#shaw imagine

[imagineanime2022]

What Are You Afraid Of?

Shaw X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1446

A/N: This was not requested but I really wanted to write this, also if says fem at the top but I'm not sure that there is anything that is inherently female about the reader so do with that what you will.

You and Shaw had been friends for years, you had met on the first day of Uni and hit it off, you were definitely closer than friends would normally be and your friends definitely noticed that was where the problem started.

It was at lunch one day you were sending a quick text to Shaw to tell him that you had gotten to lunch okay, he was weirdly adamant about it. “You texting skater boy again?” Jess, your friend, asked. “Huh?” You asked. “Shaw.” Hannah supplied. “Oh yeah, he just wanted to make sure that I got here okay.” You answered. “How did he know you were coming?” She asked. “We were at his last night gaming, I ended up staying.” You answered. “Wait, you stayed at his place?” Jess asked. “Yes.” You answered, the conversation was interrupted by the waiter coming over to take out orders, you thought that it was over but the moment that the waiter walked away, your friends pulled your attention back to them. “You're wearing different clothes, so you have clothes at his place?” Jess asked. “Just from staying there a few times.” You answered. “Has he stayed at your place?” Hannah asked. “Yes.” You answered. “But you're not together?” Jess asked. “No. We’re friends.” You answered. “Yeah friends.” She nodded. You looked at her and waited, you knew that something was coming. “What Jess?” You prompted when you finally got sick of the silence. “I’m just saying, you stay at each others houses, you go on dates-” “We play games together.” You corrected. “And he makes sure that you're okay all the time. Have you ever noticed that if you need anything he’s the first person to offer you help?” She explained. “He’s just being helpful.” You argued. “He doesn’t help anyone. Shaw hates helping anyone who isn’t you.” Hannah said. “Can we talk about something else?” You asked.

You sighed as you opened the door to your apartment, kicked off your shoes and walked towards the living room where you sat on the sofa, your eyes catching on the hoodie that Shaw had left there the last time that he had been around, you meant to take it back to him yesterday. Your phone rang a few minutes after and you didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was “Hello?” You asked. “Are you home?” Shaw asked. “Yeah, why?” You asked. “Just making sure… What’s wrong with you?” He asked. “Huh?” You grunted. “You sound tired.” He answered. “Gee thanks.” You mumbled as you shuffled so that you were laying across the couch. “Did something happen?” He took on a concerned tone as he seemed to be moving around. “No nothing, are you out?” You asked. “Hm oh yeah, just running a few errands.” He answered. “Oh, why don’t you call me when you get home then, we can talk then.” You answered, you could hear that he was going to say something else but you hung up before he could say anything else.

Jess and Hannah had started you thinking about everything that had been happening with Shaw, as it stood you thought that you were happy with the friendship but the truth is, you liked Shaw a lot more than that. You had never had anything like this before and there had never been a relationship built on love in your life that had been right. Your father had left when you were young and while you were sure that your Mum loved you she was never very good at it and when you turned 18 she became more focused on finding a boyfriend for herself, which was probably the reason that you found yourself in Uni in the first place. Either way the events in your life made it hard to trust anyone who claimed to love you. This lead back to Shaw, the fear that travelled through you at even the thought of someone loving you was indescribable. You didn’t want this to ruin what you had, you knew that you needed to get yourself together before you had to see him again, because after all of this he might not even think of you that way.

You don’t even remember falling asleep, but you were woken up by knocking at your door, you looked at the clock, 19:30. You walked to the door and opened it “There she is.” Shaw smirked as he leaned forward on the door frame, his eyes travelling over you before stopping on your face. “Have you been crying?” “No.” You answered frowning as you touched your face, you don’t remember crying and by now your face is dry but if he had asked it must have looked like you had been. “What’s going on with you?” He asked. “Nothing.” You answered. “Well I know that’s not true because you haven’t invited me in yet.” He smirked, you stepped to the side allowing him into the house, it was then that you realised the bag in his hands, your favourite take out place. “You bought food?” You asked. “Well I don’t intend on leaving until you tell me what’s going on.” He shrugged. “Nothing is going on!” You answered a little more defensively. “Uh huh.” He grunted as he looked through your cupboards grabbing plates and cups and putting them on the table. “What the hell is your problem?” You asked. “There’s nothing wrong with me, there is however something wrong with you.” He answered as he finally turned to look at you, no hint of a smile or smirk, no cocky tone or sarcasm. “I don’t know what to tell you…” You answered softly, he slowly moved towards you, closing the distance. “Tell me the truth.” He said softly, taking your face in his hands, moving it until your eyes connected. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what the truth was.” You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, there was nowhere to go, no way to change the subject, you had to approach it. “Come on, you have to tell me what you're so afraid of.” He pleaded. “I can only protect you from it.” “That’s the problem!” Your hands lifted into the air as you pulled away now pacing the living room “I shouldn’t be afraid of this, I shouldn’t need protection from this!” “From what?” Shaw asked, his voice soft almost as afraid of scaring you out of talking. “Loving you!” You answered, in all honesty saying it out loud made you feel better but the silence that followed made you stop dead in your tracks. “See I knew this would happen, everytime love is involved it ruins everything. Just forget that I said anyth-” as you turned you came face to face with Shaw. “Shut up.” He ordered softly before pressing his lips to yours, pressed forward so hard that you almost stumbled. He was quick to wrap his arm around your waist pulling you into his chest, every part of him was touching you and you didn’t know what to do with your hands. “What are you doing with your hands?” He asked, he only pulled away enough to speak. “I don’t know. Where am I allowed to put them?” You asked, he took your wrists in his hands before pressing them to his chest before moving them up to his shoulders. “You can put them wherever you want.” He said softly “I don’t mind.” “S-stop!” You ordered, forcing yourself to breathe as he chuckled. “Look at me for a second.” He said softly. “I might collapse.” You mumbled, he didn’t even take a second to breath as he lifted you sitting on the sofa settling you to straddle his waist. “This isn’t better.” “Focus.” He ordered, causing you to look back at him “you don’t need protection from this, I promise that I have no intention of hurting you.” “I don’t think anyone ever did.” You answered, you jumped as you felt a small static shock through your waist where his hands rested. “Give me a chance.” He pleaded. “Can we go slow?” You asked. “How slow because that was a pretty good kiss and half your clothes are in your wardrobe.” He smirked. “Shaw!” You whined and he smirked, leaning forward and pressing another kiss to your lips, this one shorter, softer, more loving. “We can go as slow as you want.” He answered. “Thank you.” You mumbled. “Pleasures all mine. Come on their food to eat and then movies to watch.” He squeezed your waist as you stood both heading to the kitchen to eat the food that he’d bought for you both.

Request Here!!

[imaginesforfandom]

Unspoken Connection

Sameen Shaw x Reader

No pronouns used

summary: In the bustling world of espionage and intrigue, a chance encounter sparks an unspoken connection between the enigmatic Sameen Shaw and an unsuspecting reader. As they navigate the complexities of their dangerous profession, they find solace in each other's presence and discover a bond that transcends words. "Unspoken Connection" explores the unspoken understanding between two individuals drawn together by fate in a world filled with secrets and uncertainty.

Unspoken Connection

You walked into the bustling precinct, your heart pounding in your chest as you headed to your desk. It was just another day at work for you, but little did you know, today would be different.

As you settled into your chair, you couldn't help but glance over at the enigmatic Sameen Shaw. She was leaning against her desk, a coffee cup in hand, her expression as stoic as ever. Shaw had always intrigued you with her mysterious aura, and you found yourself stealing glances at her whenever you could.

Today, however, was different. You felt her gaze on you, and when you turned to meet her eyes, a flicker of something unspoken passed between you. It was a momentary connection, a spark that you couldn't explain.

Over the next few weeks, you couldn't shake the feeling that Shaw was watching you, even when you weren't in her line of sight. You tried to focus on your work, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her.

One day, as you were leaving the precinct, you found yourself walking alongside Shaw. It was a rare occurrence, as she usually kept to herself.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound casual. "Do you ever get the feeling that someone's watching you?"

Shaw didn't answer immediately, but after a moment, she spoke in her usual monotone voice. "All the time."

You chuckled nervously, not sure if she was being serious or not. "Yeah, it's a weird feeling, isn't it?"

Shaw nodded, and for the first time, you saw a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

From that day on, you and Shaw began to exchange more words, more glances. You discovered that beneath her tough exterior, there was a vulnerability that she rarely showed to anyone else. And she learned that you were someone who could see through her walls.

As your connection deepened, you realized that the unspoken bond you shared with Sameen Shaw was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. It was a connection that transcended words, a silent understanding that brought the two of you closer together.

And in the midst of a world filled with danger and uncertainty, you found solace in each other's presence, knowing that no matter what the future held, you had found a kindred spirit in Sameen Shaw.

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Flirting (And Jealousy)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader, Russell Shaw x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @lacilou. And surprise! For the first time, I'm trying out adding Russell Shaw to the lineup because I thought he'd be an interesting addition for this prompt. 💜

Prompt: How would Dean, Ben & Beau react to either other men flirting with us or them obliviously/cluelessly letting other women flirt with them? And how we would react to them -- like how they'd make it up to us, their excuses, etc.

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would react to someone flirting with you. (And others flirting with them.)

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, oblivious flirting, unwanted advances, jealousy, some toxic masculinity (you know Ben 🙄), but ultimately lots of fluff, and some spice too.~

Dean Winchester

Dean isn't one to get jealous...at first.

He knows you're hot as hell. He pretty much expects guys to try and shoot their shot.

Plus, he's secure enough in his relationship with you to know you wouldn't consciously entertain someone who's flirting with you.

He also knows you're strong enough to take care of yourself, even with a persistent asshole.

However.

The second a man gets into your face or tries to put his hands on you, Dean's stepping in -- either to twist the man's arm nearly out of its socket, or deliver a swift punch between the eyes, or his personal favorite, grabbing the back of the guy's neck and slamming his face onto the counter.

Dean finds the sound of bone breaking against varnished wood, followed closely by the heavy tripping thud of a body to the floor, deeply satisfying.

You heave a sigh. Not because you're all that annoyed at Dean, but because you tried to warn the guy.

Now, Dean knows he used to be...well, a "ladies man," putting it mildly. He's improvised more panty-dropping one-liners than a Magic Mike stripper. His success rate is 9-and-10 (because there's always room for improvement).

He directs all that flirtatious, playful, sexual energy on you. He's fallen for you, committed to you, and once he makes a decision with his heart, Dean Winchester doesn't have an unfaithful bone in his body.

However.

He can't altogether stop women from flirting with him. Like at one of the many diners you, Sam, and Dean stop to eat at after a hunt.

"Let me know if you need anything else, okay?" the waitress says. She brushes her hand up his arm and squeezes his shoulder, giving Dean a too-bright smile that leaves nothing to the imagination (at least to you).

He smiles back at her. "Thanks, sweetheart."

It's like a reflex. He thinks he's being polite. He doesn't even follow the path of her hip-swaying walk with his eyes -- like he certainly would've before he met you.

You still stare at Dean incredulously. When the woman walks away, he smiles at you as if nothing happened. Sam wisely keeps to himself and sips his beer, hiding a smirk.

Dean notices the way your lips are pursed, bitchface activated. "What?" he asks.

You cross your arms. "Really?"

He frowns. "What's the matter?"

"Really. You need me to tell you not to let that woman eye-fucking you to put her hands all over you?" You shake your head. More dryly you add, "Right in front of me, too. I gotta give it to her, she's got brass balls."

Dean is bewildered, but then he replays the moment in his head and realizes that you're right. He kinda fucked up.

He sees the way you're getting all testy, and he has to chuckle.

"Okay. I'm sorry, sweetheart. My bad."

He reaches for your hand and manages to uncross your arms. You're stubborn in your irritation, but Dean is the king of persuasion, giving you teasing, flirty bedroom eyes and waggling brows as he pulls you towards him.

If you're still reluctant to soften, he adds, "Come on, don't be a sourpuss. Come 'ere."

Eventually he breaks you, making you laugh and hit his arm with no real force behind it.

Even Sam shakes his head, seeing how his brother manages to pacify you by sliding his arm around your shoulders across the booth. Dean leans in and kisses along your neck. He inhales your scent and hums in pleasure.

Sam clears his throat. He has to awkwardly look away.

"Gonna forgive me?" Dean asks, his lips moving against your skin. "Though I gotta admit, I kinda like it when you're jealous. All growly and fiesty. Got myself a little tiger."

You roll your eyes, but your lips tug at a smile. Your face warms in a blush, especially as his hand wanders under your jacket and teasingly up your side.

You slip your fingers into his hair, making sure to give a sharp little tug on it for good measure. He just laughs.

Oh, you'll forgive him, but maybe you'll make him do a little more penance when you all get back home.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a jealous man from the onset when a man flirts with you.

His lips purse, his jaw clicks, and he keeps a firm eye on the situation. He doesn't like it.

But to his credit, he tries not to act on it right away, letting you handle it the way you want to.

However, like Dean, the moment someone gets into your personal space or tries to touch you, he's pulling out some Sheriff moves.

If the man grabs at you, Beau's got his arm twisted behind his back so fast, he can almost feel ligaments popping. Beau gives a calm, but firm warning before sending the guy on his way. (He'd like to do more, but the department frowns on excessive violence.)

Maybe part of you gets annoyed at the show of jealousy, but a larger part of you can't help but be turned on when he protects you. You know it's not because he thinks you need protecting, but because he wants to.

"Can't help it, darlin'," he's said. "It's just how I was raised."

But you're the one that bristles when Danielle, a PTA mom at Emily's school, flirts with him. She laughs at his corny jokes with her white teeth and her perfectly layered and coiffed blonde hair.

She even gives him an extra cookie from her offering at the school's bake sale. (She knows what most of this town knows -- that the way to the Sheriff's heart is all too often through his stomach.)

Beau just nods along, smiling polite with that charming grin of his, totally oblivious while he eats. The last straw for you is when she wipes a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

Your mouth falls open in shock. "Are you shitting me?"

You accidentally say it out loud, earning not only your boyfriend's surprised look, but Danielle's guilty one as well. (And some of the kids.)

Blushing in embarrassment, you pivot on your heel and start packing up your supplies for the bake sale.

That's when Beau realizes that he fucked up.

He politely excuses himself from Danielle and goes to help you (wiping the crumbs off his face and licking chocolate off his thumb). He can tell you're feeling more than a little icy towards him, but he tries to make up for it by doing all the heavy lifting, bringing back things to the car, and helping you with the bags before he calls Emily over.

It's a long car ride home, awkward and tense. Emily can tell something's off between you and her dad, but when she asks about it, you claim nothing's wrong.

Beau knows better.

He waits until the three of you get home to the apartment you share with him, and after putting the bake sale stuff away, he follows you into the bedroom.

"Sweetheart--"

"What the hell was that, Beau?" You come in hot with it, and Beau is quick to try and ease your tension with an apology.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Couldn't you see that she was eyeing you like a honey-glazed ham?"

Beau's lips twitch at a grin, but you're not amused. You cross your arms and give him a warning look. That's when he wises up.

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry." He chances taking a few slow steps towards you, raising his brows and keeping his hands up in surrender.

You eye him narrowly, but you let him get close enough to slip his arms around you. He gathers you against his chest and presses a lingering kiss to your cheek.

"I mean it. Won't happen again," he promises. His hands mold to the curve of your waist and squeeze gently. His lips move, burning a sweet path along your jawline, your chin, over the apple of your cheeks, and finally your lips. You breathe into it, and you can't help but cling to the front of his buttoned-down shirt.

"Do me a favor," you say quietly between kisses. "Don't eat Danielle's cookies."

Beau smiles against your lips. "Don't you worry, darlin'. From now on, I'll tell her that I've got some good cookie at home."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Oh, Ben doesn't fuck around.

...Well, in the sense that he can't tolerate another man even looking at you flirtatiously, or otherwise with any kind of intent.

Depending on the severity, at best, it'll have Ben shooting the man a stony look of warning.

At worst, it ruins the day -- namely with the sound of bone snapping and a man's sobbing howl of pain.

You try to get him to tone it down ("For God's sake, Ben. It's fine. Just relax."), but this is one thing he well and truly doesn't budge on.

Ben is possessive. Because you're his. His to touch, and his to protect.

In his mind, it's fucking simple.

Whenever you get irritated with this brutish, knuckle-dragging, caveman mentality, you try to remember why he does it.

It's indicative of how much he actually cares about you.

Because if he didn't, he wouldn't really give a shit if other men were flirting with you. (He'd just find another woman to try and charm back to his apartment.)

So you've learned how to try and finesse these situations so that Ben doesn't notice.

You've also stopped letting down men easy, proverbially cutting off their dick and balls with your words.

Because it's quite literally to save their dumbass life.

But when other women flirt with Ben, he takes it all with indulgent smiles, throwing in a wink and a sweetheart every now and then.

He doesn't blame them for flirting with him, checking him out. He's Soldier Boy, after all, and in his mind, it's not his fault they can't help themselves around him.

However, a smile and a wink is all that he allows himself.

If he truly cares about you (and though he doesn't often express it in words, he does), then the unfamiliar twinge of guilt stops him whenever he almost accepts a woman's alluring invitation--spoken or unspoken.

His mouth might spew arrogance and gilded lies, but his actions too often betray what he really feels.

And what he really feels can't be any more clear than when he goes after you, instead of indulging the woman who basically undressed him with her eyes, whispered sultry, sexy offerings in his ear, and invited him to go home with her.

Seeing you take off out the double doors of the club, Ben rolls his eyes. He brushes the woman off without a backwards glance, and follows you out into the night air. He grabs your hand before you can get far in your heels.

"What the hell's the matter now?" he asks dryly.

You turn on him with an incredulous look.

"That woman was practically sucking your neck, Ben!"

"All right, don't fucking overreact. You're getting hysterical," he says, before guiding you back into his arms.

"I'm not fucking hysterical, you ass!" You push against his chest, but he doesn't budge, nor does he let you go. This isn't a good area, and he doesn't want you out in these streets at this time of night without him at your side.

"Ben," you say sharply. You look up at him in irritation, but he just smirks and strokes your side with his thumb.

Yes, (in his mind) you're being a little difficult, but he thinks your jealousy is amusing, adorable, and kind of hot all at the same time.

Ben doesn't bother with saying anything more to convince you. He just slips a hand behind your neck and kisses you soundly.

He invades your mouth with his tongue and devours you, reminding you that you're the one he wants.

He waylays you with his strong hands framing your body against his, and with his sinful mouth, until you finally melt into his embrace.

He's chosen you countless time before, and he knows he'll keep choosing you, for as long as this lasts.

Russell Shaw

Russell always clocks the "situation" right away when a man starts to flirt with you.

He's not one to make a scene of it at first, depending on the time and place.

But he is quick to sidle up to your side, pointedly slip a hand along your waist, and greet you with a deceptive smile.

"Hey, sweetheart. Let's grab that table over there. 'S more comfortable than the bar."

He glances up at the man, sharpness hidden well behind his green eyes. Whether the guy picks up on it or not, Russell is making a mugshot in his mind -- and he never forgets a face.

You eye him knowingly, but you let him guide you away. He's kind of cute when he's jealous, and it doesn't take much to spark that well of protectiveness that lies in wait just under his skin.

Russell isn't easily fazed by most things, but one sure way to provoke his temper (and those rougher, darker shades of him that he tries his best not to show you) is for a man to push his luck with you.

It really wouldn't take much effort at all for the former soldier to have a man clutching his bloody, shattered nose, let alone to dump his broken body in front of the closest hospital. But somehow, Russell manages to curb those darker urges. (Again, don't tempt him.)

But when another woman flirts with him, you're the one who starts to have steam coming out of your ears.

Russell doesn't miss much. He recognizes the sultry inflection in the woman's words. He catches the subtle, sensuous gleam in her eyes when she rakes him up and down with them.

He also notes the moment you look over and realize what's happening.

Regardless if you're looking or not, he tries his best to stay distant, but polite, even as a warning twinge of "aww shit" runs up his spine.

He tries to play things off with an amiable smile and being purposefully oblivious.

Until the woman gets bold, slipping her hand over Russell's and up his arm a bit, before she withdraws, tilting her head with a sweet-as-pie smile.

Cue Russ's awkward laugh/clearing of the throat. Before he has time to fully pull away and just come out with the, Sorry, I actually have a girlfriend -- you return to his side and pointedly grab his hand.

"Come on, honey, we'll be late," you say, giving him a tense smile.

The aww shit feeling is back, but Russell just nods and falls into step with you.

When you two have enough privacy to hash it out, you let him have it.

"What the hell was that?!"

Russell can't help but chuckle. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I tried to keep it classy, but that woman was persistent. Not that I blame her--"

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes (not that you really blame her either). Then you stare at your man in annoyance, crossing your arms. "I didn't see you trying all that hard to fend her off, huh, Romeo? If another man had touched me like that, you would've broken his fingers off, like a fucking caveman."

Russell's brows raise at the dig, but the way you're getting all testy is kind of cute (and also kinda hot).

"All right. You got me there," he says. He slips his arms around your waist and tries to soften you with a charming grin. "Come on, sweetheart. You know I'm not going anywhere."

"Do I?" you blurt out, before you have a chance to reign it back in.

Russell's contract jobs take him all over the country -- all over the world. Yes, he's on his way out, he claims. He wants to settle down with you, or so he says.

But you have no idea of knowing what he does when he's not with you.

All those days out on the road, crashing in skeevy motels, winding down at dive bars -- has he ever been tempted to "sample" the local fare? Has he ever...

Russell's amusement fades, sobering into a frown and a furrowing of his brows. He hums in disapproval. He doesn't like what he's seeing in your eyes: doubt, most of all.

"Hey," he says. It's a serious tone you don't often hear in his voice. He curls a finger under your chin and tilts your face up to meet his.

"I'm gonna need you to listen to me, and listen good," he says. You frown at that, but he brushes his thumb across your cheek, a small, but tender caress. "You and me, we've got something good. I know what that means. So you can believe me when I say, I'm in this. I'm right here, even when I'm not here."

And he smiles at you. "That make sense?"

Slowly, you start to smile too. "Not really," you laugh.

But it does. You know what he's trying to say, and...you believe him. Your fingers curl in the front of his shirt.

Tentatively, you lean up and press your lips to his; just a sweet, slow meeting.

Russell cups your cheek and leans in for a deeper taste, a deeper conviction of every word he just said.

I love you, is what it really means, even if he's not able to say that just yet.

AN: 😮‍💨 Well, there we go! lol I love me a protective man. 💜 Hope you enjoy this set of headcanons!

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Beau Arlen Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

If you would like to get notified every time I post a story, feel free to follow my side blog @zepskieswrites with notifications on so you don't miss out. 💜

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @riteofpassage77

@deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @sanscas @mxltifxnd0m @suckitands33

@kaleldobrev @spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @trashmoutth

@globetrotter28 @adoringanakin @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @tayl0rfanatic

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @everything-is-all-clear

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @chernayawidow @mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @sixxteenbullets

@tmb510 @syrma-sensei @artemys-ackles @malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester

[desperate-gay]

jealous alex morgan? im obsessed with how you write her

Childish Jealousy

Alex Morgan x fem!reader

minor SMUT 18+ in the beginning

summary: your wife’s jealousy comes in the most unexpected ways

a/n: first universe incoming with @occasionallyaurora !

“Fuck, Alex.” You breathe, hips instinctively lifting to chase the warmth of your fiancée’s sweet tongue. Her hands tighten around your hips, pinning you down, her nails pressing half-moon marks into your skin.

The slick sounds of her mouth lapping you over fill the air, mingling with the soft chirping of early morning birds outside the window. A bead of sweat rolls down Alex’s forehead, the heat from the blankets making the space between you sweltering.

“Please don’t stop, baby, just like that. I’m so close.” You writhe, fingers tangled in the sheets as your teeth sink into your lower lip to muffle the moans threatening to spill out.

Right as you’re about to teeter over the edge, your bedroom door bursts open with a little girl barreling straight for you two. You sit up as quickly as possible, fixing your hair to look like you weren’t just getting eaten out.

“Mommy!” Charlie cheers, waddling to your side of the bed, reaching out for your hands.

“Hi, honey! Good morning.” You muster up a smile, grasping the girl’s tiny hands.

Alex huffs under the blankets and thumps her head on the inside of your thigh, realizing that she was just proven wrong.

“What’s mama doing?” Charlie asks, tilting her head curiously to the side, staring at the big lump under the blankets.

Your heart stutters and eyes slightly widen. You lightly smack the back of your fiancée, signaling for her to get up and for the love of god wipe her face.

“Mama is just being silly. Why don’t you go downstairs and put on some cartoons while mama and I get ready to make breakfast, yeah?” The little girl enthusiastically nods and tramples off, allowing you to let out a sigh of relief.

Alex peeks out from under the blanket with a sheepish smile, chin resting on your stomach. Her brown hair sticks to her forehead, blue eyes still blown with lust, lips glistening with evidence of what should have been your perfect morning.

You however are not so amused.

Your core aches, the pleasure that had been coiling so tightly now completely dissipated. And to top it all off, you have a three-year-old to entertain.

“Good morning my beautiful fiancée.” Alex says with a charming smile but is quickly shut down by one look from you.

Huffing, you shove her aside and yank your underwear and pajama shorts back into place. Alex watches as you toss the comforter off and storm into the bathroom, punctuating your exit with a sharp slam of the door.

The brunette stays seated in bed, staring blankly at the wall with a deep sigh. She runs her fingers through her bed head, combing through it to untangle the minor knots.

Minutes later, you reappear from the bathroom, shoulders slumping as you sink into the end of the mattress.

“I told you so.” You say, voice low and pointed.

Alex barely lifts her head from her phone, though her gaze flickers with guilt.

“I told you we didn’t have enough time, but you insisted—”

“And I am so, so sorry, my love.” Alex scoots up behind you, slipping her arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Mmm, I know you are, and that’s why you will be going downstairs and making our daughter breakfast while I go take a much-needed shower.” You place a chaste kiss on the girl’s cheek before getting up to gather your clothes for after the shower.

—

“That was a long shower.” Alex teases as you step into the kitchen, freshly dressed and looking far more put together than earlier.

“Well I had to give myself my own o-r-g-a-s-m which was remarkable by the way.” You taunt, spelling out the word because your daughter sits at the kitchen table, waiting for the pancakes your fiancée is currently flipping.

The striker freezes, expression dropping at your admission.

You smirk as you pluck a piece of fruit from the counter behind her, pop it into your mouth, and stroll over to Charlie.

“Shit.” Alex curses under her breath when she realizes the pancake had been left on one side for too long.

“Hey, honey. How’d you sleep last night?” You ask the young girl beside you who is currently scribbling away in her coloring book.

“I slept good. I dreamed about my stuffed animals talking to me and we had to save you and mama from the king of the wolves!” Charlie rambles enthusiastically while you smile and nod your head with a huff of laughter.

“Did you save us?”

“I don’t know! I woke up before the end.”

“Oh no.” You dramatically gasp with a hand on your chest.

You and Charlie both talk and giggle with one another as you help color a butterfly in on her page. Alex watches from afar with a soft smile on her face, never getting tired of seeing you two together.

“Did someone call for pancakes?” Your fiancée walks over with a plate full of the fluffy food, some vegan for herself and the rest regular for you and Charlie.

“Thank you, my love.” You smile, looking up at Alex who begins to lean down for a kiss before a tiny hand blocks her way.

“Wha—”

“My mommy.”

You giggle behind your hand at the little standoff happening in front of you. Alex pouts, glaring playfully while Charlie scowls right back.

This behavior has been highly usual with Charlie for the past couple of weeks. She is constantly attached to your hip whether it’s movie night, taking a walk, or even sitting at the dinner table.

Alex thought it was just a phase, but now she’s starting to wonder if her kid is stealing her fiancée out of spite. She’s not sure what Charlie could possibly be spiteful about, but that’s the only explanation she can come up with.

“Alright you two. Let’s sit down and have some wonderful pancakes mama made for us, yeah?” Charlie’s glare is soon wiped off her face, cheering when she notices your smile.

“Here you go, pumpkin.” Alex reaches over to help cut the food up for Charlie when the young girl smacks her hand away. Your fiancée recoils with a small noise and a shocked look.

“I want mommy to do it.” Your daughter huffs, switching her look to you with puppy dog eyes.

“She wants mommy to do it.” Alex mutters under her breath, mimicking the toddler’s tone as she hands you the fork and knife.

You smile sympathetically at the striker, rubbing your free hand up and down her back in reassurance.

After breakfast, Alex heads to the living room with Charlie after you insisted on doing the dishes since she cooked. Alex doesn’t argue. You’re always on about balance in a relationship which started because she insists on pampering you 24/7, and you wanted her to have a break too.

Alex plops down in the middle of the couch. Charlie, however, sits as close to the edge as she possibly can, still holding a grudge over mama stealing you earlier.

A few minutes later, you walk out with a relieved sigh and slump onto the other side of Alex. Your fiancée lifts her arm to wrap around your shoulders with a warm smile only for Charlie to immediately hop between you two, shoving her little body in the middle.

“You do know she’s my fiancée, missy.” Alex says, quirking an eyebrow when Charlie grasps onto you like a koala to a tree.

“But she’s my mommy.”

“So I’ve heard.” Your fiancée mutters, rolling her eyes.

With a dramatic sigh, she starts to scoot down the couch, but before she can, you reach out.

“You know, there’s plenty of room for all of us on the couch.” You extend your hand out for the striker, Charlie intertwines her hand with yours first.

“No! Only room for me and mommy.”

You bite your lip to contain your smile when you see Alex’s nose flare and eye twitch at the little girl’s statement. Your fiancée swiftly gets up and slowly walks behind the couch, dragging her index finger along the backside of it.

“Well,” she murmurs, circling like a predator, “how would you feel if I got a kiss from Mommy?”

She gently tilts your chin, about to steal a kiss when Charlie’s little hands grab onto both of your cheeks and yanks your attention back to her.

“Mommy, look at me!”

You chuckle, placing a quick kiss on Charlie’s forehead. Alex, however, glares at her tiny nemesis.

The tall brunette eventually gives up and stomps upstairs with a loud groan.

“Where are you going?” You call after her.

“Somewhere where I’m actually wanted. Our bed!”

—

“Someone’s grumpy today.” Jaedyn mutters to a nodding Naomi, both watching Alex angrily kick a ball across the field.

“She’s been like this all week! Someone’s gotta do something.” Naomi sighs, shaking her head as Alex stomps off to get some water.

As practice continues, your fiancée’s frustration only seems to escalate. The rest of the team bears the brunt of her aggression: forceful passes, irritated groans, and an overall short fuse.

“What’s going on with that limp, Girma?” Casey asks, having noticed the discomfort of the defender the past few minutes.

“Just some tightness and cramping.” Naomi waves her hand in dismissal, but Casey quickly shakes her head and points to the tunnel.

“Go visit, Y/n, and get that kink sorted out. Can’t have my best player hurting.” The coach winks with a smile.

You're sorting through paperwork when a familiar figure appears at your door. You look up with a smile, tucking away some files before walking over to the exam chair where the girl is sat.

“Hey, Nay! What’s going on? Someone told me you were coming due to calf issues?” You ask, slipping on some rubber gloves for precaution.

“Umm, actually I’m feeling just fine. I came here to talk to you…about Alex.”

Your hands freeze mid-motion before you pull the gloves off, brows furrowing slightly.

“Oh.”

Naomi watches you with her lip tucked in between her teeth, wondering if she has intruded on something she shouldn’t have.

“Well what’s going on with Alex?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows

“I don’t mean to intrude, so if I am, please tell me. But she’s been grumpy all week, and today it’s even worse. I’m not sure if anything happened between you two or what’s going on because you both drive here together and look just fine.”

Inhaling, your eyes wander across the room wondering what could make your fiancée happy at home but grumpy here. Now that you think about it, your fiancée has been acting a little off at home, and maybe she’s concealing it more there because of Charlie.

“Nothing happened at home that I know of. Did she say anything or did someone say something before she got in this mood?” You question, attempting to get any information to help with this new found mystery.

“Huh, I never thought about that. Oh! Emily brought up Alex needing to get laid as a joke a few days ago.” Naomi rolls her eyes repeating the statement, realizing how blunt it sounds out loud.

And suddenly it clicks. Alex hasn’t been grumpy at home, she’s been clingy and pouty. You realize this Charlie clingy situation has been affecting her more than you thought, having barely any time for each other.

Naomi watches your mouth open and head tilt with a nod, signaling you may have figured out what’s wrong.

“I think I know exactly what’s going on.”

—

“Mommy, I don’t wanna go!” Charlie cries out, clinging onto your leg while Servando watches with an amused grin.

“Don’t you wanna spend time with daddy? He even said you can have ice cream before dinner!”

“I did?” He raises an eyebrow in confusion.

“Yes you did. Remember?” You smile with gritted teeth, nodding your head down at the little girl who is clinging so tight to your leg you feel like you’re losing circulation.

“Right! I remember now. Don’t you want ice cream with daddy, and maybe some Disney movies?” Servando extends his hand, watching Charlie peek her head out from your leg.

“I guess, but you promise you will miss me?” You almost melt at the question.

“I’ll miss you so, so much, my Charlie-girl. But you’re going to have so much fun, you might even forget about me for a little while!”

She gasps dramatically at the thought, eyes wide as if the idea is absurd. But after a moment of contemplation, she finally nods, letting Servando scoop her up. You send him a grateful smile, throwing in one more thank you before they head out.

Alex, however, has no idea about this little change of plans. Normally, Charlie would be home tonight, but realizing how little time you and your fiancée have had alone, you decided to surprise her.

And now, with the house empty and a rare moment to yourselves, you set the perfect mood.

Around an hour later, keys can be heard jingling at the door before Alex appears in the doorway. She hesitates, eyes narrowing as she notices the lack of light and sound in the house. It’s unusual. Normally, she’d be greeted by giggles, the hum of cartoons, or at the very least, your voice.

Her steps are slow and cautious as she makes her way through the house, not wanting to wake up what she figured was a two person nap. Once she finally makes her way up the stairs, her eyebrows raise at the dim light spilling through the crack of your bedroom door.

Pushing it open, she stops dead in her tracks.

“What’s going on here?” The striker asks, scanning the scene before her.

Candles flicker across the room, casting soft golden light. A trail of rose petals winds from the doorway to the perfectly made bed, the air thick with the scent of vanilla and jasmine.

Then her eyes land on you.

“Welcome home, baby.”

You step out from the shadows of the bathroom, wrapped in navy blue lace, the color that makes her weak. Two flutes of champagne rest in your hands as you slowly make your way to her, the sway of your hips hypnotizing.

Alex watches you with barely concealed hunger, placing her phone on the bedside table before sinking onto the edge of the mattress. You approach her with a sly grin and carefully straddle her lap, careful not to spill the liquid in the two glasses.

Flipping your hair to the side, you hand her one of the glasses. Alex takes it, fingers brushing over yours as her gaze lingers over your body.

“What’s this all for?” She asks, voice thick with curiosity.

“We haven’t had enough time to ourselves, so I figured I’d surprise you.” You hum, roaming your finger along her jawline.

“And Charlie?”

“With Servando.”

Alex exhales slowly, a smirk tugging at her lips as she sets both glasses aside. Her hands find your hips, fingers tracing the delicate lace, exploring every curve as she takes you in like a masterpiece.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Alex whispers with dreamy eyes.

“Maybe wished upon a star.” You tease with a smile, tilting your head.

She chuckles, but the sound is quickly swallowed when you lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss that turns desperate in seconds—needy, just like the two of you have been.

Alex’s grip tightens, her hands roaming with growing urgency. Whatever patience she had is long gone.

“Maybe I can make up for that morning that was interrupted a few days ago?” Your fiancée mumbles against your lips, voice dripping with lust.

“Just fuck me, Alex.”

[demaparbat-hp]

Progression (and digressions).

The first post of the year belongs to the one, the only, the boy you've had for less than a month but if anything happens to him you'll murder me slowly and painfully: Lu Ten II.

His travels through the Earth Kingdom with Zuko are some of my favorite moments in the Spitfire AU! We get to see their dynamic truly flourish and deepen before they're reunited with the rest of their family.

But then the Gaang is forced to take care of Ten Ten as they move through the Fire Nation.

Spitfire grows a lot during the course of the story—and not just in height! He's the hope for a better future and the kindness needed to go through the present. I love him dearly, and I hope so do you.

[bluemerakis]

────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ────

❝ cream pie ❞

─ ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ munch .ᐟ dean winchester x fem .ᐟ reader

warnings .ᐟ cussing, reader somewhat oblivious to the obscene meaning of munch, tooth-rotting fluff, mentions of a sexual!cream pie, mild food play, finger-sucking, oral f receiving, pet names. pls lmk if i forgot any!

synopsis ─ dean’s always poked at you for being a slow-eater. likewise, you’ve always poked at him for being a fast-eater—going so far as to accuse him of an early death should he continue at that pace. so, on the night of his birthday, he decides to make a change to his eating habits, becoming deliberately slow in his meal’s devouring. only, that meal is you.

word count ~ 5.4k

──────────────────────

The doors to the diner announced the next newcomer with a shrill tinkle of bells, and by the nature of human curiosity—or a hunter’s paranoia—you found yourself glancing past Dean to witness a little girl ushered inside by an older woman.

You circulated a mouthful of fries as you watched the child bound over to the front counter, short, stubby finger outstretched to prod at a large print of the most obnoxiously decorated milkshake you’d ever seen—a mound of cream, candy and sprinkles that must’ve accounted for half the drink’s weight.

“Scoutin’ out for Sammy?” Dean asked suddenly—the words muffled by the burger he’d taken to devouring almost instantly after it’d arrived. Not even five minutes ago.

You forsook the view of the little girl to tune into the booth’s space, where the Winchester sat across from you with cheeks that had grown comically round. You couldn’t help but briefly stutter on your ground fries, perplexed by the plate that he’d wasted no time in clearing out. All that was left was the half-eaten burger currently clutched between his talons, where his lips closed in on to wrap around the bread-cocooned glory. The fries that had previously formed the burger’s first line of defence had not stood a damn chance.

With a thick swallow of your morsel, you cleared your throat to voice your concern—Dean’s question hurled out the current window of care. “Where the hell did all your food go, Dean? It literally just got here!” You reached across the table to take up your glass of water, downing a much needed sip that moistened the walls of your throat after the fries had brushed it dry on their downward journey.

Observing Dean, you almost felt like you were intruding on some intimate moment between himself and his burger, which he currently ogled from every angle in search of his next, perfect bite—yet to swallow down the last bite he’d taken. The appetite on this man was astounding. And so was the seemingly unlimited mouth space that he seemed to cram full squirrel-style, given any and every chance.

At your perplexed pry, the Winchester strayed from his guilty pleasure to grace you with a stupidly triumphant look, his vigorous chewing coming to a halt. “Just gave it a tour o’ my insides,” he mumbled grossly, eyes narrowing with smug amusement while he went out of his way to part his lips in a messy, food-kissed smile—just to get a rise out of you.

“Stop that!” You groaned, hand coming up in a defensive spread to shield yourself against the view of the chunky stew plastered along his teeth. “You’re disgusting,” you added with a meek giggle, chin perking slightly as you attempted to peer at him over the jagged horizon of your fingers.

You caught his Adam’s Apple bopping with a hefty swallow, the lump striding down the lean length of his neck, and it was a sight that made you feel safe enough to lower your hand once more. You watched him pass his tongue across both oil-kissed lips, savouring the essence with a pleasurable hum and smack of his mouth—like he’d never known the first thing about table manners. He passed the remainder of his burger to one hand, the other now freed to gesture in your direction.

“Hey!” he began—a clearer, more sophisticated sound. “I get my hands on somethin’ as delicious as this, I show her a good time,” he explained with a laughable seriousness. “You, of all people, should know this.”

You’d taken to plopping another fry into your mouth while he spoke, but at that last sentence, you dusted the lingering salt grains from your hands and made a hasty swallow before answering. “That you’re a munch?” You established innocently.

Dean perked at the observation you’d made many dinings prior—wore the title like a badge of honour. “Damn right I am, baby—and this was a damn preview,” he said with a charming wink, one that entertained his own, mental scheme.

“A preview of what?” You tested with a confused grin.

Dean’s glare turned the type of determined he usually reserved for an exhilarating hunt, his lips quirking with the utmost pleasure that you’d asked. “You, me, and your good friend down south—later tonight—” he began enlightening, but neglected to finish the sentence as he brought the last of his burger to his lips. Then, they crashed down onto the buns in an obnoxious motion—gluttonously garnering every inch into the compartment of his cheeks.

He began chewing with difficulty, at first, but no look of panic flashed across his features, despite your own worry that he might’ve started choking at any instant. Then, he rolled the empty burger wrapper between his palms, eyes droning into you with an unvoiced expectancy while his jaw circulated like a cow’s. You returned his stare with a cluelessness, taking a second to mull over his incomplete sentence—and it was then that his insinuation clicked into place.

Your cheeks flushed hot at that, the hands you’d nestled at either side of your plate drawing into fists. “I was talking about the food!” You said accusingly, his innuendo drawing a disbelieved laugh from your lips.

“Yeah, no, that ain’t what munch means, sweetheart,” Dean said smoothly, rocketing the crushed wrapper into the air before catching it and plopping it down onto his plate. His palms then came together in a scheming rub, eyes lowering to the menu beside his emptied plate. “Speakin’ of food,” he hummed thoughtfully, and you lifted your chin to get a better view of the options he was scanning through. Light meals.

You shook your head lightly, turning your attention back to your own plate. “You’re going to implode,” you remarked.

“Hey—drop the freakin’ fuss,” he grumbled indignantly. “‘Cause it just so happens that shit’s on the house for this birthday dude,” he added, hands coming up to gesture to himself almost proudly. “And I’ll be damed if I don’t do somethin’ ‘bout it.”

You flashed him a hopeless smile, but didn’t push him on his appetite any further. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen Dean so unbothered and chirpy. As of now, life had been good—great, even. Bobby had offered to take care of this week’s hunts in order to free up Dean’s schedule, giving him the time to celebrate an event he hadn’t deemed worthy of a celebration for a long, long time. And Sam—ever the content third-wheel to you both—had taken the afternoon to kill time in his own Sam ways.

The deal you’d struck with the younger Winchester was that he get the morning to entertain Dean’s birthday, and you get the afternoon. The brothers were up at the crack of dawn to motor it over to some shooting range, where they’d completely obliterated the targets—earning dubious glances from the other, inexperienced hobbyists. You’d thought about asking why they’d opted for picking up a gun on their off-days, but Dean had returned with such a beaming smile that you’d swallowed the question entirely.

The only thing that mattered was that he was happy. Enjoying himself.

Eventually, Dean let out a decided exclamation, index finger coming down on the table to single out an option amongst the menu.

Your head lifted curiously. “What you got there?” You asked, plopping a fry into your mouth.

“The best thing to exist after cars,” he answered vaguely and with a playful waggle of his brows, his head then averting to do a sweep of the diner.

“With how easily amused you are, that could be narrowed down to an endless amount of shit,” you scoffed lightly.

“T-t-t,” he silenced with a finger in your direction, eyes still doing an intent scan of the space. When he managed to spot a waitress, it almost looked like his eyes could’ve slipped the keep of his sockets. His lips pierced to execute a perfect whistle, hand waving through the air to beckon her over—which she made haste on.

You turned your attention to the waitress as she pranced on over, fluster heavy in her rosy cheeks and sheepish smile as she glanced between yourself and Dean. “What can I get for you both?”

“One o’ these bad babies, please,” Dean requested with a show to the menu, hands then coming up in a thankful clasp as the waitress nodded lightly in response. “Sweet,” he murmured contently, his attention turning back to you. “Anythin’ for you?” He asked politely, but the hitch of his singular brow as he glanced between you and your stacked plate told you that he knew the answer.

“I’m good, thanks,” you told the waitress, who gave a small nod before scampering off. You turned back to Dean with a light shake of your head. “Oh, I know your heart hates you. You’re going to die an early death at this pace,” you scoffed, glancing down to where you began picking through your cooled fries in search of the crispy pieces.

“Yeah, whatever, happy deaths,” he answered lightly. “You gonna eat any o’ that?”

You glanced up to Dean’s famished eyes hounding the pot of edible gold still crowning your plate. “Yes, I’m gonna eat it!” You answered almost instantly. “I’m starving!”

“Well, you don’t look it,” he scoffed with a dramatic widening of his eyes—like he couldn’t believe you’d fault him for asking when your plate currently housed twice the calories of his. “Man, if my heart hates me, then your stomach hates you—teasin’ it like this with the one bite an hour ritual you’ve got goin’. You’re playin’ hard to get with the damn thing,” he huffed amusedly.

“It’s called savouring it,” you retorted with a light shake of your head. “You should try it some time.”

“Hey—I savour plenty, alright?” His brows perked pointedly, eyes lowering down your figure and straying to some view below the tabletop, where they lingered with a mischievous tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

You caught on immediately, apples of your cheeks rounding with a grin. “I can’t even with you,” you sighed dramatically; warmly.

Dean’s eyes lifted back to you, forming a wink that he’d come to reserve just for you. “And yet you do, anyways,” he chuckled, then straightened in his seat with some new resolve. “Alright, c’mon—start stuffin’ up on fries. For every bite you don’t finish, your ankle’s gettin’ ganked—” he paused to reinforce the threat by nudging the toe of his boot against yours, “—and then I’m eatin’ whatever’s left.”

“What are you—five?” You giggled, and then his boot came forward to deliver the first of its taps against your ankle. You let out a squeal despite its gentle nature, hand flying forward to scoop up a handful of fries with a grin heavy on your lips.

Dean’s arms crossed as he watched you with equal amusement. “It’s called buildin’ character,” he said. “Consider this your motivation to eat faster.”

“Maybe you should try eating slower!”

He tsked in response to that, then offered a tiny nod. “Yeah, alright, alright, I’ll try it sometime,” he entertained, jerking his chin at you. “C’mon, wrap it up and we’ll go half on that apple pie I ordered.”

⋆ .˚⋆ ≐ ⋆ ˚.⋆

On the drive back to the motel, Dean had rattled Baby’s entire infrastructure with some deafening rock, his jaws testing out new heights as he accentuated every tune with utmost enthusiasm. He’d glanced your way a couple of times to enlist you into his self-hosted concert, still blaring along to the music, but you’d only managed to pick up on a few phrases here and there through your time spent as an audience to his hunting playlists.

Whenever a song came on that you recognised, you’d chime in to harmonise with Dean in a word or two before dropping off and taking to watching him ensue into musical madness, a grin heavy on your lips. God, you loved him. You loved him so much. And you loved seeing him recognise how much of his free-will he could cash toward buying his own happiness, instead of worrying about everything and everybody else—especially on a day like today.

The drive back to the motel was a cheery one you’d mentally documented as a day to remember. When you’d eventually pulled up at the motel, Dean had laid the engine to rest with an intense glance in your direction—one that you’d come to recognise as something to question. Because if you didn’t, there was no telling what was on a mind as carefully guarded as his.

You met his gaze with light confusion, acknowledging the silence he’d coupled with his dramatic shift in demeanour. “Is everything okay?”

Much to your relief, Dean’s features grew soft, his lips spreading with a thankful smile. “Everythin’s perfect,” he soothed quickly, but no less gentle. “Just. . . thinkin’ ‘bout today—how you and Sammy went outta your way to make this day so freakin’ awesome. I appreciate it—I do,” he added with a light chuckle, his head tilting slightly as he drank you in with love-struck eyes.

You shifted across the seat until your leg was flush against Dean’s, your hand coming up to gently cradle his jaw. “First off,” you began, thumb stroking gentle lines over the apple of his cheek, and you felt the unbridled weight of him melting into your hold—because he’d always felt safe enough to entrust all of him to all of you. “When it comes to you, nothing will ever be out of the way. You’re worth the time—worth taking that moment to think about how we can celebrate the man who tries so hard to keep us all together. You’re always jumping at the opportunity to do things for everybody else, but tonight—on your night—I’m going to honour everything that you are. And reflect on how blessed the world is to have its very own Dean Winchester. How blessed I am.”

Dean’s eyes twinkled at that—like a starstruck fanboy—and you felt honoured to be the recipient of his admiration. His love.

“Secondly,” you continued. “This day is all about you—officially, and everything—there’s a birth certificate out there to prove it. But I want you to know that you’re the type of person worth celebrating every single day. And I do, quietly—with every glance I steal of you because I’m just so thankful that we exist at the same time. And even in a life that gets as shitty as ours, I’m glad that it’s you I get to share the small breaths of a break with—you that I’m laughing it up with over a burger and beer, you that I get to share a cuddle with each night that feels like it could fend off every worry, and you, in all that you are, reminding me every single day of what good looks like—and why this world is worth saving. You’re the face of all things precious and scare in this world, Dean.”

At those words, Dean cracked with a twitch of his lip, giving rise to a smile that was simultaneously hurt and healed. As he gazed into your eyes, you saw their beautiful, green depths begin to glimmer at the borders. At the first comprehension of his growing tears, he was quick to dip his head into concealment, jaw turning an inch to catch his lips onto the hand you’d cradled his cheek within.

There, in thick silence, he pressed a long and tender kiss to your palm—as though trying to brand himself with the taste, touch and scent of you. A gesture to remind you just how much of himself he’d devoted to loving you, living for you, and embracing everything that you meant to him in ways that didn’t always embody words.

You sat there for a few seconds, watching as he became one with you—choosing you as his safety confines while he worked to sort through the feelings he’d never been apt at acknowledging this gently; vulnerably. Eventually, he stirred from your hold, but not to forsake it entirely, his hands outstretching to frame you tenderly at the neck.

“God, I love you,” he whispered with a shuddered breath, the tears he’d tried to quell with a moment of silence proving to be stubborn. But they came as gentle streams, providing just enough moisture to cast a soft sheen amongst his cheeks. “I love you so damn much,” he reinforced—the sound gruff, raw and passionate—and then his lips were pressed against yours with a hunger that felt desperately pushy and shy all at once.

You reciprocated the kiss with equal devotion, hands coming up to wrap around his wrists as you steadied yourself within his passionate grip. His thumbs rubbed gentle lines down the ledge of your jaw as his kiss continued to deepen—not particularly lustful, but just a very physical, passionate vow of loyalty. A show that he was yours, and all yours.

For a while, your lips remained entangled in a fervent dance, the world all around you dissolving into nothingness. What was out there didn’t matter, anyway, not when your whole world was right here, right beside you.

⋆ .˚⋆ ≐ ⋆ ˚.⋆

Back in the motel, you and Dean had slunk inside with the intent to not wake up Sam—only to find that when you’d flicked on the lights, the younger brother was nowhere in sight. For a second, you both stood in dumbfounded silence, heads swinging to scan the modest space that he couldn’t have possibly been hidden away in—not with the height on him.

Then Dean let out a soft noise of realisation as he left your side to stroll into the kitchen, hand outstretched to pluck a note from the fridge’s barren door. He brought it toward him with a focused furrow of his brows, eyes scanning over the information before he let slip a smug chuckle.

You wandered over to Dean curiously, and just then, he turned to you with the note waving about. “Sammy’s slipped out for the night—called a cab and said us naughty teens could have the place to ourselves,” he explained with a heavy, cheeky undertone as he glanced you over.

You drew up beside him with a smile to entertain his implications, arms coming up in a cross. “Oh, yeah? Guess we better make the most of it, then,” you murmured, leaning yourself against the counter bordering the fridge.

Dean wandered close enough for the fabric of his jacket to graze your arms, head lowering to yours in a painfully slow manner. “Hm. . . what’d ya have in mind?” He asked before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then to the bridge of your nose.

Your nose scrunched playfully beneath his lips, eyes screwing shut at his very welcomed trespass. “I think—” you began, but were quickly silenced by the press of his lips against yours. After a few, greedy kisses with a point to prove, he pulled away to let you finish. “I think,” you repeated with a breathless laugh, eyes falling open once more. “You get the gist of it.”

“Think I damn well do,” he grinned, coming in for round two, but you stopped him with a finger to the lips.

“Not so fast, Casanova,” you steadied with a smile, making a point to tap his lips before pulling away. “I’ve got a little surprise for you, first.”

“What—it ain’t this?” Dean said ruefully, gesturing to all of you. “C’mon, man, quit teasin’ me.”

“I’m not teasing you,” you giggled before pushing yourself off the counter to round him in favour of the fridge. “I made you something.”

He hummed interestedly. “Well, colour me intrigued,” he drawled, turning to face you as he leaned himself against the counter to watch after your every move.

You opened the fridge and briefly ducked inside, rounding onto the point of your toes to grab the mystery meal off the top shelf. Beside you, Dean uttered a whistle of admiration, and you scoffed at his apparent leering. You lowered yourself with the prize in hand, shifting it to a one-sided grip as your free hand moved closed the door.

Dean studied the dish with interest as you strode over to him and placed it onto the counter. A part of you felt a sense of annoyance as you reflected back to the diner, where he’d gone and ordered himself two slices of pie despite your protest. You hadn’t wanted him to have his fill of it before tonight, where the dessert pie you’d baked him had been waiting for its time to shine.

Slowly, you pulled back the wrapping to reveal the dish—a dainty cream pie.

Dean took a moment to flutter his lashes, his lips forming a thoughtful pout—like he was trying to find the right words to decline your offer. You’d been afraid of this very reaction after he’d eaten enough pie for the next month. “More pie?” he remarked with an almost pained expression.

You let out a loose scoff, tossing the wrapping onto the counter. “I told you not to order another slice of pie at the diner!” You exclaimed, head shaking lightly.

“Yeah, but I just thought you were hasslin’ me over the eatin’ thing—not because you went and baked an entire one,” Dean laughed before moving to take a swipe at the topped cream. You watched as he crowned the pad of his index finger with a considerable cluster, then brought it up to his lips for a taste. After swallowing the smooth sweetness, he smacked his lips appreciatively. “But this tastes freakin’ amazing,” he praised with a warm grin. “Thanks, baby, I’ll savour it as much as the diner’s pie.”

“You’ll do that and more,” you shot back with a pretence of annoyance, but you couldn’t fend off the grin peaking through. “Cause it was hard work making this thing!”

He cocked a brow smugly. “Really? ‘Cause when last we hit the sheets, I seem to remember doin’ it in five minutes,” he said pointedly, teeth flashing a lewd grin as he gave an obnoxious wink.

Your jaw dangled at his shameless obscenity—alluding to a few nights ago where you’d begged him for a quickie, and had him finish inside of you. “Dean!” You exclaimed, hand coming forward to swat his arm lightly. “Think you’re a funny man, yeah?”

“I think I’m hilarious,” he replied charmingly, hand diving down to take another swipe at the cream. Just then, he brought it up to your face to slather the side of your cheek, which made your mouth curl around a gasp as you seized up on the spot.

“Asshole!” You sniped with no real anger, hand coming up to wipe some of the cream from your face, but Dean caught you at the wrist before you could eradicate the stickiness entirely.

“Fun-ass,” he corrected cheekily, gaze holding yours as he leaned himself down to wrap his lips around your index finger. You felt his tongue swirl around it to gather the cream, and even once he’d sucked it clean of all tangible sweetness, he kept up the wet whirlpool.

“Dean,” you laughed weakly. “Stop.”

Eventually, he freed your finger from his lips with a jarring pop, his chin wagging subtly with the pride of his action. “What?” He asked innocently, releasing your hand. “I’m just findin’ ways to make eatin’ this pie more excitin’.”

“Very innovative,” you giggled. “And messy.”

“Darlin’, don’t you worry—when I make a mess, I clean it up right after,” he remarked.

Suddenly, you became keenly aware of the cream still slathering your cheek. “Oh, is that so?” You retorted. “Because the records aren’t exactly reflecting right now.”

Dean’s hands came up in a gesture of his defence. “Hey, give me a chance,” he chuckled, then moved to wrap a hand around the nape of your neck. There, his fingers fanned the hair draping your neck, and he pulled you into his frame as his jaw made a dive toward your face.

You felt the warmth of his tongue drag a gentle trail up the curve of your cheek before drawing back to repeat the motion. You squirmed against the humid wetness, hands coming up to his chest as you let out a strained giggle. “That tickles, you weirdo!”

Eventually, he pulled back to face you, and the view of him was silly enough to send you into another giddy fit. The bridge of his nose was dotted with cream, and the trail dissipated along the curve of his glistening lips only to reappear within the divot of his chin.

“You look ridiculous!” You remarked with a warm laugh, finger lifting to wipe some of the cream off the button of his nose and present it to him.

“Yeah, well, you taste delicious,” he mocked childishly, linking his finger with yours to wipe the cream from the tip before plopping it into his mouth. He jerked his chin to the counter behind you, wiping his hands together. “Could ya pass me a paper towel, please? Behind you.”

Just then, an idea sparked to mind—shameless, and a little dirty, but fun. “Don’t bother,” you replied, and Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. Just then, you turned toward the pie, hand coming forward to scoop up an impressive amount of cream.

Behind you, Dean let out a soft huff, like he’d had an idea of what game you were about to play. Turning back to him, you hovered your cream-laden hand out in front of you, your other chaste one slipping beneath the hem of your tank to lift it up the expanse of your stomach. You terminated the stripping beneath the curve of your breasts, revealing enough of your abdomen to spur the Winchester on.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he breathed, his eyes unashamedly lowering down your exposed stomach before darting back to the cream cradled within your palm.

Without a word to spare, you began spreading a slow and messy trail across your stomach—starting at the divot between the curves of your breasts.

“Oh, I think I like where this is goin’,” Dean chuckled absentmindedly, lower lip drawn into a bite as he watched you paint the sticky trail down the length of your stomach—where you stopped just shy of your short’s hem.

Once you’d planted a generous path of cream, you brought your hand up to your lips to lick the last of it from existence, other hand still anchoring your shirt in its unobstructive place. “Rules of the game,” you began with a grin, Dean reciprocating one far more exhilarated. “Leave no mess behind—should be easy for you, he who always cleans up after himself,” you poked lightly.

“Easy?” He tutted cockily. “I’m gonna nail this out the freakin’ park. And then nail somethin’ else,” he added with a wink.

“Okay, mr. Big Talk, enough of the chitchat,” you laughed, free hand beckoning him forward.

Dean obliged with an eager, yes, ma’am, before inching his way toward you, leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead, then at the crook of your neck before he pulled back to gaze you in the eye.

“Happy birthday,” you murmured with an adoring smile.

“Happy freakin’ birthday to me, indeed,” Dean breathed in astonishment, taking a moment to lower his eyes along the candy trail that paved way to his personal jackpot down under before glancing back up at you. Then, with a determined smirk playing at his lips, he ducked from your view.

His hands took up firm grip at your waist, anchoring himself there as his lips took to your cream-kissed skin like the famished jaws of a zombie. Your head lolled back at the sensation of his tongue swirling along your skin, your free hand coming forward to plant itself within the jagged field of his hair. There, your fingers curled around unruly wisps—as if needing to ground yourself against the skilled tongue currently deconstructing your every sense—and your lips parted with a soft moan.

Dean, as if spurred on by that singular, sweet sound, added teeth into the mix, nipping lightly at the surfaces he’d licked clean before continuing to lower himself down your stomach. His grip at your waist became firmer—more desperate—and as if he couldn’t restrain himself any longer, his fingers grazed down your sides to slip beneath the waistband of your shorts and underwear. There, he tugged ruthlessly, successfully managing to pull the items down and over the curves of your hips and thighs.

You aided his efforts to strip you with a shimmy of your legs, allowing the clothing to plop to the ground. Shortly after, Dean’s fingers made a return to your waist, his tongue doing one, last greedy sweep of your navel to terminate the creamy line. He pulled back to gaze up at you—nose, mouth and chin slathered with the remnants of your game—but his pupils were blown wide with arousal, his teeth bared in a grin that told you he wanted to taste more of you.

“Jesus, baby, you’re gonna ruin me,” he uttered gruffly, breathlessly, and then without waiting for your input, he dipped into the yearning warmth nestled in the nook of your thighs, where his nose struck your clit with all the right force.

Like a starved and thirsty man deprived of everything essential to life, his tongue swept through your folds with the intent to garner every last inch of you. You let out a loud moan at that, hip collapsing slightly into the support of the counter, but Dean’s hands—anchored at your hips—tightened to remind you of his reliability, pulling you back onto the support of his mouth. There, his grip lowered to your thighs, squeezing lightly before they tightened mercilessly with the intent to grind himself deeper into your warmth.

Tears began to well at your eyes as the stimulation consumed you, head snapping back and eyes screwing shut to get lost in the abyss of Dean’s making. You felt, and heard, every flick and swirl of his tongue around your clit—the sound obscenely audible as wet fluttering—and it was enough to deduce you to a stew of mindless praises.

“Fuck, Dean, fuck,” you breathed—whimpered, tightening your hold within his hair until you were tugging meanly at his scalp. But he didn’t mind it—if anything, it elicited his own grunts of pleasure, which reverberated into your folds and added to the tension you felt building within your core.

He drew your swollen clit into a whirlpool, spinning it round and round his exploitative tongue with a moan of enjoyment. You could have listened to him utter that sound a hundred times over, and it jabbed at your core to know that Dean would never fail to find joy in pleasuring you.

“Fuck, baby, so wet, ‘nd so fuckin’ good,” he murmured against you, the words slurred by his discontent to disrupt the contact—and pace. He made a dive toward your dripping entrance, gathering the amalgamation of saliva and arousal attempting to slip away unnoticed, before he briefly slipped into your entrance.

You let out a broken gasp at that foul move, hips stuttering further into his jaw, but he steadied you upright with an accomplished chuckle to rattle you from within. His tongue retreated to drag back up your folds, re-establishing its rightful place running laps around your clit.

“S’alright, baby, I got you,” he murmured into you, adding fuel to the fire you felt about to erupt within you.

“I’m gonna come,” you muttered breathlessly, thighs clamping around his hold.

Dean gave a hum of approval at that, but kept up his slow and steady pace, only intensifying the stimulation with the pressure of his tongue.

The bundle within you began to grow and grow at your centre, tightening into an inexplicable mass that you craved to let go of. “Fuck,” you spat, eyes clamping shut as you chased your high. “Dean—don’t stop,” you breathed. “Don’t stop.”

“Ain’t ever stoppin’, baby,” he mumbled, hands squeezing your thigh pointedly.

“Can you. . . go faster,” you stuttered out, eyes faltering open and chin dipping to glance at him. “Please, I need it,” you whined softly.

Dean didn’t stray from his work to glance at you, and his pace didn’t budge, either. “Can’t,” he declined. “Gotta eat slower, remember?” There was a teasing flick across your clit, and you couldn’t help but let out a disbelieved laugh, eyes falling shut once more as you melted into his controlled pace.

“Asshole.”

“Fun-ass.”

──────────────────────

a/n ─ happy birthday to pookie!!! and this is a birthday gift bc dean’s a simple man—he’s a munch. fuck birthday presents & fuck birthday cake, this fucker just wants to devour you. best birthday song? the filth outta your mouth when his tongue’s surfing your clit. said who? me. dean told me. in my wet dreams last night. as a bonus for shits & giggles, yall get a pic of jensen and my doggo who turned 5 today bc her and dean share a bday 😞 they grow up so fast

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated

tags ─ @gibson-g1rl @bohemianblasphemy @fallbhind @titsout4jackles @ultravi0lence14 @angelicjackles @starzify @honeyryewhiskey @deansbeer @figthoughts @floralscented @walkslikesummeractslikerain @deansbbyx @whisperingdaze @maddie0101 @lieutenantchaos @spn-reader @bakugotypecrashout @jaydensluv @misatxox

want to become part of the taglist for any future dean winchester works?

other works ─ supernatural masterlist

© bluemerakis ─ do not plagiarise or steal any of my works.

[idkaguyorsomething]

the convoluted doctor who lore gets extra funny when you realize that, at two separate points in the past, two different companions to two different doctors ended up running into rasputin but both came to the conclusion that he was a pretty nice and normal guy. which, depending on how you interpret the power of the doctor, is either a nice subversion of a lot of tropes of stories used in pre-soviet russia, or side-splittingly hilarious as you start imagining the master getting roped into various adventures with different versions of the doctor that he can’t fuck with yet or else he’ll destroy the timeline, forcing him to play nice with the humans as part of his 4D Time Chess Master Disguise Plan #3852

[hughiecampbelle]

Supe Preference: Asking You Out

Requested: hi, idk if you write for the supes, but I will try request anyway :D how would the supes ( the boys series) ask a gn reader out? Ty - anon

A/N: I hope this is okay my love! I tried to stay true to character as much as possible, so I'm not sure how romantic some of them are. I tried writing for new Supes too, at least new for me, so apologies if it's not totally in character! Feedback is always appreciated! 💜💜💜

Homelander doesn't exactly ask you out. Rather, on live TV during an interview or event, he grabs your hand and proclaims that you're in love, that you're a couple. Whether or not you're into him, it still comes as a shock. Afterwards he'll ask you on a date where the public and paparazzi can see and take pictures. It's not as intimate as you'd like, but the date goes well. He takes you to an expensive restaurant where you've gotten rid of your suit for something classy and elegant, but he sticks with his regular attire. It's definitely not how you were expecting to be asked out or how you thought your relationship would progress. Ashley thinks it's great! You are both insanely powerful and, for selfish reasons, she wants Homelander off her back. She appreciates that you'll take some of the attention off her.

The Deep probably makes more than a few inappropriate, crude, raunchy jokes about and around you before he properly introduces himself. It's almost compulsive the way his jokes come out. He just can't help himself. He later apologizes and asks to start fresh. Would you want to go out on a date with him? When you say yes, he instantly tells you about all his ideas. You could go to the aquarium or to dinner or to the amusement park or coffee or whatever you want to do. You stick to coffee. It's pretty cute how excited he is. He wasn't expecting you to say yes, so he really didn't have it planned all the way through. He was expecting, like everyone else in his life, for you to call him stupid and move on without answering.

A-Train and you have been dating forever, but you haven't been out on a date in ages. He's still shy trying to ask you out even now. Of course you say yes, excited you'll get some time alone. You might have to reschedule once or twice because Homelander is on the rampage, but when you do get together, he takes you rollerskating. Despite how fast he is in sneakers, he's awful on wheels. He holds your hand the entire time and definitely drags you down when he falls. He stays pretty casual in his clothes and tries to keep his hood up, but it just falls down. You guys find a roller-rink in the middle of nowhere, so you're pretty safe in being discovered. You make fun of his clumsiness and check him for bruises when he falls, especially hard. He makes the same joke over and over: that he "fell" for you. You think he's an idiot, but this is by far one of your most favorite dates.

Queen Maeve asks you out over text. When you say yes, she shows up in her civilian clothes. She makes sure she isn't followed and that Homelander is distracted the entire day. She takes you to the movies. It's dark and secluded, but she knows you love movie theater popcorn specifically with all the butter and the blue raspberry slushies, and you picked the only movie not funded by or produced by Vought. It's a really terrible comedy, but you two can laugh at it anyway. Maeve even holds your hand during the movie which makes her heart beat out of her chest. Afterwards she makes you stay after to kiss you and tell you she had a really great time. It's the first time in forever where she's felt like a real person whose allowed to do real person things. She wants to get your read on it, but you're both excited for a second date.

Firecracker would ask you on a date to some fast food restaurant where you can get the best greasy food and the thickest milkshakes. She'll definitely be sported because she doesn't go incognito and ends up spending a few minutes at least taking pictures and videos for everyone who wants one. She apologizes for them, but secretly, she loves it. You don't mind. You knew what you were getting into when you said yes to the date. She tells you about her life growing up and her past with Starlight. You tell her about your own life and how you came to New York to follow your dreams. She tells you about joining The Seven and what she really thinks of Vought. It isn't the most magical date, but you're glad you said yes. It made you feel like a teenager again, getting food with your old crush, trying to play it cool when you're actually freaking out.

Soldier Boy doesn't really ask you out on a date. You two *get busy* in bed and afterwards he asks if you'd want to go to a bar. You say yes and find yourself at a local hole in the wall, a place that definitely doesn't see new faces. Most of the patrons are as old as Ben would be if he'd aged. He looks so familiar to them, but they can't figure out where he's from. An old friend? An old co-worker? Regardless, they don't pay attention to the two of you. You and Ben start trying to out drink one another and though his tolerance is astronomically higher than yours, you keep up enough to impress him. You two probably go back to bed and keep drinking, sharing stories about your lives between sweaty sheets and shared sips of whatever booze he has lying around. It's not too official, but you both kind of think of it as a date.

Bonus! Annie asks you to go bowling with her. Like in the show, she plays it off like she's not very good until you point it out to her. That's when she starts kicking your ass. She's really embarrassed and worried that you'll think she's showing off or just trying to make you feel bad, but you love it. You love her strength. You love her showing off and almost breaking the pins with the ball. You get really awful bowling alley food and beers, and it's a really fun night despite all the drama that comes with being Starlight. It's the first time in a long time she's felt normal and safe and excited to be here, excited to be herself. You're not shy about asking for a second date, though you know you're risking a lot by wanting to be with her. She makes that known before anything else.

[elilovesredacted]

HC

Sweetheart and David became quick and close friends when Milo first introduced them.

They liked his loyalty to his friends and his stoic nature.

He liked their commitment and how they loved Milo.

The two could often been seen at pack meetings or parties, chatting quietly.

In the short time Gabe was around, Sweetheart grew to love him and learned a lot about the pack and how Gabe adored David.

When Gabe died, Milo and Asher rushed with Sweetheart to David’s home. When they all arrived, Sweetheart booked it inside, staring at a broken David.

He stared back at them and tried to speak before the boys rushed in and he broke into sobs. Sweetheart held him with Milo and Asher.

The day of the funeral, the boys were trying to be helpful by cleaning up after the pack had gone to David’s house.

Everyone else was gone and David was sitting outside, out of sight. Sweetheart found him and sat with him. They held his hand while he cried.

They have never spoken about it, but every now and then they get together to talk about Gabe.

(inspired by Gigi Perez’s song ; Fable )

[linusbenjamin]

We're perfect for each other. You're gonna figure that out someday.

[aimedis]

darlin' getting attacked by quinn while they're taking a late night stroll. he escaped his department cell somehow. they take him down but they're fatally wounded. blood everywhere, bones broken and fractured in every place imaginable and more. it's so bad that when the pack gets there and finds them laying in the grass, asher literally throws up. marie is on her way but sam and david are trying to help. it would never have been enough. david, sam, milo, and asher are just sitting over them, begging them to keep their eyes open.

"i took him down, sammy. all by myself..." they whisper, eyes focusing and unfocusing as they try to remain conscious.

"hell yeah you did, darlin'. tore his head clean off," sam responds, equally as quiet, "you did so damn good."

marie shows up then. and sam would never get the sound of his darlin's screams and cries while marie was healing them out of his head. or how they went deathly still when she was done.

they js fell asleep from the magic, it's okay i wouldn't kill them off (or would i?)

(bonus !!)

imagine darlin' waking up days later, still looping on all the healing magic in their system and they're just being sappy and giggly with sam. picture those "partner under anaesthesia" videos.

[waynes-multiverse]

The Exit Strategy – Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there's one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, hurt/comfort, angst, humor, fluff, some spice, and a lot of surprises 😅

A/N: So excited to finally dive into this character! Been working on this for legit five months 😆 And while I was writing part 2 of this, I actually started working on a prequel, too. So, let this little mini adventure serve as a taste-test of what's to come. A lot of references in there are actually little hints to stories we'll revisit in The Classified Files 🤓

Thought this would be a nice little Christmas present for y'all 🎄❤️

Main Masterlist || Tag List || Ko-Fi

Part 1: This Is Not a Pipe

Part 2: This Is a Russell Mission

Part 3: This Is a Heart-To-Heart

Part 4: This Is Not an Exit

Part 5: This Is a Start

|| SERIES COMPLETE ||

[trulyhblue]

If you write for her, I will not be opposed to a Kerstin Casparij one because I have the biggest fattest crush on her. Maybe a fan keeps showing up in the fanzone (an area of the Joie stadium where a selected few are allowed to meet the players, but it's random each time and should make it so its different every time so everyone gets a go.) And nobody knows why she's there or how she keeps getting chosen but the players find it funny and make sure to get round to her every time. But Kerstin always spends a particularly long amount of time with her, until it's revealed that she's pulling strings and getting the girl in every time just so she can see her. (You can either do it where she does it because she likes her or because they're dating, it works with both and I'm not sure which one I want more.)

Charmer

Kerstin Casparji x Reader, Lauren Hemp x Platonic! Reader, Esme Morgan x Platonic! Reader, Man City WT x Reader.

Warnings: fluff, coarse language, established secret relationship

A/N — Thank you for this request!! Love it so much. Will definitely write more for Kerstin if anyone is willing to send in some requests!!!!!

__________________

You had met Kerstin in a bakery down the road from your house. When you first saw each other, the woman nearly tripped over her own feet. You were surprised by the shock on her face like she was starstruck by being in a metre of your presence. You gave her a friendly smile, hoping your open ambiguity would keep things humble.

It was during your final exams, the ones where you needed to pass so that you could continue your degree. You were very passionate about what you did, and sitting down in a quiet coffee shop with your headphones on and books open was your idea of being productive.

Kerstin, on the other hand, had the impression that you didn't want to talk to her.

Which, well, to be honest, you were in the middle of studying, but you gave no clear indication of what she thought you were thinking.

Instead of going about her day — she should've been at training twelve minutes ago, but it was only media day so they could wait — she slowly sauntered closer to where you sat, pretending to be interested in the decorative flowers that embellished the cafe. You watched her out of the corner of your eye, smiling at her piss-poor attempt in remaining discreet.

You were dressed in very basic clothing, similar to hers save for the Manchester symbol embedded on her jumper. Only one ear was covered by your headphones, meaning that Kerstin would be heard loud and clear if she plucked up the courage to speak to you — which she was trying to do now. She thought you were the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, and she was surrounded by women almost every single day of her life. You looked extremely immersed in what you were doing, which should of been an indicator of apathy but it only lured Kerstin in more.

She wanted to know everything about you. Your name, you favourite colour, what you did, what you loved, who you loved—

It sounded a bit creepy, so she shook off her thoughts and focused deeply on the flowers. The woman was staring at her screen distantly, aimlessly typing away on the keyboard with a mug by her side.

When she realised you had caught her staring, she buried and swallowed down her pride. “They are nice flowers, don't you think?” She asked, her cheeks burning a vibrant red as if she had just run a marathon. You noticed her accent, one that wasn't accustomed to Manchester, and nodded like you cared about the topic.

“Yes, but I think they are fake.” You replied, smiling wider as the woman’s flustered state only grew in size when she caught sight of the very fake-looking plants.

“Oh.” She gulped, shoving her hands into her pockets. She's so stupid, she thought to herself, she’d blown her chance of even talking to this gorgeous stranger by talking about some stupid, fake plants.

You wondered whether the woman would continue the conversation she started, but the silence that followed was a pretty good indicator that she was audibly stumped on what to say.

“They are pretty, though.”

“Like you,” Kerstin spoke without thinking and instantly regretted it. She slapped her hand across her mouth, nearly walking out of the coffee shop, packing her bags and moving back to the Netherlands. “Fuck, sorry. That just— erm, came out. Sorry.”

You took off your headphones, pretending to act offended, raising your eyebrows and sighing. “You don't mean it?”

“What— no, no, you are so pretty. Like, beautiful, gorgeous. That's why I'm here. Well— yeah, I saw and thought you were pretty. I didn't mean it like that. You're probably smart, too, but— erm, yeah.”

The look of remorse almost made you feel bad, but your amusement — and somewhat endearment — overturned your hesitancy.

Instead, you laughed, took a sip of your drink and smiled, hoping it would calm the woman’s nerves.

“You worry too much.” You said, moving across the booth you were sitting on, offering the space beside you for her to sit down. She did so without delay. “I'm not someone you should waste your worry on.”

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Kerstin answered wholeheartedly, pleased when she noticed the blush that dusted your cheeks. “I would rather worry about you than anything else for the rest of my life.”

You laughed, crossing your arms over your chest. “You don't even know me.”

With a push of confidence, Kerstin wrapped an arm over the back of the booth, scarcely missing your shoulder. “If you’d let me, I’d like to.”

“Charmer.”

It was from there that you and Kristen started to hang out.

Seven months had passed, and you were now completely and utterly in love with the woman. Kerstin was an externally affectionate person despite her introverted persona. She loved showering you with compliments, giving you everything you needed at exactly the right time with just the right amount of love and devotion.

You found out she was a football player pretty early on in your relationship due to the tight and busy schedule the girl had, including her diet, exercise, and all of that. You weren't a massive football fan, but going to your first game a week into knowing Kerstin made it seem to find a way into your heart.

Your girlfriend wasn't the only one to give compliments. You had your fair share in making sure the Dutch woman knew how much you were enamoured with everything she did. It took you a while to get used to her career and the publicity that came with it, but you found pleasure in knowing that once you got back to your shared apartment you could tell and show her just how much she made you feel so so proud.

It was in mutual agreeance that you both wanted to keep your relationship under wraps. Your feelings for one another and how you cared for each other were one of the highest concerns in your relationship, and by keeping your love between yourselves, you've found that it worked better overall. You didn't want to indulge in a media presence, and Kerstin respected that.

Kerstin was fine with putting herself out onto social media, but when it came to you, she wanted to make sure you were comfortable at all times.

Because of this, you both came to the decision that at games, you wouldn't sit within the family and friends section, and instead, in the crowd with the fans.

You were among the group of fans that were guaranteed to meet the players after the match, whether it be cause they paid more or if they were chosen randomly by officials. For many weeks, people just assumed that they were lucky or could just afford to pay the extra money to be seated in the same section. Both you and Kerstin found it amusing when fans would wonder why you were always the first one to be greeted, or why you knew her.

After a month of this recurring theme, some of Kerstin’s teammates started to notice.

Surprisingly, Lauren, who wasn't the most observant, caught sight of it first.

“Do you know her?” She asked Kerstin after a game against Everton, watching the Dutchie make eye contact with you from where they were signing shirts.

Kerstin looked at Hempo, a blush running across the bridge of her nose.

Shrugging, she thanked the last fan, handing back the pen. “She's a friend of mine.”

Lauren’s eyebrows furrowed. “Then why isn't she in the friends and family section?”

When Kerstin didn't instantly reply, silenced by the prodding questions she was receiving, a distant idea clicked in Lauren’s mind.

“She's your girlfriend?” She sounded, obviously a little too loudly since the Dutch international nudged her warningly.

“Alright, nosey, keep your voice down.” She snapped, pulling the girl away from the crowd. “You can't tell anyone, alright. It's still pretty new.”

Lauren’s eyes widened in alarm, not exactly thrilled with the commitment of keeping a secret. “Does Jill know?”

“Why would Jill know?”

“I don't know, I didn't think I’d be the first person to find out,” Hempo replied, looking back at you. “Can I tell someone?”

Kerstin’s eyebrows furrowed. “I just said you can't.”

“Yes, I know, but I'm terrible at keeping secrets,” Lauren whined. “Please, let me tell Jill, at least.”

“No, because Jill will tell Viv and Viv will tell Beth, and Beth will tell literally everyone.” She quipped, only half-heartedly digging at the Arsenal girls. She watched Hemp sigh like a child, looking down as if the burden of her knowing was too much. “You can tell Esme but that's it.”

That was how the first people found out about you and Kerstin. When she told you that night, you weren't necessarily fazed. It was bound to come out at some point, and you’d rather Kerstin’s teammates find out from her than the internet.

Unfortunately, though, the rest of the girls weren't afforded the same luxury as Esme and Lauren.

All of the girls at Man City couldn't believe their eyes when they found out Kerstin was in love.

Well, to be fair, they weren't quite certain this was true. Lauren and Esme saw it first at the next game against West Ham, watching their teammate smile cheekily at the girl in the stands when she should've been stretching.

Sandy mentioned the Dutch International’s love-sick countenance to some of their teammates over lunch a few weeks later, promoting Hempo and Es to spill their not-so-long-kept confession.

None of the girls knew who Kerstin was talking to — or even if their suspicions were acclimated, but Sandy, Esme, and Lauren all made it their mission to keep their lips closed.

Sandy was the one to come up with the pact, yet the demanding eyes of Roebuck after an endurance training session set her tongue loose.

Lauren wasn't at all happy. Esme ended up spilling the secret to Mary as well, meaning the secret was already spreading across the team.

Meanwhile, fans were growing more and more suspicious of you and how you managed to steal the attention of Kerstin after each and every game.

The media surrounding you two got so big that Kerstin’s national teammate Viv called her one day asking what was going on.

Kerstin knew Lauren and Esme had told at least half the team by then, including Jill, who had run up to you after a game and pretended to flirt with you just to annoy her teammate. Viv was quick to point out that if she wanted to keep your relationship private, putting you in the midst of cameras and media attention wasn't the most suitable option.

You ended up deciding that if you were to stay in the crowd, both of you needed to be willing to make your relationship more public.

It had been seven months of concealing your obvious love for one another. Pretty much the whole team knew about you, and it only took fans a quick video of the two of you looking at each other to piece the clues together. You were both mature enough to keep your private lives private and social lives up to your discretion.

You made the decision to share very minimal parts of your lives together without spelling it out. This meant that you could hug your girlfriend for that little while longer in front of everyone. You could kiss her and not look around to see if anyone was looking. You could tell yourself that Kerstin was yours and you were hers.

But you didn't need public knowledge to make you feel loved by her.

__________________________

kerstincasparji

kerstincasparji — bit of a charmer ✨

Comments:

user11 — UM THE SOFT LAUNCH ARE YOU KIDDING???

viviannemiedema — ❤️

laurenhemp — love that bakery

*liked by kerstincasparji and yourusername

esmemorgan — busy girls

^ wosofan — SHE KNOWS

maryfowler — 🐐

user23 — is she dating the fan??

^ manchestergirl — if you mean the girl in the stand then yeah I think so

^ user2 — “THE girl IN THE STANDS” AHAHAHHAA

jillroord — ew cooties

^ viviannemiedema — shush

^ jillroord — no 😍

user7 — why does she sit in the stands and not in the family and friends section

^ laurenhemp — that's what I said 🫢

yourusername — charmer, huh?

^ kerstincasparji — idk, some pretty girl called me it

^ yourusername — didn't you call her beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, talented, incredible, out of this world

^ kerstincaslarji — she likes to think so.

^ user12 — IS THIS HER??????

^ arsenalwosoxx — THEY HIT THE PENTAGON

________________________

[zepskies]

hiiii, i hope your friday is going well lovely 💞💞 :) how has your week been?💕

i’m currently stuck at work and it’s beeeeeen quite the day already, but you always cheer me up so i have a random question :p

i’m thinking about the scene when dean tried cafe con leche in the midnight espresso-verse (also i’m a barista loll🥲), and he was pleasantly surprised, so it has me wondering;

if they were to get something besides plain coffee, what do you think dean/ben/beau/russell would like to drink if they ordered at a coffee shop?

i always love to hear any and all your thoughts 🙂‍↕️🤍

Hello my lovely! 💞💞 I actually am in recovery this week after having a surgical procedure yesterday, so I'm finally getting a chance to catch up on my TBR reading and the shows I've had on my watchlist. 🤪

Ooh introducing Dean to Cuban espresso was the scene that inspired that whole fic of Midnight Espresso, and ultimately turned it into a whole series of Dean x plus-sized Latina fun!! lol

This is such a fun question though!! You as a barista probably know way more about coffee than I do, but here's my take on these guys' orders...

HEADCANON: What Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would order at a coffee shop. ☕

Dean Winchester

Why, an espresso of course! 🤎

Cram that little cup full of sugar, and you've got Dean hooked on a heavy-hitter fix that'll keep him up during long research sessions. (It also gives you the opportunity to distract him from said research, give him a taste of another steamy fix. 😘❤️‍🔥)

Beau Arlen

Ooh I feel like he'd protest at first and claim to solely drink Americanos, but he's a basic latte guy.

Hit him with some caramel or hazelnut, and he's happy. But you could also hook him into being a little adventurous with a pistachio or "brown sugar" latte lol. Like most things, Beau is willing to try almost anything once. 😉

Soldier Boy (Ben)

So he's definitely going to be thrown by all the modern selections of coffee. (i.e. "What the fuck is oatmilk?") And how the hell can you get milk out of cashews and almonds?

All the health crazes, "drip" coffee, and milk alternatives are definitely going over his head, or he's mocking them. ("Save that pussy drink for Hughie." 💀)

But one thing he might go for, other than a black coffee, is a nice cold brew, hold off on too much foam -- can't be getting the milkstache, now can he? But he'll like it even better if you make it "Irish." 💚

Russell Shaw

Last but certainly not least, we have Russell! I don't think he's picky about his coffee, considering he probably drinks a lot of free motel coffee. lol

But! I think he'd appreciate a nice flat white at a proper café. It's more robust than a normal cappuccino and less milk, so he'd argue that he's getting more "bang for his buck." 😂

AN: @wvffles Hope you liked this little headcanon, friend, and that it cheers you up! I LOVE me some coffee, so this question with the guys was really fun to contemplate. 😘☕

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Beau Arlen Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @waynes-multiverse @lamentationsofalonelypotato

@mostlymarvelgirl @thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

@deans-spinster-witch @sanscas @mxltifxnd0m @hobby27 @kaleldobrev @spnwoman

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @deansbbyx @chernayawidow

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @mrsjenniferwinchester

@fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused

@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[dabiconcordia]

"Imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire, you will what you imagine and at last you create what you will". ― George Bernard Shaw

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...Running Into Colter On A Job

Pairing: Colter Shaw x reader

A/N: I've been re-watching Tracker before Season 2 starts and I'm dipping my toe in the Colter fanfic world finally! Just a little something short, sweet and sassy to start with!

________

Your heart skipped a beat as you rounded the corner and spotted a man, his expression turning confused. “Colter Shaw?”

“Y/N?” You cleared the room before going to where he was handcuffed to a pipe. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you apparently.” You pulled your lock pick from the back of your jeans, jamming it in the key hole. “How’d this happen?”

“What are you doing here?” He repeated, an edge of agitation in his voice this time. You snapped the cuff open, frowning at him as he popped to his feet.

“Working the same job as you.” You got up, his hand on your arm pulling you up but you quickly shrugged him off. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, grabbing your bicep again, keeping you behind him. You punched him in the arm, Colter dropping you, rubbing his shoulder. “What the hell-”

“Do not treat me like a damsel, Shaw. I saved your ass, remember?” You brushed on ahead of him, taking your small handgun from the waistband of your jeans. He wanted to retort but you shushed him, Colter scowling but staying behind you.

You cleared the building quickly, only slightly surprised when you found the teenager you were looking for sat uncomfortably on a chair while an older man watched TV in the corner. Colter tapped your shoulder, pointing at the kid. You rolled your eyes but went along with it. If he wanted to get in a wrestling match with the big guy, he could go for it.

Two minutes later Colter was sat on the man’s back, securing him with the zip tie you tossed over from your jacket pocket.

“Hey, Henry,” you said, the kid looking relieved. “Your step dad do anything to you?”

“No. I just want to go home.” You helped him to his feet, giving Colter a nod. 

“Then let’s get you home, buddy.”

“Shaw,” you grit out in the parking lot of the police station a few hours later. Colter glanced up from his phone before shoving it in his pocket. “What the hell was that back there?”

“Nice to see you too,” he chuckled. “What are you doing-”

“Are you allergic to answering a question?” you prodded, crossing his arms. His eyebrows shot up, a stupid smile on his face. “I asked you first.”

“Wow. You are not the timid accountant you once were.” You scoffed.

“First off, you met me when I’d been kidnapped. I was having a rough day. Is that why you were so pushy back at the farm?”

He sighed, looking over your head. “Listen, I don’t know what you were capable of. I didn’t need another kidnapping victim on my hands.”

You smiled, stepping in closer, his adam’s apple bobbing. “The balls on you to say that to the person that, oh, literally helped you escape? Hm?” 

He frowned, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are,” you said, walking past him for your truck. 

“Wait!” he said, jogging to your side. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Does this answer it?” you said, pulling out an envelope full of reward money. Colter looked dumbfounded and you found the expression sort of adorable on his handsome face. “Sorry, seeing as how I found their son, the parents felt I deserved the reward.”

“You track rewards? You?” You patted his cheek, shaking your head.

“It’s a good thing you’re so handsome,” you teased, turning your back to him with a whistle. “Better luck next time, Shaw!”

“But…you’re an accountant!” he called after you.

“Former accountant,” you said, spinning around, walking backwards with a grin. “Turns out I make way more money doing this. A little weapons training here, a little martial arts there and a pushup bra go a long fucking way, Colter.”

“The fuck…” he trailed off as you winked at him. “Y/N!”

“Catch you on the next one, Colter!”

___________