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suosgirl · 3 months

Note

Helloooo! I was wondering if you are taking requests for Wind Breaker?

If yes, can I ask for a story or headcanons about Suo meeting and getting curious (and eventually falling for) a f.reader who is like a princess for Shishitoren?

In my head it would be funny to see Suo challenging and interacting with Choji and Togame (who are already threatening Suo to stay away from the reader). I mean, he can be kind of mean when he wants, and still wear a smile.😆

Thanks for hearing me out!

And let me say, I realllyyyy love the way you write!🩷

Shishitoren's Princess (& Her Guard Dog) | Hayato Suo x Reader

Word Count: 7471

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Shishitoren (literally most of them), Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama, Mitsuki Kiryu, Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nire

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers, ooc (definitely ooc sorry ah), angst, harassment, swearing, kissing, miscommunication – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: oh my goodness – I'm actually so sorry for how this took me (and how long this is ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა). I loved loved loved this idea so much, and thank you for the sweetest words! I really hope this is somewhere in the ballpark of what you were requesting! Thank you again for the amazing idea! I love you!

You hadn’t meant to cross over to their territory – truly. It’s just that Togame had mentioned that his favorite Ramune flavor had been out since last night, and Tomiyama had been going on and on about this new snack that just wasn’t available at the usual corner store that you guys frequented, so you found yourself with a mission on your mind and your wallet in your hand.

Pretty, perfect, caring adorable you. With a smile that could heal any scratch and a heart that seemed to never run empty. You were the pride and joy of Shishitoren – their mascot in every sense.

You knew everyone by name. If someone asked, you could name at least 5 things about each person from the top of your head. You could name their allergies, their likes and dislikes, and even their interests – all because you listened to them.

You were attentive and warm – quick to lend an ear if someone was having a bad day or offer advice if they asked.

And it was scary how well you could tell if they were in the dumps – it becomes a running joke that you have some kind of emotional superpower when it comes to them. It takes just one look, one look before you’re bringing them to a secluded corner and asking them if they’ve got something weighing on their minds.

You knew their personalities, knew their stories, knew their hearts.

The only time anyone avoided you was when they knew they did something wrong – because they knew you’d be pulling them by the ear and scolding them. And, as much as some of them wanted to get mad, they just couldn’t bring themselves to – because having someone care for them so fiercely was a feeling that not many of them had ever experienced, and from the bottom of your heart you truly cared.

After every fight, they knew you’d be the one to patch them up. Bofurin had the townspeople, sure, but Shishitoren had you. You, who would set up tables in the Ori with every inch of space taken up by ointments, antiseptic spray, gauze – the works. Whatever injury they had, as long as not severe, was taken care of by you.

If it was serious and required hospital attention, you were the one bringing them there – eyes sharp and tongue at the ready to yell at anyone who dared to treat them differently or deny services.

And these boys … they had the utmost respect for you. You, who had nothing but love to give, never expected a single thing back. You cared for them, genuinely, and saw them as your own brothers to fuss over and worry about and love.

You were family – and honestly, Togame and Tomiyama were just glad to have met you after their fight with Bofurin.

You’d moved to this side of town just a little after the whole thing, and when you’d gotten lost in the dark alleys with your phone on 1% and tears in your eyes, it was Tomiyama who walked you home. He’d talked your ear off the whole way, of course, but he was surprised at how you were able to keep up with him. You were actively responding to him, asking questions, keeping the conversation going – and Tomiyama liked that.

And when you’re delivered safely to your front door, you ask if you can exchange contact info. His eyes light up, and he’s quickly saying yes and that he’d love to hang out with you again.

He doesn’t expect you to reach out to him the next day though, asking if you can give him a thank-you present for going out of his way the day before.

And when you show up to the Ori, with a bag of assorted goodies in your hands, you’re met with more men than you could count, all with eyes staring wide at you.

They expect you to run away, honestly, because they know what they look like. They know that you’re probably a sweet girl, sure, but they were a gang – plain and simple. A gang working on reform, sure, but a gang nonetheless. So, if you were to drop your little goodie bag in fear and run for your life, well, it would probably be the most appropriate response.

Instead, what you do is gasp, point an accusatory finger at Tomiyama, and exclaim, “WHY didn’t you tell me that there would be more people here?”

You quickly hand him the bag, muttering out an “I’ll be back”, and in less than 30 minutes you’ve got your hands full with 5 more bags, packed to the brim with even more snacks.

With Togame, it takes just a little bit longer for him to warm up to you. Not that he doesn’t already like you – it’s just that he’s, well, a bit more reserved and a bit more quiet and observing (a lot more quiet if we’re comparing him to Tomiyama).

It’s when, during a fleeting conversation, he mentions that he plays Go with the elderly men at the public bath – and he watches you perk up at his words. Immediately, you’re asking if it would be alright to play with him sometime, and while he’s hesitant, he ultimately says yes at the sight of your bright eyes and wide smile.

He admits that he thinks you’re just bluffing, until you actually plan a day to play, and now you’ve got him thinking that maybe you’re good? Maybe, you’re a secret Go prodigy or something? Maybe you’ve got a secret or two up your sleeve and –

He wipes the floor with you. Absolutely demolishes you. But you’re happy about it, laughing at the result, and he’s confused because you didn’t win? Did you … did you know how board games work?

You’re quick to tell him that you enjoyed it because you got to spend time with him, got to know who he is as a person because of how he played.

You leave him standing on the street, a bottle of Ramune long forgotten in his hand (his prize for winning) and his mouth open in surprise.

And when you notice he’s not next to you anymore, you turn around with a smile on your face as you ask, “Don’t you feel that you know me a little bit better too?”

Yeah, they were glad that you got to see them as they were now, with hopes and dreams and emotions. They don’t dwell on the idea of you meeting them before then – they don’t want to. Because if they thought about it too long, they’d have their answer.

You deserved to be happy and healthy and protected. You, who filled a hole in Shishitoren that they didn’t even know existed.

And now you were an irreplaceable part of their lives, so precious and so important that they began to understand Bofurin. They had you – someone that they would do anything in their power to protect – to keep safe from harm.

You were Shishitoren’s Princess.

After that, Tomiyama and Togame were stuck to you like glue. Always thinking about you, always concerned, always wondering where you were.

You’re running late and they haven’t got a text letting them know why? They’re out on the streets, danger flashing in their eyes and prepared for the worst. However, when they see that you’ve been distracted by a stray cat on the road, all they do is let out a laugh and join your side.

They hear you sniffling and see that your eyes are shining with tears? They’re immediately on you, asking who did this to you, with a promise to make them pay for it tenfold. “You can’t really beat up allergies,” you laugh, before sneezing into a tissue. Immediately, the Shishitoren boys are rounded up, their eyes focused and determined – to get you allergy medicine.

You were everything good in the world, bottled up into someone who could make even the rainiest days seem a bit more brighter and the hardest challenges a bit more bearable – and they didn’t want anyone infringing on their happiness.

So when Hayato Suo, from Bofurin, comes across you one fateful day – they’re absolutely livid.

And honestly, you loved them, you did, but the way that they treated you like a delicate little flower sometimes felt a bit too stuffy.

What? Did they think you just patched people up for fun? That you knew how to medically treat someone just short of a nurse because it was your hobby?

You’re too absorbed in your thoughts to realize where the directions on your phone are taking you until you’ve already passed the train crossing border that connects Bofurin’s and Shishitoren’s territory. You’re spit out onto a street that you’ve never seen before, but you shrug it off.

When you find the corner store, you make quick work of your shopping list, even grabbing some items for yourself, before you’re out the door.

It’s when you’ve barely taken a few steps down the street that you feel it – the staring on the back of your head.

While you were in the store, you’d felt their eyes on you, but you’d ignored it, hoping that it was just a fleeting moment of curiosity. Now, you see that it was the eyes of a predator stalking their prey.

You pause, before quickly taking out your phone and sending a quick text to Togame and Tomiyama – they just need one small clue and they can fill in the rest – so you send your location.

And when you finally turn to face your stalker, you snap a photo of their face. For insurance, you assure yourself. Just in case.

He’s taller than you, with a smirk on his face and his hands in his pockets. You feel uneasy at his presence, and you look up and down the street to see that no one’s around.

Damnit damnit damnit.

“You’re really pretty, totally my type. Could I get your contact information?” he’s asking, but the tone that he’s saying it in doesn’t leave any room for objection.

“No,” you reply, simple and straight to the point. Then, you stay standing there, and you wait.

“Never turn your back on an enemy.”

Togame had said this briefly, once, while the both of you were watching everyone spar.

When the man takes a step forward, you take one back, maintaining the distance between you and him.

“Oh come on – it’s just your number. Don’t make this such a big deal.”

He’s holding himself back and you can see it. You can see the way his hands are twitching by his sides now and the way his breathing is starting to speed up.

“Always keep an eye on your opponent~! You wouldn’t wanna miss anything!”

Tomiyama’s words run through your mind next, and you will yourself to maintain your facade.

You’re starting to get just the slightest bit worried now, though. It really shouldn’t be too much longer, you think. Any minute now.

But a minute passes by, Togame and Choji aren’t here, and the guy’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist so tightly that it’s starting to throb.

“Please – leave me alone!” you yell out, but it’s going through one ear and out the other. He’s smiling down, dark and sinister, and it’s then that you remember something so crucial that you can’t believe you forgot it.

“Kick them, um, down there. It’ll hurt, a lot. But that’s a last resort type of move, alright princess?”

Those self-defense lessons are paying off, Togame.

You make a mental note to thank him when he gets here.

You kick the man, hard, and when he releases your arm you step back as fast as you can, but –

The plastic bag you had once held in your hand, now filled with the sloshing liquid and the broken glass of Togame’s Ramune bottle, causes you to slip.

Your hands shoot out and you close your eyes in anticipation of the fall that never comes because strong, warm arms are holding you up.

You let out a sigh of relief – finally. You’re brought to stand, but before those hands can leave your body, you’re swiftly grabbing them to wrap around your waist and leaning your head on their chest.

“Geez, took you guys long enough –”

The sight of a black jacket cuts you off. Black, with green embroidery.

You quickly push yourself off, eyes wide and cheeks red because you had just initiated a very intimate hug with someone who was a complete stranger.

“I-I’m so sorry! Oh my gosh – I thought you were someone else!” you blurt out, hands covering your mouth – and he looks as caught off guard as you are.

His eye is wide, mouth open just the tiniest bit, and – he’s cute.

“Wow, I don’t get thanked like that too often,” he smiles, and you’re mortified at his playful reaction.

“I –,” You open your mouth to apologize again, but he’s got a hand on your shoulder, quickly cutting you off.

You look up at him, and the smile’s still there, but it’s different now – it’s frightening.

“Would you mind stepping to the side for me? It seems some people just don’t know when to quit.”

You hear shuffling behind you, and you’re quickly brought back to the situation at hand. Nodding, you get out of his way, and it’s as soon as you step past him that you hear a sickening thud and a groan of pain.

When you turn, you’re relieved to see that the man who’d been harassing you is on the ground, and if you were to guess, probably out cold.

“Wow… You made quick work of him,” you don’t try to hide the awe in your voice and Suo finds it both endearing and concerning that you’re praising him.

Concerning mainly because, well, you don’t seem to be the type to leisurely enjoy street fights.

And now you’re right in front of him, inspecting his face and body to make sure there aren’t any cuts that need to be treated or any injuries that need tending.

It’s second nature at this point — ingrained in your body and soul.

Cute, he thinks, very cute that she thinks he touched me.

“Do you see anything wrong, love?” he jests, enjoying the way you’re so diligently scanning him from head to toe.

“No, I don’t think—”

You are, once again, mortified by his teasing. No one at Shishitoren spoke to you like this, and sure they called you Princess, but to you, it held the same value as sister or friend.

“S-sorry, force of habit… ah, thank you for saving me! I sent my friends a message but —”

You’re cut off by the sounds of two distinct voices yelling "Princess", and Suo’s quick to prepare himself for another fight.

However, when he sees Togame and Tomiyama run around the corner with panic in their eyes and desperation in their voices, he’s just confused.

And when they spot the two of you, with an unconscious body on the ground, it gets even more confusing. Because why are they walking over here and why do they have scowls on their face and —

“Princess, what were you thinking?”

Tomiyama and Togame are all over you, Togame’s hand gently grasping your chin to move your face from side to side, and Tomiyama’s got his hand on your wrist, softly thumbing at the bruised skin.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Suo’s observing all of this, and he’s trying to rack his brain for any information about you. God, he really wished Nirei was here right now.

He’s never heard that name before or seen your face, so this must be a recent development. But with the way they’re fretting over you, you’d think that you’d all been childhood friends or something because the way that they’re worrying over you is definitely not normal.

You try to push their hands away from you, embarrassed that you have an audience, but they don’t let up so all you’re able to do is grumble and huff as they inspect you from head to toe.

“... He hurt you,” Tomiyama whispers, and you grab his wrist before he starts stalking toward the body on the floor.

“It’s okay um – oh, I don’t know your name, but he helped me out! Everything’s fine – really! Please, let’s calm down,” you plead, and all it takes is one look at your anxious face for the both of them to ease up.

Now, Suo really wants to understand.

“Suo … thanks for protecting her. This idiot didn’t tell us she was crossing over into your territory. It’s our fault, sorry,” Togame explains, one hand scratching the back of his neck and the other draped over your shoulders.

Suo takes a moment to respond. Who would he be, after all, if not an instigator?

Because — who were you? You – who could turn the Shishitoren leader and his second in command into mere puppies with your sweet voice. You — who had them running like their lives depended on it.

“Ah, I’d save a sweet girl like her any day,” Suo says, testing the waters, and he gets the exact reaction he was hoping for.

Togame and Tomiyama stiffen up beside you, as you gasp in surprise at his words.

And suddenly, there’s a shift in the air – and it’s deadly.

You sense it, of course, because who wouldn’t be able to feel the heightened electricity and the low hum of buzzing coming from Togame’s and Tomiyama’s chests?

And you, ever the de-escalating expert, quickly blurt out, “Ah, wait! I need to go back to the store! Give me like 5 minutes!”

Before they can get a “no” out, you’re already out of their grasp and beelining it for the convenience store.

It’s silent for a moment, with just Suo, Tomiyama, and Togame looking at one another.

Finally, Togame breaks the silence.

“Look, Sakura’s a friend –”

“And Ume-chan too!” Tomiyama chimes in.

“ – and I hope we’re not stepping on your toes here but don’t get any ideas.”

Suo knows he should stop. He should probably apologize, and let them know it’s not what they think. That they’ve got it all wrong. But … he really can’t help it – not with the way that they’re hissing at him like cats. It’s adorable – and you’re adorable.

He was never really good with holding back his tongue, anyway.

“I think she can make her own decisions, don’t you?”

Togame and Tomiyama do not take kindly to his words, and so it begins – a passive-aggressive verbal war.

“Ha, right. It’s been fun, eye-patch-kun, but we really oughta take her back home. You know, so that we can patch her up,” Togame says, and though there's a smile on his face, Suo understands the underlying message behind his words.

She got hurt in your territory, under your patrol.

Suo smiles back at him.

“Ah, sorry! I wasn’t quick enough to save her, but I’m glad I was able to sort this out before things got out of hand,” Suo replies.

All you guys do is blow things up out of proportion – with violence.

“If we’d been here, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place.”

“Hm. But you probably would’ve gone overboard.”

“Watch it –”

“Ah, sorry!”

It’s when Tomiyama finally opens his mouth that Suo realizes he’s been uncharacteristically quiet, and when they make eye contact, Suo’s smile deepens – because Tomiyama looked like he was ready to maul Suo into pieces, like a true Lion.

“Ume-chan and Furin are our friends,” he says, eyes darkening with every word, “but she’s our family – I think it’s best if you stand down.”

It’s at that moment that you come racing back towards them, your hands full of goodies and a grin on your face as you exclaim, “I got it! I got it!”

You hand Togame his Ramune, Tomiyama his snack, and … you hand Suo bottled tea.

“Sorry, um, I wasn’t too sure what you liked – but this is my favorite drink! Ah, um, if you don’t like it … Suo … I won’t be hurt. But you strike me as a tea lover so –”

You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands wringing behind your back as you ramble and Suo can’t help the sweet smile and the small laugh that escapes his lips before thanking you.

And as soon as he’s done, you’re being whisked away back to your territory – back to your home.

As you walk through the passing, with Tomiyama’s arm intertwined with yours and Togame’s arm draped over your shoulders, you briefly turn around, just to catch one more glance of Suo.

He’s standing there, smiling as he raises his hand to wave at you. You smile back at him with a glossy look in your eyes before Togame softly flicks your forehead.

Your attention is on Togame now, pouty and dejected, before turning your head indignantly as you begin to lecture him about how you’re supposed to thank someone when they help you, and that it’s the nice thing to do.

In the heat of your lecture, you miss the way that Tomiyama and Togame also turn back to look at Suo.

In the darkness of the tunnel, Suo swears he can see their eyes glinting, and his smile only deepens.

Their eyes, daring and territorial, only say one thing.

Ours. Ours. Ours.

He had to admit, he wasn’t expecting this turn of events but he was intrigued now.

And, it’s only after the three of you disappear that he realizes he never learned your name – your real name.

So, when he volunteers to take over the patrol where the Furin territory ends and the Shishitoren territory starts, who can blame him?

What Suo doesn’t know, though, is that after this little incident, you’re permanently banned from walking alone ever again.

(Of course, you’re not actually banned. But, you are given a scolding afterward – which, in your eyes, is rich coming from Togame and Tomiyama, but sure, whatever.)

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

The next time Suo sees you, it’s when he least expects it.

You’re in Bofurin territory, with a small first-aid kit on your lap as you tend to the child in front of you. You’re smiling at the sniffling little boy as you wrap some gauze around his ankle, your fingers adept and swift, as if you’d done this countless times before.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? You’re so strong!”

You ask him how it feels, and the little boy beams up at you, the tears in his eyes long gone and instead replaced with immense gratitude.

You smile down at him, playfully scolding him to be more careful as you pat his head softly.

And then Suo sees you hand him a lollipop — a lollipop — and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

So, really, can you blame him for sneaking up behind you and whispering into your ear?

“What brings you to Bofurin territory, princess?”

You yelp in surprise, before turning around so fast that Suo worries if you gave yourself whiplash.

Once your blush has gone down and the surprise of seeing him wears off, you explain that you’re here to get some bread for Tomiyama from the Cactus bakery.

He’d been saying that he wanted fresh bread, but there weren’t any in Shishitoren that you knew of. And as soon as he mentioned the Cactus’s Anpan over on Bofurin's side of the tunnel, well, who could blame you for taking that opportunity to not only do something for him but also for yourself?

Which, of course, was to hopefully run into Suo.

“He sent you all the way over here to pick up bread for him?”

“Hm? No, of course not. This is a surprise for him!”

“I see – I was wondering why you didn’t have your guard dogs around…”

“My guard dogs?”

“Oh!” you laugh and Suo thinks it’s the most pleasant sound he’s heard in his life.

“You mean Tomiyama and Togame? No, they don’t know I’m here. It wouldn’t really be a surprise if they knew, right?”

Suo’s starting to see it now – why they care for you so much. But he wants to know more, so he asks about the kid you were tending to.

“Ah — I saw him playing with some kids and he took a nasty fall. I didn’t think it was right to let him go home without care, so I patched him up. I hope that’s okay?”

Suo finds that he really likes talking to you. He likes how expressive you are, how kind you are, and how thoughtful you are. And he finally learns your name. He likes that about you too – it’s cute.

So, naturally, he offers to escort you to Cactus – purely just to keep an eye on you, he convinces himself.

And when he escorts you back to the border, all your goodies in one hand and his arm in the other, well –

He doesn’t care enough to find justification for his actions. He just really liked you – plain and simple.

When you let go of his arm, he’s already grieving the feeling of your body pressed to his side.

You were warm, soft, and he’s sure that if he ever got the chance to taste your lips, sweet.

“Let’s exchange contact information! That way, you can be my guard dog when I’m here,” you say as you pull out your phone, and Suo’s so so glad that he ran into you today.

When he adds your contact to his phone, he puts you down as Princess.

When you add his contact to yours, you put him down as Guard Dog.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

After that, you and Suo try to meet up. But… well…

You don’t see the point in trying to hide it. You were, after all, your own person. You could think for yourself, make decisions for yourself, and speak up for yourself. You were so open to loving and the Shishitoren boys knew this – so why should you hide it?

And when you had something on your mind, you were determined to make it happen. So, you don’t see why it would be any different with Suo. You had met him twice now, and you wanted to keep seeing him. To keep talking to him. To maybe even date him.

But to Shishitoren, this was equivalent to losing you – and they could never let that happen.

So Shishitoren never lets you see him – and it’s not like they’re barricading you inside the Ori or blocking the entrance to the border (though, they’ll admit that the thoughts crossed their mind in one way or the other).

No. They do it in a way that they know will make you stay with them – by acting like big babies.

The first to fall was Arima –

You’re about to leave to meet up with Suo when Arima runs into the Ori, cries of pain leaving his lips as he whines at how much it hurts. You drop your bag immediately, texting Suo a panicked text about how something came up and that you’re sorry but you’ve gotta cancel today.

You have Arima sit down, all your supplies laid out next to you as you ask him what happened and –

It’s a paper cut.

But he’s babbling about how deep it is and how much it stings and it takes forever to just disinfect it and wrap a bandage around it before you realize that half the day’s just flew by for a minor injury.

Second was Kanuma – when he got a bad haircut.

Third was Sako – when he suddenly, out of nowhere, began asking you for advice about how you would approach someone who you used to look up to but lost respect for, who you vowed to fight and win against, only to lose against them and have them apologize to you (you, obviously, struggled with what advice you could even give him).

Fourth was Tomiyama – when he lost his favorite pair of sneakers.

Fifth was Togame – when he lost an eating challenge for the first time.

“It’s for the good of Shishitoren,” they say as they prepare the next victim.

Eventually, you find yourself tending to almost all of Shishitoren’s wounds, whether physical or emotional, and you just can’t believe that they’re fighting against you and Suo so hard.

But, in between all of that, you and Suo still manage to sneak in hushed phone calls and sweet texts.

Always asking about how the other’s doing, always talking about how your day went. He looks forward to it, he realizes, laying in bed as he hears you start to slur the ends of your words, drifting off into sleep.

And you send him photos all the time – it could be of a cat you came across while on the way to the Ori, or a drink that you tried that you liked – and with each text, with each phone call, Suo finds himself becoming smitten with you.

You, who would remind him to drink water and to at least eat something small to get through the day. You, who had perfect memory and would follow up with the things that he’d talked about days ago, just because you were interested and curious (he’d mentioned that there was a tea spot that he frequented in Makochi, and it only took a day or two later for you to bring it up again, this time with all sorts of questions and comments like “I looked at what they serve! Which one’s your favorite?” and “I’d love to go there with you sometime, Suo – if I ever get the chance”. He’d only said the name of this tea shop once, but you remembered).

And sweet, kind, loving you – who seemed to know whenever he had a particularly tough day. You were so attentive to him, which was surprising because all your interactions were never in person, but it seemed that you could understand his mood just based on the extra second it took for him to answer the phone or the way he responded to your text. And the thing was that Suo was great at masking his emotions – an expert, even. But you, who could just sense these things about other people, were giving him the chance to open up if he so chose to. You never pressed, never battered him for an answer. Just a simple – “I feel like there’s something on your mind, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay! Just know that if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I’ll be there for you Suo.”

And, above all, you never stop trying. You never stop trying to escape the clutches of Shishitoren to see him – though you apologize every time your plans get thwarted as if you both weren’t expecting the same outcome.

But Suo doesn’t see you again, for months – not until a huge fight breaks out, and you’re honestly the last one he expects to see rushing onto the aftermath of the battlefield with a backpack filled to the brim with medical supplies and a determined look on your face.

They didn’t know Shishitoren was going to get involved and fight alongside them, didn’t know that the aftermath was going to be this bad. But if Suo had known that you’d be running to meet everyone afterwards, well –

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

He sees you a mile away, and he’s so relieved that you’re not hurt. That you’re up and moving. That you’re here. But he’s also surprised and caught off guard because – why were you here?

It’s then that he sees your bag, sees the way that you’ve got your hair up and out of your face, and the way that you’re scanning everyone up and down so fast that your eyes never stop moving.

My little nurse, Suo thinks, rushing to the injured like the sweet princess she is.

Little did you know that as he was fighting, there were only 3 things revolving through his mind – Bofurin, Makochi, and you. He fought to protect those 3 things that were so very dear to his heart, and to be greeted with the sight of you after winning? Well, it couldn’t be anything less but a sign of his hard work. A reward, if you will.

He sees you run up to Umemiya, serious and purposeful, as you open your mouth and wait for a response. Umemiya, though very confused, gives you an answer that you seem satisfied with because you nod, then thank him, and now you’re running towards Suo, and you make eye contact, and he can’t wait for you to dote after him and take care of him and –

You smile at him, scan his body, nod – and walk right past him. You never stopped for him, actually. You just kept moving. Just kept walking.

And Suo just watches – he watches as you make your way over to where Shishitoren is laid out, watches as they all let out a sigh of relief when they see you safe and unharmed, watches as they start talking animatedly to you as you start setting up for aid.

And you’re standing there with a pained look in your eyes as you nod at their words halfheartedly, more focused on the injuries that they’re sporting on their bodies than the words coming out of their mouths. You’re going from person to person as fast as you can, and although Suo can’t hear you, he can read your lips as you tell every single person – “I’m here now. It’s okay. Thank you for fighting. I’ll take care of you.”

He watches as you get to Tomiyama and Togame, and sees the way your eyes start to water as they pat your head and tell you that they’re fine – even though you have eyes, you can see how hard they’ve fought. Instead, they’re fondly thanking you for coming all this way just to take care of them.

And suddenly, everything got a bit too real for Suo. A bit too scary.

Because he didn’t realize how hard he’d fallen for you, in between those two fateful meetings, the constant late-night phone calls, and the never-ending texts.

It hits Suo like a train. He wanted to be the one that you search for in the crowd. He wanted to be the one that you’re fussing over. He wanted you to patch him up. He wanted you.

He was in love with you.

And he shuts down – completely.

He goes silent, uncharacteristically so, to the point that Sakura and Nirei are starting to get worried.

“What’s wrong, Suo-san?”

“Suo, what’s the matter with you?”

It goes through one ear and out the other – no response, no indication that he’s even present at the moment.

It’s when you’re patching up the last member of Shishitoren that you feel the heat of an eye on you – and your body reacts before your mind can.

Suo’s name is the only thing running through your mind as you finish up as fast as you can – and you’re off.

You’re making your way to where all of Bofurin is sitting, just barely slipping out of the grasps of the Shishitoren boys.

It’s Togame, with his long limbs, who reaches out and puts a hand on your shoulder and it’s Tomiyama, with his fast reflexes, who has your hand in his.

“Princess, no–”

“Let me find Suo.”

“But you don’t even –”

“Choji, Jo – let me go.”

They hesitate. You’d never spoken to them like this before. Never used their first names before. Never been so cold before.

But they weren’t fools. Even if you tried to hide it, they’d seen the way you sneaked off to talk to him or the way you thought you were hiding your phone when you were responding to him. Anytime they’d bring something up that had even an inkling to do with Suo, you were excitedly adding in your input – all while stumbling over your words as you tried to be mysterious.

(They’d done a test, actually. All they did was bring up the word tea and you were fighting for your life as you kept accidentally saying Suo’s name when talking about your friend.

“Ah, Su– AH, I mean, my friend really likes this type of tea.”

“Oh! That’s S– my friend's favorite place in Makochi!”

They didn’t have the heart to tell you because, well – you really sucked at lying.)

And they realize, with heavy hearts, that you were never theirs to lock up in the Ori. You were so kind, so lovable, so sweet, because that’s just who you are as a person.

You were protected, sure, and healthy, sure, but you weren’t happy.

You, who were the embodiment of everything that Shishitoren was working to protect, had made a choice and they weren’t respecting it the way that you respected them – and they were being, well, selfish.

And when they finally let you go, you sigh in relief. Making your way over to where Suo’s sitting, you yell out over your shoulder, with so much spite, so much anger, and so much love –

“You act like I’m never coming back – stop whining like puppies!”

Togame’s and Tomiyama’s eyes widen in shock before they both laugh lightly at your words in disbelief.

You really knew how to scold them.

“... she’s talking about you.”

“... nah, she’s definitely talking about you.”

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

When you made your way over to Suo, you were met with guarded and curious stares from all of Bofurin. Too focused and too determined, you brush it off. You knew about the fight that they had with Shishitoren, sure, but you thought that they had patched everything up? And Shishitoren had fought with them for this big battle, so why the curiosity?

If only you knew the real reason everyone was staring at you.

Instead, you find yourself running past all of them with Suo’s name falling from your lips, and when you see him, he doesn’t respond.

You pause, dejected, before repeating his name.

No response.

Now you’re worried – and scared.

You recognize Sakura and Nirei, based on how Suo had described them briefly, and you immediately begin asking them what happened.

“Sakura, Nirei – is Suo okay? Did he get hurt? Does he need first aid?”

You’re met with silence – and shock.

“H-huh? Do we know you?”

“U-umm – sorry, have we met before?”

You pause at their response, looking at them confused.

You blink once, then twice, then three times – before glancing at Suo.

Unresponsive and unperturbed.

You introduce yourself slowly, giving Sakura and Nirei the chance to remember you – because they must’ve heard your name at least once, right?

They hadn’t.

And now you’re standing there with hundreds of eyes on you, as you come to terms with the fact that maybe … maybe you’d been wrong this whole time.

You clear your throat before timidly asking a question that you fear you already know the answer to.

“Did he um… did he not tell you about me? Uh… about us?”

And suddenly – everything goes to shit.

Shishitoren rises up in arms, walking over to where you are because why did you look so confused and why was Suo ignoring their beloved princess –

All of Bofurin is staring at you with their mouths wide open, processing the words you’ve just said –

Sakura’s spluttering, desperately trying to form words as he continues to just point back and forth from you to Suo with shaky hands –

Nirei’s got his notebook in his hand, flipping through it like a madman because how could he miss something like this, and had Suo ever talked about you? –

Suo’s unresponsive, still –

And then, to top it all off, Kiryu gasps because he’s finally solved it. He’d seen a text on Suo’s phone, so brief and so quick, but he was sure that the person Suo was texting was –

“Oh! You’re the one he’s been texting! You’re Princess!”

At Kiryu’s words, you snap.

And no one, not even Togame and Tomiyama, had ever seen you this angry, this upset, this livid.

You weren’t expecting him to go around screaming your name all over Makochi, but what you did expect was at the very least maybe his friends to know. Was that so absurd? You never tried to hide your feelings for Suo from Shishitoren (They tried so hard to stop it) so why wasn’t it reciprocated? Did he not feel the same way? Had you looked too deep into his actions and created a fantasy in your mind? Did you not really know him as well as you thought?

Or worse – had he been toying with you?

Oh, you were pissed – and poor Suo didn’t have a clue.

You go to stand in front of him, eerily calm and sickeningly sweet as you call his name one more time.

“Hayato Suo.”

Now that – that brings him back to his senses. You watch him blink in succession as he grounds himself, before his eye darts to you, to Furin, to Shishitoren – and he quickly puts the pieces together before letting out a stiff laugh.

“Ah – I was hoping to introduce you properly to everyon–”

“Am I a joke to you, Hayato?”

Suo freezes at your words.

How could you, who had unknowingly wormed your way into his heavily guarded heart, be a joke?

But he realizes now – and he feels, for one of the few times in his life, stupid.

Because you love with your heart on your sleeve, and Suo loves with his heart tucked away.

And really, Suo should’ve known, because you’re you — you who gave Shishitoren something to protect and to hold close to their hearts, safe from danger and harm’s way.

You press on, fighting through the anger and the embarrassment and the fear you feel rising inside of you.

“Tell me Hayato, answer me. Was I? Hm? Did you have fun?”

“No, I –”

“Every call, every text – did that mean nothing to you? Was I just being delusional?”

“Wait I –”

You’re so close to him now, softly jabbing your finger into his chest as your words begin to get more and more shaky.

“Do you feel powerful, Hayato? Making a Shishitoren girl fall in love with you–”

You stop yourself, teary-eyed and vulnerable, and you feel so stupid. Because what hurts more than anything is giving someone all your love, all your time, all your energy – all for it to have been for nothing. You thought he felt the same, truly. But now? All you wanted was to walk away from all of this, walk away from Bofurin, and never ever look back.

He grabs your hand, desperately, as your words sink in. He wants to – no, needs to make sure that he’s not just hearing things. That he’s not just imagining it.

“You … love me?”

You pause, taking the chance to actually look at him. You see hope on his face, and you furrow your eyebrows in response.

“... is this another joke? Of course, I love you, you idiot. You would’ve been the first one I ran to but your leader said you guys were all patched up already so I –”

Everyone’s eyes turn to Umemiya, who shrivels under the attention and wordlessly mouths an “I didn’t know!”

But your eyes are only on Suo’s, and Suo’s is only on yours.

And Suo lets you see him, truly see him, for who he is. He doesn’t shy away from your stare, doesn't put on a mask, doesn’t push his feelings into the box that’s been his safe haven for so many years.

Your eyes flicker with uncertainty and fear, but you convince yourself to try one more time. Just one last time.

“Hayato Suo, I really do love you,” you whisper, so slowly, so hesitantly, so scared.

Then, with everyone’s eyes on the both of you, Suo slides one hand to the small of your back, and the other to cradle your face.

He wanted to learn how to love with his heart on his sleeve – just like you.

“… again.”

“… I lov—”

His lips cut you off, and honestly, you’re not even mad. Not when he’s pulling you flush to his body, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, and your fingers grasping at the collar of his jacket.

Black, with green embroidery.

“I love you, too – but I’m afraid there’s too many eyes here for me to show you how deeply I feel for you, Princess – I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Dazed, all you can manage is a soft nod and a flutter of your eyelashes before pulling his lips back to yours.

Suo smiles into the kiss. He was right, you were as sweet as he thought you’d be.

#melody answers (& loves it)#melody writes (& never stops)#hayato suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#hayato suo #suo hayato #wind breaker

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months

Text

pop goes metal

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'alternate universe'

rated t | 964 words | cw: language | tags: famous corroded coffin, pop star steve harrington, flirting, getting together

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

"No fuckin' way are we working with him," Eddie argues with their manager. "You're always so worried about our image and then you go and have us doing a song with a fuckin' pop artist?"

The manager, Anthony, rolls his eyes. "It'll broaden your fanbase. You know who spends money on shit? Women. You know who likes Steve Harrington? Women."

"Does he even write his own shit?" Gareth asks.

"Does it matter?" Eddie turned to him with a glare. "Even if he writes it, it's not our style."

"Maybe we could at least hear what he's trying to work with us on?" Jeff, always the calming presence, asked towards Anthony.

"He sent over a sample before we sign any agreements."

Eddie sat down in the chair furthest from everyone else, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Now, this isn't an official recording. Just what he did on his phone on his tour bus with his acoustic guitar. He arranged the bass already for Frankie, too, but said he's open to whatever Gareth feels is right for the drums." Anthony pressed play on his phone and the room was filled with strumming and a surprisingly raspy voice singing what was clearly a chorus.

Eddie could pretend he hated it, and maybe the guys would agree with him and they'd never have to speak of this again.

He couldn't hide his reaction fast enough, though.

His jaw dropped as he listened to the lyrics, surprised to find that they weren't just about going to a club and dancing or being in love.

Steve's voice broke at the end before there was shuffling and the recording stopped.

Eddie felt everyone's eyes on him. He closed his mouth and looked down at the floor, tapping his fingers against his arm.

"It's not bad," he finally said. "Not sure why he needs us, though."

"Apparently, his brother is a huge fan of you and suggested he try to work with you."

"I think we should do it." Jeff said, a note of finality in his tone that Eddie knew he wouldn't try arguing with.

"Yeah, can't hurt." Frankie shrugged.

"If he's giving me creative freedom on the drums, how can I say no?" Gareth smirked.

"Guess we're working with the pop diva, then."

****

Steve Harrington was nothing like what they expected.

He showed up to their studio in sweats and glasses, holding a tablet and a bottle of Tylenol. They started to introduce themselves as he found a spot on the couch.

"I'm really glad you guys were willing to work with me," he said after he shook everyone's hand.

Eddie stared.

"My uh, my brother, Dustin, he's kinda why I wrote this song and I know it means a lot that you agreed to be on it," Steve continued. "So, thanks. Hopefully it doesn't ruin your vibes or anything."

Eddie felt every wall he built crumbling with every word Steve spoke. God dammit, this man just had to be sincere and hot and talented, didn't he?

"Nah, we're gonna sound great together." Eddie smiled at Steve's wide-eyed look. "You wanna show us the whole song?"

Steve nodded, pulling something up on his phone. Another recording, this one more professional and included an electric guitar.

"Robin was the stand in for the electric while I did bass."

"So you can play bass?" Frankie asked, leaning in.

"Yeah, but my preferred instrument is piano. I just don't do a lot of slow songs. Guitar is what gets the women interested, or so they tell me," Steve smiled awkwardly. "But feel free to change some things up. I'm totally open to suggestions."

But really, it was damn near perfect as it was. Frankie made one tweak during the bridge, but Steve ended up loving it more than the original and told him so with a grin.

"You're a fuckin' genius!" He exclaimed.

Gareth started messing around on the drums while Steve and Eddie worked on the first couple of lines.

"Something still doesn't feel right," Steve mentioned.

"Maybe we change the rhyming pattern?" Eddie suggested. "You've got ABAB. Might work better to do AABB. Some of these words can be moved around to make that work."

Steve stared at the notes app for a moment, then looked back up at Eddie, beaming smile making his eyes squint.

"I could kiss you!" He shouted. As soon as he realized what he said, he blushed, looking back down at the phone. "I mean, thanks. That's a great suggestion."

Eddie searched Steve's face, coming to the conclusion that there was probably a good reason why Steve didn't care about what women liked when it came to his music.

"I have a pretty strict rule about kissing people I work with," Eddie said slowly, quietly so they wouldn't be overheard.

"Yeah, no, that makes sense. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or-"

"But we won't be working with each other for long, right?" Eddie continued, letting his hand rest on Steve's thigh. God, he was muscular.

"Um. No I guess not."

"Rain check, then. Until we've finished our professional relationship." Eddie couldn't believe he was suggesting this. Showing interest in a pop star. What's next? Dating one? Marrying one?

"Are you saying you wanna kiss me, Munson?" Steve suddenly sounded more confident.

"I'm saying we've got work to do before I can get my hands on you." Eddie tapped his thigh before pulling away. "So let's get to it."

"Dude! I got it!" Gareth yelled, interrupting their moment.

"Be right there!" Steve yelled back, not looking away from Eddie. "Might break a record for fastest recording time ever just so I can kiss you," Steve added quietly to Eddie before standing and walking over to Gareth.

"Well, fuck." Eddie sighed, smiling to himself.

#corroded coffin #corrodedcoffinfest #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #jeff stranger things #gareth stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things #stranger things #rock star eddie munson #pop star steve harrington

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reidmarieprentiss · 2 months

Note

Hii! I was wondering if you could write something with bartender!reader and spencer? They meet at a bar in one of his cases and he is WHIPPED, she gets drinks for the whole team and he just can´t stop staring at her, maybe penelope also tries to flirt with her? i don't know i love pen and just wanted her to be included in this lmao

Southern Charm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: hiii i love this prompt !! i hope this is something like what you were looking for <3333

main masterlist

After successfully closing a challenging case in New Orleans, the BAU team decides to take a well-deserved break before heading back to Quantico. Will LaMontagne, JJ's beau, invites them to his favorite bar, Jewel of the South, for an evening of drinks and relaxation. Penelope Garcia, who joined the team on this trip to assist with the precinct's outdated technology, is thrilled to unwind with her colleagues in the vibrant city. With the spirit of New Orleans as their backdrop, the team gathers at the elegant cocktail bar, ready to enjoy a night of laughter and friendship, leaving the stresses of the job behind.

As they settled into a cozy corner, Penelope Garcia took it upon herself to ensure everyone had their preferred drink. As she made her way to the bar, Spencer Reid found himself glancing around the room, his mind still half-occupied by the case they had just closed. But his attention was quickly drawn to a captivating figure behind the bar.

You were busy mixing drinks with an air of effortless grace, your warm smile lighting up the room. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you, his interest piqued by your charm and the way you seemed to effortlessly command the space.

Penelope returned, carrying a tray laden with cocktails and setting it down with a flourish. "Alright, team! Drinks are served!" she announced, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she noticed Spencer's transfixed gaze.

"Looks like our resident genius has found something—or rather someone—interesting," Derek teased, nudging Spencer playfully. "Or should I say, someone has captured his attention?"

Spencer blinked, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "I, um, was just observing how well she handles the bar," he stammered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Emily raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Uh-huh, sure. Handling the bar. That’s what we’re calling it now?" she quipped, a knowing look in her eyes. "I think someone should go say hello."

Before Spencer could protest, you approached their table, carrying a fresh round of drinks. "Here you go! Compliments of the house for the amazing work you all do," you said, your smile even brighter up close.

Spencer tried to find his voice, but all he managed was a slightly awkward, "Thank you. You’re so pretty–kind, this is so kind of you.”

Penelope, ever the social butterfly, seized the opportunity to introduce herself. "I'm Penelope, and this is Spencer. And you have impeccable taste in cocktails!"

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the interaction. "Thanks, Penelope. I do try to keep the drinks as interesting as the company. That’s why yours has a special twist," you said, turning your attention to Spencer with a wink.

Spencer flushed yet again, "Oh—oh, thank you. Um, what is it?"

"Pretty boy, why don't you just take a sip and see if you like it?" Derek suggested, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, pretty boy. And don't spare my feelings; I'd be happy to make you something else," you offered charmingly, leaning in slightly.

Spencer took a sip and realized you'd made him an absolutely delicious mocktail. His eyes widened with appreciation. "Thank you so much, this is wonderful."

"Glad you like it!" you replied, your smile warm and genuine.

Emily Prentiss, ever curious, leaned forward. "I have to ask, how did you get into bartending?"

"Yeah!" Penelope added with a playful glint in her eye. "A beautiful thing such as yourself must get a lot of tips."

You giggled at their flattery, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ha! You guys are too much. I'm just putting myself through grad school."

"And the tips?" JJ chimed in, wiggling her shoulders, much to the amusement of everyone.

You leaned in closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially, which put your chest right next to Spencer's face. "I'm not technically supposed to say..." you trailed off, casting a playful glance at Will, who was sitting nearby, "but if Will here promises not to say anything, the tips are phenomenal!"

Will smiled and raised his hand in mock solemnity. "My lips are sealed, good lady," he assured you, playing along with the lighthearted mood.

Spencer was trying his best to keep his eyes forward during the interaction, but they kept drifting over before finally accepting his fate of staring at your chest. His mind was a whirl of confusion and embarrassment, his usual eloquence completely deserting him.

"I'd say Reid over here wants to give her more than a tip," Derek laughed, his voice full of good-natured teasing.

"Morgan," Hotch scolded, though not without a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Realizing how your position had flustered the poor, adorable man, you straightened up, giving Spencer a little space. He was clearly overwhelmed, his cheeks a brilliant shade of crimson.

Spencer, noticing everyone's eyes on him, suddenly felt the urge to escape. "Excuse me," he mumbled, getting up from the table and making a beeline for the bathroom, his heart pounding with mortification and exhilaration.

As he disappeared, Penelope sighed theatrically, casting a wistful look in your direction. "Well, if he doesn't make a move, I might have to!" she declared with a laugh, earning a chorus of agreement from the rest of the team.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of the group's camaraderie and the genuine affection they had for one another. "You guys are a lot of fun," you admitted, feeling quite at ease despite the little whirlwind you'd unintentionally stirred.

Derek grinned at you, clearly enjoying the playful chaos. "Yeah, we're all sorts of fun. But don't worry about Spencer; he'll be back. Probably with a list of reasons why he shouldn't have left," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You nodded, glancing toward the bathroom with a smile. "I'll have to make sure his drink doesn't get warm in the meantime."

—

Spencer stepped outside the bar, seeking a breath of fresh air to calm his racing thoughts. The air was humid, clinging to his skin, but it was a welcome change from the crowded bar where the laughter and clinking glasses seemed to amplify his embarrassment. He leaned against the brick wall, replaying every second from the moment he first saw you, analyzing each word and glance.

The way you'd leaned in, the warmth of your smile, and the kindness in your eyes—every detail felt vivid in his mind, refusing to be ignored. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open behind him.

"Hey, handsome," came your voice, cutting through the evening air like a melody.

Spencer spun around, his heart skipping a beat. The learned fear of being approached from behind flashed through him for a brief moment before he realized it was you. "Oh, hi," he managed to say, trying to sound composed but failing spectacularly.

"Hey, now," you teased, a playful lilt in your voice. "Don't sound too excited to see me. I'll start to think you don't like me."

"Oh—I, I mean, well," Spencer stammered, fumbling for words. His mind raced to form coherent sentences, but the proximity of your presence and the way you looked at him made it nearly impossible.

"You’re really cute, do you know that?" you said, your smile softening the tension in the air. You stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside him, your eyes glinting with amusement.

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your directness. "Um, thank you," he said, his voice filled with surprise and gratitude. "I don't usually get called that."

"Now that's a damn shame," you replied, shaking your head slightly. "What do you get called? Pretty? Beautiful? Charming? Sexy?"

Spencer laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nerdy, weird, loser," he admitted, the words tumbling out with a self-deprecating shrug.

"Nope," you said firmly, crossing your arms as if the mere idea was ridiculous. "I refuse to believe anyone could have a negative thing to say about you. You’re sweeter than honey."

He met your gaze, slightly bewildered by your unwavering confidence in him. "I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, I can read 20,000 words per minute, and I have three PhDs. No one is calling me anything kind. Other than doctor or genius, maybe."

"Sexy," you corrected him with a teasing smile.

"What?" Spencer blinked again, this time in genuine confusion.

"That's downright sexy, sugar," you repeated, your voice low and playful.

Spencer was at a loss for words, an unusual occurrence for someone who usually had an answer for everything. His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he processed your words, his heart skipping a beat at the compliment.

"I—uh," he stammered, searching for a response that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.

You chuckled softly at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Don’t worry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable," you said, your tone gentle and reassuring. "I just think intelligence is incredibly attractive."

Spencer nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that someone found him attractive for more than just his intellect. "Thank you," he finally managed, his voice sincere. "That's… really nice to hear."

"You're welcome," you replied with a warm smile. "So, what brings you to New Orleans, sugar?"

Spencer relaxed slightly, grateful for the change in topic. "Work, mostly. We just wrapped up a case, and the team decided to take a night off to unwind."

"Well, I’m glad you did," you said, giving him a sidelong glance. "Otherwise, I might not have met the smartest—and sexiest—guy in New Orleans."

Spencer watched as you smiled, a hint of playfulness in your eyes as you leaned against the wall. The evening air was thick with humidity, but there was a certain warmth in the atmosphere that made everything feel alive.

"Can I get you a drink?" he offered, feeling a sudden burst of confidence.

“Sure, honey. I’m off in just over an hour. Will you wait for me?” you asked, your voice a smooth blend of charm and Southern warmth.

Spencer was entranced by your spell, your accent adding an extra layer of allure to every word. “Of–of course,” he replied, his voice tinged with both eagerness and a touch of awe.

Your smile widened, clearly pleased with his response. "Great! I promise I won't keep you waiting too long."

Spencer nodded, feeling a strange ball of nervousness and excitement fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t believe his luck; not only had he caught your attention, but now he had a reason to spend more time with you.

"Just hang tight, and I'll join you as soon as I can," you said, giving him a reassuring wink before heading back inside the bar to finish your shift.

As you slipped back through the door, Spencer took a moment to steady himself. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heat building inside him, a gentle reminder that this unexpected encounter was real.

—

Spencer returned to his friends, who were still enjoying their drinks and each other's company. Penelope Garcia spotted him first, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to come back," she teased, patting the empty seat beside her. "Did you have a nice chat with our lovely bartender?"

Spencer smiled, feeling a bit more composed now that he was among friends. "Yes, actually," he said, a hint of bashfulness in his voice. "She’s really nice."

Derek Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice? Man, she was practically making eyes at you, and you didn’t even notice."

"She was?" Spencer asked, genuinely surprised. "I mean, I thought she was just being friendly.”

Emily Prentiss laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Spencer, I think you might need to brush up on your flirting skills. She was definitely interested."

Spencer blushed, his gaze dropping to the table as he tried to process this new information. "Well, she said she’d join me for a drink after her shift," he admitted, glancing around at his friends' reactions.

Penelope clapped her hands in delight. "Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! You have a date!"

"It's not a date," Spencer protested, though his smile betrayed his words. "We're just… having a drink."

"Uh-huh, sure," JJ said with a knowing nod. "But you better be on your best behavior, Doctor Reid."

—

The time passed more quickly than Spencer anticipated. As he sat with his friends, he found himself watching the clock, eager for the moment when he could see you again.

Finally, as the hour drew to a close, you emerged from behind the bar, having swapped your work apron for a casual yet stylish outfit that seemed to suit you perfectly. Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, your presence a beacon of warmth in the dimly lit bar.

You approached the table with a confident stride, flashing a friendly smile at the team. "Hope I didn't keep y'all waiting too long," you said, your drawl a melodic touch to your words.

"Not at all," Spencer replied, standing up to greet you. "It was worth the wait."

Derek raised his glass in a mock toast. "Look at you, Reid, sounding like a proper gentleman."

You laughed, clearly enjoying the group. "Y'all are such a fun bunch. You might have to make this a regular stop."

Spencer felt a sense of ease settle over him, his earlier nerves fading into the background as he focused on the here and now. You were standing beside him, your presence both comforting and exhilarating, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for this unexpected twist of fate.

"So," you said, turning your attention back to Spencer, "are you ready for that drink?"

"Definitely," he replied, feeling a surge of anticipation. "Lead the way."

With that, you guided Spencer to a quieter corner of the bar, where the noise of the crowd faded into a gentle hum. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the wooden table, creating an intimate setting. Spencer felt his heart beat a little faster, knowing that this was a chance to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention so effortlessly.

Spencer settled into the booth across from you, his hands fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve. He offered you a small, bashful smile, the kind that hinted at both his excitement and nervousness. "So," he began, searching for the right words, "I guess this is the part where I ask you about your favorite drink, but it feels a bit redundant given your expertise."

You chuckled, leaning forward with a playful glint in your eye. "Well, I'm always up for a good mystery. Surprise me, Dr. Reid. What would you imagine my favorite drink to be?"

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the challenge. He considered your question, his mind racing through various options. "Hmm, I’d guess something classic but with a twist. Maybe an Old Fashioned, but with a splash of something unexpected like lavender or ginger."

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, clearly impressed. "Not bad, Spencer. I have to admit, I do like a bit of lavender in my Old Fashioned."

Spencer felt a surge of pride at getting it right, his awkward charm shining through as he said, "I, uh, thought it might match your personality—elegant with a hint of something uniquely you."

You smiled, your gaze softening as you watched him. "That’s sweet of you to say," you replied, your voice carrying a gentle warmth that made his heart skip a beat.

The conversation flowed naturally, with Spencer occasionally stumbling over his words in an endearing way that made you smile. He was unlike anyone you’d met before, his intelligence paired with a genuine kindness that was refreshing and intriguing.

As you talked, you noticed how Spencer's eyes seemed to light up when he spoke about his work and the things he was passionate about. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself leaning in closer, captivated by his stories and the way he seemed to pour his heart into everything he did.

"So, Spencer," you said, your voice taking on a more playful tone, "do you always get this nervous around women, or is it just me?"

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, I—I suppose it's not every day I get to talk to someone as captivating as you," he admitted, his honesty shining through despite his awkwardness.

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Captivating, huh? I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," Spencer assured you, his gaze steady despite the flutter of nerves in his chest. "You have this way of commanding attention. It's, um, quite impressive."

You reached across the table, lightly touching his hand with yours. "And you have a way of making people feel appreciated, Spencer. That's a rare quality."

Spencer felt a spark at the contact, his heart beating a little faster. The moment seemed to stretch out, charged with an energy that was both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking.

"You know," you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a hint of mischief, "I think you're pretty special, too. Not just for your brain, but for who you are."

Spencer swallowed, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate. He felt a pull toward you, a magnetic force that seemed to draw him closer with every word and gesture.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot coming from you."

You smiled, your eyes holding his in a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. As if sensing the moment, the bar around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind caught between doubt and desire. But then he saw the encouragement in your eyes, and the decision seemed to make itself.

He leaned across the table, his movements tentative but filled with intent. You met him halfway, closing the distance with a gentle ease that made the moment feel right.

The kiss was soft and tentative, a sweet brush of lips that carried the promise of something more. Spencer felt his heart soar, the warmth of the connection spreading through him like a gentle tide.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes locked onto his, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "See?" you teased, your voice a soft murmur. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Spencer chuckled, relief and happiness washing over him. "No," he admitted, his voice filled with newfound confidence. "I guess it wasn't."

You grinned, leaning back with a satisfied air. "Good, because I was planning on doing that again," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt his heart skip at the prospect, the evening stretching out before him with endless possibilities. He realized that this unexpected encounter could be more than just a chance meeting.

And as he sat there, sharing a quiet moment with you in the corner of the bar, Spencer knew that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

—

“Did you guys see that??” Penelope burst out, her eyes wide with excitement as she pointed toward the cozy corner where you and Spencer were sitting.

Emily turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of the sweet interaction, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Looks like our genius finally made his move," she commented, clearly pleased by the development.

Derek, ever the supportive friend, couldn't contain his enthusiasm. “Pretty boy is putting in the work!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together in approval. “I knew he had it in him.”

JJ shook her head with a laugh, leaning back in her chair. "I guess we all underestimated Spencer's game," she said, casting a proud glance toward her colleague.

Beside her, Will LaMontagne joined in the teasing, a playful grin on his face. "JJ, you might have a new travel buddy when you come to see me," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "Looks like Spencer's found himself a reason to visit New Orleans more often."

JJ chuckled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Well, I can’t say I blame him. She's a real catch."

Aaron Hotchner, usually reserved and composed, allowed himself a small smile as he watched the interaction unfold. It was rare for Spencer to let his guard down, and it was heartening to see him embrace this new connection.

"Good for him," Hotch remarked, his tone approving as he raised his glass in a quiet toast to Spencer's success.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse

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luxurychristmaspudding · 9 months

Text

Pickup Truck

summary: frankie hates your boyfriend. in fact, everybody does. but he’s willing to give him a chance. you’re his best friend, after all. until frankie discovers something he can never forgive.

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+. MDNI. this fic contains allusions to, but no descriptions of, domestic abuse. please do not proceed if you know this will upset you.

frankie's pov. no lady and no baby for our boy. drinking, violence (against pos bf), angst, lots of hurt, allusions to dv. comfort, fluff. frankie to the rescue. unprotected p in v (wrap it irl!). oral, f receiving. creampie. bad spanish (again). kings of leon references. happy ending, of course.

wc: 9.8k

an: whew, this was an emotional one to write. but i hope a good love comes to all of you in time, no matter where you are at the moment. and if you already have it, may it always keep you safe. lovely divider from @saradika.

Frankie really doesn’t like your boyfriend.

Scratch that. Nobody does.

Nobody really knows where you found him, either. A sweet, smart girl like you, moved back to your small town from your big city life, and it looks like you picked up the very first guy who sidled up to you in a grimy bar.

Which, if you’re really honest, is exactly what happened. Because he was nice at first. Real nice. He was charming and sweet and interested - he bought you drinks all night and didn’t push to come in when he walked you home. You went for dinner a few times, and sure, he could be a little rude to the waitstaff, but it was only because he was so focused on you. He bought you flowers and took you for rides, and sure, sometimes he’d come home far too drunk after seeing his friends and get a little too close, a little too loud, but he always apologised.

And sure, he sometimes made you cry, but he always made it up to you. Sweet promises, small gifts. And he'd never laid a finger on you.

Not until last week, anyway.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know who to turn to. The thought of it makes you so sick you have to lock yourself in the bathroom at work. How did this happen? How did it turn so sour?

And how do you get out?

Walk you home to see

Where you're livin' around

And I know this place

Frankie walks you home from the bonfire. He always does.

It’s his favourite moment of the night.

He gets to have you all to himself. Gets to watch your cheeks cool in the night air, watch as the blush from the heat of the fire subsides. Your giddy, wide eyes, your tipsy babbling about stories which had been swapped over the flames, picking out particularly scandalous details for you two to giggle about before doubling over into breathless laughter over something Benny had said.

He likes to hold your elbow, your hand, as you catch him in your amusement, gripping onto his bicep. He loves to lose himself in this little pocket of time with you.

He loves the sparkle of the stars, the glow of the streetlights as they light your features.

Frankie loves you.

And he’s so glad you’ve moved back from your life in the big city to come and be around your real friends again. So glad that you’ve all found your way back to each other. Tonight has left him with such a mellow tingle in his bones that he finds he can’t stop smiling at you, looking at you, on your walk home.

Bonfire nights have always been your monthly hangout, a time when you can be sure you’ll get the whole gang together. There used to be more of you through highschool, and still a fair few during college. It dipped when the boys joined the forces, when people moved further east and further north. But eventually Frankie, Benny, Santi, and Will had come back. Jessa, your other best friend, had returned too. A few others coming and going - Lily, Marcus, Maggie - also back and forth from their new homes to their old ones. And then eventually folk had just… settled.

Frankie felt like he was one of the last, like he was maybe the one finding it the hardest, retired to a life of civvy duties. Unable to hold down a girlfriend, struggling to stick at a job, sofa surfing around friends’ places. He was still flying whenever he could, but then this coke allegation happened, and it was like the world was finally swept from under him.

You were the first person he had called, the first person to talk him down from his panic, that debilitating squeeze around his heart when he thought about the future. The first person who made him feel like it would be okay.

So of course his joy when you had come back had been immeasurable. Maybe this time, he’d thought.

And then you’d met Tanner.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you drag your hand out of his, skipping a little further up the dark street until you reach a corner. Frankie watches as you spin on the spot in the quiet neighbourhood, gesturing down the pathway before you.

‘This is me.’ You say.

But you don’t turn to keep walking. You watch him, a small, excited smile on your lips. Like you’re waiting for him to work it out.

Frankie drags his eyes from you, away from thoughts of your new boyfriend, to look up and down the street you’ve led him to, and for a second he is pulled beneath the ebbing flow of memory, towed with the riptide of things forgotten.

This is his grandmother’s street. Was his grandmother’s street.

The cracked concrete, the peeling paint of the porches. The weeds, the flowers, the smell.

He breathes your name like you’re the only thing tethering him to the now.

Breathes your name through the bright, sunny flashes of his childhood. His mama bringing him here with his brother, his papa swinging him by his legs in the flower-riddled front garden. Cartoons in the ripe heat of the afternoons, him and his cousins stuffing their faces with Guagitas and Frugele until they’d made themselves sick while the younger siblings napped in the sunbeams of the bedroom next door. Cycling over on his bike after school to sit at her kitchen table to do his homework, letting her fuss over him - his height, his friends, his grades, girls -

A skinnier, younger Frankie stopping by his abuela’s house with you to pick up her up for his nineteenth birthday party, along with her homemade tamales, her chiles rellenos, and specially made pumpkin sopaipillas for later on. The way you had chatted to her, natural, easy going, how you had made her laugh, her eyes sparkle. How, when you had taken some of the plates to the car, his abuela had pinched his cheek. I like her, she’d said, Será tuya algún día, mm, mijo? And Frankie had flushed bright red, batting her arms away as she chuckled at him. He had hidden in the back bedroom when you came in from outside, and listened a little longer to your conversation as he waited for the heat of his face to die down. When he reemerged, you had helped his grandmother into her shoes, her cardigan, and kept ahold of her arm until she got into Frankie’s beat up old car. At the end of the night, his abuela had kissed both your cheeks several times, rocked you back and forth in a hug, and clapped her hands as she said how she looked forward to seeing you again.

When you came home from college every summer, you’d have tea with her in her garden. She always asked Frankie about you, about how you are doing. When he told her you were coming home, she’d been so excited. Quizás este sea el momento? She’d said to him, squeezing his hand. He’d smiled, his heart quietly full of hope. Tal vez, abuela, he’d said.

When he called you two weeks later, his voice weak from crying, to tell you that she’d passed, you had been heartbroken. And it seemed like her wish, the red thread she’d seen between the two of you, had been snipped, too.

Pour yourself on me

And you know I'm the one

That you won't forget

Frankie likes to listen to you talk, because he’s never much been one for talking.

He supposes you just bring it out of him, though. Because here on this street, in the moonlight, he tells you more about his grandmother. You spend hours walking up and down the pavement as he recounts every story he can remember; him and his brother, his parents, aunts and uncles, cousins. Birthdays, weddings, funerals. The street comes alive with the ghosts of people, the spectres of feelings. You and Frankie talk of growing up. Of falling in love. Of each other.

Your small, well-loved house is half way down the street, four up from his abuela’s. It does something strange to his heart to have two of his favourite people, who loved each other in their own ways, so close but so far away.

Your fingers hold his wrist as he shows you a scar on his palm from eating shit on his bike when he was eight, and when he looks up, your eyes are shining under the streetlights. There is a glint of moon in your teeth, and a shocking want so clear on your face, but when he meets your eye there is suddenly hesitation, a realisation, a shuttering. Frankie stops his story. There is a moment, and then it slips away like sand.

You shiver, chilled all of a sudden, and wrap your arms around yourself. Frankie tries not to look too hard at the goose bumps blossoming on your bare skin, tries to fight off the urge to kiss the little raises until you’re warm again under his touch.

‘Cold?’ he asks, and you smile back up at him. God, his heart.

‘As a hole,’ you giggle, and he feels himself smile goofily back at you. ‘We gotta warm up.’ You say, and then freeze.

It takes Frankie a little while longer to hear the inadvertent invitation in your words.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

You both stand on the porch, frozen, like some great frost has swept over the land. If Frankie squints, he can imagine the glitter of your eyeshadow, now fallen, dusted on your cheeks, is a collective of tiny constellations of ice.

Your body is wracked with a shiver again, but when Frankie looks you in the eye, you’re burning up from the inside. He swallows.

If he could only make the steps towards you. If he could only will his heavy feet to move, if he could summon his nerves to do exactly what his brain says, he would already be in front of you. He would have your face in his hands, be able to look into your eyes to see that deep, hidden want again, and kiss you. Again and again and again, and he wouldn’t stop, because things like that shitty boyfriend of yours wouldn’t matter anymore.

No. The whole world would be glitter and stars and constellations of ice crystals.

And then you blink, smile softly, and wish him a goodnight.

When he can finally lift his foot to move, your door is already closed.

And in your denim eyes

I see that something's awry

And I see you’re weak

You don’t see Frankie for a while after that, always finding a way to brush off his attempts to hang out.

At first he doesn’t worry too much about it. You’ve just moved back - you have a new job, a new place, new friends to get to know. Tanner.

Frankie finds other things to do. He gets business cards made up for the flying school he’ll be setting up next month. He pilots people across the state, sometimes across the country. He sees the boys for drinks, even sees Jessa for a coffee. He starts to worry when they say their texts have gone mostly unanswered, and they haven’t seen you either.

It must be why he turns up on your front step one day, a six pack in hand.

You open the door on the second ring of the doorbell, and Frankie finds himself rendered speechless. You look… different.

Tired and wary, a little thinner. And when he gets you chatting, you say you haven’t really been anywhere, done anything. You’ve been settling in, getting used to it. You have two beers each, but you seem on edge, like you’re waiting for a knock on the door. And then Frankie asks about Tanner, and your eyes linger on the entryway a little longer.

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘He’s okay.’

Frankie’s jaw twitches, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.

‘Just okay?’ He asks.

Because you should be excited. You should be gushing and giddy and falling in love. But you’re not.

‘Yeah,’ you shrug. ‘He’s good.’

There’s something in your eyes. Something which shrinks away, skitters back. Something drained, something sapped of life, of energy. Hurt, maybe. Fear, perhaps.

When Frankie thinks back now, he knows he should have pressed you harder. Maybe should have taken you to his, made you talk a little more for a little longer. Away from Tanner, the threat of his presence. But he didn’t. He didn’t.

And he hates himself for it.

When he comes around

I see you're fixin' to shine

And my face won't speak

When Frankie next sees you, you’ve had a hair cut, and there are deep, dark bags under your eyes. Both of these things worry him equally.

Your beautiful hair that you’d been growing out since you were young, hair that you swore you’d never cut shorter than it was in seventh grade, when your mum had to chop it into a bob after you got gum caught in it. And here it is now, much shorter.

Jessa says she likes it, and you give her a watery smile, a weak thank you. She asks where you had it done, when. She asks if you like it, and you shrug. You say you’re trying something new. You say Tanner likes it.

Over your shoulder, Frankie exchanges a look with Santi.

You’re quiet the whole time you're at the bar. Far too quiet, so far from the bubbly conversation you usually hold, your loud cackle, your bent-double amusement. Your affection for your friends - the hands on knees, arms around shoulders, kisses pressed to cheeks. It’s hardly there.

Frankie offers to walk you home, but you wave him off kindly. Tanner’s picking me up, you say, he’s probably outside. Jessa frowns at you.

‘Are you sure, babe?’ She says. ‘It’s not even late yet.’

You smile and nod at her, gather your stuff to go. Jessa catches your arm.

‘We’re still on to go shopping Saturday, though - right?’

You smile at her, the first warm one you’ve mustered all night.

‘Of course,’ you say, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

When you stand to leave, you hug everybody goodbye. Tightly, for longer than usual. Frankie doesn’t give you an option when he walks you out to Tanner’s car. The smug prick is hanging out the driver’s seat window. He watches Frankie as you walk up, hostile, threatening, arrogant, and somehow still ridiculous. And, Frankie thinks cruelly - ugly.

Frankie pulls you into his arms a few steps away from your boyfriend. He kisses your hair, and you sigh.

‘Have a good time on Saturday,’ he says softly. You twitch a smile at him.

‘Thank you, Frankie.’ You say before stepping back and walking to open the passenger door. As you climb in, Tanner winks at him.

‘Gettin’ a new one tomorrow,’ he says, stupid fucking grin on his face. ‘New car. Exciting stuff. Anyway, better get this one back,’ he says, squeezing your knee a little too hard. You don’t look at Frankie, something like humiliation colouring your cheeks. ‘See you around, Frank.’ Tanner says.

Frankie steps back from the car as it glides forwards, and he watches it disappear up the street.

Deep anger burns in him. And a kind of fear. It crawls over his skin, cooling the sides of his neck. His heart churns uncomfortably in his chest.

He tells your friends about it when he returns to the table. And they form a plan. Jessa texts you a time she’ll pick you up on Saturday. You say you’re excited again, you need some new clothes.

But Frankie knows Jessa won’t take you shopping.

No, she brings you here, to the beach, to the bonfire. To him, to Santi and Benny and Will. Because they’re worried.

So worried, they tell you.

They sit you down in one of the chairs around the fire, and they explain why they’re worried. They tell you they love you - so much - and they just need to know if you’re okay. Because they can help. They want to help, want you out of this, because he’s not good for you. The silence, the hair, the clothes you were going to buy. They tell you they hate the way he doesn’t let you speak, how he speaks to you. And you are so quiet through all of it, Frankie begins to get more worried. He speaks to you gently over the fire, but you can’t meet his eye. He tells you his worries, their love for you again. He swallows down his own confession, anything to make you see. How they don’t want you pushed closer to him, want you to be pulled closer to them instead.

But your eyes are so vacant, so far away, that Jessa leaves her deckchair next to you to sit on the burned up log closer to you on your other side. She takes your hands, and you finally, finally look at her. You open your mouth, and you say so quietly -

‘You’re right. You’re right.’

It feels like the biggest gulp of oxygen Frankie has ever taken. He feels lightheaded from the relief, from the knowledge. They were right, they were right, which is a terrible, terrible thing.

Will clears his throat, and Frankie looks at him to see similar thoughts flicking over his face like film reel. He licks his lips, opens his mouth, and -

Hate to be so emotional

I didn't aim to get physical

But when he pulled in and revved it up

I said, ‘You call that a pickup truck?’

And in the moonlight I throwed him down

Kickin', screamin' and rollin' around

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

Whatever Will is about to say is cut short by the sweep of headlights over the brush near the dunes.

A beat up old pickup truck bumps up the track and pulls up alongside Will’s Ranger. The driver’s side window slides down, and Tanner’s face emerges from the gloom. He revs the engine loudly, making you and Jessa jump. A sick feeling curls in Frankie’s stomach as he watches him, this piece of shit who’s been so busy crushing you down.

Tanner leaps out of the truck, and slams the door. Frankie looks over at you, visibly panicked on the other side of the fire. How the fuck did he find you?

‘Hey baby,’ Tanner says, sickly sweet as he strolls towards you, ducking to press a kiss to your unresponsive mouth. He turns to the rest of the group, eyes skating over Will and Ben until they land on Frankie. Tanner steps towards him, offers his hand.

‘Good to see you again, Frank,’ he says, ‘Told you I’d be getting a new ride.’

Frankie stares at his hand. He takes a deep swig of his beer, breathing deeply before looking Tanner in the eye, refusing to shake it.

‘I’m surprised to see you.’ He says to the dirty-haired man.

Tanner tries his best to appear unfazed, but there’s a glimmer of something hot behind his eyes.

‘’Course man, wanted to show off the new pickup.’ He says, grinning broadly. He looks around again, eyes falling hungrily on Jessa. She shifts uncomfortably on the log, rearranging her body so there’s less for him to look at. A deep heat begins to rise in Frankie’s chest.

He glances again at the ancient car that Tanner’s driven up in. The front bumper almost hanging off, the red paint aged and scratched, bumps caved in all up the sides, the roof sagging.

‘You call that a pickup truck?’ Frankie says lightly. Tanner narrows his eyes at him, angry, before he catches the sound of Santi’s laugh.

He whirls around to the other man and spits -

‘Who the fuck are you?’

Frankie almost laughs, too. Almost.

Pope spreads his hands. He looks up at him through his brows, a glint in his eyes that Frankie is violently familiar with. You must notice it, too, because you clear your throat and say -

‘Santi’s one of my friends.’

Tanner doesn’t even look at you. Just keeps staring at Pope.

The moment seems to last an eternity. Frankie feels like he’s watching everything through sludge, like he’s in someone else’s dream. His whole body is on edge, vibrating, ready to lunge - he’s just not sure at who. He looks between the two men before he catches your eye through the flames. The adrenaline in Frankie’s heart gutters at the look of panic in your eyes.

Please don’t let them do this. Please help me stop it.

Frankie glances back to Pope, and says, so softly only he can hear it -

‘Pope.’

And Santi immediately looks away, taking a swig of his beer.

Tanner stands there still, clearly baffled at Santi’s sudden lack of interest. Then he turns to the rest of the group like a petulant child, a toddler who has been ostensibly robbed of its favourite toy.

‘It’s a good truck,’ he says, before turning to you. ‘Ain’t it, baby?’

You hum your agreement as Tanner scoops a beer from the pile by Will’s chair, shucking off the top with his teeth. Jessa looks away, disgusted. He settles himself in the deckchair at your side.

‘Y’aint allowed to touch it, of course, sugar,’ he says to you, before laughing into his bottle. ‘Ruin everything you come into, anyway. Root of all my problems, ain’t ya?’ Tanner takes a pull of his beer. The group is silent around him. Around you. Tanner notices.

‘Boy, fun bunch you are.’

You look at him through your eyelashes.

‘Baby, that’s enough.’ You say as softly as possible, and Frankie cringes at the pet name.

Tanner looks at you sharply. Dark, furious. It’s in the pinch of his jaw, the anger at what you’ve said so obviously rolling around in his skull.

Frankie hates him for it. And he hates that he hates him for it. There are already so many things he hates him for, but he’s so fucking stupid it’s almost funny. Not your equal in any way. In kindness, in conversation or in intellect. And not even willing to try. To learn. For you. Just trying to dumb you down instead, squash you into smaller, more digestible bites to chew on.

When it comes down to it, Tanner has nothing smart to say back. He just pushes a short breath from his nostrils and mutters out a little -

‘Well, well, well.’

Then he flexes his fingers against the chair, and you flinch.

You flinch hard, your brows coming together, chin scrunching, waiting for the blow to land. And when it doesn’t, your eyes flicker open slowly. Hollow, bereft, drained and dim.

Tanner hasn’t noticed, but everyone else has.

The awful unveiling of your last secret.

Frankie forces the bile down his throat. His head swings forward to the ground of its own accord, a faint, resonant ringing in his ears. When he looks at his hands, they aren’t his own. In fact, he recognises no part of his body as the ringing gets louder, as he gently places his beer bottle on the floor. When his eyes leave the dirt, the mix of faces around the fire are all mirror reflections of each other. Horror, disgust, grief. Grief that this is what you hid from them, this is what they have taken too long to pull you from. The burning building splintering around you, your shell of a body immovable in the middle.

You won’t meet his eye. You won’t meet anyone’s eye as your hand shakes around your bottle. Jessa notices. She stares at your trembling fingers for too long, but she can hardly say anything. None of them can. Her eyes shine like beacons from her seat, wet with tears. Frankie sees her bottom lip quiver, her chin dimple. And then she swallows, swallows again, and reaches for your hand.

You flinch again, softer this time, and Frankie is sure everyone around the fire - everyone in the town, the world, must hear his heart crack. Because he feels it so keenly, so deeply, that it takes the air from his lungs. His breath is caught in his throat, and no matter how hard he tries to draw it, it seems impossible to claw it down. He’s drowning. He’s drowning right here in front of everybody, and it makes it all the worse to know that this is how you must feel. Every damn day.

Come on, he hears Jessa say, Let’s go and get another drink. And through the dark swirling of his mind he watches the two of you stand slowly and disappear towards the back of Frankie’s truck. He waits until Jessa has you hidden from view, her arms around your hunched back as you bring your hands to your face - crying - and that’s when the thread snaps.

Frankie gets to his feet, slowly.

Pope and Will watch him. Benny is still staring at Tanner.

Tanner looks up at him, chin jutted out, smirking as Frankie approaches.

He’s challenging him. He’s waiting for a war of words, for the shouting to begin, for the insults, the observations to fly.

He expected the wrong war from a soldier.

The first punch sprawls him out of his seat. It makes a satisfying cracking sound, and the first trickle of blood starts to bleed from behind his lip.

Then Frankie kicks him. He kicks him hard in the ribs, making sure he doesn’t have enough time to recover from the punch to deflect Frankie’s boot.

Tanner clutches at his abdomen, wheezing, gazing up at Frankie with bewildered eyes. Fucking coward.

Frankie grabs him by the front of his shirt, pulls him upwards. He has nothing to say to him, but the fury he feels, this deep, endless, swirling pit of rage, he lets him see. He lets it fill him from the soles of his feet all the way up through his eyes, and he lets it bleed out. He lets the blackness flood the ground. He lets Tanner watch it, lets it petrify him, and then Frankie swings again. Tanner takes it on his chin this time, his jaw snapping closed, and when it goes lax, a couple jagged bits of tooth fall out. Frankie grunts in satisfaction and swings again, again, until blood spouts from Tanner’s eyebrow and his cheek begins to bruise and swell. Frankie breathes deeply, in rhythm, doesn’t even feel it when Tanner manages to land a lucky punch to his eye socket. He plants a knee into the other man’s crotch, lands him an elbow to the back of his head when he keels over, and then shoves him to the ground. Frankie gets on the floor with him, raining blows down on Tanner’s body, his face. He’s methodical about it, a punch to each eye, the crack of the cunt’s nose, one to either side of his mouth, then bloodying up his jaw. He’s aware, somewhere, that Tanner is screaming. Strangled, gargling sounds trying to claw up his throat. And then he’s aware of two pairs of hands around each armpit, dragging him away, pulling him up. Will is saying something in his ear, that’s enough, Frankie, alright now, and Benny is speaking, too, panicked - you’ll kill him, Fish, come on man.

Frankie blinks, really looks at Tanner where he lays bleeding on the dirt. His eyes already swelling, a couple more teeth scattered on the ground next to him. His face different shades of red and purple, a mess of a man, and Frankie is pleased. He could keep going. He wants to see him bleed much, much more. Will and Benny keep their grip on him.

‘Leave,’ Frankie growls, low, without a quiver in his voice. ‘And don’t you ever come back. You ever look at her again, I’ll gouge out your fuckin’ eyes. You ever touch her again, I’ll break every bone in your body. I’ll make sure they don’t find anything left of you.’

Tanner doesn’t say anything, which must be the only smart thing he’s ever done in his life. But he still doesn’t move.

The four men watch him for a moment, the silence heavy, broken only by the crackle of wood and Tanner’s heavy, wet breaths.

Then Benny lets Frankie go, steps forward and picks the man up by his collar, swinging him around to the direction of his truck. He throws him down on the dirt.

‘Move,’ he spits. ‘Get out of here. And if you have the courage on the way, wrap your fucking truck around a telephone pole.’

Tanner finally has the good sense to crawl over to the vehicle. He hauls himself up the scarred body work before creaking open the driver’s door and slipping inside. The truck sputters to life, yellow bulbs flooding the bonfire site again before it quickly backs away, turns, and drives off. Frankie watches its blinking red brake lights until he’s sure the cunt is gone, and then he turns around.

You’re stood with Santi’s arms wrapped around you, back from the fire where Tanner’s blood is drying. Pope strokes your hair, squeezes you tightly as your body shudders. And Frankie can only stare.

Minutes might have passed. Hours. And Frankie is terrified. Terrified that he’s scared you, broken you, pushed you away. And then you turn your face on Pope’s chest, moving your head from shoulder to shoulder, and you’re looking at him. Eyes red-rimmed and raw, face flushed and damp, and it’s like Frankie’s trance breaks.

Frightened, he takes a step forward. He breathes your name.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and you shake your head. Fuck. What has he done? What has he allowed himself to do? ‘I’m sorry, querida, please - I know, I know -’ but what does he know? He looks to Santi, pleading for help, and the man offers him a small smile as you step out of his arms.

Through a fog, you come towards him. Your chin wobbles. Your eyes swim. You’re a little wide-eyed, a little shocked. And something else, something beyond his reach.

You get to him, and your arms make their silken way around his middle as you begin to cry. Hot tears stain the front of his shirt, and he cradles you to him, holding your skull gently, enveloping your abdomen. A loud sob looses from your ribs.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ You wrap your arms around him tighter, press your nose into his sternum.

‘I’m not scared of you, Frankie,’ you sob into his chest. He clutches at the back of your head, holds you even closer, strokes your hair. When you speak again your voice is higher, strained with your tears. ‘I could never be scared of you.’

The sting in Frankie’s throat becomes hot, burning. He doesn’t know whether to pull you impossibly closer or to push you away, to run as far as he can from your broken, heaving body in his arms. Because what he’s done should scare you. It should. He’d lost all control. The only thing he’d been able to see, to feel was his all-consuming, depthless fury. And Tanner’s face as it splintered, bloodied, swelled. And he’d wanted to keep going, until there was just pulp. No nerve endings, no teeth, no eyes, no mouth, no body that he could ever hurt you with again. He doesn’t want you to hurt any more.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers into your hair.

Trembling misery

And as cold as a hole

I hug your bones and skin

Frankie holds your hand the whole way home, the drive passing in a dazed silence.

You still don’t talk when you get to his place, when he unlocks the door, lets you in, and locks it behind him. You take his hand in the quiet cool of the house, lead him upstairs. He follows, slowly, sore, exhausted. Trying to process it all.

When you reach the landing, you turn on the bathroom light, and he trails behind you. He stands propped against the sink as you dig around in his medicine cabinet, finding wipes and bandages and anything else you think might be useful. You take Frankie’s hand again, examine his bruised, bleeding and swollen knuckles with solemn eyes. You are so gentle, twisting his hand in the light, inspecting. You look over it for a while, and Frankie watches you. When you reach for an antiseptic wipe, your hand is shaking.

Frankie winces silently when you start to dab at the blood on his knuckles, cleaning it away with minute swipes. You chase the dried rivulets of blood down his fingers, over his palm. The scar there from when he ate shit riding his bike.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. You ignore him, breathing shallowly as you inspect his hand, holding his wrist, cleaning blood which is no longer there.

‘Might be a hairline fracture or two,’ you say, distant. ‘I won’t bandage it, gonna let it dry out first. But you’ll need to rest it. And we’ll need to ice your eye.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, into your hair. You shake your head, and the light catches the different colours in every strand. Frankie’s throat tightens.

‘Please stop apologising.’ You whisper.

A shaky breath pushes itself from between Frankie’s lips.

‘No, querida,’ he says softly, ‘It wasn’t right. Shouldn’t have done it. And I shouldn’t have let you see -’ he swallows thickly, throat bobbing. He looks over your head at the white tiles behind you as your grip on his wrist tightens. You still don't look up at him. ‘But it’s not how you treat someone you love. Not how it should be. Should be protecting them, treating them right, loving them the way you love -’ him. He cuts himself off, because he realises as he says it he’s wrong. So wrong.

Right to be like you in your gentleness. In your care, your touch, your tenderness, your loving. But Tanner deserved none of those things. He didn’t deserve your faith, didn’t deserve your protection or your silence either. None of it.

He closes his eyes.

An image of you flickers through Frankie’s mind. Your fingers on his wrist as they are now, your eyes shining under the streetlights. The glint of your teeth, and the want so clear on your face, then the hesitation, the fear, the shuttering -

And if only he had kissed you then. If only you had taken him inside. He could have shown you what it was supposed to feel like. He could have saved you from the hurt, the fear which lay ahead.

There’s a splash of warmth on the pale skin of the underside of his forearm, and he opens his eyes again. You’re still hunched over his hand, but your movements have stilled. Frankie waits, confused, before another warm drop lands on his arm and you hiccup a sob out. He whispers out your name, and you turn your face up to him, devastated.

Frankie’s face crumples, and your grip on his wrist loosens enough for him to lift his hands to your face and cup your cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I wasn’t thinking -’

‘You think I love him?’ You croak.

Frankie’s jaw works around his next sentence, his next thoughts. He tries to process what this means. That look in your eyes, your tears, your implication. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

‘I don’t love him, Frankie,’ you choke, ‘I don’t. Christ - I don’t think I ever did, I never could -’ you suck in a deep, stuttered breath. ‘I’ve never - never hated anyone more. I couldn’t stand him, couldn’t have him near me, couldn’t have him touch me -’ Frankie flinches at your words. ‘But I was so scared. And embarrassed. I didn’t know how to leave - I didn’t know how to tell anybody about what was going on. I was terrified of what he’d do. To me, to you guys, if he found out I’d spoken about it. And he made it so hard for me to see you, so hard for me to get away.’ You sob now, panic and relief forcing out your words. ‘I thought - wherever I go, he’ll find me. He’ll track me down, and he’ll bring me back - and somehow - somehow that was worse than if he tracked me down and - and - I don’t know, killed me or something -’

Frankie’s eyes shutter. He can’t even follow your thought, so awful is the image, the gaping emptiness. He pulls you close, he lets you cry. Curled into his chest, your body wracking with tears, shaking, tense and uncontrollable, the sounds you make rooting in his brain. They file themselves away in a box where very few things go. Deployment. Tom. The darkness after his investigation. You break and break in his arms, and it’s all he can do to hold the pieces of you together. To press kisses to your head, breathe in the smell of your hair, rub his hands over your back, cradle you like a child.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there for. He waits until you stop sobbing, stop crying softly, stop hiccuping, stop sniffing. He waits for a few more minutes in the silence, too. And when he pulls away, he presses a long, sweet kiss to your forehead.

You blink up at him through red, swollen eyes.

‘You’re safe here.’ He says, and you nod.

‘I know. Thank you. For - everything.’ You say thickly. Frankie swallows, nods. You know it all anyway. Any time, for however long you need.

He pads downstairs to get you a glass of water, and while he’s pouring it, he can hear you blow your nose, wash your face. Somehow, they are the most perfect sounds in the world.

Crackling wood’s gone white

And my eye swole up now

I can see the light

Frankie gives you one of his sleep-stretched t-shirts and an old pair of shorts for you to wear to bed.

The clothes dwarf you a little, and he can’t wipe the small, thrilled smile from his face, even when he looks away. You look fucking adorable.

You giggle at him every time you see it, your little what? only making him smile harder. It stretches his mouth until it hurts and his cheeks start to cramp up, squishing his swollen eye. Stop he tries to say, but it comes out as an equally breathless huff of laughter - and that only makes you giggle more. So much so that he sweeps you up into his arms to stash you under the covers, and you laugh even harder as he tucks the sheets in tight around you, just like his mama used to do when she wanted him to stay put.

He looks down at you from the side of the bed, hands on his hips, and you laugh back at him - eyes shining, mouth open in wide hoots of delight, your hands coming up in a desperate attempt to contain yourself. He points a finger at you.

‘You need to calm down,’ he says, voice tight with bridled amusement. ‘It’s bedtime.’

But you cackle back at him, this glorious puddle of sunshine in his bed, only howls of laughter for a response. Unable to help himself, he returns your joy, turning off the bedside lamps to slip in beside you.

In the darkness, your snorts subside into ragged breaths, and you turn on your side to look at him. You study him as though you never want to forget a single line on his face; such warmth, such affection in your eyes that Frankie’s whole body swells and lifts.

You take his hand beneath the sheets and hold it between your faces, smiling softly at him.

The first and only girl he’s really ever loved. This brilliant, fierce, bright, intelligent woman damped down by the waste of fucking space who had bled by the fire. At the thought of it, Frankie feels his heart fall out of his chest, down through the floorboards, and plummet towards the middle of the earth.

And finally, he begins to cry.

He tries to stop it, he really does. It’s selfish, he thinks, so awful and selfish to cry in front of you when it’s you who should be wrapped in his arms, swept away by emotion again if you needed to be, safe and warm and unworried, never having to fret about anything again.

But he can’t stop it. It comes out in great shuddering breaths - pained, wracked sounds slipping past his lips, and he can’t help it. He tries to gather them in his hands to shove them back in his mouth, tries to scoop them in his arms and press them back into the caving ache of his chest, but he can’t.

When Frankie was a child, he saw his dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after his father’s brother was killed in a car accident. He had seen it through a crack in his parents’ bedroom door, and it had hurt him. It had wounded him, as a child, to see his father break with such grief, such pain, such emptiness, and to know there was nothing he could do about it. And now, he is split into those two people - younger self, older self - as he thinks of you lying next to him on the bed. This person who he loves so much, who is now so full of the knowledge of the worst parts of living, wound up so tight within you that you let it settle, let it unfurl around your bones. He sees your hurt, your grief, your pain refracted around him tenfold, and he hurts with you. He sees you as the boy he once was, this poor creature looking in at a heart breaking, as he has unknowingly watched yours break for months.

And he’s so sorry, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop saying it.

But here you are, still, performing the ultimate act of kindness. Comfort.

He feels the mattress move as you slide closer to him, and then your hand is on his back, swooping in gentle movements. He feels the scrabble of your fingers under the ribs he has pressed into the bed, the pressure of your arm moving under him so you can hold him properly. Frankie sobs harder, but he opens his body to you. You press closer to him, burying your face in his neck, and he breathes you in as he cries. Your scent is here, you are here. And like you heard him, you whisper -

‘It’s okay, Frankie. It’s okay. ’M here. I’m safe.’ And this realisation allows a little more air, but it doesn’t make Frankie’s guilt, his shame any better. But you’re right, he knows it. And somewhere in his crying, this turns his gasps to tears of relief. Softly, you retract your arms from around him.

You take his hands away from his face, and kiss the palms. You kiss each fingertip, each bruised and cracked knuckle. You lean forward and press a kiss to each tear, each trail of saltwater on his face. And you are so beautiful in the moonlight. Soft and wide eyed. Safe. Kind, always kind, and full of understanding. Frankie sees now that you have been crying against him, too, your eyelashes cloyed with tears. Sees his thoughts in your eyes as though you have had each of them zip to you through the air. When you were a child, you saw your dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after…

A smile breaks through your eyes, chasing away the remnants of tears, glazing down, softening your lips.

And Frankie doesn’t think this time. His feet don’t fail him. He doesn’t think of stars or glitter or constellations of ice crystals. He just kisses you. And kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. And he doesn’t stop, because nothing else matters anymore.

You’re safe. You’re warm. You’re in his bed.

You’re here.

You tip your head back, deepening the kiss, licking into Frankie’s mouth. He gives in so easily to you he’s almost ashamed. But then your fingers clutch at him, ball at the bottom of his shirt, tangle in the thick of his hair, and all his thoughts are forgotten. He feels you slip a soft, strong leg over his, pulling him forward. You groan against him, and Frankie’s cock twitches. You feel it, you must do, as you pull your body closer to him, tight against him. Frankie is so lightheaded he doesn’t know where his hands are, what they’re doing - and when he concentrates, he finds them skating over your back, squeezing the tension out of the back of your neck, gripping your hip.

He moans against you as you rock your hips over his thigh, as he feels the heat of your sex against his skin. He feels like he’s on fire.

You slip a hand under his sleep shorts and palm him, brushing his silken length with two fingers, feeling him grow harder, thicker against you. You take him in your hand, pump him once, twice with the perfect grip, the perfect speed, like you were made for him. He’s gasping against you, panting as you suck his lower lip into your mouth.

‘Baby,’ he groans, breathless, ‘We don’t have to. We really don’t -’

You look up at him through gorgeous, glazed eyes.

‘I want to,’ you say, ‘Do you?’

Dangerous, dangerous question.

Frankie tries to shake his head, look away, think of anything but the tight fist of your fingers around his cock.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘I do. But I don’t think - this is the right thing -’

You loosen your grip, draw away from him. His body aches with a shudder.

His eyes flick back to yours again - confused, hurt - fuck, he can’t do that to you, ever -

‘I - I don’t want to take advantage of it - of you,’ he says. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks as you look down the sheets towards your toes. His jaw tightens. ‘And - and I don’t want this to mean - different things for us. I don’t want it to ruin what we have.’ Frankie breathes out heavily through his nose. He has to tell you now. He has to. ‘I don’t want it to mean different things, because I love you. I always have. And if we do this, if I have you even just for a night, I - I’ll never recover from it.’ Tears spike in his eyes again. He tries to smile. ‘You’d ruin me. And I don’t think I’d ever forgive you for it.’

Your breath hitches in your throat, and Frankie watches as your eyes flit back up to his. They search his face, the dribble of his barely-shed tears, the slope of his sad smile. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, running your thumb over his scraps of beard. He closes his eyes.

‘What you said earlier,’ you begin. Frankie swallows. He waits for the blow of rejection. ‘About me - about me loving him.’ He opens his eyes slowly to find yours, bright and clear. Something begs to bubble over in them. Something golden and warm. ‘You were wrong - obviously. And I couldn’t tell you truly why, because I was afraid. So afraid of pushing you away, even though I think that’s all I’ve ever done. I’ve never thought I was worth it, Frankie. I don’t deserve you. And I am terrified of how much I love you.’ You beam at him, eyes bubbling over with that thing - love - ‘I love you,’ you say simply, like it’s not the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

A stunned little laugh ripples up his throat, and you copy it. He grips your face in his hands, and kisses you again, again, again.

‘I love you,’ he says.

‘I love you, too,’ you giggle.

‘And you are,’ he presses to your lips, ‘You are absolutely worth it.’

He rolls over on top of you, and begins to kiss your jaw, nipping at the skin there, before moving down your throat. He kisses you with a hot, open mouth, sucking marks into the sensitive skin at your pulse point. Mine, he groans, and you whimper against him, rubbing your thighs together.

Frankie pushes your shirt up - his shirt - so he can bite at your chest, press kisses to every bit of exposed skin. Every single part of you that deserves to be loved, every single place which has so far been unknown to him. He sucks each nipple into his mouth, delighted when you keen beneath him, panting, please, please Frankie, before he sinks lower down, peeling his shorts away from you to expose your glistening cunt.

He groans, unable to take his eyes away from it as he leans forward, pressing his body into the mattress to lick a stripe from your asshole to your clit.

‘Frankie -’ you groan down at him as he begins to work at you, sucking and licking, nipping at your thigh before slipping his tongue into your hole, swiping and tasting everything you’re giving to him. He grinds himself into the mattress, hissing at the relief, the uncomfortable weight of his cock dragging below him.

‘Taste so good, baby,’ he tells you, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to taste, wants to smell anything else ever again. All he can do is eat at you, breathe you in, until you’re begging him -

‘Frankie, your fingers - please -’ And he flexes his hand at your hip before brushing a fingertip against your entrance and gasping at the pain.

You try to bear down towards him, but he rips his hand away, lifting his head towards you.

‘Can’t,’ he gasps, and you mewl, bucking your hips up to his face, desperate. ‘Hand’s fucked,’ he says, and you still your movements before beginning to laugh again. It’s loud and from your belly, and it's bizarre. But Frankie gets it. He gets it, and he giggles too. He doesn’t try to fuck his broken knuckles into you, but he does try to continue lathing you with his tongue. You’re making it pretty fucking difficult, though.

‘Stop laughing,’ he huffs against your clit, ‘I’m trying to make you come.’

‘Okay,’ you say, gasping for air, ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. You’re doing really well, by the way.’ But this only makes him laugh. He groans, leaning his forehead against your inner thigh. ‘This is impossible.’ He pouts.

‘Nooo,’ you cry, leaning up on your elbows to pout down at him. ‘Please, baby. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. I won’t laugh anymore.’

‘Promise?’ He says. You hold out your pinky to him.

‘Pinky promise.’ You say.

Frankie stretches his hand out to you and tries to extend his pinky. He winces at the sharp pain which shoots from the movement, and grunts at you, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘You bastard,’ he says, trying and failing to hold his smile, ‘You knew I wouldn’t be able to do that.’

‘Just keeping you on your toes,’ you grin, and then before you can make any more smart remarks, Frankie resumes his ministrations, lapping and tonguing at your clit, your hole, mouthing hot, wet kisses to your pussy. He shakes his head from side to side, running your bud in tight, hard little circles until you’re a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him. Your hips buck unconsciously, and Frankie hooks both his arms around your thighs to hold you down, flattening his hands against your belly to keep you firmly in place. He reaches up to twist at your nipples and you gasp.

‘God, Frankie, tongue feels so fucking good -’

He can feel you begin to pulse against his chin as your whines get higher in pitch, and he groans as you twist handfuls of his hair.

‘Come on, baby,’ he says, ‘Give it to me. Wanna see you come, querida. Wanna taste it. Come on my face.’

And you do, the sensation of it arching your back tight like a bow, a strangled moan cutting off into the ceiling.

‘Fuck, Frankie, fuck -’ as he drives you through it, nodding and murmuring against you as you try to wriggle free, squealing in protest until you manage to twist a leg and set a foot against his chest, pushing him off.

‘Fucking - hell -’ You pant, and Frankie grins down at you, smug.

‘Good?’ He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

‘Oh, fuck you, Morales.’ You laugh, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, moaning when you taste yourself on him. Your tongue explores every part of his mouth, every crevice behind every tooth, like you can’t get enough of him. Like there'll never be enough of him. ‘Now fuck me.’ You whisper.

And Frankie does not need to be told twice.

He rips his shirt up and off his back, shucks his shorts down his legs, and squeezes himself tight as he can in his left hand. He ruts into his palm, thumb swiping to slick his heavy beads of precum down his length.

‘Ready?’ he asks, looking down to find you staring wide-eyed at his cock. It twitches under your gaze.

‘What?’ He says, and you shake your head in quiet disbelief and amusement. You lift your eyes back to his face, and they are so dark with arousal he almost melts into the mattress.

‘Nothing,’ you shrug. ‘Just somehow never believed Pope and the boys when they said it was like two coke cans put together.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Frankie laughs, his face pulling tight with a grin as he lines himself up at your entrance, swilling the head in your arousal.

‘I mean, what if it doesn’t fit?’ You babble, and he shakes his head.

‘It’ll fit, baby,’ he says. ‘We’ll make it fit.’ Then he sinks the first inch in, and just waits. He waits and watches you, watches as your mouth falls slack, all the smart things coming out your mouth grinding to a halt. He throbs at how tight you are around him, at how you clench already, trying to suck him in further. And fuck, you are so wet.

‘You okay, querida?’ He asks through gritted teeth.

You manage a nod, a broken whine escaping you.

‘Move Frankie, please baby -’ you beg, and he groans as he pushes further inside you, watching the obscene stretch of your pussy around him, the way it pulses, the way it gets wetter and warmer and tighter around him. When he bottoms out, he feels the hot rush of his orgasm leap towards him a little too quickly.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he breathes, closing his eyes just to make sure he doesn’t come right away. You squirm beneath him, canting your hips up, trying to fuck yourself. Frankie grips you, gritting his teeth. ‘Stay still,’ he hisses, flushing a little. ‘God, fuck, please - just for a minute.’ He opens his eyes to find you watching him, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. His eyes glaze down your body - his t-shirt bunched up around your chest, perfect tits, perfect belly, and your sweet, sopping cunt split open on his cock.

He groans again, slipping out, watching as he retreats, soaked by you, before pushing back in. A high pitched whine leaves your lips, and you twitch your hands up to play with your tits. Frankie doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more sexy in his life.

‘That’s right,’ he says, ‘Keep playing with yourself like that, gorgeous. Look at you.’

So you do, looking up at him with doe-eyes as he fucks into you, soft at first, letting you adjust before quickening his pace, readjusting his angle, feeling you leak around him. His balls slap against your ass loudly, and you keen up at him, eyes wide, begging for something as you tighten like a coil around him, something you can’t quite voice. But Frankie knows.

He swipes his thumb against your clit, and your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching again. He groans at the sight, and works the bundle of nerve endings in tight circles, faster and harder, harder and faster, until you’re gripping him so tight he thinks you might push him out.

‘Come baby, come,’ he pants, ‘Please, querida, need to feel you - need to feel you soak me. Need you to come for me, come on this cock, baby, please -’

And he groans, long and loud as you clench and pulse around him, milking him, pulling him impossible deeper - fuck, Frankie, oh my god, feels so fucking good - the delicious pressure at the base of his spine at breaking point as he fucks you through it, as he pants and gasps -

‘Come, Frankie,’ you plead, ‘Please - want you, need you -’ and he spills himself deep inside you, hips stuttering, eyes clamping shut, overwhelmed and short circuited. He’s never known it could feel like this - good to the end of every synapse - and he’s fucking it in with three long thrusts, pulling out slowly just to watch it dribble out of you as he twitches against his thigh. He thumbs your clit just to watch you seize and sigh against him, then sits back on his knees to look at you.

‘You are something else,’ he says in disbelief.

You smile lazily at him.

‘Ain’t so bad yourself, Morales,’ and he laughs, throwing himself down next to you, kissing anywhere he can. I love you, I love you, I love you. Safe.

You lay there for a while afterwards, just feeling each other, calming your ragged breathing. Eventually, Frankie rises from the bed to grab a washcloth, coming back and swiping between your legs tenderly, gently, before collapsing back into bed and pulling you into his chest.

He feels like he’s in space, and he tells you as much. He spills secrets like a child at a sleepover. He tells you about the glitter and the stars and the constellations of ice crystals. You match him with a galaxy of feeling spanning the time he’s known you. And he feels that this is a dream, this love which floats like a nebula within the bed. He tries to keep his eyes open for as long as possible, even as you sleep. And even when he does drift off, he dreams of you. He dreams of you sparkling with stardust, waiting for him with your arms open.

When he wakes the next morning, you’re still there. Safe, soft and warm against him, furled into his ribcage, heart beating against the hand that’s pressed against your chest.

Everything’s okay. That red thread still intact, after all.

When the sun rises, bloody and mild, it’s never been so sweet.

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

#pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pickup truck #kings of leon #Spotify #pedro pascal x reader

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hughiecampbelle · 3 months

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The Boys Preference: Dating After A Toxic Relationship

A/N: Not requested, just an idea I had 😊 Remember, requests are open! Be sure to read my rules and please respect that I'm only interested in writing for these characters. Thank you! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher is very vocal. He knows you jump and scare easily, so he always makes a point to say where or if he's going to touch you, if he's upset and why (so that you don't worry you're the reason), when he'll be back, etc. This takes a lot of trial and error between the two of you. Butcher is an angry, violent person. You knew this going into the relationship. There's always a worry it could turn on you, and that's what he fears most: that you'd ever be afraid of him. He reassures you constantly he would never, ever hurt you. He knows all about what your ex did. You wanted to be up front and honest, knowing some of your behaviors might seem strange or out of place. The last thing he ever wants to do is emulate your ex and though it takes a lot of rewiring and assessment of his actions, he's trying to be better for you so that he doesn't lose you.

Hughie hates what your ex has done. Bit by bit, you give him the overview of your relationship, what they were like, and how they treated you. Sometimes you jump or flinch and he's reminded all over again that, despite what he does, there will always be this underlying fear and distrust. It took a long time to date him let alone tell him everything. He's patient and gentle and makes sure you're okay with every step you take further into the relationship. He takes every relationship show regardless of past history. When you see your ex again you have to pull Hughie away, not wanting him to start anything. He can't help it. He looks at them and he sees red. He's filled with disgust and hatred. Hughies always been on the timid side, but the thought of someone hurting you like that boils his blood.

Annie never wants you to feel like you have to hide that kind of thing from her. She knows all about power hungry people who take advantage of others. Still, she can't believe it. You're kind and funny and sweet and you always have everyone's best interest at heart. You know what it's like to get hurt, you wouldn't dare hurt someone else. She knows you don't want any trouble with them, you just want to move on, but she can't help but light up when she sees them. Secretly she goes to them and makes it known if they so much as look at you, even think about you, they're done. She's always asking if what you're doing is okay and wants to be as open as possible about boundaries. You're grateful she likes innocent touching, mostly hand holding, and when you're having a hard time you know she'll grab your hand and squeeze it, reminding you she's always here for you.

M.M knows all about your ex. He was the one to help you get out of that relationship in the first place. Since then you've become really close, so close he's now your boyfriend. After your ex shows up at your work one day, Marvin decides to take things into his own hands. The Boys make a special appearance at their apartment where they make it known they are never to go near you ever again. You have a lot of fears about trusting someone again, especially in a relationship, but M.M. is patient. He never wants you to feel like you have to do something you don't want to or aren't ready for. He's more than okay with taking things slow. He actually prefers it that way. He's extremely protective over you and, unfortunately, are his biggest weakness. If Homelander ever found out about you, M.M. would be done for.

Frenchie met your ex a few times before you broke things off. The way they spoke to you, wanted to control you, all the sings were there. He feels awful that he didn't see it sooner, but you could never blame him. You're just glad you got away from them. Frenchie is attentive and devoted and males sure you're comfortable with every step in your relationship. He offers, jokingly though not jokingly, to have your ex killed when they start sending calls and texts and emails. You assure him it's okay, you'll handle it. He knows you're more than capable, but he's always got a back up plan ready just in case they want to try anything more. He's extremely patient when you decide to tell him. He knows there's more to the story than what you're sharing, but he doesn't push it. He's grateful you shared anything at all. It's a big step and means a lot that you'd trust him.

Kimiko is learning to trust just like you are. You've both been through a lot, but you find a great solace in one another. Kimiko isn't sure who this random person is that shows up looking for you, only that the rest of The Boys are suddenly cagey, angry, and very protective. They're grateful you're not there. When she asks about them, you finally tell her. You dated a while ago and it wasn't a safe relationship. You thought you could get away from them, but they seek you out. They like to know they're in control. She feels awful. You're genuine and smart and sweet. Those terrible things that happened to you only made you softer and, unfortunately, more prone to anxiety and distrust. She leaves it up to you to take the next steps in your relationship. You appreciate more than you could ever put into words. You love her, but you need to take things slow.

Bonus! Homelander killed them a long time ago. The moment you showed up in his life, he knew there was someone who'd hurt you. It takes a long time to tell anyone, let alone him. One day the phone calls and texts and emails just stop. They stop showing up at Vought looking for you. You think you've finally scared them off or perhaps they got bored, but it was actually your new boyfriend. Normally he'd like to boast all about how he tortured them, h9w easy it was to kill them, how stupid they looked when he pulled out all their teeth, but he knows you wouldn't like that, so he keeps it to himself. He knows no one will miss them. You certainly don't. You're sleeping better now and getting more comfortable in your relationship without the constant threat of them showing up or following you. Homelander rests easy knowing they can never hurt you again. He lacks a lot of self-awareness in this department.

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honeypiehotchner · 5 months

Text

kiss her, you fool (Hotch x fem!Reader) -- one shot

Anyway I'm back in the fucking building again!!!! Listened to "Kiss Her You Fool" by Kids That Fly and had this one shot written in like an hour. The love for Aaron Hotchner never dies apparently

Summary: You're in the middle of spring cleaning when Aaron calls and says he forgot something at your place (he didn't).

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff! I just wanted to write some romance

It’s the middle of the day and you’re in the middle of a cleaning frenzy when your phone rings for what looks like the third time. It’s Aaron.

“Hey! Sorry,” you laugh, grabbing the TV remote to pause your music, phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder. “I’m spring cleaning and clearly way too far in the zone. What’s up?”

“That’s okay,” you can hear him smiling as you readjust your phone in your hand. “Would it be alright if I stopped by? I think I left something there last night.”

You furrowed your brows, spinning around the living room. You definitely would’ve noticed if he left something here last night. You’ve practically turned your entire apartment upside down to clean it.

“Are you sure?” you ask, moving to lift the couch cushions for a third time. “What was it?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, which totally isn’t suspicious at all. “Can I just come look?”

“I mean,” you let out an awkward laugh. “I guess you can. I’ve been cleaning since this morning, though, so I think I would’ve spotted it, but—”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” he says. “If that’s okay?”

You sigh, selfishly glad you’re getting to see him again, two days in a row. It feels like you’ve hit the jackpot. “Yeah, of course it’s okay.”

“Great, see you in a few.”

“See you,” you bite back your grin, ending the call. You turn the music back on, a little lower so you’ll hear him when he knocks.

You have no earthly idea what he could’ve forgotten. He had his phone and jacket in hand when he left. He never took his wallet or keys out of his jacket pockets, so they must’ve stayed there. Unless either of them fell out, but again, you feel like you would’ve noticed.

Whatever it is, he’ll either find it or realize it isn’t here. Regardless, you’re getting to see him again, so you’ll take it.

With his job, the days that you do see Aaron are typically one long day spent together here and there. Yesterday was an exception, a rare dinner mid-work week because he happened to be done at the office early and you were free, so obviously the opportunity was taken advantage of. It’s only been a few weeks of seeing one another, so you both take any chance you can get.

Despite this, though, things have moved…slow. Slower than you expected because, to be frank, every guy you’ve been with has been quick and to the point. Not that you always minded that. Sometimes you wanted the same thing — quick, hot, heavy. But those days have since left you, and you went through a period of seeing no one, aside from one guy who left as soon as you said you were interested in moving slowly.

It’s nothing against Aaron, but when he first introduced himself at your local coffee shop, you kind of assumed he’d be the same. It’s hard not to assume when everyone acted that way, and when the men who frequent said coffee shop don’t exactly have the best track record for being polite and respectful.

Aaron, though, took weeks to ask for your number, let alone to join your table one morning to sip his coffee — and even then, you offered him the seat; he didn’t invite himself. That alone was enough for you to agree to give him your number, and then to an official first date.

He kissed your cheek after the first date, your forehead after the second, and kept to those areas alone. You found yourself wondering if something was wrong with you somehow, but he wasn’t disinterested. Quite the opposite, actually, from how he held your hand and kept his arms around you, how he made sure you were safely inside your apartment before heading off, how he still texted when he arrived home to ask you if you were still safely inside.

Or when he had to cancel a date last minute, and sent flowers to your apartment in lieu of his presence. He apologized over the phone, but the flowers had an apology note attached too. And another apology when he arrived at your door four days later, fresh off the plane, with a real explanation of his job and why he didn’t have time to explain it all to you before he left.

Your friends think it’s a little crazy, that it’s been almost a month of dating and there hasn’t been a single kiss — “On the cheek doesn’t count!” they argue. You think it does. If anything, you’re just happy there’s no pressure.

The underlying anxiety is there, sure, of what if it never happens? But you can’t bring yourself to entertain the thought. Mainly because you want to kiss him so bad, you’re practically going to leap onto him one of these days.

You’re mid-dance when a knock sounds on your door and you jump, having forgotten Aaron said he would be here soon. You turn the music down as you head for the door, unlocking it to let him in.

He stands there in his usual dark suit, sans tie this time so the top buttons are undone, bouquet of flowers in hand and dumb smile on his face.

“What are these for?” you ask when he hands them to you.

He steps inside and shuts the door, pausing to press a kiss to your forehead. “Because I wanted to.”

You give him a look, cheeks feeling warm. “If you keep doing this ‘because you want to,’ I’m gonna need to open a flower truck,” you joke, gesturing to the other vase of flowers sitting in your window. And there’s another in the bathroom. And one in your bedroom.

“Just let me know what kind of truck you want,” he teases.

You press the flowers to your nose to hide your smile. “Oh, what did you forget? You’re welcome to look for it, but—”

He lets out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I might have lied.”

“I knew you were, you idiot,” you swat playfully at his arm. You turn to head into the kitchen in search of another vase. “I got off the phone and paced around like what did he possibly leave here? I figured maybe your wallet or something, but I definitely would’ve found it earlier. You should’ve seen the living room this morning — I had the couch on its side and the coffee table in the middle of the hallway—”

You’re in the middle of rambling, digging around under the sink for a vase, when Aaron pulls you up by your hand, spinning you to face him.

“—it was a disaster trying to vacuum. Remind me never to do that unless you’re over here to lift all of it. I think I nearly—”

He’s smiling at you, and you don’t have a single moment to spare to register that he’s leaning in before his lips are on yours.

You sigh into the kiss, pleasantly surprised to be interrupted in this way, and glad your hands are free so you can hold onto him. Maybe this is why it’s good he hadn’t kissed you yet — one second of it and you’re ready to collapse under the sweet weight of it all. His arms circle your waist to lift you up, and your arms circle his neck, keeping him close. As close as you’ve really wanted him.

When you finally break for air, it’s only to press your foreheads against one another’s, not wanting to move too far.

“Well,” you laugh.

“Technically,” he says, pausing to peck your nose, “that’s what I forgot last night.”

You roll your eyes. “You are so stupid.”

“Mm, just because it makes you smile,” he says, kissing your lips again, and again. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Ideally,” you pause, letting him kiss you again, “ordering dinner in and making out with my boyfriend until the sun rises. You?”

“You know, I was thinking about taking someone special out to dinner,” he pauses, pulling you closer again, “and then kissing her until she tells me to stop.”

“That could be forever, for all you know.”

“That’s fine with me.”

You grin and he kisses you again, pausing to say, “Sorry, I can’t help myself—”

“Trust me,” you move even closer, your eyelashes practically touching his cheeks when you blink, “you don’t need to apologize.”

He responds by kissing you some more, and more, until he’s lifting you into his arms and placing you on the kitchen counter.

“Aaron!” you squeal, nearly crushing the bouquet. “Let me move the flowers at least!”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, just a whisper away from kissing you again.

“You know—” You have to pause in between words as he presses his lips to yours. “—I still have—cleaning—Aaron,” you giggle. “I need to put my apartment back together.”

“Do you?” he asks, relenting only slightly, his fingertips pressing into your lower back, keeping you against him. “Do you need help?”

“I do actually,” you chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. “The couch isn’t back where it was.”

He smirked. “I noticed.”

You tug on his hair slightly to tease him for that jab, only it lights a new spark behind his eyes. Your cheeks grow even warmer. “No, seriously,” you say. “It’ll stress me out if it’s not back in its spot, but then…”

He nods, kissing your lips. “Then we’ll get ready for dinner.”

“And then come back here for a movie?”

“We’ll see how much of the movie we actually pay attention to,” he smirks, eyes traveling all over your face.

The urge to let him ravish you right now against the kitchen counter is so strong it nearly makes you lightheaded. But soon Aaron is helping you down, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

“Did you get to vacuum under the couch all the way?”

“…kind of.”

“Come on,” he chuckles, pulling on your hand, leading you back into the living room. “Call me next time?”

“If I get kissed like that during spring cleaning then I’m doing it every day,” you reply, mostly joking. Kind of. “Fuck I forgot the vase for the flowers—”

Aaron kisses you to interrupt you once again. “One thing at a time,” he says.

The kissing doesn’t stop, and you never do get to vacuum under the couch. It can wait.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch fluff #i clearly just needed some romance in my life idk #kiss her you fool #big fan of hotch buying you flowers constantly bc he simply wants to #bigger fan of him not being able to help himself around you #back in the fucking BUILDING AGAIN #criminal minds #fluff

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amoreva · 8 months

Note

yes i’m so glad you’re writing for clarisse because im obsessed with your writing.

could you write something with reader being a really confident and vain daughter of aphrodite who channels her mothers war goddess attributes and is one of the best sword fighter in camp? also playful teasing from reader and sparring because 1 i need justice for the massacre of aphrodites character and 2 clarisse x aphrodite!reader is essential to my life force. haters can hate.

maybe also show how other campers interact with her as well, like luke showing percy around idk

LOVER AND A WARRIOR

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pairing: clarisse la rue x daughter of aphrodite!reader

summary: clarisse has always been a hard hitter and a tough lover, but a certain someone from aphrodite makes her soft. and she doesn’t entirely mind it.

warnings: use of “y/n” once or twice, kinda switches to percy’s pov, fighting, almost death(?), fluff, mentions of beckendorf!!

a/n: i really hope i did this request right! enjoy! i was trying to crank this out as soon as i could.

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Everyone thought you’d be claim by Ares (even though your dad was still very present and not a god) or at least by Athena. You were smart and a hell of a lot strong; both mentally and physically.

So it came to a surprise when Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, claimed you.

Though, Clarisse knew you were her daughter. You were every bit of passionate: about life, hobbies, interests, her. You paid attention to every little detail that flew out of her mouth (she noticed).

It didn’t help that you channeled your mother’s past title and abilities. After all, in Sparta, she was known as Aphrodite Aeria, “Aphrodite the Warlike”.

Clarisse was head over heels for you the minute she saw you fight (you even bested Luke, how was she not supposed to not fall in love with you?)

You and Clarisse started dating at the peak of the Summer Solstice and never looked back. No one knew Clarisse could be so…tolerating to someone outside of her cabin, especially to one of Aphrodite’s daughter.

Percy surely didn’t expect it either.

Clarisse was so callous and you were compassionate. He guessed that thing about opposites attract was true.

“Look, you want attention here, dummy?” Clarisse spoke condescendingly to the newest camper. She just couldn’t believe a scrawny kid took down the Minotaur. “You better be ready for it when it comes.”

Clarisse made Percy flinch and walked past Hermes’ kids. An amused smile plastered on her face. Luke shook his head as Ares’ kids passed which begged the question. “Why don’t they mess with you?” Percy asked.

“They know better.” Luke smirked.

“Luke’s the second strongest swordsman in camp.” Chris added with a proud grin.

“Who’s the first?”

“Y/N.”

Suddenly, you walked by in perfect timing. Percy’s eyes glued to you. You witnessed the whole situation and went to talk to your girlfriend. “Clarisse…” You muttered.

Percy watched Ares’ daughter soften at the mention of her name from your lips. Nothing in the facial expressions, it was all in the eyes.

“She doesn’t look menacing or intimidating—” Percy acknowledged.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Luke reminded as he glanced back at you and Clarisse. “Got my ass handed to me when I sparred with her.”

Percy looked at Luke. “Really? Can I train with her?”

•••

It wasn’t odd to find Clarisse in Aphrodite’s cabin; nor was it odd to find the two of you cuddling on your bunk. Sunlight beaming onto the two of you and the only sounds were the campers outside. All of your siblings when do go enjoy camp activities while you read to Clarisse.

Ancient Greek flows from your mouth like the water from River Styx. Clarisse had one arm haphazardly thrown across your abdomen. Her head perched on your shoulder.

Silently, she admired the way your lips moved. The way you were invested into the story. The way she can see all the tiny details on your gorgeous face from this position.

Clarisse found herself falling for you more and more with each second of the day. She was aggressive and intimidating. She was Ares’ favorite daughter after all, but she found herself becoming more softhearted to you.

“You’re my…everything.” Clarisse whispered fondly. It might’ve been a slip of the tongue, but it made you blush.

She never failed to make you blush. Your rosy cheeks complimented with a sheepish grin. “Clarisse…” You mumbled and put down the book.

“I mean it.” Clarisse stated firmly and sat up on her elbow. Her heart locket fell from her orange Camp t-shirt. It matched yours, except you had a sword charm. Clarisse insisted on giving it to you (after threatening Beckendorf once or twice) for your two month anniversary.

“I know.” You reassured and pecked her lips quickly. Clarisse smiled and dived back in to press her lips into yours

A giggle erupted from you. A rush of dopamine intoxicating your brain. It always felt like the first kiss with her. “I love you, I love you, I love you—” You repeated into her lips.

“I get it, lovergirl.” Clarisse chuckled as she pulled away. Her cheek tinged with pink. “I love you too.”

She continued. “Will you keep reading? You sound so beautiful when you read—”

“Clarisse!” You exclaimed. Your blush even more prominent.

“What? I can’t tell my girlfriend she has a voice from the sirens that could bring the Big Three to tears?”

“Clarisse…”

“Keep reading, lovergirl.”

•••

“This is safe, right?” Percy asked Grover.

“Yeah! Perfectly safe.” Grover reassured with a smile.

Luke had recruited you to help train Percy (Clarisse just so happened to tag along). There were swords in all of your hands. You were going to fight Clarisse and Luke and Percy doubted you were that good.

It was all to help Percy learn more about fighting with the sword and a great way to show off. The forest clearing gave enough room to really show your talents in combat.

“Don’t go easy on me!” You yelled at Clarisse and Luke on the other side of the clearing. Percy and Grover were sitting on rather large rocks anticipating the battle.

You took a deep breath and your eyes hardened. It was like switched had been flipped within you. You shifted your foot, sliding it in the dirt. The air felt different. Tense, sharp, lung-crushing.

Clarisse and Luke tightened their grip on their swords and gave each other a confirming nod. Percy and Grover watched as the three older half-bloods charged one another.

With precision and quick-wit, you were able to keep Clarisse and Luke on their toes. Luke shifted his weight in his feet before charging you again. You clashed swords. Celestial Bronze against Celestial Bronze.

Your ears perked up on shoes slapping against the dirt. You ducked causing Clarisse to swing at Luke. There was no trace of a your warm sweet smile Percy saw, only your hardened gaze.

It was kind of scary to see Aphrodite’s daughter switch up so fast.

Clarisse cursed under her and swiped her sword as if flicking off imaginary blood. She met your gaze, her heart skipped a beat. She rushed you again and swiped your legs. You jumped back with the grace of a swan, but Clarisse parried her sword immediately after.

You riposted Clarisse when Luke cane out from behind Clarisse to continue an onslaught of attacks. You scoffed quietly, but you could never complain. It was a good workout.

Yet, a particularly heavy swing from you knocked Luke’s sword from out of his hand. His sword flinging at Percy’s head. Percy shouted and ducked.

“Oh my gods!” You exclaimed and slapped your heads over your mouth in surprise.

Clarisse and Luke stopped their attacks and looked back at Percy and Grover. Luke’s celestial bronze sword was sticking out of a tree. Percy centimeters away from the blade.

You apologized for your reckless behavior. Percy was more scared of how fast you switched from your focused nature to a worried attitude.

“It’s okay…” Percy laughed nervously.

“He said he was fine!” Clarisse called out and walked towards you, pressing a small kiss to your cheek.

“Sorry, Percy.” Luke apologized.

“A lover and a fighter. Got it.” Percy noted in his mind as you complained to Clarisse about feeling bad about impaling Percy.

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#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #percy series #clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue pjo

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heesdreamer · 2 years

Text

YOU MAKE ME

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader

SUMMARY ➩ struck with insomnia your entire life, you’ve taken to exploring the city restless all night. things change when you meet a tall boy with tired eyes and bruised knuckles

WARNINGS ➩ heeseung is lowkey crazy and obsessed with reader, parental death and abuse and implied violence, sexual scenes and commentary, mental health talk (especially insomnia)

WC ➩ 17k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ (i lied lol part 2 soon) NOOO PART 2 plz don’t request im so serious i rlly love this story and it’s completed it has nothing else to add! im glad you guys enjoy my work enough to want more but when there is no feedback in ur comment and just “need part 2” when i spent so much time writing 13k+ words it makes me feel terrible lol. i rlly hope you love this as much as me (NOT PROOFREAD)

Your mother used to tell you that she thought you were born from a piece of the moon.

When you were old enough to understand her and her strange sayings, she’d tell you stories about how when you were a baby you’d never sleep through a night. She looked mystified as she explained to you the ways in which you’d gain energy every time the sun set, becoming whiny and ornery whenever she’d take you with her to run errands during the day.

She told you how you struggled in school for most of your early years, always being found curled up in your backpack cubby or under the slides at the playground because you hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before.

You always were much more cynical than your mother, less of a dreamer and typically prone to aggravation or grumpy tired mumbles. She’d tell you your connection with the moon was a blessing, a lifelong friend for you and you’d retort back that it was a nuisance.

When your mom died you finally realized what she had meant for the first time. You spent nights awake, like usual, but now they were accompanied by nothing but the sounds of your low sobs and your father drinking himself stupid just below your bedroom. It wasn’t until you cracked open your bedroom window for some fresh winter air did you catch sight of the moon and finally feel it, finally feel the connection you’d always been told you had.

Years had passed now and while you didn’t cry every night anymore, you still rarely found yourself able to sleep through the night.

You’d also turned your back on the moon again now that you were older and still just as restless, sleeping throughout your classes and lacking any social life considering the way you wandered through the halls like a ghost with sunken eyes and dark circles.

It was frustrating to you that nothing seemed to be working, no amount of teas or yoga exercises. You’d gone as far as to take prescribed sleep medication, only working enough to make you more exhausted than you already were yet not putting you to rest like you were longing for.

Years of trying and you’ve mostly given up, accepted your condition and never once considered it the blessing your mother had tried to convince you it was.

Blessings wouldn’t leave your bones aching, they wouldn’t leave you slow blinking trying to understand what your teachers were saying or stumbling holding your lunch tray. Blessings surely wouldn’t have you stood in the middle of a dirty 7/11, clutching three bags of chips and a large slushee while you impatiently waited for the two people in front of you to move along.

You’d realized a few things by being a night owl, only ever interacting with people having the same issue as you or people who worked early enough that you’d pass by them on your way back to your house.

You’d taken to spending your nights awake out in the city, sick of staring at your ceiling or scrolling down the same boring timelines that carried nothing but the same content posted thousands of times with different wordings. So you started to explore at some point during high school, each night pushing yourself to wander further and find something interesting before heading back.

Sometimes you ended up at the river, sitting and watching drunk older men laugh with their friends like they were teenagers, catching the ends of failed dates as they walked home with their heels in their hands.

Other times you sat and drank coffee in the few 24 hour shops scattered around the city, sipping it slowly until it was cold and the added sugar was hardening at the bottom of your paper cup.

Most times however you simply found yourself stood in this exact position, holding your snacks of choice and tapping your foot impatiently while you waited for the drunk college students in front of you to stop joking around with the exhausted cashier and pay for their beers. It wasn’t that late yet, not quite the time of night that got you weird stares for wandering around in your pajamas.

You could hear the cashiers tired voice repeating their total to them, asking if they wanted to pay with cash or card and you sighed softly. You tilted to the side with an exaggerated sway so you could see over their laughing bodies, vaguely meeting eyes with the boy behind the counter before flopping back to your original position.

A heavy sigh was slipping out of your mouth before you even realized it and one of the drunk men turned back to look at you, an eyebrow cocked in offense as he let out a nasty laugh after taking you in.

You were pretty used to that reaction, standing in your plaid pajamas with your favorite bunny slippers and knitted hat. Your eyes were low and heavy with sleep deprivation, an annoyed glint to your expression that seemed to aggravate him further once the glare was set towards him.

“Are we bugging you Ms?” He was asking it in a mockingly sweet tone, clearly antagonizing you due to your impatience. You sighed again and your eyes drifted to the side for a moment in indifference, too exhausted to hold a conversation let alone argue with a grown man who didn’t know how to behave in a public setting.

“Yeah.. a little bit.” You were casually mumbling after a few beats of him and his friend staring at you, realizing now they weren’t going to just let you go without a response.

He was scoffing like it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard and you felt a little jolt of your inner alert system when he was taking a step towards you, his much larger frame slightly intimidating on top of the fact he was drunk and not thinking clearly.

He stopped early in his advances however and you were confused for a second before you registered the sound of the cashier clearing his throat, the two men turning back to look at him with an incredulous look. When you’d first gotten a glimpse of him he’d been bent over the counter, his elbows resting against it with a bored expression but now that he was standing up to his full height you faltered a bit at how tall he was.

The two men seemed to be thinking the same thing as you, suddenly hesitant in their childish behavior and awkwardly handing him a wadded up bill before taking their case of beer and staggering out of the convenience store.

“Thanks.” You were muttering and dumping your snacks out onto the counter, awkwardly catching one of the candy bars that bounced off a bag of chips and almost fell back onto the ground.

“No problem.” He was responding back with a small shrug and you glanced at him curiously, scanning his tired eyes down to the work uniform that didn’t fit him properly.

“You’re not Jake.” You were announcing and he faltered in his scanning, eyes widening a touch as he looked down at you. He was wearing a name tag but you came by often enough to know that it wasn’t his own, never having seen him before and growing used to the friendly smile the usual third shifter would give you every time you dragged yourself in.

“Uh.. no. I’m not, yeah you’re right.” He was awkwardly muttering back and you almost felt bad for calling him out so directly so you laughed a bit to ease the tension, just as awkward considering you weren’t used to extended social interaction this late at night. “He had a concert he couldn’t miss.. asked me to take over.”

You were nodding softly, mouth parting in understanding and awkwardly shuffling while the conversation quickly died into a weird silence. The sounds of your slippers against the tiled floor was scratchy and too loud for your taste, making you wince slightly at how embarrassing this whole interaction was.

“Are you getting paid?” You don’t know why you asked him another question, why you were carrying on a conversation when it’d been years since you’d had one randomly like this but you liked the way his big eyes flickered back up to you.

“Yeah of course.” He was breaking out into a wide grin at the mention of it, finishing scanning your snacks and looking at the register for a second like he’d forgotten what to do next. “I’m normally up all night anyways so I don’t mind much.”

This piqued your interest but you kept your face neutral, nodding softly and picking at the peeling leather of your wallet while you waited for him to give you your total. He was looking up at you again before he spoke and his eyes landed on your hat for a second, still smiling softly as he looked at the knitted bunny ears.

You cleared your throat and he stopped staring, stammering out how much it had cost you and you slid a few bills over to him while watching the way he fumbled around trying to get the register to open.

“Well… have a good night then.” You were mumbling to him while grabbing the plastic bags he was handing you over the clear divider, your fingers brushing against his warm knuckles for a second. “Not Jake.”

“Goodnight.” He was casually saying back and you wanted to correct him on his wording and tell him you didn’t sleep much either, tell him you understood filling your nights with mindless task and the dark circles under his big eyes. Instead you just bit the inside of your cheek and turned to leave. “Have fun wandering.”

——

You’d left early the next night, starting your walk around midnight instead of the usual 3am and you hurried down to the bus stop that would take you deep into the city. You pulled your headphones on tight and chewed on your lip as you waited for the stop you were planning to get off at.

When you got there, you were tugging on the stop signal line and standing up before the driver pulled the brakes. You swayed slightly when he came to a complete stop and you thanked him as you hopped off the high step, speed walking towards your destination and adjusting your bunny hat on your head before you passed through the doors.

The loud chime of the stores entrance bell rang uncomfortably loud through your ears and you winced at the volume, ducking behind one of the tall shelves and grabbing a few snacks at random before making your way over to the register.

Jake was there again now, giving you that familiar greeting smile and you couldn’t help but feel a small wave of disappointment. You weren’t sure why you thought the boy from last night would be back again considering he’d clearly told you he was just filling in for his friend but you frowned slightly and mumbled a greeting to the boy in front of you instead.

“You’re here early.” Jake was starting and you almost sighed. He was friendly and you admired how much energy he had but he often tried to engage in conversation with you whenever you came by, despite the annoyed glances you occasionally threw his way. “You almost missed me.”

You picked your head up at this, suddenly more alert and raising an eyebrow towards him in interest. As far as you knew, Jake was the only third shift worker and he must’ve barely started considering how early in the night it still was so he must’ve meant he was leaving before his usual time.

“Who’s going to watch the store then?” You were asking him and you tried to ignore how knowing the smile he was giving you was, laughing slightly at the fact you were suddenly interested in what he had to say for the first time ever.

“My best friend, Heeseung.” He was responding slowly and you faltered slightly, not knowing the boy from yesterday’s name so you didn’t want to get too excited over nothing. “He helped me out last night and said it was more interesting than he expected so he offered again.”

“He offered?” You were speaking before he even finished his last syllable and you flushed with embarrassment at the look he gave you, shuffling awkwardly on your feet and waiting for him to respond now that you confirmed it was the same person.

He didn’t say anything but he gave a soft hum of agreement and continued to swiftly bag your snacks, much more natural and efficient than his friend but you liked the way Heeseung stared at the register like it was an alien object. You were interested in him just from the small conversation you had, although feeling uncomfortable at the emotion considering it wasn’t something you usually felt.

You chalked it down to the fact he reminded you of yourself, not so much in his lazy smiles and casual demeanor but something about the way his tired eyes looked around.

Jake was opening his mouth again to speak and you looked up at him curiously but you both froze at the sound of the entrance bell ringing again, looking over to see the boy in question entering.

He froze when he saw the two of you staring at him, eyes falling to your hat and then down to your face which caused his to flicker with recognition. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, looking even taller now that he wasn’t standing behind the counter.

Heeseung was wearing a large hoodie pulled over his head and you could see the wires of his headphones going down into his shirt, tangled around his wrist that was clutching onto the strap of the backpack he was wearing. It was light looking and you weren’t sure if he had anything inside it or if he was just carrying it to give himself something to hold onto.

“Hey.” Jake was smiling at him and simultaneously handing you your plastic bag full of random snacks, hitting you with the reminder you had no real reason to stay in the store now despite the fact Heeseung had just arrived.

“Um.. thanks.” You were awkwardly muttering and taking it from him, shifting a few steps towards the door but stopping when you realized the tall boy was still standing in front of it and you had no way around him.

He was watching you still with a curious expression and you felt embarrassed suddenly, knowing Jake must have pieced together your reason for coming here so early and now he was watching you clam up and leave before you’d even gotten the chance to speak a word to the boy.

You were just standing there in silence, waiting for him to move and silently praying he would do you didn’t have to awkwardly shuffle around his large frame, when he suddenly was adjusting the backpack on his shoulders and clearing his throat while looking past you towards his friend.

“Change of plans. I’m busy tonight.” He was saying in a low determined voice and you could hear Jake sigh from behind you, your eyes widening slightly in confusion until the other boy was looking back at you with a small smile on his face. “Want to hang out with me?”

It took a few seconds for you to register he was actually asking you, staring up at him with an open mouth and stuttering for a moment before giving up on a verbal answer and nodding your head swiftly. He smiled even more at that and then he was waving goodbye to his friend, turning back around and holding the door open for you so you could quickly scurry out of it.

You weren’t too sure what to do, still feeling too nervous to speak clearly so you paused and waited to see if he would say something first. He didn’t but he lifted an eyebrow and gave you an expectant look, silently telling you that you were in charge of your destination for the night.

The pressure of a decision made you sigh softly and you gave him a weird look that made him chuckle, thinking for a moment before turning on your heel and walking away. He jogged slightly to catch up with you and you walked in comfortable silence for a few moments.

“Can I ask where we are going?” He was eventually mumbling, leaning down and towards you slightly so you could hear him at his low volume. Your lip curled up at the fact he was whispering for no reason.

“You don’t trust me?” You were asking him back and your teasing attitude seemed to catch him off guard for a second, raising his hands in mock defense and cocking an eyebrow in challenge.

“I do trust you actually, weirdly.” He paused and you could feel him looking sideways at you. You ignored his gaze and kept facing forward, following the sidewalk that was cutting through the park near the river. “Considering you don’t even know my name.”

You almost replied telling him that you did know his, that you’d been repeating it in your mind since Jake had informed you of it in the store but you figured that would be too forward and instead you just hummed softly. He didn’t ask you for your name, or even offer his and for some reason you had a feeling he already knew it.

Possibly asking Jake about you, an easy answer considering your unusual attire and late night arrival, and that being the reason behind the cashiers knowing smirk when you pushed through the glass door.

“Is this what you normally do?” He was talking again after a few more minutes of silent walking and this time, it was your turn to look at him from the side of your eye. “Walk around?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged and you felt one of the bunny ears from your hat fall off your shoulder at the movement. You weren’t sure why you didn’t give him a straight forward answer, knowing perfectly well your usual routine.

It felt strange to be accompanied by somebody even though he wasn’t talking much, you could tell he was thinking and wanting to ask you things and as much as you were intrigued by him it was slightly unsettling you to be around somebody for this long.

You spent most your days isolated, not having anybody to talk to at home considering any attempt of conversation with your father usually ended poorly anyways, eventually giving up altogether unless he was grunting something to you every morning when you wandered back into the house.

At school it was relatively the same, or most times worse. You don’t think the other students necessarily meant to complete ice you out but nobody seemed to know how to talk to you after your mom died, at first being overly compassionate and eager to empathize with you vocally and then eventually fading off into small pitiful smiles when they met your tired eyes in the hallway or eyeing you when you came into class late with messy hair.

Heeseung didn’t seem to be giving you any of these looks, he looked confused by your behavior at times but it was accompanied by small smirks or friendly chuckles.

You once again wondered why he was awake right now, why he seemed like he was used to this setting as much as you and not like he was forcing himself to stay up for the sake of making a new friend. You were curious what he was thinking about and what lead him to ask you to hang out in the first place.

“Have you been to the coffee shop on 44th?” He was suddenly asking and breaking you from your train of thought, his voice still in a low whisper.

“Why are you being quiet?” You ignored his question and raised an eyebrow in his direction, tugging on your sleeve and watching the way he faltered slightly.

“Guess I’m not used to talking to somebody this late.” He was shrugging now and he almost looked embarrassed at your question, making you feel slightly guilty for making him uncomfortable.

It wasn’t that late yet, people were still wandering around from bars and late night dinners and you could hear the squeal of the bus brakes still running. The city was rarely ever dark, even in the parks near the bridge but the mood changed sometime around 4am and you felt like the trees were sleeping. Everything was still awake now however and Heeseung whispering was driving you a bit crazy.

“What about Jake?” You were asking him more now, trying to make conversation so he knew you didn’t mean any harm from your comment.

“Jake’s a freak of nature.” He was relaxing again at the mention of his friend, a smile naturally slipping back onto his face at the familiar topic. “You know he works this shift and still goes to school? He even plays football at Hope.”

The mention of your schools college made you freeze for a second, faltering in your step and causing him to look back at you with concern, turning his body so he could face you now that you were lagging behind him. He raised an eyebrow at you and you gave him a confused look.

“You guys go to Hope?” You were saying it slowly so he heard you clearly and his head cocked like a confused dog.

“I don’t, Jake is older than us.” His use of the word threw you off completely and he must’ve noticed because he let out an awkward laugh at your reaction, scratching his neck in embarrassment. “We’re in the same grade.”

“We like… as in me and you?” You rushed out and he nodded his head, hands coming up in panic when you let out a low groan of guilt.

“It’s okay, don’t worry! I didn’t recognize you at first either, it’s a big class.” He was rambling to try and make you feel better about the fact you didn’t even realize he was your classmate, his comfortable behavior suddenly making more sense. You’d definitely never spoken to him but the fact he’d seen you around such a familiar place would make more sense towards why he was so willingly to walk around with you in the middle of the night.

“I’ve been there since Kindergarten.” You blurted out with wide eyes, exclaiming loudly in pure shock that you’d been so oblivious.

“Me too..” He was awkwardly offering with a wince like he knew it would just make the situation worse that’d you’d been classmates for over a decade.

You raised your sweater covered hands up to your face and groaned loudly, pulling your bunny ears in front of your eyes so you didn’t have to look at his sheepish expression anymore. You could hear him laughing softly at how dramatic you were being and you moved one ear to the side to send him a half glare.

“It’s really okay.” He was laughing out and you could see his soft smile from your one uncovered eye, watching him with a flushed face and growing embarrassment the more amused he became. “It’s not like you’re there much anyways.”

He was saying it casually, like he hadn’t even thought about it before it came out of his mouth but you both froze up at the same time at his accidental admission. You slowly moved your ears to the side and raised an eyebrow at him, leaning your upper half forward slightly and trying not to smile at the fact he was now the one flushing in embarrassment.

“So you notice me?” You were dragging out the words and your lip curled up in amusement, racking through your mind for times you’d seen the tall boy and coming up blank. In your defense, your entire school catalogue section of your brain was completely empty and that included cute boys with giant backpacks.

“I mean… well it’s just like… it’s not like I was stalking you or anything.” He was rambling on and moving his hands around a lot like he was really trying to prove his point, going back to awkwardly scratching at his neck when you gave him a disbelieving look.

“Heeseung.” You cut him off and he paused for a second in surprise, making you realize you’d just said his name without ever asking him for it.

He seemed to relax at that, knowing you also knew more about him than you were previously letting on and his shoulders lowered now that he was less tensed. He looked like he wanted to speak again but you felt embarrassed suddenly and took a few steps forward slowly, waiting for him to get the memo that you wanted to continue on your walk.

The two of you fell back into another spout of silence, awkward at first and then more comfortable as you got deeper into the city. It was more relaxed accompanied by the sounds of people laughing and cars honking their horns, kitchen staff wishing each other goodnight as they left different restaurants and swapped signs over to closed.

You were glancing over at Heeseung after a while and you studied him for a moment while he wasn’t paying attention, his big eyes looking around the city with the same expression you assumed you often had. No matter how many times you came down here, you always felt the exact same.

You always had this longing to capture the moment in some sort of way, giving up on photographs and videos quickly into your new habit considering they simply never were able to fully express how it felt. You tried writing about it, talking about the city always felt awake and how it unsettled you in a way that felt like a friendly challenge and not like your world flipping upside down.

“Where do you go?” You were asking him before you even realized it, watching his side profile as his big eyes opened wide for a second at the sudden sound of your voice and then darted right to look at you.

He seemed to think for a second and then he answered slowly. “I don’t know actually. Just here I guess, I just like to be here I think.”

The two of you watched each other for a few beats, holding the others gaze and you liked the way the neon signs behind you were reflecting off his round dark eyes. It was like a little piece of the city was frozen inside them and you almost said that to him before swallowing it, realizing how creepy it would sound out loud.

You didn’t say much else for the rest of the night, wandering around a bit more before eventually settling at one of the small parks near the center of the main area of downtown. You sat in silence like that, you pulling out your notebook that had few words and many sketches and Heeseung playing with the strings of his headphones as he listened to music.

You could faintly hear it coming from them, loud enough to reach you a few feet away and you considered telling him he was able to play it out loud if he wanted to but for some reason you felt like it was private, leaving him to listen by himself.

When the night was slowly changing into that familiar blue color, the stage right in the center of night and day when everything is coated in the indigo filter, you were standing up off the ground and dusting off your pants. Heeseung was looking up at you due to your sudden movement and you stood over him, offering him a hand so you could pull him up.

It was mainly his own strength put into moving his weight forward considering he was a lot taller than you and you were quite weak due to your lack of sleep, but he seemed to appreciate the friendly gesture and gave you a small smile after he was back on his feet.

“What bus do you take?” He was asking you on your way back to the 7/11 and you felt him looking at the side of your face.

“15.” You answered slowly, your voice softer now as the exhaustion started to seep in. You were suddenly grateful it was a weekend, the social interaction leaving you more tired than normal and hopefully giving you the opportunity to sleep an hour or two. “You?”

“Same, but Jake is bringing me home with him today.” He was mumbling and nodded your head, picking at the skin around your nails and feeling more guilt at the fact you’d never seen him on the bus before either. “Did you want a ride home?”

His question was surprising you and your eyes widened, looking at him and seeing the concern pass over his face at your sudden change of demeanor. You were shaking your head quickly, ears swooshing around your head and you raised a hand to shake it, really emphasizing your denial.

You couldn’t imagine your fathers reaction to you being brought home by a car, especially one that contained two teenage boys in the front seat. It already took him long enough to stop punishing you for leaving at night, eventually giving up on denying you your freedom once you started to pace around the house all night instead.

“Alright, no problem.” He said quickly and you were glad he didn’t push the topic although you could tell he wanted to, a curious look on his features. Heeseung seemed to have a habit of clearly showcasing his emotions and you were grateful considering it made him easier to understand but frustrated when it was a look of pity or sympathy on his face.

You didn’t say anything when he continued to walk with you past the convenience store, walking side by side on the sidewalks even as they thinned out as you slightly left the city area.

He still didn’t speak again even when you both stood together and waited for the bus to arrive, him leaning against the plastic material covering the stops bench and you standing outside of it so the driver didn’t just blow right past you, not expecting somebody out this late.

It was you that finally turned towards him once you caught sight of the bus approaching, tugging on one of your ears awkwardly and shuffling your feet while you waited for it to get closer. You could hear it squealing to a stop, the doors creaking open while he looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m…” His stare was throwing you off and you started to falter in your words while nervously looking behind you towards the driver who was waiting. “I’ll be here tomorrow around the same time so… if you wanted to.. or if like..”

You trailed off with a sigh but he seemed to get the general idea, a small smile on his face as he dipped his head down slightly in a conforming nod, relief washing over you at the fact he hadn’t found your indirect invitation weird or out of place. You raised your hand in a wave goodbye and he returned, watching you as you pulled your headphones over your hat and ears and boarded the bus swiftly, softly thanking the driver for waiting and finding a seat towards the back.

You could see him outside the window as you pulled off, still leaning against the booth and watching the bus as it left until it rounded the corner. You flushed at the fact he had walked you to your stop despite needing to return back to the city area to get a ride from Jake, not even hesitating when you passed by the store earlier.

It was exciting to be interested in somebody or even something at all, rarely feeling too extreme of emotions considering how dull and hazy everything became with your repeated exhausted routine. Not even your father, sprawled on the couch and surrounded by empty beer cans, could damper your mood as you entered your small house.

It took you a long time, hours staring at your ceiling with a half wandering mind but you eventually managed to get a little bit of sleep, thoughts of Heeseung and his wired headphones accompanying you.

——

The routine continued like this for awhile and you slowly got accustomed to it, now expecting to see him every time you boarded the bus and he was already there waiting for you with his large backpack saving you the seat beside him.

Sometimes you didn’t talk, walking in silence for hours or finding a nice place to sit and do your own individual activities side by side. Other nights you struck up small conversation, talking about the city and your favorite places to go and every once in a while delving into deeper categories that slowly chipped away at the uncomfortable feeling that always came along with attempting to trust somebody.

Heeseung was nice to you and you liked that about him as selfish as it sounded. He never expected you to answer his questions and he rarely pried, around the second day he had even started to pull out snacks from his backpack and hand them over to you after he opened them.

It was a bit into meeting now and he was walking you back to the bus stop, large hands tightly holding onto the straps of his backpack like they always were. He had lots of little habits like that and you carefully filed them all away in your memory. Sometimes he boarded the bus with you but others he just walked with you down there before leaning against the booth and waiting for you to round the corner.

Sometimes you wanted to ask him where he lived, he had to be further away from the city than you considering he was always on the bus before you at the start of the night but that would put him at even more of a distance from your school than you were already at.

Speaking of school, you’d yet to see him around the building and you surprised yourself by actually keeping an eye out throughout the day. You were scanning your tired eyes around the cafeteria and turning your dizzy head in classrooms to see if he was present but you’d not caught sight of him yet and you felt weird about asking where he was.

Maybe he didn’t want to be friends outside of the few hours of the night you spent together, time almost nonexistent here. You felt like the world was frozen most nights you spent with him around the city and you figured he must prefer that aspect versus actually interacting with you in the daytime where other people could see.

You were too distracted in your thoughts that you didn’t even realize your brain was auto-piloting and boarding onto the bus before you even checked if he was coming along, going to turn around to see and completely missing the first large step off the ground. You fell forward and you imagined your side would’ve painfully landed directed on the jagged edges of the steps but you didn’t get a chance to find out, suspending in mid air considering Heeseung had jolted forward to grab onto you.

You could feel his hand wrapped around your side, the other placed in the middle of your shoulder blades so he could support your weight without falling forward himself. Your eyes were wide from almost hurting yourself and you flushed bright red at the concerned look on his face, helping you back to a standing position but keeping his hand on your waist even after you were fully stable.

The bus driver was clearing his throat and Heeseung glanced behind him awkwardly like he was originally not meant to get on the bus, but he turned back towards you and took a step onto the same one you were standing on.

It didn’t pass by you that this was the closest you’d ever been to him, normally keeping a few feet between you when you found a place to sit for the night and rarely ever being close enough to bump shoulders while walking side by side. Now, since he was stood on the same small step as you, you were practically pushed up against him while his hand was still gently against your side despite not having a reason to hold onto you anymore.

He was leaning forward, his chest pressing against you more and you awkwardly looked down at his feet instead of focusing on how tall he was at this distance, and you vaguely registered the fact he was paying for both of your bus tickets.

He seemed to catch on to the fact you were out of it a bit and losing focus, his hand pushing into your side slightly to let you know it was time to fully enter the bus and find your seats. You expected him to let you go once you entered the thin aisle but he didn’t and even when he was stood behind you walking towards the back, he kept his hand around your waist like he was guiding you.

It was removed once you took your seats and you found yourself still able to feel it for some reason, the feeling burned into your mind as he awkwardly cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck again.

You glanced over at him and his nervous demeanor, his hands fidgeting with his ripped pants now like he was also still reeling from the feeling of touching you so randomly. His hair was messy like normal but it was getting longer now, falling forward into his eyes so you couldn’t quite see what his expression was. You watched him as he put his headphones in but you leaned forward slightly to confirm that he wasn’t actually playing any music.

“Did you have somewhere to be?” You were asking him softly and then repeating it louder when you realized his headphones might block out some of your volume.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and took the one closest to you out of his ear, wrapping it around the outside instead and thinking for a second before he gave you an answer.

“Not necessarily.” He was mumbling back but sighing softly when you gave him a disbelieving look. “Okay well kind of but I want to get you home first.”

“I barely tripped.” You were rolling your eyes at him being overly concerned but the flush in your face gave you away and he laughed softly.

“Maybe I just wanted to hang out with you a little bit longer.” He was shrugging and turning his head to look at you better, smiling more at the way you squeezed your shoulders together and awkwardly glared forward at the floor.

“We could always hang out in school.” You were offering after a few beats of silence and you immediately regretted it, not sure how it even managed to escape your lips considering you’d already told yourself you weren’t going to question him.

His initial reaction didn’t give anything away to you, face remaining blank like he hadn’t put much thought into it but you noticed his hands starting to pick at the tape wrapped around his headphone wire and you felt guilty for bringing it up. You were about to back track and tell him to forget about it or change the subject but he was humming softly.

“I think that’d be nice.” He was saying it casually but there was a nervous edge to his voice and your mouth was downturned slightly. “Where do you eat lunch at?”

“Near the side doors.” You were answering smoothly although you left out the fact you more so used the free half an hour for a quick nap instead of actually eating. “You?”

“The library.” He was saying it hesitantly like he wasn’t sure if he should lie or not, knowing full well there was a no eating policy in that section of the school and you’d realize he wasn’t actually eating at lunch either. You both paused for a second in heavy silence before you were snorting a laugh.

“So you’re a loser basically?” Your comment was teasing and he visibly relaxed at your reaction, chuckling softly and nudging you with his thin shoulder.

“Sorry to disappoint Ms. Popular.” He was retorting back and you were glad to see the small smile return to his face and stay there now that you’ve both established this change in routine.

You wondered if he’d been thinking about it too, keeping an eye out for you or if he was actively avoiding you throughout the hallways like you’d previously thought. Maybe he figured the same as you, that you wouldn’t want to be suddenly seen with him or you wouldn’t acknowledge him and it would ruin the friendship you were slowly building.

When you got off the bus it was nice to see him still there, trying not to wince at how close the stop was to your house and how if it didn’t pull off immediately he’d see you walk up to the overgrown grass with windows titled off their hinges.

You tried not to think about it and after you gave him a small wave through the window you turned on your heel and kept your face forward, steely in your resolve to not spare him another nervous glance. This time you father didn’t seem to be home and you were grateful for that considering you had a feeling you were absolutely radiating with how much you were thinking about the boy.

It was hard to go to sleep, even more so than normal, with the ghost of his hand pressed again you and the knowledge that tomorrow you now knew where to find him. It was up to the two of you to decide if you used this information or ignored it and you weren’t sure which route he was hoping you’d take.

——

“I thought you’d forgotten about me for a second there.” Heeseung’s low voice was hitting your ears the second you crossed into the library and you let out a sigh of relief upon seeing him.

You were worried for the first half of the day that it would be awkward, that you wouldn’t know what to say to each other and it would ruin everything you’d be enjoying so much, but you knew from the second he spoke that you’d made the right choice in coming to find him.

“I was about to give up.” You scowled at him and placed your bag down on the back of the chair, climbing up and sitting across from him at the high top round table in the back of the library. “You’re hard to track down.. plus the librarian kept glaring at me every time I passed her desk like I was trying to steal her books.”

“She’s probably just used to only seeing me.” He was explaining with a small smirk at your complaining and you frowned at him softly while taking a second to take him in.

You weren’t sure why you expected him to look different during the day time, feeling a bit stupid now that you looked at him and he looked exactly the same. Almost exactly, outside of how much more exhausted he looked now that he was running on even less sleep, his hair was messier than it was around 2am and he was nervously looking around.

Heeseung was always handsome to you, despite the fact you tried to pretend you didn’t think so the first few times you hung out, but you noticed things about him under the school lights that you had missed outside in the near dark.

For one, he had his eyebrow pierced. You’re not exactly sure how you managed to not notice that considering you were currently frozen to your seat as you saw it gleaming against the light when he turned his head to look at you in confusion.

He looked embarrassed at the fact you were staring at him so intensely and he brought a hand up to mess with his bangs, the face jewelry disappearing back behind his hair and showcasing why you failed to see it before. His hand had bandaids on a few of his fingers and you almost asked him about them until he tucked them back into his hoodie sleeves.

“You don’t eat?” He was clearing his throat and asking you in a low tone, leaning forward slightly to ensure that you could hear him.

You were shaking your head softly and then shrugging, almost becoming awkward enough to regret coming. “Foods no good here anyway.”

He watched you for a few seconds and you were curious what he was thinking, if he was making similar observations as you. You were suddenly reminded you couldn’t wear your bunny hat to school and it might be the first time he’s seen you without it, seen how dark your under eyes are and how dry and chapped your lips become this time of year.

You didn’t like that you thought about this, didn’t like that you cared about what he was thinking about your appearance.

“We could go get some food after school.” He was suggesting it with a shrug but his eyes were watching you intensely with a hint of hesitance, almost like he was expecting you to say no.

You felt like your breath caught for a few seconds, holding tightly in your chest and you hoped your eyes didn’t widen too much at his suggestion. He was still watching you but his eyes softened slightly at your surprised expression, amused that you seemed just as nervous as he was about this change of pacing.

“Are you paying?” You were eventually wheezing out after a few seconds, letting the words tumble out at the same time your big gulp of air did.

His smile was familiar, the same one he gave you when he caught you staring at him in the park for a sketch reference, the same one he would offer everytime you’d skip onto the bus and grin once you caught sight of him saving your seat. You thought it looked even better in the sunlight.

——

You tried not to think about how weird it was that you and Heeseung left school together, side by side and bumping into each other while navigating the hoard of students all trying to squeeze out of the doors to escape the building.

You wondered if anybody else thought it was weird, if anyone paid enough attention to you in recent years to wonder who the tall boy next to you was. The boy who was currently snaking a hand down to your side like he had at the bus, gently guiding you through a gap in the crowd so you could get outside faster than it would be to stand and wait.

Your face was flushing bright red but he luckily seemed to focused on getting out of the mass of people to realize, eyebrows furrowed in a stressed out expression.

He didn’t remove his hand even after you’d gotten out of the tight pile of bodies, keeping it there comfortably but you knew by the heavy silence that you both were aware it wasn’t anything normal for him to do. You almost couldn’t tell, almost convinced yourself this was his typical behavior and you’d somehow just not realized it, but when you caught his eye and he quickly looked away with a small pink to his cheeks you knew it wasn’t.

Little things were different during daytime hours but not enough to make your head completely spin, giving you that familiar overwhelmed feeling that left you taking deep breaths in the bathroom stall.

The bus was actually full of people for once, only one seat left in the middle of the aisle and Heeseung hurriedly sat you down on it before it was taken. He was standing above you holding onto the pole near the top of the ceiling and you would’ve felt bad he had to do that so you could sit if it wasn’t for the small glances and grins he was sending down your way every time he caught you staring.

When you reached further into the city, somewhere you didn’t fully recognize but he must’ve considering the was leaning forward towards you and tugging on the stop rope, you both thanked the driver and left the bus.

You tried not to be disappointed when he didn’t hold onto you again, silently cursing yourself for feeling that way anyways and pushing it down. You took your backpack off your shoulders as you walked and held it in front of you, fishing for something inside with an annoyed sigh after a few seconds passed without feeling it.

Eventually the familiar fabric was grazing your fingers and you smiled softly as you pulled out your hat and situated it over your head again, pulling a few pieces of hair out in the front and glancing over at Heeseung who had been watching you.

“Woah Y/N, when’d you get here?” He was mock gasping, a hand coming up to cover his mouth and stumble back on the sidewalk like you had surprised him.

You grumbled at his antics and elbowed him in the side, trying to pretend your heart didn’t pick up in pace when he laughed loudly at your reaction and grabbed onto your jacket so he didn’t go tumbling into the street from your small shove. He didn’t let go for a few seconds even after he was steadied, rubbing the materiel between his fingers before dropping it.

You wondered if he was always this touchy with people or if he had just grown comfortable with you fast considering the strange and slightly intimidate circumstances you’d been hanging out under.

He was walking side by side with you but you were following his lead, still not exactly sure where he was bringing you to. You fell back into a comfortable silence like you always did as you traversed the city and you felt a little bit dizzy due to exhaustion and the bright glare of the sun.

It only worsened when you were rounding a corner, passing by a large building that was originally blocking your view of the next street over, and you caught sight of a familiar back that caused you to freeze in your tracks.

Heeseung took a few steps forward before realizing you weren’t continuing and he turned back to look at you with a concerned expression, approaching you again and standing in front of you. His large frame was blocking your view now but you slowly leaned over to look past him and immediately shot back to hide behind his chest and wince.

“What’s wrong?” He was rushing out and his eyebrows were furrowed with worry, a hand coming up but stopping just short of your arm like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to touch you.

“I-I have to go.” You were rushing out and you felt embarrassed underneath your panic, hands shaking slightly and you swallowed harshly.

He was frowning and turning his body to look behind him and try to see whatever had spooked you, immediately whipping back around due to the fact him moving had allowed you to see the man again, this time facing your direction with a suspicious look on his face. You imagined it was due to the fact Heeseung was just standing in the middle of the sidewalk but your heart started to race so hard it was painful at the chance he had seen you.

“Who is that?” Heeseung was, thankfully, getting the idea slowly and lowering his face as he spoke to you. You didn’t answer immediately and he was bending down so he was closer to your face, his hand finally connecting to your arm and cupping the back of your elbow. “Y/N, who is that?”

“It’s my dad.” You whispered back in a harsh tone and you’re not sure why you said it, never talking about family or each others parents before and never planning to.

Heeseung paused for a second and then his eyes were darkening like he had figured something else out, you felt humiliated knowing he must be piecing together every strange reaction you’ve ever had to the suggestion of being brought home by Jake or for him to walk you to your door.

He was glancing behind him again and a small noise of protest slipped out of your mouth, your hands coming up to land on his chest and scrunch his hoodies fabric up in your hands. He was looking back at you quickly and his eyes softened at the scared expression on your face but could still see anger swimming in his.

You weren’t sure if Heeseung was a violent person, thinking there was no way it was possible for the boy who was as sweet to you as he was unprompted, to ever willingly harm somebody but you’d also never given him any reason to be mean or treat you poorly. You thought about his bandaged hands for a second and then immediately felt guilty for doing so.

“Let me take you home.” He was saying after a few seconds and you shook your head, too overwhelmed to think clearly for a second. “Baby, let me take you home.”

The pet name snapped you out of it and you looked up at him, feeling more and more humiliated by the second at the fact your eyes were watering and you were still anxiously bunching his hoodie in your hands.

“T-the bus is too slow, he’s just now leaving the liquor store but he has a car and by the time we walk back and get on and it makes all the stops it’ll be too late and-“ You were speaking a mile a minute and you felt his hand squeeze your arm before he cut you off.

“I’m parked around the corner.” He rushed out in an attempt to stop you so you could take a breath, freezing and furrowing your eyebrows in confusion when you registered what he was saying. He winced slightly at your reaction and a weird feeling passed through your chest. You were raising your hands off of his chest before slamming them back down against him in annoyance, ignoring the small pained sound he made.

“You idiot.” You spat out at him in a harsh whisper, shaking your head and glaring up at his guilty face. “You’ve had a car this entire time?”

He looked sheepish and you suddenly felt very stupid for somehow missing this, and then slightly flattered and embarrassed that he had been riding the bus with you every single day despite being parked in the opposite direction. It made sense now to you why he was sometimes hesitant to board, unlocking the knowledge that he had been riding it all the way back alone after you’d gotten off.

“Not the entire time.” He was trying to explain himself but you could tell he was lying slightly. “It was in the shop the first time we met, that’s why Jake drove me home.”

You sighed and glared at him again but you weren’t actually mad, just slightly upset that he had been inconveniencing himself this much for some reason you didn’t quite understand.

“I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.” He was offering an explanation before you even had a chance to ask him and your expression softened at the reasoning, hands flatting out against him in a silent apology for hitting him.

“You’re still an idiot.” You were mumbling but your voice held no malice and he smiled at the fact he was clearly forgiven. Things felt tensioned again now that the conversation died down and you were both suddenly reminded of the fact you were touching each other and standing nearly toe to toe. “I really do have to go.”

“And I really will take you.” He was whispering back with a stressed sincerity and you frowned from the guilt of both making him drive you and not eating together like you had planned.

Heeseung was guiding you back around the buildings corner slowly, backing you up and shuffling forward with you so you didn’t need to step out from behind his chest and risk being seen. You were pouting as you awkwardly walked backwards and it remained on your face even when you were able to face forward like normal and follow him to where he had parked his car.

His car looked pretty much exactly how you figured it would, low to the ground and chipping paint in different sections of it but it was very him and you laughed softly when you remembered how ridiculous it was that he’d had one this entire time.

He seemed embarrassed when you got into the passenger seat, looking into the backseat to check if it was messy and rearranging the different CD’s that were sitting on top of his center console. You moved them over to your lap and started to mess with them while he pulled off the curb.

“Basement, Title Fight,” You were humming softly while flipping through them and reading out the artist titles, ignoring the way he was sending you nervous side glances between looking at the road. “Elliot Smith.. is this what you’re always playing in your headphones?”

“Too cliche?” He was retorting back and you scrunched your nose when you looked up at his side profile, a small smirk playing on his lips at your amusement.

“The fact you even keep CD’s still is kind of cliche.” You were throwing back to him and he glanced at you to smile fully and shake his head, watching the way you were leaned against his car door and casually looking through his stuff for a second before going back to focusing on the road.

“You still like me even though I listen to scratched CD’s and drive a 2002 shit bucket?” He was responding and you both paused.

His wording didn’t miss you but you weren’t sure if it was intentional or not, also unable to tell if he was speaking in a platonic way or if he was genuinely asking you if you liked him romantically. His mouth was parting like he was trying to think of a way to backtrack and you cleared your throat before he could, leaning forward to push a CD into the radios slot.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you let the song play for a beat or two before you were leaning back into his torn leather seats and glancing at him again.

“Yeah.. I still like you.” Your voice was lower than it was before, barely filtering over the sound of the music building up but you knew he managed to catch it considering the way he was biting the inside of his cheek and avoiding looking in your direction for the rest of the ride.

He didn’t need to ask you for the way to your neighborhood considering he’s been riding past it 4 times a day but he glanced at you for help when you entered the street and you leaned forward to point towards your house. Your dads car wasn’t in the driveway and you breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled up near the curb.

You didn’t think too much about the state of disarray your home was in this time, for some reason not minding if he saw how messed up things were for you. The feeling had settled into your stomach that he wouldn’t care, that he wasn’t going to give you a sorry look or treat you differently.

He was surprising you by opening his door before you’d gotten out and you watched him round the hood with confusion, flushing when he came over to your side to open yours for you and hold it while you scrambled out. You leaned against the door once he had closed it behind you and he stood in front of you like he had on the sidewalk, his dirty sneakers pressing against the toe of yours.

“So…” You were dragging out the word and trailing off nervously, looking up at him through your eyelashes and thinking about how cute he looked peering down at you.

“So.” His lips were curling up in a smirk at your lack of words and you frowned at the expression, reaching up to pinch at his arm and keep it there when he let out a low chuckle. His hand was coming up to touch your bunny hat and you laughed softly at the way he pushed it behind your shoulder, almost like it was a piece of your hair.

“We shouldn’t be talking here.” You told him in a low voice, not wanting to speak any louder considering how close his face was getting to yours. “My dad would kill me if he saw you.”

“Right.” He was nodding but he wasn’t taking a step back or making any move that indicated he was going to leave, just watching you and you could feel his arm tense underneath your touch. “Do you want me to go?”

You were shaking your head swiftly although you knew he needed to, you liked his company and you found yourself missing him every time you were away for too long. You somehow managed to have fun today despite the fact you’d almost had a panic attack upon seeing your dad and how awkward it had felt to search for him in the school.

“I should go.” He was sighing even though you had said you didn’t want him to, thinking logically despite obviously also not wanting to leave. He was leaning forward again and for a second you could feel his chest pushed up against yours before he swayed back like he hadn’t done it.

Your heart felt heavy at the fact he was going to leave you there, in such a rotten place that left you restless and miserable, but you were slightly humiliated by the large frown on your face. Before you could think about it, in an attempt to hide your expression, you were pulling him forward by his hoodie sleeve and wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

He hesitated for a few seconds, just from the surprise of the contact, and then he was slowly wrapping his long arms completely around you and keeping you pulled tightly to his chest. You could feel him take a deep breath, surrounded by his warmth and burying your face into the soft fabric of his oversized hoodie, listening to his heart beat increase slightly when you squeezed him for a second.

You were pulling back after a few seconds, leaning into the car again and you knew your face must’ve been flushed red with a dazed look in your eyes considering the way he faltered and smiled sheepishly at you.

“Well.. I have to go.” You were rushing out to him and he nodded, taking a step back so you were able to walk away without having to push past his large frame.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” His voice was lower than normal and carrying a slight rasp that made something flip around in your gut, trying not to look at him as you quickly waved and scurried away up your front path and into the doorway.

You stood there, back pressed against your front door now that it was closed, and took deep breaths to try and calm yourself down as you listened to his car pull off. A smile was building itself up on your face despite being slightly embarrassed over your bold move and you felt like a cloud of giddiness was following you around.

“So that’s what you sneak off to do every night?” Your entire body froze up in shock and you immediately stopped in place, bones going rigid and blood running cold at the sound of your fathers slurred voice coming from the living room.

Any sense or happiness or calm Heeseung had brought you was immediately disappearing and replaced with terror at the realization he was home, and had clearly seen you through the window before you came inside. You were stuck in silence and you could feel the dark tension radiating off of him although you couldn’t even see him yet.

“You’re out there embarrassing me, making a mess of our name.” He was hissing and you watched him rise from his arm chair and come out of the shadows like a fairytale monster, cowering in on yourself like you were a little girl again. “Whoring around with that delinquent.”

“N-no dad, I promise it isn’t like that I just-“ He was cutting you and your stutters off, slamming his hand down against the wall near your head and you closed your eyes in a wince, listening to the way the framed photos rattled on the wall.

A few seconds passed and you were holding your breath, waiting for him to continue to insult you and tell you what you had done wrong but when the tension continued to grow you realized he was more angry than you thought. You felt your hands hit the floor before you felt the pain in your cheek, not even realizing he had hit you for a few seconds because of the shock.

He’d hit you before but it was rare in recent years, not wanting to risk you showing up to school with a black eye or bruised cheek.

Your hand was coming up to cup the side of your face, shaking against your skin and feeling how hot and swollen it already was from his large calloused palm. You didn’t want to look at him and see his sneering face, instead staring forward at the way your bunny hat had flown off on impact and landed a few feet away on the floor.

“No more going out at night.” He was spitting the words down at you, curled into a ball against the wall on the floor and willingly away the pain under your palm. “I’ll put a padlock on your door if I have to.”

With that, he was staggering back into the darkness of the living room and you could hear the groan of the armchair under his weight. You sat there for a few more seconds, frozen and making sure it was clear for you to move before you were scurrying up the stairs and grabbing your hat as you passed by.

When you got to your room you threw it into the corner and collapsed onto your bed in a fit of sobs, burying your face deep into your pillow and crying so hard you thought you might just explode.

You felt even worse for the reason you were crying, not because you’d gotten caught or punished and not because your father was upset with you. You cried over the fear of not being able to see Heeseung anymore, the idea of never being able to safely return to the city at night causing you such distress you continued to sob until your throat was sore and your chest ached.

The sun was setting eventually and your room was darkening, never having the light switch turned on and just letting the night take over every single day, but you failed to notice considering how burrowed under the covers in your own misery you were.

You didn’t mean to care about somebody this deeply, having sworn against it after your mother passed and you were left with a shell of a man, your father becoming half the person he was with grief and never bothering to heal himself for your sake. You’d spent recent years tiptoeing around the house and trying to show as little evidence as possible that you existed, part of the reason he didn’t fully mind you disappearing at night or sleeping all day.

You felt stupid but getting caught with Heeseung after so narrowly escaping your father in the city, completely letting your guard down and being foolish because of your feelings.

But the other part of you didn’t care, you deserved to be giddy and act stupid because you liked somebody and his reaction wasn’t your fault.

Thinking of Heeseung made you remember he’d probably be waiting for you tonight and you started to cry harder again. You were worried he’d over think about your intimacy and small confession today and mistake you not showing up to the bus stop as you rejecting him, retreating back into yourself and leaving him alone like he had been before your night time meetings.

You must’ve dozed off from crying and the stress of the day, only waking up with dry skin and swollen eyes when you started to register a faint repeated noise.

You were sitting up with a puffy pout and looking around in a dazed confusion, at first because you couldn’t identify it and then even more so because you realized it was coming from your window. You staggered out of bed to open it and stop the noise and you let out a gasp, ducking and just barely missing being hit by a small stone that flew into your room.

“Fuck.” A voice down below was whispering and you glanced down to see Heeseung stood at the side of your house with his hoodie pulled up over his head. “Did I hit you? I’m sorry.”

You felt panic grow in your chest at the sight of him although you were happy to see that you had a chance to explain what had happened, glancing behind you in fear before turning again to glare at him from the second floor.

“You can’t be here.” You hissed out and he gave you a guilty look, like he knew you were going to say that but couldn’t help himself anyways. You let out a small sigh and you eyes softened at his expression. “I told you he was going to kill me.”

You didn’t need to say it for him to understand that your dad must’ve been home and you saw his face darken again like it had earlier, feeling thankful that you were too high up and it was too dark for him to see the bruise that must have been forming on your face now.

“Is he awake?” He was whispering back after a few seconds and you paused at his unexpected question.

He didn’t say anything when you held up a finger to indicate you’d be back, tiptoeing back to the other side of your room and cracking open the door. You held your breath so you could hear every noise clearly and you waited until the sound of his snores filtered up the stairs to you, confirming he had drank himself unconscious again and was out for the night. You still didn’t want to risk sneaking out and having him wake up and you walked back to your window with a heavy heart.

“He’s out but-“ You were starting to explain you couldn’t come along when Heeseung was nodding and walking towards the front of your house, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you called his name softly. He turned back to look at you and you raised your hands in bewilderment. “What are you doing?”

“Let me in.” He whisper yelled back and gave you a look like it was an obvious thing for you to do, smiling slightly when your astonished face only deepened.

You were groaning when he disappeared around the side of the house and you left your room before you had a chance to think about it more, sneaking down the stairs as silently as possibly and trying not to let out a breath when you passed by the entrance to the living room.

It was strange to see Heeseung on your porch when you cracked open the front door, even stranger when he took a step inside your hallway and you took him in against the familiar setting. You hadn’t had somebody inside your house in years and you were thankful that he kept his gaze tightly on you and didn’t look around at the mess.

You brought a finger to your lips and indicated towards the living room where your dad was, a loud snore coming from him at that exact moment and causing you to jump where you stood. Heeseung was bringing a hand up to your arm in an attempt to calm you and he nodded in understanding that he needed to keep quiet.

When you took a step on the first stair you winced and glanced back at him, knowing his weight and tall frame would make it groan louder than normal.

Still, you took his hand in yours and let it hang behind you as you gently led him up the old wood and into the hallway that would lead to your bedroom. He still didn’t speak once you entered it and for a second you were worried he would ask you to turn the lights on, thankful when he finally took a deep breath and glanced around at your belongings.

“So this is where she returns to.” He was muttering under his breath and you felt a little embarrassed as he took in your room.

Not as embarrassed as you felt when he was looking back at you intensely, you figured he could see you better now that you were closer and illuminated by the moonlight shining in from your window but you knew you were correct when his eyes were hardening again suddenly. You winced slightly when his hands were coming up to cup your face, the right one just hovering and not connecting with the bruised and swollen skin.

“This was him?” He was whispering, his eyes filtering up to stare into yours and your stomach turned at how serious he sounded. You hadn’t seen him have this look in his eye before and it put you slightly on edge.

You were hesitantly nodding your head and you knew your eyes must have started watering judging by the fact his face softened and he gently caressed your uninjured cheek, shaking his head and bringing you over to sit down on your bed.

“I’m sorry.” He was whispering to you and leaning forward to connect your foreheads, watching you with a hurt look. It was reminiscent of the pitiful glance so many people have given you throughout your life but you knew it was different, he was different.

“It’s not your fault.” You were telling him and you truly meant it, your hand coming up to rest on his wrist and squeeze it softly.

“It is though. I should’ve dropped you off up the street where the bus stops, it was stupid.” He was muttering and you wanted to remind him that you’d pointed out your house and you’d been the one to tell him to stay, but you weren’t sure it was going to make much of a difference.

You thought about the fact he was inside of your house right now, only a few hours after you’d gotten punished for even being seen with him and you snorted a teary laugh at the irony of calling such a small act, such as earlier stupid.

“You make me stupid.” You were telling him and he smiled softly at your joking tone, knowing that you were completely serious.

“You scared me when you didn’t show up.” He was saying back and his tone was serious again, brushing back your hair that was normally hidden under your knitted hat. “I was about to tear the city apart looking for you before I thought about coming here first.”

You laughed slightly at the idea of somebody as kind as Heeseung raging through the city in search of you, pressing your head harder against his before leaning back a bit so you could take a deep breath and shake your head at him.

“You’re lucky I woke up before him.” Your tone was light and teasing but you both understood the heavy truth in the statement, his face dropping again.

He had failed to take you literally when you exclaimed about your father killing you but you didn’t blame him, not liking the guilt that coated his face again as he mirrored your deep breath.

“You couldn’t have known.” You were telling him in a gentle voice but he was still not looking at you, only picking up his head when your hand was brushing through his bangs. “Heeseung, it’s not your fault.”

He was nodding softly and chewing on his lip but you had a feeling he was only agreeing to make you feel better, still having that dark guilty look on his face. You sighed softly and glanced behind you at your small bed, scooting back a few inches before looking at him again.

He was giving you a soft and tired smile, clearly understanding what you were insinuating and you tried to not throw up from nerves when you were both moving around so you could lay down on your bed together. You’d been experiencing the most intimacy you’d had since you were a kid with him and your stomach was tight with anxiety.

Heeseung didn’t seem to think much of it, flopping back against your pillows and sucking in a deep relieved sigh. His one knee was bent upwards towards your ceiling and his left arm was sprawled across the rest of the bed, leaving you no choice but to lay on top of it. He was pulling you forward slightly by your shoulders so you could rest your head on his chest and you were slightly relieved to hear how fast it was beating, despite his calm demeanor.

“How’d we get here.” You were whispering after a bit of silence and you could feel his laughter before you heard it, his warm chest rumbling slightly with the sound

“I thought you looked cute standing up to two drunk assholes.” He mumbled back and you pinched his side slightly, draping your arm across his stomach. “You should’ve seen Jake’s face when I asked about you the next morning.”

“Probably the same expression he had when I ran into the store four hours early.” You felt embarrassed to be admitting it but you liked the way it made him laugh again, gently rubbing your shoulder over the shared fact you both had been interested in each other from the start.

You fell into silence again and after a moment you picked your head up again to look at him closer, still pressed against his side but rolling onto your stomach slightly so you could study his face. He was watching you with a curious expression and your hand come up to brush his bangs back, revealing his eyebrow piercing to you again.

He didn’t say anything when you pressed against it, rolling one of the balls between your fingers for a few seconds before rubbing along his eyebrow bone until you hit the bump of metal, but his eyes darkened slightly at your fascination and you faintly felt his hand slip down to your side and squeeze it.

“He called you a delinquent.” You were whispering to him with a small smirk, raising an eyebrow as you recounted what your father had said about him. “He’d probably lose his mind if he came in here right now.”

Heeseung didn’t seem to share your amusement about the subject considering how hard his face was as you talked about it, only his eyes staying soft as he looked over your features from such a close distance.

“I’d kill him.” He was mumbling back and you snickered for a second before realizing he wasn’t laughing, his face serious as he watched you for your reaction to what he was saying. You frowned slightly and laid your hands down on his chest, rubbing it for a second before shaking your head.

“Don’t say that.” You were muttering under your breath, following it with an awkward laugh at the sudden tension in the air.

“I’m serious.” He was saying back immediately and you looked back up at his eyes, frowning deeper since you knew he was telling the truth. A part of you felt strangely prideful about it, your stomach lighting up at the fact he was so protective over you and willingly to interfere if your father busted through the door.

The other part of you was slightly concerned with his sudden demeanor, only catching glimpses of it before and brushing it off considering how gentle and lighthearted he always was with you. You wondered if it was a good time to ask him about the bandages around his hands but you decided against it.

“Then what?” You surprised yourself by humoring his hypothetical situation for a second, watching the way his eyebrows jumped in surprise. “What happens after?”

“You can come with me.” He was saying it swiftly like it was something he’d considered before, eyes remaining serious despite the fact he was noticeably being more careful with his words.

You hummed softly at him, your hand moving from his chest to trail up his neck for a second before coming back to rest again. You didn’t think anything of the movement, just absentmindedly touching him and being fascinated by the feeling of somebody else’s skin other than yours, but you could tell by the way his eyes darkened that you had caught his attention.

“Would you come with me?” He was asking in a low voice, eyes tired and lazy as he peered down at you but very much focused in on your expression as he waited for your response.

You were watching him in return and you were sure he could feel your heart beating against his arm, rolling back around so you were laying on your side again and cuddled up against his side instead of laying on your stomach and directly facing him. You knew your face must’ve been flushed by now and it continued to redden as you thought of a response.

“Of course I would.” You mumbled back and it slightly scared you how much you found yourself meaning the words.

Now it was his turn to him, low and rumbling in his chest against the side of your face. You scooted closer to him instinctively and you felt his hand gently squeeze against your side when he realized you were moving again, your shirt riding up slightly as you shifted so now his skin was pressed against yours.

You were glancing up at him at the feeling of him touching you and you awkwardly looked away when you realized he was already staring, a hazy look in his dark eyes. Heeseung’s demeanor felt different tonight, or maybe it was just the intimate setting.

“C’mere.” He was rasping out the word and the syllables were slurring together, your heartbeat so heavy and loud that you almost didn’t hear him for a few seconds. You scooted up further on his chest so you could look at him, your upper half lifted slightly so your face was hovering over his and he could bring a hand up to cup your uninjured cheek again.

“We can run away together.” He was muttering now that you were close to each others faces again, his big hand nearly covering the entire side of yours and you smiled softly at his statement. He looked slightly serious still but you saw the corner of his lip quirk up and you ducked your head in embarrassment. “I’d take care of you.”

“Oh, would you now?” Your voice was teasing and you raised your eyebrows at him, biting your lip to try and stop the big smile on your face from spreading. You let your arms shift forward again to rest on his chest and you could feel his collarbones under your palm.

He was nodding but not speaking again, watching you intensely and you felt your smile drop slightly at the look on his face. You’d been with a boy before, not all the way and nothing serious but you wouldn’t consider yourself necessarily unexperienced. Still, you’d never felt so tensioned and attracted to somebody before like you did with Heeseung and he hadn’t even tried to kiss you before.

His demeanor, confident but not ever cocky and sometimes sheepish like he acted on impulse, was the most attractive part of him to you and being in such close proximity didn’t help.

“Could you take care of me now?” You weren’t sure what pushed you to whisper the words out to him, hesitant and slow but being said nonetheless and you watch his eyes flash with something unfamiliar for a moment.

Then Heeseung was leaning forward off your pillows, his hand that was cupping your face being used to bring you forward so you could meet him halfway into a slow kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel his heart beating underneath your chest as you scooted forward more to completely lay on top of him and kiss him deeper.

You were overwhelmed by how perfect it felt to be kissing him, how warm and familiar the feeling of him underneath you was and you sucked in a small breath when he pulled back for a second before surging forward again to kiss him more.

If he was surprised by this he didn’t show it, his hand pushing up more so your shirt would ride up on your stomach and he could feel more of your side under his hand. You knew he felt the shiver wrack through you, the goosebumps on your skin at the feeling of the callousness of his and he chuckled softly into the kiss that was getting heavier with every passing second.

You could feel Heeseung biting down on your lip, almost painfully, and you were reminded of that dark expression he sometimes got. He was immediately licking over the skin he had bitten, soothing it out with his tongue and you made an embarrassing noise when he was suddenly slipping it into your mouth.

“Calm down.” He was pulling back a few centimeters to whisper to you, his voice breathy and carrying a small chuckle as he teased you for your reaction.

“I can’t.” You responded honestly, shaking your head softly and leaning in again to peck his lips quickly. Kissing him was addicting and you felt like your head was spinning from the way he was gently rubbing up and down your side so slowly.

He was laughing loudly at your response and your heart clenched affectionately at the sound, immediately followed by the reminder he wasn’t supposed to be here. You glanced over at your door nervously and when you looked back at him again he was frowning and following your line of vision, seemingly also snapping back to reality.

“I should probably go.” He was muttering and your stomach dropped painfully although you knew he was right, it wasn’t smart to get in trouble more.

“I won’t be able to come out at night for awhile.” You were telling him and your voice sounded saddened and panicked, bunching up his hoodie in your fist again like you had earlier when your anxiety picked up.

“Doesn’t matter.” He was shaking his head and petting your hair softly, raising his eyebrows to really exaggerate the fact that he meant what he was saying. “Find me at school tomorrow and we can figure something out okay? He can’t stop me from seeing you.”

You watched him in silence for a few seconds before you were leaning in to kiss him harshly again, completely drinking him in and savoring the feeling of him pressed against you in case it was the last time you got to have him like this. His hands were sliding back into your hair, keeping you tight into the kiss and moving against you just as desperately.

You felt overwhelmed at his sincere words, never having somebody so adamant on being around you, being so protective over you that he was willingly to risk his own safety just to have a conversation with you.

“You’re crazy.” You were gasping out when you pulled back for air, laughing at the way he was pressing more swift kisses against your lips as you tried to talk.

“You make me crazy.” He was slightly altering and repeating the phrase you had said to him earlier, a smile coming back onto his face now that you clearly felt better about the situation.

It took you a while to get off of him, even longer for you to actually leave your room considering the way he kept shaking his hands around your waist to pull you back in to kiss again. At one point he had you pressed against your bedroom door and you tried not to think how tensioned it felt to kiss standing up like this, letting him lean you against the old wood and explore your mouth with a heavy sense of longing and desire.

You were eventually take control of the never ending situation and pushing him out of your door with a final kiss, watching him smile at you and walk slowly down your stairs. He had suggested you stay up in your room in case the door closing woke up your father and he came looking for you, better to find you upstairs versus suspiciously in the front hallway.

You followed Heeseung’s frame, craning your neck outside the window to be able to see parts of your front lawn, and watching as he tugged his hoodie back over his head and walked a few houses down to where he had parked his car.

He was looking back at your window before he got in and the two of you watched each other for a few beats before you were raising your hand in a shy wave, smiling at the way he returned it before getting inside his car and pulling off slowly.

——

You were getting stares as you rushed through the school halls, your peers not used to seeing you so alert at all throughout the day but especially so early in the morning. You’d only slept for an hour or two but you felt energized at the idea of seeing Heeseung again as you searched for him.

The search stopped short when you were suddenly smacking into somebody rounding the corner, clearly not expecting to encounter somebody moving at the speed you were.

You both flew back from the impact and you landed on your butt a bit away from the boy, glancing up swiftly to see it was somebody you recognized, a friend from middle school who had slowly stopped talking to you after your mother died.

“Shit, I’m sorry Sunoo.” You were stuttering slightly and you suddenly remembered that conversation didn’t come easily to you, forgetting this fact considering you only ever spoke to Heeseung. “I was just-“

“Looking for Lee Heeseung?” He was cutting you off and you paused in your explanation to stare at him, his tone more judging than you remember ever hearing it. “What are you doing hanging around with him Y/N?”

He was standing back to his full height and offering you a hand but after faltering for a few seconds you paused, scoffing under your breath and standing without taking it. Once you were off the ground you were glaring at him, not liking the heavy glance he was sending your way.

“What does it matter to you?” You normally wouldn’t be so confrontational but it upset you how concerned he seemed to be despite completely ditching you alongside the rest of your friend group while you were grieving.

He had no place to judge you or who you decided to hang out with, although it confused you how worried he seemed to be about Heeseung. You weren’t sure how he even knew about the boy considering you didn’t recall ever seeing him around school or your old friends before your run in at the convenience store.

“He’s dangerous Y/N.” He was spitting the words at you but you could tell you weren’t the reason for his anger, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looked at you like he was confused if you truly didn’t understand the reason for his worry.

“What are you talking about?” You were looking at him in bewilderment and you felt your heart start to beat slightly at the fact he was clearly implying something had happened with the boy you’d spent so much time with recently. You were suddenly reminded that you didn’t know much about him, never talking about family life or what he did outside of being with you.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sunoo was sighing and you were confused at his sudden dismissal until you realized his eyes were going past your shoulder now, turning your head and seeing the boy in question standing a few feet away and watching the two of you interact.

Heeseung didn’t look dangerous to you, especially in the way he was clutching the straps of his backpack and carrying a nervous expression. His eyes softened slightly when he saw you but he must’ve registered the worried look on your face because he was suddenly turning in place and going back down the hallway the way he came.

You sighed when he pushed out the side doors, turning back to glare at Sunoo quickly before hurriedly following after the tall boy and rushing back down past the lockers.

“Heeseung.” You were calling his name once you pushed through the double doors, the cold morning air hitting your face swiftly and you winced a bit. “Hee, stop.”

He paused at the sound of your voice and you saw him suck in a reluctant breath before he was turning around to face you. You caught up to him quickly and stopped a few inches in front of him, reaching up to grab his hoodie sleeve and trying not to be offended when he flinched away from your touch.

“What happened?” You were questioning him with slightly widened eyes, looking up at him and trying to read what his face was expressing. “Why are you running away from me?”

“What did he say to you?” His voice was hardened and he was staring daggers down at you, your face crumbling at the harsh expression that you’d never seen directed your way before.

“Nothing, he said nothing.” You were shaking your head quickly and he let out a disbelieving scoff, looking away from you and clenching his jaw in agitation. “Hee, I’m serious. He didn’t say anything, a bunch of none sense I didn’t even understand.”

He was glancing down at you again like he was trying to see if you were telling the truth or not, being met with your big wide eyes and sighing softly in guilt for being so quick to anger. His hand was coming up to touch your face and you leaned into it even though you were still feeling confused over what was happening.

You didn’t say anything when he was reaching down to grab your hand gently, leading you with him out towards the parking lot where you spotted his car parked near the back. You frowned softly behind his back but got into the passenger seat anyways and watched as he started it up but didn’t pull off.

The heat blaring created a small rattling noise and you could hear the song you’d put on before still playing faintly, flushing a bit at the realization he hadn’t changed the CD and was just letting it play on repeat.

“Are you scared of me?” He was suddenly asking and you glanced over at him from the passenger seat, seeing the way he was staring down at his hands as he picked at the skin around his fingers. His legs were spread so his knee was pressing against the middle console and you reached over to place your hand on it gently.

“Of course I’m not.” You were whispering back to him and shifting your body so you could completely face him, your eyes following along his side profile and frowning at how defeated he looked.

“Even if I told you I did something bad?” He was finally glancing at you and you felt sick at how vulnerable his eyes looked, shifting nervously over your face and you hoped your expression didn’t convey how nervous you suddenly felt. “That I hurt somebody really bad?”

You were watching him in silence and it felt like the air from the car got sucked out with his words, hinting towards something darker than you’d expected him to admit. You thought back to the expression he sometimes carried, the way he spoke about your father so casually and the worry on Sunoo’s face. You watched him while thinking of this and you thought about all the other things to.

How he was always so gentle and kind with you, warm and comforting and never doing anything to make you feel worried despite most your time with him being spent alone and late at night. You didn’t know every detail about his life but that didn’t make him seem dangerous to you, he felt familiar and safe and you instinctively squeezed his knee.

“Did they deserve it?” You were finally croaking out, settling on a response that you felt properly conveyed your stance on what he was saying.

You’d thought from the moment you met him that Heeseung was similar to you and you knew the reasons you couldn’t sleep, the demons that kept you up all night restless. You tried to imagine what his looked like and you figured if you were bigger and braver, maybe you’d tried to hurt yours back too.

He wasn’t saying anything for a few seconds, just looking at you like he hadn’t expected that response and you knew immediately it had been the right thing to say. His face was crumbling and he was biting his lip to stop it from trembling, ducking his head forward to nod as an answer to your question.

You were leaning forward over the middle console to pull him in for a hug, not caring about the way the plastic pressed into your stomach uncomfortably or the burn your arms felt from stretching so far to embrace him. He’d help you more than once, brought you back from a dangerous place and a low state of mind and your heart tugged at the sight of him showing that same vulnerability now.

“It’s not your fault.” You were whispering into his hoodie and his arms were snaking around your middle, a small surprised noise slipping from your mouth when he was tugging you over the console and situating you in his lap. He was burying his head deep into your neck and your hand was coming up to rest on the back of his head, his hoodie fabric under your palm.

You didn’t need to hear the full story, you didn’t need for him to painfully recount the details or what had happened for him to do something so drastic and you didn’t need to know who.

Him softly crying into your neck and clutching onto you like a scared child was all you needed to believe him, to understand that whatever rumor or perspective others such as Sunoo had, was wrong.

He was picking his head up to look at you and your heart broke at his red face, tears streaming down his cheeks and a frustration expression coating his features like he was mad at himself for showcasing how upset he was. He was suddenly pressed against you in a kiss and you hesitated for a second in surprise before kissing him back.

You were pushing his hoodie off his head so you could put your hands through his shaggy hair, pulling him tighter against you and feeling the way his wet face was pressing onto yours.

“You can’t leave me.” He was gasping into your mouth and his hands were shakily coming up to cup your face, tilting your head softly and humming into the kiss when you were licking into his mouth and leaning forward so his back was pressed against the car door.

Heeseung was moving a hand down towards your back and you could feel him continuously tugging you forward into him, your hip bone pressing against his stomach as you both found comfort in each others touch. You let him do this for a few seconds longer before you were pulling back a bit to address what he had said.

“I’m not going to leave.” You were gasping as you said it, still trying to catch your breath and he was shaking his head before tugging you forward again, a small noise slipping from your mouth at the feeling of him dragging you up further into his thigh.

“I’m serious.” He was still speaking into your mouth and you pulled back further to look at him, the dark expression back in his eyes now as he watched you. “I’d go crazy if you left.”

It slightly unsettled you how serious he sounded, how he really stressed the words like they were the most important in the world. His hands were still holding onto you tightly like he was terrified you’d slip away if he let up even a little bit and your eyes bounced around his face for a few seconds before you were nodding.

“We can be crazy together.”

“I’m serious.” He was still speaking into your mouth and you pulled back further to look at him, the dark expression back in his eyes now as he watched you. “I’d go crazy if you left.”

“We can be crazy together.”

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung #jake enhypen #heeseung drabbles #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enha fics #enha angst #lee heeseung #heeseung angst #heeseung fluff #heeseung au

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rinhaler · 6 months

Note

As promised!!! Since I love your writing, I had this imagination spark while listening to Chase Atlantic's "HEAVEN AND BACK" song, oddly to say I associate Rin Itoshi in every CA songs. Basically could I request a steamy one-night stand of him meeting reader in a big crowded bar where Rin is likely a bass guitarist? Sounds cheesy of it but XD

GLAD U SAID BASS PLAYER MY BOYF PLAYS BASS 😭 sorry this took SO long to post but I hope u like it :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, alcohol consumption, (kinda fast) enemies to lovers, fingering, love bites, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess etc.), squirting.

words: 2.2k

It’s been years since you’ve been to a gig. Especially one like this, in a dingy dive bar for a barely known local band. The guitarist is a friend of your cousin’s. And she just about begged you to go.

The place is pretty packed and the music definitely isn’t the worst you’ve heard. In fact, you found yourself swaying your hips and tapping your toes along to the beat. As the night went on and on, you were surprised to find that they were actually good. Good enough to be searching for their latest single when they promoted it at the end of their set.

“Play nice please,” your cousin begs. “I really like him, and I think tonight might be the night.”

“I knew he wasn’t just a fucking friend.” you laugh. She crosses her arms across her chest as embarrassment surges through her, but you still decide to tease her. “You really needed me to help you get some dick?”

“Shut up!” she blushes. “You always have guys falling at your feet so I thought it might rub off on me.” she pouts.

You clear your throat when you notice the guy in question heading your way. She turns around, instantly, smoothing her hair down and putting on the highest, girliest voice she can muster. He seems interested enough without her needing your help, but you decide to stay a few extra seconds for moral support. She giggles at every sentence and smiles giddily whenever he speaks.

“Tone it down, you’re good.” you whisper in her ear before slinking away to the bar.

You signal for a drink, thankful for the low-cut top you’re wearing as everyone else seems to be instantly ignored in favour of you. There’s a scoff beside you, one you choose to ignore until he watches you receive your pint of beer.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask.

“No.” he responds. “I’m jealous of your drink, princess.”

“Excuse me, can you get this guy a beer too?” you yell. The bartender nods with a smile and quickly acquiesces. “Will that put a smile on your pretty face?”

He smirks but shakes his head as he ignores you. He thanks the bartender as he receives his own drink, the frothy head attaching itself to his lip before he licks it away. He grunts a little as he feels a passerby knock into the big black case on his back. It’s only then that you notice it, and pieces begin to fall into place.

“Oh fuck. You were in the band.” you smile excitedly as you angle your body to face him. “I wasn’t gonna come tonight but I’m glad I did.” you giggle as you pull up your phone to show the bands single saved in your music library.

“Thanks.” he nods. “Why did you come?”

“Uh my cousin is trying to fuck the guitarist.”

“You’re Ada’s cousin?” he asks, expression changing to one of slight annoyance. He takes another swig of his beer before elaborating. “Zantetsu hasn’t shut up about her and she’s always crashing our practices. I hope they get it over with, it’s getting in the way.”

“Oh you’re a serious musician. Gotcha.” you roll your eyes. “You know you play the most boring instrument out of everyone, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Drummers are the hottest, guitars are the most iconic, everyone’s drawn to the singer. And then there’s… you. No one can even hear you over all of that, you know.”

He scoffs once again. You can tell he wants to fight you on it and fill your head with facts about his instrument of choice. But it’s almost like he already knows you and how stubborn you are. He could tell you anything he wants, but you’ll die on the hill you’ve decided to climb just to piss him off more.

“They’d sound like shit if it wasn’t for me.” he mumbles before taking another drink. “The bass is the most important part, you’re clueless. It’s like you’ve never listened to music in your life.”

“Clueless?” you repeat. “Besides, you’ve got a pretty face. I’m sure if your attitude wasn’t so rotten and you were the lead singer you’d be drowning in pussy.”

“I do alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You squint your eyes sceptically. There’s no doubt that he has the potential to pull a girl or two. And, admittedly, you’ve had one very hostile conversation with him. But you can tell from his sulky demeanour that any woman he has a chance with is likely scared off by his attitude.

He tries to ignore you for the remainder of his drink.

God, he tries.

But he’s overwhelmed by the desire to put you in your place.

“I—”

“There’s no way you’re getting girls.” you interrupt him immediately. “Like, no way. Maybe one or two, but you’re not doing better than the lead. He’s gorgeous and he’s the face of the band.”

His smile is wicked as he holds his near empty glass, swilling the golden liquid around the bottom before he puts it down on a coaster. “You really don’t get it, do you?” you’re a little taken aback as he bites his lip whilst looking at you from the corner of his eye.

His expression makes your heart beat a little faster. You find yourself shuffling in your seat as you see just how strikingly handsome he really is when he’s trying. And then it hits you, he’s trying. He’s showing you what he’s capable of and you’re falling for it. Even with the knowledge, it’s too late. All you can think about his that sharp jawline and striking stare.

“You know what they say about bass players.” he says quietly, but loud enough for you to hear. His barstool spins so he’s facing you. You take a sharp inhale as he slowly leans in towards you, the smell of beer on his pretty lips makes you heady and excited, waiting with bated breath for him to continue. “They’re good with their fingers.”

You can’t stifle a laugh as he pulls away, giggling like your cousin had been moments prior whilst flirting with the guitarist. It’s embarrassing, letting him see you reduced to this after trying to irritate him. You clear your throat and try to gain your composure.

“You’re disgusting.” you respond.

“Mmm, you want to find out though, so,” he shrugs, finishing the last dregs of his drink. “I’ll wait by the entrance for ten minutes, if you don’t come find me, I’ll leave without you.” he walks away without even looking at you.

You don’t get a chance to say a word before he seamlessly weaves through the crowd and out of sight. Without thinking, you’re already on your feet and checking the time.

Ten minutes.

You rush through the bar to find Ada, tapping on her shoulder to pull her attention away from Zantetsu. “I’m leaving. Seal the deal, please.” you wink. She nods, laughing as you kiss her cheek and rush towards the entrance.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you saw his face light up when he realised you were actually going to take him up on his offer. He plays it off, though, trying to appear cooler and more aloof as you approach him.

“It’s barely been two minutes.” he tells you.

“I’m not gonna let you hear the end of it if you’re all talk.” you smirk.

The minute he gets you inside of his apartment, you can’t keep your hands off each other. Your lips are on his in an instant, your breath stolen as he lifts you from the ground and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist while he carries you into the kitchen.

He helps you out of the vest top you’re wearing when he sits you down on the counter so you’re down to your jeans and bra. You tilt your head as he peppers your neck in a combination of soft and sloppy kisses.

Your heels fall off without effort as you instinctively open your legs, rolling your hip against his clothed abs.

“My roommate is out,” he tells you quietly, still kissing you all over. You moan softly as he starts leaving soft bite marks across your skin. “He’s such a clean freak, he’d lose it if he knew—”

“It’s okay,” you giggle, you cup his face and direct him to kiss you again. “Help me get my jeans off.”

He wastes no time unbuttoning them and yanking down the zipper. He keeps his eyes on yours as he helps you shimmy out of the wide-legged jeans, smiling at you as you both hear them crumple on the ground.

“Gonna show me what a stud you are?” you ask, spreading your legs to reveal your dark, lewd panties. There’s a glint of amusement in his eye, which soon turns into a toothy grin as he runs his finger along the damp slit. “Fuck,”

“You’re soaking for me already, good girl.” he tells you. He begins to rub your clit over the lace covering your flesh, and you’re immediately putty in his hands. Your legs quiver slightly, and you rush to close them, but he pries them apart before leaning in to kiss you. “Keep them open for me.” he demands before slipping his tongue between your lips.

“Haah.. haaaah~!” you whimper, his featherlight ministrations seeming like magic as he continues to tease your clit.

“Fuck,” he grunts, fingers curling around the waistband of your panties before he begins to tug. “Off. Get them off.” he demands, ordering you to wiggle on the counter until he manages to peel them from your cunt and slip them down your legs. He distracts you with a kiss as he shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as he resumes circling your now bare clit. Your face is picturesque, he thinks, as your eyes become heavy and your pants are more uncontrollable.

“Are you faking this to piss me off?” he wonders. You shake your head slowly. “You’re so sensitive…”

“S-Shut up,” you bite your lip before giggling. “Haven’t gotten any in a while.”

“Well we can’t have that. Better make up for lost time.” he grins, fingers traversing from your throbbing clit to your entrance. His jaw hangs low, moaning in faux sympathy as he starts to stretch you immediately with two fingers. “You’re so tight baby, takin’ me so well.” he tells you.

He doesn’t wait for a response before his head sinks to nestle in the crook of your neck as he assaults your skin with a cacophony moans and sucks, decorating your flesh with his name in a purple and blue masterpiece.

Your cunt squelches as he presses his fingers deeper and deeper into your gooey interior, eagerly searching for your sweet spot and hellbent on targeting it. He hears you squeak, body almost falling limp with a particularly delicious curling of his fingers. You feel his smug expression against your pulse point, but instead of mocking you, his canines gently graze against it.

“She’s so loud for me, baby. Your sloppy little pussy loves me.” he breathes. You throw your head back as he continues to delve deeper and deeper until you can no longer fight off the urge to scream his name.

“FUCK, Rin!” you cry. “There! R-Right there!”

“There, princess?” he asks, though it’s rhetorical. He already knows what you want and what he needs to do. You’re happy you goaded him. But he’s happier to know he’s proving you wrong. “You’re squeezing so tight… won’t be able to play with your pussy or my bass if you break my fingers.”

“Sto- stop. Goddddd Rin I’m gonna c-um. Gonna cum!” you warn him, as if he didn’t already know. You wrap your arms around his neck in a needy display that makes you sick, but you don’t care enough to stop. He doesn’t mind, either. Making out with you passionately, swapping spit as drool dribbles and pools from each of your mouths. His lips remain connected to yours by a single string of spit as you break away to moan through your high.

He swallows them, though. Transfixed by the feeling and pride that you’re offering your prettiest sounds for him to devour while your legs quiver violently on either side of his hand.

You throw your head back as your pussy begins to squirt and douse his fingers. He doesn’t even flinch, immediately using his free hand to swipe across your clit to extend your pleasure and further the mess spurting from the apex of your thighs.

“She really likes me, baby.” he smirks at you, an expression so smarmy you’d punch him if he hadn’t made you feel so good. “You came so fast for me.”

“You’re welcome.” you giggle, leaning forward to kiss him. “I got what I came for so I’m gonna leave now.” you tell him as you pretend to free yourself of his hold. He shakes his head, lower lip tugged by his teeth as he tries to supress a smile.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Nowhere near through with you yet.”

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock smut #itoshi rin smut #rin itoshi smut #bllk smut #bllk x fem!reader

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ihatedtoadmit · 14 days

Text

Art study

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: You're doing an art study on muscles, and who's a better candidate for reference than your wonderful boyfriend who keeps feeding his delulu fanbase with half-naked pictures?

a/n: Well well well, Nat, you don't have to pay to see me write something like this after all (if you will ever see this, because no chance am I tagging you or anyone, dear). Here, have fun, this is the most spice anyone can get out of my asexual ass.

↳ Main Masterlist

You were a very reserved person, something your partner knew all too well. Every touch the two of you shared throughout the entirety of your relationship had no heat behind it, each one only fueled by pure adoration and love. Never once did a kiss turn hungry, hell, there had barely been any kisses the two of you had shared due to your lack of need for the action. Chan knew it all too well, and while he craved more, he also respected it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable, and so he’d never stepped over that line.

That was the exact reason for his current shyness, the confusion that wanted to sit onto his face hard to mask. There he stood in your doorway, the desk before your hunched form cluttered with pencils and little crumbs of dirty erasers. You were entirely too focused on the task at hand to notice your boyfriend's presence, the song that flowed through your headphones much too loud to hear any footsteps or even words. And so you continued drawing, clueless about anything as your lover watched you work, eyes flitting between your sketch and the endless reference pictures on your screen.

Pictures about him, his back fully on display and unclothed.

A touch broke you out of your concentration as you erased a line for the fourth time, scaring you into throwing away the pencil in your clutches just so you could tear the headphones off your head.

“Interesting art you have there, love.” - Chan mused, yet his skin was as flushed as ever.

You joined him as you could feel your own skin heating up, ashamed that you’d been caught like this. Eyes looked at everything besides your boyfriend, yet you found comfort in that warm touch of his.

“I was just… doing a study, on muscles.” - the words were but a mere whisper, hand quickly reaching to minimise your browser and just hide it from a certain pair of prying eyes.

Still, there was a feeling clawing at the cage of your soul, ripping at the flesh to be let out and rampage freely. It was feral and vicious, planting a thought into your head that seemed impossible to get out, no matter how alien it felt. You could feel your breath hitch at the image that popped into your head, memories of the images you had been staring at for a while now overlapping.

The hand on your shoulder gently squeezed, breaking you out of your derailing thoughts.

“I don't mind, baby, it just… caught me off guard? Glad you enjoyed my performances though.” - Chan’s voice was light, mixing well with the shyness he was trying to hide.

It only urged that fierceness inside to break free, granting you a surge of confidence you would have never had otherwise.

Without any words you finally glanced up at the man you loved, finding him utterly handsome; you would hone your artistic skills for the rest of your life just to capture a fragment of that beauty. His skin was dusted with a faint red, ears painted by the deepest of shades. Those eyes you loved to get lost in were alight with an emotion you had seen them only hold whenever he looked at the boys, and it took your breath away within a heartbeat.

Your body moved on its own, towering over him as you now stood. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower he must have just taken, and you just knew he had been originally on his way to his room to swap his bathrobe for those comfy, black clothes he loved to don in his free time.

He searched your gaze, unsure, yet trusting. His hands comfortably placed themselves onto your hips; their touch was warm, the man before you always running hot. It was something you loved as he balanced out your always cold hands wonderfully, reaching the perfect temperature you both enjoyed.

“Hey, love. How was work today?” - you asked, leaning closer than usual as you swiped those dark curls out of Chan’s face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a second as he thought about his answer.

“The usual, although Hyunjin managed to piss off Minho again. It was a shoe this time that was the weapon, by the way.” - there was an airiness of joy to his words, yet no laugh accompanied it.

No, Chan was entirely too enamoured with the look you were giving him, as if you were worshipping him with your eyes alone. And maybe you were. With each look you studied the way your lover's skin moved, the shadows conforming accordingly. It lured you in, as if Chan was the siren and you were his prey, fated to be drowned in the vast oceans and seas.

He didn't move as you took him all in, hands eventually unable to keep themselves away. Your fingers were cold against the warmth of his fair skin, and you could hear his breath hitch, the muscles inside his neck moving beautifully.

There was something different in your touch, that much he knew, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

As if you had never seen anything like it before, your hands glided over any free expanse of skin you could reach, memorising how the muscles hidden beneath curved and jumped at your touch. Never once did your eyes stray, wanting to remember every little detail. You wanted your art to be perfect, after all, to represent the real thing as closely as possible and that meant every little detail in their complete glory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the white robe blocked you off, and so you slightly slid it off from one of Chan's shoulders. His hold on you tightened and you glanced at him briefly, seeing an intensity burning in those dark eyes, one you had never seen before.

You were playing with fire, and you could feel the heat of the danger.

Despite the clear wanting signs, you ignored them much like Icarus, hands now gliding down your lover's arm. Each touch held meaning, praising him in silence, singing odes about this man’s beauty. There was something so intriguing about watching the muscles connect to skin and bone, oh so perfectly toned and reacting to every touch of yours.

You stepped even closer, breaths mingling together as you reached into his robe, mapping out the vast skin of your partner's back. Every dip, every rise and imperfection was noted inside your head, the scorching star in Chan's eyes only growing in intensity as time passed. Your eyes flitted between those deadly stars and his neck, seeing it strain, muscles so tight that they jumped out of the skin in that lovely V-shape you could never grow bored of.

Then, as if something snapped, he gripped your waist with incredible force, not giving you a chance to escape. Despite that, no fear took residence inside you, your now warm fingers still laid peacefully on his shoulders.

“And what do I owe this extremely special moment to, baby?” - his words were a deep rumble, eyes begging for an answer with desperation.

“For being the most beautiful human to grace this planet, my wonderful love. Be my muse, please. Let me draw you, let me study you.” - you answered, one hand now cupping Chan's cheek tenderly, despite the uniquely heated situation.

As if that was the magic word to undo his binding, your lover moved, hauling your taller form easily onto the bed with him. There you were now, sat on his lap as he looked up at you expectantly, the intensity and love never diminishing in those bright eyes of his. Your sketchbook was still sitting beside you on the bed where you had originally thrown it at, hands itching to take it and immortalise what you had engraved into your mind in the past few minutes.

“I'll be your muse whenever, baby. All you needed to do was ask.”

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vivalas-vega · 3 months

Text

unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

howdy y'all - we've got another rooster fic. i feel i've neglected this man too much on my blog and wanna start writing for him more so here we are with a fleet week fic inspired by my own journey onto a navy ship yesterday!!! (the similarities between my fic and the real deal start and end with waiting in line. my guide was cute but let's just say he was no bradley bradshaw). it was very cool and educational and if your city does fleet week i highly recommend checking it out! this fic will have maybe three parts total. anyways hope you enjoy :)

unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

follow my taglist blog and turn on notifications to be updated @vegaslibrary

word count: 3.2k

warnings: slight language, naval inaccuracies!! (even tho I just did my own fleet week tour I still don't know shit, I'm just a girl)

The ocean breeze filtered through your hair as you stood off to the side, eyes fixated on the impressive carriers in front of you. The sun felt hot on your skin and excitement was buzzing through your veins as you listened to your best friend in your ear… well, half-listened.

“We’re brunching! Come on, meet us at Malibu Farm,” Maggie said and you sighed.

“I told you it’s Fleet Week, I’m already down here,” you replied and you could feel her eyes roll on the other side of the phone.

“I would be supportive if you were trying to bag one of those Navy hotties but come on… bottomless mimosas and all the dirt on Stephanie’s breakup are better than some boats,” she said.

“I will see you for drinks tonight,” was all you replied before hanging up. You’d tried (very unsuccessfully) to convince some of your friends to come with you, telling them about how cool these carriers were and how you only got the chance to see them up close and personal once a year but they had zero interest… you were the only one in your circle who found this sort of thing interesting, and you would have been bummed except for the fact that you were more than okay doing things by yourself.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to a concert or a museum solo, you actually enjoyed it… you loved hanging out with your friends but it was nice to not be tied to what the majority of the group wanted to do (or didn’t want to do), and as you waited in line you were actually a little glad none of them had taken you up on your offer. If Maggie were here she’d be ogling the cute officer who appeared to be getting ready to take your group on board, and she’d spend the whole tour trying to flirt with him instead of listening to what he had to say.

You were content to wait in line as long as it took, taking in the beautiful ships to your left before switching to people watching, you knew this week drew all kinds of visitors and you found it entertaining to see such an eclectic mix of people all in one space… there were the obvious ex-Navy types, returning to their roots and reliving the glory days, there were couples who looked a little out of their element but excited for something new to do as a date, and families with kids… you even spotted an entire elementary class on a field trip. Spare your friend group, most people were more than interested in the opportunity to spend a day aboard multi-million dollar vessels and you were one of them.

Across the way Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw was chatting with his teammates about how much they wanted today to be over… it wasn’t that he hated Fleet Week, because he did enjoy it for about the first hour, but after that it became tiresome to give the same spiel over and over and over. They’d all tried to get out of it, Natasha had even gone so far as trying to manifest a deployment, but according to the higher ups there was no excuse for the Navy’s best and brightest to not make an appearance at an event happening so close to their home base.

But then he saw you and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you seem so enamored by everything around you… you didn’t hold an ounce of annoyance over the fact you’d been standing in that same spot going on half an hour now, something he’d seen from other visitors a dozen times already, and when a gust of wind kicked up your hair and sent it fluttering around your face you gave a half hearted attempt to tame it, but really you were just enjoying the breeze and the sun on your skin and he knew he had to know your name. He watched Jake getting ready to take your group aboard and he had to know if you’d abandon the formal tour in favor of letting him take you up instead.

You were eavesdropping on a conversation between a sailor and a kid just ahead of you, a soft smile on your lips as you listened to just how excited both parties were to be talking about the ship in front of you and you were so focused on them that you didn’t notice a person approaching you, not until his shadow cast across your face and when you turned you saw a man who nearly knocked the wind out of you… he was tall and solid, arms straining against the short sleeves of his khaki uniform and you thought that no one should look good in that color yet here he was proving you wrong. His golden brown waves glistened in the direct sunlight and he had a slight smirk beneath a mustache that you really wanted to hate, but you really didn’t… he was handsome, potentially one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen, and here he was standing directly in front of you and you looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, ma’am,” he introduced, extending his hand for you to shake which you did as you gave him your name and a smile. “What brings you out today?”

“A bizarre fascination with ships the size of planets,” you replied and he laughed. It was warm and a little rough around the edges, much like you’d appraised him to be in your short interaction, and you wanted to hear it again.

“Well, my day wrapped up not too long ago and I couldn’t help but notice you waiting for a tour…” he started, leaning in slightly with a mischievous look on his face as if he was about to tell you a secret, “and between you and me, your tour guide is a dud.” he finished and you looked towards the man, tall, blonde and oozing charisma and you had a feeling Bradley was lying to you as you watched him charm the entirety of your group with one sentence… but you weren’t feeling too keen on calling him out on his fib.

“Oh no, is that so?” you replied, disappointment lacing your tone.

“Mmhm,” he hummed. “I think you oughta let me take you up, make sure you get the tour you deserve,” he propositioned and you nodded, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“I think that might be for the best… for the sake of a thorough Navy education and all,” you said and he nodded, gesturing towards the ramp and he held out his hand for you to take as you pulled yourself onto the steep landing. His hand was warm in yours and all-encompassing as he held it and made sure you made it safely before letting it fall back to your side and you were almost a little disappointed when he did.

He led you into the cargo hold, a massive room filled with so many things your eyes had a hard time adjusting at first. You trailed alongside him as he explained everything to you, sparing no detail as he went and you were particularly fascinated by the boat that was rigged to be deployed at a moments notice, positioned right in front of a hatch door, and he told you it was primarily there for search and rescue missions as he rattled off information about how long it takes to get it down into the water and pointed out the crane used to move it around as needed.

You listened with rapt attention as you continued through, you added a quip or a question here and there but mostly you were hanging onto his every word as he pointed out things like their freezer and the gym, and you realized you might have been content to listen to this man read you his grocery list and you had to make a conscious effort to focus on the words themselves and not just the voice that was speaking them. As you made your way up a steep and narrow stairwell, so much so you might have described it closer to a ladder than stairs, he stayed right behind you where he could catch you if you fell and you tried to ignore the fact that his diligence almost made you want to fall.

“There’s a lot up here,” he said as he led you down a hallway lined with doors, “but it’s mostly just bunks and offices. We’re not technically supposed to show you this, but… I won’t tell if you won’t,” he added as he pushed one of the doors open and you pretended to lock your lips and throw away the key as you peeked inside, taking in the modest living quarters with multiple twin beds.

“So, this is where you sleep when you’re deployed?” you asked and he nodded, brow furrowing when you looked at him, clearly skeptical about something as your eyes trailed him top to bottom before returning to the beds in front of you, “how do you even fit?” you followed up and immediately you flushed, not meaning to ask that at all but it was the first thing that popped into your head and it flew out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Not comfortably, sweetheart,” he replied with a laugh and you smiled softly at the term of endearment as he shut the door and nodded for you to follow. He talked about the photos lining the walls, telling you who was who or what was what in the ones he recognized before you went up another stairwell and before you could walk through the door frame in front of you he placed his hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned your head to look at him, an unasked question on your face, and he gave you that addictive smirk of his, “now this is the really fun part that very few people get to see,” he prefaced and you felt anticipation brimming as he kept his hands on you and guided you forward.

“Just breaking all the rules today aren’t you, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” you replied and he wanted to tell you that you could just call him Bradley but one look at the mischief in your eyes told him you knew that… you just liked calling him Lieutenant and he liked hearing it too much to stop you. When you turned your attention forward you were faced with two beautiful jets right in front of you and you faltered for a moment, stunned by the sheer impressiveness of the aircrafts.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, careful of your step as you approached one of them and Bradley tried to commit that look of awe on your features to memory, his heart stuttering at the sight. You instinctively reached a hand out before snapping it back, realizing you probably shouldn’t be touching things with price tags you couldn’t comprehend.

He chuckled, “go ahead, it’s mine so do your worst.”

He thought you might get whiplash with how quickly you turned to face him, “yours? How have we made it through this whole tour without you mentioning you’re a pilot?”

“Thought I’d keep you on your toes,” he replied as you returned your focus to his jet, hand trailing along the smooth metal as you walked around it.

“I never thought I’d get to see an F/A-18 in person… at least not one that’s active,” you sighed, and now he was certain his heart had stopped in his chest. “Tops out at what, twelve hundred?” you asked and he blinked in surprise, only able to nod in response because he didn’t quite trust his words right now. He knew he liked you as soon as he saw you, so much so he was taking you on his tenth tour of the day when all he’d wanted to do previously was go to the bar, but now he was worried he was in a little over his head as you appreciated his jet, having identified it immediately without any help from him. “God, this is incredible, Bradley,” you said, maybe a little breathless from how excited you were and before you knew it he was disappearing, leaving you standing at the nose with a confused expression.

You laughed when he returned, rolling a ladder to the side of his jet and beckoning you over. He hadn’t anticipated you to know anything about planes, or really have any interest beyond the first minute of being in front of it, but now that he knew otherwise he wanted to show you everything. He held onto your hand as you took each step, trailing right behind you just as he had in the stairwells and when you got to the landing he started pulling the canopy back and you let out another soft gasp.

“Can you get in trouble for this?” you asked, turning to look at him. You knew private tours with high ranking pilots were not standard for Fleet Week, and you also knew this wasn’t an area most people would be allowed in, and you worried for a brief moment what would happen to him if anyone caught you.

He shook his head, “you’re accompanied by a Lieutenant, we’re fine,” he answered, smiling as you leaned over slightly to look inside his cockpit and his heart was thudding in his chest at the sheer wonder in your eyes. He started pointing out all of the controls, telling you what they did and why, and he answered your every question just as he had with the rest of the ship. “Sweetheart, I’ve gotta be honest… I’ve never met anyone who gave a damn about these jets that didn't work in or around them already.”

You pulled your attention back to him with an incredulous look, “how could they not?” you asked, and you wanted to keep your gaze on those pretty brown eyes that were locked on you, but the novelty hadn’t quite worn off yet and you looked back inside the jet. “I mean… this is next level engineering wrapped up in a pretty package, what’s better than that?” He thought you were beautiful when he saw you standing on your own with your hair blowing in the breeze and the sun kissing your skin, he thought you were beautiful when you laughed at his dumb jokes in the cargo hold, but right now he was certain he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you slightly bent over and leaning into his cockpit as you truly appreciated the one thing he loved most in this world.

“Please let me take you on a date,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself and you looked at him a little surprised. You’d been hoping since he approached you that he’d ask, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little at the unexpected timing.

“Ask me again after the tour,” you replied with a smirk and though it vaguely sounded like rejection he couldn’t help but smile. If you wanted to make him work for it then he absolutely would. You asked him a question about the gauges and he told you exactly what they measured, and when you finally made your way back down the ladder he even let you sit on the second to last step as he wheeled it back to its place.

“Bradley!” you squealed when he whipped it around, hands bracing on the poles on either side of you and you were a little breathless when you were suddenly facing him, looking up at him as his strong hands gripped just above your head as he continued pushing you through the open area.

“Just wanted a better view,” he replied and you flushed at the compliment. Even though it was only two steps he still offered you his hand as you got off and of course you still accepted it, lingering for a moment before dropping it. He took you back through the carrier a different way than you’d came so he could show you absolutely everything, still narrating as he went. Truthfully, there wasn’t much difference on this route than the other but it was longer and he wanted to drag this out. He knew as soon as you stepped off the ship he wouldn’t have any reason to keep you longer than he already had, and he wanted to postpone that moment as long as he could.

When you entered the now familiar cargo hold you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, you didn’t want your time with Bradley to come to an end but it seemed it was inevitable as he led you down the ramp and back onto solid ground. Your eyes were bright when you turned to face him and you still had that smile on that hadn’t seemed to leave your face all day and it was another sight he wanted to commit to memory. You had surprised the hell out of him, turned his boring day around the second he saw you and he knew with certainty he couldn’t get enough of you… and you were in the exact same boat. You knew when you got here today you’d have a good time, that the other man Bradley insisted was a dud still would have given a good tour and you’d have gotten exactly what you came for but the man in front of you exceeded every one of your expectations and then some, and you weren’t looking forward to the moment you had to go back to your car and not have his eyes on you anymore.

“Bradley, that was…” you sighed, “that was incredible, I don’t really know how to thank you for that.”

“Let me take you out,” he replied easily and you flushed, the tour was over and he was wasting no time in asking you out again, and this time you let him.

You nodded, “I’m free tonight.” His grin was wide as he fished his phone out of his pocket for you to input your number, and you couldn’t help but mirror him when he told you to put your address as well so he could pick you up… if this was anyone else, if you hadn’t just spent the afternoon with him catering to your every query and whim, you would have told him no. You would have said you could meet him somewhere, but you trusted him. The few hours spent together showed you that you could, and that wasn’t lost on Bradley. If you’d said no he wouldn’t have even blinked, he would have suggested something else that made you more comfortable, but you didn’t say no… and that caused his chest to tighten as he looked down at your beautiful smile.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek and you felt your skin tingling as he pulled away. “Wear something comfortable.”

You nodded, a little curious as to what he could have planned but you could just tell if you asked he wouldn’t say, and you were more than happy to let this man surprise you. “I’ll see you tonight, Bradley.”

“And I’ll be counting down every second.”

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b0r3dtod3ath · 2 months

Note

Please write tennisplayer!reader x Oscar. Him coming to a match of hers for the first time, and her explaining stuff to him (just started to get into tennis myself). Them having a good time and just vibing at the tennis open.

Oscar had never gone too deep into tennis before, his knowledge of tennis extended to recognizing names like Serena Williams and Roger Federer. However, when he started dating you, a professional tennis player, his interest in the sport naturally grew.

He couldn’t hide his excitement and confusion as the two of you walked through the green scenery of All England Club. In between your practice and media you took your boyfriend on a little tour to explain a few things.

“Okay, let's start with the basics. No! Wait, we will get the strawberries first” Oscar chuckled at your sudden change of plans but went with it.

As you led him to the food stands, you began explaining the traditions of the tournament, “So, one of the best things about Wimbledon is the strawberries and cream. It’s a must have”. You grabbed a box each and continued your walk. “Okay, now we can continue. Where was I?” you said in between chewing.

You found a quiet area near the practice court. “See those lines? The outer ones are for doubles and inner ones are for singles”. You pointed with your finger. “Got it. And those?” Oscar asked as he gestured towards the perpendicular ones. “That’s the service box, basically when you serve, the ball has to land there. You have two tries and if you fail it’s called a double fault and your opponent gets a point”.

“Uh Huh, but the points are weird, aren’t they? I don’t get them.” he said with scrunched nose which made you giggle. “Yeah, it’s a bit odd. We start with love, which means zero. Then it goes fifteen, thirty, forty. If both players reach forty, it’s called deuce. From deuce, you need to win by two points. So that’s how you win a game and you need six and be up by two to win a set. If it's six-six, we play a tiebreak”.

He nodded trying to organize the information in his mind, “a tiebreak?”. “Yea, we alternate serves and the first to seven, and again up by two, wins” you explained. “Got it. And how many sets do you need?”. “Well, at Wimbledon it’s best of three for women and best of five for men. So I need to win two sets to win a match”.

“Alright, that makes sense, I guess… I don’t know if I can remember all that” Oscar said. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re gonna figure it out as you watch. I’m glad you’re interested. It means a lot to have you here” you hugged his arm as you two walked.

The next day Oscar dressed up nicely and sat next to your team. It was his time to be your wag. He watched you take your headphones out as you entered the court. Your expression was cold, focused and determined, a stark contrast to how he knew you. He couldn’t help but to smile with pride.

The match began, and Oscar’s eyes were glued to the court, more specifically to your side of it. He found the speed at which the serves and rallies happened surprisingly fast. He admired the way you hit the ball with full power, while still keeping it full of grace and precision. Anytime you looked at him he would flash you a big smile and thumbs up.

He found himself not caring about others while cheering louder than anyone else at every point you scored. During the game he had in mind everything you explained to him the previous day. As the match passed he understood the sport more and more, and didn’t hesitate to ask your coach when he got confused.

The match ended with your victory, something that could be easily predicted as it was one of the first games of the tournament. “You were amazing! So fast! I’m into tennis now. You need to teach me” you heard as you approached him after the game. “Thanks Oscar, means a lot. I’m glad you like it because I hope you will be watching me here for the next two weeks” you said as he hugged your sweaty body without hesitation.

July 22, 2024

#f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 imagine #formula one x reader #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fic #op81 fluff

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wileys-russo · 9 months

Note

not sure if you’d like this idea but i keep seeing this trend of coloring in your partners tattoos and imagine a blurb where reader is doing this with alexia or mapi <33

feels so weird to write mapi or ingrid without the other tbh colouring book II m.león

"hola amor!" you called out as you returned home from work, utterly exhausted as you swung the door closed behind you, frowning as your girlfriend was nowhere to be seen.

"maría?" you sung out, dropping your bag on the counter and wandering around the flat, popping your head in and out of each room. finally, as you entered your bedroom you breathed a sigh of relief.

your girlfriends back was faced toward you sat outside in the late afternoon sun on the balcony of your bedroom, clearly focused on something as you made your way over.

opening the doors you quickly realised why she hadn't heard you, between the gentle buzz of her tattoo gun and the music playing from her phone you clearly caught the older girl off guard as she looked up in surprise.

"more?" you shook your head with a smile, the girl tattooing what looked like a sword on her ankle. "i told you bebita, they are addictive!" the spaniard grinned, flicking off the gun and wiping down the fresh ink with a sanitary pad.

"like it? my lines are getting very good." mapi beamed flashing her new tattoo toward you as you hummed taking a seat, kicking your feet up and sighing contentedly.

"you know...i can still give you one." you felt her hand on your leg as you cracked one eye open and smiled in amusement. "and you know, when hell freezes over." you teased as she pinched your leg lightly with a hum.

packing away the gun and wrapping up her tattoo carefully the girl pulled off her gloves and dissapeared inside for a moment to put everything away. "how was work?" mapi returned, bending down to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

"good, tiring, long, very glad its the weekend." you grinned up at her, accepting her outstretched hand as she guided you up and out of your seat. "come hermosa, rest with me." your girlfriend pulled you down onto the bed with her, pulling your back into her front as she held you tightly.

the two of you spoke about your days, wrapped up together in the warm rays of the dying soon, golden hour both your favourite times of day.

your girlfriend settling a little more, the sweet words whispered in your ear and the gentle kisses placed to the back of your shoulder blades did very little to lull you to sleep, though that seemed no issue for the tattooed footballer behind you.

glancing over your shoulder you smiled seeing she was asleep, chest rising and falling as you carefully wiggled out of her hold and placed a kiss to her forehead. your combined body heats a little much you shuffled to lay beside her, mapi stirring and rolling onto her stomach but otherwise remaining out cold.

cheekily answering a few work emails you found yourself doom scrolling social medias, one video in particular peaking your interest. pocketing your phone you quietly made your way out of the bedroom, hunting around the house for what you were after.

returning to the bedroom your girlfriend grunted tiredly as you sat on the back of her legs. "qué?" the defender mumbled. "can i color in your tattos mi amor?" you asked, bending down so your head laid next to hers.

"why?" her body vibrated with a small chuckle as she blinked sleepily. "why not?" you questioned back as the older girl hummed, nodding and shutting her eyes again as you kissed her cheek.

her body tensed a little as you pushed her shirt up, finger tracing the multitude of designs inked along the soft tanned skin. assisted by the pencil case you kept handy for when your niece visited you grabbed out a handful of markers and shifted a little so you were comfortable.

your girlfriend relaxed and drifted back to sleep, finding the gentle scratchings of the markers against her back oddly soothing as you frowned in concentration. finishing the lion in the middle of her back you moved onto the smaller more intricate designs on her shoulder blades, taking your time to ensure you kept it neat.

you felt a little childish at how much you were enjoying this, admittedly only coloring when your niece was over and that was only ever to placate her after a tantrum. but you couldn't deny that this was helping the melt away the stress which lingered within your body from a long week of meetings and deadlines and overdue reports.

unknown to you your girlfriend was now awake, laying down quietly and making sure not to move too much, glancing up with a soft smile seeing the way your tongue poked out of the corner of your mouth in concentration.

"bon dia hermosa." you caught her eye giving her a smile of your own, capping your marker and tucking it back away. "i think it is a little late for a bon dia princesa." the defender grinned, grabbing your hands and gently tugging you back down onto the bed beside her.

"did you have a nice time coloring?" she mocked playfully, kissing your nose as you rolled your eyes. "you're like a human coloring book amor, can you blame me?" you leaned in to give her a proper kiss, a lazy makeout session quick to follow.

you sighed happily at the way her hands rested on the small of your back pulling your body closer into hers, angling your head a little more to the side as your tongues clashed and you tangled your hands in her hair.

your eyes fluttered closed as her lips detached from yours and found their home on your neck, the defender moving to grab your hips as she sucked a bright red mark just below your jaw. pulling away she peppered gentle kisses across it to soothe the sting and her teeth tugged playfully at your ear lobe.

"you know mi amor if you let me give you a tattoo you could become your own colouring book."

#mapi leon x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #mapi leon #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso

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doctorbitchcrxft · 5 months

Text

Hook Man | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of religious trauma/parental abuse

Word Count: 4869

A/N: Guys. We hit a bit of a milestone earlier in the week. Just wanted to say in celebration that I am so beyond grateful for all of your love and support. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! Giving big big kisses to all of you!!! Taglist is open!!

Edit: Hey.... I suck I forgot to add the taglist when I published. So sorry!!! fixed now!!!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and Dean were sat at an outdoor cafe; coffee cups in hand. He was clacking away at his laptop while you wrote in your journal. You wrote your excerpt on the shapeshifter next to a drawing of Dean’s necklace.

“Is that…?” Dean asked, pointing to your journal.

You nodded.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he said.

“No offense, lovebug, but you don’t know much of anything about me,” you retorted.

He scoffed. “Will you take the compliment and be quiet?”

“I didn’t hear a compliment,” you giggled. “Well, maybe in ‘Dean Winchester Land’ it was a compliment.”

“Oh, shut up,” he responded playfully.

Sam hung up the payphone he was standing in and came back over to your table.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin’ cold over here, Francis,” Dean jabbed at his brother.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” you told him.

“So, anything?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam huffed. “I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Does fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“Sam, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.”

Sam looked disappointed.

“Check this out.” Dean turned his laptop around to you and Sam. “It’s a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“Thank god, a short trip,” you sighed.

“ ‘The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road,’ “ Sam read from the article.

“Keep reading.” Dean nodded at his laptop.

“ ‘Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.’ “

That last line caught your attention. “Could be something interesting.”

“Or it could be nothing at all,” Sam protested. “One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out,” Dean responded.

***

The one hundred mile drive concluded with the boys dropping you off at a sorority house.

“Remind me why I have to play barbies for the week again?” you asked.

“Because this is Lori Sorensen’s sorority house; the witness from the killing,” Sam replied.

“Great,” you mumbled.

“Have fun making s’mores and singing campfire songs,” Dean remarked.

“Bite me,” you snarked. “You’re going to a frat, though, Steve McQueen, so I wouldn’t be so cocky.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he grumbled.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” you said and shouldered your duffel bag. You bid them goodbye and reluctantly marched up to the door of the sorority house.

A girl with long, dark curls opened the door. “Hi,” she said. “Can I… help you?”

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N),” you explained. “I’m your sorority sister from Ohio State. Do you guys have an extra bed I could sleep in? I just transferred here.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “I’m Taylor, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She led you inside and introduced you to Lori Sorensen. She was a sweet girl; very naive and a little stuck-up. Taylor seemed a little more like a party girl, but still relatively tame. You decided you could gel with these girls for the time being.

They told you they were headed to Sunday service at Lori’s father’s church and invited you to go with them. You obliged.

In the middle of the introductory rites, you heard the heavy church door slam shut. Your head swiveled to find Sam and Dean frozen and looking guilty. You scoffed amusedly and rolled your eyes, turning your attention forward for the rest of the service.

Taylor invited you and Lori out to a party after the service, but Lori said she couldn’t. Her father had dinner with her every Sunday since her mother passed away. She and Taylor hugged and Taylor bid you goodbye before heading off.

Sam and Dean came over to you and Lori.

“Guys!” you said excitedly. “Sam, Dean, this is Lori.” You introduced her to them. “They’re my friends from Ohio. They transferred with me.”

“I saw you inside,” she told them.

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…”

Dean cut his brother off. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

You knew where this was going; he was cruising for another hookup.

“I kind of know what you’re going through,” Sam broke back in. “I-I saw someone..get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

Lori nodded slightly. Just then, her father came up to your group.

“Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). They’re new students.”

Dean shook the reverend’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

“Thank you very much,” he smiled. “It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied and began leading him away from Sam and Lori. “Actually, we’re looking for a new church group…”

***

Later that day, you and the boys were sitting together in the local library. Sam relayed to you what Lori had told him about the passing of the guy she was with.

“So, you believe her?” Dean asked him.

“I do,” he nodded.

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.” Dean smirked at him.

“You think almost everything with a vagina and legs is hot, Dean,” you remarked.

“Not you,” he jabbed back, still smirking.

You clutched a hand to your chest. “I’m hurt, you dick.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Can we focus, please?” Sam broke in. “There’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the—”

Sam cut you off. “Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend.”

“That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever,” Dean added. “You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began,” said Sam.

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?”

You had the librarian bring over boxes of arrest records. The three of you poured through pages upon pages for hours.

“Hey, check this out. 1862,” Sam said finally. “A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.’ “

“Get this, the murder weapon?” Dean was looking at another page. “Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.”

You pointed to a page in Sam’s book. “Look where all this happened. Nine Mile Road.”

“Same place where the frat boy was killed,” Sam chimed in.

“Nice job, Dr. Venkamen and Annie Potts. Let’s check it out,” the older brother quipped.

The three of you headed to Nine Mile Road. Dean parked off the road in a clearing in the woods. He popped the trunk and handed Sam a shotgun. “Here you go.”

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good,” Sam said.

“Yeah, rock salt. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.” Dean led the three of you through the clearing.

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?”

“I told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.”

“Cool it, Winchester. You and your daddy aren’t the first people to think of rock salt bullets.” You loaded your own gun with shells of your own.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“They’re a bitch to roll,” you said.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” he remarked.

You suddenly heard rustling in the bushes.

“Over there,” you whispered to Sam. The two of you aimed your guns and cocked it.

The “ghost” came out from behind the trees. A sheriff.

‘Dammit.’

“Put the gun down now!” he yelled. “Now! Put your hands behind your head.”

“Wait, wait, okay!” Dean told him.

You immediately dropped your gun and put your hands up.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

You three obeyed.

“Now get down on your bellies,” he commanded. “Come on, do it!”

“Are you just on a power trip or something? ‘Cause— ah!” you were cut off by a sharp kick to the shin from Sam.

The sheriff brought the three of you into the station. It was early the next morning by the time you were able to leave.

“Saved your asses!” Dean jeered. “Talked the sheriff down to a fine. I am Matlock.”

“How was it that you were left in charge of talking him down?” You raised a brow at him. “And how in the fuck did you do it?”

“Sweetheart, this may surprise you, but I’m good at my job. And I told him Sam was a dumbass pledge, you were his girlfriend we’d dragged along, and we were hazing you.”

You and Sam both recoiled at the idea of dating each other.

“First of all, ew,” you started, “No offense, Sam.”

“None taken.”

“But what about the shotguns?”

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, Sam looks like a dumbass pledge.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You stuck your tongue out at Sam.

Moments later, several officers ran out of the building to their cruisers. Barely needing to share a look with the boys, you hurried into the car and sped away to follow them.

You could see Lori wrapped in a disposable blanket in front of the sorority house you were staying in. You weren’t exactly sure what was going on, but you had no doubt that it was another murder. The stretcher carrying a body bag rolling out of the front door affirmed that thought seconds later.

Dean parked the Impala around the back of the house.

“Why would the Hook Man come here?” Sam asked as the three of you crept around the building. “This is a long way from Nine Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else,” Dean suggested.

You pulled his arm back seconds later to avoid being seen by your “sorority sisters.” You used the fact that you had now pretty much pulled yourself in front of him to allow you to lead the way up to the second floor.

While Dean made a stupid joke about a naked pillow fight, Sam was busy giving you a boost before climbing up himself. You looked back down at the ground to see Dean struggling to find his footing.

“Need help?” you smirked.

“No,” he grumbled.

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

You waited patiently, leaning your head in your hands on the railing of the balcony and smiling down at him. He struggled for a few more moments before he conceded. All he did was open and close his hand he was extending upwards, similar to a toddler asking to be picked up.

“What’s the magic word?” you sing-songed.

“Come on!” he hissed. “Please?”

“There we go,” you smiled. You dug your heels into the ground and pulled him up.

You then realized the window you were entering was the one in Lori and Taylor’s closet. You hoped to god in that moment that Taylor wasn’t the one dead.

Your fears were realized, however, when you entered Lori and Taylor’s room to find the words “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” crudely etched into the wall above Taylor’s blood soaked bed. You didn’t exactly get attached to people on hunts, but seeing good people die was never easy for you. It didn’t get easier. Your dad would call you soft, but you always liked to look at your compassion as a strength.

“ ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’ That’s right out of the legend,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right.” Dean tapped his nose as he spoke. “It’s definitely a spirit.”

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before,” Sam muttered.

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked you.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. Fine. It’s just… look at this symbol.” You were referencing the one beneath the writing. “Does that look familiar to you?”

Your head jerked toward the sound of footsteps approaching. You quickly shooed Sam and Dean back into the closet and out of the house. Thankfully, you made it back to the car without being seen. You pulled the copy you’d made at the library of one of the pages on Jacob Karns out of the backseat. That was where you had seen the cross symbol; on Karns’s hook.

You showed it to the boys. “Told ya.”

“Alright, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down,” Dean said.

Sam took the page from your hand. “ ‘After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.’ “ He flicked the page with his finger, looking aggravated; as were you and Dean.

“Super,” the older brother muttered.

“Ok. So we know it’s Jacob Karns. But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why,” Sam pointed out.

“I could just be spitballing here, but Lori definitely has something to do with it,” you said, looking up at the sorority house.

***

You managed to get into a party at the fraternity house Sam and Dean were staying in later that night. Dean had been busy mingling with thin college girls dressed in mini skirts while Sam stuck to the outside wall. You bounced around from talking to Sam and hustling some of the drunk frat guys in multiple rounds of pool.

The three of you reunited around the pool table you’d been dominating that night.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me,” Dean told Sam. “This college thing is awesome!” He smiled and winked at a passing girl.

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “This wasn’t really my experience.”

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?”

Sam nodded. You chortled.

“What a geek. Alright, you do your homework?”

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam unfolded a piece of paper.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage,” Dean read.

Your eyebrows knitted together.

“There’s a pattern here,” Sam explained. “In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out— get this— with a sharp instrument.”

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Dean asked.

“Her dad. Man of religion who openly preaches against immorality,” you pointed out. “Maybe this time, though, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his kid.”

“Reverend Sorensen,” Dean tsked. “You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

“Maybe it’s like when a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place,” you suggested.

“Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it,” Sam chimed in.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight,” Dean told his brother.

“What about you?”

Dean looked over to the opposite side of the pool table where the blonde you’d been playing with smiled at him. He reluctantly said, “(Y/N) and I are gonna go see if we can find that unmarked grave.”

“We are? I wanted to play more eight-ball,” you told him.

He looked back over at the blonde, back at you, and shook his head in disappointment. “C’mon. I’m not happy about it either.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go back?” you asked Dean as the two of you trudged through the Old North Cemetery. You were holding shovels and flashlights searching for the grave of Jacob Karns.

He shot you a look.

“I know, I know, I’m kidding,” you laughed. “But seriously. Now that we’re… acquaintances, we should go out to a bar sometime. Preferably one with a pool table.”

“That’d be cool, actually,” he said, smirking at you. “You’re pretty good.”

“What, at pool?”

He nodded. “I could probably still kick your ass, though.”

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

He stopped and turned to you. “Don’t objectify me.”

“What?” you asked, stopping next to him. “You know you’re gorgeous. You frequently use it to your advantage.” You marched on.

You smiled when you heard him mutter, “You are so confusing, woman.”

You walked for a few more minutes before your flashlight landed on a grave marked with that cross symbol from Taylor’s room. “Jackpot.”

You and Dean set to work exhuming Jacob’s corpse. Your back and shoulders ached more and more the deeper you dug. “How fucking far down is six feet?” you remarked breathlessly.

“I don’t know, but next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house,” he replied.

“Aw, you don’t wanna spend quality time with this cute girl?” you asked playfully.

He eyed you strangely with a lopsided smile.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing. You’re just funny,” he told you.

You smiled back and got back to digging. Your shovel finally hit the wooden box lying below. You broke through it to reveal his corpse. Or at least, what remained of it.

“Hello, preacher,” Dean said. He threw his shovel aside and helped you out of the hole you had dug. After he had climbed out, you poured salt and lighter fluid all over the bones.

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean threw a match down into the grave.

Your nose twisted up in disgust. “I will never get used to that smell.”

“What, burnt, hundred-year-old preacher? Me neither.”

You and Dean packed up and headed back to the car that was parked in the cemetery’s parking lot. Your body was exhausted.

“Um, weird question,” you started.

He turned to you and threw his shovel and duffel bag in the trunk.

“You think we could sleep in your car for a bit? I’m running on two days of no sleep.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It should all be over now and Sam should be layin’ it down with Lori.”

And so, you did. You stretched out over the backseat, and Dean laid down on the front. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you, and strangely, you no longer felt tired. You supposed it was the strangeness of the situation. You were now sharing a somewhat intimate moment with a man you despised just weeks prior. You weren’t quite sure where your relationship with Dean was heading, and that bothered you a bit.

“Dean?”

“Hm.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

***

Four hours of shut-eye later, you felt recharged. You awoke to the sound of Dean’s phone vibrating over which Sam told you to meet him at a hospital.

“Hospital? Why? Is he okay?” you asked Dean, climbing over the front seat to sit shotgun.

“I think so, but he said the reverend’s hurt.”

About fifteen minutes later, you were walking down a long corridor only to be stopped by two cops in wide-brimmed hats.

The sheriffs put a hand to Dean’s chest to stop him.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s my brother,” he explained. “Hey! Brother!” he called, waving dorkishly at Sam.

“Let them through.”

“Thanks.”

You and Dean began walking toward Sam, who met you in the middle.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” sighed Sam.

“What the hell happened?”

“Hook Man.”

You looked incredulous. “You saw him?”

“Damn right. Why didn’t you torch the bones?” Sam responded.

“We did,” you rebutted, confused. “You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?”

“It sure as hell looked like him,” Sam returned. “And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, duh, he wouldn’t send Hook Man after himself,” you remarked.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” He whispered that last part.

“Damn.” You gritted your teeth. “I could see how that could upset her.”

Sam nodded. “She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Ok, so she’s conflicted,” Dean chimed in. “And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?”

“Right,” the younger brother nodded. “Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.”

“Remind me not to piss this girl off,” Dean muttered. “But we burned those bones, buried them in salt, why didn’t that stop him?”

“We must’ve missed something,” you said.

“No, we burned everything in that coffin.”

“Did you get the hook?” Sam asked the two of you.

Realization struck you. “Fuck,” you grumbled. “No.”

“Why does that matter?” Dean asked.

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him,” Sam told him.

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.”

“So if we find the hook—”

The three of you finished Sam’s sentence in unison, grinning. “We stop the Hook Man.”

“Well, back to the drawing board,” you said as the three of you began walking away from the reverend’s hospital room.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Do you know where the hook is?” you raised your eyebrows at him.

He said nothing.

“Exactly,” you giggled.

***

Your next stop was the library for the second time this hunt. As much as you liked to read, obnoxious amounts of research was not your thing. Finally, you thought you’d found something. “Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary. ‘Karns, Jacob. Personal effects: disposition thereof.’ “

“Does it mention the hook?” Sam asked you.

“I don’t know. ‘Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church,’ “ you read aloud. “That’s where Lori’s dad preaches.”

“Where Lori lives, too?” Sam asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“Maybe that’s why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends’ daughters for the past two hundred years,” Dean added.

“Yeah, but I think someone would’ve noticed a blood-stained, silver-handled hook hangin’ around the church or Lori’s house.”

Dean pulled out another book and slapped it down in front of you. “Check the church records.”

Sam pulled the book to sit between the two of you. You and he flipped through pages upon pages of records before he found something. “ ‘St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.’ “ He sighed. “They melted it down. Made it into something else.”

“Goddammit,” you grumbled.

Later that night, you and the boys returned to St. Barnabas Church. Dean shouldered a duffel bag and began leading you to the church. Sam followed close behind.

“Alright, we can’t take any chances,” the older brother began. “Anything silver goes in the fire.”

“I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in,” Sam added.

“Okay, take your pick,” you told him.

“I’ll take the house,” Sam responded.

“Dean and I will take the church, then.”

“We will?” the older brother asked.

“Yup.”

You led Dean up to the church. He called back to his brother. “Hey. Stay out of her underwear drawer.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice and giggled.

You took the top floor of the church while Dean scoured the basement. The two of you, along with Sam, met up in the furnace room.

“I got everything that even looked silver,” Sam told you.

“Better safe than sorry,” Dean said.

Your head turned upward at the sound of footsteps. You could hear Dean taking his gun from his jacket as you grabbed yours.

“Move, move,” Dean told you quietly.

You crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. When you got back to the ground floor, you could see Lori hunched over, her shoulders shaking. You lowered your gun and lightly pushed Sam forward. He shot you a look, but headed over to Lori anyway. You and Dean went back downstairs to continue melting the silver.

“I feel for her,” you said quietly. “I know how much religion can fuck you up.” Silver clanked against the coals in the furnace as you spoke.

Dean turned his head to you. “You do?”

You nodded. “I’ve watched so many people go through crisis after crisis when their loved ones end up dead.”

“Me too,” he said earnestly. “Probably why I don’t pray.”

“Well, it’s a little difficult to believe in a higher power when all day, everyday is blood, guts, and monsters,” you remarked.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t know if I’ve met one religious hunter.”

“I have,” you said. “My mom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was somehow still convinced of ‘God’s plan.’ “

“Catholic?”

“Oh, very.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied playfully.

“Yeah, me too,” you smiled. “My dad wasn’t, but, uh, he had his… other issues.”

Before he could ask further questions, you heard commotion upstairs. It sounded like running heading toward the opposite side of the basement.

“C’mon,” Dean urged, sprinting out of the furnace room with his gun in hand. You followed closely behind. You could hear the breaking of boards and slamming of what you assumed were bodies that practically shook the walls that got louder as you got closer. Sam was maneuvering himself behind the Hook Man’s clunkily-moving apparition.

Dean gruffly called to his brother, “Sam, drop!”

His brother obeyed and Dean shot the Hook Man, who disappeared.

“I thought we got all the silver,” you said.

“So did I,” the older brother answered.

“Then why is he still here?” Sam’s voice was frantic.

“Well, maybe we missed something!”

You looked around and noticed Lori’s cross necklace. “Lori, where did you get that chain?”

“My father gave it to me,” she responded nervously.

“Where’d your dad get it?” Sam asked.

“He said it was a church heirloom,” she answered quickly. “He gave it to me when I started school.”

“Is it silver?!”

“Yes!”

Sam ripped the chain off her and threw it to you. You caught it with ease and went to start running back down the hall when the invisible Hook Man started dragging his hook along the wall.

You threw Sam your gun and started running down another corridor you hoped would bring you to the same destination. You could vaguely hear Dean say to his brother, “I’ll cover (Y/N), shoot anything that moves!” before you heard approaching quick footsteps behind you.

You sprinted down winding hallways and thankfully quickly made it to the furnace room. You threw the necklace into the fire and watched as it slowly began to melt. “C’mon, c’mon,” you muttered anxiously. It took longer than you would’ve liked, but the cross broke off the necklace and burned into ash. As soon as it did, you and Dean ran back to the latter’s brother to make sure the ghost was gone. Thankfully, he had, but Sam seemed injured. He was clutching his left shoulder and wincing.

You called the police to the scene and urged them to send an ambulance. They arrived in no time, and Sam was able to get his injury patched up.

“And you saw him, too?” A sheriff was asking you and writing in a notepad. “The man with the hook?”

“Yeah, we all saw him,” you responded. “We fought him off and then he ran.”

“And that’s all?” The sheriff was skeptical.

“Yes, sir.”

“Listen. You and those two boys—”

Dean came up behind you and answered for you. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.”

You laughed at his response. Sam and Lori talking near the ambulance caught your eye. You continued watching them in the rearview mirror once you’d gotten in the backseat of the car. Sam soon left Lori, who looked after him sadly, and stooped down into the car.

“We could stay,” Dean suggested.

You could tell Sam wanted to, but he shook his head. A deflated air had settled over the car, but you knew the younger Winchester wasn’t ready for anything yet. He’d been dating Jessica for a year and a half and had just lost her less than four months ago. You knew he needed more time. The best way you knew to comfort him was to wrap your hands around his shoulders gently, minding his injury, from your place in the backseat. He tensed for a moment, but allowed you to hug him nonetheless. He responded by holding your arm with his good hand. And for a moment, if you closed your eyes, it was almost like hugging Steven again.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee

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