#wingman jean

[wolf-saint]

I need someone to do intense research on how Kevin went from his exy obsessed, uptight fan caricature to all these down-bad, slutty iconic fanart, fics and memes.

[tasteless-lemonade]

as much as people joke about jean grey being homophobic i believe Weirdly Supportive Jean Grey is better, is funnier

jean going to pride parades with a big I LOVE MY GAY FRIEND sign while bobby is happy but slightly embarassed

someone makes a homophobic comment about bobby and jean gives them telepathic headache

you know these xmen pride special arts that look like pictures? jean is taking the pictures

is she trying to make up for outing bobby to himself? is she just enjoying bobby's reaction? who knows

[lou-is-lurking]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky Characters: Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin, Jean-Jacques Leroy, Background & Cameo Characters Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Drinking Games, Alcohol, Humor, Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Crack, Banter, Holding Hands, Kissing, Confessions, Matchmaker Jean-Jacques Leroy, Idiots in Love, In Vino Veritas Summary:

If it hadn't been for Otabek, Yuri would have ditched this shit-show after the appetizers. He still would have preferred to leave, but once they'd snatched some snacks and a bottle of vodka from the bar and found a somewhat secluded space to hang out, it was actually kinda nice. Until JJ showed up.

[writingdumpster]

secret wife

pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

warnings: none, all fluff

summary: When you go to pick up Bob at the base the dagger squad finds out that Bob's been keeping a wife from them.

word count: 1k

A/N: Thanks for 3k followers!

Bob pulled his phone out of his locker as the guys all piled into the locker room behind him. There was a text from you awaiting Bob. 

I’m waiting in the lobby for you. Don’t take too long. xoxo

“Did you guys see the hot girl in the lobby?” Coyote asked as he walked into the locker room. Bob smirked to himself as he started to take off his flight suit. 

“Who do you think she is?” Fanboy pondered. 

“I was gonna find out after we got changed,” Rooster said. 

“Don’t bother. Bet she’s a recruit’s girlfriend,” Payback suggested. 

“Who do you think?” Asked Hangman. 

“I don’t know,” Payback responded. “But I know what a woman in love looks like.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hangman teased Payback. 

“I’m married,” Payback pointed out. 

“So you tell us, but we’ve never seen your wife,” Rooster taunted. 

“Her picture is on my dash,” Payback said. 

“Could be anyone,” Fanboy joined in. 

“You’ve met her, Fanboy,” Payback said. 

“You can’t prove anything,” Fanboy teased. Bob was quietly enjoying the conversation as he grabbed the rest of his things. He slipped his bag over his shoulders and closed his locker. 

“See y’all tomorrow,” Bob said as he headed out to meet you in the lobby. When he rounded the corner his smile widened as you stood to greet him. You were wearing paint stained jeans and an old t-shirt that used to be Bob’s, but it had been years since that was true. It was yours now, just like he was. 

“You changed out of the flight suit,” you said forlornly when Bob walked up. 

“It was all sweaty, angel,” Bob told you.

“I wanted to take it off you though,” you whined. Bob gave you a cheeky grin. 

“You want me to put on the white uniform when I get home?” Bob offered. He leaned down and kissed you tenderly before you could answer. 

“The hot girl is your girlfriend?” Hangman practically shouted from behind Bob. He turned over his shoulder to see the whole squad watching the two of you. 

“Wife, actually,” Bob said. “Been meaning to introduce ya.” 

“You didn’t say you have a wife!” Phoenix exclaimed. 

“Didn’t come up,” Bob said. “We’ve only known each other for a month.” Everyone gawked at Bob, thinking a month was plenty of time to let your friends know you have a wife. 

“He likes to keep me protected from his work,” you piped in when Bob failed to explain himself. Bob wound his fingers between yours. He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

“What’s your name?” Phoenix asked. 

“Y/N,” you told her. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Phoenix murmured. You could hear in her voice that she felt betrayed by Bob. You knew he wouldn’t notice though. You wanted to stop him from hurting her more.

“I keep my ring on my dog tags,” Bob said, pulling them up from his shirt to prove it. 

“I thought it was your dad’s,” Phoenix told him. “You always talk about him.” 

“Bobby’s told me a lot about you,” you interjected. “I was hoping you would have dinner with us. I’d like to make the pilot who saved my Bobby a good meal.” Phoenix met your eye and you gave her a warm smile. She gave a tiny nod and smiled back. 

“I’d love to, ma’am,” Phoenix said. 

“I’m her wingman,” Rooster called. “Could say that I kept Bobby safe too.” Bob blushed brightly. 

“Payback and I were on the mission,” Fanboy said.

“I saved Bob’s wingman,” Hangman added. You looked up at Bob in question. 

“They know you’re the one who makes my lunches now,” Bob said. You giggled. You always made Bob his lunches. When he was deployed he didn’t get good home cooked meals, so you made sure he had them three times a day when he was home with you. 

“Well, some of you might have to sit on the couch, but I’d be happy to cook for my husband’s friends,” you said.  

“I can’t believe that baby on board has a wife and you don’t even have a girlfriend,” Hangman teased Rooster. 

“You don’t either,” Rooster spit back. 

“No woman can hold me down,” Hangman joked. 

“He’s the one your sister would like, right?” You asked, trying to keep your voice quiet. 

“You’ve got a sister?” Hangman called out. 

“Yeah,” Bob said. “And I’m quite sure she could hold you down if she wanted.” Hangman’s eyes widened. You chuckled. 

“You’re going to set him up with your sister?” Rooster complained. 

“That’s y/n’s scheme. She wants my sister to live near us,” Bob explained. 

“She’s funnier than you, Bobby,” you said. 

“You do spend a lot of time laughing at me together,” Bob teased. He didn’t really mind though. Everytime he had come home to find you and his sister in tears from laughing so hard it had made him even more sure that he’d chosen the right person to marry. 

“Well, when do I get to meet her?” Hangman asked, a wide smirk on his face. 

“I’ll have her come over for dinner with all of you,” you said. “Next Sunday at 6:00. Don’t be late,” you told them. Then you tugged on Bob’s hand, signaling you wanted to go home. 

“Bye, guys,” Bob said. “See ya in the morning.” With that he slung his arm around your shoulders and led you out of the base. 

“I can’t believe Bob didn’t tell us he has a wife,” Payback muttered. 

“I can’t believe Hangman’s the first choice for his sister,” Fanboy said. 

“Why not? You think Bob wants to be related to any of you?” Hangman asked proudly. Rooster snorted. 

“Yes. I would have thought he’d want any of us before you.”  

A/N: There is a part two of the dinner now available

[love-bitesx]

okay but imagine pavitr trying to play wingman for hobie to get with the reader and how funny/cute it would be

longer requests will be out this week, thank u all for the amazing support!! love you guys sm

: ̗̀➛ WINGMAN. hobie brown x reader headcanons

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

oh, he would be so annoying. in the best way.

you’d joined the spider society not long after the others, immediately clicking within the dynamic and it wasn’t uncommon for you all to just hang out in each others dimensions after a mission.

at first, hobie thought you’d simply peaked his interest because of your unspoken nature. constantly standing up for yourself and other spider people, putting people in their place if need be, just your general backbone intrigued him. you felt different to the others. that’s all he thought.

that was, until one afternoon, you were all packed into your apartment, music playing from the stereos and pavitr talking everybody’s ear off about god knows what. hobie had been silent for a while, no reason in particular, he’d been fiddling with the badges on his leather vest, in his own little world. well, until he felt a hand on his knee.

“hobie,” your voice was low, subtle, hanging just below the decibels of the melodies booming through the room, “are you alright? you’ve been quite quiet.”

“oh, uh,” he was taken aback, possibly by your hand that still lingered on his jeans, or how close he suddenly realised you were, seeing the soft details of your face and pigment in your cheeks for the first time, “yeah, no, i’m fine.” he cleared his throat.

smiling back at him, you took your hand away, moving back to get involved in the conversation again, not thinking much of it. regretfully, hobie looked up and saw pavitr staring at him, clearly having watched the ordeal and the excited smirk on his face told him that he’d definitely seen hobie flustered. he sighed.

after pavitr worked out that hobie had a thing for you, it was over for him.

he couldn’t even LOOK in your direction, without the shorter man hopping into his personal space, nudging him hard in the ribs, singing something about kissing in a tree.

constant comments about you to hobie

“y/n, i love your shirt! hobie, doesn’t it look so cool?”

“y/n! hobie told me to tell you he loves your shoes.”

“doesn’t y/n look sooo nice today! huh? hobie? what do you think?”

he was in hell, actually.

there was only so many "yeah, nice" he could say to you before he started to sound like a prick

on missions, he was insufferable

constantly making you guys work together somehow

“miguel, i think me and gwen work best as a team, don’t you think? y/n and hobie should do this one together”

swinging through the streets of whichever earth you were sent to, hearing distant yells of pavitr calling after you both “aren’t they cute together?!”

“good morning, hobie,” you grinned, sleep still evident in your voice as you wandered into the headquarters, beckoning to miguel’s very early morning mission call.

god, he was so thankful to have you alone for once. relief settled itself on his shoulders at the absence of his best friends’ watchful eye, happy to interact with you comfortably.

“mornin’,” he spoke, stretching his legs mindlessly out across the length of the desk, leaning back onto his arms, “how’d you sleep?”

“oh my god, i had the weirdest dream—” you begun, hopping up onto the adjoining surface, eyes lit up with passion as you ranted about the dream you had just resurfaced from.

he watched you the whole time, lips curling into a smile at the way you threw your hands around in the air as you spoke, reeling into every detail about your nonsensical experience. nodding every so often, he was almost enthralled by you – taking this peaceful moment as an advantage to see you properly. you were tired, sleep still evident in your eyes, hair a little chaotic in places, but the soft glow that it gave you made his heart skip.

he’d totally lost himself in speaking to you, listening to the excitement lacing your voice, that he didn’t realise other people had arrived.

well, until he felt a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“you guys are so cute together!” pavitr’s sing-song voice pierced hobie’s ears, shocked at the newcomers, “i saw the way you looked at them, loverboy.”

the nickname stuck

he’d been addressed more by “loverboy” than his own name, and his insides churned every single time

even gwen started calling him it, to which hobie would send a threatening glare

when you eventually did end up seeing each other, whether that be dating or other stuff, you both swore to keep it a secret

hobie refused to give pavitr the satisfaction of knowing he was right

so you would sneak around together, kissing in places you shouldn’t, stealing knowing glances in meetings, secret touches when no one was looking

he loved the risk of it all

but it was one afternoon, you’d both slipped away into an empty lab at the spider society headquarters, giggling to each other like kids as he dragged you into the vacant room

his hands were all over you, lips brushing whatever skin he could see, your arms slung around his neck as you kissed him

“did you lock the door?” you asked

“i thought you did.”

“OH. MY. GOD.” a third voice yelled.

you yelped, jumping away from hobie as a last ditch effort to maybe save some face

it was too late, pavitr stood there, mouth agape

hobie sighed, hanging his head

“GWEN! THEY DID IT!”

pavitr stepped back into the hallway and ran down towards where you’d both left them, his voice carrying through the metal walls

“LOVERBOY DID IT!”

you stood there, unsure whether if you just remained still, you could avoid whatever consequences you both faced

that was, until you felt hobie’s arm slide around your waist, pulling you back into him, an unintelligible look on his face

“we can’t keep it a secret anymore, i guess.” you spoke first, he let out a laugh

“i don’t think that’s such a bad thing,” he kissed you, softly.

a/n: hope this was okay!! currently got a bunch of requests in the works, so keep an eye out for more!!! also anymore headcanon ideas would be so fun!! thank u

[estellan0vella]

Strawberries And Heaven: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 9.8K

CW: Simp Jisung (he's down bad), wingman Minho, wingman SKZ, Minho being a menace (standard), mention of masturbation General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The corridor smells faintly of disinfectant and coffee, a mix of sterile campus life and caffeine dependency that permeates Miroh College. It's Thursday afternoon, and that means two things: Jisung has Criminal Psychology at 3:00 p.m., and he's about to see you. The one girl who somehow, against all odds, has managed to drag him to this godforsaken lecture hall every week without fail.

Jisung shifts the strap of his backpack, pulling his black beanie down a bit further as he turns to his left and sees Minho, his best friend and self-proclaimed emotional support stalker, walking along beside him. Minho glances at him, rolling his eyes as they weave through the crowd of students lingering in the halls.

"Are you sure you have to come?" Jisung mutters, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. "It's one class. I don't need babysitting."

Minho snorts, adjusting his own baggy jeans that hang over his black boots. "Are you kidding? I have to see this so-called 'angel' who's got you dragging your ass to a lecture you'd usually skip. You've actually gone soft, dude."

Jisung rolls his eyes, tugging his beanie lower to hide the faint blush that creeps up his neck. "Soft? Fuck you, man. You don't understand. I can't just talk to her."

"Oh, right. You're so experienced with, what was it, every other girl on campus, but when it's this one? You're hopeless. Just go up and introduce yourself. You're good at that. Aren't you the guy who once convinced a chick to lend you her psychology notes with a wink and a compliment?"

"Just tell me you want me to die of embarrassment," Jisung says flatly. "Look, it's different. She smells like strawberries and—" He waves his hand vaguely, struggling to find the right words. "I dunno, heaven?"

Minho stops dead in his tracks, eyebrows raised. "Strawberries and heaven? Jesus Christ, Jisung. You're in deep, aren't you?"

"Shut up," Jisung grumbles, leading them into the lecture hall and gesturing to the seats at the back. "Just keep it quiet, yeah? She's probably already here."

Minho follows, his grin almost wicked as he surveys the room from their vantage point in the back row. "I bet she's not here yet. Relax. You look like you're gonna puke."

"Thanks, man. Real encouraging," Jisung mutters, slumping down in his seat and folding his arms over his chest. His leg bounces slightly as he waits, eyeing the clock that ticks towards 3:00.

The door to the lecture hall creaks open, and just like that, you walk in, casually strolling to her usual seat two rows ahead.

Jisung freezes, his gaze locked on her as you move, the clinking sound of your silver rings faintly audible you brush a strand of hair back. You are wearing faded, low-rise mom jeans that fit you perfectly, a white camisole with lace hems, and a shell-shaped clip holding your hair up in a messy twist. And those hoop earrings, the big silver ones that seem to catch the light just right, make your whole look glow.

Minho follows Jisung's stare and lets out a low whistle. "Damn. So, this is her, huh? I'll give it to you. She's hot. Definitely too hot for you."

Jisung's elbow shoots out instinctively, landing in Minho's thigh with a satisfying thud.

"Ow, fuck! Jesus," Minho bites back a groan, clutching his leg as he glares at Jisung. "What the fuck, man?"

"Keep it down, jackass," Jisung mutters under his breath, trying not to draw attention. "You weren't even supposed to be here, remember? You're a vet major, go learn about cats or something."

Minho's laughter is barely muffled as he holds his leg. "Nah, you're not getting rid of me that easy. I need to see you crash and burn, maybe. Or, if you manage to pull this off, I get to witness a miracle."

"Don't you have a dog to neuter?" Jisung hisses, but Minho just grins and leans back, crossing his arms.

The professor begins setting up, shuffling through notes and connecting the laptop to the projector, while you settle in your seat. Jisung can barely breathe as your scent drifts back towards him. Strawberries. Damn it. Every time, it's like he's being hypnotized.

"See?" Jisung whispers, nudging Minho. "Strawberries and heaven. I swear."

Minho just smirks, leaning closer to Jisung. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. You're totally whipped. She hasn't even looked your way once, has she?"

Jisung slumps, his gaze locked onto the back of your head. The seashell clip is pearly and white, almost glowing against your hair. His leg starts bouncing again.

Minho shakes his head. "Dude, seriously, just say something. You're acting like she's a unicorn or some shit. She's just a girl."

"She's not just a girl," Jisung snaps quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You wouldn't get it, okay? Look at her. She's different."

"Different how?" Minho raises an eyebrow, still whispering. "She dresses like she's straight out of a 90s rom-com."

"Exactly!" Jisung says, eyes lighting up. "She's, like, a 90s dream. She's cool. And she's smart and beautiful. She's my 90s dream girl"

As if on cue, you shift slightly in your seat, glancing down at your notebook, fingers tracing over the page absently as you twist one of your rings.

"Look at her, man," Jisung breathes, sounding almost dazed. "She's right there."

Minho watches him, clearly unimpressed. "You're fucked."

"Thanks, Minho," Jisung mutters sarcastically, but he can't keep the nervous excitement out of his voice. "Look, can you just chill? I'm this close to getting her attention."

"By doing what, exactly?" Minho scoffs. "Staring at the back of her head and hoping she telepathically realizes you're in love with her?"

"Dude, shut up!" Jisung hisses, but his cheeks flush, and he slinks down in his seat, trying to keep a low profile. He watches as you tap your pen absently against your notebook, seemingly unaware of the small, stifled chaos unfolding behind you.

"Right," Minho mutters, trying to keep a straight face. "When you're done writing sonnets about her scent and staring at her hair clip, let me know if you plan on actually talking to her."

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up," Jisung grumbles, but his eyes flick back to you, lingering.

Minho glances at Jisung, a mischievous glint in his eye, and without warning, snatches Jisung's pencil case from the desk, stuffing it into his own bag before Jisung can react.

"Dude, what the—" Jisung starts, reaching to grab it back, but Minho holds up a finger, silencing him.

"Trust me, you'll thank me later," Minho whispers, leaning forward until he's right behind you.

With a quick tap on your shoulder, he flashes you his most charming smile as you turn around, your expression polite albeit a little surprised.

"Hi," Minho says smoothly, "Sorry to bother you, but my dumbass friend here totally forgot his pens and stuff. You wouldn't happen to have a couple to lend us, would you?"

You blink at Minho, then at Jisung, who's sitting with a wide-eyed, slightly mortified look, glaring daggers at his so-called friend.

But you're unfazed, a warm smile spreading across your face as you nod. "Oh, yeah, sure! Here." You dig into your bag and pull out two pens, holding them out to Minho with a little laugh. "Good thing I always over-pack."

Minho takes the pens with a wink. "Now, aren't you just the sweetest?" He flashes another grin. "I'm Minho, by the way. And you are?"

"Y/N," you say, a soft smile playing on your lips. You turn back in your seat but hesitate, glancing back at Minho with a curious look. "I don't think I've seen you in here before."

Minho leans back, adopting an air of nonchalance. "That's 'cause I'm just auditing today. Thought I'd check out what my good buddy here's been raving about." He gestures towards Jisung, who's trying to look anywhere but at you. "I'm minoring in animal behaviour, and apparently, you're discussing the nature versus nurture argument today? I figured I'd see how you forensic folks tackle it compared to my animal kingdom friends."

You nod, genuinely interested. "Yeah, today's lecture is about the developmental aspects of criminal psychology. It's fascinating, really. Some parts overlap with animal behaviour when you consider instinctual behaviours. It's cool to see how psychology adapts across disciplines."

"Right?" Minho nods enthusiastically, playing it up. "But my good buddy here," he places a firm hand on Jisung's shoulder, and Jisung finally meets your eyes, looking equal parts shy and frustrated. "This is Jisung. The one who seems to have forgotten basic lecture etiquette and all his own pens."

You turn to Jisung, your smile soft. "I know. We've had this class together since the start of the semester."

Jisung's eyes widen. "You know?"

You nod, pointing subtly at the front of his notebook, where his name is scrawled in black ink. "Yeah, your name's on your notebook. Hard to miss, honestly."

Jisung's cheeks redden, and Minho has to press his lips together to keep from laughing at his friend's reaction. He shoots Jisung a sidelong glance, a smirk dancing on his face.

Turning back around, you give a small smile, "Anyway, enjoy the lecture, guys."

As soon as you're facing forward, Minho leans in close to Jisung, whispering, "She's acknowledged your existence, man. You're welcome."

Jisung clenches his fists, shooting a fierce glare at Minho before delivering a swift punch to his thigh, harder than before.

"Fuck!" Minho barely contains his yelp, face contorting in pain as he clutches his leg. "Dude, what the fuck?"

"Keep your voice down," Jisung mutters, his face still flushed. "And don't ever pull something like that again, you asshole."

Minho smirks through the pain, rubbing his leg. "Oh, come on. You should be thanking me. You didn't exactly look like you had the guts to make a move yourself."

"I don't need you meddling, okay?" Jisung hisses. He glances at you again, a bit more emboldened now, seeing you jotting notes, completely absorbed in the lecture. He feels a weird thrill knowing that you know who he is. That you remember his name. She knows my name, he repeats in his head, almost in disbelief.

"Sure, you don't need me," Minho mutters under his breath, chuckling. "That's why you've been stalking her with your eyes for the past few months like some lovesick puppy. Face it, dude, you're completely whipped."

"Shut up before I give you another dead leg," Jisung warns, his gaze shifting nervously as you turn your head ever so slightly to stretch, your face calm and focused. He's both relieved and mildly disappointed you didn't catch him staring.

Minho just leans back, folding his arms smugly as the professor starts the lecture, his voice booming through the hall. Jisung tries his best to pay attention, but his eyes keep flicking back to you, noting the small details. How you twirl the pen absentmindedly between your fingers, how your silver rings catch the light, how you bite the inside of your cheek when you're deep in thought.

He's completely lost in his thoughts, only halfway aware of Minho smirking beside him, until the professor's voice jolts him back to reality.

"Mr. Han," the professor calls, eyebrow raised, and Jisung snaps to attention, his heart hammering. "Care to share your thoughts on the influence of early attachment theory in criminal psychology?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, of course." He clears his throat, scrambling for words while he can practically feel Minho's eyes burning into the side of his face. "Well, uh, early attachment theory basically suggests that the bonds formed in childhood can affect...um, behaviour patterns later in life. So, if there's a, uh, lack of healthy attachment early on, it can potentially influence-"

"Very insightful, Mr. Han," the professor interrupts, looking somewhat surprised. "It's encouraging to see you're paying attention."

Jisung sinks down in his seat, feeling Minho's barely restrained laughter beside him.

Minho leans over, whispering, "Congrats, you managed to bullshit your way through that without sounding like a total idiot."

"Thanks for nothing," Jisung mutters, hoping he can make it through the rest of the lecture without any more mortifying incidents. But then he catches you glancing over your shoulder, a hint of a smile on your lips, and he has to look away quickly to hide the stupid grin spreading across his face.

Minho nudges him, not missing a thing. "See? She's looking at you, dude. Progress."

That night in Jisung's room at the Alpha Phi frat house is filled with the flashing lights of Mario Kart on the TV and the sounds of brutal competition. Jisung's focused, leaning forward, button-mashing like his life depends on it, but Minho? Minho's lounging back, one hand on his controller, barely trying.

Jisung's character hits a banana peel, spinning out on the screen. "Oh, for fuck's sake! This stupid fucking game!"

Minho laughs, glancing over with a smirk. "You're terrible at this, dude."

"Shut up. You distracted me!" Jisung grumbles, tossing the controller on the bed beside him. "You're one of those lucky players. No skill, all luck."

"Uh-huh," Minho says, scooting to the edge of the bed and looking over at Jisung. "But I think we've got more important shit to talk about."

"Do we?" Jisung eyes him suspiciously. "'Cause I'd rather just forget the disaster that was today's lecture and how you spoke to her more than I did."

"Yeah, no, we're not forgetting it. Actually," Minho says, setting his controller down, "we're making a plan. You need an action plan, and I'm gonna help you."

Jisung raises an eyebrow, almost laughing at the audacity. "You're going to help me?"

Minho grins, sitting up and nodding, deadly serious. "Yep. What kind of best friend would I be if I let my friend sit around pining like some tragic little Shakespeare character? You, my friend, need a strategy."

"Strategy," Jisung repeats the word as though it's foreign like Minho just told him to build a rocket to the moon. "You realize that I have no idea what I'm doing here, right?"

"Exactly! You are amazing with women for casual hook ups but genuine feelings? You are useless. That's why you have me," Minho says, crossing his arms. "I've got a plan."

"Oh, you have a plan?" Jisung sits up, eyebrows raised. "You're really taking this seriously, aren't you?"

Minho scoffs. "If by seriously, you mean I'm not gonna let my friend completely fuck it up, then yes."

"Right," Jisung mutters, rolling his eyes. "And what is this master plan, Minho?"

"Oh, no, no," Minho says with a smirk, wagging a finger. "I'm not telling you what it is just yet."

Jisung sighs, flopping back on his bed. "Great. So I'm supposed to just sit here and trust you?"

"Absolutely," Minho says, smug. "But don't worry. I'm not a complete asshole. I want my confident, borderline cocky best friend back. You're like this-" He gestures vaguely at Jisung like he's pointing at some hopeless little creature. "Weird, hopeless romantic now."

Jisung grabs a pillow and flings it at Minho, who dodges with a laugh. "It's not my fault, okay? You saw her. She's- She's unreal."

Minho raises his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. And hey, I'm all for it if it means getting you out of this sad sack of shit phase. If I have to help you woo a girl who dresses like she's in the Spice Girls, then that's what I have to do."

Jisung pauses, frowning. "Spice Girls? Nah, she's more of a Sugababe"

Minho rolls his eyes, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Do you want my help or not?"

"Yes, I do," Jisung says, almost begrudgingly. "I need it, obviously."

"Then she's a Spice Girl," Minho declares with finality, earning a reluctant laugh from Jisung.

"Fine, Spice Girl," Jisung mutters, rolling his eyes. "But seriously, you better not fuck this up for me. I'm trusting you, which feels like a massive mistake."

"Hey," Minho says, raising a finger, his tone mockingly offended, "when have I ever let you down?"

Jisung snorts. "Need I remind you of the infamous barbecue incident?"

Minho waves his hand dismissively. "That was different. And technically, you were the one who set the grill on fire."

"You handed me lighter fluid, you idiot!" Jisung argues, laughing despite himself.

"Okay, but that was in the past," Minho says, grinning. "This is the present, my dude. And I'm telling you, I've got this. We're going to break you out of your sad little funk, and you're gonna have that confident Han Jisung swagger back in no time."

Jisung flops back against the bed, sighing deeply. "You think it's really that easy?"

"Trust me," Minho says, his smirk turning into something more genuine. "It's easier than you think. Plus, it's you. You're funny as hell, weirdly charming, objectively hot, and at least on the same planet as her intellectually. She's got no chance."

Jisung rolls his eyes, but he's grinning now. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm basically irresistible."

"Exactly," Minho says with a satisfied nod. "But seriously, dude. I'm not letting you mess this up. It's gonna be fine."

Jisung's grin fades just a bit, a hint of nerves creeping back in. "I just- I don't know, man. I've never felt this way about anyone before. She's just different."

"Of course, she is," Minho says, his tone a little softer. "And that's why you're gonna let me help you. Tomorrow's a new day, Jisung. In no time, we'll get you in front of her without you sounding like a total fucking loser. And trust me, you're gonna thank me."

Jisung rolls his eyes but feels a sense of relief he hasn't felt since this whole crush started. "Yeah, yeah. Just remember, no fuck ups, Minho. I'm trusting you with this."

Minho grins, reaching for the controllers. "Just leave it to me. Now, shut up and get ready to lose again."

It's one of those brisk fall days on campus where the chill in the air contrasts with the bright sun, casting golden light on the trees scattered across Miroh College. You're strolling across the courtyard, books clutched to your chest, barely paying attention to the buzz of students around you.

"Y/N!" someone calls out.

You turn, mildly surprised, to see Minho weaving through the crowd, jogging to catch up. He's got a cocky half-smile plastered on his face, and he's holding something in his hand. As he comes to a stop in front of you, slightly out of breath but still looking annoyingly composed, he holds out his hand, revealing the pen you lent him in class the other week.

"Here," he says, grinning as he offers it back to you. "Didn't think I was actually gonna keep it, did you?"

You laugh, tucking the pen into your trouser pocket. "Honestly? I kind of figured you'd forgotten about it. But thanks." You give him a curious look, noting the way he's standing there as if he has more to say.

He clears his throat, a little too casually. "So, are you free right now?"

"Yeah, I don't have another class for a bit," you say, shifting your books in your arms. "Why?"

Minho shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels like he's considering something. "Wanna grab a coffee at the cafe? I could use some advice about a girl, and you seem like the kind of person who knows what to say and gives good advice."

You raise an eyebrow, surprised. "Me? Giving relationship advice?"

"Yeah, I know," Minho laughs, "but trust me, you're more qualified than anyone else I know. Plus, I'm a little desperate and a female perspective will be really helpful. Power of the female gaze and all that"

You can't help but laugh. "Alright, alright. I'm in. Let's go."

The campus cafe is buzzing with the usual lunchtime crowd, and you slip into a booth by the window, tucking your books beside you. As you settle in, Minho sets his bag down, glancing toward the counter. "I'll get our drinks," he says, grinning before heading up to order.

You're only half-watching him until you notice the guy working behind the counter. Jisung, from your Criminal Psychology class. He spots you almost instantly, and his eyes go comically wide, like he's just seen a ghost, or worse. 

Minho sees Jisung's reaction immediately and, with a grin, flashes him a big thumbs up, clearly enjoying the situation. Jisung's expression shifts to something closer to horror, his gaze flicking from Minho to you, then back again as Minho approaches the counter.

"Relax, dude," Minho mutters when he reaches Jisung. "An iced americano for me and a caramel latte for the lady."

Jisung crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at Minho. "I swear, if this is some elaborate plan to fuck with me, I am going to spit in your coffee. Like big time spit, obnoxious amounts that shouldn't be humanly possible"

Minho smirks, leaning on the counter like he's sharing some big secret. "Ooh, I like a little danger. But seriously, I am wingmanning you right now, so maybe hold the bodily fluids?"

Jisung rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but the relief on his face is evident. "Fine. But what's your big plan? Don't tell me you're just-"

"Listen, man," Minho interrupts, lowering his voice and casting a quick glance back at you, who's busy scrolling on your phone. "I'm gonna ask her for advice. Tell her I like this girl in my vet class and don't know how to talk to her, and the girl barely knows my name."

Jisung frowns, processing that. "But that's exactly- Oh, I get it now!" he says, realization dawning on him. "You're trying to figure out what I should do, aren't you?"

Minho gives him a look, exasperated. "Obviously. You think I'd drag her here just for the hell of it? Now, chill. Act natural and I will get your answers"

Jisung lets out a small, relieved sigh, finally grinning. "I'm not gonna lie, this is actually kinda genius."

Minho leans in closer, tapping the counter with a smug smile. "I know. I'm the best friend you could ever wish for. A blessing, really. You wouldn't live without me, well you'd live in the sad little turtle shell you duck into each time you see her"

Jisung smirks, grabbing the drinks and sliding them onto the counter. "Yeah, yeah. I still might spit in your drink."

Minho winks, grabbing the coffees with a smirk. "Do your worst."

He heads back over to the booth, setting your caramel latte in front of you as he slides into the seat across from you, his iced americano in hand. You offer a small, grateful smile as you stir your latte.

"So," you say, taking a sip. "What's going on with this girl?"

Minho sighs dramatically, leaning back and shaking his head like he's in over his head. "Alright, so there's this girl in my vet class. She's cute, no stunning, way too smart, and honestly, I feel like I barely exist to her."

You smile, nodding. "So, like, what's the problem? You're outgoing, funny, objectively good looking with the whole red hair, football frat thing. can't you just introduce yourself?"

"See, I thought of that," Minho says, playing up the thoughtful expression. "But she's, like, different, you know? Not the type who falls for my usual charm."

You laugh. "Oh, really? And what makes her different?"

"She's actually serious about her studies. And she's, like gentle and kind?" Minho looks at you, brows raised as if for confirmation. "Kinda like you. I feel like I'd come off like an idiot trying to get her attention."

You sip your coffee thoughtfully, thinking it over. "I think maybe just be yourself, then? Like, you don't have to be all charming or witty. Sometimes people respond better to honesty."

Minho nods, his expression almost sincere as he takes in your words. "That's actually good advice. So, just like come out with it? Just be like, 'Hey, I'm Minho, and I think you're cute'?"

You smile, shrugging. "Why not? I mean, sure, it's direct, but if she doesn't know you that well, she might appreciate that. People can usually tell when someone's being genuine."

Minho glances at the counter where Jisung's watching like a hawk, pretending to be busy cleaning the espresso machine. Minho subtly raises his eyebrows at him, as if to say, See? This is gold.

Jisung gives him a tiny nod, barely hiding his smile. From his station behind the counter, he watches as you talk, clearly engaged, your whole demeanour warm and relaxed. He doesn't know how Minho pulled this off, but for the first time in weeks, he feels like he might actually have a chance.

Meanwhile, Minho leans in closer, lowering his voice. "Okay, but what if she thinks I'm too much of a goof? Like, if she sees me as some obnoxious frat guy?"

You wave off his concern. "I don't know her, but if she's smart, she'll see past that. Besides, being a little goofy isn't the worst thing. Just don't go overboard, you know?"

Minho nods thoughtfully, leaning back as if he's deep in contemplation. "Yeah, yeah, keep it cool. Show her I'm not just some frat asshole."

You laugh, taking another sip. "Exactly. Just be Minho, not whatever character you're usually playing."

Minho raises his iced americano in a mock toast. "To being myself," he says with a grin. You laugh, clinking your coffee cup with his, and he makes a mental note to remember every word you just said so he can relay it to Jisung later.

The last slide of the lecture fades from the projector, and the usual rustling of notebooks and bags fills the room as everyone begins packing up. You're sliding your textbook and notes into your tote bag, ready to head out, when you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You turn, surprised, and there he is. 

Jisung wearing an easy smile and an outfit that's surprisingly layered, intentional and kind of hot: black trousers, combat boots, a long-sleeve blue t-shirt beneath a grey graphic tee, and a cream-coloured cap, chains around his neck catching the light.

For a second, you're caught off guard; usually, you only ever catch a glimpse of him as he slips into a seat at the back just as the lecture's starting, often a little flustered. But today, he's right here, all grins and casual confidence.

"Hey," he says, his voice warm as he shoves his hands into his pockets. "So, that lecture was something, right?"

You nod, smiling back. "Yeah, Professor Kim really went in on the whole behavioural implications of early attachment theory thing. Like, there was no mercy."

Jisung lets out a small laugh. "Seriously, I thought he was going to lose it when that one guy asked if criminal behaviour could be 'genetically contagious.' Like, holy shit, man, read the room."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Oh my god, right? I was ready to crawl under the desk."

"Same," Jisung chuckles, relaxing a bit. He remembers Minho's words from earlier in the week: Just be yourself. And he tries to keep that in mind, despite the slight nervousness bubbling under the surface.

"So, you're, uh, you're always on top of the reading, huh?" he asks, trying to keep it light as he leans back casually against the desk beside yours. "I feel like you could practically teach this class."

You shrug, shoving your last notebook into your bag and giving him a friendly smile. "Yeah, maybe. I just find it interesting, you know? All the psychology behind why people do what they do. It's fascinating to think there are patterns to it, stuff you can study and predict."

"Totally," Jisung says, nodding as if he completely gets it, even though half the time he's barely keeping up. "I mean, it's kinda cool to think that there's a method to what seems like total chaos."

"Exactly!" you say, your eyes lighting up as you lean against the desk, looking at him with genuine interest. "It's like unlocking mysteries in people's minds. Or at least trying to, anyway."

Jisung grins, a little taken aback by how animated you are. He's seen you in class, obviously, but seeing you like this, so close, he feels like he's getting a rare glimpse of who you actually are. And, damn, it's even better than he'd expected.

"I never thought of it that way," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I usually just think, 'Okay, study this, survive, move on.' But it sounds way cooler when you put it like that. Makes me actually want to put an effort in to studying"

You laugh, looking down as you swing your bag over your shoulder. "You know, surviving is honestly a valid approach. Sometimes, I feel like I'm just trying to get through the day without having a mental breakdown."

Jisung chuckles, nodding. "Can't argue with that. But hey, you seem like you've got it all figured out."

You give him a playful look. "Trust me, it's all an act. Half the time, I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Same here," he says, feeling a rush of relief. "I thought I was the only one faking it."

You smile, shaking your head. "Nope. We're all just stumbling our way through. Story of student life I suppose"

Jisung's eyes linger on you for a second longer than he means to, and he suddenly remembers Minho's advice to keep things relaxed but confident. "Well, maybe if I can get some of that magic stumbling hiding confidence you've got, I might actually make it to the end of the semester without flunking out."

You raise an eyebrow, amused. "Oh yeah? I'll let you in on a secret, it's just caffeine and pretending I understand what's going on."

Jisung laughs, nodding in understanding. "Noted. I'll double up on the caffeine, then."

You grin, your gaze softening. "Good plan."

After a beat, you glance at the clock. "Anyway, I should probably get going. Got another class in, like, ten minutes, and I'm already halfway across campus from it."

"Right, yeah," Jisung says, moving back a step to let you pass. "Well, thanks for not minding me, uh, ambushing you like that."

"Not at all, it was nice talking to someone who actually listens in the lectures," you say, smiling warmly. "See you next week, Jisung."

You turn and head for the door, giving him a little wave before you slip out. Jisung watches you go, feeling an unexpected rush of adrenaline, and once you're gone, he lets out a long breath, barely containing the wide grin spreading across his face.

He can still hear Minho's voice in his head, saying, Just be yourself. And, for once, that had felt like it was enough.

Jisung practically kicks Minho's door open as he barrels into the room, eyes lit up with excitement. But his enthusiasm stumbles as he takes in the scene.

"Jisung, are you serious?!" Minho exclaims, glaring at him. "You just killed my mood! I was about to bust, man!"

Jisung rolls his eyes, unbothered, crossing his arms. "Yeah, whatever, sorry for ruining your little wank session, but, like terrible porn choice, by the way. Boring as hell."

Minho flips him off as he grabs his underwear, tugging them back up with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, fine. So what the hell is so important that you've gotta bust down my door like you're the cops?"

Jisung's face breaks into a wide grin. "Dude. She spoke to me. We had an actual conversation! I spoke to her. Like, a real conversation."

Minho stares at him, caught between disbelief and amusement as he pulls his headphones off, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "No shit?" he says, still looking slightly dazed from Jisung's interruption.

"Yeah, no shit," Jisung says, almost bouncing in place.

Minho smirks, his eyes narrowing as he looks Jisung up and down. "Wait, is that why you put actual effort into your outfit today? And the hair, too? By 'styled,' of course, I mean just putting a cap on that mop."

Jisung grins, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, yeah, maybe I tried a little. But, dude, it worked!"

Minho snickers. "So you finally did it, huh? Had a full conversation with her?"

Jisung nods enthusiastically. "Hell yeah, we did! We talked about the lecture, and, like, I don't know, she was so easy to talk to and she said it was nice talking to me, like she wasn't even weirded out that I started talking to her. It felt so normal?"

Minho raises an eyebrow. "Alright, so now what?"

Jisung blinks, his excitement faltering for a second. "What do you mean, now what? I don't know. Help me?"

Minho sighs, shaking his head as he stands up. "How are you so useless with this? Okay, genius idea, invite her to the next game."

Jisung's face lights up again. "Oh, shit. Yeah! I'll invite her to the game, get her there cheering us on..."

"Exactly, dumbass. I'll help you score a touchdown or two, and you'll look like a total beast. Win-win." Minho smirks, clearly pleased with his own idea.

"Dude, you're the best," Jisung says, grinning. "I'll totally owe you one for this."

Minho claps his hand on Jisung's shoulder, a smug grin on his face. Jisung instantly recoils, cringing. "Ew! That's your dick hand!"

Minho laughs, slapping him harder on the back for good measure. "Hey, that's what you get for ruining my nut, you absolute menace."

Jisung groans, wiping his shoulder with exaggerated disgust. "This is why people lock doors, Minho."

"Oh, like you've ever knocked once in your life," Minho retorts, rolling his eyes. "But wait. You got so far today, and you don't even have a way to reach her? A number? Instagram?"

Jisung's face falls, and he slumps onto Minho's bed with a defeated sigh. "Nope. I didn't even think of it until now."

Minho throws his hands up, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Useless. You're actually useless. This is going to take so much more work than I thought."

"Hey!" Jisung protests, but he's laughing now, leaning back on the bed with a sigh. "Alright, alright, I'll figure it out. You're right, though, I'll need her number. Any genius ideas?"

Minho shakes his head with a dramatic sigh. "Good thing you've got me. I'll brainstorm. But seriously, you better not screw this up."

"You'll help me if I do right?"

"After laughing in your face obviously,"

The sun's dipping low, casting a warm golden glow over the field as Chan has the football team running drills. Again. The guys are panting, practically dying under Chan's merciless watch, their bodies burning from the gruelling set of push-ups, burpees, and sprints he's making them do. Even Jisung, who usually manages to keep his energy up, is starting to feel like his limbs are made of lead.

But as he glances over toward the college track, he spots you jogging, a look of relaxed determination on your face as you breeze through each lap. It's ridiculous. You look like you're gliding effortlessly, not a bead of sweat in sight, while the team grunts and groans with exhaustion.

Minho notices Jisung's gaze drifting. He elbows him, nodding over toward you. "Isn't that your dream '90s girl over there?"

Jisung's attention snaps back, his face flushing as he realizes Minho and the rest of the guys nearby are watching him.

Chan and the others follow Minho's gaze, squinting across the track. You're in a pair of low-rise sweatpants that sit comfortably on your hips, paired with a cropped white camisole with a lace trim, and white sneakers.

Your hair's pinned up in that familiar seashell claw clip, a few strands falling loose around your face. It's the kind of look that would have looked right at home in an old music video, and it's like you walked out of a '90s dream.

"Damn, she doesn't look tired at all," Changbin mutters, still trying to catch his breath from Chan's never-ending drills.

"She's putting us all to shame," Jeongin says, half-laughing, half-wheezing. "How is she just breezing through those laps?"

Seungmin glances at Jisung with a smirk. "Wait, don't tell me you're struggling to talk to her?"

Minho nods with a heavy, dramatic sigh. "It's actually hurting my soul, and I didn't even know I had one of those."

Felix raises his eyebrows, laughing. "Revolving door of women Han Jisung can't talk to a girl? Are we in an alternate universe?"

Jisung rolls his eyes. "Oh, please. You guys are being so dramatic."

"Hey, it's not every day that the great Han Jisung meets his match," Chan teases, wiping sweat from his brow. "Honestly though, Minho, we all doubted you had a soul."

"Thanks, Chan, that's what I go for," Minho says with a smirk. "But yeah, Jisung, now's your chance. Go ask her for her number. And invite her to the game while you're at it."

Jisung looks horrified, glancing down at his sweaty clothes and feeling his hair matted from sweat. "Right now? While I'm covered in sweat?"

"Yes," Minho says, his voice firm. "There's no time like the present. You're gonna overthink it if you wait."

Seungmin chimes in with an encouraging nod, his tone mocking. "Go on, man. Ask her out. Don't worry, you can do it. Maybe."

"Shut up," Jisung grumbles, but he can feel the nervous energy building.

Felix elbows him playfully. "C'mon, this is a moment for the history books. Don't chicken out."

With a mischievous look, Minho cups his hands around his mouth, ignoring Jisung's wide-eyed stare. "Yo, Y/N! Come join us!"

You pause, looking over toward the group with a curious expression as you pull one of your earbuds out. After a moment of hesitation, you jog over, slowing to a walk as you approach the crowd of sweaty football players.

"Hey," you greet, giving a small smile as you reach them, taking in the group with an amused look. "You guys look like you're in hell."

"You don't know the half of it," Changbin groans, leaning over to catch his breath. "I think Chan's trying to kill us."

Chan just smirks. "That's how you get a winning team, my friend." Chan's eyes flicker to the Walkman clipped to your waistband, and Chan's face lights up with sudden recognition. "Hold on, is that a real Walkman?"

You smile, nodding. "Yep, authentic. Found it in a thrift shop, and it still works perfectly."

"That's insane," Chan says, sounding genuinely impressed. "I haven't seen one of those in, like, forever."

Jisung takes a deep breath, gathering his courage, and steps forward with a lopsided grin. "Hey, so, uh, we have a game coming up this Saturday," he says, his voice surprisingly steady despite the nervous excitement bubbling in his chest. "I thought maybe, if you're free, you could come by? Cheer us on?"

You tilt your head, clearly considering it as you give him a warm smile. "Yeah, I think I'd like that. It sounds fun."

Jisung's grin widens, the relief flooding through him as you agree. "Awesome, yeah. We'll- we'll definitely put on a good show."

Minho raises an eyebrow, smirking at Jisung's wide grin. "Oh, he's gonna be putting on a show, alright."

Chan lets out a small laugh, nodding approvingly. "Better make it a good one, Jisung."

You glance at the group, laughing softly at the way they're all watching Jisung, clearly amused and intrigued by the whole interaction. "Well, good luck with the rest of practice, guys. Hope you survive it."

"Thanks, Y/N," Jisung says, almost too eagerly. 

The team watches as you jog over to the bleachers, earbuds back in and totally oblivious to the chaos unfolding behind you. Minho's gaze follows you for a second before he turns on Jisung and slaps him upside the head.

"Ow!" Jisung yelps, rubbing the back of his head. "Dude, I asked her to the game! What the hell was that for?"

Minho sighs, looking at him like he's the densest person on the planet. "You didn't ask for her number, you idiot!"

"Oh. Shit."

Chan crosses his arms and nods towards the bleachers. "Alright, well, go ask her now! What are you waiting for?"

"Right!" Jisung says, almost tripping over himself as he prepares to take off, only to freeze in place, still staring at the bleachers as if they're a hundred miles away.

Changbin squints at him, an amused smirk on his face. "Uh, Jisung, you haven't moved."

Jisung blinks, nodding. "I'm going!" But he's still firmly rooted to the spot.

Hyunjin snorts, crossing his arms. "You still haven't moved, man. It's like you're glued to the grass or something."

Minho lets out an exaggerated sigh, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. "There it is again, this pain in the soul I didn't know I had. Honestly, Jisung, you're killing me."

Felix and Jeongin, watching with growing impatience, exchange a glance before stepping forward and shoving Jisung forward with a well-placed push. Caught off guard, he stumbles but quickly regains his footing, shooting them a quick glare before he jogs over to you.

By now, you're sitting on the bleachers, scrolling through your phone, clearly enjoying the peace. When Jisung stops in front of you, a little breathless, you glance up with a curious smile, taking out an earbud.

"Hey! Back already?" you ask, giving him an amused look. "Did Chan finally cut you guys a break?"

Jisung scratches the back of his neck, feeling his usual bravado abandon him in the face of your calm, easy smile. "Uh not quite," he says, mentally cursing himself for how awkward he feels. "But, um, I just realized about the game on Saturday. I could, you know, send you details if you wanted them."

You raise an eyebrow, nodding. "Oh, yeah, that'd be great."

"Right. So, uh, could I maybe have your number?" He's practically holding his breath, his pulse racing, but he tries to play it cool. "You know, as a friend, for game details and stuff."

"Of course!" you say, nodding. You reach into your bag and pull out a pen, scribbling your number on a small slip of paper before handing it to him. "Here you go. Just text me when and where, and I'll be there."

Jisung takes the paper, feeling a ridiculous amount of triumph as he clutches it like it's some sacred artefact. "Awesome. Thanks!"

You smile, tucking your earbuds back in. "No problem. Good luck with the rest of practice!"

As you jog off, Jisung watches you for a second, still gripping the slip of paper before he turns and heads back to the field.

The guys are all watching him expectantly as he approaches, Minho crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. "Well? How'd it go?"

Jisung waves the piece of paper triumphantly. "I got her number!"

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, noting the look on Jisung's face. "But...?"

Jisung sighs, the realization settling in as he slumps slightly. "I friend zoned myself."

The entire team lets out a collective groan, most of them doubling over with laughter or shaking their heads in disbelief.

"What is wrong with you?" Minho says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Are you trying to sabotage yourself, or what?"

Jisung rubs his temples, feeling his frustration build. "I don't know, man! Usually, I can get a girl's number and have her in my bed in, like, ten minutes. It's like all my usual shit just falls apart when I'm around her."

Hyunjin laughs, patting him on the back. "Maybe that's a sign, genius. Try being, I don't know yourself?"

Chan snorts, crossing his arms. "This is a first. Han Jisung, a bumbling self friend zoning mess"

Jisung huffs, rolling his eyes. "Thanks for the support, guys."

Felix grins, his voice softening. "Come on, man. Just be real with her. No more overthinking. Invite her to the game, hang out, just chill. Don't overcomplicate it."

Minho shakes his head, laughing. "Right. We'll do the complicated part on the field. Just focus on not friend zoning yourself again, okay?"

Jisung lets out a reluctant laugh, tucking the slip of paper safely into his pocket. "Fine, fine. No more overthinking. Just keep it simple."

The team exchanges looks, clearly sceptical but amused, as Chan whistles to get them back on task. "Alright, lovebirds, enough about the romance stuff. Back to drills. Let's go!"

With one last glance toward the bleachers where you'd been sitting, Jisung feels a rush of determination. Saturday can't come soon enough.

The stadium lights blaze down on the field, casting a glow across the crowd and players as Miroh College's football team, the Miroh Maniacs, prepare for the big game.

Jisung stands at the edge of the field, scanning the bleachers with anxious eyes, trying to spot you among the scattered faces. But the stands are filled with students, and it's impossible to find anyone, let alone the person he's been looking forward to seeing all week.

He huffs, scuffing his cleats into the grass, feeling his chest tighten. "She didn't come," he mutters, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Minho, standing beside him in full gear, gives him a sympathetic look and a heavy pat on the back. "Damn, man. That's rough. But hey, maybe she got caught up or something. Doesn't mean she didn't want to come."

Jisung lets out a sigh, folding his arms. "Yeah, maybe. Still feels like shit, though."

As the game begins, Jisung tries to keep his focus on the field, but it's tough when all he can think about is you, not being there. He's distracted, missing cues, and every time he glances at the bleachers, there's a sinking feeling in his stomach. Minho notices, giving him an encouraging nudge whenever he slips up, but Jisung can't shake the nagging disappointment.

By halftime, Jisung's barely even listening as Chan goes over their next moves. He's glancing back toward the stands, wondering if you might magically appear, hoping against hope. And then, as the players start gathering for their pep talk, Jisung sees something that stops him in his tracks.

There you are, sitting at the bottom of the stands, looking around as if you're searching for someone. You're wearing a green long-sleeve shirt that dips into a deep V-neck, showing just a hint of skin, and a pair of baggy, low-rise jeans. The familiar black Converse on your feet, your hair is messily clipped up with that same seashell claw clip. It's unmistakably you.

His heart leaps, and before he knows it, he's jogging over, catching you by surprise as he comes to a stop in front of you.

"Hey," he says, slightly out of breath but grinning. "You okay?"

You look up at him, guilt flickering across your face as you offer a small, apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry, Jisung. I know I'm late. I was finishing up my forensic science paper and, like, totally lost track of time."

He shakes his head, a bit stunned that you actually came. "You didn't have to come if you had a big assignment. Seriously, it's not a big deal."

You smile, and the sincerity in your eyes makes his chest feel lighter. "No, I said I'd be here, so here I am." You gesture toward the field, smirking. "Besides, I wasn't going to miss out on seeing you guys destroy the other team, right?"

Jisung laughs, the weight that had been on his shoulders lifting in an instant. "We're doing our best, but uh got a little distracted in the first half." He rubs the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks warm a bit.

"Well," you say, looking up at him with a reassuring smile, "now I'm here, so no more excuses. You've got a whole second half to make up for it, right?"

The shrill blast of the whistle signals the start of the second half, and Jisung shoots you a quick grin. "Guess I better get back out there. Keep an eye out, alright?"

You nod, laughing. "Oh, I'll be watching. Go kill it."

Jisung jogs back toward his teammates, practically buzzing with energy now. Minho, standing with Hyunjin near the sidelines, spots him and raises an eyebrow. "Finally got that confidence back, huh?"

Hyunjin smirks, crossing his arms. "Alright, man. We're getting you a touchdown. Everyone's in on it."

Minho grabs a bottle of water, shoving it into Jisung's hands. "It's time to wow your '90s dream girl, dude. So hydrate, gear up, and get your ass in the zone."

Jisung takes the bottle, glancing down at it sceptically. "But what if I have to piss? Seriously, I'm not risking that."

Minho rolls his eyes, exasperated. "For god's sake, just drink some water."

Jisung takes a reluctant sip, his face scrunching as he sets the bottle down. "Fine, but if this backfires, you're to blame."

Hyunjin laughs, giving him a shove toward the huddle where the rest of the team waits. "Go kill it, Romeo."

With one last look at you sitting on the bleachers, Jisung heads back to the field, a newfound determination in his eyes. He's ready for the second half, and this time, he's not holding anything back.

The whistle blows to start the second half, and instantly, the team is on high alert. Chan calls the play, and the whole lineup is subtly geared toward making sure Jisung has the perfect setup to score. The guys are practically electric, each one of them more hyped than usual, and it's clear they're all determined to help Jisung pull off his moment.

Jisung lines up, glancing once toward the bleachers where you're watching, leaning forward with your eyes locked on the game. His heart pounds, adrenaline pumping as he gets into position.

Chan snaps the ball, and the play begins. Minho and Hyunjin immediately work to block the defenders, giving Jisung a clear path as he sprints downfield, dodging tackles, his every step fueled by the thought of you watching. He feels every inch of the field beneath his cleats, and it's like everything's in slow motion. He can see the end zone, clear and open, just waiting for him.

"Go, Jisung!" Minho yells, throwing a solid block that opens up the final few yards for him.

With a burst of speed, Jisung dives forward, clutching the ball tightly as he crosses into the end zone. The cheers erupt around him, but the only thing he's focused on is you, standing up in the bleachers, clapping with a wide, proud smile that lights up your entire face and makes Jisung see the world in shades of pink.

Jisung's face breaks into a grin, his chest swelling with pride as he stands up, unable to hide the joy on his face. He can barely hear his teammates around him because all he's seeing is the look on your face, and it's enough to make him feel invincible.

"Hell yeah!" Changbin cheers as he and Minho rush over, pulling Jisung to his feet with matching grins.

"Alright, you've impressed her now," Minho says, slapping him on the back. "But now you've gotta close the deal. We're gonna help you get as many damn touchdowns as possible, but after that? It's on you, bro. You gotta either kiss her or ask her out or whatever you're planning. You get me?"

Jisung nods rapidly, barely able to contain the massive grin on his face. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. I'm doing this!"

Felix and Seungmin clap him on the back, their laughter ringing out as they congratulate him, and Jeongin practically tackles him in excitement.

"That was sick, dude!" Jeongin says, beaming. "Now you just gotta keep this up!"

Chan and Hyunjin jog over, both of them holding out their hands for high fives, which Jisung meets eagerly.

"Keep that adrenaline up," Hyunjin says, smirking. "With this energy, asking her out's gonna be a piece of cake."

"Exactly," Chan says, nodding with a smile. "Now let's help our boy rack up some more scores. If we play this right, he'll be unstoppable tonight."

Jisung clenches his fists, adrenaline flooding his veins as he nods, ready to play his absolute best. The guys all gather around him, their energy infectious as they slap his back, hyping him up before heading back into position. He glances at the bleachers once more, catching your eye as you wave, still beaming with that warm, encouraging smile.

For the rest of the game, the team's strategy is clear: get Jisung every chance to score. Each play is practically engineered to put the ball in his hands, and every time he crosses the line, the crowd roars, sending chills down his spine. And each time, he looks to the bleachers, zeroing in on you. You're standing now, clapping with a bright smile that lights up your face, and to him, it's like the whole stadium fades away.

With every touchdown, his teammates swarm him, cheering, slapping his helmet, yelling about how "the Han touchdown train" can't be stopped tonight. It's like they're all rooting for him not just to win the game, but to win you over.

"Goddamn, you're on fire, Jisung!" Chan shouts, panting as he jogs up beside him after yet another touchdown.

"It's the magic of a girl in the stands," Felix laughs, throwing an arm around Jisung's shoulder. "You better keep this up, man. We've never seen you play this good."

Jisung laughs, breathless, catching his teammates' infectious energy. He glances over to see you clapping again, beaming at him, and for a second, he almost feels like he's floating.

Minho sidles up next to him, catching his breath. "You see her out there, dude? She's cheering just for you. You got this."

Jisung nods, wiping sweat off his brow, feeling a surge of confidence every time he catches your eye. Each touchdown fuels him more, and the team, sensing his determination, rallies around him.

They block defenders with brutal force, ploughing through lines to create space, and hand him the ball again and again, shouting encouragement at every opportunity.

With a little over two minutes left in the game, Chan calls a huddle, his voice rough but steady as he grins at the team. "Alright, let's make this one count. It's our last drive. Get Jisung the fucking ball."

The guys nod, all grins and fierce determination. As they take their positions, Jisung glances once more toward the bleachers. You're watching intently, eyes full of excitement, and it's like an invisible thread pulls him toward the end zone, knowing you'll be there cheering no matter what.

The play unfolds perfectly. Minho and Changbin block two defenders, Felix takes out another, and Jisung darts through the gap, sprinting toward the end zone. The crowd's roar is deafening as he makes the final dive, crossing the line with the ball firmly in his grip.

He stands up, triumphant, the thrill of the touchdown rippling through him, but what really makes his heart race is catching sight of you in the stands, clapping wildly, that same radiant smile on your face. He can barely contain his own grin as he raises a fist in the air, the cheers around him fading into the background as he locks eyes with you.

When his teammates reach him, they're laughing, shouting over each other's voices.

"You're a goddamn beast tonight, Han!" Seungmin yells, clapping him on the back.

Hyunjin smirks, holding up a hand for a high-five. "You'd better ask her out after this, because that was fucking legendary."

As the final whistle blows, signalling their victory, Jisung's teammates surround him, piling on congratulations, laughs, and relentless back pats.

The final whistle blows and the crowd erupts in cheers as the Miroh Maniacs celebrate their victory. The guys are all high-fiving and fist-pumping, adrenaline buzzing through their veins as they revel in the thrill of the win.

Jisung's heart is pounding, both from the game and from the sight of you at the edge of the field, clapping and smiling as you watch the team celebrate.

"Go get your '90s dream girl, Han," Minho says, slapping Jisung on the shoulder. There's a glint of mischief in his eye as he steps back, letting Jisung gather his courage.

Chan, ever the supportive captain, grins and shouts, "You've got this, Ji! Don't choke now!"

"Dude, you've been killing it all night," Hyunjin says, giving him an encouraging nod. "Time to wrap it up with a win off the field, too."

Felix and Jeongin clap him on the back, their voices blending into a jumble of encouragement and good-natured ribbing. Even Seungmin, who usually prefers to stay cool and unbothered, joins in with a smirk. "Don't overthink it, man. Just go."

Jisung takes a deep breath, feeling every bit of adrenaline pushing him forward as he steps toward you. The team's words echo in his mind, and he thinks, Fuck it. It's now or never.

You approach the group, looking radiant, your eyes bright with excitement as you clap for each of them. "Congratulations, you guys! That was seriously amazing!"

Jisung's heart nearly skips a beat as he takes in the sight of you, looking effortlessly beautiful even in the dim stadium lights. He's been imagining this moment all night, and without thinking, he steps forward, closing the distance between you.

And then, with a surge of confidence, he cups your face and kisses you, pouring everything he's been feeling into the moment. His heart's racing, but as soon as your lips meet, he feels that familiar thrill, the world fading out around him.

The team erupts into cheers and whistles behind him, and Jisung can't help but grin against your lips as he hears them hollering.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, still holding you close. Emboldened by the rush, he dips you back, his grin widening as the guys cheer even louder. Minho yells out over the noise, "Strawberries and heaven, my man! Your '90s dream girl right here!"

You laugh, your cheeks pink as you look up at Jisung, slightly dazed. "Wait. What?"

Jisung's face softens, his voice tender as he smiles down at you. "You. You smell like strawberries and heaven. And you're my '90s dream girl." And with that, he leans in and kisses you again, savouring the feeling, the cheers of his friends blending into the background.

When he finally lets go, Minho claps him on the back, looking comically emotional. "I feel so proud, honestly. I coached him through it all, stopped jerking it for him to gush about her. This is basically a win for me, too."

Chan laughs, shaking his head. "Minho, you sacrificed, my guy. I'm proud of you."

Felix raises an eyebrow, his expression teasing. "Seriously, though. I can't believe it took seven wingmen to make this happen."

Jisung rolls his eyes but laughs along, his arm still around you as he finally turns back to face his friends.

You smile up at him, still a little flushed but looking delighted. "So, what's the plan now?"

Jisung's eyes light up, his grin playful. "We're having a post-game party back at the frat house. You should come." He pauses, pretending to think. "I might even make you a cocktail as good as that caramel latte you liked."

"Oh, really?" you tease, raising an eyebrow. "Big talk, Han. Think you're up to it?"

"Pfft, please," Jisung says, flashing you a confident smirk. "Give me a real challenge."

You laugh, glancing back toward the bleachers. "Alright. I'll grab my things while you guys wrap up and shower. Don't keep me waiting."

You head back toward the stands, and as soon as you're out of earshot, Felix leans over, grinning. "Uh, Jisung, dude, you can't make cocktails to save your life."

Jisung's expression falters, but then he looks at Minho, a pleading glint in his eye. "Minho...?"

Minho lets out a long, dramatic sigh. "Fine. I'll make the fucking cocktail. But seriously, you owe me for this one."

Jisung's grin returns. "You're the best, man."

Minho smirks, crossing his arms. "Do you need me to teach you how to fuck her too?"

Jisung snorts, shooting him a playful glare before delivering a swift kick to Minho's ass. "Shut the fuck up, man."

The team laughs, their voices full of pride and joy as they head off the field, congratulating Jisung and slapping him on the back the whole way.

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ THE INEVITABLE PULL ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: on the night of her twenty-first birthday, ellie find herself in the one place she asked jesse not to bring her. a strip club.

warning(s): 18+ smut, modern!au, stripper!reader, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, dudes in clubs being jackasses, jesse being a wingman ( thank you bestie ), dry humping ( a little?? ), fingering ( reader!receiving ),oral ( elle!receiving ), a one night stand, essentially. not proof-read!

a/n: yet another one-shot i'm bringing back. i do have a little 90s ellie drabble in my drafts that I'm working on so definitely let me know if you'd like to see that ;)

You know that feeling you get when you walk into a place you don’t want to be in? A feeling so uncomfortable that it makes you involuntarily bounce back and forth from the heels of your feet to the tips of your toes, eyes darting from left to right trying to observe the situation you were faced with. 

Ellie was unfortunate enough to be experiencing it tonight as the blood in her veins thumped into the base of her eardrums, her hands in the small pockets of the denim jeans she wore as her shoulders hunched with uncertainty. The air smelt like immeasurable amounts of liquor and what Jesse described as ‘fun times’. 

He had coaxed her out of her apartment and off of the confines of her couch on the eve of her twenty-first birthday, a smile on his face as he landed a pat with an open palm on the back of her right shoulder which rattled her, a grimace curling onto the skin of her lips. Playing the scenario back in her mind now, it seemed as if he considered her feelings which didn’t end up being the case. Sometimes, Ellie would find herself filled with slight guilt for even having the thought of her friend being faintly ignorant — but it oozed out of him as he weaved his way through the teeming club. She was barely one for small parties, preferring to linger in the corners away from unseen eyes, processing what was laid before her in the form of passing bodies. 

Finding herself experiencing how it felt to be somewhere more open — more suffocated — made her stomach tie in the tightest of knots. 

Blowing a puff of air out of her throat, Ellie felt annoyance creeping up within her as the bone of her shoulder collided with someone else’s.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going.”

Through the tumultuous beat of hip-hop music, those seven gruff words reached the canal of her ears causing the soles of her shoes to squelch on the scuffed polish of the club floor as she turned around. Deep lines formed between her eyebrows as she scowled, her fingers curling into the palm of her hand, teeth gritting together.

“The fuck?”

Ellie didn’t know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse that no matter the situation, her mouth couldn’t just stay closed even with multiple attempted efforts. It worked out for her in less violent ways fifty percent of the time. Whereas, the other fifty percent caused adrenaline to pump in her veins so quickly that her body would shake slightly, growing numb as if to prepare for whatever damage would arise. 

People tended to underestimate how much damage swirled around her balled fists due to her average stature and the fact that she was a girl. She knew better than to let things progress further, not only for the sake of not wanting to deal with it on her birthday but for the poor patron who’d most likely end up losing if he decided to take the unknown risk of a fistfight. Especially with her. 

“You fuckin’ heard me.” The man towered over her, dark eyes riddled with drunkenness and a bubbling fury as she looked up at him through low eyelids, a smirk appearing at the corners of her mouth. 

Through her peripheral vision, she could see the stares of other club-goers as they observed the altercation with interest, curious to see who would throw the first punch. It would’ve been Ellie. Seriously, she was so close to cocking her fist back just to swing it into his aging face but Jesse had a knack for knowing when his friend got into trouble because he appeared next to her before she could blink, fingers grabbing at the back of the plaid button-down she wore, trying to de-escalate the painstakingly icky tension as those who were unaware continued with their night.

“Woah.” He dragged out in an airy laugh, snaking himself in front of Ellie in case things went south. “No problems here, right?” 

Not trusting herself enough to not utter a single word, Ellie turned and let her feet carry her straight to the bar at the far left corner, jaw tight as she found an empty spot to slide herself into in hopes of getting herself a drink as it had just reached one in the morning. If she had the option to restart the first hour of her birthday somewhere else, she could, but beggars can’t be choosers — and Ellie was far from being a beggar. 

Locking her eyes onto her choice of liquor, she let the music creep back in her ears once more as her eyes clouded over, scanning the crevices of her brain for the pros and cons of having a couple of shots throughout the night, or just getting a glass straight-up. 

Clearing his throat, Jessie weaseled his way next to her before grabbing the bartender’s attention, his pearly white teething glistening under the neon lights that shone through the darkness, eyes shamelessly roaming across her body as she bit her lip flirtatiously. 

Ellie couldn’t roll her eyes, itching to have a drink in her grasp to ease the small jolt of nerves that would pinch her every couple of seconds. 

“Can I get angel’s envy on the rocks?” She asked, avoiding looking at the lady behind the bar as she nodded curtly.

 “Sure thing, honey.” Turning to Jesse, her back arched slightly as a means to pop her chest in his face a little more. The only thing that was stopping her from leaning closer was the countertop between them as she spoke lowly. 

“And for you, baby?” She drawled, voice slow. She already had a couple of drinks, which was evident through her shameless attempt at flirting which the dark-haired man seemed to be into for some reason. 

His lips quirked up, arms crossed over each other as he went to rest them on the bartop, eyes boring right into her soul.

“Same thing.” 

Ellie took the opportunity to observe her surroundings even further. Eyes moved from the people sitting in small round booths and velvet chairs to the stage that sat front and center, one of the main reasons why she had been brought here tonight. A pole stood upright under the bright white lights, metal practically sparkling, blinding her as if to make its presence more known to her than it already was. 

In life, there were a lot of firsts and Ellie had gladly experienced them with pride, diving headfirst. However, this was a completely different ball game that filled her with a small enough amount of discomfort that caused her to scratch at the nape of her neck. 

“Y’know, the least you could do is say thank you for having me deal with your shit.” Jesse chuckled jokingly, fingers jutting outward to slide the glass toward her which she took without a second thought. 

Although Ellie could sense the humor in his voice, the bitterness she felt seemed to overpower her brain before she could correctly process her words. “The least? You could’ve been a little more considerate when you decided on where to take me on my birthday.” 

She leaned closer to him, having to raise her voice to be heard through the music. “A fucking strip club. Really?” 

Raising his glass, he just smiled smugly at her which caused her eyes to roll to the back of her head for the second time that night before he clanked it with hers in a toast. “To being twenty-one.” Tilting the chilled cup toward his mouth, he downed his whiskey in one go before shaking his head to rid of the burning in his throat. Ellie followed right after, letting her eyes screwed shut as heat ran into the pit of her stomach.

“God that was fucking awful.” 

All Ellie got in response was Jesse’s arm over her shoulder as he stood on the tips of his toes, neck craning over heads as if he was looking for something in particular. Before she could ask, his eyes lit up, her body moving forcefully as he dragged her away from the bar and in the direction of a booth that was mostly empty beside three other people occupying a small section of space. Jesse’s friends. 

Truthfully, this night seemed to be getting worse as she watched Jesse slide himself in before moving in his seat, the leather squeaking as it rubbed against his clothes. Ellie licked her lips, tasting a hint of the shea butter chapstick she had applied to them earlier in the night, body growing rigid as one of his friends stared at her with wavering uninterest. 

“Who are you again? He slurred, lazily pointing a finger in her direction, swaying in his seat slightly. 

Ellie’s reply was simple and cold. “Ellie.” 

Jesse slapped him on the back, sending his torso to push forward and some of his liquor to fall out of his shot glass and onto the table in front of them. “Seth shut the fuck up.” 

Seth opened his mouth, lips in the shape of an ‘o’ before his face contorted into one of amusement, “Oh” He chuckled.

If Ellie was being honest with herself, she didn’t remember his name either. Jesse’s friends weren’t people she would necessarily surround herself with if she was looking for company. On occasion, she’d stop at Dean’s house ( the name of the only one she bothered to remember, only because he treated her like he would any of his other guy friends ) with him only because she got to smoke for free, and she’d never pass up free weed. 

Moving to sit, Ellie lowered herself before breathing in through her nose, the lighting dimming above her almost instantly as the song that was playing came to a pause before another one followed behind. 

Confusion grew on her features as the sharp clank of heels could be heard from where she was, just a couple of feet away, in the third row of seats right smack in the middle. She didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t as if she was well-versed in the club universe because she hadn’t been in one before tonight.

She heard Dean hiss behind his teeth before whistling loudly, “Damn.” 

Averting her gaze toward center stage, she could feel her cheeks warm as she stared at you. Your hair fell down your shoulders in loose waves, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth before you smiled warmly, red nails gliding up and down your hips before you swayed them side to side seductively, moving to the rhythm of the music. Hoots and hollers filled the expanse of space, bouncing off the walls and directly into her ears. 

“Fuck, she’s hot.” 

Ellie was thankful for the darkness that enveloped the room as the crimson flush on her cheeks darkened in color even further. She shuffled back into her seat, keeping her gaze locked on your body as you spun around the pole, the string of your black thong hiking up your hip just a little higher, something she swore only she noticed. 

With her gaze boring into your frame, she watched as you swung one leg over the other, spinning on your heels before lifting yourself off the stage using the pole, your grip tightening as your feet moved in place. 

This feeling in between her legs, the ache she got from just seeing you was otherworldly, she felt wrong about it. She didn’t even know you ( as badly as she wanted to now ) to be feeling the way she did. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach fluttered so aggressively that they felt as if they were crawling out her throat as her breath hitched. 

When the money appeared, adorning you as if it was rain falling, she melted into the leather of the booth. Her eyes widened before a cough emitted from her throat, her heart picking up its pace as your eyes darted across the crowd and she swore you were staring at her as you crawled on all fours in front of the stage. 

So, the only natural thing for her to do was stare right back at you, keeping her gaze locked on your low-lidded eyes before letting someone lift the band of your thong to place a wad of cash, their fingers lingering on your bare hip for longer than necessary before you gracefully danced away. 

You were a goddess, clad in her most seductive armor that nobody could lay a finger on. Ellie could tell by the way you carried yourself, head held high and body swinging low as cash surrounded you. As awkward as she felt, she sure hoped she didn’t look the part because your eyes were still on her. 

A small smack to her arm caused her to twist her head in Jesse’s direction, a frown on her face as she tried to stare at him through the darkness. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.” 

His eyebrows raised in amusement, lips pressed together to keep himself from laughing aloud. “It’s okay you know, to stare, that’s why we’re here.” 

Putting the palms of his hands out, he gestured around him as if to prove a point. 

Ellie tutted before she grabbed a loose strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, grabbing at the new drink that miraculously appeared ( he must’ve grabbed it off of one of the guys ) before gulping the rest of its contents down, lips puckering as her lungs developed a burn that only Hennesey could give her. 

“This is the last time I’m letting you drag me anywhere without telling me first.” She huffed, blowing out a breath that caused her cheeks to ache slightly. She averted her gaze to you again, this time watching as you left the stage, signaling the end of your set as people cheered and whistled. 

“That was something, I’ll tell you that.” She heard Dean say, his hands traveling down to his pants to try and conceal the very noticeable boner that had tented. 

Ellie pulled her lips back in a snarl, teeth out in the open as an uncomfortable expression reached her features, skin near the corners of her eyes creasing as she narrowed them in his direction. Men were fucking gross — and the way he sat there, licking his lips hungrily as if he’s made up his mind to go after you tonight  — only furthered that thought into the front of her mind. 

The leather seat dipped slightly when Jesse took the initiative to scoot himself closer to her, leaning down to yell, “Was I right?”

Ellie glanced at him through low eyes as the scent of weed hit her nose, merely shrugging in response before lifting herself and pulling down the ends of her shirt, the cotton material having ridden up. 

Se suddenly found herself staring at the bar a couple of feet away from her, coincidentally landing her green eyes on the dip of your back, the bands on your thong littered with cash still. You looked fucking amazing. Your hair was now bunched up in your right hand as you fanned your neck with the left one, your crimson-painted lips moving quickly as you spoke to the bartender she felt herself loathing after their earlier interaction. If you could even call it that. 

A high-pitched whistle beside her pulled her out of whatever thoughts consumed the spaces of her mind. It was none other than her friend, moving his head to stare at who she’d been eyeing. Finally, he saw you in the crowd of people squished at the bartop, and then his brown eyes moved toward Ellie’s face. He knew she wasn’t going to approach you willingly, even if the desperation to speak to you was written across her face in big, bold, lettering. So, he decided to be the devil — or the angel — on her shoulder. 

“Go talk to her, make a move.” 

Ellie wanted to laugh. The urge bubbled up in her throat like bile, and she let it go. Giving him the most genuine chuckle she’s given him all night, shaking her head from side to side. “I doubt she’s into girls.” 

For some reason, considering that as an option made her mood dampen slightly. Anyone here could see the confidence that exuded from you, it lingered in your sweet perfume when you’d pass by people and she was pretty sure she was falling victim to it.

Shrugging, Jesse let his lips pull into a frown, urging her further. “You don’t know that.” 

That was true, she thought as she shamelessly stared you down, her sweaty palms at her sides as she tried to inconspicuously wipe them on the denim of her jeans. Relenting, she felt her heart quicken as her feet carried her toward where you were standing under the neon lights of the bar. 

You looked even prettier up close, your unique features burning into the part of her brain where long-term memory was, trying to soak you in before you noticed she was there. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” Ellie was a goner. Your voice was sweet and sultry, low with a hint of fatigue weaved in between them as you kept your eyes down, your nails tapping against the glass in front of you. 

Ellie cleared the blockage in her throat before answering. “Uh yeah, it was nice.” 

Licking your lips, you still kept your head low but she could see you staring at her from the corner of your eyes. “You were staring.” 

So you did notice her looking at you, which meant that you were indeed looking at her as you danced flawlessly on stage. At least she wasn’t going crazy. 

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks for what was the tenth time, she stuttered, trying to look anywhere, the confidence she once had evaporating as your light laughter reached her ears. “Everyone was staring.” She managed to spit, biting the inside of her cheek. 

“I wasn’t looking at everyone else though…” 

This made her smile, slightly bashful that you had said those words to her. Maybe you were just naturally a flirt, seeking thrills on sweet-talking club-goers only to leave them wanting more once you left. Oddly, she decided to entertain you by twisting her neck in your direction, the tattoo on her arm taking all the attention as your eyes burned into the skin peeking from under her jacket. 

You continued, “You stick out like a sore thumb, but it’s okay. I like seeing new faces.” Sliding your glass in her direction, you watched with curiosity as she picked it up, swirling the contents in the glass, ice cubes clinking against each other before she let the rest of it slide down her throat. 

Ellie wasn’t a big drinker and she was sure she’d feel the consequences of her choice in the morning, but being next to you — talking to you, was worth whatever hangover would greet her in the morning. 

Pushing for a conversation, you asked her a question. “So, did your friends drag you here or something.” 

Unbeknownst to you, that was exactly the case which she confirmed by nodding. A dry laugh came from her mouth, causing her to cringe at just how fake it sounded but you didn’t seem to mind. “Uh, yeah, that’s exactly it.” 

You turned your body toward her fully, lifting at the strap of your lacey bra, your breasts moving upward just an inch but it didn’t go unnoticed by Ellie as her eyes landed on your chest for a fraction of a second before she was looking at your face again. 

‘How’d you know.” 

“You look uncomfortable. This isn’t your thing?” 

With that question in mind, Ellie felt the vibration of the music in the soles of her sneaker-clad feet, so loud that her body hummed along with the music, the smell of weed burning the hairs in her nostrils as giggles bounced into her ears. “Not really, it’s my birthday so my friend brought me.” 

Your eyes lit up, pearly white teeth contrasting against the dark tint of your lipstick. “Happy Birthday to you then,” 

Ellie moved her mouth to reply with a small ‘thank you’ but the bartender appeared in front of the both of you before you asked her for a shot which she gave you quicker than she had taken Ellie’s drink order. She watched as you slid it in her direction like previously, a smirk decorating your lips as she made eye contact with you, putting the rim of the shot glass between her lips and letting it snake down her throat, the sensation of the burn causing a sharp intake of breath. 

Goosebumps littered your exposed skin as you felt a sudden dull ache grow between your legs. The tension was bouncing between you, deflecting off of the invisible barrier that loitered, cracking just a tad before you backed away. “I have to go now, but it was nice talking to you…”

“Ellie.” 

Giving her one last smile, you nodded. “I hope I’ll see you around soon.” 

She waved with a hand, lips pursed as you turned on your heels and disappeared behind a metal door labeled ‘staff only’.

Usually, every girl Ellie’s ever had an interaction with ended up with her itching to move away from the situation she dragged herself into, jaw tight and teeth grinding together. It was different this time, probably because it was you. The fact that she had no clue what your name was, intrigued her beyond the point of no return. She found herself stuck on you despite having a conversation that lasted all but five minutes — which felt like thirty seconds. 

Sighing, she made her way back to Jesse and his extremely drunk friends. Dean and Seth were shoving each other like fucking five-year-olds bickering over something stupid, their faces inches apart that Ellie felt like she was intruding on a private matter. 

Sitting down again, Ellie let herself endure the two hours in silence next to Jesse as the night wasted away, more drinks being spilled, annoyance growing. She didn’t know how long she was glued to that seat when she made her way outside the double doors, breathing in the fresh air that she took for granted, sighing as she ran a hand through her short auburn hair, the rings on her fingers clattering together as she did so.

 At this point, it was just nearly three in the morning. The dim street lights illuminated the empty street, the leaves on tree branches swaying with the wind in the direction it whipped in. An occasional leaf swayed to the ground as she sat on the curb, the skin of her palms peeling from the roughness of the concrete. 

“I’m fucking serious, Willow.” Moving her head in the direction of the voice, her heart skipped a beat as you stood there with your jacket in hand. You have changed into more comfortable clothes. Your thong is now replaced by pink sweatpants, baggy as they hang low on your hips, and a tank top in place of your bra. Glancing down at your shoes, she could see the white Nike socks keeping your feet warm from the cold, a pair of slides on your feet. You were arguing with someone, that much was obvious. 

The girl in front of you towered so high, it was almost threatening but you didn’t falter in your stance. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she spoke with malice. “You don’t think I’m not? You can come here and dance half naked for some fucking cash but can’t text me back.” 

You scoffed, clicking your tongue while taking a small step back. “This is my job, I’m obligated to come here.” You gestured toward the club with a finger, wilding pointing before jabbing the same finger into her chest. “I don’t need to text you. You’re not my girlfriend, remember?” 

Licking her lips, the gears turned in Ellie’s brain as she weighed her options. She could intervene, ask what the problem was, be your knight in shining armor — but she decided against it. Her palms grew sweaty once more as she continued to watch the interaction. 

The girl breathed through her nose, nostrils expanding as she took in a deep breath before balling her fists at her side, something you didn’t seem to notice as you stared into her eyes with what could only be described as hatred. 

“Fine, have it your way then.” She walked away, angrily stepping toward her car a couple of feet away from you, opening the door with such force that it nearly broke off. “Don’t expect me to take you back when you come crawling with those fake tears of yours.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your jacket closer to your chest as you watched her get in her car, tires squealing loudly as she peeled out of the parking lot, leaving tracks on the pavement.

Turning around, you saw Ellie staring at you but still pressed against the curb as you walked over toward her, embarrassment creeping up on you in the form of warm cheeks and pressure behind your eyes. Tears. 

Rubbing at your nose with the back of your hand, you gave her a tight-lipped smile before bending down to join her. “Did you see everything?”

She could see just how embarrassed you were as you pushed the nails on your finger toward your mouth, biting at them nervously. Nodding, she spoke lowly, “Yeah, was that your ex-girlfriend?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded curtly. “Sadly,” 

Not knowing what else to say, she just sat there in silence, enjoying the quietness of the outside world with you next to her. The silence wasn’t awkward — quite the opposite as she no longer felt nervous or out of place as a couple of minutes passed, glances to each other being shared throughout. 

Ellie was growing tired, eyes riddled with a hint of sleep and the extended feeling of desperation urged her to take herself home. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she pressed the side button as the screen lit up, the clock on her home screen reading 3:15 am before she turned it back off again. With a yawn, she lifted herself off the curb, stretching her limbs as some of them cracked at the sensation of no longer being hunched over uncomfortably. 

Turning to look down at you, she saw that you were already staring up at her with doe eyes, lips etched into what seemed like a permanent frown. “Do you have a ride home?” The words left her mouth before she could process them and she wanted to smack herself right after. 

Nodding, you jerked your head toward the black double doors, “My friend’s a bouncer, he usually walks me home since I don’t live far.” You don’t know why you said the last part, internally face-palming at the fact that you gave her a slight hint as to where you lived. 

She didn’t know if it was appropriate to ask if she could walk you home. Even thinking about asking you sent her heart racing wildly inside the expanse of her chest. But, tonight was full of risks and she liked to consider herself a risk-taker — so she bit.

“I can walk you if you want.” She spoke quickly, rushing to explain her thought process. “I’m just saying because it’s like three in the morning and -”

You laughed loudly, slapping a hand over your mouth after it had left you. “I’m sorry, I'm just laughing because it’s kind of cute when you ramble.” You expressed, nodding as you rose to stand next to her causing her to scratch the back of her neck before tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. “But yes, I’d appreciate it if you did.” She promised that if she were able to turn into some form of mush, she would’ve in that very moment that you said her name. 

The walk was nice, to Ellie at least, as you talked to her about your job and the other girls that worked there. She listened with interest although she wasn’t a big gossiper, asking you questions about certain things to let you know that she was listening to every word you said, hanging onto them.  She saw how your steps slowed after walking around four blocks before coming to a complete stop in front of a lone door, the redness of the metal sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the street. 

All she did was stand there with her hands in her jeans pockets as you fiddled with the knob, wedging your key inside before pushing it open.

“This is me.” You sighed, stepping inside the dark hallway, turning to face her as you leaned your cheek against the cool edge of your front door, fluttering your eyelashes. “Do you want to like… come in and have a drink? I know it’s almost four in the morning, but I feel bad for taking up your offer of walking me home since it’s your birthday and all.” 

Ellie knew that if she declined your offer, she’d find herself on her bed, wishing she had taken you up on your offer for another drink. Like she said earlier, tonight was all about risks. She’d greedily take this one. 

The nod she gave you sent shivers up your spine, her body moving inside your house as a means to shield herself from the chill night air. The temperature difference made her realize just how buzzed she was as she stood in the darkness of what she assumed was your living room. 

From behind her, she could hear the little ‘plink’ of the light switch as you flicked it on, light flooding the room. 

“You can place your coat here if you want.” 

She turned, raising her eyebrows to see what you were talking about until she saw you hang your jacket on a hook near the door, a hand behind you to take hers from her. She shrugged it off quickly before handing it to you, watching as you stood on your toes to hang hers on the hook above the first one hammered into the wall. 

Moving past her into the kitchen, she had no choice but to follow as you lit the room once more, the small island catching her attention immediately due to how messy it was. 

As if you were reading her thoughts, you spoke with some embarrassment in your voice. “I would’ve cleaned up if I knew I was going to be bringing guests over.” 

She eyed the items around the small area before shaking her head. “No, it’s okay, this allows me to scan for conversation topics.” Was it weird that she said that? Well, you didn’t seem to think so as you laughed heartily from your stomach, hands pulling at the fridge handle, browsing at the limited options of liquor. 

“Uh… do you want a shot of tequila or a glass of Rosè?” She heard your muffled question to which she answered quickly. 

“Tequila.”

“Alright, my kind of girl!” You exclaimed happily, setting the bottle down on the island and grabbing two shot glasses from one of your wooden cabinets. 

Twisting the lid off, you poured the liquor into the small glasses which caused her to stand across from you, drunken eyes watching as you handed her one. She took it before staring into your eyes once again, hungrily this time, as you rubbed your thighs together under her gaze. 

The both of you tilted your head back in unison, downing the shot quickly before you waltzed to where she was standing, eyes never leaving hers as you brought your face closer. 

You didn’t know why you did what you did, and neither did she quite frankly as she stood, stiff and with ragged breaths as you closed the small gap between the two of you. She immediately returned the kiss, her back digging into the edge of the island counter, as you pressed against her, grabbing the shirt she was wearing, tugging it with need. 

With a hand snaked around your back, she moved the other to grab the back of your neck, forcing your teeth to clash against hers as her tongue made its way into the deliciousness of your mouth. You moaned, entwining yours around hers wetly, her warm breath mixing with yours. 

She met you all but four hours ago, and here she was, in your house kissing you as if her life depended on it. 

Her hands moved to your ass, squeezing through the material of your sweatpants as hard as she could when you ground your hips against hers, wanting to dissipate the aching throb between your legs. 

Noticing this, Ellie moved her hand to the front of your sweats, fingers dancing down your naval and onto your folds, opening them slightly to rub at your clit. You whined, pressing your forehead against hers with a hand on the nape of her neck, squeezing slightly. The action caused her to rub at your swelling bud even faster, keeping note of the way your face contorted into one of pleasure, your eyes in the back of your head. 

“You like that, hm?” Seeing you like this, your body pressed against hers leaving little to no space to even breathe made her the wettest she’s ever been. 

You only put your head in the crook of her neck as a response, teeth grazing at the skin below her ear as she shuddered, your slick pooling into her hand when a finger entered you, stretching you oh-so deliciously. 

A sob ripped from your throat, your teeth digging into her neck as you bit to keep yourself from being too loud. Ellie couldn’t help the groan that escaped her when she felt you nipping at the base of her neck, stomach tying into knots at the thought of even just getting to fuck you. 

“Oh, my g-god.” You stuttered, paying extra attention to the finger that was moving in and out of you quickly, grinding yourself onto it lower, with such haste that you just had to scream out. 

“C’mon, baby, I know you can say more than that.” She slurred encouragingly into your ear, the hand on your ass pulling you even further into her as she shoved a second finger in without warning. 

“Feels so fuckin’ good.” You were boarding on tipsy at this point, and not just on alcohol, but the feeling of her fingers as they wormed their way back inside you relentlessly. 

You heard her chuckle, “That’s it, that’s right.” 

Her breathing in your ear, chanting praises, the sensation of white heat building up in your stomach became overwhelming as you clenched around her fingers, releasing all your built-up sexual tension. Or so you thought because when Ellie slowly put her fingers that were previously inside you into her mouth and sucked them dry, you went almost animalistic. 

“Sit on the counter.” You purred, eyelashes fluttering at her, your lids low with arousal and drunkenness. 

Ellie wasn’t one to find herself obeying others, especially in sexual situations,  but for some reason, she found herself doing exactly what you said with a slight tint to her cheeks that wasn’t just from the excessive amount of alcohol she had consumed throughout the night. This hangover was gonna be a bitch.

You loomed over her, arms on either side of her, palms pressed against the counter. “Let me taste you.” 

The pattern of her breathing changed, making her chest rise up and down quickly before she uttered something almost incomprehensible to you. “I’m not the one usually receiving.”

The smile that you gave her was devious as your hands toyed with the button of her jeans, “Please?” You found it pathetic at the way you begged her, but you didn’t care, not one bit as she nodded her head, letting you unclasp the button before you tugged them off along with her black briefs, throwing them somewhere in the kitchen to find later. She felt the cool marble of the countertop against her bottom as she grasped at the edge of the counter with her ringed fingers, looking down at you with so much lust behind her eyes that you could’ve just come for the second time right then and there.

“I’m gonna make you feel good.” You hushed, kissing the inside of her thighs with fervor before swiping your tongue over her cunt, lapping at her juices as they leaked onto your tongue. You sucked harshly at her clit causing her to sob once, hands digging into your hair as she ground her hips into your face further.

 “Mhm,” You moaned into her core, feeling her throb against your mouth, tongue flicking quickly at her clit, her arousal mixed with your spit sending her mind to an entirely different planet as her eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. 

You were staring at her the entire time, your arousal wetting the material of your underwear, making them stick to your folds as you shuffled your hips to move into her more, feeling her shake above you. 

“O - oh my god, fuck.” She whined, lip quivering as her legs shook, an orgasm so intense that she grew numb, letting her spend get sucked onto your tongue before you removed yourself, dabbing at the sides of your mouth with a finger. 

Ellie Williams was completely fucked and love-drunk on you, and she didn’t even fucking know you.

[jurijyuu]

Whiskey Lips

Human!Alastor x Reader

2.2K Words

Summary: Or the time you kissed your friend at a concert.

Tags: Modern AU, Second Person POV, Drunk Kisses, Unrequited Love (or is it?)

The loud blare of the music threatened to burst your eardrums but the buzz of the alcohol had long kicked in, slowly muffling the sound. The next band came up, a little known indie group with a couple of popular songs but after three similar bands this evening, you were tired and just ready to chill out in a corner on some overpriced booze. Some guy even started flirting with you, buying you a drink so he could try to charm you with his blue eyes and wispy blonde hair. 

Not exactly your type but cute enough. Too bad your friend Alastor had to ruin it.

“You suck as a wingman, you know that? You end up chasing away the guys cuz you’re too pretty.” You stood at the end of the bar, watching the blond weave through the crowd and disappear. 

“Darling, if seeing a prettier man makes him run away, then he isn’t worth your time.” Leaning on the newly vacated spot next to you, Alastor smirked, a light chuckle playing on that grin as he too watched the bodies pushing against each other to see the band. You didn’t blame them. The sound quality was terrible. There hadn’t been a single song who’s lyrics you actually understood. 

“He’s worth about $24 in drinks, so maybe 5 minutes of my time.” Blondie had bought you enough coke and whiskey that he turned from a 5 to a 6 in your eyes. Maybe a 7 if you finished this drink. As you tilted the cup to swallow the last of the bittersweet cocktail, a large hand blocked the rim.

“I think you’ve had plenty to drink if you think this is worth the risk of STDs and a handsy little humping.” Taking the glass in his pretty tapered fingers, he drank what was left.

“Maybe that’s what I was looking for?” You didn't really know what to expect when your neighbor turned friend had barged into your apartment earlier this evening and demanded you go out with him. Out of sheer boredom, the prospect of spending way too much money to listen to some unknown artists had been enticing enough. Though the first gust of cold wind almost had you turning back around, Alastor determinedly dragged you to the city and that was how you ended up here. Bored of the bands, sick of the bodies that kept pushing around you and now, you didn’t even have the prospect of going home with a cutie for the evening to make this excursion worth it.

“Oh, do forgive me for looking out for my drunk little friend then.” The sarcastic tilt of his smile turned more amused at your pouting. It would have been annoying if those lips didn’t shine with the remnants of your drink. Pretty privilege at its finest right there. You huffed.

“Seriously, Al. Why bring me out if you’re gonna cockblock me every time?”

“I just think you can do better than that guy, sweetheart.” Moving closer so he didn’t have to semi-yell every word, his voice dropped to his placating croon that he knew always worked on you.

“Hnnngh.” His smooth talk would have been nice, who didn’t like a compliment, after all? But it’s been years since anyone tried to hit on you and the attention was nice, especially since the guy had been pretty attractive. You gave your friend a side eye. Even in the dark, flashing pink and purple lights, couldn’t hide the occasional highlight of a sharp jawline or his tall slender frame. “You wouldn’t know. You have to fight off people from flirting with you.”

Alastor was a solid 8 on a normal day with his curly dark hair and sharp features softened by big expressive eyes and a smile that could sell toothpaste. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. Today, he was a 10, wearing a black wool suit jacket paired down with light blue jeans and a black v-neck shirt. With the multiple piercings in his ears, tussled brown locks and the eternally impish smile he had on, he attracted looks left, right and center.

“So you’re pent up, is that it?” He had the audacity to laugh. Prick. He strutted around looking like he did but never gave even an inkling of interest in anything sexual or romantic. Instead, he found amusement in hearing your failed romantic escapades and all the emotional toils people around him had for a problem he’d never experience.

“…” This close, you could smell the whiskey on his breath and the cologne he wore. Even that combination smelled sexy. He could bottle it up and sell it as incense the way it put you in a trance for just a second. You squinted at him. The room started to spin and he had that insufferable smirk on his face as his eyes looked down on you. Without thinking about it, you grabbed him, pulling him with enough force to bring his tall ass to your level so you could plant a kiss on his annoying lips. Your alcohol-addled mind thought it was a brilliant pay back for the opportunity he spoiled. Just a little kiss to wipe that stupid smile off his face. 

The sweet taste of Coca Cola and whiskey made for an intoxicating mix along with the soft plumpness of his lips. So soft and a little cold. Your tongue darted out to taste them without a second thought. He pushed back against your onslaught, lips more incessantly against you as something warm and a little slimy licked your lips in retaliation…and he was kissing back? HE WAS KISSING YOU BACK!? You stepped back in surprise, not expecting your intimacy-repulsed friend to do that, only to feel a warm hand at your waist keeping you in place.

“I’ll take that as your answer.” His voice took on a husky timber, the kind he used when he whispered mischief and snide comments in your ears when Karen from down the hall put up another complaint on the apartment’s group page. “Now, why don’t I help you, my darling?”

His smirk was shinier as he swooped back down and drowned you in the taste of whiskey and coke.

He pressed you against the poster-covered walls of the dingy concert venue, uncaring of the many other attendees pushing through the tight space, the yells to ‘get a room’, the envious stares. Even with the occasional shove against his back, he was careful not to crush you unless it was with his mouth. And his tongue. The garbled blares of the pop-punk band were garbled by the sounds of your heartbeat and the soft groans the brunette let out and your lips slotted against each other, tongues exploring, teeth nipping. And oh my god, the world was hot and spinning and all you saw were pretty honey eyes fogged in the same daze you were under, drunk on impulsive lust and…alcohol. 

Drunk?

All your senses seemed to come back to you then. Where you were, who you were with and why this was a bad idea. You pulled away and those honey eyes quirked with confusion, lips seeking to slot against yours again but you turned your cheek. “We—“ You had to clear your throat as those pretty lips made a light trail on the column of your neck that was left exposed to his gaze. “We shouldn’t…be kissing while drunk.” You shouldn’t have been kissing in general.

“What? Never kissed your friends before while a little intoxicated? I thought that’s what you girls do.” Sensing your rejection, he let up, leaning his forehead against yours while his lips teasingly hovered over your own. Even though he remained so close to you, breath still brushing against your face, the turn of the mood was immediate, coming back to the usual banter as Alastor’s momentary interest evaporated, though the smile on his lips remained shiny.

“You shouldn’t hold Katy Perry up as your model female.” 

He chuckled then and released you from the cage of his arms. You hadn’t noticed until they left how his hand had been pulling you closer through the waistband of your jeans. And now you felt cold, as he was so quick to pull away.

But as the presence of him around you lessened, you knew you made the right choice. Your heart was hammering in your chest, face flushed not just with the warmth of alcohol, but he looked like he couldn’t care less, easily slipping back to the teasing jerk he’d been before the little stunt you pulled. Ouch. It didn’t even take a couple of seconds for him to look uninterested.

To hide your disappointment, you stretched your neck, pretending to loosen your muscles with a nonchalant grin. It was only then that you noticed the sticky feeling of sweat on your back and your boobs, the temperature too hot within the room just from the sheer amount of packed bodies. And even hotter after what Alastor and you just did.

“Fuck it’s hot in here. I’ll go step outside for some air real quick.”

And he let you go, moving back to the bar to get a drink as he waved you off with a pinch to your cheek.

When the chilly night air finally had a chance to cool your overheated face, it chased away some of the lightheaded buzz. Fuck. What were you thinking, kissing your friend? Drunk kissing your hot as fuck friend? If it were any other guy, you would have been thrilled to make out with him, have a fun night and see where the morning went. But this was Alastor. A drunk Alastor. 

Your stepdad always said that two idiots made an accident and you two were very much too drunk for any decisions you made to be smart. It took over two years to build your friendship with him. The man was easily bored, snarky and a little mean but neighborly politeness turned to camaraderie against your HOA which turned into actual friendship. One of the few you had as an adult. You couldn’t afford to ruin things between you two, not for feelings that you shouldn’t have had in the first place.

It didn’t take long before more and more people started leaving. You checked your phone. When had it gotten so late? 

“Feeling better?” The smooth tone of his voice floated through the crowded area and you gave a drunken little nod, a sense of accomplishment and happiness bubbling up at yourself from preventing a disaster.

The bus ride home to the apartment complex was relatively normal, thank god. Except for how giddy you two were from drinking, it was like the kiss never happened. As easily erased as any semblance of interest he may have had with you but the sting of that faded the more dumb jokes this yapper of a man kept spouting. 

Even the quiet elevator ride in the claustrophobically small one your building had didn’t seem too bad. Just two drunk friends staring off into the not so far wall. Like this, you could pretend nothing happened, pretend you blacked some part of tonight out and go on without introducing awkward unrequited feelings into the mix. 

Alastor, as well as you two got along, was way out of your league. You glanced to the side where he leaned across the supporting bar on the elevator wall. Even just standing there, he exuded a mysterious grace that the bleak lighting of the old elevator couldn’t wash out. Pretty, witty and charming. You were lucky to be his friend. You were lucky he took that kiss in stride.

Maybe you could laugh about it with him some day. Probably tomorrow, if he ever brought it up.

The elevator dinged, signaling his stop and the best time for you to put down any musings about what-ifs and all that. Whatever devil possessed the man to kiss you back wouldn’t be there when the alcohol was gone and his general disinterest in relationships and intimacy returned.

“Good night!!” You chirped as he walked out with his signature grin and a two-fingered salute. As the elevator door closed, you let go of the small disappointments within your heart, closing the box on your unrequited feelings before they ruined everything for you. Already, serenity seemed to come over you as you made peace with your stupid mistake for the evening. You’ll apologize too if he ends up mad at you in the morning.

*Thump*

A sound caught your lazy attention as a hand stuck through the almost closed gap of the doors, forcing them to open again as Alastor’s figure squeezed through.

You didn’t get a chance to even ask why before broad palms cupped your cheeks and honey eyes locked on your own, his smile gone into a serious line. Shit. Did his common sense kick in already? Was he mad?

“You said, no kissing while drunk, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Then I’m very sober, sweetheart.”

For a second time that evening, you found yourself pressed between a wall and Alastor’s lips.

[oosleepyfaeoo]

A Kiss Is All I Need

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Chapter One

Summary: 2 months ago, Alys, the love of his life, broke up with him. Their relationship of five years gone by a simple farewell note that she left on their, well now his, penthouse. 2 months crying and feeling like shit but that all stopped when he meet you on that dreadful clothing store.

Warnings: Some angst, Aegon being the wingman, she/her pronouns, slow burn, eventual smut

Words: 2k

Masterlist

A/N: English is not my main language so i apologize for bad grammar but i hope you still like it! Feel free to reblog and comment! It would make me really happy to know you guys thoughts (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

“Seriously, Aemond. Relax a little.” Aegon drawls, eyeing his little brother carefully.

Aemond stood beside his brother, tense as a rock, contemplating his surroundings while his long pale fingers toy with his old, stained t-shirt. They currently stood in the middle of the clothing store, waiting for their sister Helaena while she chose some new and clean clothes for Aemond.

His siblings finally, after a month of rotting in his penthouse, dragged him out of the house to get some fresh air and apparently, some new clothes.

Aemond just shot his brother a glare and continued nervously toying with his t-shirt. Aegon rolls his eyes. “She did a number on you, didn’t she?” He says with a small frown.

2 months ago, Alys, the love of his life, broke up with him. Their relationship of five years gone by a simple farewell note that she left on their, well now his, penthouse. He still remembers how his heart beat so fast against his ribcages while he searched the whole house for her, noticing that all her clothes and jewelry (which he gifted to her) were gone.

He met her at one of his family company parties. Alys was the secretary of Lyonel Strong. Aemond was completely in awe with her when his eye landed on her, the way she moved so gracefully, and how her green eyes sparkled with mischief and wisdom.

When they made their relationship public, it was quite a shock for everyone, especially his mother. He was 23 and she was 35 at the time which was entirely understandable since they had a big age gap, twelve years to be precise.

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Aemond murmurs, trying his hardest to not think about Alys.

Aegon sighs and wraps his arm around his brother's shoulders. “I know you don’t... But try to loosen up a little.” He looks at Aemond worriedly. “Everyone is worried about you... Seven Hells, even Jace, and Luke are worried-”

Aemond looked down with a frown when suddenly he felt a gentle pull on his jeans. By his feet was a little girl dressed in a princess costume, full of pink and sparkly glitter. Her black hair hangs in two cute pigtails and a small simple tiara on top of her head.

The child looks carefully at Aemond, her eyes fixed on his eyepatch. “Are you a pirate?” She asks with an excited grin, her big round eyes shining in mischief.

Aegon burst out laughing while Aemond just stood there, looking down at the small girl in shock.

She huffs in annoyance and pulls the fabric of his jeans again. “Well?”

Noticing that Aemond does not intend to answer the poor girl, Aegon kneels beside the girl and gives her a kind smile.

“Sorry kid but he’s no pirate.” His answer made the girl frown in disappointment. “But he’s a Prince!” Now that made her look at Aemond in surprise and then back at Aegon, eyeing carefully.

“If he’s a Prince then why he doesn't smile?” She asks.

That pierce a little Aemond’s heart. Kneeling, he grabbed her small hand and gave her a small smile. “I’m sad... So that’s why I don’t smile much, little Princess.”

The girl giggles at her nickname but quickly disappears as she frowns, looking into his eye intensely. Then she took a step forward, placed her tiny hands on his cheeks, and kissed the point of his nose. Aemond stood very still, his eye wide in surprise at the girl's gesture.

She pulls back and smiles in excitement. “There! A kiss always pushes the sadness away!” The girl says proudly. “My mommy always kisses me whenever I'm sad or hurt.”

//// \\\\

“Em!” You call while looking everywhere in the clothing store for your daughter. “Emily! Where are you?!”

You can’t take that girl anywhere without getting a panic attack. You love to the death, she was your sun and moon but sometimes you wish that your daughter wasn't so adventurous. You were finishing a client order when you noticed your daughter leaving the bakery and running into the clothing store right in front. This made you leave everything that you were doing and run after her.

Sighing in relief, you spot her by the men's section talking to 2 silver-headed men. “Emily!” You breathe out as you kneel and pull her into a hug. “Don’t you ever disappear on me again! Mommy’s heart can’t handle any more surprise adventures.”

Your daughter grins at you and points to the man with an eyepatch. “Mommy I found a Prince!” She says excitedly. “Don’t worry, he’s not a pirate.” She whispers that part to you which makes you chuckle.

You stood up, holding Emily in your arms. “I’m so sorry. I hope my daughter didn’t bother you too much.” You apologize.

The handsome eyepatch man stood still looking down at you. A light blush appears on your face as you study his face properly. He was tall, really tall, with beautiful silky long silver hair that was loosely braided. His features were sharp which made him even more attractive. His eye was colored in a lovely ice blue shade with a hint of light purple. A black eyepatch covers his other eye, and you notice a long scar coming out of it down to his cheek. He was dressed in a simple green t-shirt (which seems to have seen better days) some black jeans, and black Doctor Martens.

He seemed nervous as he began playing with his fingers. “Huh... It’s no problem. Your daughter is a very sweet child.” he smiles softly.

“Mommy! Mommy! The Prince was sad so I kissed his nose like you do to me when I'm sad or hurt. And now he’s happy!” Emily giggles while resting her head on your shoulder.

“That’s very sweet of you, Em... But you can’t go wander off and kiss strangers.” You sigh while giving an apologetic look to the silver-headed man. “You know that while mommy is working, you need to stay with Maria.”

Emily rolls her eyes and pouts. “Ugh, but Maria is boring! She stays in front of the computer all day and does nothing... I much prefer staying at home, at least I could play with Pumpkin.”

You adjust her tiara on her head and kiss her forehead gently. “I know but I can’t let you be at home alone, sweetheart.”

While you scold your daughter, trying to convince her to stay with your employee. Aegon stays silent studying the scene before him. He had noticed how Aemond suddenly couldn’t take his eye off you or how his pale cheeks suddenly turned pink when you smiled gently at him.

Aegon also noticed you eyeing his little brother which made him grin mischiefly. Oh, he had a plan forming in his head. A BIG plan.

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to intrude but it seems you are in need of a babysitter for this lovely Princess,” Aegon says while smiling at Emily who grins at him. He wraps his arm around Aemond’s shoulders and pulls him to his side. “My baby brother, Aemond, is in need of a job and he’s great with kids. He usually babysits our nephews. So, he knows how to take care of children.”

Aemond shot Aegon a glare and opened his lips to disagree with whatever his brother had in mind, but Aegon just smiled at him and stepped on his foot to silence him.

“So, what do you think?” Aegon grins down at you.

You frown gently. It’s true that you seriously needed a babysitter for Emily, but you don’t have time to look for one since being a single mother and owning a bakery occupy your days. Also, it’s hard to trust a stranger to look after your kid. Your friend, Nat, tried to convince you to hire a babysitter after Emily turned one year old but you quickly refused, saying that you could perfectly manage taking care of Emily and your business alone.

Oh boy, how wrong you were. Since Emily started walking, your life has been a nightmare. She was like a ninja. One minute she was there and the next, she was gone. Every day you would have to run off from your work to go find her. She loves exploring and she makes sure you know that, every, single, day.

Maybe Nat is right.

“Okay,” You sigh. Aegon clapped in victory and smiled at his brother. “But I will be needing an interview with Aemond. To see if he has the training that is needed to look after a child.”

“Of course! When?” Aegon asked while Aemond just stood there petrified.

“Tomorrow at 2 pm.” You took your business card and gave it to Aemond. “You will find me in my bakery shop. It’s right in front of this store.”

Aemond nodded and took your card. “Thank you... I’ll be there.”

You smile gently and say your goodbyes, taking Emily back to your shop. “Bye Bye Prince!” The girl waved to him with a toothless smile which made Aemond smile gently and wave back.

When you and Emily are out of the clothing store, Aemond turns to his brother and slaps roughly on his shoulder. “What in the actual fuck was that, Aegon?!” He growled.

Aegon hissed in pain and pouted. “Ouch!... Is this how you thank your big brother for getting you a date with that hot girl?!”

Aemond rolls his eye. “By making me a babysitter?” He sighs. “Look Aegon, I'm not ready to be with someone yet... Also, did you not think that maybe she has a husband?”

Aegon grins at him. “No ring on her finger so she’s probably single. And you are more than ready to be with someone... It’s been two months since you and Alys broke up, you had your time weep and now it’s time to go back into action.”

Helaena pops beside Aegon with her arms full of clothes that she chooses for Aemond. “Our little brother has a date tomorrow!” Aegon claps excitedly.

Helaena gasps in surprise and then looks back to the clothes in her arms and back to Aemond, frowning gently. “We need more clothes.” She whispers while going back into the clothing store with Aegon on her trail.

Aemond sighs in defeat but a tiny smile appears on his thin lips. He’s not going to lie, you seem really interesting. 

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the brie

buttercup, chapter two

a/n: i was originally gonna go into more detail and dive into and actually write the traumatic moments, but i decided to go a little bit more easy on myself, just focus mostly on the healing part and regaining the good.

summary: “well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, wingman foggy, reference to croissant theft, alcohol consumption, drunk munching on cheese, kissing, crying, retelling of trauma (if it gets too much for you, then please feel free to just skip the last part of this chapter)

word count: 4978

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Scooping one divided lump of dough closer with the bench scraper in your grasp, you put it down before first folding the bottom of the blob over itself, then the sides and then stretched the top down as well before you rolled it all up to create that much more tension in the loaf. As you plopped the soft mass into one of the nearby dusted bannetons, nippily pinching the seam and giving it a few stitches, the ingrained dance only kept on as your fingers moved on to shape the next loaf of sourdough. 

To your left, not at the central table where you worked, stood your uncle Howard, a piping bag of vanilla-flaked cream in his grasp as his rotund frame bent over rows and rows of delicate, flaky little pastries, filling the sunken centre up before he could top them off with little chunks of crimson berries. 

“Are you alright, cupcake?” you glanced up to see Walter leaning against the doorframe that led directly behind the counter, “you look like you’re about to nosedive into the dough and use it as a pillow.”

“I’m alright, just didn’t sleep much last night,” you blinked back down at your work, noting how your weary eyes stung slightly from the lack of rest, “I had a nightmare that was really, really not fun, and immediately when I woke up I started crying and shaking, like instant panic attack, so I couldn’t really fall asleep again after that,” you glanced back up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“I just don’t get why it has to feel so real,” you let your hands halt their waltz as you shared, Howard too glancing over in your direction, “why my body needs to remember it so vividly when I fall asleep. It hasn’t forgotten it while I’m awake, so I don’t feel like I need the reminders… sorry…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s–…” instead of uttering the painful truth, Walter instead let a heavy sigh flow and offered, “…do you want me to make you a cup of coffee? Maybe that could be nice, just a little bit?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, “thanks,” before clapping the worst of the flour off your hands, briefly wiping them against the chocolate brown apron that partially covered your t-shirt and jeans, and wandered around the table, shadowing Walter as he fiddled with the espresso machine, making it hum and puff, till he handed you a steaming mug that had a little heart in the frothy foam floating on the top. 

“Here you go.”

Bringing it up to your lips, you offered him a genuine smile, “thank you, Walt.”

Staying behind the counter as Walter disappeared into the back, the chime of the small bell above the door brought your attention to the pair that then strolled in. Setting down your latte and expecting it to be just any other customer, your eyes instead went wide as you saw who it was.  

“Heya, neighbour!” 

“Y/n, hi,” Matthew smiled as both he and the floppy-haired man beside him came to a stop on the other side of the stocked display case, “uh, Y/n, this is my friend Foggy Nelson,” he gestured to the friendly looking fellow, “Foggy, this is my new neighbour Y/n.”

“The pastry goddess!” Foggy exclaimed excitedly, “I bow to the.”

“Goddess?” you giggled, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you glanced over at Matt, secretly in hopes that he’d gotten that nickname from him, “oh, I don’t know about that. My uncle’s the one who oversees most of the pastries. He studied in Paris back in the 70’s, so in other words he’s a bit of a control freak. But, he is getting better! Slowly letting me take care of more things that I’m more than capable of doing… I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?” you sucked in a sharp breath as you noticed 

your rambling, “I’ll shut up. The point was just that he is the one who makes most of the pastries here, not me. He’s the goddess.”

“Well, I tasted one of your croissants the other day–”

“Actually,” Matt raised a hand and interrupted his friend, “you stole it.”

“I did not–”

“You came over and I turned away for two seconds and the next thing I knew you’d obliterated the entire bag.”

“That sounds more like your problem,” Foggy joked, managing to keep a straight face as Matt chuckled, “you’ve known me how many years now? You should know not to trust me with baked goods unless you mean for me to enjoy them,” turning his attention back to you, he leaned his folded arms against the tall section of the counter, “anyways, Y/n, that croissant was properly one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

“Really?” your face lit up with a bright grin. 

“Yes, it was so buttery and flaky and urgh!”

“Well, if you liked that, you might like today’s special…” your feet began to carry you further to the left to the very far side of the counter. 

“Oh, please do tell me,” he followed along like a magnet.

Pointing down to the pastry row on the other side of the glass, you explained, “it is this rhubarb danish that also has a little base of pastry cream at the bottom to balance out the tart compote.”

“Oh… my… god…” Foggy nearly salivated, his hypnotised gaze never straying from the treat, “you gotta be some angel sent from above.” 

Busting out a laugh, you grabbed a brown paper bag, “should I take that as confirmation?”

“Yes, please,” he nodded as you plucked one up with a set of tongs. 

“Will that be all?”

“I don’t know if it ever can be all, but slowly but surely I’ll get through your spread, and that is a promise,” Foggy accepted the bag into his waiting fingers, “but for now, yeah.”

“Matt, do you want anything?” you asked, feeling the flutter of butterflies wake up within your stomach as you returned your attention to him, “do you want me to describe the options for you?”

“No, I’ll just have the same as Foggy, as well as–, do you sell coffee?”

“Oh,” the scent wafting off your half-empty mug probably caught his attention, “yes, we do.”

“Then I’ll have a cup as well.”

“Oh, one for me too,” Foggy interjected. When you’d packed up another pastry and filled up two to-go cups, the shaggy-haired man pipped up as they were paying, “hey, what are you doing later tonight?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Properly just head home and rewatch some series for the billionth time,” you said, putting the cash they’d handed you away in the register, “why?”

“Well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

A laugh then rumbled within Matt’s chest, “we’re not gonna go dancing, Foggy.”

“You never know,” Foggy sang, “I’ve got moves like you wouldn’t believe!” he snuck a small sip of his steaming coffee before meeting your eye, “so, Y/n! Please tell me you’re coming?”

“…and then Karen was like what’s that? Turns out a giant piece of glass had stabbed my side,” Foggy clutched onto his drink as he told his dramatic tale, “I nearly died.”

Cutting her sip of beer short, the golden-haired woman sitting beside him at the round bar table objected, “you did not nearly die.”

“Oh yeah?” Foggy squinted light-heartedly back at Karen, “says the person who barely got a scratch. I single handily rescued both you and Mrs. C from that building and got a sick ass scar to prove it.”

Their voices faded away like grown-ups in a Saturday morning cartoon as you glanced back down at your drink and let the radiating heat of the man next to you seep into your bones. As your fingers brushed down the sides of the glass and played with the condensation, Matt suddenly reached out for his own, though in his search for the stout glass that stood ever so close to your own, his touch briefly grazed against your skin. But if that wasn’t enough to spike your heart rate, when his long fingers enveloped his short glass, the back of his hand pressed up against yours at the proximity.

You weren’t sure how long it persisted before he raised his dark drink up to his lips, but it didn’t seem like he was in a rush to let the contact fade. Your breath managed to grow ragged in the chunk of time you got to stare down at his hand, it looking so massive up against yours. Though the light in the dingy bar was low, you could still manage to make out the dizzying pattern of prominent veins that cascaded off the back of his hand like a calm rainfall rolling down a windowpane. 

For a moment there, assisted by the few drinks in your system, you let yourself dream, just for a little while, just until Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and stirred you from your fantasy. 

“… I mean, am I right? I’m right. Come on, Y/n, back me up here!”

“Huh? I’m sorry, uhm…” you blinked, in some ways feeling more drunk than you had a minute ago, “wha–what did you say?”

As Foggy then began to explain what you’d missed, Matt leaned down close to your ear and whispered, his hot breath tickling your skin and causing goosebumps to erupt. 

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed fuzzily. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you glanced down and noticed how rapidly your chest was rising and falling. 

“Do you wanna go home? I can walk with you if you want,” he offered quietly. 

“Uhm…” you blinked up at him before uttering, “sure, but I don’t wanna end your night before you want to.”

“No, you’re not,” he reassured you, “I’m ready to go home myself.”

“Alright then,” you nodded before Matt turned to the others. 

“Guys, we’re gonna head home.”

“No!” Foggy boomed, “really?”

Throwing her hands up, Karen added, “but we haven’t even gone dancing yet!”

“Sorry,” Matt got up from his tall stool, “another night.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you tugged your jacket back on, “I had a lot of fun.”

To your surprise, they both got up and hugged you in return.

“Thank you for coming!” Karen gave you a tight squeeze before Foggy took over. 

“And we’ll be seeing you for the next one, right?”

“Uh, sure,” you gave his back a light pat, “if I have time and stuff the day that it happens, then I’d love to tag along.”

Casting his glance upon the other lawyer, “bye, Matt,” Foggy then yanked him into an embrace, “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Matt chuckled, clapping his friend’s spine, “I know, buddy.”

“You love me too, right?” Foggy pulled back, though still kept his hands fast on Matt’s broad shoulders, “don’t leave me hanging, it’s bad for a man’s health.”

“Foggy, I started a firm with you. Of course, I love you,” Matt smiled back at his sloshed pal, “good night.”

“Night, night,” Foggy patted his scruffy cheek before letting him out of his gasp, though adding as you turned to exit the bar, “night, Y/n! I love you too! I just met you today, but I love you!”

Soft giggles bubbled out of you as the door slammed shut behind you. 

“So, those are your friends...” you smiled into the night, “I like them. They’re nice.”

“Yeah,” the corners of Matt’s lips turned further up till dimples bloomed, “they’re good eggs.”

As the two of you began to move along, the silence didn’t last very long at all. 

“This is really nice of you, walking me home like this,” you uttered, “I know it’s just because we’re neighbours and headed in the same direction, but–”

“It’s not.”

“What?” your eyes found him.

“It’s not because we’re neighbours. It’s just, you know, the decent thing to do.”

“Right,” you exhaled, casting your glance back down onto the sidewalk as you momentarily got your hopes up. 

“And you know how this city can be,” Matt went on, “it’s not smart for anyone to walk alone at night.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “of course.”

When a street then appeared before you, slicing the path you journeyed on, and even though there wasn’t any traffic in sight, your hand still instinctively shot down to grasp Matt’s forearm before the two of you could cross.

Realising what you’d done, you quietly muttered, “sorry,” though couldn’t find the strength to withdraw your touch just yet. 

“It’s okay,” his low voice slid from his lips like silk. 

“I just didn’t want you to walk straight out into ongoing traffic...” you tore your gaze away from him and forced yourself to look at the road before you, “but there aren’t any right now, so we can cross the street…”

Guiding his palm up to the curve of your elbow, he accepted the gentle aid as you began to cross the lane. 

Once you’d reached the other side and his grasp slowly began to drift back down. When his palm reached the height of your own, you softly caught it before timidly testing, “…do you mind if we–…”

“Hold hands?” with a gentle smile, he filled in before you might wonder if he could even sense your shy touch at all.

“Yeah…”

“No,” you felt him weave his fingers with your own, “not at all.” 

His touch somehow felt even better than you’d imagined. Though surprisingly gruff, with harsh calluses all throughout, he cradled your palm with such care, like he’d held it a thousand times before, occasionally swiping his broad thumb over your knuckles, presumably just a subconscious gesture from his end that still caused shivers to trickle down your spine every time he did so. 

You wanted the latter part of your walk home to last forever, engulfed in the comfortable silence of endless possibilities. But alas, when you did reach your building’s front door and then climbed the steps all the way up to your respective apartments, you couldn’t get yourself to let go just yet. 

“Are you hungry? Because I kinda am,” you weren’t really, but anything to just stretch the night a little longer, “or maybe it’s just my subconscious taking care of me and lessening my hangover by giving me a sudden craving for cheese.”

“I don’t think I have any cheese.”

“I do,” you said maybe a bit too fast, “do you want some?”

Exhaling lowly, a soft smile twitched at his lips as he then uttered, “sure.”

As you unlocked your door, you finally let go of his hand, “make yourself at home!” you placed your keys down on the slender entry table before kicking your shoes off and peeling off your coat, hanging it up on the row of hooks, “oh, do you want me to, uh, describe the layout for you? Or just plant your down on the couch?”

“Just tell me the direction and I think I’ll be fine.”

Facing him, you haphazardly explained, “alright, the hallway goes on for a few steps and then it’s to your right–, no, wait, my right, that’s your left. It’s to your left.”

Whirling around, you delved deeper into your home till you reached the kitchen. Ripping open the fridge, you snatched up a block of half-eaten cheese before seizing a clean butter knife from the dishrack and a roll of seedy crackers from a cupboard. 

Matt was already comfortable on your sage couch as you laid the humble spread out on the coffee table and joined him. 

“I hope you like brie because that’s what I got. Unless you want a single slice of american cheese, then this is all the cheese I have to offer.”

“Brie it is then,” he relaxed into the cushions as you unwrapped the snack. 

“Here, let me make you a bite,” slicing off bits of soft cheese, you spread it both on a cracker for him and one for you. Gently picking up his hand to place his snack in his palm, you then popped your own in your mouth and nearly melted into the couch next to him, “yep… that’s the spot…” you grinned hazily out the tall windows at the night sky as you chewed, “there’s just something about eating cheese when the moon is out that’s just so right in a way I can’t describe…” 

Your murmuring conjured a light chuckle to rumble within Matt, one that swayed your gaze to train on him. Resting your head against the back of the couch, you watched as the moonlight reflected in his tinted glasses. 

When the silence stretched on, Matt eventually cocked his head, “…what?”

Not tearing your eyes off of him, you breathed, “nothing…”

“You’re quiet,” his dark brows furrowed gently, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you repeated, feeling almost like you were floating in a calm sea. 

“You tired? Do you want me to go so that you can go to bed?”

“No, please don’t, I–…” you reached out and grazed his arm, “could–… do you want to go?”

Letting his body relax once more, he breathed, “not particularly…”

Gazing up at him, your bottom lip snuck its way in between your teeth, “Matt…”

“Yeah?”

“You–… you’re–… I–…” your pulse pounded in your ears. 

“Mhm?”

“I really, really wanna kiss you right now…” you uttered thickly before you had the chance to chicken out. Like a wave crashing a shore, you didn’t even think as you let yourself dive in and press your lips to his. The kiss however didn’t last too long as you swiftly drew back as soon as your brain turned back on and you realised what you’d done, an apology hastily rushing out of your lungs, “Oh my god… I am so sorry.”

“Y/n,” hearing your name on his silky tongue did not help matters. 

“I didn’t mean to just–”

“Y/n,” he repeated, trying to cut through your fog. 

“We can just forget any of that ever happened, I totally get it if you don’t–”

As he brought his hands up to cradle the sides of your face, your nervous ramble fell short. When he ghosted his thumb across your cheekbone, you swore that you stopped breathing entirely. 

“…can I kiss you?” he slowly asked, leaving you utterly dazed. 

“W-what?”

Drawing in a breath, he repeated for you, “can I kiss you, Y/n?”

Blinking back at him, you hazily hummed, “mhm,” before he leaned in and brushed his lips against your own. The kiss was soft, just as your shoddy attempt had been, but it made your limbs feel like they morphed into jelly. When the pecks soon departed, you filled your lungs with a shaky breath as you gazed back at him in total awe, “holy shit…” only staying there a moment before you had to have another taste. 

Slowly growing more confident, the intoxicating kiss gradually grew more hungry. When his fingers then weaved into your hair, you realised that up till now he’d been holding himself back, gatekeeping a kiss that caused your frame to crawl into his lap, starving for more. Your little whimpers vibrated against his tongue as he danced it against yours, growing dizzy as you melted into the heart-stopping sensation. 

But suddenly a tormenting flash stabbed your being, and you abruptly tilted your lips away from his, breathlessly uttering, “wait, wait, there’s-, there’s-, uh…”

“What,” he breathed thickly, nose grazing yours before you retracted further, “are you okay?” 

“I’m…” carefully crawling off his lap, you kept going till you were a safe distance away on your own side of the couch, “Matt, there’s something I need to–, uhm, tell you…”

Staying silent, he patiently waited as you gathered up the courage needed to jump off the cliff and tell him.

Casting your gaze up to the tall and dark ceilings above, you felt your limbs begin to tremble, “okay, alright… I have no idea how to, uh, say this, so I’m just gonna do it,” and like a band-aid, you uttered, “I-, I was raped,” your eyes squeezed shut, not daring to risk glancing at his reaction, “a little over a year ago… and I haven’t–, uhm, done or tried anything with anyone since… so yeah, I just thought that was a good thing for you to know since even though I hope for there not to be any problems, I just don’t know, I don’t know what it will be like for me, if my body will suddenly freak out, but I just wanted to tell you so that in case something does happens, that you know not to automatically take it personally...” drawing in a shaky breath, you fluttered your gaze open and waited for his response, “Matt?”

“Yeah?” he answered carefully. 

“Please don’t say that I’m scaring you away right now…” you shifted your position, turning to face him once more.  

“You’re not, you’re not,” his head softly shook from side to side, “I just–… I really, really sorry.”

“Yeah…” you exhaled slowly, feeling tears sting the corners of your eyes, “me too…” staring at him a moment, you then bared your all and uttered, “I really like you, Matt,” a faint smile accompanied the declaration, “I think you might be the only guy in all of New York that I’m not scared of,” every other man you could think of had all had at least a second, a little flicker, of something that over the past year had terrified you, “and I don’t want you to think that I’m made of glass, that’s not what I want, that’s not why I’m telling you this. Please trust me when I say that I want to, I wanna do–…” a weighty exhale flowed from your lungs as your lips remembered his taste, “I wanna do everything with you… if–, if that’s something you’d like as well… but if we do, even though I really, really want to, I think it’s probably smartest to go slow, no pressure, you know, just in case, so that my body doesn’t freak out. Also, I’d really appreciate it if I at any point indicate for you to stop or even just pause a moment, that you’ll do that, that you’ll listen to me,” you briefly glanced down at your fiddling fingers, “and you know, I’m not saying let’s only do PG things, there are so, so many wonderful steps on the way that we can have fun with… I just–, I wanted to let you know now, before, so that we wouldn’t potentially have this conversation when something did happen.”

Only parting his lips when he was sure you were done, he uttered, “thank you for telling me. Are you–… are you okay? Was what happened before too much?”

“No…” you shook your head gently, “no, it wasn’t,” taking his hand in yours, you shared, “and I’m okay, I think… I mean, some days it still feels like it just happened, and others I notice something, something small, that I’ve gotten back, that I’ve regained…” absentmindedly tracing the lines of his palm with your thumb, you asked, “do you–… do you have any questions? Is there anything you wanna know?”

“No, I–… I just want you to tell me however much or little you feel comfortable with sharing.”

“…can I tell you? About it?” you asked slowly and he swiftly offered you a soft nod. Drawing in a deep breath, you began, “It, um, it was a Saturday night… I’d just gotten back from the bakery super late, maybe close to midnight… and when I was getting ready for bed, my roommate came home, he’d been out drinking as he usually spent his weekends. I remember we stayed up a while, just talking about the mundane stuff we always did. It was like any other Saturday, really. That was until I got too tired and went to go to bed, but he didn’t wanna stop talking, so he followed along into my room while I got ready and stuff,” averting your gaze, your bottom lip began to tremble, “we were just talking, it wasn’t anything special and then the next thing I knew, he was kissing me. It just–… it happened so fast… his hands were all over me… I remember he pushed me up against my closet so hard that my back was bruised the next day, and I don’t bruise that easily. He was just so wasted that I don’t think he realised or maybe even cared what he was doing. I tried to say something, tried to make him stop, but he didn’t listen to me. If he heard me, then I don’t think he understood what it was that I was saying… I would have pushed him away, slapped and hit him, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t move my body, not even a little, I just froze…” 

“I can still feel what he felt like… like my skin won’t let go of the memory…” tears rolled down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to ignore how your palm tingled with recollection, “how he forced me to touch him and held his hand over mine, making it move as if he just thought I didn’t know what to do… he was my friend, you know? He wasn’t just some stranger who dragged me into an alley and held a knife to my throat. He was my friend. He would always make offhand jokes about seeing me as just a little sister and how he wasn’t attracted to you at all. Made such a big deal of it that I never thought he’d try anything… I have no idea how long it actually went on… I don’t even remember when it was that I landed on the bed, if it was before or after he–… after he–… did stuff, t-touched me… I just remember I was laying there when it happened. The masked man, the devil of hell’s kitchen, he ripped him off of me…”

“He’d somehow heard… I think maybe if I hadn’t opened the window that night to air out the room, he wouldn’t have saved me… he beat him up... knocked him out… he told me to call the police, but I couldn’t, so I instead asked my uncle to come get me… my body’s never shaked the way it did that night… I remember I was so confused because I wasn’t cold, didn’t get it till the masked man said I was in shock… it didn’t stop till the next night… when he was about to leave, I asked what if Mi–,” you couldn’t get yourself to utter Michael’s name out loud without feeling as if your whole world would crumble around you, “what if he woke up before Howard arrived, and so he just stayed there with me, right till he somehow heard my uncle walking up the stairs and then he slipped out the way he came in, right before I heard the front door unlock.” 

Letting out a long and unsteady breath, you raised a trembling palm up to wipe your cheeks. 

For a while, the silence got to encompass the space completely, your left hand still shaking in Matt’s as you eventually heard him ask. 

“Did you ever go to the police?”

“No. In the small window that I had to do one of those kits, I was just way too overwhelmed and confused and I just couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t do anything but relive that moment over and over again, so I didn’t do anything in time. But the longer time that passes and the more it sinks in what he did and the ways that I’m still paying for it, the things he ruined inside of me that I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back, the more I wish that I had gone to the police. But it’s too late now.”

“No, it’s not,” his fingers squeezed slightly around yours, “I could help you, I’m a lawyer after all.”

“No, Matt,” you said firmly, “it is. I don’t wanna sit there and hear them go oh, it’s your word against his, sorry, and have them think that not enough happened technically for them to take it seriously. Enough happened, trust me. I’m eternally grateful that Daredevil saved me from whatever else he could have done to me that night, but enough happened. Just because he didn’t stick it in me doesn’t mean nothing happened. That is the kind of belief that only belongs to people who think that the only sexual act that counts as sex is when a penis is in a vagina, and that is just so incredibly wrong,” an enraged laugh tumbled out of you as you fumed, “they are the kind of people who think that someone queer, disabled or just someone who isn’t into that sexual act isn’t actually having sex when they are. Sex is about connection, it’s about pleasure and there are endless amounts of things that can give a person pleasure,” clenching your jaw, you let out a heavy sigh, “I wish it could be different, I wish many things, I wish it hadn’t had happened at all, but it did, and I hope that at the very least he learned something from it, that he changed, that he wouldn’t do it again to someone else.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[adverbally]

You’ve Got That Hold Over Me

Written for the @steddie-spooktober day eight prompt “bonfire” | wc: 760 | rated: T | cw: mild alcohol and drug use | tags: pre-relationship, pining, wingman Robin, Eddie & Robin friendship | title from “Right Down the Line” by Gerry Rafferty

———

Steve glows.

He’s radiant, bathing everyone around him in a warmth that surpasses that of the bonfire they’ve constructed on the shores of Lovers’ Lake. Bright eyes, easy grin, limbs just a little loose from the couple of beers he’s had, shining with love as he flits from person to person.

He ruffles the kids’ hair, plucks a glass bottle from Mike’s hand and replaces it with a can of Coke, argues with Dustin with a gleam in his eye that betrays how much he cares about him. He wraps his arms around Robin’s waist and spins her around, singing some pop song that makes Eddie’s teeth hurt with its saccharine lyrics and upbeat tempo. He presses a kiss to Nancy’s cheek as he passes her another drink, bums a drag off the joint Jonathan and Argyle are sharing.

Eddie doesn’t begrudge anyone else the closeness they share with Steve, not when they’ve been through so much together. Eddie’s really only known Steve— like actually spoken to him, gotten to know the real him— for something like seven months. He doesn’t have the same claim to his time and energy as everyone else, and that’s okay.

It’s okay, Eddie reminds himself, watching Steve drape himself over Robin’s back and wishing Steve would touch him like that. Eddie sits back and watches, and drinks, and smokes, and burns at the sight of Steve’s golden warmth in the firelight.

He startles when Robin plops herself down on the log beside him. “Jesus, Buckley, warn a guy,” he grumbles, rubbing at his jeans where some beer spilled from Robin’s mostly-full bottle.

“You should tell him,” Robin says before taking another sip of her drink.

“Tell who what?” Eddie asks, though he can guess based on the way Robin bumps their shoulders together and rolls her eyes until she’s glaring at him from the corner of her eye.

To her credit, she keeps her voice low despite her drunkenness. “Steve, duh.”

Eddie’s gaze darts from the kids gathered at the edge of the water to the young adults on the other side of the fire. Steve is engrossed in conversation with Jonathan, gesticulating wildly and laughing as he tells a story.

“You keep looking at him like that,” Robin observes, a little sadly. It’s not pity on her face when Eddie looks back at her. Maybe irony?

“C’mon, we both know it’s never gonna be more than that.” He tries not to flinch as the sound of Steve’s laughter carries down the beach. “It’s Steve.”

Robin frowns. “I know it’s Steve.”

“Yeah, but it’s Steve,” Eddie tries to explain, shaking his head at the impossibility of it all. “He’s not… Why would he…?”

“I think,” Robin says deliberately, reaching for Eddie’s hand, “that Steve could surprise you if you give him a chance. You know he wouldn’t be a dick about it.”

Eddie drags his boot back and forth through the sand, watching the grains shifting and catching the light. “I don’t think that’s the confidence booster you hoped it would be, Birdie. More like the bare minimum standard of decency, you know?”

“Eddie.” She pauses until he locks eyes with her again. “You don’t see the way he looks at you. I’ve seen it and I’m telling you, it’s a lot like the way you’ve been looking at him all evening. Tell him you like him.”

It’s more of a command than an encouragement, but Eddie respects the hell out Robin for it. “Is this the part where you tell me you’ll kill me if I do anything to hurt him?” He smiles a little despite himself.

Robin guffaws loudly, clearly caught off guard by the question. “No, he can handle himself. It’s the getting-together part he needs help with, not the post-heartbreak revenge.”

She sounds so sure that it loosens something in Eddie’s chest. “You really think he’ll…?” He trails off, not sure he can finish the sentence.

“I know him, and I’m getting to know you. Everything I’ve seen points to ‘yes.’” Robin squeezes Eddie’s hand reassuringly.

He’s already thinking ahead to tomorrow, when both of them will be sober and less dazzled by the light of the bonfire, when Eddie can drop by Steve’s house after his morning shift at Family Video. Maybe pick up a late lunch for them to share, maybe grab some flowers so he can see Steve go all blushy and bashful. Maybe he’ll get to see for himself just how Steve looks at him.

“Yes,” he says to himself thoughtfully. “I can work with that.”

[rootedinrevisions]

Rooster's Shadow

SUMMARY: When Carly Bradshaw, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw’s younger sister, starts college near her brother’s TOP GUN base, she’s excited for a fresh start. A surprise night out with Rooster introduces her to Jake Seresin, the charming and cocky Navy pilot known as Hangman. As Jake’s attention shifts to Carly, their undeniable chemistry leads to a series of flirtatious encounters that challenge Carly’s feelings and Rooster’s protective instincts.

WORD COUNT: 5.4k(I may have got a little carried away with this one.)

Warnings: Alcohol Use.

PART 2: HERE

You stood at the curb outside your apartment building, shielding your eyes from the setting sun as you waited. It was one of those warm San Diego evenings, the kind where the heat clung to your skin but the ocean breeze kept things from becoming unbearable. You’d only been at San Diego State for a few weeks, but it already felt like home.

Soon enough, you heard the familiar rumble of an engine and looked up just in time to see your brother’s old Ford truck rounding the corner. The paint was faded, and the engine made a sound like it had seen better days, but to you, it was as much a part of your childhood as the Bradshaw name itself.

Bradley pulled up to the curb, one arm hanging casually out the window. His aviators reflected the buildings across the street as he leaned over to smile at you. “Hey, Carls.”

“Hey, Brad.” You grinned, throwing your backpack into the bed of the truck before hopping into the passenger seat. The familiar scent of sun-warmed leather and your brother’s cologne hit you instantly, bringing you back to summer road trips and late-night talks. He had on his usual–a white tank top under an open Hawaiian shirt, and jeans worn soft from too many flights and not enough time at home.

“Ready to be my wingman tonight?” he asked with a teasing glint in his eye as he shifted the truck into drive and pulled away from the curb.

You smirked, buckling your seatbelt. “As long as you don’t embarrass me, Lieutenant.”

He chuckled, rolling down the windows as the wind whipped through the cab. “No promises.”

The drive from your apartment just off campus to the bar was short, but it gave you and Bradley time to catch up. The conversation was light but familiar–family updates, your classes, his work. You could tell he was happy to have you so close by, though he’d never say it outright. His protective streak had always run deep, and being stationed just fifteen minutes from your dorm gave him more opportunities to check-in.

“So, how are the classes?” he asked, glancing over as the truck rumbled down the highway. “Making any friends yet?”

You shrugged. “A few. It’s only been a few weeks, so…I’m still getting used to it. A lot different from the online classes I’ve done the past three years, though.”

He nodded, his hand tapping the steering wheel. “You let me know if anyone gives you a hard time. I’ll come scare ‘em off.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “What are you gonna do, march onto campus in your uniform?”

“If I have to,” he joked before his tone softened a bit. “But seriously, Carls, I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.”

You glanced at him, warmth spreading through your chest. “Missed you too, Brad.”

A comfortable silence fell between you two as the truck neared the bar. The lights of the base flickered in the distance, and you knew that while tonight was just for fun, something bigger was looming for your brother.

By the time you and Rooster walked into the bar, the place was starting to fill up. The music was loud, and the chatter of off-duty officers filled the air. You followed your brother through the crowd, the scent of beer and cheap cologne mixing with the ocean breeze still lingering in the air from outside.

Bradley’s eyes scanned the room, and you noticed the way his expression softened when he spotted a few familiar faces near the back. Before you could ask who they were, a voice called out, sharp and playful.

“Bradshaw!”

Your brother turned toward the sound, a smile already forming on his lips. A woman in a tan uniform, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, was leaning over a pool table, cue stick in hand. Her gaze flicked from your brother to you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“This is how I find out you’re stateside?” she asked, her voice teasing but with an edge.

Bradley gave a sheepish grin, pulling off his aviators. “Yeah, I just thought I’d surprise you.”

Phoenix let out a small chuckle before bending over to take her shot. As she lined it up and brought her elbow back the end of the cue stick rammed into your brother’s lower abdomen, making him grunt and hunch over.

She glanced at him with a smirk, “I guess I surprised you back.”

Bradley straightened, rubbing his stomach as he chuckled. “It’s good to see you too.”

Phoenix gave him a grin and turned to you. “Who’s this?”

Your brother placed a hand on your shoulder. “Phoenix, this is my sister, Carly.”

Her handshake was firm, and the look she gave you was one of genuine curiosity. “Nice to meet you, Carly. You ever been to a place like this before?”

You shook your head with a smile. “Not exactly.”

Just then, another airman strode into view, catching your eye immediately. He wore the same tan uniform as many of the other in the bar, but the way he carried himself was different–more confident, almost too sure of himself. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back, and his hazel-green eyes were sharp, and calculating. But what really caught your attention was the smirk playing on his lips, like he was always on the verge of saying something cocky.

“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe,” he said, his voice dripping with that trademark arrogance.

Your brother’s expression tightened as he muttered, “Hangman. You look…good.” Hangman’s smirk widened.

The tension between them was almost tangible as Hangman sauntered up to the pool table, taking a cue stick from Bob, another airman you’d just met. Hangman leaned over to take his shot, and his gaze flicked toward your brother.

“Well, I am good, Rooster,” he said, his eyes gleaming as he sank a ball into the corner pocket with an impressive shot. He stood up, flashing that smile at you now. “In fact, I’m very good. Too good to be true.”

You rolled your eyes, resisting the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach. Sure, he was attractive–annoyingly so–but his cockiness was more than enough to keep you grounded.

Just as you were about to fire back a remark, another airman interrupted, asking something about the special detachment they had all been called in for. Hangman shrugged, eyes still on your brother. “A mission’s a mission. What I want to know is who’s gonna be team leader.”

Bradley scoffed. “Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.”

The crowd around the pool table erupted in playful jeers, but Hangman didn’t flinch. He just strolled over to your brother, a confident swagger in his step. “Rooster, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend? Where are your manners?”

Your brother’s eyes narrowed, as he stepped slightly in front of you. “Hangman, this is my sister, Carly.”

Hangman’s smirk turned downright devilish as he extended his hand to you. “Carly,” he repeated, his voice softer now, more personal. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it. “A pleasure.”

You rolled your eyes again, but the warmth of his touch lingered longer than you wanted to admit.

“I love this song,” Hangman said, grinning as the jukebox blared louder. He turned away, strutting back toward the pool table like he owned the place.

Phoenix sidled up to you and Bradley, watching Hangman with a smirk of her own. “Well, he hasn’t changed.”

Bradley let out a long breath. “Nope. Sure hasn’t.”

As the pool game wrapped up and your brother wandered off to the piano, you noticed Hangman making his way back toward you. His grin was all charm and trouble as he approached, leaning casually on the edge of the table, his eyes scanning your face.

“So, Carly,” he drawled, his voice smooth and confident. “What’s a girl like you drinking tonight? Let me guess, something sweet? Or maybe you’ve got a stronger taste?”

You rolled your eyes, already anticipating where this was going. “I can handle my drinks just fine, thanks.”

“Now that I don’t doubt,” he said with a wink, standing up straight and gesturing toward the bar. “How about I get you something? On me.”

Before you could even consider your response, Bradley appeared, sliding smoothly between the two of you. His broad frame blocked Hangman’s view as he handed you a cold bottle of beer, his expression neutral but his intent clear.

“She’s already taken care of,” Bradley said, his tone casual but firm.

Hangman’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew wider, like he relished the challenge. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Well, I see big brother’s got it all under control,” he teased, glancing between you and Rooster. “But if you change your mind, Carly, you know where to find me.”

Your brother didn’t bother with a reply, but you couldn’t help but notice the way Hangman’s gaze lingered on you just a little longer before he turned and strolled back toward the pool table, a mischievous glint still in his eyes.

Rooster took a swig of his beer, his eyes scanning the crowd for a moment before he turned to you. “You alright?”

You nodded, trying to suppress a smile. “You know, I can handle him, right?”

Bradley huffed softly, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “Oh, I know. But he’s Hangman. He’s a whole different level of annoying.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, taking a sip of your beer and glancing back at Hangman, who was already chatting up someone else, though his gaze flicked in your direction now and then. Something told you this wasn’t the last time he’d try.

The night had settled into a comfortable rhythm. You were sipping a drink and chatting with Phoenix while Rooster hovered nearby, keeping a watchful eye on you. Despite his relaxed exterior, you could tell he was in full “protective brother” mode. Every time a guy so much as glanced your way, he subtly moved closer.

You were about to tease him when you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, you found Hangman standing there, that familiar cocky grin plastered across his face.

“Enjoying yourself, Carly?” he asked, leaning casually against the bar, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief.

“More than you’d think,” you replied, keeping your tone light but guarded. Something about Hangman’s smug confidence set you on edge, though you couldn’t deny the way your heart skipped when he was around.

 He twirled the pool cue in his hand before setting it aside. “How about you let me show you a good time on the dance floor?”

Before you could answer, your brother’s voice cut in from behind you. “She’s fine where she is, Hangman.”

Bradley stepped up next to you, folding his arms across his chest as he fixed Hangman with a pointed stare. The tension between them was palpable–old rivalries and new challenges seemed to swirl in the air, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Hangman’s grin only widened. “Easy there, Bradshaw. Just offering to be a gentleman.”

He straightened up and without missing a beat, grabbed a couple of the darts off the wall. “Tell you what, Rooster. Let’s settle this like men. A friendly game of darts–nothing too serious.” His eyes slid over to you for a second, then back to your brother. “Winner gets a dance with Carly.”

The challenge hung in the air for a moment, the weight of it thick between them. Bradley’s jaw clenched, and you could feel the tension rolling off him.

“I’m not letting you use my sister as a prize in your stupid games, Hangman,” Bradley shot back.

Hangman raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, it’s just for fun. Think of it as a little competition between friends.” His smirk never wavered. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid of losing.”

That did it.

Bradley’s eyes narrowed, and before you knew it, he was reaching for the darts in Hangman’s hand. “Fine. But when I win, you’re gonna drop this whole act and leave her alone.”

Hangman laughed, his voice low and smug. “You’re on, Bradshaw.”

The two of them moved to the dartboard, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. The crowd formed around them, cheers and laughter erupting as the stakes were set. You could feel the pit of anxiety in your stomach, torn between not wanting to be a part of this thing and being slightly curious about how it would all play out.

The game was fast-paced, with both men throwing with precision and confidence. Hangman’s throws were smooth and casual–he made it look effortless. Bradley, on the other hand, was more calculated, taking his time with each throw. The score stayed close, and by the time they reached the final round, it was almost neck and neck.

You could see the concentration on Bradley’s face as he took his last shot, hitting just off-center. Hangman smirked, stepping up for his final throw. With a flick of his wrist, the dart flew through the air, hitting dead center, giving him the two-point win.

The room erupted in cheers as Hangman turned to face Bradley, his grin smug and victorious. “Guess that means I get the dance.”

Bradley’s jaw clenched, and you could see the muscles in his neck tighten. He gave you a look–one that told you exactly how he felt about this. But you also knew there was no backing out now.

Hangman stepped over to you, offering his hand with an exaggerated bow. “Shall we, Carly?”

You hesitated for a split second before placing your hand in his. The crowd parted as he led you to the small dance floor near the jukebox, the music shifting to a slow, steady rhythm.

Hangman wasted no time, pulling you close as his hand rested lightly on your waist, his other hand intertwining with yours. His touch was firm and confident, and the way he moved made it clear he knew exactly how to command a dance floor.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as he twirled you out and then back in, using the movement to subtly draw you closer. His body was solid against yours, and though you could feel Rooster’s eyes burning into your back from across the room, a small part of you couldn’t deny the strange excitement building inside you.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out quieter than you intended.

He chuckled, low and deep. “I can’t help it. There’s something about you, Carly Bradshaw. You know how to make a guy work for it.”

Before you could respond, he twirled you again, the spin making your heart race. This time when he pulled you back, his hand stayed on your waist, fingers pressing just a little harder. “You know,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “your brother’s not gonna be able to keep me away from you forever.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt a mix of heat and frustration rise in your chest. You wanted to say something snarky, something that would put him back in his place, but the way his voice dropped to that smooth, confident tone made your thoughts scatter.

Hangman leaned in closer, his lips just inches from your neck. “Tell me, Carly, are you having fun yet?”

Before you could answer, your brother’s voice cut through the haze of the moment.

“That’s enough.”

Bradley stepped forward, his expression hard as he glared at Hangman. He reached for your hand, pulling you back toward the group.

Hangman released you, but not before giving you one last smirk. “Thanks for the dance, sweetheart.”

Rooster led you back to the bar, his hand still wrapped protectively around your wrist. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. Your head was spinning, caught between your brother’s overprotectiveness and the undeniable pull you’d felt toward Hangman during that dance.

You glanced back at the dance floor where Hangman stood, hands on his hips, that same infuriatingly cocky grin still playing on his lips. For the first time tonight, you found yourself wondering if there might be more to him than just the arrogance.

The bar had started to quiet down. The crowd thinned as people drifted toward the exits, some stumbling out in groups, others pairing off into couples. Your brother, now a little less tense after the confrontation with Hangman–or maybe just because of the beer and the brunette he was laughing with–had finally loosened his protective grip on you. For the first time tonight, you felt like you could breathe.

Needing some space, you slipped away from the crowd and stepped outside onto the bar’s patio. The night air was crisp, a welcome contrast to the warmth and noise inside. You inhaled deeply, letting the cool breeze calm your nerves. It felt good to be alone for a moment, without anyone watching over your shoulder.

You leaned against the railing, looking out at the lights in the distance, your mind wandering. You hadn’t expected the night to take so many twists, especially not with Hangman–and that dance. A small part of you was still processing what had just happened.

The creak of the door behind you caught your attention, and you turned to see Hangman stepping out onto the patio. His usual swagger seemed dialed back, the cocky grin replaced by something more subdued.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, his voice quieter than before as he walked over and stood beside you. “Just needed some fresh air.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-expecting him to launch into another flirty remark, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned against the railing next to you, his eyes scanning the view ahead, not pushing for your attention like he usually did. 

“You’re not interrupting,” you replied, surprised at how different he seemed out here, away from the bar and your brother’s watchful eye.

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. “You’re not what I expected.”

You glanced at him, curiosity piqued. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t the usual cocky smirk. This time, it was softer, almost thoughtful. “I figured Rooster’s little sister would be a lot like him–, cocky, chip on your shoulder. But you…you’re different. Quieter. More thoughtful.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you stayed quiet, letting him continue.

“I guess I’m just intrigued,” he said, his eyes now on you, serious for once. “You’re not like the girls I’m used to.”

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head. “I’m sure you say that to every girl you meet.”

He chuckled softly but shook his head. “Not this time.”

There was something in the way he said it that made you pause. You turned to face him fully, searching his expression for any hint of the arrogance you were used to. But it wasn’t there. Instead, he looked almost…genuine.

“Jake,” he said after a moment, holding out his hand. “My name’s Jake Seresin.”

You hesitated for just a second before placing your hand in his. “Carly.”

“I know,” he replied, his grin returning, but it was more playful than smug this time. “But I figured it was time we met properly.”

For a moment, you forgot about the dance, the challenge, the tension from earlier. Out here, in the quiet of the night, Jake felt different–less of the cocky, overconfident pilot, and more like just a guy who was trying to figure you out.

“So, is this the real you?” you asked, crossing your arms as you studied him. “The guy behind the callsign?”

He shrugged, his gaze thoughtful. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just easier to drop the act when your brother’s not around to kill me.”

You laughed despite yourself, the tension in your chest easing a little more. “Bradley’s not that bad.”

“Right,” Jake said, smirking again. “Tell that to the look he gave me earlier.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the distant hum of the bar fading into the background. It was strange–how different things felt out here compared to inside. No loud music, no crowd, no watchful brother. Just you and Jake, standing side by side, and for the first time tonight, you weren’t entirely sure what to think of him.

“Thanks for the dance, by the way,” Jake said after a while, his voice softer again. “Even if your brother was ready to drag me off the floor.”

You smirked. “You’re lucky he didn't.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but it was worth it.”

There it was again–that strange shift in him, the one that made you wonder if there was more to Jake Seresin than just the swagger and the teasing. You found yourself wanting to know more, to see if this version of him, the quieter one, was the real deal.

As the minutes wore on, the cool breeze continued to swirl around you both, and the noise from inside seemed to grow more distant. Jake’s presence beside you was no longer overwhelming, no longer something you had to guard against. For the first time since you’d met him, you started to let your guard down just a little, wondering what might happen next.

The night air had cooled you off enough to shake off some of the tension, but the moment you stepped back into the bar, you were greeted by the buzz of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the steady beat of the music. It wasn’t as crowded as before, but there were still enough people milling around that it took you a second to spot your brother.

Bradley was leaning against the bar, and the brunette from earlier was practically draped over his arm, laughing at something he’d said. He caught sight of you before you could make your way over, a knowing smirk already creeping onto his face.

“You alright, Carly?” he asked, the teasing tone in his voice impossible to miss. He shot a glance at the brunette, who hadn’t even noticed you’d walked up. “Looks like you got some fresh air.”

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Yeah, I’m good. You look like you’re about to call it a night, though.”

Bradley laughed, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Depends on what you mean by ‘call it a night.’” He gave the brunette a playful nudge, which she returned with an exaggerated giggle. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“So I’m guessing you’re okay catching an Uber back to your place?” he asked, clearly banking on your answer so he could make his next move.

You waved him off. “Go. I’m a big girl, Bradley. I’ll be fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, giving you a once-over that told you he wasn’t totally convinced. His eyes scanned the room, almost as if trying to figure out if Hangman was still around. But the brunette tugged on his arm again, and his attention wavered.

“You sure?” He hesitated, but you could tell his focus was already drifting.

“I’m sure,” you reassured him. “Go have fun.”

Bradley flashed you a grateful smile, and with a quick, brotherly squeeze on your shoulder, he turned back to his date. You watched him leave, the brunette still glued to his side, before turning back toward the bar.

And that’s when you saw him. Jake–no, Hangman–was leaning casually against one of the high-top tables, the cocky grin firmly back in place. Gone was the serious, thoughtful version of him from outside. Now, the cocky swagger was back, all confidence and charm as he zeroed in on you, his eyes glinting with the same challenge from before.

“Well, look who it is,” he drawled, sauntering over to you, the grin never leaving his face. “Didn’t think he’d ever leave.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you met his gaze. “Surprised you’re still here. Thought you’d be off chasing another challenge by now.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Oh, I’m not done with this one yet.”

You tilted your head, eyeing him with a mixture of amusement and skepticism. “You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?”

His smile widened, and he leaned in just enough for you to catch the hint of his cologne. “I know enough.”

There it was–the cocky, overconfident Hangman, back in full force. But this time, you weren’t about to make things easy for him. If he was going to make a pass, he’d have to work for it.

“Do you?” you asked, your voice teasing as you took a step back, letting him chase just a little. “Because I’m not as easy as you might think.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “I never said you were easy. Just a challenge I’m more than willing to take on.”

You smirked, playing along. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, I plan to,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping just a bit, his eyes never leaving yours. “You just tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there.”

His confidence was palpable, but you weren’t about to let him get the upper hand so quickly. Not tonight.

“Where I want to go, huh?” you mused, your fingers brushing against the edge of the bar as you leaned casually against it. “And what makes you think I’m going anywhere with you?”

He stepped closer, closing the distance, his gaze flicking to your lips before meeting your eyes. “Because you want to,” he said, his voice low and sure.

And damn, he was right. You could feel the heat rising between you, the tension crackling in the air like electricity. There was no point in denying it–you did want to go home with him. But if he was going to play this game, you were going to make him earn it.

“Maybe I do,” you said, your voice softer, just enough to keep him guessing. “But I’m not just going to hand it to you, Hangman.”

His grin widened at the challenge, his eyes glinting with excitement. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You could feel the pulse of the bar fading into the background as the two of you locked into this game. Jake’s presence was intoxicating, and the way he looked at you–like he knew exactly what he was doing–was enough to make your pulse quicken. But if he was going to get what he wanted, he was going to have to prove it.

He reached out, his fingers grazing yours in a way that made your breath catch. “So, what do you say? One more round of drinks? Or are we skipping straight to the good part?”

You smiled, tilting your head as you studied him. “I’ll take you up on that drink,” you said, your voice low and teasing. “But after that? You’ll just have to wait and see.”

His eyes darkened with intrigue, and for the first time, you felt like you had the upper hand. Jake may have been used to getting what he wanted, but tonight? Tonight, he was going to have to play by your rules.

The next song that filtered through the bar was slower, and sultry in its rhythm. You felt Jake’s hand on the small of your back before you could fully turn away, guiding you once more to the center of the room. But this time, the energy between you had shifted. Gone were the playful twirls from your last dance, replaced by something much more intimate.

He didn’t give you a chance to object–not that you were planning to. His chest pressed firmly against your back as his hands slid down your arms before coming to rest on your hips, directing your movement with the sway of the music. The air between you was thick with tension, his breath hot against your ear, close enough that you could feel the ghost of his lips hovering above your neck. 

You found yourself leaning into him, letting the warmth of his body seep through the thin fabric of your tank top. You could feel every muscle in his torso, taut and solid against you, as his fingers gripped your hips just tight enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“You’re trouble, aren’t you?” he whispered low into your ear, his voice sending a jolt of electricity down your spine.

Your lips curled into a teasing smile. “I think you’re the one looking for trouble.”

Jake chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. His hands tightened their grip for just a moment, grounding you in the moment, and making your pulse quicken. Your inhibitions, dulled by the alcohol and the charged atmosphere, slipped away as your hand slid up into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft, dirty blonde strands.

He let out a breath, his head tilting slightly into your touch, his body responding to your every move. The tension between you two was undeniable now, the room shrinking until all you could feel was him.

As the song played on, your confidence only grew. You pressed back against him, feeling the firmness of his body as he guided your movements, your hips rolling in sync with his. 

His lips brushed the shell of your ear, so close that you could almost feel the words he whispered. “Careful, Carly,” he murmured, the warning laced with just enough desire to make your skin flush. “I might not be able to hold back much longer.”

The intensity of his voice sent a surge of heat through you, but you weren’t about to let him off that easy. You glanced over your shoulder, catching the way his eyes darkened as they met yours. “Who said I want you to?”

The words hung in the air between you, daring him to take things a step further.

Jake’s eyes darkened further as your words hung in the air, an in a heartbeat, he’d made his decision. With a low growl of approval, he slid his hands from your hips and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” he murmured, already tugging you toward the bar counter where Penny stood, casting the two of you a knowing look. Jake’s free hand reached for his wallet, pulling out a card to quickly close his tab. You noticed the way his thumb lightly brushed against your wrist, a subtle but constant reminder of the tension simmering between you.

Penny smirked as she handed him his receipt. “Take care of her, Hangman.”

Jake let out a breathless chuckle, his gaze flicking toward you as if to say, I plan on it. With one last look at Penny, he nodded. “Oh, I will.”

As soon as his tab was settled, Jake wasted no time guiding you out to the bar. Your arms slipped around his waist, your hands resting on the hard lines of his abdomen, feeling the heat of his body through his shirt. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heated atmosphere you’d just left, but it did nothing to calm the way your heart was racing. You found yourself nuzzling into the side of his neck, inhaling the faint scent of cologne, the mix of leather and woodsy undertones clinging to his skin. Without hesitation, you placed a soft kiss along his Adam’s apple.

Jake tensed beneath your touch, his breath hitching as you kissed along his throat, feeling the way his pulse quickened against your lips. He let out a deep, throaty laugh, the sound vibrating against your mouth.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin,” he said in a husky voice, his arm wrapping around your waist, keeping you close as he led you toward his truck parked just outside.

But instead of stopping, you continued trailing kisses along his neck, your lips teasing the sensitive skin there. His hands tightened around you, his breath shallow as he opened the passenger door to his truck.

“Get in, Carly,” he said, his voice low and filled with promise.

[monimccoythings]

Mending each other's hearts II

Jesus, this took forever. I'm having so much fun writing this, for real. However I think I'll have to do a third part because GOSH do I love angstiness and suffering. One thing I also love is Jean being a wingman and such a cool friend I want to work more with that.

tw: logan is a caveman and a brute, and possibly emotionally constipated, really; a bit angsty.

I have no idea about clubs, I just googled New York clubs and picked the coolest looking.

tags: @kathieycarrerarosshley (I'm not sure if there's anybody else, sorry, I don't usually check the notes :()

Part I │ Part II (You're here!!)

He basically jumped down the stairs, nearly crashing into several innocent students. Like Hell he was going to allow you to do that to yourself. You were not some cheap whore who did one-night-stands. You were so sweet, so innocent, that the thought of having anyone touch you inappropriately, rubbing themselves against your body, tainting you with their dirty hands made his stomach churn and his claws start to come out.

Despite running as if the literal Devil was chasing him, all his efforts were for nothing, because when he barged through the front doors of the mansion he could already hear the gears of your car speeding up, miles away. Fuck, he was too late; but maybe, if he traced your scent, if he went now to his motorbike he may be able to catch you and stop this madness. As he turned around, he narrowly avoided his keys being psychically thrown towards him. Jean looked at him with a determined look on her face.

“Lavo, go. NOW.” Her voice commanded no objection, and for once, he would happily obey orders.

He usually was very careful with his motorbike, an old lady deserved to be treated with respect, but not tonight, there was not a second to lose. Muttering a quiet apology to his dear ride, he sped off towards the city, silently praying to a god he didn’t believe in that you hadn’t done anything you would regret later.

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You felt a sense of excitement settle in your lower belly. Look at you, a grown adult, dressing up all cute and going on your own adventures in the Big Apple, you felt like you were going to squeal like a little girl, either that or you needed to stop the car and puke.

You knew exactly where to go, where the good stuff would be; under normal conditions you wouldn’t be allowed in, so that’s why you were planning to use your powers to sneak in. Maybe you were just some plain teacher at a private school for mutants but that didn’t mean you didn’t have tricks up your sleeve.

A sudden memory of the real reason this was all about, made your heart twist with ache and longing. The memory of Logan and Jean in that empty classroom would be forever engraved inside your mind, a confirmation that no matter what you did, you would never be enough. No. You mentally slapped yourself. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself like that. The only thing invisible about you were your powers. Tonight, you were going to feel beautiful, appreciated, and most importantly, desired. A pang of anxiety hitted you, what if nobody notices? The real possibility of being made into a fool once again was scary and nearly made you turn away and return home with your tail between your legs. They will. Maybe it was that part of you that had been kicked long enough talking, you would never know, but it gave you enough confidence to keep going.

You made sure to park your car as far as you could, you didn’t want anything to associate you with that little stunt you were about to pull. You casually walked into a nearby alleyway to turn yourself invisible, the last thing this night needed was a public scandal. 

There was truly something magical about walking down the street while you were invisible, it made you feel confident and powerful. Nobody could harm you if they didn’t know you were there. You watched couples pass by pampering each other, a group of drunk college freshmans trying their best to walk in a straight line, you could observe every single detail on them without feeling like a creep. Sometimes you wondered why you didn't have your mutation on at all times. It certainly would make your life easier.

Before you knew it, you had already arrived at your destination. Taking advantage of some rich boy skipping line, you glued yourself to his back and entered, making a little squeal that startled the poor security guard.

The place took your breath away.

Lavo was one of the most exclusive clubs in all of Manhattan. One night there (paying the entrance and restaurant, of course) would probably cost you half your salary. You knew Charles could afford it, but you weren’t going to ask him to bill the start of your party girl era.

A sudden realization left you filled with embarrassment; you had entered, now what. In a desperate way to fit in, you decided that the most suitable course of action would be to look for a place to turn visible again and go for a drink.

────────────────────────────────────────────

Logan lost count of how many traffic laws he broke that night, he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to reach you. Each time he imagined a worse scenario that somehow always ended with you in the arms of another man, enjoying his caresses and kisses. He panicked, making his grip on the handlebar painfully tighten. He didn’t know why he was feeling like that, and he also didn’t know what he would do if he found you with a suitor.

He wasn’t impressed at all by the imposing building, and he was less impressed by the regulars. Bunch of spoiled rich brats, if someone asks him.

The security guard wasn’t in the mood to let him in and less while looking like that, but since he didn’t have time nor the patience to deal with any form of bullshit, he opted to launch him across the street with a single punch instead of pulling out his claws, leaving the crowd completely silent.

The inside was as bad as the outside, or even worse. He didn’t like that place at all, too many people, too much noise and too many smells. It overwhelmed him. How the fuck was he supposed to find you there. He showed his way among the crowd, ignoring the grunts and complaints from the people surrounding him, fuck them all. His heightened senses were practically screaming at him to go wild and ravage the place until he got you.

His hunting instincts told him to look for some dark corner where he could keep a close watch on the entire club, it’d be easier, and quieter for him. He could do without all that modern music drilling his ears. Some goddamned peace and tranquility would help him focus.

He didn’t need to wait for long until his eyes settled on you. On the dancefloor, with a glass in your hand, and a man glued to your back with his lips dangerously close to your neck.

Logan saw red.

────────────────────────────────────────────

As you took a sip of your grasshopper, you wondered why you had been worried in the first place. Just one look at how that dress hugged your ass and you had several men eating from your palm. You had to confess that even if it flattered you, it was a bit suffocating having that much attention all of a sudden.

The man you had picked for the night, Kelsey? Kevin?, you hadn't heard it well with the lous music, was actually kinda nice. Out of all of the men that surrounded you he had been the only one to actually try to start some friendly conversation before hitting on you. That sweet attempt just earned him some brownie points. That and that body which seemed to have been sculpted by the gods. Damn, what did they feed him?. His hands moved closely to your hips, and you couldn’t help but wish those arms that held you were bigger, and hairier. You shook your head. Focus on the Adonis right behind you. The one who was going to make you feel so good tonight. You could already imagine it.

But fantasies were just that. Fantasies.

An altercation snapped you out of your daydream. Someone was pushing his way quite violently towards the dancefloor, and by the sound of those screams of protest he wasn’t being very gentle.

The blood froze in your veins when you saw who was approaching. No. How. Why. Millions of questions ran through your mind, your body screaming at you to run, but you were paralyzed with fear.

You had never seen that look on Logan.

Feral.

Wild.

Monster.

You had heard people describe him with those words since the very first day you had met him. Coming from both humans and mutants. You had never paid them any attention, being so confident in knowing that despite his gruff exterior, inside there was hidden a golden heart just as big as his muscles. But now you were considering that despite knowing that, maybe the others had some point in their arguments.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

He was getting closer. Unconsciously, you put yourself in front of your dancing partner, despite knowing that whatever little mutant trick you had was useless against The Wolverine’s blind fury. Yet, you weren’t going to let some innocent civilian get hurt because your friend was pissed at you for whatever stupid reason.

His eyes were unfocused, darting from one person to the other like a wild animal. You weren’t sure if he was able to see you at all.

“Logan. What are you doing here?” You tried to keep your voice steady, knowing that when he got like this, anything could really set him off and then all Hell would break loose. He grunted and finally looked at you. Pupils dilating when he got a better look of you in that dress.

“Home. Now.” Among all the noise it was hard to understand him, but whatever he’d said you were sure it wouldn’t benefit you in the slightest. It didn't help that those words resembled more growls than actual speech.

Your new friend, supposedly Kevin, tried to step forward, foolishly thinking he had a chance against one of the most vicious mutants to ever exist. Logan looked at him with barely restrained rage, breathing heavily. His stance, along with the strength the air came out of his nostrils reminded you of a bull ready to attack. You started fearing the worst.

Within a blink, Logan had grabbed your arm and was forcefully dragging you towards the emergency exit. You slammed your heels against the floor, trying to keep you grounded in your spot, but that only seemed to make him angrier. Quickly reaching down, he scooped you up and carried you over his broad shoulder, making you drop your drink and leaving you mortified to the point of nearly accidentally outing yourself as a mutant in a room full of people.

After what felt like the longest time of your lfe, you two made it outside that place and after several kicks and threats, he finally put you down in an alleyway where all the shame that filled you, all the embarrassment, turned into rage.

Why.

Why couldn't he let you have this?

Why wouldn’t he allow you to move on?

Why did he have to keep breaking your heart over and over again? Hadn’t you suffered enough?

You screamed at him, you pushed him and insulted him until your voice became hoarse. The force of your screams were drowned by the sound of an incoming storm. And he just stood there, taking it all in stride, just looking at you, like a marble statue. A less wise person would have thought he was bored, just waiting for you to scream your heart out and finish your tantrum. But his eyes, oh his gorgeous eyes that always made you melt, were filled with emotion. Could be guilt, could be pain, could be grief, they were passing far too quickly for you to notice.

Yet he still didn’t say anything which only fueled your anger. The nerve of him, the fucking audacity. You felt mocked, humiliated, the laughingstock of Xavier’s School; a silly woman in her early thirties with a pathetic little girl crush on a man who wouldn’t give her the time of the day.

You slapped him as hard as you could.

Probably not the smartest thing given his bones were made of the toughest metal to ever exist which you instantly felt when your hand made contact with his cheek. You bit your lip, trying to swallow down the agonizing scream of pain that was crawling up your throat to get out.

That made him react, his expression changing into one of concern. He tried to say something, move closer to you and check your hand, but you stepped back, your back pressed against the brick wall.

Holding your injured hand with your other, you lowered your head. Rain started pouring on you both, drenching your carefully groomed hair and wiping all that expensive makeup away. But at least it would hide the tears that fell freely though your cheeks. 

What a mess you were, drenched like a wet cat, with your makeup ruined and sobbing while the man of your dreams just watched you with pity. You should leave and lock yourself in your room. Turning invisible again, you tried to make your exit towards your car, knowing it would be a long walk full of cries and sobs, but his arm blocked you, damn that sharp sense of smell. you turned around and his other arm blocked you again, effectively trapping you between himself and the wall.

Suddenly you found yourself very tired, of his games, of being screwed over and over again, of your emotional burst. You just wanted to go home, take a bath, and sleep. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Please. I want to go home.” There must have been something in your voice so broken that caused him to immediately take action. Logan suddenly had the decency to look a bit ashamed of himself, after that stunt he pulled off at the club, however you couldn’t care less right now. Muttering a quick ‘yeah’ he slowly pulled away from you, and awkwardly stepped back.

Not being used to walking on heels, you would have fell face first against the ground, putting the icing on the cake of that terrible night, had not a pair of strong arms caught you and lifted you into a bridal carry.

Not so long ago, you would have been all over the moon at this gesture. Logan Howlett, the hunk of the X-Mansion, carrying you like a princess. Yeah, the old you would have loved that.

Right now you were feeling too emotionally numb to care. Even when his arms pulled you closer to his chest, even when he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head.

You just couldn’t feel anything.

[taylormarieee]

-Birds of a feather ~A Dean Winchester oneshot~

Summary: you and dean used to be a thing, attached at the hip like birds of a feather, he thinks you guys should stick together and honestly, so do you...

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: dean winchester x fem!hunter!reader

Warnings: hurt to comfort, slight angst, fluff, illusions to sex but none takes place, sam being a supporter/wingman, kisses, touches, mutual pining, reader playing hard to get(just a lil bit), teasing, that's it! lmk if I missed stuff<33

A/N: Hey... how yall doing... I know i've been absent and i'm sorry, so here's a little fic to bring back the life in my blog!

You and dean were the "IT" couple. You guys did everything together, you guys were two peas in a pod. He loved and adored you and you respected and loved him.

You guys were made for each other and it showed. Sam used to get disgusted after a while when you two were so smitten about each other, but then came the arguments.

The arguments about the tiniest things. the arguments that led to angry sex. The moaning, and sweat on each others bodies. The feeling of him inside you was always a good way to release the stress, but then after that there would be a good day and then the cycle started again.

Until there was no more sex, just arguments that led to dean leaving at all hours of the night and you finding comfort in his younger brother.

Talking to sam felt like the best thing in the world every time you fought with dean. You hated fighting with him. He was your love, your future husband, the man of your dreams.

He meant the world to you, and you couldn't bear losing him to some shapeshifter or some demon or even just speeding to fast in his car.

That's why it hurt you when sam got the call that his brother was seriously injured in the hospital due to a car crash. He loved his car so it shocked you when you found out.

JANUARY 6TH 2004, LAWRENCE MEMORIAL HOSPITAL, 11:01PM...

You both rushed to the hospital and never left his side. When he finally woke up, you hated to break it to him but you couldn't do it anymore. The arguments, the cold shoulders, him driving off and staying out drinking his life away in all hours of the night.

You kissed him goodbye and left. You lived with Bobby for a little while just until you got on your feet but then you found out a demon was after you for what your father did, something you'll never know.

He's been dead for a little while. Your father. You've been trying to follow in his tracks for a while now.

But anyway, you have been living with Bobby for a while now and every time Bobby said that Dean and Sam were coming over, you always made sure you were never home.

But one day, Bobby didn't tell you and you heard the rev of that impala and immediately froze. You were in your room finishing up your drawing on this Wendigo you killed last week for Bobby with the help of Rufus.

"Hey bobby, what's up." Sam spoke, the vibration of his voice echoing around the halls.

You grabbed your sketchbook and tried to sneak downstairs and run out the back to where your car was parked but unfortunately, they were in the kitchen where the backdoor was.

You peeked in and of course Dean had to be the first one to notice you.

"C'mon out and stop hiding ya ijit!" bobby calls out drawing now Sams attention. Both of the Winchester brother's had wide eyes as they watched you come out from the corner.

You were wearing a black long sleeved crop-top with baggy jeans that had stars on the pant legs.

"I'm not an ijit bobby, how many times are you gonna call me that!?" you ask bobby while rolling your eyes trying not to acknowledge the brothers, specifically Dean whose eyes cannot leave your body and face.

'When did you get so many piercings.' he thought to himself.

"Well when you stop leaving the house for hours everytime I tell you there coming over, you haven't seen em in months almost a year now, you can't keep hiding." Bobby tells you.

you sigh and look at the both of them and that's when you lock eyes with dean again.

"Hey dean. Hey sam."

"Hey." they say in unison. you give them a tightlipped awkward smile and then put your journal down.

"Wanna see some of the drawings of my most recent kills so far? It's a lot of vampires, demons, wendigo's you know, the whole shebang." you aks with a smile.

They both smile at you like there proud and say sure. you nod and open your journal.

You had some notes and details next to your drawings. They all looked at it in fascination and awe.

"These are amazing! Did you hunt them all on your own?" Sam asks as he flips through the pages.

"N-no, well kinda. I had help every now and then." you say looking at bobby with a smile.

He grew to be your father and you really appreciated him for who he was and what he's done for you.

"These are really great but uh, can I talk to you outside for a minute? Please?" Dean asks looking at you with those puppy dog eyes that you knew you couldn't say no to.

"Yeah Dean, sure... cmon." you say as you walk outside with him near all of bobby's abandoned junky cars.

"What's up dean?" you asks folding your arms across your chest.

"how have you been?" he asks keeping it casual and short.

"I've been doing fine, how about you?" he smiles and steps a bit closer to you. you fight the urge to step back.

"I've been thinking about you. For months. Wonderin' where you've been, how you've been holdin' up but I see you've been doin' just fine." he says with a slight tilt of his head.

"Yea I have de-"

"I ain't finished just yet doll. Why have you been avoiding us? Avoiding me?" he asks sternly.

you roll your eyes, 'here we go'.

The conversation you've been dreading to have. You thought he'd just leave it alone but what the hell were you thinking?

This is Dean, THE Dean Winchester we are talking about here. He's relentless until he gets his way.

"Look Dean, I really don't want to talk about this right now ok? I don't wanna argue with you." you tell him in the most nicest way possible.

"Ok..." he takes a long pause. "Why not?" he asks, making you sigh a very annoyed and long sigh.

"Because Dean, the way we could turn a civil conversation into an argument was honestly stupid and insane, so please for the sake of saving me a headache and meltdown and you getting into another severe car crash, drop it." you explain to him.

His eyes soften almost. Letting the relentless side of him slowly fade away bringing out your dean, the soft mushy bear dean.

"You- you still remember that night?" he asks softly.

"dean I remember it like it was yesterday. All I have are nightmares of you in the hospital, your heart stopped beating for 5 minutes! How could I not think about how the man I loved died right in front of me over a damn argument! I always blame myself!" you shout.

"You shouldn't ha-" he starts.

"I shouldn't what? Have that guilt?! Oh, but I do Dean. Every day I play scenarios in my head. M-Maybe i-if I was more understanding then you wouldn't have left, maybe if I wasn't so mad over the smallest thing, maybe if I just talked it out like a normal human being, then maybe, MAYBE! the love of my life would still be with me right now."

His eyes widen. He's stunned at your confession but you don't even give him time to talk as you walk towards your car, A Cadillac DTS.

You hop in and drive off.

~NOVEMBER 18TH 2005, BOBBY'S GARAGE, 9:30PM~

Your car finally pulls up in the driveway and you notice that dean's impala is still here. 'So there staying the night huh?' you thought.

you turn off your car and get out. you open the door with the key you have and walk inside the house.

Bobby's asleep on the couch in front of the new tv you bought him two weeks ago.

You smile and grab the nearest blanket you can find and wrap it around him to shield him from the cold outside.

You lay a soft kiss to his head and whisper him a goodnight. you turn around and notice a figure standing in the kitchen, you jump and pull out your pocket knife but you realize it's just Sam.

"Hey, sam." you greet quietly.

H eturns around clearly pretending to not know about your prescence and smiles.

"Oh hey! I promised Bobby I'd still be awake in case you ever came back." he says as you walk over to stand next to him.

"aw thank's Sammy." you say with a geniune smile to which he reciprocates.

"hey, can I uhm, tell you something that I think you should hear?" he asks shifting his weight.

"yea go ahead." you respond crossing your arms in front of you, a habit you had.

"Dean hasn't been focused or okay ever since you left. He's been kinda broken. Screwing any girl that looked at him the right way or taking his anger out on me and that's nothing I can't handle but, I just hate seeing him like that." Sam expresses.

"Hate seeing him like what?" you ask concerned.

"Like a part of him is missing. Whenever I look at dean, he's staring into nothing, as if he's dead. There are nights where he mutters your name and hugs the motel pillows like they are you. Only to wake up facing the reality that your not there, your not here with him anymore." he explains.

"I just can't keep seeing my brother drink and fuck his life away until he slowly fades into nothing. I watched him die for 5 minutes, I'm not going to watch him suffer anymore. Please, bring the life back into my brother, that is all I ask." Sam asks and then walks away.

"goodnight." he say lastly before dissappearing into the other room.

you stand there, contemplating on what you just heard, clearly not seeing the effect you left not only on dean but on sam as well. It tugs at your heart and suddenly you feel dizzy, almost like you can't breathe.

You step outside for a second and breathe in the cool air. You sit down and cry, you just cry and cry.

~MEANWHILE, INSIDE WITH SAM AND DEAN, 3 HOURS PRIOR~

"Sam come on please. You gotta tell her. I can't keep doing this anymore, you said it yourself Sammy." dean pleads with sam.

Dean had asked Sam to talk to you, to just tell her how he's been feeling and tell her that he needs you, that he can't keep living without you.

After you broke up with him so randomly in the hospital, he just couldn't keep going.

He was constantly overstimulated and constantly angry. The anger in him never died down until he saw you today for the first time in months.

His heart warmed up at the thought of seeing you in that outfit and being so bubbly, it made him miss you all the more.

Like a burning flame that was slowly dying and losing its light and being drained of its passion by the coldness of your heart.

It left him stunned that you could do something to him after such a tramatic experience.

All he wanted was for you to fuel him back to life, bring the happiness back into his life.

All those other chicks he fucked and left in different towns just weren't doing it for him anymore.

Not like you.

You had him hooked. Enfatued by your mere presence. He needed to be careful with you though.

Placing the sofest touch to the weakest petal. Caring for you like a rare feather.

He never wanted you to leave his side, because right now? He was going crazy in the maze in his empty mind.

He may be speaking in poems or riddle form but for you? He couldn't contain or shield his seeping heart that was torn.

And that his why his brother had to confess that to you, what dean didn't predict was for it to go that way.

~BACK TO THE PRESENT- NOVEMBER 18TH 2005, 10:45PM~

Your just sitting outside now, all forms of crying done. You didn't know how much you hurt dean that night.

You were just doing what was best for you, but I guess that was you being selfish. You only added salt to an already salty wound.

You made him bleed more than he did that night. You made his heart collapse.

He was your everything, and you guess seeing him die that night, you felt the need to distance yourself as much as possible to make sure you didn't lose him again.

And yet, all you did was hurt him even more and make your life and his ten times worse.

Bobby was right, you couldn't keep hiding from him. He was your savior and your becon.

He was always there at your beck and call. You both flew together like two parrots in love.

You stuck by each other like seahorses. You made him whole and he made you complete.

You were each other's puzzle pieces. He was the Clyde to your Bonnie.

You were going to do everything and anything it takes to get him back to you.

You get up, ready to open the door but someones hand is already turning the knob before you and it swings open.

Dean...

"Oh sorry, I didn't know anyone was out here," he announces tiredly.

Your frozen, you forgot how good Dean always looked when he woke up in the middle of the night.

Tousled hair, soft pink lips, and glazed-over eyes shining in the moonlight.

"n-no it's ok, I was actually going to come look for you. I wanted to talk to you. Is that ok?"

"Yea yea, that's fine with me." he says a slight smile on his face.

You both sit down staring at the stars in silence before Dean speaks up.

“so, what’s wrong?” He speaks out into the misty air of the night.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I should have never left you that night. You died and then came back and you were fucking suffering and I just hurt you even more. I know you can probably never forgive me for that and I just wanted to let you know that I am incredibly sorry. I love you Dean, your the love of my life, your my safe place. I wouldn’t even be alive half the time if it wasn’t for you, I am grateful for you, your my future husband and I know I ruined my chance of ever getting to kiss you again but just know it’s ok and I’m sorry.” You speak out in one breath!

Dean blinks as it takes him a second to register what you said because you spoke so fast but he eventually chuckled and pulls you closer to him.

“Oh doll, I love you so much and I forgive you, why wouldn’t I? You’re the only thing that kept me going. My motivation to find my dad, my motivation to move on and protect Sam. I don't know where I would be without you and my brother. I love you for that and I’m grateful to have you here with me right now. No more focusing on the past, time for the future. Cmon, let’s go inside.” He says with a smile on his face

you nod and smile grabbing deans hand so he can pull you up. He walks towards the door to open it and you stop him by grabbing his hand.

“Dean wait!” you exclaim. He turns around with confusion and you grab his face and kiss him. You kiss him roughly and you kiss him with so much passion.

He grabs your waist and kisses you back with the same amount of passion.

you both break the kiss and rest your heads on each other.

“don’t know what that was for but I really liked it.” Dean speaks with a smirk on his face to which you giggle at.

“wanted to seal the deal of our love.” You say with a smile.

“your such a tease you know that? I was pining for you all day.” He says with a smile

“well what can I say? I’m a girl that likes to play hard to get. The moment I laid eyes on you today I wanted to pounce on you.”

“Well baby, you got all night.” He says with a smirk and a wink.

Birds of a feather, we always knew you two would stick together...

Taglist: @dollyfl1rt @itzdarling + anyone else who wants to join!

[eternalsams]

Cherry Pie ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

content/warning: 18+, smut, fwb situation, swearing, alcohol consumption, boys will be boys, 'love' confession, just a bit of angst, no use of Y/N, pet names like "honey" or "sweets", COMMUNICATION IS KEY.

summary: You just moved in San Diego and you needed help with all the boxes and furniture. Naturally, you called Jake to give you a hand and that's it, right?

words count: 2.0k

notes: this is my contribution to @roosterforme's Rocktober playlist, just as asked, the fic is inspired by the song but you don't need to know it to read this, obviously... Also, English isn't my first language so please take that into your consideration. (I've spent the whole day writing this because I knew I'd never get it done before the end of October)

ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS

masterlist

"Oh, by the way, didn't you tell us one of your friends just moved here?" Rooster said as his eyes were fixed on the pool table where they were playing. Jake scoffed and sighed, trying to suppress the smile creeping up on his lips. "Oh yeah, you said that! What was her name again?" Fanboy pointed out with a light smirk. Jake was about to answer him when Payback clapped his hand on his shoulder, stopping him on his track. "Bagman's got a female friend? I don't believe it!" He laughed loudly. "I do have a female friend, I'm not that big of an jerk." Jake got up and slapped his hand flat on the table.

"We're still friends, huh?" You asked as his lips made their way down the column of your neck. Another moan escaped your lips as you felt his teeth nibble at the sensitive skin. "Yeah, yeah... Still friends." He muttered before slipping his hands under your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips found yours once again and he didn't wait another second before slipping his tongue between your lips and tasting you. "I called you so you could help me unpack." You scolded him as your hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and in one movement, the garment was on the floor of your new kitchen. "Oh, sure, sure... Let me just...unwrap this first." He said as he unzipped your jeans and slid them down your thighs, revealing your lace panties. You chuckled and he put you up the counter before kneeling down in front of you, between your parted legs. He started kissing your left ankle, then your calf and he pecked kisses up your thigh until he reached your soaking underwear. "You're so pretty, why did I wait this long?" He murmured, mouthing at your clothed core. "Fuck..." You moaned as you hooked your legs around his head. Your fingers gripped his hair tight as he slipped your panties to the side and he licked your wet folds before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, hard.

Everyone looked at Jake with raised eyebrows, not believing a single one of his words. Rooster was the first one to crack up and laugh. "Yeah, right. And I'm the frickin' Queen of England." Jake groaned and looked away, trying to hold himself back from punching his wingman in the face. "Excuse us for not believing you, but we only know you as a ladies' man. In front of 'womanizer' in a dictionary, there's your picture, man." Javy chuckled before taking a sip of his drink and adding something. "Also, shouldn't I know about her if she's as dear as you say?" Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, glancing at the front doors another time, checking if you've arrived. "She's from my home town, we met in college and she just accepted a very nice job here. She's not here for me, she's here for work, we're just lucky we're in the same area for once since college." He cleared his throat and checked his phone for any signs of you. "Sounds like a romantic tragedy." Phoenix commented, noticing the longing look on his face as he checked his texts. "No, we're not like that. We're friends, remember? Just friends."

"To friends. And to a new life in California." You said as you held your glass of champagne high. "To all of that." Jake chuckled before taking a sip of the alcohol, not breaking the eye contact with you. You just finished unpacking everything for your living room. You still needed to finish your room and the bathroom but the biggest part was done. "Oh, wait!" You put down your glass and went to the kitchen, getting a little basket of fresh cherries. You took two peers and gently put them in both your glasses, turning the simple champagne into fancy home-made cocktails. "Champagne with cherries? That's weird." Jake laughed and grabbed his cherries before putting one in his mouth, pulling on the stem to detach it. "Maybe, but it's really good." You chuckled and did the same, staring into his eyes. "It shouldn't surprise me that the first things you have in your fridge are cherries. You've always loved them." He spat back the cherry stone and took a sip of his drink.

"You wanna see something cool?" You asked and he simply nodded, eating his second cherry. You grabbed his stem and pulled on it before putting it on your tongue and closing your mouth. Jake watched you carefully, mesmerized by you. You then grinned and pushed the, now knotted, stem between your teeth. "Holy shit..." Jake scoffed, grabbing the stem but you bit down on it to keep it in your mouth. His gaze went up to your eyes and he saw that special spark in them. He delicately removed the stem from your mouth and traced your lips with his thumb before slowly pushing it between them. Your tongue gently licked his finger and you took a bit more of it in your mouth, sucking softly. "Shit, honey..." Jake rasped. He then felt your tongue circle his thumb before you sucked a bit more and he could feel his cock harden in his pants. He adjusted himself in his seat and you chuckled, releasing his thumb and gently kissing the pulp of it. Jake moistened his lips and wrapped his hand around your neck to draw you closer to him. He crashed his lips on yours and immediately parted your lips to slide his tongue in your mouth. He could taste the cherry on your tongue and swore he could never get tired of your taste.

"Hey Penny Dear, could you get a Cherry Bomb ready for my friend. She's gonna be there soon. Put it on my tab." He softly tapped the counter before turning to the front doors. He couldn't wait to see you walk past those doors, as if he didn't see you the night before. As if he didn't feel your walls flutter around him as he brought you to your fourth climax of the night. He snapped back to reality when a hand landed on his shoulder. Javy sighed next to him and followed his gaze to the doors. "So... You're gonna tell me when you're gonna ask that girl out?" He then took a sip of his beer. "Never, it's not like that." Jake grumbled as his phone vibrated in his pocket. "Oh, I can see that it is". He chuckled without noticing Jake wasn't listening anymore. The blond pilot was frenetically typing on his phone, answering your text and telling you where to find him in the bar. The next thing he heard was the front door opening and your heels clicking on the floor. He raised his head and grinned when he caught your gaze through the crowd. He stuffed his phone in his pocket and made his way to you. "Not like that, my ass." Javy scoffed and gave back his empty beer to Penny who thanked him and went to another patron.

"You made it!" Jake exclaimed as he approached you. "I made it!" You laughed and hugged him tight. "Come on, I ordered your favorite already." He kissed the top of your head and led you to the counter where Penny introduced herself and gave you your drink with a wink. Not so far, Phoenix and Rooster were watching you both with frowns. "Are they dating? They look like they're dating." The woman asked her friend. "I don't know if they're official but they definitely like each other." They both straightened up when they saw you walking to them, Jake's arm around you and leading you. The pilot introduced you and you shook hands with all of them. "We've heard a lot about you." The man called Payback smiled at you and you grinned widely. "Jake talks about me?" You chuckled and turned to your friend who winced. "But we didn't believe him when he said he had a female friend." Fanboy chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck. "A bit of a ladies' man, isn't he?" You laughed, giving a light slap to Jake's ass who then glared down at you. You chuckled a bit more and took a sip of your drink, the cherry flavor invading your taste buds. You grabbed the cherry on top and bit it, detaching the stem and keeping it in your hand.

The conversation went on and when you stood up, calling for a bathroom break, Jake only noticed now the knotted stem in your empty glass. He picked it up and made it twirl between his fingers. "She did that?" Javy scoffed, looking at the stem in his friend's hand. "Yup. With her tongue." Jake chuckled slightly before dropping the stem back in your glass. "Come on, man. I know you said you're not dating but the tension between you is too strong for friends. Are you hooking up with her?" Rooster leaned over the table as he lowered his voice a bit. "I am not. We're friends and that's it. She's just like that, all clingy and shit. Always have been." Jake gave his friends a little smile before he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I'm a bit tired from work, I'm going home sooner than expected." Your voice surprised him and he hoped you hadn't heard what he said just before. Because if one of you was clingy, it was certainly him. "Do you want me to walk you back to your car?" He asked, standing up. "I'd love to." You smiled at him and said bye to everyone before you waited for Jake to pay his tab and join you outside.

When he passed the doors, you wrapped your arm around his and you two walked silently. "Can I ask you a question?" You asked hesitantly. "Always. Tell me." Jake's other hand stroked your arm soothingly. "Are you ashamed of our...relationship? I heard what you said and I didn't really like it." Jake slightly winced at your words and as he thought you would let his arm go, you didn't do such. You kept him as close as before. "I'm not...ashamed. They just... They spent the whole afternoon teasing me about you, asking if we were dating and talking badly of me. I just wanted to shut them up." He tried to explain and you stayed silent, that wasn't really you. "Are you mad?" He then asked when he saw your car in the parking lot, scared you might leave without giving him a second glance. "I'm not. They're your friends, you know how to handle them. I believe you when you say you're not ashamed of me." You squeezed yourself against his arm. "How could I ever be ashamed of you, Sweets? You're amazing, honestly you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." You laughed at his words and dug into your purse to grab your car key. "The best thing, huh?" You smirked and looked up at him. "The best of the best." He nodded, sliding his hands on your waist. "Then you wouldn't mind picking me up tomorrow at seven? I saw a nice restaurant I wanted to try with you." He was surprised of your boldness but didn't complain. "Like...like a date?" He asked for confirmation and you smiled a bit more. "Like a date." He quickly looked away to hide his excitement but you noticed his blushing cheeks. "I wouldn't mind at all picking you up and taking you on a date. Would you allow me to kiss you before I let you go home?" He lowered his voice, as if he was scared someone else might hear how sweet and loving he was for you. You nodded eagerly and grabbed him by the neck before colliding your lips with his and swiping your tongue over his lips. And just as always, he could taste the cherry on your tongue and he loved every bit of it.

[polymathart]

POST FINALE HEADCANONS (ongoing list)

Camila and Luz both held Vee’s hands the first time she went through the portal door and returned to the Demon Realm

Vee is every one of the Hexsquad’s wingman. She’s give Hunter, Luz, Amity, and Willow dating advice.

Steve, Lilith, and Hunter joined forces to debelosify/decoven the Isles. They went around tearing down Belos statues and defacing Emperor’s Coven insignia.

Gus and Amity have gotten better at Spanish.

Lilith and Hunter are still rivals in a playful way. They occasionally recall their Head Witch and Golden Guard personas when trying to one up each other.

King found a way to reawaken Jean Luc.

Emira had her own episode with Eda and earned her Bad Girl Coven shirt.

Odalia and Alador got divorced. And Odalia got kicked out of the house.

Tinella Nosa now lives in the Clawthorne tower. She pays rent.

Anne and Luz have kept touch.

Luz and Amity made Good Witch Azura popular and it’s a best seller on the Boiling Isles now.

Per Vee’s request, Masha was the first other human to be told about and granted passage to the Demon Realm.

Vee cried when Luz introduced her to Stringbean.

Jacob went to jail.

Camila has created her own Dominican spin on Apple Blood.

Vee and King became friends the same way Lilith and Hooty did.

Luz found out about Amity’s Grom note.

Principal Bump loved his Hexside memorial.

Gus and Matt kept their promise to the Keeper and helped restored the Illusionist Graveyard.

Luz kept her promise to the Bat Queen.

Eda finally returned the favor (and the whistle) to the Bat Queen.

King and the Collector have repurposed King’s Island into their “treehouse.”

Vee took Masha to Grom. And Vee became Grom Queen.

Luz, Hunter, and Camila accompanied Vee in her search for the other Basilisks.

Vee had a “Katara find finds the man who killed her mother” moment with Warden Wrath.

Everyone finds out Evelyn was a Clawthorne (obviously) and Hunter gets accepted into the Clawthorne family.

Hunter goes to Hexside.

Alador and Edric have a cheesy “I’m proud of you, son” moment. Probably over something silly like pranking Odalia.