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2demondogs · 29 days ago

Note

Hey! I love your works so far!! I was wondering if you could write a proposal/wedding with JavierxF!Reader?

Thank you!

I am not much of a marriage-enjoyer so my friend helped me come up with some ideas here. Javier being awkward is all my doing though xoxo. Also any time I write Javier/F!Reader this meme is on repeat in my head.

Words: 4.1k Tags: Javier in love is a pathetic wet rag of a man, not explicitly set during canon, proposal, yeah that's it

Far north of this shore on Flat Iron, strawberry harvests will begin tomorrow. Sometimes, you wonder what it might be like tending to a farm, having a schedule that stretches year-long. Knowing who or what to pray to for good fortune in your life would be a relief. How many of those fresh berry leaves do they tuck into their pockets for good luck? How many would you need?

Things might be more certain, even for as uncertain as the sunshine can be. People have ways of creating organization from chaos. Open an almanac or some holy book, and see.

You only know it's a full moon tonight because you eavesdropped in town, waiting for Javier to finish whatever business took him outside the store. Pissing, you figured. He didn't say anything after he stepped back in line beside you, just nudged your side and acted as though he hadn't. All he was missing was a casual look away and a whistle.

Corny bastard.

He'd been quieter all morning, after he realized he forgot his bait and would have to buy some at the last town you passed through. It wasn't out of the way, but he still acted as though something had stuck itself in his boot, stabbing with every step. You would've ridden several miles out of the way, as long as they were with him— then again, Javier's the type, too.

Whatever had crawled under his skin was gone as soon as you hit the shoreline of the lake. The stick shoved moderately far up his ass always falls out when you're around. You'd forget it was ever there, if it weren't for the opportunities you get in camp to watch him without his knowledge. Javier could certainly be short, and rather cruel, with the other men in camp.

It isn't like he tries to hide those things from you, either. When you allow yourself to be given so much credit, you think that whatever has his temper on a short leash abides for you. Javier is not so delicately-stepped as to be kind, but he mellows into something close when you're on your lonesome. Sickly romantic, but he claims that men love hard and that it's only natural he turn into this spineless thing around you. With that bullshit, you know he's merely making himself more comfortable with his own vulnerability.

Other times, you feel that the truth is more likely this: to him, being with you is as good as being alone. Both are rather flattering ideas at their hearts. At times, you wonder what you did for a man as ardent as Javier to get stuck to your hip, whether he fully likes how hard he falls to his knees or not.

Regardless, his eyes come as close to gentleness as they ever will when they fall on you. He looks drowsy, almost ill with softness, and it gives the afternoon sun fresh life as it starts to set. It's hot as it ever was, being Lemoyne, but June is always mildest and the breeze off the lake eases the stiffness of the air. You might've pleaded for another fishing spot if Javier proposed this trip in beginning of August, when it's near suffocating in these parts.

As it is, Flat Iron's a ways away from camp. You suspected there was some kind of fish Javier had a hankering for, made him choose this side of the lake. The side closer to home was as good as any, if you were asked.

You find out better as conversation fades and drifts and finally lands in the palm of nostalgia. Javier's decided, half-foolishly, to cook fish right on the rivershore. It's wide, open space this close to the water, only spotted with a free trees, far from where you've set up.

The fire you're gathering kindling to build has a good chance of getting your pseudo-camp approached, but it's nice to pretend that there are no targets on your backs for once. Yes, it's just Javier stalking off to the treeline to gather sticks for flame and skewer, and you.

You fantasize as you set a handful of brittle leaves in the makeshift firepit. Must be real fine to be heralded by your community, instead of stranded in the woods without one. People really like those strawberry farms, they like any farms; they give life. Some days the gang feels meaningful for its unification of misfits, and some nights, you think you are all still lost and unbound. There's nothing grown in the gang. It's a place to stagnate, in comfort and comradery on good days and in mild isolation on bad ones.

You temper the thought before it can choke the pleasant evening. Every place has its ups and downs. Should anyone come across your little camp, Javier's fine with a gun and good with a knife, and you can handle yourself. Pretending will be alright, for a short while, and if it's ruined— that's when the disappointment can come to stay.

It's comfortable to settle on the ground beside him, even if the open sides of the fire feel exposing. You watch him shave the bark off a stick with his knife, sharpening it to skewer chunks of the fish. Pale scars on his fingers where he's sliced into the skin doing this before shimmer in the firelight.

Javier glances back at you, now and then. Ever-pompous, he never seems surprised to see you still looking.

The fire casts most of his hands in stark shadow, even as the sky clings to its last oranges, holds tight onto them in the clouds until pink seeps through the cotton. It is all much darker once you tear yourself away to look at the flames, how they lick over the dried litter and bloom in pops, and the rest of the world fades into shadow at your peripherals. Always did like how the fire dances, jumps, rolls to and fro.

Only when you are not looking does Javier break the comfortable silence, voice strangely blurred at the edges. "It's funny, you know," he says, huffs a short, dry laugh through his nose. "The San Luis' so close, but it ain't close at all." Like most times Javier ought to sound sad, he doesn't. In fact, it borders on wistful. "Very far away place."

"Are you nervous?" You ask, turning back to him. He's a wanted man, you know, but worse: there's always the memories. Even if you will not camp here, because it's too open and too southern, the memories follow.

Javier's looking into the distance, southwest. He glances at the fire, then you, and his eyes soften that ill-way, settling down. "A little," he says. He hands you one of the sharpened sticks, looking at the day's catch with a blanker face than before, mouth straightening. "Which one do you want?"

You know him well enough to have an inkling his answer isn't about how near the border is. Not with how he moves on so quickly, happy to cut your fish into cookable chunks for you instead of answering the expectant look on your face, the narrowed eyes.

He idly goes into an old story you've heard before, but you don't tell him. You like to listen to his voice, and it's more than likely Javier has a reason for telling it again. He will add something new to it, you think, or will say that last time, he misremembered the part where...

Often, he misremembers. This one took place almost ten years ago, after all— but with how he works around talking about people, rather than what happened to them, you sometimes think he doesn't remember in the first place.

He's crafty that way.

You temper that thought, too, and wait for it to come together as you roast the skewer over the campfire. It's getting dark, now, and the light begins to make a real difference across the ground. Bumpy, bald spots of dirt showing through sparse grass-hair. It clusters up into bushes nearer the tree line. The trees are sparse, too, so it's nothing but a continuation. Towards the water, the cattails mirror the trees, though you'd plucked some of them for the fire. Warm, deep green, nice and lively.

Javier doesn't add anything new, in the end. It's good to listen to him talk regardless, the warm scrape of his voice as it drones evenly and yet too long, turns raspy at the tails. The jagged scar along his throat must cut into something inside it; seems like his voice tires out sooner than most people's.

You think again of how his mind was in another place when you asked him about his nerves. What's nagging at him? Javier's story-telling is only this monotone when his expressiveness is turned all inward or when he's annoyed. If you annoyed him in the slightest, there wouldn't be that warm hand occasionally feeling out your back, making sure you were there.

It cinches over your shoulder, now, his touch firming up once he trails off. He's got to be coming at you somehow, eyes or ears or skin, or — so he's told you — it feels like starving. You would never be so egotistical as to make such a thing up without him putting the awful idea in your head. It comes back every time he touches you for no reason but being connected, which is awful, really, because it makes you feel important. Some of your own starvation stirs, an ache that's only soothed when you lean into his side and feel the thin, solid warmth of his body against you.

Javier turns, and so do you. Nearly meeting in the middle, noses an inch apart. "You cold?" He asks.

"No."

"Ah." He can never let anything rest easily, so he trades his skewer between his hands to stretch an arm around you, slow and purposeful. "I know what you really want."

Back to the food your attention goes. "Learn that from one of Mary-Beth's books?" You ask, rotating your skewer.

"No," Javier says. His hair brushes your temple, a cheeky lean-in. "She learned it from me."

Pointedly, you ignore him. It's not much time at all until his stare searing your cheek, those dark eyes, and you feel a warm flush spreading over your face. Javier begs for attention like a goddamn dog yearning for table scraps, at times. Never any time but when you're alone, because if anyone else saw him act this way — even in jest — he'd be camp laughing stock for a year. Probably longer, knowing how those men turn into boys so easily.

Very likely, it has something to do with the fact that no one would ever believe you if you told them he's this way, either. Most of camp would be hard-pressed to believe Javier's capable of genuinely liking another human being. Most of camp is men, though; the girls all say you're lucky. They mean it, too.

"Mi vida," Javier says. It's the most pathetic voice you've ever heard, and soft, low. Laughing or blushing would only give him the satisfaction he craves, so you bite your tongue and twist the skewer when it's ready. "Oh, c'mon." You glance at him, and it must be cold, because Javier's frown cracks into a smile briefly. "Don't be cruel. You haunt me."

"Good grief," you scoff, leaning away. The air seems colder without him there, is turning into something enjoyably mild for the evening. "You're terrible."

Javier cackles, shifts to press himself right back into your side. His hair brushes your cheek as if he wants to lay his head on your shoulder, but he doesn't, settles for leaning against you. His hand is on your lower back, then, moving across it side-to-side. Feels nice, sturdy.

"You do haunt me," he says again, no ounce of smile left in his voice. Never has he been a convincing conman. Too honest. "Every waking minute."

You know he's simply meandering his way into smooth-talking, and yet you swoon as easily as always. Curious at first, looking to his hand where he's over-cooking his own dinner and barely paying attention to it. The shadows draw deep in the hollow of his curled fingers, the dark hair on his forearm leading up to the rolled gray sleeve of his button-up.

"S'alright, though," Javier continues. If you weren't so enthralled by someone thinking such sweet things about you, you might've learned by now to tune him out when he goes on these tangents. As it is, your breath follows where his hands trails up your spine. The skin of your arm prickles under his watch. "I hate bein' without you."

Up your gaze crawls to his shoulder. Sky's dark, but the rising moon and low sun shake hands across the water of the lake, reflecting light into the air. The other shore seems very far away. Most things do, when Javier pours a little of his heart into your palm. His own must bleed profusely beneath the rich blue of his vest.

"It'll always be you." It bleeds a little extra today, then, if he's talking like this, doesn't sound like he's playing around anymore. Calloused fingers run over the side of your neck, your ear, and trace like its worth tracing.

You're looking him in the eye, trying to appear amused when Javier looks close to melting. Flustering him is always rewarding, and so you weather it, ignoring how well he looks with the warm glow on his warm skin and the dark definition along his features.

"Are you done, sweetheart?" You ask, voice too-warm and too-fond. It's clear you don't want him to be, sounds more like a goad for him to continue.

Javier's tongue slips between his teeth, half a smile on his face, and he turns away as if you've hurt his feelings. For a moment, you're afraid you have, even if he usually likes playing this way and his hand stays where it is on the crook of your neck. Then, he's nodding and trying again, apparently, to get out what he wants to say.

"Marry me."

Night-birds sing, or maybe your ears are only ringing. It comes out before you can stop it: "What?"

"Marry me," Javier repeats.

Eyes a little wide, a little wild; he looks half-scared to say it, almost like he's not meaning to but can't form any other words. It's not a question. His eyes are searching your face more openly, more anxiously then they usually do when he does this, drops a desire at your feet and sees how far you kick it.

Everything is unchanged, save for the burning in your chest and in your eyes and your stomach and your hands, which you pay no mind because you can only focus on him. Everything's in the same place it was a moment ago — should be, anyways, beyond the edges of Javier's sweet, half-terrified face is quite blurry — but you have the distinct feeling that something nonmaterial has shifted, has dragged most of your senses with it and left you askew.

Javier cracks when you don't respond, because he's not sure if he will get what he wants. "Will you?"

The smell of burning fish fills the air. He doesn't look away, but whatever sheepishness was beginning to seep into his expression takes over entirely as he reels his skewer back in and away from the flames.

You glance at the charred chunks of fish and laugh, a sharp bark of it, feel your hand clenched tight around the stick in it as you take your own food off the fire for risk of doing the same thing. His own is half-snuffed and timid as you've ever heard it, but Javier laughs, too, part of it stuck in his throat like bile.

"Of course," you answer. He shines, crooked teeth split in a handsome grin. "You damn fool."

"Hey," Javier drawls, drifts too far into the usual bickering you do and pulls himself out quickly. With a start, he drops his skewer to the ground. It's past eating, anyways. "I got you a ring. Shit, I should've—" He feels in the pocket of his jeans, sighs. His hand falls from your neck to your hip, squeezing. "I wanted to do it the right way, but I got ahead'a myself."

The right way. Like you give an ounce of a shit, but you know it matters to him and that he's sorry. You're still half-way through realizing your hand's been asked for, let alone far enough into acceptance to start wondering what a wedding will look like. On the road like you are, can you even have one? Certainly, you couldn't have one the right way.

"You can ask again," you suggest. He'd sounded so... disappointed with himself.

Javier pauses the search of his pockets to huff. "Just about died the first time, 'n' you want me to do it twice?" He laughs when you smack his chest.

"You're bein' dramatic," you accuse, though you're not entirely sure it's true.

"Shit, no, I'm not," he insists, turns his cheek to you and raises his jaw. The muscles stretches strong along his neck. "Feel my pulse. Racin' like a rabbit's."

"You just want me to touch you."

Javier grins. When you go to turn away, he reaches into the inside pocket of his vest, snickering. "Hey, wait." You do; he takes his hand from your hip, brushing the dirt off on the side of his jeans. It leaves a tan stain on them, same as it left a tan stain on your hip. He wasn't thinking straight. "I found it."

It was awkward and disjointed. Nowhere near as smooth as his words, which only ever get so silky because he practices them a thousand times inside his head, sanding off the rough edges, polishing. Yet, you're as withered when he takes your hand, hesitating a moment too long with the ring ahead of your finger. It looks the right size, though you don't know how he would've measured that, and— where did he get the ring? Money's impossible, and you're sure a jeweller would be locked up tight enough to take at least two men. You would've known about that job, too, if only because Mary-Beth or Tilly would've teased you about why he was robbing a jeweller without you.

You're answered when Javier slips it past your first knuckle and it catches on the second one. The band is gold, thin, glints mockingly.

Any confidence pools out of him and onto the ground below. "Don't tell me it's too small," he mutters, and you wince when he tries to push it past, disbelieving.

"It'll get stuck, honey," you say, curl your finger away so he'll quit. He's not earnestly trying to shove it on, he's just— in denial, probably, looks kicked. "It's okay. Did you... where'd you—?"

He sighs, twists the band between two of his fingers as he lets it drop to his lap. He keeps your hand in his, and you lace your fingers together, squeezing. That seems to cheer him up. "I stole it," he admits, not a touch of shame on him. From the blankness on his face, it seems like he expected you to have known that.

You bite back a laugh. It probably wouldn't make him feel any better, even if you're only laughing because he's predictable. "That's why it don't fit," you say.

"I know." He nods, smiling sheepishly once more. It's nothing like him to be so giddy, but he sounds it when he says: "I's just so excited."

It's sweeter than anything could've been. You suppose something material has changed with the question, because you've never seen Javier so vulnerable. It's choking the air around him, makes your gut twist up with some airy, fluttering feeling. You aren't sure where to begin with the tight affection in your chest, besides leaning in to kiss the sharp part of his cheekbone, the edge of his jaw.

Taking another good look at him, it's not all that difficult to believe he nearly did die with the nerve it took to ask you the first time. There's a sheen on his forehead, and his cheeks are pale, eyes wide yet, though they crinkle the longer you look at him.

He can beg for your attention, yes, but you like that he does. You like the thing he is whenever you're around.

"I love you," you say. There's nothing else to do about any of it.

Javier drums your interlocked hands on your leg, once, twice, like he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore. "I love you, too," he says. Eyes soft, ill-looking.

You suppose fragility is part of asking, this trial of what will you do with my heart underfoot? You bring your hand up to move his bangs from his face, and Javier leans into the touch.

"You're a sorry thing," you say. It's as fond as ever, and he looks content to hear it, closing his eyes when you lay your palm on his sharp cheek.

"Stuck with me, now," he says, even if it isn't true. He turns his face to kiss your wrist, opening his eyes. "I'll get you a chain for it. Would you wear it that way?"

He means he'll steal a necklace. You don't think it's any less flattering than a man spending hard-earned money, especially not considering that the gang's hard-earned money is also stolen. He could've gone to jail or been shot picking this ring off whomever, and he'll have the same risks getting the necklace. Frankly, you'd be impressed to watch him take a chain from a lady's neck without suspicion, but— that's probably because you're just as law-abiding as he is. All you would feel is pride, and some smug sense of satisfaction knowing your man is an excellent thief.

"It'd be easier," you reason, thumbing over his cheekbone, to his jaw where it rubs over ghosts of stubble. You let your hand slip down and rest on the ground again. "Not as much chance'a it getting lost while I'm workin'."

Javier nods. His thumb traces over your knuckles, the skin split and chapped from the chilly breezes off the Dakota at camp. "One day, you won't have to work," he says, sounds as wistful as he had before, talking of home.

"I think I'd rather die than just... relax," you admit, though he's trying to be sweet and the sentence sounds weird when you say it aloud, despite how right it tastes.

"I know you will," Javier says. "But you won't have to, is the difference."

"Who's gonna do it, then?" You ask. Servants and maids aren't anything like him, or you. What is more likely is that Javier hasn't got a clue what goes into keeping a household afloat, even one as small as two people.

"Me, o'course." Javier brings your knuckles to his mouth, brushes a kiss along them. Docile eyes find you through dark lashes. "You're my princess. Why wouldn't I?"

Well, that's sickening.

Fumbling for anything to reply with, you fall again on: "You're a sorry thing, Javier." It sounds even fonder, sounds more like another I love you than a scolding.

He kisses the back of your hand, then the back of your wrist, turns it over and presses his lips to the inside, mustache scratching the thin skin. They're dry as bone, his lips, and you don't think he's going to be calm for another week with the excess jitters rolling off him in waves. But he's trying it, has found his groove again and is pushing it to the limit of how much romantic nonsense you'll swallow without teasing him.

Javier lets your hands rest in your lap again, thumb still smoothing over yours, his eyes watching it. You watch him, then, studying the darkness of his hair and how the ring shines between his fingers, bounces light back and forth with the chain on his vest.

It's nice and quiet, for a long while. The trails off the river are empty, only distant birds mocking back-and-forth in the freshly cooling weather and the rustle of wind in leaves. Still, peaceful.

Your stomach growls, and you remember the bark that's eating into your palm, rough and cool. Shit. Brushing Javier's hand from yours, you reach over to yank on the chain dangling from his vest, grinning at how he jumps.

"Don't do that," he complains, but he's huffing a laugh alongside it.

"Do what?" You ask, flicking the chain. You move on hastily while he pats his stomach as if you've hit him, turning ton inspect the chunks of fish on your stick. They're not burnt, though they could be a little less well-done. "Wanna share this?"

#rdr2 fanfic #javier escuella x reader #rdr2 #sfw #fluff #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella #oneshot #femalereader #ask #javier escuella x fem reader #rdr2 x reader #reader insert

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st-just · 4 months ago

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as someone who mostly doesn’t read any fiction by sociology majors or queer people who like to construct things, I want to know more of what you think about Cobra Kai. It’s interesting to see someone with a more “academic” relationship to fiction watch and talk about silly pulp stuff that I like.

I admit it’s utterly corny and “non-prestigious” for lack of a better word, but it does somehow speak to me in it’s shameless ‘80s-ness, and I want to know about what this says about me.

(I do like more intelligent fiction as well, but mostly artsy movies. Prestige tv or literary fiction has historically been too much of a time commitment to stay philosophically focused the whole time. I was a voracious reader as a kid, and I’m trying to read Anna Karenina, but the internet has rotted my attention span. I can do a 100 minute art movie, but reading a book chunks at a time is somehow hard to stay engaged with.)

Sorry this has taken so long to answer - was waiting to finish season five and then just forgot

I mean mostly I think it's entertaining trash with some enjoyably scenery-chewing performances and surprisingly good fight choreography? I also respect the utter commitment to the bit, in this world where 'karate' is a pan-Asian marital art that does legitimately give low-level superpowers and also guns don't really seem to exist. The shameless '80s nostalgia bait clashing with the modern setting is also done with enough effort and self-awareness to mostly be really fun. But it's honestly more background noise than anything I'm actually watching with analytical intent.

That said the show's conception of and preoccupation with masculinity is just fascinating for how deeply held and also unselfaware it seems to be?

Like Johny is clearly a comic, pathetic figure, right? Especially in season one, he's a failure of what mature masculinity is supposed to be (deadbeat dad, shitty insecury housing, no steady work or marketable skills, embarrassing piece of shit car, neither a long term relationship nor success when he tries for something casual). His fetishistic attachment to the outward signifiers of '80s machismo is presented as something to laugh at, both because of how outdated they are and because he can't live up to them. But! The show also presents him as having a kind of Quixote-esque nobility about him, and the next five seasons of tv are a long sequence of him basically achieving all the things he was pathetic for lacking in the premier.

More broadly, the show has a very, very clear thesis that the vital core of being a Good Man is a) being able to deploy incredibly violence through personal strength and skill b) but choosing not to do so as a demonstration of restraint and virtue c) unless it's for a just cause or someone is really asking for it. Like, literally every male character with an arc is good at karate! Even the MIT-bound dweeb who was introduced to get shoved into lockers and the annoying brat Ipad baby younger son! The show simply does not care to waste screentime on a guy who can't punch you into a coma.

(There's something almost like, chivalric about the plot beat in season 5 where Daniel has dutifully chosen to give up his vendetta against Silver because protecting his wife and children is more important than abstract principle or glory, and then his wife needs to cajole and convince him to get back in the fight with her blessing. Warrior-aristocrat-ass gender role enactment

(Because it's the 2020s, a select number of women can be warriors too. As long as they're incredibly conventionally attractive, and also never defeat/emasculate any of the really important men. I did actually laugh when the only non-supermodel-hot major female character was written off between seasons with like a single line of explanation))

Besides all that - I mean it's kind of hilarious how the show is so studiously colorblind is filling its supporting cast and has a few relatively prominent asian characters whose race is just literally never important in any way, and then also portrays The Orient like it's 1980 and the closest anyone involved has ever come to Asia is watching a couple horribly dubbed wire-fu movies.

#reply #anon #television #cobra kai #in this essay i will

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sherewrytes · 10 days ago

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“Still Got It” Jospeh Joestar x Black reader

This is the second winner of the lil 1k poll I did so here's some short and sweet for the JJBA fans. If you guys want me to write for more characters you can comment or just ask me.

Summary - Joseph Joestar isn’t new to the game — just divorced, forty-something, and out for a drink with the boys when he meets her: sharp-tongued, stunning, and far too unfazed by his usual charm.

She wasn’t looking for anything either… but one smirk turns to banter, a touch turns to heat, and suddenly she’s in his penthouse with his hands on her waist, wondering if one night with a man like him might ruin all others.

C.W: 🔞 One-shot. Joseph Joestar x Black!Reader Tags: age gap (5 yrs), post-divorce Joseph, flirtation turned smut, oral (f & m), slow strokes, deep strokes, praise, rough tenderness, aftercare,

“Damn, Joe, you ain't even hearin’ me,” Avdol said, nudging him with the edge of his glass. “You too busy tryna eye-fuck that woman from across the room.”

Joseph didn’t look away. “That obvious, huh?”

Polnareff chuckled in that exaggerated way only he could. “Mon dieu, you’ve been staring at her since we sat down. Be a man! Go say something! You are not dead yet.”

“I just got divorced,” Joseph muttered, running a hand down his face. “I'm not trying to scare off some innocent woman with my sad-ass energy and bad joints.”

Avdol raised a brow. “You forget how to flirt? You used to make half the hotel staff fall in love with you by breakfast.”

“Used to,” Joseph grinned, sipping from his glass. “Now I just scare people’s daughters.”

“That woman ain’t nobody’s daughter,” Avdol murmured, eyes cutting toward YN with respect. “That’s a grown-ass woman if I ever seen one.”

Joseph glanced again. She was seated at the bar, legs crossed, drink in hand, a calm, knowing smirk pulling at her lips. Like she knew she was being watched and didn’t mind.

And yeah—she looked grown. Elegant. Low-cut black dress, locs pulled back, gold jewelry against warm skin. She didn’t look like the type to play games. And maybe that was the point.

“She’d eat you alive,” Polnareff said helpfully.

Joseph stood. “Good. I’m starving.”

He approached smooth—well, smoother than a 6'5" man in his forties with combat boots and a bad back could be. He didn’t try to be subtle. Just walked over, leaned one elbow against the bar, and nodded at the bartender.

“Whatever she’s having,” he said, then turned to her. “Unless you’re drinking poison. In which case—I’ll take a double.”

YN side-eyed him.

“Wow,” she said. “You walked over here rehearsing that?”

Joseph laughed, full-chested and shameless. “Nah. I improvise.”

She looked him up and down. That voice was low. Gravelly. American, but not. Old-school. The type of man who probably smelled like whiskey and leather and didn’t believe in therapy.

“And what made you think this was a good idea?”

He grinned. “The way you’ve been staring at me for the last twenty minutes.”

She raised her brow. “You real confident for somebody who looks like he just got divorced.”

He almost choked laughing. “Damn. So it’s obvious?”

“You been sitting there with two loud-ass friends dressed like Bond villains. Everything about y’all is obvious.”

Joseph leaned in, grinning wider. “But you didn’t leave.”

YN met his eyes for the first time fully. “I was waitin’ to see how corny you’d be.”

“And?”

“...You ain’t disappoint.”

Joseph sipped his drink, still standing a little close. He was tall—ridiculously tall—leaned on one elbow like his body hadn’t creaked on the way up. His biceps flexed slightly under the rolled-up sleeves of a black shirt, top two buttons undone like he forgot they existed.

YN glanced at the bartender, then back at him. “So what, you just come up to women and... what? Try to charm 'em with dad jokes and forearm veins?”

He smirked. “Hey, I’m not just a pair of forearms, sweetheart. I’m a man of substance.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Mmm. And what exactly is the substance?”

He leaned a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Mostly sarcasm and trauma.”

She laughed despite herself, covering it with her glass. “At least you’re honest.”

Joseph grinned. “And you? You just sit at the bar, roasting men like a contact sport?”

“Only when they make it easy.” She sipped slow. “You walked over here like you knew I was gon’ give you my number.”

“Didn’t say I knew. Said I hoped.” He gave a dramatic shrug. “But hey, even if I walk away empty-handed, I get to say I flirted with the finest woman in this whole damn place.”

“Flirted?” she echoed. “Is that what this is?”

“You tell me.”

She looked him over. “You don’t seem like you’re used to being told no.”

“I don’t mind hearing it,” he said, resting a hand against the bar, “as long as I earned it.”

“And what exactly would you be earning?”

He leaned just a little closer—his voice still playful, but his eyes more serious now. “A night of your time. Maybe your smile again. If I’m lucky? A chance to actually get to know the woman behind the sharp tongue.”

YN squinted slightly, narrowing her eyes. “You tryna be sincere now?”

Joseph tilted his head. “Would it kill you if I was?”

“No,” she smirked, “but I’d have to rearrange the mental image I made of you. You were giving washed-up player with a tragic backstory and a ‘pull-out game strong in the ‘80s’ kinda vibe.”

Joseph howled. Loud, unfiltered, from deep in his chest—like he couldn’t help it. A few people turned, but he didn’t care. He leaned against the bar, wiping his eye.

“Okay—okay! That was cold,” he chuckled, “but also... painfully accurate.”

“Thought so.”

He took a breath, still smiling. “Alright then. Your turn. What do you do, Miss Mystery? Besides mentally drag middle-aged men in nice shirts.”

She shrugged. “Digital marketing. And professional man-doubter.”

Joseph nodded slowly. “You know, I’ve fought ancient vampires, psychic serial killers, and one really angry gorilla. But you? You might be the final boss.”

YN smirked. “You ain't seen my final form yet, gramps.”

He blinked. “Gramps? You wound me.”

“Don’t act like you ain’t pushing 50.”

“I’m forty-six!”

“Oh damn. Let me guess—divorced, one daughter, probably lives with her mom in Japan?”

Joseph blinked slowly, straightening. “...That’s oddly specific.”

She just raised her glass again. “I’m good at reading people.”

“Or stalking.”

She grinned. “Same difference.”

He chuckled again, slower this time. Then added, with a lower tone: “You’re a trip, you know that?”

“I’m a one-way flight. No layovers.”

“Oof,” he said, clutching his chest, “I think I’m in love.”

YN looked him up and down again. “...You really gonna stand there and flirt until I invite you to sit, huh?”

Joseph blinked like he’d been caught out. “I didn’t wanna assume.”

She patted the empty stool beside her without looking. “Sit down, Joestar.”

Joseph settled onto the barstool beside her, a little too close for casual, but not close enough to call bold. His cologne was subtle—clean, musky, just expensive enough to tell he had taste but not a superiority complex. He rested his glass between two fingers and leaned in just a touch.

"You always this mean to guys you like?" he asked, voice low and playful.

She didn't look at him immediately. "I’m not sure I like you yet."

"You’re still talkin’ to me."

“That could just be pity.”

He smirked. “Or curiosity.”

YN hummed, finally meeting his eyes. "You talk like a man who still gets numbers off vibes alone."

Joseph’s grin curled into something softer. “I used to. Now I just hope the vibe sticks long enough to matter.”

That made her pause—not a full stop, but the air shifted. Her brow quirked. “You always drop cryptic gems like that mid-convo?”

He swirled the amber in his glass. “Only when I mean ‘em.”

She leaned back slightly, assessing. “You good, old man?”

“I’m decent,” he said. Then glanced at her. “But lately? I’ve been tired of starting over. Small talk. Polite laughs. Pretending I don’t give a damn when I do.”

That caught her. No sarcasm, no smirk. Just honest, stripped-down Joseph Joestar. She blinked, lips parting a bit like she had a comeback forming—but it didn’t land. Not yet.

“…Damn,” she muttered finally, then sipped her drink. “You just gon’ hit me with depth like that between the jokes?”

He chuckled, back to easy again. “What can I say? I’m complex.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He turned toward her, his voice lowering again. “And you? You’re quick. Sharp. Too smart to waste time.”

She tilted her head. “Is that supposed to flatter me?”

“It’s supposed to say,” he said, eyes locking with hers, “that if I didn’t show up tonight, I’d never have known someone like you even existed. And that’s the kinda thought that keeps a man up at night.”

Her lips parted again, this time in surprise—and something warm flickered in her stomach. She laughed quietly, looking away for a second like she had to ground herself.

“...Alright, Joestar,” she murmured, meeting his eyes again. “You might be dangerous.”

Joseph smiled, slow and steady. “Takes one to know one.”

She didn’t move away. Neither did he.

the valet pulled up in a sleek, custom forest green Bentley—paint so deep it looked like wet glass under the streetlamps. YN blinked once. Then twice.

“This you?” she asked, brow raised.

Joseph casually took the keys. “You expected a Prius?”

“I expected Uber. Maybe a Maybach if you were being cocky. This is… classic.”

He walked over, opened the passenger door himself, and gave her a crooked grin. “So you are impressed.”

“I didn’t say all that.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s in your voice.”

She slid in, catching the scent of rich leather and subtle oud. Everything inside was quiet. Warm. Controlled. Like it had never been driven with a drop of chaos.

He got in, one hand on the wheel, one on the gear—gold rings glinting as the streetlights streaked across the windshield.

“You’re a smooth bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

He grinned without looking at her. “And you love it.”

IN THE CAR – 15 MINUTES LATER

They’re rolling through an upscale neighborhood, hills curving like sculpture around them. YN notices the gates first—tall and black with subtle gold inlay. They open before Joseph even touches a remote.

“Automatic?” she asked.

“Magnetic signature,” he replied, casual. “Picks up my plates when I’m close.”

She chuckled. “You tryna flex or nah?”

“I’m always flexing,” he said, finally glancing at her. “But only when I mean it.”

JOSEPH’S PLACE – A MODERN VINTAGE DREAM

The house sat wide and proud, not tall. Long stretches of glass, soft warm lights glowing from inside. When he opened the front door, it smelled like cedarwood, old books, and something faintly spicy.

YN stepped in slow, taking it all in. Hardwood floors. Low jazz playing from somewhere. A decanter set on a marble bar. Framed photos of Joseph with people in places she couldn’t even name. An original Basquiat hung crooked on one wall like he didn’t even care it was worth more than most people’s lives.

“You livin’ like this?” she asked, spinning in place a little.

Joseph shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a curved brass hook. “I live like I’ve already died once. No point pretending I don’t enjoy what I worked for.”

“Died once?”

He stepped in close. “Long story. For another night. If you come back.”

She smirked. “You this smooth with every woman?”

“Nope. Just the ones who sit that close and talk back.”

KITCHEN / LIVING ROOM – WINE POURED, MUSIC TURNED LOW

He handed her a glass, leaned against the marble island while she perched on the leather barstool.

“You nervous?” he asked.

She tilted her head. “You want me to be?”

“I want you honest.”

She sipped. “I’m not nervous. Just curious how long you plan to keep acting like this isn’t leading somewhere.”

Joseph chuckled, deep and real. “Right to the point.”

“You’re not exactly shy, Joestar.”

“Fair,” he said. Then paused, just for a beat. “So tell me what you want. Not just what you’re expecting.”

That made her shift. He wasn’t playing anymore—there was a subtle drop in his tone. Less banter, more intention. The way he was looking at her now? Heat. Pure, quiet heat.

She blinked, lips parted slightly. “...Right now?”

“Right now,” he echoed.

YN leaned in just a little, glass resting in her palm. “Right now I want you to stop pretending you’re not already undressing me with your eyes.”

Joseph took a slow sip of his wine, then set the glass down.

“I undressed you the second I saw you.”

Then he walked toward her—slow, no rush—like a man who didn’t chase, because everything came to him eventually.

JOSEPH’S BEDROOM — WARM LIGHTS, COOL SHEETS, HEAVY AIR

He led her through the hallway, hand barely brushing her lower back. The hallway was quiet. The kind of quiet that made every breath between them feel louder than it should.

His room was massive, but not cold. Earth tones. A low bed with soft white sheets pulled tight. The curtains moved gently with the breeze. A leather-bound journal on the nightstand. The scent of sandalwood clung to the space like it had lived there forever.

Joseph stopped, turned, and kissed her. This time, no teasing. No talking. His lips caught hers slow but sure, like he was claiming her finally, and wasn't rushing it. His hand cupped the back of her neck, the other sliding down to the curve of her waist.

She let herself melt into it. He kissed like a man who knew his mouth was good.

She felt his breath deepen against her lips, and then he broke the kiss to murmur, voice low and warm, “Let me take care of you tonight.”

He laid her back like he was setting something precious down. Didn't just strip her — he unwrapped her. Fingers trailing skin, kisses pressed to collarbones, nipping gently. His hands were everywhere, but never rushed.

Joseph knelt between her thighs, spreading them with a quiet reverence.

She expected teasing.

She got none.

He buried his face between her legs like he’d been waiting weeks for the taste. Slow, wet, deliberate licks that had her hips rising from the bed, her fingers threading into his hair with a gasp.

He held her thighs apart with those strong hands and kept going. First one climax — then a second that had her shaking, barely able to breathe, voice caught between begging and moaning his name like a whispered prayer.

When she finally caught her breath, he moved up her body, kissing her belly, her breasts, the hollow of her throat.

Her turn.

She slid down his body, worshipful, lips and hands moving slow as he leaned back, breath already rough. She tasted him, teasing at first — just her tongue, just a stroke — then full, deep, eyes locked on his. He cursed in that deep, gravel voice, hips flexing, hand brushing her cheek like he couldn’t believe how good she felt.

But he didn’t let her finish.

He grabbed her gently by the waist, lifted her back up to him, and laid her down.

“I'm not gonna last if you keep that up.”

He kissed her again, forehead against hers as he settled between her thighs. He was big — she knew it — and he moved slow at first. Patient. Letting her feel all of him. Letting her adjust. His forehead rested against hers, eyes locked on hers.

“Breathe,” he murmured, voice hoarse, kissing her jaw. “You’re doing so good for me.”

The first few strokes were deep, smooth, careful.

But the more she moaned for him, the more her nails dug into his back, the more he lost control.

He pulled out suddenly, flipped her over like it was nothing, and pulled her hips back into him, one hand on her ass, the other gripping her shoulder.

“Now,” he growled, breath hot against her ear, “I’m gonna make you feel me.”

And he did.

This wasn’t slow anymore — it was rough, deep, possessive. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed off the walls. Her breath caught. He was hitting so deep, her voice broke into a whimper. He leaned over her back, whispering right into her ear.

“You take it so well, baby.”

“You feel that?”

She nodded, moaning, forehead to the pillow.

“I said do you feel that?”

“Yes! Oh my—Joseph, yes—”

He slapped her ass, just once, and grabbed her throat from behind, gently but firm. His rhythm didn’t break. Just got filthier. Her name was a growl in his throat, again and again.

His hand stayed locked at the base of her throat, keeping her back arched as he pounded into her. Her thighs trembled, knees slipping on the sheets, but he didn’t let her fall.

“Nah, don’t run from it now,” Joseph rasped behind her, voice low and thick, hips snapping against her ass with a clap that echoed off the high ceilings. “You wanted real, didn’t you?”

She choked out a moan, loud and half-broken.

He leaned in, chest to her back, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You sound so fuckin’ pretty like this. All whiny for me. This pussy’s grippin’ like you don’t want me to stop.”

She gasped something like please — whether she meant more or slow down, even she didn’t know anymore.

His answer was a grunt, and another sharp thrust that had her screaming into the mattress.

He pulled her hair back gently, arching her further, and whispered rough and breathless:

“Gonna cum again, ain’t you? That’s it… fuck, look at you—”

She clenched around him and he felt it. Her whole body shook, the sound she let out ragged and high, legs trembling so hard he had to hold her upright by her waist. Her climax hit like a wave — violent, overwhelming, nearly folded her. But he kept going.

“Oh, you thought I was done?” he teased, panting. “Nah, I told you. I’m gonna fill you up, baby.”

Her body was limp — pleasure-drunk, barely able to hold herself up, mouth open in a soft, spent moan — and that was what did it.

He drove in deep — hips flush to hers, staying buried as he groaned her name into her skin.

“Shit… fuck—YN—!”

He spilled inside her, grip tight, voice rough and needy. One last roll of his hips, deeper, slower, like he wanted her to feel all of it. And she did. Warmth spread through her, legs shaking, toes curling from the aftershocks.

They stayed like that — breathing hard, tangled together, chest to her back, his lips against her neck, whispering:

“You’re fuckin’ unreal…”

He eased out of her slowly, watching the way her body twitched. Her thighs were slick, messy, and her whole back was marked with the way his fingers had held her.

Joseph laid her down gently, turning her over to face him. Her lashes fluttered, dazed and exhausted, but she still managed a breathless little smirk.

“You tryna kill me, old man?”

He chuckled, real low, brushing a hand through her hair and kissing her temple.

“Nah,” he murmured, voice tender now. “You just make me forget how old I am.”

She smiled, slow and lazy, resting a hand on his chest. “So why you act so smooth but distant all the damn time?”

He looked down at her — a little sheepish, a little honest — and shrugged.

“‘Cause you do too much.”

She blinked. Then smacked his chest. “You do too little!”

Joseph laughed, full and loud this time, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles to make up for it.

“Aight, aight. Fair. But let me make it up to you.”

He pulled her close again, already hardening against her thigh.

“You up for round two?”

She moaned, half-complaint, half-invitation. “You’re insane…”

“But you like it.”

#black tumblr #black reader #sherewrytes #jjba x blackreader #jjba x reader #jjba joseph #joseph joestar x reader

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yang4ever · 10 months ago

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do u believe in luv and basketball? ⋆🏀₊˚⊹ ♡ 🎧

liu yangyang of wayv (eek yay) x fem!reader

💌 part of the soft !hobbies with wayv! series im currently writing.. just mini stories abt wayv and their favorite things + their fav girl (you, duh). more soon~!

w.c. 882! so.. about 5-7 minutes of ur time hehe

content - fluff + hurt-comfort, long-distance bf!yangyang, reader is referred to as "girlfriend" "pretty girl" & "princess", mild cursing, winwin = sicheng, yangyang lives in germany for this one lol, (for like one sec) BASKETBALL BF YANGYANG:3

get a girlfriend, they said. it'll be fun, they said.

and it is... most of the time.

but right now, yangyang thinks it's the least fun it has ever been… owing to your current study abroad.

you didn’t want to take it, not really– what would happen to you and him? but he insisted because god, if it wasn’t a good ass opportunity for you and your dream job.

so, you sniffled your way through the security line at the airport, and yangyang always wakes up wishing it was already the next day, just so he’d be one day closer to your homecoming.

and at this very moment?

he’s here on the phone with you, recalling his afternoon spent with sicheng. hoping that maybe this time you wouldn’t fall asleep because of the time difference.

“hm. he sounds really bad, babe.” you say sleepily into the phone and yangyang feels that familiar ache in his chest he’s learned comes with missing you.

“he was! he really was!” the male responds, letting out a soft sigh.

he shifts around his bed, finding comfort as he settles into the space where you would usually be. the darkness of his bedroom feels like it's enveloping him in more ways than one tonight. “i was actually cooking him...”

yangyang pauses when he hears you yawn on the other line and then the rustling of what must be you snuggling more deeply into your blanket.

it’s barely 7pm in germany but it’s already a little past midnight at your over 5,000 mile away dorm. he knows you must be struggling to stay awake and in his most logical mind, he should be letting his pretty girl go to sleep.

but when you mumble, “why’d you stop, baby? keep going..” he can’t help but give into his want to keep talking to you.

“i took this kind of long shot, y/n... it’s called a 2-pointer.. i swear, if you had seen it, you would’ve been like, ‘what the hell?’ because it was really that cool…”

“i wish i could’ve seen it too, yangie.” your voice carries a hint of wistfulness even through the phone and yangyang’s stomach twists at the thought of you missing him too.

“me too... it’s a lot more fun for me when you’re watching me play. you know that, right, princess?”

“really?” you sound so sweetly hopeful and yangyang’s smile is almost audible as he replies, his tone warm and affectionate. “yeah, dummy. you make everything more fun.”

“and?” you say suspiciously and he laughs a little. “i mean… i get my own personal cheerleader…”

you groan despite your boyfriend now laughing for real at his own lame joke. he's cute and it makes it hard for you to keep a straight face, but alas, you persist.

“you have such an ego on you, liu yangyang,” you roll your eyes, forgetting he can’t see you do it. “and you're corny too. it is so over for you when sicheng gets good at basketball… or gets a girlfriend…”

“oh shit!” yangyang’s laughter fades into a sudden excitement that rings out over your speakerphone. “i forgot to tell you… unless… you’re already halfway asleep..?” his voice takes on a slightly mischievous tone, tugging you out of your drowsy haze.

“ugh, you’re dumbbbbb,” you whine, playfully dragging out the syllable in feigned annoyance.

but safe to say, your curiosity is piqued despite the heaviness of your eyelids.

“what is it?" you ask.

"wait. tell me you love me first," yangyang demands earnestly and you gawk at the unexpected request through the line.

"oh, you're crazy."

"what? i can't ask my girlfriend to tell me that she loves me?" your boyfriend teases, and for once, you're glad for the distance between you two, knowing he would've been all over the blush quickly creeping up your neck and cheeks.

"i just don't wanna blow up your already huge ego," you defend and he snickers.

"how about you tell me first," you hum quietly, fiddling with the edge of your blanket.

you wonder if he can detect the hopefulness in your voice-- you'd never admit it but you actually really do want to hear those words from him right now, the thought making you feel all glowy inside and suddenly shy at the prospect of turning his request back on him.

"yeah, okay." yangyang agrees easily. "i love you."

at those three words, you can't help the smile that blooms across your features or the way your tummy starts swarming with butterflies. is it a confession you've heard many times over? yes. does the amount of times you hear it do anything to calm the way your heart beats quaint with longing? no, never.

"make sure you're not meeting any hot singles who can cook, ok? i want you to come home to me," yangyang continues his sentiments to you. he keeps his tone light but you think the subtle crack at the end of his sentence gives him away. "i miss you a lot."

"i won't! i love you, too. so much." you admit in a rush, hoping your boyfriend can't sense the dull ache tinged in your words.

for a moment, you almost say that without him, you wouldn't really have a home to return to.

a.n. - wow first tumblr post!!! i've been on the platform, reading fanfiction since january of 23'. i wrote this work in one sitting last month and ive been re-editing it slowly ever since then. it's not my favorite thing in the world if im being honest but i just want to put myself out here lol. i love thinking up random stories in my head.. and now my stories are urs too!! send me stuff if u wanttt i stan a lot of groups i think

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ THANK YOU for reading my words hahahahaha also bruh basketball is barely mentioned in here wtf .

+ the lowercase used throughout the story is a stylistic choice because i find it pretty. the highlighted sentences too:)!

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jupitersnewmoon · 8 months ago

Text

Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider...Han?

Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider...Han? - Minsung Spiderman/College AU

ଳ Jisung likes to think he's very good at keeping his identity a secret but Minho can recognize that waist anywhere.

ଳ chapter 4 - Someone Call An Exorcist

ଳ cw - depictions of v!olence, swearing, gays being gays, Jisung is kind of a stalker, light angst because I'm a wuss, hurt/comfort, no smut... unless, a little corny, minsung, chanlix, hyunbin

ଳ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

When Minho opened his eyes he was greeted with the sound of Hyunjin whisper yelling something incoherent in the kitchen and the smell of something burning. He figured his two roommates were trying to make him something akin to breakfast in bed due to yesterday's events but as to be expected, it didn’t seem to be going very well.

Minho has always gotten on his friends asses for their proper use of the terms ‘baking’ and ‘cooking’ because if Felix texts him he’s baking something Minho will impatiently wait all day for whatever masterpiece Felix will pull out of the oven. But if Felix says he’s cooking something he’ll have the fire department on speed dial and amazon open and ready to buy whatever kitchen supplies he destroys in the process. It’s almost comical the way Felix is so extraordinary at baking but the second you take away the oven and flour all his common sense seems to disappear along with the ingredients.

Minho can poke fun at Felix’s lack of cooking skills all he wants but he knows that he’s gonna eat whatever burnt monstrosity comes through his door. Felix will ask how it is and Minho will lie through his teeth and tell him it’s the best thing he’s ever had. Not because he’s scared he’ll hurt Felix’s feelings but because Felix took the time to make it. Because Felix cares enough about him to try and cheer him up after he had a hard day. Minho will eat it all and love it because it’s Felix.

As if on cue Minho hears knocking at his door.

“Come in,” Minho says raspily sitting up in his bed.

Hyunjin enters first with a look on his face that tells Minho all he needs to know about how their little cooking adventure went. Felix follows in after with the breakfast tray in hand and a smile as bright as the sun on his face.

“We know you had a rough day yesterday, so we thought we’d make you some breakfast in bed!” Felix beams walking over to Minho’s bed.

Minho looks down at the tray and see’s what seems to be a sunny side up egg that turned into more of a scrambled one, hash browns that are more black then brown, and french toast that's so soggy he’s pretty sure they forgot to cook it after they soaked it.

“Thank you,” Minho whispers looking up at Felix with watery eyes.

Felix’s smile somehow grows even brighter and Minho has to fight the urge not to squint. Felix sets the tray in Minho’s lap and pats his head.

“We’re gonna head to school in a little, think you’re feeling up to it?” Hyunjin questions as he walks over to the other side of Minho’s bed.

School had not crossed Minho’s mind since he left it yesterday and the thought of sitting through a lecture actually sounded the worst thing that could ever happen to him. Well maybe not worse than that mechanical squidward coming back to finish the job, but it was a close second.

“Ah, I don’t think so-” Minho starts but is interrupted by Felix letting out a loud and dramatic gasp.

“OH MY GOD WHAT'S THAT!?” Felix squeals as he runs up to Minho’s window.

Hyunjin and Minho watch in curiosity as Felix climbs up on the desk that sits directly in front of Minho’s window. Felix slides it open and hangs his body slightly outside the window to grab something. Hyunjin gasps and runs to hold Felix’s waist to make sure he doesn’t lose his balance and fall out.

Due to the two bodies covering up most of the window Minho is unable to see what Felix was trying to reach. He feels a small pit in his stomach start to form as he thinks about what it could possibly be. Had that deranged man come in the middle of the night and left something on his window as some sort of warning?

What was probably only ten seconds felt like hours as Felix struggled to reach whatever he saw. Minho could vaguely hear the sound of Hyunjin nagging Felix to be more careful but everything sounded so distorted as his mind raced coming up with worst case scenarios.

After a few more grueling seconds Felix made a sound of victory and made his way back inside. Felix didn’t bother getting off the desk as he examined whatever he had found. He had his back turned towards Minho who was still in bed so he was unable to see.

Hyunjin peaked his head over Felix’s shoulder to get a look at what Felix was holding. The two boys were silent for a moment until they slowly turned their heads to look at each other.

Minho held his breath awaiting the worst when he heard probably the most ear piercing screech come out of both the boys. Minho winced as the two boys started making incoherent noises in a pitch only dogs could hear. Felix playfully smacked Hyunjins arm as they continued with their high pitch squeals. Minho, still having not seen what was on the window, started to grow impatient.

“Are you guys gonna show me what you found or are you just trying to piss off every dog on the block?” Minho questioned as he looked between the two boys.

Minho knew he’d regret asking right after he said it.

They both turned their heads toward Minho and adorned evil smirks. Minho raised his eyebrows and shifted slightly at their unsettling gaze.

“Actually scratch that, I no longer want to know,” Minho said as he side eyed the two before looking down at his breakfast.

“Oh so should we just throw away this note from Spider-Man?” Hyunjin asked innocently.

Minho, who had just picked up his fork, stopped completely in his tracks. He turned his head to look at Hyunjin so fast he’s pretty sure he heard it crack.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Minho warned as he eyed Hyunjin trying to figure out if he was lying or not.

“We’re not lying but hey if you don’t want it we can always just toss it back out the window,” Felix replied nonchalantly as he held the sticky note outside the window.

Scientists and priests around the world still are unsure how Sonic himself managed to possess Minho in that moment as he launched off the bed at record speed and damn near dove out of the window to grab the note.

Hyunjin threw his head back and laughed hysterically while Felix yelped in surprise as Minho basically teleported from his bed to on top of the desk in a flash. Minho yanked the sticky note from Felix and gently cradled it in his hands as if it were his first born.

All that was on the note was a drawing of Spider-Man’s head with a little heart next to it. They say a picture is worth a thousand words and for the first time Minho finally truly understands what they mean. On the outside Minho probably looked almost bored by the contents of the note but on the inside he was kicking his feet, twirling his hair, and squealing like a damn schoolgirl.

Unfortunately for him, Hyunjin and Felix knew him well enough to look at his ears to see his true reaction. What they found were his ears turning an almost comical shade of red.

Hyunjin and Felix squealed again at their friends’ reaction and started teasing the older.

“Oh my god Min you’re so whipped it’s adorable!” Hyunjin teases.

“Awee you’re getting all red you must really like him Min that’s so cute!” Felix coo’s.

Minho doesn’t have it in him to bite back at his friends like he usually would. All he can think about is how Spider-Man checked up on him last night to ensure he was safe. Minho wondered if it was a little pathetic to be this affected by a sticky note with just two little doodles on it but he couldn’t stop the butterflies from swirling inside him like a tornado.

“Hold on, we should frame this!” Felix says hopping off the desk and running out of the room.

Hyunjin and Minho chuckle when they hear Felix rummaging through boxes trying to find a suitable frame for something so small. While Felix is distracted Hyunjin takes this opportunity to talk to Minho.

“So how are you feeling, like actually feeling?” Hyunjin questions resting a comforting hand on Minho’s shoulder.

“I don’t know honestly. It feels like some weird dream I had but the fear of that evil Hrank wannabe coming back to finish what he started is what’s really getting to me.” Minho answers honestly.

“Hmm yeah I could see-, wait who the fuck is Hank?” Hyunjin asks.

“You know, the octopus from Finding Dory,” Minho answers matter of factly.

“Okay, respect, anyways, I think you should probably take today to just rest. Sure you didn’t receive any physical injuries but the mental effect this can have on someone is no joke. Also don’t feel like you have to fight this alone, you know Felix and I are always here for you. Whether that’s to listen to you talk, sleep in our rooms, or even make you barely edible breakfast. There’s still police patrolling the block and I’m sure Spider-Man is somewhere nearby. And of course if you want me to stay with you today I would be more than happy too. Please just take care of yourself and let us know how you’re feeling. We want to be there for you.”.

“Thank you Jinnie, seriously. But you’re not getting out of class that easily, I’ll be okay here by myself,” Minho says with a small smile as he squeezes Hyunjin’s knee.

“Worth a shot,” Hyunjin sighs and squeezes Minho’s shoulder comfortingly.

Hyunjin knows Minho took what he said to heart without him having to say it. Minho wasn’t a man of many words but they’re close enough to understand each other without needing to speak.

Felix bursts back into the room with a small picture frame in hand and slightly out of breath.

“It took me a while to find one that was close enough to its size but I figured we could just put a piece of paper behind it or something to fill the empty space!” Felix explains excitedly while he approaches his two friends.

Minho and Hyunjin watch with fond smiles as Felix places the sticky note and a similarly colored piece of paper gently into the frame. With the way Felix is handling the note you would think it’s worth millions of dollars and to Minho it is. Not only is it the first tangible thing he’s ever received from Spider-Man it’s also a confirmation that he’s staying true to his promise. Spider-Man is keeping him safe.

After Felix is happy with the placement he secures the frame and holds it up to show his friends like he’s a young boy who’s showing his parents his first ever art project.

“Thank you Lix, where should we put it?” Minho asks, indulging the younger.

Felix hums to himself deep in thought as he scans over Minho’s room. Hyunjin and Minho chuckle to themselves at how serious Felix is taking this.

Felix’s eyes light up as he sees Minho’s bedside table. Felix skips over to the table and places the frame down and positions it to face in the direction of Minho’s bed.

“There! Now it will be the last thing you see before you fall asleep and the first thing you see when you wake up!” Felix exclaimed very clearly proud of himself.

Hyunjin laughs while Minho’s ears start to turn red again.

“Don’t worry Min, I’m sure soon you’ll have the real thing to wake up to every morning,” Hyunjin teases while he hops off the desk.

Felix laughs this time while Minho swats at the back of Hyunjins head. Hyunjin ducks out of the way and sticks his tongue out at Minho.

Minho grabs some of the tissues that were on his desk and starts running toward Hyunjin. Hyunjin lets out a high pitched scream as he turns around and bolts out of the room. Minho stays hot on his heels as Felix is curled up on the floor laughing hysterically at the two. After a few minutes of chasing each other around the apartment Minho grabs hold of Hyunjin and wrestles him onto the floor in the hallway.

“FELIX SAVE ME!” Hyunjin yells thrashing around trying to get out of Minho’s grip.

Felix walks out of Minho’s room hunched over and clutching his stomach still laughing.

Hyunjin is laid out on his back while Minho straddles his abdomen. Minho uses his thighs to keep Hyunjins arms strapped to his sides and unable to properly fight back.

“WAIT MINHO STOP THIS ISN’T YOU!” Felix yells in between laughs.

Minho raises the hand he’s holding the tissues with and gets ready to shove them in Hyunjins mouth. Before Minho can seek his revenge he’s interrupted by someone faking a cough from across the hall.

All three boys turn their heads and see Chan, Changbin, and Jeongin standing across the hall looking between the boys with amused smiles.

Chan and Changbin are leaning on opposing walls with their arms crossed while Jeongin stands between them.

“Hope we’re not interrupting,” Changbin says, smirking at the three boys.

While Minho is distracted Hyunjin uses his chance to throw the older off of him. Minho lands on his side with a huff as Hyunjin scrambles to his feet. Felix is holding back a laugh as a blush creeps across Hyunjin’s face at Changbin’s suggestive tone. Minho rolls over to face the other three boys and props the side of his head on his hand.

“So harassing Hyunjin at school wasn’t enough you've resorted to breaking and entering Binnie?” Minho innocently asks Changbin.

It’s now Changbin’s turn to blush and he turns his head towards the floor.

“No, we just wanted to check up on you and we ran into Jeongin outside and he said he had a key so he let us in,” Changbin pouts quietly.

Felix can no longer contain his laugh due to Changbin’s expression and the rest of the boys join in.

Once the laughter starts to die down, Chan pushes himself off the wall and walks to where Minho is still on his side. He squats down and scans his eyes over Minho’s body.

“Like what you see?” Minho teases.

Chan just chuckles at him and pats his head.

“How are you feeling?” Chan questions softly.

“Good, for the most part,” Minho replies with a sigh.

“Well if you ever need or want to talk about anything you know I’m always here,” Chan assures him with a soft smile.

“Thanks old man,” Minho teases with an equally soft smile.

“You wanna go through another traumatic event?” Chan warns with the most menacing glare he can muster up. It doesn’t scare Minho though, he can see the smile Chan’s trying to fight back.

Minho and the others laugh at Chan’s “threat” as Changbin joins the two on the ground.

“So what was it like being saved by Spider-Man?” Changbin asks.

Minho doesn’t see the way Chan sends an actual warning glare to Changbin as he’s too busy trying to fight the redness threatening to overtake his ears again. Jeongin perks up at the mention of Spider-Man and joins the boys huddled up around Minho.

“What was it like web swinging!?” Jeongin questions excitedly.

“Were Spider-Man’s arms comfortable?” Changbin teases as he notices Minho getting redder by the second.

“Awe look! Min’s almost as red as Spider-Man’s suit,” Jeongin teases as he ruffles Minho’s hair.

Minho sends Jeongin a look so deadly the poor boy's soul nearly left his body. He leapt up from his spot by Minho with a tiny yelp and ran to cower behind Hyunjin. Hyunjin wraps his arms around Jeongin and pushes his head into his chest while he sways the boy back and forth.

“Leave my baby alone,” Hyunjin pleads dramatically.

“Tell your baby to shut his mouth before he finds out what happens to you when you say something stupid,” Minho threatened unseriously.

Hyunjin and Jeongin both dramatically shivered at Minho’s empty threat. Minho was about to get up and chase the two until Changbin put the back of his hand on Minho’s cheek and smirked evilly at him.

“I don’t know Min, the kids got a point. Why are you turning so red? Don’t tell me you got a thing for the little bug boy?” Changbin asked tauntingly.

Chan lightly smacked the back of Changbins head and tsked at him.

“Okay that’s enough if we don’t get a move on we’re all gonna be late let’s go,” Chan ordered the group.

Chan and Changbin stood up while Hyunjin very reluctantly let Jeongin, who was at this point gasping for air from the older’s tight hold, go. Chan was about to walk back down the hall when he noticed Minho still sitting on the floor.

“You coming?” Chan asked as he reached his hand out for Minho to use.

Minho gratefully used Chan as leverage to stand as he moaned and groaned the whole way up.

“Pft, yeah and I’m the old man,” Chan muttered under his breath.

“This conversation is so not over,” Changbin whispered from behind Minho who jumped at the younger's sudden presence.

Hyunjin giggled at his friends banter as he grabbed Minho’s shoulder and turned them both to walk towards Minho’s room.

“Come on old man, let's get you back to bed,” Hyunjin joked.

The other four boys turned to look at the two as they made their way further down the hall. Sensing their stares Hyunjin looked back and spoke again.

“Minho’s not going to school today, he’s gonna take it easy. Don’t ask if he wants someone to stay with him, I already tried that.”

Minho turned around but before he could expose Hyunjin for just wanting to skip class he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. A little startled, he looked down and found Jeongin wrapped tightly around his torso. It took a second to click but once it did Minho reciprocated the hug and smiled.

“Stay safe Min,” Jeongin murmured into Minho’s chest.

“You know, since I won’t be at practice today, someone's going to need to fill in for me,” Minho says, slightly pulling away from the younger to look in his eyes.

Jeongin looks at Minho with widened eyes and tilts his head questioningly.

“Someone’s gonna need to hold those losers accountable and well Jinnie and Felix are kind of soft captains so how’d you like to be one of the captains today? Hold down the fort until I get back?” Minho proposed.

“I, uh, me? You want me to be a captain while you’re gone?” Jeongin asks in disbelief.

“I don’t think there's anyone better,” Minho stated truthfully.

Despite Jeongin being one of the newer members of the dance team no one could deny the boy’s raw talent. He had a way of grasping everyone in the room's attention on and off stage. Not to mention he was far more mature than half the team. Minho saw himself in Jeongin and knew the boy was going to go on to do great things. He meant every word he said when he told Jeongin that there was no one better to fill his role even for just a day. Jeongin was always the first one to offer help to anyone who needed it just like Minho. He spends hours in the studio perfecting routines alongside Minho. He could be strict or gentle when needed just like Minho. Damn, maybe Jeongin was Minho’s kid.

“Yes, yes, yes of course, I’d love to! I promise I won’t let you down!” Jeongin exclaimed excitedly, letting Minho go to give a salute.

“I know you won’t,” Minho replied, giving a small salute in return.

Jeongin turned around and skipped down the hall excitedly towards the others. The other three boys laughed at how Jeongin was practically bouncing off the walls with joy.

“See ya Min, call us if you need anything!” Chan says as the four boys continue their way to the door.

“Even if it’s just to fluff your pillow or something, we’re always here for you!” Felix adds.

“Later bug lover try not to get kidnapped!” Changbin ribbed while Chan smacked the back of his head again.

Changbin let out a dramatic groan and held the back of his head and whined. Before he could complain Felix interrupted.

“Oh by the way, where's Sungie?” Felix questioned Chan.

“Ah he stayed up super late last night to finish something and was super exhausted today. He’s been working hard recently so we didn’t push him to go today,” Chan half lied.

“He isn’t overworking himself right? Actually why am I asking you, you think pushing yourself to the brink of death is normal when it comes to projects,” Felix sighs.

‘Hey I’m not that bad!” Chan defends.

The three boys stare at him with unamused faces and Chan sighs.

“He’s fine really, it’s just been a lot of late nights. We agreed it would be best if he caught up on some sleep,” Chan half lied again.

“What kind of projects is he working on so late in the night?” Jeongin questions.

“Oh well apparently he’s a stripper,” Changbin says trying to hide the smirk on his face.

“WHAT!?” Felix all but screams as they round the corner and get farther away from Minho and Hyunjin.

The two boys laugh as they head into Minho’s room.

“Alright old man hop back in bed, it's time to rest,” Hyunjin says, lifting the forgotten breakfast off of Minho’s bed so he can lay down comfortably in it.

Minho rolls his eyes but still gets in his bed and waits for Hyunjin to pull the covers over him to tuck him in. Hyunjin sets down the breakfast on Minho’s side table before he tucks Minho in. After Minho is secured Hyunjin cups Minho’s cheeks and kisses his forehead.

“Remember if you ever need anything we’re just a call away,” Hyunjin says while he smooths out Minho’s hair.

Minho just nods his head and enjoys the comforting touch.

“We’ll see you when we get back. Your delicious breakfast is cold now and I know that’s absolutely heartbreaking because it probably would’ve been the best thing you have ever tasted but make sure you eat something today.”.

Minho nods his head again and sinks further into his bed. Hyunjin pats Minho’s head one last time before leaving his room and shutting the door softly.

Minho lays in bed for about half an hour after his friends leave before he hears his cats start meowing. He realizes he hasn’t fed them yet this morning and begrudgingly untucks himself from his bed and heads towards the living room.

By the time he starts dishing out their portions the cats have decided to act like they hadn’t been fed in weeks. They start meowing so loud Minho’s afraid they might get a noise complaint but right before he’s about to shush them they suddenly stop. Minho looks at them confused by the sudden halt in their little choir performance and see’s that they’re all staring intensely down the hall.

Minho’s heart skips a beat as joins them to see what they’re looking so intently at. He doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary and he’s ready to just chalk it up to them being weird before he hears the sound of knocking coming from somewhere down the hall.

Minho has watched many scary movies in his lifetime and so he immediately thinks he’s about to get possessed by some demon that’s been dormant in their apartment for billions of years until the symphony of cats woke it up. He starts accepting death for the second time this week until he hears the knocking again but this time it sounds… unusual.

He hears it again and again and realizes that whoever is knocking is doing it to the beat of a song. Now Minho is no ghost buster but he’s pretty sure a demon wouldn’t use a song with such an upbeat tempo if they were trying to scare him.

Minho starts scooting closer and closer to where he thinks the noise is coming from and stops when he gets just outside his room. The knocking still hasn't stopped and he swears he recognizes it.

He slowly opens his door and peeks his head in. He looks toward his closet and sees a shadow casted on the doors, whoever was knocking was outside his window.

Minho freezes as his mind starts to replay the events of the day before but he is quickly snapped out of it when he realizes that if the villain was trying to come back for him he probably wouldn’t be knocking.

Minho focuses on the beat as he opens the door wider, preparing to look at whoever or whatever was on the other side of his window. He goes through every song he knows as his shaky hands push the door open farther. It isn’t until the song is almost over that Minho connects the dots.

Whatever is knocking on his window is doing it to the beat of a fucking Madonna song. Not just any Madonna song, but Material Girl. His soul damn near ascended because someone was vibing to Material Girl.

All the fear he previously had was thrown out the window at this new discovery as he enters his room without a care. He looks towards his window but all he sees is a hand sticking up from the bottom of the glass still going to the beat of the song.

Minho walks closer to get a better look and realizes that the knocker is wearing a red glove with… lines all over it? As Minho continues on his journey the hand stops and waves to him. He stares at the hand bewildered and in true horror movie fashion he calls out to it.

“Who are you?”.

The hand doesn’t respond verbally but makes the rock and roll symbol. Minho, still confused as ever, stops his advancements and stares. The hand starts flicking its wrist while still assuming the shape of the symbol. It takes him a little longer to process then he’d like to admit but he gets the hint eventually.

The hand isn’t doing the infamous rock and roll gesture, it’s imitating web slinging.

Minho sprints into action as he climbs up on his desk and slides open the window. He goes to peer out over the edge when Spider-Man suddenly pops up and startles him. Minho jumps back with a yelp as he loses his balance and starts to lean back, starting to fall off the desk. He braces for impact but opens his eyes after a few seconds when it never happens. He looks up and sees Spider-Man crouched in his window with one of his webs attached to his shirt keeping him from falling.

Spider-Man hops on the desk as he slowly pulls Minho back into a kneeling position. They’re now only a few inches apart and eye level when Spider-Man speaks up.

“Sorry sweetheart didn’t mean to scare you. Guess you could say you fell for me though huh?”.

Minho wants to call him out for the stupid overused cliche but he’s unable to do or say anything as his brain processes Spider-Man calling him sweetheart so casually.

Spider-Man tilts his head to the side and Minho realizes he’s just been gawking at the guy in silence for about 30 seconds so he does his best to snap out of it.

“I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn't, I don't know, came in through the door like a normal person?”

“But where’s the fun in that? Isn’t it far more romantic to scale the side of your building to come check up on you? I mean anyone could knock on your door, I’ve gotta stand out.”.

Minho’s brain starts to go haywire again as words die on his tongue. Romantic? He has to stand out? Spider-Man has been in his apartment for less than 5 minutes and Minho is already about to explode.

“So how are you hm? How’s my favorite civilian?” Spider-Man asks as he leans in slightly.

“I’m uh, I’m good. Kind of hard to sleep last night but it wasn’t too bad,” Minho replies, looking down and fiddling with his fingers.

“Aw you poor thing, wish I could’ve been there to help you sleep better,” the hero tsks as he releases the web that was keeping them connected.

Minho could move back now, create some space between them so he could think properly. But Spider-Man wasn’t making any moves to leave Minho’s personal bubble and Minho’s pretty sure he’d die if he did. Maybe that was a little dramatic, but being so close to the hero is bringing back a sense of peace and calm he’s missed so much.

“But you were. I mean, you were here last night, right?” Minho questions as he looks up at the hero through his lashes.

“Ah, so you got my note.”.

Minho nodded his head and quickly glanced at his bedside table remembering that it was not only framed but also displayed. Embarrassment slowly crept up on Minho and he hoped Spider-Man wouldn’t notice his ears turn red for the millionth time that morning.

Unfortunately for Minho, Spider-Man had been studying Minho’s face like he had an exam on it since he got in his apartment. He immediately noticed the way Minho’s eyes shifted to something in the room and turned his head to follow the olders gaze.

Minho’s sure that if the hero didn’t have his mask on he would be able to see a massive shit eating grin on his face. Before Spider-Man could confirm that the picture proudly presented on Minho’s bedside table was indeed his note, Minho jumped off the desk and made a run for the frame.

Minho made it only a few steps before Spider-Man also jumped off the desk and slung a web to grab Minho’s waist. The hero pulled at the web and spun Minho right into his embrace.

Minho stumbled slightly at the sudden movement but Spider-Man steaded him by grabbing onto his waist while Minho threw his arms over the hero’s shoulders. The two stood in silence in the middle of Minho’s room chest to chest. The close proximity was intoxicating for the both of them.

“Hm seems like you were made to fall into my arms,” Spider-Man quietly muses.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Minho giggles not trying to fight the obvious blush spreading across his face.

“Crazy about you sweetheart” Spider-Man mumbled, bringing them impossibly closer.

“You’re insatiable,” Minho whispered, afraid that speaking too loud would break the moment.

“Oh you don’t even know that half of it,” the hero responds.

Before Minho could question him their little bubble was burst by another symphony of meows, this time much more pained and loud then the last.

Minho sighs and lays his head on Spider-Man’s chest. He can feel the hero laugh softly and he can’t bite back the smile that forms on his face. Minho lifts his head and stares at Spider-Man.

“Wanna help your favorite civilian feed his cats?” Minho questions sliding his hands down to lay on the hero’s chest.

“God I thought you’d never ask,” Spider-Man replies, squeezing Minho’s waist.

A/N

In honor of it being Minho's and I birthday today, here is a long awaited update! I'm so unbelievably sorry for taking such a long and random break but trust I have no plans to disappear like that again! Did you guys miss me? It's okay to say you missed me I missed y'all too. I hope you guys enjoyed this one and let me know what you think! Thank you all again and I'll see you soon! ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

#changlix #han jisung #college au #hyunbin #lee know #minsung #spiderman au #spiderhan #stray kids

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cinmngirlnfr · 1 year ago

Text

Reese Wilkerson bf headcanons

HE IS A SIMP

For real tho.

Everything you do is charming for him.

You and Reese are in the mall after school, you need to buy a birthday gift for a friend and you don't want to go alone. But one thing led to another and you not only bought your friend lipgloss, but you also bought a whole new winter wardrobe for yourself. Jackets, jeans, leggings, long sleeve shirts, hats, etc. And of course, Reese was carrying your three bags full of clothes around the mall, with a grumpy expression. "Oh! those boots look so pretty!" You say looking at the brown leather boots showcased in the store window. Reese rolls his eyes "Yeah, yeah, you can buy them next time" He grabs you by the arm, trying to get you away from any shop "Reese, you are such an asshole" You say giggling, because when shopping, not even your grumpy boyfriend could ruin your good mood. Reese rolls his eyes "Let's go!" He said as a child about to throw a tantrum. You smile softly. "Let's make a deal, you will stop complaining and I'll buy you McDonald's before we leave," You say caressing his cheek. His grumpy expression starts to turn into a smile, but he still doesn't seem that convinced, so you give him a peck on the lips and two kisses on the cheek, now his expression is a full-on dumb smile, he is such a bitch for your lips.

Love Lenguage: Physical touch, Acts of service.

Acts of service are the main one because I don't think Reese is super PDA.

He would hug you or grab your hand in public, but not a lot.

But in private you can see lots of hugs and kisses.. and more.

He loves to do things for you (things he can do, of course, he is not doing anything homework)

He loves to cook for you, especially brownies or cupcakes, or anything he can bring to school and hand to you.

He loves the face you make when he brings you sweet treats, without asking him.

You and Reese are sitting at a table eating lunch "Oh, I almost forgot!" says Reese, then, he opens his backpack and takes out a topper with a red lid. "I made brownies yesterday... for you," He says the last part kinda embarrassed, he doesn't want to sound too corny. You smile widely at him "Aaww!!! you are the best!" You say, practically jumping on top of him giving him a tight hug, and lots of cheek kisses. He is Surprised and blushes at first, and doesn't really know how to respond, but then he gives you a small kiss on the top of your head.

Makes you watch horror movies.

If you like them, you have probably seen the same ones he has, so movie night quickly becomes make-out session night.

If you don't like them, he will giggle in that creepy-ass laugh he has, every time you jump or flinch or even scram a little, then he would hold you tightly to protect you.

The last part really inflates his ego.

You will make him watch your favorite movies too.

Again, if you are into horror movies, you two probably won't even watch the movie.

Me, personally I'm into Chick Flicks, Rom-Coms, and musicals of course

Imagine Reese watching West Side Story, lol.

He would hate the girly movies (or at least that is what he claims)

"I can believe you are making me watch this crap," Reese says annoyed. "Come on Reese, The Notebook is my favorite movie!" You say gigging and snuggling next to him on the couch "A movie named 'The Notebook' has to be the lamest of all time" He rolls his eyes, and then puts an arm around your shoulders. "Come one, give it a chance at least," You say, he rolls his eyes and presses the play button.

TWO HOURS LATER

"Baby?... Are you okay?" You ask your boyfriend who is slightly shaking next to you. "HE BUILD HER A HOUSE!" Reese shouts with tears in his eyes.

Horny as fuck.

No, really, everything you do is a turn-on.

You smile, Boner.

You tie your hair, Boner.

You giggle, Boner.

But he especially adores it when you focus on something completely random.

He also likes it when you get meanie.

Every fight you two have ended up with a makeup make-out... Sometimes is more than just making out.

Jealous, Jealous, Jealous, boy.

Even with Malcom.

Even with Francis.

Surprisingly with Dewey.

Especially with Jaime.

He hates when you have to share living space with other guys

He will deny his jealousy though

"Pff... Me? Jealous? Don't be ridiculous babe"

He hates it when you pay more attention to his baby brother than to him.

Lois had just had Jaimie, well, three months ago to be exact. You practically lived in the Wilkerson house, but when Jaimie was born, you were there a lot more. Reese's gaze was pure hatred, towards that little baby who wasn't even able to chew his food yet, being held by his girlfriend. "Aww!!! Jaime, you are so cute! I love you, I love you, I love you" You said holding the baby and giving him kisses on his tiny head as he giggled. If looks could kill, Jaimie would be six feet under ground level, and Reese would be having his girlfriend all to himself again 'You can't kill your baby brother, Reese' He thought 'Mom would be pissed'... But Reese had to admit, that the little fucker had some cuteness going on.

Pet names

Mostly babe or baby

Some other variation of your name

He once tried "sweet cheeks"... It wasn't well received...

#reese wilkerson #malcolm in the middle #fanfiction #headcanon #bf headcanons #reese malcom in the middle #fanfic #bf material

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mrsjavierp · 1 year ago

Text

Where you belong?

Chapter 8 - Fill the Void

Javier Peña x latin!f!reader

Summary: Running away from life as you always knew to start a new position as Head Chief on a DEA Office, far away, on Colombia. There, you'll face violence, as you never thought you could. There, you'll meet Javier Peña, your stubborn agent...

Warnings (to the whole fic): +18!, angst, smut, cheating, last relationships, drug dealing - Narcos Universe (not so accurate), bad spanish, english is my second language, use of Y/N and Y/LN. No physical description of the reader, only your clothes (sometimes). The POVs are shifting between reader (first person and Narrator - 3rd person)

(If I forgot anything, tell me, pls!)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Thanks for your feedback, hope you enjoy this chapter! Hope to hear from you all soon! I'm also working on two stories (one shots) to our beloved Joel Miller and our corny cowboy Agent Whiskey

***

Narrator’s POV:

Arriving at the CNP headquarters, Steve, Javier and you get there almost at the same time.

The tension between you and Javier was noticeable. Steve knew better than asking either of you: he wanted to live to see his girls again… And to catch Escobar.

When you locked the door in your office, the tears started appearing.

You lied to Javier about not remembering breakfast: you hoped he lied about it too. You actually couldn't recall talking about Ben.

Fuck, was a name you didn't think in a very long time…

Especially after meeting Javi.

Is Javi that full of himself to say that to me? What did he mean by that? What did I tell him? And most important: what he really knew about Ben? - You thought.

On the other side of the door, Javier’s mind was racing, trying not to act by impulse. But he decided to call a friend in NYC, who could tell him all he wanted about your history with your ex. He needed to understand why you were so worked up, why that bothered so badly.

However, he didn’t want Steve to suspect anything. Luckly, they got a tip about La Quica again, that he was buying a toilet... The same one that was on La Catedral and heading to the hills on San Isidro road.

When Steve went to speak to Jacoby, to fly Centra Spike over that location, Peña took the shot and called Joe:

“Hey, Joe!” - he greeted him.

“Took you long enough, Javi, you bastard!”

“Well, I tried to avoid long distance calls, you know I hate them.”

“Oh, so the rumors are true, you left your wife in Texas?”

“I did... Better for her and little Lucas, you know…” - he was looking over his shoulder, but no one seemed to be paying attention to him.

“So, how is Y/LN on the colombian field?”

“So far so good, man. She's a good cop…”

“She was one of the best here… But I’m betting my chips that it is not about her resume you called, you want the dirty, am I right?”

Javier laughed.

“You fucking bastard, I knew it!”

“So, what you’ve got about her and her ex?” - Peña asked.

“Peña, that was a huge mess… He was already working here for a while and, months later, she arrived from the NYPD through the front door and found by herself a lead to a prostitution scheme… It was so big that it was a closed door OP, top secret stuff, it was only her, me, our boss and another couple of guys. The operation involved high-class prostitutes, working for high profile narcos. Ben heard the rumors about the OP and tried to sweet talk her to join it… But you know how she is with her work… Things do not mix at all.”

“Oh, I know…” - Javi sighed.

“Yep, so you know the deal... At first, it was just an evil comment here and there. I don’t know if she heard it, she trusted him, she was going to marry him. We were working our asses off, long and crazy hours. He took advantage and lied to her. He got sloppy and the rumors continued to grow... But I still don't know what she knew. Anyway, his luck didn’t last long: we were about to bust a brothel on the night that the narcos were there. Guess who was in one of those filthy beds?”

“No way…” - Javier closed his eyes, incapable of believing it.

“Yep. She found out on the job. Didn't help when she also discovered that he was trying to trade inside info with criminals.”

“Fuck, he was a dirty cop?”

“Yep. Luckily, she was too up-tight with all of her work. Not only was she as clean as a whistle, she got promoted to Colombia.”

“I can't believe it. Fuck...”

“Like a motherfucking movie, am I right?”

“Thanks for telling me. I can understand her behavior now…”

“She's one of the best cops I've ever got to work, Peña. She didn't deserve that.”

“I believe you. Well, thanks, man. Call if you need anything.”

Peña hung up the phone, if he was a mess before, now he was a wreck. The same questions were going through his mind again: How is he going to keep Lorraine away? How will he manage his boy's custody? How is he divorcing her and keep you in the dark, until the process is over?

A couple hours later, the tip to Centra Spike worked: a conversation between another sicario, Velasco, and his lover is recorded.

You, Steve, Javier, Centra Spike, Mili Group and CIA reunited to see area’s maps:

"Well, we can discard the smaller ones... Not Escobar's style." - Steve pointed out.

"Which one of these has at least 2 roads of access?" - you ask.

"This one, Y/LN." - Jones, from the CIA, responded.

"This is your winner, niños." - you draw a circle, indicating it.

"Y/LN, what about Pinzón? We're gonna need men, equipment, cars..." - Javier commented.

"Leave Pinzón to me, Peña." - you responded.

You went back to his office, but he refused.

"¡Cabrón!" - you thought.

You went back to yours, but in the way, Steve talked to you:

"Jefe, any luck?"

"Not yet... But let me handle it. He doesn't know who he's dealing with." - the boys looked at each other, curious.

You called Crosby, Crosby called Gaviria and… Let's wrap it up: about 15 minutes later, you all were preparing to bust Escobar.

All the efforts for nothing, unfortunately: Escobar escaped through your fingers, again.

Escobar, however, made a career fooling and killing police officers, what he thought was going to a truce about to happen turned into a fuse to another battle, which made him even more dangerous.

Days later, you all were right as the skies were blue: another attack came.

Escobar's sicarios killed a bunch of Pinzón's men all around Medellín…

Pinzón chose to resign - it was the last drop to his sanity. He wanted personal peace more than to defend his country… How would someone judge him?

Escobar killed more than four hundred cops a year - although it was a risk, it had no garanties on being alive and no one could fulfill any expectations to actually get it done.

Days passed by and President Gaviria decided to bring Coronel Carrillo back from Spain, as soon as he could.

The first thing Carrillo did was talk to you, since Peña and Steve weren't alone anymore:

“So, Y/LN… You're the boss now. I hope that we can work together at the same pace.” - Carrillo smiled at you.

“Well, I can't say anything about style, but we sure make a hell of a team. I'm saying the same thing as I said to Peña and Murphy: I'm also a field agent… Don't let the high hills fool you.”

He smirked.

“Vamos, Y/LN. I've got to say hi to an old friend…”

****

Carrillo decided to put up a show: tell in grand style about who's back in town. The actual goal was putting Escobar's partners on the map, by transmission. So Carrillo would stick his nose out and so would Escobar.

He lets you, Javier and Steve mapping Escobar's spies.

About a couple hours later, he came back and you and your inside team did the best you all could to track them all.

“We captured six radio transmissions.” - Jacoby informed. - “But we haven't pinpointed the exact location.”

“So our best bet is to corner each of these buildings. This time, we hit the ground.” - you said.

Carrillo ordered his soldier, Trujillo, to send 6 unmarked cars with 4 men each, to observe the buildings, with 20 minute-intervals to avoid attention.

After that, he called Peña to join him.

“Be careful out there.” - you warn them.

Minutes later, when you and Steve are alone, you ask:

“Steve, is he always like that? Taking Peña up and down?”

“Sometimes, Jefe… He probably just wants an update to what happened from someone he trusts… He doesn't know you yet, it's his way.“ - Steve told me.

You'd show Carrillo who you really were: a woman younger than all three (Steve, Peña and himself) whose balls were bigger.

***

Peña, Trujillo, Carrillo and other officers captured 6 of the boys who were working for Escobar.

They took them to a hidden alley, on Bairro Escobar.

They are on their knees, scared. Well, 5 of them, at least.

“Do you know who I am?” - Carrillo started. - “My name is Coronel Horacio Carrillo. Last week, 30 police officers were murdered.”

“Those pigs probably deserved it.” - one of them said.

“Shut up, kid.” - Javier murmured.

“Many of them were my friends. A person perched on rooftops guiding murders with radios are assassins themselves… I hope after this encounter you'll reconsider working with someone who thinks he's above the law.”

Although Javier knew Carrillo was right, something felt off. Wrong.

At the same time, Carrillo cocked his pistol.

“What?” - another boy provoked. He was no more than fifteen, brown skin. - “Am I supposed to shit my pants in fear?”

Javier's stomach ached badly. It's been a while since he was afraid of something.

“No.” - Carrillo responded, shaking his head. He pointed the gun and shot, with no hesitation.

His body just fell on the floor, like it was nothing.

“Am I making myself clear? I want you to tell your friends that this is what happens when you work for Pablo Escobar!” - he shouted.

Carrillo analyzed the boys and chose one: the youngest, probably no more than 7 years old. The boy was crying, in silence.

He bent down, looked deeply in his eyes and handed him a bullet.

“Take it.” - the little boy obeyed. - “Tell them this is for Pablo.”

Carrillo stood up again, as if nothing happened.

“Remember what you saw… And know what will happen to you if I see you on a rooftop. You can leave. Now!”

The five boys ran as if their lives depended on it.

Javier couldn't move. He felt like throwing up. He looked at Carrillo, as if he asked something.

Carrillo’s expression was cold and distant.

They all drove back to CNP in silence.

When they arrived back, Steve met Javi on his way out.

“Javi, where are the fucking spotters?” - Steve asked, anxious.

“Carrillo went a different way… He, uh… He cut them loose.” - Javier responded, screeching his head, tense. How the hell is he going to tell what happened?

“Oh, we're letting people go, now? I bet Y/LN will be pissed AF…”

Javi rolled his eyes and, lighting up a cigarette, said:

“Yeah, Murphy, we're letting people go.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” - Javier opened the door of his truck. He needed to leave as fast as he could. He needed a hug. He needed to feel human again.

“Hey, fucking talk to me!” - Steve demanded, interrupting the friend.

“Let go my fucking arm.”

“What the fuck happened?!” - Steve continued to bother Javier.

Javier sighted and responded:

“Carrillo put a gun to the kid's head and pulled the trigger… To make a fucking point.”

Steve swallowed hard.

“We good now?” - Javier mocked, entered his car and headed to the apartment complex where you all lived.

***

About late at night, you hear fervorous knocks at your door.

You were awake, since you just got home.

You pick up your gun and open the door, without noticing that you were only wearing a thin long gray dress, showing your curves.

It was Javier, looking like shit with a bottle of whiskey and a cigar in hand.

“Let me in, please, cariño.” - his brown eyes were almost black. Sad and big.

You put down the gun and let him in.

“Peña, you look like shit… What happened?” - you asked, as you both sat down on your couch and he served whiskey to both of you and put the cigar in the astray.

“Salut, cariño.” - he raised his glass.

You raised as well, drank it up and put away the glass.

“Damn, Peña. That's good stuff… You didn't answer me. What happened?” - you uttered. You knew something bad had happened. The cigar, the good whiskey, his painful expression…

“Cariño, I… I don't know how to say it.”

“Start from the beginning, Javi… I'm right here.” - you suggested, softly.

You were genuinely concerned for him.

He kissed your lips, softly, by surprise.

You stop after a few minutes, reaching out for air. Your apartment felt like a thousand degrees. Your body was sweating, the adrenaline was running through your veins. But, again, you’d deny even from yourself.

“Javi…” - he already knew what you're going to say and he doesn't want to hear it again.

“Cariño, please don't. Not now. I need to forget about today's route.”

“Okay, baby boy.” - you sat on his lap and kissed him deeply. He melted under your lips, his hands touching your body, hungry.

You only needed an excuse to be with him again.

Just one more night… - you thought.

If you were wearing pants, they'd be on fire.

“Cariño, just a heads up…” - he started.

You looked at him, confused, waiting for the rest.

“I won’t be gentle. Right now, I can't. I'm really not capable… Are you okay with it?”

You continued on his lap, but now, you put your knees on each side of his body and he involved his arms around you. Even wearing clothes, the electricity was passing through both of you.

“Show me your worst, Peña… I dare you.” - you whisper.

He smiled, but his eyes darkened with lust.

Javier literally ripped your dress, revealing your skin.

“Hey! Are you fucking crazy, Javi?” - you yell at him. - “I’m gonna fucking…” - you didn't finish, as he slapped your cheek, not enough to hurt you, he never would, but enough to surprise you and make you shut up.

“You don't speak until you're spoken to, babygirl. You don't come until I say so. You won’t do anything without me saying. If you behave like a good girl, I may let you cum. If not, I'm gonna punish you. Understood?”

You shook your head positively, incapable of believing in what was happening.

He slapped your ass, bringing you back.

“Words, cariño.”

“Yes, I understood it.” - you responded, in a low voice.

Who was that man on Javier's body and where he was the first night we were fucked? - you thought.

“Good girl, cariño…” - he touched your body, started at your neck and went down to your waist. - “Now, how do I begin? I've got so many options, so many possibilities… I know we only had sex one time, one night, but I feel like I know your body really well, cariño.”

You looked at him, anxious, waiting.

He picked you up in his arms and took you to your bed.

“Now, we're ruining your bed, cariño.”

He ripped your panties and, with no warning, kissed your mound. You relaxed as he kissed slowly for a bit.

He got up, leaving you clenching over nothing.

He began to take off his suit and tie, your eyes hungry for him, mouth watering.

“What do you want, cariño?” - he asked, eyes locked up with yours.

“Can I help you undress, Javi?”

“Such a polite girl… Yeah, you can.”

You took off his tie, letting it rest on the bed. Helped him with the buttons on his shirt, holding back the urge to rip them as he did with your dress.

He took off his shoes and socks and you unbuckled his belt, letting it side with the tie… You had a dirty idea, but it would have to wait a bit.

At last, his pants went down with his boxers.

He was deciding on what to do, but you couldn't wait. Your hand touched his lower belly, aiming for his dick.

“Oh, cariño, you want to use your mouth, now? Wanna please me?”

“Yes, Javi.”

“Beg for it.” - he said in that condescending tone you hated.

“Javi, please, let me suck your dick.” - you coo.

He caressed your cheek with one hand and the other held his shaft.

“I don't think you want it enough, cariño.” - and he slowly started going up and down his length. He had a stupid cocky smile on his face.

“You know I can be better than your hand, Javi… Please, let me touch you, I'm begging you…” - your voice barely was a whisper into your room.

“Go ahead, cariño… But don't be greedy. I don't wanna come right now.”

Your lips wrapped around his tip, while he held your head. Your tongue and lips worked up and down, while one of your hands cupped his balls.

“Fuck, cariño… I knew you were missing me, but didn't know you were so hungry for my cock.”

He grabbed your hair, setting the rhythm, until you couldn't stand only worth your knees on the bed, needing to claw at his tights, and your nose almost touching his pelvis.

He was fucking your throat and you were so wet.

His mouth was making obscene sounds, saying how good you're doing, how badly he missed you and your beautiful lips.

He slowed down the rhythm, until he stopped, taking it off your mouth. His dick was aching for more, but he wanted to come inside of you.

“You did good, cariño. Can you continue to be a good girl for me?”

“Yeah, Javi.” - you responded. Your legs were trembling, your pussy throbbing for attention.

“Lay down and open your legs for me… Yes, just like that. Tell me, where did you leave your vibrator?”

“In the bathroom, the second drawer.”

“Don't move.”

He picked it up and examined it, curious about the pink wand in his hand.

“So, you've been touching yourself in the bathroom? Door closed? Biting your lips or a towel to not make any noise?”

You don't respond to it, you’re just running away from his glaze.

He slapped your ass again.

“Look at me while I talk to you.” - he demanded. - “Answer me!”

“Y-y-yeah, Javi. I was doing it in the bathroom, biting a towel.” - you murmured.

“Now, you're gonna show me what you've been denying from me to hear, such as in person as through these walls… But don't come. Not until I say so.” - and handed you the vibrator.

“But Javi, I can't control myself when I use it…”

He smiled, the same sly smile you knew and hated.

“That's not my problem. You come when I say it.” - he was being ruthless towards you.

With your right hand shaking, you started to use your wand on the softest mode, as you were so aroused since it all started.

Your room was filled with vibration sounds and your moans. Your eyes looking at his figure, wishing he’d do something to you instead.

You were also a hundred percent sure Javier was punishing you somehow. He wanted to prove himself again.

Javier, on the other hand, was admiring you. The way your pupils were dilated, your body was shaking, your smooth skin chilling, your beautiful pussy soaking wet… If he could, he'd take a picture just to eternalize that moment.

“O-o-oh fuck, Javi… I can't take it anymore… I'm so close, please, let me come!” - you beg.

He smirked at you.

“Oh, cariño, you're close?” - he leaned towards you, as if he was going to enter at your pussy. It only made it worse and closer, as you could almost feel his scent and his warm skin.

“Holyfuck, Javi, please! Please let me!” - you beg, desperately.

He grabbed his belt, tied your wrists together, holding your vibrator in your clitoris. After, he shoved his dick inside of you.

“Go ahead, cariño. Come for me and on me.” - he ordered.

You thank God he said that. You squealed his name high, releasing all of your juices onto him.

You were positively sure you woke up your neighbors.

“Oh, fuck! So good for me, cariño.” - Javier praised you.

He continued without any pity towards you, pounding hard inside you.

Not only you’re embarrassingly wet, you were so overstimulated that the orgasm was knocking at your pussy again, so fast

“I love when you yell my name, cariño!” - he said, full of bliss.

“Javier, for god's sake!” - you yell again.

“¡Mierda! Cariño, are you close again?” - he asked with a devilish tone. - “What a delicious greedy pussy, missing me so much… Oh, fuck!”

Tears began to go down your face. It was impossible to hold anything more and, without his permission, you came again, your body shaking vigorously.

“Holy fuck, Y/N!” - It was his time to yell your name as loud as he could. - “I can... I can feel... You're so fucking tight, you're gonna rip my dick off!"

He untied you and turned off your wand. It relieved you for a bit, but he laid on top of you and chased his own orgasm.

After he came, you both lay next to each other, gasping for air, eyes locked up to each other.

“I missed you so much, Javi…” - you reveal.

He smiled, happy. His hand went to your cheek, fondling.

“Yo también te extrañe, cariño. You have no idea…” (I missed you too.)

“I think I do, Javi… Te extrañe todos los malditos días desde la primera noche.” (I missed you all those damn days, since the first night.)

“Gracias a Díos, cariño. I thought I was alone in this mess.” (Thanks God.)

You laughed together.

“You can't pretend that you don't want to be with me anymore, cariño. I'm serious.” - he declared.

You sighed.

“I know, Javi… But we also know it's not that simple… We work together, I'm your boss, Escobar is on the run…”

“We can take it slow, we don't have to do anything you don't feel like it. But don't push me away again.” - Javier begged you.

“I really don't know how to, Javi. I don't know how to. I haven't dated since…” - you didn't finish.

His eyes were soft and warm, like cocoa on a winter night. Your heart felt like an ice cube on the sun, again.

“Since your ex, Ben?” - he asked.

“Yep.” - you responded, popping the “p”. - “‘It’s not gonna be easy for you, so I’d like to warn you: if you have anything to tell me, tell me as soon as possible. I’m not gonna demand you to do it now, but think if you have anything to tell me, and if you do, you can.”

“First, we need to get to know each other. Build trust and I’m not talking about the field. Let’s get to know each other, talk, laugh, have sex, grab a bite. We’re neighbors, we don’t even need to leave our apartments if you don’t want to.”

“No one can know about us, Javier Jesus Peña. Not even Murphy.”

“Don’t worry about it, cariño.” - he pecked your lips softly.

“And please, don’t sleep with anyone else and it includes your informants.” - you rolled your eyes. - “I know, it’s stupid since we’re not in a relationship, but if you want to do it, please, just end this… this thing we’re about to begin. I’m not saying that again.”

“Cariño, for God’s sake!” - Javier laughed, his hand left your face to your waist. - “No one ever made me feel this way.” - you laughed. - “I’m serious, hermosa. Don’t worry about it.”

You breathe out heavily.

“Well, let’s see how it goes.” - you say, still not allowing your heart to sink further. - “We need a shower, Javi. Care to join me?”

He smiled and you both entered your bathroom... But Javier's mind didn't care for sleeping. He still needed to punish you for coming without his permission, while you were filling the bathtub, distracted.

"Of course, cariño... Besides, you haven't exactly been a good girl for me for a few days. Don't think I'll let you escape that easily."

Your eyes went to his naked figure, surprised.

"Oh, I thought I was off the hook..."

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askthewindsucc · 7 years ago

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#my corny ass almost for forgot to ask #also excuse the typo im rushing #answered asks #john egbert

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theplanetm4rz · 2 years ago

Text

Human Resources

Roman Roy/reader (drabble)

~ Having lunch with your problematic boss is about as fun as it sounds (very fun)

warnings: joking about sexual harassment (no actual sexual harassment)

notes: i wanna make this guy meow for me. lil somethin to shake off the cobwebs. this is like a little corny but I forgot how to write good during my hiatus

“I could bludgeon you to death.”

“What?”

Roman almost seems offended by your surprise. He looks at you from across his desk as though he’d asked you the weather and you slapped him across the face. You’d been having a relatively peaceful afternoon–it had been hectic in the office, so you both decided to eat lunch at Roman’s desk. Your conversation had been fine, if maybe a little mundane. You were almost grateful for Roman’s weird outburst for allowing the both of you to fall into your regular routines.

“I feel like, if it really came down to it, I could bludgeon you to death,” He leans forward in his chair. “I’m not saying I want to, I’m just saying if the situation called for it, I wouldn’t, like, struggle.”

“Why the fuck would the situation call for it?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t fucking know, maybe you start PMS-ing and end up taking a swing at me.”

“Jesus, Rome,” you chide, “Is this the kinda shit you fantasize about? Spend a lot of time playing with yourself imagining what it would feel like to bash my brains out?” A part of you is grateful that you've finished your lunch already–this conversation is not working wonders for your appetite.

“Ok, well, now you made it weird.” Roman slumped over in his chair, sitting at an angle that could not have been comfortable. “I was just throwing it out there, no need to get your fuckin’ dick twisted in a knot.”

“Y’know what? I bet you’re wrong,” This catches his attention. “If we got into a fight like that–like, life or death–I could kick your ass.”

“No fucking way, are you kidding? Have you seen yourself?” he pushes himself up where he sits, fitting his legs underneath his body and leaving him perched on his chair like a bird. “You’re, like, 2% muscle and 98% bitch. You can’t even send your drink back if they get your coffee order wrong–I think if you were faced with life-threatening danger, your heart would self-destruct to avoid the conflict. I wouldn’t even have to bludgeon you to death.”

If anybody else was saying this to you, you’d be appalled. Thankfully, you’ve had years of practice fully dedicated to building up your Roman tolerance. “You’re hardly life-threatening, Rome. All I need to do is call you gross, like, once, and you’d be too blinded by weird, horny brain-fog to fight me,” You’re not sure when you rose from your seat and began to lean against his desk, but you pay it no mind. Like clockwork, he rises up on his chair to reach your eye level. He has a smug look on his face that you’d grown increasingly accustomed to.

“You’re disgusting, you know that? I could get you fired for talking to a superior that way, you pervert.” He narrows his eyes at you, and the corners of his mouth quirk upwards. He’s moved closer to you, close enough so that you feel his breath on your face. Too close. You take the opportunity to flick him on the underside of his jaw, and he throws his head backward as though you’d socked him in the nose.

“That’s assault! You just assaulted me! God, Human Resources is going to have a field day with this. The young, naive assistant violently assaulting her boss after making crude, sexual comments about him–feminism really has gone too far.” He leans back toward you, this time straining to seem as though he was towering over you. Instead, he ends up talking to your forehead.

“Please, Roman, you’re being delusional.” His jaw drops.

“And now you’re gaslighting me. I cannot believe I’ve had someone so cruel working for me all these years.” He fans himself like a southern belle. You stifle your laughter at his dramatic display. “You’re toxic, this is toxic. Do you think Greg treats Tom this way? Because I sure don’t.”

“Greg treats me in what way?” Tom’s voice cuts through. Both you and Roman jerk backwards, and for some reason you feel your face heat up. It feels like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

“He treats you like the pretty pillow princess you are, Tom.” Roman quips, seemingly unaffected by Tom’s sudden appearance. Tom’s face contorts strangely, and he lets out a strangled half-scoff-half-laugh while flapping his hand dismissively. You cock an eyebrow at his behavior, which draws out for just a little too long. Tom clears his throat.

“Anyways,” he straightens his tie. Your mind wanders to a late-night conversation you had with Roman where he called Tom a ‘sad, deeply repressed, half-muppet-half-man hybrid’. It becomes clearer everyday that he was spot on. “Kendall asked to see you in his office. I’m not sure what about, but he seemed… frazzled.”

“Frazzled.” Roman repeats, irritated. He turns to you, and for a second, you almost think he looks disappointed. “Duty calls. I’ll have to report you to HR later. Try not to sexually harass anyone else until then, m’kay?”

Before you have a chance to respond, he blows you a kiss and scurries out the door, leaving you and Tom alone in his office. Tom looks at you with his muppet eyes.

“Sexually harass…?”

“Get out, Tom.”

#roman roy x reader #roman roy drabble #succession fanfic #succession #roman roy fanfic

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junosmindpalace · 3 years ago

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Hi there! It's my birthday 🎂 (July 31) so I was wondering if I could get a senku x fem reader on what he would do for his crush on her birthday

hi there anon! I hope you had a wonderful birthday!! it took me almost two whole months to put this out i am SO sorry. regardless i hope you enjoy!

p.s., honestly…the stone world gift was an excuse for me to write about a tiktok i saw on fireworks. i know technically they arent birthday gifts but they still represent celebrations!.....

synopsis: how he celebrates your special day.

wc: 930

warnings: corny

Birthday? Oh, yeah. He totally forgot.

Just kidding! Of course he didn’t- that’s just how he acts.

In reality, he’s known your birthday is fast approaching and has been contemplating what to do for you on your special day.

In both modern and stone age, Senku’s gifts aren’t the most direct, and if they are, it’s in the most casual and lighthearted way possible. No, his gifts are more so phenomenons, something spectacular or useful that he just so happens to present on your birthday.

MODERN WORLD:

Before the petrification, Senku had a lot more convenient birthday gift options. Clothing, accessories, merchandise, equipment for anything and everything- and all of it could come with a gift receipt! And yet you still have to be really attentive if you want to figure out what his gift is and when he presents it to you, because it isn’t always obvious.

Maybe one year, he’ll show you that a science project you two’ve been working on for weeks is finally finished (because he worked his ass off in his free time prepping it), and the two of you can witness the product of your hard work on your special day.

Maybe the year after that, he’ll tell you about this super cool opportunity to get involved in something that’s of interest to you; maybe some convention, competition or workshop. Hell, he might even tag along if he thinks he can learn a thing or two!

And maybe the year after that, he’ll invite you to that ramen joint he loves to visit with his dad and treat you to anything you’d like on the menu, but only because he’s been dying to go and definitely not because he wanted to give you a nice birthday meal.

But for as long as you’ve known him, you know that Senku likes to use your birthday as an excuse to indulge in something science related, and this will probably be the only time he’s upfront with a gift. He might tinker with items of yours, invite you over to make something techy, or build you your very own science equipment, such as a telescope, because you’re always complimenting his. It’s sitting cross legged on the floor of Senku's bedroom, talking animatedly about a new science concept that brings a joyful end to your day, whether it was good or bad overall. You walk home with a little skip in your step as you reflect on the time you spent with your friend and the thoughtful day he had organized for you.

“Thank you for the birthday gift.”

“Oh, that was today? Completely slipped my mind. Yeah, let’s count that as your gift.”

STONE WORLD:

He’s the only one who knows the exact date off the top of his head before civilization was rebuilt. He’s been keeping a mental calendar for thousands of years, unlike most of the others who were petrified. With so much work to be done and learning to adjust to your new lives, your birthday just didn’t seem that important to you.

And Senku wholeheartedly agrees with your logic- but it was still your birthday.

Of course, he’s dropping no sign that he even knows what day it is. He spends the entire day treating you and everyone around him as he normally does- giving out instruction, some science lessons and contributing to construction. It’s during the late evening when the sun has fully set that Senku’s birthday gift shines brighter than any star in the night sky.

Senku had asked the villagers days ahead to help him contribute to your gift without letting on that it was for you. He had the brawn of the group collect materials and asked the rest of the team to help him with the chemistry and design. He thought hard about what would leave an impression, but not seem too personalized. Something that the entire Kingdom of Science could indulge in. He thought back to his previous “gifts”- ramen, a furnace, a brilliantly decorated tree…

Ding ding! He had a winner as soon as he remembered the look on yours and all the other villagers’ faces when the dozens of lights decorated on the tree were first lit.

The Kingdom of Science is in collective amazement as they marvel at the tons of fireworks lighting up the sky, the deafening crackles and pops pulsing through the air. Even those who had seen spectacular light shows were dumbfounded by the rockets that shot up and exploded into ropes of brilliant gold and silver light. Gasps, praises and mutters went around the group, but Senku’s gaze only swept across the others before settling on you.

Little fireworks exploded in your widened eyes and made them shimmer, reflecting your inner feelings of surprise. Senku observed carefully as your mouth, wide open in disbelief, slowly morphed into a smile; a big, glowing smile that conveyed all of the happiness and excitement you were feeling that was almost as bright as the colors fading in and out of the sky above. The scientist didn’t need any words of praise from you- he could tell he was successful in creating a memorable gift just by watching you marvel over it.

You were too enamored with the sight in front of you to notice Senku gently place his hands on your shoulders and move you to the side, just a little further back from your previous spot, so you could get a better view past the great forest surrounding you. He stared at you only for a brief couple of seconds before dropping his hands and admiring the view for himself with a small smile.

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

#dr stone scenarios #dr stone headcanons #dr stone x reader #dr stone senku #dr stone fanfiction #dr stone oneshot #dr stone hcs #senku ishigami x reader #senku headcanons #senku x reader #senku x you #senku ishigami oneshot #senku ishigami headcanons #senku ishigami fluff #senku fluff #senku hcs

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chloe-writes · 4 years ago

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Hey, I saw that your requests are open and that you write polyamory so I wanted to request a erwin x reader x Levi fluffy fic where either erwin or levi realises that they are in love with the others and they form a relationship. If your not comfortable with the ask feel free to just ignore it, thanks :)

Two Is Never Enough

[Levi x Erwin x Fem!Reader]

[Fluff - Canonverse]

Summary: Levi finds himself in love with his commanding officer, Erwin, and with his co-squad leader, (Y/N). While struggling with who to choose, a shocking revelation makes itself known.

Content Warning: comedic Hange, corny pick-up lines

Word Count: 1k

Levi doesn't remember falling in love. All he remembers is looking at them and realizing how much it would hurt to see them leave.

Love, of any form, is in human nature. Every single one of us is tied with a yearning sense for intimacy. One could only wonder: what pain would someone have to go through to fervently refuse this idea?

He'd been that someone once. He would still be if it weren't for them.

The commander who fulfilled his dream from when he was still in the underground—giving him the vast sky that looked like his deep sapphire eyes. And his golden locks, which resembled the warm sun. Erwin Smith's outer looks alone were enough to put the sun and sky to shame.

His co-squad leader, (Y/N), whom her voice is the song of his heart—if there existed a goddess of solace, she would play the part.

Them. It was them who broke Levi's barricades.

Then suddenly, humanity's strongest soldier was only just a man, wanting to love and be loved.

But who was he to choose? They were equal in his eyes. Especially when both of them were making advances on him.

Erwin passes him notes during meetings, asking him out on a date. While (Y/N), on the other hand, became a frequent visitor to his office, bringing him tea along with corny flirtatious pick-up lines. Levi especially hated the, "Do you want to be Acker-mine?"

Slumping back on his seat, the short captain sighed, he had never been this confused. The cup of tea in his hands was his only source of comfort. He sipped the beverage sparingly, hoping the earl-grey tea would last until he had an answer to his aching heart.

Love is the 6th sense that destroys all 5 senses and makes you nonsense.

In desperate times like this, there was only one thing to do.

Levi shot up from his seat, quickly dashing to the door and into the dark cobblestone halls, mentally praying that the titan-lover wasn't busy.

The door that enclosed Hange's personal laboratory slammed open, almost breaking into pieces from the impact.

"Oh Levi, perfect timing, I needed help with an experi-" The mad scientist was cut off abruptly.

"Hange."

"Let me guess, heartaches? Yeah, your expression gave it away."

"How the he-"

"Levi, you dummy. You think I don't see you plucking the petals of a flower like a little school girl? Reciting 'they love me, they love me not'."

The man slightly blushed from embarrassment, much to Hange's amusement. "Unbelievable," was all he managed to mutter.

"Then date them both, at the same time."

"Cheating is not my thing. I'd rather fuck a titan"

Hange saw an opening to tease him, "Oooh I would like to see you try. We have Sawney and Bean. Take your pick. Oh I forgot, you're indecisive."

"Lord give me patience with this sorry excuse for a human in front of me"

"I think you meant 'Lord give me strength to overcome my heartaches'."

"If I had more strength I would have already killed you and your shitty titan pets by now."

The bespectacled brunette adjusted their glasses, "Heyyy, I'm only trying to help you because you are in way over your head."

"I'm in way over my head? You're way over your head because your head is up your ass." With that, Levi takes his leave, gaining nothing from his talk with Hange.

The remainder of the day was spent in moodily staring by the window, ruminating about his lovelife. In full retrospect, Hange did have a point. A trio relationship set-up? It actually wasn't that bad, better even. However, the black-haired man's fear was that he might get rejected if he offered such an idea to the two people he wanted to date.

Almost forgetting that Erwin had requested for his presence, he makes his way to the commander's office. He was hoping that the blond called him for work-related purposes only, otherwise he wouldn't be able to bear any further emotional confusion.

Entering his commanding officer's office, Levi Ackerman could only stare eye-wide, jaw dropping to the floor.

(Y/N) was sitting on Erwin's lap, giving him little pecks on the neck. He didn't know if he should be jealous or relieved. Jealous because he wanted to be either of them in that position. And relieved, because this could be an opportunity to the three-way relationship he secretly wanted.

"Took you long enough to arrive to the scene, mister." (Y/N) was the first to break the silence, walking over to Levi and poising a hand to her hips.

"Could someone explain what the fuck is going on." The shorter man demanded. His impatience was rising at a dangerous level in the lack of knowledge pertaining the situation unwrapping before him.

Erwin stood up to clarify his confusion. "You see, (Y/N) and I have been seeing each other covertly for the past two months. We were happy with each other, but something just wasn't right. It didn't take long for us to figure out that you were the missing piece. We wanted you to join us. (Y/N) even made a competition out of it, she bet a month's worth of desserts to whoever stole your heart first."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"So it's up to you, Levi. Would you like to embrace abnormality and become a throuple with us?"

He took a glance at them, eyes interlocked with a pair of blue and (e/c) ones, a three-way unspoken conversation held— so this is love?

In a world as temporary as this, it was scary to imagine that something would last forever. There was never a right time to wait for, nor will there ever be. So whenever you're given the chance, take the risk.

"That would... that would be nice." The short captain could feel the tension that coursed through his body disappear. He wondered what good did he do in his previous life to be blessed with this type of joy.

The woman looked at her two lovers with puppy eyes, "So do I win the desserts or what?"

Once, not too long ago, Levi was caught between the strings of love, heart torn between two people. To expect so much from one person alone was ridiculously selfish. Many may not understand their relationship set-up, but as long as they were happy, nothing else mattered. It was the ultimate life to live and all theirs to enjoy.

A/N: To anon, your wish is my command :) Not sure if you preferred modern AU or canonverse, so I chose the latter. This was really a challenge to write, I don't know if it's how you wanted it to be. It could have used more dialogues tbh, but I didn't know what to put. Nonetheless, I kinda like it.

[ Masterlist ]

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daikushiji · 5 years ago

Text

his crush draws a heart on his hand (pt. 2)

pairings: bokuto x reader, oikawa x reader, atsumu x reader

a/n: now some show-off babies!! this is the cutest thing to do to your crush i won’t take any criticism (if you’d like to read it, here part 1 and part 3 !!)

Bokuto Koutarou

“he’s really cute”

bokuto overhears totally by accident the conversation you’re having with your friends

and when you call cute the guy on your friend’s phone

he goes immediately into emo mode

don’t you think he’s cute too?

plus that boy is so average, he just has some big tattoos on his arms

and that’s when he comes up with the awful idea of getting one as well

does he have to get a tattoo to make you call him cute??

said and done

the next day he comes to you asking for advice

should he get this big ass dragon on his back or a skull on his shoulder?

”ko, you’re underage and have zero money”

he tells you that he has already found a guy willing to tattoo him for a reasonable price

now you are actually worried that he’s gonna catch some disease in someone’s basement

”what’s up with you? you never wanted a tattoo before”

”i find them pretty cool now”

”but aren’t you afraid of needles? you ran away when you had to get vaccinated”

oh fuck, right

he was so focused on getting your attention that he totally forgot about that teeny tiny part

he turns so pale at the very thought and you can finally breathe a sigh of relief

”if you really want a tattoo I can give you one”

you take his hand and draw something on it

he doesn’t care at all what the doodle is

his gaze is fixed on your small fingers wrapped around his pinky and ring finger

why are you so cute

”here your free, painless and legal tattoo”

and then he sees the heart

you can bet that when he walks into the gym, he’s shouting to look at his new tattoo

like he’s shoving his hand in everyone’s face

after practice, he searches for a plastic bag in the locker room

”I can’t take a shower if I don’t seal my hand first!!!”

Oikawa Tooru

he’s a lil bitch, we all know that

but you couldn’t imagine how annoying his ass actually is

you agreed on being his tutor when he asked you in the most hopeless way ever

and now you have to spend almost every afternoon with him

he always comes a bit late and calls you a cheesy nickname

”sorry sweetpie”

”I’m late again sunshine, arent’I?”

”hey hot stuff, I’m here”

his excuse is that he knows too many people and, unable to remember the name of everyone, he relies on nicknames

truth be told, he only says those things to you

and would love if you’d call him some corny name as well

but he’s happy with just watching your cheeks going bright red every time

”okay, i guess my big brain has learned enough for today”

”i’m impressed that you got at least one question right this time”

”you’re such a meanie”

you both start getting your things

”i’ll text you tonight, pumpkin”

again you try to hide your face, sure that even your ears have become red

standing there with a grin, he looks at you getting all flustered

fed up, you take your marker and grab his hand

he jumps at the sudden touch and watches you writing your own name

”maybe this way you won’t forget it”

flicking his forehead, you leave the room

when he looks down he notices the little heart near the name

at practice he waves his hand in the air the entire time waiting for someone to notice

but of course nobody wants to give him the satisfaction of asking about it

so while his teammates are chatting, he bursts in their conversation

”oh, were you talking about the thing on my hand?? what can i say, people love me so much that they have to claim me”

iwaizumi is now threatening him to rub it off

the next day he arrives oddly on time

“hi heart”

he shows you his hand, where your name faded away but the little draw is still there

Miya Atsumu

the only other student in the library gets up, leaving you two alone

”keep writing”

atsumu’s voice brings you back to reality

usually it’s the other way around

but today you had to wait for him to finish practice and then work together on your project

it’s already dark outside and you’re a bit exhausted

”right, I need to focus”

you try to wake yourself up gently slapping your face

the boy is sneaking glances at you, with a small smile

he pretends to sigh really loudly and dramatically rest his hand on your notebook

you often play with his fingers while studying together

you say that your hands always need to do something and he loves touching you

so it’s a win-win

sometimes he teases you saying that it’s just an excuse to hold the prettiest hands of the entire school

“Osamu’s hands are nicer”

"....take it back rIGHT NOW”

finally you grab his hand and go back to writing your essay

first, you start playing with his fingers and then tracing the lines engraved onto his palm

while you focus more this way, he’s suffering because he just can’t think straight

like he’s stuck on the same sentence for the last 10 minutes

his eyes keep reading but his mind wanders off

for sure now he has memorized the feeling of your hands

but he wants to know how soft your hair is, how smooth your cheeks are, how your lips feel against his

oh your sweet lips

deep in thought, he feels you slightly squeezing his fingers

”i’m so sorry, the pen slipped from my hand”

you are pouting, looking at the little line that there is now on his hand

but before he can reply, you’re already drawing something

”let me fix it”

seeing the little heart, a lovesick expression takes over him

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bruhstories · 4 years ago

Text

Dazed and Confused

Summary: You and Connie have been friends for ten years, crushing on each other like a bunch of idiots who can't confess their feelings for one another. Until you go on a trip with your friends. Pairing: Connie Springer x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: 18+, language, oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected sex, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, f l u f f Word Count: 4.2 k

A/N: I got so pissed at that last anon that I finished this oneshot quicker lol. @fiaficsxo here it is!

You loved parties. Not the loud music and thick smoke, not the booze and smell of vomit, but your friends. Every time they gathered at someone's place, your heart fluttered, filled with happiness and content and long-lasting memories.

Connie had the brilliant idea of spending a week in the mountains during your spring break, and you wasted an entire night searching for the perfect cottage to rent. Luckily everyone was down with his suggestion, the only problem was how you'd sleep. Historia obviously wanted to share a room with Ymir. Mikasa and Eren were an item now, so they'd have to sleep together. Armin wanted to try his luck with Annie, so no one objected to that. Jean declared that he wanted to bunk with Connie, like the two eligible bachelors they were, and that left you and Sasha to share a room together. You didn't mind it, in all honesty you loved Sasha with all your heart — but you secretly hoped someone would pick up on your feelings for Connie and let you sleep with him. You weren't that lucky.

You packed your bag the night before the trip, obsessively ticking everything on your list and double checking every item and pocket. It was ready, with one item missing — the white lace babydoll smoothed on your dorm bed. You chewed the pen cap, debating whether to bring it with you or not. You bought it for special occasions, but you haven't had a dick appointment in a long time, and you doubted you'd have one this week. With a shrug, you decided to bring it — you never know what might happen. Nighttime passed quickly and you soon found yourself all dolled up, albeit still sleepy from all the tossing and turning, excited to make more memories with your friends.

The train station was packed with people, especially students who went back to their hometowns for the break, and you were relieved to find Armin and Mikasa there. You three were always punctual, followed by Jean and Annie. Eren, Sasha and Connie were always late, which is why you told them the train leaves at 7 am instead of 7:30. It was a dirty strategy, but no one wanted to miss such a fun opportunity because of those lazy fuckers. And lo and behold, they decided to appear at 7:15.

"That was some good thinking." Jean shook his head, hand sympathetically placed on your shoulder.

"I'm only glad you guys rolled with it." You laughed without noticing the way Connie stared at you, and even he didn't understand exactly what he felt. Was he grumpy because he hated morning, or was it Jean's hand on you that irked him?

"It's not polite to stare." Sasha pulled Connie out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring, I was looking." Connie rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase a bit too tightly.

"I just don't get it why you don't tell her you like her." The girl popped a bubblegum baloon, proceeding to chew it very loudly.

"Are you kidding me? She obviously likes Jean. Look how she's laughing!"

Sasha placed an arm on his shoulder, a sheepish smile on her face. "You, my friend, are a dumbass."

"Takes one to know one."

To say that your friends were loud during the train ride was an understatement. They didn't really care about the nasty glares other passengers shot at them, opting to talk, sing, eat and practically embarrass themselves. But two hours later you arrived, and the fresh, crisp air of the mountains was a blessing. You didn't regret coming, all of you deserved a break after all the exams, studying and all-nighters you guys pulled.

"We could visit the military museum!" Armin suggested, but Connie scrunched his nose.

"We came here to get high, drink and spend time together, why the fuck would we visit some old ass building?"

"I'd like to go to the museum." You awkwardly smiled, earning a 'see?' from the blond. Mikasa, Eren and Annie backed you up, and since it was a democracy, you ended up leaving your bags at the cottage and touring the small town to find the military museum. The building wasn't massive, and inside it was dark, with crimson carpets and dim lights. It was actually quite a romantic atmosphere, had it not been for the weapons and armours displayed in glass cases. Connie watched you intently, taking in every movement, every flinch, every hair tucking, every scrunch of your cute nose. You absorbed the information, hungry for knowledge. This was something you and Connie didn't share — yes, you were down to drinking and smoking, but you were also eager to learn and study, while he always preached how 'you can always retake an exam but you can't relive a party.' He wasn't stupid by any means, but unlike you, Jean, Armin and Mikasa — who alwaysstudied and never skipped lectures — Connie would wing it and somehow end up getting better grades. His strategy didn't always work, and sometimes, when you were in college, he'd ask you to tutor him. Now you were second year undergraduates, and while you were studying different subjects, you still made time for each other.

"That's a nice, uhh..." Connie squinted, "...shotgun."

"It's a musket." You chuckled, your fingers accidentally brushing his as you turned around to face him.

"Shotgun, musket, same thing."

"Actually, muskets are muzzle-loaded and fire a single bullet, but shotguns pack multiple pellets in one shell." You explained. "I'm sorry, you're probably not interested in my ramblings."

"No, no, it's... interesting. I just wasn't expecting you to know so much about guns." He rubbed his nape and smiled at you.

"Well, I do study history, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You awkwardly elbowed Connie. Why was it so hard for you to just tell him your feelings? Oh, right, because you've been friends for ten years and if he didn't like you back, it would only ruin a great friendship.

"It means you brag about it so much it's kind of hard to forget." He told you, quickly realising just how insulting that sounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt..." You sighed, eyes darting back to the weapons.

"No, I didn't- forget it." Connie shook his head. Well played.

Back at the cottage, with enough food and booze to last the group a month, you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the day. It wasn't the first time you had embarrassing moments with Connie, but this particular one made you anxious to be around him. Did he really dislike you that much, or was it just friendly banter? If you were to ask him, you could find out, but every scenario in your head had a bad outcome, so avoiding him for now was the smartest choice. Sasha pleaded with you to spend the evening in the living room with everyone else, but you brushed her off, telling her you weren't feeling quite well.

"Text me if you need anything." She told you before leaving. It was immature to act this way, you knew that all too well, but it wasn't like Connie cared, right? You eventually decided to go downstairs after finishing a long episode of your favourite tv show, your stomach begging for nourishment. As silently as possible, you tiptoed behind the couch. The hallway was dim, the sun had already set, and the only lights were the ones from the wide TV screen in the living room where your friends were watching some corny horror movie. You could cut the suspense and tension with a knife, and when you dropped a teaspoon, everyone jumped.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me!"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack." Jean got up from the floor and walked behind the couch. "How are you feeling? Sasha said you're ill."

"I'm fine, don't worry." You picked the spoon up and threw it in the sink. "It's just a headache, I'll sleep it off."

"Good, we need you here." The man wrapped an arm around you. "You're missing how Connie's crapping his pants at this shitty movie."

From the outside it would seem like you and Jean were a couple, but the truth was far from it. You two grew up together, his family was friends with your family, and what you had was nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. Jean's little remark earned a disgruntled look from Connie, you quickly picked up on that, and so you playfully jabbed him in the stomach.

"Connie's crapping his pants? You're the one who almost had a heart attack." You grinned.

"Oi, that was only because you dropped your stupid spoon. I was invested in the movie."

"Mhm, sure you were."

"Hey, you sure you don't want to join us?" Mikasa waved at you from the living room. You pondered over her question. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awkward to sit with them.

"Alright, sure, why not?"

"Come, sit next to me." Sasha shuffled to the side, but what she really meant by that was 'sit next to Connie', because she shuffled to the otherside.

The following two nights were surprisingly quiet, all you did was play board games, watch movies and walk around the town taking pictures. The tension between Connie and you seemed to dissipate, and you both forgot the unpleasant interaction you had on the first day. But on the fourth night, that's when shit hit the fan. Annie and Armin left for a date, and Eren and Mikasa wanted to spend the night alone in their room, leaving you, Sasha, Jean and Connie unsupervised, bored and tipsy. There was absolutely nothing good to watch on the TV, and you almost wanted to scream when your friends wanted to play truth or dare. It was one of those games you despised, because the whole point of it was to put the players in uncomfortable situations. And you didn't like being uncomfortable, unlike your friends.

"Jean, truth or dare?" Sasha beamed.

"Dare, duh."

"Alright, I dare you to switch roommates for the rest of the week." She sipped her blackberry cider.

"Okay? So, I'll stay with Y/N, then."

Good lord, if looks could kill, Connie's would annihilate Jean and Sasha off the face of the Earth.

"No, no, you'll stay with me. Y/N will stay with Connie."

"Eh? Why does your dare involve us?" You asked, confused and curious of your friend's proposal.

"Because." She shrugged. "Don't pussy out."

"I'm not pussying out. A dare's a dare." Jean scoffed. "I'm gonna go take my shit in your room and shower."

"Y-yeah, I'll go bring mine, too." You got up, using this time to hyperventilate alone. What the fuck was Sasha even thinking? Was this some stupid joke? But your friends wouldn't harm you, so why would she suggest such a stupid thing?

You took a quick shower before curling up in the bed, blankets covering you from neck to toe. Connie wasn't back yet, and you didn't want to go after him, that would just be odd. You were hoping you'd fall asleep before he returned, to avoid any unnecessary fuss, but just as you closed your eyes, the door opened. Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? He struggled to find his pyjamas in the dark, stumbling over furniture and knocking things down, and you turned the bedside lamp on to ease his search.

"Did I wake you up?" Connie bit his lower lip, and through the dim light you watched the way his grey eyes glistened, the way his short brown hair was ruffled, and how the sage green t-shirt hugged his toned abdomen.

"No, no, 's alright. I wasn't sleeping. I can't exactly fall asleep." You clutched the blanket at your chest as you shook the intrusive thoughts away. Connie was your friend, damn it, there was no room for romance between you.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Oh, God, no, it's... stiff."

"Um, yeah, it kinda is. Alright then, I'll jump in the shower real quick before going to bed." He stumbled into the bathroom and you really wanted to fall asleep now.

But you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes, Connie's face popped in your head. So much for resting. You tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing helped. It didn't take long for him to finish his shower, and you mentally chastised yourself for not falling asleep when you felt him shuffle under the same blanket that was covering you. For a minute, you didn't utter a word, you barely breathed, afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

"Are you asleep?"

"Nope." You heard the click of Connie's phone and turned around. You couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"Do you wanna talk about something? Until we fall asleep, I mean." You suggested.

"Hmm, sure." He turned on his side and you felt his breath fanning over your cheeks. You were too close to him. "Actually, d'you wanna smoke?"

"Aren't the others gonna be mad if we smoke without them?"

"They don't have to know. Besides, you and I never smoked together." Connie was already up, rummaging through his backpack with the flashlight of his phone. "And then we can talk as much as you want."

"Alright, I'm down."

You laid on the floor, your head next to Connie's as you looked at the ceiling, smoke leaving your lips. He took the joint from you, fingers touching yours and you blushed, the haze of the weed melting your worries away.

"Do you want me to skip the song?" Connie asked, and for a moment you forgot there was a song playing.

"No, I like it." You confessed. "I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin."

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Y/N." He passed you the joint.

"Okay, tell me something else I don't know."

"I like it when you randomly say historical or scientific facts."

"Didn't you say I brag too much about it?" You took one final drag before you stubbed the joint out in a makeshift ashtray filled with a bit of water. By this point you were high as a kite, every trace of rationality gone.

"That doesn't mean I don't like it." Connie smiled and you could feel it in his voice. "Now you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I can't sleep with open doors. It freaks me out." You sat up, a breeze blowing through the window sending shivers down your spine. "It's a bit cold, do you mind if I close the window?"

"Go ahead."

You got up and picked the ashtray up but before you could close the window, you stumbled over a chest of drawers, the ashes mixed with water spilling over your t-shirt.

"You okay?" He quickly crawled to you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm just clumsy." You laughed it off and waved your free hand. "I'll go get changed, I should have a spare shirt."

But you didn't have a spare shirt. All you had was that stupid white babydoll, and anxiety seeped through your veins. You couldn't exactly show up in that in front of your crush. And you didn't want to ask him for a shirt either. Fuck it, what else could you do?

You peeked out the bathroom door and saw Connie back in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. God, this was embarrassing.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed, but when your facial expression didn't change, he frowned. "Y/N?"

"Um, so, I didn't have a spare shirt and- Jesus, this is awkward." You opened the door and his eyes widened. "Is it alright if I sleep in this?"

"Oh, I get it now." Connie scoffed.

"Get what?"

"You were hoping you'd share a room with Jean, right?" He sounded almost disgusted.

"Excuse you? Where did you even get that idea?" You slammed the bathroom door shut, arms folded across your chest.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I've seen the way you two act. Do yourselves a favour and just fuck already."

You were speechless. Completely reactionless. The weed amplified your anger, but his words brought tears to your eyes.

"You... you fucking asshole! You think I brought this for Jean? I brought it for you!"

"Eh? M-me?" Connie was confused, and you were pissed.

"Yes, you. Jean's like a brother to me, oh my God! Ew!"

"Wait, so you and Jean are not in love with each other?"

"In love?? Connie, how high are you exactly?" You walked closer to the bed, arms still crossed.

"But- Fuck, I am stupid." He shook his head, the memories of you flirting with him flashing before his eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"A bit..." Your muscles relaxed and you sat on the mattress. "Really, Connie, I... I like you. A lot. But you're always giving me mixed signals."

"That's because I always thought you liked Jean!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, you're the only one."

"Huh, guess I've really been dazed and confused."

Calloused fingertips ran across your hips leaving goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed his back and the way Connie kissed you was better than any high you've ever experienced. He was touch-starved, and you were just as needy. His knee found its place between your thighs and you moaned when it barely brushed your cunt.

"I've been dreaming for this moment for as long as I can remember." Connie breathed into your neck, the hot breath tickling your skin.

"Me too, you blind bat." You laughed and he turned you over, hovering over you.

"'M sorry I didn't notice quicker." He kissed you again. One hand travelled lower, pushing your underwear to the side before he pushed two fingers between your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Well, at least now I don't have to finger myself thinking about you." You whimpered with a grin.

"Oh?" Connie arched a brow. "Is that what you've been doing?" He curled up his fingers and you threw your head back with a moan. "I thought you were a prude."

"T-there's lots of things you d-don't know about m-me!" You replied back between oh’sand ah’s, imitating his words from an hour ago. That only earned a sneer from Connie, his head dipping between your thighs. "Wait, what are you do- ooh fuck!"

His tongue lapped at your cunt, fingers pumping in and out of you, and you completely sunk into the mattress, moaning his name over and over again. You gripped the sheets, flexing the muscles in your legs as you squirmed and thrashed. Connie stopped and you almost crushed his skull with your thighs at the empty feeling. He pulled your underwear down and shoved the cotton panties in your mouth.

"Don't wake everyone up, Y/N. You don't want them knowing what a little slut you are, do you?"

You shook your head and Connie went back to circling your clit with his tongue, adrenaline rushing through your entire body with each lick, each suck. Tears of pleasure pooled at your eyes, nose and cheeks red from the thrill of your incoming orgasm. The way he was sloppily eating your pussy and moaning while doing it drove you insane, and within seconds you came undone, thighs trembling with delight. In fact, you were so sore you had to push his head back, begging him to stop so you could return the favour.

"You taste so sweet." Connie licked his lips. You don't know what possessed you to pull him into a kiss after you removed the makeshift gag, but he was right, you were sweet.

"Can I...?" Your eyes drifted down to his twitching cock, your voice soft and quiet.

"You wanna suck it?"

"Yes."

"Later. Right now, I wanna fuck you."

Connie gave you no time to protest, his elbow pushed one of your things to the side, the blushing tip of his cock grazing over your overstimulated clit, up and down your slit. Inch by inch it disappeared into your cunt and he let out a satisfied sigh. You bucked your hips, manicured nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight!" Connie growled, head lowering to kiss you. You could still taste yourself on his lips and that only made you clench your spongy walls around his cock. That seemed to please him, because he rocked his hips harder and faster. "You like it?"

"Oh, God, yes!" You gasped, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you clawed his back.

"Fuck, I want you to ride me." He gripped your hips tighter and turned you over. You tried your best to get in the new position without letting his cock slip out of you, and when you finally adjusted yourself, it was a whole new challenge. Gravity pulled you down, and his tip brushed your cervix, your eyes squinting at the slight pain. "If it hurts, stop-"

"No!" You cried out, your hands resting on his chest. You bounced up and down, the uncomfortable feeling slowly replaced with pleasure. Connie's hands traced your thighs as you rode him, another wave of heat flushing through your core. His palm met your cunt, thumb circling over your clit. "I can't c-come again!"

"Yes, you can. And you will cream on my cock."

The disgust words worked like magic and you flexed your thighs, bouncing faster, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back. "You're so beautiful, Y/N."

"Connie, I-" The words stopped in your throat, the pressure too much for you to handle.

"You what?"

"I'm- oh, God!"

"Atta girl!" He praised you when he felt your silken walls relaxing and your thighs quaking. The second orgasm was so intense you let yourself fall over his chest, dizzy and tired. You thought he'd give you a break, but Connie wrapped an arm around your back, holding you in place before giving your oversensitive cunt a few more thrusts. "Now you can return the favour."

You mustered up some strength to get up and kneel in front of the bed, between his legs.

"Please don't come in my mouth." You asked him before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock.

"Gotchaah-" Connie choked on his words when he felt himself in your hot mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes on him. You didn't break eye contact when you pulled away and spat on the tip, hand pumping his cock to smear the spit. "Hot." He mumbled before you went back to sucking. You felt the throbbing, tightening your lips around him and picking up the pace. "Y/N-"

It all happened in a flash — Connie yanked your hair and pulled your head back, thick ropes of milky white cum shooting all over your face and neck.

"Eew!" You scrunched your nose, hand under your chin to stop it from dripping down the floor.

"What do you mean ew? That's, like, a billion kids!"

"Actually, a fertile man produces around-"

"Don't start. Do not." He pressed his index finger over your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You woke up sore, especially between your thighs, but damn, was it worth it. Connie wrapped an arm around your waist, mumbling something about how pretty you are, but you assumed he was still sleeping — or still high. The sun shone through the blinds and you squinted, annoyed by the brightness, and so you turned around, watching the way your crush snored peacefully.

"Cute." You smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead, waking him up. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Connie rubbed his eyes. "Waking up to you is a blessing."

You couldn't hide the tinting of your cheeks and the grin on your lips. "I didn't think you were the romantic type."

"There's lots of things-"

"I don't know about you. But I'd like to know those things. If you let me, of course." You bit your lower lip, eyes filled with hope.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He sat up, his eyes serious.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Okay, so maybe Sasha knew a thing or two when she dared Jean to switch roommates.

You walked into the kitchen after getting ready for the day, with Connie following behind you. Everyone was eating their breakfast, and Jean instantly dashed to you.

"Connie, bro, take me back. Sasha's leaving crumbs all over the bed! I can't sleep like that!"

"I can't, man, I wanna spend the rest of the week with my girlfriend." He sneered and you elbowed him.

"I forgot to mention Jean's overprotecti-"

"Your what? Hands off my sister from another mister, you creep!"

"Creep? You're the one who was sexting someone's sister last night." Sasha chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

"Thanks, Sash." Jean rolled his eyes. "For real, how did this happen?"

"You see, mate, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"Nope. I will not hear this."

#connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x you #aot x y/n #connie springer x you #connie springer x y/n #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #snk x you #snk x y/n #connie x you #connie x y/n

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blackmissfrizzle · 5 years ago

Text

Angel’s Girl

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel wants everyone to know you’re his girl. Also, part of a request from @brownsugarcoffy/ Hi! I don't know if your taking any request, but I saw this picture of this necklace with Angel on it. I was wondering if you would write a imagine of Angel Reyes giving the reader a necklace with his name to claiming her as his old lady and now Angel now wants to only see her wearing his name as they make love. I really adore your writing and know you will do it justice. ❤

Warnings: A lil angst, a lil smut, a whole lotta fluff and cheesiness.

Here’s more of my work or if you would like to be notified here’s my taglist

At some point, you and Angel knew you had a forever kind of love. The kind of love where you get tattoos expressing that love. When it was your two-year anniversary, he propositioned the idea.

He showed you the sketches he drew of your name. He was so excited, that it physically hurt you to burst his bubble. “Angel, I love you, but there’s no way I’m getting your name tattooed on me.” Angel grabbed you by the back of your neck and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know, mi dulce. You’re too practical for that, so that’s why I drew you these.”

Moving his page of his drawing of your name Angel revealed a sheet of paper full of angel wings drawings. The one in the center, immediately caught your attention. “That one! That’s the one!”

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked nervously. Angel had only shown his drawings to you and EZ. He was too insecure to share them with to anyone else.

“Duh! And I’ll get ‘em on my fingers and go like this,” you flicked your wrist. “And tell them my super amazingly talented boyfriend drew them.”

“Handsome. Your super amazingly talented handsome boyfriend.”

“Oh, how could I forget!?” You smacked your forehead. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” He kissed your temple and listened to you plan when you and he would get the tattoos while he rubbed the ring finger you flicked at him earlier, thinking how well it would look with an engagement ring.

Angel just loved how you showed off your tattoos. Or better yet how you explained the meaning behind them. Club hang arounds? You flaunted that shit and in the next breath you threatened to punch them dead in the face if they ever disrespect you by flirting with Angel. Dudes hitting on you at the bar? You shot them down with the quickness and told them you only belonged to one person and fluttered your fingers like you were already married.

But one day the tattoos weren’t enough. Angel didn’t know what it was, but he knew he needed something else to say you’re his. An engagement ring was out of the question because he had yet to find the perfect one. Luckily, one day he stumbled onto a heart locket that had his name engraved in it and he knew that was it. That would show everyone you were his old lady.

When he brought the necklace to you, you were automatically in love, but you also had to tease him. He was practically going all caveman on you when he requested you always wear it. “Damn Angel, I might as well get your name tattooed on my forehead.”

“Angel!” You hit him as he was seriously mulling over the idea. “I’m just kidding, querdia. We want to take attention away from your big ole forehead not bring more to it.”

With your forgetful self, one day you forgot to put your necklace back on after the gym. That didn’t sit well with Angel, especially since you and him weren’t on the best of terms.

“Where the fuck is your necklace, Y/N?”

“In the car. I forgot to put it back on.” You set down your gym bag, went into the kitchen and got you a bottle of water.

“You forgot? Didn’t I tell you to keep it on at all times?” His insecurities were flaring up, driving him to be crazily possessive.

“Angel, I’m not your damn property! When you get that through your thick ass skull give me a call!” And with that you ran out the door with him calling after you was cut off by you slamming the door and running into your car.

That’s how you ended up at the bar, listening to some lame pickup lines.

“Angel, that’s a pretty name.” The guy pointed to your necklace.

Soon as you decided you were going to the bar you put the necklace back on. “It is.” You replied in a monotone voice, keeping your eyes straight ahead. He didn’t take the hint that you were not interested and continued to talk to you.

When you raised your glass to take a sip, he noticed your tattoos and made some corny joke. Somehow, he kept going even though that was like the fifth joke you didn’t laugh at.

From afar Angel was watching the interaction partly amused and partly jealous. He wanted you to tell the guy get lost, but he could clearly see your annoyance and it was funny to him. He decided he’ll let it go on for a little while longer to let you suffer some more unless it got out of hand.

“So, Angel what’s a beautiful girl like you doing here alone?” The stranger was about to put his hand on your thigh, but he finally picked up on some social cues and stopped himself. “I was enjoying my drink and my name’s not Angel.”

“What? It says it right there.” He pointed to your locket. Oh, this man was dumber than you thought. “Doesn’t mean it’s my name.”

“Then whose name is it?” He got defensive, he didn’t appreciate being made a fool of.

“Her boyfriend’s.” Angel finally decided to intervene when he saw the guy become agitated.

The sleazebag was about to be Billy badass, but then he saw Angel’s kutte and became a stuttering mess. “Sor-so-so-sor-sorry man, I didn’t know she was your girl. My bad.” He didn’t even give Angel time to threaten him. He ran off afraid of what could happen.

“Took you long enough off.” Halfway through your one-sided conversation with your unwanted suitor you saw Angel’s reflection through the bar’s mirror. “You knew I was here? Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I thought you would.”

Angel took your glass and drunk the rest of your drink. “Nah, it was too much fun seeing you suffer.”

“Asshole!” You playfully shoved Angel.

He started to laugh but it eventually died down. “I’m sorry, querida.”

“For being an asshole at home or being one here?”

“At home. That shit here was too funny.” He backed away before you could hit him again. “Seriously though, I’m sorry. I don’t think of you as my property. Yeah this,” Angel moved in closer to grab your necklace, “it means you’re my girl, but the deeper meaner is that you own my heart.”

“So that means I’m not your whore you can fuck however and whenever you want?” You asked with a smirk.

“Check, please!”

—

Angel had you twisted up like some damn pretzel, but you loved it. As soon as you got home, he got on his knees and made you cum three times with his mouth and he would’ve gone for the fourth if you didn’t beg him to fuck you.

“Shit! Who’s pussy is this?” Angel was pounding into you, his eyes were focused on your locket swinging against your neck. “It’s yours Daddy!”

“Damn right it is.” He took your left hand and sucked your ring finger. With his hand he took a hold of your neck. “And next time some little bitch tried talking to you, you shit that shit down. You understand me?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered with tears streaming down your face. Angel was too good at this. You could feel another orgasm mounting up and it felt like it would be the most powerful of all.

Angel noticed you trying to hold back your orgasm because he didn’t give you the permission to cum. “Good girl.” He praised you, leaning forward until your foreheads met. “Daddy’s making you feel good?”

“Yes,” you nodded your head, “You’re so big, I can feel you deep in my tummy.”

He pressed a hand to your stomach. “You’re right, princesa. I’m deep in them guts. But can you do me a favor baby girl?”

“Anything for you.” Angel smiled against your neck. “Cum all over daddy’s cock.” And just like that you did. You screamed Angel’s name at the top of your lungs almost drowning out his own shouts of pleasure.

After that thorough round you wanted to bundle up and go to sleep but Angel made you get up. “Hygiene over comfortability,” he said.

As you went to use the restroom, he changed the sheets and started the bath. Just before you joined him in the tub, he handed you your shower cap. It was blissful silence as you two cleaned up.

Again, Angel was rubbing in your left ring finger. Ever since you got the tattoo there, he’s been obsessed, but he never gave the same attention to your middle finger with the other angel wing.

“Angel?”

“Yes, querida?”

“Why do you keep a hand on my ring finger?”

“Man, I thought you were the smart one of us two.” You splashed some water his way and he quickly apologized knowing you could start a splash war like nothing.

He brought up said finger to his lips and kissed it. “Because I can’t stop imagining how good it’ll look with a ring on it.”

His answer appeased you which led you to your conditions of your proposal. Angel listened eagerly and ingrained each requirement in his head. There was no way he was gonna mess this up.

He hadn’t been shopping for it, he just accidentally stumbled on it while at the mall. Weeks later, Angel finally found the perfect engagement ring for you. He was so excited that he planned to propose that night, but your nails weren’t done and one of your requirements were to make sure your nails weren’t ‘raggedy’ as you would put it.

Then another couple of weeks later the opportunity presented itself. You were on your lunch break and you came to the clubhouse to spend it with him and the guys. Your mouth was full of tacos like chipmunk cheeks while you yelled ‘No fucking way!’ at Coco and Angel thought there was no one he rather spend the rest of his days with.

He did a quick check of your nails and they still look good from the day before. Yeah there were people around, but it was people you and him consider family. Your hair was done, and you had a nice outfit on, so all the boxes were checked.

“Querida,” he called out to you to stop you from arguing with Coco.

“Yeah babe?” You turned to him and found him on one knee. “Oh my god!” You jumped up and started wiggling around doing some weird celebratory dance.

The guys turned to see what was happening and they all cracked a smile. “About damn time.” Coco slapped the back of Angel’s shoulders. The rest of the Mayans came out with their guns out when they heard your screams, but quickly put them away when they saw what was happening.

Each time Angel tried to say something you would just squeal and continue dancing, not giving him a chance to get one-word in. “Prospect, get her.” Bishop ordered, seeing how uncomfortable Angel was getting from kneeling on the gravel.

EZ wrapped one arm around your shoulders and the other over your mouth. “I know you’re excited to be my sister-in-law, but you can’t say yes if he can’t ask the question. So, can you be quiet and be still?” You nodded your head fervently and EZ released you.

“Thanks, bro.” Angel cleared his throat before looking at you. He was getting nervous again, but then he saw how you had to contain your excitement and he was overwhelmed with love again. “You know I’m not good with words and shit, but I’ll try. You’re my everything, Y/N. You’re my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. I honestly can’t think of my life without you because it would be too depressing. God, I hope this isn’t too corny, but here it goes: what’s the point of an angel if there’s no heaven? So, with that being said, Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Angel was lucky he started to stand up because you tackled him once he slid the ring on. He was attacked with kisses all over his face and he wondered how could he had been worried about you saying no at all.

“You know you’re gonna be stuck with me forever, right?”

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine with that. What’s the point of heaven if I don’t have my Angel with me?” Forever with Angel sounded like paradise and you couldn’t wait.

Tagging: @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @sadeyesgf @woahitslucyylu @starrynite7114 @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @sambucky8 @mygirlrenee @ljstraightnochaser @my-rosegold-soul @angrythingstarlight @richonne4life @brattyfics @lovebennycolon @langiinspirations @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @spookys-girl @brownsugarcoffy @thesandbeneathmytoes @fvckthisbxtchup @theartisticqueen

#black!reader #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes fanfic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fandom #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic

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licieoic · 5 years ago

Photo

“Pour One Out” - Digital Oil Painting

Inspired by Suptober, theme: Pour One Out. Bartender/Patron AU! This one was actually inspired by a number of themes from Suptober including “Family Business” and “Favorite,” as shown in the ficlet below the cut. (It’s PG, though Dean is having some more adult oriented thoughts, LOL.)

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

“Hey.”

Looking up, Dean saw his brother, Sam, sticking his head into the brewing room. It had to be nearly time for his shift, he already had his abundant hair pulled back.

“Your favorite’s here,” he said.

Dean straightened up so fast, he nearly dropped the pitcher of beer he’d been pouring so carefully. “Trench Coat?” At least, that was the name he used with Sam; he didn’t want his brother knowing what he called the quiet man in his head. He’d never quite had the courage to ask the man’s actual name and since Winchester Bros was cash only, he couldn’t sneak a look at a credit card either. He’d considered asking for his ID, as that was perfectly acceptable in a bar, but since he was clearly over legal drinking age it would just make Dean look like he was stupid or an ass.

“Usual spot,” Sam answered before popping back into the main area of the bar.

He got up close to the shiny brewing vat in front of him and tried to check his appearance, but the metal didn’t make for a good mirror and left him looking deformed. Damn… He hoped there was nothing to worry about, like food in his teeth or crustiness in the corners of his green eyes, and that his light brown hair was just the right amount of tousled, leaning more toward ‘I woke up like this’ and less like ‘I use a lot of product.’ Then he reached into the pocket of his apron for the breath mint he always kept there, on the chance that his favorite patron would stop by.

It was easy to remember the first time he’d ever seen him, he doubted he would ever forget. Five months after he and Sam had opened the bar, they’d had to strike a deal with the Devil (Dean’s private name for their wealthy investor, Crowley) in order to save it from going under. It had always been their dream to start up a family business and they’d each quit lucrative careers (Dean as a mechanic, Sam as a lawyer) to open Winchester Bros. It had taken every penny of their life savings to do it, they just couldn’t give up so soon.

Pride still smarting with the knowledge that they’d be under Crowley’s thumb for the foreseeable future, Dean hadn’t exactly been the friendliest bartender that night. After being short with a small bachelorette party, Sam told him to concentrate on the solo patrons at the bar who usually weren’t the chatty types and leave the groups to him. Dean hadn’t argued, they needed as much patronage as possible, he could ill afford to turn what could be repeat customers into people who never came back just because he was in a mood.

Down at the far end of the bar, he saw a man with dark, messy hair hunched over the bar. He wore a slightly dirty trench coat over a deep navy suit and had a five o’clock shadow darkening his jawline. All in all, a fairly standard-looking barfly, if he were judging a book by its cover. Dean leaned both hands on the bar and tried not to sound too brusque as he asked, “What can I get you?”

Then the man looked up… and Dean forgot everything. He was lost in the bluest eyes ever to blue, bluer than the tie hanging crooked from the man’s neck. Dean’s mouth might have gone slack, he wasn’t sure. They were like angel’s eyes, almost too pretty to be real.

“I don’t know,” said the man, immediately dubbed Angel Eyes. He seemed kind of down, but that wasn’t unusual for a lone bar patron. “Do you have a menu?”

“W-we do,” said Dean, pulling over the list printed on laminated cardstock once he remembered how to speak. The line at the top read ‘Winchester Brews,’ which he’d thought damn clever at the time, now he worried it was corny. “Ahem… Everything on offer is brewed in-house, plus I can make you just about anything you like.”

“Anything, huh?” He looked at the menu, but didn’t really seem to be reading it. “I don’t know,” he said again, “surprise me?”

Something was really bothering this man, Dean could tell, his bartender instincts were jangling like crazy. His bi-dar, however, was all over the place. He never had a problem flirting with the ladies who came in, but it was always hard to tell if he was clear to make a pass at a man. That kind of thing could get dangerous, depending on who it was and what kind of attitude they had.

“Surprise you,” Dean repeated, reaching below the bar for a tumbler which he filled with a few ice cubes. “Well, you look like a man of… discerning tastes.” He followed this with a wink to test the waters. To his delight, Angel Eyes smiled. And Dean’s heartbeat doubled. He turned around and took a surreptitious breath in an attempt to calm it down, but it didn’t work.

From the back shelf, he retrieved a bottle of whiskey with a simple handwritten label on the front that read ‘Winchester Special #5’ and turned back to face him. As he poured, Dean said, “This here is our monthly special.”

“What makes it special?”

“It changes every month,” said Dean. “Afterward, we add it to the list of brews. And if you can guess the flavor, the inspiration behind it… it’s on me.”

“Has anyone gotten it right yet?” It was the nineteenth, he’d assumed correctly that some people had already tried Dean’s challenge.

He shook his head. “Not quite.” Gesturing at the tumbler, he quirked a brow and asked, “Care to try?”

Angel Eyes picked up the glass and took a sip. He tilted his head, appearing thoughtful.

“So?” asked Dean when he didn’t get an immediate answer. “What’s it taste like to you?”

“Hmm. Molecules.”

Dean laughed outright and Angel Eyes grinned. “Well, you’re not wrong!” he exclaimed. “Molecules, heh, can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before, but is that your final answer?”

Swirling the ice in the glass, Angel Eyes took a longer pull, maintaining eye contact with Dean as he rolled the whiskey slowly over his tongue. Dean’s mouth went dry as he watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down when he swallowed. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and those bluer than blue eyes followed the movement.

Angel Eyes clicked his tongue. “Blueberry…” he said, slowly. “But there’s something else… It’s sweet and… creamy?”

“No hints,” said Dean, but mentally he was cheering the man on, wanting him to make the right guess, and he was so, so close.

He took one last sip from the glass, finishing it off. “It’s good. I like it. It reminds me of a blueberry sour cream pie. Final answer.”

Dean grinned broadly. “We have a winner!”

He returned the smile with one of his own and it seemed like both of them had forgotten their problems prior to their meeting each other. “Really?”

Nodding, Dean poured him another. “On me. Since you’re the first correct guess.”

He picked up the tumbler and saluted Dean with it. “Cheers.”

Dean nodded, a little disappointed that he didn’t have an excuse to keep their conversation going, and turned to go back to work.

“Oh, and—”

Heart in his throat, he looked back. Angel Eyes hesitated.

“Thank you,” he said, finally. “This… really helped.”

“Yeah?”

He made a vague gesture. “I don’t want to get into it, I know bartenders aren’t therapists,” he said. “Just some family issues.”

Dean’s heart sank. He had a family. Of course he did. “Well, you’re not the first guy to come here to escape his wife for a while,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh, I’m not married,” Angel Eyes said.

“Girlfriend?” came out of Dean’s mouth before he could stop himself.

He shook his head. “One of my brothers is constantly going through a rebellious phase. Our father isn’t happy about it.”

“Ohhhh, well, I can definitely understand annoying brothers,” said Dean, aiming his thumb at Sam who was down at the opposite end of the bar, and forcing himself to swallow down any follow-up questions. He’d already said he didn’t want to talk about it, Dean wanted to respect that. “You should bring your family around,” he said, smiling. “It’s easier to open up after a few, you know?”

Angel Eyes chuckled. “I’m not sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. Besides…” He thumbed the rim of his glass before glancing back up, hitting him with that blue gaze all over again. “I don’t know if I want them coming around here. Maybe I want to keep you all to myself.”

Any thoughts of pushing for more patrons to offset his and Sam’s massive debt had flown away. Dean could only nod like an idiot, he knew what the man meant, of course, but the unspoken implications in the statement were pinging around in his head like a super ball. He might have squeaked out an ‘okay’ or a ‘yeah’ as he headed back to work, he didn’t remember. He did remember almost tripping over his own feet and not looking back, knowing his face would be bright red. He pretended to not remember hearing another chuckle.

Since then, Angel Eyes came in at least once a week, always sat at the end of the bar, and always ordered the monthly special, even though he paid for each subsequent drink following his correct guess. He was never wrong about the flavor either, which amazed Dean, he even got the lemon meringue right. He’d been so sure that no one would get it – he’d heard lemon-vanilla, toasted marshmallow, all kinds of other things because who guesses ‘meringue’ for a whiskey anyway? Apparently, a man with gorgeous blue eyes in a slightly dirty trench coat. Three months in, he was the only person who’d figured out that Dean based all the specials on his favorite pies and it only made his guesses come that much quicker.

As he headed out to the front, he dropped off the pitcher of beer and grabbed #15 from the shelf. He almost couldn’t believe it had been ten months since his favorite patron had first come in. Tonight was the night, he resolved, he would ask for Angel Eyes’ actual name. Maybe in another ten months, he’d work up the courage to ask for his number. Dean internally rolled his eyes at himself. He was truly pathetic.

Angel Eyes perked up at the end of the bar the moment Dean emerged from the back, yellow light from a nearby neon sign on the wall reflecting off his dark hair, almost like a halo. They smiled at each other and Dean’s heart was immediately doing flips, seeing how obviously happy he was to see him. Could be the Crush Goggles, but still…

“Fancy seeing you here,” said Dean, filling the glass with ice and setting it down on the bar. “I was wondering when you’d be in to try the latest special.”

“I’m just hoping it isn’t Pumpkin Spice,” said Angel Eyes. Being that it was October, it was a fair comment. You couldn’t go ten feet without encountering something bearing that smell and/or flavor.

“I do like pumpkin pie,” said Dean, pouring the whiskey. “But I think it’s more of a November flavor.”

Dark brows lifted. “A hint? This is new. What did I do to deserve that?”

Dean laughed. “Maybe I’m in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Me too. It’s a good night.”

“Hopefully, about to be better,” said Dean, nodding at the glass.

“I don’t need to drink to have a good time,” he said, but picked up the tumbler all the same to have a sip.

“Your continued presence at my bar says otherwise,” said Dean.

Angel Eyes swallowed. “There are other reasons a person might come to a bar.”

“Such as?”

“Good ambience.” He took a longer sip and let his eyes wander over Dean before traveling back up as he swallowed. “I like the company.”

Dean hoped he wasn’t blushing but he couldn’t hold back a goofy smile. “You do get to meet all kinds of people in a place like this,” he said.

“Yes, though I was referring to one specific person.”

“Yeah?”

He finished the whiskey and set down the glass, meeting Dean’s eyes head-on. “Yes.”

Mouth dry, Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh…” He gestured at the tumbler. “Any guesses?”

“Maybe.” He trailed one finger around the rim of the glass. “If I pay for the drink, can I have something else as my prize? If I get it right, of course.”

“Uh.” He swallowed hard. “S-s-sure.” He could hardly manage the one word; he couldn’t even summon the brain power to ask what it was he wanted.

Smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Angel Eyes considered his answer. “This is a good one,” he said. “Definitely not pumpkin, but it has sweetness… and a note of tart as well.”

“Are you a sommelier?” Dean asked suddenly. “That would sure as hell explain a lot.”

He laughed, the bright sound so incongruous with his gravelly voice, it had quickly become one of Dean’s favorite things about him. So much so, that he would go out of his way to come up with a corny joke or allow himself to be a little clumsy, just for the chance to hear that laugh.

“No,” he said, still smiling. “Disappointed?”

“No. I just can’t figure out how you’re never wrong.”

“I haven’t made my guess yet,” he pointed out.

“And?”

Deliberately, he reached into his glass and retrieved a small ice cube. Before Dean knew what was happening, Angel Eyes was popping it into his mouth and sucking on it while he thought about what answer to give.

Guh. He has to be doing this on purpose! Dean thought. How does he make everything he does so sexy?

Still keeping eye contact with Dean, he bit down hard. Crunch! If he kept this up, Dean would need to run to the bathroom and readjust his jeans. To try and diffuse some of the tension in the air, Dean attempted to make a joke like he usually would.

“You, uh, you know what they say about people who chew their ice, don’t you?” he asked, almost tripping on his own tongue.

“No,” he said, to Dean’s surprise. “What do they say?”

Well, this backfired spectacularly, thought Dean. “They, uh… that they’re, well, you know…” Those clear blue eyes wouldn’t give him an inch, Angel Eyes sat patiently waiting to hear the punchline of Dean’s naughty joke like they were talking about the weather. He had no choice but to quietly stutter, “That they’re… s-s-sexually frustrated.”

“Oh.”

Really? That’s all you have to say, ‘oh’? thought Dean, incredulously. While he watched, Angel Eyes fished out another ice cube and crunched down on it viciously, all while holding Dean’s gaze, as if to punctuate his statement. Heat creeping up into his cheeks, Dean took a steadying breath. Curse blushing, he thought. Curse the noun, curse the verb, curse the act!

“H-have I finally stumped you?” Dean asked when his tongue decided to work again.

“Caramel apple rhubarb,” he said, definitively. “Final answer.”

“Damn!” exclaimed Dean, pounding one fist on the bar. “You did it again!”

All he did was smile in response, the handsome bastard. As he reached into his coat pocket, he casually remarked, “You know, your freckles disappear when you blush.”

He blinked. “They do?”

“Then I get to notice them all over again when they come back.” Retrieving his wallet, he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and placed it on the bar between them. “It’s what I’ve been calling you in my head all this time. Freckles.”

“Well, that’s kind of rude, how would you like it if my brother and I were calling you Trench Coat behind your back?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, good, because that’s totally what we’ve been doing.”

They snickered together.

“Out of curiosity,” said Dean, “what were you calling Sammy?”

“Manbun.”

Dean snorted. “I’m absolutely going to call him that.”

“So, his name is Sam? You don’t wear nametags, so I’ve only ever known your last name.”

“Nametags are lame.”

“They are. What’s your name, then?”

“Is this what you wanted instead of a free drink?”

“No, this is something I should have asked ten months ago.”

Fair point. Dean held out his hand. “Dean,” he said.

His fingers were cold from the ice but his palm was warm and smooth. “Castiel.”

“Wow.” It wasn’t a name he’d ever heard before; surprise mixed with his pleasure over finally learning the name of his long-held crush. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Not sure. Probably something anti-climactic, like Steve.” He picked up the ten with his other hand. “I’ll get you some change.”

Castiel tightened his grip when Dean would have let go. “Keep it,” he said. “Consider it a tip.”

“Okay,” Dean said, slowly, tucking the bill into his apron pocket.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” asked Castiel.

“No.”

He grinned and it put all of the smiles Dean had received before to shame. It held a hint of mischievousness as he said, “That’s what I want.”

“You-you want—what? D-dinner? W-with me?” Dean couldn’t quite believe his ears. He’d barely been able to hope for a first-name basis tonight, he couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to score a date. But then, considering they’d been dancing around each other for ten months, maybe Castiel thought if he didn’t make the first move, it would never happen.

Bringing up his other hand, Castiel sandwiched Dean’s between the two as he said, very deliberately, “I don’t believe I’ve guessed wrong.”

Dean could be pretty dense sometimes, but he knew unequivocally that Castiel wasn’t talking about the whiskey. “I’m off in half an hour,” he said, smiling like an idiot.

“I’ll be waiting… Freckles.”

Okay… so maybe blushing wasn’t such a bad thing.

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