#and meanwhile Emmet is like:

[feroluce]

want you to, want you, too

Blankshipping <1k; getting together featuring a big fat scoop of Ingo's Catholic Guilt and Nii-san Complex uwu

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

When Emmet forces his way to Hisui, fueled by a determination that could override every karmic force in the universe, Ingo thinks nothing of his immediate attempts to get him alone.

His memories are still vague, but they're stronger now than ever, jolted and jogged, jostled about by the reappearance of the one person he'd remembered before anyone else. Ingo understands; all he wants is to stay close, spend every waking moment basking and soaking up his brother's presence. He'd missed him before he even knew him, deeply and intensely missed him, enough to hurt, enough to leave an empty ache.

Ingo had been content with the Pearl Clan in Hisui, but it had never quite felt like home. It does now.

As early as the first day after his fated Fall, Emmet fixes him with an odd look and says he has something he needs to tell him. Something important. Emmet is strangely serious as he says it, deathly so. Ingo finds himself standing straighter. 

"While we were apart, I realized something. I-" A pause, something akin to regret in his briefly hollowed eyes and his stitched-on smile. "Well, ok, no. I knew it before then. I've known it for a verrrry long time. I just didn't act on it." Ingo wants to ask; Emmet is rarely hesitant to act- whip-smart and sharp as a tack, once he's decided something needs to be done, he figures out how to do it as efficiently as possible. For him to be so overly cautious, it must be a truly tricky and delicate matter. But he doesn't dare interrupt now. 

"But I did not chase you across continents-" Emmet's eyes light up again, blazing now, bonfire-bright "-across centuries-" something rumbles within Ingo, like an early warning, moving as a phantom sensation beneath the balls of his feet, as though the world were about to shift, "-just to not take advantage of a second chance."

Ingo is suddenly painfully aware of his own body, of the curl of his knuckles, the bite of his nails in the flesh of his palms, a twitch in his legs and an itch in his throat. His head has forgotten, memories smeared and leaking out like a bird's egg dropped on a rock, but much still lives on in his heart, some beacon is in his center, at his core, sending out signal after signal, a rapid-fire jumble of SOS and morse code that Ingo can't decipher.

There is something happening here, something only his heart and his brother (between which there is only a small difference, he'll admit) are privy to, Emmet's voice a chorus of trumpets, a declaration of war, and Ingo's brain is scrambling to form some response. There is a niggling feeling somewhere within him, in a secret place cordoned off by chain and padlock, that all of this was a long time coming. That this is a long-at-sea ship finally docking, this is all of his chickens and bad decisions and "I'll reflect on these thoughts later"s come home to roost.

Emmet steps closer. The door is right behind Ingo, tauntingly unlocked and beckoning, he could so easily leave if he wanted to. Emmet never does things accidentally. He's given Ingo an escape route. Emmet takes another step, slow, watching and observing with his quicksilver eyes, giving every opportunity to turn and run. Like he's dealing with a skittish creature.

Ingo should escape.

Ingo does not want to escape.

Emmet is right in front of him now and he leans in so close that Ingo can't see anything else, loses view of the rest of the world around them. When he stops, it's at a lethal, point-blank range.

"Don't just let me do this to you, ok? Don't let me unless you want me to." He shouldn't. There is still that twitch in his limbs, those loud wordless pings of alarm in his heart that urge him to retreat, that tell him staying here is going to damn them both. Because his younger brother is making the worst mistake of his life, and Ingo is doing nothing to stop him. But Emmet's breath mixing with his own between them is a rallying cry, the close warmth of his body a call to action, the press of his lips against Ingo's a battle hymn.

Emmet kisses him, and Ingo horribly, selfishly, wants him to do it again.

The long, bitter civil war is over in a flash, he's won and he's lost. The side of him that had struggled to resist, that had held strong and weathered for years and years as it tried to be the model older brother Emmet deserved, finally succumbs and is trampled in the trenches by the incoming cavalry, stormed and seized by the parts of him that love Emmet in all the ways that he shouldn't.

"-san. Ingo-niisan." Hands cupping his face bring him out of the gunsmoke and fog. "Tell me if you don't want this, too."

Ingo stands atop a bloody battlefield of corpses, both conqueror and vanquished. He feels like he's won, a thrilling victorious high stronger than any challenger has ever given him. The loss is immeasurable.

"...I'm terrible," Ingo whispers.

His brother begins an attempt to console him because he's too kind, too forgiving, he always is when it's just the two of them. But he's cut short when Ingo grabs him, crushes them together and gorges himself, gluttonous and greedy, swallowing the rest of Emmet's sounds to hoard them for himself.

Emmet's smile widens against his lips, his arms coming up to hold on to Ingo like some sought-after, fought-for prize, as though he were the Spoils of War, kiss tasting like a bloodsoaked victory.

[pigdemonart]

Double post today cuz these doodles are time specific to whatever just happened on twitter

Hee hee

[hoofpeet]

Eebied Elesa ALSO amnesiac. Two unovan time travelers messing around in the DP clans knowing they know each other better than they know

Everyone in Hisui confused as to why the literal supermodel girlboss who showed up out of nowhere suddenly latched onto the pearl clans weird cryptid old man warden ??

[conductinguphill]

I drew this initially because my partner requested art of Emmet carrying Ingo over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and this was the result. Imagine reuniting with your twin brother and just scooping him up then carrying him home like a heavy bag of groceries or something. Emmet is not letting go of him this time. Ingo is happy to be back again, but not too thrilled about Emmet's methods of carrying him.

[waywardstation]

Imagine if the rifts work both ways.

Emmet *on his knees praying*: Dear Reshiram, Zekrom, Arceus, Giratina, (ect.) Please give me a sign that Ingos still out there.

*tiny rift opens up and a small piece of cloth falls out*

Emmet: :O

*Meanwhile in Hisui*

Ingo: Akari! A rift just tried to derail me! Luckily it was too small too be a proper hazard but it did take a piece of my coat.

oh at that point it would just be cruel for Emmet haha

Alternatively, Arceus is trying their best to conspicuously open a rift and take Ingo back, but every time they set one down Ingo’s moved just slightly so it keeps clipping his coat instead. He doesn’t even notice at first.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

the problem with this au is that it's fucking complicated is what it is. like to get to the actual point where the au happens you need like eight pages of explanation of hcs about cyllene backstory and the general state of the world during pla. none of which i have ever actually posted prior to this. so much upfront time investment and for what

[blorbosaur]

school is burning me out and its 3am. i'd like to dub these doodles: "look at how inconsistent i draw"

[shaampoo]

Honestly Emmet looks so harmless and nice like he could commit multiple crimes in front of me and i would be like "Emmet committing crimes? Nah he wouldn't do that"

[ghostypetrainer]

Baby Emmet used to slap ketchup on two slices of bread and call it a ketchup sandwich. He loved it.

[cuz-reasons]

Terrible news I'm 7k words into another super self indulgent fic and I think I've barely even scratched the surface of it

[dragonanon]

Me rocking up to Gear Station with my fully evolved Fuecoco like:

[proxycrit]

Elesa climbs to celestial tower to ring the bell. Emmet, stuck in between the distortion world, finds his way home.

Part 1/ Part 2

The conductor falls, down, down, down.

“What’s my name?” He calls to the abyss in terror (what is terror?)

He’s a singular being, right? (That’s not right. He’s one of a pair.)

The abyss gazes back. It has no answers to give, in its multitude.

Not to someone that’s so, so alone.

———

Somewhere else, one Elesa of Nimbasa rings the Celestial Tower’s Bell, over and over. Her companion, Chandelure, keeps watch.

Nothing happens.

Elesa’s stomach sinks. The reverberations of Celestial Tower’s brass bell mocks her in its echo. The vibrations of it’s distortion only makes the tears she tries to hold at bay worse.

In the blur of her failure, she sees chandelure’s flames suddenly die. Part of her panics.

The rest of her is apathetic and numb.

What’s the point? It didn’t work. Elesa closes her eyes. Tries to swallow, and fails. She’s so tired. She’s so, so tired. The deal with Azelf, the media storm she’s weathered, the constraints of her job, the almost loss of chandelure-

Emmet has been gone for three months. Ingo has been gone even longer.

They have gone where she can’t follow.

Elesa, the ghost whispers in her head. Elesa shakes her head in denial. She doesn’t want to plan right now. She wants to curl into herself, and disappear, just for a bit.

Elesa!

“I can’t do this,” she croaks. The sob in the back of her throat bubbles outwards. She wants Zebrstika. She wants Skyla. She wants her friends.

The paliphet Azelf forced her forward. It permeates her thoughts, drowning out logical thought.

(Too much willpower, and it will become an obsession, Azelf had warned her once in Ingo’s voice. And then, in Emmet’s voice: And when you fail, it willll break you. And finally, in her own voice: you will not have a choice but to move forward, with this curse.

I accept, elesa and told it back in the lake.)

I’m so tired, Elesa thinks now, two months later.

But she keeps moving forward. The bell rings again as Elesa strikes it, with all the hurt and rage and longing forced by her own hand into her soul-

-And that’s when chandelure screams, and there is a terrible rolling crack, and Elesa feels the sudden lurch in her gut as she looks up, her apathy torn into shreds as-

The sky tears open in a fractal wave.

Elesa gapes.

She can not comprehend the sudden black webbing across the sky. In the distance, sirens suddenly start wailing as people stop to perceive the impossible.

But Elesa does not care, because in that moment, the wrench in her gut is so great she almost staggers off the platform. Chandelure is by her side in an instant, her glass body a warm comfort to the sudden chill, because-

Something white is falling.

Elesa’s doesn’t know what she yells. But the tug in her chest feels like the beat of a drum, and she is helpless to the melody that calls for action.

Azelf’s blessed takes a leaping step forward, off the building. Chandelure lets out a panicked chime and the warmth of psychic cradles Elesa as she reaches out, arms outstretched, falling and flying and-

And Emmet, sparking with white electricity, reaches back.

NOTES:

AU’s Salvaging the Ship of Theseus! Everybody has a Bad Time. (Emmet and Eelektross go to Hisui and learn about the joys of the distortion world. Elesa hunts legends and makes bad deals. Ingo babysits some sneaslets.)

Backstory and explanation:

Prior this scene, Emmet was travelling Hisui with Eelektross before he falls through a mirror and becomes lost in the distortion world for a month. Elesa and Chandelure, meanwhile, refuse to give up on their remaining friend. (Ingo’s fine! He’s in Hisui right now trying to get fired so he can go searching for his memories. Eelektross is… less fine. We will Worry about That Later.)

Disclaimers: Everything’s a work in progress and subject to change!

Part 2!

[hoofpeet]

Zemmet gets owned by his own granddaugher [accidentally][not clickbait] --> X

[choochooboss]

Submas sketchdump! Vol. 1

April-June 2022

Literally dumping all the presentable works as promised, whether I'm proud of them or not! This is where I started, even before the first thing I posted online (That subway station one). Many of these are not on Twitter yet so there's lots to see!

The top piece above the header is my very first digital Submas artwork!! I never finished it bc I didn't know how to pull my vision of as I wanted & started modeling the train and didn't finish that either, whoops! I really want to remake this later and make it super cool!

^^^ My reaction to breaking 500 likes & 100 followers in a single day with my first tweet (the battle subway one) all the way back in May!! I was completely floored by all the attention, oh how it skyrocketed my excitement and anxiety! Crazy times, I was so super nervous to be there with so many amazing artists and doubted if I could ever survive there ahahah!! Many had joined the community much much earlier than me, so I had arrived with a late train to PLA/neo Submas hype!

Next up is a bunch of stuff I haven't posted before:

One of my fav sketches! Been saving this for so long bc I really really want to finish this one day!

One of the first submas sketches with an actual story behind it! The subway bosses are running late for their flight because they didn't pass the safety check! The irony!! This would never happen as bosses are always on schedule. But Emmet hadn't noticed a wild Joltik hiding under his coat, so he set up the alarm and they got examined and interrogated of smuggling! How embarrassing for them! The bosses resolved the situation by catching the Joltik, but will they be able to catch their flight anymore?? Maybe if Elesa can distract the stuerts performing the safety protocol for a minute!

More sketchbook stuff...

In case you can't make any sense of it, Emmet's dreaming of different combinations of pokémon. Meanwhile Ingo snores louder than the train! HONK SHOO!

Top 7 every submas fan draws at some point!

Submas trademark posing

submas sleeping in a train

sad Emmet

Emmet with Joltik

Ingo with a cool solo pose

Emmet being chaotic & Ingo reacting to it

a bunch of mirrored submas poses

I sure have a full bingo card lmao, most of them you can see here XD

Next up is a sad man...

Stay strong our friends!

My typical sketchbook pages, crammed and messy as usual. x)

Post-PLA exploration:

A few examples of how my pencil sketches evolve.

I've done so much art experimenting with submas. I really like this black & white painting but I don't think I'll finish it anytime soon.

Where did you go?

The way I draw the twins' faces has changed a lot. They started with softer features and somewhat neutral emotions, because I wasn't as familiar with them or comfortable drawing them yet. Now there's hundreds of submas sketches, and they still keep evolving! My style is also kinda hard to pull off well, so their features differ from picture to picture.

This one was inspired by some submas music videos, can't recall their names anymore. The glowing eerie eyes and yellow&orange + black&white color schemes were neat!

I keep telling myself I need to draw more butlers, these twinks look so lean and neat and have more color and are posh with their monocles and have fun tailcoats!

(...why eyeglasses are not called binocles??)

I was there for the vinegar chaos. Good times!

That's all for now, I hope you got something fun out of this! Still got loads more art to share but I'll save them for another time. Next round I'll bring in my first submas comic!

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 4)

Summary: The reader and Dean come up with a not so subtle way of addressing their relationship status. However, the more she thinks about it, the more serious her relationship with Dean seems to be and with that comes a newfound trust. Meanwhile, the pair have a busy Sunday when they have to deal with not only their bodyguards but meeting parents for the first time too...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 9,800ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping, smut

A/N: Hoo boy this part is a lot. I love all of these guys so much. Please enjoy!

_________

Reader POV

“You know you don’t have to tell anyone shit,” said Emma, your new head of PR. You worked on your mascara, Emma leaned against the makeup counter. “You and Dean are entitled to your privacy.”

“I know,” you said, blinking your eyes a few times, checking your teeth for lipstick. “It’s why I always wanted you to be my PR manager. You won’t fuck me over.”

“Bold statement from someone who knows better than to trust anyone in this business.” You straightened up, Emma looking you over. 

“I trust Eric and he trusts you,” you said, stepping closer in your heeled booties. “I don’t think his little sister’s going to stab me in the back after all.”

“He told you,” she said, her chin tilt slightly annoyed. You shook your head with a smile. “How’d you know then? I’ve never used my maiden name professionally.”

“Same nose and eyes. The fact your twins are Eliot and Emmet and he has twin nephews by those names. Y’all really love the ‘E’ names in your family, don’t you?” She looked impressed, nodding her head.

“Eric said you’re smart. Tough too.” She stepped aside when you motioned for you to walk. “It’s a pretty good idea to present you’re dating on your terms but again, you don’t have to do it. You can just…be.”

“Yeah but if we address it head on, at least we can stop whatever fake rumors get put out there. The world doesn’t get to know every little thing about us but Dean and I both feel like this is the best way forward. I mean, we want to stay private but we’re okay with this. We don’t want to be forced to hide.”

“Alright,” she said, stopping with you by a rack of clothes. “Can I ask a personal question?”

“Shoot,” you said, running your finger through the different options, one catching your eye.

“You love him?” Your eyes darted to hers, Emma watching carefully. “The way you two looked at each other this morning when we came up with this plan…those kinds of looks are dangerous.”

“...We’re dating is all. It’s only been three weeks,” you said, picking up a hangar, ignoring her stare.

“You’ve never publicly dated and never gone on more than a few private blind dates in all the time my brother’s worked for you. And the supposed playboy of the NFL comes along and you two commitmentphobes are head over heels?”

“Your point?” you asked with a sigh. “What, you want to plan the wedding already?”

“Some celebrities get married for money. Some for careers and some for image. And the public knows it. If you go out there tonight wearing that, the public will fucking fawn over you and Dean because you’re the real deal. Just be prepared for the long term because doing this might be a decision that will follow you the rest of your life.”

“He’s not a playboy,” you said absently, Emma smiling softly. “He was just…in pain.”

“Then keep loving him and we’ll figure out the craziness together,” she said, nodding at the piece of clothing in your hands. “That’s cute. It’ll drive him nuts.”

“I never said I loved him,” you said as her phone started to ring.

“Oh, sweetie. Your face said it all,” she said with a smirk. “I’ll let you get ready.”

You swallowed when she left the dressing room. Three weeks ago, Dean Winchester was a playboy asking for your number in a McDonald’s at midnight. And now…

You ran a hand over your stomach, butterflies filling it. 

“Hey,” said Eric, knocking once on the door and poking his head inside. “You’re supposed to be on stage to start the encore in thirty seconds.”

You shook your head and threw the shirt on, Eric biting back a smirk. “Oh shut up.”

“I said nothing,” he grinned, helping you fix your hair where it got stuck. “I told Emma you knew what you were doing with this.”

“Well your sister had to come and drop a bomb that I apparently love Dean on me,” you said, fixing your ponytail, Eric adjusting the clip in the back like he had a million times on tour. “Eric! Say something about how ridiculous that is.”

“You are kind of in love with him. Good news, I think the kid’s in love with you too,” he winked. You stared up at him, Eric chuckling. “Oh, a handsome sweet man loves you. What an awful life you live, kiddo.”

“He does not love me and I’d appreciate if you don’t bring up that word around him.” You smoothed out your outfit, Eric still laughing. “I don’t…that word him at the current moment.”

“Yeah you do. Otherwise you would ignore the media and press until you did know.” You rolled your eyes at him, Eric patting you on the butt. “Go sing to your heart’s content little miss not in love.”

“Asshole,” you said, walking ahead of him towards the end of the makeshift hallway. You breathed heavy at the end, Eric rubbing your shoulders. “I do like him.”

“He brings you to life,” he whispered in your ear. 

“Just…don’t say anything. Not until we have that conversation ourselves,” you said.

“Of course,” he said. “Three more songs and then you’ve got some chicken nuggies waiting for you.”

You took a few deep breaths before you opened the door and jogged up some crew stairs, appearing in the wings of the stage where VIP’s got to view the show.

And tonight that meant Dean and his friends. You saw some of their eyes go wide before you grabbed your cloak off the rack and threw up the hood, concealing you away.

“Is she wearing…” you heard Benny say as you stopped in front of Dean, giving him a quick kiss. 

“Break a leg, sweetheart,” he whispered as you were handed a mic. “Have fun.”

“I’ll see you in twenty,” you said before walking out on stage, a ravenous applause deafening you for a moment. You took your mark in center stage, the music for Fairytale starting up. It was one of those songs that started slow and ramped up. Every night on tour you got to have fun with it. The outfits were insane. Normally they were all fairytale themed and the crowd was always excited to see what theme you went for when your dancers would yank the cloak off you in the second chorus.

You swore you’d never heard a stadium so loud as when the cloak fell away and they saw you were wearing Dean’s NFL jersey. Well, almost his jersey. This one had been modified to add some lace and a few sparkles but it was subtle. You caught Dean smiling out of the corner of your eye and winked at him. He’d been all for the plan of your indirect way of addressing the photos from last night.

It told people enough but also meant you and Dean didn’t have to specially come out and say you were dating. The second you did that, they’d never stop wanting more and more from your private lives. And while you didn’t like to admit it, Eric and Emma had a point.

Dean calmed a part of you that hadn’t known peace in a very long time. It just felt…easy.

Two and a half songs later you took a bow and jogged off stage, Dean waiting with open arms. 

“You’re amazing,” he said, picking you straight up in a hug. “You make that look like a walk in the park.”

“Years of practice,” you said, Dean setting you down. “I can’t wait to come to your guys game tomorrow.”

“Pretty sure the whole country can’t wait either,” joked Michael. “Speaking of which we better get out of here, getting pretty late.”

“Later guys,” said Dean, joining you as you went downstairs again to your dressing room, Eric and Sloane on your tail along with some other security.

Exactly forty two minutes later you were home with Dean, his strong arms throwing you over his shoulder. “Dean I just ate!”

“Well now I want my dessert,” he laughed, rushing upstairs with you, gently dropping you on your bed. You both were giggling, Dean leaning over you as he pushed hair out of your face. “Seeing you in my jersey was hot in way you don’t even know.”

“I can imagine. Let me wash up quick,” you said, rolling out from under him. He hummed and laid back on the bed while you ducked into the bathroom and made a straight shot for the closet. Less than two minutes later you exited, Dean relaxing with his eyes closed.

You cleared your throat, Dean lifting his head as he leaned against his elbows. He froze half-way up though, eyes wide.

“You said you liked me in your jersey.” You tugged on the bottom hem of the jersey to bring it down, just barely covering yourself. “What if I was wearing only your jersey?”

“Are you-”

“Uh huh,” you said, stepping forward, letting the material rise up and show him your completely bare bottom half. You crawled up on the bed, straddling his thighs as Dean swallowed roughly. “I was always afraid of what would happen once the world knew I was dating someone. That’d it’d be too much or the person would betray me.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion you no longer feel that way?” asked Dean. You nodded, taking his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“We’re not going to screw each other. I like the fact we can go do things out together now,” you said, bringing his hand up to your lips. Your eyes closed softly, Dean’s thumb wiping over your bottom lip. “You don’t want anything from me. That feels so damn good, Dean, you don’t even know.”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly,” he said, your eyes peeling open as he moved his hand with yours to your cheek. “I do want something.”

Your heart started to race as he sat up, his free hand wrapping around your back, holding you flush to him. He smirked when he felt your chest thumping away, his hand squeezing yours.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious what I want, princess?” he murmured, practically crushing your body against his. “I told you from the start. I want you.”

You would have melted into a puddle on the floor if not for his arm around you. He kissed you sweetly, slowly, taking all the time in the world to enjoy this.

“Someday,” he mumbled, giving you a chance to cup his cheeks, Dean absently turning into the touch.

“Someday what?” you whispered, Dean smiling again.

“Someday you’ll fall in love with me too,” he breathed out, kissing you gently. He pressed a finger to your lips, shushing you. “I’ve been a sucker for you for over a decade. I get to say it. Just don’t freak on me, Y/N. I can wait-”

“Someday,” you said, Dean nodding. “Someday soon.”

“Someday soon,” he repeated, dipping his lips to the hollow of your neck. You didn’t like the tone though and grasped his chin, bring his head up. Sad green eyes met yours, a pain behind them you hadn’t seen before. “It’s been three weeks. I know you can’t-”

“If it wasn’t you, I wouldn’t have let you in this bed.” You murmured. “If you can know, I can know too and I know that you are the first person I’ve let myself love in a very long time. God Dean, you don’t know how bad it was. How fucking alone I was. Surrounded by people all the time but so goddamn lonely.”

He shushed you, hugging you tight. “We don’t have to be lonely anymore, sweetheart. We can…we can just be together.”

You nodded, arms wrapped around his broad body, head buried in the crook of his neck. 

“Here you thought this was going to be a sexy conversation,” he chuckled. You laughed softly, Dean’s lips pressing against the top of your head.

“I like all of our conversations,” you murmured, inhaling his musky cologne. You enjoyed the scent, his warm body soft as it held you. 

“You got to be tired,” he whispered, running a hand down your back. “We should get you to sleep.”

“Dean.” You tilted your head up, Dean’s eyebrows raising so slightly you almost missed it. You nodded, taking his hand and putting it against your chest. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

He pressed a hungry kiss to your mouth, tongue playfully devouring you, a hungry beast finally uncaged within him. You gripped his t-shirt in your fists, pulling hard on the material. He got the message, breaking free to yank it off one handed, giving you space to undo his belt.

“Do you have a condom?” he breathed, his cock already straining to get out of the confines of his pants.

“In the nightstand if you want. I have an IUD,” you said, tugging on his jeans, Dean toppling back on the covers. You put your hands on his hips, Dean giving you a reassuring smile. You’d been playing the past few weeks, teasing each other with hands and mouths. Dean always guided you though, focused on your pleasure, was so slow and gentle the first time you went down on him.

You had no doubt that tonight though he’d let you run things.

“Do you want a condom?” you asked, taking his boxer briefs off, momentarily crawling off the bed.

“I’ve never not used one.” You stood up, reaching for the drawer when he was suddenly sat up, long fingers wrapped around your wrist. You stared at each other, Dean pulling you close, sliding his hands upwards and pulling the jersey off.

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

“I’m clean. A little fun fact about myself? I haven’t gotten laid since last winter.” You blinked at him, lips parting. “I know. All the dates, the girlfriends. Hooking up lost it’s appeal a while ago.”

He settled his hands on your hips, licking his lips as he eyed you up and down properly for the first time. 

“Think my brain caught up to the fact I always belonged to someone else.” You closed your eyes, straddling his lap. Large hands splayed against your bare back, Dean shaking your hair loose from your bun. He buried his nose in the strands, inhaling deeply. “I really convinced you to give the playboy all the pieces of you so quickly. Gotta say I’m a little surprised.”

“You’ve earned it,” you whispered, hands sliding from his shoulders, down his chest, down his stomach, tracing every inch of his muscled body.

“Because I annoyed you into hanging out with me?” he chuckled. You shook your head, finding his chin, grasping it lightly until your eyes locked.

“Because you’re my best friend. Because I know you would never pressure me for anything, never ask for anything from me but my friendship in return.” You touched your forehead to his, Dean closing his eyes. “Because you’re mine, Winchester. I picked you first after all.”

“You so did not,” he chuckled. “I saw you with those obnoxious sneakers first.”

You laughed, Dean’s eyes peeling open, a devilish smirk on them. “Oh, Winchester. You really never paid attention to who would sing the National Anthem before all those little football games, did you?”

He blinked, cocking his head, eyes widening. “You! That wasn’t-”

“I was horribly shy and there were fifty thousand people in the stands each week. I went Hannah Montana and wore a wig and those crazy sunglasses.”

“You’re Penny Princess!” he exclaimed, shaking his head with a smile. “She flirted with me all the fucking time before games!”

“I was emotionally repressed in college, not dead. A girl has needs,” you laughed, running your fingers through his hair. “You were so fucking cute back then. So many times I wanted to be brave and go talk to you at a party but all I saw was pain. But I did think you were cute.”

“I thought you barely remembered me from college,” he said quietly. 

“I repressed a lot from back then. I’ve been…thinking about you a lot lately and remembered some stuff,” you said, your cheeks feeling flush. 

“Alright. You picked me first,” he murmured, thumbing over your hot face. His hand drifted downwards, lightly grazing over your chest, knuckles brushing your pebbled right nipple. Teasing. The barest of touches that sent sparks down your back.

Then you were both were moving fast. His thumb on your clit. Your hand pumping him. Mouths smashing together like you hadn’t spent the past three weeks making out every night.

“Whoa, girl. Get a little wet-” said Dean as you grabbed his shoulders and slammed down on his cock. The groan he let out was absolutely sinful. “Jesus. You’re wetter than the fucking ocean.”

“Emotional reassurance turns me on,” you said, Dean laughing so hard you felt it run like a wire through your body.

“I’m going to tell the press you should be the one with the naughty nickname if you can take dick like that on your first go.” You lifted your hips a few inches, dropping slowly, raising up slow again.

“You really ought to take a look in that nightstand sometime, handsome,” you winked, Dean’s chuckle turning into a soft little moan.

“How are you going so slow? You’re not gonna last,” he breathed out, squeezing your body tight.

“Feel my thighs,” you said, Dean’s hands sliding down, fingertips pressing into the flesh.

“Shit, girl. Gotta give me your leg workout.”

“Squats. A lot of fucking squats,” you said, slowly falling down on his cock again, his thumb rubbing lightly, easing you back from your build up. “I might not know what the fuck I’m doing but I can stay along for the ride at least.”

“You uh,” he groaned when you ground your hips down and rolled them, his cock twitching inside you. “Shit, you know what you’re doing, sweetheart. Trust me. Actually better cool it with that move unless you want me to go early.”

“Not yet, want this to last a bit longer.”

A bit longer turned into nearly an hour, both of you fucking drenched in sweat, Dean bouncing you up and down on his cock as you moaned into his neck. His whole body tensed up when he finally came a moment after you, your legs shaky but body sated.

“Did I do okay?” you panted, lifting your heavy head. Dean wore a goofy smile as he started to giggle, arms wrapped you, hugging you in a warm embrace.

“You did fucking incredible,” he laughed, kissing your cheek. “I can’t wait to go again.”

“Me too,” you said, eyes catching the clock on the nightstand. “Oh shit. It’s already after one. What time do you have to get up?”

“Six,” he said with a grin. “Don’t worry about it. Tomorrow, well today, should be an easy game.”

“We still got to get you to bed.” You tugged him up and into the bathroom, trying to get him to take a shower and into bed quickly. But he insisted on helping you clean up, washing your hair for you and even wrapping it up in a big towel while he dried off.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he said when you shook your damp hair out, his eyes sleepy but a smile in them.

“You say that a lot.” You ran the towel over it one last time before ditching the towels on the floor, walking him back to the bedroom. 

“It’s true,” he said, booping your nose. You barely had the covers peeled back when he tugged you to his chest, throwing the blankets over top of you. A heavy arm slid over your waist, your head resting on his shoulder while you hugged his torso. “See? You already know how to do a post-sex cuddle too.”

“Dork.”

“Yeah but I got the girl so…” he teased, kissing you when you looked up. 

“Yeah I guess you did.” You kissed his pec, a pleasant warmth filling you when he tucked your head under his chin protectively. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You woke up to yelling. Dean was sat upright in bed, his body between you and the door, an arm in front of you as you both tried to shake the haze of sleep.

“Shut the fuck up, Eric!” screamed Sloane. You both relaxed, a glance at the clock showing it was five thirty. Eric shouted back as you ran your hands over your face.

“We need to have a talk with those two,” he sighed. “Here I thought you meeting my parents would be the most awkward part of my day.”

“Parents?” you asked, Dean humming as he pecked a kiss on your cheek and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“They always go to my home games. You’ll have to watch with them in the private booth I share with Benny. There’ll be other people. His family and friends. I’m sorry, I should have warned you it’d be different than the booth you had with your friends in New York. I can try to get you one on your own-”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, cupping his cheek when the worried eyes remained. “I’d love to watch with them, meet them. And I like Benny so I’m sure I’ll like his family too.”

“Okay. I promise they’ll be cool. Well probably not but I can plead and beg with them at least.” 

“I said shut up!” shouted Sloane again. You shared a look and got up, going into your closet to find a bra and underwear. You tossed a flannel shirt Dean had worn over last week on and wearily walked out, Dean dressed in last night’s clothes.

“I’m sure I’ll love your parents. Probably more than my own,” you mumbled, Dean catching your hand before you could open the door to go face whatever the hell was happening.

“Do you talk to them at all?” he asked. You shrugged.

“Holidays. They come to my award shows and normally at least a few concerts a year, normally the ones in Kansas City back home. They…visit during Max’s birthday week,” you said, glancing down. “His birthday is today. He’s twenty eight. They’ll show up tomorrow.”

“Why not today?” 

“I get the feeling they don’t want me around today,” you whispered. “Another day that’s supposed to be his and I’d somehow make it about me.”

“We’ll celebrate tonight.” Your eyes darted up, Dean nodding. “We’ll have a cake and you can tell me all about him.”

You swallowed thickly, blinking back the sudden wetness in your eyes. “Y-You don’t have to do that.”

Dean stepped forward, tucking your loose hair behind your ear, humming to himself. “You’re right. I don’t.” 

He held out a hand, smiling softly when you bottom lip wobbled. “Why do you care?”

“Why wouldn’t I care?” he responded. You nodded quickly, Dean shushing you when you sniffled. “I still make Sammy a birthday cake every year. Let’s do the same for Max, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, grateful as he intertwined his fingers with your own. Another round of shouts came and you readied yourself, Dean wiping away the rouge tear that had fallen. “What do we say to them?”

“Either they work it out, they work different areas or one of them has to go,” sighed Dean. “I really don’t want to lose Sloane, especially now with probably needing actual security for myself.”

“And I can’t lose Eric. I just can’t. He’s the one person I can trust without a doubt on my team. Plus he’s my only real friend beside you. Everyone else is superficial.”

“My boys can’t wait to hang out with you properly. They’re pretty ride or die,” he said, closing his eyes. “We tell them they work it out or they just don’t speak to each other about anything not strictly work related. They’re both professional enough to not jeopardize the two of us.”

“Agreed,” you said, the shouting getting louder. Dean opened the door, letting you take the lead when you got to the top of the stairs, looking over the balcony to see them shouting in the kitchen. “Eric! Sloane! It’s not even six in the damn morning!”

They both snapped their jaws shut, going into rigid upright positions as if they were soldiers in trouble. 

“Guys, this can’t keep happening,” said Dean when you got downstairs, taking your hand in his again. Eric stared at his shoes while Sloane shot angry daggers in Eric’s direction. “We know the history between you two. But Y/N and I need the both of you, more than ever. You have to learn to get along or we have to insist you don’t talk to each other beyond what is necessary for work. Can you both do that?”

“Yes,” said Eric. 

“Yes,” Sloane grit out, still glaring at Eric.

“Sloane,” snapped Dean, her eyes shooting to him instead, chin falling. “Yes or no. It’d kill me to lose you but if you can’t live with the options we presented, I will ask you to resign for the sake of Y/N’s safety.”

“I would never put her in danger,” said Sloane quickly, glancing at you. “I can work with Eric as Dean’s primary. We just…will be professional. There’ll be no more fighting.”

“Agreed,” said Eric, nodding quickly. “We apologize for disturbing you.”

“You’re lucky Dean had to get up soon anyway.” You went to the coffee maker, grateful one of them had already made a batch. You poured some in the periwinkle mug for Dean before making a cup for yourself. “Dean, would you be okay with Eric sticking with you today?”

“What?” asked Eric, Dean taking the mug and ignoring him.

“Love to,” he said. “Sloane will get you to the stadium and keep an eye on you.”

Sloane looked equally annoyed as Eric, the both of them keeping their mouths shut. 

“I left you a care package in your office,” said Dean with a smile. “If you don’t want to wear my jersey that is.”

“I think I might be inclined. Wouldn’t want people thinking we’re together or anything.”

“Pft. God no,” he teased, Eric rolling his eyes. Dean kissed you quickly before going to Eric, throwing his arm over his shoulders. “Come on, buddy. You can help me pick out my outfit to walk into the stadium. Now I’m thinking a Princess of Pop tour t-shirt…”

Eric sighed as they headed out, the door closing softly behind them. 

“You can go back to your morning coffee,” you said, Sloane picking up a black mug on the island. You held yours with both hands, sipping slowly.

“Why did you want me to stay here?” she asked, a little cold for your liking.

“Because I want to talk to you alone,” you said, going to the backdoor, opening the slider. You motioned and she followed with her mug, the two of you sitting in the early dusk light on the patio. 

“You will never convince me to forgive Eric so don’t even try.”

“I wasn’t going to.” You felt her stare but resisted the urge to look at her. “I could tell you how he has regrets and guilt and he believes you’re so much better at the job than him but you already know that. I know you don’t care. All I wanted to say was…I understand loving someone so completely and then they hurt you in a way that, even though you still love them, it’ll never be the same. There will always be pain there. And you want to stop loving them or you want to find a way to forgive, one or the other but you fucking can’t and it just…sucks.”

You sat in silence for a minute, only the sound of a few coffee slurps in the cool morning air before Sloane finally drew a deep breath.

“I know you’ll understand this because you’re a strong woman. Not the way I know how to deal with weapons or threats but you’re strong. You built a goddamn empire by yourself and you get rid of the shitheads without a second glance. I know you’re like Dean in a way too and yet you keep on going.” You turned your head, the tip of her nose pink in the soft light, a glimmer of wetness in her eyes. “Sometimes you don’t want to be strong. You just want your person to be there and hold you and make you feel safe and like you can fall apart. I know you understand that because I see your face when you’re with Dean and I see how no one will ever be able to protect you the way Dean will.”

You nodded, reaching over to her chair and holding her cold hand.

“I was so hurt and I just needed Eric to sit there and hold me. It’s all I needed and he couldn’t do it. He was so caught up in his own guilt, which it wasn’t his fault we had bad intel in the first place which he fucking knows, but he was so wrapped up in his head he couldn’t be there for me. He couldn’t see past his pain and see that I needed him more in that moment. Could you imagine the worst day of your life and Dean is right there, ten feet away, and he won’t come to you? All you want is him and he leaves you on your own?”

“Men are idiots,” you said quietly, Sloane laughing dryly.

“Fucking preach,” she sniffled, closing her eyes. “And then he got me fired. I understand why, I fucking do because in his fucking little moronic man brain that was how he stopped me from getting hurt ever again. But all he did was made me lose the two things I was fucking good at, fucking loved, in the span of a week. He made decisions about my life for me and that is not okay.”

“Eric’s been known to be a fucking idiot on occassion,” you said, offering a smile. She nodded, breathing deeply to look out over the yard. “Why do you two keep screaming at each other?”

“He tries to apologize and I don’t want to hear it. It will never be good enough. He stole a part of my soul and it’s never coming back,” she whispered. “The worst part is I look at him and I still love him. But I know what he’s capable of and I won’t do that to myself again.”

You rubbed the back of her hand, Sloane smiling over at you. “Dean and I are getting serious. There’s a chance…real serious. Someday our security might not be so separate anymore. I want you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Eric’s soul is fucked up too and I’d love nothing more than to see you two somehow work it out. But if you never did and if it hurts too much, I want you to tell me and we will find a way where you two will never interact. You will not lose your job because I am dating your protectee and you have the shitty luck of your sort of ex being my guard. I promise.” Sloane watched you, nodding her head.

“I see why Dean’s in love with you,” she said. “You are tenacious under that sweet little pop princess guise.”

“Wolf in sheep’s clothing,” you said. “Kinda like you. I bet you know how to fuck people up big time.”

“Oh yeah,” she laughed, taking a sip from her drink. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for being decent.” You closed your eyes, yawning loudly instead. “There’s some spare rooms at the far end of the house. You can pick one for if you stay over again, keep some personal things there.”

She nodded, neither of you saying a word for a good ten minutes as you watched the sun slowly try to poke it’s head out over the trees.

“Would you be able to forgive Dean if he did what Eric had?” Her voice was small, unsure. You finished off your coffee, resting the ceramic against your bare thigh. 

“Sloane.” You waited until she was looking at you, a slight crinkle in her forehead. “Eric was a fucking asshole for what he did. But I know how protective of me he is. Seeing you hurt and him thinking it was his fault? It broke him. He probably wanted you to hold him in that moment as much as you wanted it except he hated himself so much he ran. It was the wrong move but he can’t change it. Let him go or find a way to forgive him.”

You stood up, stretching up on your tip toes.

“Come on, no more silly men talk,” you said, taking her hand and yanking her up. “Let’s go pick out our outfits for the game.”

“Uh, what?” she asked, letting you tug her along after you.

“You’re sitting with me in the box. You think I’m going to meet my boyfriend's family for the first time by myself? No way. You’re protecting my ass today and that includes awkward situations.”

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” she sighed.

You showed up to the stadium after an early lunch with Sloane. It’d taken a bit of work to get her to talk about anything besides security protocols but she’d warmed up to you by the time the morning was through. 

Offering her chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast hadn’t hurt either.

And you absolutely loved your surprise from Dean. It was an old school letter man jacket for the Wolves. Original. You didn’t even want to know how much he’d paid for it.

Eric had texted multiple times that Dean was annoying the shit out of him but you had a feeling they were starting to become friends when Dean texted that he was leaving you for his new bestie Eric.

Y/N: Cool with me. You take Eric. I got dibs on Sloane. She’s actually hot when you get her out of that awful pantsuit.

Dean: YOU GOT HER TO CHANGE??? I’ve been trying for years! Also, no. I get both of them. Throuple all the way

Y/N: You want to be in a throuple with those two? We should check you for a concussion babe.

Dean: Good call. I’ll settle for you. 

Y/N: Settle? And I wore my new jacket and everything for you!

Dean: Well you didn’t say that lol. Btw I told Eric he doesn’t have to hang out with me all day. I’m in the locker room, nice and safe. Shockingly, he didn’t listen to me.

Y/N: That’s cause he gets paid to listen to me, not you. 

Dean: Why does that not surprise me? I have to run to a team meeting and then prep. Have fun and I’ll see you after the game to make our cake for Max! 

Y/N: Be safe!

Dean: I’ll do my best!

“Are you ready?” asked Sloane as you crowded into a service elevator. You hummed, shoving your phone in your shorts pocket, taking a deep breath. “His parents are kind people. I wouldn’t be nervous.”

“Force of habit,” you said, Sloane raising an eyebrow but she didn’t say anything else. Honestly there was no way it was going to be more awkward than when your parents showed up for a few days tomorrow. They always visited for Max’s birthday week but they didn’t talk about him and instead spent most of the time going out to eat, shopping or hanging out in your pool.

Ironically, it was great for your creativity when you were forced to hide away in the studio for days on end to escape the tension. Last year you’d written three songs in the span of four days. One of them was still in the top forty nearly six months after it’s release.

“The Winchesters live in LA. Perhaps if things go smoothly, the parents can meet when yours get in,” said Sloane. You raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a little fast to introduce them to each other, don’t you think?”

“Just a thought,” she hummed, clasping her hands behind her back as the door opened. The hallway was sparse, a thick lump in your throat when you walked past some people in the corridor and got stares. “I’m not the only security on this floor.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.”

“I know. Stating a fact simply,” she said, stopping outside a gray door with a number 15 on it. You readied yourself and slipped inside, finding around a dozen or so people inside already. 

“Hey!” said a young woman, probably college age if you had to guess. “I’m making margaritas. You guys want one?”

“On duty, Casey,” said Sloane, the woman’s bright blue eyes turning to you. 

“Uh sure,” you said, Casey shooting you a thumbs up and grabbing another red cup from where she worked at the back counter. 

“Benny’s youngest sister,” said Sloane in your ear as you gave a few nods and smiles to people who caught your eye but returned their attention to their own conversations quickly enough. All the while Sloane was giving you the play by play of who they were. 

Apparently Benny had a pretty big family. It wasn’t until you even made it past the food and drinks to the seats that you made it through all of them. Which meant the lone couple already in seats in the front row must have been Dean’s parents.

“You must be Y/N!” said an older blonde, shooting up from her seat and climbing the steps. She wrapped you up in a big hug, surprising you so much you just stood there. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Dean’s mom. We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Don’t run her off yet, Mary. Dean’ll kill us,” teased an older handsome man. It was quiet obvious where Dean’s good looks came from. He picked you up in a bone crushing hug, squeezing you tight. “Hey, kiddo. I’m John.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said as he set you down on your feet. “Dean gets his hugs from you guys it seems.”

“We’re big huggers,” said Mary, Sloane saying a quick hello to them both before taking a seat in the second row beside one of Benny’s uncles. “I am so sorry I scared you. You must get that a lot.”

“No, you’re fine. I just wasn’t expecting it,” you said, rubbing your left arm, glancing at the field. “Watching the game from up here is cool, huh?”

“Sure,” said John, his tone making you look back at him. His dark eyes were relaxed, sympathetic almost. “The cameras will be on our box probably more than once to catch a glimpse of you. Try to relax and have fun.”

“What John is trying to say is,” said Mary, taking both your hands in hers, “We are really happy to meet you. Dean’s always carried a guilt inside of him and we’ve seen that ease over the past month. We know it’s because of you that he’s finally allowing himself to be happy again. So thank you.”

“He makes me happy too,” you said quietly, offering her a small smile. John threw his arm over your shoulders, your head turning up. 

“Good. So stop being nervous and let’s have some of those margaritas to get to know each other over, okay?”

It was the end of the fourth quarter, the two minute warning ongoing and the Wolves were up by two touchdowns. And as much fun as you had watching Dean play, you’d spent the better part of the game talking with his parents. You already liked John when he asked what you did for a living and asked if you were hoping to make a career out of music. While he was silly, Mary was a complete mother hen over you, always making sure you had enough to eat and drink. It was refreshing to hear them talk about Sam openly. Max was such a touchy subject in your family but they were practically giddy telling you about how Sam had mercilessly teased Dean about the girl in the orange sneakers. 

“That boy is looking down laughing his fucking ass off at his brother that he was right about it taking a decade to land a girl like you,” laughed John. 

“C-Can I ask you guys a personal question?” They both turned in their seats, giving you their full attention. “Why did…when you don’t have a concrete answer…how’d you decide to say he was…”

“We understand,” said Mary, taking your hand. “Honestly? We took a look at the facts and the evidence we had about what happened to Sam. We understood most likely which ring took him and after a certain age, we know what they do to those boys. So we won’t ever know for sure but we know all we’ll ever be able to and those facts told us Sam’s not here anymore.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision but it’s one we decided as a family. Dean doesn’t agree with us but we respect his choice too. It wasn’t so much about having a funeral for us but more symbolic, an attempt for us to stop living in a grieving limbo and turn Sam’s life into a celebration for the time he was with us,” said John. You nodded, swallowing thickly as you glanced down. John rubbed your back, his heavy hand comforting. “Whatever choice your parents made, it was not an easy one.”

“They won’t talk about him anymore,” you whispered. “S’like Max didn’t exist.”

“The pain is excruciating,” he said. “Don’t blame them for trying to ease it. For a very long time Dean only talked about Sam to a few people. But even if they won’t, it doesn’t mean you can’t. We’d like to know about Max if you ever wanted to share.”

You smiled and nodded, getting a side hug from Mary as the last of the game clock ticked away. 

“We weren’t so bad, were we?” asked Mary, John chuckling deeply beside you.

“I think Y/N’s put up with tougher shit than the two of us,” he laughed. “But it was very nice to meet orange sneaker girl finally.”

“You guys were great. I’d like to have you over for dinner sometime when we figure out a day that works,” you said, Sloane tapping your shoulder. 

“We need to go downstairs before there’s too many people out there. Now,” she said. You stood up, surprised to find John right behind you. “John-”

“I’m an ex-soldier just like you. If you have a problem with me going with you, you can respectfully kiss my ass, Sloane.” You turned to Mary, an apologetic smile on her face.

“I can’t say I disagree with him going,” she said, Sloane rolling her eyes. 

“Fine. Cover her behind,” said Sloane, quickly jogging up the steps. You said quick goodbyes to Benny’s family and were out in the now crowded hall, Sloane barking orders at five different security guards that were by the door.

“I’m sorry. I should have brought my team,” you said even though no one responded. Except for John that was.

“We can blame the fucking broadcast network for alerting everyone to exactly where you were,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders, walking behind you. Thankfully you got through the hoard of people quickly and to the service elevator, John slipping inside with you and Sloane.

“So this is one of the perks of being a celebrity,” said John as he took in the grimy elevator. 

“You don’t really get used to it,” you said, John crossing his arms. 

“Yeah, you’re too sweet a kid to actually like that shit,” he said, the door dinging and opening slowly. You followed Sloane out, John still on your heels much to her annoyance. “What?”

“What the fuck is happening?” snapped Eric as you rounded a corner, quickly getting in Sloane’s face. “You took her out of a secure room with fucking rent a cops?”

“Don’t you fucking start,” she shot back, John looking to you.

“It’s not you she’s pissed at,” you whispered, stepping between the two of them in a service hallway. “Fight later. I want to see Dean and I would like it if one of you could go back upstairs and escort Mary out of the box please.”

“You should have waited for me, Sloane,” growled Eric, grabbing your arm roughly, yanking you to his side. “Do as she asked and we need to have a serious discussion regarding Y/N’s safety if-”

“First off, stop fucking hurting me,” you said, ripping your arm away, Eric spotting the growning bruise and frowning. “Second, our security protocol says as long as we have two trained agents, we can use readily available security to move me. John is an ex-marine, like you, so Sloane was perfectly fine to move me. I was not in any danger. Now one of you please go get Mary.”

“I’ll go. She doesn’t know him,” said Sloane, bumping him on her way back to the elevator. Eric closed his eyes and sighed.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I just-”

“I know. It wasn’t normal. We’ll bring the team from now on,” you said, waving a hand forward. “Let’s go.”

John leaned down to your ear, the two of you following after Eric. “Are these the two that are in love?”

You hummed, John chuckling.

“Five bucks they end up fucking by the end of November.”

“October,” you said, John extending his hand and shaking yours. 

“You’re on pop princess,” he teased, Eric gritting his teeth as he opened a door to reveal more people. It looked like some family members were hanging out in the hall and about twenty minutes later a door popped open, a few players walking out, Dean one of them. 

“Hey!” he said, rushing over and picking you up in a spinning hug. “Did you have a good time? Were my parents okay?”

“Oh they were awful,” you said as you turned towards John.

“She’s terrible, truly terrible,” said John, not even able to hide his laugh. “Of course we like her you idiot. You think we were going to waterboard her or something?”

“No, just…shut up,” said Dean, pecking a kiss on your lips, the smell of pine in the air from his very recent shower. “I’m glad you guys got along.”

“I invited your parents to dinner sometime,” you said, Dean happy to hear that. 

He had to run off to a post-game interview which gave Sloane enough time to bring Mary down. You chatted with them more while you waited, Eric and Sloane choosing to spend the time by watching opposite ends of the hall. It was another twenty minutes before Dean returned and he gave both his parents big hugs, catching up with them for a few minutes. 

Finally after what seemed like another half hour, you were alone with Dean in his SUV, the two of you headed for home.

“So how’d it really go with my parents?” he asked, talking hold of your hand across the center console. You smiled out the window, his large thumb running over the back of your hand.

“They’re good people.” You tilted your head against the glass, closing your eyes. “I’m jealous.”

“We can share,” he said quietly.

“I’d like that.”

One Hour Later

The kitchen was an absolute mess. Cake mix covered nearly every surface, including you and Dean. Someone, Dean, hadn’t locked the head on the mixer. That someone had also turned it on full blast and absolutely whipped every single ingredient in the bowl out in a ten foot radius.

And you were laughing so hard looking at his chocolate covered face you were hit with the realization you hadn’t laughed on Max’s birthday in over a decade.

Dean was giggling as you stopped, concern filling his eyes when you stepped forward. “Hey, what’s-”

You grabbed his wet cheeks and planted a harsh kiss on him, Dean backing up against the fridge, letting you move you lips roughly against his. It wasn’t gentle. It was needy, Dean’s hands wrapping around your waist, holding your body to his.

You breathed hard when you felt light headed, Dean panting when he stared down. 

“You’re mine,” you said, grasping his chin. He nodded, his warm breath pooling over your face. “Come wash up with me.”

“After you, sweetheart.”

It took another two hours but you finally had clean bodies, a clean kitchen, and a frosted chocolate cake sat on the island. Dean worked on slicing you each up a piece as you finished with a simple pasta dish for dinner, all the while your heart hammered in your chest. Something felt different. A good different. Like you weren’t so afraid of moving so fast anymore.

You carried the pasta and dessert into your dining room, settling in at your usual spot, Dean sitting beside you at the head of the table.

“Happy birthday, Max, wherever you are,” said Dean, rising his glass of wine, clinking it to yours when you smiled. 

“I’m going to keep you, you know,” you said to him, Dean smirking. “Sweet boy.”

“Lucky me,” he said, leaning over, kissing you sweetly for the briefest of moments. 

“Me too, Dean.”

??? POV

“The Wolves keep this up and they’ll be a shoo in for the playoffs,” said Sebastian as he spoke on the phone to his brother, watching sports center late that night. I set his beer down on a coaster on the end table, taking away the empty. “One sec.”

He covered the phone with his hand, glancing up at me.

“Is Cecilia’s lunch prepared for tomorrow?”

“Yes sir. Soccer uniform is also washed and ready in her sports bag,” I said, Sebastian nodding in approval.

“Good. Take care of that and you’re excused for the rest of the night.” 

“Yes sir,” I said, nodding before leaving him in his man cave and heading for the kitchen. I had just finished rinsing out the bottle when I heard soft footsteps enter, the fridge door opening.

“Is dad still on the phone?” asked the young voice, shutting the door with a sigh.

“Yes, Miss Cecilia,” I said, drying off the bottle and placing it in the recycling bin under the sink. “Would you like me to prepare you anything?”

“No. I just want some chocolate,” she said, opening the pantry and grabbing a fistful of dove chocolate squares. “Want one?”

“No thank you,” I said. 

“Well if you had a period, you’d want one too,” she said, tearing off the wrapper and popping a whole one in her mouth. “I can’t believe I have to deal with fucking cramps for the next thirty years. Minimum.”

“Language,” said Sebastian, walking in, finally off the phone. “And don’t discuss your menstruation with other people. It’s not classy.”

“Don’t even start,” she said to him, taking a permission slip out of her pocket. “Can you sign the stupid thing already?”

I attempted to leave but Sebastian held up a hand, my feet planting firmly in place. “I think you’re too young to be going on a week long trip.”

“I’m fourteen, dad. My body is literally, as we speak, expelling shit from me because there isn’t a baby in there. So I’m old enough to make human life but not go on a fucking school trip?” she asked. Sebatian looked at me and I wished I could run away. I knew how this would fucking end.

“Wouldn’t you agree fourteen is too young to go?” he asked. I didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes sir. Miss Cecilia will have plenty of other opportunities to travel when she is older,” I said. Sebastian crossed his arms at his daughter. Cecilia responded by twitching her eye in rage.

That was one of the reasons I liked that kid. She didn’t give two fucks how rich and powerful her father was. 

“You did this same exact thing when you said I could go to the Y/N Y/L/N concert in the summer and then you turned around and said I couldn’t! Stop talking out of both sides of your mouth.”

“Excuse me?” said Sebastian, raising his voice. “You went to that fucking concert with all your little friends. VIP tickets I paid for if I recall.”

“You said I could go by myself and then my fucking dad shows up-”

“I was not letting a group of six barely teenagers go to a concert by themselves.”

“Your security was with us! It’s not like we were alone!” She shot back.

“You are still too young-”

“Asshole!” she shouted, grabbing the paper and throwing one of the chocolates at his face. “I’ll get mom to sign it when I’m at her house then.” She stormed off and upstairs, slamming doors as she went. 

“Be glad you don’t have a fucking hormonal teenage daughter,” sighed Sebastian, picking up the chocolate and tossing it to me. “Retire to your quarters for the night.”

“Yes sir,” I said, going to the pantry and putting the chocolate away. 

“Go on,” he said, my head whipping over my shoulder. “You can have one for putting up with her bullshit.”

“Thank you sir,” I said, grasping two in the bag, hiding them in my fist as I pulled it out. I left him in the kitchen before heading through the butler’s pantry and to a plain door. I entered the room with two double beds, nightstands, a desk and bookshelf. I bypassed the door to the bathroom and headed for the closet, stepping inside and shutting the one after myself.

I sighed and went to the door on the far side, opening it and stepping into the open room. I shut this door too and ripped off the fucking tie around my neck. “I hate that motherfucking asshole.”

“Not going to disagree.” I sat down on the twin mattress beside my sole friend in this god awful place. His head was buried in a book, one he must have read fifteen times by now. “I made stew. Ready to eat whenever you are.”

“Let me wash up quick.” I shoved the chocolates under my pillow and grabbed a pile of semi-clean clothes, going to the corner of the room and pulling the curtain shut of our makeshift bathroom. My shower was fast like it always was and in five minutes I was changed into sweats and a t-shirt, walking barefoot against the cool concrete over to the table where a camping stove housed our stew in a pot.

“So how was your day dear?” he joked as my stomach grumbled at the smell. 

“Oh just lovely,” I said, dishing us each up half into a bowl, carrying them over along with a pair of spoons. “Here.”

“Thanks,” he said, putting his book aside before taking the bowl, setting it on the floor in front of him.

“Hey,” I said before he could start eating. I reached under my pillow and grabbed the chocolates, holding them out to him, his eyes wide. “Don’t worry. I had permission. Well for one but I figured I could get away with it.”

“I haven’t had chocolate in fucking forever,” he said as I dropped them in his hand, his free one instantly grabbing my wrist and shoving one back in mine. “We share. You haven’t had it in forever either.”

I nodded, each of us quickly eating our dinner before unwrapping our dessert, clinking them together with a quiet laugh. “It’s not much but-”

“Thanks, Sam. It’s great,” he said, taking a small nibble, savoring it. “Really fucking great.”

“Happy birthday, Max,” I said, biting into my own, enjoying the first rush of sugar in ages. We ate in silence, finished much too soon. I took care of the dishes and joined Max again, a strange little smile on his face. “What’s that look for?”

“Did you see any of the Wolves game today?” he asked. 

“Just a little at the end. Why, Dean get a touchdown again or something?” I asked, Max smirking. “What?”

“My sister was at the game. Apparently she and Dean are fucking dating.” My eyes went wide, Max nodding. “They’re together. Isn’t that some kind of twist of fate or some shit?”

A spark of an idea shot through me. It was barely there but shit it was the first good idea I’d had in years on how to get out of this fucking shithole.

“What are you scheming?” asked Max quietly, even if this was the one room in this whole house where there were no cameras, the one room where security wasn’t constantly watching us. 

We’d learned too many fucking times over the past decade that any of our escape attempts were dead on arrival. We knew we needed outside help and while we’d contemplated enlisting Ceclia knowing she’d be revolted enough by learning the truth about her father to help, it was too dangerous.

The last time we attempted an escape was seven years ago and we both still had the scars on our backs to remind us.

But if we could somehow reach out to our siblings…they were now rich and powerful enough to not be completely endangered themselves. 

“Cecilia’s pissed at fuckface,” I said.

“What else is new?” asked Max as I shook my head.

“She’s extra pissed and still salty about the concert thing. Now we know fuckface is a huge fan of the Wolves and Cecilia is a big fan of your sister…we gotta find a way to get my brother and your sister here, like a party or some shit.”

“My sister doesn’t go to shit unless it’s for charity,” said Max. “According to Ceclia at least.”

“We gotta try Maxie. If we can get Dean and Y/N here at this house…we can find them and get the fuck out of dodge. But I know if we fuck this up-”

“We’re getting buried in the woods out back,” said Max, nodding once, knowing we had one last chance at this. He smiled though. We were both sick of living this way enough to take that risk. “Let’s fucking do it. Let’s get a game plan and get the fuck out of here.”

“Hell fucking yeah we are.”

___________

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

just thinking like. inverting the longing-for-home. imagine if unova ingo and emmet don’t really... have any family, aside from each other. sure they have... friends... work friends, that they talk about battling with or whatever, but people they’d actually count as family? that they’d go to in an emergency, would trust with anything important? they’re... few and far between.

and then ingo goes to hisui and somewhere along the way, a year in or so, he realizes that he’s actually started to feel like he belongs here. more than that, there’s so many people in the region—more than he can count—irida and the pearl clan and his fellow wardens, and then later the galaxy team’s recruit, and then the rest of the survey corps—that he trusts. he loves, all in their own way. and he doesn’t remember but he knows, somewhere deeper, that this is a new feeling even before his memory loss.

the only thing that keeps him from actually appreciating it is the feeling that goes alongside it, that bone-deep ache, that something is missing from it. that this picture can never be complete. and it isn’t fair, that he’s here with a family but still all alone. and that it isn’t fair that only he gets to experience this, while... something- someone else... is left out.