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1kook · 4 years ago

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BORN SINNER III

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summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning.

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver.

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else.

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work.

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone.

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow.

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again.

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears.

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards.

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning.

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good.

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life.

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you.

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands.

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word.

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him.

But still.

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess.

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning.

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience.

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned.

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants.

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet.

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord.

But he’s scared.

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you.

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character.

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t.

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made.

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors.

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs.

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up.

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.”

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you.

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease.

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean.

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes.

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead.

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness.

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there.

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything.

“__?” he says before he can stop himself.

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you.

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin.

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?”

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained.

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind.

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words.

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before.

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch.

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you.

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him. With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.)

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I’m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh.

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed.

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that?

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so.

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not.

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.”

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.”

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place.

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion.

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later.

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car.

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his.

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.”

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly.

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out.

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different.

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you.

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you.

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity.

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up.

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his.

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content.

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you.

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that.

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long.

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm.

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back.

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open.

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat.

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again.

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?”

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips.

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again.

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now.

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once.

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in.

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t.

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms.

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?”

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough.

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist.

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him.

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl.

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple.

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror.

The sight of him is… weird to say the least.

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface.

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down.

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side.

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck.

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day.

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close.

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday.

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips.

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself.

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him.

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him.

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do… things.”

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space.

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin.

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you.

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it.

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress.

It felt good.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jjk fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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thepringlesofblood · 2 years ago

Text

so I learned how to play Zarcana recently so I’m now kind of into the tarot deck and I’m also into murderbot and I love those things where people draw characters as tarot cards but I can’t draw so

tl;dr: I figured out a murderbot tarot deck. just the major arcana though I don’t know enough about all the others and I barely know enough about the major arcana, I had to do a lot of googling.

anyway. lmk if you have other opinions. you are welcome to draw/make art of any of these, consider them public domain. also rip Volescu I couldn’t figure out a place to put him.

0 - The Fool - Miki

1 - The Magician - Three

2 - The High Priestess - Pin Lee

3 - The Empress - Don Abene (was originally going to be Arada but she gets one later on and I wanted to be fair and spread the love. Could also be Farai)

4 - The Emperor - Seth

5 - The Hierophant - Indah (I’ll keep it real, I looked at a lot of sources and I’m still confused on what exactly the hierophant is supposed to be. feel free to correct me)

6 - The Lovers - Arada and Overse

7 - The Chariot - ART (I was originally going to make ART the Sun bc hehehe perihelion, sun, funny, but then I read the text for the sun and I was like hmmm I still need a place to put Ratthi, sorry ART pun’s not worth it)

8 - Strength - Murderbot fighting Hostile One (this card is supposed to have a guy fighting a beast on it so. here ya go)

9 - The Hermit - Gurathin

10 - Wheel of Fortune - this one was HARD. It’s a little conceptual, but I went with ART’s introduction to murderbot. I was thinking the picture could be like murderbot sittin on the floor with the words “you were lucky” in a circle in around its head kinda like a halo. my justification is a. ‘lucky’ ‘wheel of fortune’ it connects, b. wheel of fortune is supposed to be a sudden change in your life, or a lucky break, and I’d say it’s pretty damn lucky that ART just so happened to be the transport mb picked to ride to RaviHyral, and it represents a sudden change in mb’s life as it makes its first friend that’s like it, that can understand it.

11 - Justice - Murderbot

12 - The Hanged Man - that part in Network Effect where they hang mb upside down and it has to detach its own hand to escape. it’s just too perfect.

13 - Death - Murderbot 2.0, specifically the moment of its death, where 1.0 had to blow up central, killing it and targetcontrolSystem. this was hard too.

14 - Temperance - Bharadwaj

15 - The Devil - The Company and/or GrayCris and/or the Corporation Rim in general

16 - The Tower - the Ganaka Pit massacre

17 - The Star - Amena

18 - The Moon - Mensah

19 - The Sun - Ratthi

20 - Judgement - Thiago

21 - The World - that part at the end of Exit Strategy where mb and mensah are on the balcony looking out over Preservation talking about how mb has options, and a place to belong now.

#tarot #tarot deck #murderbot #murderbot spoilers #network effect #network effect spoilers #exit strategy #exit strategy spoilers #artificial condition #artificial condition spoilers #please feel free to use this or correct me if I fucked up #original post

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piecksz · 4 years ago

Text

starstruck | (m)

pairings: rockstar!eren yeager x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, penetrative sex, fingering, creampie, roughness, drug use, explicit language

words: 4.4k+

summary: you and your friend decide to sneak backstage at your band’s favorite concert and the vip treatment you recieve is more than you bargained for.

inspired by

a/n: you know the drill :p obey (with YUNGBLUD) by bring me the horizon it’s literally not a sexy song so don’t go in listening to it expectin to get horny LMAOO it’s just the kind of sound i imagined eren’s band to have, but it was sexy to me bc the image of rockstar eren tormented me the entire time i wrote this

“I can’t believe I agreed to this. This is fucking crazy.” Your friend’s voice was a fidgety whisper behind you. Her face’s close proximity to the back of your neck had her heavy expiration fanning over your nape every time she opened her mouth to reprimand herself for allowing you to beguile her into illegal trespassing.

“You’re fucking crazy,” she whispered again, tugging the leather sleeve of your jacket with a pesky grip.

You shrugged her touch off of your arm and took a brief glimpse over your shoulder to offer her a sour look. “Can you be quiet? You freaking out is making us look suspicious.” You whisked your head back around, peering around the corner of the vacant merch tent.

“No, us creeping around to sneak onto a fucking tour bus is making us look suspicious,” she retorted.

The corner of your mouth tightened at your friend’s concern and you lifted your hand to give her a dismissive wave. You were astounded when she had originally agreed to your brazen proposal, although it took minutes of incessant pleading for her to actually give in. Her veiled reluctance surfaced the minute you two had separated from the concert’s crowd at the end of the show and snuck around the stage to the back of the venue. What began as her unease and quiet suggestions that maybe your idea wasn’t so smart, intensified into irritating nagging. You gave her the option to turn around and wait for you back at the car, but as your companion, she sighed and remarked that something so stupid couldn’t be done alone.

“I see it,” you said eagerly and with a proud grin. The vehicle was stationed a decent distance from where the two of you had been standing, but you measured the stretch with your eyes and figured that if you walked quickly enough, you’d be able to make it on without being caught.

“How do we even know they’re on it?” Your friend craned her head past yours to get a better view of what you saw.

“We don’t. I’m just guessing.”

“Oh great, that’s exactly the answer I wanted.” She released a tense and quiet laugh before retreating back behind the screen of the tent.

You surveyed the security guards as they patrolled back and forth along the premises, waiting until the coast was clear. Once you noticed an opening, you forcefully grabbed your friend’s wrist, ignoring her silent grunt of protest, and pulled her along. She stumbled into your stride and peered over at you, doing her best to follow your quick feet while mirroring your nonchalant guise.

Closer and closer, the two of you neared the tour bus until it had to have been only yards away. You tried to remain composed through your excitement, making sure you didn’t break your character. No fucking way your plan had actually gone off without a hitch, it almost seemed too easy.

“Hey!”

You kept walking. Maybe the exclamation wasn’t for you, but once the holler was thrown again, your body went rigid, and the tempo of your steps slowed until you stopped in your tracks. The adrenaline that commanded your legs had been substituted for lead and it kept your feet pinned to the ground. You couldn’t even run.

“Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be back here.”

You blinked once, long and hard, before pivoting on your heel. You watched, mortified, as a burly security guard started in your direction and got closer until he loomed over you both with a threatening advantage in height.

He looked even angrier now that you could see the way his thick eyebrows creased together and created a ripple of lines above them that disappeared into a bald head. His hefty arms were crossed against his chest while he glowered down at you two, waiting to hear a story. You could tell your excuse wouldn’t matter though, it was obvious he wasn’t in the mood for jocular conversation.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we were looking for the bathroom,” you explained, clasping your hands together and feigning an apologetic smile. You turned your head from side to side, looking around innocently to sell your lie, and then looked back up at the guard with a nervous laugh. “And I guess it’s not here.”

Your friend shook her head and said nothing, but you were certain she was drawing up a creative speech in her head, wondering how she would tell you that she “told you so” this time.

“Nice try.” The guard curled his lip angrily. “Come on.” He reached out a thick hand and wrapped it around your bicep while grabbing the back of your friend’s shirt with a crude yank. Your eyes went wide at his hostile grip and you jerked your arm, trying to free yourself of his hold.

“Hey, whoa!” His grip only tightened. “We can walk ourselves!”

The guard forced you two forward, prompting you to walk so he could escort you off the grounds.

“What’s going on?”

You looked up and your writhing ceased. Instead, heat flushed your cheeks and you stood dazed. It didn’t take long before you recognized the owner of the voice because, naturally, you would have been able to recognize him from a mile away, but luckily you didn’t have to. He was right in front of you.

It was Eren, the lead singer and guitarist of the band you had been screaming your heart out to not even an hour ago. He was your favorite member, meaning you’d watched countless interviews and had several pictures of him saved on your phone, but nothing could have prepared you for what he looked like up close. His long brown hair looked like it was still damp with sweat, a sign of his showmanship on stage, and it framed his face in careless wisps and fell loosely past his shoulders. His torso was unclad, showing the dark inkings that adorned his biceps and stretched all the way up his shoulders until they met at the detailed design of wings in the middle of his chest. Dark ripped jeans sat loosely, just below his hips, and teased a peek at deep v-lines that ran underneath the top of his waistband.

You fought off the urge to drop to your knees and pray for how sinfully hot he looked.

Trailing behind him were his bandmates, Armin and Jean, the band’s other guitarists, and Connie, the band’s drummer. You had never seen such an attractive circle of friends where you would have been satisfied taking any of them, and although you avowed to your friend that Connie was hers since she favored him, you absolutely would’ve allowed him to do whatever he wanted to you.

“Caught these two trying to sneak onto the tour bus.” The security guard thrusted you two ahead with an unsatisfied huff, and you shot him a glare.

Eren’s attention dropped from the security guard’s face and drifted over to your friend first before settling on you, eyes sweeping over your face and falling at half-mast. He arched an eyebrow then averted his gaze from your chest.

“It’s cool, let them go.”

“Are you sure?” The security guard’s grip on you loosened, and you pulled out of his hold the minute you felt him unhand you.

Eren shrugged. “Yeah. They can hang.” He quickly dismissed the security guard and casually sauntered past you before disappearing onto their bus.

You glanced over at your friend who looked like she was still in the process of trying to grasp the situation evolving in front of her.

“What kind of assholes turn away fans?” Jean teased, giving you a warm smile before he lifted his half-empty water bottle to his lips.

Connie switched his drum sticks to one hand and slipped them behind his back into his pocket. “You guys are fans, right? You’re not trying to steal a couple of used water bottles to sell online are you?”

You took a lengthy pause and waited for your friend to answer, giving her an opportunity to converse with him, but she said nothing. She just rocked back and forth on her feet, staring at the ground timidly to avoid looking Connie in the eye.

“No,” you answered for her. “I mean yes, we’re fans. Big fans. No to trying to sell your DNA.”

Your response earned a chuckle from Armin and a hearty laugh from Connie while he nodded in approval. “Alright.” He tilted his head in the direction of the bus as though encouraging you two on.

You watched as the rest of the members filed inside, and then your friend seized your hand frantically.

“Holy shit. Y/N, holy shit!” She squealed, and you snorted at her sudden ability to talk once again. “You saw him right? You saw him.” It didn’t take much detail for you to gather that she was gushing about Connie.

“Did you even see him? Your head was down the whole time, you didn’t say a single word to him.”

Your friend’s animated face slackened into a placid expression. “I didn’t trust myself. If I opened my mouth I would have asked him to put me in a headlock.” She exhaled. “Jesus Christ, those arms.” Your goading smile stretched into an amused grin, and you shook your head at your friend’s hysterical behavior.

The inside of the tour bus was much larger than you would have deduced from its seemingly modest exterior. Its floors were dark and polished wood that matched the ceiling, both surfaces lined with subdued yellow light. Aside from the sizable kitchen to your right, large leather couches sat on either side of the lounge area, and stretching to the bus’ rear were dimly lit bunk beds that were half-obscured by a dark curtain.

“Holy shit, this is a house on wheels,” your friend breathed, mouth agape.

“Well we’re on the road most of the time, so it might as well be,” Armin answered, throwing himself into one of the sofas with a labored sigh. He threw his head back in exhaustion and brought his arms up to rest against the top of the couch. “We never caught your names by the way.”

Both you and your friend introduced yourselves, forgoing a proper introduction from the band’s members. You evidently already knew who they were.

Armin smiled. “Nice to meet you guys.”

Jean shuffled through, handing you and your friend a water bottle, which you accepted with much appreciation. You hadn’t taken heed of how thirsty you’d been, and you hadn’t had anything to drink since the concert had started. Even while you swooned in the crowd between sweaty bodies, dehydration threatening to ruin your fun, you’d refused to pay $4 for a beverage.

“Make yourselves at home.” He threw another bottle to Armin.

“Oh no, we’re not planning on staying that long.” Your friend laughed, clutching onto her drink so tightly that the plastic squeaked in her grip.

You nudged her in the ribs with an assertive elbow and said her name quietly through clenched teeth, barely audible enough for the two of you to hear. She looked at you with uncertainty, and you gave her a forced grin.

“Don’t be rude. They said we should make ourselves at home.” You obliged to Jean’s invite, taking a seat in one of the leather cushions.

The situation you were in was a rare opportunity, the type of opportunity you’d only heard from other people, the type of opportunity you’d read fanfiction about in your early adolescence. If anyone told you that you’d be living such an opportunity, you weren’t sure if you’d really believe them, but had you declined to appease your friend’s irrational concern, you knew you’d regret it for years.

“Did you guys enjoy the show?” Connie leaned against the wall of the bus and wedged a rolled stick of paper between his pursed lips. He brought a hand-held lighter to the end of the stick, sparking it a few times with his thumb before a small flame engulfed the thin paper and thick smoke billowed from its tip. It only took a moment before the pungent, herbal stench of marijuana invaded the inside of the tour bus.

“Of course, you guys are amazing.” You nodded, perching yourself up in your seat and clapping your hands together excitedly. “We’ve been trying to see you guys in concert for a long time now.”

Eren fell into the seat beside you, and your body tensed up almost instantly. You’d managed to feign calmness from your first encounter because it had been easy to masquerade your nervousness from a distance, but now that he was even closer, surely he could have heard your heart palpitating against your ribcage. Its beating grew even quicker once Eren sat back and slid his arm behind you to lay it atop the backrest.

“Yeah?” His voice was languid. “What’s your favorite song?”

“That’s a hard question,” you chuckled, suddenly becoming very interested in the sleeves of your jacket. “I seriously don’t know if I can pick just one.” It hadn’t been a hard question at all, but you simply couldn’t think through the smell of his faded cologne and the feeling of his naked chest up against the side of your arm.

“That’s cool,” Eren smiled, but responded plainly. “You smoke?”

Your eyes drifted up to see Eren offering you a partially-burnt joint in between two fingers. He inhaled deeply from his hit and exhaled, a thick white cloud rolling past his lips.

You hadn’t smoked before, and you weren’t an avid consumer of weed. One edible at a party had you manic until your friends had to calm you down in a separate room and reassure you that you weren’t dying, but you still accepted it hesitantly. You brought it to your lips and took a deep draw before erupting into a fit of coughs.

“Easy,” Eren laughed, and his warm hand rubbed the nape of your neck soothingly. He took the joint from your hands and held it towards Armin.

Your chest and throat heaved with the searing sensation of a foreign substance, and your body racked with an incessant wheeze until it was sure it had expelled all of the stuff. Eren beside you thought it was the funniest thing.

“So you guys in college?” Connie asked, this time directing his question to your friend since you clearly couldn’t respond.

She nodded quickly, still avoiding making eye contact with him. He must have noticed and thought it was endearing because the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a knowing smirk.

“Sick,” Eren remarked. “I dropped out of college, but you guys should stay in school, seriously.”

“Don’t worry I have no plans to drop out and become a musician,” you rasped once your coughing subsided.

He paused for a moment and then looked at you. “What about a boyfriend?” His eyes drank you in from bottom to top until he met your clueless stare.

“Do I have a boyfriend?” You blinked, and then the tip of your ears went up in an uncomfortable heat that spread over the side of your face until your skin was aflame with realization. “No.”

“That’s good.” Eren studied you from behind heavy lids and he lingered on your lips, his own spreading into a suggestive grin. “So it’s cool if I do this?”

He leaned in and affixed his lips at the curve of where your jaw met your ear. His mouth was hot and the kiss was wet against your feverish skin. He planted another one lower, against the hollow dip where your neck curved, and then he bent the arm resting behind your head, using his hand to turn your face toward him so that when he tilted himself forward again, he could kiss you without interference. His lips were soft and slow as they commanded your mouth to follow his rhythm, and you withheld a desperate and excited whimper once Eren slipped a seductive tongue past your teeth.

He relaxed another hand on your leg, rubbing slow circles into the top of your thigh while edging closer and closer to the top of your waistband. Once his leisure fingers skimmed over your pants’ button, he skillfully undid the first hole before moving on to your zipper. You made a small sound of protest and pulled back in embarrassment.

“In front of your bandmates?” you questioned in a breathy whisper.

Eren shrugged, looking unfazed. “They don’t care. Nothing they haven’t seen before.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. He was a goddamn celebrity for crying out loud, had you really thought you were the first girl he brought onto the bus to fuck? And he’d done it in front of his bandmates? You shifted uncomfortably, looking to Armin, Jean, and Connie who were now occupied with showing your friend pictures they’d been sent from professional photographers after past shows.

“I don’t know,” you admitted timidly.

Eren rolled his head to the side, visibly bothered by your response. He glanced over to his bandmates and swept through his locks with a lazy hand. “Hey, why don’t you guys go show her the stage set before they pack up?”

Your friend looked away from the laptop they were gathered around and over her shoulder. “But—.”

Eren’s fingers trailed up and down the side of your neck, clearly eager to resume your previous matters. Were you really about to pass up this chance?

You gave your friend a reassuring thumbs up alongside Eren’s suggestion. “I’ll come find you later.”

It almost seemed like Eren sent his bandmates an unspoken cue, because Connie quickly chimed in before your friend had another turn to object. “Yeah. It’s okay, we’ll take care of you.” He wrapped a tattooed arm around your friend’s shoulder and gave her a friendly shake.

You could almost see the rise and fall of her chest cease, and you actually grew worried for her. It looked like she had nearly died and came back to life, but her stunned face melted into a flustered smile and she laughed sheepishly. “Okay.”

Connie nodded and gave Eren a two finger salute before escorting your friend off the bus with Jean and Armin following closely behind.

Once the door to the bus closed Eren shifted his attention back to you.

“There. Problem solved.” His green eyes had darkened and clouded over with desire again. “You feel better?”

“I guess,” you murmured.

You didn’t get a second chance to speak because Eren’s lips coupled to yours once more, and his hands continued against your zipper before he slipped his fingers into your underwear. He brought two fingers to your slit, skimming lightly over the delicate skin before sliding his middle finger between your folds to part them.

You released a sharp gasp against Eren’s mouth as you felt the cold metal of his rings against your cunt, but he made no efforts to pull away. The earthy taste of marijuana on his tongue caused your head to swim and you began to feel the drug’s intoxicant effects yourself. Your limbs grew heavier as you lay slack against Eren’s body while the sensation of his soft strokes against your tender clit had you whimpering against his lips.

He dipped his finger down to your body’s orifice, sliding it into your hole to glaze the digit with your arousal.

“God, you’re so tight.” Eren’s voice was deep as he pulled away from your mouth and both of you looked down to watch the way he worked you. “I want you around my cock.”

Your hips jerked involuntarily against his hand with the mention of his desire, and he brought his touch back up to your clit, using your essence as lubrication. The bus was quiet except for the symphony of Eren’s husky pants and your lewd whines as he slowly quickened the pace when he felt your body begin to tremble against his.

“Fuck, Eren—,” you mewled. You hadn’t even given thought to how unusual his name sounded coming out of your mouth. Eren, the singer and lead guitarist of your favorite band had his fingers inside of your pants, and here you were moaning his name. “Oh fuck—.”

Your orgasm intensified quickly after its onset, you hadn’t even realized you were climaxing until your body was convulsing and your fingers were digging into Eren’s biceps.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Eren—,” you cried.

“That’s it,” Eren cooed. “Atta girl.”

His fingers continued working against your clit until you wrapped a sweaty hand around his wrist, a silent plea for him to stop before he sent you into overstimulation.

He hummed in amusement and heeded your request before pulling his hands out of your underwear. Now he worked his hands against his own belt, unfastening the buckle before pushing his jeans down with his briefs in one swift and eager motion. His cock was half-hard and continued growing rigid after he took himself in his hand and began pumping his throbbing length.

You watched in wonderment as his palm worked painfully slow against his thick shaft, and pearls of precum gathered at his tip before dribbling down his swollen head. Your own dirty fantasies where you’d tried to envision how big Eren was hardly did him justice.

You rose to your feet, kicking off your shoes with haste, and stepped out of your pants. You shrugged off your jacket as well, realizing how uncomfortably sticky your sweaty arms felt against the leather material.

“Come here,” Eren hummed, and released his cock. He held his hands out for you to take, and he pulled you onto his lap. He supported your waist until your knees were mounted on either side of his thighs, and you pulled your underwear to the side, allowing his pulsating tip to prod your entrance.

“You gonna show me how well you ride?” he asked, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

You nodded, resting your hands on his shoulders and undulating your wet folds against his cock. You released a desperate whimper every time he nudged your clit.

“Yeah? Show me.”

Eren watched as you slipped him in, and what started as a whine deepened into an obscene cry while you felt him stretch your walls out. You eased down until you sat at the base of his cock and he’d filled you to the hilt.

You dug your teeth into your lower lip, waiting to adjust to his girth before you slowly started moving up and down. Eren’s shallow breathing encouraged you while you lifted yourself up and then back down, each time releasing an agonizing sob.

“Good girl.” Eren’s large hands traveled up from your waist and rested on your chest. “Just like that.” He loosely cupped his hands over your clothed chest, adoring the way your quickening pace caused your breasts began to jounce underneath your shirt, but your ache to feel his touch everywhere along your skin became uncontrollable.

Your fingers curled around the hem of your top and you quickly slipped the material off, tossing it onto the couch beside you. You did the same with your bra, too impatient to fumble around with the pesky hooks.

Eren grinned lazily, before resting his palms against your breasts and giving them a small jiggle. He leaned forward, lolling his tongue out, and flicked its tip against the hardening bead of your nipple. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and smiled at the way you murmured his name before rolling his thumb over the wet skin.

“So fucking hot,” Eren praised. He gave your other breast a brisk slap, watching it shake with the impact, and then he took you in his mouth. He sucked hungrily before taking your nipple between his teeth and tugged on it.

You continued bouncing on Eren’s cock before he released a guttural groan and threw his head back. “Fuck, don’t stop.” The tattoos along his sweaty chest expanded with each uneven breath. “I’m gonna cum.”

Eren’s hands traveled down to your ass, and black-painted nails dug into your skin while he directed you up and down. You rolled your hips against him until you felt his cock jerk inside you, and then he was filling you up.

Eren unloaded himself into you and your walls fluttered around his quivering length. His balls spasmed, making sure he’d jettisoned every drop of thick, white cum. He pulled his cock out before your knees gave way and you collapsed next to him. Your pussy clenched around nothing, still adjusting to Eren’s absence, and you felt his release leak out of your hole.

You heaved, eyes strung tightly, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You had to have been dreaming. You kept your eyes closed, fearing that you’d wake, but they fluttered open instinctively when you felt Eren’s weight lift from beside you.

“Where are you going?” You watched as he tugged his pants up and fastened his buckle before shuffling around the bus looking for something. Jesus Christ, just how much stamina did this guy have?

“Your friend’s probably wondering what’s taking you so long,” Eren replied, disappearing behind the curtain leading to the bedroom in the back of the bus.

Your hand flew to your forehead and you sat up, feeling guilty that you had completely forgotten your friend. Knowing her, she was probably worrying herself sick wondering what Eren had possibly done to you. You started retrieving your clothes and getting dressed, but you paused momentarily, calling out to wherever Eren had been on the bus.

“I should give you my number.” You stuck a leg into your pants. “You know, just to keep in touch.” You stuck your other leg in and hopped around, pulling your pants up.

Eren reappeared from behind the curtain, tugging on a fitted black t-shirt. “Don’t worry about that.”

You popped your head out from under your shirt and reached for your jacket. You laughed lightly and gave him a confused look.

“Safety and shit. We can’t give our personal information out to just anyone.” He gave you a pitiful smile, but you could tell it was more for you than for him.

“Oh,” you responded quietly.

Eren seemed unconcerned with the guidelines he was given, as though he didn’t care much about whether he even remembered your name once they were on the road again.

“Don’t look so sad babe. You’re lucky.” He tilted his head toward you and raised his eyebrows. “Not everyone gets to fuck a rockstar.”

#eren smut #eren yeager smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #eren yeager x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot au #eren yaeger smut #attack on titan au #eren yeager au

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 3 years ago

Text

Got you - D.W

I will never recover from what they did to Bobby. That man is my light, okay? I need a supportive angry uncle that will save my ass whenever I need it like Bobby would for everyone.

Content warning: death of loved one, mention of past abuse and death of a parent, spoilers for season 7 of Supernatural (pls don’t read if you haven’t watched), angst, sadness, crying, deans beautiful eyes filled with tears, love, fluff that makes me sick (it’s so cringe but I couldn’t think of how else to end it and this has been in my drafts since JUNE)

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17. I do not give permission bc or my work to be reposted or translated by anybody. I do not own the characters mentioned in this story; apart from the Y/N character. This individual storyline is canon-divergent, meaning that I only own some of it. The rest is from the mind of the Kripke. Don’t steal my work, my dudes (gender neutral). That’s a douche thing to do.

Of all the people Y/N had met, all of the hunters, the sociopaths, the monsters; Y/N had never met somebody so reluctant to discuss their feelings as Dean was. At present, his reluctance was understandable.

Bobby Singer had passed a few weeks ago.

He had raised Y/N from the age of 15 onwards. Back when she was rampant and would take off for weeks on end to hunt without getting permission from Bobby. As such, she hadn’t met Dean and Sam Winchester until a few months before the younger brother had taken off for college. Her and Dean became fast friends through Sam’s absence, the former not knowing the younger boy enough to miss his presence and the latter going out of his mind in worry and grief for the missing relationship.

Not many could get Dean to open up, including Y/N, but she stuck by him through his fathers disappearance and the fight with Yellow Eyes. She fell out of his life for a while again, but he had Sam, but she reappeared when Dean called her crying because his brother was back from hell sans soul.

She had stuck by through Castiel - Dean’s pet angel - taking the mantel of god and the rise of the Leviathans.

She hadn’t once felt like she wasn’t wanted, not until she held her Father’s hand while he took his final breath and simultaneously watched the elder winchester brother retreat in on himself in favour of an unrelenting vengeance issued towards Dick Roman.

Since Bobby had passed, Dean had become cold. Lifeless. Angry.

Sam had spoken to Y/N, had discussed the passing of their foster-father and the hole it tore from their lives. They had cried together, mourned together and while neither of them were close to dealing with the grief, they managed.

Dean on the other hand, was a nightmare.

Sam had taken off on a hunt of his own, leaving Y/N and Dean in Rufus’ cabin.

Dean was calling Frank for the hundredth time that day and Y/N was searching the papers and online news sites for hunts. Sitting around and waiting for Dick to do something to lead them to killing him wasn’t good enough for her. Her grief was overwhelming and she needed to clear her mind - she needed to put a monster down.

She had lifted her head up from the computer, watching as Dean sat, staring, unmoving at the wall. His forest green eyes were locked onto a picture of Dick Roman, and she could see the hard clench in his jaw.

“Hey, Dean?” She called, voice hopeful. She had stood from her chair and started walking towards him with the computer in hand.

He simply grunted in acknowledgement, not looking away. He just kept drinking from the bottle of beer he had just opened.

She cocked a brow, setting her own jaw. He had hardly spoken to her since Bobby died. She had been wracking her brain to figure out why, especially since he had been speaking to Sam normally but avoiding her.

“Uh, there’s a vamp nest out near Wyoming. Going through people like they’re going out of style. Wanna go check it out?” She held the computer out to him. He gazed at it for barely a second, rolled his eyes and downed more of his beer.

“I don’t know if you can tell but, I’m kinda busy.” He held his arms out and gestured to the detective style wall. The now empty beer bottle was slammed into the coffee table.

“Doing what? Drinking the entire supply of alcohol in America?” She quipped but her face remained deadpan. The look in his eyes was often enough to make any normal person cower, but not Y/N. Her rebellious streak didn’t end when she hit adulthood.

He snarled, green eyes scrunched, “Funny. It may be news to you but I’m trying to find a way to put down the guy who killed Bobby.” He stomped over to the fridge in search of another beverage. Y/N withheld the toll of her eyes but did little to contain her heavy sigh. He snatched his phone from the small table in the dining area, punching in a number in the same aggressive manner he had done at least 10 times a day for the past few weeks. “Frank, it’s Dean Winchester. Give me a call if you’ve found anything.”

“You know, he might have a better chance of finding something if you stop hounding him every few seconds!” She smiled, a sickly sweet gesture that they both knew was laced with malice. “I’m going on this hunt. Are you going to keep living in stick around here like you’re Paul Sheldon, or are you going to come with me?” She growled through the smile. “Sitting here, staring at a wall isn’t going to help you figure out how to kill that bastard any faster.”

He mumbled expletives under his breath, twisting the top off of another beer and left the room. He returned moments later with a new flannel, his bag and the flask she had given Bobby for the first Father’s Day she spent with him. The mere sight of the object brought tears to her eyes but luckily Dean spared little attention to her shift in demeanor. He refused to give the flask to her, shutting her down every time she tried to explain the significance.

She was left to instead bury her pain while Dean reminded her that she wouldn’t feel as much as he did. In reality, he knew very little of her relationship with Bobby.

“You getting your ass in the car or what?” He called, already outside. She had barely noticed his movements but trailed after him quickly. A hunt was what she needed. She needed to get her mind off of her deceased father and cutting the heads off of vampires is the best distraction she could find at the present time.

~~~~~

Her hand stilled above his wound just before she left the liquor flow onto the gash. “You want something for the pain before I get started?”

The hunt had started well. Dean had instructed her to stay behind him, allowing him to take the lead with his beat up machete and prepubescent-esque mood swings.

She thought differently, having specialized in vamp slayings for the better part of her hunter career; after all, her real father was murdered by one of the blood suckers, so her vendetta was rarely satiated.

She took the lead, heading in a different direction to what Dean instructed, knowing it was a more sure route to take out the leader of the nest. There were always hidden pathways in the nests; and those pathways lead straight to where the baddest vamp of the squad was generally sucking down a double serving of human.

Somewhere along the lines, Dean had his own machete turned on him and took a deep gash to his right shoulder. Y/N made quick work of the vamps she encountered, using her specified skills to kill them as she had been taught. It was generally easy for her, but Dean had taken a few blows and required rescuing.

She had to leave a few vamps to wallow in their own injuries while she dragged Dean out of the nest and to the nearest hotel, leading to the situation they found themself in now - Y/N patching Dean up and Dean acting like the entitled prat he had been for a while.

Her previous question was answered with a grunt, dean turning his head away from her. Her patience had worn thin.

Placing a hand on his bare chest, she lifted herself up slightly and poured the contents of the bottle onto the top of Dean’s head. It trickled down his face and chest, leaving a sticky feeling in its wake and bringing a hissed curse from his lips when it flooded the wound on his right shoulder.

“What the hell, Y/N?” He grunted. He was on his feet, using his shirt to wipe away the alcohol from the deep wound to quell the burning.

She threw the bottle onto the couch beside him, raising to her feet and grabbing a cloth to wipe at her hands. “If you want to act like a tough guy then you can drive your ass back to the cabin and get Sam to patch you up.” Her voice was horribly calm, her eyes falling anywhere but on him. “I’ve had about enough of you, Dean.”

“What are you talking about?” He growled. His temper was explosive from the get-go, but hers would build. When she snapped, she snapped good and proper. “I don’t need something for the damn pain! I’ve been doing this my whole life. What is your problem lately?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know damn well,” she growled back at him, turning away from him with a shake of the head. “You have been an absolute dick since Bobby passed. I get it - we are all hurting, but the way you are acting? I’m sick of-“

He was on his feet, amber liquid still trailing down his face and chest. “You have no damn idea how I feel Y/N!” His voice was louder than she expected but she wouldn’t let it force her down. “Bobby was like a father to me! He was always there for me when my dad was on a hunt and he treated me like I was his own! You have no right to talk to me like that-“

He was cut off by a sharp jab to the cheek. Y/N had about enough of his bitching. It was damn time that he shut his trap and listened.

“What the-“

“For the past few weeks I have been listening to you go on and on, constantly telling me that I meant nothing to Bobby and I wouldn’t have the damn connection you had with him.” She spoke through gritted teeth, her knuckles beginning to throb as Dean held his jaw. “You’re a selfish dick. You don’t care about anybody but your damn self and that’s plain and simple.” She began to pace. Her anger had hit its boiling point, red no longer lining her vision but the grief fueling her anger and disgust in Dean. “I had lived with Bobby since I was a kid - 15. He took me in because I had nobody, Dean. My father died when I was young; throat ripped out by a vamp. My mother wasn’t a mother. She used me as bait every chance she got to get revenge on every and all vampires on this god forsaken planet. Bobby was all I fricking had!”

Dean watched as Y/N stopped pacing. She had turned to him now, her voice loud as she screamed the words at him.

She released a humorless laugh, “I get that Bobby was a big part of your life, but for god sakes, he didn’t belong to just you and Sam!”

Her hands had tangled in her hair as she spoke, the remnants of alcohol and blood making the strands stick together. She was fighting back tears. For the first time since it happened, reality set in.

Bobby was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Once again, she had nobody.

Dean was at a loss for words. He didn’t remember seeing Y/N around Bobby’s house when they were younger, but Y/N was closer to Sam’s age than she is to his. It was as if a wave of guilt crashed down upon him. He had no idea that she had been so close to Bobby.

“He meant so much to everybody - to me,” she sniffed, hard. “He’s all I have.”

Dean felt his digits twitch with a need to hold her. He had always felt an invisible pull towards the woman, their personalities fitting together like jagged jigsaw pieces, but he had never allowed her the deepest thought to consider her life and her history - her connection to his father figure. Unlike Y/N, his father had been in his life, despite his faults. Y/N had nobody until she had Bobby.

Her heart was heavy, and she could feel the metaphorical weight pushing her chest cavity in. For the first time since he passed, the dam broke. Tears began to fall one at a time, but the rapids took over, forcing the salty liquid to flood her cheeks and stutter her breathing. She had never experienced such intense grief.

The sensations overwhelmed her. But Dean felt his self-control leave his body. His arms moved on their own accord, making the decision to forgo permission to hug the woman and instead he connected his body with hers. He held her as she fell to her knees, cradling her body in his and tucking her head underneath his chin.

“He’s gone… he’s gone,” her voice was thick with grief, her muttering striking his heart once again.

“It’s okay, princess.” He felt the tears prick back at his own eyes, pulling her back slightly so he could look at her face. She cradled her face in her hands, putting up little resistance when he took her hands in his own and pulled them away. “It’s okay, you’re not alone.”

Her brows furrowed, the typical fire hidden behind her stare, just lacking the normal intensity. “Who else do I have, Dean? Bobby was my only family, everybody else was just a an extension of their love for him. He was all I had.”

His fingers dropped her own, green eyes staring into her own with such an intense emotion that she seemed to recoil under his gaze, but the fire still burned in her own eyes. His hands rested on the sides of her face, thumbs rubbing the tears from her skin.

“Don’t, for one second, think that you are alone. You- you’ve got me, okay?” More tears fell from her eyes, and his own followed suit. “I am never leaving you, princess.”

“You have no reason to stick around with me, dean.”

“Why wouldn’t-“

“You have your own life!” She asserted, nose crinkled in his grip. “You have Sam and leviathans to kill, and things that are more important-“

“I’m not leaving you, because I love you, Y/N!” His voice was powerful, his brows pinched and his eyes heavy. A normal person would experience some level of fear in this situation, but Y/N wasn’t normal people. Dean had never felt more at home than when he was staring into her eyes, and he took a moment to register his confession and the way her features seemed to melt at his words.

Despite his malice in recent days, Dean had never raised his voice at her in such a way. His eyes had never glazed over with sheer defiance, halting the protests on her tongue instantly. Nevertheless, in any other circumstance, she would have raised her voice louder. She was not one to be meek: Bobby raised her better than that. But the hurt that saturated his tone seemed to settle on her heart a little heavier than before.

This was different to the argument that they had moments before. This was assertive. The anger seemed to dissipate with his words. The chill running down her spine one of satisfaction, fear, and something else.

She didn’t trust her voice to respond, her face still clasped in his larger palms. When she tried to speak, a noise of confusion tumbled from her lips, and Dean’s seemed to shy away from her gaze. His hands slowly slipped away and he sat back on his haunches.

“I don’t think you know just how much you mean to us, Y/N - to me.” He cleared his throat, eyes focused anywhere but on her. She caught sight of his teeth nibbling on his lower lip, something she rarely saw from him. He was always able to maintain a calm demeanor. “There’s always been this… this feeling. For a long time, I thought I just admired you - you were the annoying sister that I never had. But over time… I’ve never properly been in love before. Lisa, Cassie, they were never like this.”

“Dean-“ she tried, the words on the tip of her tongue, but he continued.

“When Sam went to college, Dad’s disappearance, Sam without a soul, hell, even when I had that douchebag angel fighting me for my meatsuit, you were always there for me. With your beautiful smile, and the crap you gave me… you became more than that friend that I could lean on.” Her hand reached across the gap between them, resting on his clammy palm. He took the gesture as a sign to look up at her, dragging his heavy eyes from the stained floor to meet her own. There was no anger, or rejection hidden there. “You became the one that I wanted to see every night. The one that I could see standing behind the white picket fence.”

He watched as another tear fell from her glassy eyes, and his heart wrenched at the sight. He feared that his words had brought more pain to her, but then she moved towards him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, careful to avoid the gash on his shoulder. Her forehead buried itself in the crook of his neck, and her legs moved to rest on either side of his own.

The sudden touch caused a little shock, but he quickly recovered and secured his arms around her body. He let his fingers grasp on to her shirt, almost as if he were afraid that she would pull away from him and leave his life.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his hold slightly, only to emphasize his words.

Her head lifted from his shoulder, and she allowed her hands to dance along his arms, up until they held his face in the same way he held her before.

Before he could raise an eyebrow, her lips were pressed against his. Their tears seemed to meet together at the union of their flesh as their eyes fluttered shut.

When they parted his forehead fell forward to rest against her own. His eyes remained closed, his eyelashes sticking together from his tears.

“You’re my best friend,” she whispered to him. Her voice wet with emotion. “I love you so much, Dean, and I’ve loved you for years.”

A soft chuckle left him, shaking his shoulder slightly and bounding Y/N. It was one of disbelief, but a sense of relief was hidden beneath the thick sound.

She smacked at his uninjured shoulder softly, tutting at him. “Don’t laugh! It’s true! Bobby was pushing me to make a move from the minute you walked through the door with a blueberry pie on my birthday.” The incident was a fond memory. Dean had rushed to get back from a hunt so he could see her on her birthday. He walked in the door with mere minutes to spare before midnight and forced her to blow out a candle before her birthday officially ended.

She decided that day, that if she was going down, she wanted to do it by Dean’s side.

He pressed a soft peck to her lips once again, almost afraid that if he pressed too hard then the image of her would fade from his sight. But she wouldn’t.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’ve got you.” He opened his eyes once again, pulling back to get a look at her whole face. He decided then that the image would be burned into his brain for the rest of his days. “I love you, Y/N.”

Her smile sent a shudder to his heart, the organ pounding faster than he thought possible.

“Ive got you too, Dean. Always.” The chill returned to her back, almost as if someone were watching them, but she paid it no mind. She had something more important in front of her than a nosy ghost, but somehow, she knew that it was more than a simple ghost. “I love you, Winchester.”

Her suspicions were confirmed when they found words scrawled into the morning dew that found a home on the windscreen of Baby.

‘Take care of each other, B.’

#dean winchester x hunter reader #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x reader #Bobby singer #Sam Winchester #supernatural #dick roman #leviathans? more like leviathots amirite?#this hurted me btw #I love Bobby #and Dean #and Sam #and everyone #except dick Roman #pls enjoy #feedback welcomed #this has been a draft since June oml #October 1st publish

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granolabird · 3 years ago

Text

The Weight of Reality

Post 2x08. Sorry guys, there isn’t really a way to fluff this one out. It’s gotta be angsty. Beth finds out about Rick being put in jail, and immidiately calls him. Needless to say, he’s not doing well. Written while listening to Giants by Imagine Dragons on loop bc that’s such a Rick-centric song.

Warings: One single F bomb. And a lot of sad teenagers. That is all.

Tags: @hournites @bethchapelsbonnet

If you’d like to be added to my weekly Hournite fic taglist feel free to ask :)

Beth is sitting at her desk doing research when she gets the call. It’s ten at night, and fireworks still light the sky outside her house. She’s always hated the fourth of July. Too much noise and partying. Beth was a fan of neither of those things. This fourth of July felt different though. It felt too quiet, what with all the Eclipso business. She was almost thankful for the bright colourful bursts of light outside her window, reassuring she was still in the real world. She was still here. Eclipso couldn’t get to her as long as she had the goggles on.

Her first instinct after the whole Eclipso business had been to phone Rick. He hadn’t responded, which was nothing out of the ordinary. She chalked it up to the bad service at his farm, as that was his usual excuse. When Beth called Courtney and she didn’t respond was when Beth began to worry. Courtney spent all her free time on her phone. She always answered. She was decidedly not answering. Then Beth tried Pat, who she only really called during emergencies, to the same result. She left them all messages of varying concern, telling them about how she really needed to talk, and she had more information on Eclipso. Perhaps the Whitmore-Dugan family were out having a fourth of July celebration. That made sense. That was the option Beth went with.

So that’s how Beth got here. Googling her life away, looking at shady PDF documents on possible origins of Eclipso, and on the original JSA. She didn’t have much but it was something to keep her brain occupied. She’s skimming an article about The Flash and everything that’s known about him when her phone rings.

It’s Pat.

She almost takes her goggles off before picking it up instinctively, but she corrects herself and leaves them on as she answers the phone. There's a moment of silence on the other side of the line before Pat speaks.

“Beth?”

“Pat! Thank goodness, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you-”

“Beth, I need to tell you something.” There’s a serious tone to his voice. It reminds Beth of the time the hospital called to tell her family that her grandfather was deathly ill. It’s a tone of voice laced with pity, and she hates it. After everything she’s dealt with tonight pity is the last thing she feels like dealing with.

“What’s wrong?”

She keeps her thoughts to herself, instead focusing on figuring out what Pat has to say. There’s more silence on the other end of the line. She can hear what sounds like Courtney crying in the background. She hears Pat take a steadying breath.

“Pat? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“It’s Rick.”

Beth’s entire body drops. She feels it. She feels herself crumple. The feeling of dread she thought she’d destroyed when she fought off Eclipso returns instantly, making her feel sick. Rick.

Something’s happened to Rick.

“Is he…”

“He’s okay, Beth. But he’s in Jail.”

“What?”

“Eclipso got to him. Made him think Matt was Grundy. Rick attacked him, and almost killed him. The police took Rick in. Court and I are at the station now, we’re trying to get it figured out.”

“No.” She can barely hear herself speak.

“Beth I’m so sorry”

“What about the hourglass? Can’t he use that to break out of jail or something?” Beth is scrambling for an answer, a way to help Rick.

“You know he wouldn’t do that Beth, even if he could.”

“If he could?”

“He smashed the Hourglass.”

Beth doesn’t know when she started crying, hot tears flowing down her face. She finally got somewhere with her parents and now this. Now this.

“Beth? Are you okay?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry Pat I just… I need a minute to process.”

“It’s okay Beth. I can call you back later if you want. Then we can talk about what you wanted to tell us?”

Beth wants to say no, that she has to tell them about Eclipso and her immunity to him with the goggles right now but she can’t. She physically cannot. Every time she opens her mouth it feels like fire is creeping up from her lungs. She can barely breathe.

“Yeah.”

Is all she can force out.

She’s shaking as Pat hangs up, staring at her cracked phone screen. The photo of her and the rest of her friends smiling split by the nasty lightning-bolt shatters on the glass screen. Broken. She looks at Rick in the photo, his arm slung around her leisurely as he laughs at a joke Mike said before taking the picture. She wants nothing more than to be back with him at that moment. Things seemed so much easier then.

“I’m sorry Rick. I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there for you.” She murmurs, pressing her forehead to the top of her phone screen.

The phone, of course, provides no response.

She stares at the screen a while longer before she gets an idea, frantically searching up the number of the police station. She’s not sure it’ll work. She’s not well versed in the etiquette of phoning the police station to talk to a newly-arrested teen but it won’t hurt to try, right?

She hesitates for a moment, her finger hovering over the phone number. She takes a deep breath before she presses it, and then hits the call button.

Ringing

And then

“Blue Valley Police Department, how can I help you?” A deep male voice answers the phone.

“Hi! Sorry, I don’t know if this is the right number to call, or what I’m supposed to be doing here really.” She’s speaking quickly, words blending together in her panic. She takes another deep breath and then continues.

“You have someone I know in detainment? A Rick Tyler? Or maybe he’s under Rick Harris, but that’s not really his name.” She cringes at that statement, but the officer, whoever they are, should call Rick by his real name. He deserves at least that.

“Right. So why exactly are you calling?”

“Oh! Sorry, I’d like to talk to him if that’s possible? I know he’s just gotten there but I’m.. Well I’m his closest friend. I just really need to talk to him.”

“Listen kid, we already have people here trying to figure out what to do with him-”

“Pat and Courtney. They know me, they’d want me to talk to him too. Please. I really need to talk to him. Even if it’s only for a little while. Please.”

A deep sigh on the other end of the line.

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for young romance. He’s in a detention cell right now. I’ll see what I can do.”

Beth’s mind catches on to the words young romance. She wants to correct the officer and tell her there is no romance, but she doesn’t. Because that would be a lie. There was something. A spark. One that may never turn into anything if Rick gets sent off to a juvenile detention centre somewhere halfway across the country.

“Thank you so much.” Beth breathes, realizing she hadn’t said anything in response.

The officer only grunts, and then she hears the sound of the phone being placed on the table, and footsteps walking away.

It seems like hours before she hears more footsteps, hurried, almost panicked. She hears a vague

“You have to be quick. I really shouldn’t be doing this.”

No response, only a swoosh of air as the phone is lifted up and then

“Beth?” Rick’s voice is shaking.

Beth has never heard him so genuinely scared. He sounds terrified, and so deeply sad. He sounds broken.

“Rick. Rick, I’m here, what happened?”

“Beth.” He repeats her name, and then she hears him sob.

It’s a guttural noise as he gasps for air, and Beth wishes she could reach through the line to hug him. She wants to be there with him more than anything.

“Rick, it'll be okay.”

“It won’t. I’ve fucked it all up Beth. We can’t fix this one.” He sounds so defeated.

“We can try. I’m not going to stop trying. This isn’t your fault. We’re going to get you out of this.” “This is my fault. This is entirely my fault. It was bound to happen one day, and now it did. Even Matt knew it, I was destined for the cells. That’s my future.” He’s not even listening to what she’s saying, just rambling to himself at this point.

“Rick-”

“You deserve better than me Beth. You, and the whole team. I’ve been nothing but a dead weight. You’ll be better off without me.”

“RICK.” Beth half-shouts into her phone, tears still burning molten streams down her cheeks.

She hears Rick inhale sharply on the other end of the line. He’s surprised. Good, at least that’ll get him out of his own mind.

“I’m not leaving you and that’s final. Nobody is. You may not think it, but we care about you. A lot. We’re going to get you out of this.”

Another sob on Rick’s end, and she can hear his heavy breathing as he tries, and fails, to regain his composure.

“I’m sorry. Beth, oh my god I'm so sorry.” She wishes Rick didn’t sound so terrified.

She wishes there was some way she could reverse time and be there to help him. To make everything better.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not. Eclipso made you do it. Please, please don’t blame yourself. Please don’t.” She’s pleading, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

“I… Beth I…” He’s at a loss for words.

She hears the deep voice of the Officer in the background. Shuffling. “I’ve gotta go Beth.” His voice is strained. “Ok. I’ll see you as soon as I can.” Beth offers, hoping it’ll provide him some reassurance.

“Right.”

A deep breath on his end, and then more shuffling and voices. “Beth I.. I lo… I…” He’s really trying to say something, his words choked as he struggles to spit them out.

Before he can finish his sentence there’s more footsteps and the phone clatters down. A few more seconds of shouts and shuffling before the line cuts out, and Beth is left alone again.

She’s almost certain she knows what he was going to say in that last sentence but she can’t bring herself to think too much about it. It’ll be something to talk about once they get Rick out. They have to get him out. With a sigh Beth returns to staring at her shattered phone screen, still crying. She stares at Rick’s smiling face, and tries to smile back at him. She just wants to be with him. She just wants it all to be okay. She’ll just have to keep telling herself it’ll all be okay. Then, maybe one day it will be.

It has to be.

#This hurt me to write #But it is what it is #Stargirl #Stargirl Spoilers #Hournite #Beth Chapel #Rick Tyler #beth x rick #hourman #dr. mid nite #pat dugan #Angst #Just a lot of angst

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heytherejulietx · 4 years ago

Note

Im gonna combine. Bughead + Hogwarts and Soulmates

Never Had Enough Time - Bughead

Masterlists

Requests open!

Read on AO3 here!

Notes - So uh, I apologise in advance for this. It was way sadder than I originally intended it to be - I think I went a bit overboard since I haven’t written anything Hogwarts related since Christmas. But enjoy. And I’m sorry Sara. :)

Prompts - Hogwarts / Soulmate AU.

Warnings - Major character death, death, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, battle.

Word count - 3.5k.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @happy-puff @cheryllclayton @jesso80 @dietbreadloaf @thebluetint @lilireinhartsimp @camiczzzz @bitchy-broken @crazyninjalight @luella-cane @literarygetaway21 @hopeversusillusions @bc-jh22 @happygmc8

To join my tag list fill out this form.

From the moment he’d started being friends with Betty, Jughead knew that she was his soulmate. There was no way that she couldn’t be. The sweet Hufflepuff girl who had woven her way into his heart by the middle of their first year was his absolute favourite person; she meant the world to him. The way that Soulmates had been taught to them in class matched up with everything he felt with Betty. The adoration, the comfort, the longing to always be with her. It was a way that he had never imagined he could feel about someone before he had met her.

So when it was nearing his sixteenth birthday he knew his theory about them being soulmates would be proven with the timer that would appear on his wrist. He wasn’t so fussed about the timer itself; the countdown to when his soulmate would die hadn’t even crossed his mind as he couldn’t ever imagine losing Betty. He could picture them somewhere away from Hogwarts married and living together; happy. She couldn’t die before they were grey haired and had grandchildren and had lived an amazing life together. No, he wasn’t worried about that. He was just excited to see the timer on his wrist, the timer that would only appear if he had met his soulmate.

He had waited for it the whole of September before his birthday, excitedly talking with Betty about how it could finally be confirmed that they were soulmates. He could picture her excited smile perfectly as he thought about it; the way her giant green eyes lit up as she looked up at him with her huge beautiful smile. She was perfect.

When he woke up on the morning of his birthday, after Sweet Pea had hit him with his pillow on his way out of the dormitories with a shout of “happy birthday, Jones”, as soon as he was coherent enough to do so he sat up and looked down at his wrist.

And his heart fell into his stomach as the air was knocked out of his lungs.

Betty Cooper - 1 year, 238 days.

He didn’t even realise he was shaking until his arm was moving so much that he could barely read the writing embedded into his wrist. It had to be wrong, there was no way that it could be true. Betty couldn’t die, she just couldn’t. It was impossible that someone so perfect and sweet and angelic could just die. There had to be a mistake with the timer, it had to be wrong.

With his eyes blurring with tears he lifted up his hand and harshly rubbed the skin of his wrist, as if he could rub away some sort of mistake. He rubbed the skin until it was red and sore, though nothing changed.

Betty had a year left of her life.

It took him almost an hour before he could show his face from his dorm and head down to the Great Hall. He’d managed to convince himself that the timer was wrong, and later in the day he’d find a book about it in the library. But he had to show his face at some point, aside from Christmas his birthday was one of Betty’s favourite days, and he had to see her. Especially since he might not have that much time left with her.

When she spotted him walking into the Great Hall she immediately sat up with a smile, and it caused his chest to ache to see her so happy now that he knew the time she had left.

Jughead had decided that Betty couldn’t know. He didn’t want her to live the last of her life in fear of when and how she would die. He wanted her to be happy and to enjoy herself. She only deserved to be happy from that moment onwards.

“Hey, what took you so long?” Betty asked as he walked towards the Hufflepuff table as usual, taking his normal seat beside her with a false smile so she wouldn’t know something was wrong.

“Sorry, slept in.” Jughead somehow managed to fake a smile as he put his arm around her once he was seated, dropping a kiss to her forehead which caused her to blush pink and smile bashfully at the action.

“Happy Birthday!” Betty smiled fondly as she moved her arms around his waist, and he smiled a little genuinely as he felt the warmth coming from her body. “So, what does it say?” She gestured to his wrist and he almost blanched.

Nobody but him could see the timer, to make it that much worse, so he had to keep it to himself.

“We’re definitely soulmates.” He smiled slightly, and Betty grinned as she hugged him that much tighter, giggling into his robe as he tried to hug her back.

“I knew it! That’s great! It’s official!” Betty grinned, and he had to try not to break down as he hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head as he closed his eyes.

In the time from his birthday to Betty’s, Jughead had done everything to try to figure out what could be wrong with his tattoo. With every book he read and every wizard or witch he spoke to, the answer was always the same; the timer was never wrong. After a few days of looking at it he couldn’t bare it anymore, so he constantly kept a black band covering his timer so he could never see it. It hurt too much to even think about.

As her birthday grew closer, Jughead was hoping for another option. If she was going to die so soon, he wanted to as well. He couldn’t live when she wasn’t around. It physically hurt him to think about having to live through her death and carry on while she was gone. If she was going to die, so would he.

Jughead was almost more nervous for her birthday than he had been for his own. Every time her timer was brought up he only had one thought.

Please let mine be the same as hers. Please let me die too.

But on her birthday morning when he walked into the great hall and met her beaming smile from the Hufflepuff table, his heart fell again and he knew that he wouldn’t get the luxury of dying with her.

“Seventy-six years!” Betty had assured his worst thought as he sat down, and he almost threw up. Seventy five years without her was like his own personal hell.

Jughead did everything he could to make Betty happy.

He took her to Hogsmeade, he stayed with her and her family at Christmas, and during school was always found by her side. And with every day that passed it ended with his terrible thoughts reminding him that it was all just leading one day closer to her death.

During summer at the end of his sixth year, he knew that he couldn’t go any longer without letting Betty know how he truly felt. All of the love he had for her, that of course she shared as they were soulmates - he had to act on it.

They always had a booth to themselves on the Hogwarts Express at the back of the train; away from loud students and loose pets and Weasley Wizard Wheezes pranks that could probably set them on fire (he’d seen it happen to Sweet Pea once). He always gave Betty the window seat because he knew that she liked to watch the scenery blur by when she wasn’t looking at him.

They’d been on the train for ten minutes and he was a nervous wreck. His palms were sweating and suddenly his tie felt too tight around his neck and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. It shouldn’t be that hard; they were soulmates for Merlin’s sake, of course she wasn’t going to not like him.

Taking in a deep breath he turned to face Betty, meeting her wide green eyes with his blue ones.

“Betts?” He asked, and she smiled as she hummed and tilted her head a little in questioning.

He swallowed and paused. He physically couldn’t make himself say anything, it was like his lips were glued shut. Instead of trying to force out some words, which he knew would just end in a bunch of word vomit which wouldn’t seem very lovely at all, he lifted his hand up and placed it on her cheek, giving her time to pull away if she wanted, before he leaned in and kissed her. And she kissed him back.

It was like bliss. The air almost completely left his lungs when she felt her smile pressed against his lips, and her hands against his neck as she pulled herself closer to him. She tasted like strawberry lip balm and lemon sherbet and she was so close he could smell her vanilla perfume. It was all making him light-headed.

He pulled away after a moment, and sighed softly as his forehead just pressed against hers. She was warm against his skin as her hand grasped his, and he had to smile as he let his lips press to her temple before he mumbled against her skin quietly in a hushed tone.

“I love you.”

Her dainty hand squeezed his back, and he looked down to meet her eyes and soft smile. “I love you too, Juggie.”

After that, he couldn’t be separated from her. He spent practically all summer with the Coopers - a weird experience on his end as Betty was a muggleborn, and Jughead was a pureblood so he had only ever known magical households - and when they were back at school he spent all of his possible time with her. He only wanted to make her happy; to make sure that she would have the best possible year of her life.

With each day that passed he felt more and more sick at the thought of losing her, and the thought of being left without her. He found himself getting more and more upset as the days passed, and often cried himself to sleep every night at the thought of what was to come the following May. Though he never once let Betty see - he didn’t want her to find out and ruin the last few months she had left of her life.

“I really need to get going to bed, if I get caught out after hours I’ll be in trouble.” Betty giggled as Jughead tried to kiss her again, and wriggled out from his arms so she could stand up from the couch in the Slytherin common room. If she was caught out after hours she would be more than just in trouble - with Professor Snape taking the place of Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts had been all but miserable, and even dangerous for students who went out of line. Though Jughead had given Betty every single secret passage and shortcut through Hogwarts that he knew so she could get back to the Hufflepuff dormitories safely.

Jughead pouted playfully and Betty laughed softly again, a sound that marked him smile.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Betty smiled, and Jughead nodded as he reached forwards to take her hands, using them to pull her down just enough so that he could kiss her for a long moment.

By the time he pulled away her cheeks were flushed pink and she was smiling a little flustered, and he couldn’t help but be stunned by how beautiful she was.

“Okay. Goodnight Betty. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Betty smiled and gently squeezed his hand before she walked towards the exit of the common room, blowing him a kiss before she left.

And then he was alone. Things were so much worse when he was alone.

Jughead didn’t move from his place on the couch, and just let his head fall into his hands as his eyes closed. Another day passed, one closer until the twenty-eighth of May, when Betty was going to die.

He didn’t even realise he was crying until his throat was thick and his palms were wet against his face. Jughead wasn’t even sure he could make it to May. It was killing him on the inside knowing that Betty was going to die. Part of him still wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but deep down he knew it couldn’t be stopped.

“Jones?”

Jughead looked up through his fingers at the voice, taking in a deep breath to calm himself, though just sighed when he saw Toni hovering by the couch.

Slytherin’s head girl Toni Topaz was probably one of his closest friends. And she was the only other person who knew about Betty’s timer.

“Are you here to kick me up to bed?” Jughead mumbled into his hands with a quiet sniffle, and let his head drop back down into his hands as he heard Toni sigh.

He felt the couch dip beside him before her arm wrapped around him, and he started crying again. Toni didn’t say anything as she rubbed his back, and Jughead appreciated the silent comfort she gave. There was no point in talking about it, because nothing was going to change. Nothing that anybody could say would change what would happen. Betty was going to die and nothing would change it.

The rest of the year came and went all too quickly. And as time passed, life at Hogwarts only got worse under the new headmaster. Though even in the darkest of times, Betty still managed to stay positive and happy. Jughead made sure to be with her as often as he could, and one thing he had to credit her for was how she was always so optimistic, even in the darkest of times. Even when they had experienced the most awful day, Betty still managed to make him smile. And it made him fall in love with her even more.

May came too quick, and Jughead spent every second with her. He even resorted to staying in the Hufflepuff dorms with her (after everyone had gone to sleep so he wouldn’t be caught) and even willingly went through his punishment of the Cruciatus Curse when he got caught. Twice. He didn’t tell Betty about that, though, because he would go through it a hundred times just to spend the last month or her life with her.

He walked and met her from every class, ate meals with her, slept with her; he made sure she would be happy.

And then everything went to hell.

Jughead hadn’t even remembered how it had all started, he had been so focused on watching the timer on his wrist go to just hours left, but Hogwarts was being attacked. Severely.

Everything was a mess. Teachers and advanced students were heading out to fight the Death Eaters and countless evil creatures that were breaking into the castle. But none of that mattered to Jughead, as the timer on his wrist changed from hours to minutes; he couldn’t find Betty.

He ran through the castle, avoiding blasts and curses being shot his way that he quickly deflected, despite some injury that came to his way. He met with Toni at the top of the staircase, and after a conversation with her, she told him she had seen Betty in the courtyard.

His legs had never moved so fast as they did in that moment, rushing against the clock to be with her as the timer scrolled down to just ten minutes. Jughead felt sick to his stomach as he ran, pushing past the ache in his body just to be with her. He knew what he had to do.

He caught a sight of blonde hair in the courtyard as five minutes and yelled her name, catching her in his arms as soon as he had reached her.

Betty was sobbing into his robes as she gripped onto him and he held her tightly, promising that it would all be okay. She leaned back from his chest, with tear-stained cheeks and a cut along her eyebrow, and gripped his collar tightly as she leaned up to kiss him. Their last kiss.

Two minutes came around and his hand gripped hers tightly as they ran inside, both of them deflecting any curses that came their way. He didn’t once let go of her hand as he pulled her through the castle, stopping underneath one of the staircase where they couldn’t be seen from one angle.

One minute came and Jughead dropped his wand as he pulled Betty into her arms, kissing her at least five times as he held her tightly, tears in his own eyes. “I love you so much.” He whispered into her hair, and she gripped onto him tightly.

“I love you too Juggie.” Betty whimpered, her eyes meeting his, before they widened as she looked past him at a Death Eater that was stood there, his wand pointed right at her.

Everything went too quick, a blur of colours and actions. The green curse blasted out from his wand right towards Betty, and Jughead held his breath as he moved quickly; pushing Betty out of the way right in time for the green curse to hit him instead.

“Jughead!” Toni yelled as she grabbed his arm, stopping him from where he was running to.

His eyes were wide and panicked as he stumbled a little, stopping as her smaller hand grabbed his arm. He didn’t have time for this, he needed to find Betty before it was too late.

“Toni I can’t- Betty-“

“That’s what I need to talk to you about!” Toni rushed, pulling him behind a wall so they could have some safety. “I know it’s today, Jughead, I’ve been trying to find you all day! I found a book in the restricted section that spoke about soulmates and the timer, and it says that someone can take the place of their soulmate and swap their timers if they die instead of them!”

Jughead felt all the air leave his lungs at the news. Betty could live instead of him. Betty could live.

“You have to be with her! I saw her in the courtyard!”

Jughead quickly pulled Toni into a hug, knowing it would be the last time she ever saw him. He mumbled a goodbye against her head and tried to ignore the way she was crying as he pulled back from the hug and ran towards the courtyard to find Betty.

His body dropped to the floor and Betty screamed. She didn’t see the spell cast towards the Death Eater that killed them so she didn’t die too, all she could see was Jughead crumpled on the floor.

“No no no, Jug!” Betty screamed as she fell on her knees by his side, her hands cupping his cheeks. He couldn’t die. He still had so many years left. He wasn’t dead.

But when she glanced at her arm the timer had changed. It had one number - zero.

She was shaking as she gripped onto his robes, tears flooding down her cheeks as she cried his name. The battle around her was far from her mind as she shook his body, his limp body not moving no matter how hard she shook him.

Once the battle was over, and his body had been moved to the Great Hall with all of the other bodies, Toni found Betty kneeling by his body. The head girl took a seat beside the Hufflepuff and told her everything; about Jughead’s timer, how badly he had felt for the past year, how she had told him he could die instead. Betty didn’t know what to say in response - she couldn’t say anything. It all hurt too much to try to even talk about it. Toni held her as she started crying again, allowing the blonde to sob into her shoulder as she continued gripping onto Jughead’s now cold hand.

Betty had imagined their lives one day in the future. They would have a house in the English countryside with two boys that looked just like Jughead and a ginger cat that slept on the end of their bed. Their house would always be full of laughter and joy, and they would both love each other as much then as they did when they were teenagers.

But that would never happen, Betty realised with a pain in her chest that was worse than any of those curses that she could have been hit with. They never had enough time.

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dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade · 4 years ago

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Reunion

Request: HERE A/N: UPLOADING IT AGAIN BC I FORGOT TO TAG IT SORRY Soo it’s been what, one year, since I last posted a fic here? I’m kind of rusty ngl but nevertheless, it felt comforting to write something like this :) As usual, critiques and comments are welcome Word count: 1.7 K+ Warnings: none

To be added - or removed - from the taglist, please DM me or leave me an ask!

GIF credit goes to @edgeofgreta; the original post is HERE

You walked into the apartment and set the two groceries-filled shopping bags onto the laminated floor. You kicked off your shoes and carried the bags into the open kitchen, placing them on the counter. With boredom, you took out every single item and placed them in their designated spaces. With the same growing boredom, you made your way back into the living room and threw yourself on the navy-blue sofa with your head sinking in one of the biggest pillows.

You pick up your phone and look at the screen – specifically, at the lockscreen wallpaper, which was a photo of you and Jake. Josh had taken that photo on one of the getaways you made together. Jake had on a beige shirt with his top four buttons undone – in other words, only with his lower two buttons done – and his favorite black hat. He was standing up tall, a wide smile on his face, and you were leaning against him, with your head placed on his right shoulder. You smiled and unlocked your phone, then opened the messages app and texted Jake.

I miss you :( Why does tour have to last this long?

Underneath the blue message bubble appeared the notification that the message had been read, then three typing dots appeared on Jake’s end.

I miss you too, honey. I can’t wait to get home and see you.

You begin to type.

Can we facetime later?

The answer came shortly.

Sorry, but tonight we have a gig. Tomorrow, too… We’re having practice now. Josh has again too much energy and needs to drain it a little bit before going onstage. Got to go now :( Love you

You typed back a formal luck-wishing message and threw the phone on the coffee table in front of the sofa. You were bored out of your mind and in the mood to do nothing whatsoever. Jake had been gone for almost three months now. You understood that it was his job and those were the terms and conditions you agreed to when you started dating him, but you didn’t figure at the time that separation would feel like that. It was safe to say that from time to time you missed him so much it hurt you.

You curled into a fetal position and turned on the TV. Flicking through the channels, you stopped at MTV. Highway Tune just began to play. Your heart grew at the sight of the boys and especially at the sight of Jake. You were so proud of them for getting that far and the mere thought that there actually is a far longer way for them to go made your heart beat in exhilaration. As the last notes of the song echoed through the room, you closed your eyes, pleased that you had seen the band on TV again.

You woke up from the “nap” way too late – it was 1 AM when you opened your eyes – so you moved from the living room to the bedroom. You didn’t bother changing your clothes and you just got underneath the blankets covering the double bed. Before falling asleep again, you looked over at the empty space next to you and you caressed the sheets, wishing that Jake would be there.

The new morning brought along a new day, but unfortunately, the base routine was the same: breakfast, staying in bed for way longer than you should’ve, going outside for some more groceries, flipping through magazines, watching TV, texting – or at least trying to text – Jake. The difference was that today, you called in sick for work and decided to do something fun.

After calling multiple of your friends, asking if they were free to go shopping with you, you finally let yourself defeated and decided you’d visit some shops on your own.

While you were at the bookshop – the one you frequently visited with Jake – you found a puzzle which, put together, should create a 3D globe with multiple images from the Renaissance era. You figured that Jake would find that puzzle at least as intriguing as you did. I could start putting together a welcome-home gift for Jake, you grinned as the thought crossed your mind. You picked the puzzle box off the shelf and walked around the bookshop with it. You stopped in front of the vinyl-filled boxes and you began browsing through them. Jake had a ridiculously large vinyl collection, but you listened to it together so many times that you almost knew every record by heart.

After way too much time spent pondering which records to get, you finally settled for The Doors’ Morrison Hotel and T-Rex’s Electric Warrior. On your way to the register, you stopped by the wine-for-special-occasions section and picked up a bottle.

With your heart filled with excitement, you came back home and called out. “Jake, I’m –,” but you stopped as you remembered that he wasn’t actually home. You slowly let the paper bag containing the puzzle, the wine bottle and the two records on the ground as you locked the door. Before unpacking, you checked your phone. No notifications from Jake. You felt your heart lightly twitch. You couldn’t blame Jake: he was just busy and most likely tired.

You took out the new acquisitions and arranged them on the low coffee table and smiled at the thought of Jake coming in through the front door.

You were tired, so you quickly did your night routine and you got into bed. Once you were in bed though, you couldn’t fall asleep. You just kept tossing back and forth, unable to find a comfortable position. Unannouncedly and unexpectedly, tears welled up in your eyes as you laid there, alone, facing the empty space to your left. You didn’t fight the tears back; you were alone in the darkness, there was no one who could see you. You just missed Jake so much. You missed the smell of his cologne imprinted even in his pajamas. You missed his laughter that managed to make you laugh all the time and you missed those moments when you’d both begin to laugh hysterically and you’d laugh at Jake’s laugh and he’d laugh at yours, and you both laughed so much that you forgot what started it in the first place. You missed his random moments of dancing around the house and you missed his complaints mostly aimed at Josh. As the memories reeled in the back of your mind, your sobs got more frequent. Thinking of it, three months didn’t sound like such a long time, but in reality, time is tricky. Three months can easily feel like three hours and just as easy can feel like three years. For you, it felt like three decades. You mindlessly grabbed Jake’s pillow and hugged it tightly to your chest, wishing it would be Jake instead of just a pillow.

As a new day dawned, you shuffled in your sleep and hugged the pillow again. You didn’t want to wake up just yet.

“Wakey, wakey,” a voice said from somewhere behind you, almost through a dream.

“Five more minutes,” you groaned, unwilling to open your eyes. You paused then and held your breath.

“You’re gonna be late for work,” the voice spoke again and a warm finger traced your side.

You jumped almost instantly. “Jake!” you shouted and collapsed over him, your arms circling his shoulders. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply – that faint smell of freshly squeezed lemons, mint and cigarettes. His arms circled your waist and you both fell onto the bed. “God, I missed you so much,” you whisper.

“I missed you too… I am so happy to be back home,” he said and hugged you tighter.

Time stood still for you. You were in your happy place and nothing could get you away from there. You pulled away and looked at Jake. You ran your index fingers on both sides of his face and then cupped his face in your hands. Jake didn’t break eye contact with you not even for a second. He softly leaned into your right hand and with his right hand, he took your free one and brought it up to his lips, leaving a kiss on it. “Come here,” he whispered and smiled at you, as his hand made its way up to your cheek, slowly guiding you in towards his lips. You closed your eyes and slightly tilted your head to the side, anticipation growing in your stomach. His lips on yours felt so soft, so satin-like and sweet. You couldn’t get enough of this feeling. As an instinctive gesture, you brought your hand up to Jake’s face and let your fingers roam over his soft skin until they mindlessly tangled into his hair. Jake chuckled in-between needier and needier kisses, “More to come later.” He softly pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. “Next time, you’ll quit your job and come with me on tour.”

“Definitely,” you giggle, already picturing it in your mind. City after city, state after state – and you’d be there to see it all. “Jakey,” you say and pout a little.

“Yes, I will cuddle with you,” he nodded his head before you even got the occasion to ask the question. You break out in laughter and fall into the bed which, now that Jake was home, was even more comfortable.

You snaked your arms around Jake’s torso and pulled yourself closer to him. Jake pulled the blanket over the two of you in one swift move and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “I’m never letting you go,” you whisper and cuddle closer to his chest.

“Please never do,” he answered and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Did one of the boys tell you by any chance that we’re coming back early?”

“No, why?”

“Oh, that’s good. I wanted it to be a surprise,” he spoke lowly. “I saw you had some wine in the kitchen.”

You giggled. “It’s for us, for when you would come home.”

“I am home now,” Jake raised an eyebrow.

“I’m calling in sick again,” you announced and Jake’s laugh echoed through the room.

“That’s my girl.”

Tags: @myownparadise96, @satans-helper, @littlegeekwonder, @songbirdkisses, @angelstraightfr0mhell, @freeeshavacadoo, @safari-karrot, @mountainofthesunn, @bigthighsandstupidguys, @starshinekiszka

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet imagine #jake kiszka #jake kiszka imagine #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #gvf #gvf imagine #jake kiszka x reader #requested #my writing #fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fic

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 4 years ago

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light of my life, fire of my loins. be a good baby, do what i want.

summary: requested: Andy Barber gives me such strong sugar daddy vibes I haven’t watched the show but he just looks like the kinda guy who would spoil the shit outta someone

warnings: smut everywhere. and you know, sugar daddy shit, so. also, doesn’t make a lot of sense. I have a lot more that I actually wrote, I just wasn’t sure where I was going with this. so...prompt sugar andy daddy if you want more???

word count: around 10,400

pairing: andy barber x reader

a/n: anon! I want you to know that I started working on this as soon as you requested it! I just wanted to make sure I really got sugar daddy andy down and that it wasn’t steve rogers that I was writing. I am so sorry bc you definitely deserved this a very long time ago! if there are any typos, I apologize, I just needed to get this posted before work.

When you met Andy, you had been juggling three jobs, gaining more debt than you would probably ever be able to pull off even with a degree, fairly sucky grades caused by how much you worked, resulting in stress, anxiety, all that great shit that comes along with being someone in America that dares to want to pursue higher education.

After a few months dating Andy, you had one job that you only kept for autonomy reasons, shrinking debt, excellent grades, and truly, no stress at all. Instead of spending a night waiting tables at the restaurant near the campus, where disgusting men would flirt with you because you were on the clock and literally could not leave, you were in a tiny ass dress, covered in diamonds, drinking champagne, and trying not to be too obvious about the cum dripping down your thighs.

Obscene was often a word that you played with in your mind whenever you were with Andy. Your outfits were indecent because he loved seeing as much of your skin as he possibly could. Your behavior was shameless, you showed up, you laughed, you hung onto him the entire night with the smuggest of smiles. Your willingness, especially in public, was vulgar, the way you let him touch you in front of everyone. Salacious. Indecorous. Immoral. Debauched.

These parties that he took you to were only half of it. According to his son, Jacob, Andy hadn’t been one for socializing before the divorce. He claimed that this was something new his father picked up, something that he theorized was the consequence of loneliness. You figured that you also fell under that category. These people weren’t actually his friends and you weren’t actually his girlfriend.

Andy wanted a distraction and you were just fucked up and high-maintenance enough to be perfect for the job. Getting into the swing of things had been quite the task at the start, much to your surprise. Who didn’t want a gorgeous man to spoil them? Apparently you, if your earlier behavior was any indication.

You had started this with wanting to be as professional as possible. When you had pictured how this would look, it was you listening to him speak whenever he wanted, you would respond when prompted but it would be short, succinct, and your main concern would be maintaining your physical attractiveness. You tried to think of him as your employer, you were his employee, and that meant that there needed to be respect and boundaries. You pictured a lot of pretending. Pretending to laugh, pretending to care, pretending to enjoy his company, pretending to come.

You had also thought you were going to smart. This wasn’t some stupid Lifetime movie and you had dreams and goals and if you played your cards right, this man could put you on a sure path to reaching all you had ever hoped to accomplish. At least, that was what you were telling yourself when you’d had the mental quandary: were you a prostitute?

Thankfully, both phases of resistance had been dropped—possibly around the first time he went down on you. You were no expert, but “professional” probably barred him from fucking you in about 90% of his chosen locations. And whether you were a “prostitute”, an “escort”, a “hooker”, or whatever other demeaning word anyone could come up with, was another unimportant matter. Anyone could call you anything, at the end of the day, you had money.

It was supposed to be clean, a black and white exchange where you showed up and he paid you. At any point, you could step on the brakes, he could step on the brakes—something you had once found relief in, but was now a source of insecurity, not that you would ever tell him that. He didn’t need to know about your life, what you wanted to do after school, who your friends were, your shaky relationship with your parents, the reasons why someone like you wanted to enter this relationship.

But he asked about those things because rules seemed to either not exist to him, or they just weren’t meaningful. And you hadn’t felt pressured to answer or anything, if that was the case, you would have just lied. The fact of the matter was that eventually you told him these things because you didn’t mind him knowing about your life.

He was not supposed to be kind or smart or interesting. He was not supposed to be a good guy. Clearly, he didn’t get the memo. There should be an official organization that lets men know you can’t just be perfect and spoil someone if you look anything like Andrew Barber.

It was the middle of April in Massachusetts and that meant it was still just a little too chilly for the slinky slip Andy had picked out for you, but that was what all the champagne was for. You were buzzing and it wasn’t just that you were getting drunk. Summer was approaching and he often spoke about all of the things he wanted to do with you now that you had more free time and he gave you these looks and you could just get lost in his eyes and plans even though you knew better.

You had been doing this long enough that people had finally stopped staring. The first few times Andy brought you, they were blatant and downright rude, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. Despite the disproportionate wealth shared amongst this group, it wasn’t too often that someone brought along a much younger woman that they were undoubtedly paying. Most of these men were married and either brought their wives along or tales of their affairs.

The rich people here treated this like an elite group, so when people like you were around, not everyone was welcoming. The other few women that had similar situations to yours were kind enough and tried to get to know you better—shared experiences create great friendships, right? Andy didn’t think so, he discouraged any type of communication and claimed that it was because they didn’t tend to stick around long. You theorized he just didn’t want you spending time with anyone that wasn’t him.

The woman across from Andy, Francesca, had been around for as long as you could remember. She had long, dark brown hair, flawless eyebrows, a great jawline, and an even greater ass. She was a few years older than him and several older than you.

You often pondered just how much more interesting than you she was. See, she had never hidden that she was attracted to him, but Andy seemed oblivious. You couldn’t tell if he actually was or was just pretending not to notice. You told yourself it was deeper than just the age, that there was another, much different reason that he wasn’t interested in her.

But, of course, you couldn’t ask. You couldn’t talk to him about other women because that was teetering on the edge of possessiveness and jealousy. Those were two of the few luxuries that you would be denied. Romance would not be found here, just a lot of mutual lust and understanding.

She laughed at something he said, pulling you back into the moment. As you sipped on your champagne, you returned to your favorite activity at these parties: people watching. You were starting to pick up on some of the drama and whatever blanks were left at the end of the nights, Andy usually filled them for you.

There were certain types of men that always bred the most scandalous scenarios. Those are the same few men that had only just recently stopped trying to buy you away from Andy by offering you more money than he was paying you. Yes, technically, that was what you were here for, but Andy was not like these men.

For starters, most everyone in attendance was a lawyer. They followed the model of: the worse the job was, the better the pay. Unlike them, Andy didn’t represent sleazy, rich rapists or murderers. That was just the start of the differences. He didn’t get so drunk that he caused a scene at these parties, he didn’t touch drugs, and he wasn’t going through some tragic midlife crisis that he was trying to placate with cars or women.

When you looked back at the pair, Andy was texting and Francesca was eyeing your hand around the glass were sipping from. She was looking at your rings—oh, your rings. You loved your rings.

Originally, you’d thought you weren’t going to ask for or accept anything stupid. You just needed your bills paid, your rent, your car. You wanted to be able to eat more than once a day. Andy quickly realized that you wouldn’t ask, if he wanted you to have something, he was just going to have to give it to you.

(On your very first date, he’d given you a diamond bracelet. You had been stunned, maybe even a little uncomfortable. It was hard to accept such expensive items from strangers. However, you did like it and wore it almost every day even though it made no sense with most of your outfits. You’d simply grown fond of it because it had come from him.)

(On the fourth date, he gave you a three-strand diamond necklace that strongly resembled a collar. You adored it, not the way you adored your rings, but it still gave you butterflies whenever he would clasp it around your neck and then kiss the skin directly under it. These were things that he’d called gifts, but you recognized them for what they actually were, signs of ownership.)

The first ring had been a reward. You’d made it through midterms, so he took you to the jewelry shop that’s on the way back to your apartment from his house. After three hours and a lot of wine—you’d needed to be drunk the first few times you knew he was spending money on you—you left with the tiara ring for your pinky finger. It was a loud piece of intricate curls on top of and underneath a row of tiny hearts. This ring was the most special, the first, you rarely ever took it off—only for school.

The second had been an apology. He’d convinced you to spend the night at his house even though he knew you really didn’t want to. He had kissed your neck and your face and had two of his fingers inside you, he had whispered all the things he still wanted to do to you that night. Around two in the morning, you’d gone to get water from the kitchen. You were in a pair of panties and one of Andy’s shirts that you didn’t bother to button up. That was how you were dressed when you met his son for the first time. Two days later, you had the butterfly ring in its spot at the base of your index finger. It was gaudy and expensive but did little to quell your anger and humiliation. You loved it, nonetheless.

The third had been an anniversary present. This relationship had reached its 100-day mark, he took you to his favorite restaurant, the same one he had taken you to for your first date. Which wasn’t romantic at all, there were a lot of terms being discussed. This time had been much different. He asked you for your hand and slipped the ring onto your third finger without a word, he merely eyed the only empty finger with the unstated promise that that finger would soon have one as well. It was this huge oval cut diamond that covered the width of your finger, atop two bands of smaller but still fairly large identically cut diamonds.

A little less than three weeks after that, it had been…well, you still weren’t quite sure what the fourth ring was. It wasn’t often that Andy didn’t drive you. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you had only one class so he would drop you off and pick you up during his lunch break so you could get coffee together. On Wednesdays and Fridays, you had more than one class so he would drop you off and he would pick you up when he got off work.

One Wednesday morning, your first class had been canceled so you ended up driving yourself. Andy took Wednesdays and Fridays as his early days off because he didn’t want you waiting in the library too long after your final class let out, so those had become the simple nights when he would come over to your apartment even though he really didn’t like it there—you figured he was struggling with the urge to buy you a much bigger apartment, one that would probably coincidentally be closer to his house as well.

You had made the plan to cook dinner that night so before heading home, you drove to the grocery store… Fortunately, no one was hurt. Unfortunately, at your place just in front of the stoplight, a car in the turn lane drove right into your car. Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal considering your life of absolute privilege and you just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

Andy wasn’t quite as level-headed. The other driver was a middle-aged man so Andy felt no reluctance in throwing a fit. You had been torn between being humiliated that he was fussing so much over you, flattered that he cared, angry that he was treating you like you were a fragile vase, or maybe just a little turned on because he was so angry.

That night, instead of your place, he took you to his house and spoiled the hell out of you. He undressed you and kissed you everywhere, he bundled you up in one of his sweaters and a throw blanket, sat you down on the bed, and made you hot chocolate. You were not allowed to lift a single finger. That was the first night you spent at his house, and since Jacob wasn’t there, Andy didn’t hesitate to fuck you for hours and make you scream as loudly as he wanted you to.

The next morning, when you woke up, the black velvet box was set on the pillow between you and him. He was propped up on the headboard with his laptop and the clock on his bedside table was saying that it was well past noon. Clearly, he decided to stay home from work and if there wasn’t jewelry in front of you, you would have given him a lecture.

It was a princess cut diamond—which he would later explain with ‘you are my princess’—with a double halo and a diamond-encrusted band. It was smaller than all the rest but somehow just went perfectly.

You weren’t bragging, at least not in a petty way. It was just that any time you noticed someone staring at your hand, you couldn’t help but try to draw more attention to it, or the other jewelry Andy showered you in.

You supposed that maybe that meant something, maybe during your little back and forth a few hours prior when he had accused you of being spoiled, he was onto something. Regardless, the only person who could be blamed for that was him.

You almost got lost in the diamonds on your hand when Andy reached out to you, pulling some hair over your shoulder. You looked up at him, he was smiling softly. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Are you ready to go?”

He really didn’t like these parties; he was always the one that wanted to leave and would slyly place the blame on you. You were tired, you weren’t feeling well, you had a tough week and you just wanted to go home. You never minded because it wasn’t as if you got anything out of these parties either, and if that was the easiest way to pull him out of there, so be it. It was Sunday anyway, he had to work tomorrow and you had to go over your weekly schedule with him before the night was over.

“Sure.”

It started as a quiet drive, just like it always did, but then he placed his hand on your thigh. You glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. He simply smirked and kept his gaze on the road. You opened your legs wide, guiding two of his fingers inside you. “Can you feel your cum in me?”

“Not enough.”

“You’re the one that made me stand for almost an hour.”

“I’ll fill you up again before you go to class tomorrow.”

You snorted. “Lucky me.”

He shot you a look. “Oh, you don’t like it?”

“Never said that.”

“Well, if you don’t, I don’t need to—”

“I was kidding,” you whined.

He gave you a look, pretending he was unconvinced. “You’ve had an attitude all night.”

“You spanked me,” you reminded. The memory, the sore feeling on your ass whenever you sat down, had kept you wet all night. “Hard.”

“You talked back.”

You had because you wanted him to spank you. The first time he had, it was quite the discovery. It was after a drink, after you were feeling a little daring. He told you no, and you really hated when he did that. You couldn’t even remember what you had said, but it was bad, it was enough to get your skirt torn down, you bent over his knee, and well, the rest was a blissful blur.

This time it was because he was in a mood. You were getting dressed and he was watching you and that always meant something. You weren’t sure what exactly, but there were a few things you picked up on with Andy. When he wanted to be in control, he didn’t necessarily just want you to submit completely. When he gave you a look, you knew that he wanted you to fight just a bit. So, he told you to wear a specific dress and you refused initially. Cue the spanking. After your whole body felt hot and flushed and your legs were shaking and your cunt was dripping, you obliged, and he was so damn smug about it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, because my fingers are inside you and you want me to make you come.”

“Well…yes.”

He laughed and you couldn’t help but smile. You loved the sound of it. Andy so rarely laughed but you took it to mean that he felt comfortable enough around you. “If you can be patient, I’ll fuck you when we get home.”

Home. His home. Whatever. “And if I can’t?”

“Then you’re going to have to wait until the morning and I might not feel like letting you come. Deal?”

You nodded. “Deal.”

But he didn’t play fair. He drove slower than usual, fingers still buried inside you, and he moved them. A lot. He tried to cover it with stupid things, like driving over a pothole or making a sharp turn. If you moved your hips once, just barely, you lost. So, you sat there, completely still, gripping the seat like it was a lifeline.

Upstairs, you waited for him to make the rounds. Jacob wasn’t there, thankfully, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been there earlier. Andy went around every door and window and made sure they were locked.

In that time, you got undressed and waited for him. You had a couple of red marks across your ass that you could see in the mirror on the opposite end of the bedroom. He always liked seeing your skin marked up in some way if he was the reason.

When he entered the room, you were sitting on the edge of the bed. “Stand up.”

You quickly did so, turning your back to him so he could see your ass. His palms lightly felt along the marked skin there. “It doesn’t hurt.”

He rarely asked, but you found that he fucked you better when he knew for sure. You just started letting him know and it seemed he trusted you enough to voice any boundaries you had if he ever crossed them.

One hand slowly trailed up your spine and slid across to your shoulder. He pressed you down quickly and you caught yourself on the mattress with both hands. You could hardly stay still as you heard his belt and zipper.

He easily pushed into you, body flush against yours. He let you adjust around him, staying perfectly still as he leaned over you and kissed your back, neck, and shoulders. Andy didn’t move until you angled your hips and pressed back a little more, whimpering nonsense.

This was so unlike the two times earlier. In the closet, after he spanked you, he sat you on top of his lap and made you ride him. At the party, in the bathroom, he stood you in front of the mirror and gently fucked you until he had filled you with his cum. This was fast, rough, and maybe a little detached if you really thought about it.

Andy took your waist in both hands and held you in place as he pounded into you relentlessly. Slapping skin, your soaking wet pussy, the bed banging against the wall on his particularly hard thrusts, these had become noises you were more than used to, noises you had grown to crave. Being with Andy was never supposed to be like this, but you didn’t have a single complaint.

You buried your face in the blankets, hands clutching tight at the sheets around you as your muffled screams filled the room. You knew he was close when his hands began to wander. One carded through your hair and pressed you down more, the other moved under you to reach your clit.

“You were such a good girl in the car.”

Your response was unintelligible, but yes. You had been more than just good. You had waited for him even though he was being a tease, and now, you wanted what he owed you. Which he didn’t deny you, not for a second.

He made you come. Once. Twice. Maybe three times. But after that, it was all just nonsense, satisfying, endless nonsense. He was still holding you by the hair, but he’d turned your head so you could breathe, and he was still circling his fingers around your clit.

Your back arched, allowing him in deeper—one of the tells of your approaching orgasm. You felt your pussy tighten around his fingers and began begging him to let you come. Even in this hazy, fucked-out state, you wanted to please him, you wanted his praise and approval.

He gave you permission like he always did and fully intended to fuck you through it. He only paused because he felt you spilling down his thighs, felt the wet sheets against his skin, heard light drops on the hardwood floor. Fuck.

He pulled you against him immediately, your sweat-slicked back to his chest. One arm draped across your chest, the opposite hand wrapped around your neck. You were watching him, eyes clear with curiosity. “You just squirted, princess.”

You blinked and attempted to voice your confusion. Problem was, his hips were still moving. You had no time to recover and there was no chance your brain had at making sense of anything in that moment.

“It was fucking hot and you’re going to do it again.”

Needless to say, you skipped classes the next day.

Andy liked to celebrate the monthly anniversaries.

He was big on creating traditions, you assumed that was just that part of him that had been hardwired to crave a normal family. He hadn’t told you much about his life and you didn’t want to pry—his dad wasn’t around and his mom had been but she died when he was pretty young. He shared this only after he asked about your parents.

The most personal he had ever gotten with you was one night when he had intended to take advantage of your drunk and thoroughly fucked state, obviously convinced that you wouldn’t remember the question in the morning. Do you believe in love?

It was weird given the setting and that you and Andy simply didn’t talk like that. It was dangerous because this could never be more than it was. You were both only allowed feelings of lust, maybe even obsession, but nothing of the usual sense. And Andy was so strict and controlled, you were surprised he would cross any sort of line.

You tried to play it off, tried to tell him that you had more important things to worry about. He didn’t like that response. He pressed because he was just like that, his career was all about pressing and sometimes, he brought it home. You ended up telling him that you viewed marriage as a waste of time. Your parents divorced, all your aunts and uncles, even the younger friends who got married out of high school were on the fast track to messy court dates and vicious custody battles. You also pointed out his situation. If someone as perfect as him couldn’t stay married, no one could.

It was then that he told you the happiest moments of his life were carving pumpkins or decorating the Christmas tree with Jacob. He had loved Valentine’s Day with Laurie, he was the one that had always insisted on doing something. He even looked forward to the smaller holidays, Independence Day, Memorial Day, any day that got Jacob out of school and him an extra day off so they could have a cookout in the backyard.

It wasn’t his intent, but it had sort of created a barrier between you two. You wished he still had his family even if that meant never meeting him. He was that kind of man, a good man, and you could tell that it weighed on him every day that he no longer had his perfect family.

He’d never pictured his life like this, a failed marriage, a child separated between his parents. He never would have entertained the idea of needing someone like you. He didn’t say that last part, but you knew. Sometimes, it was just in the way he looked at you. You feared he would grow to resent you one day, but you always tried to push that thought far away.

Regardless, the distance was there and he realized it even if he didn’t say it. There was also the matter that school had just let out meaning you had zero excuses for saying no to him when he proposed the trip to New York that would coincide with the 7-month mark of your relationship.

You’d never been and you’d always wanted to see Moulin Rouge on Broadway. He’d decided to drive to New York because you had once made the mistake of telling him you hated airports. It was a short road trip, one you weren’t entirely unwelcoming of. Especially not when he kept his hand on your thigh most of the time. It was late when you made it to the hotel and surprisingly, he had no issues with you diving straight into bed.

The morning was quite different. The hotel window had a perfect view of the city and he felt inclined to fuck you against it as soon as you both woke up. Then, he wanted to take you shopping. For nearly two entire days, he spoiled the hell out of you. Anywhere you wanted to go, he would take you. Anything you glanced at, he wanted to buy it for you.

On the night of the show, he finally took you to Victoria’s Secret. You’d seen pictures of it before, but you had not anticipated how beautiful it would look in person. You went crazy, you took him to the fitting room and tortured him on every single floor with both clothing and lingerie. Several hours had been devoted to teasing him and he let you know that after the show, you would regret your decisions.

Before you managed to get him back to the hotel so you could get ready, he needed to spend another awful amount of money on you. There was a jewelry shop just down the street from Victoria’s Secret and he couldn’t let you leave the state—as he claimed when he saw you frown—without at least one diamond.

You wanted nothing, but you knew the chances of him allowing that were nonexistent. So, you told yourself to keep it small, but one thing that had become a harsh reality since you met Andy: you were a sad, pathetic victim to larger, shinier diamonds. You immediately fell in love with a short string of sizable heart-shaped diamonds, the one larger heart dangling in the center is what had caught your eye.

Regardless of this terrible habit you had developed—this feeling that you craved, the pure joy that you got from people knowing that Andy was buying you diamonds—you tried to protest when he caught you staring. You just wanted a bracelet, really. He rarely ever gave you bracelets.

Instead, he sent you off to get coffee. You knew exactly why that was. He often got rid of you when he was about to make decisions that he knew would make you feel bad. You wanted to refuse, but what was better? Blissful ignorance or sitting there just watching him toss out the money for that necklace?

Learning what Andy liked at Starbucks had been a process. He didn’t like his coffee sweet so that eliminated 90% of the menu. His home coffee was some brand you’d never even heard of, the shops he went to were all nearly older than him. He liked cappuccinos with extra espresso, but he preferred the straightforward coffee he would get anywhere else, so he claimed. However, you knew he liked pumpkin spice lattes. You planned to prove it the day they released them for the year.

When he came out, the bag in his hand was much larger than one that would be used for just a necklace. He smiled at the horrified look you shot him and claimed that he was given a great deal for the entire set.

While you were getting ready for the show, you realized that this was the most normal you had felt with Andy in a while. There had been tension that neither of you wanted to address, but this trip was making you realize just how stupid that tension was. One day, this was going to end. It was impractical to think an arrangement like this was going to have a long shelf-life.

Shouldn’t you just enjoy it? Being here with him was fun. You liked the city and all the noise and bustle. You also liked being with him away from home and the lives you two had created long before you met one another. This was just you two, isolated together. Normally, you couldn’t ask that of him. He had his job and he was a father and you understood that completely, but you liked this.

During the show, Andy whispered to you several times. He couldn’t wait to be fucking you. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He couldn’t wait to hear you scream and cry and beg. He placed your hand over his lap just so you could feel how hard he was.

Back at the hotel, and maybe it was because of all that he had said, you didn’t want to tease. Almost immediately, you stripped completely naked—fuck all of that expensive lingerie, apparently.

He finally gave you your diamonds. He started with the necklace and you couldn’t even be upset. It fit you so well, you loved seeing it against your skin, you loved seeing how he looked at you while you were wearing it. Then, he gave you the matching bracelet. You had said you wanted a bracelet, right? You couldn’t complain. The earrings, you told yourself, were fine because you didn’t have a pair of diamond earrings yet.

You felt weighed down by these diamonds but not in a bad way. You felt tied to him, owned like you were one of his prized possessions. It was temporary, you reasoned, so was there any real harm in that? He watched you climb off the bed he had ordered you on mere minutes ago, arching an eyebrow as you lowered to your knees before him.

Andy rarely had the patience to let you go down on him, despite loving the feeling. Mostly, his main source of pleasure came from the things he could make you feel. He also couldn’t understand what you got out of letting him fuck your mouth. You weren’t much of a fan before Andy, you could admit since you had a total of zero pleasant experiences, but you felt that this was your only way of spoiling him.

It was nonnegotiable tonight, you would throw a fit if needed. You looked up at him for a moment, almost asking for permission. But not quite, maybe more for compliance. His promise was made by unzipping his pants for you and then letting his hands fall to his sides.

You took him out of his pants and opened your mouth. Staring up at him again, you took as much of him as you could. He was fine until he felt you gag, then his jaw set and his hands became fists.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

Moaning around him, you slowly pulled back. One of his hands disappeared in your hair before you could get too far. He had to keep you there for a moment, attempting to calm himself down because he could tell how much you wanted this.

He brought his hand forward, touching your cheekbone. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He slipped his fingers under your jaw and thrust his hips forward gently. He didn’t go too deep and it was at a torturous pace that he pulled out. This man’s control was one of the sexiest things about him. It made him seem so powerful and stable and that was what you craved more than anything in this world.

“Touch yourself,” he directed.

Your hand dove down, two fingers instantly burying inside your pussy. You moaned loudly around him and he cursed again.

“You want me to fuck your face?”

You nodded as well as you could.

He nodded, taking another deep breath. His hold under your face tightened just a bit, thumb and fingers pressing into your jaw. He didn’t thrust, instead, he moved you with his hand. Each time he brought you down on him, he made sure to choke you a little because he knew you liked it.

By the time he was close, your jaw was sore, made worse by his tight hold, your ribs hurt from how hard you had been gagging, the back of your throat was testament that he had lost it a couple of times, and went a bit harder than he meant to. Your entire hand was wet, your thighs shaking and your hips still rolling.

He told you to come with him, told you he wasn’t going to until you did. You pressed the heel of your palm down on your clit and fucked your hand harder. Andy brought you down as far as your throat would allow and held you there, moaning as you attempted to swallow around him.

His hand slid down to your neck and he began to squeeze when he knew you were close, hips moving fast and sloppy. You placed one hand on his thigh to keep yourself balanced, turning your gaze up to him once more.

You felt him start to spill down your throat. He moved harder, hips jerking and cock slamming into the back of your throat each time. The cum that was in your mouth was now beginning to slip out from the sides of your lips.

He pulled out before he was done, one hand in your hair to angle your head back, his other hand stroking his cock as his cum leaked out along your jaw and neck. “God damn, you are fucking gorgeous.”

You stared at him as the tip of your tongue came out to the corner of your mouth where you felt some of his cum.

Immediately, he pulled you onto your feet and shoved you back onto the bed. He was on top of you instantly, using his fingers to collect his cum off your skin so he could feed it to you. As you laid there, licking his fingers, he brought his opposite hand down to your pussy.

“I love feeling your cunt after you’ve just finished.” He teased you several times, just dipping the tips of his fingers in before he pushed two inside you.

You whimpered, lips closed around his fingers. Once he pulled them out, your mouth was free to speak, which was rarely ever a good thing when you two were in bed. “Well, are you going to get inside me, or did you need a minute?”

He arched an eyebrow—it didn’t bother him when you joked about his age, but he pretended it was grounds for true punishment. “Maybe I need several minutes, I guess I just have to keep you coming until then, huh?”

You hummed in protest.

He brought his hand up to grab your jaw, wet fingers pressing tightly into your skin. His lips hovered over yours as he asked, “You’re such a fucking brat, you know that?”

You smiled. “Yes.”

He scoffed. “You’re shameless. I don’t know how you got this bad.”

But he did know, and he would do whatever he possibly could to ensure that you would just get worse. Andy’s success was measured by your bratty episodes. It showed how comfortable you had become with him but also just how much you wanted him.

For the record, you weren’t accusing Andy of being some evil mastermind who had planned this whole…ordeal. That would be insane because it would imply a lot of things that you knew were simply not true about him. He wasn’t a bad person, he was actually one of the best that you had ever met.

But…he was a lawyer. He had picked up some bad habits that came along with that. That meant, that though he didn’t plan this, he was enjoying it thoroughly. In short, you were accusing him of being an opportunist.

The first time you met Andy, he had brought Jacob to that hellhole of a restaurant you used to work at. So, technically Jacob knew you, but he was on his phone the entire time and they were low-maintenance customers, so he’d maybe seen you for a total of 5 minutes over their 2-hour stay. Andy did come back and bring Jacob several times, but it was always the same. He never paid you any mind, and why would he?

So, when you “met” him, half-naked and covered in bruises and bites—something that still made you glare at Andy if you thought about it too much—Jacob already knew you. He just didn’t know you. And after that one encounter, you couldn’t imagine what he thought of you.

This made you realize just how worried you were about how temporary you knew you were. Andy hadn’t said anything so you wondered if Jacob just didn’t tell Laurie. You wondered if she would even care if he had told her. Maybe Andy did this all the time, maybe she just couldn’t be bothered because they weren’t married anymore. You had no idea because Andy rarely spoke to you about Jacob and never spoke about Laurie.

Your grand solution was just trying to avoid Jacob at all costs. Mostly, you were successful, and Andy didn’t seem to mind, per se, but he did not encourage it. He loved his son and he didn’t want part of his life to be completely unknown to Jacob, but you kind of did.

It was one terrible morning when you were a bit hungover from the night before and Andy was making breakfast. He’d just set down a plate of pancakes in front of you, kissed you on top of the head because you were letting him baby you, when Jacob came in, so you didn’t even have an excuse to leave. It would be pathetically clear what you were doing. Were you seriously scared of a 17-year-old boy?

Yes. But you could pretend you weren’t, and you would pretend. There was no other choice. It wasn’t until you were all sitting down for the world’s most awkward breakfast that Andy’s phone rang. He often got calls in the morning and you never minded. Until then.

You shot him a threatening look that he clearly didn’t take seriously. He excused himself and with each step further away, your desire to suddenly die increased.

There was more painfully awkward silence and you wracked your brain for ways to fix it. You could ask him about school, his plans for the day. But that was the easy part. How were you going to word the question casually, unforced? You didn’t have to think on that much longer because he decided to speak first.

“Is my dad your, like, sugar daddy?”

And before you were subjected to having to respond, his friends showed up. Which was great because you couldn’t have formed a response if your life depended on it. But that shock had well worn off by the time Andy returned. He was throwing out apologies and explaining that he was being given an update on one of his cases. He seemed unaware of your silence until he realized Jacob was gone.

“Where’s Jake?”

“He left with his friends.”

“Oh.” He sat down at the table and you glared. “Come on, I didn’t know he was going to be here—”

“He just asked me if you’re my sugar daddy!”

“Well, I am.”

“You are not.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Then what am I? I pay your bills, I buy you things, in return, you spend most of your free time with me. What does that make me?”

You were mad but not about the idea that he was your sugar daddy. Of course, you’d played with that phrase a few times, but it seemed so unrepresentative of your relationship. At least, to you. He clearly saw it that way, and maybe you weren’t even mad about that.

You might not have been mad at all, maybe just scared. You knew that Andy was in love with his ex-wife still and he always would be. She was this terrifying person that you’d never met that essentially held the cards to your life. You figured that if she expressed any anger towards Andy’s relationship with you, that you would be gone. You would have to go back to your life before, like when the carriage was a pumpkin. And the scariest part of that was not that you had no money. It was that you two would just be done as if you never even happened at all.

“Your boyfriend?” he pressed.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he warned.

“I’m going home.”

“No, you’re not.”

Once more, you rolled your eyes. You pushed away from the table and stormed out of the kitchen and to his bedroom.

He came in moments later after you had thrown his shirt on the bed. You were in nothing more than a pair of panties as you searched for where he’d tossed your clothes the night before. He shut the door and locked it, but you refused to respond to his tactics to make you talk.

“Get on the bed.”

You scoffed incredulously, turning over your shoulder to him with raised eyebrows. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

His hand wrapped around one of your arms and he spun you back to him. You set your hands on his chest to push him away, but he pulled you in so tight that you couldn’t move. He kissed you like it had been years since he last did so, in reality, it had been a little over an hour. It was demanding and fast, he left you no room to protest, but it wasn’t like that mattered because with each passing second, you were giving in.

His free hand slid down between your legs and you broke the kiss to moan. Your head fell back, your body pressed closer to him. It wasn’t a surrender exactly, just a promise that you would get over it and never bring it up again.

But then he said, “Call me daddy.”

You froze, turning your head back to him. “What?”

“Call me daddy,” he repeated. “You want to come? Tell daddy how to make you come.”

It was just a matter of time before it was brought up. Unbeknownst to him, it was on your mind. Unbeknownst to you, it was on his. He hadn’t been the kind for it, then he met you. There was something primal inside him that was triggered when you would whimper and whine, when you were choking on his cock and staring up at him with your beautiful eyes, when you were crying his name. And sometimes, it didn’t completely sound unlike daddy. When you were breathless and fucked good, and nearly mindless. Sometimes, it was close enough that it made him wonder what it would be like.

And you’d been curious too. Ever since he spanked you the first time. You saw Andy as this powerful, good man. He was perfect and didn’t even know it. But all of that was what everyone could see. There were these dark parts of him that made you wet just thinking about. You would never tell him, but once, just one time, he was busy and couldn’t see you one weekend. Meaning you had to take care of yourself. Your dreams were vivid and filthy, and you might have called him daddy in one…so, yeah.

“I’m not going to touch you if you can’t follow orders, princess.”

It took you a moment to find your voice, especially with the way he was looking down at you. “I…don’t know…” It felt weird, like you were admitting this terrible secret. You were aware he had asked you to, but it still felt wrong. Kind of.

“Well,” his fingers slid over you again, a teasing touch that was too light for any real relief, “do you want daddy’s fingers?”

You nodded.

“What about daddy’s cock?”

“Yes.”

“Or maybe daddy’s mouth?” He kissed your forehead first, then your cheek, and finally all over your neck. “Hmm?”

“Yeah, that’s what I want.”

“You know what I want,” he pointed out, pulling back to look at you. “Tell me what you want first.”

He was not letting you out of this and did you actually want him to? Andy was a complete daddy. He spoiled the hell out of, almost literally got off on taking care of you, and he was a kind, beautiful man who had no problems fucking you like he hated you.

“Will you eat my pussy, Daddy?”

Wordlessly, he sat you down on the bed and pushed you onto your back by your shoulders. His eyes on yours, he took you with his mouth over your panties and any doubts you had about this just faded away.

Your breath was shaking as he held you down, his hands gripping your arms tight. You draped your legs over his shoulders and pulled him closer. He pressed his tongue flat against you each time he licked up your aching cunt. “Oh, god,” you blurted out when you felt him at your clit.

He turned his head, nipping at your thigh. It was a prompt.

“Daddy,” you breathed, and he returned his mouth to you. “Daddy, please.”

He hummed. What are you asking for?

“Please, take them off,” you begged.

His fingers slipped under the band of your underwear and he tore them into pieces, without any skill whatsoever, as his tongue sought out bare skin. You’d heard several tears by the time his tongue was inside you.

You arched your back and grabbed a hold of his hair with both hands. He almost instantly took your hands and held them down to the bed again. “Daddy, don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please make me come.”

He pulled your clit between his lips and you knew that you weren’t going to last much longer. You knew this was your biggest loss so far. He was never going to let you forget that you’d come up here throwing a fit, trying to push him away, only to beg him to eat you out.

Your hips rolled against his face, he seemed surprised for a moment, but he moaned against you, so you kept doing it. “Can I come, Daddy? Please?”

He hummed again, a confirmation.

When you moved instead of waiting for him, you could feel his beard. That was the only reason you kept canting your hips up to meet the swipes of his tongue that were toeing the line of being too good.

He let his tongue drop down to tease your entrance, earning a frustrated whine from you. Your clit wasn’t neglected for long, you felt the tip of his nose hovering just right there. So, if you were to move, if you bucked your hips just right, you discovered quickly just how to get the right kind of pressure there.

Andy loved every second of it, he loved the smell of you and the taste of you, and he knew he was never going to be a better position to indulge in both. You were wild even though he was pinning you down, you were hardly ever this desperate, this upfront with your desire. It was the sexiest thing he ever witnessed.

You finished on his tongue and he let no drop of you go to waste. He was selfish in the way he ran his mouth along the oversensitive parts of you. Before reality had even made its way back to you, he’d placed you on your knees before him. Your body was moving without your brain, like pure instinct. Your mouth opened for him before you even knew you were on the floor and you took him in as deep as you could.

He took a handful of your hair and held you in place, hips slowly, gently moving back and forth. You were gagging around him but he was letting you get used to it, telling you that you were such a good girl, reminding you how well you knew how to suck his cock, how you’d always been so good at it.

He didn’t want to come in your mouth, he just wanted to get close. He threw you down on the bed just as soon as he’d gotten you back on your feet and then he was on top of you. His hand wrapped around your neck as he slotted his hips between your thighs.

His eyes locked on yours, he slowly sunk into you. It was damn near painful the kind of restraint he was using, how he was denying you that fast kind of fucking he knew you loved. He pulled back, using his knees for balance, and kept his hold on your throat.

His thrusts were too gentle, several agonizing times, until you were squirming and whimpering. He didn’t seem concerned with what you wanted then, he merely kept his eyes moving over your body.

“Andy,” you complained.

He tsked. “Baby girl.”

“Daddy,” you corrected instantly. “Daddy, please. I need you to fuck me.”

Instead, he leaned back down and kissed you. He started at your mouth and then moved to your jaw. His hips barely moved, just enough to keep you on this edge of murderous rage. Seriously? After what you just went through? He wasn’t going to fuck you to make it up to you?

He sat back again and tightened his hand when you opened your mouth. It was the nicest way he was ever going to tell you to shut up, but he was telling you to. You were too scared to show any signs of disobedience at this point.

He pulled out and you whined unintelligibly. You received nothing more than a brief ‘hush’ before he was laying down next to you. He was on his side, propping one of your legs over his hip as he slid back into you. He lifted you up so you could lay your head on his bicep and used that arm to grab your opposite thigh, pulling it out to the side so you were completely open for him.

“Daddy,” you mewled. You couldn’t keep doing this, you needed to come. You needed him to make you come. He dragged his cock out and then shoved back in, earning a strangled yelp from you. You brought both hands up to hold the forearm that was still pressed between your breasts.

It was then that he started this horrible pattern of fucking you hard, hard, until you were just about to come. You would be shaking, begging like you never had before, promising you would never talk back to him again, and then he would just stop.

He never denied your orgasm. If anything, he just threatened to, didn’t follow through, then made weak threats that he would next time. It was a nice routine and you weren’t sure why he wanted to ruin it.

He told you to leave your thigh where it was and then brought that hand up. He started at your mouth, he ordered you to close your lips around his fingers. He was choking you still and now gagging you and you were abruptly lightheaded. He’d never given you a safe word, you were sure he never intended to go too far. The idea that he might, though… Ugh.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth and they were soaking wet because he didn’t give you the chance to swallow. He dragged them down your body, stopping to pinch one of your nipples painfully until you gasped, and then down to your pussy.

Tears filled your eyes immediately as he pressed his fingers down on your clit. He kissed the side of your face several times before stating, “I can’t keep giving you what you want if you’re going to be such a brat, baby.”

“I’m not being a brat,” you protested.

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he scoffed. His fingers began to rub circles into you.

You shot him a desperate look. “Daddy, please I need you to make me come.”

He arched an eyebrow, hips still but hand moving. “Oh, you need me to?”

“No one else makes me come like you do.” It was clear that you were just saying anything you could think to make him give in. True? Yes. But were the words sincere? Not at all, and you didn’t want him to know that. Yes, you liked spending time with Andy, you even loved fucking him, but this was not a relationship. It was an arrangement first and you had to protect yourself.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Transparent.”

You let your head fall back into the pillow with an exaggerated sigh. “Please?”

“No.”

You looked at him instantly, eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

“No,” he repeated slowly.

He’d never just told you no. Maybe in a roundabout way, he’d talked his way through the fact of no, but never once had he just out and said it. You had no idea how to reply. After all, he was in charge here. If he said no, did you have to accept it?

He brought his fingers down to where your bodies were connected and pulled out completely. He dipped his fingers into you at the same time he was easing his cock back in.

You bit down on your lip, willing yourself to relax. He was always a tight fit, even without the addition of two of his thick fingers, even on those weeks when he fucked you every day, numerous times a day.

“You’re okay,” he promised. “You can take it.”

You tried spreading your legs even more, hoping that would make him easier to take.

“Good girl.” He pulled his cock and fingers out briefly before working them both back in simultaneously. “How’s it feel, baby?”

“It hurts a little.”

“But you can take it, can’t you?” He kissed along your cheekbone. “You want it, right? Because you’re my good girl.”

You were nodding before you even truly thought about it. You wanted anything he wanted to give you, in reality. You supposed this was not the exception to that rule.

He continued pulling out and teasing back in, going just a little deeper each time.

Your cunt was aching by the time you propped yourself up on your elbows to see. The sight of him inside you was sinful and delicious.

He felt you flutter around him and kissed the side of your face again. “You like when I stretch you out, baby?”

You nodded. That was exactly how you felt. Stretched. It still hurt but not in any kind of way that you didn’t like. Your cheeks were flushed since he’d been denying you a finish, otherwise, you would be blushing terribly. It was a toe-in-the-water of humiliation, you felt a little objectified, or reduced to a single body part. Again, not something you were opposed to because your mind was fucked up enough that your body would respond ecstatically to anything Andy wanted to do to it.

“Do you want another one?”

You weren’t sure, but that didn’t stop you from claiming you did. You watched the tip of his third finger collect the slick on the base of his cock and slide into you. He began pulling out and gently pushing both fingers and cock back in until he was buried several inches and two knuckles into your pussy.

“You are soaked, baby.”

Part of you hated that. How bratty could you be from here on out if you were this wet for him? If your cunt was literally begging him for more of his fingers? That was the pride part of you. The sick part of you stopped to think about how he had 7 more fingers to fuck you with, if he wanted. “Can I have another?”

He smirked. “I think 3 is enough tonight, princess. I don’t want to hurt you too much.”

“I want all your fingers inside me, daddy.”

He scoffed. “Not sure that’s possible, you’re still so tight. But I do have a little more I can give you.” As he pressed more of his fingers in, beyond that second knuckle which made you gasp and squirm because it burned, he also gave you more of his cock.

You were shaking, hand settling on his forearm once more. “Oh, daddy…I feel so full.”

“And your desperate cunt still wants more?”

“Anything from you, daddy. Can I please come?”

He didn’t answer, his hips merely began moving. He roughly fucked into you as he pulled just so with his fingers to keep you painfully stretched.

You were getting close again. That stinging sensation was starting to fade away with the building pleasure. When he angled his hand and let his thumb massage your clit, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “Daddy, please.”

“You can’t come.”

You whined. “Daddy!”

“I said no.”

You pressed your hand to his stomach to still his hips, but he paid you no mind. “Daddy, I’m going to come.”

“You better not,” he warned, but didn’t do anything to help you want that. If anything, his hips snapped a bit harder.

“Please stop, daddy,” you begged, voice pathetically small and whiny. You didn’t care how you sounded or looked, you just didn’t want to come without him letting you. You didn’t want to disappoint him. “Daddy, I’m close. Please stop.”

He scoffed, free hand coming up to your face. “You’re such a good girl, you know that?”

You frantically shook your head. You weren’t so good that you wouldn’t come, so really, you needed him to stop.

“You don’t want to come without my permission?”

“No, daddy.”

He pressed his thumb down harder and rubbed faster, earning an unintelligible, sad sound from you. “It’s okay, baby girl, you can come. Daddy wants to feel you coming around his cock.”

You lifted your hand back up to his arm, trying to turn into his body as much as you could. He understood immediately and moved his hold from your neck to drape his arm across you, resting his hand on your back. You set your head in the bend of his neck as you started to come.

He groaned when he felt you get tighter. “That’s it, baby. That’s what I wanna feel.”

Tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time you were coming. Your body had never felt relief so strong. Andy shushed you through it all and told you that you were so good and didn’t stop until he had you filled with his cum.

He let you settle before urging you onto your back. “You okay, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.” You were more than just okay. You were sated and aching, you were exhausted and blissful. It had been a while since he’d spent so much time on you and you felt good, doted on, paid attention to.

He carefully pulled his fingers from your cunt, eyeing your face as he did, but then quickly took your jaw in one hand and shoved the fingers into your mouth. You instantly began sucking on them. “A few things. First, you do not roll your eyes at me. Second, you do not leave the table unless I tell you that you can. Third, do not ever walk away from me. Fourth, when I tell you to get your ass on the bed, you better get your ass on the bed. Are we clear?”

You nodded, speaking around his fingers.

“Glad to hear it.” He slowly extracted his fingers, massaging your jaw with the opposite hand. “When you can walk again, I’ll take you shopping—”

You hurriedly jumped out of bed, rushing for the shower. “I’ll be ready in an hour!”

requests to be tagged:

@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic

#andy barber x reader #but we all KNOW he's the best sd in existence right????#let's rate evans characters by how good they'd be as sd's! talk to me in my inbox about it let's go!#love you thank you for reading okay bye #my writing

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pappydaddy · 4 years ago

Text

Heather Part Two (j.m.)

A/N: Okay, so I have decided to start saying as little as possible in my A/Ns just to see if it brings in more interaction, if you guys want me to continue my ramblings, just shoot me a DM or something and I won’t stop them. This is a repost bc nobody saw this the first time?? Pls interact with this (preferably reblogging, but likes are good too!)

Anywho, this is the second part of Heather (my JJ imagine based on Heather by Conan Gray) and this is told from JJ’s perspective, I got this idea when I found this kinda parody/cover of the original song which will be linked below. I put some different scenes in this one too so it’s not just a retelling of my first part. Anyway, enjoy!!

Show/Movie: Outer Banks

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Warnings: Sad, angst, longing, negative thoughts about oneself (appearance, personality, etc), comparing to other people, jealousy, unspoken feelings

Might do a part three? I’ll probably do a part three.

Heather Cover by Zachary Tay

Part One | Part Two - You’re here!

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

He didn’t technically see her when she arrived at the beach, but he still knew she was there before she wandered down the dunes. He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, trying to get a peek of her. There she was, her shoes swinging by her side, her hair blowing in the wind as she walked. She didn’t look towards the group of her friends, instead, she scanned the beach and JJ found himself missing her gorgeous eyes. He watched her, her eyes slowly drifting towards the fire JJ sat at. In a spilt second, their eyes connected and JJ wished he could stay in her gaze forever, but her eyes were ripped from his as she breezed past the group.

The girl under his arm laughed loudly, making him draw his eyes away from Y/N. He looked at the black-haired girl (Heather) donned in his sweater, clinging to him as she laughed at something John B had said. “What’s so funny,” JJ asked, trying to play off his absence. He didn’t really listen to John B’s recount. “Oh, must have had to heard it in the moment, I guess.” He mumbled, his eyes following Y/N as Jack, her co-worker from The Wreck ran towards her, a large smile on his face. He took in Y/N’s appearance, the sweater she wore was too big for her, it certainly wasn’t hers. It dawned on him like a lighting strike; it was Jack’s sweater. He felt a pang in his heart, remembering how she looked in his own sweater, the very sweater Heather wore right in that moment.

He remembered how good Y/N looked in his sweater and how often she wore it after he had given it to her. On Heather, it was just a piece of polyester fabric, but on Y/N, it was much more than just a sweater. The day she gave his sweater back to him was the day he concluded that she didn’t like him. He couldn’t imagine how he even thought she would like him, he’s not even good enough for his father and he could barely stand himself. How the hell would Y/N want him if he didn’t even want himself? He didn’t even understand how Heather liked him.

His eyes followed Jack as he ran off once again, obviously apologizing profusely to Y/N. Jack was everything JJ wasn’t: sweet, smart, hard-working, career driven, and loved. JJ wanted to hate Jack, but he couldn’t, he was too good of a person. He could see that Y/N and Jack would make a good couple, he could see why Y/N would have her gaze set on him. His dark hair, his tall stature, his boy-next-door smile - he was the complete package.

Setting his eyes on Y/N yet again, he saw her sit down on a piece of driftwood, staring out at the ocean as the waves lapped up towards her barefeet. He let himself imagine that the sweater she was wrapped up in was his. He often replayed the December night he gave his sweater to her in his head, imagining that he had actually done what he wanted - kissing her. He liked to live in that alternate story at night, laying in his bed. He sighed, glad he didn’t kiss her in the long-run, for he didn’t know who he liked more: Y/N or Heather. “JJ, you should tell Heather about that one time when John B was high off his ass when CPS came knocking on his door.” Kie laughed, capturing JJ’s attention from the girl sitting on the driftwood.

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure.” JJ laughed, remembering that day as he launched into his story. Though his eyes weren’t on her, Y/N still plagued his mind, having been there that day as well, skipping school to smoke with JJ and John B. He laughed as he retold the story, poking fun at John B, but leaving Y/n out of the story, not wanting to pull her into his fling with Heather, knowing there will be drama if he did.

Though he was immersed in the story he was telling, he still noticed Y/N standing and walking along the beach, leaving the party before it even started. The bleeding colours in the sky made her skin glow with pink and orange, making her look like the figure of beauty. As she walked away, JJ could have cried. He didn’t understand how he, the boy who wanted nothing to do with the messiness of love, ended up in this situation.

____

The words Kie had told him earlier rattled in his brain like a single pill in a bottle. His mind played that moment back like a movie reel continuously playing. Once it ended, it restarted again. Like a painful torture device used to drive him to the brink of insanity.

“I don’t get why Y/N keeps avoiding us! We never see her anymore, not since Heather started hanging out with us,” JJ groaned, plunking himself down on the couch dramatically. He had asked Y/N earlier at school (after cornering her at her locker) if she wanted to have a movie night just like old times, but she had told him she was going to study for a big biology test she had. “Why does she even need to study anyway? She’s at the top of her biology class, only second to Pope, of course.” JJ threw in the last comment, pleasing his friend who sat beside him on the couch, a freshly popped bowl of popcorn in his lap.

“You guys do know why, right?” Kie asked, looking over her shoulder at them as she shifted through the DVD collection, the group deciding to go old school for the night. JJ shook his head while John B and Pope both nodded, making noises of understanding. JJ looked around, confusion clearly painted on his face.

“Y/N still likes JJ.” Pope commented, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth, chewing it as if what he had just said was common knowledge.

“What?” JJ asked, panicked, glad that Heather was hanging out with some of her other friends tonight instead of being with them. If she had been here, he would have never be given this piece of information.

“You didn’t know?” John B asked, bewildered that JJ hadn’t picked up on anything.

“Obviously not-” JJ cried, his eyes wide.

“It was obvious, we all thought you had known by at least December third when you gave her your sweater, we thought that was you making your move on her finally.” Kie explained, shrugging.

JJ still couldn’t believe that. If only he had seen how much she liked him, maybe he wouldn’t be praying for his eyes to catch her’s every time she walked by him. Maybe he wouldn’t want to cry every time they broke eye contact. Maybe he wouldn’t have assumed she likes Jack. He groaned, flopping around in the spare bed at John B’s, staring up at the dark ceiling as moonlight casted the window’s shadow onto the white surface.

If he had known how much Y/N liked him that night, he wouldn’t be questioning who he liked more still. Maybe he didn’t like Heather at all. Now that he knew that Y/N likes him, he started to realize that maybe he didn’t truly like Heather, instead, only liking the idea of the distraction from the one he really liked. Though he realized this, he couldn’t do anything about it anytime soon. He had plans to eat lunch tomorrow with Heather and the group, he couldn’t break up with Heather at The Wreck.

_____

Y/N was working today. That was the whole reason they were eating at The Wreck, to see her. John B and Pope missed her, Kie was able to see her during the shifts they shared or during shift changes, but the boys hadn’t seen her. JJ and Heather stood on the deck, leaning against the railing and JJ was giving the performance of his life. He couldn’t have Heather thinking that something was going on with him (he still had no idea who he liked more) so he was trying to act as normal as possible around her despite the fact that a war raged in his mind.

He tried to keep his eyes on Heather as she talked adamantly. JJ nodded along, not really listening. Heather was beautiful and kind, but JJ grew bored easily. They had nothing in common. He was a surfer, she was from the city filled with concrete buildings and shopping malls. She just didn’t understand the joy in the little things. When JJ wanted to stargaze, she’d rather gaze at a TV screen. When JJ wanted to just sit on the beach and listen to the waves, she wanted to take pictures. When JJ just wanted to sit on his surfboard and let the waves roll under him, she didn’t want to ruin her make-up.

Her hand squeezed his as she asked him about the stores he shopped at. He, not wanting to ignore her, joined her one-sided conversation and explained his mode of gaining clothes. She listened for the most part, but listening wasn’t really Heather’s strong suit. She loved to talk, not that JJ minded, but he would also like to have a conversation without being interrupted with a completely different story. He shot a glance in through the door, seeing Y/N at a table, talking with the costumers. She nodded, a shining smile on her face. JJ loved talking with Y/N. She’d listen, she’d talk. He’d listen, he’d talk. It was a perfectly balanced conversation with Y/N.

He looked back down at Heather when she had asked him yet another question, but JJ wasn’t listening. “I’m sorry, what?” He asked, blinking. Heather giggled, thinking JJ was just a spacey type person who stared off in the distance, zoning out easily.

“I asked about your shark tooth necklace, I’ve always wanted one.” She told him, the hand, that wasn’t in his, reaching up to fiddle with the shark tooth. JJ looked down at it, smiling fondly.

“My friend made it for me with the shark tooth I found, I’ve never taken it off since they gave it to me.” He left out that it was Y/N who made it for him while she was going through her necklace making phase in middle school. She had made it too big originally, but it was okay since JJ grew since then.

“Oh, well, maybe I could wear it sometime,” Heather asked flirtatiously. JJ gulped, not knowing what to say. He didn’t want to give it to her, but he didn’t want to start a fight before they ate a meal with his friends in public. Instead of answering, he pressed his lips to her’s in a lingering, long kiss. Heather smiled, giggling against his lips. Pulling away from the kiss, JJ glanced at the parking lot to see if John B and Pope were there yet, but his eyes came up with nothing. Heather shivered as a strong wind blew by them. “I’m a little cold.”

JJ looked down at her, seeing that she didn’t have his sweater on. It was different, when Y/N had his sweater, she always wore it, or at least brought it, just in case she got cold. Heather didn’t bring it anywhere unless JJ asked about it. Wordlessly, JJ unlaced their fingers, dropping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him. “I wonder if Y/N is cold? She doesn’t have a sweater on, only a t-shirt.” He thought, watching the parking lot out of the corner of his eye. He sighed, trying to clear his mind.

“Yo! Let’s get some grub! I’m starving,”John B cheered, piling out of the van with Pope who cheered in agreement. JJ pulled away a bit too quick to play it off as normal while John B and Pope jogged up the stairs, their sneakers slapping the wooden deck. They walked right into the restaurant, leaving Heather and JJ to follow them. The bell above the door dinged, making Y/N and Jack look up from what they were doing. JJ looked up, seeing Jack leaning across Y/N, his shoulder touching her torso ever so lightly as he cleaned up spilt water. “Hi, Y/N! Where is your section?” John B asked.

“Sorry, John B, I’ll have to take your table so she can get cleaned up, next time.” Jack told him, getting another dry towel to try and help her dry her clothes so she wasn’t dripping everywhere. JJ could sense John B’s disappointment, and he had to admit he was a little bit disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to hear Y/N’s sweet voice that he missed so much.

“Thanks, Jack,” John B nodded his chin in Jack’s direction. “Maybe we’ll talk before we leave, Y/N.” Y/N looked back up from her shirt at the mention of her name, nodding. Their eyes connected as Kie and Heather jumped into a conversation. Every time their eyes connected, it was such a relief to JJ it truly was a sight for sore eyes. Much to his disappointment, their eye contact was gone as fast as it came when Jack interrupted.

“That should be good, Y/N,” She looked from JJ’s eyes to meet Jack’s. The sight of her eyes connecting with Jack’s made JJ want to cry, missing that tiny connection that seemed to be the extent of their friendship these days. “You should go get changed, I’ll take these to the table for you, table four, right?” The group started to move, but JJ wanted to stay there, see if their eye would meet again before she disappeared to change, but he had to go with them. He was just out of earshot when she replied to Jack who carried the tray of drinks towards table four effortlessly.

____

He knew he shouldn’t have done this at school. He was kicking himself as Heather weeped, her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Heather,” He whispered, nervously looking at the crowd watching them. They were stood next to the side of the building, the crowd gathering in the parking lot. He had tried to do it privately, but he also wanted a clean cut. When he saw his sweater in Heather’s hand, he had known that today was the day. “It’s just not working out.” He tried to console her, his fist gripping the sweater he held now.

The group watching whispered, making JJ roll his eyes. Now he was going to be painted the villain, the heartless asshole who broke up with the girl in front of the whole school even though they just see her weeping and gasping, not the part where JJ was actually considerate for once. Normally, it was a harsh slap to his cheek and a few tears slipping past their eyes as they walked away, not full on sobs. Especially since they were only going out for three weeks - tops.

Heather looked up from her hands, letting her arms swing at her sides as she glared at JJ. Black streaks of makeup cascading down her cheeks. With a final, harsh glare at JJ, she ran off, the group of people parting to let her through. JJ watched her run, his shoulders deflating at his ruined chance of keeping the break-up private. His eyes landed on one of the pairs of people Heather parted in her haste to escape: Y/N and Jack. They stood side by side, Jack holding both their books in his hands, both their bookbag straps on his shoulders.

The group quickly dispersed, giving JJ a perfect view of them. He could see Jack say something to Y/N before she said something back, their eyes catching each other, once again making eye contact. JJ was so absorbed in her eyes that he didn’t notice the sympathetic smile she sent his way. It felt like forever as he stared into her eyes, her just staring back. He wanted her to stay, he wanted to stay, but he couldn’t just break-up with Heather and then turn around, rush towards Y/N, sweep her off her feet and profess his love for her - then he would be an asshole.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s go. We can’t be late for our shift.” JJ heard Jack tell her, forcing her to break away from JJ’s eyes. He felt tears prick his eyes at the loss of their moment. His eyes never left her, once again hoping for their eyes to connect again, even though he had to watch her eyes connect with Jack’s which caused his heart to throb painfully. Watching her turn and walk towards Jack’s pick-up truck was the sight that made him want to die, then the pain in his heart would stop - right? The picture of her sitting in his passanger seat didn’t sit right with JJ. The thump of Jack tossing their books and bags in the bed of his truck made JJ flinch, but he still never took his eyes off Y/N, not even when Jack slipped onto the bench seat beside her, starting his truck and slamming his door.

His pleas were answered when Y/N turned to gaze out the window, their eyes connecting once again in a fleeting moment before Jack slowly pulled out of the spot, exiting the nearly empty parking lot. JJ watched the truck as it drove down the road, waiting until it was out of his sight before he moved. He found out who he liked more. It was Y/N. It was always Y/N.

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pistachoz · 5 years ago

Text

legally blonde, tenth doctor

pairing: tenth doctor x fem!reader

synopsis: between trips and adventures with the doctor, you finally find the perfect timing to change your look. with no pointless dress codes to follow anymore, you try dyeing your hair on your own, ending up in a string of botched outcomes and unexpected confessions.

wc: 3K

warnings: none, mild cursing maybe??

author's note: oof, this took me more than i expected and it definitely ended up being waaay more. anyway, this is my first piece of writing for the doctor -also in general- and what a better way than start with a fluffy one! i hope it turned out decent! my first language it’s not english, so you can expect some -more like a lot of- writing mistakes.

also, a big shout out to @plxstic-rose bc she has been my biggest supporter when i felt like i couldn’t do this, she has helped me so much ily 🥺 💞

(GIF IS MINE)

A grimace appeared on your face as the sour taste of the coffee filled your mouth, you definitely needed to bring yours the next time you stopped on earth because the alien version of it tasted like stomach bile. You weren't even sure if it had proper caffeine or it was drug-fueled tea.

With a resigned sigh, you put the cold mug in the mirrored vanity table in front of you and checked your phone. Five minutes more and you would be rinsing the red dye out of your shower cap covered hair. You lift the right side of the cap slightly, trying to peek at your tinted hair, the pale red -almost blonde- pigments made your breath hitch in a halt.

Was it supposed to look that light? Oh crap, you should have gone to the salon.

That was actually going to be the original plan. You had been procrastinating changing your look; nothing wrong with the colour and length you normally had but since you started travelling with the doctor, you didn't count with office regulations to follow anymore so you considered shaking up a bit your aesthetic. Yet, it seemed as you could never stop to take a breath and the times you did, was always on strange-named planets where your peaceful state of mind lasted a couple of minutes. So, you took it upon yourself to change your look on your own. You knew it could have any sort of downfall, but you didn't really want to nag the doctor into making a 'short' stop on earth -even though you knew he wouldn't mind- just for a date at the salon. He needed a well-deserved rest after all the uncontrollable lifesaving shenanigans and every time you came back to earth, somehow you ended up enticing some sort of trouble.

Besides, how hard could it be, right?

You barged into the installed bathroom connected to your room and locked the door as soon as you stepped inside. The last thing you needed was for the doctor to burst in looking for you while you were in the middle of this crucial transformation, and even though he was probably too distracted tinkering around the console of the TARDIS, you knew how intrusively spontaneous he could be when he finds something new. It wouldn't be a first to hear him enter your bedroom in a spur-of-the-moment with enthusiastic hand gestures and euphoric rants about alien-y stuff.

You grabbed the light blue hand-sized towel that rested upon the toilet tank and draped it around your shoulders. A jittery feeling building up in the pit of your stomach at the prospect of how your new hair would look like.

You weren't particularly bold when it came to your style, always stuck with what you could call an average look, to be fair, before the doctor, your whole life was just brimming with a never-ending stodgy routine that encased every aspect of your life. You didn't see the point of making more than few changes in your image and it was not like your office let you go too risky either.

This was going to be the first radical change in your appearance, and you were lying if you didn't say a fit of excitement was already bubbling up your throat. You didn't know what exactly had gotten into you, but you were so adamant to do something. Perhaps it was the stockpiled adrenaline from all those adventures catching up on you, perhaps this was something you were going to regret later. Either way, right now, you could only think of how satisfying it would be to finally match your current lifestyle. New and thrilling.

To be completely honest, you were also eager to see the doctor's reaction. Of course, you were not doing this because of him…well, not for the best part, but a piece of you wished it would have some sort of effect on him.

You knew this regeneration was cheekier and maybe you were reading too much between the lines but sometimes you could swear there was something more in all those subtle touches and lingering hugs. The shared gazes that let you wonder if this was just some friendly treatment or if he really meant something deeper made your mind go into a frenzy.

You also knew that appearances didn't really matter to him but the need of looking bolder and more luring was still there. You wanted, for once and for all represent how traveling with him had changed you into someone who would risk more than just a ‘change of look´. You were becoming the best version of yourself and you wanted to show him that in more than one way, but one step at the time.

Warily, you lifted the plastic cap; your sticky hair popping in every direction. Without a prior look, you stooped over the sink and manoeuvred your head under the sprout. After some unsuccessful tries, you managed to open it and began massaging your scalp with your fingertips.

After swilling away the shampoo and applying the conditioner; you grasped the towel laying around your shoulders and swaddled your hair up in a turban.

You straighten your back and stroked your hair through the towel, trying -quite poorly- to pump it dry. You didn't anticipate it to be this gruelling. In fact, you thought this would be some sort of restful hiatus from your general tense state, but apparently, this had drained you more than expected.

Resignedly, you undid the coiled towel on top of you and let your new dyed hair fall freely behind you. The air fell out of your lungs and your stomach dropped when you stared at the sight of your reflection.

You were blonde. Blonde.

What in the name of god did you do? You were so sure you followed every instruction of the flipping tint box in lockstep- well, judging by the results, you obviously had made a mistake at some point, maybe even skipped one, but how catastrophic had it been that you ended up looking like a defective version of a Weasley that had awfully light shrimp coloured hair.

A trembling neigh-like sound left your mouth when you touched the ends of your hair. What were you supposed to do now? You didn't even have any dye left to apply another layer and asking the doctor for help was ruled out. He couldn't see you like this. Nobody could see you like this, for your dignity's sake.

This was all on you. You needed to think of something. Anything.

Hats, of course! The TARDIS must’ve a good stash of those, you knew you could find something in the never-ending wardrobe. That thing was three times bigger than your flat.

Well, problem solved. You were going to use a hat until your hair grew enough to cut it or until you stopped on earth again and got the chance to go to a proper hairdresser.

Good god, who were you kidding? This was a mess.

With shaky fingers, you fumble your way out the bathroom and dashed out of your room, in search for your only resource.

---

"You won't believe what I found underneath the floor panel!" You heard the doctor's elated voice buzzing through your room before he could even fling your door wide open.

All you managed to convey was a muffled hum through your pillowed-smashed face. Too tired sulking the crime you made to your hair to turn around from your current position. Your limp body was sprawled all over the bed; arms and legs stretched at your sides with your face buried deep down the mattress.

Without waiting for a proper response, he roved across your room and resumed his explanation of his oh-so-great discover with a shit-eating grin.

You didn't need to see him to know the already too familiar gestures he was making. You could picture with the most minimal detail how his eyes would sparkle with wonder and how a contagious gleam dotted the signature boyish grin he always wore.

You smiled fondly.

You could still remember thoroughly the first time you saw him in all his glory, ranting about scientific stuff you could not understand and even though you had never seen the man before, the brightness on his eyes and the insatiable curiosity he radiated made you grin almost immediately.

You sat up slowly; grunting when you stretched your arms upwards. You moved your head from side to side, trying to stir yourself up completely awake.

"…So technically, it should be able to make the TARDIS' chameleon barrier unfroze. Well... the possibilities are thirteen out of a hundred, but I-" He stopped mid-sentence when he turned around and saw you sitting on the edge of the bed.

He tilted his head slightly to the side and a puzzled look crossed his face like he was trying to figure out what was out of place with you.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Thankfully, you had managed to find a Kangol black bucket hat. It was pretty simple; a small metal fuchsia arrow was stamped on the front and the brim was big enough to fit all of your hair inside. Still It was just not your style. Well, the other option was an animal print floppy one, the type that Lady gaga would wear. So, you had to settled with the e-girl-angsty-teen looking.

"That's new" His left eyebrow quirked curiously.

"What?" Good job; try playing dumb and maybe like that he won’t notice it.

"The hat, I- " he made a circular motion around his head "I don't think I've seen you wear one before"

"Oh, I um- wanted to try something different?" You stated but the wince in your voice made it sound more like a question.

“Right, yeah” he rushed "It's not like it doesn't suit you"

"Right" You fidgeted absent-minded with the hem of your sweatshirt, trying to think of something to break the awkwardness “So… you were saying?”

"Oh yes!" a playful glint overtaking his features “I think I found a way to repair the malfunction on the chameleon circuit and hopefully it will be better than that time I tried a block transfer computation. I was so close, well- not that close but at least I managed to build a part of the outer plasmic shell. Anyways, if we are lucky enough, we could stop travelling around looking like a 'blue box'" he raised his eyebrows, a devilish smile gracing his lips.

“Hold on, didn’t you say it was kind of unsafe?”

"Oh no, don’t worry! It’s danger-free… for the most part, well actually, it’s a 4 out of ten, maybe 5. But I’m sure the old girl can handle- "

A shrilling alarm started echoing through the TARDIS’ walls and you almost fell out of the bed when the floor started shaking uncontrollably. The doctor stumbled upon his own feet and with strained struggle and held out his hand to help you up.

"You were saying?" You muttered, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

With one hand locked onto the doctor's and the other extended to keep balance in the middle of the tremble, you managed to head out of your room. As soon as you stepped outside, you were greeted with red flashing lights going off all around the TARDIS.

"Careful" You heard the doctor called out, his voice barely perceivable. You had to double check to understand his next words "We need to get to the console"

Both of you tried the hardest to advance without falling or tripping over. The din of your footsteps lost in the middle of the shrieking noise. You could feel the vibration of the walls crawling to your brain and rumbling. The longer you spend running, the sharper the dizziness became.

You felt his hand clasp yours tighter when you decreased your speed; a warm feeling squeezed its way through your chest instantly. He looked down at you, a small reassuring smile on his lips; he was going to solve this.

When you finally reached the control room, the doctor leaped his way towards the console. A string of garbled mumbling fell under his breath, which you were more than certain you wouldn’t understand even if he spoke up. You saw him go around the panel, flicking switches and pressing buttons but it didn’t lessen a bit the state you were in.

You stood next to the entrance holding onto the railing for dear life. Maybe you should have been trying to do something useful, but quite frankly you had no clue as to what was going on. And even if you could have done something, there was no way of giving more than a few steps without falling.

After several confused exclamations and scrunched up faces from the doctor, he stumbled his way to the other side of the room and kneeled next to an opened floor tile. He plunged into what used to be a makeshift storage and with a newfound enthusiasm, you heard him shout. "Found it!"

He reappeared back on sight and held a small cassette-looking thing, his hair sticking up in a messier way than usual and a triumphant grin spreading on his features "The resetting format key should be able to stabilize us."

With a quick motion, he stood up but before he could head back towards the console to plug it in, an abrupt shook threw the both of you across the room. You saw the doctor’s figure fall hovering over a coral column next to the panel as you held tight on the railing stronger, attempting unsuccessfully to stand still.

Maybe if you hadn't been distracted watching how the doctor got up and toss his weird-looking key into one of the TARDIS’ inputs, you would have noticed how your apparently well-put-cap was now laying on the floor a few meters away from you. And maybe, if you hadn’t been so awestruck at how quickly the room returned to its normal state with golden cozy lights shining from the ceiling, you would have notice your now-bright blonde hair flowing behind your back without a care in the world.

"Right, so it looks like the TARDIS went into some sort of safe mode." He spoke a little out of breath, arms still hunched over the panel "but it's okay now. Apparently, it was a defense response, she thought it we were under a- "

He turned around slowly but stopped dead on tracks when his eyes landed on you, or more specifically- on your hair. His once furrowed eyebrows were now raised, almost touching his hairline and open awestruck eyes were looking at you like you were an unknown species. A breathtaking unknown species.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Every part of his body was just not responding, it was like he had stopped functioning properly. His unblinking eyes were glued to your face and his agape mouth looked almost comical; you would have taken out your phone in that moment just to snap a picture if your brain hadn’t been dozing off at the reason for his reaction. Because what could possibly- Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You moved your gaze to the ground, eyes falling on the discarded hat near the entrance. You pursed your lips, thoughts running a mile per hour. When did it fell? Why weren’t you careful enough? This was the doctor’s fault. Yeah, all his fault. He had to come with his incredibly soft hair and that flipping sweet smile that made your toes curl up and your heartbeat race like there was no tomorrow. He had to come and distract you, oh and of course, bringing a mess along the way.

God! This was not helping.

“You- um, you are…blonde” Yeah, no shit, sherlock.

“I-…am I?” The breathy words rasping out, your mouth felt as dried as the Sahara and you were surprised a sound came out at all.

“You look-”

“I know” You close your eyes and shook your head, praying to whatever entity out there to swallow you up and throw you to the Bahamas “it wasn’t supposed-“

“I like it” he blurted out “I know you don’t need any sort of validation and I’m not trying to- what I-” He starting flapping his hands around in a cartoon-like gestures “you look stunning… truly stunning; not that you weren´t before. I mean, the colour really does suit you but I’ve always thought- blonde, not blonde, you’ve always been beautiful… Guess what I’m trying to say is that when you love someone, there’s really nothing that can make you look at them differently. Did you know that As’urs considered blonde people holy? Well they would if there were blonde people. Sorry, totally off topic, but they do. Everyone there is blue-haired. And there’s a lot of mystical myths and clergy influence involved but basically everything golden is sacred for them. If we go, they might even crown you as their queen.”

He looked like a deer caught in headlights. You could imagine the red alarms in his brain going off, trying to process what fell out of his mouth moments prior and desperately attempting to conjure something up but instead just causing a short circuit in the process. To be completely honest, you weren’t any better.

You felt your heart bumping up your throat and your skin grew hotter and hotter per second. You swore you could feel the maniac rhythm of your pulse piercing through your head and you were quite sure you looked like a pop-eyed toy from one of those claw machines at the funfair, with eyes nearly falling out of your skull.

Because he didn’t really say that, right? Your mind must’ve been playing some sick game with you. There was no way, he really-

“What?” It was all you managed to muster; your small voice barely hearable.

“Huh?” You saw the redness from his cheek expand through all the visible skin.

“What did you just say?”

“That As’urs would consider you a goddess?” He asked hesitant with a guilty expression.

“No- before that”

“That the blonde hair looks good on you?”

“No! I-“ You took a small breath “Do you love me?”

You could sense the confidence returning to him like a tidal wave, a serious expression overtaking his features, but with a softness you couldn’t comprehend. “I always have”

Your legs seemed to move on their own, carrying you towards him. You stopped when your noses were almost touching and you could feel his hot ragged breath fall on your eyelashes. With hesitation, you placed your hands on his arms and looked up, letting yourself fall on those brown pools you have grown to love.

“Doctor…” you whispered

You had no idea what made you do it, but you moved your hands to his cheeks, and you kissed him. It was impulsive and stupid, and something you’d expect a sixteen-year-old girl do on her prom night. But you did it without a second thought. And for a moment you felt the doctor grow incredibly still, mouth unmoving and eyes wide open, until you placed your soothing fingers on the back of his neck, thumbs caressing and drawing invisibles circles on his sideburns.

And so, he gave in; firm hands grasping your hips and pressing you flush against him. His mouth spilling raw passion and his insides melting at the soft contact of your delicate lips. The tenderness on his touches and intensity of his lips drawing out all those words that didn’t need saying, because you knew. He was so sure you knew.

An involuntary whimper left your lips when he broke the kiss and intertwined his hands with yours. He brought your joined hands nearer and placed a light kiss to your knuckles.

“Did I mention I like your hair?” A husky laugh fell from your lips and your eyes sparkled when he gave you a soft smile that would be imprinted on your brain for the rest of your life.

When he looked at you with those old eyes that sung you stories in the most beautiful way imaginable and his swollen lips ghosted a smile you knew things were going to be better, with new adventures and new experiences awaiting on your door. And you had the whole time and space at your disposal to face it together.

author's note pt.2: OK that was a lot, honestly the ending got sloppy and there’s probably a lot of bad editing, but I invented a whole new alien species, so hey! kudos for that I guess. anyway, i hope you like it! and as always, feedback would be really appreciated, a comment or a like would mean the world to me! like my description says, requests are open! but It would probably take ages for me to finish it, so please patience. right now I have some more doctor who drafts and also some marvel ones!

-love, rina xx

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years ago

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summer sizzle | blackout - trent beretta [m]

[prompts used]

As suggested by my lovely Lemon.. Lean into the awkwardness. Ahhh.. I fucking hope this is exactly what you pictured bc I legit couldn’t have made this idea FINALLY work without your input.

** the rest of these prompts come from various lists I squirreled away on the internets. One day, I need to sit down and link to every single list I’ve used. Until then, credit to the prompt creators, I own literally nothing but the scenario and the original character **

Don’t look away + catching someone undressing + “I thought you didn’t peek!” “I don’t have to peek to know you’re hot.” ( belongs to Lemon, btw) + Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force. + “You’re so beautiful.” - Trent Beretta | Roommates/mutual pining au

[pairing]

Trent Beretta x OFC

[warnings]

18+ only. All kids, exit stage left fucking yesterday pls and thanks? uhhh.. this is so fluffy it’ll rot ya teeth. because i didn’t see Trent being any other way. Body fluids. Oral (male giving), masturbation, heaavy sexual tension. OH YEAHH... unprotected sex.

[tag squad]

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@writertoo18

@thatnerdwriter

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif

@sassymox

@wardl0w

@missjenniferb

@wrestlingthot

@unabashedwrestlefics

[ tag list - masterlist - about page ]

TRENT BERETTA in BLACKOUT,

Just as I shut the door to the apartment, the storm raging outside reached a fever pitch, a clap of thunder loudly rattling the window and momentarily sending the lights to flicker. I tugged off my soaked jacket and scarf, letting them settle on the floor next to Trent’s gym bag and I sat my messenger bag and keys down on the table before bending down to pull off the boots I was wearing. My feet were killing me, it’d been a really long day and all I wanted right now was a hot shower.

Literally nothing else mattered but getting out of my wet clothing and getting warm again.

“Trent! I’m home!” I called out to my roommate. I paused for a minute or two and waited. When he didn’t say anything, I figured that he might be asleep because he’d gotten a late flight in the night before. So I made my way down the hall quietly and stepped into the bathroom, wasting no time in peeling off my clothes. The lights flickered again and then I actually heard the shower running.

I froze in place, biting my lip.

Trent was obviously not asleep like I’d thought upon entering. No, he was showering and for the third time in a week, we’d managed to burst in on each other awkwardly. I was just about to back out of the bathroom and make a hasty retreat to my own room right beside it to wait it out, but then I heard him groaning.

When I heard him groaning my name, though, that’s when my knees turned to jelly. I was about to turn around and reach for the knob but the lights flickered and then went out completely.

“SHIT!” I shrieked before I even realized that I’d been trying to make a quiet exit. To keep things from getting any more awkward between the two of us. The shower cut off and Trent stepped out before my flight mode kicked in and for some stupid reason, rather than take a step back and hurry to leave the bathroom like I’d been intending, I took a step forward instead, slipping on my wet jeans. Trent reached out quickly, catching me just as I fell into him. I took a shaky breath and tried to brace myself to look up at him as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. If I thought my knees were like jello before, it was so much worse now because the way hard muscles pressed against my softer body was both somehow sheer heaven and complete torture.

For a few seconds that felt like they dragged on for hours, the two of us stood there staring. I licked my lips and swallowed hard, stepping away reluctantly. Trent bit his lip and I watched helplessly as his throat bobbed when he swallowed hard.

The lights came on again and Trent realized that I’d come in and stripped down and he turned away quickly, a lingering “Fuck” mumbled under his breath after he called out to me, “I’m not looking!” once he was totally turned away. I grabbed for the nearest thing I could find to slip on and cover myself. Slipping his shirt over my head. Once I’d done it, I tapped Trent’s shoulder so he’d know it was safe to turn around.He turned around a little faster than I was expecting and we found ourselves body to body all over again. One of his hands raised, going to wet hair as he took a deep breath and then proceeded to burst into laughter.

I pouted, but then the humor in the whole thing hit me too and I nearly doubled over myself, a hand lightly resting against his bicep to keep myself upright. “Oh god, this is classic. I even managed to put on the wrong shirt.” I barely managed to get the words out through my laughter and Trent’s body brushed against mine. The laughter died on my lips as I remembered exactly what he’d been doing and whose name he’d moaned a time or two when I’d burst in on him a few minutes before and I could feel my skin heating up all over because naturally, my eyes darted down and I swallowed hard almost the second I realized that he was strained against the towel. I tore my eyes away quickly and walked my fingers up and down his chest, managing a quieter laugh. “I’m sorry, I..”

“It’s fine. I’m honestly not complaining. I had a good view.” Trent’s eyes locked on me and he gave this teasing little smirk as he shrugged.

It surprised me when he said it and I clenched my thighs tight as my eyes met his and I immediately felt myself getting lost in the depths. He gave me this almost teasing little grin and I took a breath. “I thought you didn’t peek!” I pouted up at him slightly as I tilted my head. My fingers caught in the curly ends of my hair and I twisted a curl around, tapping my foot at him, giving an amused soft giggle when his mouth opened and then closed and then opened again.

“I don’t have to peek to know you’re hot.” he muttered, a husky tone to his voice as he spoke.

My thighs went from slippery to flooded and I blinked as the words sank in. He stepped closer and our bodies rubbing together had a shiver passing through my body as he gazed down at me with a tender look in his eyes and his tongue trailed over the outline of his lips only making me want to raise to tiptoe, pull myself against him and pull his mouth down to cover mine. Just the thought of it had me squirming under his tender gaze.

“Back at you.” the words came tumbling out as I closed the distance between us just a little more. Trent’s arm shot out, wrapping around me to pull me even closer and my breath caught in my throat at the suddenness of it. “Back at me, huh?” he was leaning in a little, his nose bumping against mine. I gave in to the fit of giggles that kept threatening to take over and his fingertips dug into my lower back lightly. It was unintentional, but I rubbed against him and he groaned quietly. “Glad this is amusing to you.” he pretended to pout as he tilted my chin so that I had to look him in the eye instead of just staring at his chest, totally distracted. Turned on. Fully aware of the tension thickening in the air around us and not sure what to do about it.

“It’s not amusing. I mean it was funny, but..” I trailed off, blowing at hair as it flopped right down into my eyes.

“But?” Trent insisted, reaching out with his free hand to tuck the annoying fallen strand of wet hair behind my ear. The closer his face got to mine, the harder it was for me to think. To form words. If I could even come up with anything to say to begin with. I typically can’t around him, the man is a breathing distraction. Walking temptation.

“But I’m only laughing because it takes my mind off of other stuff.” I admitted it quietly, going awkward and about to look down when he tilted my chin again. I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I saw the way his eyes just kind of fixed on my lips as his tongue trailed slowly across his own.

“What other stuff?” his voice dropped lower, his mouth almost dangerously close to mine by this point. “Because if it’s anything like what I have in mind…” he trailed off in a groan because his mouth brushed clumsily against the corner of my lips. My fingertips dug into his pecs and I leaned against him just a little because if I didn’t I was almost certain I’d puddle to the floor of our bathroom.

I just thought things were intense between us lately. I honestly didn’t have a clue, come to find out.

“That depends on what you have in mind.” I muttered quietly, making myself lock eyes with him as our bodies rubbed against each other just a little more. Trent took one more step closer and my back met the edge of the counter behind me. The hand on my hip dug in, holding me against him and now he was staring at my lips like he had every intention in the world of kissing me.

And I wanted him to do it so badly that I could taste it. I was a breath away from raising to tiptoe and tangling my fingers in his hair just to pull his mouth against mine.

“What if.” Trent rubbed against me a little as he towered over me, his hands all over me. “Yeah?” my mouth grazed against the corner of his as I said it and he groaned quietly, the rest of his question coming in short and heavy pants, “What if I want to kiss you?”

“What if I want you to do more than that?” it slipped out in the heat of the moment before I could even be bothered to censor myself. I bit my lip and went to raise my hand to cover my mouth because honestly, I was shocked I’d said it out loud. Trent’s hand circled my wrist, lowering my hand from my mouth. He released my wrist and both hands wandered down, gripping my ass as he lifted me up and sat me on the edge of the counter, stepping closer all over again. I wrapped my legs around his waist and scooted myself closer to him, biting my lip as his lips inched closer to mine all over again. Agonizingly slow.

“What if I want to do more than that?” Trent muttered just as his mouth met mine, his lips latching on to my top lip, tugging at it slightly. I pressed myself against him heavily, my arms wrapping around his neck and my fingers tangling in his hair, giving a gentle tug. My legs squeezed at either side of his hips and it caused me to rub against him even more. His tongue slipped past my lips and my fingertips dug into broad shoulders and tugged at wet dark hair as I rubbed against him with more urgence. My tongue clashed with his and he moaned into my mouth, slipping me off the counter and wrapping me around his body as he carried me out of the bathroom and down the hall, into his bedroom without breaking the kiss. My body hit the mattress softly and Trent followed me down, settled over me, propped up with a forearm beside either side of my head as he deepened the kiss even more.

“Just so we’re clear.. You don’t want me to stop.” his words disappeared in the kiss and I breathed out against his lips raggedly the answer, “No.” as I opened my legs, a leg resting on either side of his body as he settled between them. My arms were back around his neck and my fingers caught in his hair all over again, tangling up in thick strands. His head bent, his lips dancing right over my pulse. My heart fluttered lazily as that ever-present sense of calm I felt whenever he was here with me took over.

“Trent.” my soft moan was smothered by his mouth as it dove back against mine. “Mhm?” the soft murmur against my lips to linger in the air for a split second before being swallowed up by a deepening of the gentle nipping kiss. My back arched away from his mattress and I rubbed against him, a ragged sigh escaping my throat.The kiss broke again and his forehead rested against mine. My fingers hooked in the chain around his neck, tugging his mouth back down against mine all over again, making him chuckle into the kiss, hands roaming and incapable of being still in one area of my body for too long.

And god did those hands feel like heaven against my skin. Each gentle touch had me squirming, struggling to rub against him just a little more. His hand drifted down, fingers splayed over my thigh as he squeezed and his teeth dug into my lower lip. He rocked himself against me, the two of us laughing quietly when our foreheads bumped together and he nearly fell on top of me completely.

“Trent, it’s okay. I’m not made of glass?” I teased gently, making him laugh as my fingertips trailed down the center of his chest, toying with the towel wrapped around his waist as his hand started to move up the hem of the t-shirt I was wearing to cover myself in. “I know.” he locked eyes with me, biting his bottom lip as he tugged the shirt up, tossing it onto the floor of his bedroom with a quiet groan lingering in the air as his eyes roamed slowly over my body. I pouted, squirming against him in a desperate bid for more friction, the sheer need to feel him pressing me into the mattress, his skin against mine. It was driving me crazy and it felt like the more I tried, the more he resisted, determined to draw it out.

“Trent.” I whined again, a shiver racing through me when he rocked himself against me all over again and his lips settled against my forehead. “What’s your hurry, doll?” the question was muttered against my skin in the softest teasing tone and all I could do was squeeze his hips with my legs and try to rock myself up and into him, my breath catching in my throat when as soon as I did that, I could really feel him straining harder against the thick towel.

“ Please?” I questioned, giving my best pleading pout as I gazed up at him. He chuckled, leaning down and into me, nuzzling his nose up against mine, damp hair tickling my forehead. As his body rubbed against me a little harder and his fingertips dug in, I rubbed back against him, my breath catching only to come out shaky. I trailed my fingertips just beneath the plush towel, giving a little tug at it, trying desperately not to seem needy but realizing that there was no way to control it.

With a tug, the towel came unwrapped and Trent tossed it into his bedroom floor, his lips meeting mine in a soft and noisy smack as he drawled lazily against my mouth, “Better, doll?”

“Much.” I gave a soft gasp at the feel of skin on skin. Hard muscles on a soft body. Trent’s mouth broke from mine and started to trail lightly down my throat, his teeth catching here and there, totally at random. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re kind of handsome too.” I teased, our lips bumping together clumsily. Trent’s teeth caught on my bottom lip, tugging. The soft wet smacks of our kisses seemed to linger in the air between us. My leg bumped against his side and his hand wandered down, squeezing my thigh, holding it there, staring down into my eyes. “Kind of handsome, huh? I could be hurt by that, doll.” he pretended to pout, giving a quiet laugh as his eyes roamed over me, lingering long enough to make me squirm and try rubbing against him all over again. He rubbed right back against me, making me moan softly when I felt his cock slip between my folds.

“Oh come off it, Trenty. You know exactly how sexy you are.” I mumbled as I softly planted my lips against the top of his chest, the feel of a strong and steady heartbeat against my lips comforting. They say that when you really love someone, you feel this sense of calm fill you and I was realizing just how true that was.

He grinned into the kiss, deepening it, his fingertips digging into my body as he rocked me against him all over again. “To be fair, so do you, you little flirt.” he muttered lazily against my mouth as his hands drifted up, one catching hold of both mine, holding them above my head. I pouted a little because he’d stopped kissing me and he wasn’t rubbing me against him anymore either and that ache that had been building only intensified. I needed him touching me, I needed to feel his body against mine, pressing me down into the mattress. I wanted him buried so deep inside that I couldn’t tell where one of us ended and the other began. The realization prompted me to let my legs circle his waist, trying to pull him flat against me, but he nipped at my throat, shaking his head no at me as he licked his lips.

“Trent.” another needy whine ripped from my mouth, swallowed up by his own when he worked his way back up my throat and crashed it against mine. His hand gripped my ass, squeezing as he rocked himself into me and muttered quietly, “If you had any clue how long I’ve wanted this…” his voice trailed away as his nose bumped against mine, our soft laughter lingering in the air for a few seconds. He pulled his mouth away from mine, rough lips venturing slowly down the front of my throat all over again.

A shiver wracked my body when I felt them dance across my collarbone and Trent moved himself lower down my body, positioning himself over me all over again. I reached up, fingers carding through thick wet hair and he gave a low growl before dipping his mouth down, little kitten licks against my breasts as his hands journeyed up my body and squeezed them together. “Trent!” I arched up towards him, his name catching in the air as his teeth scraped against my nipples and tugged.

His mouth crept even lower and I could feel my body tightening up, my pussy practically dripping and throbbing with need. My toes caught in the plaid comforter on his bed and my fingertips dug into his shoulders lightly and I could feel them moving beneath as a shiver passed through. His eyes met mine again as he sank lower, teeth grazing right against the soft surface of my skin as he gave quiet groans. The hand in his hair gave a light tug and it only seemed to encourage him to keep going… But so much slower.

Each slow roll of his tongue over my skin had me squirming beneath him, whimpering and all but begging for it. He chuckled soft against my tummy, his beard leaving a tickling burn against my skin as his mouth worked lower. When I giggled, he stopped and looked up at me, licking his lips and winking. “Keep forgetting how ticklish you are.”

I rose up slightly, extending a hand and catching hold of his jaw to pull his mouth against mine greedily as I mumbled against his lips, “This has nothing to do with me being ticklish.” a teasing wink as the kiss broke and we pulled away from each other. His mouth dove down to my stomach again, his arms hooking beneath my legs as he spread them wider and settled between them. I clutched at the top of his head as his tongue ghosted my navel, rocking myself against him a little. The more I squirmed and moaned, the slower he moved.

Torturing me. Naturally.

When he pressed a kiss against my pelvic mound I bit my lip, tensing in anticipation. Everything happening right now was literally straight out of one of my more wild dreams about the man and yet.. So much more.

By the time his tongue was circling at my clit, my fingers were digging into his shoulders and his hair and all I could do was whimper and rock my hips upward as that ache built even more, sending a slippery wet rush down my inner thighs.

A slippery wet rush that Trent stopped to lick clean, teeth scraping at skin just a little. Beard burning up the insides of my thighs as his mouth moved higher and higher and two fingers worked me open carefully, a quiet growl escaping his mouth when he realized just how wet I was. “Fuck.” his breath was warm against sensitive skin and I felt goosebumps all over as his tongue rolled lazily right up my center and back around my clit. When his lips locked on the circular bundle of nerves, I sucked in a sharp breath only to have it catch in my throat as his fingers delved deeper inside, stretching me out a little. The soft wet sounds hung heavily in the air and I tried literally everything I could think of just to keep from actually crying in frustration at how slow and tender and focused Trent was on what he was doing.

My toes curled against the comforter as his tongue joined his fingers, soft wet slurps filling the air and competing with my whimpers and whining in volume. “Trent, ahh.. Oh..”

When I rocked my hips upward to meet his tongue and fingers, he chuckled quietly against my pussy, muttering a softly spoken “Sweet.” as his fingertips dug into my body just to keep me still. I pouted, propping a little to stare down at him, panting for my next breath and shaking just a little more.

I felt his tongue form the shape of a T and I moaned, managing to fight the grip of his fingers to rock my hips against his mouth. By the time he got to E, I was squirming even more, begging because my orgasm was so close to shattering through me. I felt him smirk against my cunt and when his teeth grazed against my tender and throbbing clit, I moaned out loud, the sound echoing off the walls of his bedroom. By the time he’d finished spelling his name against my skin, I was begging, breathless and dripping. Trent’s tongue delved back into my pussy, my head fell back against the bed and I rocked my hips against it, my orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Fuck. Doll.” Trent groaned against my cunt as he ground himself against the mattress a little, “You ready for me?”

“Please.” I begged, breathless and gripping at his hair as my other hand raised, resting against my forehead, fingers tangling in my own hair, tugging lightly. “Now, Trent.. Need you now.”

“Okay, baby. You got me.” Trent answered in a lazy drawl, raising up to his knees, his hand lowering, circling his thick length and dragging it along my folds, making me suck in a sharp breath and shiver just a little. He settled against me, carefully, making me giggle as I pressed a soft kiss against his mouth. His hands settled on my hips and he slowly slipped it in, sending a shiver racing through me as he did.

I dragged my hand through his hair, pulling his mouth deeper, his tongue parting my lips as my legs wrapped around his waist and he groaned into the kiss, our soft smacks the only sound for a few seconds as he sank his cock even deeper inside, growling and snapping his hips against me slowly as soon as he was buried to the hilt. His hand left my hip, settling on the side of my face, his thumb trailing lazily over my skin as he stared down at me intently, catching his breath before his lips settled deep against mine all over again.

“Trent.” I breathed out, rocking against his slow and steady drives, stretched and filled, the pleasure almost blinding at this point. “C’mon baby. Faster.. Please?” I caught hold of his jaw, making him look at me, my tongue rolling over the outline of his lips. He sped up just a little, muttering in awe against my mouth when he pulled it against his all over again for another deep kiss, “Not gonna be able to stop doing this.” and I answered breathlessly, “I don’t want you to.”

His cock struck against my spot and I whimpered, clinging to him. “Feels so good.” he mumbled quietly against my mouth, conquering it with another deep and slow kiss as he started to fuck into me slower, almost pulling totally out only to drive back into my cunt deep over and over again. “Doll…” he groaned aloud as my nails dug into his shoulders and my legs clenched his waist tighter, my heels digging into his ass in an attempt to drive him even deeper inside.

His hips pressed down into mine harder, his thrusts nearly driving me into the mattress, the soft smack of our bodies meeting over and over filling the room. “Whoa.” he groaned as his hips stammered against me and he paused, pressing little kisses across the bridge of my nose and my cheeks, chuckling quietly, “Was starting to feel way too good.” he muttered lazily against my mouth when I reached out and pulled it against mine greedily, answering into the soft deep kiss, “I know.. Didn’t want you to stop, honestly.”

“Oh really now?” he asked, biting his lip as we pulled away from the kiss, staring at one another. He started to fuck into me again, hips flat against mine and pressing me down. I lowered my legs and he took a shaky breath, bottoming out inside of me. “You didn’t want me to stop, hm?”

“No. I didn’t. Ugh, fuck.. Trent. C’mon. Please baby.” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulder and back all over again as he gripped my hips, holding me still, pumping his cock in and out faster, harder. As deep as he could possibly go until I wanted to see stars and I could feel my body starting to tense and spasm a little with each thrust. “So tight. It’s drivin me crazy.” he growled against my skin as his teeth sank into a patch of skin just above my collarbone, his lips latching on as he continued to fuck into me.

“Trent, fuck. Oh god I’m-...” I trailed off as my head tilted back and I tried to catch my breath, my orgasm about to take over. I literally couldn’t stop it. Trent muttered against my throat, “C’mon, doll. Let go for me.”

I didn’t need the coaxing he gently gave. My orgasm racked me, leaving me clingy and limp, my hips desperately trying to meet his as I moaned his name over and over and actually nipped at a patch of skin above his collarbone just to keep from screaming bloody murder. It flooded me with such a blinding intensity I almost couldn’t catch my breath, my pussy clinging to his cock, making him slow down a little to let me pull myself together, soft kisses all over my face and neck as he did so. “Doll… that felt..” he started and I breathed out against his mouth, “Amazing, baby.” as he started to pump into me all over again, his fingertips digging lightly into my hips, pumping me up and down on his cock, quiet groans and growls. I could feel him tense and he leaned down and mumbled next to shell of my ear, “Don’t wanna stop, fuck.” as he pulled out, his hand fisting his cock, staring down at me from above, biting his lip as he bucked his hips against his hands and his cock throbbed, erupting, his warm seed splashing against my skin and settling. Just watching him had me squirming and moaning, my hands wandering slowly over my body to give him something to focus on as he came hard.

He leaned down, gripping my chin lightly and pulled my mouth against his as he slid off the bed and pulled me up, letting me wrap around his body. “C’mon. We’re gonna shower together and save water.”

“Mmm. Sounds nice.” I drawled lazily as I rested my face against the space between his neck and shoulders.

#trent beretta #trent beretta fanfiction #trent beretta oneshot #trent beretta smut #trent beretta fanfic #trent beretta imagine #//18+ only #//smut #// fluffy smut #// so this happened.

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pinkys-plan · 4 years ago

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The Search for the Baby

Buckle up because this is a long one. There'll be a tl;dr at the end, so feel free to skip past my riveting story if you so please.

So, my dear friends, I am on a quest.

Recently, I happened upon a tiktok user (Gosh, aka @ alluropinionsrirrelevant) asking for help finding a toy they owned as a child. You can find that video here but for those of you for whom that is not an option, the description is as follows:

It was made from 2003-2008. Exact year unsure.

It was a cartoonish baby, sitting, who was wearing a propeller hat (without the cap part. Like a propeller beanie)

It would cry and vibrate, and its pacifier was a button that calmed it down when pressed

It had a microphone in the stomach so you could talk to it to soothe it

The arms were loose and could move around freely

In the comments were some extra pointers, as they told people who made suggestions which ones were incorrect. For example, it was definitely not a Cry Baby doll, nor was it any kind of realistic looking baby doll.

In a second tiktok, they state that this baby was not really a doll per se, but was an entirely plastic figure that could fit on the palm of your hand.

Most importantly, however, they were absolutely certain that it looked EXACTLY like the picture they drew.

At this point, my interest was piqued. I am an incredibly stubborn person and I enjoy, more than many things, being right. I also enjoy helping people because who doesn’t get a kick out of seeing others smile?

I decided not that I would have a little go at finding the baby, but that I was going to find it no matter what. 100%. I would not rest until I had solved this mystery.

So, off I went to google. I searched so many terms and I very quickly understood why so many people thought it was a Cry Baby. It looked very similar to the Cry Baby dolls I was seeing (as pictured, hopefully below)

But, over the years, I’ve had many memories of things that people have insisted were wrong about but turned out to be totally right, so I wasn’t going to let the internet tell this poor soul that they were wrong and that this was what it was. Gosh says it looks exactly like the one they drew? Then it looks exactly like the one they drew and I was not going to cease until I could find one that matched it far beyond a reasonable doubt.

I found a few contenders. For example:

This little fucker seemed similar enough. Entirely hard plastic? Check. Similar position? Check. Electronic? I think so. Probably cried too, by the looks of it. But there were obviously holes in this theory - no propeller hat, no microphone hole on the stomach, no free movement in the arms, plus there was a bottle that surely Gosh would have mentioned if the real baby was supposed to have one. So, not it.

This carried on for a while, finding things that were sort of similar but not quite, then discarding them because they weren’t close enough for me to be satisfied.

Then I typed the words ‘baby figure toy 2003’. This got me nothing. Then I added a sneaky little ‘electronic’ on the end and didn’t even have to scroll down.

Right there, on the right hand side of my screen, was the baby. There was no question about it, this was it. There’s no point going through all of the things that were the same because this little chunk of plastic was the spitting image of the one Gosh drew.

I went to the site, looking for a name, and that is when I found...

...nothing. I’d found the baby on an auction site and it was literally just labelled ‘baby doll’ in Spanish. The seller didn’t know the name of this thing. I then reverse image searched it to see if any more were around. Nothing.

I left a comment on the original tiktok, telling them the good news and the bad news, relaying that yes, it did exist, they weren’t making it up, that it was yellow and purple, with little ‘G’s on the feet and it was made in 2003 by Sega and Hasbro but that I couldn’t give a name for it. I also sent a picture on Instagram bc apparently you can’t sent pictures though tiktok dms??

Anyway, I pressed on.

Sega and Hasbro are huge, so a toy made by both companies must have some kind of documentation somewhere, right?

Wrong.

No matter what I searched, there was nothing. I couldn’t find the name of the toy, other pictures of the toy, any kind of box or advertising for the toy. Nothing. Zero. Zilch.

The only thing I did find was a blue version with different hair. It was on Reddit and the poster had put up the picture in hopes of finding the answers that I, too, was looking for.

I could have left it there but, as I said before, I’m stubborn as all hell when I want to be, especially when I’m procrastinating, so I had all the time in the world to identify this little plastic child.

I searched high and low, through Sega and Hasbro toy archive sites. I eventually found this Sega toy timeline graphic, which I thought was going to be the jackpot:

But was actually sort of useless because when I scrolled to 2003, as you can see, there’s nothing there. It says that year is listed somewhere else.

Okay, so just go there, right? Wrong again, because when is anything easy?

I go through a whole bunch of these long exchange reports, or whatever they were, that allegedly contain the list of toys Sega produced in 2003 (I’m not entirely as knowledgeable about Japanese stock exchanges as I apparently need to be) and, once again, nothing.

I try to find toy catalogues from 2003. I went on the wayback machine for Argos in 2003. This was all to no avail, but eventually, I found a tiny lead.

On the 2003 version of the Sega Toys Japanese website, there was a toy called プチベビ (which google translated as ‘Petit baby’). By no means was this the exact toy but it was very similar. It had the same body type, with the same moveable arms and microphone bellybutton. The head was different, just a plain face without the pacifier, and these infants were not bright yellow or blue and were also dressed in little animal onesies.

Okay, so was this like the Japanese version of the toy? Possibly. Probably.

Other than that, I have nothing. I’m still going through the 2003 Hasbro site but that’s probably a dead end.

So, dear friends, I am now turning to you for help. If you owned this little yellow and purple baby (or the blue one), knew anyone who owned it, or know anything about it, please talk to me. If you have the box still or the pamphlet that may have come with it, please reach out. If you have access to toyshop catalogues from 2003-2004, or just any catalogue from that time from a store that may sell toys, please get in touch.

I’m really hoping this post gets around because I’m immensely intrigued by this toy and why it has seemingly been lost to the void, so I’m desperate for answers.

An extra tiny lead on the name is that the line of toy might be ‘Gaga’ or something of the sort, which Gosh recalls it may have been called, and makes sense with the ‘G’ that is on both toys.

TL;DR:

(ID: Wanted poster with a photo of the Baby. Below the photo, the text reads: ‘Looking for any information about this toy. Do you have one? Do you remember its name? Do you still have the packaging/any information that came with it? Please share!’)

#any information appreciated #im desperately curious #this little plastic figure is taking up all of my mental space and I just need to know #mystery #2000s toys #mystery toy #sega #sega toys #hasbro #toys #long post #tl;dr #help me find this!#childhood toy #nostalgic toy #2000s nostalgia

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rrrawrf-writes · 4 years ago

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lordy lordy loo it’s been a hot minute since i’ve made an original post, i forgot where the button was

so. some of you may have seen the stuff running around about violetvineyard and mvcreates, some of you may not have. i’m just gonna lay out my experiences here, now that other people are talking about it and now that the server has been deleted. i’m gonna try to present a fair and nuanced version; i’m not gonna include screenshots (right now) bc i’m lazy, mostly.

there are several other people who are putting up way better breakdowns than i am. i just figured i might as well toss mine onto the pile bc why not? but if you’re hoping to hear from me a story about how i’ve been wronged, per se, you won’t find much of one, because i played mainly a spectator role, and never had much trouble there. i will have a vague, lukewarm defense of some of the people involved that other people may not agree with, but again, this is all just the whole VV deal from my point of view.

@nuwuhorizons (i haven’t said how dang much i lOVE your url) and @sapiencenotes have very good receipts and breakdowns. if you want a more in-depth (and dramatic, forgive me for using the word, i’m not trying to downplay this), check them out. @time-to-write-and-suffer also has some great stuff on their blog about all of this.

all righty. so. i joined VV not right at the beginning, but soon after it was started. there was an application process, i got accepted, i was looking for a community to help me start writing more. (it didn’t help, but that’s not their fault, that’s mine.) the person who owned the server was called mina, and on tumblr, mina’s url was mvcreates. mina is a nonbinary Muslim woman of color, a professional who i believe works at harvad and deals a lot with things like infectious diseases, iirc. she was doing a whole lot of work when the pandemic came around, and so the past few months wasn’t quite as active as she had been at the start, both on the server and tumblr.

the very first time mina came on my radar, before i joined vv, was because she had corrected someone’s typo on a post, and it stirred up a minor drama about “don’t give unsolicited criticism” and “is pointing out minor errors like that okay” and blahblahblah. i ran across that on a friend’s dash, and also ran across the promo for vv from that friend’s dash, as well, and joined bc y not.

everything was p cool for a while. it was nice to meet some new people and some of my mutuals on there. mina seemed like a fun person. she was about a year, year and a half, maybe, older than i am. the first things that kind of started rubbing me wrong at the start was how she would kind of dismiss suggestions for the server than i and a friend had, and how she kept bringing up her age - she would often say things like “well i wouldn’t do that but i’m an Old(TM) so maybe i just don’t get it” and i can’t really explain why that bothered me. i think it felt dismissive, like Younger Folks Don’t Know How Things Should Work. also, like. she kept bringing it up. as if it meant something, as if plenty of us on that server weren’t actually around her age. there was a convo on vaccinations where i wanted to make the point that a lot of anti-vaxxers should be educated instead of ridiculed and shamed, but i never really got to making that point bc she jumped in very sharply and explained that anti-vaxxers all come from a class of people who are generally educated. i didn’t bother saying anything else.

at the start, it was tiny little things like that. i chalked it up to her personality and mine just not quite matching up. i sat down a lot and examined my own internal biases, bc i knew something was bugging me, but i couldn’t tell if it was legitimate, or if i was jealous and petty, or if i was being discriminatory towards her identity. i still wonder that a lot; i want to be careful that i’m examining her actions here, and not the person who made those actions.

because the other thing that bothered me was that she was perfect at pretty much everything. she was a decent, if not good, writer, from what i read. i thought her “art”/edits were neat, even if sometimes i looked at them going “that just looks like an edit, not your own art, but u kno, edits are art too, so i’m not gonna say anything.” she had a lot of motivation, a lot of ambition. soon, this kind of transferred over into me feeling like she acted like she had to be perfect at everything. i think this is probably one of the more “lisa is just being petty” things, rather than a judgement on her character, but she seemed to flaunt her own skills and accomplishments a lot. not that no one is allowed to brag sometimes! but it was just another layer of “this bothers me.”

then there was the hero worship.

people in the server loved mina. i liked her. i had no problems with her, even if there were a few things i was a little “ehhhh” about. vv got pretty big, pretty quickly, and i assume there was a decent amount of turnover and people who just joined to lurk or sometimes share things in the promos channel or elsewhere. but the most active folks just. they adored mina with every fiber of their being. mina could do no wrong. no one ever called her out on anything; everything she did was hailed as fantastic and wonderful. and honestly, for the most part, it wasn’t like she was doing crappy stuff. some of the praise was well-deserved, imo, but it just bordered on embarrassing for some of these people, how much they just worshipped the ground she walked on.

and she didn’t really like, discourage it. like, at the start, i think i remember her being more modest, but in general, she just let it go, and so did i, bc like. i aint that kinda jerk.

the stated purpose of violetvineyard was to have a community that valued reciprocity. reciprocity was mina’s biggest thing. there was a channel for people to post their stuff on, so the rest of us could browse and read and reblog. i, admittedly, didn’t do as much of that as i wish i did, but part of it was because i do have a life outside of the internet, a memory and attention span the size of a gnat, and because like. 90% of the stuff that people put in the promos channel were things like edits, writeblr intros, wip intros, etc etc, when all i wanted was to just read some actual writing. but that’s neither here nor there. what got hilarious to me, though, was whenever mina’s fervent admirers would talk about how mina was, quote, a pillar of the community. how vv was doing something No Other Writeblr Group Had Done Before. how Important and Special this server was.

folks. i’ve been on here for several years now. we don’t have a community. we have a bunch of little cliques who reblog from their friends and complain about people not reblogging them. noah fence, but come on. vv got pretty dang big, but it was still a small corner of a small section of tumblr. like. sorry, all y’all, but them’s the breaks.

also, this was hilarious to me bc there are several big writeblrs who have been running around long before mina and vv showed up. yet, according to these people in the server, mina had Single-handedly Brought Hope To This Desolate Wasteland.

in the end, vv became just another little clique whose members reblogged from their friends. i don’t want to devalue the good that did come out of vv. a lot of the picture being painted rn was that the majority of the server were scary dog-piling people. the majority of the server were just writeblrs looking to promo their stuff and talk about their writing. unfortunately, few bad apples, bad rep, negatives outshine positives, etc etc. but i think it did do some good re: exposure for a few folks, even tho it didn’t turn into what it could have been.

another one of the things that was a minor irritant to me was that they eventually started archiving the vent channel, which was probably the most-used channel. that didn’t sit right to me, but as always, i was a coward had nothing to say about it, so i didn’t. the reason given was that there were often things in the vent channel that people might regret being there, so it was periodically archived and a fresh channel started.

so i’m rambling a lot about stuff that’s probably boring and inconsequential. that’s 90% of this whole vv thing, tho, you need to understand that.

the biggest thing that bothered me about mina, i think, came about from the constant hero worship from her adoring fans. and i know there’s a whole argument to be said about expecting labor from people with marginalized identities, which is an argument i agree with - don’t expect someone of a minority group to educate you or to face trauma or to shut down bigots, etc etc. but by now, mina had a lot of followers in general, and in specific, she had quite a few people who would defend her at every single perceived slight.

she made a lot of those fun writeblr reblog games, like “send me a fruit that says this about my writing.” those were cool, i’ll admit that. but she was super into “you have to send an ask to the person you reblog from, RECIPROCITY!!!!!!!!!!!” and seemed to struggle with the fact that sometimes, people don’t follow her established rules on her posts for these games. she’d complain about it every single time that happened in the vent channel, which, again, that’s fine? that’s what vents are for, it’s annoying to not get cool fun asks when you do these games, but also, that’s life for you. she could depend on her fans to send her plenty of asks, whereas the much smaller blogs who reblogged these games would probably get f-all, half the time. if you’ve gone through nuwuhorizons or one of the other blogs i mentioned earlier, you’ll have run across the incident where mina’s friends harrassed an 11 year old for not doing her ask game right.

an eleven year old.

and this is my biggest grief with mina. she only stopped her friends from dogpiling people... once? maybe twice? that i remember. and not only that, but there were SEVERAL occasions where she would get on the vent channel, complain about someone who had said something wrong on one of her posts (and sometimes, again, these were legitimate!), and then ask if someone in the server wanted to reply to them. reasons for such ranged from “i’m too busy rn” to “they would probably listen more to a white person than me.”

again. this, on occasion, is not necessarily a bad thing. we cannot expect labor and response from minorities. my issue was that she kept doing this. and sometimes it was fine, just someone who would drop a note on the post or send a polite anon. but this, to me, the whole asking someone else to fight your battles for you? that really bothered me. mina is a grown adult. either ignore it, like the rest of us chumps, or deal with it yourself. having friends support you is not a bad thing - if i was attacked on tumblr and my friends jumped in to defend me, i’m cool with that. but i wouldn’t ask them to, and then not do anything myself.

to me, this attitude just encourages dogpiling. this felt like she was taking advantage of the people admiring her so whole-heartedly, and using them to deal with minor grievances. (again, i don’t want to downplay some of the actual racism and xenophobia she experienced on this website, because there was some pretty sketchy stuff that did need someone else stepping in to object to. but then there was “ugh this person asked me what program i use to make my music and i don’t want to answer them bc that’s rude,” and stuff of that caliber. like, mina, you built yourself a pretty big following here on tumblr, you don’t get to complain when people are trying to ask you questions and engage with you when you set yourself up as a knowledgeable person on a subject.)

i’m going to mention @gingerly-writing because she already made a post on the subject, but there was an instance where we were in the vent channel and watched a lot of mina’s friends send anons and reblogs of a hurtful nature to one person. eventually, ginger stepped in to say “hey, i don’t think we need to keep doing this, they are a minor,” and after she did so, i also jumped in, saying something along the lines of, “yeah, i’ve seen this kind of stuff blow up in another server and end in a really regrettable situation where no one was happy, can we stop.” both ginger and i received a private message from the mods (individually) saying that we shouldn’t police the chat, etc etc. not during that message, but on the vent channel, another mod jumped in to say that the people dogpiling the blogger were also minors. as if that makes it okay, and isn’t actually extremely worrying in its own right.

after that, i pretty much took a stance of “all right then i just won’t say anything at all.” i stuck around vv because i hated myself actually really liked a few of the others in the server, including a couple of the mods who are actually really cool people, not all the vv mods are sketch, and because honestly? i lowkey knew that vv was going to crash and burn sometime, and i wanted to be there to watch what happened. due to the pandemic, and her line of work, mina became less active, and the whole server died down a bit.

then someone reblogged one of mina’s ‘art’ posts and accused her of tracing. mina’s admirers immediately jumped into action. nuwuhorizons has it pretty well documented on their blog. there was nothing in the server about it, except one of the others said “oh man i saw that and it pissed me off,” there was some minor chat, and then i woke up and wanted to know what had happened, and was told “don’t worry about it.”

so, naturally, bc the only thing i thirst for is water and Drama(TM), i went looking for it.

found it on some of mina’s friend’s blogs, where i found who had reblogged and said mina was tracing, and followed those reblog chains, where several of mina’s followers attacked the accuser and made fun of their name and age and defended mina, pulling out progress videos and stuff of mina’s work. the accuser was trans and still a teenager, even if technically an adult, so that made things a lot worse. mina eventually posted something explaining that she was pencil tracing and had a very cheery, false-positive tone to the whole thing.

things sorta ended at that, but then maybe the same day, or the day after, user hyba made that big ol post about the Big Scary Tumblr Mirror Website Copying All Your Good, Hard Work. mina and her friends jumped on this. they threw it in the server and talked about things like intellectual property rights and “i don’t like how this makes me feel :(” and from there, went in to how tumblr was a terrible garbage site and then mina and most of the mod team decided that it was time to pack up VV and leave tumblr completely.

pretty much everyone i know were mina’s besties have vanished off tumblr. mina made an announcement that VV was “migrating” off tumblr and discord(???) and dropped another application to join the great vv migration. i did not apply bc i just have too freaking much going on in my life and needed to get out of this for the sake of my own mental health. it was tempting as hell, tho, i will say that.

a couple things about this - at the time, mina is also having some pretty bad things going on in her family. she was very vague on the details, but i think that really contributed to wanting to leave; on top of the pandemic and everything else, she was probably heckin stressed. but also like. she never called out her followers for attacking her accuser. she never made any sort of post talking about it. she never told her friends on the server “hey don’t do that.” she never took accountability for it, or, honestly, for anything else she or her friends have done that didn’t feel too good. the mirror sites aren’t really a big deal.

after the server was archived, it was left up a couple days so everyone could grab contact info, etc. during this time, i was checking the ‘violetvineyard’ tag and saw someone post “what happened to mvcreates they haven’t answered my application to vv,’ and i responded with “oh, the server closed down bc of the copy cat sites.”

the same day, i got a tumblr DM from one of the former mods asking me not to give away any details about vv leaving tumblr. it was very politely worded and everything, but it was still just like

okay? vv is over? why are you asking me not to say anything. and it wasn’t like i was even spilling any hot goss, i was just repeating the excuse (and i do mean excuse) mina gave us.

anyway, that mod is off tumblr, too, as far as i know, or else they stealthin. which is fine, u do u, buddy.

uhh conclusion time, i guess? i have a few scattered screenshots of things, but i’m not posting em bc i’m lazy and also running late for a thing. but really, for me, i didn’t have a whole lot of beef with mina or pretty much any of the other folks on vv. i thought that mina and her friends were a bit too eager for blood, and that really bothered me. i’m annoyed they shut down vv completely, because it could actually have been something great. if mina wanted off writeblr, i wish she had given the whole network over to people interested in running it; instead, what was a good thing for a lot of people is now completely gone, with no existing framework for people to build on. sure, anyone can go make their own network/family for writeblr, but now it’s just going to splinter into a bunch of different, smaller groups, and we’re all back to square one.

but whatever. i didn’t get to see the server go down in flames, instead it just ended with a hasty retreat and a few whimpers, and quite honestly i wished my staying in had paid off.

i do want to reiterate - there were quite a few people in vv who i think are great, and this does include some of the mods themselves.

i’ve also gotten a couple messages from a few other folks who had been in vv who have their own real, real sketch stories, which are making me rethink how i feel about mina and her friends, and all the good credit i gave them. i just wanted to present this bc it’s my blog and i do what i want, fight me.

and if anyone wants to chat about vv, hit me up. i keep things as private as you want them to be, and i love love love talking about this nonsense. Give Me The Deets.

#violetvineyard #vv drama #long post #sorry not sorry #i just wanted to give a touch more balanced view on vv #i have a few other things i could talk about but none are really worth the effort

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