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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

#bnha 317 #all might #midoriya izuku #and endeavor and hawks and mt. lady and all the rest of them I guess #literally forgot all about them by the end lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this wound up so long lmao I'm so sorry

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redhoodssweetheart · 3 years

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First Date

Series: With All My Love

Pairing: Alpha!Jason Todd x Omega!Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes (Requests for this series and several others are open, general requests are closed though)

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Fluff, Light angst, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, like one swear word.

Description: You and Jason are finally going on a first date, but things don’t go according to plan.

Makeup? Check. Perfume? Check. Nice outfit? Double check.

You went through a mental list of things you needed to do before your date with Jason. It had been a week since he had asked you on a proper date and you were thrilled. Steve less so, but he went overprotective brother mode. Even though you weren’t biologically related he still treated you like family and that meant he was giving you a speech on what to do in case Jason tried to pull something less than savory with you.

“Bring pepper spray and you remember that move I taught you to knee him in the groin, right?” Steve had asked over the phone. You had heard Natasha sigh in the background, but she let him do his thing knowing that arguing that you were a big girl and could handle yourself was going to go in one ear and out the other.

“Yes Steven,” you said with an exasperated sigh. “I remember everything. I know what to do, but Jason seems perfectly lovely and respectable. And I know to do check ins as well so that you know I’m safe.” There were different safe words for different situations just in case things went wrong.

Steve was quiet, “Just… be safe and have fun. I know it’s been a while since you’ve had a date and even though I’m worried I want you to have a good time. You deserve to be happy.”

It touched you that even though he was being overbearing and protective he still wanted you to have a nice time on your date. “Thanks, Stevie,” you smiled at that. “I’ll talk to you all later. Give a kiss to Nat for me.”

“Will do,” Steve responded before hanging up.

Now you were doing a final run through of your outfit for the evening and making sure everything was in order when a knock on the door alerted you to Jason’s presence. You practically skipped to the door and pulled it open to reveal Jason in a dress shirt, and slacks looking more handsome than you thought possible. He had a goofy smile on his face and he had a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Your mouth was practically watering at the sight of him.

“Hey, I, uh, thought I’d bring you flowers. Alfred, you remember me mentioning Alfred before, said that you might like a gift. I’m not normally this nervous, I wasn’t sure what to do,” he rambled, thrusting the flowers toward you.

You giggled as you took them, lifting them to your nose to breathe in the sweet scent of them. “Come on in while I put these in some water and then we can go,” you said as you moved down the hall toward your kitchen. “They’re lovely.”

He nodded his head absentmindedly, “The man at the floral shop said that these would be nice for a first date. I think he took pity on me because I was kinda hopeless in there.” He shoved his hands into his pocket so that you wouldn’t see how badly his hands were shaking.

You filled a vase with water and then put the flowers on your counter, a temporary spot until you came home and found a better place for them. It made you incredibly happy that he had brought flowers, it was such a sweet gesture. “Ready?” You asked once you were sure the flowers were safe from harm.

He offered you his arm and the two of you were off. Tucked inside his car you were overwhelmed with his scent and you tried not to act like you were breathing it in. You had never smelled another Alpha as good as him. Jason told you about the little Italian place he was taking you to and how it felt like home away from home.

“The staff is really great, they’re a family and they make you feel like family too,” he said. He had actually discovered it on patrol one night. The youngest daughter had been in the back alley taking out the trash when she was attacked by several men. Jason had been on patrol and happened to catch the commotion. After he had saved her the family had insisted they feed him. The food had been so good he had come back as Jason a few nights later.

You listened to him talk and smiled, he seemed so excited and it warmed you that he seemed just as thrilled by this date as you did. He had put effort into it and yeah he was trying to woo you, but it didn’t feel like some ploy to get into your pants. He just genuinely wanted to have a nice time with you tonight.

“Jason!” A young girl came bounding from the back, her arms flinging around him. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen and you could instantly tell that she had a small crush on him. It was cute. “Mama told me that you were coming tonight,” her eyes drifted to you and realization hit that he was on a date. “Who’s this?” There was a hint of sadness in her voice, but her smile never wavered.

“Y/N, this is Emilia,” Jason introduced the two of you. “Is my usual spot still open?”

She nodded, “Yep! Mama had it saved for you, come on.” She led you through the maze of tables and around several patrons who didn’t spare a glance your way. “Amara will be your server tonight. Enjoy,” she offered one last smile before disappearing.

Amara was the oldest of the daughters, she had been the one that Jason saved. And he suspected that she knew that he was the one that saved her. She never said anything though, but it was all in the way that she looked at him.

You and Jason began looking over the menu, he would recommend things, but he let you decide ultimately what you wanted. Amara came out a moment later and took their drink orders, greeting you with a smile. You noted that she was a beta and she didn’t seem to have any interest in Jason like her sister did.

Their orders were placed and they began talking. Both of you telling little tidbits and stories about one another. He had you laughing with all the stories of the stunts he and his brothers used to pull and how it would drive Bruce up a wall. You told him more about Steve and Natasha and how they were your family.

It was all going so well until his phone started ringing.

He frowned and said, “Excuse me.” You gave him a concerned look as he stood up and moved several feet away. He didn’t seem happy and when he came back you noted a change in his scent. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” he said abruptly. “I’ll take care of everything. I’m so sorry, Y/N,” his voice became soft. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” And then he was going, going over to Emilia and handing her some cash and making his excuses.

You sat there feeling dejected and upset that he had just left. You thought the date was going well and now you were alone. Emilia came over and sat with you for a bit, trying to cheer you up, but to no avail.

Jason knew he had messed up.

Of course he had.

The date had been going so well until Bruce had called. He had tried to get out of it, but Bruce had needed Red Hood. When he had arrived at the Batcave he had said, “You owe me so much.”

Bruce had given him a confused look to which Dick cut in, “He had a date with that omega he’s been pining after for the past several months.”

“I’m sorry, Jason, but this couldn’t be helped,” Bruce had said and that had been that.

Then to make matters worse he had been injured because his head hadn’t been in the game and he had been at the mansion for the past several days. He knew you were going to be upset and would probably never want to speak to him again. But he was going to try his damndest to get back in your good graces.

He was standing in front of your door with a box of donuts from the bakery on the corner. All the ones he knew were your favorite and knocked. What he hadn’t expected was Steve answering the door. A glare plastered onto his face. Jason backed up a bit. He wasn’t afraid of Steve, but he was still injured and he had no intention of fighting one of your best friends.

That would be the worst way to get back in your good graces.

“She doesn’t want to see you,” Steve practically growled at Jason.

He sighed, “I figured.” He held out the box of donut and winced slightly as he pulled on some of the stitches in his side. He probably should have stayed at the mansion a bit longer, but he was getting antsy knowing that with each passing day he was getting closer to losing you. “Just give these to her, they’re part of an apology I’m doing to pull myself out of the gigantic hole I’ve buried myself in.”

Steve narrowed his eyes as if he were trying to sense any deception in Jason’s words. “All right,” was the only thing he said before slamming the door in Jason’s face.

He blew out a breath, yeah he had seen that coming.

Steve walked over to where Y/N was seated on her couch, she had stopped crying several days ago. Natasha had curled up with her friend, the two of them huddled in the nest that Y/N had made on the couch. “What did he want?” Y/N hadn’t quite heard the conversation the two alphas had had with one another.

Steve helped up the box, “He said that this was part of an apology he was working on to climb his way out of the hole he had put himself in.” He set the box down on the table and you smelled the donuts under the cardboard lid. They were all your favorites. “I think he was injured.”

You jolted at that, “What?!” Your omega was suddenly going into overprotective mode and it was taking everything in you not to rush next door and look over him.

Steve nodded, “I don’t know what the hell happened to him, but he winced when he handed these to me.”

Natasha rubbed your back, “You said he seemed upset when he received the call, maybe something happened.”

“Yeah maybe,” you said absentmindedly, your mind still trying to calm down from hearing that Jason was hurt.

Steve and Natasha stayed a little while longer before packing up and heading back home. You looked at the box and lifted the lid. He had gotten all of your favorites and you couldn’t help the small smile that bloomed on your face.

Going into the kitchen you grabbed a brown paper bag and put two inside and then you headed next door and set them down on the ground. You knocked twice and then rushed back to your apartment. You weren’t ready to see him just yet, knowing that you would probably melt the moment he turned his gaze on you and knowing he was injured would only make it worse.

Jason heard the knock and for an instant he hoped that it was you coming to thank him for the donuts. He hurried to the door and when he opened it there was no one there. Dejected, he went to shut the door when he noticed the brown paper bag on the floor. Carefully he picked it up and smelled the donuts.

He smiled and pumped a fist in the air before groaning in pain. You may not have fully forgiven him yet, but this was a good start.

#Jason Todd x Reader #Jason Todd x Fem!Reader #Alpha!Jason Todd x Omega!Reader #Jason Todd x Reader fluff #Jason Todd #Jason Todd fanfic #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd fluff #Alpha!Jason Todd #Rquested

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

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Troll In Luv: Part 2

Previous: Troll in Luv Pt. 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers; Non-Idol AU, Angst eventual Fluff

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Swearing, Making Out, Kissing

Summary: Your hand is forced, and the only way to come out on top is to reckon with your ex and apologize for past transgressions... er tweets.

Note: This fic is dedicated to, written for, the incomparable @xjoonchildx, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it it’s totally trash... jk. mostly.

This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange!

Banner by me.

Tag List (is this how you do it no ones ever asked before): @unicornbabylover

Thursday: Jimin’s Apartment

Jimin hadn’t just moved on up, he’s leveled up completely. Gone were the Ikea pieces that he’d spent hours assembling, only to realize they’d given him the wrong part and he’d had to trek back to the store to rectify it. Gone were the plastic plates and cups he’d collected from Penny Pitchers at the bar across campus. Gone were the free t-shirts and dance company sweats he’d torn or cut to make them more comfortable for practice.

In their place, Jimin had picked out custom fabrics to cover his chairs, found small batch glass plates and bowls to line his open kitchen shelves. He’d sourced a Persian rug from a little hole in the wall shop that had been in the neighborhood for seventy years and had runners made from their remnants. He’d curated his space, and his wardrobe, to fit the Jimin he’d always been. Each piece made up for the times that he could only hold onto cheap knock offs, embarrassed when someone noticed a shirt he was wearing from a bag they’d donated to Goodwill.

Stepping into his space, it was hard not to gawk. Every inch of this apartment screamed maturity, knocking you off your feet. Had you been missing out on this for years? This Jimin, adult Jimin, was far more impressive than you’d realized. It was hard not to feel your heart hurting, yearning for the years you had been together, the moments shared, the love that had blossomed in your youth.

This was going to be more devastating than you realized.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Jimin asked. He took your jacket and purse, hanging them on the steampunk inspired coat rack.

“Um, water would be good, thanks,” You said, moving through the entry way to the kitchen. “How long have you lived here?”

“Uh, two years? But I just finished decorating maybe a month ago,”

“It’s incredible,”

“Thanks, how’s the magazine?”

“A fucking shit show,” You took the glass from his hands, careful not to let his fingers brush against yours.

“Hoseok mentioned that things have been getting more, challenging?”

“Yeah, that’s the nice way of putting it.”

“Hm,” Jimin hummed, sipping his own water.

“How’s your job? I don’t, I know Hoseok and Tae and Jungkook have told me about what you do, but, what do you do?” You phrased your question carefully, knowing precisely what he has been up to. You’ve seen his campaigns, his work on water bottles and stickers around the city, not to mention his designs being picked up by Target and thrown onto pillows, blankets and beach towels. He’d won an award last year for his artwork that had been picked up and used as the home screen on the most recent Mac Book, Mac Book Pro and Mac Book Air. He was being considered as a new graphic artist for Penguin Publishing, working on new book jackets as well as negotiating a seven-figure deal with Target, only to be outbid by Costco.

Jimin was everywhere, but he absolutely didn’t need to know that you knew that. He didn’t need to know how angry you were that neither of you actually ‘won’ your breakup.

“Well, I graduated with a degree in graphic design and a minor in dance. After I discovered I didn’t want to dance professionally, I got a job in graphics. I kept working on projects and three years ago started my own company. My work has been in a lot of different places, which, I’m sure you’ve seen,” Jimin sipped his water, pouted lips glistening as the liquid graced over them.

“Awfully cocky,” You smirked, long lasting Charlotte Tilbury, Glastonberry purple lipstick marking the glass.

“Or I know you well enough to know that you’ve been keeping tabs on me,” Jimin had no need to be cocky, he knew he was right. All he had to do was be confident.

“That’s an awfully big assumption for you to make. But it’s cool, it explains why your apartment is Architectural Digest ready. Unless, you have a girlfriend with excellent taste who designed it all,” You were baiting him, and in the internal monologue that never shut the fuck up, you were beating yourself up over the fact that Erin had been correct.

Jimin rolled his eyes, “Why don’t you just ask if I’m seeing someone?”

“Now why would I be that direct?” You questioned.

“You’ve been sitting behind a computer screen, trolling me for years instead of just talking to me. I should’ve expected you to find some roundabout way to ask if I’m single,” Jimin set his glass on the countertop and crossed his arms over his chest, defiance brooding in his dark eyes.

“Look, I know it’s fucked up, that I’m fucked up. It is the sole purpose of me going to therapy,” You explained.

“I would hope so,” Jimin scoffed. He’d never been indifferent to you, but you supposed you couldn’t expect anything less than anger after years of unwarranted harassment. Mentally, you kicked yourself over the fact that Claire had been right.

“Jimin,” You sighed.

“What?” He snapped.

“I’m sorry,” You stared into his softening eyes, the ones you’d spent years trying to replace, burning the memories into your retinas once again.

“Sorry for what?”

“For everything,”

“Care to be more specific?” He moved towards you, gliding from the far side of the kitchen to stand opposite you, elbows leaning against the cool granite of the countertop he custom ordered.

“I have loved you since we were fifteen, okay? When you left, when I left,” You sighed, there was never going to be a poetic or graceful way to lay out your tumultuous feelings, but you owed it to yourself to try. “I never told you how much I loved you, or how much it hurt when you just, you moved on so quickly, and I didn’t know how to tell you that I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want to break up, I didn’t want to fall into another cliché of high school sweethearts preemptively breaking each other into pieces because of college. I wanted us to be the cliché that lasted, that worked. But you just, I’ve been hurting for years and I didn’t think you’d care, because you didn’t back then, so why would you now?”

“So, you harassed me on the internet?” Jimin asked.

You rolled your eyes. “It didn’t start out that way,”

“How did it start?”

“Someone sent me a link to your profile, and I just, retweeted with a stupid comment and you responded. In my gut, I thought, I felt, that you knew it was me. Why else would you engage with it? You didn’t engage with anyone else,” Your rehearsed explanation made perfect sense, you’d spent years crafting it, tweaking the language, ensuring there were no loopholes.

“You checked?” Jimin’s smirk was back. Fuck him, it looked good against his angelic eyes.

“I’m a journalist, Jimin,”

“Still, you checked,”

“The point is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been needling you for years. I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you how much I loved you, I’m sorry I’ve been a massive bitch, rivaling only Heather Chandler. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, and I’m sorry Claire wrapped you up in this stupid article that I am no longer participating in. I’m sorry that even after I changed my fucking Twitter handle and you knew it was me, that I kept being a mythic bitch. I’m sorry for being the villain in your life.”

“I’m sorry too,” Jimin rushed to say.

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I was a coward back then, too scared by what Yoongi and Namjoon said about dating in college. I should’ve, I should’ve fought for us more than I did.” He admitted.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize the colossal mistake he had made, but by then Yoongi and Joon had planted the seeds in his mind that no one in their right mind makes it with their high school sweetheart. What a naïve notion, to stay with the same person you’ve loved since puberty.

“Remember when you came back for my dad’s wedding?” You asked.

“I regret that,” Jimin told you.

“I cried for two days,”

“I’m sorry,” He couldn’t look at you, his years of unsaid apologies waiting behind his pouting lips.

“It was such a dick move.”

Jimin smiled softly, he had missed the way you over exaggerated your speech, adding emphasis to superlatives, the slight way your eyes rolled when you were trying to make a point. A habit you’d developed in high school, he was glad to see you hadn’t replaced it with a new inane ritual. He still very much liked this one, found it endearing even after years of missing out on it.

“I know,” He conceded.

“I can only assume it was on purpose.”

“It, yeah, yeah, Hoseok said you were getting cozy with Seokjin,” He explained.

“I was,” You nodded.

“Was?”

“He broke my heart, sometime after you showed up to New Years with what’s her name on your arm and proceeded to make the after-hours dance party in Dirty Dancing look like the Russian Ballet. Oh, and can’t forget you nearly fucking her in the kitchen as the ball dropped, which Yoongi made a very dirty joke about it.”

You hadn’t kept a list of all his transgressions… but you had kept a list of all his transgressions, all his missteps, all his calculated moves, only to plan your own counterstrike. Erin had been right, you had started the Twitter battle, but Jimin had poisoned the blood between you long before you tweeted about it.

“I was drunk,” He excused.

“You did it on purpose,” You rolled your eyes, Jimin had forgotten how cute that was too.

“I did,” He conceded.

“I wasn’t fucking Seokjin on the dance floor for everyone to see,” You tossed back the rest of your water, eyes glancing at the living room where a framed photo remained. Prom, you in his arms, Hoseok beside you, Namjoon eyeing Caitlin Anderson, his date that you had made a point to not allow in the photo. She wasn’t sticking around, why ruin your group pic? (Namjoon still was pissed about this, though he hadn’t spoken to her since he left for college.) You were all too preoccupied with rules to drink, do drugs or smoke, so while your classmates were getting wrecked, you went bowling until 2AM. Jimin had climbed into your bedroom, after supposedly dropping you off, and you’d promised each other the world.

It didn’t last through summer.

Jimin sighed, a hand running through his bleached locks, tugging gently at the ends. “You weren’t.”

“You didn’t have anything to prove, Jimin. I had already gotten the message. Too fucking loud and too fucking clear.” Your voice became small, the heart of your hurt, the source of your pain, bubbling up to the surface.

“What was that message?” Jimin noted the change in your dynamic, your hand moving to play with the earring in your top hole, twirling it thoughtlessly as your eyes drug themselves from your prom photo back to him.

“That you didn’t want me,” You whispered.

Jimin let it sit in the air, the real reason you had harassed him, the real reason you were sitting in his kitchen, tears forming, lip trembling. This entire time, you had thought he didn’t want you anymore, didn’t love you, didn’t think you were his sun and moon.

“Is that why Seokjin broke up with you?” He asked.

“That he didn’t want me?” You questioned. He was toeing the line, danger signs would’ve been flashing, horns and sirens wailing telling Jimin to back the fuck off.

“No, that you still wanted me,” He clarified.

“Yeah, something like that,” You mumbled.

“I wanted you too,” Jimin admitted.

“Bullshit,”

“You think I would bring around random girls if I didn’t think you would be there? That I would parade around, embarrassing myself, just to show off whoever was on my arm? Do you really think that little of me?” Jimin demanded, his anger that he’d long thought he’d worked through coming back to the surface. He was no longer calm, no longer sympathetic to your puppy dog eyes.

“Jimin, I don’t know what to think of you! You broke my heart because of something Yoongi said, Yoongi, who doesn’t date let alone love anyone other than Jungkook, and then proceeded to what, listen to Namjoon?” Standing from your seat, you pushed the stool back under the immaculate white countertop. “What the fuck did they know about our relationship that I didn’t? Why were they making decisions about us, us, you and me, Jimin? Why did they have power and I had none?”

“I was, I was scared,” He admitted, his voice meek against your thunderous admissions.

“Bullshit! I was scared, you were cavalier.”

“You don’t meet your person when you’re fifteen!” He yelled, anger coming to a head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You’re yelling back, returning decibel for decibel. Stool pushed back, hand through your hair, blazer coming off to reveal the cheetah print blouse underneath. It was too hot in his apartment, too hot to have this conversation sober, too hot to be staring at him, the man who knew everything, everything, about you. It was too much for him to be confessing that he was a pussy.

“No, I’m not,”

“Park Jimin, you fucking asshole.”

“I’m so-

“No, no you’re not. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be standing in front of me, trying to pawn off your emotions as fodder in some naïve fallacy that says you can’t grow and mature with the person you love at fifteen. You are absolutely fucking unbelievable Jimin.” Untucking your shirt, you moved towards the living room and the open window.

“I’m so-

“Shut up! You don’t get it, do you?” You asked, the tears stinging your eyes begging to be released.

“Get what?” He muttered. You hear him plop down on the couch, and you know he’s slumped back, legs resting against the reclaimed wood coffee table, hands tucked behind his head, watching you.

“You, Jimin! Do you understand who you are?” You turned, the cool air soothing against your shoulders.

“I thought I did but apparently not, so enlighten me,” He requested.

“You love harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You crave love, you seek it out from your friends and family and yes, your girlfriends. You remember every detail, every expression, every glance carries weight in your eyes. You love the hardest, you hurt the deepest, and when you said you didn’t think we’d make it, what else was I supposed to do other than believe you?”

“I was an idiot! I was a child!” Jimin ran an unsteady hand through his locks, again, his nervous habit coming out in full force. “I was 18 and all I wanted was to elope, but I couldn’t because I had to make a name for myself. My parents demanded it from me, what was I to do, get lost in you? I was already drowning Y/N! All I breathed was you and fuck me if I wasn’t ready to commit to you but I knew you didn’t want to be the Topanga to my Cory so what could I do?”

“There are a lot of things you could’ve done! You could’ve said something to me. You could’ve been amicable. You could’ve shared your fears and your hopes with me, Jimin. You didn’t have to parade around with girlfriend after girlfriend and tell me you didn’t want us anymore!”

“I thought you were falling in love with someone else!” Jimin said.

“Why does it matter what I was doing? Whenever you saw me, did you see me flaunting my new relationship in your face? Why did you, why would you think that I was ever over you?”

“You were with Seokjin for two years,” Jimin answered, it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

“Oh, so I have a stable relationship and you assume it’s okay to be a dick?” You quipped. Sitting on the couch, your body relishes in the ease with which you let off a little tension.

“No, you had someone else,” Jimin turned, arm propped on the back of the couch, body facing yours.

“Doesn’t mean you had the right to treat me the way you did,” You hadn’t been this close to him in years, his breath mingling with yours. You could see the crinkles near his eyes, from moments when his laughter was the only thing on his mind.

“I wanted to marry you,” Jimin reached his hand towards yours, intertwining your fingers, still a perfect fit.

“But you didn’t,” You remind him.

“I haven’t,” Jimin’s eyes were set your hand, your ring finger naked, heated gaze willing a diamond to be made out of the hair around you.

“Jimin,”

“We’ve been here for hours, we’ve rehashed the past, but not once have you said why you kept trolling me,” He turned his eyes back to yours, pleading softly for you to tell him that what he thinks you mean is truth, not willful thinking.

“Because, Jimin. You’re so fucking dense sometimes,” You rolled your eyes, how did he not get it?

“Because isn’t an-

“I love you! You fucking asshole. I love you. I keep tabs on you because I’m still harboring some insanely poetic, pathetic, sociopathic love for you, Jimin. My first love, my only love. I know I’ve been a massive twat, I know it, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ruining the last five or so years of your life, I’m sorry for tweeting at you and about you. I’m sorry that I never said anything to you during college. I’m sorry I asked your mom not to tell you that we still talk. I’m sorry that I can’t seem to let you go. I’m sorry that I still love you.”

The tears fell freely, cascading down your cheeks and neck, path only interfered when Jimin brought your face into his hands, thumbs moving meticulously to wipe the falling droplets. He’d always loved cupping your cheeks, holding your face delicately between his hands. He loved the intimacy, the care, the inability to hide anything from each other.

“Marry me,” Jimin said, voice clear over your sobs.

“What?”

“Let’s go to city hall, get a license, let’s just, get married. Now, right now,”

“Jimin, we’ve hardly-

“I know my mom talks to you, she told me. She’s always told me. I still, I still talk to your dad, too. He texts me like once a week,” Jimin confessed.

“You do?” You couldn’t believe it, your parents knew too?

“I’ve always loved you, always. I knew-

“You asshole! You fucking suck! Why did you make me pour out my heart like this only to tell me you fucking knew? Was this a ruse? Oh my god, are you The Duke? Am I Daphne? Quick, make haste to the gallery wall in your hallway so we can stare at the photos of your years without me and pretend that our hands touching isn’t the sexiest thing to happen since Regé Jean Page boxed shirtless,” You rambled in between wiping your dripping nose against your blouse sleeve. Words spilled from you, tumbled out from your lips at a speed you hadn’t reached in years. Jimin always knew how to get you so worked up air seemed like a luxury.

Jimin stood to retrieve a tissue box from the bathroom.

“This wasn’t a ruse; I didn’t know you’d come over to talk about our relationship, our past. I was going to reach out I just, I thought you hated me.”

He sat back down, this time closer, knee bumping against yours, leaning in to speak in docile tones.

“When have I ever hated you?” You questioned.

“I can think of at least one hundred occasions where you’ve said that you have,”

“Such an-

“And you keep calling me names,” Jimin rolled his eyes. You’ve always loved how he rolled his eyes, subtle and gentle, but deadly and effective.

“I love you means you don’t have to say you’re sorry, so I won’t say it again,” You countered. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips.

“But I’ll say it, because while you’ve been angrily tweeting me, a poor attempt at showing your feelings,” Jimin braced for the contact of your hand against his shoulder, a gentle hit, accompanied by your own eyeroll and scoff. “Listen, I too have been an asshole. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I do accept your apologies, and I do forgive you. I love you, always have,” Jimin had taken both your hands in his, and gently, he placed kisses on each of your knuckles.

“Jimin,” You murmured.

“What Y/N?”

“I accept your apologies. I love you, so much, and I’m sorry I wasted the last few years instead of just saying that I wanted us to try again.” You turned your hands over, mimicking his gesture by placing lingering kisses across the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us during college. I’m sorry I brought girlfriends to family events, I’m sorry my actions made you think I stopped loving you.”

“You didn’t, right?” You peered up at him, lips leaving the palm of his left hand.

“Never,” Jimin held your gaze, watching as you sat up.

“Even when you were dating skanky girl number three, with the nose ring and the summer house in Montauk? That you brought home for spring break and asked if you could bring to Namjoon’s parent’s anniversary?” You questioned.

“You really want to rehash everything, don’t you?” Jimin chuckled, your ridiculousness knew no bounds.

“I mean, we don’t have to right now we-

“Can I kiss you?” Jimin leaned forward, cherry lips finding purchase on the delicate flesh on the inside of your wrists, a sensation that specialized in making your toes curl.

“You think that’s wise?” Your voice, a breathy groan embarrassingly needy, seemed to belong to someone other than you. Someone who needed Jimin to toss them over his shoulder and fuck into his $2,000 sheets.

Jimin laughed, “You were my first kiss, my first time, my first everything. You think now, as adults, kissing is going to ruin us getting back together?”

“I just mean that, do we need to let this simmer before we, you know,” You bobbled your head, hair moving around to match the giddiness bubbling inside of you.

“We don’t have to have sex,”

“Yeah,” You sighed, “but don’t you like, really want to?”

“And you call yourself a journalist!”

“Shut up!”

“You’re being ridiculous! Of course, I want to,” Jimin’s docile laugh sent a shiver down your spine.

“I am being cautious, I need to know that you, that you want this,” You reiterated.

It hurt to have to ask Jimin to give you something he already had, to give you his love again, to give you his trust. But it wasn’t you who ended this relationship, it wasn’t you who thought your relationship wouldn’t last through college. You knew you could work through it all; it was Jimin that walked away shattering your heart and your trust. It was Jimin who was scared of being with you, Jimin who needed to prove he was going to make this work. Jimin who had lost it all and needed to fight for you again.

“You’re asking me if I want to have sex with the love of my life, after years of not being able to touch her, to kiss her, to love her the way she’s earned?” Jimin asked.

“Yes,”

“To borrow a phrase from you, fuck you for thinking either one of us has any self-control. Especially when it comes to each other. How many tweets have we exchanged? How many times have you asked Hoseok about me, or my mother?” Jimin cupped your cheeks again, eyes darting from you slightly parted, purple stained lips to your eyes. “I’m in this, for good, and I will tell you every day until you believe me again.”

“Me too, though you should know I’ve picked up a few new habits I’m sure Taehyung has told you about,” You leaned into his touch, cheek warming at the light callouses that remained from his overeager workouts, and mic twirls he mastered in too many nights singing karaoke with Jungkook.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ve started wrapping my hair. And I’m also still allergic to kiwi,” You reminded him.

“Good, who needs a slimy green fruit with too many seeds?”

“Truly no one, except Australians,” You laughed and your pun.

“Remember that day before senior year, when we got smoothies, but they didn’t tell you that they’d put kiwi in it, and you had to go the emergency room?” Jimin’s hands have dropped from your face, instead clapping together, head tossing back as his laughter overtook his body.

“Or the time after watching Friends, Joon decided he wanted to make a kiwi-lime pie despite the fact we told him not to put kiwi, and he did anyway?” You laughed with him, head leaning against the arm that he had extended across the back of the couch.

“You wanted to kill him,” Jimin agreed.

“He forgot he had put it in! Then forced me to try it! I still hear his voice, ‘Y/N, please just a bite. Please, I worked really hard on it, come on, just a taste, please’. I swear to you, Sara Bareilles heard him and saved it for the Waitressmusical,” You laughed.

“I don’t remember who was more pissed, your mom or you,” Jimin added.

“He offered to pay for my hospital visit,”

“He paid it all off, didn’t he?”

“Before the month had ended, he didn’t even work out a payment plan, and bought me a new EpiPen,” You couldn’t stop laughing. Namjoon, the ever-lovable oaf, had never stopped apologizing for badgering you into eating his fucking pie. You couldn’t even tell if it was good, the minute the kiwi hit your tongue, your body reacted.

“He’s always been, responsible,” Jimin was calming down, high pitched squeaks on longer radiating off his vocal cords.

“To a fault,” You sighed. “My mom gave it all back to him, she saved it for the day he graduated college and got into med school.”

“Was he shocked?”

“Pleasantly so,”

Jimin hummed in agreement, his arm moving to drape across your shoulders, your body relaxing back into him. Your head found its way to his shoulder, and slowly you breathed in his scent. He’d changed colognes since the last time you’d been this close, this vulnerable with him. You liked it, fresh and crisp, with undertones of sandalwood and something that smelled like Kimchi, though you knew Jimin enough to know he’d probably eaten some for lunch. You liked it, his warmth pulling you to him, the safety of his embrace reminding you of all the days and nights you’d spent just like this.

“Jimin?”

“Yes?”

“Did you, after we broke up did you ever, fall in love again?” You craned your neck to try and catch his expression.

“No, I got close, but I never did. Did you fall in love with Seokjin?”

“It’s complicated. I loved him, I did, but I wasn’t in love with him,” You moved ever so slowly out of his grasp, trying to gage his expression.

“Did you think you’d get married?” Jimin leaned closer. His movement, calculated and timid, hatched the cocoons in your stomach into full butterflies, beating wings against your insides.

“No, well,” You tilted your head, a habit from Hoseok, and licked your bottom lip. You should’ve remembered to put Aquaphor on your lips before leaving the cab. “One time I thought maybe we might work out, maybe we’d find a way through, well, you. But he never, he always kind of knew that my heart was still tied up with yours.”

Jimin watched as you wet your bottom lip, tongue gracefully moving to swipe across your flesh, hoping to take the place of your tongue with his own.

“Did he, did he bring me up when he-

“Dumped me?”

“Yeah,”

“Kind of,” You blinked quickly, eyes trying to discern if Jimin was in fact moving closer, or if your vision was playing tricks on you and trying to zoom in on him while he moved way.

“I’m sorry that I, that I was used against you. I’m -

“Jimin, as much as I would love to iron out the details of Seokjin dumping me, and I’m sure negotiating the terms of us getting back together, and naturally filling each other in on the last few years we’ve been apart…” You licked your lips again, “Your lips keep getting farther away from mine and I really, really need to kiss you.”

Jimin didn’t need to be told twice, and lunged forward, pinning you beneath him, hips pressing into yours, pressure of his body against you, holding you to him.

“I missed you,” Jimin said before closing the space between you, plump, soft and supple lips pressing aggressively against yours. You knew he’d be stained purple, the thought of him walking into whatever We-Work adjacent workspace his office was in, with purple tinted lips and bruised flesh, thrilled you.

Jimin had always been your favorite person to kiss. Tasting like nostalgia and 7/11 Slurpee’s that you’d split on summer days, half blue raspberry, half cherry, two large straws and a sugar hangover that almost always led to naps on the hammock in your mom’s backyard. Kissing adult Jimin, experienced Jimin, Jimin who had slept with other people besides you, was intoxicating. Skilled in the way he used his tongue against yours, nibbling your bottom lip before diving in, he’d learned a few new tricks that had you moaning underneath him.

“You know,” You started, his lips gnawing at the flesh of your neck, hot kisses and love bites decorating you a shade of purple you wished Charlotte Tilbury sold. “I still haven’t seen your bedroom.”

Jimin laughed, “Oh so now you’re going to be direct?”

“When have I ever been subtle?”

“Clearly not in your Tw-

“Jimin,” You interrupted, index finger silencing his lips. “Just, take me to your bed and make love to me. I promise, I swear, I won’t troll you on the internet ever again, okay?”

“Okay,” Jimin couldn’t stop smiling as he stood, adjusted the waistband of his flat front chinos, and reached for your hand. “Come on, we’ve got five and a half years and a shit ton of tweets to make up for.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood, hand in his and followed him down the hallway, past the gallery wall and into his bedroom, where you clocked another photo from high school, this time just you and Jimin, his parents and brother, smiling at high school graduation. You turned to him, ready to comment but cut off by his lips again, hands pulling you towards him, arms wrapping you in his embrace.

As you drowned in Jimin, in the way his bare skin felt against yours, how his hands moved, tender and lovingly on your skin, relearning routes and maps he’d written many moons ago, it was easy to remember why you’d fallen love with him, and even easier to remember why you’d never gotten the love you shared. Jimin was attentive, passionate, loving, giving… he took his time with you, waited for you to be ready, brought out the best in you in every situation. With his voice in your ear, his sounds overriding the previous iteration you’d had on lock from your teen years, his hips grinding into yours, reclaiming what he had once lost, Jimin rewrote the future you hadn’t been able to imagine since he broke your heart.

In his ministrations on your body, his love personified in how he made your toes curl, your mind blank, your body his, Jimin vowed to love you, to stand by you, to hate who you hate and love who you love. To feed your every obsession and call you on your bullshit. He promised to protect you, to ensure you never eat kiwi, and to tell you he loves you at least three times every day, beyond earning your trust, beyond you believing him, beyond putting a ring on your finger and giving you his last name (if you wanted to take it). He vowed to never leave, not when it gets tough, not when he is scared, not when you spew that you hate him, which you inevitably will. In return, you promised to give him the world, which he admittedly had whenever you were with him.

Love was complicated and messy… and it pissed you off to no end to know that all it took was a few years of dragging Jimin on Twitter to get the love of your life back.

78 notes · View notes

gra-sonas · 3 years

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WHAT BETTER WAY TO CELEBRATE THE RENEWAL OF ROSWELL NEW MEXICO FOR SEASON 4 THAN WITH A MALEX FIC! 👏

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This is all @prouvaireafterdark‘s fault btw. Lynne posted the screenshot of a tweet yesterday:

A few weeks ago, I tried to literally bore my 3yo to sleep by telling him everything I knew about nuclear and particle physics. It's a fair bit, it was my speciality once. Every night since then, as he's falling asleep, his little voice pipes up: "tell me about atoms daddy."

And she captioned the post Tell me these aren’t Michael Guerin dad vibes, I dare you

Well, I started writing what I thought would be a short ficlet in reply to the dare during my lunch break, but somehow there were a couple more words left to write.

So here are 2.3K (PG) words of dads!Malex and their son. The fic’s also been posted to AO3.

~*~

It’s Michael’s turn to go through bedtime routine with Matt. Alex snuggles deeper into the warmth of the colorful throw Rosa gave them for Christmas and listens to his two favorites having a deep discussion about the necessity of flossing in the bathroom.

“Papa said I have milk teeth and that they’ll fall out when I’m older. I don’t need to floss,” Alex hears their three year old argue. He snorts. “They will fall out in about three years, that’s a long time for you to still rely on those milk teeth. Come here, Daddy’s gonna floss with you.” Michael’s reply makes Alex smile. He’s so good with Matt. Always happy to explain things, and answering their son’s million questions with the patience of a saint.

He loves Matt’s intriguing mind and his enthusiastic curiosity, but having to explain the ins and outs of cyber security to a toddler after a long day working on improving other people’s cyber security could be a bit much at times. Alex is just grateful that he gets to relax on the sofa and can leave it to Michael to take care of Matt tonight. He takes a sip from his red wine and closes his eyes. What a beautiful evening, and depending on how fast Matt will fall asleep, he has plans to make out with Michael like in the good old days. Just the two of them, in front of the roaring fire.

When he hears the pitter-patter of tiny naked feet on the hardwood floor, he opens his eyes just in time to see Matt speed around the corner, a huge grin plastered on his face. “Look, Papa, my teeth are clean and Daddy showed me how to floss!” He fletches his teeth at Alex, who leans forward to thoroughly inspect Matt’s teeth.

“Wow, you didn’t miss a spot. Excellent job!” Matt flings himself at Alex and wraps his small arms around Alex’s neck. “Daddy has promised to read me a bedtime story. Do you want to come?” Alex wraps Matt into a tight hug and breathes in his scent. Rain, just like his Daddy. Alex presses a kiss into Matt’s dark curls. “I’m a bit tired tonight, Matt, is it okay if I stay on the couch?”

“You stay on the couch and relax, Papa, Daddy and I can handle bringing me to bed.” Alex has a hard time keeping a straight face. “I’m so glad to hear that. Sweet dreams, sweetheart, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow morning.” Matt plasters a flurry of wet kisses all over Alex’s face. “Me, too, Papa. Goodnight!”

He lets go of Alex, and storms out of the living room, passing Michael on his way out, who’s leaning against the door frame. “I won’t take long, we agreed on one bedtime story and me telling him something about the stars. That should put him to sleep quickly. Prepare to be ravished when I come back.” He throws a kiss at Alex who pretends to catch it. “I’m counting on it. I have plans. Wicked plans. I’m in dire need of a mind-blowing orgasm. You up for that?”

Michael pretends to adjust his jeans. “Not yet, but I’ll be, no worries. I’ll blow your mind, and if you’re asking nicely, also your dick,” he smirks. Alex laughs. “My husband’s a sweet talker. Go, get our kid to sleep, and then come back to me. I love you.”

Michael’s wicked smile turned soft. “I love you, too. I hope it won’t take longer than 20 minutes.” He turns around and leaves, the living room door falling shut behind him without Michael touching it. “Showoff,” Alex murmurs fondly, then he wraps himself up in the blanket again and allows himself to drift off for a nap until Michael’s return.

~*~

“Hey, sleepyhead, you still up for that mind-blowing orgasm?” Michael whispers into Alex’s ear almost an hour later. Alex feels Michael’s lips nibble along the sensitive shell of his ear. “Wh—whaaat? How long was I out? Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

Michael laughs. “Because we have the most inquisitive kid, who wouldn’t let me drone on about astrophysics as a means to bore him to sleep. Instead he thought it was a lesson and he kept asking questions. Dear god, what did we get ourselves into with him?” Michael rubs at his eyes. “He shouldn’t even be able to understand what I’m talking about, that didn’t keep him from asking questions, though.”

“Don’t look at me, I’m not the one with the genius brain who’s literally from another planet. He can’t have it from me,” Alex jokes. But Michael isn’t having any of it. “You’re the smartest man I know. You’ve hacked into NASA secret servers to get a blue print for me. There are very few people on this planet who’d be able to pull that off, and I’m certainly not one of them. He clearly has it from both of us, his current interest is just focused on asteroids and black holes.”

Alex pulls himself up into a sitting position. “Well, I feel quite refreshed and still very, very horny. What do you think about going to bed and working on those mind-blowing orgasms there? I just really want to fall asleep right after in your arms.”

Michael takes the blanket, folds it and puts it down on the couch. Then he offers Alex his hand and slowly pulls him into a standing position and into his arms. He presses his crotch against Alex’s, his dick already getting hard. “I’m very much up for your suggestion.”

~*~

Three weeks later, Alex returns home late after a meeting with a client that went on much longer than he would’ve preferred. The project will earn him a small fortune, though, so he didn’t feel like cutting things short. He takes off his jacket and washes his hands in the kitchen. He grabs a water bottle from the fridge and guzzles half of it down. The long drive back from Albuquerque’s made him thirsty, but he didn’t want to stop for water on his way home. When he hears voices coming from Matt’s room, he smiles.

Alex places the half-empty water bottle on the dining table on his way to Matt’s room. Matt and Michael look up from the book they’re reading (a story about the Milky Way) when he enters, and his heart grows at least five sizes in that moment. Matt may have his complexion and dark hair, but he has Michael’s curls and nose, and they look so much alike, Alex can barely handle the amount of love flooding him.

“Papa, Papa, you are back. I’ve missed you!” Matt scrambles up from the comfortable position in Michael’s lap to stand up, his arms reaching for Alex. When he’s close enough, Matt flings himself into Alex’s arms, and he’s glad that he expected this to happen, or else he might not have been able to catch Matt without stumbling.

He’s still grateful for the invisible force of Michael’s telekinesis steadying him. He keeps standing and holds Matt in his arms, while Matt tells him everything about the exciting day he had at kindergarten. Michael gets up from the bed and kisses Alex’s temple softly before he joins the family hug.

This, this is how Alex hopes it will always be. The three of them, a loving unit. Matt’s running out of things to tell eventually, that’s when Michael scoops him up in his arms. “Come on, buddy, your Papa had a really long day and he looks like he could use a break.” He turns to Alex. “Have you eaten yet?”

Alex shakes his head. “No, they served coffee and cookies during the meeting, but I could eat something more substantial. Like you said, it’s been a really long day, but I booked the job.” Michael’s face lights up. “Alex, that’s amazing. I knew you’d ace the meeting. I’m so proud of you!”

“I’m proud too, Papa,” Matt crows. Alex smiles. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll go to the kitchen and see what I can throw together real quick, I’m not really in the mood for cooking. Are you two good to do the bedtime routine on your own?”

Michael nods. “There’s leftover casserole in the fridge, ready to be warmed up. We’re almost finished here, I’ll join you when Matt’s asleep.” Michael leans forward and kisses Alex. Matt hooks his arms around Alex’s neck from his position and presses a wet kiss to Alex’s cheek. “Goodnight, dearest Papa. You did good today, I love you.”

Alex is ready to melt into a puddle right there and then. “Oh sweetheart, that means so much to me. Thank you. And I know you’ll be a good boy for Daddy and go to sleep without making a fuss now. Goodnight, sleep tight, and—“ “Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Matt finishes the sentence. He giggles. “Goodnight, Papa.”

Michael kisses Alex. “Go, eat, I’ll join you shortly. Love you.” Alex tousles Matt’s and Michael’s curls. “Love you both so much!” With that he turns around and leaves for the kitchen. The last thing he hears Matt ask is “Tell me about atoms, Daddy."

~*~

20 years later

It’s a beautiful and sunny day in Massachusetts when Matthew Norman Guerin, an athletic young man with a wide smile and unruly dark curls walks up to the podium at MIT to give this year’s graduation speech. He doesn’t have a script (he doesn’t need one, he’s memorized the speech days ago), but his eyes search the front row until his face lights up and he smiles.

There they are, his papa, Alex Guerin, a dark haired man with attractive graying temples, and his dad, Professor Michael Guerin, sporting honey golden curls that look so much like Matt’s. His parents are holding hands and look up to the podium with such love and pride in their eyes, Matt has to swallow around a huge lump in his throat.

He clears his throat. “Before I begin my speech, please allow me to tell you something about myself and the two extraordinary people who raised me. It all started about twenty years ago, when my dad would try to lull me to sleep by telling me fascinating details about space and the universe that should’ve gone way over my head. I was only three years old at the time, and yet there was something about the things he told me, that intrigued and excited me. Instead of falling asleep, I kept asking him questions for almost an hour, and he answered them all.”

Matt runs his hand through his hair, a gesture that is so typical Michael, Alex can’t help but smile. Matt continues. “Both my parents have always answered all my questions. And if they didn’t know the answer, we’d look for an answer online, or call my aunt Liz. My family instilled this huge hunger for knowledge in me, and the excitement to do research. I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you without them, and I certainly wouldn’t have been offered a job with the NASA Deep Space program, if it wasn’t for them.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Alex notices the tears pooling in Michael’s eyes and he squeezes his hand. Michael squeezes back. “Dad, Papa, I’d like to thank you, for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for always answering my questions, for giving me access to knowledge, for encouraging me to search for answers. I couldn’t have done most of what I’ve achieved in my life without your love and support. I love you.”

The crowd around Alex and Michael erupts into applause. They both have tears running down their faces now, but they don’t mind. This is such an important day, and their boy is up there, best of his class, a bright future ahead of him. Alex leans over and kisses Michael softly on the cheek.

Later, when all the speeches are over and every student has received their diploma, Matt finds his parents in the crowd. His entire family’s in attendance, his grandma, Liz and Max, Isobel and Greg, and all his cousins. But Matt only has eyes for his fathers. He walks up to them - he’s taller than both of them “he’s got that from me,” Greg likes to claim - and wraps his arms around their shoulders.

Alex and Michael close the circle by hugging each other, and for a long moment it’s only the three of them. “I love you, Dad and Papa. Thanks for everything,” Matt says in a hushed voice. “We love you, too, Matt. And we are so proud of you. Thanks for being the best son we could’ve possibly asked for,” Alex says. One final squeeze, and then Matt’s swept up in hugs and congratulations from the rest of the family.

Alex and Michael stay where they are, arms wrapped around each other. “His existence alone is an absolute miracle, a kid carrying both our genes, but this day is up in my top five moments for sure,” Alex says, keeping his voice low. This is for Michael’s ears only. Michael nods. “Yeah, I think our first time, our wedding, and his birth are higher up on my list of favorite memories, but today’s a great day for sure. We did an amazing job with him.”

“I’m so proud of him, and I’m proud of us, Michael. And I love you more than words can say. Thanks for going on this adventure called life and raising our son with me.” Michael smiles and pulls their clasped hand to his lips and kisses the back of Alex’s hand. “I love you, too,” he whispers. “And I have every intention to show you later in our hotel room.” Alex laughs. “You are impossible, Michael Guerin. But yes, please do, I’ll never get tired of you showing me all the million ways you love me.”

And with that, they join the others in celebrating their son.

#malex #alex manes #michael guerin #rnm fic #malex fic #my fic

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

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The Worry

Warnings: The next two chapters will deal with pregnancy, societal pressure around pregnancy, and concerns around pregnancy! I’ve CW’d them for that in the tags!! If you need me to add any additional tags, please let me know. I’m not a doctor. Just, you know. Disclaimer.

Also cursing; canon-typical violence Notes: Angsty and fluffy Summary: You don’t want to give a voice to your panic before you know that anything’s actually wrong.

It’s been a question since before you and Borracho even get married: So when are you two having kids? You just laugh it off when his sisters ask, and his mom, and Gabriel, that one time. When you were dating it was only once in a while - usually when you turned down the offer of a beer because you’d agreed to be the designated driver between the two of you for that night. Nadia or Megan or Isobel would sidle up to you and pat your stomach and waggle their eyebrows, and you’d just laugh and knock their hands away and screech, “I’m driving!” But now that you’re married… Well, it’s almost constant. And it’s not just from his family. You know that the guys have a pool going about whether or not you’ll be pregnant by the end of the year. The website that you guys used to register for wedding gifts is popping into your inbox every other week to set up your baby shower registry.

And you and Borracho have talked about the kids thing before, a few times since the weekend that you looked after Lissie. Thing is, you haven’t talked about it in a while, but you know that Borracho’s thinking about it. He hasn’t been smoking - he’s been using nicotine patches and chewing gum like a fiend. When you ask him about it, he just shrugs and mutters something about, “having to kick the habit some time”. He’s a little moody about it, sure, but you had been very clear when the two of you spoke that you didn’t want cigarette smoke about your child - “Besides,” You’d murmured when you’d talked about it, “It’s not good for you, Benny. And I want you around for a long time.” That fact that he’s doing that sort of signals a ‘soon?’ to you, but you don’t talk about it. You’re not sure you want to. Talking about it would make it real, and making it real might freak you out, and you really, really want to bask in your honeymoon phase for a little while longer. His family is still pretty pushy about it. When you get handed a kid at any family function, or you help of your own volition, you inevitably hear something somewhere behind you about, “practice,” and “it’ll be different when she has her own”. And you know that it’s because they’re excited for you and Borracho, but it’s starting to wear. There’s one day when you’re cleaning popsicle off of Lissie’s chin, and you hear Nadia coo about you looking like a little mother. And you’re so, so tempted to ask if she’d rather you just let her child make a mess. You’re not being a mother, you’re just trying to help. If Borracho were doing this, would he look like a little father to them? But instead you give her a tight smile and turn back to Lissie, and let the baby’s garbled speech make you smile for real. -- That night, you wait until Borracho has fallen asleep before you get up and do a little research. And a little research brings on a lot of worry. -- You still don’t talk about it. The talking will make it feel real. You don’t want to give a voice to your panic before you know that anything’s actually wrong. But the thing is you and Borracho have technically been trying since you got married. You’re not on the pill, you’re both clean, so you haven’t been using condoms. You’ve been tracking your cycle, you know your ovulation window, and while you did think, once after you came back from your honeymoon that you two might be-- Well, your period was just a couple of days late, so it didn’t matter anyway. You didn’t mention it to him. You read an article that tells you that 80% of couples conceive after 6 months of trying; the same article tells you that 90% conceive after a year of trying. You and Borracho have been trying for 8 months and-- nothing. So maybe there’s something wrong? Some irregularity with your ovulation cycle - or maybe he could have a low sperm count, you don’t think he’s ever gotten that checked out. All of this is in your head. It’s not on your mind, it’s just hanging out in the background. Occasionally it drifts to the forefront and you wave it back to its place, along with the worries that if, somehow, you ever managed to have a child, you’d be an awful mother and the kid would hate you. -- Borracho, bless him, waits. He doesn’t ask right away. Whatever it is that’s wrong, he can tell you’re not ready to talk about, and he’s got the feeling that the conversation will make him want a cigarette, anyway, so maybe it’s for the best that he lets you come to him with it. -- Your first anniversary should be sweet. It’s not. It’s actually kind of an ordeal. The guys have been working an art theft case for the last three months and you’ve been so consumed by it that you haven’t even had time to worry about whether or not you can get pregnant because the two of you have been so busy that you’ve hardly had time to have sex. After a particularly hard night, Borracho broke down and bummed a cigarette off of Connors, and you didn’t begrudge him that one. You’d just sat outside of the bar with him and rubbed your hand between his shoulder blades. “I’ll be back on the patches and gum tomorrow,” He’d sworn to you, and you’d just told him that it was alright, and that you loved him, and that you knew that this was hard for him. He’d flicked the cigarette butt away and practically pulled you into his lap, kissing your neck and murmuring that he wanted to marry you all over again. And then Nick had come out and threatened to arrest the both of you for public indecency. But you and Borracho spend most of your first anniversary getting ready for a sting. Nick’s managed to rope you into field work again (much to Borracho’s chagrin). You’re posing as a buyer, and meeting up with the man that had stolen the painting from the Kohn Gallery. None of the guys can do it - this dealer’s been busted by them before, he’ll recognize them right off. You’re the only one whose face he doesn’t know. When you show at the station, the guys let out little mutters; Connors gets out half of a wolf-whistle before Nick punches him in the shoulder. You arch a brow. You’re not sure what it is - the suit you’ve opted to wear, the pointed-toe heels, or the wig. This one isn’t pink, of course - it’s similar to your hair, but it has a loose, styled wave to it. “Why don’t you ever come to the office like this?” Henderson teases, even as Borracho stares him down. “You all never get dressed up for me, why the fuck would I get dressed up for you?” You retort. “She’s got a point. We’re rollin’ out in ten,” Nick adds. Borracho stands from his desk and walks over to yours, watching you reach under the wig to put in your earpiece. “You’re sure you wanna do this?” He asks. “It’ll be fine,” You glance at him. He purses his lips, and you reach out, cupping his chin, then teasing your nails through the goatee there. “Come on, this isn’t my first field op.” “We won’t be in there with you,” Borracho reminds you, though he sounds like he’s much more hung up on that fact than you are. “I know, but you’ll be nearby,” You say, “And the second I confirm the painting is the one you guys have been looking for, you’ll grab the guy and we’ll be set.” Borracho doesn’t look so convinced, but you lean up and peck his lips and murmur, “Relax, Benny.” And you expect hoots and hollers to go up from the guys, but you hear nothing. They’re giving you two this moment. They know what today is; they know how worried Borracho is. And the guys can be dicks sometimes, but you love them. -- Your first anniversary should be sweet. It’s not. It’s kind of an ordeal. You wind up sitting on the back of an ambulance because a bullet grazed your right arm - not deep enough to do real damage or hit anything serious, but bad enough to need stitches. Borracho is leaning against the ambulance, jaw clenched as he stares down at your pointed-toe heels. You’ve tried to engage him, and you’ve tried to get him to look at you, but he just won’t. When you’re leaving, you expect him to bum a cigarette off of Connors, but he doesn’t. Instead you drive home in silence, his hand territorial on your thigh, like the art dealer is in the backseat, like the bullet is hovering near your shoulder, but neither will be able to touch you as long as he is. He waits until you two are in your apartment to draw you into his arms and hold you tight against his chest. You go willingly, and you cuddle against him and hide your wince in his neck as your arm twinges when you take hold of him in turn. Some part of you is tempted to joke, to murmur, “Happy anniversary?”, but you consider how mad you’d be if he did that to you just now, and instead you murmur, “It’s just a scratch.” And maybe that’s not the best thing to have said, either, because his grip tightens on you, and he mumbles, “Scratches don’t need stitches, sweetness.” -- That night, he’s gentle with you, the way you were with him the first time the two of you were together after he’d been shot. He takes his time undressing with you, pushes your hands away from your clothes when you reach to remove them yourself. When you tease and ask him if he wants you to keep the wig on, he shakes his head and covers your body with his, and he nuzzles against your jaw and murmurs, “You,” sweet and desperate, “I just want you.” -- It’s a hiccup. A bump in the road. A reminder that what you two do is dangerous, that anything can happen. Time passes. The wound heals. The worry comes back. -- You wake up with cramps one morning. You go into the bathroom - you confirm it is what you think it is. You tiptoe around your bedroom, pull on sweatpants and head into the kitchen to make coffee. It’s been a year and a half now, and you are worried. Borracho never did say that kids are a deal breaker, but what if they are? What if he’s changed his mind? What if you change your mind? Your vision is blurring with tears as you pour water into the coffeemaker. You can hear Borracho shuffling around in your bedroom, and you let yourself sniffle before you scrub at your eyes. You set your hands on the counter, taking a few steadying breaths as you hear Borracho come out of the bedroom. You hear him pause before he cuddles up behind you, his big, rough, warm hands settling comfortingly on your hips. He presses a kiss to the back of your head, then to the side, then brushes his lips against the shell of your ear. “What’s going on, sweetness?” He murmurs. You should’ve known better; the man knows you better than anyone, you can’t hide from him, not well. It’s a wonder you’ve managed to go this long without saying anything to him. You lean back against his chest and mumble, “I got my period.” It takes him a few moments, but he nods a little, turning and pressing another kiss to your head. “Okay.” “What if-- Benny what if I can’t-- And we can’t--...” Your eyes are welling up with tears again; your voice is wavering, and your throat feels tight with worry. He slides his arms around your waist, soothingly rocking the two of you side to side. “We’ll figure it out, sweetness,” He soothes, “We can talk to a doctor, we can look into adoption-- Anything you want.” “What’ll your family say?” “Hey,” Borracho turns you to face him. He lifts one hand to your chin and tips your head up to look at him. “This isn’t their marriage, this isn’t their decision. It’s ours. We make this choice, you and me.” He reaches up and smooths away a tear when it escapes you. “And if that choice is no kids, then that’s our choice, sweetness.” You can’t stop the tears now; you surge up and bury your face in Borracho’s shoulder and curl into him and mumble that you wanna marry him all over again. -- Your second anniversary is sting-operation and bullet-graze free. The traditional second anniversary gift is cotton. The box you give Borracho contains a cotton shirt that says ‘I’m Going to Be a Daddy!’, and your (cleaned) positive pregnancy test. (You’ve got a matching shirt that says ‘You Can Stop Asking When We’re Having a Baby Now’.)

#The Pool #The Worry #Pregnancy CW #Pregnancy conversations #Concerns around pregnancy #Benny Borracho #Benny Borracho Magalon #Benny Borracho x Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader #Benny Borracho x You #Benny Borracho/You #benny borracho/reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/You #Benny Borracho Magalon/Reader

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themonkeycabal · 3 years

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The Falcon and the Winter Soldier ep 2

Spoilers!

Last week Bucky was a terrible patient and his new BFF is the father of a guy he killed while he was the Winter Soldier (so super healthy), Sam gave up Cap's shield and returned home to try to help salvage the family business (that went poorly), and some — I guess he must be from the Defense Department — dick made a big speech about needing heroes and he gave the shield to some goober (John Walker, but he'll always be Goober to me) in a Cap suit who strongly reminded me of Langly from the Lone Gunmen. (I'm not familiar with the actor, so I don't know what he actually looks like, but the helmet and the camera angle did him no favors at all, I'm just saying. Super punchable.)

Oh, and Sam has an adorable little minion named Lt. Torres who is getting himself into trouble with some weirdass terrorist group who like to slap red handprints on everything.

Zemo's out there lurking, too, but we haven't seen him yet.

I'm still slightly dazed that this show is real and we get to watch it.

Ep2: The Star-Spangled Man

Weird slow-mo opening shot of a close up of somebody unzipping their jacket. I mean. Okay. (Ohhh, it's the garment bag the Cap suit is in.)

And then we're on to Goober, he's wearing BDUs and he's in a football locker room (maybe high school?), fondling the lockers. He peels a name sticker off one, and underneath it says JW 10. A woman comes in and asks if he's reliving his glory days. They yada yada I don't care.

Now I guess they're talking about him becoming Captain America. "Everybody in the world expects me to be … something. And I don't want to fail them." She tells him to be himself and that they're gonna love him. Well, I've already decided he's a goober. I mean, he might not be, but he's got a hill to climb with me.

He spends a few seconds trying out his Captain America voice, then his buddy Hoskins comes in to talk him through it and give us some exposition. "Two weeks ago we were prepping for a special ops mission to Chile and now this."

Goober whines about how it's been handshakes and meetings and senators and whatnot and he just wants to get to it. But his buddy is all, that's part of the job man. Gotta glad-hand, too. You big baby (he doesn't say that part).

"You can't just punch your way out of problems anymore." Well, I mean, I think that was Steve's MO, mostly. That and 'hit it with the shield until it stops moving'.

Nu Cap is making a big showy thing at a rally at his old high school (Custer's Grove HS, GA) stadium for Good Morning America. He's still looking punchable in that helmet. But, they do bring out a kicking marching band, so there's that. It's a boring GMA interview. I don't care.

"John Walker, first person in American history to receive three Medals of Honor. Ran RS-One missions in counter-terrorism and hostage rescue. The government did a study of your body at MIT and you tested off the charts in every measurable category — speed, endurance, intelligence." (I legit laughed out loud. Lookit Captain Gary Stu over here)

Blah blah super humble yada yada. Just wants to make people feel safe, he has sooooo much respect for Steve Rogers, yada. Look, he could be a great guy and maybe I'll warm to him. But not yet!

Back in Brooklyn, Bucky's watching this and his face is all "No! No? What the shit is this? NO! NO? WHU NO?! No." Also, Bucky, I know you have a couch, why are you sitting on the floor? Love yourself just a little bit, dude.

In Louisiana Sam is in an Air Force hanger, staring at a garish 'Cap is Back' poster and looking a little queasy. Rhodey told you, subtly and not really directly, to not give up the shield, buddy. I hope when Bucky gets there the first thing he says is "He gave the shield to *you*, dummy. Not Captain Gary Poppins over there."

Torres says Nu Cap seems like a good guy. Sam's like, uh-huh, sure, so anyway. There's another "cap is back" poster and Sam's like 'ugh'. And they're off to Munich. I guess for the Flag Bros. Hey! There's Bucky! Finally, they're in the same scene. It's been nearly sixty minutes of screen time to get to this moment, Marvel. No, I wasn't counting.

"Shouldn't have given up the shield." lol. Hi Bucky! You forgot to call him a dummy.

Sam's like I haven't got time for this. And Bucky points to the umpteenth Cap is Back poster (seriously? Good lord.) "You didn't know that was going to happen?"

Sam did not know that was going to happen. "You think it didn't break my heart to see them march him out there and call him the new Captain America?"

Bucky will not let this go. "You had no right to give up the shield, Sam." You tell him!

But, Sam's kind of not in the mood. Look, I get it Sam, you didn't feel equal to the shield, but Steve gave it to you because he knows, my dude. Trust him. Come on.

But, he's feeling very raw about this, right now. "This is what you're not gonna do. You're not gonna come here in your overextended life and tell me about my rights." Well, ouch.

He says he's got bigger things to worry about, but that seems unpossible to Bucky "What could be bigger than this?" Terrorist douchebags wearing funny masks in Eastern and Central Europe. Well, fine, Sam; be all puts-things-in-perspective guy.

Redwing traced the far-too-strong maybe leader to a place in Munich. For some reason Bucky does not have good feelings about Redwing. Uh-oh, Bucky, you're going to extra hurt Sam's feelings.

Oh lol, it's the "Big Three" convo. "What big three?" "Androids, aliens, and wizards." Still funny. Sam's so proud of himself.

"I'm coming with you." "No, you're not." Bucky went with him.

Did they glare at each other the whole way to Munich? lol. I love this show so much already.

"Enjoy the ride, Buck." "No, you can't call me that." "Why not? That's what Steve called you." "Steve knew me longer. And Steve had a plan." lol, Steve Rogers never had a plan a day in his life.

Bucky wants a chute, but Torres who wisely stayed out of all of that, is like we're way too low for a chute. "I don't need it anyway." Then Bucky drama school bitch rips off the left sleeve of his jacket and jumps out while yelling like the dumbass he is. And he hits every branch of the dumbass tree on his way to the ground.

"I have all of that on camera, you know that right?" And Redwing zooms by to hovers over Bucky. So, maybe it's not a mystery why he doesn't like Redwing. lol.

Bucky and Sam meet up at a dilapidated warehouse in the middle of the forest. Only good things ever happen in dilapidated warehouses in forests. Like extra shady weapons smuggling. Bucky's gonna stalk after them. Sam messes with him a bit.

"Look at you all stealthy. A little time in Wakanda and you come out White Panther." lol. ilu Sam. "It's actually White Wolf." "Huh?" heh. What he won’t tell you, Sam, is that he earned the name from the kids near his goat farm who liked to spy on and giggle at the grumpy growly white guy.

"Hello. How are you?" "Great. What did I miss?" They're a delightful disaster! And they bicker and bicker and ahh, finally.

Also the people they're stalking are hella strong. And then these two idiots knock into an old bit of metal and make some noise. The shady people stop for a mo' but then move on. Sam scans one of the trucks the shady folks were loading (there are two), there's a figure sitting in the back. "There's an eighth person. I think they have a hostage." And Bucky zooms off! And Sam after him.

Bucky jumps onto the lead truck and then just like wanders around inside. I'm pretty sure the truck behind you noticed you, dummy. Anyway, it's loaded with crates marked "keep frozen." "They're stealing medicine. Vaccines." Those utter bastards. He spots a girl peeking out between containers. "Hi." lol, idiot.

He thinks it's the hostage, but I'm waiting for her to kick his butt out the door. She's not, you know, tied up in anyway. So … Also, again, does the second truck not have a radio to the first truck? Like was the driver texting while Bucky climbed up the back of the truck right in front of him? Now he's strangely incurious about the open door?

And, then she smiles at him and kicks him out the door, he hits the windshield of the second truck (maybe they've finally noticed you, Bucky!) and she puts on a mask with a red handprint. As you do. Two guys on the roof of truck 2, pull Bucky up ready to beat him silly.

Super strong girl, jumps over to truck two and punches Bucky some more. The Redwing zooms over and she jumps up, grabs it, and smashes it over her knee.

"I always wanted to do that," Bucky says, sad he didn't get the chance.

Sam shows up, there are more guys on the roof of the other truck. And there's fighting and fighting and then Sam is pinned down and the bad guy gets plonked with the shield and here comes Captain Poppins dropping down out of a helicopter. What timing. The CGI and green screen for this whole sequence are pretty dire. I'm sorry but it's true.

Captain Poppins is joined by his buddy Hoskins. "Sam. John Walker, Captain America." They know who you are, goober. Though, pausing to introduce yourself in the middle of the fight is a very Steve Rogers move, so points for that, Goober.

Lol, the look on Bucky's face when he catches the shield and Goober takes it from him. He's like 'rule two, rule two, rule two, remember rule two.'

Lots of fighting lots of fighting. Bucky is knocked off the side of the truck, he digs in and sort of zippers down the side, and then hangs off the bottom, his head inches from a tire, clinging to the underside by his vibranium arm. A bad guy stomps on it. Um, it's vibranium, guy. Like … though, somehow it works? and Bucky's arm sort of flops onto the road, sending up sparks. Sam does a neat little move, flies under the two trucks, grabbing Bucky as he goes, and knocking them both free. None of that worked out particularly well, guys.

"Could have used that shield," Bucky says helpfully. lol. "Those were all super soldiers, Sam." Well, bummer.

Back on the trucks, I think Hoskins is in trouble. Cap Goober is pulling himself back up. Hoskins is thrown from the truck, but Cap Goober tosses the shield and Hoskins lands on that. Now Goober squares off against super soldier chick. He does not fare well. And he's thrown from the truck to land on the windshield of a following car. You know, if I'm driving down the road and I see people fighting on a pair of big rigs, I don't follow close. You know what I'm saying? I maybe pull over and let them get way far away from me. Anyway, sorry for your body damage.

Bucky and Sam walk along the road, a pair of sad sad heroes who did not have a plan.

"I'm sorry about Redwing." "No, you're not."

Cap Goober turns up in a sorry looking vehicle of some sort. "So that didn't go as planned." Bucky and Sam keep walking. lol

So Goober's vehicle keeps pace with the disaster duo. "We're pretty sure it's one of the Big Three."

Bucky: "THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS WIZARDS!" That's his hill, he'll die on it.

Since it's super soldiers, and that's bad news, Cap Goober thinks they should work together. Sam's quiet but not thrilled. Bucky is not quiet. "Just 'cause you carry that shield, it doesn't mean you're Captain America."

Cap Goober has apparently jumped on a grenade 4 times. "It's a thing I do with my helmet. It's reinforced." Okay, I laughed.

He persuades them to ride with him, because it's like 20 miles to the airport. It's probably for the best, since I'm pretty sure they might try to strangle each other in five.

"They (Flag Haters Anonymous) say their mission is to get things back to the way they were during the blip." This group's goals are so hazy and weird.

oh, lol. Sam wanted to know how they tracked the Flag Smashers, and Hoskins is like, um, actually, we tracked redwing. "It's not exactly hacking," Captain Goober explains, "it's government property. We're kind of the government." Not winning any points, Goober.

Bucky's just glaring at him. "Does he always just stare like that?" lol

We get a bit of exposition about a group called the GRC, the Global Repatriation Council, which is tasked with helping the previously blipped reintegrate. Sam's like, okay, and? Hoskins explains "they provide the resources, and we keep things stable." The GRC sounds even more make believe than super soldiers, to be honest. But, whatever. Not here to analyze the bizarre and unlikely geopolitics of the MCU. Cap Goober makes a pitch for Sam and Bucky to sign up but Bucky is very firm about his "No".

Hoskins insists he has mad respect for them, but they were getting their asses kicked until he and goober showed up. Um, Hoskins, my dude, you also got your ass kicked.

Bucky stares for a second. "Who are you?" "Lamar Hoskins." Sam insists he needs more than that. "I'm Battlestar. John's partner."

Bucky says Mm hmm. Stop the car. And he's gone.

Cap Goober gives a pitch to Sam about how he's not trying to be Steve, or replace him, he's just trying to do his best and be the best Captain America he can, and it'd be great to have Cap's 'wingmen' on his side. I sense sincerity, but you're still punchable, goober. And Sam isn't buying it either. He shakes his head and laughs bitterly, "It's always that last line." He hops out and follows Bucky.

Elsewhere, the super terrorists have reached a safe house with a way too chatty dude who is trying to make them at home in his dicey looking shopfront. He rattles on about how they're becoming legends and the people love them because they're pushing back! Against … the GRC? I guess?

Super soldier girl (Karli) gets a hate text. "You took what is mine. I'm going to find you and kill you." Well, sleep tight, sister!

One of the other guys has already logged into a computer system and he starts hacking and wiping their info off the internets and interpol, I guess.

"Six months ago would you have imagined people supporting a cause like this?" I'm still very unclear on what your cause is.

Maybe I'm overthinking the silly superhero universe, but I can't imagine the blip world was wonderful. You're missing half the people. So half of everybody who'd do various jobs. So half of the knowledge base of humanity on earth. Half of the experience base of humanity on earth. Half of the farmers, half of the engineers, half of the doctors, half of the people who maintain any system you can imagine, half of the people who build those systems, half of the teachers, half of the factory workers, half of the grandparents who pass down stories and community knowledge, half of the animals, half of the fish, half of the insects and so half of the plants. Ecosystems could easily collapse. Certainly infrastructure did, with half of the people needed to maintain it gone. Cities would have started to crumble, since half of the sources of goods, food, and services were gone. (we did have something of a real-world equivalent in Europe during the Black Death. Things were not nice for quite a long while after the worst years of the plague.)

I'm sure there would be areas that did better than others. But, half of any government gone, half of any police, half of any military. There would be power vacuums and probably shitheads to fill them. I don't see any particular utopia in a blip-ified world.

And that's not even taking into account the psychological damage to all the unblipped. The pure existential horror of half of everything suddenly gone.

But, that aside. I like genuinely do not know what they're trying to achieve.

"We're not playing no more," announces Karli. "We can't let the same assholes who were put back in power after the Blip win." Literally do not know what that means. "The GRC care more about the people who came back than the ones who never left." I mean … isn't that literally what they're for? "We got a glimpse of how things could be." Chaotic and apocalyptic? In fairness, I guess if you could carve out your own thing in that, and maybe it could even be good, then you'd be bitter if everybody came back all of a sudden and messed that up. I'm sure the power struggles are real.

"One world! One people!" Okaly-dokaly. Fascinated to see how you eight will achieve that.

Bucky's brooding on a plane, Sam's trying to sleep but the brooding is too much to ignore.

"You alright?" "Let's take the shield, Sam. Let's take the shield and do this ourselves." He's using his almost scary Winter Soldier voice. And staring into the void. Sam, call his doctor. She needs to remind him of rules one and two. "We can't just run up on a man, beat him up, and take it." Good point, Sam. For real, call Bucky's doctor. He's going to the scary illegal place.

"Do you remember what happened the last time we stole it?" "Maybe." lol such a petulant little grumpus you are, Bucky. "I'll help you in case you forgot. Sharon was branded an enemy of the state and Steve and I were on the run for two years." Not everybody was lucky enough to have a goat farm during all that, Bucky. That's what the man's saying.

"We just got our ass handed to us by super soldiers and we got nothing." "That's not entirely true," Bucky says mysteriously. And he jumps down off his brooding crate to go sit next to Sam. "There is someone that you should meet."

Baltimore, Maryland

Sam has a cute aside with a neighborhood kid, then Bucky leads him up to a house that has seen better days. Somebody answers the door and Bucky says they're there to see Isaiah. But, the young guy who answers the door insists there's no Isaiah there. He's not very welcoming. Bucky says "tell him the guy from the bar in Goyang is here." The things you got up to, Bucky. I do wonder. "We had a skirmish during the Korean war." oh, lol. I mean, I'm sure it's a horrible story, but lol, Bucky you disaster.

Oh hey, Carl Lumbly! Gosh, I haven't seen him in an age. I almost didn't recognize him.

"He was a hero. One of the ones that Hydra feared the most. Like Steve. We met in '51." "If by met, you mean I whupped your ass, then, yeah." lol

Isaiah says he took part of Bucky's arm in Goyang and he just wanted to see if it grew back. And if Bucky was there to kill him. Bucky says he's not a killer anymore.

"You think you can wake up one day and decide who you wanna be?" Well, sure. "It doesn't work like that." Oh, but it must, or else what's the point? Isaiah has a lot of reasons to be bitter, though.

"Isaiah, the reason we're here, is because there's more of you and me out there. And we need to know how."

This does not please Isaiah, who doesn't want to talk and throws a can of sardines (or something, I don't know what that was) through the wall. Old but still super solidery.

"You know what they did to me for being a hero? They put my ass in jail for 30 years." Um, wow. "People running tests, taking my blood, coming into my cell. Even your people weren't done with me." Well, that's deeply uncool. He very much wants his unwelcome guests to GFO, and I can't say I blame him.

Sam is super pissed once they get out onto the street. "Why didn't you tell me about Isaiah?" Bucky doesn't answer. "I asked you a question, Bucky." Yikes.

And no, Steve never knew, because Bucky never told him. "So you're telling me there was a black super soldier decades ago and nobody knew about it?" I guess so.

And we're interrupted by a bizarre random encounter with presumably racist cops. They stop them in the street, get weird about asking for ID, and then ask Bucky, "is this guy bothering you?" And Bucky's like what in the actual fuck, he looks like a high school chem teacher and I look like the muscle for a loan shark, "no he's not bothering me. Do you know who he is?" Oh to be the Winter Soldier again for just a moment, eh? Anyway, one of the dipshits recognizes Sam and they get all dipshitty apologetic. "oh, Mr. Wilson, we're so sorry."

Oh, lol, they're going to arrest Bucky. There's a warrant out for him, because he missed his therapy session. I told somebody to call his therapist! I want to know which of those dipshits ran Sam and Bucky for wants. Because that’s not automatic or some shit, somebody’s got to call it in.

Sam's like 'well that took a weird turn.'

Sam and Dr Raynor meet at whatever facility they’re holding Bucky. "Thanks for getting him out." "That was not me," the doctor assures him. Nope, it was Captain Goober, who greets the doctor with a wave. "Christina! It's great to see you again." lol. And Sam's day gets worse.

"I heard you were working with Bucky and thought I'd step in. Bucky's not going to be working on a strict schedule any longer."

She's like, uh what? Says who? And he points at himself. okay, again, lol. Though, it’s weird to me how he insists on calling Bucky ‘Bucky’, like they’re buddies. They’re not buddies. Bucky's going to punch him in the face.

"He's too valuable an asset to have him tied up. So just do whatever you've got to do with him, then send him off to me." Will Bucky turn around and go right back into his holding cell?

Dr's not going to let him. "James, condition of your release, session now. You too, Sam." "That's okay. I'll be out here with…" "That wasn't a request." Poor Sam. He has had THE WORST DAY.

I love Bucky slouching against the sergeant's desk all surly, like a 16 year old who got busted for boosting his grandmother's car.

Dr Raynor settles them all in what I assume is an interrogation room. She tells Bucky she just wants to help him get over whatever is eating at him. I guess she figures Sam could help with that, too?

"We're going to do an exercise. It's something I use with couples when they are trying to figure out what kind of life they want to build together." lol. but of course. a million fic writers deliriously rush to their keyboards.

"Are you familiar with the miracle question?" "Absolutely not." "Of course not." heh "Okay, it goes like this. Suppose that while you're sleeping, a miracle occurs. When you wake up, what is something that you would like to see that would make your life better?"

Bucky says his miracle would be Sam talking less. Sam says that's what he was going to say. Dr Raynor is writing fic of her own. "You guys are leaving me no choice. It's time for the soul-gazing exercise." This is the weirdest therapy session ever.

Bucky is very on board. Sam's like 'what have you done? staring? that's his thing!'

"Let's do it. Let's stare. This is a good exercise. Thanks, doc." Bucky, you little asshole. lol

How many takes to do this scene? I can tell they're trying not to laugh. "Take 57. It's 1:30 am, guys. Please, can we get it this time?"

"Wait, what are you doing? Are you having a staring contest?" What about these two men's attitudes walking into the room suggested they were going to be at all mature about this, Doc?

"James, why does Sam aggravate you? And don't say something childish." She knows you too well, Buck.

Oh, Bucky. He wants to know why Sam gave up the shield, because Steve believed in him, gave him the shield for a reason. But, maybe Steve was wrong about Sam and if he was wrong about Sam, then he was wrong about Bucky.

Sam, has his reasons. He says maybe Bucky and Steve can't understand, but he wants to know if Bucky can accept that he did what he thought was right. Poor Sam.

And Sam's had enough. He says they've got bigger shit going on and he'll put whatever this issue is aside for now, and they'll go take care of that, and then he and Bucky can never see each other again. "Thanks doc, for making it weird. I feel much better."

She's like, well shit.

Bucky leaves as well, but she stops him. "I know that look. What's wrong?" "What was rule two again?" "Don't hurt anyone." "Goodbye, doc."

I think maybe she miscalculated a tiny bit.

"I feel better," Sam grumbles. "I feel awful," Bucky sighs.

And down the street Captain Goober and Hoskins starts chirping a police siren at them and they wave them over. "Gentlemen!" I really want Bucky to punch him just once.

Goober wants them to join forces. They're tracking Karli through various displaced communities in Europe. She's the flag stompers leader, I guess? She's like … 16. DOUBT.

Anyway, she's do-goodering by stealing medicine and taking it to the displaced camps. I'm confused. So, post-blip, people who'd not blipped are now suddenly being displaced? I thought the displaced where the blipped trying to reintegrate. But, she was mad at the GRC for only caring about the blipped not the unblipped (which, again is the GRC's raison d'être, so yes?). I feel like I'm missing something.

Bucky snarks at Goober a bit. He's not a fan at all. "Things are really intense for you, aren't they, Walker?"

Sam's like okay, let's all simmer down. "It is imperative that we find them and stop them." But, also, though, he and Bucky are free agents, so they're more flexible than mister "i'm the government" over there.

Captain Goober doesn't care for that. "Word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way." Don't push your luck, goober.

Bratislava, Slovakia

Flag Stompers loading a small plane. Uh oh, they've been found out! Karli asks how much time they have. "None. It's the Power Broker's men." The Power Broker. See, that's the kind of jackassery you get in a Blip scenario. That's what I'm talking about. Did you steal super soldier serum from this guy, Karli? Hmmm? One noble Flag Stomper offers to stay behind and hold them off while they make their escape, for One World! One People! Dream big, kid.

He knocks down a power pole to block the road but then he runs at the badder guys? And gets himself shot a zillionty times. I … he'd already blocked the road? Why not just … you know what? Never mind.

Back to Bucky and Sam and Bucky with an idea that might just be worse than the self-sacrificing Flag Stomper's run-at-the-badder-guys-for-great-justice idea. He suggests that perhaps somebody who knows all of Hydra's secrets can give them the answers they need.

"So you're just going to go sit in a room with this guy?" "Ye-… yes," Bucky says, absolutely oozing with confidence.

Off to see Zemo! I'm sure that will go terribly! Can't wait!

And Credits!

Not gonna lie. I'm not sure how I feel about this episode. It felt a little disjointed.

I don't get the Flag Munchers, but I'm thinking they're just a red herring. Because they're basically utopian idealist twelve-year olds with nice but vague goals and vague iffy means to achieve those goals. I don't feel they're a whole lot more than some misguided kids who grew up in a blipped world and change is difficult and scary (and I’m sure it’s probably managed poorly. I can’t think of anything less efficient than a global council for anything. you could have a global council for dirt and it would be a bureaucratic nightmare). And they probably stole super soldier serum from somebody way scarier. Dummies. I think they're going to need to be rescued at some point. Probably soonish.

As for that other guy. There's moments where I like John Walker a little bit, and moments where I find him really aggravating. I get they want to make him the super-duper bestest perfectest hero, or that’s why he was chosen by the DoD or whatever, but part of Steve's charm was he wasn't perfect. He wasn't Captain America because he won a million awards, he was Cap because he had a good heart. That's the point. THAT'S WHY YOU SHOULD BE CAP, SAM!

Also, I don't like hard feelings between Sam and Bucky. Though, nothing about their history would suggest an easy friendship (one time Sam was driving in his car and Bucky ripped the damn steering wheel out), so that's not a complaint, it just makes me sad. They really only have a connection because of Steve and he's gone. Be friends, guys!

And finally, when will Sharon Carter return from being an enemy of the state?

#tfatws #tfatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier spoilers #tfatws liveblog

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flameontheotherside · 3 years

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What Erik Is Like In Our Home

He's a dork, goofy, a guide and a gentlemen. When we aren't serious talking about things like karma, healing, making dick jokes or messing with Rick around the house, he's a real gentlemen.

We would sit by the fire and he'd be all lovey dovey and make me say shit I never say to anyone. I'm not good with words. I never have been. Vocal communication has always been uncomfortable to me. Years of speech therapy had helped me manage as a high functioning autistic or aspie adult.

Since Erik is literally in my head...

...Its not like I can hide my thoughts. He knows my thoughts. Getting me to actually say them is one thing. So he will beg me to tell him stuff and I can't say no because he's him. Lol 😆 Even though I would love to toss him into the fire and talk about something else like the TV show we are watching.

Getting me to see him is a struggle. 1) He's bright. 2) Past the brightness I'd he's not a bad looking dude. Honestly not my usual type but....yeah. I've been bullied and screwed over by hot guys in the past. They never looked like him but I haven't really recovered from that. 3) He's dead. Its still hard to wrap my head over the fact this was the guy I was writing too on his birthday? This was the guy a psychic warned me about? This is the fucking dude I spent 10 years of my youth panicking to look for? And he's dead?! Are you fucking kidding me?

We even talked over a candle lit dinner recently.

It was nice. I put on some jazz and turned our living room/dinning room into a luxury Cafe. 😄 haha It was actually fun. We are still in our home and safe space and there was a live band right there. We danced and talked about stuff. Mostly about how much he wished he never died the way he did.

I smoke a lot of weed. Sometimes too much. I'm learning to not overdo it. When I'm at a good high, I can focus better but if I smoke too much, messages get garbled and Erik tries to ask me to stop smoking or suggests we get ready for bed and its time to meet him in our bed room. Don't get your minds in the gutter now.... 😒 When the high fades I can focus again so we end up cuddling and talking more about home in the spirit world.

Sometimes I can hear him sing me to sleep. Damn is he good. He's dead so of course he can do everything. Holy shit even not stoned off my ass I can hear it and I'm just...😲...And then the song gets stuck in my head. Its always something nice. I won't share much about them as they are for me to hear. I heard one of the songs while at a store and it nearly choked me up like a bitch 😆🤣 lol I won't cry in public. Fuck that shit. I have to tell Rick it's my allergies. Which works every times because my allergies are bad here in Tacoma.

I'm going to get fake deadlocks put in my hair.

Gonna do a huge makeover. We'll kind of. I'm leaving my bangs out, recoloring them and trimming them short as they have grown a bit. I'm hoping that I can make this an ongoing thing because I don't like the idea of having real dreads. My hair style changes a lot and I get bored often.

I'm going for the whole "suicide girl" look. Since I have so many piercings, I should be able to pull it off. Reminds me that I should look into getting my tats done now that I have the extra money. It's about time I put my ideas and designs into good use. But I might hold off on that a little longer. Call around tat shops to look for a decent price an artist.

Anyway we are cuddling and watching Always Sunny In Philadelphia. 🤣 And I'm going to smoke a bowl.

🥰💕 Good night!

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howling-harpy · 4 years

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Proposal headcanons

We had a funny conversation on Discord and it got my feelings going, so I’m going to make a list of ship-specific proposal headcanons.

Shout out to @lyselkatz @junojelli @realhunterswearplaid and @majwinters for throwing their two cents on this!

Winnix

This couple figured early on that they will be together forever, one way or another. They didn’t say it out loud, but they clicked and fell hard and fast and quietly thought to themselves, “this is someone who I’m going to be with for the rest of my life”.

Dick meant to propose. He really did. He had the ring ready, he had a perfect plan, a speech written out and all.

His problem is that it was never quite the right time. He needs it to be perfect, and it just never was, so he kept putting it off.

Dick puts it off so far in fact, that Nix gets tired of waiting and proposes instead.

Nix, on the other hand, is bad at emotions, so his way of proposing is pretty much that scene where Captain Winters becomes Major Winters.

They are having dinner at home one ordinary Tuesday night, and Nix just happens to remember it and happens to be wearing the pants with the jewelry box in its pocket, so he just pulls the box out and tosses it to Dick.

Nix really can’t do serious emotions, so his proposal is short and he’s half making fun of it at the same time.

“Here’s something I thought you would be giving to me but looks like I’m giving to you, haha! Yeah, I got tired of waiting, so here’s a ring, this is the moment, and now we both say our lines and start our series of stupid fights about colours and the guest list.”

Nix is Nix, and that’s the person Dick wants to marry, so of course he’s moved. Moved, caught off guard, and so so happy. He can’t say anything for a moment, he just stares at the ring and smiles, and Nix has time to panic.

Which means Nix will make one last effort at being serious: “Seriously, you’re my best friend and the love of my life, so please say yes.”

Of course Dick says yes. In retrospect, he’s actually relieved that Nix popped the big question and he got to stop stressing about it. Turns out that Dick spent all his stress on planning the proposal, and planning the actual wedding and going through with it goes smoothly.

Speirton

They actually talk about marriage pretty plainly for over a year before either proposes.

Their relationship progresses and matures naturally, and both of them bring up topics about their future together from time to time, like where they want to be in ten years, do they want children, how they’d raise them, how they spend their money, are they going to buy a house, and so forth.

With Ron in service and Lip travelling for work, a fairly large part of their relationship is long-distance. They make it work with strong foundation that both of them build, so they are less worried about getting married or proposing, and more invested in building their relationship to that level of commitment.

Really, they could have as well been married before anyone proposed. They both also knew at that point they would get married at some point.

The moment comes at completely random, when Ron forgets himself one evening in bed and just stares at Lip for a long while.

Lip is used to this and usually lets Ron be and think his thoughts, but there’s something to it this time that invites his attention, so he asks about it.

Ron announces: “I’ve decided I’m going to marry you.”

Lip chuckles and comments that Ron is supposed to ask and not tell him, to which Ron replies that he hasn’t ever asked for anything.

Lip laughs more. He strings the topic of Ron’s unorthodox manner of proposal along for a while, but he has had a ring ready for a few years already so it’s just for his own amusement.

BabeRoe

Marriage never really occured to either one of them.

They are very content in their own thing, they are steady and happy and both consider their relationship as something that’s already whole and good, so enhancing or making changes to it doesn’t come to mind.

The idea of marriage comes to them from outside:

Gene’s mother encourages him to be decent and respect tradition and bring his man home for real.

For Babe, it’s Bill who absolutely loves weddings and also wants to complete their pact of being the bestman at each other’s weddings. For that, Babe will have to get married.

The thing is, neither Babe or Gene really does “official” or “grand”. Their relationship is very down to earth and they are simply very comfortable around each other, so something like a proposal doesn’t fit into it. You can’t spell it in fridge magnets or leave a post-it note in a lunchbox about marriage, now can you?

Babe ends up trying to pull off a romantic gesture by hiding the ring in Gene’s coffee. Long story short, they end up in the ER, but in the end Gene still says yes to the bright red Babe who can’t stop apologizing and babbling about fridge magnets.

Proposal was already hard enough, so how about the wedding? These two can’t plan a wedding. They just can’t.

Their engagement goes on and on, and they keep trying to pick date but then just forget about it.

This is solved by their friends, who get the idea to make a roadtrip to Vegas over a weekend, and they drop by the Wedding Chapel.

Gene and Babe are wedded by Dolly Parton while Bill, Joe, Malark, Skip and Penkala cheer them from the front row. Bill might have cried.

WebGott

Their aspiration for marriage is born from anxiety.

Both their families pressure them, with very mixed signals especially from Web’s family: they seem to want them to either marry or break up.

There isn’t so much a proposal as there is a breaking point of Web’s anxiety and Lieb’s patience.

Web has gone on and on about pros and cons of marriage for weeks, weighing in everything he and a dozen freelance online journalists could come up with. He’s considered finances, traditional values and his stance on them, political alignment of the institution of marriage, second-guessed his own values and dived into a rabbithole of psychology articles on dysfunctional families.

They are spending the weekend on Web’s boat, the one place he’s usually completely calm and confident, but this time he just keeps muttering his worries outloud.

It’s Lieb’s first weekend off in a month, and he’s had enough.

“Jesus, Web, just make a decision already, and make sure it’s yours! None of this ‘what would my parents want’ or ‘what will my friends think’ bullshit, just an honest call on your own damn life!”

The thing is, Lieb might sound harsh but his brand of bluntness is perfect to snap Web out of his overthinker’s spiral, which is what it does this time too.

In the end Web doesn’t have to think about it longer than a minute. He steers his boat and looks out to the sea for a bit, then turns to Lieb and goes, “hey Joe, want to get married?”

Lieb’s answer is “sure”. That’s all, and the matter is settled.

#band of brothers #bob headcanons #winnix #speirton #baberoe #webgott

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holdmyowos · 3 years

Text

Mating Season (Hawks x Male Reader Lemon)

Includes: Boy x boy (duh), feral Hawks, angst and cursing.

Your POV:

It had been a long day at the League. So much hectic things had happened that Shigaraki decided to call a meeting. Everyone was crammed in one room with a really long table. The meeting was one of those that you had been to countless times before. It was just Shigaraki ranting about how nothing ever went his way. Thankfully, Hawks, was to the right of you. That always put you at ease. He was so easy to get along with. That, and he was handsome. Too bad he was probably straight. He kept making stupid jokes and making fun of Shigaraki. Shigaraki gave Hawks the middle finger and kept up his speech. "Shut it, bird boy, or else you'll get in trouble," you hissed at Hawks. He laughed. "Come on now. Live a little." You rolled your eyes at him. "How can I do that when Shigaraki's keeping me here? I'd rather be doing anything else." You whispered back. "A hot guy like yourself shouldn't be stuck in this musty room doing nothing but listening to some crusty dude vent. You should totally hook up with someone!" He winked at you. Your heart about stopped. He was so cute. Did he mean he liked you? If you asked, would he hook up with you? Just the thought made your lower stomach throb. "Yeah, I guess I should. You know who with?" You blushed at him.

Hawk's POV

My body tensed up. No. This could not happen here. Not in front of the whole league. I started fidgeting. What Luke the chances be that he liked me back? My nails dug into the chair arm. His voice was so nice and soothing. So calming. My breathing sped up. I hate when this happens. It puts me in an odd position. My mating instinct kicks in when someone says something like that. I could ask him out, but that might ruin our friendship. I kept fidgeting throughout the meeting, waiting for it to be over. My anxiety probably wouldn't let me talk to him anyway. The pressure in my stomach just gets more and more. My face turns red.

Your POV

For some reason, Hawks had not answered your question. In fact, he had not said anything for the rest of the meeting. He started fidgeting. His face turned red. Did you make him uncomfortable with that question? By the ending of the meeting, his hair was all messed up by how many times he had run his fingers through it. Somehow, his fingernails had seemingly turned into something that more resembled talons. Shigaraki dismissed everyone. You went up to him. You caught his eyes for a few seconds, and his gaze was very intense. You walked closer. "Hey, Hawks-" you took another step forward, and he flew off to his bedroom. What was he doing? You followed him. When you got to his room, you knocked.

"Hey, what's going on?" You asked, concern lacing your voice. He was acting odd. Even through the door, you could hear his labored breathing. He did not answer. Was he ignoring you? You knocked louder. "I'm talking to you! Are you okay? What's wrong?" His breathing calmed down. "I'm sorry! Please... please just leave me alone." He almost sounded like he was crying. "Hell I will! I'm not going to just leave you like that, damn it! Something's wrong, and I want to help you! I'm your friend!" You shouted at him. "I need something more than that," his answer came. What did that mean? What was going on with him? A giant crashing sounded from in his room, as if he had tipped a chair over. "What do you mean, Hawks? Do you need something? I'll get it for you. I'm here for you." Whatever was going on was serious. The Hawks you knew would never cry. He was always quick with a joke, always seemingly happy. He had never show his weakness like this before. "I need something more than a friend. Just leave!" He said again. Yet he still did not sound angry, just sad. What did he mean by that? "Hawks, please. Just tell me what's wrong. I'll help you with whatever it is. I-" your voice broke. "I love you. If there's anything I can do, just come and get me." You took a step away from the door, giving up. If he did not want to tell you even after such an emotional confession, he'd never say.

"Wait."

In a flash, you were whisked away. You could barely comprehend what had happened. He was so fast. One moment, you were in the hall, but the next moment you were in his room. It had all been a blur of red. Hawks shut the door with a click.

You took a moment to take in what had happened. He had grabbed you and dragged you into his room in less than a second. He pressed his mouth against yours with passion, pulling you in. His strong muscles were hard against you. Surprised by how fast he was taking it, you pushed him away.

You took in the scene. He had ripped through your shirt in the place he had dragged you. His room, which normally seemed so orderly, had feathers all over it. A wooden desk had been toppled over, so that much paper and few pencils littered the floor. Hawks's shirt had been cast aside on the floor. His hair was a mess. In fact, he looked so disorganized. He was all sweaty, but his scent was so nice. You could see all his abs and arm muscles spread in front of you, moving with his breathing. He looked so fucking hot. His fist kept clenching and unclenching. He was staring at you like you were the last morsel of food left on earth. His breathing had again become heavy. His lips were parted. One hand of his was on the wall. He looked really angry.

"Why the hell did you say you loved me, if you can't even bring yourself to fucking kiss me?" He spat. He did not give you a chance to respond. He trapped you by pressing you against the door. He very slightly squeezed your neck with one hand, his claw tips barely touching your skin. You stayed like that a moment, his breath hot against you. He slowly calmed down enough to let you go. He flopped onto his bed and laid down on his back and closed his eyes, and grit his teeth together. "Whatever the fuck. Just leave then. I was probably just hallucinating. Tell anyone and you're dead. I swear." He let out a giant sigh and raked his claws on his blanket sheets, ripping long lines in them, as if to prove his point.

"Hawks. It just all happened so fast. I do love you. Really. I was just surprised you accepted me. I just needed a minute. That's all." He sat up on his bed. "Sorry for yelling at you. And threatening you. It's just these bird instincts sometimes take control." He licked his lips and stared at you. "N-no problem. Anyway, what was wrong with you during the meeting? Why did you... you know, flip over your desk? And what is up with those claws?" You knelt down on the floor next to his bed. His gaze wandered over you, humming, as if deciding what to tell you. "Well, if I'm being perfectly honest, you were what was wrong with me during the meeting. What a pain in the ass. You're just so fucking hot that you turned me on. What can I say? And one thing turns into another, and my breeding instincts kick in. I get protective of my space, my things, including..." He said the next word quickly. "...you." "And when my bird instincts kick in, I seem more bird like. So, they are talons, not claws. He stuck out his tongue. It was longer and narrower than usual. I just did not know how to let out my feelings. My instincts go against what human society's norms are quite often. I get angry. So," he gestured to the knocked over desk.

You got up. "Well, I'm here for you now. So don't worry about society's norms." You crawled on top of him and plunged your lips against his. His chest was so warm against you. He broke the kiss for air. The two of you rolled on and off of each other. Finally, he pinned you against the bed. He took one finger and gently traced your jawline. He laid down on top of you, embracing you in a hug. Melting onto you. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I just wanted someone to hold me like this so badly." He laid his head next to yours. You traced his muscular arms. "Are you sure that's all you want?" You whispered in his ear. "What do you mea-" he spluttered. Noticing his pants, you had pressed hard against him. He looked down at you with lust. "Touch me like that again, I fucking dare you. You won't," he whispered. "Yes I will." You started palming him through his pants. He let out little gasps, moving his hips towards your hand. "Needy, hmm? I kinda thought you'd be dom, not going to lie. Makes things more interesting, I guess." He smirked up at you. "So, you've thought about us doing this before?"

"So?"

"Nothing."

"Good."

A sudden knock at the door surprised both of you. "Hawks, I was wondering if-" Toga's voice. "Hawks is busy right now. How about you fuck off?" You heard her skipping back down the hall, completely unfazed. "Hey, that was rude. Wha-" you cut off his words by taking his dick into your hand and jacking him off. He twitched. You picked up the pace.

"Hell not so fucking rough." He all but moaned. You let go of him. He whined in protest. "Thought you didn't like it rough." "It hurts so badly. I hate how this bird quirk makes me feel. Please. Please just... just do it. Don't waste any time. I can't wait. I can take it without any lube or anything. Please..." you could see how badly his pride hurt, but his instincts were taking over. "...please just fuck me." He took the rest of his clothes off. You followed suit. "You're sure that's what you want?" "Don't make me beg. I couldn't live with myself." You considered the idea, but by now he had caused quite the bulge in your own pants. "Ok, bird brain."

You gently pressed into him. He made deep gauges in the bed with his talons. "You're so fucking tight. Just relax and it will go smoother." "You're right, you're right." Every time you pressed in deeper, he clenched around you and groaned. His wings puffed out. Finally, you pushed all the way in. Slowly, you moved up and down. "Hawks, you're such a fucking bottom." His moans were very loud. "I knowwwwwwww..." You picked up the pace, and soon were nearing your climax. "Hawks, are you ready?" "I've been ready, just... just waiting for you," he gasped. You rode out your orgasms and for the rest of the night the two of you had a great time.

#Hawks #bnha #mha #hawksxreader #lemon

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amberjade-rhodes · 3 years

Text

Making Up | | AJ + Bryce

WHEN: 1 April 2021

LOCATION: Bryce’s room

NB: After having a few drinks, AJ decides that enough is enough and goes over to Bryce’s place to talk to him; the two not having communicated since their heated argument almost a week ago. NB: this chatzy is a work in progress so will be updated as we go, however it is almost finished!

@brycecortez

It had been a few days since she and Bryce had gotten into an argument and he had sped off alone, the two not having spoken at all since that argument. AJ had called Lola to pick her up after learning that the last bus of the night was cancelled and had cried herself to sleep in the guest bedroom, having no idea whether she and Bryce were even still together. The argument itself had happened on the Saturday night and still not having answers, she had stayed back at Mars Bar on Thursday night when her shift finished, knocking back a few drinks with some of her co-workers. When she ordered an Uber to go home, she impulsively ordered it to Bryce’s apartment instead of the beach house. Once she got there, she gathered a few pebbles and stated throwing them at Bryce’s window; a decision that she would never have made whilst sober. As soon as he opened the window, she launched into the speech that she had loosely planned on the car ride over; talking quickly so that he didn’t have the opportunity to tell her to fuck off. “I don’t understand why you’re trying to push me away and I’m not going to lie and pretend that it doesn’t hurt. Hell, I’ve spent this whole week unsure if I even have a boyfriend anymore and my brain keeps telling me to cut my losses and run away before I get hurt any further but I can’t do that. I won’t do that. I refuse to keep repeating the same mistakes over and over, especially when it means possibly losing one of the best things in my life. I love you, Bryce, even when it’s not pretty. Even when you make me cry or want to scream or quit, I’m still going to love you. God, I love you in this huge, stupid all consuming-way that makes me get drunk and do dumb clichés from romantic comedies! You don’t give up on something like that. I’m not sure if you’re ready to admit it, even to yourself, but I think you need me just as much as I need you so no matter how hard you try and push me away, I’m still here and I’ll still be here when you’re ready to talk to me”, AJ yelled up at him. “... and that’s all I came to say so now I’ll call an Uber and we’ll pretend that I’m not awkwardly standing outside your apartment whilst waiting for my ride”.

Bryce had spent the last few days in a haze, in and out of his emotions. One day he was sniffing ten lines of coke to help him get rid of his thoughts, the next he was completely numb to the point he didn’t need to touch anything. He had come completely out of touch with reality, almost to the point that he was becoming not functional. Bryce finally gave his professors, job and coach some bullshit excuse about his absence, blaming it on the military. All that they knew at this point was that he was out of town for a quick training. He had just taken a few lines, feeling practically on cloud nine when he heard a noise outside. He paused everything for a few moments, assessing what was happening before he heard the noise again and again. The knocking like sound almost becoming more and more frequent. Quickly putting the plate and drugs away, he got up and walked over to the window. Shock flooded his body when he saw Amber-Jade. The two hadn’t talked in a few days, and before that in a week. If he were being honest, Bryce didn’t know where exactly he stood with his girlfriend... if they were even still together after their blowout. He hadn’t been given the chance to say anything before she began talking. With each word spoken, he could feel his heart sink further and further into his chest - feeling the same heaviness that he had spent the last month trying to push away. He didn’t realise how much he needed to hear those words, /I’m still going to love you/. “Come inside”, Bryce requested, just loud enough for her to hear. He met her downstairs at the entrance, opening the door up for her and stepping to the side to let her in. “I’m honestly not sure if Ryan’s home. I haven’t really seen much of her”, he admitted, basically verbalising how he had been isolating himself. The man grew nervous as the two stepped into his room, knowing that it had all practically changed since the last time she was there. New furniture to replace the one he destroyed. A new mirror to replace the one he also destroyed. New TV, new everything. “Make yourself comfortable... do you want anything?”

Amber-Jade wasn’t stupid. She noticed the fact that Bryce didn’t say it back, that there was no apology for his recent behaviour; nor any sort of explanation or assurance that he still loved her and that they were still together. Still, he invited her inside rather than telling her to fuck off and in her mind, that was a step in the right direction. AJ quickly made her way upstairs before he could change his mind, which is when the pieces clicked into place for her. She wasn’t sure what the cause was but she recognised the symptoms - isolating himself from the people that cared about him, pushing people away, the substance use, the fact that his entire bedroom looking different... it seemed like a trauma response, something that AJ knew well because of her own engagement in such behaviours over the years. “I don’t know if she’s home either but I’m only here to see you so it doesn’t really matter”, AJ said softly. “This is going to seem a little weird for a moment but bear with me, okay? I promise that it’ll make sense at the end. Can you please go and make us hot chocolates?” As soon as he left the room, AJ made herself busy. She cleared enough space in the wardrobe for both of them to sit in there together before dragging as many blankets and pillows inside as she could; essentially building them a little fort. By the time he returned from the kitchen, it was finished and she looked at him nervously. “When I was little, I used to hide in my wardrobe with a good book so that I didn’t have to hear my parent’s arguing. I was actually hiding in the wardrobe on that night. My mind doesn’t allow me to remember all of the details, which I think is to protect me, but I remember enough to really fuck me up. It’s hard to explain how it feels but I’m going to try...”, she trailed off for a second, collecting her thoughts. “On a good day, I can manage how I’m feeling with exercise and maybe a few drinks but even on the good days, I can feel a little emotionally detached. I almost always feel guilty for the fact that I survived, guilty for not doing more, guilty for being angry at my mom for dying. The nightmares are pretty bad too, even on a good day”, she said softly. “Bad days, though? I can’t even get out of bed without taking something for the pain. I want people to be close to me because I hate the thought of being alone but at the same time, I can’t have them /too/ close to me. I’m angry at the world, I’m so anxious that it feels like I’m drowning under it, so I take whatever I can get my hands on because feeling like that... sometimes it feels like it might actually kill me”. When she finished talking, she avoided his gaze; worried about his reaction. “I think you might be feeling some of those things too so I thought we could get in here and just shut out the rest of the world for a while”.

Bryce furrowed his brows at her request. He found it odd, but he shrugged it off and left the room to go to the kitchen. He put milk into a pot and began the process of making the two hot chocolates. As what could be expected, he spiked his with a bit of Tito’s vodka, but kept hers the same. He walked back into the room with both mugs in hand, an expression of surprise evident on his face when he noticed the set up. Bryce didn’t understand where all of this was coming from; her words continuing to surprise him as she spoke about her own experiences. His eyes remained fixated on the ground as he tried to process; the more she spoke, the quicker he could feel his high slipping away, and the quicker he felt that black hole reappearing. Still, he was too exhausted to say anything, let alone be a dick to the one person that cared about him. “Okay...” He caved in, his voice quiet and broken. “Your hot chocolate’s going to get cold.” He said as he handed over the mug, all before walking towards the wardrobe. Bryce took a seat inside, taking a sip of his drink as he made himself comfortable. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I was sober for four years, and now that’s completely down the drain.” He said simply, taking another sip of his drink.

"Thanks", AJ said softly, taking the mug of hot chocolate before taking the seat opposite him in the wardrobe and closing the door behind them. The two were thrown into relative darkness, although the pinpricks of light seeping under the door were enough to see his outline. "I'm really sorry. I've never been sober for that long so I can't even imagine how rough that must feel right now", AJ said, her voice soft but empathetic. "If you want to get sober again, I can... I can quit with you. Go to meetings with you. Support you through it all". It was a big offer from AJ, who had barely spent more than a day sober since she was around 17 and Ollie had left the group home. "If you aren't ready for those steps yet though, that's okay too. I'm still here".

Bryce allowed Amber-Jade to close the door behind her, leaving the two in almost complete darkness. The light peering in from under the closet door illuminating the closet just enough he was still able to make out his girlfriends features. “I can’t ask you to do that.” He shook his head. “I’ll stop soon. I have no choice. I can be dishonorably discharged from service for this shit.” Sighing, he took another sip of the drink before putting the mug on the floor next to him. He brought his knees up close to his chest and rested his arms on them. “I lied to everyone about what happened when I left last year. To my sister, my brothers, Oliver, Lola. Allison’s always been very worried about me, especially when I leave. She makes it a point to know absolutely everything that’s happening wherever I am, and she heard about an explosion and freaked out when she couldn’t get in contact with me. I told her that it didn’t happen at my base because I didn’t want her or anyone else to worry, but it did. I watched a friend of mine die March 11th. /I/ almost died March 11th. And part of me thinks I should’ve.” This was the first time he ever said those words out loud, the first time he ever brought up the date. Bryce felt his chest tighten at the thought of opening up about something so personal to him. He hated nothing more than being vulnerable. “Nobody knows. Nathan only knows because he used to work with one of the guys that died that day. Nobody knows about any of it, anything that has happened during my service I keep to myself. It should’ve been me that died that day.”

“Except you aren’t asking, I’m offering. If you need someone down in the trenches with you, I’m it. I know how much serving means to you so I don’t want you to lose that”. It was easier for the two to engage honestly in this environment, where it was dark and they both knew that they were safe. She listened quietly as he spoke, her heart constricting painfully in her chest and a few errant tears burning down her cheeks. It was hard listening to Bryce’s confession, to know what had been haunting him and why he had been so intent at pushing her away. “I hope your friend is resting peacefully”, she said quietly. She didn’t want to depend on the “I’m sorry” cliche because they both knew that it didn’t help anything. “Your friend, your sisters, your brothers, Ollie, Lola... there’s a reason that you survived and I think they’re a large part of it. I know that you don’t see it but so many people are better because of knowing you, because they loved you. I don’t know your friend but if he cared about you even half as much as we do... he wouldn’t this life for you. He wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life wishing that you were dead instead”. Her voice was gentle and completely non-confrontational as she really didn’t want to do anything to trigger him. “All I’ve ever known is the darkness, Bryce. I’ve come to terms with it now because I’ve always been sure that there’s no escaping it; that it’s ingrained in me and I can’t do anything about it but... sitting here with you, listening to you... I don’t want this to be your future. Our relationship is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you’re the best person to enter my life and I will do everything I can to get you through this because you deserve more than a life spent hiding in wardrobes with me”.’ AJ’s anxiety and insecurity meant that there was a part of her that worried that if Bryce got better, he would realise that he deserved more than her but she loved him enough to take that risk; all she really wanted was his happiness, even if it meant that it wasn’t with her.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready to do. I’ll get through this, I always do.” Bryce assured. If he were being honest, he had been completely thrown off by Amber-Jade’s offer. He didn’t know much about her drug use, and that was mainly because he had worked hard to stay away from environments that promoted drug use. He never had a problem with alcohol, but if there was one thing he struggled with often, it was compulsion. His head snapped up, looking at her with sad eyes when she said the comment about Eric. “Yeah, I hope is resting peacefully too. He was a good guy.” Bryce said in agreement, sighing immediately after. He nodded as she continued speaking. The man appreciated her words, it was comforting to hear, but it was still hard for him to hear. It was the same words people told him after the car accident, and when his father died; the same words he just couldn’t bring himself to believe. “I don’t want to live like this either, but I’m not your responsibility, Amber-Jade.” He said simply, his voice soft. “If this is because you’re scared of losing me, you’re not. I’m sorry for being up and down with you. Last week...you saw a side of me that I try to keep suppressed. The side that’s insecure, angry, and broken...it came out that night, and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think there will ever come a time where I’m /ready/ to do it but that doesn’t mean that I don’t need to take that step. After that house party and then seeing you at that apartment... I think I’m starting to realise that I can’t keep being so self-destructive. I have people that care about me now, I have goals for the future, things I want to do and achieve... I can’t keep this up for the rest of my life”, AJ admitted, nervously rubbing at the back of her neck as she spoke. “I really hate the fact that I’ve become a stereotype”, she added. It was true — traumatic background, poor socioeconomic area and she had turned to sex work and drug use. She wanted to be better than that. “Do you want to tell me about him?” she asked. She was unsure if that would be helpful or not but she wanted to give Bryce a safe place to talk if he needed it. “You aren’t my responsibility but we’re partners, right? There’s no way in hell that you’d let me go through this shit alone. Whenever I’ve needed you, you’ve dropped everything to hold my hand and help me through the worst of it. I’m going to do the same for you and there’s no point arguing with me because I’m just as stubborn as you”, she pointed out, ending her sentence with a slight joke. “I’m not going to lie... I’ve spent the last week fairly certain that you had broken up with me that night and it did really hurt. Part of me just wanted to pack my bags and run away because that’s what I always do, it’s what comfortable to me. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realised that this is bigger than us. Even if you did end our relationship, I’d still be here and I’d still want to help you because I know what it’s like to be in the darkness alone. Yes, I’m scared of losing you because I always lose the people that I love but this is more than that, I promise”.

Bryce simply just nodded at her words. “I’m really glad you have people that care about you. If you feel as though you need to get clean, then do what you have to do.” In that moment, he couldn’t really say that he agreed. With his sister gone and his estranged relationship with Oliver, the man sometimes felt as though he was alone. That, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to sober up; he loved how numb the drugs made him too much so give it up. “It’s not my place to tell you about him. I just want to forget about all of it. The accident, my father, the bombing, everything. I don’t want to relive things more than I’ve already had.” He stated simply, his voice monotoned and a bit emotionless. “Do you still want to be with me?” Bryce asked suddenly, finally looking up at her. “I know I over reacted at the drug dealers house, but I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here. Because I know I love you, and I do whatever the hell I have to do to make sure people respect that. I know I can’t stop people from hitting on you, but...I just need to know that this is serious. Because unlike you, I have nothing here, and I’m not afraid of packing my bags and running.”

AJ just nodded and said nothing further on the topic. She had extended the offer to help her boyfriend before he experienced any consequences, such as being discharged from active service, but it was clear that he wasn’t ready for that help. She wanted to be there for him but it felt like she was walking on eggshells; like she was just one conversational misstep away from causing their relationship to implode. Her anxiety really was sky high, her hands trembling slightly as she held her hot chocolate. “I get it. I’m the same way about my mom. I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me if you want to”. Whilst people knew that her mom was dead, no one really knew anything about who she was as a person; or the relationship they had shared before her untimely death. It was too hard to talk about. “Of course I do, I’m sorry for making you doubt that. I’ve just... I’ve been hearing comments like that since I was 15 so it just feels like white noise to be now. Sometimes it’s easier to just let the comments wash over me and just bite my tongue because the alternative isn’t always pretty. The racist and sexist verbal abuse I’ve received when I reject someone, the insistent wandering hands even after I’ve said no... those past experiences have made me wary of speaking up all the time. I just want you to know that even when I don’t push someone up against the wall and threaten them because of the comments, I always find a way to tell them that I have a boyfriend and that I’m not interested”, she told him. “This is serious for me. I didn’t flippantly make this commitment, Bryce. There is a reason why this is the first relationship that I’ve ever been in... this isn’t something that I take lightly. I know I’m not perfect. I know that you can do better. I know that it probably feels easier to just cut and run but p-please... please don’t pack your bags and run. Please don’t leave me”. Her voice broke slightly as she spoke and she placed her mug down on the ground so that she could pull her knees up against her chest; resting her head against them to conceal the raw emotion on her face.

“Thank you. I really do appreciate it.” Bryce said, his words sincere. “I understand, trust me I do. And I wouldn’t want you to do anything to jeopardize your safety, but...fuck, I don’t even know what to say right now.” His thoughts were messy, which only made his words just as messy. Hearing her voice crack the way it did...well it was a sound that Bryce never wanted to hear every again. “Hey, hey, hey...” he said quietly, immediately reaching out to grab her hand. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I don’t ever want to leave you, I love you, and if anything you’re the one that can do better. It’s just...I don’t know. I feel lost. I want to get better, but I don’t know how. I can’t bring myself to talk about anything...and I don’t want you changing yourself or feeling as though you have to look after me every second. I hate being that burden on you, I don’t want that.”

“That’s okay”, AJ said simply, allowing that part of the conversation to come to a natural conclusion. Neither of them would push the other to talk about things that they found difficult to discuss. “I meant what I said that night, Bryce. I won’t go back to that guy’s apartment again. I can’t control how other people talk to me but I can make sure that I don’t intentionally put myself in situations that make you uncomfortable”. It did hurt that Bryce didn’t fully trust her in that regard but she understood that he was in a heightened state so his ability to engage in logical and rational discussion was reduced. She started slightly when he reached out and grabbed her hand, sure that he was just trying to soften the inevitable blow he was about to deal her. When she heard his soft words instead, she slowly lifted her head, her cheeks stained with tears. “You aren’t the only one that feels like that. I spend most of my life feeling adrift and lost but somewhere along the way, you’ve started to feel like home. Being with you doesn’t magically fix all my issues but you make me feel steadier on my feet. Understood. Seen. Loved. You make me feel like maybe the rest of my life won’t be filled with bad things, that maybe I’m allowed some happiness too. I don’t think you see me as a burden, right? You don’t constantly feel the need to change yourself to be with me? Why can’t I be the same for you?”

Bryce nodded when she told him that she wouldn’t go back to the house. He felt like he was being a bit unreasonable, and he probably was, but it felt as though everything heightened. Especially emotions. “I change myself every day to be with you. Because you deserve more, deserve better.” He whispered. “I just don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want anyone seeing me like this. All I can think about right now is how the coke and heroin in my drawer will help me forget about all of this. I can’t feel like this anymore…I’m scared, Amber. I don’t know how to get myself through this time.”

Amber-Jade looked at him sadly when he said that he changed himself every single day to be the person that deserved to be with her. She reached out and gently stroked his cheek, a sad smile gracing her face. “You don’t have to be perfect, Bryce. I love you exactly how you are, flaws and all. All I really need from you is to be here, to be with me, to not leave me behind”, she assured him. She didn’t need him to be trying to fit this perfect ideal of a boyfriend; she just wanted the Bryce Cortez that she had fallen head over heels in love with. She just wanted him by her side. “I know that it’s not easy to let someone see you like this but I’m not just anyone, okay? No matter what version of you I see, I’m not going anywhere. You won’t scare me away, I promise”. The one good thing about her past was that Bryce’s current presentation wouldn’t scare her away, she was able to take it in stride and focus on helping him. “Do you want me to get rid of it? I can toss it out right now if that’s what you need. If you aren’t ready for that... maybe we could go to bed? I can hold you until you fall asleep, it’s what my mom used to do for me when my father was high... before she started using herself”.

“I don’t want to leave you...you’re the best thing thing that’s ever happened to me.” Bryce spoke quietly, not being able to maintain eye contact with the other. He gave a shy smile as she stroked his cheek, finding her touch rather comforting. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this, though. It’s not fair to you, especially given your past.” He realized in that moment just how much of a monster he probably was a week ago, and just how selfish he was for forgetting the history of her parents for just a split moment. “You don’t need this in your life. You don’t need /me/ in your life.” He whispered, letting out a defeated sigh. Not saying another word, he grabbed his mug and shimmied his way out of the closet, offering her his hand to help her get up. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I don’t want to ruin any plans.”

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me too. I never thought that I'd have this with someone... I never even /wanted/ this with someone until I met you", AJ said softly. Noticing the way that he smiled for the first time all night, she kept her hand on his cheek and shifted the rest of her body a little closer to him. "I'm not letting you go through this by yourself. We're in this together so even though it's hard right now, I'm still going to be here every step of the way. You've seen me at my worst and loved me just the same and nothing is going to stop me from doing the same for you". AJ certainly hadn't entered into their relationship lightly and she was in it for the long haul, for better or worse. "I do need you, though. I wouldn't have started dating you if I didn't need you. I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if I didn't need you. The way I feel about you... how much I trust you... how I can be truly myself around you... none of that comes easily for me so I'm not throwing in the towel just because you need me a little more than usual right now". She took his hand and got to her feet, the two of them leaving the closet together. "I'm not going anywhere. Could I please borrow a shirt though? Sleeping in this skirt isn't exactly comfortable", she said with a small smile, trying to lift his mood somewhat as she gestured at her leather skirt.

Bryce didn’t hesitate to pull the girl closer to him, taking full advantage of her shifting closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. “I love you.” He whispered, the words coming out more easily this time than other times. Those were three words he didn’t say often to anyone, but with her it seemed to come naturally. The man simply nodded at her statement, still finding it hard to believe that someone could love him as much as she did, especially in that moment. But he wasn’t going to question it; he already questioned her enough the last week or so. He picked up the two mugs from the closet and walked them over to his desk, taking another sip from his before putting it down. “I think this conversation sobered us up, but I have a confession...I may or may not have spiked my drink.” He said with a sheepish smile, sighing in relief as the words left him. Bryce chuckled softly at her request, turning to look at his girlfriend and smiling. “It’s a nice skirt, though. You look good.” With that, he pulled out a cotton shirt from the drawer and put it over his shoulder. “Hey, about what you said last week, and earlier...” He trailed off, beginning to help her get out of the tight skirt and her shirt. “I know this wasn’t easy for you, to be with someone — because it’s not easy for me either. I never want to hurt you, but I’m still not used to all of this.” He admitted as he helped strip her of her clothing, unhooking her bra before helping to put on his shirt.

"I love you too", AJ murmured in response, holding her boyfriend tightly. She had /hated/ arguing with him, hated the uncertainty as to whether they were even still together, and was incredibly relieved to know that she hadn't lost him. AJ knew that they still had a lot of things to work through, both individually and together, but at least they were still in this; at least they were still a team. "I'm kind of offended that you only spiked yours, where was my liquid courage?" she jokingly questioned, laughing softly as she noticed the sheepish smile on his face. The bigger conversation about his sobriety would happen on another day, right now she just wanted to support him through the worst of it. "I always look good, you have a very hot girlfriend". Again, another joke. She just wanted to keep that small smile, that laughter, that lightness in play for a little while longer. "I'm not used to all of this either and I know that I'm not perfect. I just... I want you to know that I would never do anything to break your heart, Bryce. I wouldn't betray you or cheat on you or disappear on you. When I made that commitment to you, I wholeheartedly meant it". She was quiet as he finished helping her change into one of his shirts before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss against the corner of his lips.

Bryce was still a bit in denial about the status of his mental health. A part of him knew that he was lying to himself when saying that this relapse is just a way for him to cope as he got through this tough anniversary month. But one thing he did come to realize was that this doesn’t have anything to do with anyone else in his life, so he really needed to be careful with how he treated some people — especially now that he couldn’t just run away like before. “I’m pretty sure liquid courage is what brought you here to begin with.” He joked lightly, attempting to push any dark thoughts and cravings to the back burner. “I do. I’ll never deny that.” He said lightly with a smile. Bryce sighed as she spoke, nodding his head slowly to show that he understood. “I know.” The words came out in a whisper as his head hung low, not being able to find the courage to remain eye contact with her. He gave off another shy smile when he felt her lips pressed against the corner of his mouth, attempting to hide the fact that he could feel his heart beating all over his body. He /hated/ being vulnerable, and although he knew it was necessary for the two to make things right, he found himself attempting to push off his fight or flight. “There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry. I’m drained so I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Touché. I can't believe that I actually threw pebbles at your window and then gave a big speech... I never thought I'd be recreating that cliché", AJ groaned before laughing softly at her own expense. She really had pushed herself out of her comfort zone tonight but it seemed like it was worth it because she and Bryce had actually spoken again; and patched up a few of the issues that they had been experiencing. "It's refreshing that you see me as more than just a pretty face, though", she added. In her past, she had predominantly been treated as a piece of meat so her relationship with Bryce really was refreshing in that regard. She just squeezed his hand gently when he hung his head and said that he knew, not pushing the point any further as she didn't want to make him feel any more upset or guilty over everything. "I'm not hungry, I just want to go to bed with you", she assured him. Right now, there was nothing that she wanted more than curling up with Bryce and hopefully making him feel safe and secure, at least for tonight.

“If it means anything, I’m really glad you did.” Bryce admitted, speaking in a soft tone. He didn’t want to admit it right there in the moment, but he didn’t realize just how much he needed someone; how much he needed /her/. “That’s because you are more than just a pretty face, Amber-Jade. The looks are merely just a bonus at this point.” He said in a sincere tone, giving her a shy half smile immediately after. Nodding his head, Bryce began to undo the bed; pulling the sheets out so the two could climb in together. “It’s a new bed so it should be much more comfortable than before.” He chuckled softly. He hadn’t gotten much of the chance to break in the new bed, considering he found himself to be an insomniac as of lately.

"I'm a little embarrassed but I am glad that it seemed to work". AJ had never been the type to engage in grand romantic gestures, yet Bryce was seemingly the exception to her own rules. "You know that I feel the same way about you, right? It's not just physical attraction and sexual chemistry... this is real", she said softly, the two of them climbing into bed together. "Holy shit, it feels like a cloud! I think this might just be the most comfortable mattress ever... you have good taste, Cortez". When she was sure that Bryce was comfortable, she curled up behind him; essentially taking the 'big spoon' role. "I'll be here when you wake up, I promise", she whispered, the woman holding her boyfriend until he eventually drifted off to sleep.

#chatzy #c: bryce #finished #finished thread #look at us go!#we actually finished something lol

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supremeuppityone · 4 years

Photo

Written for Klaroline Valentine's Day Bingo 2020 @kcvalentinesbingo

Prompt: Casablanca

Author’s note: This was inspired by Ricky Gervais’ 2020 Golden Globes monologue, in which he thoroughly pissed me off.

Warning: Potential triggers; implied assault survivor

Please review here.

Red. Everything was red. The rage sank into Caroline’s bones until nothing was left. From the uncomfortable murmurs of the rest of the audience, it was clear that she wasn’t the only one furious with Alaric Saltzman’s patronizing speech to open the Oscars ceremony.

“If you do win an award tonight, don’t use it as a political platform to make a political speech. You're in no position to lecture the public about anything, you know nothing about the real world. So, if you win, come up, accept your little award, thank your agent and your God and fuck off.”

There were so many things wrong with the washed-up comedian’s vile statement, that Caroline let out an audible gasp, not bothering to let her features settle back into a polite mask. Her agent was going to be pissed if the cameras happened to catch her now. But it was nothing compared to how pissed Katherine would be in a little while. As a nominated filmmaker, Caroline understood she was in a unique position to make a call for social change. And as one of the few female filmmaker nominees, it was her responsibility. She covertly took out her phone, typing a quick message to her staff, and then leaned back into her seat with a self-satisfied grin. Game on.

Her documentary focused on Congolese women who were taking back their communities torn apart by sexual violence. It was her honor to give voice to the warrior women who had created safe spaces for women — teaching them self-defense, providing legal representation, and fostering marketable skills.

She toyed with the orange and red bracelet, hiding a bittersweet smile as she recalled the way some of the women at the community center had attempted to teach her how to make the rolled-up paper beads. It was the day she shared her story with them. Her pain had been her own for so long. She’d nearly punched Katherine for telling her the bracelet clashed with her designer gown and that she should instead go with the loan from Bulgari.

The back of Caroline’s neck prickled as though she could feel the weight of someone’s stare. Casually glancing around the packed theater, her blue eyes widened when she realized Klaus Mikaelson was staring at her. Wildly famous, the dimpled British actor’s mantle must be overflowing with prestigious Oscars, BAFTAs and Golden Globes. Why was he staring at her? Again. Despite years in the industry, this was the first awards season her work had garnered enough attention to warrant nominations. And unwanted attention from A-listers.

A few months ago, she’d attended the Directors Guild Awards, slightly starstruck and still in disbelief that her work was finally getting recognition. She nervously was sipping champagne when someone insistently tapped her shoulder. Familiar with many of the more heinous Hollywood Gropers, she whirled around, ready to shred some wrinkled, self-entitled balls. She stopped short when she realized it was a skinny teenager who somehow managed to look even more nervous than she.

“Um. Hi! So, um I think you’re Caroline Forbes. Right?”

Caroline softened, assuming his painfully earnest demeanor meant he was an intern or one of the stage assistants. Her smile was gentle as she said, “Yes, I’m Caroline. What’s your name?”

Brown eyes went round with excitement as he took both of her hands in his, wildly shaking them up and down as he gushed, “I’m Henrik and I go to USC and we just studied you in my Defining the Feminine Narrative class!”

Flustered, she could feel an enormous smile spread across her face. It was rare that she encountered someone who knew who she was. Now what? Offering to sign something or pose for a photo sounded unbelievably pretentious. “Oh, wow. Thank you,” she finally said, “I had no idea.”

“I’m actually um, doing a research paper right now on your documentary about dowry-related violence in India,” he shyly confessed, hiding behind his long brown hair.

“Seriously?! I just started cataloguing some additional footage; trying to decide if there’s another story to tell. If you want to give me your email, I’d be happy to share my research with you. Maybe it will inspire you to create something amazing.”

Before Henrik could respond, an unexpected voice interrupted, “Impressive chat-up lines, little brother.”

Klaus stood there with his sexy dimpled grin that always spelled box office gold. And he’d been poured into that tuxedo. Damn. “Klaus Mikaelson,” he said, as though she hadn’t watched every movie he ever made, “and I had no idea Henrik was such a fan.” He put a companionable arm around the timid boy, telling her, “Henrik’s the true talent in the family. Thank you, love, for noticing.”

He eyed her with interest, and she immediately reddened, cursing her painfully white skin for making every emotion so obvious. “These ceremonies are so frightfully dull. Would you like to join us at our table, and then perhaps later, you and I could go for a drink?”

Damn it. He was one of those guys. Now flushed with irritation rather than embarrassment, Caroline replied, “You should ask Tatia. It’s only polite — since she’s your date.” Lately, the gossip sites had exploded with headlines gushing about the whirlwind romance between Klaus and the stunning supermodel, Tatia Petrova. Even if there was the chance it was a clever ruse to garner media attention, there was no way Caroline wanted any part of that nonsense.

Klaus flashed that dimpled smirk again, his accented voice amused as he said, “Tatia is more of an...inconvenience than a permanent fixture in my life. There’s only so much frivolous chatter I can tolerate. But I suspect that you would provide endlessly fascinating conversation, sweetheart. You’re starting to make a name for yourself with all those exotic travels and penchant for saving the world. There’s a light that shines in you; it sets you apart from the rest.”

He was seriously giving her the ‘you’re not like other girls’ speech. Dick. “Pass,” she said flatly, already starting to walk away. “But thanks for adding bad pickup lines to my ever-growing list of atrocities I need to save the world from.”

Thunderous applause interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Where Klaus was still staring at her rather than paying attention to the clip they were showing from his nominated performance. His performance in the Casablanca remake had earned him the Best Actor nomination, with critics and media outlets proclaiming his work in the big budget production to be a crowning achievement in his stellar career. Despite her indifference to the original 1940s movie, she still eagerly went to see Klaus’ remake, and his performance as the expat Rick had left her breathless. His American accent had been impeccable, and she actually got a bit teary-eyed when he arranged for his onscreen love interest, Lisa, to board the plane to safety while he stayed behind.

Caroline could feel the heat rising in her cheeks the longer Klaus stared at her, irritated at herself for paying far too much attention to the gossip sites that announced Klaus’ amicable split almost immediately following their disastrous first encounter. She did not have time for Hollywood fuckboys. Even the ones with dimples. She had a world to save. Lost in her thoughts of burying her stupid crush on Klaus, she completely missed that he’d apparently won and was being herded offstage.

She leaned forward eagerly as her documentary category was called. Regardless of the winner, her documentary had garnered enough attention that a few months ago, she’d learned an anonymous donation singlehandedly funded the Congolese women’s charity for the next decade. It was rare that people surprised her. Maybe one day she’d learn the identity of the generous donor. While the vignettes played for each nominee, her heart giving a funny little tweak as she held her breath in anticipation.

“And the winner for best documentary feature is...Conflicted Hearts: Congolese Women Fight Back, by Caroline Forbes!”

The thunderous applause was deafening, and Caroline sat there in shock for several moments, unable to get her legs to move. When she finally managed to walk to the stage on shaky legs, she fervently hoped she hadn’t sweated through her Arcadius original. She cringed as Alaric grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him for a congratulatory kiss that she managed to avoid by jerking her head away. He should know better. Hazel eyes flashed as he angrily hissed, “Just smile for the camera and keep the whole ‘boohoo women bitching about a little flirting’ bullshit out of it. No one cares about your whiny politics.”

She burned him with her gaze, the oranges and reds of her gown a perfect backdrop for her fiery rage. Not bothering to respond to his unspoken threat, she stepped to the podium, pleased to be bathed in the stage lights, drawing energy from their warmth. “I’ve now been told twice tonight not to get political. It’s stupid to think I’m going to start following orders now. We’re some of the most fortunate people in the world. We have an extraordinary platform that allows us to reach millions. And it’s our responsibility to use it. We live in this world too and we should be working just as hard as anyone to make it better.”

The loud clapping sounded like vindication, and she hoped that the cameras were zooming in on Alaric’s face as it immediately purpled in anger. “My film is dedicated to the Congolese women who let me into their world, whose unparalleled strength gave me the courage to put into words my own trauma. They are warriors, and I hope that the anonymous donor who helped fund their women’s charity for the next decade understands the hope they’ve given to so many.”

Her smile was a vicious blade as she announced, “Thriving in front of my bullies is sometimes the whole reason why I get out of bed. I just started a charity tonight because I know I can’t be the only woman who’s been told to keep ‘boohoo women bitching about a little flirting bullshit out of it’. My organization will help women speak out about sexual harassment and assault in the workplace, providing much-needed legal assistance and support to help them overcome the personal and professional consequences that make it difficult to speak out. It’s called ‘CARE’.”

The standing ovation was immensely satisfying, but then she added, “And it stands for Condescending Asshats Refuse to Evolve’,” which had the theater shouting her name excitedly. Not a bad night.

As Caroline was ushered backstage, she basked as so many warm smiles and enthusiastic handshakes congratulated her, pausing only once to catch Alaric’s furious expression. She held his gaze just as fiercely, pouring out every viscous word she wasn’t ready to speak. But one day she would be.

Backstage, she nearly ran over Klaus. Flushed from his own win, he beamed at her while offering her a steadying hand. “Congratulations, love. Your win was well-deserved, and I don’t recall a more compelling speech. You’ve set a precedent tonight that undoubtedly will bring about much-needed change.”

She blushed to the roots of her hair, wishing she hadn’t worn the intricately plaited hairstyle so she could give her hands something to do. “Uh, thanks, and you too. Your work in Casablanca was amazing.”

“You saw my movie?”

Caroline was taken aback by his hopeful, pleased tone. “I’ve seen all of your movies. Everyone has.”

“I’ve seen yours too,” he confessed, ducking his head shyly. “Henrik is quite the fan and has all of your documentaries — even the one you created fresh out of film school where you exposed the hypocrisy of a ‘morality clause’ for beauty pageant contestants in your hometown.”

“Seriously?!” She gaped at him, unsure of what to say. She hadn’t thought about that in years. That documentary had gotten the attention of several groups, which eventually led to funding for bigger projects and more exposure to the causes that she was the most passionate about. “I had no idea that you’d...I mean, I’m flattered you took the time to watch my films.”

The tips of his ears reddened as Klaus replied, “Meeting you was a bit of a revelation for me. Your drive, your fearlessness at giving people a platform so their voices and stories can be told — it’s inspiring. It made me want to make some changes in my life, which I started doing several months ago.”

“I had no idea. I’m, uh, glad to have helped. Can I ask about the changes?”

“Maybe someday I’ll tell you,” he answered enigmatically. “In the meantime, I’d be honored if you would accept my donation to your CARE charity. I’m doing my best to be a reformed condescending asshat.”

#kcvalentinesbingo #uppity bitch fanfic #klaroline fanfic #klaroline aesthetic #aesthetic #klaroline #this one took an unexpected turn for me #writing has a mind of its own #klaroline does hollywood

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waywardaardvark79 · 5 years

Text

Chick Flick Hell

Summary: Dean’s refusal to help Gabriel lands the two of you in a sticky situation.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 4,858

"Well, I don't understand why you had to be such a dick. It wouldn't have hurt anything if we helped him. It's not like we have anything else going on right now!" you yelled as you stomped down the bunker stairs.

"Help him?!" Dean yelled, his tone matching yours. "The guy is a total dick! We're not helping him. I can't help it if you have some kind of weird soft spot for the asshole."

You turned on your heel, raising your hand to poke your finger into his chest. "I DO NOT have a soft spot for him. I am just smart enough to know that he is one guy you don't want to piss off, but I guess you just can't get that through that thick fuckin' skull of yours." you said, your finger jabbing into him to emphasize your point. "I swear, when this comes back to bite you in the ass you're on your own." you added, shaking your head in frustration before storming off towards your room.

"You're on your own." Dean mocked, as he sat the beer down on the table. "You think you're so smart." he said under his breath, the sound of Sam chuckling catching his attention.

"The two of you went on a beer run and came back at each other's throats. I guess, I shouldn't be surprised anymore." Sam said, shaking his head at your inability to get along.

Dean blew out a fast breath, "I swear, it's like she has a step by step instruction manual for how to get under my skin." he said as he plopped down in the chair and propped his feet up on the table. "I mean, sometimes I just want to wring her fuckin' neck. Always with the my way's better, Dean, or the oh, I can't believe you didn't know that, Dean. Don't even get me fuckin' started on those ridiculous little shorts she insists on prancing around in. Who the fuck wears shorts that short? We're in a secret underground bunker. You don't have anybody to show off for, put on some damn pants." he ranted as he snatched a beer from the six pack in front of him.

Sam grabbed a beer for himself and sat down across from his brother, "You know, they say there is a fine line between love and hate." he said, a teasing smile on his face.

Dean scoffed, "Don't even go there. I DO NOT love her. Hell, I don't even like her most of the time. In fact, the last year she has been here has been a complete nightmare." he said, before draining the rest of his beer and reaching for another. "She's...she's fuckin' impossible." he added, shaking his head.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, "I like her, and you have to admit that she has been a big help. She knows her stuff." he said, defending you.

Dean looked down at the table, "I'm not saying she doesn't know what she's doin'. I can admit that she's a badass, but as soon as she opens her mouth and starts with her know it all shit that's all I can focus on." he said, actually able to hear your voice berating him in his head. "And, the only reason you like her is because she is fuckin' nice to you, and not on your ass all the time. I see the two of you giggling over your nerd books."

Sam sighed, "The two of you are so alike it isn't even funny." he said, slowly shaking his head.

Dean scowled at him, "Please, I am nothing like her." he argued.

Sam cleared his throat, ready to present his argument. "You always think your way is better too. You're also quick to rub it in her face when she doesn't know something. You're both hot heads, and we've all seen the shorts you wash the Impala in. There is no reason for them to be that short." Sam said, a teasing smile on his face.

Dean scoffed, "You're...you...just shut up." he said, frustrated at his lack of a better come back.

"What are you two fighting about now? I heard her say something about we could have helped someone, but you didn't want to?" Sam asked.

"Gabriel popped in on us, said he needed a little help with something, but I told him where he could go." Dean explained.

"You didn't even hear him out, find out what he wanted?" Sam asked.

"No, why would I? Don't you remember how that asshole jerked us around?" Dean asked, recalling all of their run ins with the archangel.

Sam sighed, "Yeah, but it still wouldn't have hurt for you to see what he wanted." he said, taking your side.

Dean dropped his feet to the floor and stood from his seat, "If you and Y/N want to get caught up in his mess, then go ahead, but leave me out of it." he said, as he grabbed another beer and headed for his room.

You blinked open your eyes, "Where the fuck am I?" you asked yourself as you looked around a room that was definitely not your room in the bunker.

You were sitting in a corner at a table, the room was filled with people. The sound of people singing caught your attention and you turned to see a large stage, people standing next to each other down the length of it. You looked down at your body, a familiar dress staring back at you, the realization of where you were smacking you in the face.

"Dirty Dancing? I'm dreaming about Dirty Dancing." you laughed out, shaking your head to yourself that you were actually sitting in The Kellerman Resort.

You caught a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye, and turned your head, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Patrick Swayze at the table. This was the part where he said the famous, "No body puts Baby in a corner." line before pulling Baby up on stage for the last dance of the season.

You shifted in your seat, this wasn't any where near the kind of dream you were expecting to have tonight, but you weren't going to complain.

A pair of black pants came into view and you let your eyes roam higher, your mouth watering a little as you took in the tight black shirt and leather jacket. Your eyes continued on their journey, fulling expecting to see Swayze staring down at you, but finding a pair of familiar green eyes looking down at you instead.

"Y/N, what the fuck?" Dean asked, as he stared down at you in confusion.

"Dean?" you asked, shocked that he was the one standing there. "Why the hell are you in my dream? Get out!!" you ordered.

"Your dream? You are the one that is in MY dream, so you get out." he said, his eyes narrowing at you.

You scoffed, "So, you dream about Dirty Dancing a lot? What happened to no chick flicks?" you asked, a smirk on your face.

"Shut. Up." he spat out, completely done with you.

"Fuck!" you yelled, slapping your hand down on the table. "Gabriel!" you exclaimed before looking up at Dean. "I told you this was gonna come back to bite you in the ass, and now you've dragged me into it."

Your words hit him like a ton of bricks, "Son of a bitch!" he yelled, throwing his head back in frustration. "I know what this is." he breathed out, turning his attention to you. "He's, uh, he's done something like this before."

"What do you mean he's done something like this before? How the hell do we wake up and get out of here?" you asked as you started to stand from the table.

"Sit down." Dean barked out. "We have to...we have to play our parts." he said, shaking his head in disbelief that he was in this situation again.

"Play our parts?" you asked, one eyebrow raised as you waited for him to elaborate.

"Yeah, you know, play our parts. We gotta do what he wants us to do for him to let us out." he explained.

You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration before sitting down, "So, you're telling me that we have to act out the end of this movie or he won't let us out?" you asked, not believing the words that were coming out of your mouth.

"I think so." Dean breathed out, just as unhappy about the situation as you were.

You rubbed your hands over your face, "Fine, say it." you said, willing to commit yourself to this nightmare in hopes of escape.

"Say what?" Dean asked, a confused look on his face.

"The line, Dean, say the damn line." you demanded, wanting to get this show on the road.

Dean tossed his head back, "Nobody puts Baby in a corner." he mumbled under his breath before holding his hand out to you.

You stood up and grabbed his hand, Dean quickly pulling you from the table towards the stage. The people gathered there stopped singing when the two of you walked onto the stage.

Dean stepped up to the microphone and cleared his throat, "I, uh, I know I'm supposed to give some big speech about dancing and how you people are a bunch of dicks or something, but I don't remember what I'm supposed to say, so...I guess, we're just gonna get on with the dance now." he said before taking the microphone to the side of the stage.

You heard the beginning of (I've had) The Time Of My Life start, and saw Dean take a deep breath before walking across the stage and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"I have no idea what I'm doing." he said as he pulled you closer to him.

You slid your hands up his arms, one hands resting just behind his elbow and the other one coming up to clasp into his, "Dip me." you said, your hair swinging loosely behind you as he did as you instructed. "Ok, now do the arm thing." you said as you turned around and pressed your back against him, raising your arm and hooking it behind his head while he slowly traced his fingers down your arm to your side.

"What now?" he whispered, clueless to the next step.

You shrugged your shoulders, "Now, we just wing it, spin me around or some shit." you whispered back, hoping that it would be enough to get the two of you back home.

The two of you managed to stumble your way through most of the song, the actual movie scene playing out in your head as you tried to lead Dean through the steps.

"Not much longer." you breathed out, a fake smile plastered on your face. "Ok, grind your hips against me." you ordered.

"What?" Dean asked, unsure if he had heard you right.

"The movie is called Dirty Dancing, Dean, grind your hips against me." you said.

"Seriously?" he asked, like it was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

"You're the one who said we had to play our parts. Now grind, Winchester. The sooner this is over the sooner we get back home." you said, Dean obeying you and pulling you as close to him as possible while grinding his hips against yours. "Ok, now just jump off the stage, dance around a little bit, and don't, whatever you do, fuckin' drop me." you said before giving him a gentle shove to the edge of the stage.

You stood back and watched as he jumped from the stage, actually managing to land gracefully on his feet. He turned to look at you, silently asking what he needed to do next.

"Dance." you mouthed, moving your body a little in case he couldn't read your lips.

You watched him stumble around, the corner of your mouth turning up at his attempt at dancing. You motioned for him to start making his way towards the stage, and gave a slight nod of your head when he was close enough. You looked down and sure enough there were people waiting to help you off stage.

You grabbed their hands and let them lower you down. You gave Dean one final warning look, silently urging him to not drop you before taking off towards him. You almost second guessed yourself right before you got to him, so afraid that you were about to face plant that you thought about not jumping at all, but your need to escape this nightmare won out and you closed your eyes and jumped.

You felt Dean's hands grip around the sides of your waist as he lifted your above his head. You tried to stay as still as possible, your arms stretched out to the side of you. You finally managed to crack open your eyes when you were convinced that he wasn't going to drop you.

"How much longer we gotta do this?" Dean gritted out.

"I think it's been long enough, let me down." you said, a fake smile still plastered on your face for the cheering crowd.

Dean brought his arms down and you wrapped your arms around his neck as you slid down his body.

The two of you held onto each other, "Ok, we did it. Why aren't we zapping out of here?" you asked, still pressed up against him, but before he could answer the scene changed.

Your eyes scanned the room, frantically trying to figure out where you were. It was loud, the machinery in the room roaring. It was some kind of factory.

You turned your head, searching for Dean when you noticed him marching towards you in a stark white uniform complete with a hat, naval dress whites. "An Officer and a Gentleman." you breathed out, realizing what movie you were now stuck in.

Dean stopped in front of you, shaking his head, "Should've know we wouldn't get off that easy." he said.

"Yeah, well, maybe if you hadn't of been such a dick and actually helped him we wouldn't be stuck here right now." you started. "I don't see why." you got out before Dean's lips were crashing against yours to shut you up.

You froze for a moment, shocked that he was kissing you, when you remembered the actual scene from the movie. You kissed him back, playing your part as he spun you around before pulling you off of your feet and sweeping you into his arms. You continued to pepper kisses against his face as he carried you from the factory. The large, open doorway was in sight when you plucked his hat from his head and placed it on your own, hoping that it would be enough to get you out of there.

You blinked open your eyes, praying that you would be back in your room at the bunker, only to be met with a crowded diner, Dean sitting across from you.

You rolled your eyes, "Again?" you asked as you looked up at the ceiling, although you couldn't argue the irony of being put in this scene.

"You know, I really am glad I never got involved with you." you said, looking over at Dean.

"What?" he asked, expecting a string of complaints about how it was all his fault that you weren't home yet.

"I would have ended up being some woman you had to get up out of bed and leave at 3 A.M.." you said, paraphrasing the dialogue from the film.

"Hey, I've never had any complaints." Dean shot back.

"Yeah, cause you're out the door too fast." you said, quoting the movie.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Ok, this is the part where you tell me that the woman I've been with have been faking it, go ahead and put on a show." he said, a smirk on his face as he leaned back in his seat to watch you recreate the famous scene.

You glared at him before shaking it off and closing your eyes. You started to moan, softly at first before bringing up the volume. "Oh, God." you moaned, throwing your head back and running your hand down your neck. "Oh, God, right there." you moaned out, your volume steadily increasing. You started to slam your hands down on the table, your head still thrown back, "Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes." you cried, sounding as if you were currently staring in some random porno.

You continued to cry out, really getting into it as you whipped your hair around. Dean's eyes were glued to you, his mouth hanging open in shock at just how turned on he was right now. He tried to reach down and subtly adjust himself in his jeans, his cock growing harder with each sound you made.

You gave one final loud moan, slumping down into your seat for added effect before snapping open your eyes and picking up your fork like none of that had just happened. The last thing you saw was Dean staring at you with a strange look on his face before the scene changed.

You were in a dark room, a blob of wet clay in front of you. You sighed and looked down at your body, the large, oversized white shirt seemed to be the only thing you were wearing.

"Really, Ghost?" you mumbled to yourself. "What the hell do I have to do to get out of here?" you asked out loud as you started to attempt to turn the blob of clay into something.

Unchained Melody started to ring out through the room, "Well, you're no Demi Moore, that's for sure." Dean said from behind you, looking at your sad attempt at sculpting.

You rolled your eyes, and turned over your shoulder to look at him. You were about to fire off a smart ass comment, but when you saw him standing there in just his jeans you swallowed your words.

You turned your attention back to the clay in front of you, trying to focus on anything but the sight of him, "Just come help me so we can get out of here." you said.

Dean sat down behind you and chuckled when the clay plopped to the side, "Looks like I finally found something that you completely suck at." he said, amused by your failure.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, "Just give me your hands and let's get this over with." you said as you grabbed his hands and brought them up around you before placing yours on top of them on the clay.

"Oh, this feels fuckin' gross." Dean said as he tried to jerk his hands back.

"Dean." you barked out, grabbing his hands and putting them back in place.

"Can't we just get to the makin' out?" he whined.

"You are insufferable." you said before turning over your shoulder and pressing your lips to his.

Dean stood from his seat, and picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kissed you a little more eagerly than you thought he would. He placed you back on your feet, your hands rubbing up the smooth planes of his back. You felt his hands work their way under the shirt you were wearing, quickly making their way to your ass.

"Oh, fuck." Dean grunted, each hand grabbing a handful as he ran his tongue along your lower lip begging for entrance, but before you could comply you were zapped somewhere else.

You looked down, the waves crashing against you startling you. You were in a bikini on a beach.

"Son of a bitch!!!" Dean screamed, a few feet away from you. "I'm stuck in chick flick hell with you and I can't even get to any of the good parts."

You started to walk towards him, the crashing waves causing you to lose your balance and slip under the water. You popped back up, pissed that you were now completely soaked, "The good parts? You're not getting anywhere near these good parts." you said, waving your hand in front of you as you looked around, still trying to figure out what movie you were in, "I think we are shit out of luck on this one. I have no fucking clue what movie this is." you said, a defeated tone in your voice.

Dean looked down and took a deep breath, "It's The Notebook." he mumbled, embarrassed to admit that he knew.

"Ok, The Notebook, so what do we do?" you asked, Dean looking up at you in shock when you didn't ridicule him for knowing where you were. "Come on, I'm freezing here." you said, urging him to tell you the next step.

Dean thought for a moment, trying to remember the scene, "You gotta flap your arms around and say something about you being a bird." he finally said.

You shivered in the water, "Now, you're just making shit up to make me look stupid. That's ridiculous. There is no way that actually happened." you said, not believing a word.

Dean sighed heavily, "I know it sounds stupid, but I'm telling you the truth so just do it." he said, his tone implying that he didn't want to argue with you.

You clenched your jaw and started to half heartedly flap your arms, "I'm a bird." you deadpanned, knowing that Dean had to be fucking with you.

The corner of his mouth turned up at the sight of you, "Now, come and jump on me." he instructed, thinking to himself that you actually looked kind of cute.

You waded over to him, the waves still crashing against you. Dean held out his arms for you and you jumped into them, your legs wrapping around his waist, his hands coming to rest under the backs of your thighs.

You were shivering in his arms, "How much longer is he gonna keep this up? We've done everything like we were supposed to." you said, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

Dean noticed how cold you were and hugged you tighter against him, hoping that his body heat would help warm you up, "I told you the guy's a dick. He gets his rocks off jerkin' people around." he said.

You shook your head, "There's got to be something that we're missing, something we aren't doing right." you said, trying to think of anything you could be doing wrong, but coming up empty.

"Kiss me." Dean said, a soft smile on his face as he looked up at you.

"What?" you asked.

"In, uh, in the movie she kisses him. I think that's what you're supposed to do next." he said, not understanding why he was suddenly nervous.

You looked down at him, closed your eyes and pressed your lips to his in a sweet, gentle kiss before the scene changed.

You looked down at yourself, noticing the white, fluffy robe you were wearing as you took a few more steps into the dim room. Dean was seated at a piano, his back to you.

You crossed the room and leaned back against the piano, your body hitting the keys and causing random notes to sound off. You looked down at Dean, who was wearing the same frustrated expression as you.

"Pretty Woman." you breathed out, Dean nodding his head in agreement with you. "You know, I've been thinking, and what if he keeps changing it because we aren't doing it right?" you asked.

Dean looked up at you, "Y/N, we've done everything right, just like they did in the movies. He just likes screwing with people." Dean sighed, frustration heavy in his voice.

You nodded, "I know, but...the people in the movies actually like each other. Maybe...if you could pretend to actually like me then it would work." you said, looking down at him. "I mean, I know it's probably stupid, but it's the only thing I can think of so, pretend not to hate me for like five minutes."

"You think I hate you?" he asked.

You shrugged your shoulders, "Come on, Dean, it's no secret. I know how you feel about me." you said, looking off to the side of the room.

"I...I don't hate you." he said, looking up at you.

You scoffed, "I heard you talking to Sam. I believe you said something along the lines of living with me has been a nightmare." you spit out.

Dean grabbed your waist, startling you and causing you to jump. He slid you towards him, your body running along the keys causing notes to ring out. "I don't hate you. You...you just..." he trailed off, not knowing exactly what he was trying to say.

"Get under your skin." you finished for him, a slight smile on your face.

Dean laughed under his breath, "Yeah, you get under my skin." he quietly said before laying his head against you.

You brought your hands up and started to run them through his hair. Dean looked up at you and started to untie your robe before quickly jumping to his feet.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you looked up at him, noticing the unfamiliar look in his eyes. He picked you up and sat you on the piano, working himself between your legs.

He pulled you towards him before pushing you back against the piano, his hand coming up to run down your body. A small whimper fell from your lips as he started to push up the nightie you were wearing before you were zapped from the room.

You shot up in bed, your eyes scanning the room as you tried to figure out where you were. "Holy shit!" you excitedly exclaimed when you realized that you were back in your room in the bunker. "Dean! Dean!" you yelled as you jumped from your bed and made your way to the door.

"Holy shit!" Dean said, when you flung open your door. "It worked. We're back." he said, a wide smile on his face as he pulled you into his arms.

"Thank God." you breathed out. "I didn't know how much more of that I could take." you said, the smile on Dean's face starting to fade as he released you.

"Y-yeah, me too." he said, looking down at the ground.

You playfully punched his arm, "Guess our acting was good enough to fool him." you said, trying to make it seem like the last moment you shared didn't mean anything.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, still not looking at you, "Guess so." he said before turning to walk back to his room.

"Dean." you called after him, even though you didn't know exactly what you wanted to say.

"Get some sleep, Y/N. I have a feeling someone will be paying us a visit soon." he said, not bothering to turn and look at you.

Dean was right, Gabriel did show up not long after the two of you had reappeared in the bunker, and the three of you helped him with his problem. The next few weeks between you and Dean were awkward to say the least. You didn't really talk to each other unless you had to, and you didn't even get into arguments anymore. You basically just tried to stay away from each other.

You were sitting at the table, Sam across from you. "Dean, go out?" you asked since you hadn't seen him all day.

Sam was staring at his computer screen, "Yeah, he said he had to go pick up a few things." he mumbled, wrapped up in whatever he was reading.

You slumped back in your chair, and blew out a fast breath, "You wanna watch a movie or something later?" you asked, tired of just sitting in your room.

"Hmm?" Sam hummed out, not hearing what you had said.

"A movie. You want to watch one later?" you asked.

"Sure...just let me get finished with this." he said, his eyes never leaving the screen.

You started to stand up from your seat when you heard the door of the bunker open and close, Dean's heavy footsteps coming down the stairs soon followed.

He walked into the room, his arms loaded down with bags. "Hey." he said when he made eye contact with you.

"Hey." you squeaked out, shocked that he was talking to you. "So, uh, supply run?" you asked, pointing to the bags in his arms, desperate to keep him talking.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Something like that." he said as he reached into one bag.

He pulled out a white hat, a hat that went with a naval dress uniform and placed it on the table in front of you. You looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, silently questioning if you were taking this the way he wanted you to.

"I think we have some unfinished business." he said, a smirk on his face as he gestured towards the hat before turning to walk towards his room.

You watched him walk away, your eyes then turning to focus on the hat in front of you before snatching it off the table and standing from your seat. "Sam, I'm...I'm...gonna have to get a raincheck on that movie." you stammered out before turning to run down the hall.

#supernatural fanfiction #dean x you #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x reader #dean #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural reader insert #spn fic #spn #spn one shot

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concussed-to-pieces · 5 years

Text

I Want It All

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

Pairing: Jean Pierre Polnareff/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M

AN: Hello my broskis, and welcome back to more of my indulgence! This takes place during the Stardust Crusaders arc (and also is an 'everyone lives' AU because I am nothing if not an indulgent bastard.) Enjoy, and thank you for reading!

[!WARNING!: For my attempts at French, it has been...many years since my lessons. Forgive my lingual sins.]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For canon-typical gore, blood and violence. Stay safe!]

...

"I am only speaking the truth!" Polnareff protested, blue eyes wide in feigned hurt.

"You, Jean Pierre Polnareff, couldn't speak the truth if your life depended on it!" You shot back, halfway between laughter and fury. "You expect me to believe everything that comes out of your mouth? I wasn't born yesterday, big fella'."

"But it's true! Your eyes light up so wonderfully when you're annoyed or put out--just like they are right now!" The Frenchman was obviously trying hard to butter you up. "You and Jotaro both have such expressive eyes, it's tres bien to see the two of you hot under the collar."

"What the hell did you just say?" Jotaro growled. "You tryin' to tell me you've been this obnoxious because you like how it makes people look? You're such a damn handful Polnareff."

"I agree!" You huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at the menace in front of you.

Polnareff just laughed it off, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "You are so lovely when you're upset."

"You're just as lovely when you're being obnoxious, you gravy-sucking--"

"Ah ah, such language!" Jean interrupted, tilting his chin pointedly in Anne's direction. "Little ears don't need to hear rough speech."

"You've gotta' be joking, she could probably teach you some new curse words!" You teased, laughing outright when Anne nodded enthusiastically and started rambling down a list of incredibly colorful phrases.

Amidst Polnareff's wailing about how unladylike it was that Anne had an impressive repertoire, you felt his eyes on you. Ever since you had collapsed it had been this way, Jean Pierre hovering like a nervous parent. It was infuriating! You weren't some helpless child. Your Stand may consume your energy at an exponential rate, but it made up for the increased strain with impressive damage output. You didn't need anyone coddling you, and you did your best to make sure that the group knew that. Joseph was the only one who seemed to 'forget' aside from Polnareff; he was also a parent and prone to worrying so you tried to let it slide.

It was certainly a bunch of misfits you had taken up with. You had your own reasons for wanting to beat Dio's face in, noble or otherwise, and it seemed like your best chance to get close was to engage in the Joestar's crusade. Though the Strength Stand was a bit of a wakeup call.

You had only passed out twice in the span that you had been fighting alongside the Crusaders. You had grown leaps and bounds as a Stand user, able to keep your Stand active for longer and longer periods of time. Sure, your Stand was no Star Platinum, but you were far from the weakling you had been.

To let Jean Pierre hold you back felt like admitting defeat, and so you railed against his supposed 'well-meaning' concern with all your might. It led to heated disagreements between you, the Frenchman insisting on keeping you behind the bulk of his body and Silver Chariot's defensive saber during battles.

He nicknamed you Le Canon De Verre, The Glass Cannon, after one such tangle with enemy Stand users. "Destructive, beautiful when the sunlight hits you just right, and entirely reckless!" The backhanded compliment had only served to infuriate you further, as had his jovial laughter after the fact. You nearly dislocated his shoulder with your Stand's punch, startling him into silence.

"You're so-!" You bit your tongue, unwilling to get yourself thrown out of the group because you couldn't take his teasing. "Mean, Polnareff, that's what you are!" You had snapped finally. "You can't just say things like that to me, okay? I'm trying so hard! Stop making fun of me already!"

"I'm not...I-I apologize, I did not intend to hurt your feelings. In this group we tend to go at one another for sport. I assumed you would join in." The large man had continued to hold his shoulder, grimacing. "I thought you wanted to, anyway."

"I don't want to be hazed or initiated, if that's what you're getting at. I'd rather be an outlier if I'm going to have to engage in a dick-waving contest." You had replied firmly.

Polnareff looked thoughtful, which was rare. "I understand. I will ah, 'ease up'. Can you forgive me?"

"Will you stop pouting if I do?"

"Perhaps. Unless, of course, you find me more attractive when I pout?"

"No." His crestfallen expression had made you laugh harder than you wanted to admit.

...

Finding out Jean Pierre Polnareff had a penchant for dirty talk in the bedroom was like finding out that the sky was the same shade of blue as the previous day.

Utterly unsurprising.

He loved to hear himself talk so damn much you were fairly certain that he got off on it, whether his partners did or not.

Joseph laughed boisterously when Polnareff proudly stated his enjoyment of such activities during a rowdy night of drinking, the older man slapping him on the back. "I'll drink to that, my chatty friend! I feel your pain. I remember when Caesar and I were training, I had to wear a mask to regulate my breathing and…" Joseph paused, the sparkle in his green eyes dimming. "He was a wonderful friend, was Caesar." He murmured instead of continuing his story.

Jotaro looked about as interested as you had ever seen him, the stoic teen studying his grandfather. "Was he now."

"A phenomenal fighter and a total pain in the ass. Always trying to one-up me." Joseph dashed away a tear. You shifted closer to him beside the fire, touching your shoulder to his. On his other side Polnareff did the same, effectively sandwiching the older man between the two of you. "He was incredibly brave and incredibly dumb, almost as dumb as I was." Joseph dug around in one of the pockets on his cargo pants, drawing out a thin strip of cloth with a triangular pattern on it. "This is all that I have to remember him by."

Avdol shook his head, resting his hands on Joseph's shoulders from his place behind him. "You have the many, many memories of the two of you as well, Mr. Joestar."

"True! I'm sorry kids, I get so melancholic around campfires. I doubt the drinking helps." Joseph wound the strip of cloth between the fingers of his mechanical hand absentmindedly, the fabric frayed like he had done it many times before.

"Mr. Joestar, would you tell us some stories about Caesar?" Kakyoin requested softly. "You shouldn't have to shoulder the burden of his memory alone."

Jotaro grunted in affirmation, getting up and moving across the clearing to slouch beside his grandfather. "Spare us no detail, old man. I want to know about the guy that could kick your ass."

"He couldn't-! That's an awful lot to assume, Jotaro!" Joseph huffed indignantly, his bleak mood seeming to vanish once his pride was poked at. "He used Hamon to trap me in a bubble! Can you even imagine being that insecure?!"

You caught Jean looking at you over the top of Joseph's head as he rambled (no small feat considering the size of the elder Joestar). Polnareff glanced at Joseph, then back at you. Both of you nodded after a moment, coming to a silent agreement.

Jean Pierre would take a step back in battle to allow you a step forward, and you would be more cautious.

...

From that point on, things smoothed out a little between the two of you. You didn't feel so stifled, like every move was watched. Chariot was ready and willing to work together with your Stand, the rapier-wielding chevalier helping to increase your own admittedly-lacking range. It was surreal how well you and Jean could control the battlefield now that you weren't at each other's throats.

Jean's motions when he was fighting were one with Chariot's. Often it was difficult to tell where Stand ended and man began, Chariot a literal extension of his own body. He moved with a savage finesse that was a treat to watch, something you hadn't been able to appreciate when he was trapping you behind him. Now that you could operate on even footing however, it was a different story. There was ample time to watch him fight, ample time to hear him taunt the enemy in both French and English, or a jumbled mess of the two. Perhaps a little too much time, if you were being honest. Jean Pierre was an incorrigible show off.

Somewhere along the way you had also gained a new nickname.

"Did you see that, mon coeur?" The silver-haired young man would often exclaim after you two managed to do something impressive, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "They didn't stand a chance!"

You wanted to hate yourself for enjoying his enthusiasm when it came to fighting. After all, you were on a very important quest. Now wasn't the time to be entertaining such thoughts, like fun and what will happen after all of this? Now wasn't the time to wonder about Polnareff's multitude of lovers, the wistful wife no doubt waiting for him at home in France.

"What will you do?" You asked him the night after his agonizing encounter with the copies of Avdol and his dearly departed sister. "When all of this is over, I mean."

"I...I don't really know." He had been in a thoughtful mood the entire day, more forlorn than you had ever seen him. It broke your heart, just a little. "I'd like to see more of the world, I think." His voice was so soft, as if he didn't want to say anything at all.

"What places do you want to visit?"

"I'd like to see Niagara Falls." You knew you had him then, watching his body perk up ever so slightly. "I've heard so much about Canada. I have distant relations there as well. And then, I want to go to Florida!" Jean gushed. "No wait, perhaps Mexico or South America first, trek the Amazon and then make my way up the East Coast. Yes, that will do. But California, the vineyards, I must...how will I decide?!"

You were so thrilled at the return of his dramatic nature that you laughed aloud and threw your arms around his neck. "There you are. Thought I'd lost you for a minute." You murmured against Polnareff's jaw, the gesture oddly intimate for you. You heard Jean swallow convulsively and then he embraced you, holding you to his chest.

"Your friendship is such a precious gift, mon coeur." The large man whispered, his voice sounding slightly choked. "Whatever comes of us, know that this crusade will not be the end. I, Jean Pierre Polnareff, promise you that. We will see the world as it should be."

"A promise of such weight demands the proper gesture." You pulled back slightly and hooked your left pinky around his own. "The pinky promise of Polnareff shall not be broken easily, I warn you. If we don't travel the world, there will be hell to pay."

You didn't exactly have confidence in the fact that you would be returning from the tangle with Dio, so the promise was both simple and hard for you to make. Jean's smile in reply warmed you from head to toe, the sensation strange but not unwelcome. "I would have it no other way." He swore sincerely.

…

Your Stand vanished under the blow and you clutched the heavily-bleeding stump of your left wrist, all that was left where your hand had once been. You dimly heard Jean Pierre screaming (in what was hopefully rage, it was difficult to tell sometimes).

Despite he and Avdol's insistence that this fight was every man for himself, you couldn't just stand by and let Jean die to gain an opening at Dio. It was better this way, you reasoned while your Stand had flung Polnareff out of the range of the fiendish Cream Stand and into the range of Iggy's Stand. Polnareff has a better chance at getting Dio than I do, so I should make this count.

Your eyes had met Jean's seconds before Cream's void reached him, and you shot the tall man a shaky, battered smile. It'll be okay, you wanted to tell him, it'll all be fine. Iggy's Stand enveloped him, sand barely holding together as the small dog draped over your arm struggled to breathe.

Cream's void touch obliterated your Stand's left hand and you felt the pain down to your soul, dropping to your knees and almost immediately emptying the contents of your stomach.

Consciousness didn't stick around for much longer, the blood loss too rapid for you to staunch effectively on your own. You prayed that you had been useful even as your senses dimmed.

...

You didn't really expect to wake up, so realizing that sunlight was beating down on your eyelids was bizarre.

You tried to open your eyes, but gave up after a few moments and simply basked in the warm haze. This is actually kind of nice.

Your brow furrowed as you tried to recall what led to this. You were drawing a blank. Unconcerned, you hummed out a breath and shifted slightly on the soft surface you rested upon. Your left hand felt odd, heavier than you remembered and sluggish. But then again, your whole body felt heavy and sluggish. I wonder where I am, you mused, not exactly motivated to find out. It was as though thinking was a struggle.

A deep voice reached your ears, the words incomprehensible but soothing all the same. Someone seemed to be speaking in an area adjacent to your own. Were you in a hospital?

Curiosity started to penetrate the haze, and with it came the thrum of distant pain and a soft, insistent beeping. Maybe you had been in an accident of some kind, you must be in a hospital. That mystery solved, you tried to open your eyes again. You flexed your hands, first left, then right. Your left hand was definitely slower.

After a final, Herculean effort, you pried your eyes open and immediately summoned your Stand. It looked gaunt and frail when it appeared, as though a gust of wind might blow it away. The relief you felt at the familiar sight was short-lived as your gaze trailed down to the Stand's left hand. Or rather, where it had been. It seemed wrong, twisted in a strange way.

Egypt. Dio. The Joestar Crusade. Recollections poured back into your mind like a torrent, making your whole body go stiff. Your Stand touched their forehead to your own, making their customary sound as if to reassure you that they were alright.

"Where's…" Your words were muffled by the oxygen mask you wore. Where is everyone?

Your Stand, appearing thrilled to be out and about once again, practically lunged towards the door of your room. You had to close your eyes to fight the nausea at the abrupt motion, biting the inside of your cheek to choke back the bile.

You felt when your Stand reached the edge of your range and then, something careened past it heading in your direction. You sensed the displacement of the air and the door to your room suddenly burst open.

"Oh my God, you finally woke up!" It was none other than Joseph Joestar, his eyes brimming with tears. "We weren't sure if you were...I'm so happy!" He bolted towards the bed with the vigor of a man a quarter of his age, nearly crushing you in a tight hug. "The others need to know, I have to-"

The door to the room was having quite a busy day as two more bodies made their way through it. Both Kakyoin and Jotaro looked somewhat worse for wear (Kakyoin was so covered in bandages he bore a striking resemblance to a mummy) but at the familiar irate grunt of "Good grief," from the taller young man currently pushing the redhead's wheelchair, you got the feeling that they would be just fine.

Avdol sauntered in with Iggy slung over one shoulder, the black and white dog glancing at you and then yawning widely as if to say, "my work here is done."

"You're okay." Your voice was barely a whisper, tears welling up in your eyes. "B-But Avdol, I thought…am I dead? Did we all die?"

"I mean, the old man tried pretty hard to die on me but I wasn't going to let him get away with that shit." Jotaro growled.

"It is a bit of a miracle, the survival of Iggy and myself. All thanks to you and Polnareff, my friend. Due to your quick intervention, Jean Pierre managed to land the killing blow on Vanilla Ice and drag most of my body back from the abyss of his Stand." Avdol held up his gloved hands, showing you his arms bandaged to the shoulder. "My body has yet to reject the prosthetics, so with some luck I'll make a full recovery."

"Where is Jean Pierre?" You asked faintly, your strength waning. As if to answer, there was a loud crash from the hallway and someone was abruptly swearing a blue streak in French.

"He's not entirely used to the crutches, but he refused our help." Kakyoin explained hastily. "He should be here any second now."

"Speaking of prosthetics, how does your hand feel?" Joseph asked curiously. "Any pain? My hand took some getting used to."

"It's totally gone, isn't it." At the older man's nod you giggled, a little hysterical. "I'm scared to look. I don't want to see how much I've changed. My poor Stand…"

Polnareff interrupted your rambling by all but flopping through the doorway, half-supported by a weakened-looking Chariot. Both Stand and man lit up upon seeing you awake, Chariot waving wildly, and without thinking you raised your left hand to wave back.

You caught sight of smooth metal fingers responding jerkily to your brain's stimulus and that was all it took to make you go gray at the edges.

Does a pinky promise still count if the pinky that you promised it with is gone?

"Mon coeur, open your eyes! Please, I promise it's not so bad!" Polnareff's imploring words met your ears when you regained consciousness moments later.

"Five more minutes, have mercy on me." You groaned, not opening your eyes just yet. "Fuck. How long has it been since the fight?"

"Almost three weeks."

"Fuck. Did we win at least?"

"Holly is going to make a full recovery." Joseph said. You could hear the smile in his words and that gave you the courage you needed to open your eyes and finally look down at your hand.

"Fuck that's sore." You winced, the pain vibrant now as you moved your fingers individually. "I think I liked being out cold better."

"You were the last to wake up. We've all been so worried!" Kakyoin said, sounding relieved.

"Even Jotaro?" You teased, laughing when the aforementioned boy grumbled something in reply and Star Platinum appeared to loudly Ora!, as if contradicting the stone-faced teen.

Jean Pierre slotted himself into the space between your bed and the wall, his large frame almost too big to fit. Chariot chirruped at you while their user reached out slowly, so slowly to cradle your new hand in his own. For all his size and strength he was surprisingly delicate, his fingers feeling strangely warm to your overly-sensitive appendage. "As you may recall," He began quietly, glancing up at you before ducking his head again. "I made a promise. Once you are entirely well, we will...we have a lot of traveling to do if you would accompany me."

"I don't know if that promise still counts." You said before you could think, more than a little shocked that he had even remembered that promise. You wiggled your fingers haphazardly.

"We can make a new one if you wish." Polnareff was as serious as you had ever seen him, those blue eyes boring into your own. He raised your hand to his lips and kissed your bandaged wrist, the look on his face daring you to stop him.

You extended your metal pinky with a wince, letting him be the one to loop his finger around your own this time. The feeling of metal on metal startled you momentarily, but you recalled that he had lost two fingers to Cream himself. "I pinky promise. It'll give me something to look forward to while we're all recovering."

Recover you did, with a speed that you attributed to spite against Dio. The sooner you were healed, the sooner you would be able to leave that vampiric fiend in the dust he had become.

The sooner you would be able to journey with Polnareff, your brain felt the need to chime in gleefully. It made you flush more often than not, the idea of being legitimately alone with the large man. You couldn't recall a time during the entire adventure that the two of you had been alone, and you weren't certain why but it filled you with an odd trepidation.

Jean Pierre was not one to let simple things like the doctor said you need to be careful get in his way, the large man determined to recover as quickly as he could. His hand and thigh were healing up well it seemed, but his foot was slower going. They had been traumatic injuries and you tried to reason with him that it was expected, though it didn't seem to penetrate his thick skull. The doctors of the Speedwagon Foundation clearly had the patience of Job.

Polnareff lavishly praised your own recovery progress; his thrilled exclamation of Magnifique! when you managed to open a jar during physical therapy almost made all the pain and frustration worth it. You could only imagine how obnoxious it must be for someone as self-sufficient as Jean to be unable to walk without help, so you did your best to be just as encouraging to him when he seemed weary. Your terrible rendition of Hail The Conquering Hero never failed to put a smile on his face even while he slouched in a chair at your bedside.

"The worst part is how bone-tired I am." He admitted one evening. "All my energy is going towards healing and learning how to redistribute my weight and it is...difficult to stay positive when I truly feel how heavy my body is." Jean gave you a half-smile. "Who would have thought being the tallest and most muscular of the group would be detrimental to me in the long run, eh mon coeur?"

"Hey at least you've got that going for you. It took me a good week to be able to flex my hand enough to flip someone off again!" You complained, trying to get him to laugh. Jean took your metal hand, his expression unreadable. The doctors had been fine tuning the receptors in your fingers and palm, so his touch was no longer scorching. You wished that your face had gotten the memo.

"Don't think that I'll ever forget what you did for me." Jean's voice was soft, yet firm. It added a strange weight to the conversation. "I know you wanted to kill Dio as much as the rest of us, and you gave up your chance...no, your damn hand, to save me instead. I owe a debt I doubt I can repay and I will never forget that, mon coeur." He sighed, "So many debts to focus on! First Avdol, then Iggy, and now you. My life is forfeit I suppose."

"W-What does that mean?" You stammered, blurting out the first thing you could think of.

"What does what mean?"

"What you call me, mon kyar or something. I assume it's French?"

"It is."

"So...what does it mean?" You pressed after he was silent for several seconds. "You gonna' tell me?"

A knock on the doorframe interrupted the conversation, the nurse with your usual tray of food arriving right on time as ever. Jean Pierre was in such a hurry to leave he nearly bowled the poor man over, mumbling an apology as he hobbled past.

What the hell was that all about? You wondered as you ate your meal. If he believed he could avoid your question like that, he was dumber than you thought. What if it was a swear or an insult? You froze, thinking back to your original glass cannon nickname. The fork in your metal hand was bent nearly in half before you could stop yourself, and you spent several panicky seconds trying to flatten it back out.

…

Niagara Falls was first on the list of attractions. It was a poorly-designed list, of course, but you were still excited to see more of the world.

You supposed you were a hopeless optimist for believing that nothing untoward would happen to the two of you while embarking on your grand tour.

"Pose by the railing! I want to take your picture with that backdrop of the falls." Jean urged, laughing when you stuck your tongue out and curved your back into a weird-looking, hunched stance.

"How's this?" You asked, striking an even stranger pose afterwards and laughing along when his composure entirely dissolved. He staggered over to lean on your shoulder, still cackling, then his fingers wrapped around your non-metallic wrist.

"I need you to move with me." The mirth was abruptly gone from Jean's face though his smile stayed; his broad shoulders tensed like he was bracing for impact. "Don't make a scene. We're taking two steps back from the railing."

You giggled to keep up the illusion that the two of you were just sharing an intimate chat, nodding once and waiting for him to give you the go ahead.

A hulking, metallic Stand suddenly appeared overhead and plummeted downwards. Jean summoned Chariot without so much as blinking, your own Stand not far behind. The two of you sidestepped the enemy Stand's crushing attempt and launched yourselves back into the crowd of tourists, your smaller size allowing you to more easily make your way through throngs of people. Jean struggled to keep up and you grabbed onto his hand, no worry for propriety on your mind while you wove between the sightseers.

Someone's outstretched leg was almost your downfall but Jean heaved you bodily up into his arms and kept moving, setting you back on your feet without so much as breaking stride.

"I imagine they're still following us." He hissed, seeming annoyed. It had been overcast all day but now it started to drizzle. The crowd began to thin and you could feel Jean getting more and more anxious, trying to stick with groups that kept dwindling. He started swearing under his breath, his eyes darting around as he tried to locate the enemy Stand user.

Your own eyes landed on a corridor that led back into the visitor's center, and just inside the mouth of the corridor was a door beside a pay phone. No doubt it led to a maintenance closet or area of some kind, but it was cover all the same.

You opened your mouth to tell Jean your plan but before you could utter a word he grabbed your shoulder, ripping you backwards. The enemy Stand slammed into the ground where you had been standing, whirring loudly as it attempted to free itself from the cement.

Polnareff was actually shaking, the large man maintaining a death grip on your hand and making a mad dash for the door you had noticed. Chariot's blade nimbly took care of the lock.

The space was entirely too small.

Jean Pierre's chest heaved against yours, the Frenchman still panting for air from your headlong dash. Overhead Silver Chariot made sounds of distress, pressing their helm to your forehead while your Stand hovered worriedly.

"Ch-Chariot!" Polnareff scolded, waving his Stand back. "Non, Chariot."

His arms wrapped around you suddenly at the sound of running footsteps outside the door, and you felt the muscles of his thighs tense in preparation to flee. Your metal fingers dug into his shoulder and he winced, letting out a strangled noise.

"Sorry, sorry." You hissed, sure that you had accidentally left a bruise. Who would have expected Stand users to attack you even after the defeat of Dio?!

The footsteps paused outside the door and Jean Pierre's hold tightened even further, threatening to crush the breath out of your lungs. Whoever they were, the person appeared to be making a phone call with the pay phone on the wall by the closet.

"I don't know where they went. It's like them and their Stands turned the corner and disappeared into the rain." The individual said, sounding dejected. "Yeah, I'll head back."

Jean cautiously slid you down his body to rest on the floor, then pointed silently at the doorknob. The handle jiggled as the person on the other side began turning it, no doubt trying to be thorough before returning to whatever hole they crawled out of.

They didn't expect the enormous silver-haired Stand user to be the one behind the door, as evidenced by their horrified yelp. Polnareff slapped a hand over the man's mouth and dragged him into the closet, where both of your Stands were eagerly waiting to dispose of him.

...

Your damp clothes stuck to your body like they were vacuum sealed and you groaned, fidgeting with your jeans. Jean Pierre was in the same boat, soaked to the skin and doing his best to try and wring out his already-tight tank top. "It's no use, mon coeur. Let's find a hotel and see about getting dry." He said with a defeated sigh, offering you his arm.

It served you right for trying to do some sightseeing during a peak tourist season. Not a hotel in the entire damn city had a double room available, or even a twin and sleeper sofa combo! You wanted to scold Jean for his lackadaisical planning, but you figured from his deflated expression that he hadn't taken into account the fact that everyone else in the world was also on vacation.

"The best I can do for you is a room with one queen. I'm really sorry, sir, but with the summer traffic-"

"Non, do not apologize!" Jean hastily interrupted the woman behind the counter. "My companion and I appreciate whatever hospitality you can extend to us, and we thank you for your time. The fact that you found us a room at all is more than enough." He shook her hand while she went bright red and you barely choked back your giggle. Jean Pierre was a handful normally so he was entirely outrageous when he laid the charm on thick.

The room was small but the bed was clean, and that was really all that mattered to you. Polnareff began rummaging through his bag for a dry change of clothes and you took the opportunity to bolt for the shower. The air conditioning in the hotel lobby, while pleasant at first, ended up chilling you through your wet clothes. A nice hot shower would rectify that.

"Bath or shower?" Jean called through the door. In response, you turned on the showerhead.

You emerged ten minutes later, warm and sleepy from the long and strenuous day. Jean Pierre was waiting beside the bed, clothes neatly folded on the floor.

"You look radiant, mon coeur!" He teased, getting to his feet and chucking you under the chin. "Can you tuck yourself in? You seem ready to sleep standing up."

"Oh hush." You grumbled, batting his hand away and trotting over to your own bag. He laughed softly and you heard the bathroom door close behind you. You quickly dropped your towel and rummaged through your bag for a loose shirt and some clean panties, struggling into the garments as sleep dragged at your limbs. The bed felt heavenly when you finally stripped back the covers and climbed in, and even with the lamp on in the room your eyes grew heavy.

You snuggled a pillow to your chest and drifted off, stirring when you felt someone lay down beside you. Lips touched your forehead and Jean Pierre murmured, "only me, mon coeur. Go back to sleep."

You abandoned your pillow and slotted yourself into his arms, mumbling some gibberish while you buried your face in his chest. He was wonderfully shirtless and you took advantage of your drowsy, carefree state, uncharacteristically bold in your cuddling.

You felt more than heard his breath hitch, and then he was urging your chin up so that you would make eye contact. "Are you awake?" He whispered. "You are acting strange." You whined in reply and a breathless little chuckle left his lips. "So sulky! I will not deprive you of any more rest. Sleep well, mon coeur."

You dropped your head back onto his chest, his heartbeat thudding loudly in your ear. It was almost loud enough to drown him out when he spoke next.

"I could have lost you today, mon coeur." Jean breathed. "That Stand...it would have left you as a stain on the pavement. What a terrible thought." His arms wrapped around you and his chest expanded with a heartfelt sigh. "Unbearable, even. My heart stopped for just that second. I wasn't sure I would be able to move you in time. I wished for Jotaro's power then! What a ridiculous thing to do in the heat of the moment, no?"

Jean's hands were shaking, fingers rubbing light circles on your back.

"I couldn't breathe. I was trembling. Me! The idea of me fearing anything is preposterous. But I did. I...I feared for your life. I feared that I would lose you." He chuckled, the noise a little ragged. "What selfish fears I have, mon coeur."

…

After that, it was easier to find accommodations. The two of you could share more than a battlefield without killing each other, it seemed. It was only slightly mortifying to disentangle yourself from his grasp in the morning, seeing as you were always the first one awake. But it did offer you ample time to study his face all flushed and relaxed, so you decided that you could live with the embarrassment of knowing that you cuddled up to him in your sleep.

Or maybe it was vice versa? You usually went to sleep on the far side of the bed, and yet you always woke up with him holding you in his arms. As if he was seeking out your body heat in his sleep. It was almost enough to make you suspicious if you didn't secretly relish the lazy mornings before you were fully awake, just luxuriating in being held.

Jean Pierre was an enthusiastic if not entirely capable tour guide no matter where you went, though half the time he could be caught with notes written in Kakyoin's hand detailing the areas you were visiting. It would seem that the younger man had been essentially everywhere and had whipped up a few cheat sheets for Polnareff.

So the two of you saw all the sights you could cram in and then some, resulting in long days and sleeping like the dead.

Until one night. A fateful night, like the stories always said.

Your metal hand had been acting up through the day due to a changing weather system and it left you tense and anxious, unable to relax. You were plagued with the fear that you might have already broken your new hardware. The idea of having to cut your trip short due to your appendage not 'playing nice' soured your mood even further.

Jean Pierre seemed to sense your discomfort but not the source, the large man cautiously asking over dinner at a local cafe whether he had done something to upset you.

"Mon coeur, your eyes have lost that mischievous shine. Was it something I said?" He queried with a fair amount of concern. From their spot beside him Chariot reached out their saber, as if to also inquire. The Stand's mannerisms never ceased to be charming to you; they displayed a blunt inquisitiveness that was such an obvious facet of Jean Pierre it made you want to tease him. Their rapier rested delicately on the table, just to the left of your fingers.

"I just want things to keep working." You couldn't keep the annoyance out of your voice. Your hand twitched involuntarily, bumping Chariot's rapier, and you swore under your breath.

Jean Pierre definitely noticed that. "Your hand as well? My foot and hand have been ah, cantankerous all day. I thought I was the only one." He laughed a little self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know you can tell me about things like that, right?"

"I don't want to bug you." You grumbled, startled when his finger hooked under your chin and tilted your face up. He looked oddly serious.

"We've been traveling together long enough for you to know that you're never bugging me, mon coeur." Things had taken a strange turn. Were you blushing?!

"P-People always say stuff like that, but they never actually mean it." You floundered to answer him, the retort devoid of your usual wit.

"I mean it."

"Well I uh, I guess you're the exception to the rule, Polnareff. And the logical height restriction for hair, as always." Jean's expression was unimpressed. You went on to insist, "Look, it's not fair that you should have to listen to me whine just because you made a pinky promise."

"The only thing I've heard is genuine concerns. Perhaps it is your assumptions that need to change, mon coeur." Jean suggested, leaning forward just a little. "Who else have you engaged with? Who made you so willing to shoulder the burden of your fears and wave off help from anyone else?"

"No one, that's just how I've always been. I don't like bothering anyone."

"Bother me, I dare you."

"What if my hand never gets back to full speed? What if I'm stuck with a fidgety hunk of metal like Joseph, what if I can't fight anymore?!" You exploded, slamming your left fist down on the table. "What if I'm useless, Jean? What then?"

"Is that your chief grievance?" He was weirdly calm. Normally he was the one to get worked up and you were the one to rationalize him back down to Earth. You shook your head and Jean got to his feet, taking your metal hand after he paid the bill for the evening. "Come with me, mon coeur."

...

Once the two of you were back in your hotel room, Jean Pierre left you to sit on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom for a short period of time. When he reemerged, he urged you into the smaller room and you were faced with a bathtub full of bubbles.

"Get in, get comfortable, and call me once you're settled." His demands brooked no argument and you grudgingly stripped to get into the tub once he exited the bathroom. The bubbles were actually thick enough that they kept you from feeling too exposed and you blinked back tears at the realization that he had planned it that way.

"You can come back in, I'm decent." You announced after climbing into the small mountain of bubbles.

Jean returned with one of the folding chairs from beside the bed. He sat down, rested his chin in his palm, and fixed you with a stern look. "Speak."

"Just like that?" You huffed. Jean inclined his head, raising an eyebrow and simply waiting. "I'm scared, okay? I'm a big, scared, useless baby. I'm tired and I'm scared."

"What are you scared of?"

"The future, I guess. Nothing will be the same. A lot of times I wish I could go back…" You paused. "You would think after everything that we went through, I wouldn't be scared anymore. But I still am." You curled up with your knees to your chest. "I almost miss the Crusader tunnel vision, y'know? We didn't have the luxury to focus on anything besides Dio."

Jean sighed heavily. "If you had said something sooner, I...we all feel that way, you know that, yes? The rest of us were conscious and recovering while you were still wrestling with Morpheus. I would say we got a bit of a head start. Though Kakyoin and myself in particular struggled immensely, mon coeur. Kakyoin did not believe he was going to survive the battle with Dio. His wounds were...devastating." Polnareff glanced up at you, his eyes a troubled, stormy blue. "I, on the other hand, did not want to continue living with my survival built upon the sacrifice of my friends."

"Jean..."

"Avdol's arms. Iggy and Kakyoin's entire bodies, mangled and broken. Your hand. These were all prices I consider too high to pay and yet each one of you did what you needed to do without a second thought. It is...humbling." Jean chuckled mirthlessly. "Jotaro spoke with me at length about stopping his own heart in order to trick Dio into thinking he was dead."

"He did what?!"

"He had Star Platinum literally grab hold of his heart and stop it." Jean Pierre shook his head. "He's insane. Listen, the point is that we're all scared of the future. I didn't even think that I would have one, didn't dare to hope for one! I've been struggling adrift, trying to decide what I wish to do with my life now that the length of it stretches before me like so many miles of untread country road. Granted, the generous patronage of the Joestars and their Speedwagon Foundation has eased the difficulty somewhat. None of us will want for anything in this transitional period, I'm sure."

"Jean, I...I guess I got so into my own head I didn't think that anyone else could be having the same problems as me." You didn't apologize, and he didn't seem to expect you to.

"We were selfish as well, mon coeur, you cannot take the blame. I assumed Joseph would discuss things with you in private, but he must have been preoccupied with Holly's recovery." Jean's hands now rested on his thighs and you watched his metal pinky and ring finger jitter independently for several silent minutes.

"Thanks, Jean. For everything." You finally said quietly. Chariot appeared with a sound of glee, the Stand's deadly rapier raised in front of them in a perfect salute. "You too Chariot, of course!" You continued, laughing when the Stand began to preen. "I would never leave you out."

Polnareff had gone bright red at the enthusiastic antics of his Silver Chariot, the poor man sputtering in a way that was far too endearing, "Chariot, please!"

"Are you actually embarrassed, Jean Pierre? I never thought I would see the day." You teased. "You look dashing in red, I have to admit."

"You are so cruel!" He whined.

"Ha! After your little kink reveal during our quest, it's so funny to see you lose your cool over something this inconsequential."

"Kink?! Dirty talk is just...it's standard procedure in the bedroom! I hardly count it as a kink-"

"Surprise, you nerd, it's a kink." You carried on ribbing him, a massive grin on your face. "Not every kink has to be super weird or niche, you know. As long as it gets you off, it can be anything."

"How on Earth-" Jean Pierre began heatedly, his hands fisting in the fabric of his pants as he shifted forwards into 'debate position'.

"I mean, some people like when people dirty talk to them, but could never do it themselves. Or vice versa. People love that filthy stream-of-consciousness ramble. You've got the added bonus of being bilingual, so you could say a whole bunch of random words in French and I bet your partner would still be swooning!" You pointed out, unable to stifle your giggles at the flabbergasted expression on his face. "Do you like when people talk dirty to you in reply? Or are you always the one doing the talking?"

"I...I've never had anyone talk dirty to me." Jean's voice hitched slightly. "I do not...I'm rather large. With that comes the assumptions, you know."

"Well you do have a commanding presence, for better or for worse." The shake in his words threw you off just a tad. Was he upset with you? "Hey, I'm only joking around. If I went too far, tell me and I'll stop."

"Non! No, no, I just never thought about it." He admitted. "I mean, the process is…" Jean lapsed into muttering under his breath in French and your laughter returned with a vengeance. "Hush you! Laughing while I'm in crisis!" He complained, the wry grin on his face belying his words as he gave your exposed shoulder a gentle shove.

"You're so sweet, Jean Pierre. Under all that bravado, anyway."

"Sweet?! I am not--I am precise and fierce! Deadly, even!" He jumped to his feet, Chariot at the ready as he tried to pace in the tiny area. "I am a man of great skill and charisma and-"

"And you drew a bubble bath for someone so they would talk to you. Face it, you're sweet."

"I would...whenever she had a difficult day at school, I would run Sherry a bath and then sit and listen." At the mention of his late sister, your heart squeezed in your chest. You of course knew his whole sad story, but the reverent way he spoke about her never failed to spark a sympathetic reaction. She had been incredibly dear to him and, while he had dispatched her killer, it was obvious that the pain was still there. "It's a tactic that's served me well, though getting Jotaro in the tub is easier said than done." Jean tried to joke.

"You're ridiculous." You extended your metal pinky to him and he wrapped his own around it after a moment of hesitation. "You're also a good man, Jean Pierre. I envy the person you share your heart with in the future."

He stared down at you with his brow furrowed, then looked at your joined fingers. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but he simply sighed after a moment. His shoulders drooped. "Yes, of course. The future." He mused thoughtfully.

After you had gotten dressed for bed, Jean beckoned you close.

"Please, just let me hold you." His voice cracked at the end of his request. "No more talking." Confused at the vulnerability he was displaying, you obediently settled yourself into his loose embrace. Nothing about how he was touching you was improper, but you still felt a flush of heat on your face. Jean Pierre stared at the space over your head in silence for what felt like hours, his eyes distant and suspiciously glassy.

You brushed your fingers against his jaw and he flinched. "Hey." You whispered, "just me."

"Oui, it always has been." He replied cryptically, placing a kiss on your forehead. "I'll be alright. Thank you for letting me hold you."

"Trust me, the pleasure's all mine."

"You like being held, mon coeur?" He sounded startled.

"Only when you do it." You yawned, snuggling closer. "Anybody else'll get their ass kicked."

His hand was trembling when he cupped the back of your head and you felt the breath leave his body in a long, shuddering exhale. "Bonne nuit, mon coeur."

…

You woke before him, as ever, but this time you didn't leave Jean's arms. You just studied him from your vantage point, taking in every tiny detail. So involved were you in the play of shadows on his collarbone, it took him clearing his throat to realize that you too were being watched.

His eyes were barely open, still heavy with sleep, and you prayed that he wouldn't remember catching you ogling him. Jean didn't say anything, instead resituating you in his arms to better press your body to his own and burying his face in your neck. One powerful thigh slid between your legs and you were startled by the rush of heat you felt from such an innocuous motion.

That was nothing compared to when he groaned, his voice deeper than usual with sleep, "Tu es si jolie mon coeur." Large hands carded through your hair blindly. "Tu es si précieux pour moi."

"Jean?" You murmured.

There was a sharp inhale right next to your ear and then he drew back, looking befuddled. "I...what?" He asked drowsily. "G'morning, 'allo."

"Good morning. How do you feel?"

"Warm. Still tired." He tucked his face back into your neck, sighing. "Shh. Sleep."

"Jean, I-"

His body shifted as he stretched, pressing the rigid muscle of his thigh up in between your legs. You squeaked and that definitely got his attention. Blue eyes met your own, confusion evident on his face. Those eyes traveled down to the sheet over the two of you, and then they widened in comprehension. His own undignified yelp made you start to laugh hysterically, burying your face in his chest in a losing effort to contain your mirth.

After several tense seconds he started laughing too, peppering your cheeks and nose with playful kisses. "What a wake up call! I could get used to that." He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your nose again.

You tilted your chin at the last second and Jean's mouth landed on your own. He gasped against your lips, obviously startled but not recoiling. Hope flickered in your chest as his mouth stayed where it was, like he was frozen.

"If you want me to stop, tell me." He breathed finally. "I would like to give you a real kiss. I'm going to do so unless you tell me to stop."

"Why would I tell you to stop?" You whispered.

Jean's hands cupped your face, one thumb rubbing your cheek while he searched your eyes. You glared back at him defiantly and he looked torn between laughter and tears, finally closing the distance once more.

His 'real kiss' left you reeling, gripping his upper arms for support while he ravaged you with his mouth. Jean Pierre Polnareff always gave his all in everything he did, so you shouldn't have been so surprised. It was different when it was focused on you, though. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that, mon coeur." He murmured after he decided it was time for you to breathe again. "Feeling your body react to me is...it's incredible. Intoxicating."

"Holy shit," You said weakly in reply, "I guess you aren't all talk."

"The talk is the best part of me, mon coeur." His mouth brushed over your ear, making your whole body break out in goosebumps. "Everything else is just window dressing." You snorted and you felt him smile against your neck. "I love it when you do that."

"What, when I mock your attempts at being suave?"

"Non, can you really still call it nothing but an attempt when I can feel how your heart pounds in your chest?" Jean teased you, making you smile broadly and giggle with more than a touch of nerves. "I meant when you smile or laugh at something I've said. It makes me happy, knowing that I did this." He continued sincerely, brushing his index finger over your lips. "Knowing that I put this enchanting expression on your face...there's no greater prize for me, mon coeur."

You ducked your face into his chest, thoroughly flustered and mumbling denials. Jean pressed light, tender kisses to the crown of your head, letting you work up some resolve. Quickly, so that you wouldn't have time to panic and rethink your bold move, you darted up and planted a kiss squarely on his lips. Jean made a delighted noise, his fingers back to combing through your hair while the two of you shared a heated exchange.

"I feel like the luckiest man in the world." Polnareff's voice was nothing but a heartfelt sigh, his forehead touching your own. His smile was so wide it looked like it hurt, his joy barely contained. You smiled shyly up at him, your metal fingers curled into a loose fist on his chest. "Stay with me, mon coeur? I cannot guarantee you an easy or safe life, this much you know. I am selfish and headstrong and entirely full of myself, but I will do everything in my power to make sure that the burden of the power we share is a light one." He promised solemnly, his thumb rubbing over the knuckles of your metal hand.

You bit your lip in thought, looking down at your joined hands. His metal pinky hooked around your own in a sort of playful, teasing gesture. Remember when, it seemed to say. It made you smile again and you felt the tension go out of his body when you tipped your face back up and kissed the underside of his jaw. "I guess I could be persuaded to stick around for a little while." You allowed.

"Only a little while? Isn't there anything I could do to get your...attention for just a touch longer?" Jean asked hopefully, his hands starting to wander a little lower on your body.

You straddled his hips and sat up, cupping his face to keep his eyes focused on your own. "What does mon coeur mean, Jean Pierre?" You queried, your tone saccharine-sweet.

The large man actually squirmed, his face going bright red as you put him on the spot. It was quite possibly the cutest thing you had ever seen. "It is, er...it's a term of endearment." He choked out finally.

"Yes, but what does it mean?"

"I...It means…listen, I don't know if it's too early to be saying these kinds of things. Are you positive you want to…?" Jean's question seemed to die in his throat at the rapid nod of your head and the man heaved a long sigh, dramatically covering his face with his hands so you couldn't see his expression. "It means 'my heart'. Because I...I have loved you for a very long time. You have my heart--non, you are my heart. It is so silly, but I-"

"Oh thank God!" You erupted, probably startling him judging from his incredulous look. "I've been so worried it was another shitty nickname like Le Canon De Verre, you have no idea."

"Merde, of course not! I learned my lesson. You are...you are not upset that I have been calling you my heart, are you?" Jean mumbled awkwardly. "It is a common term, I can come up with something el-"

"Shut up. It's perfect." You took a deep, bracing breath. "I love you too, Jean."

"Are...you are serious, yes? If you are not, you don't need to say it back. I am a grown man, I can handle a little rejection." He insisted bravely.

"Yes, I mean it. God Jean." His embrace crushed the air from your lungs and you wheezed out a chuckle, smacking his shoulder. "Easy on the goods, Pol." Jean ran his fingers through your hair, tears in his eyes. "Don't cry Jean, c'mon." You chided with a grin.

"I can't help it! This is the happiest moment of my life!" He announced tearfully. "I love you so much! I have loved you since before you got angry with me! Maybe it was love at first sight?!"

"Maybe for you. Weirdo." You teased, rumpling his hair (much to his indignation).

…

He danced around the topic of being physically intimate for what felt like months. If the kissing sessions got too hot and heavy, Jean was always the one to calm things back down. At first it was mildly entertaining to be soothed and cooled off by such an irreconcilable flirt, but soon you began to wonder.

Does he actually love me or was that a bunch of talk? Does he regret the choice? Is he just trying to let me down easy? Does he feel indebted to me?

You would get your answer in due time. As with all things related to Jean Pierre, he demanded the perfect setup.

"I've been thinking." You started carefully one evening. "About us."

Jean immediately glanced up from his guidebook, looking almost guilty. Almost. "Yes?"

"I...Jean, you do love me, right?" All your tact went out the window, your confidence soon following. You just stood there, twisting the hem of your sleeping shirt while you tried to stop your lower lip from quivering and your words kept pouring out, "I just wanted to know whether you...um. Whether you want me. As in...well, sexually, I guess. We kiss and hold each other a lot but it seems like every time we would be getting to that point, you put the brakes on." Your fingers threatened to tear a hole in the thin cloth of your shirt. "I mean, it's okay if you don't! It's okay if you want to go back to the way things were. I promise I'll get over it. I don't want to lose you, even if it's only as a friend."

Jean snapped the book shut and lunged upright, his expression gone stony. With two strides he had crossed the room, opening his arms and enfolding you tightly in his embrace. "Mon coeur, my heart, my everything." He whispered into your hair as you sniffled. "I want to ravish you until I consume your every thought as you do mine." Your breath caught in your throat at his heated words. "I want to pin you down and give you everything, every last pitiful scrap of desire that I have for you. I didn't want to scare you, mon coeur, but I have such a voracious hunger for you and...and if you want me as well, you can have as much of me as you wish to take."

Jean pressed his forehead to your own and you took the liberty of mussing his hairstyle with glorious disregard, your fingers raking through his impeccably-styled tresses gleefully. "I want it all." You breathed. "The whole nine yards."

"God, I am so glad. I am so very, very glad." Jean said in reply, his voice sounding strangely thick. "I did not want to rush you. I am well aware that I have a reputation, and I do not know...how far is acceptable to you?" His hands hovered at the hem of your sleeping shirt.

Your answer was to untuck his tank top, gently easing the tight-fitting garment out of the waistband of his pants and shoving it upwards. Jean's body trembled at your touch, a sharp inhale leaving him when you boldly splayed your metal palm on his newly-bared abdomen. You stared up at him, loving how disheveled he looked with his hair askew and tank top hoisted up to his chest. "This is mine now." You said softly.

His moan and the helpless, adorable blush that accompanied his nod of confirmation was all you needed to continue urging him to shed his tank top. Jean did so hastily, clearly eager to show off more of his form. Distracted as you were by ogling him, you barely noticed his arms back around you until he lifted you up. Jean laughed aloud at your squeak, rubbing his nose against your own. "Wrap your legs around my hips, mon coeur." He purred. "Feel as much of me as you would like."

You were only too willing, greedily drawing your hands over his shoulder blades and pulling yourself as close as you dared.

Jean surged forward to close the space between you, nuzzling into your neck with an aching sweetness that was both foreign and familiar at the same time. "You are so beautiful." He said simply, making you flush and squirm a little under the attention. "I am so happy. So incredibly happy."

"Show me then." You replied with a mischievous grin, squealing a second later when he blew a raspberry against the skin of your neck.

Jean laughed again and moved to lay you on the bed, pulling away briefly to study you beneath him. "I can't believe that this is real." You wriggled out of your underwear when his fingers reached for the elastic band, already too excited to let him peel them off unaided. Jean lifted the hem of your shirt and touched it to his lips, the gesture reverent and teasing all at once. "Can I put my mouth on you, mon coeur? Will you permit me?" He asked softly.

"I am going to actually burst into flames if you don't." You admitted, getting the tall man to shoot you an unbearably cocky smirk. It was softened considerably by the wonder in his eyes, like you were the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

Jean urged your legs apart and settled between them, his smirk broadening further when he realized that your thighs were shaking slightly. You covered your face with your shirt, thoroughly embarrassed, but Jean tugged it back down. "Please, don't hide from me. Ne te cache pas de Jean, s'il te plaît." He implored you.

"You know I have no clue what you're saying." You replied breathlessly. Jean didn't bother to translate, lavishing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs with soft kisses and nips. You buried your fingers in his hair, none-too-subtly trying to guide his mouth to where you wanted it, but Jean wasn't budging. "Jean-"

The way your voice cracked seemed to fuel his fire, Polnareff glancing up at you with a dazed expression before he attacked your drenched folds with his skilled tongue. He was methodical and brutal, thumbing lightly at your clit while your body arched into the flat press of his tongue. Jean devoured you enthusiastically, making sounds you would have been embarrassed of at any other time had you not also been making highly embarrassing sounds.

"À toi, pour toujours." Jean gasped when you came apart beneath him, reaching up to fondle one of your breasts through your shirt. "Mon coeur, je suis amoureux."

"Y-You'd better not be saying something mean--" Your threat was ruined by how hard your breath was hitching, coming in shaky bursts as you rode out your orgasm.

Jean Pierre languidly shifted his weight until he knelt over you on the bed, pressing his fingertips to his mouth and then touching your lips. "I said, I'm yours forever, my heart, I'm in love." He replied, sounding a little breathless himself. "Too much, yes?"

"I said I wanted it all, didn't I?" Your rhetorical question hung in the heated air between your bodies for barely a split second, fingers already dragging at the buckle of his belt. Jean groaned low in his throat when you opened his zipper, revealing his cock trapped against his stomach by the waistband of his boxers.

"It seems to always be like this when I'm around you." He confessed, unable to meet your eyes and instead focusing on your hand rubbing him through his boxers. "Sleeping in particular is so difficult, mon coeur. Your body, warm and pressed against mine…but I am not some spoiled boy without an ounce of self-control. So I prayed for the dawn like a damned man. Prayed for the courage to tell you, the patience to wait." He chuckled ruefully. "To think you would outstrip me all the same."

"I think we've both waited long enough." You pointed out, feeling him rock down into your waiting palm.

Jean flushed a little, biting his lip as you slid his boxers out of the way and freed his cock. "Will you let me?"

"I keep telling you I want it all. I'm greedy for you, Jean, c'mon." You chided him, startled when he shook his head.

"It's not enough to say it."

"I guess I'll just show you I mean it then." Jean raised an eyebrow at your tone. You lunged up to kiss him, clinging to his waist as you ground your aching pussy against his cock. Jean actually growled, the sound reverberating in his chest while he eagerly reciprocated your grinding motion. "I want you, Jean. I want everything you can give me."

"Since you asked so nicely." Jean Pierre palmed your thighs and dragged you even closer to him, kissing you fiercely. His mouth dominated your own easily, your legs falling open for him as you welcomed him into your body.

Jean buried his face in your neck, panting for breath while you adjusted around him. Your calves quivered and jumped noticeably when he cupped them, shoving your knees up and over his shoulders to leave you entirely at his mercy. You whimpered helplessly, covering your face with your hands again.

"Mon coeur, my love, my everything, please don't hide from me." Jean begged, his voice ragged with desire. "Let me see you, let me know you."

"It's so good, I feel so embarrassed." You replied through your fingers, shaking your head.

"Why be embarrassed?"

"I...I don't know, really. I guess it's the way you look at me. Kind of like I'm being examined under a microscope." You mumbled.

Jean rolled his hips, settling his cock even deeper than it had been previously. Your lips popped open without your input, eyelids fluttering closed. "Do you want me to stop?" He whispered.

"You're so mean." You managed to sputter. "No, I definitely don't want you to stop."

"Are you not enjoying what I'm doing?"

"Oh my God, Jean-"

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about if you like what I'm doing, so what could it be?" Jean's smirk could have given the cat that ate the canary a run for its money, your continued pitiful attempts at indifference doing nothing but bolster his confidence. "Is it maybe...that you like what I'm doing, but you think you like it too much?"

"Polnareff-"

"My last name in bed, how formal of you!" He teased, coaxing an exasperated half-giggle out of you. "I have encountered this before, of course. I will tell you a secret." His lips barely touched your ear, eliciting a shiver. "No one else is here but us, mon coeur. Which means you are as free to enjoy me as I am to enjoy you. I understand that some moron before me has given you the impression that you should be silent or not enjoy this...delicious intimacy. Whoever they were, they were an inconsiderate, selfish liar."

"You are the first person to put your mouth on me. D-down there." You confessed.

He straightened up, looking absolutely scandalised and shrugging your legs off of his shoulders. "But you came so easily for me! Surely someone...no? No one?"

"Nope, not a one."

"Vile, inconsiderate selfish pigs." Jean lapsed back into French, grumbling under his breath and rolling his eyes. He then slid his arms beneath your shoulders, his large form effectively looming over you. You yelped when he picked you up bodily, hurrying to wrap your legs around his waist like you had earlier. "Relax, mon coeur. I won't let you fall." Jean promised, sounding amused. His cock twitched inside you, making you whine. "Oh, that's a lovely noise."

"You can't say stuff like th-at!" You tried to protest but your voice pitched higher as he settled you onto his hips, sheathing his cock to the hilt. He raised you slightly, then lowered you back down again. His careful, even pace was tortuous, your pubic mound pressed firmly to his abdomen while he slowly fucked his cock in and out of you.

"I will not go any faster unless you tell me how you would like it." Jean didn't even seem like he was struggling for breath. You, on the other hand, were gasping out with every thrust, your fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. "You have to tell me, mon coeur." You buried your face in his neck and he shuddered all over, laughing a little. "Is it too much? You are clinging to me so tightly."

"You are absolutely terrible." You muttered, taking a handful of his hair and roughly tugging his head to the side so you could mouth over his ear. Jean's breathing hitched when you finally bit his earlobe and shakily murmured, "please fuck me."

"Oh," Jean sighed, "I would love nothing more." When you arched against him he made a wrecked sound in the back of his throat, thrusting up to meet you halfway. "How could I ever not want you, mon coeur? Now that I've had a taste, I am drunk on you." He said it like it was normal, regular. Maybe to him it was. Maybe things like that came naturally to him.

You cupped his face, suddenly seized by a fierce tenderness that demanded to be expressed. "You're amazing." You choked out bluntly. Jean's eyebrows rose and he seemed genuinely surprised. "You're perfect. You make me feel incredible and you're so, so wonderful to me-"

Jean sputtered, now clearly bewildered. His flush reached the tips of his ears. He cradled you to his chest, helping you ride his cock even while he continued to silently color. "These things you are saying to me…" he breathed, sounding shattered. "You believe them?"

"Jean-!" You cried, resting your forehead against his. That appeared to be what he had been waiting for. You watched as his eyes narrowed and he bit his lip so hard the pink skin faded to white.

"You want it all? It's yours." Jean rutted up into you, stealing the breath from your body with the ferocity of his motions. "Every inch--every breath, every feeling I have, is yours. It's yours." His grip on your hips tightened when one of your legs slid down, the rough press of the large scar on his thigh grounding you.

"Thank you…" You barely had the presence of mind to speak, your brain hazy with ecstacy, but you forced the words out anyway. You laced your fingers through his hair and cried out again as the ache in your body blossomed, trying to come to fruition. "God Jean, I'm so close, please-!"

His laughter was a ragged, broken noise and he buried his face in your neck once more, feverishly pistoning his hips to bring you to climax. You raked your nails down his back when you finally came and Jean clumsily rushed to pull out, barely able to do so before he reached his own orgasm. Thick spurts of come landed on your abdomen, the large man's entire body trembling violently.

The two of you were all but gasping for breath, staring at each other while he tensed up and tried to stop shaking. "So…" you drawled after several awkward seconds. "That was phenomenal."

Jean lit up like a firework, quickly laying you down on the bed so he could lavish you with kisses. "Truly?!" He asked excitedly. "You're not just saying that, right? My feelings will not be hurt if I have room to improve, you understa-"

"Jean, I don't think I can move. My legs feel like I went on a hundred mile hike." You clapped a hand over the scar on his thigh. He was still trembling. "Are you okay? I know that must have been a lot of effort."

"I will be alright. I don't think I've ever come that hard." Jean admitted, grimacing as he slid a finger through the coating of his release on your stomach. "I'm afraid I've made a mess of…" He trailed off when you licked the substance from his index, his eyes darkening. "You accuse moi of teasing, mon coeur?"

"Well yeah, you're ridiculous." You stuck your tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry. Jean rolled his eyes and flopped down on top of you, making you wheeze for air. "Jean wait, you'll kill me-"

He raised himself back up on his elbows, one finger tracing a careful line down the bridge of your nose. "We should shower, no?" He suggested softly.

"We should shower, yes." You agreed.

"Come then, let's get cleaned up. And then we can sleep together. Wake up together." Jean's smile was beaming. "Like we should have been all these months, yes?"

You teared up a little at his sincerity, smiling back at him. "You got it, big fella'."

He didn't make a move to get off you though, continuing to study you. "You are so beautiful like this." It was almost as if he was talking to himself, his expression blissfully content. "I am truly the happiest man alive, even with my heart living outside of my chest."

"You are outrageous-"

"I cannot wait to outrage you every day for the rest of our lives, then. Though I may have to take it down a notch or two, at least until we've grown accustomed to one another." He kissed you, laughing into your mouth. "Your eyes are sparkling again, mon coeur. Are you exasperated with me?"

"Every second of every damn day." You huffed, trying and failing to fight your own smile.

"Wonderful. I would have it no other way."

#jean pierre polnareff #jean pierre polnareff/reader #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Stardust Crusaders #holy cow #this got so long #I had a lot of fun #behold my indulgence #I love one (1) giant french man #title taken from Queen because shit it's JOJO I have to #everyone lives au #I'm barely on episode ten of Golden Wind and I'm having a great time #I love JoJo so much #stardust crusaders spoilers

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