in your eyes, no matter what task you were doing.

Sam, clearing his throat, quickly pulled Dean’s attention. He’d been staring too long again, and again, Sam had caught him. Dean gave him the ‘don’t say a word’ look while Sam just smiled and shook his head in amusement. You were oblivious to it, though. Your focus was on organizing the spices since Dean had remembered to grab the ones that were low.

—---------------------------

You spent all your free time in your room over the next four months practicing the moves for the song. Well, most of your free time. You still hung out with the brothers, having movie nights or goofy drinking games. When you were finally ready to put your ‘plan’ into action, you let Sam know. He had even covered for you to grab the couple of things for the outfit that you didn’t own.

Now, you were standing in front of your mirror, feeling like you looked ridiculous. Typically, you never wore shorts unless they were bed shorts, and even in those, you never left your room in them. You owned shorts, you had just never worn them in front of either of the brothers. The ones you were currently wearing were jean cut-offs, easily resembling daisy dukes. Then there was the top, a red and white plaid button-up that tied so it was more of a half-top with short sleeves. It wasn’t that it looked bad or anything; it just showed off your mid-drift, and your belly-button piercing. That was also something neither of the brothers knew about. This particular one was a skull and crossbones.

The hat was a nice, plain brown cowboy hat to match the knee-high cowboy boots. You’d left your hair down, but it didn’t seem functional. So, you thought about how a girl would have her hair if she was doing things on a farm or ranch, even if she was wearing a hat. With that, you set the hat on your bed and put your hair up in a braid before returning the hat to your head.

Well, it looks better, at least.

It wasn’t that your goal was to seduce Dean or anything like that. Yeah, you liked him, far more than you’d admit. But he was a hunter, and you weren’t human. So you had completely pushed any idea of anything with him out of your mind.

I still look stupid.

You never dressed like this, ever. Then again, you really wanted Dean to see that some country music was fun and not all of it was the ‘tear in your beer’ sort of music. You hadn’t even let Sam see what you were wearing. The last thing you wanted to hear was him teasing you. With a determined breath, you pulled out your phone and sent a text to Sam. “I’m ready.”

“I’ll text you when I’m outside.”

Less than ten minutes later, your phone buzzed again with another message from Sam.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” One more glance in the mirror, then you sent a text to Dean. “Can you meet me in the library? I want to share something with you.”

Dean had been relaxing in his room for most of the morning, and now Sam was gone on a supply run, and you’d basically locked yourself in your room for the last nearly hour. So, when his phone went off with your notification sound, he picked it up, curious and puzzled. That only got worse after he read your text.

“Sure.”

He closed his laptop and headed out of his room while you listened at your door to his boots as they went down the hallway. When he rounded the corner into the library, it was empty, save for a note sitting on the closest table. Please just give me three minutes of your time, and if you still hate it, I’ll never ask again.

Y/N Now, he was really puzzled, but before he had any time to contemplate what the note meant, he heard a familiar tune coming from the war room. It was a tune he’d heard you listen to before. Dean hadn’t even noticed that your speaker had been placed on the table. He did hear your steps in the hallway, getting louder the closer you got.

He knew how much you enjoyed an array of music, and you always wanted to share it with him and Sam. Most times, he wasn’t in the mood. That was typically due to your timing on the matter. At the bunker, he just loved messing with you. Half the time when you’d turn your music on, he’d put his headphones in but wouldn’t turn on his music so he could hear yours and watch you dance around your room. He just couldn’t tell you that.

Typically, you wore your shoes or went around in socks. The sound he heard from your footsteps was neither of those, and he couldn’t pull his gaze from the hallway. The moment you came into view, he swallowed hard before his mouth went completely dry. You never showed skin, like, ever. His arms were crossed, an unreadable expression on his face as you entered the war room, your steps on par with the beat of the song. Then, you began dancing, your eyes on Dean the whole time. You were a little self-conscious as your thighs jiggled a little as you moved, but you tried to focus more on the moves and not that. Technically, the song was a line dance, but you had added your own flare to it, along with doing the “watermelon crawl” mentioned in the song.

Dean looked you up and down, slowly, and the thoughts that began playing through his mind were far more detailed than anything his imagination had come up with before. The way your thighs jiggled had him wanting to knead your flesh or burry his face between them and make them jiggle for an entirely different reason.

When the band started playin' The watermelon queen said “Let me show you somethin’ That you ain’t never seen” She grabbed me by the arm said “Come on let's go” She dipped down, spun around, and do-si-doed She rocked back on her heels Dropped down to her knees Crawled across the floor Then she jumped back on her feet She wiggled and she jiggled Beat all you ever saw Said this is how you do The Watermelon crawl

Thankfully, the music was loud, or you would have heard the groan that made it past his lips when you did everything in the song except grab him by the arm. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. It was when you jumped back on your feet that the light in the library bounced off your belly button piercing that made his lips part slightly.

When the song came to an end, you were standing at the foot of the stairs in the war room. Your breathing was a little heavy from the exertion of dancing, but you had a small smile on your lips. It quickly faded when you looked over at Dean. He hadn’t moved a single muscle.

He couldn’t move. It was taking every ounce of self-control he had not to pin you against the wall before carrying you to his bed. “Done?” he asked, far gruffer than he meant to, and he instantly regretted it when he saw your expression fall further.

A sad sigh slipped out your nose as your lips formed a small pout, “Yeah,” you mumbled. Then you turned, head dipping a bit, grabbed your speaker, and went to your room.

The moment you were out of sight, Dean set his hands on the library table, using it as balance as he attempted to fight with his throbbing cock. I swear, that woman has no idea what she does to me. He took several slow, deep breaths, trying to shake the images of you dancing from his mind. I’m never going to be able to even hear that song again without thinking of her.

Once in your room, you changed into comfy sweats and a slightly baggy shirt, then plopped down on your bed. “You can come back in Sam. I’m done.”

“How’d it go?” he texted right back since he was only sitting outside the bunker.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Sam was instantly concerned, pocketing his phone and making his way into the bunker. He found Dean, still in the same position, leaning on the table, his breathing still a little heavy and clearly lost in thought.

“Dude, you okay?” Sam asked, now a little worried about his brother too.

Dean’s head snapped up, not expecting his brother to show up so quickly. “Yeah, I’m good,” he lied, his voice that octave deeper.

“Funny. You don’t look so good,” Sam told him, daring to take a few more steps closer.

Dean sighed, then leaned his back against the table. “She got to me, alright. You could have at least given me a heads up as to what she was going to wear.” Sam furrowed his brow, a little confused. “She didn’t even show me what she was going to wear.”

“Did you know she has a skull and cross bones belly button piercing?” Dean mused as a smile began tugging at the corner of his lips.

That was when Sam chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Nope. You need to talk to her, though. She thinks you’re mad at her,” he explained. Even if you hadn’t said it, it was clear to Sam how you were feeling.

“And what the hell am I supposed to say to her?” Dean asked, almost reluctant to ask.

“Tell her the truth,” Sam suggested gently, knowing how long his brother had been attempting to hide his feelings for you.

Dean hung his head. The last thing he wanted you to believe was that he was mad at you. He glanced at the hallway, then took a deep breath before heading in that direction. Sam wished him good luck before he took those couple of steps down into the war room.

The closer he got to your room, the faster his heart sped up and the more the butterflies danced around in his stomach. Dean was never good with words. Well, he wasn’t good with these sorts of words, but for you, he’d at least try.

The hesitant knock on your door pulled your attention from your laptop, but you went over and opened it anyway. You figured it would have been Sam to come console you and get you to talk about how it had gone. You were not prepared to see Dean standing there, looking… nervous.

He couldn’t quite meet your eyes, knowing how dejected you had looked when you walked away earlier. “I’m sorry, about… earlier,” he told you, quieter than you were used to hearing him.

You looked up at him, a little puzzled, even if you were still feeling dejected. “Why? I know you don’t like country music. It’s my fault for pushing you,” you told him, doing your best to keep your emotions out of your words. You really didn’t want his pity.

His eyes instantly met yours. “No. Don’t do that. It’s not your fault. And you didn’t push me, so don’t go thinking like that,” he told you, a little sterner than he meant to. Then, he let out a sigh as he ran a hand down his face.

“Can I come in?” he asked, the guilt that had been weighing him down slipped into his words.

You weren’t sure what he was trying to get at, but you moved to let him in anyway. He was still your friend, after all. You sat down near your headboard again while he took a seat at the foot of your bed, his gaze on the floor while his arms rested on his thighs.

“I’m sorry, for not saying anything earlier. I honestly didn’t know what to say,” he began, still unsure how to tell you what was going through his head or how he felt. Dean could tell you were watching him. Probably even tilting your head like a curious cat, which he always found adorable.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and racing heart. “It was amazing. You were amazing,” he finally told you, quietly breaking the silence that was driving you crazy with worry. “I’ve never seen you dance before,” he admitted in almost a whisper. “Why did you go through all that?”

You bit your bottom lip, thankful he wasn’t looking at you, or he would have seen the blush on your cheeks from his compliment. “I just wanted you to see that country music wasn’t all depressing like you kept saying it was,” you admitted in a nervous, almost whisper, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

When he chuckled, and that smile found his lips, you smiled, too. You couldn’t help it. His smile always made you smile in return, even if it wasn’t always directed at you. It was when he turned to meet your gaze that your breath hitched in your chest, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

He still wasn’t entirely sure when it had happened, but he knew he couldn’t deny it anymore. He just couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it yet. There were the times he’d caught you watching him, a look in your eyes that took his breath away and scared the hell out of him. But now, you looked almost worried about what he would say.

“Sometimes, when you’d turn on your music and I would put my headphones on, I didn’t always turn my music on. Sometimes, I listened to what you were,” he admitted a little sheepishly, shifting a little so he was facing you more.

The surprise on your face brought a smile to his lips, so he continued. “I do like some of the songs, and not just from the country ones you would play. I’ll never be able to listen to that one you danced to and hear it the same way again, though,” he chuckled a little, thinking about how you moved. “I’m gonna see you dancing to it in my head. I loved that, by the way,” he added gently but sincerely.

Your expression instantly brightened, even if a deep blush found your cheeks, but before you could say anything about how happy you were, he spoke again.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a piercing? It’s cute,” he told you, that devilishly hot smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

The blush on your cheeks went deeper as you ducked your head and averted his eyes, instantly flustered from head to toe. It was when you felt his hand over yours as you fidgeted with your shirt that pulled your gaze back to his.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he asked, but this time it was genuine concern. You talked to him about everything, or so he thought.

Your eyes fell to his hand over yours, trying not to frown. “A lot,” you mumbled. Then you felt him shift on the bed so that he was closer to you before he gently lifted your chin so he could look into your eyes.

“Talk to me, Kitten, please,” he asked softly, but he hadn’t moved away, and it made your heart flutter a little.

“I felt stupid, wearing that outfit and dancing. My thighs were jiggly, and I just felt exposed. I wasn’t trying to make you think about me. I just wanted you to see that country music wasn’t all depressing,” you confessed quietly but had averted your eyes from his before you had even started talking. Then, after a few moments of silence, “...and I never mentioned my piercing cause I thought you’d think it was stupid,” you mumbled.

Dean sighed, hearing the vulnerability in your voice broke his heart. You were one of the most confident people he knew, even if you weren’t human. “Listen,” he began sincerely, then dipped his head so he was looking into your eyes. “You’re beautiful, even if you don’t see it.”

“Not pretty enough,” you mumbled.

His look went from sincere to utterly serious. So that’s why she always wears things that cover her curves. The lightbulb finally came on for him. He knew he was going to have to say things he’d kept to himself for far too long, apparently.

“Kitten, listen,” he began, and the gentleness of his tone pulled your gaze to him again. “I know I’m risking everything here, but it’s damn time you knew. You really are beautiful. I’m always thinking about you, wondering what you’d look like in something a little more… form fitting. Those shorts of yours…” That smirk found his lips before he bit his bottom one, and he practically purred at the thought of them on you.

“I’d love to see you in them again,” he told you with the smirk that said far more than you wanted to think about. Mostly because you always told yourself you imagined him looking at you. “...I love them, and you look amazing in them.” He watched the blush in your cheeks go a shade darker, and to him, it was the most adorable thing he’d seen, other than your curious cat look. “I’m not good with talking about emotions. Can… can I show you what you mean to me?” he asked gingerly, knowing he was risking everything if you didn’t feel the same way.

Your heart was pounding so loudly that you swore he could hear it. Then it was like all the air had been sucked from your lungs, and you couldn’t take a deep breath. You swore the butterflies in your stomach were doing some sort of rave, and the look in his eyes made you swallow hard. Literally, all you could do was nod.

Dean looked from your eyes to your lips, which were slightly parted, then back to your eyes before he slowly closed the distance. His finger and thumb were still gently holding your chin so you could pull away if you really wanted to. His other hand was still over both of yours in your lap. The moment he saw you close your eyes, his lips met yours, and it was better than anything his fantasies had come up with.

The way he kissed you had you thinking all sorts of things. It was slow, intimate, and you prayed your heart wouldn’t explode with as hard as it was beating. Does he really feel the same? It was the only thought that kept running on repeat as your lips moved with his. For a few moments, it was hard to fully relax, let the moment flow.

Dean could feel how tense you were, so he went slow, only wanting to show you what he couldn’t tell you. He wasn’t ready to usher those three little words into existence. Slowly, he shifted closer to you, his lips in a slow dance with yours. His hand glided across your skin from your chin to your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you close.

You allowed yourself to lean into his touch, feel what he couldn’t tell you in words, and by doing so, your fingers laced themselves with his in your lap. The moment stretched on, the tenderness of everything that was him, soothed your worry, your insecurities, and the doubt that always clouded your mind.

When he did pull away, he rested his forehead against yours, still holding you close, trying to catch his breath. “You really are amazing,” he whispered tenderly, a soft, genuine smile on his face.

It made you smile a little as you looked into his eyes, seeing something there that had your breath hitching again. He does feel the same way. “So are you,” you whispered.

Both of you knew things would change. The lives you lived were hard, but it was moments like this that you both secretly vowed to have as many of as possible. To be each other’s rock while also being that soft, loving safe space that would bring peace to the other’s soul. You knew Dean had his faults, but you had yours. It wasn’t going to be perfect, but it was going to be something you’d put your all into, as would he, and neither of you needed to speak those words to each other to know that.

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