Youâre obsessed with me
Or Deanâs girlfriend makes a drunk decision without thinking how heâll reactâŚ
Some suggestive content but nothing crazy <3
The best ideas always happen at 1am. Said no one. Like, ever.
You blamed the combination of cheap tequila, loud music, and your three best friends encouraging you with the enthusiasm of people who wouldnât have to explain the consequences to their boyfriend afterward.
âDo it!â Allie shouted over the music.
Hannah was flushed and giggling âcâmon babydollâ
Jules raised her glass. âTo questionable decisions!â
You shouldâve known better, hell, even the tattoo artist asked three times if you were sure
You were absolutely not sure. So why instead of a resounding no, did the words, âyep, right hereâ leave your mouth.
You tapped your ribs. The artist let out a laugh. Or a sigh. Who can remember.
It wasnât fancy, it wasnât artistic but 5 minutes later there it was.
Dean Di Laurentisâs hockey number.
The number that now, thanks to several shots of tequila and a complete lack of judgment, was permanently inked onto your skin.
At the time, it felt romantic. The next morning, it felt catastrophic.
You stared at your reflection.
The throbbing head wasnât helping and neither was the fact that Dean was due back from an away game that afternoon.
You pressed a hand over the fresh ink hoping somehow when it lifted the numbers would be gone. Didnât work.
The gentle knock on your bedroom door came moments later.
âStill alive?â Hannah called.
The door opened anyway. She took one look at your face and bit her lip trying to hide her smile.
âThis isnât funny.â
âOh no of course notâ
âYou tattooed your boyfriendâs jersey number on your body.â
âOkay, well, it sounds bad when you say it like thatâ
âThereâs literally no way to say it that sounds normal.â She replied, causing you to let out a groan, head in hands.
Because she wasnât wrong. But the thing was Dean had changed. Before you, commitment had been a foreign concept to him. Heâd spent years charming his way through campus, never staying with one girl for very long. He was six flags for crying out loud.
Then he met you, and he fell fast. He fell hard.
Regardless of your year long relationship, a tiny part of you still worried. Shit. What if seeing his number permanently etched onto your skin scared him? What if he thought you were insane?
âSo when are you gonna tell him?â
âNever if I can help itâ
Hannah sighed, âthis is going to blow up in your face.â
You stared down at the tattoo. You hated when Hannah was right.
So naturally, you did the mature thing and avoided Dean. Not completely, but enough for him to notice
The first day, you claimed you had a migraine.
The second day, you said you had to study.
The third day, you suddenly remembered three months worth of errands that apparently couldnât wait.
Dean noticed immediately. Because it was you.
By Friday, heâd had enough. You were sitting in the library when your phone buzzed.
Dean: Then why have I barely seen you all week?
You: Busy. Like, super busy.
You stared at the message, practically feeling the burn of the tattoo.
Your heart squeezed as a chuckle escaped.
You: you were never a scoutâŚ
The response came instantly.
Dean: Me and Beau tried - never let us in for some reason
Dean: Tried though and thatâs gotta count for something
You: Iâll be there soon
You rolled your eyes but couldnât help the smile on your face.
Before you could even knock the door swung open and there he was. Grinning, eyes soft and looking at you like you were his favourite person in the world.
Before you could answer, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him pressing his lips to your head, breathing you in.
âYouâve been avoiding me.â He mumbled against the strands
âHave notâ you muffled into his chest. His shirtless chest.
You could practically see his eyebrows lift in your head.
âOkay, maybe a little.â
âA little?â He let out a breathy chuckle, âbaby, you practically vanished.â
Guilt twisted in your stomach, feeling you tense he pulled you inside and shut the door.
âSeriously. Whatâs going on?â
Nothing. Everything. A very stupid tattoo. You forced a smile.
He studied you for a moment. Early on, Dean had developed an annoying ability to see through your lies.
Your shoulders dropped in relief. Until he added, âyouâre staying tonight.â
âNope.âHe grabbed your hand, âyou owe me. Weâre making up for lost time.â
The way you missed Dean became painfully obvious in the next few hours. You missed the way he constantly touched you, the way he stole bites of your food, the way he made you laugh until your stomach hurt and the way he looked at you when he thought you werenât paying attention.
Like you were something precious.
Like loving you was the easiest thing heâd ever done.
By the time midnight rolled around, you almost forgot about the tattoo entirely. Almost.
It wasnât till you were lying together on his bed with his fingers tracing lazy circles along your side. Your heart nearly stopped.
Thankfully the number lay hidden under your bra strap.
He broke the silence, âI missed you,â he admitted quietly.
Your chest tightened and guilt lined your stomach.
He pulled you impossibly closer.
The softness his voice made your heart melt, because this wasnât the Dean everyone else knew. This wasnât the cocky flirt whoâd once been terrified of commitment. This was your Dean.
You tilted your face up, he met you half way. The kiss started slow, soft, comfortable. Your fingers slid into his hair and gave it a tug. The groan rumbled in his chest and the kiss deepened, him moving over you. When you finally broke apart, his lips moved to your neck. Down and down till his hands reached the end of your shirt pulling it off.
You could faintly hear it. The alarm bell ringing in your head. That was until his teeth grazed your hip and hands reached for your bra clasp. And suddenly all you could think was Dean Dean Dean.
You tensed and he pulled back.
You gazed up at him and he tried again.
Maybe if you told him now-
But before you could speak, he kissed you again and every coherent thought vanished.
You felt his smirk against your mouth and before you knew it your bra was flung across the room.
He carried on pressing kisses towards the line of your underwear teasingly slow.
And then he stopped. Because there it was in black ink, impossible to miss to the one person who knows your body.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
You squeezed your eyes shut.
Instead, his hands gripped your thighs tighter.
Then he looked at you, the expression on his face wasnât horrified, angry or even shocked anymore.
It was something far more dangerous.
Because Dean looked ridiculously pleased.
His grin widened and his eyes darkened.
âYou got my number tattooed on you.â
âPlease stop saying it.â
âYou literally have sixty-six on your body.â
âYouâre obsessed with meâ
âDi Laurentis I swear-â
He pressed his body against you, you squeezed your eyes shut feeling the warmth. He placed a kiss on your neck before his eyes dropped back to the tattoo.
âIâm getting it removed.â
âBabyâŚâ he groaned.
âI canât believe you did this.â
The words came out before you could stop them.
Dean immediately looked up, âhate it?â
You shrugged, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.
You frowned opening your mouth to reply.
âIt was definitely stupid.â He continued
âBut I donât hate itâ his grin returned.
âIâm absolutely not lying.â
âYou should hate it.â
âBecause itâs weird.â
âBut itâs also kind of hot.â
You nearly choke, âwhat?!â
âBabydoll Iâm fucking obsessed with you. Knowing youâre obsessed with me too? Fuckâ he dropped his head, âdoes it feel like I hate it?â He flexed his hips against yours as blush coated your cheeks and mumbled into your neck about never avoiding him ever again.
Until he pulled away and glanced down once more.
âOh my god.â You groaned
âYou keep looking at it.â
âSo do I have to get your name so we match or-â
He pecked your lips one more time
âLove you too babydollâ