#you look me in the goddamn eyes and tell me that you think Lisa would be fine resting in the arms of Dracula like nothing happened | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Crush On You

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

The summer of '86, a season of love, record-breaking heat, and evening softball games in one Austin neighborhood. What happens when seventeen years later, that lost love comes back around?

warnings | 18+ cursing, smut, young joel is a goddamn menace

wordcount | 9K

a/n | hi folks, i come bearing part two of my hungry hearts series. she's long, okay? i'm sorry, the spirit of young joel possessed me what can i say. hope y'all enjoy this one, come tell me what you think in my inbox! also much love, much thanks to my trenchcoat brother @northernbluess for beta-reading this baby - love you, cousin

.....................................

“Well, well, look who has graced us with her presence. How’d you scare her out of hiding, Miller?”

“Oh, you know, black mail, extortion, a cattle prod.” Her scowl is lost on the pair as Mikey Donahue pulls Joel into a hug that’s more of a gruff back slap than anything else before promptly putting a beer in his hand. Meanwhile, she’s already regretting her decision to come along, trying to temper her grimace when Mikey hooks his arm around her shoulders to crush her into his side, grinning big and boozy down at her.

“Good to see you, big city. College suits you.” She has to laugh, seeing as Mikey didn’t have the time of day for her in high school and now he seems to be all too intent on laying the charm on thick.

“Thanks, Mikey, that’s real, uh, kind of you.” Before Mikey can reply with what she’s sure would be an equally charming remark, Joel curls his fingers in the neck of his t-shirt to pry him away from her, steering him further into the house.

“Alright, Mike, don’t scare her off, I just got her in the door. C’mon, man, I was promised a keg stand here.” All she gets from Joel is one more glance over his shoulder before she has been left entirely alone in a sea of her old classmates, with quite literally no escape route, considering she drove here in Joel’s rusted-out pick-up truck.

She fields a few polite hellos, trying her best to move through the house as unnoticed as possible to get to the backyard and away from the smell of sweat and socially anxious bodies. Mercifully, there’s only a few people outside, couples all tangled up and people smoking around the edge of the pool. She forgot Mikey Donahue had a pool, though she supposes his parents were always notorious for their money and how visible they made it.

This wasn’t her scene in high school, and it certainly isn’t now. Honestly, she’s not sure why she agreed to go with Joel in the first place. Oh yeah, Lisa-Anne. She kind of wishes she let Lisa-Anne have this one.

“Hey, big city, there you are!” Mikey again, this time with no Joel to wrangle him off and away from her. He really is the quintessential all-american boy, home from some expensive east coast school that she can’t remember the name of, the whole blonde and blue eye thing, floppy and smiley like a well-bred golden retriever. She isn’t quite sure where this sudden chumminess with her has come from, they certainly didn’t run in the same circles as teenagers. But there isn’t much room to ponder it when he has once again slung his arm around her, his face so close to hers that she can smell the pabst blue ribbon he probably just tossed back.

“Remind me what you’re studying all the way up in Chicago?” She knows for a fact that drunk Mikey has a temper, like, punching holes in the walls of his parents’ basement temper, so she makes no move to push him away, though she’d really like nothing more right now, trying and failing to create even an inch more of distance between them. Mikey doesn’t like that, dropping his arm to sling low around her waist, his fingers brushing against the bare skin between her jean shorts and where the fabric of her t-shirt has rucked up.

“I’m studying English.” It comes out smaller and quieter than she would like it to, her throat tightening with something like panic at Mikey’s continued advancements. On his part, Mikey seems to find the whole thing amusing, tossing his head back in a hard laugh.

“That’s right, always a little bookworm, weren’t you? Tell me this, what the hell can you even do with an English degree, big city?”

“You can do a lot of things with an English degree, Mike.” She’s just pissed off enough to finally yank out of his grip, sending him stumbling a few feet back, though he’s quick to recover with a laugh that sounds a little less friendly.

“I know it’s been a while since you’ve been home, big city, so I’m gonna do you a favor and pretend like that was just an accident.”

“Hey, Mike, where’d you go, man?” She’s never been so happy to hear Joel’s voice in her life, she thinks, taking one more subtle step back as he sidles up next to Mikey and slings his arm around his shoulders. The light from inside the house casts shadows over Joel’s forearm where it’s draped against Mikey’s chest, and she can see the tendons jumping there from how hard he’s holding onto him, though it otherwise looks like a friendly embrace.

“Was just catching up with that one, Miller, so you can fuck right off, thanks.” And there it is. She feels herself wince with the bite of Mikey’s words, though Joel stays completely calm, a placid and altogether unsettling smile quirking up his mouth.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, man. Why don’t you leave the nice girl alone and go sleep it off before you do something you’re gonna regret?” She should probably do something other than stand there and stare at what is probably, definitely about to become a bad scene, a small crowd starting to form around them already. But she feels frozen where she stands, her eyes darting between Mikey’s sneer, and Joel’s ticking jaw.

“And who’s gonna make me regret it, Miller, huh? You?” Because they are apparently still children, the crowd of people let out a low chorus of ooooh at that. And then for a moment it’s perfectly silent and perfectly still, Joel and Mikey staring each other down in a strange, half-way thing between an embrace and a strangle-hold. But by the time she blinks again, the both of them have swung, Mikey missing and Joel making clipped contact with the side of Mikey’s jaw. It’s just enough to send Mikey stumbling back and over the edge of the pool, and because he’s still got a fist clenched in Joel’s shirt, he gets yanked in after him.

The crowd is quick to disperse after such a disappointing climax to their little spat, and while Mikey hauls himself out of the pool on the other side like a drowned cat, she finds herself offering out her hand to an equally sodden Joel. He drips all over her sneakers when he gets out, his flannel clinging to his torso, damp and darkened, something she tries not to pay too much attention to.

“You okay?”

“I’m not the one who just fell into a pool.” He drags a hand through his hair to get it slicked back out of his face, water still dripping off the tip of his nose as he looks at her. For a moment, she thinks that he looks small, a slight shiver in his shoulders, his eyes wide and his lashes all stuck together. He looks young, and he’s looking at her and only her.

“I’m fine, Cher, let’s get out of here, huh? This party is dead anyways.” With a quick shake back of his shoulders and a thumb swiped under his nose, that familiar front has already slipped back into place. But she’s fine with it if it means they’re going to get out of this place, letting Joel lead the barreling way back through the house, his sneakers squeaking and squelching with every step. And even though he looks ridiculous, dripping all over the hardwood floors of Mikey’s parents’ house, he keeps his chin tilted up like he owns the place and his shoulders squared off as broad as his leanness will allow, easily parting a path for them through the crowd and out onto the front lawn.

Neither of them speak when they get into the car, leaving the radio off as the engine splutters to life and they start winding their way back out of the wealthy neighborhood. She wants to say something, to thank him, to ask him if he’s sure that he’s okay, but she can’t find the right words, twisting her hands in her lap and watching the way the truck’s headlights spill out over the road.

“So you’re really going for it out in Chicago?” His voice breaking the silence startles her out of her simmering mind, and when she glances over at him, he only offers her a quick side sweep of his eyes before he focuses back on the road.

“You said you’re studying English?” He heard that? How long was he watching her and Mikey?

“Oh, um, yeah, yes.” She keeps her focus on the knuckles of his hand draped over the top of the steering wheel, a subtle tension and flexion to his grip.

“Gonna be a big shot writer, right? That was always your dream, wasn’t it?”

“When I was a kid, yeah. I don’t know, I’ll probably end up teaching, though I think my parents expect me to just wind up married and pregnant by the end of it anyways.” He snorts at that, shaking his head though he keeps his eyes on the road.

“You were always writing stories, Cherry.”

“Uh-huh.” Honestly, she’s surprised he held onto that fact, the ratty composition books she carried around everywhere as a child, and well into her teens too.

“Ever write one about me?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Wait, really?” His eyes finally dart over to her, eyebrows shot up his forehead and she has to bite back a laugh.

“Yeah, it was about your astonishing humility and non-existent ego.” She can barely get it out with a straight face, already dissolving into another laugh as Joel rolls his eyes at her dig.

“Alright, alright, guess I walked into that one.” They’ve just pulled up in front of her house, Joel flicking off the headlights so her parents don’t notice. For once, she’s in no hurry to get away from him, an honestly foreign feeling as they sit in his truck. He’s still soaking wet, his hair starting to stick up every which way from how it’s drying, though he seems perfectly content to keep staring at her, something like a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“You don’t like being home very much, do you, Cherry?”

“I really don’t, no.” She says it on a long sigh, no idea why she’s inclined to be honest with him like that.

“How come?”

“I feel like no one takes me seriously down here.”

“I do.”

“Joel.”

“What? I do.”

“How can that possibly be true when you still call me a name that came from me snorting soda out of my nose?”

“Okay, maybe originally it came from that, but that’s not why I call you it now, not really.”

“Please enlighten me then, why do you call me that?” His brow furrows for a moment, like he’s choosing his words carefully, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally answers.

“Because– because I just do, okay? But I do take you seriously, for the record.” She leans her head back on the seatrest, tilting her chin to look at him where he has his arm hanging over the steering wheel, his full body leaning and twisting toward her.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, and I’m gonna want a signed copy of your first book.”

“Oh please.”

“I’m dead serious, Cher. I probably won’t read it, but I reckon it’ll be worth something when you get all famous and shit.”

“Lovely, Joel, thanks so much for that.” He shrugs, though his gaze stays steady with hers, and it happens again, that softening around the edges, that kid she remembers. And again, it’s gone in a flash, Joel suddenly leaning toward her in an unexpected way. And, well, she reacts before she can really think.

“Jesus! What the fuck, Cher?” He has bodily recoiled from her back into the driver’s side, his palm cupping his cheek where she just landed a hard smack with the flat of her hand.

“Me what the fuck? You what the fuck? What the hell was that, Joel?”

“I don’t– I thought we were having a– a nice moment!” She goes to open the passenger side door, but Joel is quick to reach over and shut it again like a petulant child, eliciting a bitter laugh from her.

“We were until you pulled that shit. I’m not one of your little housewives that you can do whatever you want with.” This time, he doesn’t try to stop her when she clambers out of the truck, though he isn’t quite finished yet.

“Oh c’mon, Cherry! This ain’t playing fair!” She quickly shushes him before he starts to wake up half the neighborhood with his exclamations, only staying close enough to the car so she can whisper yell back at him.

“I’m not playing, Joel. Do me a favor and just stay away from me, why don’t you?”

…

While Sarah may not be the strongest batter, which is okay because Joel is working with her on it most afternoons, she makes for a mean third baseman, though part of him secretly wishes she played shortstop more often. And though he’s usually busy shouting reminders and tips at her from the bleachers, Joel is a bit preoccupied today watching something else, or someone else is more like it.

He’s never been so pissed at chain link fencing in his life for obscuring his view of her, standing in front of the bleachers with her arms crossed and her hip cocked out as she watches the game from behind sunglasses and a ball cap. But he’s also never been more grateful for the Austin swelter because it means that she’s in a tank top and jean shorts, and he’s pretty sure his mind is starting to short-circuit because it looks to him like Cherry picked up some tattoos in the last seventeen years. He can’t tell what they are from this distance, something wrapped over her right shoulder and down her bicep, and, fuck him, something on the top of her right thigh. So maybe he’s craning his neck a little to try to make out what the ink is, and maybe he should be paying more attention to the game, because when there’s suddenly some sort of scuffle on the field between the umpire and one of Sarah’s coaches, he has no clue what he missed.

“That was an out, are you kidding me? She tagged her!” He’s sitting close enough to third that he’s pretty sure it’s Ellie, at least he thinks that was her name, who the umpire and the coach are arguing over whether Sarah got her out or not before she stepped on third. Yeah, definitely Ellie, because here comes Cherry from the bleachers on the other side.

“Her foot was on the base when she tagged her, that wasn’t an out!” The umpire looks at Cherry with an amount of exasperation that tells Joel they’ve interacted before. Cherry, meanwhile, has her cap off and her sunglasses slanted down her nose to look at the ump with all the kindness of a parole officer.

“Ma’am please let us handle this and return to the bleachers.” He’s not sure why he decides to get involved, it’s not like he actually saw what happened. But the combination of it being Sarah who either did or didn’t get Ellie out and his own small desire to get a little closer to Cherry, regardless of the context, has him up off the bleachers and hooking his fingers through the chain link fence.

“I’m pretty sure it was an out, I had a better view of it than you did, Cher.” Judging by the way she scoffs and shakes her head, he probably shouldn’t have called her that, though there isn’t much time to ponder that when she’s walking over to him and getting as up in his face as she can with the thin mesh of chain link separating them.

“Don’t Cher me, Joel.”

“Mom, please, it’s fine, I’m pretty sure she got me before I tagged up.” Ellie and Sarah both look pretty ready for this situation to be over, huffing and rolling their eyes at their parents’ strange display.

“Els, you are not out, okay? You’re gonna stay on third and the game is gonna get going again–”

“Always were a sore loser.” It just slips out, and it isn’t even true. He was the sore loser, and he knows it, and judging by the way Cherry whips back around to glare at him, he has just incurred her admittedly deserved wrath.

“Oh, that is real rich coming from you, Joel Miller, you are–”

“Alright, folks, we don’t have time for this and I’m going to have to ask you both to wait in the parking lot while we finish this game.”

“What?” They say it at nearly the same time to the umpire, who just shakes his head at them and points toward the parking lot next to the ball field.

“Both of you, out of here, or I’m going to disqualify both of your girls from playing.” Well, really no arguing with that, especially not when Sarah and Ellie are giving them both pleading looks from behind the umpire. Cherry doesn’t give him another look, simply mutters an apology to the umpire before heading off toward the parking lot. And all he can do is sheepishly follow behind her with his own apology and a gruff play well offered to Sarah who just rolls her eyes at him.

No, not exactly what he had in mind for their second meeting.

He probably shouldn’t, but since he already seems to be playing the fool, he figures he doesn’t have much to lose in approaching her where she’s sitting in the popped-open trunk of her minivan, her sunglasses pushed up to the crown of her head and her legs swinging idly over the lip of the trunk.

“I’m, uh, sorry about all that.” Her eyebrows raise, a weary look that makes something hot and slippery curl in his gut, a little bashful under her gaze.

“I am too, I guess. They probably shouldn’t let us on the field together, huh?” Her words crack a bit dryly with the curl of her smile, instant relief washing over him in mirroring her expression.

“No, I reckon not.” She doesn’t say anything more, just scoots her hips to one side and pats the space next to her, an invitation he tries not to seem so eager to take as he sits down beside her. Close enough now that he can get a better look at the tattoo on her arm and her thigh. Something beating hard in his chest and tightening up his throat when he realizes that it’s a bouquet of chrysanthemums etched into her thigh. And on her arm, spiraling over her bicep and across her shoulder is a branch of a cherry tree.

…

There’s no other option on a Sunday. She wishes more than anything that there was, but she knows that everywhere else is closed.

“Thatcher’s auto and towing, how can I help you?” She hasn’t spoken to him in two weeks, not since that night they went to Mikey Donahue’s party. She even started picking Will up herself for dinner to avoid having him anywhere near her, pointedly ignoring the his shouts of her name from the ball field whenever she does. So hearing his voice gives her pause, and she nearly hangs the payphone back up, but she really has no other option right now.

“Uh, hi, my car broke down and I need to get it towed.”

“Cherry?”

“Um, yes?” There’s a long pause on the other end, though she’s pretty sure she can hear him let out a deep sigh.

“Shit, okay, where are you?”

“I’m out by the new mall, um, I think right off of eighth street? I don’t know what’s wrong with it, honestly it just sort of– gave out on me.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in five, just stay right where you are.”

“Well, I can’t exactly go anywhere else, Joel.” She can hear the sound of something metal clanging around in the background, followed by Joel letting out a low curse.

“Right, yeah, just hang tight.” With that, he hangs up with a quiet click, and all that’s left to do is walk the two blocks back to her car. Technically, it’s her mom’s car, her old station wagon that had been given to her as a graduation gift, dark green with wood paneling and a dent in the back bumper that she has somehow managed to hide from both of her parents for a year now. She gives the car another once over, definitely nothing wrong with her tires, and she’s not even going to pretend like she’d know what’s going on under the hood, so she settles against the side of the car door and bides her time watching the slow trickle of traffic pass by.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, another record-breaking day of heat, she’s pretty sure. At least it feels that way, her eyes set in a perpetual squint under the hard beat of the sun as she swipes at the sweat on her forehead with the back of her wrist. Though mercifully she’s not waiting for long when a truck with the Thatcher’s Auto logo on the side comes pulling up alongside where she had managed to park her car on the shoulder of the road. He hops out of the truck, dressed in a pair of coveralls with the sleeves tied around his waist, a white wife beater on top that’s smeared with grease stains, and she has to remind herself that she’s still pissed at him when his dimple pops with a sheepish smile as he approaches her, tugging the baseball cap off his head to run a hand through his hair before settling his hat on backwards.

“Hey, Cherry, um, how– how have you been?”

“I’ve been better, Joel, considering that my car won’t even start.” Nope, she’s not going to give him anything else, setting her jaw in a hard line and jerking her chin back over her shoulder as if to say get on with it. Joel seems to take the hint, giving her a jerky nod before taking a quick look around her car.

“Well, your tires look fine. Lemme pop the hood and see if it’s anything obvious.” She hopes more than anything that it is something obvious, that she isn’t going to have to drive back to the shop with him, but judging by the way Joel lets the hood close with a shake of his head, she doesn’t think she has gotten so lucky.

“I don’t know, Cher, I think you’re gonna have to come back to the shop with me so I can take a closer look.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to hold back a frustrated groan before she finally looks at Joel again.

“Okay, fine, and how long is that gonna take, do you think?”

“Got a few other cars I have to take care of first, but it shouldn’t be too long. You okay to wait at the shop?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice, so yeah.” She waits in the cab of the truck while Joel hitches her car up, keeping her eyes flicked down and out of the passenger window when he gets back in.

“You giving me the silent treatment?”

“No, I just don’t have anything to say to you.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it, but she can hear the huff of a sigh he lets out before he cranks the truck into drive. He doesn’t try to talk to her for the rest of the drive, and she keeps her arms crossed pointedly in front of her chest, her whole body angled toward the passenger-side door. However, when they pull into the garage at Thatcher’s and she tries to get out, the lock on her door promptly clicks down and the handle won’t budge.

“Can we just talk for a second, Cher?” She pries the lock back open, but just as soon as she does, Joel clicks it back into place, forcing her to finally glare at him. His brow is furrowed and his knee is bouncing in his seat, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d guess that he’s nervous.

“Fine, what is so important that you have to lock me into your truck like a goddamn serial killer?”

“Wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t being so goddamn stubborn to begin with.” She lets out a clipped bark of laughter at that, once again pulling the lock up on her own to try to get out, and once again, like a deranged comedy act, he clicks it back into place before she can even get her fingers around the handle.

“Joel Miller, I swear to God, if you don’t let me out of this car right now I’m going to scream.”

“I just– just– fuck, Cherry, I’m sorry, okay? I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” That gives her pause. There have been only two other times in her life that Joel has apologized to her. The first time was when they were eight years old, and really, she thinks, it shouldn’t count because his mom forced him to, her hand between his small shoulder blades nudging him forward to say sorry for pulling on her braid from the pew behind her at church and making her cry.

The second time, they were ten. That one does count. She was sitting on the swings at the playground down the street, scribbling in her notebook when a little crew of boys in the grade above her came out of nowhere and started heckling her. Joel showed up on his bike as she was picking up the tattered pages and scraps of what had been the story she was working on in her notebook. She remembers that she was trying really hard not to cry in front of him when he knelt down beside her to help her gather the torn pieces, small hands trying to make it right. He had nothing to be sorry for, but he still said that he was real sorry, Cher, quiet, and sounding much older and wearier than a ten-year-old should. That one counts. But otherwise, those words coming out of his mouth have been non-existent, so she can’t help but fall silent to hear just what he has to say.

“You’re sorry?” He takes off his cap again, setting it down on the dash of the truck and dragging his hand back through his hair, very clearly having to work himself up to saying it again when he finally looks at her.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about what happened after Mikey’s party. I just– I thought that you–”

“Thought that I what? Did you really think I was going to be that easy, Joel?”

“What? No, if you would just let me finish speaking for Christ’s sake, I know that’s kind of difficult for you and your big mouth–”

“Wow, Joel, you really know how to apologize to a girl, huh?” With that, he slams the heel of his hand against the steering wheel, letting out a sharp curse that makes any other smart remarks fizzle out in her throat.

“You know what, Cher? Just forget it. You can go wait in the office and I’ll have your car ready for you as soon as I can.” He finally unlocks the car door, and she’s more than happy to get out and slam it behind her.

“Fine.”

“Yeah, fine.”

…

“So is your wife not a fan of softball?”

“My what?”

“Your wife, does she not like coming to games?” All he can do is laugh for a moment, pure disbelief at her question, and when he finally looks at her again, her brow still furrowed in confusion, he shakes his head with a huff.

“Is that like a funny question or something?” Just a little snap of annoyance behind her words, though he’s quick to respond, holding out his left hand in between them, his decidedly ringless left hand.

“A little bit considering there is no wife.” It’s the middle of the fourth inning from what he can tell, still plenty of time for them to be not allowed on the field, sitting in the back of Cherry’s car.

“Oh, but– was there one? I mean, Sarah’s mom?”

“Uh, no, she’s not in the picture, at all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. But, uh, what about you? I mean– is Ellie’s– is your, uh–” She cuts off his floundering with a nudge of her shoulder against his, a tight smile on her lips.

“Not in the picture.”

“At all?”

“Never, doesn’t even know Ellie exists.”

“Shit, Cher, that had to have been hard.” She laughs, a clipped sound in the back of her throat as she slides her sunglasses back down onto her nose, keeping her gaze out on the field in front of them. He quickly does the math in his head, pretty sure that Ellie and Sarah are the same age, something heavy and hot settling in his chest when he realizes that she would have only been twenty-two when she had her daughter, just like him. It’s an aching fact, one that his mind starts to swim with, though her voice pulls him out of it quickly.

“It definitely wasn’t easy, but I’d like to think I’ve done alright.”

“I’ll say, it seems like every year there’s a new book of yours in the news for being a bestseller.” She turns to look at him at that, her eyebrows raised and her lips parted before settling into a slight smile.

“Have you read any of them?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” His answer seems to stop her, her face falling behind the darkness of her sunglasses, though she’s quick to catch herself with a breathy humph before turning her eyes back on the field in the distance. He wishes he could tuck those words back in his throat, try that again if only to keep her eyes on him.

“Are your folks still in town?”

“Oh yeah, dinner every Sunday with them still.” She hums, a light sound that curls with her smile, though she still doesn’t look at him.

“That must be nice.”

“I think ma would throw a parade if she knew you were back in town.”

“Oh please.”

“I’m dead serious, Cher.” There, she looks at him again, her smile turning crooked as she nudges her shoulder against his, an easy moment that still makes his heart kick up in his chest.

“And Tommy’s still around? Miller’s Construction, right?” He must have a funny look on his face when she says that because she laughs again, something warm and flushed creeping into her cheeks that makes his mind go a little fritzed.

“I promise I’m not stalking you, I was just looking for someone to come fix some stuff at the new house. Sounds like you two have done well for yourselves.” His mind still hasn’t caught up, still such a strange feeling to have her here in the present, talking about these things in the present, all these normal, very grown up things.

“Uh, yes, yeah, we do alright. Tommy is still a fucking nuisance, but it’s good work. What’re you looking to get done?”

“I think my back porch is all rotted out, nearly put my foot through a plank the other day. Do you have any idea how much it would cost to redo the whole thing?”

“I’d have to come take a look, but I could redo it for you, no problem.” He has already decided how much it will cost. Nothing, not for her, though he knows if he told her that now she’d scoff and get someone else to do it who would accept payment. He’ll save that fact for after it’s finished.

“Alright, is there a number I can call to schedule an appointment?” Oh, oh, he’s not stupid enough to let this opportunity pass him by.

“Why don’t I, uh, give you my number? It’ll be easier that way.” He knows she knows what he’s doing, her lips pursing for a moment as if to consider it, but she still slides her phone out of her back pocket and hands it over to him. He has to think really hard about what his phone number is, typing it in with a small tremor in his hand that only gets worse when he gives her phone back to her with a barely there brush of their fingers.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Maybe, what’s the question?”

“Why’d you come back? I don’t know where you’ve been, Cher, but I can tell you that I never expected you to come back here.” Shit, he shouldn’t have asked that, because she’s not looking at him again, her chin tucking down as her mouth settles in a thin grimace.

“Honestly? I don’t know. We were in Chicago for the longest time, and then New York while I was working on my last two books. And it was great while it was great, you know? But it was just too much after a while, too much for Ellie, and too much for me.” He ducks his head down, trying to catch her gaze now that her sunglasses are pushed back up into her hair.

“So you made it to New York, huh?” That gets him a grin, her eyes crinkling up under her lashes at him.

“Yeah, the big leagues and all that shit.”

“How was it?”

“Lonely. I think I would have lost my mind if I didn’t have Ellie.” His heart twinges and then swells in his chest because he hates to hear that, and is also relieved to hear that, and then he hates himself for being relieved to hear that. That there wasn’t anyone else.

“For what it’s worth, Cherry, I’m real glad to see you back here again.” No, that didn’t come out quite right, and he has to stop himself from physically wincing when she gives him a furrowed look in response.

“I find that a little hard to believe, Joel.”

“Why?”

“Well, we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, did we?” He feels a long sigh leave his lungs, and she’s already hopping out of the trunk and brushing her hands down the front of her shorts as if to shake the conversation off.

“I am sorry, Cher, I–”

“Don’t, Joel. Don’t do that.” She shakes her head hard at him, eyes fierce for a moment before she slips her sunglasses back into place.

“Well I am.”

“Well I don’t want you to be. There’s no need for it when that was such a long time ago.” He wants to say something else, anything, but the tightness in his throat keeps the words stuck and simmering somewhere in his chest. She doesn’t look at him again, murmuring something about the game ending and wanting to help Ellie pack up, and all he can do is dumbly agree, shutting the trunk of her car and walking back toward the field a few paces behind her. Always a few paces behind her, it seems.

…

Joel was full of shit. Something about fixing her car as soon as he could, something about it not taking too long. Yeah, bullshit. She has been sitting in the front office of the auto shop for the last three hours, trying and failing to get some writing done in her notebook amidst the seemingly ceaseless sounds of whirring drills, clanking and crashing metal, and the men in the garage cursing and carrying on amongst themselves. Though some of the sound has died down now that it’s just Joel working, the other men all clocking out at five o’clock. Meanwhile, he hasn’t even gotten to her car yet.

Everytime she glances into the garage, his legs are still sticking out from under a cream-colored mustang. When he does finally pop out from underneath the car, her hopes of getting out of the place soon are quickly dashed as someone pulls up to the gas pumps out front. She knows that car, a convertible in an obnoxious shade of turquoise that could only mean Maureen Henderson. Her daddy got her that car for her sixteenth birthday and she never stopped thinking she was hot shit for it ever since.

She gets up from her cracked vinyl chair in the office to stand at the windows, trying to get a better look at their interaction. Joel is in fine form, of course, leaning down close over the driver’s side door, all grins, all popping gum with his jaw as Maureen rests a perfectly french-tipped set of fingers on his bicep. He must say something really funny for her to toss her head back like that, her teased-out hair bouncing with her tittering laugh. Joel slips around the front of the car, and, really, she thinks, is it so necessary for him to pump Maureen’s gas for her? Can Maureen really not just pump her own gas like a normal person? All a bit outdated, if you ask her. Though Maureen seems perfectly pleased with the whole production, leaning across the passenger’s side and slipping a few folded up bills into the back pocket of Joel’s coveralls while he’s turned away to set the pump back in its holster. How nauseatingly sweet of Maureen, who’s rewarded with another grin and something that must be really fucking funny for her to laugh so loud before she peels away from the shop with one more waggle of her fingers at him. Joel, meanwhile, seems in no hurry to get back to work as he moseys back into the garage, counting the bills that Maureen just tucked into his pocket with a stupid smirk on his face. Yeah, she’s seen quite enough.

“Hey, so I’m just wondering, when you said this wasn’t going to take too long, did you know that you were full of shit? Or is Maureen just that distracting?” Her eyes nearly water when she steps into the garage from the smell of motor oil and burnt rubber, though she’s a little too pissed to worry about that as she walks over to where Joel is rummaging through a tool box next to the mustang.

“Aw, Cherry, don’t tell me you're jealous of little old Maureen.” She would like to smack his smile clean off his face, the only thing stopping her being the fact that she still needs him to fix her car.

“I’m not jealous, Joel. I have been sitting in that office all afternoon watching you do everything except fix my car and I would like to go home now.”

“So you’ve been watching me, huh?”

“Christ, you really are relentless, aren’t you?” She honestly can’t believe he’s already bounced back to his incessant teasing after their little blow up in his truck, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek and squinting at her as she huffs at him.

“Alright, Cher, you’ve waited long enough. I’ll take a look.” She follows close on his heels as he sidles over to her car, popping the hood and ducking his head under to look at the engine.

“Well?” Though she has no clue what he’s looking at, she still leans over the engine next to him, searching his face for any answers.

“Hmm, oh, here’s your problem.” He twists what looks like a loose knob down into the engine, shocking her with how quickly he stands back up with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“That– that’s it?”

“Yep, loose spark plug.”

“And you couldn’t have fixed that earlier on the side of the road?”

“No, I could have, but then you wouldn’t have come and kept me company with your death glare all afternoon.” He can barely get his words out around a laugh. But she is decidedly not laughing. It’s completely impulsive, and maybe childish, but it feels good to shove the flat of both her palms into his chest, making him stumble back against the side of the mustang parked next to her car. And since it felt so good the first time, she decides to do it again, this time with enough force for his laughs to die out with a grunted oof.

“You’re an ass, do you know that? A huge– fucking– ass–” Each word gets punctuated with another shove, though on the last one Joel wraps his hand around her wrists, collecting them both in a tight hold and only pulling her closer against his chest when she tries to yank away from him.

“Let go, Joel.” Their faces are so close to each other’s that she can smell the cinnamon on his breath from that Big Red gum he likes to chew, can even see the freckle tucked between his lashes underneath his right eye, the same freckle that’s been there since they were kids.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, I’m not gonna let go.”

“You’re a fucking child.”

“That the best you got, Cherry baby?”

“Do not call me that.”

“Or else what?” A beat, a blink, a moment for her heart to sink into her stomach and shoot straight up into her throat when they both lurch into the space between them. There’s nothing nice about the first one, in fact, it hurts a little with how hard they both press into it, her nose mashing up against his as their teeth scrape and clash with each other. They kiss ugly. They kiss angry. Both of them too stubborn to let the other one get away with anything, the moment he licks into her mouth, she tangles her fingers in the back of his hair and tugs hard, swallowing down the grunt that looses from his throat. Though her upper hand is short-lived when Joel drops both his palms down to her ass and squeezes hard, her whole body jolting in his hold and pressing closer to him. He’s probably getting grease all over her clothes, but she’s not too concerned with that as she keeps drawing low little groans out of him every time she swipes her tongue against his.

“Wait, Cher– shit, wait– I can’t– I don’t–” She finally pulls back when he keeps mumbling, and suddenly the reality of the situation comes plummeting down on her, starting to panic when it seems like Joel has decided this was all a big mistake.

“What, what is it?”

“I want to do this right with you– your– you should have a nice first time and–”

“Wait, what?” Joel’s eyes get wide and round, his hands dropping down by his sides from where they had been holding her hips when she takes a step back from him.

“Well, I, uh– you– you’re–”

“Joel, have you just assumed that I’m a virgin?” He winces at the word like it’s a curse, and she finally has to laugh at how ridiculous this is.

“Does that mean you’re not?”

“Just shut up, Joel.” With that, she reaches forward for his waist where the sleeves of his coveralls are tied, making quick work of the knot and rucking his pants the rest of the way down as she kneels in front of him. She tucks her fingers into the band of his boxers, unable to help her grin when she feels his stomach tense against her knuckles.

“Can I?”

“Fuck, yeah, yes– you can do whatever you want, Cherry.” She likes him like this, with his throat bobbing and a crack in his voice pitching his words up an octave, his eyes wide and watching as she tugs his boxers down. And oh, she likes him like this too. Pretty boy who’s certainly pretty all over. The narrow tanness of his hips tapers into a dark thatch of curls, and well, there’s no two ways about it, he’s big, already hard, the tip flushed a perfect pink. Only a little intimidating, but judging by the sound he makes when she suckles the head of him into her mouth, she has it under control.

“Oh my god– fuck, okay, fuck– you– you’re good at that– Jesus.” There’s a bit too much of him to take it all into her mouth, though she does her best to bob her head down his length, her hand wrapping around what she can’t quite reach as she laps at the vein running along the underside of his cock. A fleeting thought in the back of her mind, this was not how she imagined her day going, not in any universe. But something has snapped, something that cannot be stitched back together. And now, all she feels is an aching want, pulling taut in her stomach, pulling her to him. Want, want, want. She’s never wanted something so bad in her life, she thinks. Not very ladylike to want like this, to gag with it, to dribble spit around it, to see how much more she can take just to coax another broken moan out of his chest, her palms splayed out on his hips to keep him pinned still beneath all her want. But what she didn’t consider is that he wants it just as bad and big as she does, hooking his hand around the back of her neck to pull her off of him and hoist her onto her feet, chasing after the taste of himself on her tongue as he turns them around to press her up against the side of the car.

“That was gonna be over too fucking soon if I let you keep doing that.” His hands get a little greedy, a little desperate, fumbling to get her t-shirt off before tugging her bra up and overhead without even unclasping it, ducking his head down to let his teeth scrape and nip at the newly exposed skin. He pauses only for a moment, pulling back, his parted lips shiny and blushing and his eyes heavy as he takes her in. She can’t help but drag her hand back through his hair, something tight settling in her chest when he absent-mindedly nudges his cheek closer into the cup of her palm.

“You’re something else, Cherry.” She doesn’t have any time to ask him just what he means by that, his lips already finding hers again, a small gasp in the back of her throat at the feeling of her nipples dragging against the fabric of his wife beater. And then it’s an awkward, slow shuffle, given that his coveralls and boxers are still pooled and pulled around his ankles, around to the front of the car, his hands finding the backs of her thighs to coax her up and onto the hood. From there his palms start to wander, one coming to cup the side of her neck before slipping down to her breast, the boyish squeeze he leaves there making her laugh, though the sound dies fast when his other hand rests heavy at the waistband of her shorts, thumbing at the button.

“Can I touch you, Cher?” It’s entirely too earnest, the way he’s looking at her from beneath the thick fan of his lashes, a small crease between his brows. And she’s a little afraid of how her want might skitter up her throat, so instead of saying anything, she simply pulls him in by the nape of his neck for another kiss as her other hand bats his away to undo her shorts. Mercifully, it’s enough of an answer for Joel, his hand replacing hers and dipping down beneath the fabric of her panties, the broadness of his palm cupping her cunt and grinding up into her heat in a way that makes her gasp against his mouth.

Annoyingly, he’s halfway decent at it, swiping his fingers through her cunt in a harsh rub, though she tenses up when he tries to immediately dip two of his thick fingers into her clenching entrance.

“Jesus Christ, warm me up a little first, why don’t you?” He looks genuinely perplexed by her exclamation, his hand stilling beneath the fabric of her panties as his brow crumples in reaction.

“What did I do wrong?” She tugs lightly at the hair at his nape, a light laugh leaving her lips when he lets out a huff like an impatient boy.

“You’re a bit harsh, Joel.”

“Well, I’ve never had any complaints before.” Said with a roll of his eyes and his hand still down her pants so really, she has a hard time taking him seriously.

“Well, I’m complaining. Just– gentler, here.” She clasps her fingers around his wrist to pull his hand away, giving her room to shimmy her shorts and panties further down over the curve of her ass, the way Joel’s eyes instantly fall to where her legs have now splayed open a bit wider not getting lost on her. She fits her palm to the back of his hand, guiding it back to her cunt, her fingers pressing against the backs of his to direct a firm, swirling pressure to her clit. Her head tilts back on her neck as the pleasure settles over her slow and smooth, continuing to guide Joel’s hand with her own.

“Just like that, s’perfect.”

“Like that?” He says it so quietly, so uncharacteristically small that her attention snaps back onto him. His eyes are glued to where her hand is still moving his, lips parted, a look that borders on wonder and clear concentration, and suddenly, she can’t take her own gaze away from the sight, her head tilting on her shoulder as her hand falls away from his to let him do it on his own.

“Yeah, Joel, feels really good like that. You can– you can add a finger now.” When he does, much slower, much softer, her eyes scrunch shut with a small curse and a sigh, and she finds herself leaning back on her elbows over the hood of the car, her whole body splayed out before him. Joel follows her slow fall, keeping a steady rhythm with his hand as he curls over her, his mouth resting hot and open between her breasts before he tilts his head to the side to take the peak of one of her nipples into his mouth.

“That feel good, Cher?”

“Yes, keep doing that, please. I– I’m gonna get there just like this.” Miracle, he listens, only adding another finger when she asks him for it, fucking her with his hand just how she wants him to. Miracle, she can’t tear her eyes away from his, the way he seems to be watching her face for every tell, every sigh and every fall. And miracle, she comes undone for him slowly, a cry catching in her throat when it finally hits her, the easiest unraveling. He only stops when she whines for him to, tugging his hand away and pulling him down for a kiss that’s more just two open mouths laying over each other than anything else.

“Can we? Do you want to?”

“Yes, I want to.”

“Condom?”

“Birth control.”

“Gotta love women’s lib.”

“Just don’t tell my mom.”

“Please don’t talk about your mom right now, Cher.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just come here.” He struggles a bit to tug her shorts and panties off of her feet, the fabric getting caught on her sneakers, though when he’s finally successful it’s the easiest thing for his hips to slot with hers, his hands curling around the backs of her knees to hitch her legs around his waist. Her arms settle loosely around his shoulders, laying back and bringing him with her as he presses his cock against her swollen cunt. A quick snarl of pain that pleasure snaps and smacks after when drives into her with one languid stroke, both of them letting out stuttered sighs when his hips press against hers. All of that want flickering up and down her spine as he starts to fuck into her, spreading her open again and again.

“S’a fucking dream, you’re a fucking dream.” She almost wants to laugh at the breathless murmuring of his words, because truthfully she doesn’t think anything has ever felt this real. Her body fitting around his, the way her heart is threatening to beat a break in her ribs, the way her nails can drag down the sliding wings of his shoulder blades, and the incessant, aching heat of him throbbing so deep inside her that she thinks she’ll still feel that hurt tomorrow. She hopes that she will.

“Joel, look at me, please.” She has to tug on his hair to coax his face out of the hollow of her throat and suddenly that want is dangerous. Looking into the crumpled pleasure painted across his face, watery eyes and slack jaw, and that want becomes dangerous because that want becomes something more.

She can feel her slick dripping down her thighs, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with the obscene slip of it, only a fleeting worry about making a mess of the car, though that flits away when Joel drags his fingers back over her clit a little harder, a little greedier.

“Just want one more, Cher, please.” She likes please on his tongue. Please pushes her right over the edge. A little harder this time, a little more ragged, furling up tight and taut around him before everything melts down with a whine of his name. He’s still saying please like a prayer when he comes, and all she can do is sigh with the warmth spreading inside of her. Inhale, exhale, her ribs expanding as his contract, a careful, quiet dance as they both come down, still pressed close, lips suggesting grazes.

“Do you, uh, want to come up to my apartment?” Want says yes, a whisper her ears prick to under the obvious shout of no. Want says yes, over and over.

“Yeah, okay.”

....................................

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fortheloveofwonderland · 2 years

Text

A War of the Heart - Chapter Four | Luke Alvez x Fem! Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - tension mounts between you and Luke and Spencer is pushed over the edge.

Category - heavy angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Content Warnings - very brief mention of losing a father (Luke), slight threatening behaviour, swearing, build up to the prison arc, break ups, drinking, sad Spencer, mentions of funerals and IED’s, war talk, brief mention of oral sex (f receiving), use of “good girl” possessive behaviour, slight dominant Luke, penetrative sex.

WC - 5.4k

Chapter Four

Present - Quantico, Virginia

You didn’t sleep much that night, too many things swirling around your head. Between Spencer and Luke, how were you expected to get any rest? Every time you drifted off you would be awoken by thoughts of one of them. You’d had several cups of coffee before you left for work but by the time you made it to the office you were still completely exhausted.

You were earlier than the rest of the team after you’d given up on sleep and decided to come in and get a leg up on your paperwork. But you were clearly not the only one with this thought, as not half an hour after you sat down at your desk, you heard the bullpen door open.

You turned in your chair to face him. Even in war time you weren’t sure Luke had ever looked so terrible. His usually neatly swept back hair was all over the place, he had heavy bags under his eyes and his shirt was creased beyond belief. He made a beeline for your desk and you stood up as he reached you.

“Uh look what happened last night…” he stuffed his hands in his pockets as if it was the only way he could physically stop himself from touching you.

“Will never happen again. Trust me.” You were quick to add.

“Good. Good.” He nodded, one hand slipping back out of his pocket with something in it. “I wanted to give you this.”

You looked down at what was in his hand and your stomach coiled into thick knots. You quickly snatched the Polaroid out of his hand and stuffed it in your own pocket.

“Why do you still have that?” You spat a little.

“Why would I have thrown it away?” He shrugged. “Lisa found it. She knows about us, just so you know. She won’t tell Spencer so you don’t need to worry.”

Why did it fill you with joy to imagine Lisa finding that photograph of you, wearing nothing but her boyfriend's army jacket? If it was you, you would have dumped his ass on the spot. Clearly noticing the small hint of a smile on your lips, Luke shook his head.

“She didn’t break up with me.” A smirk twitched at his own lip. “She understood. Just like Spencer would if you weren’t so goddamn stubborn to tell him. Do you think I enjoy lying to him everyday? I like Reid, he’s a good guy. I hate lying to him.”

“Well that’s not your decision to make.” You growled.

“Why not? I could quite easily tell him everything. Including how you kissed me last night.” His smirk grew, challenging you. You clenched your jaw tightly.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” He folded his arms across his chest, straightening his back as if to try and intimidate you.

Sure, Sergeant Luke Alvez had been intimidating at times. He was strong and broad and had the kind of eyes that could send you to hell with one glance. But he was forgetting that you’d seen him at his most vulnerable. Post-coital when his walls were down and he would snuggle against you and pepper kisses against your skin. He’d cried into your arms when he found out his father passed away. He wasn’t as intimidating as he wanted to be.

“No, you wouldn’t.” You took a step closer to him. “You think Spencer would thank you for telling him? You think I’m the only one that information would make him hate? You lied to him too, and I seem to remember you were pretty complicit in the kiss. If you try to take me down, Alvez, I promise you, I’m taking you down with me. I’m not your lowly private anymore. You don’t control me. I will not back down. If you want to try and fuck up my life, be my guest. But I will not go down without a fight.”

Luke had a signature tell you’d seen more times than you could count in Iraq. It wasn’t as though he had an anger problem, but he was known for having an extremely short fuse. The littlest thing could set him off, take him from zero to a hundred. Soldiers often walked on eggshells around him, scared to set him off. And the one tell-tale sign he was about to lose his shit completely was when he started poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek like he was doing right now.

You’d seen Luke at his angriest many times, on occasion it had been directed towards you and you were fully prepared for him to do it now. The vein in the side of his head was pulsing a little and you were ready for him to go full throttle and let you have it. And he probably would have done too, if it weren’t for the fact the doors opened and Emily and Tara strolled into the bullpen, chatting away over their morning coffees.

“Morning Y/L/N, Alvez.” Emily called over as she headed up towards her office.

“Morning guys,” Tara added, coming to a stop at her desk.

You both offered them a small wave in reply before Luke turned back to you, anger still ruminating behind his eyes. He went to walk past you to his own desk but as he did, he growled one final thing in your ear, making sure to speak quietly enough that Tara wouldn’t hear.

“I can’t believe I ever thought I loved you.” He spat and continued to his desk.

And for some reason, hearing that was worse than anything else he could have said to you.

***

You’d been so wrapped up in Luke’s reappearance in your life and trying to ignore all the unresolved feelings that went with it, that you didn’t realise Spencer was struggling with his own issues until it was too late.

Of course he’d mentioned his trips to Houston and the subsequent moving of his mother into his apartment when he thought he could handle everything on his own. But then after the night at the bar he stopped talking to you, he was away from the BAU more and more and you barely saw him.

In that time Luke hadn’t spoken to you either, unless it directly pertained to work. You often wanted to seek him out, maybe even apologise and try to salvage a friendship in this wreckage but you were far too stubborn. You knew him and Lisa were still going strong as you caught the occasional phone call he had with her. But you knew to leave well alone. It would take time but maybe one day the two of you could be civil with one another.

It was almost three weeks later, after arriving back from a case in Palm Springs that Spencer finally reached out.

You’d be home for about a half hour, indulging in the world's largest glass of wine, when there was a knock at your door. You frowned to yourself, not expecting company, putting the glass down on the coffee table and forcing yourself to your feet.

To say Spencer looked haggard would have been an understatement, he wore his emotions all over his face. He looked like he was fighting some kind of internal battle just by being here. You didn’t speak, simply leant on the door jamb while you waited for him to say something.

He just watched you for a few long minutes, as if he had no words left. He looked so painfully tired like he may collapse at any moment. Eventually he sighed deeply, running his fingers through his tangled hair.

“We should talk.” His voice was distant, shattered.

“Ok.” You nodded, stepping aside to let him inside your apartment. He shuffled his way in, closing the door behind him. “Do you want a drink or something?”

“No.” He was quick to shake his head. “Y/N, tell me one last time. Tell me you aren’t lying when you say you and Luke were just friends.”

“Spence,” you swallowed, half considering actually telling him the truth. But it had gone on too long now, you’d lied too many times. There was no going back. “Luke and I were just friends.”

Spencer looked away from you, his brow furrowing and shaking his head. He drummed his fingers against the side of his satchel before reaching one hand inside of it.

“You see I’d convinced myself I was being paranoid, believed that you wouldn’t lie to me.” He retrieved something from inside the bag and pulled it out. “But then I found this.”

He held the Polaroid loosely between his fingers, proffering it towards you. When you didn’t take it, he let his gaze fall onto it and you saw the hurt in his eyes.

You’d left it in a book on your desk at work, maybe even a case file you couldn’t quite remember. You’d meant to take it home and destroy it but kept forgetting to do so. And now Spencer had it.

“It’s funny really because you could have just been wearing anyone’s army jacket, right?” He sighed. “You can barely see the word Alvez stitched onto the breast. Barely. But you can still see it.” He let go of the photograph and let it fall to the floor, glancing back up at you, unshed tears now behind his eyes. “So tell me again how you were just friends.”

“I’m sorry.” It was weak, pathetic even. You owed him more than that.

“You’re sorry?” Spencer frowned. “You lied to me for months. I asked you god knows how many times and you consistently lied to me. Over and over again. Do you really think I’m so fragile I couldn’t have handled the truth?”

“Could you have?”

“If you’d told me right away, yeah! Sure I would have been a little jealous but I mean, look at him! But I like to think I’m secure enough in myself that I would have handled it. It’s the lies Y/N I can’t cope with. People only lie when they have something to hide, so I can only assume you lied to me because you still have feelings for him.”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, that’s not true.”

“I don’t believe anything you say anymore, Y/N. I have enough going on with my mom right now, this is the last thing I need.” His voice shook.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!” He raised his voice. “You’re not sorry you lied, you’re sorry you got caught. Did you cheat on me?”

“No.”

Spencer chuckled darkly, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“Stop lying to me!” He sounded exasperated. “I saw the two of you coming out of the men’s bathroom together at the bar weeks ago. When you came back, you smelt like him, did you know that?”

You did not know that.

“We kissed.” You admitted, pouting your bottom lip.

“So the answer to the question: did you cheat on me, was yes.”

“Yes.” You croaked, looking at the floor.

“Do you have any idea what you meant to me?” He suddenly softened, his first tear escaping his eye. “Because I feel like if you did, you couldn’t have done this to me.”

You felt your heart constrict in your chest seeing him so sad. You hadn’t stopped to think how much this would hurt him when this all inevitably came out and now your heart was breaking because of the pain you’d caused him.

“I know we joke that I was persistent and kept asking you out over and over again until you finally gave me a shot, but did you ever consider why I was so tenacious? Y/N, I was in love with you long before you agreed to go on a date with me. I was so insistent because I just wanted you to give me a chance, or maybe give yourself a chance, to love me too.” A few more tears rolled down his cheeks and he quickly batted them away in annoyance.

You had no idea. Spencer had never told you he loved you before, maybe because he was scared you wouldn’t say it back. Before Luke showed up you might have, but you wouldn’t have meant it the way you should.

“I’m so sorry.” You felt your own tears break free even though you knew you had no right to cry. “Luke was…he was my first love, Spence. My feelings for him were so intense, so all consuming and it just ended in the blink of an eye. I never let myself grieve the end of that relationship, I never let myself get over him. I don’t want to feel this way about him still, I really don’t. If I could just shut these feelings off I would.

But the truth is, I’m probably never going to get over him. He has this hold over my heart and no matter what I do I can’t shake him. I knew that if I told you about us, you’d see in my eyes what he meant to me and we’d be over. But I needed us not to be over. Because I am crazy about you Spencer, my feelings for Luke don’t change that.”

“But I would have always been your second choice.” His tears continued to fall and he tried to ignore them.

“Don’t say that, that’s not-“

“No. Don’t tell me that isn’t true.” He cut you off. “Be honest with me Y/N, and I mean honest. If Luke were to walk through that door right now and tell you he loved you and wanted to be with you, and you had me standing here telling you the same, which one of us would you choose?”

You wiped your eyes, looking away from him toward the far wall. You wrapped your arms tightly around your body as if it might help protect you.

“Don’t make me answer that.” You snivelled.

Spencer exhaled loudly and you heard him stepping backwards. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“You kinda just did.” He sighed. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be in love with someone who’s in love with someone else.”

You looked back at him, wanting to stand there and argue with him, beg him not to leave but you knew that wouldn’t be fair. You could see how much this was breaking his heart and the kindest thing for you to do was set him free.

“I understand.” You croaked out. “I really am sorry, Spence.”

“Me too.” He nodded, stepping back towards the door. “I’m taking a little more time off to try and sort things with my mom and I’d appreciate it if you don’t try and call or anything. I need this to just be over so I can try and focus on everything else in my life that’s falling apart.”

“Ok.” You agreed.

He reached behind him for the door handle, edging the door open.

“I really want you to be happy, Y/N.” He stepped out of it into the hall. “I think you and Luke owe it to yourselves to have a conversation. You need to decide to be together, or let each other go.”

You watched him go, hating yourself for putting him through this. The last thing you’d wanted to do was hurt him. You wanted to, at the very least, take his advice, but you knew you wouldn’t. Talking to Luke was not an option and the only alternative was that you finally forced yourself to get over him.

Unfortunately that was much easier said than done.

***

2015 - Brooklyn, New York

It didn’t matter that it had been some five years since your days in Iraq, soldiers always had a way of finding out when they lost one of their own.

Charlie Reynolds hadn’t just been your neighbour for over nine months, he’d been your friend too. You’d spent many nights talking through that burlap wall, sharing all your stories and secrets with one another. You were the same age, he’d chosen to join the military to follow in the footsteps of his father and grandfather. He was kind, sweet and personable. And he was one of the only people that knew of you and Luke’s relationship and you trusted him with your life.

When the news of his death reached you, you were crushed despite not having seen him since your reassignment to Afghanistan. The kid wasn’t even thirty, but that was unfortunately how it often ended in the military.

You’d heard the story through some old army buddies. After the US troops withdrew from Iraq in late two thousand and eleven, Reynolds was redeployed to Afghanistan although miles away from where you yourself were based so you’d never crossed paths. He was sweeping a road one day when an IED exploded, killing him instantly.

You’d been on inactive duty back in the states between tours, due to head back out to Afghanistan in the next few weeks when you’d heard the news. You’d been granted two days of leave to fly out to New York, Reynolds hometown, to attend the funeral.

It hadn’t even crossed your mind that he’d be here. You spotted him across the church hall where Reynolds' service was being held, on the other side of the aisle and a row in front of you. You only saw the back of his head but it was all you needed to see. You’d long ago memorised every inch of that man, and just because it had been five years, those memories had never diminished.

You told yourself you’d stay for the service and then dip out before the wake, head back to your hotel and drink yourself into a stupor. Coming face to face with Sergeant Luke Alvez again was not a good idea. Yet, once the service was over, you followed the procession to the bar in downtown Brooklyn that Reynolds parents had hired out for the occasion.

You felt the moment he noticed you. You were in the middle of a conversation with some old faces when the hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention. You slowly looked up, glancing across the bar to see those intense eyes staring back at you over the top of a whiskey tumbler. And you should have ignored it, excused yourself and just left.

But you didn’t.

Your hands were shaking as you crossed the room towards the bar where he was knocking back his drink. You watched him order another, heard him utter the words and make it a double, as you approached. You reached him just as he was handed his fresh drink.

“I should have known you’d be here.” He sipped the whiskey, turning to look at you.

“He was my friend.” You shrugged. “It’s good to see you, Sarg.”

“Is it?” He frowned at you, a look of disdain you’d never seen from him before.

It had been five years but he looked so much the same as you remembered him, like he was stuck in time the way he was in your memories. And you couldn’t even begin to consider how good he looked in that all black suit or you would spiral down a rabbit hole with no way out.

You couldn’t say you were entirely surprised by his attitude towards you, you’d expected it to be perfectly honest.

For a time after you left Iraq the two of you had stayed in touch but it wasn’t easy given both of your demanding schedules. The calls became fewer and fewer and after a while you started to ignore Luke’s calls. Eventually, while back in the states on leave some time ago, you’d gotten a new phone and new number to go with it.

It wasn’t as though you hadn’t missed him, it was because you’d missed him that you’d had to cut ties. It grew too hard for you to only be able to talk to him on the phone, it seemed easier this way. You’d never realised quite how much you’d missed him until he was standing right in front of you.

“Yes.” You nodded.

With another sip of his whiskey, Luke seemed to soften slightly as he let out a sigh.

“It isn’t Sarg anymore, by the way. I’m a civilian now.” He offered you a wry smile. “After we withdrew from Iraq my service was technically up. I considered extending my contract, maybe even deploying to Afghanistan. But I decided against it. I hear you're the one I should be calling Sarg now?”

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

“Not a chance.” You smiled at him and to your surprise he smiled back.

“Congratulations. You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself.”

“Thanks, Sarg.” You couldn’t help yourself.

Luke downed his whiskey, hissing a little as the liquid burnt his throat and placed the glass back on the bar.

“You uh…you wanna get out of here? Go for a walk?” He seemed so unsure of himself, a side of him you’d never seen before.

“Sure.” You found yourself nodding even though you knew it was a bad idea.

Luke motioned you towards the door, following you outside onto the street. Instinctively you started walking in the direction of your hotel, which was conveniently only a few blocks away.

“So, you living back in New York now?” You glanced at him as you walked side by side.

“Yeah, I got a little apartment in The Bronx near my mom.” He nodded with a small hint of a smile.

“What are you doing with yourself these days?”

Luke chuckled, shaking his head at how oddly normal talking to you like this felt after so long.

“Would you believe I joined the FBI?” He glanced over at you, his smile bright and the passing streetlamps reflected in his eyes.

“What? No way.” You scoffed.

“Yeah, Fugitive Task Force. It’s not actually that much different from being in the army when you think about it.”

“Wow. So I guess I should be calling you Agent then?”

“Or you could just try calling me Luke.” He raised an eyebrow at you but you were already shaking your head.

“No, no I don’t think so.” You chuckled.

Luke pulled a face that said he surrendered with a shrug of his shoulders, before he grew suddenly serious.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” You agreed, steering you both down a left turn.

“I mean I probably already know the answer, but just humour me.”

“Ok…” you goaded him.

“Why did you suddenly decide to cut me out of your life?” He spat it out fast, like ripping off a bandaid.

The question had taken up permanent residence in his head for five long years. He often found himself trying to recall the last conversation you’d had, the last thing he’d said to you but he could never recollect it.

“Honestly? I couldn’t keep letting you drag me into the past.” You smiled a little sadly at him. “I had a real shot of progressing my career in Afghanistan but every time your name popped up on my phone I thought about giving it all up. The marriage, the house in the suburbs, the kids you talked about. But I can’t give it up, you know? I’m a soldier first, a soldier above all else. So I had to cut you out of my life otherwise I would have done something dumb like…like…”

“Like marry me?” He offered you an equally sad smile.

“Yeah.” You continued walking for a minute or so before you came to a stop outside your hotel. You looked up at it before looking back at Luke. “This is me.”

He was staring at you in a longing way, a way in which you’d seen so many times before. It meant he had something to say, something on the tip of his tongue that he wasn’t quite vocalising.

“Spit it out.” You sighed.

“What?”

“I can always tell when you want to say something but are holding back. So just spit it out.”

“Ok.” He took a step closer to you. “But you’re not gonna want to hear it.”

“Try me.” You narrowed your eyes on him, causing him to laugh.

“Fine.” He stepped even closer. “I’m still in love with you.”

You closed your eyes as his words washed over you, knocking all of the air from your lungs. You probably should have known he was going to say that. It shouldn’t have taken you back the way it did.

“Luke,” you opened your eyes again, surprising you both with the use of his name. “I’m going back to base camp tomorrow and I start my next tour in a few weeks.”

“You don’t still feel the same way, I get it, I do. It’s been five years. But don’t give me excuses ok? Just tell me straight that you don’t love me anymore. Please? I think I need to hear you say it.”

A long stretch of silence followed. You had two options here. One: you could tell him what he needed to hear, that you didn’t still love him and let him walk away hurt, but still intact. Or you could tell him the truth, that you still loved him and probably always would and inevitably set you both up for a greater fall. But you never could lie to Luke.

“The problem with that is, I don’t want to lie to you. And if I told you I didn’t still love you, well that would be a lie.”

“Huh.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “So uh…what are we gonna do about that then?”

“I’m still leaving, Luke. It doesn’t change anything. Tomorrow I am still-“

“I’m not asking about tomorrow.” He cut you off, stepping closer still until he was right in front of you. “I’m asking about tonight. I’m asking about right now. Fuck tomorrow, I don’t give a shit about tomorrow. What I want to know is what are we going to do about this right now?”

If you were stronger you would have walked away, you told yourself that anyway. If you weren’t still so unfathomably in love with this man you would have turned on your heels and fled to your hotel room.

But that’s not what you did.

Instead, you better judgement flying out of the window, you closed the space between you and crushed your lips together with a bruising force.

Luke’s arms immediately wrapped around you, scared you might change your mind. He kissed you back with a deep passion, one that was five years in the making. There on the sidewalk you surrendered to him completely, giving over your control as you so often had to him. It wasn’t long at all before the kiss grew far too heated for the public setting and he tore himself away from your lips.

He didn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours and stroking back your hair in a frightfully loving way.

“Well, are you going to invite me to your room, private?”

You couldn’t speak, once again Luke Alvez had rendered you dumb so instead you simply nodded. He placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you inside the hotel.

The moment you stepped into your room and you had the door closed behind you, Luke advanced on you, kissing you again while pushing you back towards the bed. You let him do whatever he wanted to you, like always. You let him undress you while you laid there basking in his glow. You simply watched as he undressed himself before joining you on the bed.

He made you come with his tongue in a matter of minutes, screaming his army nickname at the top of your lungs and not caring who heard. He smirked at you, the mess he’d turned you into, while kneeling over you and stroking his hard length.

“Who do you belong to, Y/L/N?” He asked as he parted your legs and knelt between them.

“You.” You had tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your sheer desperation to have him again. “I’ve always belonged to you, Sarg.”

“Good girl.” He muttered, lining himself up. “Such a good girl for me.”

With that he harshly thrust inside of you, causing your tears to overflow and your eyes roll back into your head. It felt like no time had passed. It felt like coming up for air after drowning.

It felt like home.

Luke made you come again as he fucked you but he wasn’t far behind, filling you with his load. He stayed inside of you, staring down at you for some time before he finally pulled out and rolled down next to you.

“Do you want me to go or can I stay?” He whispered, reaching out to stroke the side of your face.

Stay. Stay forever. Convince me not to go. Tell me you’ll marry me and we’ll be together for all of time. Never leave me again. Please?

You ignored the thoughts swimming around in your brain and shrugged lightly.

“That’s up to you.”

“If it’s ok with you, I’d like to stay.”

“Ok.”

He wrapped you in his arms, draping the sheets over you both. You rolled onto your side and Luke held you from behind, pressing the most delicate kisses to your neck. Eventually you would fall asleep but for some time you let the tears silently roll down your cheeks while the love of your life held you, knowing you’ll never be able to be together.

***

You woke in much of a similar position, Luke’s erection pressing against your back. You didn’t exchange any words, you allowed him to part your legs and slide inside of you. You let him fuck you again, using the pillow to muffle your moans and your sobs. Afterwards he turned you over so you were facing him.

“This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?” His heart shattered in his chest seeing your red rimmed, puffy eyes.

“Probably one of the worst.” You tried to force a smile. “I already miss you and you’re right in front of me.”

He nodded, sniffing back his own tears.

“If you ever change your mind,” he placed a soft kiss to your lips, forcing himself up and out of the bed. “If you ever decide you want to give up that life and settle down, I’m only a phone call away.”

You watched him dress before he retrieved his card from his wallet and left it on the nightstand. He crouched down next to the bed and you shuffled closer so he could cup your face.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he whispered. “All you need to do is say the word and I’ll marry you in a heartbeat.”

Your bottom lip quivered, tears still rolling down your cheeks. Marrying Luke Alvez would have been the utmost privilege. But you had other commitments you needed to see through.

“You should go.” You forced yourself to say, taking him by the hand and removing it from your face.

Luke nodded, standing back up and smoothing down yesterday's rumpled shirt.

“I’ll never stop loving you, ok?” He shot you one last look before he turned away, physically unable to look at you anymore as it hurt too badly.

You didn’t reply. You didn’t have any words to say that weren’t don’t go or please don’t leave me. You watched him slump to the door and open it, taking one last deep breath before he crossed back over the threshold into the corridor and closed the door on you.

You were still crying when you forced yourself to sit up and picked up his FBI business card he’d left. With a heavy heart you got up, marched across the room with as much conviction as you could muster, and tossed the card in the trash. Holding onto another memory of Luke Alvez was pointless.

You’d spent five years trying to get over him and in just a single night you were back to square one. Maybe one day you’d be able to tell yourself you no longer loved him, but today certainly wasn’t that day. Tomorrow didn’t look so good either.

Taglist

@carolinesbookworld @wooya1224 @littlebeanwrites @randomrambling @telepathay

#luke alvez #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez smut #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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writersarchivex · 2 years

Text

All I Want: Elvis x Reader

Summary: You decide it's time to let him go. Leave it behind. He begs you to stay.

warnings: adult language

word count: 1243

elvis x reader

you can imagine him as austin or as the real elvis, whatever floats your boat.

enjoy, or don't your choice.

theres a prompt that belongs to @hudsonvegasgirl ill put it in bold.

idk why the prompt looks like that wtf.

It took you three months to decide. Three long months of basic torture.

You had been doing nothing but taking care of your daughter and cleaning up after him. Trying to keep him at least alive.

You had nothing more to give anymore. It had all been drained from you.

He wasn't completely to blame; Elvis was just trying to be someone. Make everyone proud. You respected it.

You could no longer live with it.

Your daughter hadn't spent longer than fifteen minutes at a time with her father, in over two months. You haven't seen him for dinner. He hasn't been there. Except at night, to sleep.

Maybe some in the morning.

She hasn't had her father, and you haven't had your husband.

He was a ghost, a puppet.

He belonged to the Colonel, and to the show business. The only time he was happy as when he was on the stage, or out. Out, doing God knows what.

Three months.

You couldn't do it anymore.

That morning you woke up early, trying to be as quiet as possible. He was a hard sleeper from the beginning. With the pills, he was a bear. It was nearly impossible to wake him.

You were still quiet as a mouse, not to take any chances.

You weren't going to do wrong by him, though. Or your daughter.

The two of you would talk later that day, to avoid Lisa Marie hearing the two of you fight. The fighting had been endless.

You made your way through the house doing your best to get the things the two of you would need.

Mainly what Lisa needed, you would survive without your things. You just wanted your daughter to be in a healthy environment.

To be in a loving environment.

You had but most of the things you and Lisa would need in the car, that was outside and running, and you had woken her up gently, telling her that the two of you were going on a little vacation.

She would be back of course. He's her father and you would never take her from him. She needed him, and he needed her.

She was outside with Jerry, waiting on you to finish up.

You made your way quietly to the bedroom you shared with Elvis. Everything you needed had been removed. You moved quickly this time, becoming more nervous with each step. You turned to the dresser to check for any clothing you had left behind, when you heard him stir.

"Y/N? What're you doin" He grumbled sitting up to look at you.

You sighed, wishing the man would've just stayed asleep.

"Im leaving you Elvis, and I'm taking Lisa with me." You sighed, not wanting to fight while you daughter was nearby.

You moved towards the bedside table and grabbed one of the photos leaving the rest for him.

"Is this 'bout what happens on the road?" He asked, rubbing his temples.

You sighed and shook your head.

"The girls? No. You think I give a shit about the girls you sneak through the side door,"

You walked into the bathroom throwing open his drawer. He was following you still looking tired.

"I couldn't care less about the girls you sneak through the side door. It's about this,"

You through two bottles at him. Feeling tears prickle at your eyes

"And this!" You threw a couple more.

You loved him, but you were angry.

You wanted to be mature about this. You were parents, not children.

"It's about these. These goddamn pills those leeches and has-beens shove down your throat!"

You stormed out of the bathroom, him following you muttering a soft "God damn it."

You were making your way quickly through the upstairs while he was trying to keep up.

"Like your strung out."

"Strung out? Goddamn, I'm in the best shape of my life."

"Best shape of your life? The only time you are happy is when you are on that stage, and in between that you're a ghost."

The two of you were walking down the stairs, your arms full of sentimental items.

"Y/N I give you everything you could want!" He threw his arms up, starting to return the anger you were feeling.

"What I want is a husband! You've never known what I wanted, and you sure as hell don't give it to me." You spat, reciving a hurt look from him.

"I am your wife! I am your wife." You repeat, letting a tear slip down your cheek.

"And Lisa is your daughter, and she needs a father." You say, turning on your heels. You were finally headed for the door.

"I am her father."

You slowed at this and turned to face him.

Your voice was shaky and embarrassingly small.

"Do you remember the last time we laughed together? The last time the three of us had dinner together?"

You had started crying, placing the box you held on to the floor.

"You won't even touch me anymore."

He looked at you with sad eyes, and he was supporting his weight on the rail of the stairs.

"I've given you my life. I have nothing left in me to give you baby." You sobbed.

His eyes were the blueest you've ever seen them. You loved his eyes.

"Do you still love me?" He asked softly.

You wanted to scream yes and run back to him. Of course you did, he was your life. The father of your child.

He shook his head and slowly sat on the stairs.

He exhaled deeply

"When your forty and I'm fifty, we'll be back together. You'll see." He was looking at the ground.

Your heart broke for him. For you. Most of all for your daughter.

You gave in, just a little, and walked towards him slowly. He buried his head in your stomach and cried, like you've never heard him cry before.

He gripped forcefully to the back of your shirt; you knew you had to wrap it up.

"I have to go." You tried to take a step back, but he held you in place.

You got a little space between you, and you knelt to look at him. You took his face in your hands.

"Will you please stay?" He sobbed, looking at you with those sad eys.

"Baby you're sick. This isn't good for you. For me, for Lisa! I love you more than anything EP, but I have to protect her."

You weren't being stern; you were speaking to him with kindness.

You kissed all over his face. Wiping the tears away.

"Please stay mama, I'll get better, I'll quit with the pills. Anything you want. Don't leave, don't leave me. "

"I promise you. On my mother's grave I'll get better, I can't do it without you baby."

You held him closer, knowing that he truly meant what he said.

He would never put something like that on his mother's grave.

"No pills?"

He shook his head.

"You spend more time with Lisa?"

He nodded; face still covered in tears.

"You get healthy and start taking care of yourself?"

He nodded, staying silent.

You sighed, knowing the last part was the most personal for you.

You had tried to pretend like it didn't matter, but it does to you.

"No more, no more girls?" You let another tear slip.

"No more. I'll go to a real doctor. I'll get better, I swear it."

You nodded, looking around at your home and all the memories of your years there.

"Okay EP."

He looked up at you still clinging to your waist.

"You'll stay darlin?" He let out another sob.

"Lisa will go stay with my parents for a while. She'll think it's a vacation. This is it Elvis, the last chance."

He nodded, burying his face in your shirt again.

"Anything. Anything for you Y/N."

#elvis x reader #elvis presley #elvis presley fanfic #elvis 2022 #austin butler #austin elvis #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis film #elvis #elvis movie #austin butler elvis

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hopefullystillatheatrestudent · 3 years

Note

i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.).

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.)

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy.

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

#cockles #cockles ask #liz answers #i really just. spend hours. writing about misha and his boyfriend.#why. why do i. do that #long post for ts

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namfinessed · 3 years

Text

a lil bad - m.yg.

genre: fluff, angst (11.3k) e2l

summary: you hate min yoongi the most so how the fuck do you end up in his tattoo shop? (fools!universe)

masterlist series masterlist

you don’t know how it happens in every single party, but you always end up next to yoongi, grumbling and complaining but still with him beside you and even after several incidents of pouring drinks on each other and pretending it was a mistake, or just plain insulting each other right to your faces, or ruining dates for the other by fake flirting, you always end up next to him.

you never really understood your hatred for min yoongi, but it’s always been there, whenever you see him, you always either leave the room to not be around him at all or you start bickering with him until the day ends, it’s usually always the latter, he knows just how to rile you up, he knows just what to say to piss you right off, and you always give in to his stupid arguments.

and apparently, even right now, with all your friends dancing and enjoying themselves, you stand in the corner while idly mixing your drink slowly, and it takes everything in you to not roll your eyes when yoongi catches your eye across the room and starts his making his way over to you.

“what are you doing here, doll?” he asks, hands in pockets, his ever-present smirk settled nicely on his face, the nickname that falls from his mouth makes you roll your eyes, he’s been calling you that forever, no matter how many times you’ve complained and hit him for it.

you notice his tattoos peeking from the collar of his leather jacket which mirrors the one on your body. it is hard to not do a full head to toe scan when yoongi manages to look this good even as he’s half drunk.

you hate him but you’re not blind, you know that he is attractive and he knows it too, he knows it all too well.

“none of your goddamn business, min yoongi, get back to your friends.” your bitter reply is no surprise to him and that becomes evident with how he laughs at you and pulls himself up on the table you were resting on, looking down at you with pure amusement dancing in his eyes.

“they’re shit drunk, and i don’t want to deal with anyone vomiting all over me” he shrugs as he takes another swig and you turn to look at his friends who were falling over each other and laughing for no reason at all.

somewhere in you, you know that he’s lying, he wouldn’t mind if his friends vomit over him, he wouldn’t care even when he’s going to be the one who will drive them home after this and make sure that they’re safe but yoongi doesn’t need to know that you know about him.

“such a good friend” you dryly muse and walk away from him, only for him to jump off the table and follow you, you stop in your steps and he does too, making you grit your teeth and look at him with an evident glare in your eyes.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

“none of your goddamn business, doll.”

yeah, you hate him. you take back every nice thought you’ve ever had about him.

he gives you an innocent smile and it takes everything in you to not strangle him. you swiftly turn the other way and speed walk till you’re outside the house, taking a deep breathe now that you’re free from the obnoxious people and music. just when you stretch your legs out to settle there for a bit, you see someone barging their way out, almost hitting your arm, you turn to curse them out just to see jimin come out from the same way, following the previous person.

you only know jimin because he works in namjoon’s bakery, and he’s in one of your classes, you’re friendly enough to greet each other but that’s it, so when you see him fighting with the person who barged out first, and the fight showing no signs of calming down, you roll your eyes at how stupid they sound, why can’t they just kiss already? you can literally feel the sexual tension in the air and they seem to be in absolute denial about it, but deciding that it was best to leave them alone, you unwillingly tip toe your way back into the house.

the party is still raging and loud and you can’t really distinguish who is who anymore, so you just push your way through the crowd, murmuring excuse me’s and curses to people who push you, only to find yourself in the living room where all your friends are gathered. they immediately perk up at your entrance, drunk smiles gleaming even in the darkness and you hate to admit that you sense some mischief in the air.

“i was looking for you, come here, sit down” jennie smiles as soon as she sees you and pats the seat next to her, you hesitantly sit and warily eye the bottle in the middle of the circle you’re sat at.

“what’s going on here?”

“we’re playing spin the bottle because we literally have nothing left to do” jisoo complains from opposite to you and you throw your head back with a groan, at the corner of your eye, you see yoongi walk in with his own friends and you don’t even want to look up again.

“how bored are you guys?” you complain but get comfortable in your seat anyway, it’s not like you were any less bored than they were.

“just say you’re too much of a wimp to play and leave already.” yoongi’s voice is crystal clear even with the loud music and everyone starts ooh’ing at his sentence, all of them were already used to your endless bickering and they always act like they know something you both don’t, you never cared enough to ask them anyway. you rolled your eyes before setting them on him with a bored expression.

“you’re still standing min yoongi, so who’s the real wimp here?” and now, everyone’s ooh’ing at you, he looks up at you with the same smirk that always annoys you and cocks an eyebrow before sitting directly in front of you, then pins you with only challenge clear in his eyes.

“okay, so the rules are pretty simple.” you look away from him and focus on listening to chaeyoung as she explains what exactly are the set rules.

“so when we spin the bottle, the people at the ends of the bottle either kiss each other or one of them gets to give a dare to the other, and the other cannot refuse” jisoo smiles at you as she plays with the bottle in her hand and you know what’s going on in her little head, she’s always been convinced that you have a crush on yoongi but you were close to vomiting on her when she told you that, she hasn’t backed down though and if you know her, she’s probably thinking this is some magical way to get you to kiss yoongi but you would jump into a well before that happens.

“the only person i want to kiss in this room is you” yoongi wears a wide, confident grin as he points to the random girl he’s been talking up since the beginning of the party and you watch with raised eyebrows as she blushes and buries her face into his shoulder.

poor girl, you wince to yourself.

and yoongi’s drinking up the affection, cooing at her and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, not letting her go even as the bottle spins speedily and lands on taehyung and some girl you’ve seen around the campus, you have never really looked at her but she does seem a little out of place in the party, and you make a note to yourself to talk to her later, you hate that feeling of being isolated and you wouldn’t want her to feel that way.

everyone watches them with excited and curious eyes, taehyung has a huge smile on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows at the girl who looks like she wants to run away, but then taehyung reaches over and whispers something into her ear and everyone erupts into cheers when he reaches for his hoodie on the floor and drops it on their heads, the hoodie comes off to reveal one flushed face and taehyung who is positively beaming. though the kiss is over, at least you assume it is over, everyone’s gaze lingers on the quiet girl who all but is biting on her lip and averting her gaze to the floor.

“stop making her uncomfortable and spin the bottle already” you say plainly as you leaned back on your hands, you could tell she wanted anything but attention, she just had a stiff posture and this was clearly new for her, so you decided to help her out. she flashed you a quick grateful look and you gently smile at her.

and the bottle kept spinning, most opted for the kisses, and each time someone would kiss, the entire room would be chaos, with people whooping and waving their hands, you bury your head into your hands each time that happens because you can’t believe most of these people are well in their 20’s and are still this excited over seeing their peers kiss but you enjoy the energy in the air, it’s familiar and being around your friends is something you’re always grateful for.

“wait wait yoongi didn’t spin the bottle” lisa points out along with chaeyoung and they both have happy smirks on their faces as everyone nods in agreement, soon cheering him on to spin it already and yoongi surrenders with raised hands.

the bottle spins and you hold your breath because you would do anything to not be at the other end of it.

you exhale in relief when it lands on who yoongi wanted it to land on, the girl who’s been around him all night, he just looks at her with a smile and she leans forward with sparkling eyes, and you look away just when the sound of smacking lips fills the air, immediately everyone starts shouting and that’s when you understand that maybe the kiss wasn’t innocent at all, you almost do a double take when you hear a silent moan in midst of all the chaos, looking back when the shouts die down to see the girls with pink cheeks and yoongi who had a proud smile on his face.

and you don’t know why, but at that moment, your annoyance for him touches the roof.

maybe because he was oozing confidence always?

maybe because it sounded like he was an incredible kisser?

maybe because he’s got someone blushing right next to him with just a kiss?

you don’t know and frankly you also don’t understand why you stand up from the circle right then, everyone’s eyes lands on you and you shift on your feet, you hate attention, and you particularly hate yoongi who immediately looks at you standing.

“i just need a refill, i will be back, you guys play” you gesture towards the kitchen and leave the living room with fast steps, you only let out a breath of relief once you’re in the kinda empty kitchen, it still has like 10 people but not one of them gives a fuck about you, which is exactly what you need.

you spot the tequila bottles but they are empty, making you groan out loud in frustration and you want to throw a chair into the window, because how the fuck do these people drink so fast? last time you were here, there were 10 huge, full bottles and they’re just gone now.

“fucking great” you mumble and squeeze your eyes shut as you lean back on the counter.

you don’t even want to go back to the circle and see yoongi’s face or the girl that he’s with who seems to blush about everything like who’s going to tell her that yoongi will probably drop her in a week?

you stomp your way back to the living room, and sit down with a huff, not looking at anyone, just letting the game continue around you and zoning out until someone asks you something.

your eyes don’t leave the bottle in the middle of the circle, staring as it spins and claims its victims, and you only snap out of your thoughts when jennie nudges you, you are a little startled when she pushes the bottle into your hand with a small smile.

“it’s your turn, spin it” she gently instructs, and you almost just want to cuddle her and go to sleep because she’s always been so nice to you and maybe it’s because you’re half-drunk and you’re mildly irritated by everything, but you feel so grateful to her soft voice.

but her words also make you pause, it’s your turn after god knows how many turns and you want to skip it, there’s no one in this room that you want to kiss.

“see, i told you, she’s a wimp” you glare up at yoongi as he stares you down, and with a grumble, you snatch the bottle from jennie’s hands and give it one rough spin. you silently pray that it lands on anyone but yoongi.

your heart almost pauses when it seems to slow down near yoongi, but then it tilts right at the last second, you feel lighter as you look up to see jisoo at the other end of the bottle, who has a cheeky smile on her face, you lean back with your won smile because you could just kiss her, it’s no big deal.

“so, kiss?” you raise your eyebrows at her and she narrows her eyes at you playfully, looking you up and down and you giggle at her fake horny expression.

“as much as i love kissing, i have a dare for you.” you eye her cautiously as she says this, why isn’t she just opting for the kiss?

“i’m not stripping down naked if that’s what you’re going to say” you deadpan, to lighten the tension in the room and everyone laughs, taking swigs of their drinks and someone yells party pooper.

“why can’t we just kiss and get it over with?” you whined when she stayed silent and jisoo shook her head happily as everyone’s ears and eyes focused on what would leave jisoo’s mouth, she smirks a little at their enthusiasm and your slightly scared expression.

“the dare is” she pauses for dramatics and you throw the bottle cap at her making her jump and giggle.

“okay okay, the dare is, you have to get a tattoo in yoongi’s shop by yoongi, he gets to choose which one too.”

she did not.

“i’m sorry, did i hear you right?” you leaned forward with a cocked eyebrow because jisoo wouldn’t do this to you.

right?

“i’ll go easy with the needle on you, doll” yoongi chuckles from his spot.

“shut the fuck up, min yoongi” you snarl at him and fix your gaze on jisoo again as she shrugs with a delighted smile on her face.

“hey, i could just kick you out from my store, you know that right?” you ignore his words with a roll of your tongue against your cheek and run a hand through your hair, this is far from how you wanted your night to go.

“are you going to back off from a dare, y/n?” chaeyoung raises her eyebrows at you and it feels like thye’ve definitely planned this shit from the start but the mocking in her tone doesn’t allow you to say no.

“fucking hell, i’ll do it.” you give in because again, you are never one to back off from a challenge. even if you’re really scared of needles, you can do this.

“who said i’m doing it for you?” he questions with narrowed eyes and everyone in the room breaks into scattered giggles.

“i’ll give you a month y/n, convince him and get it done.” jisoo says, triumph clear in her face and tone as she calmly hands the bottle to its next victim.

again, this isn’t how you wanted your night to go.

convincing yoongi, as it turns out, was the hardest thing you have ever tried to do, and you take history in college.

not only is he insanely stubborn, but it also feels like he seriously gets off from pissing you off every single time, because the minute you start to get somewhere with convincing him, he would say something stupid, you would curse him out and you’re back to square one with your mission.

it’s been a week since the party and you’ve got no progress on him.

“okay, i can do this, it’s just stupid yoongi” you encourage yourself lightly by tapping your shoulders in butterfly position, because there’s nothing else that calms you down from the inevitability of having to talk to him.

you’re not sure why you are doing so much for a dare, but it feels like this is the chance to prove to your friends that the only feelings you have for yoongi is hatred, you cannot have them thinking you like him when even the thought of him annoys you to the core.

but you’re still here, with a bag of tempura shrimp and fried rice because apparently that’s his favorite food, and as the old saying goes, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

now, if you were reached his heart, you would probably rip it out but you’re doing what you can to get the dare over with. you ring the bell and stand back, but nothing prepares you for the sight in front of you.

a girl in just a t-shirt, most probably yoongi’s, who’s definitely not his girlfriend.

didn’t they say the girl at the party became his girlfriend afterwards?

well, at least the girl looks just as surprised as you do, and she even starts getting teary eyed and that’s when you realized what this looks like, you brought him food, pretty early in the morning, you’re dressed up well because you just like to look good, and she could be assuming that she just slept with a taken man.

“doll, is that you?” yoongi’s voice comes from behind her and you grit your teeth in annoyance at his presence.

wait, where the fuck is his shirt?

you immediately avert your gaze from his bare skin and look at the girl in front of you who’s trembling, why the fuck did he call you doll with her right beside him?

“look, i know what this looks like but i’m not his girlfriend, i honestly hate him the most out of everyone i know, so you two are still fine, and gosh just wipe those tears please, i hate making people cry” you mumble the last part as the girl sniffles and nod while wiping the tears off her cheek, yoongi coos behind her and gives her a small kiss to the top of her head which makes her grin again.

he has a girlfriend, what is he doing?

you try so hard to hide the deep scowl on your face as you watch the sickeningly sweet exchange in front of you and tap your feet impatiently as you wait for them to finish.

“come in” yoongi says simply and disappears down the hallway with the girl, and you step in sheepishly, you look around the apartment and it’s surprisingly cleaner than you thought it would be, not knowing what to do with both of them gone, you enter the kitchen and plop down on a stool.

“i’ll call you later okay” you hear yoongi whisper and you slam your head on the table in front of you because that is a very sad attempt at a whisper, his whisper is loud as fuck, and it travels all the way to you, and you’re not a liar, his voice sounds hot, it’s husky, low and if someone whispers to you like that, you know that you will melt into a puddle.

you also hear the loud smack of a kiss and it takes everything in you to keep your ass planted on the stool and not run away from here.

the girl appears near the doorway of the kitchen and gives you a bright and happy wave, you wave back at her because as much as her tears surprised you, she still seemed friendly.

“so, what’s in that bag?” yoongi walks into the kitchen, thankfully with a shirt on, and you place the bag on the counter, not saying anything and letting him look through by himself.

“tempura shrimp and fried rice, are you trying to get me to ask you out?” yoongi chuckled as he pulled out the boxes and you frown at his statement.

“don’t flatter yourself” you mumble and pick your phone up to scroll as he sits down to eat, you notice him place a plate in front of you and look up in confusion.

“go on, serve yourself, i’m not doing that for you.” he gestures to the boxes with a wave of his hand.

“this is for you, more precisely for the tattoo.”

“i know doll, just eat the food.” if you aren’t wrong, you can hear some disappointment in his voice and he doesn’t even look at you as he says that, so you just shrug and take a box to fill half your plate with the food and continue to glance at him weirdly from time to time.

this feels strangely domestic, there is nothing but silence as you two eat but for once, you don’t want to strangle him to death, he doesn’t say shit to piss you off either, and the silence is comfortable, you thought it would be awkward to be in his apartment but you don’t feel that way at all.

“i’m still not doing your tattoo” yoongi says and the door shuts in your face as you stand outside his apartment with mouth agape and slumped shoulders.

then why was he being all nice just 10 minutes ago?

you kick the door with your foot and huff out in frustration because you really cannot think of anything else that could convince him.

what are you going to do now?

what could you possibly do now?

wait a minute.

his girlfriend.

“jisoo, are you sure that the girl from the party is still his girlfriend?” you almost yell into the phone to try and make your voice heard even with the loud traffic beside you and jisoo winces from the sound.

“yes, i’m sure, she was bragging about it in class today” you can hear how annoyed jisoo sounds though the phone and bingo!

you know just how to get yoongi to do your tattoo.

you get drowned in your own assignments the following week and don’t bother to look for yoongi, and honestly, you forget about the dare until your dear friends remind you at lunch when you were just trying to peacefully eat your food.

and you don’t even see yoongi around the campus anymore, he doesn’t even show up to the one class you have in common, but his attendance is obviously taken care of because of his friends who work in student council, you’re not going to lie, you are jealous of that, you would kill to miss some classes and still have your attendance intact.

“hey seokjin, wait up!” you spot yoongi’s friend down the hallway and you don’t really care that you literally look like a homeless person with your hoodie and loose shorts, you didn’t run all the way across campus to care about how you look, you need to know where the fuck min yoongi is so you can blackmail him and just finish the dare.

“hello y/n” he faintly smiles while sipping his coffee, how does he still look good when he’s tired though? if it weren’t for the fact that he was taken, you would definitely try to get with him but your chance is over. you feel a little self-conscious with your less than appropriate outfit and his polished look, but that shouldn’t be your concern right now.

“where is yoongi? he hasn’t been coming to classes.”

“why do you want to know? don’t you hate him?” he narrows his eyes at you and you slump a little, how many people knew of the fact that you hate each other? it’s not like you can blame them, you both fight in full parties, word is bound to travel.

“i do, i just have something to ask him.”

“is it really important?” he fixes you with a more serious look and you almost feel nervous before clearing your throat and nodding fiercely.

“yes, it is.”

“he’s been hanging out at our friend’s music studio for a while now, you can find him there, i’ll text you the address” and with that, jin blends into the crowd of people around you while you stay frozen.

what does yoongi do in a music studio? you wonder silently with your head tilted as you walk to your next class.

maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.

the music studio wasn’t too far away your campus, and you could walk there even with your heavy backpack, you huff once you reach the run-down building, staring at it with curiosity filled in your eyes.

you definitely didn’t know anything about yoongi and music, sure you knew that he was a phenomenal piano player and also that he was very shy about it, you’ve only ever seen him play once and it was only because he was pretty drunk then.

you look around to try and find the room that jin told you about, brushing past several strange looking men but they are the least of your worries, you have dealt with idiots all the time at the bar and in parties, you will beat someone up if they mess with you.

“doll, what the fuck are you doing here?” you hear his irritated voice and silently heave out in relief because you immediately feel safer than you did just a minute ago.

“i should be asking you that.” you look at him with raised eyebrows and watch as he runs a hand across his face exasperatedly, only to march over to you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you with him.

if it were any other man dragging you around like this, you would break their wrist but this was yoongi, you trust yoongi, and as much as you hate him, you know yoongi would never hurt you.

he pushes the two of you into a room and closes the door behind him, you immediately snatch your wrist from his grip and rub at the spot he gripped too hard.

“okay, you didn’t have to do that.” you mumble while massaging your sore wrist.

“what are you doing here?” he doesn’t hesitate to jump right into it.

and you want to bring up his girlfriend but he looks pretty annoyed, you’re not sure if this is the time to push his buttons even more.

“i just, i was around but the real question is, what are you doing in a music studio?” you throw the question back to him and quickly scan the room you’re in right now, there’s a sound system, a keyboard, some speakers lying around and other equipment you know nothing about.

“i don’t have to tell you that” he deadpans and you retaliate a little, your posture faltering at his firm tone because while yoongi has always been rude to you, there’s a certain coldness to his voice right now that you just don’t recognize.

“you’re right, you don’t.” he really doesn’t. and now, everything you’ve done looks stupid to you, like taking food to his home and meeting some random girl, chasing seokjin on campus even when you don’t have any familiarity with him just to find about yoongi and even refusing to back down from a dare that you could just deny.

you don’t think you’re doing this for the dare anymore.

yoongi sighs when he sees your rigid posture and head hung low because damn it, he feels bad for being mean to you and he never feels bad about being mean to you, being mean to you just comes naturally to him but you just look so small right now, the air of pride and arrogance that you usually carry isn’t around you anymore and yoongi doesn’t know what to do.

“how did you find out?” he asks finally, taking a seat near the equipment and you don’t want to tattle on jin but you have no choice.

“just asked around.” you still tried to cover up jin’s name and yoongi raises his eyebrows at you like he doesn’t believe you.

“fine, seokjin told me” you squeeze out and you just hope that jin isn’t the type to hold grudges.

“you really went all the way to jin to ask about me?” jin is across campus from you, which explains why you don’t know him all that well but you did find out where jin is, just to ask him about yoongi.

but yoongi doesn’t need to know about that.

“don’t think too much about it, i had a class on that way.” you stubbornly lie through your teeth.

“no, you don’t” yoongi spins around in his chair to gather some notes in front of him.

“what?”

“you don’t have a class that way y/n, we both know that.” how the fuck does he know that?

“why didn’t you just ask me? or come to my apartment? you’ve already been there and i truly don’t understand why you went all the way to jin to ask about me.” yoongi’s words are softer, a lot less cold than before, and a lot more like the yoongi you know. which causes the return of your unfaltering confidence.

“i don’t know your number, and i didn’t want to intrude on you in your apartment again.” you answer honestly.

“but you think it’s okay to intrude on me in my studio?” the mocking in his tone doesn’t go past you and for a second, you don’t know what to say but if you’re talented in anything, it has to be the fact that you’re insanely good at changing subjects.

“speaking of the studio, what are you even doing in this studio? don’t you have a tattoo shop to take care of?” you huff and sit down on a nearby stool. you know that you’ve done a wonderful job at changing the topic because yoongi stills in his seat, not a sign of movement from him.

“or you know, just don’t tell me i guess” you add with a petty tone which has him sighing once again and turning in his seat.

“you’re really pushing the limit here, doll.” it sounds like he’s warning you but you have never been one to give a shit about his warnings.

besides, you always thought you knew yoongi, like really know him and as it turns out, you know nothing at all which has you craving to know everything.

“haven’t i always done that?” you flutter your eyelashes at him dramatically which draws a small smile on his face, it’s a rare smile, you’ve only ever seen him smile like that with his friends or when he’s flustered.

interesting.

“fine, i will tell you” you immediately jump in your place, leaning forward to listen with the utmost attention, eyes wide open and lips pursed because you can’t believe mysterious man of the campus (he gave that title to himself last year) is finally opening up to you.

“you can’t tell anyone else, you have to promise me that” the seriousness in his voice tells you he’s definitely not joking around anymore and you aren’t going to do that either, so you sit up straight and nod obediently.

“my tattoo shop, to put in one way, was a rushed decision doll, i don’t know why i thought it would be a good idea but i thought as long as it brought in money for me, i don’t have to worry about anything else but i was wrong. i was so wrong.” admitting his mistake to you, his enemy basically, takes a lot of courage and you can’t help but feel a little touched that he shared it with you. and that he’s willing to share more.

“the income was great, but it isn’t where my heart is at, you know? even the course in college right now, i don’t feel anything towards it but music, ah music makes me feel everything i’ve ever wanted to feel.” yoongi doesn’t know why he feels so comfortable telling you all this when all your previous conversations have been catty comments to each other but when he looks at you listening to him sincerely, he feels like he can tell you anything.

“you probably know that i play the piano?” you nod enthusiastically, finally it was something you knew about him.

“yeah i do, you’re good even when you’re drunk.” you beam at him and he laughs at the stupid grin on your face.

he feels like he’s the teacher here and you’re the teacher’s pet.

but he knows if he says that out loud, you will probably kick him in the leg. and yoongi hates bruises so he shoves that happy thought to the back of his head, he will laugh about it to himself later.

“i’ve been writing songs forever now doll, and i’m finally getting somewhere with it, i’m going to hand over the tattoo shop to my sister and jungkook who are more passionate about it than i will ever be.”

he looks regretful almost, like he started something he couldn’t finish but you see yoongi in a new light now, writing songs, producing music, it isn’t child’s play, you know that a lot goes into putting your emotions into words and you admire yoongi for how honest he was with you even if he didn’t have to be.

“and focus on music full-time?” you ask gently and he nods.

“that is the plan, yes.”

so, this could be why he shut the door on your face even after the tempura prawns and fried rice, he’s going to stop working at the shop soon.

“isn’t jungkook that guy who is friends with jimin?” you distinctly remember jungkook’s name from somewhere but you can’t remember where you’ve seen him.

“yeah, they work at namjoon’s bakery together.” yoongi provides you your answer easily and you snap your fingers, you saw jungkook when you went to get a muffin from namjoon, he told you he would give you a discount and you couldn’t say no to that.

“that’s where i saw him, i remember now.”

yoongi stays silent, drumming his fingers against his leg and thinking by himself, he looked insanely attractive even with that stressed look on his face, he’s even wearing torn jeans today for heavens’ sake and you feel a little hot, you pick at your collar to try and cool your warming body down.

you can’t let him know the effect he has on you.

“you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone, i won’t. your secret’s safe with me” you smile at him and he gives you a grateful look before rubbing his palms on his legs, he doesn’t know what to say anymore and he feels weird just leaving himself completely vulnerable to you but yoongi trusts you, he might hate you but he still trusts you to not be that cruel.

“so, what did you come here for?” he asks, leaning back on his chair and you freeze.

how are you going to tell him that you came all the way here just to blackmail him after he’s told you his passion-filled story?

“it’s nothing important, don’t even worry about it” you wave your hand dismissively with a nervous chuckle leaving your lips and like always, yoongi doesn’t believe you.

“it must have been pretty important if you ran to jin to ask him where i am” he points out and you hate that he’s right.

“it is not important at all.” you lamely respond and yoongi cocks his eyebrow before leaning over and grabbing your stool and pulling him towards you, so that you’re face-to-face with each other.

your heart literally stops beating when his eyes meet yours, his are filled with steely determination and you’re sure that your eyes have wimp written all over them, just what yoongi always called you and it doesn’t help that you can’t think with his breath fanning over your face in hot flashes.

“i-i told you, it’s not important” you whine lightly and yoongi has an easy grin on his face because of your stutter.

“just say it, doll.” the command in his tone is really something you can’t ignore, because not only does it make you shiver, but it also puts you on autopilot to do what he asks.

“i know that the girl that you were with, in your apartment the other day, isn’t your girlfriend” you breath out and your heart returns to its pace when yoongi lets your stool go with a frown.

“girlfriend?”

“your girlfriend is the one from the party so i’m saying that i know you’re cheating on her with that other girl.” you don’t know why you keep talking but you do, you wish you would shut up already because yoongi finally isn’t that much of a mystery anymore and blackmailing him will just put his walls up again, but you don’t shut up.

“what are you trying to do, y/n?” with the lack of his usual nickname, the sentence seems colder, just like the tone he used when you first walked in.

and that’s when you know that any and all progress you’ve made with him is gone in the dust, you think might as well just destroy it all while you’re at it.

“i will keep my mouth shut near your girlfriend if you just finish my tattoo” you have never felt more stupid in your life, because you’re doing all this while you’re fully conscious, at least when you’re drunk, you have an excuse.

“so, you would tell on me if i didn’t do that tattoo for you?” you feel even more like an idiot when he puts it that way but you remind yourself pathetically that you hate him, and you don’t care what he thinks of you, so you nod a simple yes.

“wow doll, you play a nice game, huh?” he chuckles darkly as he throws his head back and you know that while his words might be funny, his tone and expression are anything but.

you shouldn’t feel guilty about this but you do, there’s this sinking feeling in your chest that whatever you’re doing right now, is not worth it.

just when you open your mouth to take back the words you’ve said and apologize and reassure him that you see him with more respect now, that his story and secret will forever be safe with you, that you admire his passion, you don’t get the chance to when yoongi shuts you up with his.

“fine, i’ll do your stupid tattoo, now get out of my studio.” your heart sinks at his blunt words and he says them while not looking at you at all, you know that you deserve it though which is why you shamefully nod and turns towards the door, leaving him alone in his studio again.

the next few days are a blur, and you’re back at some stupid party.

you needed to forget.

but as much as you tried to push yoongi away from your thoughts, there’s this nagging feeling that claws at you, you don’t understand why you feel as guilty as you do, but it doesn’t go away, it increased each time he saw you in campus and turned his head away like you were nothing to him.

and you hate that you’re nothing to him, you were at least an enemy before but now, he disregards you so easily.

why do you want to be something to him?

you aren’t stupid enough to bring up the tattoo though, you just figured you would give him the chance to tell you or just not get it at all, you are not going to run your mouth again.

“oh, jin’s here, did you hear about his girlfriend? i heard she’s trouble” you hear someone mumble next to you, and you immediately look up to see yoongi with jin and some other friends you don’t recognize, he doesn’t see you though and you want to hide away, you don’t want to see him just yet.

you duck your head low, clutching your red solo cup in your hand and moving away from his line of sight, the only place you know that is safe from everyone in this party is the balcony upstairs so you inform your friends that you’re going to get some air and leave.

as soon as you open the door, you welcome the fresh air that greets you, the night is especially cold and windy but you love it, you just tug your leather jacket closer and lean your body on the railing as you think back on everything that’s been happening.

why did you open your mouth in the studio?

why did you go to the studio at all?

why are you so desperate to prove your friends wrong?

maybe your friends were right? that can’t be though, you don’t like yoongi that way. or at least, you don’t know if you do.

you bite your lip once you feel tears of frustration pooling in your eyes because you brought this on yourself and you don’t even understand why you are so mad about this like yoongi used to mean nothing to you or did you just think he meant nothing to you?

you really want to call off the dare because at this point, it’s gotten too far.

“it’s freezing here, come back in.” you stiffen at the sound of yoongi and don’t even turn around, you just wish he goes away because of how you’re ignoring him. you hear steps and you almost sigh in relief, thinking that he left but when the steps keep getting louder, you turn around confusedly only to see yoongi walking towards you. he reaches where you stand as you hold your breath and he just looks at you while you look away with flushed cheeks.

“this isn’t the time to be stubborn doll, just come in.” he lightly scolds you and you huff out in frustration.

“why don’t you go in?” you snap, finally looking at him and almost instantly shrink back down because you’re really in no position to give him an attitude. yoongi clenches his jaw, trying hard to mask his annoyance because he doesn’t understand why he can’t get his feet to just move and leave you alone like you clearly want him to.

“i told you i will do the damn tattoo, why are you still being a bitch?” his words are like a harsh slap to your face, does he really think you’re still going on about the tattoo?

“this isn’t about the fucking tattoo, yoongi!” you yell at him, throwing your hands in the air and running a hand though your hair, almost pulling too harshly at the roots.

“then what is it about?” he crosses his arms over his chest, taking more steps towards you and looks at you sternly, and you don’t know what to tell him.

“you won’t understand” you shake your head pathetically, now even more confused with the close proximity you two shared but yoongi doesn’t move, he stays right where he is, so close to you that you feel dizzy.

“you don’t know that” he fires back and up close, you can see his frown getting deeper. the tension in the air is high and both of you are breathing heavier than necessary and your eyes stay glued on each other, if you moved a little more, you would be fully leaning on him and even from your position, you can feel his body heat.

“i used to think you meant nothing to me and all you’ll ever be is someone who will drive my nail to the wall, but turns out, i was fucking wrong about that, i was wrong and i can’t stand being nothing to you and you definitely don’t mean nothing to me anymore, and i don’t even know why i’m telling you all of this when you obviously don’t give a shit.” you hold your gaze as you try to put your emotions into words, it’s a mess but you feel lighter, things are ruined anyway and all you want to do right now is pull him close to you and just hold him all night even as you’re yelling at him, as fucked up as that sounds.

“do you really want to know what’s going on?” your voice is reduced to a mumble as your eyes shift from his eyes and move towards his lips, his gaze travels with yours and his eyes land on your lips too, and before he could let another breath out, you pull his collar to you and tilt your head to meet his lips.

yoongi responds immediately, his hands snaking around your waist to squeeze your hips and pulling you closer till your chest met his, as your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, tugging lightly, just enough to make him groan lowly, and the sound sends a shiver down your body.

neither of you pull apart for air, just letting yourself getting lost in him, in the taste of him that you’ve been unknowingly chasing for so long, and every touch he leaves on your body feels like a trail of fire that burns bright.

kissing yoongi was probably the best thing you’ll ever experience in your life.

and you’re scared to pull away because you know that nothing will ever be the same again, you just want to stay in this moment for as long as you can, forever if you can, avoid reality for as long as you can.

but of course, not all of your wishes come true.

you eventually push lightly at his chest to gasp for air, fingers curling around his shirt, you don’t want to let go and he leans his forehead on yours, breathing heavily as well, his eyes are tender as they watch you catch your breath, his hands leave your hips and gingerly reach out to tuck your hair back into place, all while his eyes never leaves yours and everything feels so intimate and delicate, like it’s just you and him in this night, every sound, anyone else are all white noise.

“yoongi” you mutter as you slip your fingers away from his hair and he shakes his head, taking your hand in his and holding it to the side of his face.

“please don’t say anything” there is pleading in his tone, a wish that you owe him for all the times you’ve fucked up so you do as he says, you let him caress your hands as his forehead never leaves yours, but he isn’t looking at you anymore, you don’t complain though because this way, you can look at him all you want and he will never know.

but after a while of just letting the wind embrace you two, you decide that you can’t live in this feeling forever, especially when everything feels so confusing and neither of you have a clue about what is going on, the only thing you know is that you’re in each other’s arms and that’s it, that’s all you know.

and that’s not enough.

“yoongi, your girlfriend” you whisper painfully, your heart is caught in your throat when his fingers pause on your skin, slowly retracting back to himself and he leans away from you, hands still loosely gripping your fingers, you already miss his warmth enveloping you. but you can’t be selfish, it’s no longer only both of your hearts that are involved.

“we can’t do this.” you pull yourself away from him and wipe the corners of your eyes that almost leak your tears, yoongi doesn’t say anything, but his silence is his surrender to the situation, you take his silence to be his agreement with you, that this isn’t okay.

taking his silence and compliance as your answer, you leave before your heart breaks even more than it already has.

you walk around like a breathing shell around the campus, regretting nothing and everything at the same time.

you don’t regret kissing yoongi, you don’t think you ever will but you regret how it happened, you regret the situation you put the two of you in.

but he kissed you back, that’s what confuses you the most, you fully expected him to tear away from you and curse at you while wiping his lips but he didn’t, he kissed you back, like actually pulled you closer till you couldn’t feel anything but him.

you want to ask him why he did that, but you can’t. you can’t look at him without feeling complete humiliation because you might have just been another girl for yoongi, another girl for him to cheat on his girlfriend with and you feel…worthless.

and you also broke girl code, something you firmly believed in, or at least used to believe in, you want to talk to his girlfriend and tell her so that she won’t be constantly lied to but you also don’t want to get involved with yoongi again.

you push your books away with a groan and throw your pen on the desk you’re sat on; you can’t concentrate for shit and you really just want to disappear for a few days. when your phone dings, you almost throw it out the window because you told your friends that you needed space after they saw you looking dull at the party and you aren’t in the mood to party and forget even if that sounds lovely.

you grab your phone with a frown and squint at it when the bright light blinds you for a second, you curse yourself and reduce the brightness to see a message from an unknown number.

from: xxxxxxx

tomorrow, 9 in the morning, get the tattoo done or forget about it.

you just stare at the screen for a few minutes, it’s definitely him, even through the text messages, you know that it’s him, and he’s offering to do the tattoo? even after everything?

it isn’t right to go for it but you’ve got a dare to finish, right?

genius lab ended up being so far away from your apartment, that by the time you got to the front of it, you were heaving like a pregnant women, and you heavily grasp the handle of the shop, pulling it open with all the strength you have left. you stumble in to see a pretty empty shop, it is a working day so that isn’t a surprise, you wipe the sweat off your forehead as you look around for yoongi.

what are you even going to say?

‘hello, the kiss was great and i still feel weak from it but let’s forget that happened because that basically was just you cheating on your girlfriend?’

that doesn’t sound right.

“y/n, right?” you look up to see a younger, handsome man at the counter.

“jungkook?” he smiles and nods his head, extending his hand towards you, you shake it with a smile of your own and you really shouldn’t be smiling, considering your situation but jungkook has a very infectious aura, very bright and filled with joy.

you like him already.

“yoongi hyung is in the back room, he told me to tell you to go there” he gestures towards the other end of the room and you want to turn and run away from here, because as far as you can tell, the back rooms are private places meaning it’s just going to be you and yoongi.

your original plan was to look at other customers as you get yours done but how can you look at anything in a room if yoongi was going to be the only person in there?

“is that so? then i’ll get going in there, good luck here jungkook” you give him a nervous smile and he beams at you with a nod, eyes shining and you coo at how adorable he looks before you take a deep breath to calm yourself and slowly walk towards the room.

you’re only here for the tattoo and nothing else, you won’t talk with yoongi at all or even look at him, just let him do the tattoo and leave.

there you go, perfect plan.

you push against the door with your hip, peeking in to see yoongi with his back to you and you take a quick step back, clutching your hand on your racing heart, you haven’t even seen him fully but you’re not sure if you can stop yourself from lunging at him.

“are you just going to stand there, doll?” just as you’re about to tip-toe your way out of the tattoo shop and hopefully move to a remote island where you don’t have to worry about anyone, yoongi calls you out, with his back still to you.

how did he even know that you were there?

you clear your throat a little and step into the room, the walls are white and there’s a few boards filled with drawings here and there, and then there is yoongi who apparently has decided to wreck you by wearing torn jeans and a black hoodie.

the outfit isn’t special by any means but you already feel weak in the knees.

you decide to walk over to him with your knees still wobbly and your breath shakier than it was and look over his shoulder to see him working on a tattoo design, probably yours, you lean over to see it properly and gasp at the delicate baby’s breath drawing, your favorite flower.

“i didn’t draw it, my sister did” he mumbles as continues tracing it carefully.

“your sister is talented” you say honestly and he hums in agreement.

okay, so you two are going to act like yesterday didn’t happen, you can definitely go along with that.

“stop loitering doll, just sit down on the chair” he can’t focus when you’re walking around him with big, curious eyes and a small smile dancing on your lips, and he feels bad when you sigh in disappointment and silently walk to the big chair in the middle of the room.

but he can’t do anything about it, he expected you to be your usual self and fire back at him but you didn’t and he doesn’t have a good feeling about that.

he heads over to the chair with the tattoo design ready in his hands, he instructs you to lay down and makes sure you’re fully comfortable and his side keeps pressing against your body as he leans over to prepare things for the tattoo and it takes everything in you to not kiss him again. so, you keep yourself busy, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“you’re going to have to look at me if we’re doing this, y/n” he says and you lift your gaze to see him looking at you with a face you can’t read or decipher but you hold his stare as he circles around you to flicker some lights on you.

“where do you want the tattoo?” he asks, pushing his sleeves up, to reveal scatters of small tattoos all over his arms and you gulp at the visible veins on his hands.

“i get to choose?” you raise your eyebrows and he shrugs.

“well, it’s your body doll, i think it was cruel enough to make you do this, so yes, you do.”

you do know where you want to get it, you always thought that if ever, one day, you decide to be brave and get a tattoo, there’s one spot you’ve wanted it to be but you’re not sure if yoongi will be okay with it.

do you really want to push your luck here?

“are you sure you’re comfortable with anywhere?” you decided to ask him and he frowns at you like there’s an obvious answer.

“yes, that’s my job.”

“right” you purse your lips and nod as he looks at you expectantly.

“i want it on the side on my waist” you whisper and yoongi drops his head with a chuckle.

“doll, do you want to kill me?” and your face heats up at his tone and at the way he looks up with a smirk, nodding while putting on his gloves.

“then you will have it on the side of your waist, you have to push your shirt up by a lot, like right under your bra and hold it there, understood?” you do a double take at his straightforward tone, like talking about your bra is totally normal but you just bob your head hastily and agree to whatever he’s saying, trying to not make a big deal out of it but you’re sure that your red face is a dead giveaway.

“okay, lay on your side” he places his hand on your shoulder and gently pushes you back on the reclined seat, and you huff deeply because it’s only now dawning on you that you’re getting a tattoo done by yoongi, it’s going to be on your waist and you feel stupid for not just going for your arm. you stiffen under him and watch with wide eyes as he places the needles on the table, those look painful and you’re genuinely terrified now.

“scared of needles?” you nod numbly to his question, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get rid of the image of those needles.

“it’s whatever, it’s fine” you breath out but your body definitely gives you away, your hands are shaking and you’re sure that you feel dizzy.

“doll, take it easy, it’s going to be over in no time and just remember to breath properly during it” when he gets no response from you, and your eyes are still closed, he realizes how scared you are.

“you want me to distract you?”

“please.” you mumble and he wordlessly lifts your shirt for you because you don’t look like you’re going to move but he keeps his eyes on your face while he does that, carefully tucking your shirt under your arm to keep it from moving away and if you weren’t as scared as were right now, you would have noticed the goosebumps that rise everywhere his touch reaches.

he gently holds your shirt in place and places the drawing on your skin, putting it flat and rubbing it slowly so that it would transfer well, and you feel weirdly hot, he’s just doing his job but you really want to just grab him and take him right there.

“okay, i will draw over this and then we will get to the actual tattoo” you actually shiver a little when you feel one of his hands tracing the design and the other slightly pulling on your skin so that it stays taut and you don’t know why the fuck you agreed to this because you’re clearly suffering here.

“what do you think of weird food combinations?” he suddenly asks once he’s done with the tracing.

“some are alright, i guess” you answer and then you hear the sound of the drilling needle causing you to let out a low whine and bury your face into the seat you’re lying on.

you should have stayed home, even the sound is freaking you out.

“which ones, according to you, are acceptable?”

“i don’t think mint chocolate is as bad as people make it out to be.” he scoffs at your response, making you frown.

“what is your problem?” you snap at him and yoongi smiles because you’re finally talking to him like you always do, he would recognize that tone of yours anywhere.

“mint chocolate is horrible, doll, i thought you had taste.” he clicks his tongue at you and you immediately go on a rant about how mint chocolate is too hated of a flavor and that at the end of the day, it’s just food and everyone has different tastes.

somewhere in the middle of your rant, yoongi looks at you fondly, you’re always so passionate about everything, even the simplest things, you make it sound and feel like how music affects him, and just as you’re almost done with your rant, he presses the needle on your skin making you yelp and you would’ve jumped and ended up scarring your skin if it weren’t for his hands holding you down.

this hurts this hurts this hurts.

it’s all you can think of as he slowly moves the needle around, looking at you every once in a while to check if you’re okay.

“i never got to tell you this but i think you following your passion with music is really cool and i really respect you for that, i hope you know that i will always support you on it.” you breath out quickly and if you weren’t here, yoongi would’ve cried because he appreciates your words so much, he pats your head in thanks, mumbling how grateful he is and it’s delicate, just like your first kiss.

it doesn’t last long though.

“you know, a food combination i like is french fries and vanilla ice cream.” your mouth drops open at his words, that sounds nasty as hell.

“why are you looking at me like that?” he laughs at your scrunched up face.

“what the fuck do you mean by french fries and vanilla ice cream?” you practically growled at him while looking at him with pointed eyes, can this tattoo be done anytime soon?

“don’t say shit when you haven’t tried it.” he smirks at your annoyed expression and you just glare at him.

“i don’t have to try that monstrosity to know that it tastes like trash.” you snap at him with raised eyebrows and just when he is about to reiterate with another comment, you unconsciously move, you hear him tut and hold you back down with a strong grip.

“sit still doll, or i might just drive this needle into your nerves and leave you paralyzed for life.” you know his warning doesn’t mean shit but you stay silent and stop moving anyways.

wait, you haven’t felt pain for the past five minutes, and you realize it’s because yoongi distracted you, he could’ve just done his job and leave you to suffer alone but he didn’t, and your heart swells a little.

that was sweet of him.

“how did you know that i like baby’s breath?” yoongi pauses with the needle but then continues like nothing happened at all.

“asked around” he casually replies and you roll your eyes, of course he would say that.

“yoongi, we need to talk about what happened in the party” you nervously but finally address the elephant in the room, biting your lip once the pain increases again.

“when i have a needle in my hand, really?” he looks up with an exasperated expression and you nod.

“with a needle in your hand, yes.”

“doll, all i’ve got to say is, i don’t know why you think i have a girlfriend” he laughs a little as he continues moving the needle against your skin.

wait what?

“what?”

“wait a second, your tattoo is almost over” you let him finish up while you are lost in your own thoughts, you are once again confused about everything and you don’t even feel the pain anymore, he places a patch over the tattoo after you get a look of it and you have to admit, he might not have passion in this but he’s surely talented.

he helps you sit up slowly, holding both of your hands firmly and pulling you forward till your legs almost wrapped themselves against his waist, he doesn’t let go of your hands though.

“i don’t have a girlfriend, and the only reason i let you go that night was because you didn’t look like yourself, i didn’t want to take advantage of you when you were that emotionally vulnerable, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you that dull.” he speaks sincerely and you know that he’s honest but you’ve still got so many questions.

“so, what about the girl from the previous party? the one where we played spin the bottle?”

“she wasn’t my girlfriend, i didn’t even sleep with her that night.” he shook his head as he said it and you narrow your eyes at him.

“well, she doesn’t know that because she’s bragging to everyone that you’re her boyfriend” you poke a finger at his chest accusingly and he chuckles.

“let her, i know who’s i want to be and it’s not her” your cheeks flush when he looks at you pointedly as he says that, you clear your throat and sit up straighter, taking this new information gracefully and doing a little happy dance in your heart, you wrap your arms around his neck and plays with the ends of his hair as he can’t help but grin at you.

“what about at the studio? you got so mad” you mumble sadly because you still remember how heartbroken you were that day and yoongi sighs, patting your cheek and rubbing his thumbs in circles on them.

“well, girlfriend or not, i didn’t like that you blackmailed me, doll. i had just opened up to you and you hit me with that so yeah, i was mad but i’m not anymore, okay? i know how stupid you can be sometimes” he adds the last part teasingly and you immediately gasp, pulling away from him and hitting his chest though a huge smile blooms on your face. yoongi laughs happily as you continue to try to hit him as he dodges.

eventually he gets tired of moving away from you, so he grabs your hands in his and pulls you closer till your lips meet his, your wrists stay captured in his hands as you kiss him back with every bit of your nerves ignited with a fresh need, you pull away from him with a small giggle while he wears a dopey grin.

“i hate you so much” you mumble against his lips with a huge grin, but like any other time, you don’t have a scowl on your face nor do you mean those words at all, he hums in agreement, pecking you one more time and cupping your face in his hands.

“trust me doll, i hate you so much more” he coos at you and you laugh at him because you know he doesn’t mean it either, you know that the word hate is just a replacement for love when it comes to the two of you, the way his eyes sparkle at you with a newfound joy tells you enough, and your laugh only gleefully extends once he starts peppering kisses all over your face as you try to swat him away.

so yes, you hate yoongi a lot, you hate min yoongi the most.

to: jisoo

the dare’s done, you can get off my ass about it! and guess who has a boyfriend now? 😉

397 notes · View notes

bleachhaven · 4 years

Text

Soutaicho’s Secret Admirer (Shunsui x Reader) — Part 5/6

Author’s Note:

It should be noted that this story is almost coming to a close...I’m sad to stop writing about Shunsui but it’s time to wrap this one up. So there’s maybe 1 or 2 more parts left.

Warning: A bit of smut ahead. One can only be seduced endlessly for so long without something happening about it.

–

Read Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 and Part 4 first!

Uncharacteristically, Shunsui was late to arrive at the office. It was almost ten in the morning when he finally strolled in. Nanao would have admonished him without a thought but the dark circles beneath his eyes revealed he had already had a terrible night. She didn’t want to make it a terrible morning as well.

Shunsui didn’t have the excuse of drunken debauchery at some late night party for his tardiness. The last party he’d been to had been Lisa-chan’s Valentine’s Day celebration and that was over two weeks ago.

It was more or less about how his loneliness and melancholy had kept him up late into the night. Something he definitely didn’t want to burden sweet Nanao-chan about.

He had found himself strolling randomly in seireitei at around three in the goddamn morning because simply staying in his bed staring at his ceiling felt impossible. He didn’t have these kind of difficult nights too often but when he did have them, they were quite terrible.

Sure, he missed Juu. But his loneliness was a bit more than that this time.

It has been over two weeks since he had received anything from his beloved Secret Admirer. Fourteen whole days of complete silence from her was quite unusual, and he felt it acutely. Where was she?

The darkest of thoughts had plagued him at night. What if she was sent on a dangerous mission? What if she had been injured? He hated to think it...but what if she was never coming back? Hadn’t he honestly lost enough?

The thoughts spiraled as the evening progressed into the wee hours of the morning, growing darker and more melancholy.

He knew he was not the greatest catch in the Soul Society. That title fell to Byakuya, uncontested. Shunsui was older than everyone in seireitei - a thousand years too old, he’d say. He was nobility too but he wasn’t one to truly fit into that mould, which deterred most noblewomen from considering him.

He wasn’t what one would call conventionally handsome either. He knew he wasn’t ugly...but he wasn’t exactly...whole. Not anymore. Maybe once he would have held some appeal and he had many lovers who thought him handsome enough to have a tumble with him... but the eyepatch never failed to remind him that he was never going to be good looking, by anyone’s standards, with a goddamn hole in his face.

Most days, none of this would honestly bother him. But last night it did.

His beloved Secret Admirer probably came to the conclusion that he wasn’t worth all the trouble after all. Surely, there had to be a reason why he had never been able to have a long term relationship. He blamed it on his job but...was that all it was? Maybe he was just not meant to have a happily ever after with someone.

As romantic as he was, he didn’t really believe in the concept of happily ever after. He knew relationships were work. It was a commitment between two people who cared about each other to work on staying together through whatever. With time, he had put any thoughts of a relationship on the back burner. With his duty to the Gotei 13, and his responsibilities as well as the added burden of maintaining his reputation as the Soutaicho...it was a practical choice.

But his Secret Admirer had made him want. Had made him yearn for a happily ever after for himself in a way he never had before.

He wanted to be loved and cherished as much as he wanted to love and cherish that one special person in his life. But did he really deserve it?

He knew it was her silence that had his latent insecurities rising to the surface keeping him up at night.

So as sleep deprived as he was, he came to the office with a plan. He couldn’t bear her silence anymore so he was not going to. With everything that had come up in the office, he hadn’t been able to finish up the letter he had started to write to her. At that time, it had felt futile considering there was no way to send it to her.

But he had a brilliant idea. He would have it published in the next installment of the Seireitei Communication including just enough information so that she would know it’s him while withholding enough details to still keep it anonymous. He could trust Hisagi-kun to be discreet.

He had a plan, and it could actually work!

If only he could actually find that bit of lavender paper he had left on his desk.

“Nanao-chan, did you remove anything from my desk by any chance?” he asked, opening up drawers and bending down to check under the desk.

Nanao looked up from the training schedule she was working on. “Nothing more than the usual paperwork. Why what have you lost now?” she asked with an overexaggerated sigh.

“My, my, Nanao-chan. You make it sound like I lose things on a daily basis.”

“The only thing lost on a daily basis around here is my sanity,” she said, rolling her eyes. Still she relented. A distressed Taicho always meant a distressed Nanao. “Fine. Describe it to me and I will tell you if I saw it anywhere.”

“It was nothing official. Just a bit of lavender paper I had been writing on…” he trailed off seeing the look on her face. “What? Did you see it?”

“You lost the letter you were writing to you Secret Admirer?” she asked.

“Nanao-chan! How did you…?”

“You forget, Taicho,” she said quite matter of factly. “There’s nothing that goes on here I don’t know about. But I haven’t seen it. Maybe it got mixed up in some paperwork and got sent to another division. I don’t think anyone would recognize your flowery handwriting which you reserve for your personal correspondence anyway. So nothing to worry about.”

Shunsui simply stared at her. He has known his little fuktaicho for too long to not notice that something was off. All this time, he thought she was just laughing at his expense because he was mooning over someone he didn’t even know. But now...that look...the way she said it without even having to think about it...it all felt fishy somehow. Nanao-chan was up to something.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she huffed, correcting the papers on her desk that didn’t need correcting. A nervous habit that always gave her away. “If you don’t have any serious work, I have a pile of forms…”

“You know perfectly well who it is, don’t you, Nanao-chan?�� he interrupted her attempts to distract him.

“I don’t know what you’re…”

“Please, Nanao-chan. It’s perfectly obvious you know exactly what I am talking about. Just...tell me…” he said.

He was so serious and intent. Nanao had only ever seen him like that in the heat of the worst kind of battle. She dropped her pretenses as well.

“She and I have both left enough breadcrumbs for you as it is. So if you’re so desperate to know who she is, why don’t you do the work to actually find out?” she asked him. “Clearly the girl cares about you but is terrified to approach you. Who wouldn’t be considering who you are and the position you hold. She is a nice girl, Taicho. But as things stand, she wouldn’t be the one to approach you so maybe you should find out for yourself who she is and do the approaching.”

So Nanao did indeed know who his Secret Admirer was. He understood her reasons why she couldn’t tell him. It wasn’t really her secret to divulge. Shunsui had to respect that despite his desperation.

“Is my sweet Nanao-chan giving her taicho dating advice?” he teased instead.

“Yes, I am,” she declared with a raised brow. “For even I can see how far you’ve fallen that you need advice from me to get yourself a date!”

Shunsui gasped, buying into the friendly teasing. “Nanao-chan is so mean to her taicho!”

Finally, they both got back to work, but Shunsui’s mind was still thinking about what Nanao had said. Apparently breadcrumbs were laid out and he hadn’t even noticed! He clearly had to pay more attention.

He tried to outline the facts in his mind.

The letters were always lemon scented. It could be a shampoo or some kind of scented cream...but it smelled fresh, almost as if unintentional. Something to further ponder upon.

The gifts were always elaborate but simple and he hadn’t been able to trace it through any vendor. The chocolates were handmade so his little Secret Admirer was probably very good with cooking and baking.

The handwriting was very distinctive as well. Especially the way she looped all her Ls and Bs with a distinctive flowy curve.

So far, the facts didn’t fit well into place to identify her as anyone he knew...but somehow, it felt like it was just barely within reach now. As if it’s only missing one final puzzle piece for the whole thing to come together.

That night, sleep evaded him once more. He couldn’t deny it. He missed her! He couldn’t help but wishing that she was right next to him, romancing him with more than just her words. He wished he could cherish her in all the ways he desperately yearned to.

He took the letters he kept at hand in the drawer of his bedside table. He found that he liked to read them sometimes, and no matter how many times he read her words, they still managed to make him feel things. The shape of her words, the texture of the paper...it comforted him.

However, the sensual seductive ones were his downfall.

With all the time he has been alive, and all the experience he’s had, one would think he would be able to resist the temptation. But he often couldn’t.

Reading those letters, describing how she wanted to make love under the moonlight or how she yearned to taste him...it had him imagining soft feminine hands touching him. His hand would unconsciously reach into his hakama of its own volition and grasp his manhood, wondering what it would feel like to be touched by someone who ardently wanted to please him.

It wouldn’t take him too long at all. He would cum, gasping into the empty bedroom, wishing he had a name he could moan. Wishing she was here for him to hold.

Sated, he’d finally fall asleep. Yet though his body was satisfied, his mind wasn’t. He couldn’t help but feel alone on this big empty bed.

That coveted final piece of the puzzle arrived as, of all things, more paperwork. He was mindlessly flipping through some reports after lunch the next day when it popped out at him like well-lit beacon.

It wasn’t anything special. Just a request for more funds to be allocated for a better training ground for the 13th division. Except it was filled out by his beloved Secret Admirer. The handwriting screamed her identity at him, looping Ls and Bs and all.

“_____-san,” he whispered to himself, wondering how he could have missed it.

Suddenly, everything was perfectly crystal clear.

Everyone knew that while Kuchiki Rukia settled in enough to pick her own fuktaicho, the 3rd seat of the 13th was acting in that role in an unofficial capacity, putting her in-charge of all the paperwork coming and going from that division. A reason why she was always showing up at the 1st...giving her ample opportunities to learn his habits well enough to leave behind those delightful missives without ever getting caught.

The lemon scent was from all the lemonade he knew she made for her division and for some special occasions in the seireitei. It was her specialty, a way of creating comfort and homeliness for her subordinates. He had tasted her chocolates twice - once at the Valentine’s Day party itself and then when she gifted them to him specifically. Both facts which had been pointed out by Nanao-chan while _____-san stood right next to him. No wonder she had flushed red then. It hadn’t been out of embarrassment but possibly from thinking she might get caught. The little minx.

He couldn’t help but remember every encounter he had with her in the recent past. Her cute blushes...the way she gasped out “Soutaicho!” Come to think of it, every time he saw her, he felt like she almost called him Shunsui out of habit only to change it to his official title at the last minute. He even recalled the twinkle in her eyes every time she looked up at him.

He couldn’t believe it. He finally knew who his Secret Admirer was and she’d been right before his eyes, had he only known where to look. He couldn’t help smiling, thinking about all the ways he would get back at her for running him around in circles. He would torture her so, so deliciously…

“You have that dopey smile on your face. Should I be worried?” Nanao asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm…? Of course not, Nanao-chan,” he said, not really reassuring her at all. “I am heading out. Be back soon!”

“Taicho!” she called out but he was already gone.

...to be continued.

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toxic-gorgon · 3 years

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Yandere Dio Brando x Reader: Useless

Synapsis: You are one of the last hamon users and while the practice itself has died along Lisa Lisa, except for a tiny handful of users. While most are willing to allow their gifts to die out and go about their daily lives, you want to put yours to good use and join the crusaders.

Content Warning: Extremely dark themes, click the read more at your own risk! Non-con, blood, yandere Dio, depression/hopelessness, corruption kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, talks of su*cide, violence, and extremely spicy themes. 18+, minors DNI! By continuing to read, you understand the risk.

When you joined the Speedwagon Foundation, you knew the chances of you dying for Mr. Joestar’s cause was almost inevitable. Your gifts were nothing compared to the powerful and unique stands that you came across during the start of your journey. You were one of the last remaining hamon users, but instead of allowing it to fizzle out like the others who trade their gifts for normal lives, you wanted to help and be useful! Lisa Lisa long passed and you heard stories of how hamon saved the world. Allowing hamon to die was allowing a part of yourself to die.

Hamon was useless against stands, but worked wonders against humans and vampires. However, you primarily used yours for healing and support! The crusaders could use all the help they could get, so it made sense when the directors approached you for the task. Their lives are in your hands, and if it means to put an end to the vampyric Dio’s reign, then you’ll do your part and make sure these boys stay alive.

That’s what you thought at the beginning, back before your days meshed together and all time seemed to stagnate.

You weren’t sure how many days it’s been since you first arrived in this suffocating manor in Cairo. The dark and coldness inside the manor contrasts the warm and vibrant colors outside your window during the day. You were ever the spunky one when you first arrived, you knew your friends were well on their way and you had no problem voicing that fact loudly in Dio’s presence. He would scoff, flashing you an amused grin, after all you were (as what he puts it) like a fangless, clawless feline. You don’t pose any real threat, but it’s cute to see you try.

Dio is every bit what the rumors said. His raw charisma and power alone should frighten you, but that’s just one piece of the puzzle that’s Dio Brando. His beauty was truly breathtaking, much more so in person, his shirtless form proudly displayed like a painting hung carefully in the Louvre. His voice charmingly suave, almost a mesmerizing melody that beckons you closer like a siren’s call that you can’t block out. Worst of all was his eyes, that piercing gaze of his that can see right through you, all your worst fears and highest hopes, nothing can be hidden from this man.

When you first arrived at his mansion, you were awestruck. Cat-got-your-tongue indeed as you drank in the imposing monster of a man, your enemy. What could he possibly want from you? His smirk makes your chest clench as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You wanted to run, and you would’ve if it wasn’t for you being so goddamned weak. You were completely at his fucking mercy, all he had to do was give the word and you would meet your end. You expected to die right then and there, surely a man like Dio would take out his enemy while he had the chance, just so later down the line it won’t bite him in the ass. You weren’t sure if it was out of pity or amusement, but your death never came. Instead, the cocky asshole smriks and gives you his blessing to tour his home. Hell, he even allowed you access to his library, on the grounds that if you did decide to run, you would be all too easy to catch. You were convinced this man had no real plan for you being here, besides making things much harder for the crusaders by stealing away their healer.

You were determined to keep your head held high and wait for your knights in shining armor.

But now, you’re just a shallow husk of despair. All the hope and conviction you had died little by little as the days went by, as those dark thoughts that Dio would mock you with began to take root. There’s no point in brainwashing you when your conviction can be shattered so easily. During the day, Vanilla Ice and Pet Shop watch over you. You absolutely loathe Vanilla Ice. His blind devotion towards his master churned your stomach, all the while he’s looking down on you and lack of stand ability. His words stung, but now they mirror static, background noise for your chaotic thoughts.

Pet Shop was your preferred caretaker. He’s a bird, so he can’t talk like your other wardens. However, you could’ve sworn you saw that bird smirk once or twice, and his steely gaze mirrored his cocky yet powerful master. Perhaps the bird was silently judging you, even mocking you for being more caged than he was. After all, Pet Shop was allowed to move past the mansion’s windows and enjoy the fresh air and sun, even though he stayed within his bounds. A murder hawk has more freedom than you do.

The nights are always the worst. Screams of ecstasy or pain, you weren’t sure which anymore, filled the halls. After a while of being imprisoned, they all sound the same. How long before you’re next? You felt like it was any day now, and eventually your captor will grow bored of your constant banter. Perhaps that would be for the best, you’re dead weight anyway as long as you remain here.

Your friends were on a mission to save Holly, which you admit is more important than rescuing you. You knew the risk after when you joined this crusade, you just didn’t think it would end here in the lion’s den. You contemplated jumping out the window, not caring how painful the initial impact would be. You always decide against it, and instead sit and wait, chalking it up to being a coward as well. Everyday when your saviors hadn’t come, the little bit of hope inside was crushed gradually until barely anything was left besides tears of frustration and a luxurious queen sized bed to help you sleep.

Since you’ve been here, Dio took the liberty of making sure you’re fed three five star meals a day and accompanying you with a wine glass of blood. Such a gentleman, he even made idle chit-chat while you refused to take a bite (no matter how many times he told you it would be a waste poisoning you). Dio boasted about his many achievements, including how he stole Jonathan Jostar’s body, which you weren’t sure if he was just bragging or making sure that even in a casual setting, the threat still lingered. Was this supposed to impress you? Because the only responses you ever gave him were snide remarks and silence. Sometimes he would treat this like a silly game, but on days when he was more temperamental, you wisely chose to nod your head and actually eat what’s in front of you.

He made sure you were treated well, despite your situation. You bathed in a tub fit for a princess with fancy soaps and perfume, and was dressed in the finest of authentic Egyptian gowns that money could buy. All of which were gifts from Dio. He even took the liberty to do away with all your drab belongings and anything that didn’t fit his opulent aesthetic. He even gave you art supplies once. Whenever he gave one of these gifts, he always made sure to attach a rose with it. You always throw them out.

To occupy yourself when your host is gone and taking time for himself, you like to venture to his library and thumb through his vast selection. You’re sure you read over half of his stock by now, but something new always catches your eye to pass the time with. Usually you would saunter off into your room, avoiding the underlings as much as possible, but tonight was one of those nights where Dio met you there.

“There you are darling, I was worried I missed you.” His smooth voice did little to put you in ease.

“What do you want?” you sighed, making your way to the bookcase and browsing through different titles. Dio playfully scoffs, as always everything you say is just a game to him, and the disdain in your tone goes unnoticed. You didn’t move an inch when he moved closer to you, towering over your much smaller frame.

“You wound me dear, I only wish to spend time with you.” He leans in close next to your ear, his warm breath tickling your lobe. “Alone.” Now that’s laughable! Dio Brando isn’t a man who did anything out of kindness or ‘quality time’ without something in return. Did he run out of bodies to satisfy his hunger? What could you possibly offer him besides a snack?

“Spend time with you? I’ve seen what you do to the men and women who throw themselves at you for a sliver of attention. Their dead carcass lay about your manor like furniture when you’ve drained them.” You barely whispered. Why were you explaining his misdeeds to him like a child? You weren’t sure if you were trying to reason or reach the last thread of humanity within, but doubt was clearly written on your face. You wanted this to end.

You balled your hands into fists and shook with rage. “Just kill me and get it over with! I’m tired of you and I’m tired of being here!”

Dio couldn’t help but sneer at your sudden outburst. How can you say these things? He’s given so much to you, and this is how you repay him? Do you not realize what you do to him? How weak he is while in your presence? How absurd. You had to have known, and perhaps you were testing his patience on purpose.

Reaching up and gripping your chin roughly, Dio kept your gaze on him. “I ask very little of you and have given you everything you could ever ask for. Tell me darling, are you truly unhappy?” his lips brush against your own, and his voice dangerously low that it sent shivers down your spine. Your voice was caught in your throat, this tower of a man standing over you so domineering makes you seem insignificant. Like a large cat ready to pounce on his prey.

Tears run down your cheeks and you had no will to stop them. Why was he doing this to you? As if to answer your question, the blonde captures your lips and wraps his arms around your trembling form. With a jolt of energy you tried to shove him off you in defiance for your space. “Please stop, I don’t want…” you mumble. Growling, Dio pulls away and glares into your glossy puffy eyes, his brows furrowing when you don’t give in so easily.

“Pet.” he said through gritted teeth, his hand drifting down to your neck and squeezing rough enough to cut off air supply. “You’re being selfish. All I asked from you in return is your loyalty and to surrender yourself to me.” He picks you up by your neck and amusingly smirks when you gasp and attempt to wiggle free, your hands desperate for air. Your nails grazing his skin with little scratches did nothing to phase Dio, instead he chuckles.

“Funny, isn’t it? The man’s body I’ve taken, the only man I would ever call my equal, possesses the same power as you do.” Black dots formed in your vision and your legs grew tired from flailing. He lets you drop from his grip, and while you sit slumped over and choking on air for your burning lungs, Dio looks down with his ruby hues. “Suppose my interest in you is fate, or perhaps you remind me of him.” Bending down to kneel in front of you, Dio pulls you towards his chest and picks you up bridal-style with very little resistance from you. He smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear “However, your strength will never match his.”

Dio took flawless strides towards the desk on the other side of the room and pinned you down on your stomach against the harsh oak surface. With the wind knocked out of you temporarily, Dio traced his long nails along the soft chiffon fabric of your golden gown before tearing it to shreds down the middle, revealing your back and ass as the now useless fabric pools at your feet. Looking back at your captor’s sadistic smirk, your bloodshot eyes widen with realization. You were observant, he didn’t need to spell out what his intentions were.

Almost immediately, Dio parts your legs with his knee and runs his fingers along your slit, examining it’s beauty before he decimates it with his cock. Squirming, you tried to push yourself up from the desk. As weak as you were, you had to try! Even though you knew Dio had more than enough strength to overpower you. As if he read your mind, he takes both of your wrists in his strong grip and pins them against your back.

“Careful dear, you wouldn’t want me to break your arms, would you?” You stopped your struggling and stilled. It was best to get it over with and maybe if you comply, he won’t be as harsh with you, right? Just let him do what he’s going to do and don’t make it worse for yourself. “That’s better!” He smiles. “Lay there and trust your Lord Dio. Don’t worry about a single thing.” Don’t worry? How can you not? But, you did as he said and Dio goes back to running his fingers along your pussy, this time his index flicking against your clit.

Biting your bottom lip, you shut your eyes tight. Be strong….be strong…. You chanted, but the small shocks of having your clip played with after being in turmoil for so long, it was difficult to not give yourself over for anything that can make you feel a moment of blissful ignorance. You were convinced that either Dio was a mindreader, or you were just so painfully obvious, but he stops his ministrations with your heat and leans in closer, he carelessly grinds his clothed hardened cock against you. He was quite proportioned.

“Let’s enjoy ourselves, hmmm?” You shuddered at his words (and sizable bulge), a small whimper escaping you. Pleased with your sudden turn around, Dio leans back and without missing a beat, undoes his pants, allowing his cock weeping of precum to spring free. You swallow down a moan when his cock rubs against your clit, teasing your lips. Your cunt quickly became sloppy, as you were beginning to come around and throw caution to the wind. Dio must’ve noticed, because chuckles and mutters. “Don’t hide your cute noises from me now.”

With his cock soaked with your juices, he thrusts in and you do as he says, allowing a hoarse moan erupt from your throat that’s muffled by your face against the desk. This wasn’t going to do, not for Dio. While thrusting at a brutal pace, he yanks your hair back and lifts your head so he can listen to your lustful melodies more clearly. While you pant like a bitch in heat whenever he hits that spot to make you see stars, Dio releases your wrists in favor of gripping your hip tightly, leaving bruises.

Gasping, you didn’t move your wrists for fear of your lord stopping or worse. Pleased by your obedience, Dio’s pace quickens, just for him to slow down to a tortuous pace. Flustered you cry “W-Why? Please….please….m-more!” You try to turn your head, but his strong grip keeps you in place. What a wonderful development! Definitely a change in the right direction from how you rejected him a few moments ago. But, Dio wasn’t quite satisfied yet. He wanted your everything, not only your spur-of-the-moment submission. He’s Dio Brando, Lord Dio to his brood. He doesn’t settle for less than satisfactory.

With a grin, Dio knew just how he would achieve this. “You beg so pretty darling, I see you’re finally coming to understand who owns you. But begging isn’t enough.” When he started moving again, this time his cock kissing your cervix, your mouth hung agape in a silent scream. Your thoughts thoroughly scrambled with nothing but the pleasure that Dio was offering you. Hell, you weren’t even coherent when your position changed to you being on your back with your legs spread wide and exposed, only for Dio.

He picks up his pace, your cunt constricting around him as he pounds into your sore pussy, his hand now free from your hair pressed down your abdomen. He felt the slight belly bulge from him delving into your sweet cunt, simply delicious. “Darling-” He said too sweetly. “- You’re absolutely stunning so full of my cock, but I have a wonderful idea. I didn’t appreciate your attitude this evening, but I know how we can fix that!” You were too fucked out to comprehend his words, but nodded like the dumb slut you were. His dumb slut. “I’m going to breed this pussy of yours, fill you up with my cum, and you’re going to take everything I give you. Wouldn’t that be great? You grow big and round while your breasts are full with leaking milk.” He pauses as his hips sputter, his cock pulsating with the vision of you growling his children within your womb.

“Yes..I think motherhood will suit you well. Forever my ___.”

Whimpering, you nod in agreement. Whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. You were so very close! You mumble a breathy fuck when Dio pushes your legs up to your shoulders, diving in much deeper than before. Chanting strings of curses under his breath, Dio’s hand on your stomach drifts down to vigorously rub your sensitive nub and in almost no time at all you cum around his member, your juices rushing out to soak the desk and his cock.

“Oh god...oh god...oh god..” you chanted, making Dio’s ego inflate more if that were possible. Smirking, he lets you ride out your orgasm, before picking up the pace yet again, this time losing control of himself for once. Brutally he fucks you, his cockhead slamming against your cervix, as your pulsing walls from your aftershocks urges his throbbing shaft, begging to milk it. After a few final thrusts, Dio stills and his cock paints your womb with his seed.

He wasn’t done yet. Chuckling at your fucked out expression, it was so much like Dio to push for more. He wanted to mark you, make everyone but mostly yourself to know who you belong to. Your chest will do and his mark will be on full display. Using the nail on his index finger, Dio carves his name into your chest, pebbles of blood dripping down your sweaty and spent body after each scrape was made. When he is done, he admires his work, his name etched into your skin almost makes his cock spring back to life. What was he kidding, he could go a few more rounds anyway. But first, he leans in and laps up the blood, waste not want not right?

“There you are, how stunning. Darling, I wish you could see yourself right now.” Your eyes grew heavy, you were so exhausted and ready for a nap. Dio picks you up and doesn’t bother to cover you with your shredded rags. “No, no, don’t pass out now. We have a long night ahead of us.”

#jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #dio brando #yandere #yandere dio #dio x reader #hamon user reader #y/n #dio x y/n #extra spicy #dark themes #part 3 #stardust crusaders #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader

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chrisevansjellybeans · 4 years

Text

Happier|Part Three

A/N: Here is part 3!! Sorry it had taken so long, I had gone back and forth on deciding if this would be the last part or not. I decided to make it an even four so there will be a Part Four! Hope you enjoy. It’s another chapter of angst! (What’s new) All mistakes are my own!

Part One|Part Two

Word Count: 1800

Warnings: swearing, angst

You sat awkwardly between Scott and Lisa as they continued to have a conversation that you were trying your hardest to pay attention to but you were having no such luck. Your gaze and your mind kept wandering over to your best friend who was currently standing in the corner talking with a buddy. Chris’s eyes darted towards yours and you immediately diverted your eyes anywhere else.

You had been doing this for the last two hours. Neither of you is willing to make the first move to go over and talk to each other. It had been three weeks since the incident during the girls night. Chris had texted you about twenty minutes after you left, but you didn’t respond. That became a trend for about two weeks before he just stopped texting you all together. Quite frankly you had forgotten about the bitch incident two days after the fact. But you kept telling yourself that putting space between the two of you was what you needed to get over these feelings that you just couldn’t get rid of.

Because six months of being in a different country wasn’t space enough.

And you know what they say: distance makes the heart grow fonder.

But Carissa had insisted that you come to her little birthday gathering that she was having at the house. So now here you were, being completely miserable in a room full of party goers.

You turned your focus back on the other Evans’ in your life and smiled when Lisa made a joke, but still contributed very little to the conversation.

“I’m going to go get a refill.” You wiggled your half empty cup for emphasis before excusing yourself.

You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed the kitchen was fairly empty, only a couple that you didn’t recognize talking in the corner. You grabbed the pitcher of margaritas and filled your glass before taking a huge sip and then filling it again.

“Margaritas that good?” You spun around at the unfamiliar voice. Your face grew hot as you came face to chest with a very tall, very handsome man. His dark eyes were raised in question but his lips were settled in a knowing smirk. “Or are they just bad enough to make you forget something you don’t want to remember?”

“A little bit of both.” You replied, taking another sip. Mystery man laughed and you smiled. He reached past you to grab his own cup to fill up.

“I’m Marcus.” He said simply, his eyes raking up and down your body. You internally rolled your eyes but decided to play along. He was hot and you were lonely.

“Y/N.” You held your hand out to his. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” He smirked.

“So how do you know Carissa?”

“I don’t, funny enough.” He explained. “I’m here with a friend.”

“Ahh.” You raised your eyebrow asking the silent question.

“His name is Brady.” Marcus laughed.

“I see.” You took another sip of your margarita, a smile hiding behind the cup.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You were shocked at how much fun you were having talking to Marcus. He was funny and charming and knew all the things to say to make you blush and yet you couldn’t help that your eyes would wander over to where Chris was sitting, Carissa perched on his lap.

Your attention was snapped back to Marcus when you felt his hand rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lips.

“Sorry, you have a little…” He trailed off as he wiped his thumb across your parted lips.

You were sure he was going to kiss you.

And you were sure that you might just kiss him back.

Marcus leaned forward and you felt your eyes flutter close, anticipating the kiss. But it never came.

“Hey.” You and Marcus both turned to see Chris stalking towards you, his eyes narrowed.

“Hey man,” Marcus moved away and reached out his hand but Chris didn’t slow down. You watched in horror as Chris walked right up to the two of you and threw a punch hitting Marcus square in the face.

“Are you fucking crazy?” You cried out as Marcus fell to the ground clutching his nose. Chris stood over him, his shoulders rising with anger and his fists still clenched. “Chris!” His eyes snapped to yours and they softened slightly.

“What the hell dude?” Marcus groaned from the floor.

“I think it’s time for you to go.” Chris growled.

Marcus stood up with the help of some other people before being escorted out of the kitchen, leaving just you and Chris and the small pool of blood on the floor.

You looked down at Chris’s hand which was covered in blood. At first you thought it was just Marcus’s but then you realized that there was a large cut running across his knuckles. Sighing you pushed him out of the kitchen towards his bedroom and to his ensuite.

“Sit down.” You pushed him onto the toilet before going to the cabinet where you knew the first aid kit was. “I can’t believe you.”

“You can’t believe me?” Chris snapped. “What the hell were you doing with that guy? In my goddamn kitchen no less.”

“We were having a conversation, you Neanderthal.” You answered, as you rinsed off his cut. Chris hissed in pain as you ran an alcohol wipe over his knuckle.

“Looked like more than that.”

“So what if it was, Chris. And if I remember correctly, it was only a couple weeks ago that you and Carissa were telling me to get out there and meet someone.” You raised your eyebrow slightly.

“She said that, not me.” Chris looked away from you.

“So what? I’m just supposed to stay single? Is that it? I’m not good enough for your friends? Or do you really think that there’s no one out there that can be with me?”

Chris’s eyes snapped to yours, the blue darkening. “First of all that jackass is not my friend. And second of all, I didn’t say that. If anything you are too good for the losers out there. You’re too good for anybody.”

“Well then who? Who gets the Chris Evans stamp of approval? Please tell me, so I can go and find him.”

“I don’t know! Just not that guy.” Chris stood up towering over you.

“God, you know you are so fucking annoying.” You pushed against his chest as you turned to walk away from him. “I’m just trying to be happy. Why can’t you just let me be happy?”

“You’re going to be happy with that jerkoff?” Chris stepped closer to you. He pulled you back towards him, spinning you around so that you were looking at him. He lifted your chin so you were eye to eye. “You think that guy is the one that’s going to give you everything that you need? That you deserve?”

“Well the guy that I want I can’t have, so I guess he’ll have to do.” Your heart fluttered as you realized just how close you and Chris had gotten. Your noses were touching and your lips just a breath away from each other. Chris leaned forward slightly, his mouth open but no words coming out.

“I’m sorry.” Chris sighed, his head dropping.

“For what? Punching out the first guy to take interest in me or calling me a bitch?”

Chris winced, his eyes full of regret. He looked like he was about to respond when a voice interrupted the both of you.

“Chris? Y/N?” You and Chris immediately separated at the sound of Scott’s voice echoing through the bedroom and into the bathroom.

“In here.” Chris cleared his throat as he called out to his brother.

“Jesus Christ, Chris. What was that?” Scott threw his hands up. “Carissa is pissed.”

“I know. I just…” Chris trailed off as he cast a sideways glance in your direction. You refused to look at him, only focusing on the pattern of the floor tile. Chris let out a sigh as he rubbed his face with his good hand. “I’ll go talk to her. Where is she?”

“Last I saw she stepped outside to check on the guy you fucking decked.”

Chris just nodded, looking at you once more before brushing past Scott and out the door.

You and Scott stood there in silence.

“So how long?” He asked, finally breaking the void.

You looked up at the younger Evans brother, whose hands were now on his hips.

“What?”

“How long are you and my idiot older brother going to pretend that you aren’t madly in love with each other.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach at Scott’s words.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You stated incredulously.

“I’m talking about the fact that my brother basically broke some poor guy’s nose for even looking in your direction. Or how you guys have been looking at each other like forlorn lovers this entire night.”

You turned your head away.

“It’s not like that, Scott.” You whispered. “He’s my-he doesn’t look at me like that.”

“Sweetheart, are you dumb or are you stupid.” Scott’s words held a joking air to them. He stepped closer to you and took your hands in his. “You should tell him how you feel.”

“Scott, stop.” Your eyes blurred with tears. “I love him, he’s my best friend and I’m not willing to lose his friendship over a stupid crush that will eventually go away.”

“Honey, if it hasn’t gone away in the last five years it’s not going away anytime soon.”

You stared at him with wide eyes as you processed what he said.

“You think I didn’t know this whole time? Hell, I think the only person who didn’t know was Chris.”

“Oh god.” You groaned, dropping your head. You were officially embarrassed. Had it really been that obvious for so long?

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, honey.” Scott soothed as he grabbed your hands.

“I need to go. I shouldn’t have come anyway.” You mumbled as you pulled away from Scott.

“Y/N...you don’t have to leave.”

“Yes I do.” You shook your head, refusing to look at him. You booked it out of the room and down the hallway, making every effort to avoid anyone and everyone. You walked out to your car and paused as you noticed Chris and Carissa standing by the side of the house. You tried to walk by without them noticing you but as you heard Carissa’s voice call out to you. You had a choice: stop and talk to her or walk the five steps to your car and leave the night behind you.

Before you could truly over think you rushed to your car, got in and drove off.

Tags:

@username23345 @thesecretlifeofdaydreams @stopbeingcurious @lharrietg @officalmarvelwhore @memoriesat30 @mydarlingharry @kelbabyblue @evansphnx12 @thegreentwin @denisemarieangelina @joannie95 @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjeans @jennamarieee623 @undecidedsworld @tenaciousperfectionunknown @lovelyladymayyy @mindfreakswaggy @before-we-get-started @patzammit

#chris evans happier #happier #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans x reader #when will the angst end #we may never know

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Note

potentially slightly angsty and sad headcanon so ignore if u want! but how do u think billy would react if he and the reader saw arthur out in public? and how the reader knowing or not knowing would change that?

Remember this is my Billy.

This turned into like two small one shots lmao sue me...

Okay so I'm gonna split this into two sections.

You don't know:

You pick up an orange and purse your lips, it had seen better days and you huff as you put it back and grab another. You and Billy were out at the store getting some bit and pieces. He was standing next to you with an arm around you, talking about Frank and some guy at work and how Frank had him on his ass during training.

But suddenly he stops talking and you glance up at him. His eyes are flaring with rage as he glares down the aisle. You've seen him angry many times, part of being Billy Russo's girlfriend, although it was never directed at you. But as you follow his death glare, his eyes are locked onto a weird old man at the other end of the aisle who's looking at boxes of cereal.

You look back to Billy then, confused as he's still staring at him. You were about to open your mouth to say something but you felt Billy's grip on your shoulder tighten and you wince. It snaps him out of it as his eyes dart to you, guilt marring his face before his eyes shoot back to the man.

"We need to leave," he mutters tensely, chest heaving. You've never seen him this way before.

"What-Billy!" You frown as he grabs the basket you'd had over your arm and he drops it to to floor. Anything in it forgotten as he grabs your wrist and starts dragging you out of the store.

"Billy, what's going on?" You ask confused and worried. You can't work out if he looks like he's on the verge of killing someone or having a panic attack and it's scaring you.

"Not-Not here," he mutters, shaking his head frantically as he leads you to the car. Once inside you look at him carefully. His face is haunted and his hands are trembling in his lap. Never had you seen him in this state before. You reach over, taking his hands in yours and his eyes snap to you then. The amount of sheer pain held in his watery eyes made your chest ache painfully.

He tells you then. He tells you about the man at the group home who traumatised him. The one who took his love for baseball away. You sit and listen in horror and sadness as you cling to his hand. When he's done with his story, you don't really know what to say. You know he doesn't want your pity. So you say the only thing you can think of.

"Can I go in there and kick his ass?" The words leave your lips before you can help it and you blanche, worried Billy was thinking you were making light of his trauma when you in fact meant the words you said.

But he laughs, a real genuine laugh as his eyes crinkle in the corners and suddenly he's back to being the Billy you're used to. He leans over to you, kissing your lips sweetly as he strokes your cheek.

"I love you, you know that?" He murmurs softly against your lips. You smile at him, unable not to.

"I love you too," you reply.

You already know:

You and Maria are sitting on a bench in the busy park. The kids are running around playing as Billy and Frank are off at the food stand grabbing you all lunch. Something catches your eye and as you look, you realise it's Billy. He's no longer standing laughing and joking with his best friend. Now he's walking with purpose and a face like thunder towards an old man who's standing there watching people.

Frank's hot on Billy heels, muttering something to him that Billy seems to pay no mind to. Your eyes go back to the old man then and it dawns on you. You'd never seen him before, didn't know his face. But only one person could elicit such a response from Billy and it made your stomach churn.

You jump up from your seat, darting over to a very pissed off Billy. As much as you'd love to see him cave the man's face in for what he did, you're all out in public and around kids. You don't want him to get arrested or scare the families having a nice day out.

"Baby, stop!" You plead as you get in front of him, firm hands on his chest halting him. A deep growl vibrates in his chest and he turns his fiery eyes to you then. They soften a little but he shakes his head.

"I'm gonna kill him. What the fucks he doin' here, huh? Watchin' the little kids like a goddamn sicko?" He snarls, it isn't directed at you though. His words make you feel sick but you push on as Frank catches up to you both and puts a hand on Billy's back.

"Not here, Bill," Frank's gruff voice holds a darkness that makes you think there's another place and time he has in mind but you try not to think about it. Billy's angry face tilts to him then, his top lip curling.

"Not here? Frank he's-" he starts angrily, his mouth clamping shut when you grip either side of his face and turn him to look at you.

"Baby, he's right. Look around... you really wanna do this here in front of everyone? Scare the kids? Jr and Lisa?" You press gently. His dark eyes stare at you for a moment as your words sink in, his body sagging a little as he rolls his shoulder. His hands come to your hips then, gripping them tightly as if to ground himself as he takes a few deep breaths.

Frank seems to relax as Billy did and he glances around.

"I'll escort the asshole from the park," he mutters darkly. You know Frank could be persuasive when he needed to be and he clearly wasn't happy with a man like that hanging around his kids. Any kids. Especially not with how upset Billy is.

Billy wraps his arms around you, pressing his face into your neck as he takes a deep inhale, fists bunching in the back of your shirt. Your heart aches for him as you hold him close, rubbing his back soothingly. You stay like that for a long moment as you let him take comfort from you.

"Let's go see what the kids are doing, yeah?" You ask softly, moving back a bit to kiss his cheek. He smiles, looking much calmer than moments ago. A quick glance to the side reveals the man is now gone and Frank's sauntering back over. Billy nods, pecking your lips sweetly before he wraps an arm around you.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #the punisher #billy russo imagine #billy russo headcanons

167 notes · View notes

equinoxum · 3 years

Text

CURAXU RATES GENSHIN LADIES

welcome to part two where i turn my attention to the women of genshin also reminder that I haven’t played since Xiao’s first banner so. have mercy.

rating of genshin men HERE

Aloy: i know NOOOOOOOOTHING about her. she’s cute tho.

Amber: petition for the community to stop shitting on Amber. i can’t play her because i’m bad at bow characters but she is so dear to me.

Barbara: has saved my ass more times than i can count. love her.

Beidou: sexy pirate lady goddamn. carries my party. i think she could benchpress me and that’s incredibly hot you don’t even understand. she is what i want to be. i would kiss her.

Diona: funny little cat girl... beloved. also cannot play her because bow character but i would kiss her little head if she would permit it.

Eula: i have no idea what is happening over here and i am too scared to ask. pretty eyes though.

Fischl: can we get a no fear shakespeare edition just for what comes out of your mouth. i love you but what the FUCK are you saying to me.

Ganyu: beloved... stunning... beautiful... absolute cutie. deserves the world and all the qixing flowers she wants.

Hu Tao: i like your funny shenanigans graveyard girl. calling Zhongli “peepaw” gets her like several bonus points its so fucking funny

Jean: i pulled her randomly at one point and went HOLY SHIT. someone please get this woman a nap and a pay raise.

Kamisato Ayaka: pretty ladyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. yeah.

Keqing: first thing she did with her vision was try to break it. icon. i think that’s so funny. god gives you superpowers and you go “fuck you, actually.”

Klee: MY BELOVED... ABSOLUTE TANK. i think she should be given more bombs, actually. let her invent nuclear warfare, she’ll use it on the fish.

Kujou Sara: bird. i know nothing about her i’m sorry.

La Signora: bitch (affectionate) rest in piece girl

Lisa: once was told that she calls herself your big sister in other translations and that lives in my head rent free. the death flags tho. girl. uh oh.

Mona: a PREPARED QUEEN. took one look at Scaramouche and went “absolutely not”. i like her hat. every Mona cosplay I’ve seen was stunning.

Ningguang: should be a five star i swear to god. literally my favorite catalyst user. the only geo user i can manage. if i put more obstacles on the battlefield i’m going to die. also she’s sexy as shit.

Noelle: promote her you fucking cowards. she deserves it. she could ALSO benchpress me.

Paimon: wish they didn’t change Paimon’s voice. they are dear to me. i like their funny little words.

Qiqi: i’m going to kiss you on your little head and give you the best day ever.

Raiden Shogun: i think if i looked at her wrong she would take me out back and shoot me. tiddy sword tho. she should’ve been a sword user.

Rosaria: i swear to god they said she was a fucking vampire at one point. what happened to that. i have the same energy about my religion as she does ngl.

Sangonomiya Kokomi: PRETTY DESIGN... i know very little about her but i think she could probably kill me?

Sayu: baby... nap time.

Shenhe: SEXY..... LOVE the homicidal rage. best auntie probably.

Sucrose: tell me about your cool science experiments miss... you are very sweet and cute.

Xiangling: the original pyro polearm. the original polearm. the bestest <3

Xinyan: YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH i think she and Itto would be besties. i want her to play music for me.

Yae Miko: sexy. stunning. if she teased me i think i would explode.

Yanfei: cutie.... legally blonde energy. fuck it up girl.

Yoimiya: who are you. cute design.

Yun Jin: also know nothing about her. pretty tho.

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jungshookz · 4 years

Note

omg mean mr. park trying so hard not to give ballet!y/n special treatment that he goes too hard in the other direction and makes her cry!!!! and he’s like well i can’t fix it here in front of all these people what do i do what do i do

➺ pairing; park jimin x reader

➺ genre; balletteacher!jiminiverse!!! except uhhhhhh jimin’s a little scary in this one not going to lie <3

➺ wordcount: 3.6k

➺ what to expect; “and take those goddamn leg warmers off.”

➺ optional readings: one; two; three; four

➺ note; this has been one of the hoTTest requests for a long time which doesn’t make any sense to me because whenever i get asked to write about this specific scenario i’m like?? you?? you WANT me to make y/n cry???? also i hope u don’t mind but i changed ur original request just a teensy bit because i didn’t want y/n to have to cry in front of everyone again otherwise she’s just going to be known as the class cry-baby and we should at least give her a tiny crumb of dignity

»»————-　♡　————-««

jimin… is getting soft.

which isn’t super great because he feels like his reputation as scary strict ballet instructor is going to go down the drain and disappear forever if he keeps going on like this

it’s not like he can help himself when his girlfriend is one of his students

(which… is still a secret, by the way. the two of you are surprisingly very good at keeping things somewhat professional. teamwork makes the dream work, right?)

the other day in class he literally had to pinch his arm to remind himself to stOP looking at you so fondly

he caught himself in the mirror with this dumb little smile on his face and his eyes all bright and twinkly as he watched you dance

and it certainly didn’t help that you smiled back at him before wiggling your brows knowingly

he can’t do things like that!

he has to be more careful!!

he has to toughen up!

he has to take a stand!

he’s going to have to pull out the big guns to prove to everyone that no, i don’t have any favourites, and no, i’m certainly not romantically attracted and in a very real relationship with one of you, not at all!

it just feels like no one really takes him seriously anymore??

especially after he gave all of you guys individual roses on valentine’s day

sometimes he thinks that maybe that was a little extra of him but he did genuinely feel bad about keeping you guys here when you could’ve been out spending the night with your significant others

anyways

his point is

he thinks that everyone is starting to fear him less and less with every passing day and he just can’t have that

and it doesn’t help that yoU very openly don’t take him that seriously in class because then everyone sees that as their opportunity to not take him seriously as well

it’s like suddenly you’ve labeled yourself as the ringleader of this circus and now he’s just one of your clowns

that’s not the way things should be!!!

hE’S the ringleader of this stupid ballet circus!!!!

the other week when he announced that your guys’ break would be over in approximately thirty seconds, you just turned around to look at him with big, pleading eyes and: “can’t we have five extra minutes of break time, mr. park? please?” and obviously he couldn’t say no to that because of your dumb stupid pretty googly eyes

and he thought that that would be the worst of it but nO

he was very wrong

because it got worse

people are starting to show up in sweatpants and hoodies instead of leotards and chiffon skirts and if there’s anything he hates the moSt on this planet, it’s people who don’t dress for the part

he hated watching all of you prancing around the room wearing grubby HOODIES

disgusting!!!

you can wear whatever you want outside of class, but he likes to think that he’s made it relatively clear that once you are in the confines of his classroom, the standards are higher than the heavens above

so, yes

he’s decided that today is going to be the day he grabs the reins and takes control once more

today’s break will be ten minutes and ten minutes only - with no extensions!

if he has to yell at someone today for messing up a move, you bet your ass he’s going to do just that - show no mercy!

he’s mr. park!

he’s in charge!

“i’m in charge.” jimin mutters to himself as he stands outside the classroom door

he nods firmly to himself before pushing the door open

“alright, ladies! let’s get ready to do some warm up exercises…” jimin announces loudly as soon as he steps into the classroom, a couple of the girls rushing to get up from the ground (it’s nice to see that some of you are still scared of him)

he pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head when he notices that you’re continuing to gab away in the corner with lisa and the others

“uh, hello?” he clears his throat and you turn to look over your shoulder

“oh! hold up, mr. park, i’m almost done telling my story. so as i was saying-“ you turn back to the girls and jimin frowns

see?

this is exactly what he was talking about

when he used to walk into the classroom everyone would immediately get into neat rows of four

and now?

there are five girls who are lined up

five girls out of TWENTY

jimin pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he approaches you slowly, “miss y/l/n, i mean it.“ he warns, his grip tightening around his iced coffee, “finish your conversation now, please.”

he raises a brow when you flat out ignore him and he notices lisa reaching over to smack your kneecap before subtly gesturing upwards to him

he doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose but you’re really starting to push it

your shoulders drop as you let out a sigh and you turn around to look at him

“well?”

you frown and your lips twist

“yeah, whatever- just gimme one more second, okay?“ you dismiss him with a flick of your wrist anD a roll of your eyes and his jaw drops in surprise

wha-

did you just-

did you-

did you just… flick your wrist at him?

and roll your eyes?

…

who exactly do you think you are?

jimin turns on his heel to go over to the cabinets that he usually puts his bag and his jacket in

he shakes his head and chuckles darkly to himself as the image of you flicking your wrist and rolling your eyes at him plays over and over again in his mind

are you serious?

did you actually do that to him?

in front of everyone?

wow

you really grew a pair since your ‘i’m 100% attracted to park jimin and i would love to sit on his face’ days, no?

what, you think that just because he’s your boyfriend that you get to get away with stunts like that?

how dare you!

outside of the classroom, yes, he’s your boyfriend, and yes, you can flick your wrist and roll your eyes at him all you want

but inside of the classroom?

jimin’s grip tightens around the edge of the cabinet door

absolutely fucking not.

the cabinet doors slam shut with a loud bang! and a couple of girls let out yelps of surprise at the sudden noise, “everyone get in line right now!”

your neck nearly snaps off from how quickly you turn to look and your eyes widen when you suddenly see everyone scrambling to get off the ground and to get in line

seriously??

you were almost done with your story :-//

you frown to yourself before getting up off the ground (and taking your time in doing so, because your knees are a little creaky this morning)

((you chose to snack on some crackers and dip instead of stretching before class because as far as you’re concerned, snacking is way more fun than stretching))

“y/n, let’s go-!“ lisa hisses and grabs your arm before dragging you up towards the front where you guys usually stand

“oh, would you relax?” you snort as you make your way to the front before moving into first position

you turn your head to let out a quiet yawn before turning back to face the front to see jimin looking directly at you

“am i boring you this afternoon, miss y/l/n?” he crosses his arms and you shrug sloppily in response

jimin tilts his head, “can you use your words like a normal human being, please?”

you let out a sigh and resist the urge to roll your eyes at him again

he’s so uptight today!!

he was fine this morning before you left to go to class

what’s his problem??

“no, sir.” you raise a brow, “you’re not boring me. are you going to spend the rest of the class asking me questions or are we actually going to learn something today?”

in your peripheral vision you see lisa’s eyelids flutter shut and her head lower a little bit

what?

that was a genuine question!

it was supposed to be a joke???

tough crowd today lol

everyone can practically feel the tension in the air when jimin doesn’t immediately respond and instead glares at you with nothing but pure rage behind his brown eyes

“would you like to say that again, miss y/l/n?”

“oh, would you look at that? another question for me.” you chuckle lightly and look around at your peers to see if anyone else is cracking a smile

but everyone’s looking at you with wide eyes filled with what you can only make out to be complete and utter… is that fear?

even seulgi shakes her head no when the two of you lock gazes

???

what is going on today???

you turn back around and jump in surprise when you realize that jimin is now standing directly in front of you

and for the first time in a long time, you’re starting to feel a little nervous

you shift uncomfortably in your position and make an effort to stand up a little straighter

maybe you should-

“get out of my classroom.” jimin speaks lowly and your eyes widen in surprise

…

what?

“i-i’m sorry, sir?” you stammer before shaking your head, “i don’t unders-“

“get the hell out of my classroom, miss y/l/n!” he snaps before taking a step back and tilting his head at you, “and take those goddamn leg warmers off. do you think anyone at the academy is going to take you seriously if you show up to an audition with bright blue, fuzzy leg warmers with sheep all over them?”

oh god

okay

he’s not kidding

this isn’t funny anymore

“n-no sir, of course not-!” you shake your head quickly before bending down to yank your leg warmers off, “i-i’m not- i would never show up to an audition wearing these-”

you stumble over a little as you struggle to pull them off and lisa quickly reaches out to help you stay balanced

“can’t even keep yourself up on one foot without falling over, huh?” jimin scoffs before crossing his arms, “what, did you just sit on your ass for the entirety of quarantine?”

“of course not, mr. park.” you swallow thickly and shake your head again as you get back up onto your feet, tossing the leg warmers to the side, “i’m so sorry, sir.”

and just when you think you’re in the clear-

“don’t be sorry, just be ready.” jimin snaps and you feel your entire face flush bright red, “now get out. miss kang, can you move up to the front please?”

you’re not even bothered by the fact that you’ve just been replaced by seulgi

you’re more bothered by the fact that he just used his phrase on you

don’t be sorry

just be ready

don’t be sorry, just be ready

that’s his phrase and he’s never once used it on you in the entire time that he’s taught you

he only uses that phrase when someone messes up really bad

and one thing you can say for sure is you very rarely mess up in class

he only uses that phrase when he’s angry!!!

“by the way, let this be an example to the rest of you, hm?” jimin paces up and down the front of the classroom slowly, everyone standing up as straight as pins as they look ahead, “every single one of you has been slacking immensely as of late and i won’t have it. the next person who shows up to my class wearing sweatpants and a dirty hoodie - well, i’m sure you’ll be comfortable out in the hallway. or maybe you’ll be comfortable not coming back to my class ever again.”

you lean over a little to peek over at jimin but quickly get back in line when he turns around

“miss y/l/n, i think i asked you to leave, did i not? i’m not going to ask you again.”

you jump when you feel seulgi tap on your shoulder from behind and she smirks at you in the mirror

“y-yes, mr. park.” your voice gives out halfway through and you turn on your heel to manoeuvre your way through the other girls to get to the door

“now that that’s been taken care of, this is what we’re going to do today…”

you shut the door behind you quietly

to say the least, that was…

humiliating!

sure, jimin’s always been a little (very) strict, but that was just plain mean

he yelled at you AND he kicked you out!

and you don’t think he’s ever been so harsh with any of the other girls before

you’ve seen him yell at the other girls but this felt more like a personal attack instead of criticism on dancing like it usually is

and you always thought he liked your leg-warmers

:-(

…

uh-oh

it doesn’t take very long for your nose to prickle and your eyes to start welling up with tears

you sit down on the bench and your chin starts to tremble as you think about what just happened

oh no

and now you’re going to cry?!

oh god

okay

no!

you can’t cry right now!

what if he comes out??

and sees you crying??

you cannOT cry in front of mr. park right now

the last time you cried in front of him was when you twisted your ankle but at least you had an excuse to cry because you were in physical pAIN

emotional pain is not the same as physical pain and therefore cannot be used as a legitimate excuse to start blubbering

you are not a cry-baby!!

your nose scrunches as you try your best not to let out a whimper and you blink quickly in an effort to make the tears go away but one single tear ends up rolling down your cheek

you reach up to swipe the back of your hand against your chin before putting your arms back down

what are you supposed to do now?

you sniffle before leaning your head against the wall and crossing your arms

whatever

if you have to stay out here for the rest of class, you’re just going to take a nap and try noT to think about mean mr. park

♡

“y/n… you feel someone shaking you gently and you shoot up from where you’re leaning against the wall

“wh- what-“ your voice is a little raspy from your sad-nap, “i wasn’t asleep-!”

you relax a little when you see that it’s just lisa

you take a quick glance around to see that everyone’s packing their bags, so it’s safe to assume that class is done for the day

“mr. park wants to talk to you.” lisa whispers and glances back towards the classroom door, “by the way- you were a real idiot in there, you know that?”

“oh, god.” you reach up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “i know, i know! i don’t- i mean, i didn’t think he was going to kick me out-“

“hey, y/n! smooth move today-“ you’re cut off when suddenly seulgi pops up behind lisa and you can’t help but frown at how pleased she looks with these conditions, “thanks for handing your status as favourite student over to me on a silver platter!”

“can it, seulgi.” lisa scowls before shoving her gently

“the view was super great from the front.” she whistles, “mr. park is a lot hotter up close.”

you’ve never considered yourself to be a violent person, but…

you would give an arm and a leg just to strangle seulgi for a good five minutes <3

lisa rolls her eyes and turns back to look at you, “good luck in there though, for real. you… you were real ballsy today.”

yikes

it takes you approximately one minute to muster up the courage to knock on the classroom door

you press your lips together tightly as your fist hovers over the surface of the door

just knock!

it’s not hard

just move your hand

you squeeze your eyes shut before tapping your knuckles against the door in three short beats

“come in.”

you swallow your nerves before pushing the handle down and opening the door slowly with a creak

okay

it’s fine!

you’re fine

class is over, which means mean mr. park is gone and nice boyfriend jimin is here, right?

…right??

you cautiously poke your head into the room

jimin’s busy packing up as well but his back is facing you which makes you feel a little better because if you’d opened the door and he was standing there staring directly at you, you probably would’ve immediately burst into tears

your poor sheep leg warmers are crumpled pathetically in the same spot where you tossed them

maybe you should just grab your leg warmers and run for the hills

“you… wanted to… see me?” you clear your throat and freeze when jimin turns his head to look over his shoulder

“yes, i did. shut the door and come here.”

okay, well

there goes your chance to run for the hills

you’re basically traPPEd in here now

you hesitantly shut the door behind you and you feel your heart starting to beat a little harder in your chest as you make your way over to the middle of the room

you keep your gaze downwards as jimin stands in front of you and you clasp your hands in front of you, twiddling your thumbs nervously

a moment of silence ticks by and you want nothing more than for the ground to cave and just swallow you up entirely

“you know why i had to do that, right?”

“because we’re… da…ting?” you offer weekly before lifting your head up to look at him

jimin scoffs before shaking his head, “no. you blatantly disrespected me in front of your peers, that’s why i kicked you out. your attitude today was completely unacceptable. completely.”

oop

okay

it appears that your theory about mean mr. park disappearing as soon as class ended was incorrect

to be fair… he is right

you have to admit that maybe you let the fact that you guys are dating cloud your judgement a little

obviously he’s not going to show you special treatment in class just because of that

you feel your insides twist when the realization sinks in that you were… kind of an asshole today

and you pride yourself on being a good student!

you immediately drop your head once more as your cheeks flush in shame, “yes, mr. park. i’m… i’m sorry for my poor behaviour today, sir. i disrespected you in your classroom and it won’t happen again.”

“it better not.” jimin nods, “apology accepted, miss y/l/n.”

you chew on the inside of your cheek anxiously

you’re not… too sure what you’re supposed to say now

you hear jimin let out a sigh before he speaks up again, “i’m… your boyfriend, which i know makes things a little confusing, but… you can’t act like that when we’re in class, y/n.” he hooks a finger under your chin before tilting your head up, “just because we’re dating doesn’t give you an excuse to act like a prick, baby.”

“i know. i’m sorry.” you respond meekly and nod in understanding

jimin’s eyes soften when he notices you starting to get teary-eyed

!!!!

now he’s starting to feel bad!!!

he’ll admit that maybe he was a little harsher than usual and it was probably a little more than embarrassing being called out like that in front of your peers, but he had to what he had to do!

you flicked your wrist at him!

and rolled your eyes!

double whammy!

“y/n…”

“i thought you liked my leg warmers.” you whimper quietly and jimin snorts in response

that’s what you’re getting upset about??

your leg warmers??

“why are you- why are you laughing??” you whine when he begins to giggle softly and you reach up to wipe at your falling tears (though now you can’t tell if they’re tears of sadness anymore because the sound of jimin’s giggling never fails to put you in a better mood), “you were the ones who chose these dumb sheep ones for me to wear today so h-how am i supposed to feel when you-“

“oh my god, you moron-” jimin immediately tugs you in for a hug and props his chin up on the top of your head, “i do like your leg warmers! they’re really cute!”

“that’s not how it seemed-” you sniffle as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around him

“it was the only way i knew to show you that i was being serious!”

“you know how i feel about my leg warmers-!” you pull away with a pout and jimin quickly leans down to plant his lips against yours (mainly to shut you up about your leg warmers, but also to make u feel a little better)

he gives you a couple of sweet pecks before reaching up to cup your cheeks in his hands, “will pizza for dinner tonight make you forgive me for insulting your precious leg warmers, silly girl?” jimin hums as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs before leaning down to nudge his nose against yours affectionately

“…throw in some dessert and i’ll think about it.”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

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stusbunker · 4 years

Text

A Gentlemen’s Agreement Epilogue

A Supernatural Denny AU Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny Lafitte

Other characters: Pamela, Jesse, Caesar, Crowley, Balthazar, Meg, Jo, Lee, Lisa, Sam (mentioned), Drea OFC, Robbie and SJ OMCs, Deanna OFC

Word count: 2340

A/N: Enjoy! xoxo Stu

Brunch

The sun was bright, but the air was crisp. The remnants of the early snowstorm had left soggy lawns and damp sidewalks. Benny pulled up to the restaurant and parked on the curb, smiling over at Dean. He waited patiently.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Dean squinted in the midday light.

“Been dying to meet ya. Figured it’s only fair, I met your folks, you can meet my people too,” Benny said simply. “But I’m not gonna force ya.”

“I just, I’m not used to being out in public. In numbers,” Dean sputtered.

Benny raised a single eyebrow at him. “Well, I guess this is your best shot to try it out, dontcha think?”

“What if they don’t like me? I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your friends,” Dean explained the root of the problem.

“I like you, they will too. Just relax, be your charming self and if you don’t know what to say, you can just keep eating.” Benny put his hand on Dean’s thigh, squeezing just so.

Dean growled out a sigh. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

Like that could make an uncomfortable situation worth it. Benny smirked at Dean’s logic, waiting for his face to soften from grouchy to amiable. Once Dean relaxed, Benny kissed him, just long enough to keep him flustered and climbed out of the truck.

They approached a large round table midway along the heated patio, where four people were already seated.

A raven haired woman waved them over. “My good Benjamin, did you bring a straight boy to brunch, just for me?!”

“Pammy!” Benny leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Hate to disappoint ya darlin', but ain't nothing straight about this'n."

“Hey, now! Can’t a guy speak for himself?!” Dean snipped defensively as he sat in the spot beside Benny.

Everyone laughed. Pamela raised her eyebrow in question.

Dean licked his lips and put on the smolder, “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m taken.”

“Wait, this--- THIS is your sassy mechanic?!” Crowley leaned forward, extending his hand, his English brogue gruff and pandering. “Nice to finally meet you, handsome.”

Dean gave Benny the side eye and all Benny could do was shrug coyly. Dean shook the man’s hand, trying not to show his discomfort from his lingering glances. Benny made the rest of the introductions, Jesse and Cesar were also a couple, but had been married for a few years. They seemed to be waiting on someone before they ordered. The group sipped their cocktails with a fresh pitcher of Bloody Mary in the center of the kitsch tablecloth.

Benny poured Dean a generous portion of the red drink and slipped seamlessly into the conversation. Dean sucked the palmeto out of an olive and listened casually, not too sure where he fit in this part of Benny’s life.

Twenty minutes later a rail of a guy swaggered in, with oversized aviators and a black linen suit.

“Oh, thank Christ for booze,” he huffed, grabbing Dean’s glass without even acknowledging Dean was there. The blonde chugged the entire drink, before breaking for air. “I just had the worst hook up of my life, no, well, the year at least. He took me to his mother’s house. She tried to make me breakfast. I was simply mortified. I just left. What could I even do at that point, honestly?!”

Now that his audience had his attention back, the man gawked at Dean. He even pulled down his sunglasses for a better look. “Now who the fuck is this? Is it show and tell?! Because I am not prepared in the least.”

He casually patted at his hair and eyed Dean from top to toe. Benny chuckled, but Pamela was the one to make the introduction.

“Balthazar, our regular hangover diva. Meet Dean, Benny’s boy toy,” she deadpanned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh you can’t be serious,” Balthazar lamented, looking from Pam to Benny to Crowley and finally at Dean. “Fuck you southerners and your goddamn accents--- always gets the hotter ones,” he muttered defensively as he threw himself against the armrest of the chair, crossing his legs.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Cesar ended the dramatics concisely. “Maybe somebody should find our waitress?”

Dean looked at Benny confused. “We’re always here for a while, she doesn’t bother us until we’re actually ready to order. Tend to annoy her otherwise.”

Crowley volunteered as he needed to head to the men’s room anyhow. Five minutes later he arrived with an obviously surly waitress.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Meg’s smokey voice broke through Balthazar's latest story. She centered herself between Cesar and Crowley’s seat and cocked her hip, tongue firmly in cheek as she waited for Dean to take her bait.

“Heya, Meg,” Dean sighed. The inevitable caught up with him after all, they just had to run into someone he knew.

“Oh, this has got to be good, now, pray tell, how do you two know each other?” Crowley probed.

“Oh me and this schmuck? We go way back.” Meg smiled without teeth.

“Is that so?” Benny tested the waters.

“Not like that,” Dean grumbled. “Meg, here, took my little brother Sammy out for a few spins, back in the day. Didn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? It was high school.” Meg let her indifference coat her entire being until curiosity sparked to life in her eyes. “So what are you doing with this crowd, or did they bring you in just to add a new level of torture to my Sunday shifts?”

“Well---.” Dean swallowed, looked at Benny for clarification and got mild amusement instead. “I think you’re stuck with me now.”

“Joy,” Meg bristled before taking their orders, knowing most of the table’s usuals before they even opened their mouths.

News

Benny rushed into the customer entrance of the shop, the wet October air had kept the service doors closed for the past week. He leaned against the counter, decorated in local business cards and charity fliers, anxiously waiting for someone to talk to. His chest was so tight he worried he’d pass out from excitement. He just needed to see him was all, once he saw Dean it would be easier.

Lee sauntered in from the service bay, they both had drawn the short straw it seemed.

“Hey, mind getting Dean for me? It’s important,” Benny asked, unable to keep the burning smile from his face.

Lee eyed him curiously but nodded and headed back the way he came. He didn’t shout, not really. “Dean-o, your boyfriend’s looking for ya.”

Dean unfurled himself from the engine he had been tinkering with all morning and glared at Lee.

“Husband, whatever, seems urgent,” Lee acquiesced. Dean nodded and wiped his hands off on the closest rag. Dean pulled his wedding band out from his undershirt out of habit more than anything. He couldn’t wear it on his hands at work, but he didn’t want to lose it so Benny made him a braided leather necklace once they got back from their honeymoon.

Dean ignored formality and walked straight into the waiting room. Once he saw the look on Benny’s face he knew what was happening.

“It’s go time?” He asked, shock and exhilaration sparking his instinct to move.

“It’s go time, cher. Lisa called me on the way to the hospital. Sam’s driving her from the office. Her water broke about 9:30,” Benny explained, the nervousness slipping into his cadence.

“Alright, I’m gonna clean up, you want me to drive?” Dean asked, gauging the unsteadiness in his usually stalwart husband.

“That’s probably best, yeah,” Benny agreed.

Dean leaned in and kissed him firmly, resting his forehead against Benny’s temple before pulling away.“Hey, we got this, alright? That kid is gonna be so spoiled having you for a daddy, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking, gonna have you wrapped around their finger before they can even crawl,” Benny teased back, inhaling with contentment.

Dean headed back to warn his coworkers that he had a baby on the way and to clean up enough to be allowed into a hospital. Jo followed Dean out into the lobby. Quickly, she hugged Benny before demanding regular updates to the group chat.

“Alright, get out of here, we’ve got you covered for the rest of the week. Let me know and I will put in paternity leave as soon as everyone’s home, okay?” Jo got all professional about things as Dean left.

“Oh, right, shit. Well, I guess I’ll let you know when you can come over and---,” Dean started before Benny pulled him by his elbow.

“We should be goin’” Benny urged. Dean looked at Jo one last time and nodded.

This was it.

Dean held Benny’s hand the whole way to the hospital, their grip tightening every so often, grounding them both. Because Lisa was a friend and the surrogacy was looser than most circumstances, both Benny and Dean were allowed in the delivery room. They were the best cheerleaders a birth mom could have ever asked for. Seven hours later, one chubby baby girl entered the world screaming to high heaven and splitting her fathers’ hearts open for an entirely new level of love and devotion.

Mary Andrea Lafitte-Winchester, or Drea for short, was a happy and healthy little girl. And an overprotective big sister to her twin brothers, Samuel Joel and Robert Fergus, who came along four years later.

Sunset

They’re old men now. Dean is five years retired, while Benny works the register for their sons on the weekends. Both of their hands aren’t what they used to be. But they keep busy. Drea is bringing the kids round tomorrow, it’s the start of summer break and Dean’s been dying to teach her kids to fish.

Dean went grey after he turned fifty, but it hasn’t changed since, in color at least. Benny’s beard is as white as Santa Claus and he hides what little hair he has left under a cap. They’re both a little rounder, a little lower to the ground, but they got that way together and neither of them notice it on one another anyhow.

Every year they visit Jesse and Cesar in Arizona for New Year's. Though they fly more than make the drive these days.

They still take turns cooking the meals and the movie nights from their early days resurfaced into movie afternoons when their kids moved out. Dean can’t hear for shit anymore and, naturally, Benny makes fun of him for it. But Dean’ll put in his hearing aids if company is over.

It’s early evening in the beginning of June and the bugs are orchestrating quite the soundtrack to their time on the porch. Dean pours his whiskey. Benny’s already sipping his sweet tea, his medications don’t let him drink much anymore. Jo’ll come by on Sunday, along with SJ and his wife and Robbie. Sam and Jess usually make it to every other dinner or so.

“Hey there, handsome. Mind if I join you?” Dean teases, once a flirt always a flirt.

“Not at all, cher. It’s a helluva view,” Benny glances at his husband, watches Dean take in the peaches and pinks kissing the slopes of the fields. They sit like that for an hour, until the dark is too thick to see through. Groaning and creaking they stand in turn. Dean keeps his hand on the small of Benny’s back as they head inside for the night, steadying them both.

They moved their bedroom to the ground floor after Dean’s heart attack, a lot less worry about making it upstairs that way. After being married forty years, Dean still makes jokes about it being Benny’s place. But it’s always been his home. He kisses Benny goodnight, makes it a little saucy because he can. He’s the first to close his eyes.

In the morning Benny makes waffles and tofu bacon. Dean pretends he can’t taste the difference, fooling no one. They make out while the sink fills for the dishes, too few to run the machine. Benny gets handsy first and Dean tries to squirm into the upperhand. They’re interrupted by a car pulling in the drive.

“Busted,” Benny whispers.

“You’re the one who wanted kids,” Dean grumbles against Benny’s neck, an old, unfounded retort.

“Yeah, but the grandkids---,” Benny starts.

“Were made to be spoiled,” Dean finishes and kisses Benny once more. Drea’s yelling at her kids to slow down before her dads even make it outside to greet them. Her eyes, blue as her daddy’s are tired. They don’t envy her the school aged years. Dean bends down as baby Deanna, who’s nearly four, comes crashing into his arms. He pulls her up and holds her tight, reminds him of her mama and he can’t help but get a little weepy over the passing years.

“It’s so good to see you, baby girl.” Benny pulls his daughter into a hug before helping with their bags. The older kids don’t come inside until it’s time to eat, climbing through the barn and splashing in the creek until they’re soaked. But Deanna sticks with her Grandpa on a simple stroll, while Pappy and Mama catch up.

Dean still has the jacket he bought from Benny, though the pants are long gone. He’ll leave it to Robbie when the time comes, when his son finds himself a stud that’s worth settling down for. If that’s what he chooses.

For now, Dean lets his granddaughter pick up every rock and stick she finds and examines it to the nth degree. He explains what he can about each one. She’s very curious. He even lets her wipe her chubby little hands on his pants’ leg when she needs to. They get back to the house just in time to start dinner, but before they go inside Dean takes a mental picture of his husband on the porch, their daughter beside him and his granddaughter running past him.

It is a helluva view after all.

Tell me what you think?

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Tagging: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @fookinghelljensensthighs @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @wingedcatninja @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @crashdevlin @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary @itmighthavebeenintentional @thoughtslikeaminefield @there-must-be-a-lock @tatted-trina6 @lyarr24

#supernatural #supernatural au #spn fanfic #spn au #dean/benny #dean winchester x benny lafitte #bi!dean #aga: epilogue #A Gentlemen's Agreement #childbirth #meeting the friends #found family #aging #mortality #love of a lifetime #grandpa and pappy #health issues #Joel is for Jo and Ellen

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deans-baby-momma · 4 years

Text

Truth or Dare-Part 8/20

Summary: The Winchester sibling trio has been through so much in the last decade. From the night of their parents’ 30th wedding anniversary party where Sam and Dean eased Y/N from her innocence to Sam becoming a happily married lawyer with a kickass nurse of wife to the three of them now living in the same town they grew up in under the same roof where each of them came of age. Y/N is a working mother of three, her days spent helping the townsfolk make proper and suitable financial decisions while bustling about escorting her two oldest to school and her youngest, Mary Ellen, to daycare; Dean’s garage is the premiere body shop for classic restorations and car maintenance; people from other state’s bring their vehicles to them to be repaired. Business at Winchester Wheels is booming; Sam is the legal council for Winchester Wheels and has been since he moved back home almost 5 years ago. He has his work cut out for him dealing with the people Dean pisses off and threatens to sue the garage on at least a monthly basis.

After one lust-filled night, the siblings become more than family. They become lovers. The three of them, together and separately.

One big loving family.

So when Y/N’s boss calls for her to take a much needed vacation, the six of them hit the road. What will happen? Will it bring them closer together or break them apart?

W/C: 1556

Warnings: talk of body changes, SMUT, fluff, Sammy being “saucy”

I would be lying to say the idea of being Dean's one and only, to know that he was bound to me, isn't enticing and exhilarating.

Although, even now we are already practically a married couple. We basically live together; he hardly ever goes to his apartment and never sleeps there. He is in my bed, snuggled up to me each and every night. We raise our children together, making sure all their needs are met. We have sex. Sure sometimes Sam is involved but there are times when Dean and I get some one-on-one time. And let me tell you, as passionate as it is with both of my brothers, when it is just Dean and I, it's more sensual, more intimate.

So, yea I let jealousy get its claws in me tonight and that monster made me believe that I wasn't enough for Dean. I'm such an idiot.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, looking down at my lap. "I got jealous."

I look up at my lover through my lashes and see the smirk on his face. Cocky bastard!

"Don't be so smug asshole," I tell him but the sides of my lips lift. "It hurt. I thought you were tired of me or that I wasn't enough."

"You will always be enough for me and I will never, ever tire of you," he tells me as he slides off the bed to the floor and walks on his knees to me. "Lisa was exactly what you called her, a whore. Hell, her pussy has probably been fucked by so many dicks, it'd feel like a hot dog in a hallway."

I couldn't help but laugh at his analogy. Dean Winchester sure had a way with words sometimes.

"You're probably right. What about mine?" I ask, feeling those desires creeping back up my body. "I'm sure I'm not as tight as I used to be. I have pushed three humans out of it."

Dean smiles up at me and lifts his hand, pushing my hair behind my ear.

"Baby girl, your pussy feels exquisite. Squeezes my dick just right. They, uh, they shrink back after you give birth. Not right away, but eventually."

"What?" I laugh. "How the hell do you know that?"

Dean blushes and clears his throat. "I might have done some research when you were pregnant with Isabella. I wanted to know what I should expect."

"So I'm still tight?"

"Well not as tight as before you gave birth, but baby you fit my cock like a glove. Sammy too. Hey, we talk!" he defends at my raised eyebrow. "We don't always just talk shop at work. I know about what happened when you tried…."

"Okay. Okay," I cut him off, feeling embarrassed about the time Sam and I 69'ed the first time. I actually tried to deep-throat Sam and actually ended up puking on him instead. The man's dick was lengthy!

"Y/N?" Dean says as he looks into my eyes. "Can I please make love to you now?"

I nod and breathe out, "Yes. Please."

Dean puts his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me down, capturing my mouth. He immediately requests access that I grant it by parting my lips for his tongue to snake through.

I can already feel my clit tingling as I squirm on the chair, trying to find some friction. Putting his hands on my hips he stills my fidgeting; his tongue battling against mine.

He pulls me from the chair and I land on his thighs as he sits back on his heels.

“Can’t wait to get inside you,” he whispers against my lips.

“Can’t wait to cum on your dick,” I reply.

Dean pulls my legs to wrap around his waist and somehow manages to stand up from the floor with my body wrapped around his. I squeak and curl my arms around his neck as I deepen the kiss.

He lays me gently back on the bed, never breaking the connection as he lays right beside me, his hand running up and down my body, squeezing periodically.

We slowly work at undressing one another and when we are both bare, he takes no time in taking his spot between my thighs.

“I love everything about you Y/N,” he tells me, looking into my eyes. “I love your voice, your laugh, the way you walk, the way you talk. I love watching the way you take care of my children, the way you take care of me and Sammy. I couldn’t imagine anyone else I’d want to do any of that with.

“You have had my heart since I was 16 years old and realized how I felt about my little sister. It might be wrong but it felt so right. Now,” he continues after bending down and pecking a kiss on my lips. “I’m going to enjoy fucking you into this mattress because I really love doing that.”

“Go for it,” I respond and promptly turn my head to the side, burying my face in the pillow and screaming as Dean slams into me. He is fully sheathed and throbbing inside my pussy and it feels so good. So good!

“Move! Move! Dammit Dean, MOVE!”

Dean obeys and begins a hard and fast pace, pumping into me over and over. His grunts are just as loud as my moans and whines.

“Fuck! Baby girl, this pussy will be the death of me. Goddamn, it’s so tight; squeezing my dick so good. Oh, you’re close aren’t you? You gonna cum on my dick? Yea you are. Come on. Cum all over my cock. Let me feel you. Let go.”

A sharp thrust causes the tip of his dick to hit that one good spot inside and I see stars! I cum so hard that I think I forget how to breathe, how to do anything, as my climax rushes through my body and releases around him.

“Fuck, Y/N. You squirted all over me,” Dean says in awe. Once I get my bearings back, I become aware of just how wet it is down there. The squelching sound as he keeps thrusting into me is heard throughout the room, along with the slapping of wet skin.

Dean’s pace begins to falter and I know he is close to his own orgasm. “Fill me up Dean. Put all that cum in my pussy. I want to feel it leaking out of me for days. Come on, cum inside me, all over me, wherever you want. Mark me as yours!”

Dean growls. He growls like a bear right before he wraps his arms around my back, causing me to arch. His hips are going at a maniacal speed as he grunts and pants in my ear.

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, as he pushes in as far as he can, his whole dick inside my cavern as he throbs and spurts and spews; his cum splashing against my walls and filling me to the brim.

We lay on the bed, still joined for what seems like hours. Dean’s dick softens inside of me but he doesn’t move. His body on top of mine keeps me grounded and I lay there and think about what happened tonight.

Dean and I had our first official date as a couple, he took me to a nice buffet and then at the bar he tried to impress me by breaking the record on a mechanical bull. I got jealous and went off on some bitch who was trying to flirt with him, to us coming back and him professing his undying, unyielding love for me and telling me he wished I could be his wife!

I get pulled from my reminiscing as Dean pulls out of me with a squelch. I immediately feel his cum running out of me and down my ass to the sheets. Dean looks down and smiles.

“I love seeing you pour my cum,” he says then hops up and goes to the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth. He cleans me up and then wipes himself off before throwing the rag back into the bathroom.

We climb into bed together and he pulls me close; my head on his chest and his arm wrapped around me. Our hands join on his abdomen and we just lay there, cuddled together.

“I’ll try not to get jealous again,” I whisper and kiss his skin.

“I like it when you’re jealous,” he says. I raise my head and look at him, confused. “Shows that you do care, you do love me. And it leads to some ah-mazing sex!”

We laugh and I return to laying on his chest. “I have to agree there.”

When we do finally doze off, we are closer than ever before.

There is a knock on the door between the two rooms way too early for my liking, but I can tell by the impatient rapping it is RJ, ready and raring to go.

Dean and I get dressed before opening the door and rejoining our family. Sam gives us both knowing grins, which I later find out is because he heard us fucking and actually jacked off to the sounds.

Thankfully the kids all slept through it all. That would be a terrible way to start a vacation!

A/N: Lil fun fact for you. The analogy Dean uses for Lisa is something my brother-in-law said once and it kinda just stuck with me. He was an idiot. R.I.P.

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @death-unbecomes-you @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @onethirstyunicorn @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278

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belphegor1982 · 3 years

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not sure if you're doing the prompt list, but parenthood (6) with leonard snart and janet? 👉👈 i'm in love with your characterizations of len and his wife 💕

It took me two weeks, but there it is :D

Parenthood (DCAU)

When she’d been a kid, Janet had – very naturally – assumed that her adult life would match her parents’, or their neighbours: a house, a husband, a dog, a white picket fence, not necessarily in that order. And kids. Like an afterthought, something not really important so much as vaguely necessary.

She hadn’t thought about it until a couple of years or so into her and Len’s marriage. They’d had somewhat rocky beginnings: she’d been fierce, he’d been grumpy, and they’d both been so damn young they hadn’t seen how ridiculous they were, dancing around each other like they weren’t sure they were allowed this… that. ‘Relationship’ was too big a word. Whatever they had, though, they had kept, because it was good and it was theirs. One day it had hit Janet that Len basically only went back to his crappy little apartment to shower; one night they’d been in bed, sweaty and tired and stupid happy, and as Janet reached for the book on her bedside table afterwards while Len scribbled on his ‘heist ideas’ notebook like he’d been struck with sudden inspiration, she had realised in a rush that she wanted the rest of her life to be like this.

“Wanna get married, one of these days?” she’d asked, almost not nervous at all.

Len had stared at her long enough to make her start to regret asking. Then he’d given a small smile, the very rare sort that showed in his eyes.

“Sure,” he’d said, and that was that.

They’d gotten married six months later. Janet wore blue. Her parents showed up, despite the disapproval hanging thick in the air – her father convinced that she could ‘do a lot better than a thug’, her mother ice-cold at the thought of her daughter marrying ‘some two-bit crook’. Len had only invited his sister, a stunning young blonde who’d been friendly to Janet but still appeared put-out that the invitation didn’t extend to her boyfriend.

“He’s a jerk,” Len had said later, making Janet laugh.

“You’re a jerk, Len.”

“Not the same kind. He’s stuck-up. Lisa’s too good for him anyway.”

“Yeah, well. That’s not up to you to decide, is it? It’s your sister’s choice.”

“I know, I just… She deserves better. Better than she got as a kid.”

Janet had looked at him, long and careful, suddenly a little tense.

“Do you think she’s… not safe? With him?”

Len had blinked, then shaken his head.

“Nah, nothin’ like that. You can tell Dillon’s actually good to her. Nothing like…” He had trailed off, something hard and cold and sudden in his eyes like someone had slammed closed a pair of shutters. That had only lasted for ten seconds before he’d shrugged. “I just wish he wasn’t such a dick, that’s all.”

Then he’d abruptly changed the subject, and Janet had followed, because she knew precarious ground when she saw it.

* * * *

Living with someone in the intimate way meant noticing a lot of things about them, more or less willingly.

Len had cottoned on pretty early to her tendency to snap when she was tired or angry, and of holding nothing back then. She also caught him looking at the crisscross pattern of scar tissue on her knuckles from when she’d punched a wall, repeatedly, after the girl who’d been her best friend in school was battered to death by her boyfriend. “I only slapped her around a bit,” the bastard had said, and ten years later Janet still wished that she’d had the guts to punch him instead. She’d finally told Len about it one day, and seen his face go stone and his eyes ice. His cold fury had been comforting.

It went both ways. She noticed things about her husband, too. Like some odd scars she had a feeling he hadn’t picked up in juvie, the trace of a cigarette burn in the hollow of his right shoulder, or the mark – still chillingly precise even years later – of a belt buckle in the small of his back. She wondered whether Lisa had similar scars. Not that she’d ask. She and her sister-in-law didn’t have that kind of relationship.

Janet had a past. Len had a past. That was what being human meant. Sometimes that felt more like dragging a corpse through the dust wherever you went than a happy set of picture-perfect memories, but it was part of the whole package.

The major reason Janet didn’t entertain the idea of kids for longer than a passing thought was because she didn’t want any – for the moment, she told herself, even as she kept forgetting to really think about it. She’s grown up with the distinct impression that she hadn’t been wanted, or had come at an inconvenient time to her parents. The last thing she wanted was to make a kid feel like that.

The lesser reason was everything Len wasn’t saying. He wasn’t crazy about opening up about things either important or trivial, though he did anyway because they both liked to get their point across clearly. But she’d never, ever heard him say anything at all about his life before he’d struck out on his own, a couple of years short of eighteen years old. His sister Lisa was six years younger, and that was all Janet knew. Family, parents, home life – Len didn’t let anything slip. This, combined with the scars and a few odd reactions, carefully hidden under a lot of attitude, told her more than he appeared willing to share.

One day, when he’d been nicely mellowed out by a good score and a shared bottle of the good stuff to celebrate, she had asked him, “Do you ever think about having kids?”

The split-second look he’d given her still haunted her to this day. She had seen him angry, she had seen him silent, cheerful and surly and balking at house chores, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that he could ever be afraid.

“No,” he’d answered curtly. “Why?”

“Just wondering. Kevin from logistics just had his third the other day. Kept asking me when I’d finally get started on my own.”

“Kevin from logistics needs to mind his own damn business.”

“That’s what I told him,” said Janet, and Len smirked. “Anyway, he got me thinking. Turns out I don’t think I want kids. You know, at all.”

The relief on his face was as fleeting as the fear, but just as stark.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like what we have.” A pause. “You’ve really never thought about having kids one day?”

“Sure I did, once – for about five seconds. Weirdest five seconds of my life.”

She’d given him a look, half amused, half a smile. Relax, Len. You’re not getting interrogated.

“That bad?”

“Look, I don’t… Kids are weird, all right? Adults I can deal with. Besides, all I know is how not to be a father. No way I’m risking—no way.”

That was as close as he ever came to telling her why she’d never even heard Snart Sr.’s first name. But it was enough. They closed the subject and moved on to other things.

* * * *

And then it turned out that Metropolis and Gotham were not the only cities that could boast an actual superhero, because Central City quickly became aware of a lean, young-looking man in a red costume who called himself the Flash and went after burglars and thieves with superhuman speed. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he added an element of danger to her husband’s chosen profession, and Janet took an instant dislike to him and his big smug smile. Then she dismissed him from her mind quickly enough.

Len, though, was a very different story.

While he didn’t like the Flash any more than Janet did, the guy’s addition to the tried-and-true equation of cops and robbers added an edge that hadn’t been present before. Having an actual superhero in town made all of Len’s old research on absolute zero – and tinkering in the basement – not only relevant but useful. He designed a ‘cold gun’ from plans he’d stolen years ago, looking more excited than Janet had seen him in the last eight years, and worked hard to ‘up his game’.

Privately, Janet thought that, for a man who claimed to be as serious about his trade as Len did, creating a brand-new persona complete with parka, visor, and goofy moniker was hilarious.

Not that she ever actually laughed at him. Especially not the one time Len came back from a heist with an armful of cash and a weird look on his face.

“He’s a kid, Jan,” he said when Janet had asked him what could be wrong when he’d clearly got away with the loot unscathed. “He’s a goddamn kid. I don’t think he’s even old enough to drink.”

“What the hell is he playing at, then?” she exclaimed. “This job is not kid’s stuff! What was he thinking, that he could waltz in and play Superman, just like that?”

“I don’t know.” Len took off his visor and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then his eyes hardened. “And I don’t care. I like my job. If this guy thinks he can stop me, then he’d better be prepared to try harder.”

“I got him good today, though,” he said hours later, in the small hours of the night, after Janet’s hands had searched for his, cool and calloused, under the covers.

Something tensed inside in the region of her stomach.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, looking annoyed that she’d even ask. Janet’s guts relaxed. “I’m a crook, not a murderer. Besides, you know the second someone offs that guy, Superman or another big hero is gonna show up and turn the city inside out in revenge. It’d be like when a cop gets killed. They close ranks and start shooting indiscriminately.”

“So when you say you ‘got him good’ –”

“I just sent him packin’. Didn’t rough him up more than I would a cop. The kid’s got a mean right hook but he has no idea how real cold works, speed or no speed.”

Janet closed her eyes again and murmured, “Maybe he’ll quit, then.”

“Maybe.” Even half-asleep, she could tell that this ‘maybe’ meant ‘fat chance’.

“So… on the off-chance that today didn’t put him off, what are you gonna do?”

“I was thinking I might hit Drake & Hall Savings on Infantino Street next month.”

“I meant about the Flash.”

Len’s voice was low but certain when he said, “Me too. I’ll just keep doing my job, and if this joker is as serious as he claims to be, he’ll keep trying to stop me. But I’m not gonna drop everything just because of a kid in a onesie and a mask. I’ll just have to find ways to slow him down.”

The last thought that coalesced in Janet’s mind just before she nodded off was Did my husband just become a supervillain?

She fell asleep before the laugh passed her lips.

* * * *

While ‘supervillain’ might have been stretching things – not to mention the word made Janet choke up on laughter – Len’s new approach to the job was certainly different from the one he’d had before the Flash came along. He still refused the label, though, arguing that supervillains had powers, costumes, and delusions of grandeur, while he just had a cold gun, a parka, and banks to rob.

“Okay,” said Janet when she was in a ribbing mood, “what’s the Joker’s power, then?”

This usually earned her a deadpan look.

At least Len didn’t remain the only crook with a gimmick and an eccentric costume for long. Soon her husband had colleagues, fellow not-supervillains, some of whom not only willing to work together but also seemed to actually appreciate it. Their ‘powers’ were not innate, nor did they get them in freaky accidents; like Len, they either stole tech or were savvy enough to design it. And they all rejected the label of ‘supervillain’.

They were ‘rogues’. Or rather, Rogues. And Len – who knows why – took the place of the de facto leader.

Of her husband’s coworkers, Janet got on with Mick Rory the best. She liked his even temper, his slight smile, and the fact that he generally found it easy to keep a level head. Digger Harkness was his exact opposite, and her whole life she could never quite shake off the urge to slap him whenever he opened his mouth. The others were scattered along the scale between those two extremes: some were never quite sure what to do with her (or she with them – apart from making sure the old couch in the basement could be slept on and keeping an eye on their quickly-dwindling stock of coffee and beer packs), while others were more accommodating about having to spend time with ‘Len’s missus’.

One day Janet caught James pilfering one of the cookies she’d baked herself for the next night she’d have to spend alone. He looked so terrified at being caught red-handed that she refrained from rolling her eyes and told him to help himself and share with his musician friend.

She drew the line at pointing out Hartley was too skinny, though. Just because the young man was friendly and polite and, indeed, looked rather underfed didn’t mean she had any right to turn into her Aunt Debbie. She’d rather die first. Besides, she wasn’t the kid’s nanny, was she?

Nevertheless, the cookies proved a success. Like the couch in the basement, like the stocking up on beer packs, like the occasional patching-up of scrapes not serious enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, they surreptitiously became a habit.

* * * *

Over the years, Janet Snart slid smoothly into middle-age never regretting once her decision not to have children. Turned out being a woman, a wife, a friend, and a sometimes kind-of-support to a bunch of Rogues was quite enough.

Parenthood was overrated, anyway.

______________

Hope you liked, @orion-nottson 💜

Timeline notes thingy: Janet and Len met when they were about 25-27 and got married a couple of years later. ‘Dillon’ is of course Roscoe Dillon, the Top, who has a blink-and-you-miss-it cameo in the JLU episode with the Rogues, but since I don’t want to kill him or Lisa, I’m thinking he was her ice skating trainer, they fell in love, and didn’t go into villainy.

Wally was the first Flash of this universe - maybe the second and Jay was a superhero in the 1940s? - since he says “my uncle’s flying in” for the ceremony. Also, when he first pops up in this story he’s not quite 16, while Len is a bit over 30.

...I really overthink these things, huh 😅

#Anonymous #my stuff #rogues #fanfiction #ask reply #my OCs #Janet Snart

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