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onlyswan · 9 months

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summary: in which you make jungkook’s world spin and you tend to… make him a little too dizzy.

> idol!jungkook x reader / est. relationship, fluff, angst / word count: 7k

> content/warnings: yea shirtless jungkook should be a warning… one (1) spank then he kisses it better, also gives a kiss to that lil bow on oc’s undies >:( + a flashback of oc crying and him getting stressed out bcs oc is a careless brat fr

> in which masterlist!

note: hehe i’m here <3 this drabble is basically just oc in a mood and jungkook being the sweetest bf ever 🤨 idk how it got this long either heh it didn’t feel that way at all while i wrote-edited? but i hope u enjoy and i’d love to hear ur thoughts 🥺 reblogs/feedback are appreciated !! <3

—

“oh my god- fuck!”

you cover your mouth in shock, squeezing your eyes shut and flinching at the ear-splitting sound that bounces off the walls of the apartment.

jungkook is rendered frozen, eyebrows furrowed and jaw slacked, staring down at his shirt largely stained by the chocolate milk you were walking around with after brunch.

“damn…”

his eyes are irritable when they communicate with yours.

“baby! really? did it have to be the white one?”

but seconds later, they become worried and calculating — wandering all over the tiled floor, and then your bare feet infront of his slides-clad ones, surrounded by shattered pieces of ceramic.

the collateral damage. an unforeseen tragedy.

suffice to say, jungkook woke up this morning blissfully unaware of the turbulent storm threatening to make a playground out of your mind. it’s craving to feed destruction, and here he is living with you under the same roof, an unfortunate casualty from your antics.

the hand-painted mug, wet from the condensation, slipped away from your hands when you accidentally collided with his tough build at the intersection of the living room and the kitchen. this… wasn’t part of the plan. the plan was a little spill and this is a landslide.

“that was expensive too.” you utter wistfully, chest deflating as you release an exasperated breath. “sorry. i’ll clean up everything. just stay there and i’ll- when did i last see the broom-”

his doe eyes grow two times its size when you start looking around the apartment in search of the broom, and perhaps something you can use to pat yourself and jungkook dry, causing your feet to unconsciously shift on the treacherous ground.

“ba-baby! don’t move! you’re going to hurt yourself. are you crazy?” he interrupts you with a hiss, voice stern as his hands curl around your arms to hold you steady. “it’s okay. this is nothing, i’m not mad… just stay still, understand?”

you nod slowly as he lets go, eyebrows knitting together to convey confusion when he starts pulling his shirt over his head, revealing miles of bare skin and planes of defined muscles on a perfect silhouette. perfect because it’s jungkook.

alright… to see him half-naked wasn’t one of your intentions, but you’re definitely not one to complain.

“tsk, i think i need to shower again.”

figuring that the internet has a solution to every problem one could think of, jungkook has decided to accept the horror that has happened to his shirt. what was it again? salt? vinegar? baking soda? powder? fuck it, he’ll search for it later.

he throws caution to the wind by using it to wipe his damp torso, brushing it over his tan skin glistening with a sheen of the liquid that you wittingly spilled. he winces at the uncomfortable stickiness that could be felt across his stomach, but he can’t help but to laugh when he sees how it further accentuated his abs.

and if only you were in a chipper mood today, you would be laughing along with him. would’ve taken over cleaning him up, apologized with a kiss on his waist. too bad you’re not.

eventually, he gives up on erasing on the feeling, proceeding to fold the shirt in halves.

“what are you doing?” you snap, putting on a guise of harsher irritation over your dreamy stares at your boyfriend’s glorious physique. “are we just supposed to stand here forever like idiots?”

“what is this? why are you so grumpy today?” he questions with a frown, patting your cheek with the soft cottony fabric because the splash managed to reach your face unbeknownst to you.

and then he bends down to place the folded shirt infront of your feet, looking up to you with his galaxy-filled eyes to say, “here- come on. stand here while i clean up.”

you stand isolated on the safe zone he created, childishly pouting with your arms crossed over chest as you wait for him to pick up your slippers in the bedroom.

the simple answer to jungkook’s question is you’re bored and in a bad mood. the more complex answer would be you came up with a one-man game you can only win if you successfully piss your boyfriend off, but you’re too scared to pull off anything that will legitimately make him upset with you.

because the last time you made him angry, it hasn’t been… that long ago. he’s been keeping a closer eye on you since then, and you’ve been trying to be good. keyword being trying. after all, you did lost his car key… at a beach three hours away from home. you searched the entire shore — retraced your steps, made your knees and palms bleed digging through the rocky sand, curled up by the waves to wallow in self-blame and the smell of salt-air defeat. you were nearly in tears as you listened to the call ring for what felt like an eternity, unsure if he already wrapped up the company meeting he mentioned to you the day before.

you still remember the desperate words you greeted him with instead of ‘hello’.

“babe, promise me you won’t be mad.”

—

“____, you didn’t even tell me you were coming here! care to explain that to me first? huh?”

your name, and not ‘baby’? heavens above have mercy; you’re fucked.

jungkook presses the heels of his palms over his eyes to alleviate the dull throbbing of his head, breathing heavily to compose himself, but he can’t disguise the frustration deeply embedded in his voice.

“you scared me!”

not yelling, but tone evidently very upset with you. somehow, that makes you feel worse.

“i had to make up an excuse infront of everyone and drive here fast. i was so worried of you being here all alone when it gets dark!”

“it’s your car so i thought i had to let you know right away. i’m sorry.” you chew at your bottom lip anxiously, eyes brimming with tears as you barely muster up the courage to observe how he’s handling this.

your heart pounds louder in your chest when he finally looks down at you, guilty and gloomy, sat on a wooden bench painted yellow. it drops to your stomach when you see the sullen expression painting his face a light shade of red.

“where did you lose it?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you can only manage to point at the shore with your disoriented eyes, and he traces the direction with his. the majestic orange sky where the sun descends below the horizon fails to be recognized by your foggy, distracted minds.

it’s silent for a few beats, then he huffs, breathing out a sarcastic chuckle before burying his face in hands.

“baby, please. please. are you sure you’re not pranking me right now?”

“no! do you think i’d joke like this? i really tried my best to find it!” you sniffle, roughly wiping away the lone tear that escapes your eye. you’re almost too humiliated to continue talking, volume falling a few notches above a whisper. “but the waves were getting stronger.”

he vehemently shakes his head, rendered speechless and stuttering, malfunctioning. he doesn’t think he has ever imagined this type of scenario before. “this is crazy. really… this is unbelievable… how did this even happen?”

he exhales loudly before removing his hands, revealing a calmer exterior. be that as it may, his skin is more flushed, all the way to his ears and down to his neck, where his veins have become noticeably prominent.

“i mean, what else can we do about it? i’ll request for a new one.”

“but are we just going to leave the car here?”

“did you leave anything in there?”

“i left my bag, but…” you pat the pockets of your skirt to check if your valuables didn’t meet the same fate as the car key. “i brought my phone and wallet with me.”

he nods. “then i’ll call a towing service.”

you pout.

“it’s such a bother.”

feeling exhausted after burning a concerning amount of energy in search of the missing item, you stand on wobbly feet to loop your arms around his waist.

maybe it’s to coax him into forgiving you. maybe it’s to make yourself feel better, nuzzle your face on his chest to drive away the anxiety weighing on your shoulders. but as it’s being lifted off, so is the barrier withholding your salty tears.

“i’m so careless. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i should’ve drove my car instead.”

“ye- no, that’s not…” he cuts himself off with a sigh.

he puts an arm around you, pushing his hair back and repeatedly carding his fingers through it out of habit.

“seriously, baby… you stress me out so much, do you know that? you’re always wandering around places you’re not familiar with… this is secluded. it’s dangerous. you could get hurt if you bump into the wrong people… really, i’m just relieved it’s not yourself that you lost this time!”

the recollection of old flashbacks playing in his mind like a movie reel elicits a throaty chuckle from him, low and rough, the vibrations of his chest rudely awakening the butterflies in your stomach.

“you couldn’t even send me a text. you didn’t turn on your location. i would’ve lost my fucking mind again… did you even thought of that? or is that what you wanted, huh? baby? you enjoy driving me crazy like this?”

and the confession tucked inside his scolding obliterates any coherent thoughts in your head, causing you to lose control of your whirlwind of emotions.

“this isn’t fair. you said you won’t be mad.” you wail out in response, tears fiercely leaking from your eyes akin to a rainstorm. “i didn’t know this would happen!”

he clicks his tongue, gingerly caressing your wet cheeks with his thumb, then with the rest of his fingers, and the paw of his jacket, because the streams just seem to have no plans of ceasing. his wide eyes worriedly scans your tear-stained face, heart squeezed painfully by the restrained sobs forcefully ripping themselves from your throat.

“shhh, shh. don’t cry- don’t cry. i’m not mad, i was just worried about you.”

“jungkook, you’re lying.” you whine. “don’t lie to me. i don’t like it.”

he slowly blinks at you, head hanging low as to compose his thoughts before he reconnects with your eyes. a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips before his tongue unconsciously sweeps over them, its tip catching the silver ring piercing through his skin to play with it.

a moment of silence, thick with restlessness and anticipation, harder to breathe with the unique smell of the salt-air entering and leaving your lungs.

you feel small under his stoic gaze. you want to sit back down and cry harder.

your boyfriend is mad. your boyfriend is infuriatingly hot even when he’s disappointed in you. you need to dig a hole in the sand and live there forever. after everything, these are the only thoughts left running in your head.

“okay, fine. you lost the key of our car in the ocean, ____. but what if someone already found it by chance?” he cocks his head to the side, briefly peering at the road behind you.

he knows that it’s no use. even if he does see the white jeep wheeling by, is he supposed to assume that he can outrun it by some heaven-granted miracle?

“what then? hm…? what else can we do? i guess it could be getting stolen right now and we don’t even know. you parked so far away.”

god, please, not your favorite car.

“it’s not only the car. i still have important documents left in the compartment too.” this only dawns on him now, judging by the look of distress written on his face. he suddenly slaps his thigh, and you flinch a little. “fuck! i should’ve cleaned sooner!”

“then you are mad.” you arrive at a conclusion, chin wobbling as you sniffle. “about a lot of things.”

you resist the urge to stomp your feet. you want to throw a tantrum so bad. tell him that he shouldn’t be keeping such things in the car in the first place, that he owns a safe for fuck’s sake, but you know you can’t get away with shifting the blame because you messed up horribly in comparison.

“i get it. i’m sorry… i take full responsibility this time.”

“shit, baby.” he deeply sighs.

it becomes quiet again. he just looks at your face with knitted eyebrows, not saying anything more, and you try your best to cut off your crying, not to act conscious, but your eyes still fall on the sand. they stay there for a few beats to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

he almost sounds pained when he finally speaks. “how can i stay mad at you when you’re crying?”

he tilts up your chin, and your glassy eyes, sparkling with a new wave of tears, look at him beseechingly.

the setting sun. an eternal witness to a brand new day of humans being humans. it kisses your skin with its golden light, bathing your figure to radiate an angelic glow that drives him to consider once more that you could just be an enchanting character across dreams and the year is still 2017.

you sniffle again, brushing off his hand. sometimes you despise that jungkook brings out messiest, most unstable side of you. you know that he practically signed up for this, and he will always love you the same, love you even more. but that doesn’t take away the fact that you’re so embarrassed.

“but i’m not crying just to make you feel bad, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“yah, that wasn’t what i meant?” he frowns, eyes softening at your reply. “of course. i know that.”

the cracks in your voice, he seals with a soft kiss on your lips, tender and swollen caused by the onslaught of your sharp teeth.

“anyway, i can take care of replacing it. i mean, it’s not like it can get stolen just like that, right…?”

he sounds rather nervous convincing the both of you.

“but i’m most worried about you. i can lose everything but you.” his tattooed arm pulls you closer, casting aside the tension by leaving not even an inch of space between your bodies. he tenderly rubs your back to console you, and another kiss is granted to your temple, his soothing voice slightly muffled as his lips stay glued to you. “did i make you cry? i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry… it’s okay. things like this can happen.”

“no, i’m sorry.” you aggressively shake your head and he carries on with wiping your cheeks, the back of his hand brushing off the tears that drip across your chin. he dries his hand on the hem of his jacket only to get it wet all over again.

“let’s just learn from this and move on. promise me that you’ll be more careful next time, okay? you can do that, right?”

jungkook does scold you every now and then, but although you stress him out, he would hate it if he’s not the first person you call when you’re in trouble. he would hate it if you act nonchalant and secretly cry when you’re hurt. but most of all, he can’t imagine a life in which you don’t make his world spin, much as he tends to get too dizzy at times.

your defiant hum makes his tense shoulders drop in disappointment.

“there should be a bus stop somewhere, i’ll just go home on my own. i don’t want to keep stressing you out.”

you will yourself to break free from his embrace, dragging yourself away to leave behind a trail of footprints in the sand, and he knows he’ll be running after you today, too.

“oh? you better stop right there!” he warns with a hand over his hip.

you become smaller and smaller in his eyes with every tick of the clock, much like how the sun is gradually getting swallowed by the ocean.

“i’ll get angry for real if you disappear from my sight. really, i’m not joking!”

angry? what a joke. you know that he’d cry blood searching for you if you get lost.

“oh? you’re really not going to stop?!”

jungkook’s voice fall on deaf ears, except that of the dog leashed to a tree that stands infront of a humble home. it seethingly barks at him from many meters away.

“fucking shit. i need alcohol.” he chuckles to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. “____, i swear, you’re getting too stubborn these days. what should i do with you?”

but you’re too far away to hear him, and so, he answers himself.

“eh, it is what it is.”

the wind blows with a quiet whistle, deadly as it fuels the roaring waves.

“AH! nuh-uh!” he exclaims, jaw dropping in alarm when he sees an urgent reason to chase after you, putting those leg days at the gym to good use.

you jump, a squeak leaving your mouth when out of nowhere, a solicitous palm smooths over your behind, sliding down to the back of your thighs to hold down your rippling skirt.

but you’re determined to be unyielding, eyes shooting daggers at jungkook. “leave me alone. i can do it myself.”

“baby, isn’t that a little rude? is that how you say ‘thank you’?”

“thank you. now let’s go our separate ways.”

and just like that, you’re walking away again.

“shit.” he curses quietly through gritted teeth, pulling at his hair. “babe, please come back… i’m sorry! i didn’t mean that!”

—

“jungkook! how many times do i need to tell you to turn off faucet properly?!”

you’re hot on jungkook’s tail as he makes his way to the laundry room beside the kitchen, carrying a laundry basket over his hip. he’s still shirtless, only clad in a different pair of shorts after a quick shower.

“the bathroom sink was close to overflowing! again!”

“i know what you’re doing.”

“what? what am i doing?”

the basket touches the ground, standing beside the dryer, and then he turns to face you, eyebrows shooting up. “picking a fight with me won’t work today.”

“why?” your tone borders on a whine.

“what do you mean ‘why’?” he laughs in jest. “why? why do you want to fight with me so bad?”

“i don’t know.” you exhale loudly, rolling your eyes and shrugging. “just because!”

“well, that’s not very convincing, is it?” he teases you with a grin, proceeding to open the dryer to dump the fresh laundry in the basket. the clothes you wore in the past week once again soaked up the sweet, floral scent the people around you distinctly recognizes to be your own and jungkook’s.

“i know, but i’m done playing now. you’re not hearing me.” you close your eyes in frustration, recounting the other times you had to say these exact words. “you’re going to flood our house.”

“okay, okay. i won’t forget to double-check it from now on. i promise.”

“sure, that’s what you also said last time.” you indignantly scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “i’m not turning it off for you anymore. if we get flooded, i’m leaving you. i’m moving out.”

your threat puts a halt to his movements for a split second before he’s adorably replying in a sing-song voice. “then i’m going with you.”

“no, you’re not.”

and it doesn’t come as a shock to you that jungkook doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“huh! good luck trying to stop me.” he slams the door of the dryer shut, standing up straight. “it’s not easy getting rid of me. you know that.”

he walks to the middle of the room to get a good view of you at the entrance. with the other resting on his hip, he lies his palm flat over the counter, outstretched arm cascading with varied colors of ink in sharp lines and swirling curves.

fuck, he has to know what he’s doing — flexing his muscles like that, not playing fair.

“aigoo, look at you glaring at me. you want to fight?”

and you’d feel intimidated by his challenging stare, the quirk of his eyebrow, his teeth sinking on his bottom lip… only if he didn’t blink to rake a stare over your body, lingering on your smooth legs that couldn’t be covered by your mere underwear. only if they didn’t flicker back to your face, and only if he didn’t smirk like a lovesick fool.

“so cute.” he chuckles. “you’re totally my type.”

“shut up.” you roll your eyes at the random compliment. “i know, i already get that a lot.”

his smile then fades, not so thrilled with the reminder that it’s so easy to fall in love with you, and therefore anyone would die to take his place. he knows that they hover around you like moths to a flame when he’s not there. well, he really can’t blame them, can he? you’re so fucking attractive.

“what does that mean…? who else is saying it, huh? tell me. i think i have a few guesses.”

“does it matter?” you stare at him blankly, which then turns into a piercing glare. “jungkook! i was just talking about you not paying enough attention. look at you proving me right!”

the stomp of your feet on the floor tells him that you’ve reached a level of frustration near to inducing a flood of tears.

oh, he truly got called out, huh?

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry. i admit that. i’m sorry, my love. i was just joking around. i’m listening well now.” he winces guiltily, beckoning you to be where he is. “come here then.”

“i don’t want to.” you stay rooted in your spot. “who do you think you are?”

“m-me…? i’m your boyfriend. boyfriend!” he points at himself, index finger repeatedly poking his bare chest to emphasize his point. his arm then drops to his side. his doe eyes widen as he breathes out a sigh of disbelief. “oh, i’m really getting upset now?”

you bite back a smile. the sweet taste of victory.

you can’t be the only one, can you?

“aish, i see you’re having your way again.” he chuckles, taking it upon himself to cross the distance between you. his hands find purchase on the curves of your waist, and every nerve in your body turns into a live wire. “let’s just go out today. do you want to practice boxing at the gym with me?”

didn’t he just watch you do arms day this morning? does he think you have the same stamina as him? you make a face of disapproval and shake your head.

“shall we go to a rage room again then? break more stuff?” he playfully sticks his tongue out, and you glare once more.

for the record, you loved that mug.

“boring.”

“and fighting with me is fun?”

you purse your lips into a thin line. “well, it’s not boring.”

“of course.” he laughs, softly squeezing your waist, pads of his thumbs mindlessly tracing shapes over the fabric of your top.

all of a sudden, he’s tugging you closer to envelope you in his embrace, voice slightly muffled as he sweetly talks. “are you mad at me for real? i’m sorry. sorry, sorry, sorry. sorry. i’ll really be more mindful of the things you remind me about, i swear… i don’t like fighting. it breaks my heart when you cry.”

what is this five foot ten man with bulging biceps, tattoo sleeve, and piercings doing here in the crook of your neck — affectionately nuzzling his face on your skin and telling you in a baby voice that he doesn’t like fighting?

you don’t know, but you feel good.

and his bare body is so comfortingly soft and warm.

he draws back for a kiss but his nose and lips only graze your cheek when you turn away, and you don’t see the sadness that flashes across his face.

“so what i’m hearing is… you don’t like fighting with me because i’m too sensitive? is that the truth?”

“no!” he perks up to interject without hesitation, shaking his head. “but i don’t think that’s a bad thing anyway… being sensitive.”

but you admit being a crybaby. you cry when you’re angry.

that’s when jungkook distinguishes the glint of mischief swimming in your irises. he feels dizzy after having his heart drop to his stomach.

“no. no, no.”

his mirthful grin returns, revealing his perfect set of teeth.

“ahh, i’m stressed!” he closes his eyes, throwing his head back, chest puffing up when he breathes in then out. “i knew it. no, i’m not falling for this trap!”

then he flees the room carrying the laundry basket, leaving you doubled over and covering your mouth to silence your giggles of amusement.

“i’m hanging the laundry now!”

“how dare you walk away from me?!”

“you can’t follow me!”

“i’m not.” you scoff, purposely bumping your hips against his. “i’ll vacuum the living room.”

—

“where are you going? gym?” you genuinely begin to sulk, watching your boyfriend slide into a baggy pair of bleached denim pants. “are you leaving me here?”

he avoids your inquiring eyes, ignoring you as he pulls up his zipper and does the button. you pout when he walks further away to pull out a black shirt from the clothing rack.

“is that it? are you tired of me already?”

he tosses its hanger in the basket where you discard the empty ones before wearing the final piece of clothing, covering himself fully for the first time today.

you sigh, feeling dejected. “you don’t love me anymore?”

and jungkook needs to physically restrain himself so he won’t grab your face and say ‘i love you’ over and over again until he runs out of breath.

you leave the closet to follow him to the bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the mattress to put on his socks.

you stand by him, patience quickly running thin. “hello?”

he brushes away the non-existent dirt on the left sock before switching his legs to put on the right one.

“did i turn invisible?”

your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. this isn’t how fighting works. you need a reaction at the very least.

you tug at the sleeve of his shirt, starting to get annoyed, already planning your exit if he continues this act. “you’re hurting my feelings. you’re not even going to look at me?”

he mumbles, and you almost fail to piece his phrase together. “can’t, you’re too pretty.”

his big brown eyes faintly glimmer with hope when he looks up at you, puckering his rose-tinted lips and making kissing sounds.

your sweet and clingy boyfriend, he’s making this too difficult.

a tsunami of affection washes over you, and it becomes impossible for you not to crack at his cheekiness then. “jungkook, you’re impossible!”

atleast he tried to shoot his shot.

“tsk, see? i thought so!” he grumbles, snapping the elastic band on his ankle. “just want one kiss.”

he disappears into the closet again.

he returns not a minute later, unceremoniously placing a white bucket hat on your head before tugging it down to obstruct your vision.

“hey!”

you hastily take it off, scowling at your laughing boyfriend who turns out to be already wearing a black bucket hat of his own.

“you’re bored, aren’t you? let’s go out, have some sun.”

“no.”

you reply exactly as your boyfriend predicted you would.

jungkook captures your wrist to slip his credit card on your palm, folding your fingers over it, but they aren’t enough to hide the black rectangular thing you can use to buy the world with if you wanted to. your amusement spills out as giggles, brighter as he pushes your hand to your chest so you have no other choice but to accept it.

he scrunches his nose, face only inches away from yours as he persuades you with his natural charm. “what if we go shopping, hmm?”

“thanks babe, but i can’t think of anything i want right now.” you sniffle with teary eyes, flipping the card and holding it between your longest fingers as muscle memory takes control.

“then just keep it incase you see something you want.”

he kneels on the floor out of the blue, and you eye him curiously, your fingers automatically tangling with his silky locks before making a loose fist.

“here, put some pants on. hurry-” he presents your pair of faded gray cargo pants.

you tug at his hair lightly, which prompts him to lift his head. you scrunch your nose cutely, giggling. “i’m spoiled.”

“ey, so what if you are?” he brushes off your observation with his satoori accent, blithe tone listing down reasons. “i love you. i worked hard so i can do these things for you. we moved in together so we can take care of each other.”

and you want to cry. you truly do. your face began to feel warm after he said that he loves you, but the tears never make it past your lash line when his big palm lands a loud smack on your ass, skin-to skin.

“but i do think that you are a brat. does that count for something?”

it catches you by surprise, and a scandalized gasp escapes your mouth as you feel the sting spreading across your skin.

“shut up! give that to me.” you roll your eyes, stealing the pants from his grasp.

“see, that’s what i’m talking about.” he chuckles lightheartedly. “get dressed then.”

his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs when he pulls you closer to kiss the tiny little ribbon on your underwear, heart-shaped lips pressed to you so firmly you can trace their outline bleeding through the thin fabric and onto your skin. “mmm-mwah!”

and then you feel them there next, where it still hurts, a softer kiss in comparison to soothe the sting he left behind.

your heart is beating so loud you can feel it in your throat, feeble knees nearly giving away to crash and break.

who does that so casually? who the hell does that?

oh, right… jungkook. of course.

you raise the white flag today.

perhaps he will flood the apartment tomorrow, and you can stay angry longer then.

—

“what’s taking him so long?” you mutter absentmindedly to yourself, lost eyes scanning the park in hopes of getting a glimpse of your boyfriend and his classic jungkook outfit, but he’s still nowhere to be seen.

your sour mood makes a reappearance.

to your credit, taking you out and then asking you to wait here without telling you where he’s going is rude, and you’re lonely and jealous of the couples around you having a picnic. not to mention that the clouds have uncovered the sun and you’re burning.

this scene also leads your brain to wander to those cliche flashbacks in a film or a show where a parent lies to their child that they’ll come back, and then they doesn’t. it’s always, always at some sort of park.

oh, for fuck’s sake, why are you wasting your time giving this a lot of thought?

too bored and antsy to sit still, you finally decide to text jungkook.

to: my baby love

i'm gonna look for food. do you want anything?

orrr is that what you're away buying 😥

WHERE ARE YOU

why didn't you just take me with youuuu

please me lonely :(

[sent 1 photo]

a black cat !! is sleeping on my shoes!! 😭

i miss you :(

are you almost done

i hate u

whatever i'm going. call if you still remember that you're someone's bf i guess.

—

jungkook crosses the street like an excited puppy, long pretty hair bouncing as he practically skips his way to the area where he left you to wait.

only to be greeted by a complete stranger.

his radiant beam fades into a hue of confusion.

the bench is now occupied by a woman chugging an energy drink after running laps around the park.

they lock eyes for a split second. he averts his befuddled stare to pretend that nothing happened, walking past her with a bouquet of sunflowers until he settles down two benches away.

he wears his bucket hat again only for him to throw it aside with a sigh, messing with his hair to release his frustration. of course you left. he can only snort to himself while he reads the last message you sent. you’re so cute. he knows you’ve never been keen on having to wait, but he didn’t expect himself to take so long either.

not wanting you to be upset with him another second longer, he instantly decides to call you.

his forehead creases when his phone vibrates, informing him that he typed an incorrect password. he tries again, slow and deliberate, only for the same thing to happen, and he begins to feel nervous.

what the fuck?

okay, calm down, JK. one more time.

he freezes as the same words flash on the screen. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he feels the irritation bubbling up inside of him.

“why is it like this…? what’s your problem? what am i touching wrong?”

—

you return to the park more carefree than before. since jungkook is god knows where, you decided to have a picnic on your own. you had to buy a new picnic blanket, though. you can’t get the one in the car because he has the key. but just to be petty, you hope that he figured it out from the text notifications he got when you used his card.

oh, there he is looking angrily at his phone.

you halt on your tracks, instantly pulling the brakes on your feet when you recognize your boyfriend from your peripheral vision. you slowly chew the remaining tteokbokki in your mouth.

he’s holding his phone… and he hasn’t called you yet?

“wow, did you seriously forgot about me?”

upon hearing your familiar voice, jungkook’s features soften, not having to squint at the sunlight either because you’ve kindly blocked it with your back.

“where did you even go? i didn’t see you!”

the password-protected device that’s been giving him a headache for the past ten minutes is abandoned in the depths of his pocket.

“baby,” he utters airily as he stands on his feet, reaching out to hold your forearm. “i’m sorry. i took so long, didn’t i…? i went to buy you flowers but they didn’t have tulips anywhere. anywhere. every shop said someone bought all of them!”

he scratches his head with a sheepish grin, revealing the bouquet he’s been concealing behind him.

“i got you sunflowers instead… they-” he points at them, eyes flickering on the bundle of yellow flowers he’s offering as a gift. “they’re not bad. i think they’re pretty too. you like them too, right?”

sunflowers are pretty. after all, it used to be your favorite in middle school, mostly because it’s the first flower you received from an admirer… it was for your birthday and you felt like you died when it withered, heavily on-brand for a young heart drawn to romance. excluding that, everything has changed. it’s a typical saturday and beads of sweat have formed on your lover’s forehead after running around under the sun. you think you can keep them alive longer this time around.

“i like you the most.”

and then he receives his gift in return, that particularly sweet smile of yours he only sees when you’re so giddy.

his heart flutters wildly at your following actions.

“kiss.” you adorably demand, copying his pout earlier when he was asking for a kiss.

but unlike you who left his wish ungranted, he crosses the distance to plant a kiss on your lips. he pulls away a mere three inches, muttering to confront you. “but i thought you hated me?”

“who said that? that wasn’t me.” you feign ignorance, eyes so wide as to mimic being confused. you carefully take the flowers into your embrace, subtly exchanging it with the paper bowl you’re holding. “thank you, baby… here, do you want tteokbokki?”

he goes for the fish cake first, poking it with the stick and popping it in his mouth. you find yourself too absorbed in admiring the sunflowers one by one to sense your boyfriend staring at you, thinking to himself, you’re always worth the effort and this overpriced tteokbokki is pretty damn good.

“i turned on my location like i promised i would. did you see?” you mention without looking at him, acting laidback, still too shy when anything related to the incident is brought up.

he awkwardly smiles. no, he didn’t, unfortunately. he’s still fucking locked out of his phone.

you whimper when he pinches your cheek. “good job, baby.”

—

jungkook removes his head on your stomach to lie down beside you on the red picnic blanket. his hair touches his face and he tucks them behind his ears for the millionth time today.

“will you type my password for me?”

you take his phone without question, putting yours over your chest for the meantime. you successfully unlock it within a second, experienced fingers nimble after years of typing on the daily.

“here.” you hold it out for him without looking, picking up your own phone to continue scrolling through trending topics. however, seconds pass and the heavy weight on your hand has yet to be eased, so you wiggle it to catch his attention. “hey, it’s done.”

he gasps, gaping at you in bewilderment. “how did you do that?”

“you changed it again last night, remember? because i told you our anniversary isn’t a good idea.”

shit, right. he added a new one to the list of passwords that he uses for everything. he totally forgot about that. you’ve taken over every working brain cell that he has in his body.

“baby, this is your fault!” he groans, finally snatching away his phone. “ah- i wanted to throw it away. i didn’t know what was wrong with it. i was seriously so close to crying!”

that bad? was he about to get all his data wiped out? your poor baby. you laugh out loud at his reaction, belly aching as you roll over to wrap your arm around his waist and bury your face on his side.

“anyone can guess it if they try hard enough.”

“but that was the trick, you know? they’d think it’s too easy. they wouldn’t even consider it!”

“that doesn’t mean they won’t try it!”

“ah, i don’t care. i’m changing it back.” he stubbornly pouts, falling back on the blanket.

you want to cuddle. he feels a tug on the sleeve of his shirt and he immediately understands. he allows you to use his tattooed arm as a pillow. it envelopes you entirely when he reaches for his phone to type with both hands, and you automatically snuggle with him closer by resting your head on his chest.

“fine. do what you want, you dummy. you better not leave your phone lying around.” you mutter, heavy eyelids fluttering shut as the wind blows to softly caress your face. “and don’t take more pictures of me sleeping.”

“you’re sleeping? i thought we’re going to the mall.”

“we are. i’m letting you rest before you carry shopping bags.”

“ah- wow. thanks, baby.”

you don’t how much time passes, a minute or ten or more, but falling into a deep sleep proves to be impossible with the cacophony of sounds you’re surrounded with. you’re resting somewhere away from the crowd, but there’s still the hiphop music from a bluetooth speaker, honking of vehicles… and the main culprit, jeon jungkook scrolling through tiktok on your phone and bookmarking videos for you to watch later on. you can hear his giggles louder than his heartbeat, feel them make his body vibrate throughout.

so, you give up. you open your blurry eyes with a tired sigh, blinking to readjust to the brightness. he feels your movements, your nose brushing against his neck, and he squeezes you to his side, dutifully stroking your head to remind you that you’re safe despite being in a public place because you’re with him. you kiss his cheek to show your appreciation.

you end up harmonizing with his giggles when you do decide to join him, nearly tearing up at the sight of a cat riding a motorcycle toy on the screen. a little while later, your fascination is then stolen by fiddling with his tattooed hand — tracing the veins, the lines, the tattoos; pressing the faded heart like it’s a button connected to the beating one in his ribcage; grazing the rough areas of his palm calloused by lifting heavy weights.

and as you do so, you mull over the house by the sea you’re saving up for. how much longer will it take? should you check out more locations? do you tell jungkook? that it’s your back-up plan, a place where no one knows your name, just like how this city once was. it’s where you would run to, where you would build a new life if the time comes that this one falls apart, too. if not, if not, if not, would it be so bad to wake up beside you with an ocean view when he’s sixty?

fuck, you don’t know anymore. it shouldn’t be this hard— not anticipating the worst, but still being prepared for it. you despise being an adult.

you do it absentmindedly, taking off one of your silver rings and slipping it into each of his fingers to see where it would fit best… he knows you’re only entertaining yourself, but feeling it in his ring finger still puts a lump in his throat.

“are you proposing to me?”

“this is your right hand, silly.” you tease your stunned boyfriend, sticking your tongue out. “if you want me, come and get me.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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loveindefinitely · 6 months

Text

༊*·˚ NEED TO LISTEN TO ME — price is disappointed in you and your other three lovers, and finds that some 'training' is in order

read on ao3.

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, poly tf141, ANGRY sex, mean dom price, angst, degradation, minor dom/sub, light humiliation, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, minor spit play, minor blood play (not really), rough sex, price orders EVERYONE around, price-centred, whiny johnny and gaz agenda

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

You weren't scared of many things at this point in your life.

Being a signal officer for the military certainly aided that statement, but it was more the fact that you had four guard dogs in the form of the most seasoned special forces operatives you've ever known. Four very large, very scary men that you'd somehow found yourself lucky enough to get to call your partners.

Both on, and off, the field.

That being said, there was one thing you were terrified of. Like, to your bones, petrified.

And that thing had a name.

John Price.

He was formally the captain of your force for a reason, but he was also informally the captain of your relationship, as well. The one you all looked to in the most difficult of moments, the one that held reason and guidance above all.

It's been that way since the five of you met, and remains the same to this day.

Nonetheless.

It was a known fact between you, Soap, Ghost and Gaz that none of you liked seeing the man mad. You four could count on one hand the amount of times you'd witnessed it, all of which having been directed at either his superiors or an enemy.

But. Right now, in this office, seated on the small couch between your three lovers?

Yeah. You don't fear many things.

But John Price's disappointment is quite easily in your top three, and this situation only cements it.

"He's probably ordering our caskets," Gaz murmurs wistfully, eyes wide as he stares at his foot, tap-tap-tapping against the wooden floor. It's a nervous tic that gives him away too easily, but even with your hand on his knee, it doesn't seem able to quit.

You exhale a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. "I hope he gets me a cute one," you mumble back, tone matching the resignation that clouds your captain's office.

"You four. My office."

Those were the only words Price had spoken to you guys, before marching off to a meeting with Laswell.

To say that you and your lovers were mortified was the biggest understatement of the century.

Even Ghost, sat perfectly still, expression perfectly neutral beneath his mask, oozes trepidation like it's the carbon dioxide he exudes with every breath.

"I know 'm 'n tha military, but I still don't wanna die, ya know?" Soap whines, his head flung back and blue eyes glued to the roof as his hands shake in his lap.

You guys must look like unruly students sat outside of your principal's office to any onlookers, and it should be embarrassing.

It would be, if you could feel anything but mortal peril.

You're about to quip a reply to Soap, when the door clicks open, and the three of you sit ramrod straight, Ghost not moving from his already perfect posture.

Price steps in, the door shutting closed behind him.

The silence is a tangible force, and your mouth is so dry, you'd think you were in a desert, not in your lover's office.

His footfalls echo around the modest space, before he leans against his wooden desk, folding his arms over his chest, before directing his furious gaze to you four.

"When I give orders," he starts, and oh god, his tone, it's so unbelievably firm, "I expect my team to follow them."

There's no response, except for the overwhelming quiet coming from the usually passionate and comforting presence that underlies your entire dynamic.

Price clears his throat, meeting all of your eyes one by one. You wonder if you can see the glassiness of yours, the barely restrained tears.

"So why," he begins, before swallowing once more, determination settling in, "Did all four of my teammates rush into an unstable building after being ordered to keep out?"

You know it's not just the anger of a captain's orders being refused.

It's the anger of a lover having to watch all four of his partner's risk their death, while he can do nothing but watch from the scope of a sniper rifle.

The clock on the wall above the door ticks, and none of you make a sound.

Price grabs a pack of cigars from his pocket, quickly sliding one out, placing it between his lips, and shoving the pack back into his slacks. He then pulls out a lighter from his back pocket, lighting the tobacco, before exhaling his first breath of smoke.

In any other situation, you or Gaz would be chastising him, telling him to stop smoking, or to at least do it outside.

Neither of you say a word.

Rubbing at the furrow between his brows, Price then drifts his eyes to Ghost, the only one who hasn't said a word since the mission.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Price says on a deep exhale, shaking his head. There's hurt there, genuine pain, and your heart stutters in your chest at the sight. "You're my lieutenant, Simon. I thought you'd at least 'ave the brains to listen to me when I make an order."

Ghost's hand tightens where it sit on his cargos, and even with his mask on, you can tell that a disgruntled frown lays beneath it.

"And you, Soap," he looks at the man to your right, now, and you can physically see him deflate at the disappointment in his captain's eyes. "Disrespecting authority is cute 'nd all, until it's me, mate."

Those words feel like a physical wound, even to you, and judging my Soap's crestfallen expression, for him, it must hurt tenfold.

And, then, it's your turn.

His mouth is set in a grim line, and you hope that he can see the regret, the genuine sorrow you feel at disappointing and -- and scaring your captain. Your lover.

"What were you thinking?" He asks, and your mouth wants to open, but it's as if there's an invisible force pinning it shut. "You weren't even supposed to step foot on enemy grounds, and you knew that."

And it's true. Your role is mainly with communications and technical supplies, not actual combat. You were trained, yes, but it has never been your role.

But you'd seen Soap rush in, Ghost trailing after him, yelling, and then Gaz not long after, and it was like your mind shut out any rational lines of thinking. There was no rationale when it came to your partners.

That was a flaw. A genuine character fault, and Price was cementing that fact in this very room.

"Kyle," Price runs his hand down his face, cigar in between his middle and index fingers, "Kyle."

The pain, regret, the melancholy -- it's its own element in this room, its own being, and it feels as if it's choking you from the inside out. Like a gas leak, or a grenade stuck in your throat, about to go off.

Ghost, shockingly, is the first to speak.

"Captain," he grits out. Not 'old man'. Not 'love'.

Captain.

"We're aware of our... misgivings," he states, the words coming off of his tongue like hot coals he needs to rid off, lest his entire mouth burns.

Price nods, slowly, eyes narrowing at Ghost. It hits you, then, how your lover's just dug all of your graves in one sentence. Gaz seems to realise, too, his eyes going wide, exhaling a low, short breath in surprise.

"Sweetheart," he quips, standing up in the transition of one moment to the next, eyes snapping to your glassy ones. The endearment holds no warmth to it, for the first time, and your heart shatters where it beats in your chest, shards of glass embedding into the muscle surround it. "Get on the desk."

He says the words, and in the next movement, sweeps his arm over his desk, causing all of his papers, his pens, his folders, to go careening to the floor.

Soap mutters a curse under his breath, and Gaz winces.

On shaky legs, you stand, walking the short distance to the wooden surface and sitting on it with short pants of breath.

His large hand grips your chin in a tight grasp, tilting your head back and forcing the eye contact between you both.

He leans in, mouth mere millimetres away from your own, before speaking. You can taste the tobacco as he does. "I'm gonna let every single one of my subordinates fuck your disobedient cunt, and it's not gonna get any cum. Do you understand that order, sweetheart?"

It's cruel. Patronising, and so unbearably condescending, but you nod, a tear finally leaking down your cheek.

With a calloused thumb, he wipes it away in one stroke. "Save that for the actual punishment, operator."

And then, he steps back, and takes a seat in his chair, allowing him a full view of the other three still sat at the couch, and your position in his desk.

"This is a lesson on following your captain's orders," Price barks his order, like most other men of his rank would. It's a stone cold contrast to the gentle, comforting way he usual spoke to the four of you. His voice, now, holds no love, no underlying adoration lacing through his words. "You will follow every command I give you, and hopefully, this training will carry onto our future missions."

You're all aware that if it gets too much, one of you will utter the safeword you're all aware of -- the weight of it almost embedded into your beings.

Price knows it, too. And no matter how angry he is, he'll always put you all first, listen to you when you genuinely need to stop.

The feeling in the room has shifted from one of heavy disappointment, to an electrifying anger that has liquid heat melting to your core.

"Simon," Price snaps his fingers, and it's almost as if you're in a parallel universe, because the large man immediately stands. "Lay 'er down on the desk."

Ghost only needs to take two steps from the couch before he's standing in front of you, hand fisting into your hair, before somewhat gently pushing you to lay flat against the smooth surface. Your breathing is harsh, your chest moving in quick rises.

"Strip 'er down," Price orders, voice gravelly as he takes another deep inhale of his cigar, folding his leg so his left ankle rests on his right knee, legs spread wide. He fills out the chair with his frame, and it makes you shiver as Ghost gets to work peeling your clothes off of you.

When your heated skin feels the kiss of the cool air, you let out a haggard breath, head falling back to hit the wood as you clench your eyes shut.

Ghost goes to spread your thighs, before pausing, awaiting Price's directions like a dutiful dog.

You never thought you'd see the day.

"She's wet enough," Price shrugs, taking another drag of his cigar. "Fuck 'er."

Oh, fuck.

He wasn't lying, you were soaking, something about the fear unknowingly having your inner thighs sticky and core aching to be filled.

But... not getting prepped? At all?

Ghost makes a surprised grunt of a noise, pausing for a moment, before recollecting his senses and unbuckling his pants.

Oh. Fuck.

He's really, properly following Price's directions, like the man had demanded. The guilt was eating all of you alive, and that festered in Simon's actions.

His deep brown eyes flick to yours, before he unzips his fly with one hand, gaze not moving from yours. There's slight apology in them, only a hint, before he leans down to spit on your cunt.

You inhale a sharp breath at the act, squeezing your eyes shut as his dick presses against your heat, rubbing against it slightly.

Then, he pushes in -- it makes you cry out, breath hitching as the tip enters. It's a tight fit, but he continues to push in, and it's almost as if you can feel the intrusion, the pressure in your chest.

"So you can follow orders, huh?" Price quips, almost nastily, and it has you shuddering as Ghost's hips finally flush against your own. You don't think you've ever taken any of them without foreplay, and it's a special form of torture. The pressure is almost too much, his cock filling you up so much.

Simon's head hangs between his shoulders, muscles tense as he stares down at you, the epitome of self-restraint.

He always was the most controlling one, the most calculating.

Not today, however.

That title easily belongs to Price, who merely relaxes further into his seat, as if he wasn't just mere feet away from the two of you.

"I said fuck her, Riley. Not stand there and keep it warm."

He's so fucking. He's fucking cruel about this, fully willing and wanting to make this hurt. It's so completely unlike the man you love, and it's psychologically damning in a way nothing else could be.

But, like directed, Simon fucks you.

He stops trying to be kind about it, stops wallowing in guilt. It's rough, forceful, urgent, unlike the way he usually liked to savour your pleasure, your pain. He usually delighted in the smooth, deep strokes, prolonging the passionate act almost vindictively.

No. Now, it's quick, punishing thrusts, and your head falls back and little moans escape your throat.

It's like you've both forgotten that Soap and Gaz sit on the couch, watching, waiting. Price has likely made it that way on purpose, to make them envy the attention you and Ghost are getting.

"Fuck," you moan, tits bouncing as Simon continues to fuck you relentlessly, harsh in his movements.

"Does he feel good?" Price is standing, and when you open glassy eyes, it's to see his face looking down at you. If you had the mind to, you'd flinch under his criticizing expression. "Answer me."

You nod, shakily, and when his brows narrow, you rush out a verbal response. "Yes, yes, he does!"

Price hums a noncommittal sound, before his hand slides down your stomach, leaving your hairs to stand on end, before his fingers reach your clit. In tight circles, he has you on the edge almost immediately, and you cry out.

"Gonna fuckin' cum," Ghost grunts, voice low as his eyes clench tight.

"Aww, you two close?" Your captain's voice is gruff, all too condescending, and just before you can find your release, his hand leaves your clit, and wraps around Ghost's neck. He leans into his ear, and his whisper is loud enough for everyone to hear. "Pull out."

Simon makes a noise suspiciously close to a whimper, and it's so unlike him that it has your eyes opening wide, before he does just as Price ordered.

He pulls out.

"Seriously?" You groan, filter eviscerated like your high was. You lean up, using your elbows for leverage.

Price raises one brow, before scratching at his beard almost absent-mindedly. "Got a complaint, sergeant?"

You shake your head, lightning quick, like a puppet on a string.

That's what you were right now -- what all of you were. Just puppets in whatever acts Price wanted to see you all star in.

It's exhilarating in the worst of ways.

"Soap, Gaz," Price snaps once more, and Ghost is nothing more than a neglected mutt. Which, really, is almost funny considering the amount of times the man teases you, Soap and Gaz about such a comment. You couldn't count the amount of times he's compare you three to 'needy puppies'.

Now, he was nothing more than that, and you wish you could enjoy that fact more.

The two men adhere to the command, radiating nervous energy as they stand to attention, not unlike they would if they were in a standard military unit.

"Gaz, take her mouth," Price demands, before his hand buries in the short hair near the nape of Soap's head with a mean grip, meant to hurt. Soap barely hides a whine as Price tugs him, forcing the man to his knees as if he's nothing more than the mutt Ghost usually refers to him as. "You, lick 'er clean."

You realise, then, what exactly this is.

It's truly a display of power. Of control. Because you four took that away from him on the field, unrightfully so. There truly is thought behind his anger, his pain.

It only makes the ache in your heart burn, makes it bruise and bleed where the shattered pieces cut and embed into the innerworkings of your body.

This 'training' won't make up for what you four pulled. Not in the slightest.

But it's something to let John get some of his emotions out, in a somewhat healthier way than you lot usually resorted to.

You'd always offer your support, offer yourself, and he knows that.

He's deliberately taking away that option for you, taking control to comfort the side of him that is so deeply ingrained, so deeply relied on for him to live.

You love him. So effortlessly.

Those words remain accurate, even as Johnny first licks over your wet pussy, and Kyle's dick bumps against your lips.

Opening your mouth without a thought, Kyle's tip slips in, his pre-cum salty on your tongue as you flatten your tongue against it. Johnny's as enthusiastic as ever, maybe even more than usual, as he delegates all of his attention to your aching warmth.

John's grip doesn't release from Johnny's hair, shoving his closer against you, and the sight is so hot that you wish you could fully, properly enjoy it.

Another time, when you're all in better spots, happy and unapologetic, you'll ask them to re-enact the scene.

Johnny moans against your pussy, hands coming up to grip at your bare thighs, and you just know there'll be finger-shaped bruises come tomorrow morning. He's always been unaware of his strength, not understanding the proper damage he can inflict, especially in the bedroom. It's attractive as all hell.

"Yeah? She taste good, hm?" John nearly snarls, and you let out a drawn out moan at the pleasure and words. The sound is muffled by Kyle pushing in deeper, having you almost gagging on his length.

Your eyes flutter shut at the onslaught of feelings, but even with no sight, you can feel Simon's eyes on you like a physical weight.

You know what position he's in, without having to look. Leaning against the wall with a furious expression, large arms folded over his bulky chest. Maybe he's pulled off his mask, maybe it's just been hooked over his crooked nose.

"Fuck, cap," Kyle groans, bucking into your throat. "So fuckin' good--"

Johnny muffles a whine as his efforts nearly double, and you swear spots colour the darkness of your vision. You're already there, and it's not like you can say anything, with Kyle abusing your mouth like this.

"She's close, ain't she, Johnny? Feel her clenchin' on your tongue?" John taunts, and you can feel Johnny nod against your core, nose brushing your clit as he does.

John huffs a cruel laugh, before he abruptly pulls Johnny away by the scruff of his neck. You can't help by buck up, searching for touch, but none comes.

"Kyle," John's tone is one requiring no resistance, and with a shaky exhale, Kyle pulls out of your mouth, a string of spit clinging to his dick, before snapping and leaving your cheek covered with a line of it.

You shakily open your eyes, your pussy begging for a release, knowing that you won't get one. Not yet.

"You make a mess, you clean it up," John says.

So, Kyle leans down, his tongue licking over the spit trail, and really it should be disgusting.

Instead, it only makes you wetter.

Your thighs incessantly shake, no hint of stopping as your body aches. The emotional turmoil, mixed with the physical kind -- it's a concoction for torture.

With half-lidded eyes, you watch as John forces Johnny's head in between your breasts, pressing his face into them. It must be almost suffocating, but Johnny manages to whine as you feel John's hand wrap around Johnny's dick, positioning it against your twitching hole.

"Rut into her," John orders, before stepping back.

Johnny does just that -- he thrusts in, bottoming out with one push. Your moan sounds too alike to a squeal at the stretch, the sudden intrusion. Your arms wrap around his back, nails scratching lines down Johnny's back as he thrusts into you almost manically. You're sure that you're drawing blood, but it only seems to encourage the man rutting into you further, his thrusts urgent and feral.

"Jesus christ," someone -- you're sure it's Kyle -- murmurs, and you suddenly want to know what you must look like from a spectator. Ruined, probably.

Your breaths are harried as you feel yourself getting close once more, tears burning at the corner of your vision at the pure need coursing through your veins.

"Please," you whimper, squeezing like a vice around Johnny's dick. "Please, oh god."

"Now you want me to make decisions? Let you two cum?" There's a hand in your hair, and in any other situation, it'd be calming.

Currently, it feels like a thinly veiled threat.

"Please, John, 'm so sorry, please," you beg, eyes blurry as you look up into the man's stormy blue eyes.

Usually, they're comparable to a calm ocean, the beach mid-summer.

Now, they're akin to the darkest of storms, the ones sailors whisper about, the ones that haunt them while they're asleep at sea. Ones that cause shipwrecks to wash up on shores, ones that cause stories to be passed between campers on the scariest of nights.

"Now you're sorry, sweetheart?" And, oh, there's a sliver of the warmth you've come to crave, and it almost has you melting where you lay.

You're so close, you can taste it on your tongue, and your moans get louder, needier, more frantic --

"Stop, Johnny."

Tears fall, then. Hot and heavy down your cheeks, leaving sticky tracks in their wake. Hiccups fall from your lips as you sob from the deprevation.

Johnny whines, head drooped low as he stops, and you can feel him pulse inside of you, both of you at your wits' end.

"You follow orders so well in this room, don't you?" John says. The voice of a captain.

It's almost your last straw. The devastation is too great, the mix of physical and emotion stress weighing on you heavily.

"'M so sorry, shoulda listened," you cry, body trembling.

"John, please, we're sorry," Kyle insists, a furrow between his dark brows where he takes a step closer to you and Johnny.

Simon, although silent, is also closer to you both now than he had been, no longer stood against the wall.

Your boys -- they're so inherently protective, and it's such a nice feeling. No matter how guilty they feel, how genuinely sorry, they can't stand to see you or Johnny so weak, so vulnerable.

Love. You love them, in a way words can never describe.

John exhales. A deep, thoughtful one.

"We're talking about this, after we're all cleaned up," he says. It's the first hint of himself that you've heard tonight, and the relief is like an intoxicating drug.

It's like even the room itself takes a deep breath, dispelling of some of the tension lining every inch of it.

"Off 'er," John snaps his fingers, and Johnny pulls out with a small whimper, head still hung low.

Grabbing your hips, John flips you over, making you bend so your face is to the desk and your ass is in the air. His large hand presses against your lower back, bending you into an arch.

He slides in, and it's an easy entry. You don't think you've been more wet in your life, and gods, you need it.

Setting a ruthless pace immediately, every thrust forces a whimper, a moan, a whine out of your mouth, eyes dazed as your cheek presses against the wood. His hand fists into your hair, forcing your head to face the three men stood side by side, watching you both with a flurry of emotions behind heavy stares.

"Feel so fuckin' good, christ," John seethes, his grip tightening in your hair, causing your moan to become louder as it leaves your lips.

It isn't long before you're at that cliff once more, begging for a final push, just so you can reach that finish you ache for.

"Gonna, fuck, please, let me cum, John, I love you, I'm so sorry," your words aren't fully your own, and they come out in a desperate plea.

"Yeah? My girl gonna cum for me? Needy slut."

Those words are your undoing, your nirvana.

You cum, body strung tight as tears fall down your cheeks once more, your vision nearly blacking out with the strength of your orgasm. It's almost painful, the stimulation altogether too much, and not enough.

John finishes not long after, his cum filling you up with a loud groan from him.

He releases his fist in your hair, and you head falls to the desk, body slumping with the final release of pleasure.

Stroking a smoothing hand down your back, he pulls out, and you can feel his seed leaking down your thighs. You must be a sight -- all worn out and dripping with the white liquid.

"We don't getta cum?" Johnny whines, and you can hear the roll of Simon's eyes.

There's a hand stroking stray hairs off of your face, and from the texture and size of the limb you can tell it's Kyle.

"You won't get to tomorrow, either, if you keep tha' up," Price mutters, and you let out a delusional giggle at his words. You're cum-drunk, almost, from how drawn out your orgasm had been.

"We really are sorry, Cap," Kyle murmurs genuinely, and the hurt is a sharp barb on his tongue. "You know we love you, didn't mean to hurt you."

John releases a long, worn-out breath. "I know that. I do. But you're a bunch of reckless muppets 'nd you fuckin' went too far today. I'm your captain, lover or not."

"We'll talk it over later," Simon states, and you can't help but agree with the sentiment.

You will. And it'll be a painful conversation, but one that you all owe to your captain.

Because, at the end of the day, you four would do anything for the man that you love. That includes the tough words, the difficult exchanges.

John presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, and with complete certainty, you're sure that you're all going to be okay.

a/n. the day that i stop loving poly 141 is the day that i die. price needs all the love omg this one kinda hurt to write cause oof angst but hopefully it was an enjoyable read!!!! thank you to everyone who comments on my fics, your notes etc make me do a lil happy dance ily all!!!!!!!!!!!!

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vampcubus · 1 year

Text

𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂𝐒

a/n: i had to… I HAD TO THE BRAINROT TOOK HOLD OF ME. still getting used to writing for these boys so bear with me.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : inosuke, zenitsu, tanjiro, kyojuro, and tengen (feat. tengen’s wives)

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : light nsfw, spicy in places.

𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐀

— HE GETS IT!! literally the best person for the job. you will not be disappointed because that’s his love language too!!

— The moment you suggest wanting to play fight he is tackling you to the ground full force because he was waiting for you to say that!!

— He loves it!! The cute aggression he gets around you can finally be satiated. He’s on cloud nine rolling around with you, trying his damnedest to get you in a headlock just to feel you kick your feet in protest.

— You’ll have to remind him to ease his grip and the strength he uses to toss you around, but he’s a pretty quick study!

— You’ll really have to try to be able to pin him however, he’s as flexible as he is strong and determined to flip you on your back and proclaim his “inevitable victory” you can imagine his surprise (and heart eyes) when you’re craftier than he anticipated and manage to not only keep up with this enthusiasm but BEAT HIM.

— Soon as that happens though he’s less interested in fighting and more interested in wrenching his mask off so he can crush his lips to yours.

— You will never be safe after that first time you roughhouse with him, any time he gets that giddy feeling in his chest around you he just pounces. It is kind of your fault for conditioning him to express his affection that way.

— You may want to explain it to your friends however because Tanjiro is BEYOND confused. You two were having a profound moment why are you wrestling??? 😭 Zenitsu is having a freakout, trying to pry the boar man off you whilst screaming “YOU ANIMAL, WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO Y/N-CHAN!?” (though once zen’s been briefed he is immensely jealous)

— Inosuke gets suspicious if you aren’t fighting back with your usual enthusiasm. Are you sick? mad at him? injured? He’ll get restless if you haven’t been in the mood for it lately because what do you mean you don’t want to wrestle??? >:(( don’t u love him???

— Inosuke doesn’t want to actually hurt you, of course, he knows the difference between a cry of delight and one of pain. If you make a sound implying the latter he’ll stop and check-in.

𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀

— I’ll be honest he doesn’t really understand it 😭 you’re supposed to be madly in love why do you want to fight? most of your attempts will be one-sided, the most fight you’ll get out of him is playful swatting.

— He’s also easily distracted by physical contact, so the moment you straddle his hips in an attempt to get the upper hand (which you’ll most likely already have, he really doesn’t have the heart to put it up much of a struggle) he’s melting into a puddle, hands coming to your thighs to drum absentmindedly on them—which in turn distracts you. It’s so hard to get mad at him for it too when he peers up at you with that lovestruck puppy look through thick blond lashes.

— Zenitsu definitely prefers a more “aggressive cuddling” approach than actual roughhousing, like tackling the other to the ground for some spirited nuzzling. And maybe some light-hearted games of footsie or lazily shoving at one another’s hands to see who’s stronger.

— Doesn’t help that he’s incredibly horny all the time and pinning him down just makes him feel hot, so now you’ve got that to deal with.

— Zenitsu loves to play up the drama of it, the back of his hand pressed wistfully to his forehead as if he’s feeling faint as he performatively exclaims “Oh, be gentle with me, Y/n-chan~!“

— That usually gets you to back off with a huff of annoyance and heat in your cheeks, knowing he’d formulated the perfect foil to your cute aggression. The best way to fend you off was to make it weird.

— Putting him in a headlock just means he has an excuse to nuzzle his face against your chest, jostle him too hard and you’ll just make him cry.

— Deep down he thinks it’s a bit endearing, it’s just a love language you don’t share and that’s ok. He’ll let you rough him up, just don’t expect the same treatment.

— To that end, you’re better off taking out your aggression on demons </3

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎

— You’ll have to explain it to him for him to wrap his head around it, but he’s pretty open to it! He grew up with many siblings and they liked to playfully wrestle with him sometimes, he just never imagined doing something like that with you! Especially since he’s such a gentle soul and can’t imagine wanting to hurt you in any way.

— He really tries to match your enthusiasm, but all of his playful shoves and swats always end up softer than necessary.

— Checks in constantly! “That wasn’t too rough was it?” “That didn’t hurt right?” “Ah, did I get carried away? 🥺” like bb calm down you’re doing great.

— Once he’s used to your habits he can’t help but anticipate your next sneak attack, biting his lip to conceal a smile when he notices you ready to pounce from the corner of his eye. You may think you’ve caught him unawares but he often can smell or hear your approach, but he loves to pretend anyways, just to see that triumphant grin on your face when you jump onto his back.

— Oftentimes your playful wrestling is interspersed with gentle touches. You just look so cute when you’re determined and he can’t help but caress your face in the moment <3 (he’s so soft pls i’d be crying)

— Nezuko watches the two of you play a lot and you can tell she wants to join in so sometimes you tag her in to fight at your side!!! Tanjiro is laughing so hard he can hardly breathe, overwhelmed with joy as the two most important people in his life put him through his paces.

— While he definitely prefers to express his affection in softer ways, he learns to love roughhousing with you. He knows that you only do it because you want to be close and because you trust him, and he’s content with that.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔

— When you first express your desire to play fight all you’ll get is a puzzled tilt of his head in return. He’ll genuinely ask you why, and when instead of explaining you get flustered he is suddenly very intrigued.

“I must confess I do enjoy that expression on your face, little flame!” (If you know you know) he all but announces to half the compound, which has your entire face boiling with embarrassment. Seeing his comment has only extended your distress, his eyes soften fondly. “Take your time.”

The best answer your monkey brain can conjure is “because I love you!” blurted out in a hurry, startling a few nearby birds into flight. No one’s quite as startled as Kyojuro however, whose face is now equally ablaze at your confession.

“And I want to be close to you,” you added, fighting through the early relationship jitters to get your point across. The best way to a healthy relationship is through communication, right? After all, Kyojuro had no right to be so damned cute all the time. It made you want to wrestle him into an embrace every time he said something unintentionally endearing—which was often!

“I think I understand!”

— Honestly, he’s a natural at it. He knows his own strength and how much he can use when tussling with you without causing any real harm. Even if you really wouldn’t mind a few token bruises to remember those silly moments by.

— He’s a little nervous at first, he did grow up with a brother but Senjuro had always been gentle in his affections towards him. Though as soon as he sees just how much fun you’re having he’s absolutely on board! Enamored when you can’t help but giggle as you’re rolling out of reach, lunging for his sides, and jumping onto his back in an attempt to bring him to the ground.

— Most of the time between efforts of fending off your playful shoving he’s nuzzling against you, trailing kisses wherever he can reach. Laughing heartily along with you as he all too easily weakens you by attacking your sides with incessant tickling until you’re wheezing so hard you can hardly breathe.

— He rarely initiates roughhousing, but he will never deny you. It’s a great way to lift his spirits when he’s feeling down. It’s a rare occurrence, but he appreciates those small gestures the most. Close proximity and your beautiful laugh? What more could he want?

— He now knows your desire to roughhouse is a sign of affection, so he cherishes being able to let loose and play with you. Though most of the time neither of you is concerned about winning. Your playfights all too easily turn into spirited cuddling. (He’s just so loving and I- *sobs*)

— Until you decide to test some newfound strength and surprise him by flipping him flat on his back with his hands pinned to the ground. Now… now it’s different, a different kind of longing in those bright golden eyes you’ve grown to adore. One of blatant heat and desire. He always desires you but especially so when you assert yourself.

— Does this lead to you desperately rutting against one another and tearing at your clothing? Couldn’t say. (Absolutely)

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐈

— He thinks it’s adorable that you want to roughhouse with him and will actually encourage you to try! He’s so disrespectful about it though 😭 can hold your attacks at bay with a single hand over your face. Likes to egg you on until you really want to smack him and then acts surprised when you slip out of his grip and head butt his chest full force.

“Why you little…”

— Now the game is on! Prepare to roll around struggling for the upper hand until he feels he’s put you in your place! Instead of being discouraged by your loss, you’re more determined to win the next round.

— His instincts are razor sharp so don’t think you’ll ever truly get the jump on him with a sneak attack, even when he looks to be none the wiser. He always knows you’re there and foils your plans at the last second :(((

— You can usually get Suma and Makio in on the action and get him rumbling with laughter as you all wrestle in a pile.

— Hinatsuru prefers to watch with a soft expression as her lovers fight and then crawl into the cuddle pile that follows as the four of you are gasping for breath. Suma always claims a place at your side afterward so she can whisper new schemes into your ear <3 she’s your partner in crime.

— Tengen could likely fend the four of you off all at once if you ever did convince Hina to join, but he loves the triumphant cheers you make when he admits defeat.

— Now if you just so happen to have even greater strength than him? He’s shutting up so fast cus please toss him around and rough him up a bit, I’m telling you he gets off on that shit—especially if you’re being “flashy” about it. Probably goes without saying that your roughhousing often turns into something else.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #inosuke hashibira x reader #inosuke x reader #zenitsu agatsuma x reader #zenitsu x reader #tanjirou kamado x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjiro x reader #tanjirou x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku x reader #tengen uzui x reader #tengen x reader #tengen x wives x reader #kny headcanons #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons

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xcrust · 4 months

Text

{His Regret}

Alastor X Reader

Important note!!

There is spoilers to the latest episode!!

also another note to have is that this is a little drabble with heavy angst. Like I may not be the best writer when it comes to emotions but trust on this.

This doesn't apply to my main story

at this point alastor just escaped adam so he doesn’t know that lucifer fought him.

Anyways To the Story!!

The rubble danced from the fight that was playing out. Well maybe it is more present tense. Hundreds dying for the sake of redemption? So beautiful but not if this is putting me back

“My power is fucking reduced to nothing, this just will not do”

The acrid stench of burning debris hangs thick in the air, assaulting the senses with a noxious cocktail of smoke, charred structures, and the metallic tang of spent ammunition. The once-vibrant cityscape now lies in ruins, the hotel reduced to skeletal frames adorned with tattered remnants of what were once homes and businesses.

Alastor strode through the corridors of his lair, What once was the powerhouse of his mayhem just dirt and disgust. A predatory smile that once adorned his face had transformed into a snarl of frustration.

His mind, a sanctuary of sadistic amusement, now simmered with a tempest of indignation. The audacity of this Adam, had struck a chord deep. If it weren't for this deal then he wouldnt of had to retreat from that poor excuse of a man. How could someone nearly unravel the intricacies of his power? It was an affront to his very essence, a challenge that gnawed at the edges of his sanity.

In his chamber, Alastor paced with a fevered intensity. His crimson eyes, usually filled with mirthful malice, now harbored a storm of malevolence. He replayed the confrontation in his mind, dissecting every move, every smirk, and every flicker of defiance that emanated from Adam.

"The nerve of that wretched creature," Alastor hissed to the shadows that clung to the corners of his lair.

His fingers drummed against the armrest of his grandiose throne, a rhythmic manifestation of the disarray within. The very thought of being challenged, of being outsmarted, clawed at the fragile veil of his composed madness.

The intruder slipped through the shattered remnants of buildings and overturned vehicles. The ground beneath their feet crunched softly with each step, the echoes a mere whisper against the eerie stillness of the war-torn ruins.

In an instant, Alastor closed the distance, pinning the intruder against the cold stone wall with a speed that defied the laws of the mundane. His hand wrapped around their throat, a deadly smile etched across his face.

He looked up and saw you. You, the one he's known the longest from the underground. The one he brought to become as powerful as you were. "Who would have thought it would come to this? Fate has a peculiar way of orchestrating its grand finale."

You, not only were the shackles that he was under but one that you held him in. He grew soft. Weak. You. Just an inconvenience. To get back his power. You needed to be gone.

The fear spread across your face met Alastor's gaze with a mix of confusion and dread. The demonic smile on the Radio Demon's face seemed to deepen as he traced a finger along the edge of your face.

"He almost had me," Alastor muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. The realization, the admission of vulnerability, hung heavily in the air. It was an unfamiliar sensation, an unwelcome intrusion into the sanctum of his pride.

A mirror stood nearby, a relic that once reflected the sheer delight he took in others' suffering. Now, he stared into it, searching for the elusive answers to his newfound discontent. The image that met his gaze was one of a demon on the brink, grappling with an unsettling truth—he was not invincible.

"Ah, the memories we've shared," Alastor continued, almost wistfully. "You, stumbling into my narrative like a lamb to the slaughter. Do you remember all the hell we raised together?"

As Alastor spoke, he seemed to drift into a reverie, his mind retracing the twisted paths of their interactions. The reader, still struggling against their restraints, watched with a sense of surreal horror as the demon reminisced about the moments leading to this ominous juncture.

Laughter started to echo the room. Grainy insane laughter. “Great Alastor died for his friends?” he choked out.

“Alastor? What are talking about” you try to push out. All you got was him glimpsing at you with pure disdain.

“I work best when unencumbered by the weight of sentimentality." Alastor's fingers tapped a rhythmic beat on the wall behind your neck, the subtle cadence underscoring his words.

"Baggage," he scoffed, the disdain evident in his voice.

In a moment the body of his oldest friend was on the floor.

"Do you not sense it, my dear reader? The freedom that comes with unburdened malevolence," he mused, circling you laid out on the ground.

"To be truly free, one must shed the baggage of morality, of attachments, of all that ties the soul to the mundane," Alastor whispered, his voice shaking with mania, a haunting melody that lingered in the air.

The laughter that usually echoed through the corridors was replaced by a guttural growl. Alastor's shoulders tensed as he unleashed a surge of dark energy, shattering nearby objects scattered across the room. Well at least the ones that still held up.

"Adam," he seethed, the name a curse on his lips. "You will regret toying with me."

Dark energy crackled around Alastor, a volatile aura that mirrored the storm within. His manic laughter echoed off the walls, bouncing like malevolent whispers in the confined space.

"I will not allow it!" Alastor roared, the once-charming smile contorting into a snarl of madness. "My power is mine alone to wield, to savor, and no interloper, no matter how curious or audacious, shall stand in the way!"

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aquagirl1978 · 17 days

Note

💐 Harri fluff pretty 🙏 please with strawberry milk on top

(Have you considered that one can probably taste the strawberry milk after kissing harri? *sighs as I stare wistfully into the distance*)

Love <3 V

Thank you @vioisgoinginsane - I had a lot of fun writing this and hope you enjoy it!

To Catch a Thief

A/N: The first fic in my Naughty or Nice event and my second entry for An Invitation to Crown hosted by @judejazza Pairing: Harrison Gray x Reader Prompt: play fighting Word Count: 730 Tags: fluff

“I have a problem and I was hoping you could help me,” Harrison said, plopping into the seat next to you on the couch.

“Good morning to you, too,” you replied, not looking up from the book you were reading.

“Morning,” he muttered as he ran his hair through his hair. He leaned a bit closer to you, dropping his voice. “I’m trying to catch a thief and I could use your help.”

“Oh?” You put your book to the side and stared into his mint green eyes, suddenly intrigued.

“Yeah,” he continued, “I went to the kitchen just now, looking forward to drinking my strawberry milk. And could you believe it, but there was none left. Someone here drank the last glass, knowing that that was my milk.”

“The nerve of them!” You gasped dramatically at his predicament. “Whatever shall we do?”

“I have a list of suspects.” You raised a brow, curious to know who made the list. “Will loves strawberries, so he would be a prime suspect –”

“Except he’s not here now,” you chimed in.

“Exactly. You’re very observant. Alfons isn’t back yet either, so he’s off the list.”

“What about Jude?”

“While he’s rude enough to commit such a crime, he’s not a fan of milk. I think we can safely cross him off the list.”

“Victor?”

“Nah, he’s more of a tea and scones guy for breakfast. Elbert probably hasn’t left his room since last night, admiring all his stuff.” Harrison sighed, truly perplexed. “That leaves Roger, Liam and Ellis.”

“Ellis does like sweets.”

“Another excellent observation. He’s possibly our prime subject right now.”

“I’m glad we were able to sort that out.” You smiled smugly at Harrison, pleased you were able to help him.

“Yeah, well, there’s another problem. Ellis isn’t here either. Some kind of early morning emergency that Victor assigned to him.”

“So then it has to be Liam or Roger.”

“That would seem to be, but there is one other possibility we haven’t explored.” Your eyes widened when he said your name.

“Was it you?” he asked softly. “I won’t be mad if it was.”

“No,” you replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. “It wasn’t me. I wouldn’t do such a thing to you. You’re my boyfriend. I love and adore you and know just how much you like your strawberry milk.” You flashed him the sweetest smile as you rested your hand on his knee.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t drink my milk,” he replied with an even sweeter smile.

“It wasn’t me,” you repeated.

“Of course, it wasn’t. I was silly to even question you.” He cupped your cheek and caressed your skin softly with his thumb. “I think you deserve a reward for helping me.”

He leaned closer, his lips barely brushing yours. “Is this a suitable reward?” he whispered. Your breath hitched as he covered your mouth with his in a kiss. Running his fingers through your hair, he held you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue probing your lips. With a soft sigh, your lips parted, inviting his tongue to sweep your mouth.

He pulled back, breaking the kiss, his hand cradling your head. His eyes met yours and he smiled.

“I knew it was you the whole time,” he admitted quietly.

“What? How?”

“I had my suspicions, but you should know better than to lie to a fox.” Your face fell; he saw through your earlier lie. “That and…” He brought his mouth to yours and nipped your lip. “I could taste the strawberry milk.”

“That was evil.” You grabbed a nearby pillow and hit him on the shoulder with it. Gently.

“It's what you deserve for drinking my milk,” he said, laughing. Grabbing a pillow of his own, he swatted you back. Not so gently.

Peals of laughter filled the room as you took turns hitting each other with the pillows. That is, until Harrison grabbed your pillow and tossed it to the side, leaving you defenseless. He pressed his body against yours, his lips dangerously close to yours. Your eyes drifted shut as your lips moved closer to his, eager for his kiss.

His hand ran down your ribs, his fingers brushing against your most ticklish spot. Your eyes flew open.

“You wouldn’t,” you hissed.

“Well, I am a villain,” he said with a wicked laugh.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @themiscarnival @coral-relevium @cyberk1ee @kookie-my-little-sunshine @pathogenic @ellisgivesmelife013 @ikemen-writer @nightghoul381 @judejazza @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia @ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @ikesenwritings @starlitmanor-network

#naughty or nice #invitation2crowncc #ikemen series #ikemen villains #ikevil #harrison gray #ikevil harrison #ikemen fanfic #ikevil fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic #starlitmanor-network

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Note

Male Alive with white rabbit reader?

Yandere Male Alice x White Rabbit Reader

You were the first to meet Alice. His guide back into the wonderful world of Wonderland. It kind of was your job to keep tabs on him; properly wiggling your ears and puffy tail in his sights as he followed you all throughout the kingdom. But once he routinely returned you found this position fruitless. No longer did you need to trick him to relearn the sights and know-how's of Wonderland. He knew them all. And any lack of knowledge or activity was easily filled by the Queen of Hearts or the dashing Mad Hatter or even the illustrious Cheshire cat. It hurt a little but you would be fine in no time, after all, time was constantly moving and you had no time to grieve for the growing distance of a childhood friend crush. It was time to move on.

“Special delivery, your highness!’

“(Y/n)!”

“Sorry, White.”

You lifted yourself from a bow as the White king tightly wrapped his arms around you. You let yourself hug back trying to be as wholesome as you could while pressing your face against his clothed muscles.

“I’m quite glad you and your sister are making amends! It really does wonders for her mood.”

You cheered snidely as you watched the king grimace at the opened chest. He closed the lid, gagging as he waved for another disgusted servant to come and carry it away.

“Didn’t you relay that actual hearts aren’t…good gifts to give?”

“You know the Queen of Hearts loves her labels! It’d be a crime not to give you one!”

“Right.”

You giggled as the White King shuddered again before guiding you to join him over a pot of tea. Seated across from one another you two fell into old patterns chatting away over nothings of all sorts. It wasn’t until he began to recount something Alice had done that he brought notice to the sour twitch of your nose.

“What was that?”

“What's what?”

“Your button nose is twitching again and not in the good way. What’s wrong?”

“But nothing’s wrong, it's just the way my nose is!”

“(Y/n),” he gave a stern look that had your ears drooping; you couldn’t help but sigh.

“I’d just rather not talk about him, that's all.”

A silence fell over you two and you avoided the gray gaze of the king as you took a long sip of your tea. You let yourself focus on the wild flavor, a far cry from the typical basic flavor White would have used. You let yourself sniff at the tea’s fumes, letting your nose flex as you process the smells.

Cinnamon. Tiger’s tears. A hare’s insanity.

“Mad Hatter’s tea? In the White Palace?”

“I had those two mix something up from the brew we had during Red’s tournament. How long has it been since you’ve seen them last?”

“Uh, it's been…a while.”

White gave a worried chuckle before giving a straight face.

“I’ve seen that look before. Nobody’s forgetting you, (Y/n). Everyone’s just excited he’s back…and I think everyone’s just enjoying his typical…outside perspective.”

“Yeah we love you for all your speedy paranoia!” Smiling wistfully beside the king was none other than–

“Cheshire?! Could you please stop doing that!”

“Sorry King Le Blanc! Just figured I’d invite Bunny since Hatter was feeling…experimental again.”

You deadpanned at the floating smile.

“You just want me to record how quickly someone is going to get injured or intoxicated.”

The smile giggled before twirling around to reveal the face that came with it. Cheshire's favorite part of Hatter’s experimental spells was the truly wonderlandian experience of utter chaos. Nonetheless you finished your tea quickly before leaving the white castle with White escorting you out.

“Until we meet again, (Y/n).”

“Farewell your highness.”

You quickly hopped down the steps of the White palace as you followed the constant vanishing body parts of Cheshire as you surged deeper into the forest. With no words shared between you continued on, enjoying the noiseness of the Wonderlandian wildlife.

“Hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yes?”

“A-are you mad at him?”

The serious tone from someone as playful as Cheshire had you turning to look concerned at the fully materialized cat who continued to stare pointedly back at you. They had stopped walking which made you slow down to turn back to him.

“Do you mean White? Or..Alice?”

You didn’t need to hear an answer, it was glaringly obvious.

“Are you mad at him?”

“I’m not mad…does everyone think I am?”

Your surprised response didn’t seem to bring him ease.

“...Then what do you feel about him?”

This line of questioning made your ears stand up and not in a good way. Your hairs stood up and your legs geared to run. Only affirming your worst fears Cheshire’s slitted eyes were dilated and his tail lashing around behind him.

You were being watched. No, hunted. And even as predator and prey species respectively you both were naturally on edge. You wanted to believe it was Wonderlandian wildlife but no creature other than the Queen of Heart’s jabberwocky could incite such an atmosphere.

“I’d…rather not say…not while we have a tea tasting to attend.”

You kept your hand steady as you pointed at your pocket watch, starting to walk in the direction of the tea party’s site. You kept your walk as casual as you could despite the tensing of your muscles. You beckoned Cheshire, subtly snapping him from his fearful stupor to join you in your attempt in normalcy. You accepted the quivering fingers that reached for your own, keeping him grounded as the feeling of a hunter’s gaze refused to let up.

It was a long walk. Finally coming to a close as you found the opening in the forest leading to the grounds of the tea party always hosted several meters from Hatter’s home and shop. The feeling of being stalked let up as you both followed the increasing noises of the parties attendendants. You wanted to hold out until you were surely in the clear but Cheshire had other plans. Feeling his swelling sense of relief you could only be pulled along as the cat vanished once more pulling you forward with his invisible grip on your hand.

“Sorry for our early arrival! This bunny has a habit of scampering away!”

“No worries, you're hardly tardy at all! Bun Bun we were just talking about how delicious this blend of fruits would be with a peacock plumed top hat!”

You sat beside Cheshire who still was holding your hand tight in his as you sat further away from the couple. You chuckled as your cousin erratically interjected with his own commentary.

“Nein! PLUCKED NOT PLUMED! A fedora is the better option!”

The couple went on and on easily forgetting that you and Cheshire were in attendance. The two of you giggled as you each poured one another a cup of tea as you watched their theatrics. The two were entertaining in and of themselves which made any event bearable…especially after what you two had experienced.

“So? What was that about?”

You whispered to the cat refusing to look away from the Hare and Hatter as their discussion escalated. The cat took a sip of his tea, holding the pot away as Hatter reached for something to throw.

“Can’t tell but its becoming more of an issue.”

Dodging a chair leg you hid your astonished expression behind your cup as you sipped at the interesting blend.

“A person? Able to do that? But why? We weren’t alone, not to mention we aren’t easy targets anyway. Our presence should have been enough to scare anything with pressure sensing off.”

Cheshire paused. As if debating on answering before sending a pained exhale into his cup.

“That is if that person could pressure sense at all…”

Cheshire looked at the look of horrified realization. Grimacing once more as he watched your lips form the question everyone’s been asking.

“You have to give him something. Confess to him or accept when he asks you.”

“....”

“You have to sate him. Date him. Please. He’s become ravenous.”

“But I didn’t even know he–”

“I know…I know…but he’s getting violent.”

“Violent?”

“Mock Turtle was the first. Then Dormouse. He’s frustrated. Stop him please.”

You wanted to press further. Question his shaking indigo irises and downturned lips. But before you could ask any further your ears perked up as Hatter called to the newest arrival.

“Alice! Pleased you could make it! Care for a plume of tea!”

“Why that would be lovely, Hatter.”

Alice smoothly inserted himself into the scene casually conversing with Hare who turned his throwing fits towards him. You turned to address the cat only to find he’d vanished. Feeling a squeeze at your grip and the trailing fingertips as he officially vacated the tea party. You wanted to question further only for the answer to plop beside you with a blinding smile.

“Hi there (Y/n)! It's been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

“Y-yeah it's been four weeks. Crazy, huh?”

You gulped the frog in your throat as you held up your pocket watch. Just as quickly, you pocketed it once more as Hatter called for both of your attentions. You tried to keep your eyes trained on Hatter’s elaborate display. Trying to ignore the hard staring that was being done by the owner of those baby blue eyes.

“--And this will be the final addition to our glorious concoction!”

“Mark it Bunny!”

You deadpanned as you obeyed your cousin pulling your pocket watch out and starting the timer. With the clock ticking Mad Hatter went off; pouring various tubes and objects into a boiling pot. You let yourself be entranced by the different colorful puffs of smoke that spilled from their cauldron. As the smoke persisted you felt a tightness in your throat, nose twitching in familiarity once again.

“The *cough* mandrake root?! Hatter you mad–”

Before you could yell anything more at Hatter the warm hands of Alice reeled your attention. Clutching at you shoulders he pulled you to his body; close enough to speak into your ear.

“Come on (Y/n). Lets get out of here before both of us pass out.”

Without waiting for a response he practically carried you with him ducking into the forest. Eventually running away from the overreaching cloud of smoke leaving you both to gain your bearings deep in the Wonderlandian thicket. Watching Alice heave with his hands on his knees, you were reminded of Cheshire’s plea. You hoped maybe now was a good time to address it.

“S-so Alice I heard you–whoa!”

He stood up eyes, practically glowing with an unsetting glaze as he stepped uncomfortably close to you. Now that you noticed a blush settled heavily on his face along with the recognizable hearts growing in his pupils.

“Oh no, an aphrodesia plant?! Alice are you okay?”

The blonde giggled playfully, “I’m just fine. In fact I have something real important to ask you~!”

“Uhm okay, go ahead.” You had a sneaking suspicion as to what this would be.

“Mmmh!” He moaned as he hugged himself, as he came even closer to you.

“Be mine. Be all mine (Y/n)!”

He grabbed at your red vest pulling you into him as he ran his hand in your hair and over your ears. Letting his eyes roll back as he inhaled your scent; sending a pleasurable shiver up his spine.

“L-like uhm dating?”

He giggled some more as he hugged you tighter rubbing his nose all over your hair and face. He shook his head as if you had said the funniest thing ever only moving you along with him as he began to sway.

“No~No~Be mine. All mine. Okay? You promise right? Otherwise I can’t help but demolish all those fools that keep you away from me!”

“O-okay!”

You hastily agreed lightly returning his hug as he registered your answer. Squealing he spun you around once more before lifting you into his arms as he strode deeper into the forest.

You didn’t know where he was going or what it even meant to be his, but you figured this was for the best. For once it served you right not to run.

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princessmisery666 · 3 months

Text

Just Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean is trying to embrace his emotions and look to the future. Part 3 of 3. Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: fluff, mentions of cheating.

W/C: 4,901.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mentioned: Jody Mills.

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: ”Would you please, shut up, I’m trying to confess my love for you.”

A/N: Obviously this was supposed to posted on a certain day (you'll get what I mean when you read) but it just wasn't where I wanted it to be at the time so I waited. Two-ish weeks later ain't bad though.

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

Pulling off the highway, Dean grumbles, “This is stupid,” to himself again. Yet, he had called Jody to make sure you weren’t working, made the two-hour drive, and hadn't veered off route to the nearest bar.

It’s been a few weeks since he saw you at Jody’s cabin. You’ve spoken on the phone a few times and met him halfway to Kentucky to give him a lore book Claire had borrowed. But no in-depth conversations have been had, which he’s okay with because one, it’s a conversation to be had in person and not while he is neck deep in a case, and B, he doesn’t know what to say or how to tell you what he wants because he’s still not sure himself.

So, in the safe confines of Baby, he asks himself again why is he driving to your house on Unattached Drifter Christmas or ‘Valentine’s Day’ for the schmucks?

Before he can do a little soul-searching and find the answer, his cell phone rings.

“Hey Sam, what’s up?” he answers.

“Why are you in Sioux Falls? Something wrong?”

“Everything’s fine. Wait, how do you know where I am?”

“You were way too vague about where you were going. You always have a plan for today,” Sam explains, “figured you were up to no good and better keep an eye on you in case you get into trouble like last time.”

“Last time was almost five years ago, and for the hundredth time, I didn’t know she was married,” Dean snarks.

“Plus, you didn’t turn off your GPS,” Sam says as if he hadn’t heard Dean’s argument. “So why are you in Sioux Falls on Unattached Drifter Christmas?”

He falters for a second, thinking of an excuse, and before his pause becomes suspicious, he blurts, “There’s a new bar opened up. Wanna try it out.”

“This bar called Y/N’s, by any chance?”

“What? No!”

Sam laughs, and that all-knowing chuckle reminds Dean that Sam is onto him and there’s no point in denying anything. “It’s a good thing, Dean,” his brother assures him. “You may not have told her outright, but she’s smart. She’ll recognize you showing up today, of all days, is your way of telling her you want…” Dean waits, hoping that Sam will impart the answer that eludes him, but huffs in defeat when his brother adds, “Whatever it is you want.”

“This is stupid,” Dean grumbles, “I’m being stupid.”

“No, it's not,” Sam scolds. “I’m sure today will be tough for her. So, just being there for her is a good thing. It doesn’t have to be deep conversations. Showing up and supporting her is enough.”

Dean considers that Sam is probably right, but it doesn’t make him feel any less insecure. “Maybe.”

“Have fun,” Sam says before hanging up.

Five minutes from his final destination, his phone chimes, alerting him to a text message.

Jody: She’s at Lucky Shots, fifth wheeling it.

“Dammit, Sam!” he snarls, but he’s not really mad, saves him a trip to her empty house.

The break at Jody’s cabin was revitalizing, and the feeling has stuck for the few weeks you’ve been back in your routine. It probably helps that you removed every trace of Luke from your life the moment you got home. The confrontation with Dean was cathartic, too. You’ve analyzed what he’d said about not wanting you to meet someone new and that he missed you, and asked Jody for her opinion, too. She’d wistfully smiled as if aware of something you weren’t, “Maybe you gave up on him too quickly.”

You didn’t want to admit that Jody was probably right. Yet you had made assumptions, choosing to believe that he didn’t want anything serious, and after admitting to yourself that you wanted something more, you had decided to go out and find it somewhere else.

That realization turned out to be at the forefront of your mind today. You're thankful to your friends, Laura and Sara, for the invitation and for not allowing you to stay home and eat your emotions. Being the fifth wheel isn’t the issue. It doesn’t bother you, even on Valentine’s Day. They chose a lowkey, casual games bar, not some romantic, candlelit restaurant, and for that, you are eternally grateful. The issue is Luke is there. It could be worse. He could be with her, but fortunately, he’s with two of his buddies.

The bar has darts, beer pong, pool, skee ball, knock down a clown, and a few other amusements. You're locked into a tight game of girls versus boys beer pong - the beer having been replaced with tequila shots - and you can feel Luke’s every glance as if he’s waiting for an opportunity to approach.

It’s the last thing you want, and your friends were kind enough to offer to leave when he arrived, but you stubbornly refused. You had no reason to leave. He should be filled with so much shame and regret that he can’t bear to face you, but he has the audacity to look like a wounded puppy, and that makes you angry.

The game is down to the wire, and the final ball is down to Chris and Dylan, your friends' partners. Dylan massages Chris’ shoulders, “Come on, buddy, you got this. For the win!”

You all hold your breath as Chris releases the ball, and the boys celebrate the victory with loud cheers as it lands in the cup, having barely touched the sides. You, Laura, and Sara shoot another round of tequila. The sourness of the lemon you suck on adds to the disapproving look you catch Luke throwing your way.

Asshole. How dare he judge you!

“I demand a rematch!” Laura declares.

You agree. “My turn to buy the drinks.”

Sara escorts you to the bar. Though she masks it as helping you carry the drinks back to the table, you know she’s doing it to protect you from an unwanted visitor.

“I need the bathroom, but I’ll meet you back here,” Sara tells you, “if he comes over before I make it back, stomp on his foot and poke him in the eye.”

You laugh, really belly laugh, because she’s totally serious, and it’s also hilarious to think he’d have the balls to actually approach you.

“Who’re we looking out for, honey?” the elderly woman beside you asks, lips pursed and looking sassy.

Sara tells her, “Other end of the bar, tall white guy, blond hair.”

“Green shirt?” she asks for confirmation.

“That’s the one.”

“Uh-huh,” she tuts, “I know the type, handsome as an angel, spirit of the devil. You go on to the bathroom. I’ve got your friend until you get back.”

You don’t doubt the lady’s confidence. You wouldn’t mess with her.

“Thank you, Miss…”

“Call me Beverly,” she introduces, and Sara shakes her hand before skittering off to the bathroom.

You wait your turn to be served, listening to your protector tell you all about her first husband, “the devil incarnate.”

If only she knew.

You face forward, not even side-glancing in Luke’s direction, not wanting to give him any inclination you may want to talk. You don’t. Beverly turns and rests her back against the bar to see the whole room without looking over her shoulder.

“Oh, sweetie,” your new friend says, “there’s another one of those handsome-as-an-angel men walking this way, and I think he’s looking for you.”

You still don’t turn, but look up into the mirror behind the bar and see him. Dean maneuvering around people and tables, coming straight toward you.

Unintentionally, you gasp, a sheepish smile creeping in as you lock eyes with him in the mirror.

“From that reaction, I don’t think you need help with this one,” Beverly says, sweetly taking a step to the left to make room for Dean.

“Hey,” he says, a half smile making him look a little awkward.

“Hey,” you say as he leans in to kiss your cheek, and when he’s close, you whisper, “Everything okay?”

He pulls back, nodding with a slight frown as if the question was offensive or something. “Yeah, everything is fine, just passing through and wanted to say hi.”

“Passing through?” you ask, suspicion clear in your tone.

His frown deepens, clearly trying to sell the lie, pretending to be confused by the suspicion.

You smirk. “Just happen to be passing through on Unattached Drifter Christmas?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “How much do you and Sam talk?”

“A lot,” you confess, “emails, phone calls, memes, and then there’s the weekly newsletter.”

“Busted.” He laughs, and it shakes off whatever anxiety he was feeling.

The bartender comes over and takes your order. You add on whatever Beverly is drinking for the rest of the night, which reminds you Sara has been gone a while. You turn around to look for her, and Dean looks over his shoulder. Sara’s back at the table. All of them are staring at you but quickly and comically turn around as if they weren’t when Dean finds them.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, “they’re just looking out for me cause Deputy Dick is here.”

“Shit,” he grumbles. “Is me being here going to be a problem?”

“Probably, but that's his problem.”

Dean laughs, and you really have missed it. The easy relationship you had seems to be a thing of the past, but you want it back. Maybe not the sex because you’ve realized that's where the problem lies. You want more from him than you'll ever get, but at least the friendship could be mended.

“But don’t waste your Christmas on me, Dean,” you say. It's subtle but enough to tell him that hooking up is off the table.

That disgruntled frown appears again, and he looks genuinely offended. “I’m not here ‘cause I think I’m gonna get laid.” He explains, shrugging. “Running into you isn’t a coincidence. I was on my way to your place because I didn’t want you to be alone tonight. Jody told me where you were.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to take from that?”

“Take it for what it is,” Dean suggests. “I’m trying.”

You can work with that. Trying to be friends sounds like just what you need. No pressure or expectations from either side, so you quickly squash the thought that it means something deeper that he’s choosing to spend time with you instead of finding a warm body to lie with.

“Okay.” You smile, trying to look as sweet as possible. “Well, can part of that trying be helping us win at beer pong?”

“Girls versus boys?”

“Obviously.”

He scoffs, “Absolutely not! And you get an extra shot for asking me to rig a sacred game.” He hands you a shot off the tray of drinks, and you knock it back.

He watches you, grinning the whole time, and you shake your head as if it will shake away the taste. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“Don’t try and soften me up, Winchester,” you warn, “I’m not gonna take it easy on you.”

He shrugs, “Was worth a shot,” and walks away with the tray of drinks.

Chris and Dylan merrily call his name as he approaches, and you follow, smiling fondly.

“Now the odds are even. Prepare to go down, ladies,” Dean says, taking off his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbow.

The games continued; the boys won at Beer Pong, but the girls won two rounds of darts. Once Chris and Dylan had gushed over the Impala, you said your goodbyes in the parking lot. Each of your friends hugged you. Dean got a kiss on the cheek from the ladies, and the guys gave him a firm handshake before pulling each other into a one-armed hug. It looked natural and easy, and you love how well Dean slots into the group.

You realize you’re staring as he drives, and he glances over when he feels your eyes on him. “Are we still social distancing or something?” he jokes, reaching a hand over to tug on your leg, requesting you get closer.

You oblige, sliding over the leather seat, and he slips an arm behind your shoulders to rest on the seat back. “Thank you for that,” you say, kissing his cheek.

“For what?” he asks.

“Pretending like you couldn’t hit that bullseye with your eyes closed.”

“Well, I’m supposed to be a mechanic, right? Not sure a mechanic would have perfect marksmanship.”

“If you’re not sold on the mechanic thing, you can always tell them you’ve changed your profession,” you suggest, and with a teasing wink, add, “but they all already know you’re good with your hands.”

“Would you, for once, get your mind out of the gutter?” Dean jests, “I already told you, no sex for you.”

“Sorry, Mr Winchester, sir,” you joke, “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

He laughs but looks out at the road. His fingers lightly brush your neck. You aren’t sure he realizes he’s doing it. When you were sleeping together, it became a thing - absentmindedly, he’d lightly stroke your skin while watching a movie or falling asleep. It's familiar and comforting, and you lay your head on his shoulder the rest of the ride home.

Dean follows you up your path, and while you search your bag for your keys, you notice him looking to the left, eyes squinting, trying to see something too far away.

“Wanna come in?” you ask, distracting him from whatever has caught his attention.

“It’s not a good idea,” he says, giving you his full focus, “I meant what I said, Y/N. I didn’t show up cause I was expecting to get laid.”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered throwing caution to the wind and jumping into old habits. And you're surprised by Dean’s rejection. He could have followed your lead and taken you to bed without any objections.

“Presumptuous much?” you counter, smirking.

He smiles, all charm and smug joy, because he knows he’s right. “Don’t try and pretend you weren’t thinking about it.” He steps closer, crowding your space and gripping your hips to pull you against him. “You’ve been flirting with me all night.”

“I can stop,” you threaten, but it falls flat as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He grins, “No, you can’t,” against your lips, kissing you before you can claim otherwise.

The kiss is not hesitant; it’s deep and long, but you feel him holding back. His hands don’t roam, remaining wrapped around your waist, but he takes his time, savoring the shared warmth, each brush of your tongues, every breath shared.

Dean is the first to pull back. “I gotta go,” he swiftly kisses you again. “I told Jody I’d be there before midnight.”

“Gonna turn into a pumpkin, Winchester?”

He laughs, pecking your lips again, but then his features soften, something close to pleading, “I’m trying,” he grumbles, but you're not sure if it's to remind you or himself.

He doesn’t say exactly what it is that he’s trying, but you know he means he’s trying to do things the right way, and that’s enough. “You're doing great,” you assure.

He kisses you harder, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, and you let him in. He walks you backward until your back hits your door, and he groans when he presses himself into you. “Nope,” he scolds himself, pulling back and comically jogging away down the path, but while you're still laughing at him, he turns back. “Can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

You smile, and it widens to a knowing grin. You spare him the OMG shock when the realization hits you, but you do ask, “Are we dating?”

“Only if you say yes?”

“Pick me up at ten.”

He winks, unable to contain the boyish grin, and just as he opens his mouth to say something, a siren blasts, and a sheriff’s car pulls up to Baby’s bumper.

You walk a few feet to stand beside Dean as Travis, the rookie, and Luke, in plain clothes, step out of the vehicle.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean says.

Luke and Travis stand beside each other on the sidewalk but don’t approach you.

“Ten out of ten for dramatic flair,” you snark, clapping once.

“But should have done it while I was kissing her,” Dean adds, “would have been way more dramatic.”

“I think you meant douchier,” you suggest with a confused frown.

“You’re right,” Dean clicks his fingers as if you're right on the money, “I meant douchier.”

“Funny,” Luke says. “Travis, this man has been driving under the influence. Please breathalyze him.”

You put a hand on Dean’s arm to keep him in place should he decide Luke deserves another punch to the face. After all, he’s not in uniform. Travis is wise enough not to move. You're his boss. Luke has seniority over him but not over you.

“Really?” Dean sneers. “That's all you got?”

“Go home, Luke,” you tell him, “you’re making a fool of yourself.”

“So what if I am,” he says, “I just wanna talk.”

“We’ve talked,” you remind him. “You talked, I listened to your piss poor excuses, and it changed nothing.”

“We were going to get married.”

You raise your voice, “That was a reaction to your cheating! You only asked me because you felt guilty, and I only said yes because…” you cut yourself off, but Dean looks at you, knowing what you had been about to say.

“We were good together,” Luke says, seemingly oblivious to the silent conversation that passed between you and Dean. “He’s just a,” Luke sneers at Dean. “What did you call it? A situationship.”

Dean tenses under your grip, and you know the comment had the intended effect. You’ll have to address it later.

Clenching his jaw, he briefly looks away before leveling a glare and taunting, “Dude, have some dignity. She’s already told you it’s over.” He practically growls his next words. “So leave.”

Luke ignores Dean, looking directly at you. “You're angry, I get it. But don’t make any rash decisions, please.” he implores.

“I was angry,” you agree, “I was furious, but now I’m indifferent. You were a rash decision, Luke, and I’m not saying that to be cruel or get back at you. It’s the truth.”

Saying those words aloud drives home your previous thoughts of why you started dating Luke. Getting engaged was a reaction to your feelings of rejection from Dean’s honesty about commitment. You release a breath as Luke’s face drops, finally seeming to understand.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

He shakes his head, blasting out a breath filled with disbelief. “We were never going to work out,” Luke realizes aloud, “you were too hung up on him.”

“Travis, I’m sorry you were dragged into this,” you sigh, “but please take Luke home.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Luke stares for a second longer, but chooses not to say anything further, allowing Travis to usher him into the car.

Dean doesn’t move, watching the car disappear from view at the end of the street. Your heart pounds in your chest; you’ve just gotten to a good place, and now that might have all been unraveled.

Though you suspect not a lot of it is surprising to Dean. The day you told him about Luke, he’d begged you not to tell him you loved him and he was right for the assumption that you did - or do or might. You can not say it even reject the idea if anyone suggests it, but you can’t deny it to yourself. You sought out Luke to replace the emotions you felt weren’t reciprocated by Dean.

“Maybe I should take you to breakfast,” you suggest, with a nervous chuckle, “to make up for that. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you, but he’s looking you over like he’s trying to read the emotions behind the words. “You okay?”

Quickly, you reply, “Yeah, of course.”

“You sure? You look like a bit of ‘deer caught in headlights’.”

“I’m okay,” you sigh, taking a deep breath. “Just a little worried that's undone all the progress we’ve made.”

“It hasn’t,” he tells you, slipping a hand on your hip and pulling you into him. “This situationship can handle an ex-situationship.”

You grimace, “I’m sorry.”

He laughs, nonplussed, “Don’t be. I’ve been called worse.”

He silences your next apology with a deep kiss and slowly, seemingly reluctantly, pulls back. “I’ll pick you up at ten for breakfast.”

You're rambling again. Since Valentine’s Day, it’s been happening a lot. Dean knows why you're doing it. He can see it in your expression every time you catch yourself and stutter over the words, changing it to something else and hoping he doesn’t notice.

The first time it happened, a few weeks ago, Dean thought he misheard you. You were both breathing heavily, your thighs pressed against his ears, holding him in place, writhing while you rode his tongue. He watched your face as much as he could, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your body twitched, and your climax coated his tongue and wet the sheets, “I love yo…when you do that.”

Three days ago, after a double date with Sara and Dylan, Dean woke you up in bed with coffee and French toast. Still in the haze of sleep, you smiled contentedly, and it almost slipped out. “I love…” you coughed to cut yourself off, correcting it as you sat up, “I love French toast.” But he could see it in eyes, the adoration tainted with the fear of saying it aloud.

‘I love you’ is on the tip of your tongue, and it almost escaped a moment ago.

A car accident had kept you late at work, so the dinner reservations had to be canceled, but Dean wouldn’t let it ruin the night. He’d ordered pizza, knowing you’d be starving when you got home, run a bubble bath (with the ulterior motive of joining you), popped open a bottle of your favorite wine - he hated it, thought it tasted like vinegar - and was waiting in the middle of the living room for you with the glass in hand.

Taking the glass from him, you lazily kissed him. He could feel how tired you were. Listlessly, you mumbled, “Oh god, I love yo…” but had stifled it so quickly that the rim of the glass clinked against your teeth.

Clearly unable to think of an alternative, you began rambling about your day while unnecessarily blitzing around the already clean kitchen with a dishcloth.

He wants you to say it. He figured out how he felt about you when it finally sunk in after you’d told him you’d met someone else. It was more than physical, and it always had been. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have hurt so damn much when you told him about Luke.

He hasn’t said the words to you, but you have to know that’s how he feels. He told you he’s trying. Although, there haven’t been any conversations about exactly what that entails. He’s been more communicative. He’s made future plans - okay, only a week or so ahead at any given time, but that tells you all you need to know, right?

But the way you keep avoiding the phrase sets off a little ripple in his heart. Maybe you don’t know. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll hightail it out the door like last time if you say it aloud. Maybe he needs to expand his communication skills. He says your name softly, but you either don’t hear him or pretend not to, afraid of what comes after.

“I should get you a key cut,” you blabber in. “Save you having to pick the lock next time I’m not home. Don’t want the neighbors calling it in. Mrs Brooks next door is always twitching her curtains.”

He tries again, “Y/N,” louder this time.

“I need to put a load of laundry in,” you say, striding into the laundry room.

“I did it already,” he calls after you.

“I’ll put it in the dryer then.”

He follows, trapping you inside the smaller space so you have no choice but to turn and face him.

“The laundry is done and folded in the basket in your room.” he continues, speaking to your back. “The kitchen is clean. Pizza is on the way. The bath should still be hot.”

You finally look up at him, and there’s that apprehensive smile again, but your eyes are aglow with the words you chew your lip to suppress.

“Just say it,” he sighs, trying to hide his smile.

“Say what?”

He steps closer, crowding your space and using a gentle touch to tilt your head up to keep your eyes on his. “You know what.” He smirks, teasing, “You can’t bite your tongue forever. So just say you love me.”

“I wasn’t biting…” you stammer, “I never…I only meant I was going to get a key cut for you. I didn’t mean anything….”

“Would you please, shut up?” He silences your rambling with a hard kiss, grabbing your hips and hoisting you to sit on top of the dryer. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sigh placidly, but he pulls back and grins, “I’m trying to confess my love for you.”

You drop your gaze, avoiding eye contact. “Please don’t.”

He notes your avoidance of looking at him, and panic sets in that maybe he’s got it wrong, again. But he hopes he’s right, so he chuckles, “giving me a taste of my own medicine.”

You shake your head, “No. I don’t need to hear it, and you don’t have to say it ‘cause you think it's what I want to hear.”

“That’s not what…” he tries, but you raise your voice to speak over him.

“Dean, please!” you wait for him to close his mouth. “I like how things are now, and I don’t want to jinx it or have to watch your ass run for the door again.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, “it will be different this time.”

“We’ve been through this already. I don’t want promises, and we don’t need to open old wounds.”

“I get why you’re…”

The doorbell interrupts him, and you use the excuse to push him aside as you jump down and scurry out of the room.

He leans against the doorframe facing into the kitchen and listens to you thank the delivery guy. You must have given a generous tip because he thanks you multiple times as you say goodbye to him.

The click of the door closing echoes, and he waits for you to appear, but you don’t. He imagines you standing in the hallway, trying to calm yourself.

He waits, counting the seconds in his head with the promise that he’ll go find you if he reaches thirty.

At fifteen, you enter, eyes glued to the floor, pizza balanced like a cocktail waitress. “I’m gonna go take that bath,” you tell him. “Hopefully, it's still warm.”

You’re assuming the conversation is over. Only it isn’t. At least, not for him. He hasn’t been working up to it. He’s never had a grand plan for the first time he says it, but now he knows he needs to say it so you understand and believe him.

Silently, he watches you put a few slices of pizza on a plate - so he presumes he’s not invited to the bubble bath. The stopper gives an audible pop when you pull it from the wine bottle, like an exclamation point on his thoughts.

He clears his throat and proclaims, “I love you.”

The only indication that you heard him is your frozen state, bottle tipped, ready to pour into your glass.

“It took me too long to figure that out, but I do. And saying it or not saying it out loud isn’t going to change a damn thing.”

You continue to pour the wine into your glass but don’t turn to face him, recorking the bottle and resting against the countertop.

You haven’t run away, so he continues, “I always knew we were good together, but now I see that we have a whole future of being good together, not just the here and now.”

Hesitantly, he stalks closer to you, watching you take a large gulp of the red liquid. You must hear his approach because you turn around but jump slightly at his proximity.

“I’m ready to move forward,” he confesses, “and I want to do it with you.”

“Are you done?” you ask, finally looking up at him with a teasing but joyful smirk under a shy gaze. “You’re on a roll there. I just want to be sure before I say anything.”

He laughs but shakes his head once, “Nope.” He takes the glass from your hand and puts it beside the bottle. “One more thing,” he leans in closer, tilting your chin up, lips whispering over yours, “I love you.”

You chase his lips as he pulls back, “C’mon, you know you want to,” he teases, making no attempt to hide his smugness. He’s got you right where he wants you. “Just say you love me.”

Tags info

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Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

#dean winchester #jacklesversebingo23 #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #reader insert #female reader #dean winchester angst #spn fanfic #angst #spn fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fandom #dean winchester x you #you x dean winchester

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dotster001 · 3 months

Text

The Queen Rises Again, a For Tuna End

Part One Part Two Part Three Choose another ending

You hadn't seen much of Vil, recently. And anytime you went to visit him in Pomefiore, he was always “busy” and refused to even open his door to you.

At first you had been frustrated, but you were starting to get worried. Rook and Epel had assured you everything was fine, Vil was just going through a phase of sorts, but that didn't ease your anxiety. For seven's sakes, what kind of “phase” could Vil Schoenheit be in?

It was on another evening that had you ruminating on this idea, that Grim sighed heavily next to you.

“Oh, Grimmy, when did you get in?”

He stared at you for a moment, before scowling. “I've been sitting here, sighing heavily, for ten minutes.”

“Oh, sorry bud. What's wrong?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

You stifled a groan. No one saying what was wrong with Vil was already weighing on you, the last thing you needed was another person to not tell you what was wrong. You weren't good at the guessing games.

“Grim, if you don't tell me, I won't know how to help you.”

“Don't get snippy with me! I'm in distrust!”

“Distress?”

“Exactly!”

He pouted, and crossed his tiny kitty arms, turning away from you with a “hmph”.

You steadied yourself, and forced a calm tone, gently scratching behind Grim's ears.

“What's wrong, bubbas?”

Grim sighed forlornly. “I've just been…thinking.”

You very much doubted that. That was the joke you'd have made if he wasn't so forlorn.

“About what?”

"About how I can't be everything you need.”

“Sorry?” You fought back a confused laugh.

“Look, I am the Great Grim! I bring joy and color to your life as the beloved roommate/son that you always longed for! But even I can't be everything a human needs…”

You quirked an eyebrow, and he scowled. “I can't give you romance. What I'm implying is that you're gonna die alone.”

“Ouch. Thanks Grim. Definitely could have said that nicer. But isn't the next thing you're supposed to say, “but you don't have to worry about being alone because I'll always be there for you?””

Grim looked at you like you were crazy. “My wife and ten children will be taking up all of my time.”

“Sure Grimmy. But I'm a big kid, I can take care of myself…”

“Sure, sure, I totally believe you. But what if…” he hesitated. “What if I had someone, who I knew was very in love with you, and was positive he could take care of you?”

You choked. “Sorry?”

“He's mad for you, and I know if you asked him out, he'd say yes!”

“Lord, who would have a crush on me?”

Grim rolled his eyes, and muttered, “it's more likely than you think. Anyway!”

He pushed himself into your lap, cupping your cheeks. “Please Y/N. I'm worried about you, and I need to know that when I'm not with you, you will be okay.”

Your instinct was to say no. But when you looked into his eyes, he looked so sad and earnest, that you released a reluctant sigh, and agreed.

….

“Kay Grimmy, how do I look?”

He looked at the spot you were standing on the steps, and glared.

“Absolutely not. I told you this was a high fashion date.”

“Well, sorry, but this is all the high fashion I have! In case you forgot, we had to spend our entire monthly allowance to pay for a cleaning crew in the lab.”

“It'll have to do,” he sighed wistfully.

You heard a light knock on the door.

“He's here!” He scampered to the door, before looking back at you. “At least get a coat so he can't see the outfit.”

“If he likes me as much as you swear he does, it won't matter.”

Grim rolled his eyes and opened the door, to reveal…

….

Maybe it was just that you hadn't seen him in a long time, but something was different about the way Vil looked.

“Apple blossom, if you keep staring, I'll get self conscious,” he mused as he delicately rolled some pasta on his fork. Your cheeks burned, and you looked down at your plate.

“I've just been worried about you, that's all.”

“I'm grateful for your concern,” he reached across the table and squeezed your hand, making your heart flutter.

“Have you started a new skin care routine? Your skin seems like it's glowing!” You quickly changed the subject.

“You have a sharp eye! I've been trying some new products, and I think it looks rather good.”

“Yeah…wait! I know what's different!” You sat up straight. “Your hair looks darker!”

He froze. “I don't think so…”

“It definitely looks a shade darker-”

“How about we split a slice of cake for dessert!” He said in a voice louder than you expected, but you nodded.

….

“Would you join me for a moment longer? I need to pick up something at Octavinelle.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He placed your hand in the crook of his arm, and escorted you to the lounge. As you entered, Floyd, Jade, and Azul all looked up, various looks of irritation and shock on their faces.

“Wait here,” Vil whispered into your ear, and you gave him a nod as he walked over to Azul, who looked positively vexed. You watched him sigh heavily, then walk with Vil to the VIP room.

“So you and betta fish, huh?” A bitter voice asked in your ear, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The last time your eyes had been on the twins, they had been across the room. And now they were here.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Was it a pleasant evening?”

“You know what? Yeah, actually,” you said with a smile. Maybe it was that you'd been so worried about Vil, and now you'd finally gotten to see her was okay, but you had a great date. You hated to admit that Grim of all people would set you up with someone you enjoyed, and could sort of see a future with, but then again, he knew you better than anyone. Why wouldn't he put thought and effort into finding someone he knew you would love?

“Damn, really? Ugh,” Floyd groaned, slumping against you, nearly causing you to topple over.

“What Floyd means to say, is that if you ever feel he doesn't live up to expectations, or he ever steps out of line, please feel free to discuss it with us,” Jade said with a smile.

“Please, please, please tell us if that happens,” Floyd had buried himself into the crook of your neck, and was now squeezing you tightly.

“I got what I'm here for,” Vil's voice called to you, as he not so elegantly yanked Floyd off of you. With Floyd apart from you, he took your hands in his, and then leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Over his shoulder, you watched Azul waltz back into the VIP room, and slam the door behind him, with an echoing thud.

“You ready to go, Apple blossom?” Vil asked as though he hadn't just completely reset your brain. You nodded dumbly, and he escorted you out. Over your shoulder, you thought you heard a growl from the twins.

But you couldn't think much about that as you got intoxicated by Vil's warmth and perfume.

The End

Tag list- @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog @phantomgaming1920 @the-dumber-scaramouche @noidonothavetimeforthis @bontensbabygirl @xxoomiii @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @bre99 @stupidsimp @sus0daddy @a-small-tyrant @imlost-sendhelp @mizukiblogs @savanaclaw1996 @happycatastrophesworld @murderisokayforme @kazumify @1fandom2many @hamhamlikesyukio @dreamlessnight

#for tuna #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit

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prefer-to-be-vilified · 1 year

Text

Enid, sighing wistfully: Isn’t Wednesday just… deathly gorgeous? I mean look at her. The hair, the vibe, the way the muscles in her arms strain in exertion.

Yoko: Enid she’s strangling Kent.

Enid: …and?

Yoko: He’s starting to turn blue.

Enid, mad: This isn’t about him Yoko!

#wednesday #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #yoko tanaka #wenclair #enid x wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday 2022 #incorrect wednesday quotes #incorrect wednesday addams #incorrect wednesday #incorrect wenclair #ptbv

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starlightshadowsworld · 4 months

Text

Jason sat on the mast of the Argo II watching Camp Jupiter burn.

Everyone expects him to be upset, Leo's afraid he's mad at him.

Jason feels numb.

The only thing he feels is a sense of relief.

At any other point Jason would've felt disgusted at himself. Horrified that he'd look at his home burning and feel lighter.

But that was before they betrayed him. That was before they abandoned him, replaced him and reminded him he was never one of them.

A good Roman would've gone back, extinguished the flames and take whatever punishment was deamed necessary in silence.

But Jason want a good Roman now was he? Maybe he'd deluded himself into thinking he ever was.

He can hear Percy yelling at Leo and sends a spark to zap him. Percy jumps, both look up at him in confusion and suprise.

"Leave him alone, it wasn't his fault and you know it." Says Jason not taking his eyes off the carnage.

It's beautiful.

"How are you not upset about this? I thought this was your home." Demands Percy.

Jason laughs.

Its cold and harsh.

"Home? I guess I can't fault you for thinking like that, given your Camp. Last I checked home's don't stab you in the back, leave you for dead and than replace you after you win a war for them."

Percy winces, whether at the words or Jason's tone no ones sure.

"But what do I know of homes." He says wistfully. "No Percy, I'm not mad that Leo got possessed and did something he clearly regrets."

His eyes flicker to Leo, wanting him to know Jason wasn't mad or hurt by his actions.

Before looking back at his former prison and watching it go up in flames.

It wouldn't last, it would be rebuilt and if Jason returned he'd do so in chains and be branded a traitor. Maybe they'd just kill him if the quest didn't already.

He wouldn't let them.

Jason rests his head on the mast and looks at the 13 lines of service mocking him on his arm.

"I only wish I'd done it first."

#jason grace #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #leo valdez #dark jason grace

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engie-ivy · 4 months

Text

@wolfstarmicrofic 5th: Cupid💘

817 words

When Remus let James Potter set him up on a date with his best friend, Lily had hoped that at least he would find out dating really isn't that terrible, and finally start allowing Lily to set him up on dates as well.

Not Sorry

Lily stumbles a little as she walks over to Remus, because damn those bloody heels.

Remus turns towards her from where he's standing at the bar and arches an eyebrow. “Lils, you might want to go easy on the wine.”

Which is ridiculous. Lily has only had three glasses. And some champagne before that. And maybe a cocktail at some point.

“Don't change the topic!” Lily says, even though they hadn't actually been talking yet. She jabs her finger at Remus’ chest. “I'm still mad at you!”

“Oh, come on, Lils," Remus chuckles. “You're going to have to get over it at some point.”

“We had a deal, Lupin!”

“I know, Lily, but-”

“A deal! All I ever wanted was to get you this fun and exciting dating life,” Lily sighs wistfully. “So you could have handsome men take you out and boost your ego like you deserve, and we could share dating stories and laugh about weird guys together. But did you allow me to set you up on a date ever?”

“I did not,” Remus admits.

“You did not!” Lily exclaims, as if Remus didn't already just admit to that. “It was all ‘No, Lily, I'm just the sort of person who's better off by himself’, ‘No, Lily, I'm not looking for anything’, ‘No, Lily, I'm too independent and need my alone time’, and yadda yadda.” She rolls her eyes. “But then what happened? You allowed your new coworker to set you up on a date with his best friend!”

“It's just very hard to say no to James,” Remus defends himself.

Lily scoffs. Although, while she has only met James Potter a few times, if she's honest she can kind of imagine. When Potter is looking at you with those puppy eyes of his, giving you that hopeful smile, all bright and eager and- Lily shakes her head. She's getting off track. “But we came to a very clear agreement,” she continues, placing her hands on her hips. “If you would learn that going on a date is actually not such a dreadful experience as you seemed to think, you would finally start letting me set you up on dates as well. And was the date dreadful?”

“No, it wasn't,” Remus sighs.

“And did you let me set you up on any dates afterwards, as you promised?”

“No, I didn't,” Remus sighs.

“No, you didn't!” Lily mimics. “Not one date, nothing!” She lets out a dramatic sigh. “And I had so many ideas… That cute redhead from the coffeeshop, that fit bloke from my yoga class, the hot guy from accounting… It would've been so fun, so exciting, maybe we even could've gone on double dates at some point!”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sirius appears at Remus’ side, sliding an arm around his waist. “But as much as I enjoy bonding with your family– our family–,” he corrects with a smile. “Your Aunt Joy has been telling me about her bad knee for half an hour now. The sooner you get that woman some wine, the better.”

“And you!” Lily says, turning her attention to Sirius. “You're to blame as well, you know!”

Sirius blinks at her. “Alright, Evans?”

Lily jabs her finger at Sirius’ chest now. “You just had to snatch him off the market right away, didn't you?”

Sirius blinks again, and then barks a laugh. “Well, can you blame me, Lils? I couldn't risk letting this one get away, now could I?” He presses a kiss to Remus’ cheek. “I had to lock it down as soon as possible.”

Lily purses her lips, because, well, no, maybe she actually can't blame him for that.

“I'll be right there, babe,” Remus says, squeezing Sirius’ hand.

Sirius nods and walks off to deal with Remus’ aunt.

Remus looks at Lily and shrugs. “What can I say, Lils? James just struck gold the first time. If you want me to apologize, I'm going to have to disappoint you.” He looks over at the other side of the room while touching the brand new golden ring around his finger, to where Sirius is chatting to his aunts. Sirius catches his gaze, and the forced smile on his face turns into a soft, genuine one. Remus smiles as well. “I'm really not sorry at all.”

Lily watches Remus and Sirius make their way through the room to chat with all their guests.

They do look awfully good together, she thinks sourly.

Then she turns on her heels, having decided to go look for James Potter and give him a piece of her mind. Stupid Potter, thinking he can play Cupid and set their best friends up for their happy-ever-after! Like, who does he think he is? Making Remus so bloody happy, making her bloody cry with that stupid best man speech of his, and looking so bloody handsome in his stupid suit!

Yes, she'll tell him alright.

#wolfstar microfic #matchmaker prongs #drunk lily evans #wolfstar wedding #smitten remus lupin #smitten sirius black #wolfstar #jily #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #lily evans #james potter

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youthguk · 1 year

Text

bibliothèque | jjk (m)

“No better place for a good sex than library”

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: smut.

words: 2.9k

author’s note: happy valentines day ♡ feedback is very welcomed

There was some hazy electrical tension wreathing the atmosphere in the library. It first occurred to you when one particular person started attending your regular study group sessions at the university’s library. It was unknown to you why exactly Jeon Jungkook joined your group but everyone was more than welcome to any new members striving to gnaw at the granite of science.

And you’d be lying if you’d said that Jungkook joining the study group wasn’t the best thing that happened to you this semester, making your once-a-week meet-ups the highlight of your week. To your surprise, it was fun and easy with Jungkook. You were accustomed to gaping at him in the hallways, all by himself, sure that he was a loner or something. You barely ever caught him in conversation with someone, so you just assumed that he was grim and grumpy all the time. Boy oh boy were you wrong.

The moment Jungkook stepped into the library and got paired with you to quiz each other was just a blessing from above, turning your Saturday morning meet-ups into something to look forward to the whole week. He was charming and funny without even trying, never skimping on witty comments. You were getting used to his presence and the power that it held over you, feeling tingles in your stomach every time he’d lean closer to you to see if your answers matched with his or every time that his fingers would leave imperceptible touches on your shoulder while he sits sideways in the chair, deep in thoughts to solve the equation.

“Seems like you two get along pretty well,” randomly said Ruri, nudging you teasingly as your study session ends and Jungkook is quick to leave. You notice how the rest of your study group snickers at Ruri’s words, nodding confirmingly.

You shrug, gazing at his receding silhouette.“Yeah, just like with everyone else.”

“Come on, you know damn well that guy is the biggest introvert on campus.”

Trying not to let that idea get to your head, you brush those thoughts off. It's too dangerous and gullible to believe that Jungkook was paying any special attention to you. Surely, he was evidently attentive whenever you spoke during meetings or presented something, but you like to view it just as an act of generosity that he failed to show to others. Besides you two never interacted outside of the library; yes, you would greet each other in hallways but it never went further than just nods of acknowledgment. Which fairly did make you mad, leaving you to crave for more. A little bit.

But still, the thought of Jungkook actually being into you was too enthralling to let go, so today you decided to shoot your shot. What's a better place for unraveling a guy’s true emotions than a place filled with rows upon rows of written human confessions?

You enter the reading room where everyone is already seated, including Jungkook. You never liked being late but for today you needed all chances of catching his attention that were possible. As you approach your study group, everyone’s attention is on you.

“Hey, _____, we thought you were skipping today’s session,” Ruri greets you and you notice Jungkook’s gaze on you.

“How could I skip this?” A mischievous grin plasters your face as you take your seat, tracing with your fingers the back of Jungkook’s chair, knowing pretty well that his dark eyes are riveted on you.

Libraries were always so quiet, unveiling and emphasizing every little motion, every breath taken. Though you were oblivious to the usual annoying sounds of students flipping pages or the creak of chairs as the librarian travels past them, organizing the books. What you were certainly attuned to is Jungkook’s body sitting next to you, reacting to your every single move.

At first, you think to yourself that it’s just a coincidence when you wistfully place a pencil on your lower lip and hear Jungkook clearing his throat. Just a coincidence, no need to overthink it, you reassure yourself.

But it’s still worth trying out one more time, right? You cross your leg over another, the pleated miniskirt of yours exposing more bare skin of your thigh. You register Jungkook’s sudden ruffling through the pages of his book. Well, now you’re intrigued and can’t contain the impish smirk flourishing on your lips.

“Hey, Jungkook, what do you think about this passage?” You lean in closer to him, tossing your notebook to him. You definitely caught him off guard as he nervously gulps trying to compose himself.

You blink at him innocently, as your black leather loafer’s toe fleetly brushes his leg under the table. His body tenses under that brief touch, leaving your mind open to lingering thoughts. Jungkook himself was such a blessing to an eye, with silky black hair coating his doe eyes that always made him appear so innocent and genuine while the rest of his body reeked of masculinity. And seeing him now so agitated because of your slight closeness makes your heart rise to your throat, welcoming dirty thoughts into your head. Damn it, what were you doing? Where would this all lead today?

“I think it’s fine, you did good,” he says, pointing back at your notebook when met with your smitten expression. “You look different today.”

You raise your eyebrow at his statement. “Really? What’s different?” You lean in closer, tilting your head curiously.

“I don’t know…just different,” he clears his throat, eyeing you up and down, gaze slowing at the sight of your bare thighs, but he quickly looks back into your eyes.

“Well, I hope in a good way?”

“Yeah, totally my type,” he chuckles and the sudden change in his demeanor makes you giddy. What was that?

His unexpected confession leaves you frozen as you search for more in his hooded eyes that are dangerously tempting now. Losing control of whatever you started, you feel something unleash in Jungkook as he rests his chin on his right elbow that is propped negligently on the table while his left-hand travels under the table. You feel a firm grip of his left palm on your thigh and your stomach somersaults. You heavily sigh, eyes widely staring at him.

Jungkook just narrows his eyes, looking pensively at your notebook as if you two couldn’t care less about the damn essay right now. You toss a look on the other side, making sure that all of this is inconspicuous to the rest of your study group.

Jungkook arches an eyebrow at you. “Is something wrong?” He casually says, tilting his head closer to you while his hand glides higher up your thigh, sending shivers down your spine. His magnetic face was so close to you now, that you would have felt his lips brushing yours if you decided to come closer to him. “You didn’t answer, _____,” he whispers now, his hot breath lacing your mouth. You swallow, feeling a low throb in your core.

When you feel his strong grip on your thigh moves higher, under the fabric of your skirt, you indulge in your first instinct, pressing your legs together. He squeezes your thigh again, a gasp trapping in your throat as his own tension is now clear to you. What were you doing, this is insane.

“You know…” you clear your throat, not expecting that it’d be so hard to collect yourself, “I still need to look for some references.”

You stand up from your seat, sleeking your skirt with your shaky hand. This was ridiculous, what was your plan again? To find out if Jungkook liked you? Well, apparently he does have some slightest interest in you and isn’t that shy to show it as well. But what were you going to do about it? Whatever those options were, you are not insane enough to discover them at the library, full of people.

You hurry through the stairs, making sure to get away from Jungkook as far as possible. The second floor was surprisingly empty, and you stop at the section farthest away. You lean at the bookshelf with your back, catching a breath.

But you weren’t destined to be left in solitude today as you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. You turn around, grabbing the first book that caught your attention. Crime and punishment. You roll your eyes, reading the title of the book. Of course, what else you’d need right now when writing an essay for English literature class?

Jungkook’s figure appears right next to you, catching you unawares. “Sure you needed this for reference?”

He’s leaning his shoulder on the bookshelf, studying you closely. “This? Oh, no, of course, no,” you let out a nervous laugh as if caught at a crime scene. “You know, just love this so much, wanted to freshen up the story in my head. For my own enjoyment,” you grant him a strained smile.

“Something tells me I can bring you more pleasure than some prose-less classics author,” devilish smirk plasters across his face. It’s surely hard to argue with that.

“Where did you get that courage from?” You snap at him, closing the book in your hand with a clap.

Jungkook scoffs, taking the Crime and punishment from your grip and placing it back on the shelf. “Is that what bothers you?” He takes a step closer to you, startling you with the dangerous proximity of his body to yours. You step back, until your back hits the stack of books behind you, trapping yourself between Jungkook’s hot body and the bookshelf. “Is that why you dressed like this today? To get my attention?” He catches your chin between his fingers, forcing you to face him.

“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s not for you,” you let out an obvious lie to both of you.

He just chuckles at you amusingly. And when you finally meet his eyes, your stomach tingles at the sight of his glossed-over glare. “Not for me?” He scowls, jaw clenched as his fingers release your chin, trailing down to your neck, briefly caressing your clavicle before traveling lower to your breasts.

Your heart pounds hard inside your chest, sending blood to your head. You felt his every touch so deeply, wishing to get rid of the clothes preventing you from the skin on skin contact. He cups your breast in one hand, fondling it, while the one snakes up your thigh. As Jungkook reaches up your core, you feel the fabric of your underwear clings to your wet folds.

“Is this not for me, hm?” He hisses, the raspiness of his voice cutting through the overwhelming silence of the library. You would like to answer and stand your ground but you just stand there, panting in anticipation, chest heaving under his touches.

“Jungkook, we are in a fucking library,” you attempt to argue, one last chance to stop something that both you needed right now and craved even longer.

He shrugged, palming your heat, the throbbing between your legs growing stronger and stronger. “What can be a great place for a good sex, if not library, love?”

Jungkook will be the death of you, that you can tell already, when his mere words were able to make you squeeze his forearm, your body arching towards him.

You didn’t need to ask Jungkook more, seeing you like this was a miracle to him alone, your half-lidded eyes peering at him in pure neediness.

Before you knew it, his lips were crashing yours, hungrily devouring you. His tongue felt perfect against yours, making you tremble as he grunted into your mouth. You whimper, feeling his hand on your jaw while the other one pushes aside your panties, thumb brushing over your wetness smeared all over your folds. You exhale heavily, list clogging your mind, the worry of having sex in the public library long-forgotten now.

Jungkook’s wet lips travel down your jawline, burying himself in the crook of your neck. You throw your head back, parting your lips to let out a quiet moan.

He growls before coming back to your parted lips, ghosting them with his before you feel him pumping his finger inside of you. You wince, biting on your lower lip in hopes to suppress the moan.

He pumps you in and out, his finger dipping in your arousal. Your hold on his forearm becomes more desperate and there’s nothing more that Jungkook wants to do than give you everything that you yearn for.

Jungkook adds another finger, now pressing the spot that had you drooling on his hand.

“Fuck, Jungkook, I—, please,” you try to collect your thoughts through the panting.

But he only shushes you, stretching you out more for him. “We don’t wanna get caught, right, baby?”

And you just nod, taking him, grinding along with the pace of his fingers that were hitting your spot so deliciously. Jungkook doesn’t slow down for a bit, driven by the blissful state of yours that he created.

You clench around his fingers, growing tighter. Jungkook was attentive to your every move, so once you start clenching around his fingers, growing tighter, he speeds up even more, pushing you over the edge.

Jungkook grunts seeing you whimpering, brows knotted while your body is convulsing around his fingers as the pleasure washes over you. “Good girl,” he brushes through your hair as you tiredly throw your head forward, on his shoulder, ragged breathing escaping your mouth.

You search for his mouth, while hands desperately trace down his chiseled chest to his belt, determined to unbuckle him.

“I appreciate this, princess,” his hand hovers over yours as you meet his darkening gaze. “But I prefer this more,” he swirls you, pressing your back to his front, and you whine at the closeness of your bodies. “Hope you don’t mind this?”

You briskly shake your head, turning to the side, striving to catch a glimpse of Jungkook, as you hear him unzipping his jeans. “No-no, it’s perfect, Jungkook, please,” you throw your head back in anticipation of finally feeling him, taking him fully.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your earlobe from behind as his hand wraps around his length, pumping himself off. You bite your lower lip, wishing to get a proper look at that lewd sight.

Jungkook pushes up your skirt, squeezing your ass cheek. You sigh heavily, pussy throbbing rapidly as he tapped his tip against your core.

“Jungkook, f-fuck me, please,” you plead, not able to wait for more as he glided his big cock between your ass cheeks making you hold your breath in anticipation. You were so wet, so eagerly ready to take him here, not a single worry about being in the library, regretting only that you two couldn’t moan loudly.

He places his tip inside your pussy, and you find yourself desperately pressing back against him. Jungkook slides his hand under your shirt, cupping your breast under the bra, setting your stomach on fire. You palm your hand over his and squeeze it tighter as he finally pushes his cock inside you, making you both moan at the feeling.

Your walls hug him, clenching on his full length, feeling his own arousal. At first, he moves excruciatingly slow, thrusting in and out of you at his full length as he stretches you out.

When he starts speeding up, thrusting deep, you grab his arm, pulling him closer, your back perfectly pinned to his chest, feeling his own heart hammering at a soaring rate.

Jungkook slides his free arm to your front, resting two fingers on your clit, rubbing it with the same pace he was thrusting you from behind with his cock.

You feel another wave of pleasure approaching you as you’re tightly wrapped by Jungkook’s hands from behind, and nothing except for the sound of his hips slapping against you roughly and your muffled whimpers surrounding you now.

You knew Jungkook had some insanely special power over you, but you could have never imagined that it would allow him to fuck you senselessly in your university’s library. Well, now that was the last thing on your mind, especially as you feel him fastening his pace violently, making your grip on the poor bookshelf that you used to support yourself.

And as the sound of his moan reaches you, your pussy clenches around his cock, throbbing through your orgasm taking over you. You tremble in his embrace and Jungkook only groans at this sight, gripping tightly on you, speeding up even more, chasing his own high.

You feel his body shuddering behind, filling you in warmly. He now rests his chin on your shoulder, leaving wet kisses on your nape.

“Fuck, Jungkook, that was so good,” you mumble, pulling your skirt down, as he buckles up his jeans, tugging his shirt in.

You turn around to face him, now that you both look somewhat decent and he latches on your lips again, hands wrapping around you. “Do we really have to go back to that study session now?” He pouts at you, his doe eyes back to being innocent as if he didn’t hungrily devour you with them just moments ago.

“You have better plans?”

“With you? Plenty.”

____________

i hope you enjoyed this oneshot, let me know your thoughts <;3

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frenshushutoast · 1 year

Note

hi!! i was wondering if i could request mingyu as your boyfriend. i read seungcheol and i loved and enjoyed it so much!! 🩷🩷

notes: hi anon!! of course i can make one <3 and thank u for loving my work :] (and giving me an opportunity to be delusional about mingyu) as always, feel free to request (it says on my pinned posts if requests are open or not ^^)

mingyu as your boyfriend

let's get this out of the way: mingyu is a back-hugger. he will take any opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and either bury his face in your neck or rest his chin on top of your head, swaying you both from side to side.

when you have a bruise or get hurt in any way he makes sure he treats you so, so gently– kissing you gently on top of it and bandaging it slowly. he also speaks to you in a softer voice and clings to you for the rest of the day, hating seeing his baby hurt.

everything he does to you he does so so carefully. he makes sure he's extra precise when cooking with you, and makes sure he doesn't drop you whenever you jump onto his back for a piggy back ride. he just loves taking care of you and treating you as softly as possible.

he is a giant puppy. he will lay on top of you and pout when you don't give him attention. he will give you the Puppy Dog Eyes™. he will whine and pretend to be mad at you, crossed arms and all (that's only until you hug him and call him baby in an extra sweet voice, to which he melts and immediately gives you the biggest, goofiest smile).

takes the best candid photos of you, and even has a whole photo album of you in intimate moments– sleeping while cuddled into him, laughing particularly hard at a joke he told, completely absorbed in a movie the two of you were watching. he loves capturing moments of you and looking back at them.

secretly loves when you take care of him. when you ruffle his hair and let him be the small spoon and hold him when he's had a particularly difficult day. he loves taking care of you but he holds the moments when you take care of him so close to his heart, getting extra soft and only letting himself be held, whispering to you how much he loves and appreciates you.

he always has the fondest expression on his face whenever he looks at you and the members tease him relentlessly for it. he practically has stars in his eyes watching you do the most mundane things, sighing wistfully and everything.

when you two are kissing, sometimes you'll have to break the kiss because he's grinning too wide. and then you're grinning too wide. and now you're both just staring at each other with the giddiest looks on your faces.

cooks for you and insists you feed each other even when you whine about how cheesy it is.

you tell him how much you love his little fangs one time and how he just randomly bites you (gently) no matter what you're doing.

late night drives. he has the absolute best playlist playing and intertwines your fingers together as he drives, both of you telling each other about your days in extra soft voices.

absolutely loves it when you wear his clothes, he gets extra clingy with you. bonus points if you end up smelling like him.

does the smallest things for you that makes your heart soar–putting your jewelry on you when you get ready, tying your shoelaces whenever he sees them untied, brushing your hair whenever you ask. is it an excuse to be close to you? yes. do you both love it all the same? yes.

#seventeen scenarios #svt writers #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #mingyu headcanons #frenshushutoast writes #frenshushutoast requests

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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year

Text

Part Of Your World ~ p.p

chapter four: where the people are

pairing: Peter Parker x mermaid!reader

series masterlist

“Where are you going?”

Peter froze in his tracks when he heard Mays voice coming from the kitchen. He recognized that tone. That tone meant she was suspicious of something and usually, she was right to be. Peter walked back into the kitchen and put on an innocent smile.

“The bathroom. To tinkle.”

“Again? You were in there a long time before dinner.” May pointed out and rested her chin in her hands. Peter gulped, knowing that was her interrogation pose.

“I know. But I drank a lot of water during dinner.”

“Oh, I see. Why don’t you go in this one?” May asked and pointed to the hallway bathroom.

“You caught me.” Peter forced a laugh. “I have to deuce and I like to do it in the privacy of my own bathroom.”

“Hm.” May nodded, not sounding convinced.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just noticed that you’ve been spending a lot of time in the bathroom lately. A lot more than usual. But you’re always showering in the hall bathroom for some reason. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No.” Peter gulped and avoided eye contact. May raised an eyebrow and Peter caved.

“Fine. You caught me again. I’m re-grouting the tile in my shower and I can’t use it until the cement dries.” He lied as his eyes darted to the side.

“Re-grouting your shower?” She asked, not sounding amused.

“Oh, yes. All the kids are doing it these days. My current grout simply will not do.

“Uh huh. Well, I wouldn’t want to stop you.” May said and waved him on. Peter let out a sigh of relief and went to his bathroom.

“Can’t wait to see it when’s it’s done!” May called after him.

When Peter got to his bathroom, you were in his bathtub eating from a box of Goldfish.

“Is this what real fish tastes like? Because I finally understand fishing.” You said as Peter locked the door behind him.

“No, honey. That’s not what real fish tastes like. Not even a little.” Peter said and nervously paced the bathroom floor.

“Are you okay? You’re whiter than stripes on a clownfish.” You asked when you noticed Peters face.

“No. I’m not okay. I think May is getting suspicious.” Peter admitted.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because she just interrogated me about my bathroom habits and she hasn’t done that since we discovered I was lactose intolerant in the fifth grade.” Peter shouted in frustration.

“I’m sorry. I promise I was quiet. But I’ll do better. It won’t happen again.” You said and shrunk into yourself. Peter stopped pacing and knelt down beside you.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the situation.” Peter assured you as cupped your face.

“But your voice got loud.” You said quietly.

“I know. I’m sorry. I won’t raise my voice around you again.” Peter promised you. You nodded your head and reluctantly believed him.

“Did your dad yell at you a lot?” Peter asked quietly. You looked wistfully at your tail and thought about all the resentment it represented for you. It looked just like your fathers, so you were reminded of him every time you looked down.

“I think our only conversations were him yelling while I stayed silent and pretended I was anywhere else.”

“He’s never gonna find you. You did exactly what he always told you you’d never be able to do. He’s gonna he miserable at the bottom of the ocean forever while you get to run this city.”

“What if the spell doesn’t work? You can’t keep me in this bathtub forever. What if I have to go back?” You whispered in fear. Peter didn’t know you’d been worrying about that and stroked your cheek with his thumb to comfort you.

“That’s not gonna happen. The spell is going to work. And if it doesn’t, I’ll build a huge swimming pool right here in my apartment.”

“Peter.” You laughed skeptically.

“I’m serious. I’ll flood the place. I’ll flood the whole building.” Peter insisted, making you laugh. He laughed as well and when your laughter died down, he leaned in for a long kiss. When he pulled away, he looked longing into your eyes.

“I’d do anything for you.” He promised you. Your expression changed and Peter saw something different in your eyes.

“Peter?” You said in a soft voice. His heart started to pound and he had a sneaking suspicion that you were about to tell him you loved him.

“Yes?”

“I ate your soap.”

“I feel the same way.” Peter sighed happily. “Wait, what?”

“I didn’t realize it wasn’t food at first. I thought it was candy.” You admitted as you handed him a bar of soap that was almost entirely eaten.

“You got this far into it before you realized it wasn’t food?” Peter asked in disbelief as he took the remaining chunk of soap from you.

“It tasted like blue.” You said simply.

“Your stomach is gonna be hurting you tonight.” Peter warned you. “Wait a second, how do mermaids go to the bathroom?”

“I’m in the bathroom right now, aren’t I? I got here because you carried me.”

“No like, how do you use the bathroom?”

“How would I use a bathroom? Use it for what?” You asked in confusion.

“Let me rephrase. Can you pee? Oh my God, do you pee out of your bellybutton?” Peter gasped and poked your bellybutton.

“No.” You laughed and moved his hand. “I have a cloaca, silly. Haven’t you ever wondered how mermaids reproduce?”

“Yes, but I was never gonna ask because it felt inappropriate.” Peter admitted.

“I’m your girlfriend. Nothings too inappropriate to ask. I’m curious about humans the same way you’re curious about mermaids. Besides, I like that you’re inquisitive. It makes me feel better about asking you everything.”

“You know the word “inquisitive” but I had to remind you the word for street?” Peter mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

“Why are you still hung up on that?”

“Is just doesn’t make sense sometimes. You know so many words and then will ask me what the hand at the bottom of my leg with the tiny fingers is called.” Peter pointed out.

“Feet. I remember that one.” You said proudly.

“Okay, what’s this?” Peter tested you and held up a toothbrush.

“Doohickey.” You answered like it was obvious.

“Toothbrush.” He corrected.

“Why would you brush your teeth?” You scoffed. “They don’t even have hair.”

“I’ll drop it. I’m sorry.” He held up his hands in defense.

“Oh my gosh. Was that our first fight?” You smiled in excitement.

“No, honey. That wasn’t a fight.” Peter chuckled.

“Oh.” You frowned.

“You seem disappointed.”

“I just want to be like the humans. And I notice that they fight a lot. Especially at the beach. Like when the men forget the towels in the street boat.”

“That’s called a car. And yeah, humans do fight a lot, don’t they?” Peter chuckled. “But we won’t be like that. We won’t fight.”

“Oh. Okay.” You replied, seemingly slightly disappointed that you wouldn’t be like the humans.

“But if we ever did, I promise I want make my voice loud, okay? No more of that.” Peter assured you.

“Thank you.” You smiled gratefully.

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s get you some real food.”

“No thanks. I’m pretty full from the soap.” You said and handed him a second half eaten bar of soap.

“Oh God.” Peter groaned.

The next day at school, Peter could not stop looking at the clock. He had tuned out his professor before the class even started because all her could think about was the mermaid in his bathroom.

“What’s the matter? Your leg has been bouncing all day.” Ned leaned over and whispered.

“I’m fine. I just really need to get home.” Peter said as his eyes flicked to the clock again. The seconds seemed to be moving more like hours and he could hardly take it anymore.

“Why?” Ned wondered.

“I’ll explain it to you soon. It’s just a little hard to put into words right now.” Peter whispered back. He normally told Ned everything, but trying to explain the mermaid in his bathtub felt like a daunting task at the moment. Ned would definitely have a million questions and Peter didn’t have any answers quite yet. Finally, the professor ended class and Peter bolted home. He swung as fast as he could and crawled in through his bedroom window before opening his bathroom door.

“Honey, I’m home-“

“Hello.” May cut him off, making him freeze. All the color drained from Peters face as he surveyed the situation. May was standing with her arms crossed while you sat in the bathtub behind her with a pajama shirt of Mays on.

“Peter, what the fuck?” May said through eerily calm smile. “This doesn’t look like tile re-grouting to me.”

“Oh, hi May. How are you this fine Tuesday?” Peter smiled innocently as he began to sweat.

“Dear nephew, please enlighten me here as I seem to be a little confused. Am I tripping balls or is there a mermaid in your bathtub?”

“You’re tripping balls.” Peter said immediately.

“This looks delicious, thank you.” You said to no one in particular before opening a bottle of Peters body wash and squirting it into your mouth. May and Peter watched you in stunned silence as you swallowed what was on your mouth.

“Mmm. That’s nice. What is it?” You asked and wiped the blue body wash off your mouth.

“Peter.” May smiled calmly. “Care to explain?”

Meanwhile, you had squirt some shampoo into your hand and were licking it off. Peter watched you and sighed before turning to May.

“I don’t know what to tell you, May. You’re clearing tripping balls. And during the work day no less.”

“Please don’t mistake my measured bank tone for calmness as I am filled with waters of rage.” May began.

“Oh God.” Peter gulped.

“Why is there a mermaid eating body wash in your bathroom?” She finally raised her voice, making you flinch. Peter quickly escorted May out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

“Please don’t yell! She gets really scared by yelling.” Peter informed her.

“Oh, the mermaid in your bathtub gets scared by yelling? Silly me. How could I not have known about the fears and phobias of the fucking mermaid living in your fucking bathtub!” May whispered harshly.

“Language.” Peter gasped.

“Why is there a mermaid in your tub?” May asked again and angrily pointed to the door. As mad as she was, she didn’t yell out of respect for you.

“Because I love her and promised I’d get her some legs.” Peter blurted, making May let out a long groan.

“If your Uncle Ben was here to see this, I swear.” She mumbled to herself.

“I’m sorry for lying, May. But I didn’t know what to do. She needed to get out of the ocean fast and this was the best I could come up with.”

“She can’t stay here.”

“What? May.” Peter whined.

“Peter, I am your legal guardian. Do you know what would happen if CPS decided to do a spontaneous home visit and found a mermaid living in our bathroom? That’s got to be all kinds of illegal.”

“Then where is she supposed to stay?”

“Here’s an idea. How about at your billionaire friends tower where all the other mystical creatures you know live?”

“But I don’t live there. I wouldn’t be able to see her everyday. And they already judge me so much for that time I wore turquoise shorts. I can’t tell them about this.”

“Peter, what makes you think you can keep a mermaid alive? You have her in a tiny bathtub with nothing but two starfish covering her up and nothing but soap to eat.”

“She likes soap.” Peter defended.

“Peter, she’s gotta go. She doesn’t belong in a cramped tub. She needs to be free.” May said with sympathy.

“Well it’s not like I can flush her down the toilet, May.” Peter whined.

“Nobody suggested that. At all.”

“Then what am I supposed to do with her?”

“Take her to Tony.” May suggested. “He’ll know what to do.”

“How would I possibly get her there? We barely made it here in one piece.”

“I think I have an idea.” May told him.

Once the sun had set and they had the protection of the nights darkness, Peter and May snuck you out of the apartment in their biggest cooler and got you in the back of Mays work van.

“This is so cool! What is it called again?” You asked as you played with the handles of the cooler.

“A cooler.” Peter told you.

“Wow. I always seen humans bring these to the beach but they never take them in the water for some reason.”

“It’s usually meant to hold drinks. And my nephews mermaid girlfriend apparently.” May smiled tightly.

“Thanks. This was a great idea May.” Peter said once May started driving towards the Avengers tower.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get any ideas and start bringing home other mystical creatures. If I ever walk into our apartment and find a warlock, I’m kicking you out.”

“Would you let the warlock stay once I wad kicked out?” Peter genuinely wondered.

“If he paid rent.” May shrugged.

“What’s rent?” You asked from the back of the van.

“This isn’t one of those born sexy yesterday situations, is it?” May asked as she skeptically eyed Peter.

“Born sexy yesterday? You mean the film trope where female characters are simultaneously highly sexualized and highly infantilized so we as an audience are supposed to be attracted to their raw sex appeal as well as be charmed by their child like mind because they need the male antagonist to explain everything to them? Since they were both born sexy and born yesterday?” Peter asked.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Peter mumbled.

“Peter.” May said warningly.

“This isn’t like that, May. I swear. Y/n is really intelligent. She’s taught herself so much about the above world just from collecting things over the years. And she loves to learn. That was one of her biggest reasons for wanting to come up here. She just doesn’t know the name for a lot of things because she never had someone to teach her. So I’m filling in those gaps for her.”

“Oh. I see. You’re gonna be her teacher? You’re the one who saved her from her horrible life and taught her what it was really like to live?” May asked with a big smile.

“Yeah. I guess so.” Peter smiled at the sound of that. Mays smile dropped and he realized she was being sarcastic.

“You’re not her savior, Peter. Don’t forget that, okay? She is in a position where she has to rely on your for a lot of things. And she’s already feeling indebted to you for getting her out of the water. So I’m going to warn you right now. Do not abuse the power you have over her. It will not end in your favor.”

“I would never abuse my power. I would never do that to her.” Peter said quietly as he thought about what May said.

“I’m just saying. Don’t tell yourself you rescued her. You said so yourself. She is very smart. You didn’t teach her everything she knows. She taught herself and you filled in the gaps. You didn’t save her and give her a new life. She escaped from her old one with your help. Don’t let it go to your head that she was miserable until you came along and magically fixed her whole life. She will still face struggles on land. Lots of them. And sometimes, you won’t be able to help her. For both of your sakes, do not give yourself the title of her savior. You need to be equals. That’s the only way this relationship will work.”

Peter was quiet for the rest of the way to the tower. He didn’t want to admit this to May, but he had been thinking pretty highly of himself for rescuing you. He wanted to tell his friends all about how he heroically saved you from your dad and hide you in his bathtub because he knew it would make him sound cool. Peter looked at you in the rearview mirror and saw that you were craning your neck as high as you possibly could to see out the window. It was hard to see from your place in the cooler and Peter felt guilty for not putting you closer to the window. He shrunk down in his seat and briefly wondered if his reasons for bringing you to the shore were as selfless as he once thought.

It wasn’t long before May parked outside the Avengers tower and helped Peter carry you out of the trunk. Peter leaned down towards the facial recognition device at the front door and let it scan his whole face. You were silent as you watched him, your mind not even being able to comprehend what you were seeing.

“Tiniest avenger. Welcome.” FRIDAY confirmed as the door opened. The water in the cooler sloshed out of the sides as Peter stepped inside the tower. He brought you on the elevator and laughed to himself when you got startled by the moving floor. Once he got to the main room of the tower, he saw most of his team sitting around, silently reading or doing puzzles.

“Hey everyone.” Peter said casually. Everyone turned to look at him and froze when they saw you in the cooler in Peters arms. Your tail was flopping up and down over the edge of the cooler while you looked around in amazement. You could see the whole city out of Tony’s floor to ceilings windows. It was a sight you always dreamed of but never imagined you’d actually get to see.

“Uh, Peter, I didn’t think I had to specify this, but you’re not allowed to bring random mermaids into the tower.” Tony said flatly.

“She’s not random. This is my girlfriend, Y/n.” Peter said and proudly held you up. Everyone let out a collective sigh. Some hung their heads in disappointment while others narrowed their eyes at Peter in utter confusion.

“Of course you have a mermaid girlfriend.” Tony sighed. “Of fucking course you do. Why would I ever expect other wise? This is so unbelievably in character for you.”

“Hi Peters dad.” You smiled kindly and waved.

“Oh my God.” Tony sat down and rubbed his eyes.

“Mr. Stark, I know you have a rule against strays, but her dad is the mermaid king-“

“Of course he is.” Tony nodded.

“-and he forbid her from going to the surface-“

“Checks out.” Tony cut in.

“-and he found out about our secret interspecies relationship. He was gonna send her away.”

“So you want her to stay here?” Tony raised his eyebrows.

“Please? Just until she gets her legs. I can’t live without her.”

“Peter, where are we supposed to put her?”

“I have a sensory deprivation tank I’m not using.” Bruce said and raised his hand.

“Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you?” Tony said sarcastically.

“Is there water in it?” Peter asked.

“I can have it filled in less than two hours.”

“Where am I supposed to put her until then?” Peter wondered.

Peters question was answered by Tony showing you to his master bathroom. The bathroom was bigger than Peters entire apartment, so he felt a little better about keeping you there.

“You have a lovely bathroom, Mr. Peter’s dad.” You smiled as you swam around in Tony’s giant indoor jacuzzi.

“Tony is fine. And thank you. Pepper said it was tacky.” He scoffed as he showed you all the different colors the jacuzzi could light up.

“Oh no. I love the beach theme. I feel right at home.” You told him.

“Where is home, by the way?” Strange wondered as he came into the bathroom to officially meet you.

“The upper East side of the Atlantic Ocean.” You said simply.

“Oh. Sounds lovely.” Tony said sarcastically.

“I’m Dr. Strange, by the way. I’ll be the one giving you legs.” Strange said as he reached out to shake your hand. You looked at his hand in confusion, unsure of what he wanted you to do with it. He quickly realized his mistake and withdrew his hand.

“I apologize. I didn’t realize shaking hands was not customary under the sea.” He said to you. Peter stifled a laugh as it was the first time he had seen Dr. Strange being vulnerable.

“That’s all right. I really appreciate what you’re doing for me, Mr. Doctor Strange. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“I might have some idea. Your boyfriend was pretty convincing.” Strange said and nodded towards Peter. You looked at Peter and watched him smile shyly, so you blew him a kiss the way he had once done to you. Pepper then walked into the bathroom with a couple of bathing suit tops.

“Here. I brought you some swim suit tops that might feel a little more comfortable than….those.” Pepper said as she made eye contact with your starfish bra.

“Oh, thank you. Everyone here is so nice.” You smiled happily and accepted the tops. Peter saw you reaching for your starfish and quickly jumped between you and Tony.

“Mr. Stark, turn around right now.”

“Why?” Tony asked as Peter physically turned him around. Peter turned around as well just as Pepper let out a surprised gasp. She walked back over to Peter, Tony and Strange with a confused look on her face.

“Hey, so, your girlfriend just whipped her tits out like it was no big deal.” Pepper whispered to the two of them.

“She does that.” Peter nodded. “I think it’s a mermaid thing.”

“Great. Remind me to not be in the room when she gets her legs for the first time.” Tony smiled sarcastically.

“So this is really happening? Am I really getting legs?” You asked from behind them. Peter turned to look at you and saw you were wearing a black bikini top that Pepper had given you. From his angle, you looked fully human. He smiled a little to himself and grew excited for the day you really would be.

“If all goes according to plan, yes. I’ll be conducting a spell that transforms your tail into a pair of legs.” Dr. Strange answered you.

“And it’ll be permanent?” You asked hopefully.

“If you want it to be. I could also make it where you turn back into a mermaid when you’re submerged in water.” Strange told you.

“Maybe we should do that. In case you change your mind.” Peter said to you.

“I won’t.” You said confidently.

“You might. You might miss your dad.”

“I’d miss the land more.”

“Isn’t this your first time on land?” Tony pointed out.

“Yes. But I’ve dreamed of it my whole life. I don’t miss the sea. And I never will. I want the spell to be permanent.” You said definitively.

“Give it some thought. We can do the spell another day.” Strange suggested once he sensed the disagreement between you and Peter.

“I don’t need a day.” You insisted. “I know what I want. I never want to see my tail again.”

“We’ll do it tomorrow.” Peter told Strange, making you frown. You looked and Peter and wanted him to look at you, but he was still looking at Strange.

“Fine. Tomorrow.” Strange nodded and left the room. Tony and Pepper patted your shoulder before leaving as well. Once it was just you and Peter, you spoke up.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?” He asked and sat down on the edge of the jacuzzi.

“I don’t like it when you speak for me.” You said in a matter of fact tone. You weren’t angry, just trying to let him know how you felt. Peter was caught off guard by your statement and jutted his head back.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey. I didn’t realize I was speaking for you. I just really think you should keep the option of keeping your tail. Just in case you change your mind.”

“You don’t know what it was like down there, Peter. None of my decisions were mine. I lived in constant fear of being found by the bad men. So I spent my whole life wishing to be somewhere else. I’m free now. I can’t go back. I’m not going to change my mind.”

“What about your dad?”

“He has 7 other daughters. He won’t miss me.”

“I’d miss you. I imagine anyone who lost you from their life would miss you. There’s a space that you fill. I can’t be the only one who feels that way about you. What about your sisters?”

“They never understood me. They never understood what it was like to want the things I wanted. My sisters are happy in the water. They’re happy because they belong. And they always knew I didn’t belong. I will miss them, but I know that they’d be happy knowing I am happy.”

Peter nodded in understanding and leaned in to kiss you. After the chaotic day, you were happy to have this quiet moment with him. You didn’t want your relationship to get lost in the excitement of getting your legs. When Peter pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes.

“I swear, I’m gonna show you what it’s like to have someone actually love you. No more possession and having someone make all your decisions for you. No more feeling like you don’t belong. You’re going to be happy here.”

“We’re going to be happy here.” You corrected him with a smile. Peter kissed you one last time before letting you get some rest. He caught up to Dr. Strange in the hallway and stopped him.

“Hey, when we do the spell tomorrow, don’t do the one that will make her permanently a human, okay? Do the other one.”

“But she doesn’t want to ever have tail again. She seemed very adamant about that.” Strange titled his head in confusion.

“She thinks that’s what she wants. But I know she’ll regret it.”

“Peter, I’m not gonna do something without her knowing about it. I’m going to perform the spell that she wants, not you.”

“What about this? What if she only gets her tail back when she touches saltwater? She can still shower and go in the pool, but if she goes to the beach, she’ll return to a mermaid. That way, if she ever wants to go home, she can. We’ll call it the saltwater clause.”

“Did you clear that with her?” Strange asked, already knowing the answer.

“I will.” Peter nodded. Strange seemed content with that and walked away.

Peter looked back at the bathroom door and could hear you swimming around in there. He then thought back to what May said about him not being your savior. If you ended up hating your life on land because it didn’t live up to the fantasy you’d created in your head, he didn’t want you to be stuck there. Even though Peter knew you hated your old life, he wanted to preserve the option of returning to it. Peter made the decision to not tell you about the saltwater clause but make Strange think he did. He figured you’d never want to go to the ocean after spending your whole life trying to leave it, so he’d be safe from you ever finding out. May wanted to accuse him of acting like your savior, so he was going to selflessly preserve your choice to go home. Even if that meant one day, you’d leave him.

🌊🌊🌊

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writefightandflightclub · 2 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Nine (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: Shorter chapter this week (be warned, next week's will be the heftiest yet), but I hope you like this next instalment! It's really gearing us up for the FINAL TWO! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. If you've read this far, THANK YOU! ILY :-*

Word count: 3.8k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Today is a new day. It’s a new day and you’re done crying. You’re done holding on to anger and resentments.

Besides, you feel as though you gave Santiago everything you had last night, and - at least for now - there is nothing else left to give.

So, instead of wallowing, you plod downstairs to where Frankie is stationed in the kitchen, offering up your favourite pastries, coffee, and even pulpy, freshly squeezed orange juice. You pull up to the breakfast bar, hopping up on a stool to survey your extravagant pity platter.

It’s true then. “He’s gone.”

Frankie nods solemnly, leaning into the other side of the island like he’s a sympathetic bartender in some old Western flick. He claps his palm to your shoulder in a supportive gesture. “I’m sorry, chiquita.”

You shrug.

His face twists. That’s not all there is. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but…”

“What, Frankie?”

“He had to bounce but he didn’t want to wake you. Said you looked far too peaceful sleeping for him to come along and fuck that up.”

Your brow notches, absorbing all of that with a contrived neutrality. “How did he… seem?”

Frankie’s eyebrows raise lightly as he ponders, thinking back over prior events. “Calm, actually. Happy, even.”

“Hmm.” You smile softly to yourself. Makes a change from lately to hear that. You get it though. After last night, you can’t feel anything else either. Even if he technically didn’t say goodbye in words, you get it. You aren’t mad. Chances are one or both of you would have fucked it up this morning. This way at least, it leaves the night you spent together untarnished. Makes it feel like holding on to a good dream, before the realities of the day can set in and make things fraught.

Frankie’s face crumples with concern as you gaze wistfully into the middle-distance. “You gonna be alright?”

You pump your eyebrows. Search yourself for feelings. “You know what? Yeah. I am. I’m okay.”

Frankie’s eyes glint playfully then. “Oh. So you won’t need alllll o’ these yummy pastries?”

You laugh as he eyes the pain au chocolat pointedly. “Get stuck in, Morales,” you invite fondly, and he obliges, scraping up a stool and wiggling on his ass until he’s comfy.

“Hey. So,” he says through mouthfuls. “Did you two figure anything out?”

You groan at the sheer complexity of Frankie’s simple question. Did you? Or are you still going around in circles? “We know we love each other. The rest? Uh. I still don’t know.”

“He’ll get there.”

You puff air out from between your teeth.

“You don’t think so?” Frankie interprets.

You wrap your arms around your middle. “It’s not that. It’s… I don’t think it was all on him.” You don’t have any blame or accusations left. No grudges to hold on to - your hands are open. You’ve both made mistakes. Manufactured this distance, in your own ways - sometimes literally, sometimes not. You were both just trying to figure all this out as best as you could.

Frankie’s brows notch and rise with a silent question. How so? What do you mean?

The thoughts form as you speak them. Clumsy yet intrepid. “I guess... It just feels like we were… Both waiting for the other person to get somewhere, you know? But this whole time, we should’ve been heading there together. Otherwise, how the fuck were we supposed to know where to end up?” You slide a palm over your face. “Christ. Does that make any fucking sense?”

Frankie ponders. “I think so. Like trying to meet on the highway without a time or a place or directions?”

You reach out and clasp his hand. “You get me, buddy.”

Frankie blinks, tangling himself up further in your metaphor, but valiantly trying to muddle through. “And so… do you…?” He scratches his chaotic mop of hair. “Do you have a map now? A meeting point? I mean… What happens next? On the highway?” Your mouth lilts into a gentle smile at Frankie’s earnest question. He notes and feeds your amusement, going off the deep-end with this metaphor now. “Are you driving in shifts, chiquita? Grabbing cheez-its for the road?”

You laugh, the musical sound mingling with Frankie’s throaty chuckle. “What happens next?” You repeat the question out loud, carefully, posing it to yourself. Hasn’t that always been the question? However, the very sentiment which used to scare you now feels a lot more like potential. Like possibility.

Still, you feel -for the moment- like leaving that question hanging. You leave a pregnant pause. You let it breathe.

For now; you let it go. You let him go.

“Where are the other guys at, anyway?”

Frankie rides your tangent with ease. “Packing shit up.”

“We should help them.”

“Yeah, we should,” Frankie grins mischievously, and yet neither of you make any effort whatsoever to mobilise.

Instead, Frankie pours you a cup of coffee from the pot.

“You wanna call off the hike today?” he asks hopefully, Frankie increasingly a creature of comfort.

“No. Hell no. I need to move.” You lock your fingers and stretch your arms above your head, a satisfying stretch extending down your spine.

Frankie’s eyes sparkle across at you. “Just not in aid of helping the Millers pack their trunk, huh?”

“Exactly! What did I tell you, bud. You get me.”

You do though. You need to move. You need to move forward. No more standing in place. No more moving in circles, always repeating.

Still, when you think about it. When you think to what is ahead, to what is next, your stomach drops. You feel overcome by a sudden anxiety which you can’t place at first. Like having misplaced something dear to you. Like having done something wrong but not being able to recall exactly what. Then, all of a sudden, you understand it entirely.

“Listen. Tell me about this job, Frankie.”

He immediately tenses up. “What job?”

You take a bite of your pastry. “The one with Lorea’s cash house.”

Frankie simply groans. He always knows more than he lets on, this one. About everything. Everyone.

“Is it true? That you and the boys are in?”

You can plainly see his reticence to respond. But you know for a fact that he’s about to cave.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

“They need a pilot,” Frankie states, looking up at you with guilty, puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck me. He dragged you back in too, huh? You know… Sometimes I wonder if any of us are good for each other.” Your tone grows mildly irate, your heart quickening, but you recognise it for what it is. It’s simply anger veiling worry. You love these boys.

“Come on, don’t say that,” Frankie bargains. “We’ve dragged each other out of hell.”

“And back again.”

Frankie takes a deep breath. His tongue pokes around the meat of his cheek. “He says it’s simple recon. In and out. No mess.”

You jut your chin up. Stare at him levelly, unblinking. You know that Frankie will give it to you straight. Know that he can’t help himself. “And you buy that?”

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

“Not for a fucking second.”

You scoff, shaking your head. Not when it comes from Santiago, no. After all, you’ve fallen for Santiago’s bullshit plenty of times yourself. It’s the fact that Frankie would wander in with his eyes wide open to it that really gets you. It’s something else.

Still, before you can chastise him for being so stupid, Frankie glumly offers up some explanation. “Look. I need the job. I… I got my license revoked.”

Your heart drops - and your face with it. Your hands clamp over your mouth. “Frankie,” you say softly, with empathy. “Fuck.”

He hunches in on himself despondently, his hands disappearing up his sleeves, his fists clenching and his gaze cast downward. “I fucked up, man. Cassie has a baby on the way and I fucked up.” His eyes swim with a deep shame.

“Coke?” you venture, tentatively.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Slowly, he nods.

“Frankie.” Your hand swipes over your face, and your eyes fill with concern for him. His palm waves in the air, however, quickly dismissing any sympathies you may care to bestow.

“I’m back on track. Getting there. I am.” His eyes are nothing but determined. Sincere. “But I need this gig. No matter how fucking hare-brained a scheme that pendejo is cooking.”

“Think of the baby, dude.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Frankie says forcefully, in a harsh tone he rarely uses, and you know in no uncertain terms that the conversation is done. That he’s made his mind up, and that he won’t hear you out any further on the matter.

You swallow. Regroup. You chew on some platitudes, but none of them feel quite right.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Frankie says after a stretched, tense moment. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay,” you jostle his shoulder, and it shakes a little of the tension from him and the room. “I get it. And shit. I’m sorry for putting all of my bullshit on you this weekend. I wish you’d said something, Cat.”

He shrugs. Speaks with finality. “There’s not much to say. It’s done. I just need to make it right. And I will.”

“I believe it. But you do know that I’m… If you need… Anything, Frankie.”

He looks up at you then, the warmth back in his eyes as your voice cracks, searching for the words. But, he already knows everything you could ever say. You’ve said it before, a hundred times. He knows you love him. Knows you’re proud of him. Knows you’d do anything for him. Knows you want the best for him. He knows it already.

In turn, you are sure that he already knows everything you could possibly call him out on. That he’s already thought about it. Weighed it up. Thought about the risks. About the possibility that he’s acting out of desperation. The possibility that he’d probably be better off staying the hell away from Pope’s schemes.

He scrapes his stool back and comes to you, bundling you into a tight, warm, big brother hug. You tug in a deep breath, and you let it go. You’re done trying to control everything around you. It never really got you anywhere.

Still, there’s an undeniably uncomfortable knot in your chest as you think about them all gearing up. Strapping on their tac vests. Shoving clotting pads into their med packs. It makes you feel physically ill. And so, you can’t help yourself. “Do me a favour, Frankie? Don’t take Tom?” You muffle the words into his shirt, half hoping they will get lost there. That maybe he didn’t even hear you. But, you know when he braces his hands on your shoulders to get a good look at you, that your game is up.

“Why not?”

You see it then, in his eyes. That Tom is not a risk Frankie has considered. His presence not something he has weighed up.

You deliver your words as plainly and transparently as possible. “He’s too hungry, Cat.”

Frankie simply locks eyes with you, as though trying to weed out your motives. Shrewdly trying to assess your conclusions. Is this just your petty vendetta talking? Is this intelligence? Is this coming from your gut?

“Please. Just trust me.”

“I do,” he nods eventually, but you should know better than to feel any relief. And next, there it is. “I do but it’s not my call.”

Well. You’ve said your piece. You guess that’s all you’ve got. Absent-mindedly, you tug on Frankie’s lapels. “You’d better come back to me, Cat,” you plead plaintively. “And by God, you’d better bring those other fuckers back with you to boot.”

With a wistful affection, Frankie tugs you to him again and you stand there in silence for a few more moments, the sounds of the other guys evident in the background. In time, you and Frankie release each other and gravitate towards them, tucking yourselves under the porch to survey their efforts packing up the trucks.

“We should probably help,” you repeat again, and, to your side, your hear Frankie’s murmur of agreement. However, when you glance to him you see his long, lean frame stretched out up against the wooden porch post. He looks like a man with nowhere else to be in a hurry.

“Fuck,” he curses at nothing in particular, surveying the animated bodies of his buddies before him with both awe and trepidation. “How did we get here? Years of service and none of us have anything to show for it.”

That’s a Santiago sales pitch, through and through, you reckon. You recognise his propaganda. Funny, since he used to swallow the flag for breakfast. Is that how he got to him then? Convinced Frankie he could finally make bank? Take what he deserved? Ah. Or give his family what they deserved? Frankie is all about family.

A sad smile twitches your mouth. “Well. That’s not entirely true, is it? Not nothing.” You think of what you’ve gained from all of this. “I got a gaggle of weird ass brothers. A suitcase full of trauma. A fucked back. And! An array of unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

Despite the darkness of your statement, Frankie’s eyes crinkle. What else is left to do but laugh, anyway? “Maybe Will should put that in his speech.”

You belly chuckle at that, moving to lean up against the opposite post. “Yeah. Scare those poor recruits off before they can end up like us, huh?”

Frankie looks wistful again. “It hasn’t been all bad.”

No. It hasn’t. He’s not wrong about that.

You ponder on it. If you could go back and change your path - would you? But, despite everything, your squad would be far too much to lose. “Sure. The weird thing is, as shitty as it’s been at times? I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

There is a beat, and Frankie reaches out across the space between you and wordlessly clasps your hand.

“Listen. You gonna be okay, Frankie?” He looks down at his worn sneakers, contemplatively, as though he really doesn’t know the answer yet. You give his hand a squeeze, trying to let him know that’s okay. “We’ll talk more, okay?”

He nods - a subtle, concessionary thing, like maybe he could really do with that.

“I get why you didn’t tell me. But I’m sorry. That I didn’t do a better job of asking.”

“It’s not on you,” he says generously. A little too generously, in your estimation. You’ve been rather wrapped up in your own shit. A little too self-involved. “I know I can talk to you. I just… I, uh. Didn’t want to ruin the weekend.” The irony of that statement causes a throaty chuckle to bounce in Frankie’s neck, and your palm slides over your face in regret even as you laugh in reciprocity.

“Christ. I did a great job of that all by myself.”

“Well,” Frankie says good-naturedly, shifting to bump your hip with his. Wrapping his crooked arm over your shoulder. “You had some help.”

It is your turn now to look wistful, as you contemplate the storm that is Santiago, and all the rubble he left behind. “He’s really gone again.” Frankie simply squeezes you a little tighter. “Hey. Anything else I should know, by the way?” you needle. “You’re not holding out on me?”

Frankie sucks air through his teeth. “Tom and Molly. She finally served him papers.”

You fold forward, hinging to collapse your upper half onto the porch rail. “Fuck. Shit. I really need to start being nicer to that shithead.” Still, from behind, Frankie’s familiar chuckle buoys you, even as you inwardly berate yourself for getting wrapped up in your own business. “We’re all messes, huh, Frankie? Do you think we can fix it?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I do.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

You toss him a soft, grateful smile, which extends as Will makes his way over to your position, greeting you “Hey, slackers!”. You and Frankie share a conspiratorial glance.

“All set for the hike, Captain?”

“No thanks to you.”

“I had an alternate mission. Ranks of pastries to deplete.”

Will feigns tiredness, but his baby blues sparkle even as he rolls them.

“Anyway. Didn’t need you. All set to head out as soon as you slackers get your act together. You wantin’ to do the usual route, hon?”

You brace your arms against the porch rail. Dig your fingers into the wood. “No,” you say, the words a little tight in your chest, but they feel good. “Not today. There’s somewhere else. Somewhere I always wanted to go.”

Somewhere new.

“Fine by me,” Frankie offers. “Just let me grab more pastries.”

***

You relish the hike, when it comes. You relish walking a path that is -to you- entirely untrodden. That he can’t touch. You walked the old, familiar trails for too long, and the only place it ever got you was right back where you started.

The bullshit ends here. You’ve decided.

And so, you turn your attention away from your sun, and to the wider constellation of stars around you. To yourself.

You even do your best to make peace with Tom. To put old grudges to bed.

You relish the hike. Enjoy the undulating landscape. You don’t know for sure what’s next, or where you’re going, but the difference is that for once, that feels okay. Full of potential.

You walk until your legs burn, and when you get to the summit you take a moment to drink in the crisp, clifftop air. To look out across the ocean. To see it from a distance and to know that this time, it cannot break you over and over and over.

Still, when you’re at the top, as if by providence, Santiago texts you.

“Hey. Sorry I had to take off early. I wanna say… Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For the best night of my life.”

“Ah. Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, and you press the button to call him. You immediately call him. He immediately picks up. “Hi.”

”Hi. What’s up? They just announced my gate.”

”That’s okay, I’ll be quick. I, uh. I just needed to tell you too. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For a proper goodbye.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I-”

“-I’m not mad, Santi. I think… I think we said everything we have to say, right? I think it was…”

”…Perfect?”

”Yeah. Yeah, pretty perfect.”

“Listen. It’s selfish, but. With everything coming up. The Lorea job and… I needed it, you know? Needed that image of you sleeping.”

There’s an ache in your chest and it’s bittersweet.

He cares for you in every way he knows how, doesn’t he? In every way he can. He’s not perfect, but hey, neither are you. You’re both a little bit broken, but that doesn’t mean you can’t heal. And most of all, it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love while you’re doing it.

One day, he’ll turn up at your door, and he’ll be welcome. Whenever that is. Whenever it happens. But until then, you can’t just wait for him.

Until then, you’ll love him; from a distance.

No longer can you leave him in anger. No longer can he break you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Maybe one day, that will even be enough.

“Would you promise me something?”

“Sure.”

“Come back and visit soon, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”

You conclude the call, and you stretch your arms above your head. A pleasant tingle snakes down your back as it cracks. You haven’t felt so relaxed in a long time. You don’t think you’ve ever felt such peace.

The path that you are walking is yours, and you implicitly trust where it’s taking you.

***

You are grateful to slip into the passenger side of Frankie’s car, beginning the drive back to the city and signalling the end of your stay at the beach house. Still, there is something bittersweet there too as you leave behind the site of so many memories from over the years - and now, the site of your most perfect night with Santiago.

It reminds you of all you’ve been through. The ups and the downs and plenty of things which went sideways. You are starting to realise though, that perhaps the landscape of love is undulating. That sometimes the terrain is tough. It shouldn’t have been quite so tough though - so steep and unforgiving; and so, you hope for gentler, easier paths ahead.

It is bittersweet then, as you leave this place behind.

As you look forward, having said goodbye. As you wrestle with your past, future, and present.

Frankie swings the car out and onto the highway, the Millers up ahead and Tom behind, your vehicles forming a convoy through the dark, the glow of headlights illuminating the route ahead.

You sit in silence, eyes and thoughts unfocussed, in abstraction, as you watch vague shapes and colours slipping by the window, your own face occasionally reflected right back at you. You look older than you used to. More tired. But you don’t dislike that.

After a while, Frankie’s robust voice slices through the dark, his eyes on the road and hands threading the wheel. “I don’t know if this will make things better or worse but… Do you want to hear it?”

You swivel your head towards him, fractured, liquid panels of light slipping over the planes of his face as your surroundings pass by in a haze. “Hear what?”

“Pope’s heartbreak playlist?”

Your hands dig into your thighs where they rest. “Do I?”

“Well?” Frankie asks, his finger poised over the button, and evidently not willing to make that decision for you.

“Yeah. Fuck it.”

You brace a little, in all honesty. A tightness takes hold of your chest as you wonder if the first track to befall your ears might be angry. Resentful. Full of blame or sadness that you can’t hope to wrestle with and come out on top. But, as the first notes of the track sound out, you are surprised to find a full, unfettered laugh rises from out of your throat. The tears swell in your eyes next, for it is nothing if not bittersweet.

“That dickhead. I can’t believe…”

You can’t believe it. The fact he has chosen a song which reflects your life together? Which reveals a happy memory?

He loves you, doesn’t he? He has for a long time. And you can’t help but hope that maybe one day, that will even be enough. For tonight though, it will definitely do. You’ll take it. You’ll treasure it.

“Whiskey in the Jar,” Frankie scoffs as he catches on to the song, even if his fingers are drumming against the lip of the wheel involuntarily. “I mean. What the shit’s that all about? He’s a weird kid, I swear.”

“Frankie,” you laugh brightly, turning once again to look wistfully out of the window, as the view of the beach house and the ocean recedes into the distance. You catch another glimpse of yourself in the pane, and this time you look younger, you think. More alive. “Did I ever tell you about that night in Philadelphia?”

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #ride or die series

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