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arieswritez · 5 months

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golden boy

golden boy | yandere stepbrother!mark grayson x afab!reader

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!! pseudo-incest, panty thief!mark, roofies, victim blaming, non-con video taping, voyeurism, rape, reader's anatomy is sexualized, forced breeding, time skip (mark is an adult & nolan never killed the guardians), mark is a sicko you've been warned

about; life was easier when mark was an only child. he wishes it would've stayed that way. (1.9k words)

a/n; an anon asked about a platonic yan sibling duo so i raise you: big pervy step bro who hates your guts but also wants to rearrange them

step brother mark who's used to being the light and joy of the grayson home. as the only child, he's spoiled beyond belief. he's spunky and cute and the graysons love him to death, constantly showering him with love and adoration.

step brother mark who gets a new sibling after villains make you an orphan. nolan finds you in the ruins and it's like he's on auto-pilot: carrying you to that secret hospital and handing you off to the doctors that rush to his aid. . but not before your tiny fist closes in his suit.

as he watches you being taken away, barely alive, something inside his chest pangs.

debbie notices nolan acting strange. he's restless and he's late for dinner, more so than usual. something's very clearly wrong. and it's not like her to grow suspicious of nolan but she does.

nolan's never given her a reason to believe his head may have been turned but for some reason, she starts to believe there might be someone else.

only to find he's been visiting you at the hospital, staying at your bedside for hours on end as you recover. you're in bad shape. doctors aren't sure how you survived. . if you even will. debbie's never seen nolan so torn over a survivor before. he's seen many things: deaths, disasters, you name it. yet, you're who's causing the sleepless nights.

of course, debbie has a kind heart and, soon, it's not just nolan who's worried. the graysons keep tabs on you. and when you come to, they’re the first thing you see.

you look confused, scared, but as nolan soothes you, you offer a meek smile and nolan finds himself feeling that same giddiness he felt when he first saw a tiny mark cradled in debbie's arms.

the graysons become your legal guardians and, suddenly, mark isn't the golden boy anymore.

you take up so much of their attention. now, christmases and birthdays all revolve around you. suddenly, marks good grades and the fact he hit a home run isn't all that impressive. mark's late for his baseball practice and games more times than he can count. . yet they never miss your dance recitals.

you got an A in an absurdly easy class and that was a cause for celebration. in the meantime, mark won a spelling bee & all he got was a 'good job'.

they treat you like you're made of glass, like you'll shatter into a million tiny pieces the second someone so much as looks at you the wrong way. mark still remembers being reprimanded whenever he said the smallest things to you. he doesn't think he's ever lived down that one orphanage joke that made you bawl. god, he was just kidding. . its not his fault you're sensitive.

soon, you're calling his parents 'mom and dad'. and worse of all, they reiterate the fact that you should be calling mark your 'big brother'.

fucking fantastic.

you are everything to them while mark is pushed aside. and it only worsens the older the two of you get. mark gets his powers - there's literally nothing more impressive than that - yet he still has to do a million and one things in order to outshine you. nothing ever works. and despite the fact that mark is - quite literally - saving lives. . your stupid birthday is still more important.

you are the light of their lives and mark bitterly remembers when they used to look at him that way, too.

you are perfect in their eyes. just like he once was.

and mark wishes you would've died in that accident, just like your parent(s).

as you start to develop a sense of self, mark gets into the habit of stealing your clothes. it's the only thing you seem to care about: the way you present yourself to the world.

they're small things at first. like a single shoe when his parents had bought you new ones yet refused to get him the ones he wanted. he'll admit it, it was petty and spiteful. but you were distressed and the graysons seemed upset you'd already misplaced your brand new - expensive - shoes.

at first, he was content with telling himself that what he was doing was solely to spite you. but that was a lie. when his kleptomania made him steal one of your shirts. . it wasn't spite that made him press the material to his nose and pump his cock until he came. no, it wasn't just spite.

all your simpering and whining, following him around like some lost puppy, that one time you asked him why he hated you so much. . it made him feel more than just hate.

he didn't know what to do with you then.

so, at first, he settled with stealing your clothes.

a couple more shirts.

a pair of shorts.

knee-highs or your favorite tights.

and finally, a pair of panties.

his favorite are a lacy pair. sheer and tiny, he recalls lifting them out of your drawer with a finger. . and thinking, seriously? what're these even meant to cover?

he's extremely sure you aren't supposed to have these~

mark is content with secretly stealing your things. he doesn't get in trouble for being mean to you anymore.

you don't think he hates you.

it's a win-win situation, really.

and mark would've been happy - he would've been fine - with the little game he's been playing. soon, the two of you would part ways for college and he'd forget all about you.

he'd forget the way you'd foolishly walk to your room in only a towel when you knew the two of you were home alone.

he'd forget the way you looked when you changed out of clothing, you never truly believed in fully closing the door, did you?

he'd forget the way your moans sounded, when you touched yourself at night, thinking everyone else was asleep. he'd forget the way he'd concentrate on hearing your pretty sounds - and it's not like he'd have to try hard, another perk of having powers.

he'd forget about how he could almost envision you: humping your fingers and biting at your lip, desperately trying to get yourself off. it was like he was in the room with you. . you were so wet he could hear the wet clicks of your cunt.

he'd forget all about you.

you, you, you.

he was sure of it.

but if it's one thing about you is that you could never just let things be.

you could never just let the graysons be a normal, happy family.

and you could never just let mark forget about you.

because the first time his parents say no to you - the very first fucking time - you don't listen.

you're just not used to it.

that stupid party you weren't supposed to go to.

that stupid party mark sneaks off to, too.

and when you see him there, you're surprised.

he pretends to be, too.

because it's not fair if only one of you was forbidden to go. no, you had to fuck it up for the both of them.

it's a good thing you're so spoiled, though. and it's even better that mark eavesdropped on the conversation you had with your friend, the one in which you planned to sneak out.

you're so fucking naive. so stupid.

you think the two of you are finally getting along when he gets you a drink and whispers, don't worry, i won't tell if you don't. and you laugh and wink at him like you'll keep his secret, drinking from whatever concoction he's prepared for you.

you were too young when your parent(s) passed and the graysons never seemed to sit you down for the talk. . or maybe they did and you were just too stupid to understand why you should never accept an open drink.

it's easy to blame it on you being a lightweight. the way you sway and slur your words, the way you stumble into him, the way your body overheats.

you've had too much to drink. you're not used to it, is all. he'll take care of you, don't you worry, big brother always does.

first, he's got to lay you down, you poor thing.

he doesn't want you to hurt your pretty little head by falling!

so, he lays you down in the empty room of the house as the party continues downstairs. as you fall to the bed in a heap, you swear you can see the throbbing beat of the music, now muffled behind the closed door.

in the dark room, the moonlight leaking through the pale blue blinds look like drunken undulations, wavering like heat shimmers, yet you can't keep your eyes open long enough to ogle at them. your body doesn't feel like your own, but you're not as nervous as you should be.

mark yanks his shirt off over his head - practiced, ready - and stalks over to your semi-limp body that's nearly hanging off the bed.

it's not hard to undress you, considering you're dressed like some cheap slut. and, honestly, if it wasn't mark that night, he's sure it would've been another dude at the party. the way you're such a fucking tease, he doesn't think anyone would be able to keep their hands off of you for long.

so, really, it's only fair your older brother is the one to get his hands on the goods, first. afterall, he was there to watch them grow.

the little camcorder he took from his parents - the old silver one they used to record all their trips around the world, mark's first steps, your first birthday with them - blinks red, on and off, on and off, as he strips you. he makes sure to capture your body: your bare tits as your chest rises and falls with each panicked breath, the smooth skin of your tummy, then down, between your legs, as he records your sopping cunt taking his fingers.

you mewl and your vision's swimming. and you feel here, there, everywhere, and it's so, so confusing.

you don't know what's happening and it's distressing because you know something is.

your hands weakly try to push at the foreign body on top of you. . inside of you. . but mark is stronger than anyone will ever be and you are far too drugged to do anything about it.

they're gonna be so mad, mark thinks, as he slides into you and tries to keep the camera recording the way your cunt grips him as he feeds his cock inside of you.

they'll be so mad when they find out you've snuck out.

and maybe you'll tell them. . you think something happened. . someone did something to you. . when you try to wash his cum out of your pussy.

maybe you won't. maybe you shouldn't. they'll already be mad at you, best keep quiet about it~

but the graysons will feel even worse in the next few months. . when you start puking your guts out.

and like the perfect parents they are, they'll take you to a doctor. . only for the results to come back positive.

mark may not be a golden boy, anymore.

but in nine months, maybe you'll give him one, instead 💗

#mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #invincible #invincible x reader #yandere mark grayson #yandere mark grayson x reader #mark is canonically a good brother #& we love him for that!!#but he's a weirdo in my universe <3

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natailiatulls07 · 7 months

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The golden trio Pt 3

Lando Norris x female!reader

Carlos Sainz x female!reader

Max Verstappen & Female!reader & Charles Leclerc

Summary - Being bestfriends with two famous formula one drivers is never easy, but what will happen when you get involved with yet another formula one driver??

Warning - a little amount of hate and talks of sex (a quick comment)

A/n - I will most likely post of either Wednesdays or weekends, it’s just those are the days where my schedule is more freed up 🤍

The golden trio

f1gossip

Spotted: Y/n L/n last night, she was with Lando Norris and they looked like they were doing some food shopping. How is everyone feeling after seeing Charles and Max’s posts earlier today?

Liked username and 3,281 others

username Personally I feel bad, I mean Charles and Max wouldn’t post and say those things if it was lie

username I mean maybe we were wrong. Tbh I’m annoyed at myself for assuming those things 😔

username Come on guys, she obviously manipulating them!

= username I highly doubt that, they’re very smart men and wouldn’t let that happen

= username Plus she hasn’t been back to their apartment since the other night sooo 🤨

yourusername posted to her close friend’s story

Gossip Groupchat (White: Reader) (Red: Charles) (Blue: Max)

Hey

Hey Bee, how are you??

I’m good, Lando showed me your posts on instagram. You know you didn’t have to

But we had to Bee and we wanted to. They were horrible to you, you’re our best friend, our sunshine. You obviously do not deserve it

Yeah ofc, we’d be the worst people ever if we let them carry on

You know I’m not angry at you guys, never was, I think just after what happened I needed to give us a little of space

We know Bee, we’d be same. I’m just glad you bumped into Lando and he let you stay at his place for a few day

About that…don’t get annoyed please

Why would we get annoyed?? 🤨

Um well

Me and Lando slept together

Ok…right well I know that I’m not annoyed about that, was it meaningless or what??

Yeah, I agree with Charlie. I just don’t want to see you getting hurt by him…

We were both drunk and um we woke up the next morning. I remember doing it but he said that doesn’t remember so I think it was more or less meaningless

That’s alright, it’s okay that it ended up that way, don’t worry

Okay…I’m probably gonna to head back to the apartment later today once I finish some work so I’ll see you guys later 🤍

See you later Bee 💙

Bye Bee ❤️

f1gossip

Spotted: Outside her apartment building, Y/n L/n and Lando Norris was caught sharing an intimate moment together. Is there something going on?? Or is it just friends being friends??

Liked username and 5,194 others

username Wait, why can I actually see this being a thing??

username Ngl I ship it 😋

username I wanna know how Max and Charles feels about this duo 😯

username So is she moving back into the apartment??

= username Where was she staying over the past few days??

= username A lot of people were saying that she was staying with Lando because he was non stop posting her and seen with her

= username That makes sense ngl

yourusername posted to her story

Twitter

username Wait, why do I love the fact that Y/n outs Charles and Max on her story?!? 🥹

username Ikr, she proper calls them out on everything!! It’s amazing 😍

username I was stalking her instagram earlier and some of the older posts are just amazing 🥰

lizziemackintosh

New going purple episode!! We have the gorgeous Y/n L/n in, we talk online hate, friends, relationships and anything in between. Thank you so much babes, I loved just hanging out with you!!

Tagged: yourusername

Liked by lilymhe and 46,825 others

username She looks stunning 😍

username I’m excited to see these two together

yourusername Loved hanging out with you, need to do it again soon 🤭

= lizziemackintosh OFC

username This is my joker.

username One queen hanging out with another queen, I love it 🥹

Tag list: @eviethetheatrefreak @janeholt3 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @namelesssav

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perseephoneee · 4 months

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New years party with kate bishop!

new years (kate bishop x f!reader) {ficmas 2023}

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ happy day 8 of ficmas!

a/n: I genuinely like this one, and if ANYONE knows me, then they know that kate bishop has been my hero since I read the comics in 2015. i hope this is okay for my wifey @mayfieldss

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2023

Since your first year of high school, you have been attending New Year's parties with Kate Bishop. They were always hosted by your classmate, Agatha Maloney, a bubbly girl with a penchant for party planning. The parties involved games, champagne stolen from her parents, and enough fairy lights to brighten a small city. You and Katie would show up, eat all the hors d’oeuvres (you hated the spicy chips that Kate would always consume), and perform a Bon Jovi duet. And every year, you would wait outside watching the snow fall in clumps across the city while Kate was inside kissing someone else at midnight. You used to think you were just jealous that she could find someone when you couldn’t, but now, you recognize it for what it was. You’re in love with your best friend and can never tell her.

It was the last New Year's before you split for university. You weren’t sure if you’d have another New Year again; if you did, it wouldn’t be the same. Your classmates would have new friends and new stories. New inside jokes that you wouldn’t understand. You and Kate were attending different colleges. It's the same city, but different. Kate had a lot more money to afford a fancy university, and you were scraping by with tuition (that you were thankful for, don’t get it twisted). But even next year, what would you do when you didn’t share the same wavelength?

It didn’t stop the two of you from laughing as you bound up the doorsteps to Agatha’s. Kate wore a simple, long-sleeve black dress that ended at her knees and matching ankle boots that still made her look beautiful but rugged. You opted for a strapless jumpsuit. You and Kate had a weird apparel rule: if one person wore a dress, the other wore a jumpsuit. So that you always compliment the other person.

“OMG, you guys came!” Agatha squealed as you approached the front door. Her blond hair was curled like a ‘20s flapper girl, her lips the color of bubblegum. She hugged both of you, almost suffocating you with her grip. “I’m so excited you came here for our last official hurrah. It’s not a party unless the dynamic duo is here.”

“You always know how to make us feel welcome,” you mumble, trying to dislodge yourself from her arms. Agatha was a sweet girl but very intense. And pushy.

“You can let go now,” Kate choked, sending you a look of distress as Agatha officially detached herself. Kate sent you a look as you both followed Agatha into the house. Most of your classmates were experiencing the wonders of intoxication, and you appeared not to have missed a single critical moment. “Is it just me, or does she get crazier yearly?”

“She’s certifiable,” you chuckle, nudging Kate as you make a bee-line to the snacks. You shove your mouth full of pretzels and tomato cheese covered in balsamic vinegar. There’s a name for the snack, but you can’t remember and don’t care as you let the tastes overwhelm your tongue. As usual, Kate eats the hot Cheetos until her fingers are dyed red. She smiles at you over red Cheeto dust, and you think that even though she is messy, she looks beautiful. Instead of saying so, you just make fun of her.

“Do you think that a cheetah has seen a Cheeto and thought, that’s cannibalism?” Kate asks you, eating more Cheetos.

“I think you’re crazy,” you laugh, grabbing a plastic flute for the champagne and pouring you and Katie a glass. “A cheetah is more likely to wonder how it became a mascot wearing sunglasses.”

“Because it’s the cool thing to do, obviously,” Kate took the glass you handed her, taking a sip before excitedly motioning to the set-up karaoke machine. “Showtime!”

Every year, you debated what to perform. And you still ended up doing “Wanted Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi every year. You needed to spice up your choices, but you two were old souls who got too impassioned with Bon Jovi. During the instrumental breaks, you guys would yell out how many measures were left and march across the stage. You even had experimental pop star names (“If Beyonce goes by Sasha Fierce on stage, why shouldn’t we?” said Kate).

You finished your duet to a round of applause like always. And just as you finished, one of the attendees turned on the New York countdown so everyone could wait till the ball dropped and the new year was ushered in. You averted your eyes when you saw Stephanie from your chemistry class taking second glances at Kate. You ignored the feeling that gripped your heart when you saw Kate looking back. You thought this would be a good cue to step outside, like every year, and watch the snow fall as you ignored your heart breaking into pieces inside the house.

The balcony was covered in a light layer of frost. Agatha’s home always had boughs of greenery wrapped around the terrace, with beautiful sparkling lights that reflected the city spread out before you. You wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, letting your breath fog in front of you. You huffed like a dragon and giggled to yourself. You liked seeing the tall buildings sprawled out in front of you, the little houses in front like a treeline to the secrets further back. The sounds of the ten-minute countdown could be heard from inside, but you let it become a dull sound in your ears. You were in blissful silence until you heard the balcony door close behind you.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Katie asked, coming up right next to you. You look over, noticing she put on her coat and a beanie to fight the freeze.

“It gets stuffy in there,” you turned back to the city, feeling the heat of Kate’s arm next to yours.

“I hear that; it’s like a sauna,” she chuckles. You sit in silence for a while. “Can I ask a question?” You gesture for Kate to continue.

“Why do you come out here every year?”

You let the question hang in the air, unsure how to answer. How do you tell someone that you leave because you’re in love with them? Because watching them kiss someone else kills you? Because you want to grab and kiss them as firecrackers erupt in the air, just like they would in your heart? You opt to lie instead.

“I don’t like watching people make out,” you awkwardly chuckle. “PDA is weird.” Kate gives you a look that tells you she doesn’t believe you. Your breath is shaky as you exhale. “Maybe there’s no one available worth kissing.”

You freeze up as Kate grabs your hand with her own, intertwining your fingers. Her hands are rough and calloused from all her physical activities, compared to your soft ones untouched by nature.

“The person I would want to share my kiss with is never here,” Kate whispers. “She always goes outside and hides.”

Your heartbeat is heard in your ears to the point where you almost miss the countdown starting from inside. You make eye contact with Kate, her blue eyes wide as she looks at you. She seems as nervous as you are, making you feel better. The party attendees start to count down from ten.

“Y/N,” Kate says, snow coating her hair in beautiful crystals.

There are only five seconds left on the clock. When it hits one, you lean forward and kiss Kate, enjoying the gasp she lets out from surprise. Cheers are heard not just from inside but from the city, neighbors, and everywhere as people welcome the new year. Your hand cups her face, twisting in her black hair as she wraps her arms around your middle, pulling you close. You feel freezing and yet on fire as you kiss the love of your life on New Year’s Eve. A bad taste makes you pull away.

“Did you eat hot Cheetos right before this?” you mumble, grimacing at the spiciness on your tongue. Kate laughs, a full-bodied laugh that is your favorite sound in the world.

“I stress eat when I’m nervous.”

“It tastes disgusting.”

“Oh shut up,” Kate chuckles, kissing you again. And again. And again.

#kate bishop #katie bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #hailee steinfeld #hailee steinfeld x reader #12 days of ficmas #ficmas 2023 #my writing

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goldenseresinretriever · 5 months

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You Catch More Bees With Honey: Prologue

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, None so far other than the patriarchy. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: A very happy birthday to @roosterforme !!! As a birthday present for patiently waiting for SDD!Bradley, I present the prologue of YCMBWH!

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

“Bradley Bradshaw.” You zone back into the conversation as Maverick offers his suggestion. You sneak a glance at the clock on the wall. Your bones are aching from sitting pin-straight for the last four hours. It’s been thirty minutes since you’ve been actively present in the conversation with the three grown men sitting at the conference table with you. At the head of the table is Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, the owner of the newly formed San Diego Dogfighters. At age 64, he’s aged gracefully since his glory days playing for the Boston Bruins and later, more famously, for the Anaheim Ducks, but not quite as gracefully as the man seated across from him. Pete “Maverick” Mitchell somehow still has the aura of pure charisma that he oozed through his lengthy, thirty-one-year hockey career. After an infamous stint with the Philadelphia Flyers in the eighties, he went on to play for the Anaheim Ducks for a whopping twenty-five years alongside both Iceman and the man sitting next to him. Beau “Cyclone” Simpson’s hockey career both on paper and in practice shows off his intense desire to be the next Iceman, but he seems to have fallen short. He followed Kazansky’s footsteps from Boston to Anaheim, taking a brief detour in Dallas on the way. And yet here he sits, the general manager for the Dogfighters.

The three of you are going through potential players who could be recruited, drafted, or traded for to create the roster for the new team. As the team’s PR representative, you don’t have much of a reason to be here but you’ve made yourself useful. One of your specialties is keeping meticulous records of the pasts and presents of your players and that means you run a killer background check. You’re here to evaluate the potential players based on their personal lives. Nobody wants to hire a PR nightmare, especially when you’re a new franchise.

This extracurricular project isn’t without its perks, however, just an hour ago you pitched the winger duo of rookie Mickey Garcia and seasoned veteran Reuben Fitch currently signed with the New Jersey Devils. Mickey and you have been friends since you met in college at the University of Wisconsin. Ever since Mickey got drafted to the Devils, you’ve been doing your best at maintaining your friendship long-distance, so when you got a job with the Dogfighters, Mickey was your first call, and after several lengthy conversations, he and Reuben agreed to you offering them as a potential trade prospect. You’d presented your meticulously rehearsed pitch to the three men at this table and they’d agreed that the duo would make a good addition to the Dogfighters.

After your pitch, you’d let yourself relax mentally. It wouldn’t do you any good to relax physically in front of your bosses. You’ve already clocked the looks Cyclone’s been giving you since you showed up on your first day in one of your signature pastel suits. Today you’re wearing one of your personal favorites, a baby pink number. You needed the extra burst of confidence that it always gives you. You know what it takes to be a woman in this business but that doesn’t mean you have to become a man. You flaunt your femininity as much as you pride yourself in your poised and polished appearance. Your suits are colorful enough to draw attention to yourself, but not indecent enough to make that attention bad. You stand out and you’re proud to do so. Men may command the room with their deep voices and raging testosterone tantrums, but you can command one just as well without even speaking a word. Curious attention is still attention and that’s what matters most.

“Bradley Bradshaw? From Philadelphia?” Cyclone sounds dubious as he muses over Maverick’s pick. Then again, he tends to sound dubious whenever it comes to Maverick generally. “He’s getting a little old, isn’t he?” His eyes flick to you, prompting you silently. Your perfectly manicured fingers fly across the keyboard as you speak up.

“Bradley Bradshaw, left defenseman for the Philadelphia Flyers. He was scouted by them straight out of college, and has been playing for them and their AHL affiliate for a total of sixteen years.”

“He’s never played for any other teams?” Cyclone says, raising an eyebrow. He’s right to be surprised, it’s unusual for any one player to stay with a franchise for so long, let alone their first one. Sure, both Ice and Maverick played for the Ducks for over a decade but they signed to other teams first. They established themselves before they established a home.

“His father, Nick Bradshaw played the same position for the Flyers from 1984 to 1986.” You rattle off as your eyes scan the various articles you have pulled up. “At the same time as Maverick,” your eyes flick up from your screen to where Maverick is shifting uncomfortably.

“You played with his old man?” It’s a statement phrased like a question. Cyclone’s piercing green eyes join yours on Maverick.

“I did. Bradley’s my godson, actually.” You can’t stop your eyebrows from raising at that. That particular tidbit wasn’t in any of the articles you’ve been skimming. You want to scoff at how easily Maverick offers up the information. He’s making his intentions clear from the get-go. This is personal for him. You’d kept your cards as close to your chest as you could when you’d pitched Mickey and Reuben. To make it personal was to tank the pitch in your eyes. You were here to be objective and offer objective suggestions for the team. You wait for Cyclone or Ice to chastise Maverick and when neither of them moves to do so, you feel your brow twitch with irritation. The privilege of being a man. Men are rational, and even an emotional decision is still more reasonable than the most rational statement a woman can make.

“Zam, what else do you have on Bradshaw?” Zam, your nickname, is short for Zamboni. You were given it during your first experience with managing public relations for your college’s hockey team. Your job, much like that of a Zamboni, is to smooth things over, both on and off the ice.

“He’s squeaky clean, sir.” Your eyes are back on the busy screen of your laptop, fingers flying across the keys. “He’s known as an enforcer on the ice, but doesn’t seem to be prone to any kind of violence or erratic behavior off the ice. He’s a team player, and his teammates have nothing but good things to say about him.” You rattle off his stats next, projecting them onto the screen at the head of the table. Other than his age being on the older side, as Cyclone had noted, he isn’t the worst pick in the world by a long shot. You know the importance of having senior members on a team, they form pillars for the rookies to build around and Bradley is the model pillar player. He’s well-rounded and the perfect balance between being well-known, and not an outright celebrity. Bradley Bradshaw is an ideal choice for the Dogfighters.

“Alright Maverick, we’ll give the Flyers a call about Bradshaw first thing tomorrow.” And with that, Bradley Bradshaw is halfway to the San Diego.

A/N: I wanted to get this out asap to drum up excitement for YCMBWH, but I’m going to be taking the rest of the week off from writing to focus on the SDD press conference in celebration of the end of “Snitches Get Stitches!” Happy birthday yet again to Emily!!!

#you catch more bees with honey // sdd #ycmbwh // sdd #san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters hockey au #tgm hockey au #top gun maverick hockey au #TGM #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #Bradley rooster Bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x you

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thursdaygxrls · 1 year

Text

Seeing It Out (‘Seeing Her’ Part Two)

summary — george weasley might (maybe) have a small crush. too bad she’s totally oblivious.

paring — george weasley x fem!bookworm!reader

disclaimer — i don’t own harry potter property, i don’t own this gif, and i don’t edit because i’m lazy. also, argyle & dicken’s isn’t real, i made it up.

warnings — everyone is stupid. maybe ooc.

read part one here!

She noticed him staring at her in potions. Well, she never proved it was her he was looking at, but she had a suspicion. Every time she would look up to transcribe the notes or recipes Snape described, she could see a mass of tangerine hair fly forward just a few desks ahead of her. She didn’t think anything of it at first. Why would she? But then she noticed him staring at her out of the corner of her eye before class one day. That look alone made her realize two things:

1. The looks she thought she may have been receiving were no coincidence and

2. The one staring was George Weasley

“I’m scared. Seriously, he’s planning something,” she confided as she and her friend, Meredith, began to stroll from dinner to their dorm, “He’s been watching me for a few weeks now. Something is going on.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Meredith giggled.

“I’m serious! When the Weasley twins set their sights on you, you’re dead in the water,” she guffawed.

“Or…” Meredith trailed off with a smile.

“Or?” She turned to her with an inquisitive look.

“Perhaps you tickled his fancy.” Meredith shimmied her shoulders suggestively.

“I tickled who and what?” Her eyes widened as she felt a laugh bubble at the back of her throat.

“I’m saying that maybe he keeps staring because he fancies you,” Meredith explained.

“George Weasley?” Her eyes crinkled as her grin widened slightly, “You’re mad.”

“Not mad, intuitive,” Meredith tapped her head, “You’re cute! You’re smart! Everyone in this bloody school ought to be head over heals for you!” She shook her almost comedically.

“Alright!” She laughed, “I get it! I’m fabulous!”

“Good,” Meredith said with a large smile, “Now, think about talking to him.”

“We haven’t disposed of the ‘the twins are going to put fireworks in my pillowcase’ theory,” she shook her head.

“I’ve disposed of it. It’s gone.” Meredith pretended to throw something before wiping her hands together, “But seriously, talk to him if you’re interested, y’know? He’s not too bad on the eyes – and I doubt he’s all too evil.”

“I guess I’ll think about it,” she shrugged, “How’s Emma going?”

“It’s – shit, I left it in the Great Hall,” Meredith groaned, “Wait here for me, alright?”

“I’ll wait an eternity for you!” She called after the girl.

“Put those moves on someone else, would you?” Meredith winked before disappearing down the hall.

George Weasley. He was popular, maybe not as much as his twin brother, but he was one-half of the dynamic pranking duo. She’d seen them before; they watched people, and so did she. They always observed their prey before attacking — but their targets were never just innocent bystanders. She’d like to think she was innocent. She’d like to think a lot of things, though, and not all of them were true.

Meredith was taking a while. Was she right? Was he interested in her? The thought seemed silly, foreign. It was like a honey bee finding a hidden daisy in a room full of tulips. Yet, she couldn’t help but smile at the thought. It was a nice thought. A flash of orange alerted her to the balcony in front of her. Funnily enough, standing at the edge, staring out to the floor below them, were the Weasley twins – and George was staring at her.

It was curious. This was the first time they’d ever connected eyes, yet it felt entirely natural. Maybe it was because she’d stared a thousand people in the eyes, or maybe this was different. She looked at him, and he looked at her, and for a moment, time was able to exist on a different plane entirely. God, was it cheesy. She’d read about this before; the lovers’ first meeting. Wait, lovers? They aren’t lovers, they don’t even know each other, besides – oh God. In a flash, something fell from George’s hand, flying down from the balcony and directly onto poor Professor Flitwick’s head. The thing burst ceremoniously and a powder fizzled around the man. He batted at himself in confusion as she looked on at him with horror. His hair was entirely green.

What the bloody hell was that?

She clutched her copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray — the copy that had just been knocked from her hands — in her sweaty palms. Today had been going great, spectacular even. Her dreams had wiped any memory of possible crushes from her mind. She woke up early, found a matching pair of socks on her first try, and was ready to pick up a new book. Meredith had shoed her out of the dorms when she attempted to wake the girl; she preferred sleep over food. So, it was just her and Dorian who’d made it out to the stairs when she was pushed (nudged?) to the ground.

By George Weasley, of course.

She’d wondered if this was a part of his scheme for a moment. It would be the perfect time to catch her off guard — bright and early before she’d even wiped the crust from her eyes. But then she saw his face and the shock that drew over his features. He certainly didn’t mean to bump into her. At least, it didn’t seem like it.

They conversed in an awkward manner, but managed to hit one another only once more. The real issue was the end of the conversation:

“See you in potions, George!”

It was meant to be friendly, a sort of peace offering if he was still trying to pull off something dodgy. And, of course, it was friendly enough until she realized she had never talked to him before. She sounded like a stalker. A bad stalker at that. She let her mind race as she rushed off to the Great Hall, hoping to not see the boy again before she got there.

It was a dragging, near exhausting wait until potions. Her nerves were so shot that, even if she calmed down, they would still leave a searing imprint under the surface of her skin. By lunch, she’d decided to try to calm herself. Surely he’d forget before then. Surely it would all resolve itself. Surely, she thought to herself as she pushed into the potions’ lab, there was–

He was sitting in her chair.

Meredith was late, unable to save her, and George was sitting at her table.

Her first move was to take cautious steps toward her destination. She knew well enough that this confrontation was unavoidable (or maybe she’d just built it up in her mind too much). She would just grit her teeth and bear it, though, because the only other alternative was to flee Hogwarts entirely.

“Hey!” He’d seen her, and she froze. She was only a step or two away from her seat, of course he saw her.

“Hi,” she responded with less grandeur. He stood in front of her, slicking his hands against his slacks as he smiled.

“Sorry about this morning,” his grin damn near sparkled, “I only do that sort of thing on the field usually.”

“Right,” she nodded. He was standing right in front of her seat, trapping it with his lanky body.

“Yeah,” his confidence stuttered momentarily, “Uh, your book. How is it?”

“Dorian Gray?” She questioned, receiving a nod, “Oh, it’s alright. A couple blokes doing a lot of talking.”

“Any puke?” George cocked his head.

“There’s blood,” she replied.

“Fluid is fluid,” he shrugged. There was another hesitation before he spoke again:

“I noticed you read a lot – muggle books, I mean. It’s interesting,” he stuck his hands in his pockets, “I was thinking about picking up a muggle book, but I don’t know where to start.”

So this was it. Weeks of stares and stilted interactions because of her obsession. She let out an audible sigh of relief. Any ounce of fear or tension drained from her body, and in its place, a peace rooted itself. Apparently, all it took to crack her shell was the mention of books.

“Oh, sure!” She spoke, her lips curling into a smile, “If you tell me what you fancy in a story I could find something you’d enjoy.”

“That’d be great,” he grinned, “Maybe I could tell you this weekend at Hogsmeade?”

“Hogsmeade?” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” he perked up suddenly, “There’s that muggle book shop near the outside of town — Argyle and Dicken’s? You could help me find something. Maybe we can go for butterbear after?”

There was nothing Jane Austen could have done to prepare her for an offer like this. No romance novel she’d ever read could help her. She couldn’t reply with something witty, or cute, or sultry. She couldn’t wink or do something flirtatious. All she was capable of doing was giving him a near-dumbfounded look whilst attempting to close her partially agape mouth. George Weasley wanted a little more than just a recommendation.

“She’d love to.” A feminine voice spoke from behind her. Meredith, somewhat winded and somewhat late, swooped in beside her to press a metaphorical hand to her jaw.

“Love to,” she repeated, though a little less confident. George seemed to appreciate the answer anyways, giving a quick nod of greeting to Meredith before smiling back at the other girl.

“Outside the castle at noon this Sunday work?”

“It, yeah, yes, it would work.” She nodded vigorously.

“Wicked,” he chuckled lightly, “It’s a da–“

“Get to your seats.” Professor Snape’s deep voice commanded. She, as well as Meredith, wasted no time shuffling past the boy to their chairs. George moved, though, only after he hesitated a moment. The potions lesson began unceremoniously, and she couldn’t help but look over to Meredith as Snape’s monotonous voice consumed the classroom.

“What was that?” She asked, eyes still wide.

"That was you getting yourself a date." Meredith whispered her reply happily.

A date. With George Weasley – the same George Weasley she had thought to be plotting against her, or at least hoping for her downfall. Yet, she couldn’t help but smile as the lesson went on.

A date.

With George Weasley.

hey guys, quick little note: i’m going to be starting a tag list so it’s easier to let people know when i post. if you’re interested in joining, comment a 🐝 on this post so i know who to add. alright, love u guys, toodles!

#george weasley #george weasley fluff #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #george weasley drabble #harry potter #fred weasley #hogwarts #fluff #bookworm #reading #classic lit #george wealsey imagine #thursday writes

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cherry-pop-elf · 2 months

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hello! 🌷 is it okay to request weasley twins x hufflepuff reader that was tortured by umbridge, but didn't give away the prank / bad thing that the twins did? out of loyalty for them

maybe comfort too, since they're thankful to reader and also feel guilty for what umbridge done to her. could be pre-dating or already dating them !!

have a lovely day 🎀

As a Hufflepuff who would have 100% been forced to not use their wheelchair because Umbridge would think I was faking my disability for attention, yeah we gonna get some Whump in this shit. ((Lowkey having some rough shit going on mentally so some vent fic like this will be hella. Thanks anon! Perfect timing!

—————————————————

Honey Wounds

Warning: Violence, Umbridge in general, blood, torture, whump, hurt/comfort 🎆🐝🎇

“Where’s little bumble bee-?” The twins would worry, as they had wondered why you didn’t show up to the secret little defense class Harry started up. Where could their little Hufflepuff be? Had them a little worried. By little, it was a lot. Things have been getting a lot more tense recently. Umbridge was really hammering down, and she was making her mission to find a way to get those two into Azkaban. By any means possible. The only reason she hasn’t was probably because of Percy somehow. As they worried, someone was quick to grab them.

“Fred, George, something bad happened. Something really bad happened-!” The first year was crying, and the duo were on red alert now. The poor kid was in to many tears to really speak, so they figured there was no need to. George was quick to pick the first year up, as the child was just pointing. Fred was in the running lead, as George was trying to comfort the child. The poor kid was hiccuping, and seeming so scared. Something bad happened, and they had to figure out what it was. That’s when they saw it. Blood on the barrels, like someone was slapping bloody hand’s desperately to get into the Hufflepuff dorm.

“Shit shit shit, what did she do now-?” Fred hissed, as he tried to focus on entering the dorm. Having to get literal blood on his hands, in order to get inside. With the pattern played, the duo were able to run inside. Left to see the Hufflepuff dorm full of noise. So many students all busy and around someone. When Hannah Abbott noticed the twins, she stepped away. Pulling away fellow students, and the horror was on display.

“Fred, George…..?” It was you, and you were not looking hot. Not looking hot at all. You were horribly pale, and your hands looked as if they had been through a chopping block. The fellow Puff’s had done their best to try and help, but it was like they wouldn’t stop bleeding. George had instantly covered the first years eyes, despite the fact the child had long seen it. It was just habit after all.

“WHAT HAPPENED-?!” Fred was soon by your side, while George was quick to hand the child off to someone. Now he was on your other side. You were just to tired to really process it all, given the blood loss. If it wasn’t for their brilliant hair, you would have assumed it was just more worried Hufflepuff’s. Just trying so hard to help. It’s rather scary. Sure, it’s Hogwarts. Things get violent, but this wasn’t just a random accident. Nor some run in with a beast. This was a woman who wanted to hurt.

“I didn’t tell her. I didn’t tell her-“ You managed to say, with a smile. The twins looked at each other, wondering what you were blabbering about, before they were quick to take over. The Puff’s made sure to stay out of their way, as the twins were able to move in ever perfect unison. Not needing to speak, to move. Fred was quick to start emptying their bags, as George was taking care in trying to wash the wounds on your hands.

“I know it’s in here, come on out you bastard-“ Fred hissed, as he sorted through the assortment of old tins they had collected. Each with its own experiment, as George tried to not freak out. Seeing you hurt like this. It was making him feel so many emotions. Anger at Umbridge, fear for what that woman will do next, sadness for your pain, anxiety on it Ron and Ginny would be next. It was all so loud in his eyes, as he tried not to let the tears spill.

“Found it-!” Fred sighed, as he was quick to start lathering a strange substance on your hands. It felt rather strange. As if he was lathering your open wounds with pudding. You expected it to hurt, but it was rather nice. Very cooling to your burning wounds. It would soon seem to harden on your fingers and palms. As if stopping you from bleeding, and absorbing the blood. Forcing it to stay inside. If you weren’t so dizzy, you would praise them for being so smart.

“Bumble Bee….What happened?” Fred asked, as George was busy with someone. Quick to get some water from one of the prefects, and try and nurse it into your body. George was gentle, and you needed it. You choked on it, but he knew you had to drink some. You lost alot of blood, and you had to stay hydrated. He would keep your head against his chest, as you managed to get some down. Enough to satisfy him, and calm his nerves. You could feel how sweaty his hands were, with worry, as he stroked your hair. With a few minutes to breath, you spoke.

“She brought me to her office. Asked me who had broken in it last night. I said I didn’t know. She didn’t like that, but I didn’t give up.” You smiled, as the twins were staring in horror. They broke into her office, last night. They swore they didn’t leave behind a trace. They had to break in. She confiscated Ginny’s bracelet. Said she fiddled with it too much. It was made just for her, by Bill. Ever since the incident in the chamber of secrets, she was more susceptible to dark magic. So, a Curse breaker made her something to help. Umbridge was actively putting her in danger. How could they not protect their little sister?

“It was a trap…..She did that on purpose-“ Fred realized, as it made sense. Of course they would break in to get it back. That horrid woman. “Can’t believe she dragged you into this. I mean, I can, but you get the point I’m making here! We’re so sorry Honey Bee-“ George would soon echo, as he kissed your head. Feeling so guilty. You didn’t blame them, of course, but they sure didn’t stop feeling guilty.

“It’s ok. Im ok. Ginny needed it. Like I would ever rat you two out.” You tried to reassure them, but their minds were made up. They had to do something about Umbridge. This woman was going insane. The twins swore she wasn’t aware that you three were in a relationship of sorts. They were magical twins. Not fair to compare them to muggle ones. They shared a partner, no big deal. Communication makes the dream work. Seems like maybe you three communicated in the wrong hallway one to many times, and she put two and two together.

“We are going to fix this. We promise.” The twins spoke, as they comforted you. George with keeping your head to his chest, as Fred was between your legs. Hugging your stomach, and nuzzling into your thigh. Just needing to hold onto you. As if you would disintegrate into his hands then and there. You would have comforted him, but it didn’t seem like your hands wanted to exist at the moment.

“Looks like we can’t wait for that down payment any longer. Now or never.” George said, as Fred gave a defeated sigh. He was right. If they stayed at Hogwarts any longer, Merlin knows who else she will drag into their mess. George was right, it was now or never. Because never means they’ll be in Azkaban for murdering her at this point.

“Say, Bumble bee….Think you can handle living in a rundown hollowed building for a while?” Fred asked, as you tried to focus your eyes. You didn’t really understand half of what they were saying, but you knew this. Wherever they went, you would follow. “What makes it any different from a dungeon?” You tried to joke, and that seemed to solidify the deal. Look out world, the Weasley Twins were about to show off their latest invention.

The WhizBang

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from-izzy · 4 months

Text

the warmest winter | tbz choi chanhee | new

"She has a date with me tomorrow."

PAIRING » tbz choi chanhee (new) x fem!reader TROPE/AU » childhood friends to lovers, fake dating au, non-idol au!, high school au! GENRE » fluffy fluff with a touch of angst, reader is a skater! (has her hair up in a bun), chanhee is very jelly of juyeon (hehe), but also chanhee is just jealous in general (...hehe), fake dating (i tried my best ahhhh), juyeon makes an appearance as jealous chanhee's rival WORD COUNT » 5805 ESTIMATED READING TIME » ~21 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » very inaccurate depiction of skating in general (writing this made me miss skating...), very fast proofreading (twice)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

hi @astrae4 !! yes, i'm your secret santa!! 🤭 sorry (not really hehe) for tricking you into thinking otherwise 🫢 it was very cute and funny to hear you say "it's definitely not you" when we were on call 🤣 had my camera been on, i wouldn't have gotten away with it 😫 just to let you know that @heemingyu was also playing along too (thanks for that and reading this, honey bee!) 😁 don't be too mad, dek! 😭 i'm innocent—

There are many good things about having a best friend who has known you since you were in diapers.

For you, the funniest reason would be how you would dead stare him across the room, with the straightest and plainest face, him directing one back at you. It sends the others into a fit of confusion, worries and frustration as none could ever figure out what’s in the duo’s minds. The chaotic reason would be that you would both wreak havoc together. Like that one time during the last day of primary school when you both decide to fill up thirty water balloons to their full capacity and throw them to any of the teachers in the outdoor field, fearless of the possibility of getting in trouble as graduation was around three hours after. The embarrassing reason would be that Chanhee would come to cheer you on your sport, luxuriously with his branded clothes from all his hard work, holding his big handmade slogan to support you as you glide across the ice to your routine. He would always get an earful from you after but he got his karma when you came in, dressed in highlighter yellow, sitting on the front row seat to his singing performance.

It’s the day that everyone has realised that the two of you are menaces to society.

The comforting reason, and is one of the biggest reasons why you two are still stuck to the hip after a decade, would be that when your lips are pouted, eyes glistening with tears, hugging your knees to your chest and whimpering your worries in the night, Chanhee would sit beside you wordlessly. Patiently waiting for you to cry your feelings out, patting your back rhythmically as he sometimes let time pass by scrolling through his phone, occasionally showing the funny reel on his screen to get you to join in his laughs. For him, the moment of calmness when you both would hit the breaks to your chaotic lives would be the best ones too with Friday nights becoming obligatory ‘brake time to get a break from society’ which can sometimes be too much.

But this Friday is a bit different.

Your final skating competition before you graduate high school is coming up in less than a month and despite the nervous butterflies growing in your stomach, you’re still very much excited to participate. You’re somewhat confident that you’ll do well, especially with all the experience that you have and the achievements and trophies that show off your hard work. But all of that didn’t stop you from agreeing to the voice in your head that tells you to put your blades on and just bask in the cold. Feeling nervous is a given but you have to believe in yourself that you can win this scholarship to your dream university.

The blades of your skates glide smoothly across the new ice sheet that has recently resurfaced once more. This is the second time that you had to step out of the rink and it shows the duration that you’ve spent without thinking much. Even when the doors to the public were closed, through your coach and her connections to the people who work at the rink, you were able to stay for even longer. Staying on the ice also meant that you were separated from your phone, leaving everyone on delivered for another two hours.

But Chanhee knows your habits, driving to the ice rink and pushing the still-unlocked front door to see you skating leisurely without a care in the world. He smiles warmly behind his blue scarf, delighted at the little smile and satisfying self-cheer when you land correctly, scratching the ice with your achievements once again. Silently, he sits down on one of the benches, going on his phone but still occasionally looking at your dancing figure once in a while.

You don’t know how you missed a whole hour of another person’s presence—or maybe it’s because you’re so used to and comfortable with him that you don’t notice him—but you literally almost trip from the ice and the edge of the ice rink when you spot your best friend with his Hello Kitty beanie that you gifted him this year for his birthday.

“Slow down.” He tries to hold his laughter when you let out a puff of air, annoyed at your clumsiness. “You should come eat. I’m sure you forgot about that.”

The mention of food and the familiar takeout bag from your favourite place brightens your face, the corners of your lips lifting immensely and you kick off your shoes, tiptoeing in the cold and wet puddles to quickly fill up your stomach after a successful practice session.

“Knew I could count on you.”

“Duh.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “I feel so bad for your stockings, I swear.” Commenting on your slightly damp black fabric.

The only response he got was the way you rub the watered part onto his pants, him shrieking and sliding himself away from you on the bench, only for you to of course follow him. In the end, when he reaches the end of the aluminium seat, he only groans and tells you off, giving an empty warning that he’ll never pick you up and buy you food ever again. When you put your tongue out, making a funny face to him, his cheeks blush hues of red and pink in the dimly lit seating area—you didn’t see it though as you were too focused on the flavours bursting in your mouth.

When you fully focus back on your food once again, leaving him in his little world, Chanhee buries his lower face further into his scarf, away from your field of vision. He leans a little bit back to make sure he can just admire you without being too obvious. His heart flutters when his mind replays back to your mischievous and cute face, and the way you didn’t mind being so close to his face—though he was freaking out about it all.

But how could he ever tell you? Because he can’t even explain to you when he started to fall for you. Was it that time when you ran to him at primary school, winging about how you needed a friend to get ice cream? Or that time when you stayed by his side and continued to support him when he hit the hard times while he was preparing for his first performance in high school? What about that time when you would just lay on his shoulder and listen to his worries, completely understanding his thoughts, never judging him through words or facial expressions?

He can’t even make sense of it to himself. Let alone with you.

“I’m annoyed.” Your voice trails off in the big area but it reaches his ears easily.

Judging from the way your feet kick the air and the accommodating tone of your voice with your words, Chanhee’s lips pull into a straight line. “Another one?” followed by a deep chuckle and a frustrated sigh from you.

“It’s not that funny, okay? You know I’m bad at rejecting…”

He ponders the thought behind your words, nodding as his memories play the series or tears after politely and in some cases, not as kindhearted, rejecting the ones who made an advance for you. When asked why those tears were showing, you commented how “it didn't feel right” and alternatives to “he didn't feel at home. He likes me because of my appearance. He's never even talked to me!”

Chanhee wishes that it would never be like that for him. But it's okay, for he would never tell you his feelings for you anyway.

The realization weighed deeply in his heart, resonating hurt throughout his entire body. He glances over at you, hopefully discreetly, with how much love he could give you at any time. Impulsively, acting with a tinge of jealousy and possessiveness, the suggestion curled out from his tongue without another thought.

“Date me instead.”

Your feet stop kicking the air and both of your bodies are now stiff with widened eyes, as if the cold finally got to you guys.

“What?”

It sends Chanhee into a momentary faze and the blush on his cheeks spreads through not only his face but his entire body.

“Fake!”

“HUH?”

“Like, fake dating!”

Then the implications behind his words finally sink into you. You didn’t realise this before but the idea does seem great for someone like you who has been trying to get people off your case. It’s tiring, especially when you can’t find a proper connection with either of them—none of them was better than your connection with Chanhee.

“For once in your life,” Your hand gives him a firm pat on his shivering shoulders, “you have come up with a great idea.”

Playing off the slight hurt in his heart, knowing that from your words that you didn’t see him anymore than just friends, Chanhee bravely flashes you a smile. “Do you want to or not?”

“...what’s the catch?” The growing grin on his face tells you everything. “I know you, Choi Chanhee. There’s no way something as taxing and effortful as dealing with me, has no catch to this agreement. Tell me!”

“The catch is,” he takes off his scarf, exposing the lower half of his face to you. Carefully, he wraps the dark blue material around yours, no longer seeing the exhaling white air, “that you get to listen to whatever I say.”

Adding a little touch to this, he bops the tip of your nose earning a deep grunt and shove from you but your hands still held on to the top edge of his scarf, enjoying the familiar scent and warmth that came from it.

“Does that soothe your chaotic mind?”

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement, feeling your neck loosen from all the tension from the previous regular meetups that you both will have. Especially with you being so busy the entire time, it was nearly impossible to meet up with Chanhee unless he was the one going all the way for you.

“Nothing will change.” Chanhee shrugs. “We’re just…us. Everyone is already thinking that we’re dating anyway so the only thing that'll change is more hand-holding and all that.”

“No kissing!”

“W-Wha--Of course not!” This time, you were shoved back. “Who wants to kiss you anyway? You literally drool in your sleep!”

“Hey!” With each growing rebuttal, so did the echo that bounced within the walls, “Don’t say that! You know how lonely, I am! That’s so mean!”

The laughing boy didn’t do much to ease you, just sticking a tongue out at you. He did, however, reach out to hold your icy hand. It made him frown, the little mountain growing on his lips. Suddenly, the gap between your body closes with him wrapping a secure hold of your waist. Confused by the sudden proximity, you let out a string of stutters as you look up to see him already staring at you.

“W-What are you…doing…?”

“We’re dating now.” He shrugs nonchalantly, “You have to get used to this.”

“No one is here, Chanhee.”

He has never been one to initiate skinship. It has always been you cuddling up to his side like a koala, clinging and dragging him to every single place that you wanted to go.

“J-Just…leave me alone and let me hug you.” And he did. Your upper body twists to completely face him and your chin goes over the scarf to rest on his padded jacket. The height difference is why he had to bend to your figure, basically slumping over you but neither of you minded. With a clear of his throat without another word or action, he lets you go, stands up and asks for your hand. “It’s too cold. Let’s go, I’ll drop you home.”

“Wait Chanhee…”

You drag the last syllable and the hand that reaches out for you slowly lowers. Chanhee sighs, knowing that it can't be good judging from the tone and the way your lips pull sideways.

“I need to rant about my upcoming duet routine.”

“Oh.”

He remembers the first time when you did perform once with someone else. Of course in group work, your effort and contributions matter just as much as theirs would matter to you. But your first (and what you hoped to be your last) partner ruined all potentially happy thoughts about performing with someone else. It sucked that even though you both did win a place at the podium, the stress and effort of basically choreographing at least ninety percent of the routine was not worth the bronze medal on the podium.

For a short while, it killed you to be on the ice and you refused to even step back there without a pressing reason. You're thankful that your coach has always been an understanding one because if she wasn't, your career in figure skating would be shredded at this point. Chanhee did help too, reminding you of the joy and laughter, even making himself borrow some skates from his friend. It led to bruises and him face-planting into the pile of snow but at least he got to see the way your eyebags disappeared over time.

That's more than worth it for him.

“You'll be alright.” He reassured first, kneeling to get into eye level with you even though yours is downcasted. He knows that your mind would go back to the past. “You got a shit partner but you'll be fine. I promise you that you'll do better this time.”

“I hope…”

“Who is it with this time?”

Despite breathing the cool air whenever you could, you could never get enough of it.

“Lee Juyeon.”

Something inside him stops. Time didn't though because from his peripherals, he noticed how you stood and skipped your way down to the ground floor, patting your outfit dry as if some sort of ice or dust had dirtied it. He hears your announcement, shouting that you will get your things ready from the back room and miraculously, he lets out a croaked answer in return.

Lee Juyeon.

Everyone in school loved him, Chanhee included. Most wanted to date him, others wanted to be him while the remaining loathed the way he was perfect in every way. In short, Lee Juyeon is the total opposite of Choi Chanhee.

He prefers to spend his days quietly in the library alone while Juyeon prefers to attend parties. While Chanhee would be in his bed sleeping in the morning, Juyeon would be taking his daily morning run before rushing back home to shower and get ready for the school day. When Juyeon would be in his weekly student council meetings, Chanhee would eat ice cream at that nearby restaurant, basking in the sweetness after a stressful day.

This unfamiliar feeling sends Chanhee into a slight brain freeze when he imagines you both not only close physically but the fact that you will be near the perfect boy for the majority of your time—and the fact that he won't be able to spend time with you because you'll be busy with other priorities—makes the green feeling inside his chest grow with the devil snickering inside his head. He was still so deep in thought that he didn't even notice you wave your hands infront of his face despite having his eyes seemingly on your face.

“It's almost midnight.” You say, opting to drag him out of the building with a hold of his clothed wrist. “Daydream later, loser.”

Oh, you're so right about that. And he's in deep trouble about it all.

What he didn’t truly prepare for, however, is the number of times that you would leave him on delivered, responding to his messages from the beginning of the day to the end in one go, buzzing his phone repeatedly when he’s doing his final skin routine before sleep takes over him. He’s still understanding, knowing how the competition is important for you. At least she still answers me back right? He reassures himself while throwing the face mask away, the cooling air on his face suddenly turns his mind back to the short ‘date’ from the other day.

He still remembers the pink checkered shorts that you paired with a simple button white long sleeve. Your hair is freed in the wind, taking the scent of your shampoo—to him. The struggles of keeping his palm dry when it’s around yours, and the bigger struggle to keep his skin neutral void of any redness whenever he catches a glance of your smile.

“Once more!” You plead, handing your phone back to him after switching back to the camera app.

Despite the roll of his eyes, he’s thankful that the device hid his face from yours, even if it’s only a while. He focuses on the screen and your figure, arguably more than the technology. He directs your poses: hands collecting your hair into a bun, looking down at your feet while the other shot is one of you puckering your lips, looking to the side with a quick peace sign.

Both became his lock and home screen using the excuse of making the relationship more believable—we know more than that though.

It fuels his hate for himself and Juyeon when he texts you that he finished the final part of the routine, asking if you’re free to test it out with him.

After that, school was the only place where you would exchange smiles, stick out tongues, share food, hugs and even kisses on each other’s cheeks, Chanhee only found himself in deep trouble. The public display of affection did make other boys leave you alone, gulping and scurrying away in masses when he would throw them a side glare, his hand on your waist tightening his hold each time.

It would drag your attention to him, whenever he does that. Such a new feeling, yet fluttering and intimate. You would clutch the loose fabric of his shirt, hand once relaxed on his chest. Brown eyes would run over the creases of disgust and the lines of fury across his usual soft, kind face. Whenever you would ask him for a peek inside his mind, his eyes would quickly turn to the ones that he would usually show whenever he would laugh and nag you to put your upper body back inside his car in the late-night drives. Or when you would do your night routines together every single time, without fail—for your information, it’s been two weeks since then.

Sure it’s all for show, but two weeks ago when he proposed the idea, it seemed that nothing had changed for him and even though he’s glad that no one is crazily chasing after you anymore, it hurt that he feels like he’s been abandoned by you. Heck, he hasn’t even taken you out for a ‘date’ yet. Friendly date, ‘fake’ date. The label that you would put on it didn’t matter much for him as long he took some of your time.

So now, with the owl hooting outside his window, dressed and ready to sleep with his Hello Kitty pyjamas, something is telling him to pick up his keys from the handmade bowl that you both messily painted as kids, go for some drive-through to pick up your favourite food and drive to the ice rink.

The sight that greeted him when he did reach his destination caused the paper cup in his hand to spill all over the rubber of the ice rink. The low-pitched clatter stops the laughs that erupt from you and the male who had his arms wrapped around your waist, his defined chest pressing comfortably against your exposed back due to your outfit, is the one who straightens his back first, noticing the painful gaze from outside the rink.

But again, Juyeon is everything Chanhee isn’t.

The way that Juyeon let out that signature ‘oh’ of his with the sickening way that he hollers a greeting to the envious boy, not even bothering to throw a discouraging comment that would hurt his pride and would then rightfully give a reason to hate him that has a glad upturned smile on his face, Chanhee would’ve run straight back to the door that he opened excitedly before. Just like your skating partner, you also let out an ‘oh!’ at his presence and he couldn’t help but think that now, Juyeon isn’t taking away his time with you anymore but also the way you speak.

Leisurely gliding your way towards the railing of the enclosed rink, the anterior side of your forearm rests, your feet still making little circles on the part of the rink that wouldn’t usually be given that much attention to professional skaters like you.

“Having fun?” It came out more venomous and spiteful than he thought. Even his eyes widened slightly in fear, seeing a similar look in your eyes. But he maintains eye contact with you, the paper of the takeaway scrunching rapidly under his hold.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. See you tomorr—”

“She has a date with me tomorrow.”

“Wait, Chanh—”

“Right?”

It’s so impossible to miss. Not with the way that maybe if Chanhee blinks, the normal act could’ve probably sent his eyes into a newfound breakdown that he has been trying so desperately to hide. Especially not in front of Juyeon, he’s not about to cry now.

Your chest raises, inhaling the stuffy air to your beating lungs. Lips parted to start speaking your thoughts and Chanhee watched with a more definite crease between his eyebrows as you could only articulate the sounds of some familiar words, unable to audibly tell him anything. For what seemed like forever, you both just looked at each other. You tilt your head every single time your best friend directs his attention away to his house slippers back to your eyes. Beneath the tough exterior that he’s putting on, it’s easy for you to see how something is troubling him.

The first one is his attire. Unless you were in a life-or-death situation, there is no way Chanhee would stain the white satin button-up and long pants. There was one time when you were begging profusely for a late-night snack and spontaneous hangout but even then, he just nodded and hummed into the phone, telling you that he needs to “keep the white pure, away from the sins of the outside world.”

Juyeon quietly leaves the scene, hand giving a tight squeeze before disappearing for the night.

“Let’s sit down?” You offer, uncertainty clouding your judgement.

The bench awaits patiently for you, the jacket lazily slopped over it. You’re so tense and unsure about the situation that even taking the steps up the dry stairs was so quiet—more silent than the shaking exhales that the puff of coloured air made due to the cold. Your fingers brush against the fine hair of the material but you didn’t put it on yourself. The tips of your hair flip around to see your best friend not even anywhere near the bottom step, still frozen in the same place as before.

Knowing that you won’t be in the mood to skate after whatever confrontation and conversation you’ll have with him, you pack your bags, slipping off into comfortable shoes for running—if you really have to. Chanhee’s bangs fell over his eyes easily with the downward tilt of his head, a miracle that his neck wasn’t cramping right now. From the shadows on the ground, a long line goes over his head and his shoulder lazes a new heavy material. The body part tries to shake the warmth stubbornly but a click of your tongue is what stops Chanhee from flopping around like a dying fish.

“Did you know my dad used to be in the mafia?”

It’s supposed to take you both out of this challenging atmosphere but you know that even though his eyes are hidden because of his posture and his grown strands, he isn’t going to return the playfulness. The strap of your backpack is the only one that knows your nervousness, croaking due to the leather material, your nails probably engraving this moment into its skin.

“Juyeon…huh?”

A broken laugh comes out from you, eyes wandering to the background space around his head area. Has the wall always had that crack on the wall? Oh…how is the fly surviving in this weather? Is it raining outsi—

“Do you like Juyeon?”

“W-What?” Why did the question hurt so much to hear? “I’m dating you, Chanhee.”

“I don’t think anyone believes it to be honest.” He shrugs, adamant about staying focused on the topic. “I just wanted to know,” His eyes dart around the place, anywhere but to you, “wanting to know if you’re part of the ninety percent of our cohort that likes him.”

“Oh.” It was out of nowhere but being suspicious isn’t the right word to describe it. It was more to curiosity as to why Chanhee would just ask such a thing all of a sudden. “I do think he’s attractive.” You shrug leisurely, unaware of the screaming in his head. “He’s a good partner too.”

Chanhee tries his best to mask the growing ache in his chest, blankly nodding. “He is your type after all.”

“I have a type?” One of your eyebrows rises, “I didn’t even know that myself.”

“Right…” Finally, the food is shoved into your chest, just like how it’s always been. If so, then why did it hurt you when he told you, “Date him then.”

An immeasurable kind of clench was made by the muscles around your heart.

“W-What?”

Thank god you changed shoes because he stormed out right after.

Your phone also became silent, no more life was given to Chanhee. What annoyed you most wasn’t the ‘good’ news that spread to the boys but the fact that he would make it so obvious that he hated you whenever you would make your presence known to him.

“Talk to him after this.” Juyeon encourages you, handing your bottle of water from his hand.

“I can’t.” You huffed. “He treats me like a plague.”

You quite literally cannot have this in your mind right now. The competition is in a few hours and you messed up both of your rehearsals for tonight. The slight pain that throbs from your lower palm will be, you swear, used to slap someone who truly deserves a wake-up call. As the sun rose each day for the past week, it also burnt along your hopes that Chanhee would talk and ease your worries so that you could dance freely, marking your perfect twirls on the ice that shines along with you.

Juyeon’s eyes relax, sending you a slumped smile with half-lidded eyes. “Does he know about tonight?”

You did indeed send him a message about today but you’re doubtful that he would come. You even tried bribing him with free food but maybe the boy knows that your anger might turn to something more, saving himself from your hits and complaints.

But you’re just unaware of what he’s truly trying to save himself from.

The sunset marks the start of the open doors. Relatives, schoolmates, acquaintances and even strangers bustle through with their appropriate clothes—including a young girl with short sleeves that you are sure would throw a fit to ask her mother for a jacket—all gathered to support the skaters, especially those who have university representatives to impress.

With the cute bright pink mittens, the waving hands catch your attention quickly. You send a quick wave back to your sister who waves the supportive banner she made, along with your parents who gave you thumbs up, placing their hands around the circumference of their mouth to shout and holler at you.

It’s all so awesome.

But it would’ve been perfect had someone else come.

The realisation makes your heart drop. Chanhee has always come to all your competitions without fail but this one, when everything is on the line. Before you have to completely push your phone away, your thumbs search for his contacts, automatically just checking in your recent section. Even though the relationship between you is ambiguous, you couldn’t find it in you to change his name which implies a romantic title for him.

It seems right.

It seemed that no one should have that title but him.

Your eyelids collect as much water as they can before it spills onto the phone screen. It seemingly glitches the words on the glass, distorting your spam messages for him. “Just come…please…” you whisper before texting him the same exact words that you just said.

But he decides to crush the final hopes that you ever had in him, leaving you on seen once again. The familiar shout that gathers all the players rings through your ears and Juyeon’s figure behind you also tells you that it’s time to push Chanhee aside for now.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Ju…” The truth spills out and even though the boy has things to ask, he decides to let you rant before going. “But I want him to be.”

You know this now with the distance he puts between you.

It’s suffocating.

More than dehydration. More than the minus temperature. More than the scratch on your hand.

“I just want him, Juyeon…” Beads in your eyes, shaking lips and true feelings. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He nods, wishing the best for you. “I knew that my feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated.”

It lifted off a weight in your chest, knowing that Juyeon’s reassurance that you would both still stay friends. You both sway beautifully on the ice, balancing and leaving the audience in awe, judges in amazement and competitors in envy. If there is one thing you can take away from this, is that for you, being on ice with someone else can truly be fun. You both promise to meet each other on the ice next time, in the future, professionally and relieve this perfect teammate chemistry once again.

And now, you’re shaking your limbs, trying your best to ease your nerves.

Still no sign of him.

You force your neck to look down, just focusing on the marks of the moulded plastic and leather, plunging the front spikes of the shoes into the floor.

“That’s…going to make a mark.”

That voice.

The one that could ever stare at you with a blank stare and contain his laughter. The one that would leave others in fear whenever a sinister smile and wiggling of eyebrows would be sent to each other. The same one that stands beside you, taking the blame alone when the drenched teacher finds you both.

The same one that would usually sit by your sister and make the banner with her, splashing on extra glitter and Hello Kitty stickers. The same one that would lend his luxury brand accessories, not getting mad if you accidentally broke it.

It propels you forward to his already half-opened arms, waiting for you, always reserved for you. Just as you promised to yourself, Chanhee takes the hits on his chest, listening to your words and letting his clothes seep your cries.

“I know, I’m sorry.” One hand encircles your waist from behind, the other patting your hairsprayed scalp. “I won’t lie that I skipped the one you did with Juyeon but I know your parents recorded it so,” he shrugs, “but I’m here for the main performance. Yours.”

Your small chuckle made him do the same. “You’re not wearing a stupid outfit.”

Chanhee hums. “I thought I would be a very supportive friend and won’t embarrass you for this event.”

“Boyfriend.”

“W-What?”

“You’re my boyfriend.”

It leaves him in a daze but he knows that you weren’t joking. To him, his gulp seemed a bit loud but maybe with the way you slowly left his arms, you might’ve missed it.

“I love you, Chanhee.” Your eyes searched for rejection but all he did was blink at you rapidly. You took this as a sign to keep going. “I think I always have and you being idiotic just made it clear to me.”

“O-Oh…”

“D-Do you—” You shake your head, waving your hands the same way to him. “Actually don’t tell me! Let me skate first. J-Just watch me…”

When was the last time Chanhee has seen you so flustered? It leaves him breathless and his heart soaring and he knows within himself that he wants to be the only one to ever put you in that state. He gives a nod, a smile plastered on his face. You thought he would join your parents on the bench but he stays near the entrance of the rink, giving your lower back the lightest touch, whispering you a final message before you enter the spotlight.

The message rings in your ear the whole time. The music suddenly fades but every time you could catch a glimpse of Chanhee, you know that he didn’t say it for you to feel flustered and fail.

And fail, did you not.

The reward on the podium with a gold medal hanging around your neck sends you many obstacles of representatives who want you to join the team. But they could wait.

Just like a few minutes ago, your arms circles his neck, pushing Chanhee’s lips to your own. A few seconds before your lips meet him, the boy lets out a little ‘hmph’ before he softens, his eyes closing in the same time and way yours does. The way the cold replaces the warmth of his lips leaves you both chuckling even when he momentarily pushes you away to save himself from the tickles that you gave his waist. But once again, the words that he whispers against your shy lips remind you that his eyes have always held the same love that you have given him and the way your lips move passionately in sync with his, tells you that he wasn’t playing around with his words.

With your heart.

With you.

“I love you,” he tells you with his lips.

The motives behind his proposal with this whole fiasco become clear and the redness on your face is no longer due to the energy-consuming routine that you just performed. It deepens when he gives you his mittens, slipping them through your fingers and messaging each one with care. It deepens further when he lends you a fabric to keep your throat healthy so that you can confess to him again. It deepens even more when he realises that you’re shivering after the adrenaline of your sport drains you and he wraps his scent around your uniform.

“Thanks for making my winters warmer.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿

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dragonfirerogue-writes · 1 year

Text

Criminal

Wednesday x Kitsune!Reader

Eugene waves at you as you slid down the stair railing with your pack. Your smirk was wide as you land on the carpet with a muted thud.

"Eugene! You ready for the hunt?"

The boy nods as you both make your way towards Ophelia Hall. "Yes! I have everything we need. Snacks, extra batteries, some bug jars, just in case." He says with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

You let out a laugh, only to stop right in your tracks as the sight of Wednesday in a beautiful gothic dress steals your breath away. But the confusion set in when you register the fact that Tyler was next to her. In a tuxedo. You were too baffled to say anything, so Eugene piped up.

"Wednesday, what's going on?"

You shake yourself out of your reverie and spoke up as well. "Yeah, what happened to staking out the cave?" You couldn't look Wednesday in the eyes for fear of getting drawn in again. "I broke plans to join you on this."

Wednesday didn't answer. Her eyes just flitted awkwardly from side to side, uncomfortable in the situation. You and Eugene both took that as a sign. The bee boy looks at you dejectedly.

"I guess we'll have to check out the woods on our own."

"Don't! It's dangerous. Stand down."

Your arms cross. "You don't think we can handle it?"

"We'll all go tomorrow night. Understood?"

With that, she turns and walks away with her date. The burning feeling within you builds up as you glare at the duo's backs. Eugene just pats your back, drawing your attention to him.

"Let's go anyway. We'll show her how capable we are."

Your head shakes in reply. "Sorry, Eug. I don't feel like it anymore." Your eyes didn't move, even when Wednesday and Tyler disappeared from eyesight. "I think I'm gonna put my original plans back on the docket."

Finally, you turn to look at your friend.

"Rest for tonight. We'll hit the woods tomorrow, with or without Wednesday."

You walk away, getting ready for the Rave'N.

-----+++++-----

Your eyes burned slightly at the bright whites and blues of your surroundings. Wandering around, you weave through the crowd, greeting friends as you pass them. Soon enough, you're joined by your dancer friends. The group huddles together, debating on when to execute their plan. Before you could make a decision, you see your crush on the dance floor.

The movements caught your attention and suddenly, along with some others, you were staring. She seemed so unbothered by anyone else. The unnatural dance moves seemed to inspire you.

"I know when we should do this. Irina, go talk to the DJ. Everyone have their ribbons?" When everyone nods you give them a smirk. "Just like we practiced, guys."

The dance continues on. Wednesday and Tyler dance close until you suddenly pop up between the two.

"Having fun, lovebirds?" You blurt out with a wicked grin. Wednesday balks at you.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

"I told you. I broke plans to hang out with you. My plans are here."

"What plan? Pestering me? You do that regardless."

Your grin goes wider. "That's just a plus."

You whirl around Wednesday to stand behind her. Before she could move, she felt something tightened around her neck. The touch of fabric slide away, revealing a black ribbon in your hands. Backing away, you tie the ends of the ribbon together and wrap the loop around your wrists, binding them together.

With a record scratch, the song playing ends abruptly, only to have another start. Vocalizations begin as you continue your path backwards, eyes never leaving Wednesday. From other points in the crowd, your friends join you, wrists also bound, jerking them around at the last two beats of each measure.

The performance begins.

You and four others drop to your knees as the lyrics begin and you all start to pulse your chests, as if your hearts were trying to burst out. It's clear now that it's a choreographed dance as the crowd circles you to watch. Before long, you're back up on your feet, alternating between jerking moves and smooth transitions. Your eyes land on Wednesday's as you remove the ribbon around your wrists with your teeth and toss it to her before going full out on the dance.

The goth couldn't take her eyes off of you. The way you spun and whipped around with ease as you worked the crowd was fascinating. At the second chorus, the other dancers circled you while you knelt, she could see how heavily you were breathing. But it still wasn't a moment's rest. You were still performing as your eyes pierced through hers. When your solo came, the others dropped to the floor, hidden by the fog. Only their hands and legs were seen as they did their floor choreography.

Then the bridge to the final chorus began. Instrumental with the same vocalizations that happened in the beginning. All the dancers broke from the group, weaving in and out of the members of the crowd. You, on the other hand, inched over towards Wednesday with stuttered steps. Suddenly, you surged towards her and grabbed her wrist. You bring her hand to your neck. Her fingers reflexively curl around your throat as your fox eyes and fangs make their appearance to her for the first time. You stare into her eyes as the bridge ends.

"Deo mangchyeojwo" you say alongside the song before jumping back and finishing the dance at the last chorus.

The room erupts in applause as you hit the final pose, holding it to revel in the cheers. It wasn't until you felt a drop on your face that you dropped your pose. Looking up, more drops fell, leaving red streaks on your face. The sprinkler systems had been triggered, raining red on everyone.

Cheers turn into screams as people begin to scramble away, slipping and sliding as they try to escape the 'Carrie' recreation scene. Only you and Wednesday seem to be unbothered. Your attention turned to Wednesday when you hear her scoff.

"They couldn't even spring for real pigs' blood." She looks over at you. "It's paint."

You let out a soft laugh, your anger and jealousy ebbed for the moment, especially after the dance. "I'll getcha pigs' blood and redo this whole thing."

You and Wednesday ended up in the eye of the storm. Chaos reigned around you while you had just a moment to see the goth's lips quirk up ever so slightly at your words.

The sudden hit of a vision burst that bubble.

Worried that she may fall, you moved closer to Wednesday, but she recovered quickly with wide, worried eyes. She grabs your arms to steady herself before rushing an explanation.

"Eugene is in the woods. He's in danger."

With a nod you bolt out alongside the girl, hoping to the gods that you two will make it in time.

#a dragon tries to write #Wednesday Addams x Reader #Wednesday x Reader #Spotify

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tanith-rhea · 1 year

Note

ello!!!! may I request some sort of coffee shop au with Miranda and female reader? Either we work there and she's the customer who always brightens our day, or we just continue to run into (not necessarily literally, but also what is some spilled coffee if we get Miranda in exchange?) each other all the time? It's really up to you, I'm just asking for some cozy coffee romance :) <3 tysmmm!

Coffee, tea, or could I offer you me?

Working at a coffee shop wasn’t nearly as quaint and romantic as the books you’d read while growing up described. However, instead of accepting the dull reality and focusing on working to pay for college, you decided to make a difference, and be the cupid of the establishment. If you couldn’t live your coffee shop romance, you would help other people do so. That was before you witnessed the most beautiful girl you’d ever seen get stood up by her date.

Word count: 7.1k (oops)

As the cupid of the Rainbow Roast Café, your life mission was to provide ordinary people with the ristretto-like love experience of their life. Or at least give clients a funny story to tell their grandchildren one day.

Your co-worker Maggy had even a bet going on that you would pair off at least one more duo or group of individuals until the end of the month, to which Dave — your other co-worker — betted against, saying you had already struck twice this month and it was virtually impossible for you to get another success in just ten days.

You didn’t see it as a competition though. It was the closest you thought you could get to experiencing a coffee shop romance. Patrons who flirted with you often acted like creeps and it was very rare for one of them to be a woman. So, you decided that giving other people the chance at a nice and soft meet cute and possible love story was your best shot.

At first, you thought it would be a horrible breach of boundaries to tell a client that you saw someone eyeing them from the other side of the café, so you kept your cool and inwardly itched watching people nurturing crushes and not telling the other person about it. Until the day of your breaking point.

There was this girl that always came at eight-twenty and ordered a white chocolate mocha. She had a favourite table by the windows to the side and near the back, and she sat there every day without fail to people-watch and write in a journal-like notebook. That was until a month in on your job, another person arrived at eight and ordered a simple iced and bee-lined to the very table.

When the girl got her order that morning, she was stuck for a bit, watching the intruder of her sacred spot. You thought she felt pestered at having to choose another seat, but over the next few days it kept happening, and the looks she shot at the brooding figure at her table started to appear more like pining than cursing.

You, being nosy and lacking several social filters, approached her on a slow day with the biggest double chocolate chip cookie you could find and tried to strike up a conversation. She turned out to be just as nice as you thought she was, and two days later you finally asked if she liked the mysterious customer at her former table. She timidly admitted to having a crush and asked you to keep quiet about it. The next day you wrote into their cup about the cute girl in a cardigan and how she thought they looked cool.

Lysa and Rae are still customers, but they sit at the same table for four months now.

The following ones were easier. You would write in a piece that customer x told you they liked customer y and see where things went. You always befriended the customer first and then offered to help, and when they said yes you felt over-the-roof-happy. You were always social, but you never thought you’d have such an enormous amount of friends, all of whom were dating while you were still painfully single. It was nice though.

Everything was going great that particular day at the café. Andre had paid a visit to get Mina her usual smoked latte before class and invited you to a movie night at the weekend in her dorm. You had bonded with Mina through your shared guilty pleasure of watching cheesy love triangle dramas when you were sad, and her taste in movies was as close to yours as that of a soul buddy. You wished you had attended uni with them, it would have been so much fun.

But, however good the day was, there was still time for that to change. An hour before the end of your shift, a stupefying figure entered the coffee shop. A woman, so tall she could reach the 8’3 door head if she raised her hand, walked in and settled at one of the front window seats. Judging by her slightly nervous aura, you assumed she was waiting for a date.

There wasn’t much movement that time in the afternoon. Most people were working and the few customers around already had their orders, so you decided to go ask the recent arrival if she wanted something while she waited.

Getting closer, you noticed her whitish-blond hair looked very soft, as did her milky skin and overall presence. If it wasn’t for her height, you could say she would look very plain or unremarkable. A white woman, with blond hair and average proportions. That was before you rounded a table and saw her closer from the front. She had a very remarkable face. It was a combination of gentle eyebrows, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline that somehow managed to not be threatening but disarmingly inviting.

“Excuse me,” you cleared your throat, hoping you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt, “Would you like to order?”

When she looked up from her phone, bright pools of arctic blue glued you to where you stood. If you walked, you were quite sure your legs would give out. She was nothing but exquisite, and suddenly you wished she was waiting for you, and that just this once you were the protagonist of the story.

“I’m sorry?” she prompted, and her voice, for everything that is good in the world, her voice sent chills through your skin even though it was an unusually hot autumn day.

“I just asked if you would like to order something.” You took out your notepad for something to look at other than the gorgeous stranger. “I can bring you something while you wait for…” it was quite shameless, but of course, you were fishing for information, “whatever you are waiting for,” you hoped she wouldn’t feel offended by your less-than-professional approach.

“I’m just waiting for a friend.” She gave you a small, timid smile, and gazed at the table, confirming she very much wasn’t waiting for a friend. “He won’t take long, so I’ll order when he arrives.”

You only nodded, instantaneously slaughtered of all hope and happiness at the kind dismissal. You returned to your place behind the counter and started cleaning already clean coffee machines and the spotless counter.

She was waiting for a he. Of course, that didn’t mean she was straight, and she was so beautiful you’d feel personally attacked if she was. Maggy noticed your state and tsked from the kitchen door.

“What is it? Someone didn’t want to chat?” you usually felt disappointed when some people gave you hints they wanted to be left alone. You wouldn’t annoy a customer for the life of you, but it did make you pout.

When she approached the counter to look at you, however, her eyebrow arched, and a smug smirk twisted her face.

“Ooh, am I seeing a rejected puppy?” her pretentious tone made your lips twitch. She was teasing you, but you wouldn't give her the satisfaction of making you laugh.

"Not rejected. You know I don't flirt with clients, it's creepy enough when they do it to me."

"Oh, so what would you call it then? Friendly banter?" you snorted ungracefully. It was true you were comfortable with teasing, flirting and sometimes even catcalling your friends. What could you say? You loved embarrassing and complimenting them, it was just the perfect means.

"Yes, friendly banter. Not everyone is smoking hot like you to be able to flirt and be taken seriously, you know," you arched an eyebrow and she threw a napkin at you.

"You're impossible!" she kissed you on the cheek before returning to the kitchen for more goods.

Half an hour had passed and the woman's date still hadn't arrived. You pondered going back there and offering something again, but you imagined she'd feel uncomfortable with you noticing she was possibly being stood up. Your bones hurt with the want to go strike up a conversation and distract her from the douchebag that was making her wait, but at the same time, your heart raced in panic at the thought of talking to her.

It was some time since you'd had a crush on a person. Even being a hopeless romantic, you didn't have many opportunities to find anyone attractive in your day-to-day life. You lived close to the campus, so taking the subway to work wasn't necessary. You spent your day at the coffee shop and it always felt like breaching an unspoken rule to fancy a client (even though you admitted some were very aesthetically pleasing), and all your friends were spoken for and their friends were usually on college so a few years younger and that didn't do it for you. So it was very curious to finally feel it again, and for a client to make matters worse.

"Ok, stop ogling her, you'll bore a hole on her neck like this" Maggy mused, bringing the rest of the pastries.

You let out a defeated breath. "You're right, I have work to do and no time for this kind of thing."

"Woah there, you seem to have thought a lot of things in the five minutes it took me to get back, huh?"

You did, and she might not have the knowledge of what went on in your head, but you knew she understood your conclusion. How did she come to know you so well was beyond you, but you guessed five months of friendship and almost uninterrupted proximity did that.

"You know it's not for me." You shrugged and noting she was about to object you excused yourself saying you'd get more excelsa beans.

When your shift was close to end, the woman was still there. She wasn't waiting anymore, you noticed. She was idly taking notes on a small pad and listening to music. She didn't look too affected by the guy not showing up. Maybe she suspected it would happen, or it wasn't the first time, you didn't know but her nonchalance about it made your chest tighten.

Before you could change your mind, you chose one of the biggest triple chocolate ganache palm-sized cookies from the display case and prepared an iced vanilla latte to go. You put the two in a paper tray and fake-power-walked to her, willing yourself to feel the smallest amount of confidence. You were the chatty one of the group, why was it so difficult to act normal with her too?

"Hey, hello..." great start, "Ahem, my shift is almost ending and since I couldn't help you earlier with your order I thought I would bring this to you." You smiled and were almost sure you did ok.

Until she looked up from her notepad with shimmery eyes, and your smile fell. She had not been so nonchalant then.

"Oh, I'm sorry, do I have to order to stay here?" she seemed confused while looking between you and the tray you placed in front of her.

"No! No, I just thought you'd like something sweet," you were nervous like you haven't been for a long time, "I don't know... you just seemed like the type..."

"That likes sweets?" her small voice made sent shivers through your arms, she sounded so fragile, looking at your offer with something akin to wonder.

"Yes. Sorry. When you work here for a while you pick up on these things. If you don't though, I can take it back-"

"No!" she interrupted you, briskly circling a hand to your pulse when you made it to take the tray away and looked at you with a bewildered expression. "Sorry! I do like sweets." She let you go as rapidly as she touched you, chest flaring red, she avoided your eyes and cleared her throat. "Thank you, it is very nice of you," with that, she smiled, almost beamed, and you could only nod and get the hell away from her as fast as you could.

While desperately changing into your own clothes, you jumped at the sound of Dave entering the locker room.

"Shit, sorry!" he exclaimed, looking at you from head to toe. He was a quieter friend, but very perceptive, "So Maggy wasn't joking," he smiled.

"Please, not you too."

He laughed, "I won't tease you for being human. Everyone has a crush from time to time."

"Shut up! I don't have a crush." You finished tying your shoe. "And even if I do, she's probably straight or has a boyfriend."

"So you thought about it."

"SHUT UP!" you couldn't help but laugh and as you closed the back door to the alley you heard him laughing too.

You didn't pay too much mind to your thoughts of the beautiful stranger in the following days. She would likely never go back to the shop and if she did it would take a while and your attraction would have died down.

When she came not three days after, you cursed and ran to the kitchen.

"What are you doing, we need you outside," Maggy furrowed her brow softly.

"Could you please go there for a few minutes? I can finish icing," you pleaded, already taking the bag from her hand; she gave you a strange look but said fine.

Not a moment after she entered the kitchen again with a pleased smile. "Y/n you insufferably adorable idiot, go back out there and serve your customer!" she pointed at the door, and you made a show of slumping your shoulders and pouting while you made your way out front.

The woman was at the counter, she had a light frown, as if a bit confused with something, and startled when you said, "Good morning, how may I serve you?" in your best impression of a customer-service-friendly tone.

"Oh! Hi," she beamed at you, "Nice seeing you again!" Fuck she was gorgeous, "I would like the drink you gave me the other time, I really liked it."

You didn't know if the swell of pride in your ribcage was for being such a kick-ass barista or because of the happiness on her face from your accurate assumption.

"Coming right up!" you started making her drink, pleased with yourself, "Will you want anything to eat, as well?"

"No, if I do my co-workers will want it too," she chuckled and you got a to-go cup. When you handed it to her, she looked puzzled. "How did you know...?"

"The time," you filled in when she didn't elaborate, "Lots of people come before work and the ones that stay are usually students."

She hummed, eyebrows going up with a soft smile, "What about elders?" she handed you payment, exact change with an extra A$2,00 coin. Hot and a good tipper? This woman has no shame.

"We have only one couple and they come a bit later in the day," you smiled, accepting the money.

"Well, thank you then," she awkwardly lifted the cup and gave you one last, sheepish smile, before leaving.

You were so very screwed.

She kept coming. Day after day, she came in at the same hour and asked for the same drink. You offered some variations a few times, but she always went back to the first you made her. You stopped pretending you weren't smug for getting it so right.

Today was raining softly, autumn was settling in finally and cold afternoons were now a guarantee rather than a wish. You heard the doorbell and looked up to see Mina skipping to the counter with a scarf-hidden smile. Her nose was rosy as well as her cheeks which turned her eyes into thin joyful lines.

"Hey, lover! I missed you this weekend." She fake-pouted and you began making her usual.

"Sorry, I worked Dave's shift on Saturday and forgot to let you know."

"It's fine, but only if you go to the next one. If you don't, I'll stop being your friend!" she joked, sitting on one of the stools to watch you make her drink.

"Ok, dear 8-year-old cousin," she laughed and you changed topics to what movies they watched and how you regretted losing Toni's shock-filled eyes at New Moon's 'hot vampire royalty' as Mina said he put it. For someone who said they hated Twilight, you were happy for their growth.

After some more gossip, Mina grabbed her coffee and fled to class with a kiss on your cheek.

It was past mid-afternoon; your shift was slowly nearing its end and you were grateful for bringing an umbrella. It would probably be still raining when you got out.

When she walked through the door half an hour later, though, you wished you had more time. Her hair was a bit damp, and she had a sports jacket on. Maybe she left work around that hour because it was close to the one, she came to the shop the first time.

Try not to be a stalker, you weirdo, you thought to yourself while she approached.

"Hello there," she had her usual easy smile on. So beautiful.

"Hey, what will it be?" you could almost act normal now, the result of prolonged exposure, you assumed.

"You know," she shrugged, leaning on the counter lazily.

You started preparing her drink with a small smile and Maggy shook her head at you, rolling her eyes dramatically before leaving for the kitchen. She had nothing to do in there anymore.

"Tough day at work?"

"Oh, the usual. Paperwork mostly, it's been a while since there's been any excitement." She shrugged, but soon fixed her posture and shook her head frowning. "Not that I want anything to happen. If paperwork is the price, it's fine by me."

Curious comment. You didn't know what she did, you realized you didn't even know her name. You fantasized about leaning over the counter and kissing her silly but could not say who she was. How could it be that through an entire week, you hadn't even caught her name; usually it took you one conversation and the next you would set her up with someone from the shop. Of course, you weren't inclined to do that with her particularly, because of reasons.... but it was rather odd.

"Sorry, I don't think I ever asked your name," you turned to place her order on the counter, not on a to-go cup this time.

"Oh my god, that's true! I only know yours from your tag, it never crossed my mind I didn't have mine on!"

So her work requires wearing tags... Fuck, I'm a creep.

"I'm Miranda." She extended her hand for you to shake, it was just as soft as it looked. You imagined what being caressed by it would feel like... or a massage... or other things.

Shaking your head, you leaned to kiss her hand, rather than shake it. Out of your control, really. You simply could not lose the opportunity.

She looked to the floor, biting her smile. You could not see the red in her chest this time, but her ears were blazing.

"I'll just-" she took the cup, looking at you and rapidly away again, "Thank you. I'll go sit now." You only nodded, amused and slightly euphoric but trying to keep it down, as you saw her go.

She sat on one of the front window tables, leaning on her elbow and pointedly looking at the rain.

Two days passed after that. It was almost the end of the month, and you didn't even find another potential couple to help. You were too busy daydreaming on the job to pay attention to the customers. Maggy would lose her bet, the poor baby.

It was the middle of your shift, so it took you by surprise when you saw the blond owner of your thoughts walking in.

“Hey!” Miranda approached the counter, her smile making quick work of warming your whole being. She was the best part of your day no matter what happened. You thought seeing her smile at you was worth more than winning the lottery. You could live without the money any day.

“Hello, there,” you smiled back, with your usual cheekiness. “Your usual, I presume?” You were almost beginning her latte when she interrupted you.

“No! No, today I’ll be having a cold brew and an espresso. Robin needs her caffeine.” At that, she pointed at a brunette walking slowly in. She looked waspish and you could easily believe she was one of those people who were very grumpy before their first cup of coffee. “I’m her partner,” she leant over the counter and whispered to you like it was an exciting secret. She looked so proud you felt nauseous.

So she had a partner; a week after being stood up. It was understandable, she was a smoke show, funny and adorable all at once. How could she not have a mile-long line of people waiting for a chance? It still disappointed you that you weren’t the choice.

“Do you want me to grind?” you asked, absentmindedly leaning down to search for the good beans. At the silence, you turned to see her. She was turning red very fast, then you realised what you said and almost dropped the bean’s package on the floor, “The beans! Do you want me to grind the beans? You know… so the shots are nice and fresh.” Jesus, good one.

“Yes…” she gazed at the floor for a second and shook her head before looking back at you. “Sorry, I was just distracted… by stuff…" she pressed her lips in a thin line and looked in any other direction than yours. “I’ll just- I’ll just sit there.”

And off she was.

“Could you be less of a flirt? Not everyone can pull girls like a magnet and it’s offensive,” your co-worker’s voice woke you from your trance. Maggy was coming with a tray of fresh cakes.

“Shut up… it was her.” You tried to recompose yourself, your week’s worth of daydreams turning sour as you saw her walk to the back table where her “partner” was. Miranda liked the front window, why did that woman seat in the only corner with no view of the street and the farthest possible from the door?

“Ooh, so you’re finally admitting it.” She began to arrange the sweets in flower-like patterns on the display case, still smiling to herself.

“You only listened to my screw-up. She has a girlfriend,” you didn’t mean to sound so snippy, but you felt angry tears forming in your eyes and couldn’t stop tapping your left foot faster and faster.

Maggy noticed it in your tense posture and tight face, and before you knew it she was shoving you into the kitchen and asking Dave to cover outside.

Incredible. Just magnificent. She had a girlfriend, because of course she did, and you foolishly invested time and hope planning to ask her out and imagining all the stupid little dates you wanted to take her to and all the stupid little things you would do to make her smile. Great.

“Hey, come here…” Mag’s voice was no more than a whisper, bringing you to her chest while you very pointedly didn’t cry.

Your chest was rising and falling erratically with your half-swallowed sobs and your face hurt from all the muscles you strained to keep from letting it all out.

Maggy knew you wouldn’t cry. You were too stubborn for that, too chagrined with yourself to allow release. After less than a minute, you pushed yourself out of her arms, face sullen and voice hoarse.

“They ordered a cold brew and an expresso. I feel suddenly sick, can I go home?” you didn’t feel sick, she knew it too, but she only said:

“Yeah… yeah, I’ll cover for you.”

You nodded, never meeting her eyes, perpetually looking at the ground as you walked to the staff changing rooms and then home.

While walking home that afternoon, you caught the rain. You’d seen the weather report, but you left in such a hurry that you forgot your umbrella and didn't feel like going back to get it.

You got actually sick. The next morning you woke up sweating, feeling every muscle in your body hurting. It was nine, so you were already late. You called your boss to tell him you had a fever and he said Mag had already told him you didn’t feel very well the day before. He gave you the weekend off and ended with a kind “get better soon”; he was a nice boss.

You spent said weekend in bed. When you felt less horrible you took a shower and changed the sheets, prepared some soup and ate on the sofa while watching the news.

Apparently, there was a gang targeting young girls from the university near the Rainbow. All the police could tell at the moment was that they were being abducted after hours when leaving the campus for a night out. What they did to them after was a mystery you felt like throwing up just thinking about. You texted Mina to know if the group was safe; they were, but also very scared.

“The police detective in charge of the case, Robin Griffin, couldn’t disclose any more information,” the anchor’s voice sounded while a picture of a sulking brunette appeared on your screen.

It was her: Miranda’s partner. A police detective of all things.

Of course, Miranda would date some mysterious, grumpy detective that fought for the innocent and had a secret soft side she never showed anyone except for Miranda. It was the perfect ray of sunshine/rainy cloud couple half of the young adult fantasies had.

You wondered what Miranda did for work. You shouldn't be thinking about her, but you couldn't help it. All you knew was that she used a tag, and that didn't reduce your options all that much. You had to get her out of your brain.

After finishing eating and taking another shower, you went to bed early to get some healthy twelve hours of sleep before returning to work. With any luck, Miranda wouldn't come so soon.

You weren't very lucky, as proven by the relationship status of the person you madly wanted.

Miranda came again the next morning, accompanied by her detective girlfriend, Robin Griffin.

"Morning!" she was cherry as all the other times she greeted you but now it caused you physical pain to see her smile and attribute her happiness to the sulking jackass at the back booth.

Maybe you were being too harsh if Miranda was dating the woman she had probably a reason but you chose to ignore it as an outlet for all your negative thoughts and feelings.

"Good morning, how may I serve you today?" you said in a practised monotone, customer smile on your face.

A little line formed between her eyebrows and your fingers itched to smooth it away.

"Hum, I'll accept a suggestion today." she observed herself drum her fingers on the counter, "And Robin wants a cold brew again."

You nodded, starting with a white chocolate mocha and ignoring the figure leaning her weight on the counter.

"You can grind-" you heard her start and stop for a few seconds, "the beans for Robin's, she never commented on coffee before but last time you made it she said it was really good."

"Last time I made it?" you cursed your curiosity, "Someone else made you two coffee?"

Technically, the only time you made coffee for them you only started the grinder and fled, so Maggy was the one to finish it.

"Yeah... we came on Saturday to straighten some things. I like the atmosphere here and Robin didn't mind coming again."

Straighten some things? Were they having fights? None of your business in any case but... were they? You only hummed in response.

You placed her drink on the counter and started the second. Noticing you wouldn't start talking again, Miranda cleared her throat and looked to the side. Why couldn't she look you in the face today? It was normal for her to blush and avert her eyes sometimes when you talked but she seemed incapable of keeping eye contact for five seconds today.

"I like your shirt," she commented, out of nowhere.

"It's my uniform? But thanks?" what in the seven hells?

You finished the second drink and thanked whoever listening for her silent departure. Her awkward nod still made your chest constrict though.

This time there was no Maggy to witness your suffering, instead, it was Dave who was bringing the new arrivals and decided to lean against the door and watch.

"Shut up," you breathed as soon as you saw his smirk.

"I didn't say anything."

"But you were thinking."

"Oh, come on, she was obviously flirting with you!" you hated that you agreed with him, it felt like flirting — hesitant and weird but flirting.

"Her girlfriend is sitting right there, she was not flirting with me just five meters away from her," if you said it out loud one more time maybe you could convince yourself.

"Well, or she's very clueless, or devilishly smart." He shrugged and started putting away some gourmet-looking packages underneath the counter.

Later that day you were still thinking of Miranda's strange behaviour. Dave wasn't one for gossip, but this time he opted to completely ignore that and conspire with Maggy about what were Miranda's intentions with you, quite loudly, just a few feet away. They were insufferable sometimes.

After a few hours of little giggles and middle school singsongs, you mistrusted the sudden silence. Dave, oddly enough, was cleaning the expresso machine serenely while Mag was nowhere to be seen.

"Where did Maggy go?" you asked, walking to the kitchen door and peering through the circle window. She was on her back having a phone call.

"Her boyfriend called, don't know what's about but she looked strange when she came in."

A few moments after, Maggy slowly opened the door and peeked from it, "Y/n, can I talk to you for a sec?" she asked, an uncertain tinge in her voice.

"Sure..." you followed her in.

Once inside, you heard her let out a long breath, "Ok, so I know I only covered for you days ago and that it sounds opportunistic as shit, but could you cover the end shift for me? Markus had an accident playing basketball and needs me to get him at the hospital" her tortured face was the cherry on top of your hellish day.

"Of course, I'll cover for you! What happened?"

"He fractured his ankle, that's why I need to get him; he probably won't be able to walk around the house very well too."

"You're fine, go get him. I don't have anything better to do anyway, bug." You kissed her cheek and rushed her into the staff rooms.

Closing wasn't so bad. Today was raining again but you had your umbrella and wouldn't forget it this time. After swiping the floor and checking the kitchen for stoves on and the like, you closed everything and went home.

Every day it got darker and darker around this time. You didn't notice before because you usually were at home, but now you wished you had charged your phone for some extra light. The rain was thick, and you couldn't even hear your steps. The umbrella didn't do much to shield your legs, which were drenched up to the knees.

After a few blocks, the streetlights got dimmer, the shops and public spaces being substituted by tall apartment buildings. You decided to hurry a bit and ignore the shiver on the back of your neck; soon you would reach home.

Well, not really. You felt before you saw the group of four people nearing you. When you thought of sprinting, one of them caught up to you and held you back with strong arms around your middle and one hand covering your mouth. You trashed, trying to free yourself, but they only shushed you sounding amused. The other three joined and they led you to one of the corridors between brick buildings. You couldn't see a thing, only feel rough fingers in your face and the prickly feeling of days-old facial hair on your ear as a hoarse voice breathed on your ear.

"Be a good girl and stay quiet. It'll be a lot less painful for you."

You felt overwhelmed by panic, gagging in bile and trembling like a baby dear. You didn't know where the strength came from, but you freed your face desperately and screamed your lungs out for help. You didn't know if anyone would listen with the rain, you could barely hear yourself, but it could have something to do with the buzzing on your ears muffling all sound around you.

You stepped on his feet, kicked him and bit his arm but he wouldn't budge. He managed to put his hand over your mouth again, but you bit it until you heard him scream and tasted iron in your mouth. However, that only made him hold you tighter, hurting your ribcage, and the rest of the group came to aid him.

What they did was each try to get you under control, which meant none had a full grip on you, and throwing yourself against one worked for you to start running for your life in the direction of the streetlights. You didn't know if your screams were intelligible of even if they were loud enough to be screams, you couldn't hear, had no frame of reference.

You thought you saw the lights of a car turning the corner, but you didn't have the time to see. The same guy who had you before was jumping at you, crashing you against the asphalt with his body weight. You felt your skin burn. Arms and face glued to the street with the impact. Your head was ringing, and you only saw spots of light and unfocused shouting and around you, a very loud noise was the last thing you heard before it was all black.

You woke up feeling warm. There were quiet noises of clicking porcelain and muffled conversation to your left.

The sterile smell was what hinted at where you were, opening your eyes to bright white ceilings and empty beds around you. You were the only one in the room apart from the three people around the door.

Miranda, her girlfriend and a nurse. Oddly enough, Miranda was dressed as a police officer. What she was doing there you had no idea, in fact, you didn't even know why you were there.

You tried to sit, and all three looked at you. The nurse came over quickly and fussed around you, helping you sit, and asking how you felt. You didn't feel too bad, but there were some friction burns on your elbows and forearms that you could do without. Mostly it was just your head buzzing faintly.

"She said you might have a concussion," Miranda joined in, timidly placing her hand over one of yours resting beside you in the bed. You turned it so she could hold it if she wanted. You felt a pang when she did.

"The detective asked if you would be willing to answer some questions. I told her you might not be feeling well enough right now, but if you do I can tell her so." The nurse didn't seem too pleased talking about 'the detective', which reminded you of the movie hospital staff and made you smile.

"I don't know how much use I'd be," your voice was croaky as you looked from the nurse to Miranda, "I don't really know why I'm here."

She understood the question you didn't make and asked the nurse if she could talk with you alone. She seemed only partially agreeable but left anyway.

"You were attacked last night near the university," she said immediately, even if trying to sound softer, and her hand tighten around yours. "Why were you even out at that time in the rain?"

"I don't know... I worked the end shift?" you remembered Maggy asking you to and remembered closing and going out in the rain. Not much more than that.

"You were so lucky we decided to patrol the area, Jesus Christ," she was talking faster than normal, and you furrowed your brows, "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"Why are you here? You aren't asking me any questions..." your head hurt too much to think at that moment. You just wanted some peace and not to have to stare at Miranda's face because your head and arms were enough things hurting.

"What? Because I care about you! Because I saw what those sick men were trying to do and I know how it'd end-" she choked in her hurried whisper. Was she about to cry? "You have no idea the terror I felt when I realized it was you the one on the floor. You weren't responding and all I could do was scream at Robin who somehow arrested three men on her own and still managed to call an ambulance."

Wow, there really was a reason Miranda dated her, then.

You felt exhausted all of a sudden. Emotionally and physically, you just needed some sleep and a hug and you leaned against Miranda for just that.

She took you in her arms, surprised but seemingly not against it. You sighed and swallowed the knot in your throat. It didn't help much. Why did you have to like her so much? Why was she so kind and caring even after knowing you for only two weeks? It was so unfair she was taken, the one person with whom you could envision making it work.

When you parted, Miranda still had her arms around you. She was searching for something on your face, staring earnestly into your eyes as if willing you to understand her. You could not for the life of you understand anything about that woman anymore. Here she was, holding you and comforting you after flirting with you at your place of work. Sending you all these mixed signals and expecting you not to fall for them.

She looked almost frustrated with your lack of understanding, then her eyes snapped to your lips for one second then looked back at you; brows furrowed and eyes pleading. Why did this have to be so complicated? You matched her look, gazing wantonly at her lips, just to torture yourself at not meeting them.

However, at your lack of action and obvious wish, Miranda made the decision and leaned in. You weren't expecting it, suddenly woke from your daydream to a very real pressure on your lips. She had strawberry lip balm on and tasted of tea. Hospital tea, the ones at the reception for people staying the night. She smelled of nothing other than her, no soap or sweat or anything, just her after a long night and possibly long morning of dealing with whatever resulted from the last night's occurrence. She felt like home, her arms around you bringing you close delicately, the pressing of her lips long and slow as if she was trying to convey this ineffable thing you couldn't understand when she looked at you. It was beautiful and sweet and so painful you had to stop.

"But what about Robin?" you whispered against her lips.

"What about Robin?"

"I'm so confused, aren't you dating Robin? Your detective 'partner'?" and as you said it, everything clicked together "Oh, no-" You hid your face in Miranda's chest, feeling silly for all the bitterness and jealousy you indulged for the last week, but also hating yourself for all the unnecessary heartache. "You and Robin are partners, as in you work together on cases, correct?"

"Yes... I thought that was rather obvious..." Her arms tightened around you and she made soothing circles between your shoulders. "I think we even discussed the case in the coffee shop. I thought you heard us."

"I might have misunderstood," your voice was muffled by your face pressed onto her uncomfortable, bumpy, vest. You heard her chuckle, and she took a step back, with her index under your chin prompting you to look at her. She had a mischievous grin and an arched brow.

"Did you think we were together?" you only nodded, "And were you jealous?" at that, her grin went from mischievous to an earnest, excited smile. She was too pure for this world.

You didn't respond, only looked to the side screwing your face up to avoid the relieved smile.

"No, c'mon, I want to hear it," her voice carried a note of amusement, but she only looked kind when tilting your face to look at her again.

"I might have..." she huffed a small laugh "No! Shut up! Listen-" you could not control your smile at her looking so delighted "It's your fault that you were so adorable that first day and accepted my coffee like it was the best thing ever! It was just coffee and a cookie, and you looked unreasonably happy! And after that you kept coming and coming more frequently to my god-blessed queer café and flirting and looking shy and beautiful, what did you expect me to feel? Are you kidding me? This was all your fault, you menace! So, of course, I was jealous when you appeared with a dark and mysterious stranger and sat in the most private corner possible to whisper to each other like teenagers thinking they’re being subtle!"

"Ok, I realize you are very passionate about this," she laughed softly, bringing you to a hug again. "But you forgot that you were flirting mercilessly with me and that I never asked you to stop." She had a point, but again there were people who liked being flirted with, even when they were in relationships. You didn't think Miranda was like that, though.

"I know, but I'm allowed to be a bit irrational about this..." your volume decreased as you finished the sentence.

"You're pouting," she whispered to match you, "Why?"

Taking a deep breath, you locked eyes with her. Here goes nothing. "Because you're my coffee shop romance," you said trying to sound confident. At her lack of response for more than five seconds, you backtracked, "That is if you'd like to be. I shouldn't have assumed, you-"

"Jesus, shut up-" she said and smashed your lips together.

The kiss wasn't too dextrous, both of you smiling too much and too eager for it to work properly, but it was the best thing in the world.

"Not Jesus, but I'll let it pass this time," you murmured against her lip when you slowed down. She was peppering chaste, slightly long kisses on your lips and face.

"Shut up," you heard her smile before feeling it in your skin.

"You'll have to make me," you breathed back.

Decided to put notes at the end. I posted this one here because of the ask, but I hope you liked it and that I lived up to your expectations! I had a lot of fun writing this one, so thank you so much and sorry for the long post 💛

#miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #fluff #coffee shops & cafés #coffee shop au #top of the lake #gwendoline christie

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meikoo · 3 months

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okay hear me out

listen to more fun to miss by daisy jones and the six

but then imagine an on screen fantasy with finnick odair and oc or reader (two individuals w an attention grabbing personality and a bite to them) where they develop some sort of scandal or this push and pull “fling” (its not even considered a rs they just shamelessly flirt and fight w each other) and the capitolites love every second of this electrifying duo but behind closed doors they genuinely hate each other (but yk slowly finding out that they find some sort of comfort in the ugly bitch fights they have HAHDHWJ) I NEED IT SO BAADDLYYY

(compensation for the lack of billy dunne x reader fics tee bee eytch)

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #daisy jones and the six #sam claflin #the hunger games #thgfics #billy dunne x reader #billy dunne #iluvsamclaflin #more fun to miss #djats

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goldenseresinretriever · 5 months

Text

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 14

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, fluff, swearing, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies, legal inaccuracies. No use of Y/N. Any opinions on NHL teams expressed by my characters are not my own and describe fictional versions of these teams.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This is the last one y'all! Thank you so much for joining me on this journey with Jake and Bugs! I can't wait to share Bradley’s and Zam’s stories with you next in You Catch More Bees With Honey! If you haven’t checked out the teaser for it yet, you can here! Fear not, your favorite duo will be making appearances in that story as well!

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist

Zam swoops in before the reporters can ask either of you more questions and helps you escape back into the privacy of the rest of the building. Your shoulders droop with exhaustion after the events of the day and Jake slides an arm around your shoulder that you lean your head against the two of you make your way back to your office so you can pack up and head home together. Home. You wonder when you started thinking of Jake’s place as home, but it feels right. You’ll have to talk it over with him officially, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Jake and Javy have secretly packed up your apartment already and moved all your things into his house. You push open the door to your office, letting a breath out at the promise of privacy with Jake only to be met with the wide smiles of your parents. You jump, surprised as your mom gives an excited cry and wraps you up in her arms.

“Mom?!” You’re surprised, to say the least. You’d almost forgotten that they’d been at the game and you feel your face heat at the idea of them witnessing your little spectacle. Your dad comes around from where he’s been sitting at your desk, holding out a hand to Jake who’s awkwardly standing behind you.

“When my daughter became your fan, I watched her fall in love with hockey and tonight I watched her fall in love with you. Take good care of her, son.” Your eyes are filled with tears all over again as you see Jake shake your father's hand before your dad pulls him in for a hug. The door to your office opens again and Tucker pokes his head in.

“The lady in pink said I’d find you guys here?” He says as his eyes fall on the four of you crowded into the tiny space. “Hey, are you okay?” He’s pushing through the door in a whirlwind, his hair sticking up every which way where you can tell he’s been running his fingers through it. You’re wrapped up in his arms instantly as he checks you over.

“Tuck, I’m okay.” You reassure him as he releases you and takes your arm in his giant hands, looking over the place where Cyclone had grabbed you earlier, running gentle fingers over the tender skin and you wince slightly. Both Tucker and Jake stiffen at your response. You look up at them and it’s like you’re looking at two giant golden retrievers, your guard dogs, eager to stand between you and the world. “Fine, a little less than okay, but I will be, okay? I’m fine now. I’m safe.” Jake relaxes at that but Tucker still looks unconvinced as he rounds on Jake.

“What the hell, man? You think you can just go after my baby sister because she’s a fan?” Tuck’s two years older than Jake but Jake’s aura makes him look like the older one as he stands up straighter as recognition sparks in his eyes.

“You’re the guy who asked me to sign a jersey last year after a game, aren’t you?” Tucker blinks, surprised by the change in topic but Jake’s still connecting dots. “And that’s the jersey hanging over your bed, isn’t it?” He addresses you this time and you nod sheepishly.

“You have it hanging over your bed?!” Tuck exclaims, and you give him a dirty look.

“I have him in my bed, what’s your point, Tuck?” You snap back and he mock gags, covering his mouth in shock as he stumbles back to lean on your desk as he processes this information. You put your hands on your hips as you approach him, scowling at him. “Jake’s my boyfriend, and you’re just going to have to deal with that. He’s good to me, I feel safe with him, and most of all he loves me and I love him.” Tucker sighs as his eyes drift between you and Jake where he’s standing just behind you, close enough to look like a unit but far enough away to let you fight your own battles.

“Look, I’m happy for you guys, I really am, but Charlie’s going to go ballistic.” You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Charlie can shove it as far as I’m concerned. I know it’s been a while but you two need to get used to the fact that I have a boyfriend. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Tucker nods slowly, standing up and extending a hand to Jake.“Take care of her, man. If you ever hurt her I swear to god,”

“TUCKER.” You glare at him. Jake shakes his head at you gently.

“I know what you mean, I have two sisters of my own. If someone hurt my little sister I wouldn’t hesitate either. Bugs is lucky to have you in her corner.” Tucker visibly relaxes at that and grips Jake’s hand tightly in his, an unspoken agreement passing between their firm gazes and clasped hands.

When they part Tucker gives you a long look, “I mean it, Charlie’s gonna go ballistic when he sees the game.” You shrug.

“He can take it up with our PR representative. She’s pretty damn good at handling this kind of stuff.” Jake laughs at that.

“She sure is.”

***

“Blueberries.” Jake reads the next item on the list, turning the cart towards the produce section. Until now, you’ve both been resigned to grocery delivery or having Javy or Zam do the grocery shopping so you’re both excited to finally get to do it together. Sure it’s mundane and simple, but that’s what you enjoy most with Jake. Lazy mornings with him cooking breakfast while you read headlines and cheesy horoscopes out to him. Sunny afternoons sprawled across the couch, watching horrible daytime TV and old hockey reruns. Sweet evenings spent walking along the beach behind his house while Pudding plays in the surf. This is just another simple moment with him that you cherish.

You’re scrutinizing the blueberry cartons when you hear Jake’s voice behind you.

“Hey there!” You turn to see Jake crouch down in front of a little boy who’s looking at him nervously.

“Um, do you play hockey, mister?” The kid asks, his hands fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. “You look a lot like my favorite player. His name is Jake.” Your heart aches as you see Jake’s face break out into a huge grin.

“No way? That’s my name too!” The kid’s face glows with awe as his tiny eyes widen, realizing that he has in fact run into his hero at the grocery store.

“Mr. Jake, you’re my favorite!” He blubbers excitedly and Jake chuckles, giving the kid a fist bump as he trembles excitedly. The kid surprises Jake by throwing his arms around Jake’s neck and Jake lets out a startled laugh before hugging him back just as a flustered woman approaches, wringing her hands.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what got into him!” She apologizes as she goes to extract her son from Jake’s arms as he stands and you watch the realization hit her as she recognizes Jake just as her son excitedly tells her,

“Mommy! Look, it’s Mr. Jake from hockey! It’s really him!” Jake gives her a sheepish smile.

“Sorry about the trouble ma’am. Your son’s a real sweet kid.” She nods, struck silent by shock.

“Mommy, can I get a picture with Mr. Jake?” The little boy tugs on his mom’s sleeve and it shakes her back to the present.

“If that’s okay with him, then it’s okay with me, Danny.” Jake nods and she fiddles for her phone and you watch as Jake pulls Danny close and poses for a photo.

“Thank you, Mr. Jake!” He gives Jake another big hug that Jake returns.

“Thank you for being a fan, Danny,” Jake answers, mussing up the little boy’s curls affectionately. He waves as the boy and his mother take their leave before turning back to you. “What’s that face for, Bunny?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, that was just really sweet.” He wraps you in his arms as you deposit the blueberries in the cart.

“You know I always give my fans the best treatment.” He presses a kiss to your temple as you giggle.

“I do.” You concede, snuggling into his arms.

“And my number one fan gets the best treatment.” He whispers as he kisses your cheek.

“The very best. So I’m thinking?” He arches an eyebrow at you. “Maybe two cartons of blueberries?” He laughs, tugging you close and kissing the tip of your nose as you scrunch it up.

“You can have as many cartons of blueberries as you want.”

***

A few days later you’re sitting at the counter in Jake’s corner enjoying a well-deserved day off. Things are starting to pick up at work with the season opener just around the corner in a few weeks, but thankfully things in your personal life have slowed down. Your relationship with Jake was public now and Cyclone has backed off after Jake’s statement, though you’re sure Zam had something to do with it as well. Things are starting to resemble something that could be called normal. Jake’s making blueberry pancakes across from you as you sip your matcha latte when your phone buzzes. You pick it up, your brow furrowing unconsciously as you see your landlord's name flash across the screen.

“What’s up?” Jake asks in response to the furrow in your brow.

“Just my landlord, reminding me that next month's rent is due on Monday.” You haven’t been to your apartment in weeks, since most of your clothes have migrated to Jake’s place over the last month but you’ve yet to discuss you officially moving in with Jake.

“Tell him you’re ending your lease,” he says smoothly as he flips a pancake with annoyingly good precision.

“W-what?” You stutter as Jake looks up at you, surprised.

“Bunny you practically live here as it is, what’s the point in you paying rent for a place you’re not even using?”

“I just, we never officially talked about it. I didn’t want to overstep.” He nods as he deposits the pancake on your

“Well then consider this me officially asking. Bunny, will you move in with me? Well with us.” He turns and reaches down to scratch Pudding’s head where she’s waiting patiently next to him for any scraps he happens to throw her way. “What do you think Princess P? Should we let Mommy move in with us?” She barks at that and you laugh as Jake looks back up, grinning. “What do you say, Bunny? You ready to be a family?” You nod, fighting the tears that are threatening to cloud your vision.

“Yes, I’m ready to be a family, Jake.”

“Well, then why don’t we finish up breakfast and then go get you all packed up? And text your landlord to let him know. If he has any issue with it, I’ll cover whatever fees he asks you to pay for breaking the lease.”

“Jake, you don’t have to do that,” he fixes you with a stern look.

“I don’t have to, but I want to, Bunny.”

“Then you’re going to have to let me cover half the rent for this place or something to make up for it. I can’t stay here for free!”

“Well, you’re going to have to get used to this because I don’t pay rent for this place.” He says with a shrug as he pours more batter into the pan.

“Wait what, why not?”

“I own the house.” Your jaw drops.

“Since when? I thought all of you guys were renting!”

Jake’s cheeks pinken as he admits with a chagrined smile, “I bought it a couple of days after I met you.” You’re gaping at him as he blushes. “Once I knew I could trust you, I knew I wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. And once I saw you in my kitchen for the first time? I knew I never wanted someone else to get the chance to enjoy that view.”

“Jake,” your heart aches at his words. “I still can’t stay here for free!”

“Oh, I never said you would be. Daily rent is payable to both your landlords in the form of kisses and cuddles.” You roll your eyes as he winks at you.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you and Javy haven’t already packed up my entire apartment and you're just waiting for me to actually say yes.”

“Maybe,” Jake muses, and your eyes widen.

“Jake, you didn’t!” He shrugs.

“Don’t worry, Bunny. Javy did all the heavy lifting, I promise. Zam’s already got Facebook marketplace listings ready for whatever furniture you don’t want, so just let her know what to post.”

“JAKE!” He grins.

“What? I just wanted to make things easier for you when you did decide. Don’t worry, I bubble-wrapped all the things from your shrine extra carefully.” You blush at that. “I was thinking we could update it, what do you say?”

You nod, too embarrassed to speak. “Perfect.” He gives you a wink as he turns back to the stove. The stove in your home. This is home. You’re home.

***

You push open the door from the garage. You and Zam just handed off the last of your old furniture to their new owners. You turned in the key to your apartment and you’re officially moved out. Your finger runs over the house key on your keychain. Before it was just Jake’s spare but now it’s yours. You live here now. The house is eerily quiet as you step into the living room. Pudding is curled up on her giant hockey-puck-shaped bed in a sunbeam and Jake’s nowhere to be seen. You hang your keys on the hook that’s now yours and go looking for him. You find him in what was supposed to be a second guest room. The two of you finally finished setting up the bed in the first one, and Zam’s already clamoring for a girls’ night. This one, however, has been notably empty except for a few boxes that you’ve been storing in there as you finish moving in.

It’s been completely transformed when you walk in and your breath catches at the sight. There's a gorgeous hardwood desk in the center that you’d been looking at wistfully while you and Jake had been furniture shopping last week. It was way out of your price range, though so you’d left it behind but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it several times since. Behind it is a luxurious-looking desk chair but what really makes your heart ache is what’s hanging on the wall behind the desk. The coat from your medical school graduation is framed and hanging in the center of the display. Surrounding it are all your certificates and diplomas from school, and sprinkled in are photos of you as well as some of you and Jake together. Tears fill your eyes as you take in the sight.

“What do you think, Bunny? You like it?” You turn to see Jake leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on his face.

“Jake,” your voice breaks and you throw yourself into his arms. “Thank you, I love it.” You whisper into his chest as he holds you close.

“I figured if I get a shrine then you should get one too. After all, you deserve to be celebrated too.” He presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“And the desk?” You ask, sniffling as you scrub away your tears.

“I saw you eye-fucking it last week and let’s just say I got a little jealous.”

“JAKE!” You exclaim, slapping his chest playfully and he chuckles.

“I know you didn’t say anything because of the price but I wanted to spoil you.”

“Jake, you always spoil me.” You pout at him, playfully.

“I’m your boyfriend, it’s my job to spoil you rotten.” He says, leaning down to pepper your face with sweet kisses and you giggle, scrunching up your face against the assault.

“Well, you’re very good at your job.” You give him a sultry smile as you hook your fingers in the collar of his shirt. “What do you say I spoil you for change?” His green eyes darken as his grin turns into a smirk.

“Yeah? What do you have in mind, Bunny?”

“I was thinking we could christen my new office.” His eyes are almost fully black as he follows as you pull him inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Sounds good to me.”

***

It’s Tuesday and you’re squirming in your seat beside Dr. Bates. You’re wearing Jake’s jersey under your white coat and you can’t help the way your eyes search for him on the ice as the boys warm up. Tonight’s the season opener and you’re lucky enough to have it at home in San Diego. Jake’s in peak condition. His most recent scans have come back showing his knee to be back to normal and your heart is light.

The stands are packed with fans and excitement is buzzing in the air. The boys are all in good spirits except maybe Bradley, but you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him in good spirits. Zam is wearing a butter yellow skirt suit despite the chilly air in the arena. She’s standing to your right, eagle eyes watching the cameras and press. Then a horn goes off and the boys are skating back to the boards for the opening ceremony. Jake tosses himself down on the bench right in front of you, turning to give you a big grin.

“Hey sweet girl, you ready for tonight?” You grin, reaching to grip his glove with your hand.

“I’m ready, are you?”

“Always, Bunny. After all? We’re a team. Everything else will take care of itself.” You share a soft smile as the lights in the arena dim and you swear your love is glowing in the dark because you can see it shining in his eyes as he turns back to his team. He’s going to make one hell of a captain.

A/N: AAAAA AND WE’RE DONE!!! For those of you who like me aren’t ready to say goodbye to Jake and Bugs, fear not! I have some special holiday oneshots planned for @sailor-aviator ‘s holiday challenge! And, as always, requests are open for anything regarding Jake and Bugs! I’m also going to be holding the second official San Diego Dogfighters Press Conference to celebrate the end of Snitches Get Stitches! There’ll be an official announcement soon but you can start sending in questions for the characters now! I want to say a special thank you to Liz aka @sailor-aviator who’s the one who inspired me to write again for the first time in a long time and has since become one of my dearest friends. Special shoutout to @fanficfandomlove for being one of my biggest cheerleaders throughout this! And of course to the wonderful @roosterforme who’s been a dear friend and patiently waiting for SDD!Bradley ❤️

#snitches get stitches // sdd #san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters hockey au #sgs // sdd #tgm hockey au #top gun maverick hockey au #top gun maverick #TGM #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #Jake Seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #no use of y/n

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