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gildedsilk · 3 days ago

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“𝐍𝐨 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐫. 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐊𝐚𝐢” 𝜗℘ 𝐇𝐊.

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𓈒 coworker!kai X fem!reader 16k+ words fluff / suggestive / humor

ᝰ.ᐟ kissing skinship language mutual pining slow burn cuddling workplace teasing spicy tension semi-explicit make out

𝜗𝜚 𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ៹ Kai must hide his wings very well, cause he's genuinely an angel. I always imagine him as a kindergarten teacher cause he’s so sweet. I want to write longer fics like this, but that'd mean posting even less than I already do. Quality over quantity though !! This is my first time asking, but please feel free to comment, dm, or send an ask with writing advice, tips, suggestions, and feedback !! I’d really appreciate it. This is something I love doing and I’d hate to disappoint anyone with my writing, but I am still growing. Thank you 😊🤍. ALSO I know Hyuka isn’t easily scared- it was for the plot, ok ??

The first thing you learned about being a kindergarten teacher was that no matter how much you planned, no matter how many Pinterest-worthy classroom boards you put up, no matter how many sharpened pencils were lined up like little soldiers— the kids would always find a way to overthrow your regime.

Today was no exception.

You were crouched beside a five-year-old who was explaining, with alarming seriousness, why he believed dinosaurs still lived in the sewers when the sound of pure chaos came flooding in from the classroom next door.

Kai’s classroom.

A thud. Then a squeal. Then the distinct rip of construction paper being sacrificed to the void.

You sighed. “…Okay, but I don’t think a T-Rex could fit in a sewer, buddy.”

The boy squinted at you like you just didn’t get it. “Not a T-Rex. A velociraptor. Smaller.”

“Right,” you said, standing up. “My bad.”

And with that, you did what you’d been forced to do almost every day since the semester started: peek into Kai’s classroom to make sure he wasn’t being eaten alive by his students.

When you opened the door, you were hit with the sight of Kai—tall, handsome, entirely too gentle for his own good—being buried alive under a mountain of glitter.

Literally.

There was a girl on his back trying to braid his hair with pipe cleaners. A boy was standing on a chair beside him, proudly holding up Kai’s confiscated whistle like it was Excalibur. Half the class was sitting crisscross on the rug, coloring on the actual rug, and the other half was—well, you didn’t know where they were. That was concerning.

“Kai,” you said flatly.

He looked up at you with his soft, deer-like eyes. He had paint on his cheek and the warmest, most helpless smile. “Hey, Y/N,” he said like this was all perfectly normal.

You crossed your arms. “What happened?”

“They… uh…” He glanced at the girl still braiding his hair. “Got excited about arts and crafts?”

“Excited?” You raised an eyebrow. “It looks like they started a coup.”

The boy with the whistle blew it so loud you actually flinched. Kai clapped his hands weakly. “Okay, friends, inside voices—”

“NO!” half the kids screamed at once, like some kind of cult.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. This was going to give you gray hairs before twenty-five.

“Kai,” you said slowly, “you know they’re supposed to be in circle time right now.”

“They said they weren’t really feeling circle time,” he admitted, still smiling like it was fine. “And I didn’t want to—”

“Traumatize them by saying no?” you guessed.

He winced. “…Maybe.”

You exhaled. “Okay. Step aside.”

Within five minutes, you had the classroom back under control. The girl surrendered her pipe cleaner salon appointment. The whistle was returned to its rightful place. The kids were seated on the rug, whispering and fidgeting, but at least vaguely resembling order.

You stood at the front with your best teacher voice: “Alright, everyone, eyes on me.”

Twenty-four pairs of eyes blinked up at you. Kai sat on a tiny chair in the corner like one of the kids, looking vaguely impressed.

“Today,” you continued, “we’re going to do circle time. And do you know what happens if we don’t listen during circle time?”

A chorus of tiny voices: “What?”

You smiled sweetly. “We don’t get to play with the parachute at recess.”

The kids gasped like you’d threatened to burn down Disneyland.

And just like that—silence.

You dusted your hands off. “Good. Let’s begin.”

After circle time (which, miraculously, ended with everyone still seated and relatively quiet), you and Kai found yourselves in the teachers’ lounge. He was leaning against the counter, sipping chocolate milk from a carton like a giant elementary schooler himself.

You dropped into the chair across from him. “You’re a pushover.”

Kai almost choked on his milk. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You jabbed a finger at him. “Those kids run your class. You don’t run your class.”

He blinked at you, lips curving into that soft, sheepish smile. “They’re just… energetic.”

“They’re feral,” you corrected. “They were about two seconds away from unionizing and demanding snack time every hour.”

Kai laughed, shoulders shaking. “Okay, yeah, maybe they’re a little wild.”

“A little?” You leaned forward. “Kai, they don’t listen to you at all. You need to be more strict.”

He scrunched his nose. “But if I’m too strict, they’ll think I’m mean. I don’t want to be the scary teacher.”

“You won’t be scary. You’ll be… authoritative.” You made a dramatic hand gesture. “It’s about balance. Kind but firm.”

“Kind but firm,” he repeated like he was trying the words on for size. “That sounds… hard.”

You smirked. “Lucky for you, you’ve got me.”

He tilted his head. “…What does that mean?”

“It means,” you said, grinning, “I’m going to teach you how to not get steamrolled by a bunch of five-year-olds.”

Kai’s eyes widened slightly. “You’re going to… coach me?”

“Exactly.” You pointed at him like a drill sergeant. “Operation: No More Mr. Nice Kai begins tomorrow.”

He laughed again, soft and bright, and for a moment you were too aware of how pretty his smile was. He set down his milk carton and leaned closer across the table.

“…And if I fail?” he asked, eyes glittering with mischief.

You smirked right back. “Then I get to say ‘I told you so’ for the rest of the semester.”

Kai groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “What did I get myself into?”

“Free lessons in classroom management,” you said cheerfully. “And maybe… a little tough love.”

He muttered under his breath, “Emphasis on tough.”

But when you caught his eye, he was smiling again.

The bell rang, echoing through the hall, and footsteps thundered as kids poured out to recess. You grabbed your jacket and followed Kai out of the lounge.

The hallway was chaos, as always. Beomgyu was leaning against the doorframe of his second grade class, holding a stack of graded papers and grinning like he owned the place.

“Well, well,” he called, spotting the two of you. “If it isn’t our kindergarten lovebirds.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet. “We’re not—”

Kai flushed bright pink. “Beomgyu—”

Beomgyu waggled his eyebrows. “Sure you’re not. Totally believable. Completely.” He turned toward his classroom, shouting over his shoulder, “Soobin! Yeonjun! Guess who’s finally dating—”

You lunged forward. “We’re not dating!”

Soobin and Yeonjun appeared in the hallway like they’d been summoned. Soobin blinked down at you, looking confused but curious. Yeonjun grinned like Christmas had come early.

“Ohhh,” Yeonjun drawled. “This is interesting.”

Kai groaned into his hands. “Please no.”

Soobin tilted his head. “Wait. Are you?”

“NO!” you and Kai said in unison, which only made Beomgyu burst out laughing.

“Classic denial,” he snorted. “This is sitcom gold.”

Yeonjun slung an arm around Kai’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll make sure your love story gets the proper spotlight.”

Kai looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. You, on the other hand, were considering homicide.

“Don’t you all have children to supervise?” you snapped.

Beomgyu smirked. “Don’t you have a crush to confess?”

You threw your jacket over his face and stormed down the hall before he could say anything else.

Behind you, Kai jogged to catch up, still pink but smiling faintly.

“…Sorry about them,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You sighed, though you couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at your lips. “It’s fine. They’re idiots.”

He glanced sideways at you. “But… maybe not entirely wrong?”

You froze mid-step. “What?”

Kai’s cheeks flushed deeper. “I mean—uh—about me needing help in class.” He gave you a nervous laugh. “Not the other part.”

You blinked, heart doing a weird skip. “…Right. Of course.”

But for the rest of recess, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d hesitated before clarifying. ⸻

The next morning, you entered school with the grim determination of someone about to train a very tall golden retriever how to stop getting walked by five-year-olds.

Kai, of course, greeted you in the hallway with his usual sunshine smile and a cup of hot chocolate balanced precariously in one hand.

“Morning, Y/N,” he said cheerfully.

“Morning,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at him. “Ready for training?”

He blinked. “Training?”

“Yes. Training.” You crossed your arms. “Do you think Jedi just woke up one morning and were magically good at lightsabers?”

“…That’s not really the same thing,” he said, trying not to laugh.

“Don’t argue with me, Skywalker,” you shot back. “This is day one of Operation: No More Mr. Nice Kai.”

Kai chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

You dragged him into your classroom before his kids arrived. Desks pushed aside, a couple of plushies acting as “students,” and you standing at the front like a commander briefing their soldier.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” you said. “I’ll be one of your kids. You have to practice telling me no.”

Kai raised an eyebrow. “That’s… it?”

“Sounds easy, right?” You grinned. “It’s not.”

You plopped onto the rug, raised your hand, and put on your best “innocent five-year-old” face.

“Mr. Huening?” you chirped in a high voice. “Can I have three more snacks even though I already ate mine and stole Lily’s too?”

Kai hesitated. “Uh… snacks are only for snack time.”

“BUT I’M HUNGRY!” you wailed dramatically, stomping your feet.

His lips twitched, like he wanted to laugh. “You… can wait until lunch.”

You gasped like he’d betrayed you. “You’re so MEAN!” You fake-sobbed, throwing yourself onto the rug.

Kai’s eyes widened in panic. “No, no, I’m not mean! Please don’t cry—”

You stopped mid-wail, sat up, and pointed at him. “Wrong. That’s exactly how you lose.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “This is impossible.”

“Again,” you said firmly.

Twenty minutes later, Kai was red in the face from laughter and frustration while you lay on the rug in a dramatic heap, playing your seventh role as “Problem Child.”

“Mr. Huening,” you whined, “can I use thirty markers at once? And also scissors? And also set the hamster free?”

Kai pinched the bridge of his nose. “…No. Absolutely not.”

You perked up. “But whyyy?”

“Because—” He sat up straighter, puffing out his chest a little. “Markers are for drawing, scissors are for cutting paper only, and hamsters are for staying in their cage.”

You blinked. “…That was actually good.”

“Really?” he asked, looking like a puppy waiting for praise.

“Yes,” you said slowly, nodding. “You… sounded almost like a real teacher.”

Kai pressed a hand over his heart. “Wow. My first compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you teased.

Of course, all the roleplay in the world couldn’t prepare him for real children.

By mid-morning, you peeked into his classroom during reading time to see how he was holding up. At first, it actually looked… calm. Kids sitting with picture books, Kai gently reminding them to use “library voices.”

You almost felt proud.

Then you heard it.

“Mr. Huening! He’s EATING the book!”

Your head whipped around. Sure enough, one of his students was chewing on the corner of Green Eggs and Ham like it was a Pop-Tart.

Kai froze. “Um—hey, buddy, books aren’t for eating—”

The boy giggled with his mouth full of paper. “But I’m hungry!”

Kai’s panic face was back. You could practically hear the dramatic sitcom sound effect.

You stepped into the room, crossed your arms, and mouthed: Do it. Say no.

Kai swallowed nervously, then crouched down to the kid’s level. “…No. You can’t eat books.”

The boy pouted.

“You’ll get a snack later,” Kai added, voice steadier this time. “But right now, books are for reading. Not eating.”

To your surprise, the kid spat out the paper scrap, shrugged, and went back to reading like nothing happened.

Kai looked up at you in shock, eyes wide.

You mouthed: See?

For a second, you swore his grin was almost… proud.

⸻

At lunch, you sat across from him again in the lounge. Taehyun, Beomgyu, Soobin, and Yeonjun were already there, eating like it was a sitcom live audience waiting for the next punchline.

“So?” you asked Kai, sipping your juice box. “How’d it feel?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling shyly. “Honestly… kind of good. I didn’t think it would work.”

“It worked because you actually sounded like you meant it,” you said, pointing a carrot stick at him. “Confidence is half the battle.”

Beomgyu leaned in. “What battle are we talking about? Did Kai finally win against his tiny army?”

Kai groaned. “Don’t start—”

Yeonjun gasped dramatically. “Wait, is this about the training program?”

Soobin blinked. “Training program?”

You tried to wave it off. “It’s nothing—”

“Y/N’s teaching me to be stricter,” Kai admitted sheepishly.

The four other teachers exchanged looks like this was the best entertainment they’d had all semester.

Beomgyu slapped the table. “Oh my god. This is a rom-com.”

Yeonjun pointed at Kai. “She’s your drill sergeant, you’re her hopeless trainee—”

Soobin added, “Next episode: they fall in love.”

Taehyun couldn’t be bothered to comment, but his face said it all.

Your face went hot. “We are NOT in a rom-com!”

Kai, equally red, muttered, “Please stop narrating our lives.”

Beomgyu grinned. “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”

⸻

That afternoon, you and Kai were both on recess duty. The kids were running wild across the playground, and you stood by the slide while Kai manned the swings.

You noticed, with a little smile, that he was actually being firmer—counting turns, reminding kids to wait patiently, even telling one to stop digging a hole that was starting to look suspiciously like an escape tunnel.

When you walked over, he flashed you a grin. “How am I doing, coach?”

You smirked. “Not bad, rookie. I’d give you a solid B+.”

“B+? After all that?” He clutched his chest dramatically. “You’re a tough grader.”

Before you could reply, one of the kids on the swings shouted loud enough for half the playground to hear:

“MR. HUENING, DO YOU LIKE MS. Y/N?”

You froze.

Kai’s face went crimson. “W-What?!”

The kid pumped his legs higher. “Because you smile like THIS when she’s here!” He made the goofiest lovestruck face you’d ever seen, tongue sticking out for dramatic effect.

The rest of the kids giggled, chanting, “Mr. Huening likes Ms. Y/N! Mr. Huening likes Ms. Y/N!”

You buried your face in your hands. Kai looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“I swear I didn’t tell them that!” he sputtered.

You peeked at him through your fingers, unable to stop laughing. “Oh my god, you’re so doomed.”

His groan was drowned out by the chant echoing across the playground.

And that was the beginning of Kai’s reputation among the student body: not just the nice teacher, but the teacher with a crush.

For the rest of the day, you caught him sneaking glances at you every so often, his ears still pink.

And, maybe, just maybe—you didn’t mind. ⸻

The teachers’ lounge was never quiet.

You’d learned quickly that lunchtime wasn’t so much a break as it was an episode of reality TV: Yeonjun dramatizing his morning like he was auditioning for a telenovela, Beomgyu providing background commentary, Soobin sighing into his sandwich like a weary sitcom dad, and Taehyun… well, Taehyun usually sat in the corner judging everyone with razor-sharp one-liners.

Today, however, you barely made it through the door before Yeonjun zeroed in on you and Kai like a heat-seeking missile.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the star-crossed duo,” he purred, leaning against the counter with his coffee. “How was playground duty yesterday? I heard there was… chanting.”

Kai nearly tripped over a chair. “Y-You heard about that?”

Beomgyu smirked. “The whole school heard about that. Kindergarteners are basically gossip columnists with juice boxes.”

You shot them both a glare. “Don’t you two have lives?”

“Nope,” Beomgyu said cheerfully.

“Not when there’s free entertainment like this,” Yeonjun added.

Kai sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. His ears were pink already. You sat beside him, patting his back. “Don’t worry. They’ll get bored eventually.”

Yeonjun tilted his head. “Or they’ll keep chanting until you two cave and start dating for real.”

Kai choked on his chocolate milk.

In an attempt to steer the conversation away, Soobin decided to heat up his leftovers. Unfortunately, Soobin was cursed with the motor skills of a newborn giraffe.

One second he was walking back to the table, the next—splat.

His entire container of spaghetti tipped forward, directly onto Kai’s lap.

The whole room froze.

Kai sat stiffly in his chair, noodles sliding tragically down his khakis. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, like his brain had left his body.

“Oh my GOD,” Soobin gasped, horrified. “Kai, I’m so sorry—”

Yeonjun cackled so loudly he almost fell over. Beomgyu was already pulling out his phone.

You shot up. “Don’t even think about taking a picture!” you snapped at Beomgyu.

He pouted. “But it’s historical documentation!”

Ignoring him, you grabbed a stack of napkins and crouched beside Kai, dabbing frantically at his thighs.

“Stay still,” you ordered, patting at the sauce stains.

Kai’s whole body went rigid. “…Y-Y/N—”

“Shh. I’ve got it.” You were leaning in close now, focused on blotting the mess. You didn’t notice the way his breath hitched every time your fingers brushed against his leg.

The room had gone suspiciously quiet. When you glanced up, Yeonjun and Beomgyu were staring at you with identical smirks, and even Taehyun was raising an eyebrow from his corner.

That’s when you realized how this looked.

You froze, still kneeling between Kai’s knees with your hand dangerously high on his thigh, both of you flushed to your ears.

“…I’ll, uh—go get water,” you stammered, springing to your feet like the floor was on fire.

Behind you, Beomgyu whispered (not quietly at all), “That was the most action Kai’s gotten in his life.”

Kai groaned into his hands again.

⸻

Later that afternoon, you and Kai found yourselves alone in the lounge. You’d both lingered after everyone else left—him to finish grading, you to fix a bulletin board project.

You were reaching for a stack of construction paper on the top shelf when you realized, too late, that you were too short.

Your fingers brushed the edge uselessly. You huffed in frustration.

“Need help?”

You looked back to see Kai standing behind you, smiling.

“I’ve got it,” you insisted, stretching onto your tiptoes. The paper wobbled, teetered, and then—

Kai stepped forward, pressing in close behind you, and plucked the stack effortlessly from the shelf.

Your breath caught. You hadn’t realized just how tall he was until he was right there, chest nearly brushing your back, warmth radiating off him.

He handed you the paper, eyes sparkling with amusement. “There.”

“…Thanks,” you mumbled, cheeks warm.

But when you tried to move away, you realized you were stuck. Literally.

Kai had shifted closer without realizing, and now the counter was in front of you while his arm was braced against the shelf, boxing you in.

Your heart raced. You could feel his breath near your ear, soft and hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should step back.

“Uh,” you said weakly. “You’re… kinda blocking me.”

Kai blinked, startled, and immediately jumped back, ears flaming red. “S-Sorry! I didn’t mean—“

You laughed nervously, clutching the paper to your chest. “It’s fine. Really.”

But the air between you still buzzed, charged with something unspoken.

The next morning, Taehyun cornered you in the hallway like a prosecutor with damning evidence.

“You like him,” he said flatly.

You nearly dropped your stack of worksheets. “Excuse me?”

Kai appeared down the hall, fumbling with a pile of finger paints. The moment you looked at him, Taehyun smirked.

“See? That face. That’s the face of someone in denial.”

“I am not—”

“Yes, you are.” He crossed his arms. “And for the record, he likes you back. Painfully obvious.”

You sputtered. “He—what?”

“Trust me,” Taehyun said, deadpan. “I sit next to him during planning periods. He sighs your name like a middle schooler with a crush.”

Your face burst into flames. “He does not—”

Kai, noticing you both, waved from down the hall. “Y/N! Do you have more glue sticks?”

Taehyun smirked. “Yep. Definitely sighs.”

You wanted to sink into the linoleum.

⸻

By the end of the week, the staff room was buzzing again. Yeonjun, always the ringleader of chaos, was plotting a “staff bonding movie night.”

“Think about it,” he said, leaning dramatically over the table. “Snacks. Laughter. Friendship. And maybe a little romance.” His eyes flicked between you and Kai.

Kai choked on his juice box.

“Absolutely not,” you said.

“Absolutely yes,” Beomgyu countered. “This is fate.”

Soobin sighed. “As long as we don’t watch something scary. I don’t do scary.”

“Perfect,” Yeonjun declared. “Scary movie marathon it is.”

Soobin groaned into his sandwich.

But your stomach dropped for a different reason—because the thought of sitting in a dark room next to Kai, close enough to feel the warmth of his arm, sent your heart racing in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

And just like that, the next step in Operation: No More Mr. Nice Kai wasn’t about classroom management at all.

It was about surviving movie night… without completely giving yourself away. ⸻

Parent-teacher conferences were the worst part of the job.

You loved teaching, you loved your kids, you even loved the smell of fresh crayons in the morning—but sitting across from parents who wanted to know why their child had bitten three classmates in a single week? Not so fun.

By mid-afternoon, you were running on fumes. One dad had asked if he could “just take the class hamster home permanently because his kid liked it,” and another mom had demanded to know why her daughter wasn’t already reading War and Peace at age five.

Across the hall, Kai was faring no better. You caught glimpses of him through his door between sessions—smiling nervously, nodding too much, clutching his notes like they were a lifeline.

At one point, he mouthed to you through the crack in his door: help.

You mouthed back: be firm.

He made a face like a kid who’d just been told to eat his vegetables.

By the end of the evening, you collapsed into a chair in the staff lounge, your head hitting the table. “If one more parent tells me their child is ‘gifted’ because he can count to twenty,” you groaned, “I’m quitting to become a barista.”

Kai sank into the chair beside you, equally exhausted. “At least they didn’t ask you if glitter consumption is dangerous.”

You lifted your head. “…Someone asked you that?”

He nodded solemnly. “Three times.”

Despite your exhaustion, you burst out laughing. His smile softened as he watched you, the stress lines easing from his face.

“Hey,” he said gently, “you were amazing today. I heard you with that mom who wanted her kid to skip kindergarten—smoothest ‘no’ I’ve ever heard.”

You smirked. “Thanks. And you—” you poked his arm “—actually said no three times without apologizing.”

He gasped dramatically. “You were counting?”

“Of course,” you teased. “I’m your coach, remember?”

He grinned, eyes warm. “Best coach I’ve ever had.”

And suddenly, the exhaustion didn’t feel so heavy.

⸻

By some miracle, Yeonjun had actually managed to organize the infamous staff bonding movie night. He and Beomgyu had turned the lounge into a makeshift theater—blanket piles on the floor, a projector balanced on a stack of textbooks, and enough snacks to feed an entire marching band.

Soobin sat stiffly in the corner with his arms crossed. “I’m not watching anything with ghosts.”

“It’s not ghosts,” Yeonjun said smoothly. “It’s just… spirits.”

Soobin glared.

Taehyun rolled his eyes, settling onto a beanbag. “This is going to be stupid.”

You arrived with Kai, both of you still in work clothes, and immediately regretted not bringing pajamas like Beomgyu had. He was lounging in sweats like he lived there.

“Front row seats!” Yeonjun called, patting the blanket beside him.

But somehow, you and Kai ended up tucked into a corner of the couch, sharing a blanket someone had tossed over. Probably Soobin’s. Neither of you dared question it.

It started fine. Cheesy jump scares, predictable suspense music—you rolled your eyes at most of it.

But Kai?

Kai was a wreck.

Every time the music built, his grip on the blanket tightened. When the first jump scare hit, he yelped loud enough to make Beomgyu choke on his popcorn.

You tried not to laugh. “Are you seriously scared right now?”

He glared, cheeks pink. “It’s loud!”

“Uh-huh.” You smirked. “Want me to hold your hand?”

You meant it as a joke. Mostly.

But Kai went even redder, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “…Maybe.”

Your heart skipped.

So you slipped your hand into his. Warm. Big. Slightly sweaty.

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours.

Yeonjun noticed instantly. His grin was evil. But for once, he didn’t say anything—just whispered something to Beomgyu, who snickered.

You ignored them, focusing on the movie. Or trying to.

Because halfway through, another scare hit—this time a genuinely creepy one—and Kai flinched so hard he practically lunged toward you.

The next thing you knew, he was half-curled into your side, arm brushing yours, face buried against your shoulder.

The room erupted in laughter.

“Oh my god,” Beomgyu wheezed. “The kindergarten teacher needs a babysitter.”

“Shhh,” Yeonjun hissed gleefully. “This is romance!”

You ignored them, frozen in place, your pulse racing. Slowly, you adjusted the blanket so it covered both of you more snugly.

Kai peeked up at you, embarrassed. “Sorry…”

You smiled softly. “It’s okay.”

And for the rest of the movie, he stayed close.

⸻

When the credits finally rolled, Soobin bolted upright. “That’s it. I’m sleeping with the lights on tonight.”

Taehyun shook his head. “You’re hopeless.”

Yeonjun was already plotting. “Next time, rom-com marathon. For research purposes.”

“Research my ass,” Beomgyu muttered.

You stood, stretching, but Kai lingered by your side, still flushed. When the others drifted out, he tugged at your sleeve.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You turned. “…Yeah?”

His eyes searched yours, hesitant but full of something that made your chest ache. “Thanks. For… y’know. Not making fun of me.”

You smiled, teasing lightly. “Who says I won’t tomorrow?”

He laughed, then grew quieter, more serious. “…Still. You make things feel… easier.”

The way he said it made your stomach flip.

You swallowed, suddenly shy. “…You’re doing better than you think, Kai.”

For a moment, the air between you felt charged again, like in the lounge yesterday. Close enough that you thought—maybe—

“Y/N! You coming?” Yeonjun’s voice echoed from the hall.

You jumped back, breaking the moment. Kai scratched the back of his neck, ears red.

“…See you tomorrow,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “See you.”

And as you walked out, you couldn’t stop smiling.

⸻

The kindergarten hallway was louder than usual.

End-of-year energy had officially hit, and the kids were buzzing like soda cans shaken one too many times. Even your usually calm class had been bouncing off the walls all day, and from the noise spilling out of Kai’s room, his kids weren’t any better.

You poked your head in just in time to see a boy standing on Kai’s desk, waving a glue stick like a sword.

Kai’s jaw clenched. For once, instead of laughing nervously or pleading, he straightened up, voice steady.

“Down. Now.”

The kid froze.

Kai’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it left no room for argument. Slowly, the boy stepped off the desk. The rest of the class quieted too, watching their sweet teacher suddenly radiate authority.

You blinked in surprise.

He’d… actually done it.

Kai glanced up at you, the faintest grin tugging at his lips, like he knew you’d seen.

And for the first time all year, the chaos in his room simmered down—not because the kids walked all over him, but because they’d finally listened.

By the time dismissal rolled around, you were exhausted. You stayed late to tidy your room, but when you stepped into the hall, most of the teachers were already gone. The place was quiet, the kind of quiet that only happened after hours.

Except—Kai’s door was still cracked open, light spilling out.

Curious, you peeked in. He was at his desk, head in his hands, stacks of construction paper around him. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up, hair a little messy from the long day.

And god help you, he looked unfairly good like that.

“You survived,” you teased, stepping inside.

His head lifted, and when he smiled at you, it was softer than usual. “Barely.”

You leaned against the doorway. “I saw you earlier. You actually told them no. No apologies, no panic. Just… firm.”

He ducked his head, shy but proud. “Guess I learned from the best.”

The way he said it—quiet, almost reverent—made warmth flood your chest.

You stepped closer. “I’m proud of you, Kai.”

He looked up, eyes locking on yours, and something shifted in the air.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, heavy with everything unsaid over the past months—every teasing smile, every lingering glance, every brush of hands.

Kai stood, rounding the desk until he was in front of you. He hesitated, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Y/N…” His voice was low, uncertain. “Can I—can I be honest with you?”

Your pulse quickened. “…Always.”

He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been trying to say this for weeks, but I—I’m terrible with words. And you…” His eyes flicked over your face, soft and desperate all at once. “You make it so hard to keep it in.”

You swallowed. “Keep what in?”

He leaned in just slightly, his breath brushing your cheek. “…How much I want you.”

The words hit you like a spark to kindling.

Before you could overthink, you grabbed his tie, pulling him down into a kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It was months of tension, of sidelong glances and stolen moments, crashing into each other at once. He kissed you back instantly, hands finding your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You stumbled backward, hitting the edge of his desk. Papers slid to the floor as he lifted you onto it, stepping between your knees.

“Kai—” you gasped against his lips, breathless.

He pressed his forehead to yours, voice low and rough. “Tell me to stop if this is too much.”

You shook your head, tugging him closer by his shirt. “Don’t you dare stop.”

That was all he needed. His mouth found yours again, hungrier this time, hands splayed against your hips like he couldn’t bear to let go. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling a soft groan from his throat that made heat curl in your stomach.

The desk creaked beneath you as he deepened the kiss, tilting your chin up, tasting every shaky breath you gave him.

For once, Kai wasn’t shy or hesitant. He was sure, steady—finally letting go.

And you realized with a rush that maybe this was what you’d been waiting for all along.

Eventually, you pulled back just enough to breathe, both of you flushed, lips swollen, hearts racing.

Kai cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing your skin. His eyes were earnest, vulnerable.

“I meant it,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted this. You. For so long.”

Your chest tightened, overflowing with something that felt dangerously close to joy.

“I’ve wanted you too,” you admitted softly.

His smile broke across his face, pure and unguarded, and he kissed you again—slower this time, tender, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

And in that quiet, empty classroom, surrounded by crayons and finger paints and the faint smell of glue sticks, Huening Kai finally stopped being the pushover teacher.

He was yours.

𝜗𝜚 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 ៹ @myhomesoob @beomluvverse @hyunj00 @ayoitsyagirlx @kaisdefender @tyunningism @pengningie @yolkrice @johnduh127 @hanjisrightearwax @giogiobb @sapphicfujo @mintyloveshuyka @chbq2 @auxtmn @sanscupid @bambiihee

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zevrra · 2 days ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄 𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

𓈒⟡𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: chap 1. ⟡

𓈒⟡𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩: the apocalypse is a strange thing. on day one, everything is chaotic and falling apart. the next, you’re surviving with nothing but the clothes on your back. now you and your father, after countless years of moving from one place to the next, have settled down in jackson, wyoming. where your father has integrated nicely and has become good friends with the millers. meanwhile, you’re still adjusting to the cold…but with a little help, maybe you’ll eventually get used to it.

𓈒⟡𝐟𝐭. dbf!jackson!joel miller x fem!reader

𓈒⟡𝐰𝐜. 6.4k

𓈒⟡𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: mdni, nsfw, large age-gap, joel is in his 50s, reader is mid 20s, reader is a substitute teacher in jackson, alcohol use, no use of y/n, pet names are used in place of it, sexual tension, making out, public sėx, secret sėx, forbidden love(if you squint ofc), mutual håndjob, both m & f receiving, cursing, joel is and always will be a gentleman.

𓈒⟡𝐚/𝐧: told myself to stick with shorter fics for the sake of my muse…and here i am, planning a multi part dbf series like a fool…yall better love this the way i do jshskhk <3

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

You had lived in Jackson for a couple of months now and you still weren’t adjusted to the cold. When you had arrived in Wyoming with your dad, it had been Spring. A little chilly in the mornings, but nice by the afternoon. Plus, the summer was bearable as well— not overly horrible and the heat was manageable, even for the apocalypse. Fall was similar to Spring, chilly in the mornings but warmer in the afternoons…till about October. And ever since then, the cold chill of Jackson was harsh.

It snowed the very first day of November and hasn’t stopped since. Most mornings you wake up to snow, clear up to your shins. But what you really hated was how the chill seeped into everything, no matter the layers you wore or the extra socks you bargained for. Some days, you think you’d never get used to the cold.

“Hey kid!” a familiar voice calls to you, interrupting your daily “I hate the cold” monologue.

You turn to look at your father, the only other remaining family you had left in this fucked up world, as he walks back from the stables. He had just gotten off patrol while you were heading off to your own job at the school; where you were a substitute for a couple of the children’s classes.

The only other thing that you would never get used to while staying in Jackson, besides Winter, would be seeing the Millers.

Joel walks with ease right behind your father. The two had been scheduled for a morning patrol but that was normal. It was often that you, or anyone around Jackson really, saw them together. If Joel wasn’t with Tommy, he was certainly around your father and vice versa; if Joel was nowhere to be found, your father and Tommy were most likely tucked away in the Tipsy Bison. All three of them had become best friends since you and your father had arrived at the settlement and it was very obvious to anyone and everyone who lived inside of Jackson that they got along.

“Hey,” you answer back, waving just a little as your father and Joel come to stand before you. “How was the patrol?”

Your father laughs, playfully patting Joel on the shoulder at your question. “This old man fell asleep an hour into it.”

Joel cracks a smirk, knocking off your father’s hand. “Easy. You ain’t so far from this age too, ya know.” Joel responds to your father before glancing in your direction. He clears his throat, as if he’s suddenly remembered you were there and that he has a “tough guy” act to keep up. He drops back to his usual nonchalant manner, tipping his head in your direction. “Miss.” He greets you— calm, cool, and collected.

You were anything but.

“You headin’ to the school?” Joel asks, adjusting and shifting the guitar strap he wears further up his shoulder. Something else you’ve never seen him without.

You nod your head back towards Joel, picking at the seam of your coat arm.

You didn’t exactly have the most innocent thoughts about Joel. Guys your age were cute, sure, but Joel was just something else. He was fucking beyond handsome. From his good looks— the dark eyes, the gray hair, the strength he carries himself with— to his personality. He was charming. In his own quiet way, of course. But he was also a gentleman who had helped you and your father from day one. And thanks to that, you certainly had more than a few dreams involving Joel; dreams that would make the average person blush.

“Look at my daughter, all grown up! Being a good person, teachin’ the kids and shit.” Your dad fake sobs. Large crocodile tears threaten to fall as he lays a heavy hand on your shoulder.

You give him a sideways glance, shrugging off his hand. “I’m not 12, dad.” You sigh yet let him fix your coat up, since he’s the one who messed it up. “But yes, I’m heading to the school now. Their teacher is out sick this morning.”

Your dad, still pretending to cry about the growth spurt you’ve had for more than a decade, begins to fake wipe his “tears” away from his face. If your dad was good at one thing, it was certainly playing the part. “And just know, when you’re all done at the school, we’ll be at the—“ your dad starts but you interrupt him.

“The Bison, yes I know. You go every night.” You finish your father’s sentence before he gets the chance to. Of course you would find him and his buddies at the only location in town that served alcohol. Not like there was really anywhere else to be in Jackson…or the world, so to speak.

“Actually, we’ll be at town hall, thank you. There's a dance tonight so wear something nice. I’d like to see my only daughter be in some kind of relationship before I die.” Your dad says with that of a thirteen year old’s attitude; effectively and directly throwing you under the bus.

Your skin crawls with uncomfort. You were in the middle of an apocalypse…not really the setting to find “true love” like your father hoped for. Plus, he wouldn’t like exactly who you had in mind for said “true love” either.

Joel clears his throat, saving you from the embarrassment your father has thrown you in. He places a large hand against the back of your father’s neck, giving it a good squeeze but your dad laughs anyway.

“We best leave her alone. I don’t want you dyin’ tonight, we got a 4 am patrol to be on tomorrow.” Joel teases, throwing you— what you can only assume is— an apologetic glance.

“Alright alright, dammit!” Your father laughs, attempting to shake off Joel’s hand but Joel doesn’t give him a chance; leading the both of them out of your path.

You watch, briefly, as Joel and your father walk away— entirely watching Joel. The thought of scratching down his broad back crosses your mind and you curse yourself before rushing off towards the school; leaving the thought behind in the snow.

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

After you had finished up at the school, you rushed home in a hurry to bathe. In the shower, you specifically use your good shampoo and that really good smelling body soap you traded some serious shit for as well.

And despite your dad’s comment on “dressing up” for the dance— you still attempt it. Not because of what he wanted…well not entirely. You did want to look really good but only for a handful of people. Names you didn’t want to name, just yet; didn’t want to jinx it.

After your everything shower, you now stand in your room. Where every decent shirt and pair of jeans that you had managed to own, lay out across your bed. You stare at every simple color of t-shirt and the nicer flannels you own. And every time you glanced between them all, you come back to the same conclusion— nothing looked that good and it was driving you nuts.

You glance at the clock beside your bed, reading the sharp hands that point towards the 7 and the 25. The dance had certainly started by now and you were still here, more than an hour later, still deciding on an outfit.

Short on time and refusing to look at the same six shirts anymore, you give up on finding anything better than a simple, black, long sleeved shirt. Throwing the shirt on and a light pair of blue jeans to match, you hurry off to the bathroom to somewhat salvage your hair.

Fifteen minutes later you finally leave home. Bracing yourself against the Jackson cold as you hurry through inches of snow and chill towards town hall.

Once you arrive, you’re greeted by the entire town being there. Not that you had expected any less. Several bodies hang outside the massive building, chatting amongst each other but they’re kind enough to wave in greeting as you come closer. A man standing by the door, whose name you probably know but can’t remember at the moment, stops you briefly to tell you that your father is already inside. Most likely next to the bar or somewhere messing around with Joel and Tommy.

You didn’t expect anything less, again.

You say your thanks before heading into the crowded hall. You knock the snow off your shoes as you enter and before you can move any further inside, a nice lady offers to take and hang up your coat. You smile and hand off the battered coat, facing to turn the large crowd in search of any familiar faces.

You smooth your palms down the front of your thighs in an attempt to wipe away any anxiety that lingers but it doesn’t really help.

“Oh, heya there,” a familiar voice calls to you.

You turn to match the voice to a face and find Tommy Miller. A glass of bourbon sits easily in one of his hands, along with a couple of beers in the other. He’s dressed super nice, looking damn good in a maroon button up shirt and leather jacket with a dark pair of jeans and boots to match.

You smile towards Tommy, relaxing just a little at seeing someone you finally knew. “Hi Tommy.” You hum sweetly, moving just an inch closer towards him and out of the way of the doorway.

Tommy smiles back at you, glancing over your appearance quick enough that you barely register him looking at all. “Yer’lookin’ pretty tonight.” He compliments before he gestures towards someplace behind you. “Go get yourself a drink darlin’. You’ll find your dad in the back.”

And without waiting, Tommy turns to make his way to the back of the hall; where you’ll most likely find him, your dad, and Joel.

But you don’t move an inch. Your face burning hot. You weren’t often complimented but somehow…one coming from Tommy kind of made your entire heart skip a beat.

Joel certainly hadn’t been the only man you were having impure thoughts about.

You try your best to squish any and all of those feelings down before heading over to the area Tommy had gestured at. Something in your gut told you that you were going to need at least six drinks to survive the night, so might as well start with one now.

After getting your choice of drink, you make yourself comfortable against a wall next to a tall table towards the side of the room. No where near your dad and co. Where you stand for most of the night, only leaving your cozy little spot every so often to get another drink before making your way back.

You interact with a few other familiar faces you’ve seen around Jackson. Like Jesse, who was the first to stop by and see you. You two talked pleasantly. Most of the conversation being about a few recent patrols Jesse had been on…and his mention of wanting you to begin training for patrols. You remind him gently, again, that you weren’t sure if you were ready for it just yet and he respects it, leaving to mingle amongst the crowd.

Next Dina and Ellie say their hellos. You and Ellie stand by each other, silently, while Dina goes to get another round of drinks. Both of you looking about as uncomfortable as someone could when inside a large crowd; until Dina comes back. And they stay for a moment until deciding to go dancing.

Then it was just you.

Leaning against the wall, alcohol in hand, staring out at the sea of bodies, doing your best to enjoy the music. And you think you’re going to stand there the entire night, alone, until a man appears quickly out of the corner of your eye. You turn to look at whoever was approaching you, only to find one of the men you were trying to simultaneously ignore and impress that night; Joel.

“Tommy said you were here,” Joel’s voice carries like a sweet melody over the sound of the music. He comes to stand beside you, a charming smile on his face. “Thought you’d run off home already.”

You could tell he’s had a couple of drinks, for the tension in his shoulders is entirely gone and the smile on his face comes to him easily.

You shake your head, taking a sip off the potent liquid inside your glass. “Yeah, I’ve just been kinda over here.” You respond, glancing towards the older man again.

“Didn’t want to be seen with your dad and his friends?” Joel teases, sipping on his own glass of alcohol.

You laugh, shrugging a little at his words. No, you didn’t really want to be seen with him…just because everyone in Jackson already knew you as “so and so’s daughter” and nothing else. But you also just weren’t sure if you’d be able to survive sitting around Tommy AND Joel teasing you the entire night.

“Maybe,” you answer with as much honesty as you can. So technically you weren’t lying to him but not telling the full truth either. “It would just kinda be lame as hell to hang around my dad the entire night, don’t ya think?”

Joel chuckles, nice and easy like the whiskey he drinks.

The noise rattles your brain. Itches a part of you that you didn’t know needed to be itched. Something about the low rumble of his easy laugh sends shivers down your entire spine.

“Mmm, yeah, it would be kinda lame.” Joel reiterates, shamelessly teasing you as he sips on his drink.

You roll your eyes at him— another chuckle, another shiver— stifling your own laugh as you return to your drink.

“Think I’m too lame to hang around?” Joel hums as he leans back against the wall you’ve been holding up all night.

You hide your worried frown behind your glass as you take a sip of the vodka. On one hand, anything you say is going to give away too much. On the other hand…maybe you wanted him to know. Maybe it was time to just lay all the pieces out onto the board.

“I don’t think you're lame.” You finally respond.

Silence gaps between the two of you with only the live music filling any space left open. You glance in his direction again, watching as he knocks back the rest of his whiskey before taping the glass on the table that stands between the two of you.

“Well, I guess if a pretty girl like yourself doesn’t think I’m lame, then I guess I’m doin’ alright.” Joel finally breaks the brief silence.

“You think I’m pretty?” You blurt out before you can bite the words back.

Joel jumps at your words; as if he’s suddenly realized what he’s said and that you definitely heard him say it.

Your face burns hot with a crawling blush. And while you stare at him, he stares right back at you. He opens his mouth to say something but he can’t quite find the right words so he just stays quiet, fiddling with his empty glass.

“What…else do you think of me?” You ask quietly, wondering if he can even hear you over the sound of the music and the people inside the hall.

But the way his eyebrows knit together tells you all you need to know. He definitely heard you.

Joel clears his throat, straightening his shoulders and trying his best— and failing— to avoid your gaze. “I uh, think…” he finally speaks, glancing in the direction of the front door to the hall. “I think we should get some air.” Joel finishes his thought, pushing up and off the wall. He doesn’t move right away to leave though, stopping to wait for you. And when you realize he’s serious, you practically scramble to follow after him.

He grabs the glasses left behind, carrying them back over to the makeshift bar and dropping them off on the way out before he’s holding the door open for you.

Maybe sooner, rather than later, you’d get used to the cold.

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

When you are once again greeted by the snow and chill of winter, the only thing you can concern yourself with is hoping your father didn’t see you leave just now. You didn’t know which would be worse; your dad obviously seeing you leave with Joel for “no reason” or following Joel and getting your hopes up that something might happen.

And you really try to remind yourself that this was just…getting some air, like Joel had suggested. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a moment to cool down. You weren’t going to think this was some sneaky way for your midnight dreams to come true.

This wasn’t what you wanted…air was just something Joel needed.

You tuck yourself a little tighter into your coat as you walk a step behind Joel. Following him as he circles around to a quieter, more secluded area of town hall that wasn’t occupied by the patrons of Jackson.

You have to pinch yourself to remind your damn head, and heart, that this was just an easier spot to talk to each other— away from the noise and the crowd.

Joel takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cold air as he leans against the building. “Gotten used to the cold yet?” Joel asks, shuffling inside his jacket for a pair of gloves.

You dryly laugh, shaking your head as you stand in front of him. You kick at the snow underneath your boot, showcasing how much you have “gotten used” to the harsh winter. “Oh yeah, I love it, can’t you tell?” You respond, tone full of sarcasm, rolling your eyes.

Joel chuckles, nodding his head a little. “I don’t enjoy it much either.” He drawls, slipping on the gloves he’s taken out of his pocket.

“What…do you enjoy?” You ask without skipping a beat. His comment from earlier still echoes in your ears. And you needed to know exactly what he meant by it. It was far more than just a compliment. His reaction spoke louder than any words he’s said all night.

The soft look, the easy laugh, the tenderness of it all.

Every action had a purpose.

“Listen sweetheart,” Joel sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I…dammit, you know that whatever I say, or whatever you say, it’s not goin’ to end well.” Joel grumbles.

“Why not?” You ask, as if you didn’t know why or exactly what he meant. You mirror his stance, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “We’re both adults.”

Joel chuckles, a darker laugh than you had heard inside at the party. A dangerous laugh. “Darlin’,” Joel warns, straightening his shoulders back. “You’re a pretty girl. You’re smart. Don’t waste that on…this.”

“On what? What is this?” You question, gesturing towards the small amount of open space left between the two of you.

“This? Shouldn’t be anything.” Joel counters, avoiding the question while also answering the question.

“Why? Scared?” You snark. Enjoying the way Joel huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t,” Joel warns, for the second time. He shakes his head at your accusation. And if there was one thing about Joel you knew for sure— it was that he was never scared to act. You just wanted to see him unravel. “You know what I mean. This can’t go any further than it already has.”

“What is this, Joel?” You exclaim, taking a step closer towards him, gesturing once again at the air between the two of you.

“This is me holdin’ back.” Joel snaps. His tone is anything but aggressive or harsh, more so firm and matter of fact.

And yet, his words still make you stumble. Just ever so slightly. Because what the hell would he hold back from?

A string of voices catches your attention. You freeze like a deer in headlights when you glance in the direction of the voices, heart pounding at the feeling of being found. Not that you and Joel were doing anything…at all, other than arguing, but word would spread like wildfire around Jackson if you two were seen together; especially tucked away in some dark little corner. Word would get back to your father and he would be more insufferable than he already is.

But Joel is quick to act. He reaches out for you, grabbing your arm in a firm, yet gentle, grasp and giving you a tug. He pulls you into him, bringing you into his chest and flipping you around until your back is pressed up against the building he had previously been leaning on. He shields you from view while also keeping his face hidden away from the string of voices coming a little too close for comfort. He knew the risks as well.

You’re closer to Joel now than you’ve ever been. Close enough you can smell the whiskey he had been drinking earlier. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst from its cage and drop dead in his hands with how hard it beats inside your chest. You stare up at him. Watching his face as he watches over his shoulder for any signs of unwanted guests getting too close.

And after a few painstaking seconds tick by, the further and further the voices seem to drift— leaving the two of you alone, once more.

Joel breathes a sigh of relief.

But you continue to hold your breath.

“Think they’re gone.” Joel mumbles, the tension in his shoulders eases just a little.

But you can’t relax as he still towers over you.

At your silence, Joel drags his gaze from over his shoulder and back down to you. And when your eyes meet once more, air finally returns to your lungs.

You suck in a small breath as his face comes within a few inches of your own.

“Joel…?” You whisper his name, softer than soft. Blinking up at him as he stares down at you.

Both of you are unmoving. Every puff of breath he exhales, tangles with your own. Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths as the tension builds.

Your mind falls blank. No longer worried about being caught. Any anxiety you had felt earlier leaves you entirely, it was nothing but a memory to you now.

The world fades away. You can no longer hear the distant sound of music or the laughs or cheers of the crowd.

All of your focus was on just him. And you knew it had to be the same for him.

For when his hazel eyes slowly dip to move across your bottom lip; everything snaps.

Joel lurches forward but you meet him half way. His lips smash against yours but you kiss him back just as hard. You taste the whiskey he’d been drinking all night on his lips, already wanting more.

A strong hand smooths down your thigh before giving you a yank, tucking your body in close to his, flushing your hips together.

You gasp his name but it’s swallowed up by Joel. Tongue and teeth alike collide as you kiss. You snake your arms around his neck, fingers pushing into the curls that lay on the top of his head. You give his hair a tug, enjoying the grunt that slips from his mouth into yours.

You roll your hips forward, grinding into him and Joel stutters. Your name leaves his lips like a curse and he returns the favor by pressing his tongue briefly into yours. Just enough to keep you wanting more. Even brief, a shiver runs down your spine; and it isn’t from the cold.

His other hand wades past your coat before his fingers push beneath the shirt you wear. The leather of his gloves is cold as he skims across your hip and along your lower back. You’d prefer skin on skin than the feel of his gloves but you don’t complain. Scared that if you do, Joel will suddenly snap from his entranced state.

Instead, you untangle your hand from his hair, moving to brush your chilled fingers against his skin. You press into the back of his neck, skimming past the collar of his shirt, scratching just a little across his back before you drag your fingernails down the front of his chest. You ball his shirt up into your fist, yanking the fabric free from its tucked place beneath his jeans and belt.

Oh god, how you wish you were home. Wish you were in some kind of light— that didn’t involve the moon— so you could see him better. Wishing you could see the way his brows knit in satisfaction as you touch him or the way his muscles flex as he touches you.

Joel grunts, hips jerking up against you. He grabs ahold of your hip, giving it a possessive squeeze, before his fingers expertly unbutton the front of your jeans. He wastes no time, slipping his hand beneath your jeans and over the front of your underwear. He presses his fingers heavy into the curve of your cunt.

You break the kiss at the feeling of him sliding against your core. “Joel!” You gasp, sucking in a harsh breath.

“Quiet sweetheart,” Joel orders, skimming his lips across your throat. “Don’t want anyone else to hear.” He hums, fingers flexing with his words. His teeth scrape against your skin, sending a tingle down your spine.

You clamp your mouth shut, biting at your bottom lip to keep any loud noises from slipping out. Your fingers scramble to undo his belt; you weren’t going to be the only one exposed, vulnerable, and feeling good.

Managing to undo his belt, you slip your hand against the front of his underwear. You stroke against the obvious bulge in his pants, biting back a whimper at the feel.

Another reason you liked him more than guys your age.

Joel groans at your touch. His hand picks up the pace, rubbing harsh circles into your cunt.

You briefly adjust yourself into somewhat of a more comfortable position as you can with one leg up and pinned against a wall. You mirror his actions, palming the front of his underwear. You can feel his girth fill out beneath your hand the more he stiffens up. Can feel how big he is, even still hidden by his underwear.

You really wish you were in a home right now. You wanted to see him. Wanted to see every inch and vein and how big he is compared to your fingers. You just desperately wanted more than this; more than a mutual handjob.

Joel grunts when your fingers bump close to what you assume is his tip. His voice pulls you back into the moment. You wanted more than this— and maybe one day— but for now you’d just enjoy it. You don’t know if you’ll ever get another chance like this again, so you were going to enjoy every second.

You lift your hips, grinding into his hand with a whine. You pull at the lip of his underwear, yanking the fabric down as far as you can, savouring the groan that Joel releases.

Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, slowly stroking up along the curve of his shaft until you press into his tip.

“This is…such a bad fuckin’ idea.” Joel hisses against your throat, groaning when your fingers finally wrap around him.

“Shut up and kiss me again.” You demand and Joel listens. He leaves your neck— sure to be beautifully marked for tomorrow morning— moving his lips back up to yours, kissing you once again.

His fingers slip and follow against your seam, pressing into your clit. Your hand mirrors his pace; stroking him faster, brushing your thumb against the slit of his tip.

With each slip of Joel’s hand your entire lower half begins to burn against the cold. Your hips surge forward in search for more. You want more, want him, but you’re not going to push your luck anymore than you already have tonight.

If he were to lead, you’d follow him then.

“Fuck it.” Joel curses against your lips, breaking the kiss. He slips his hand out from beneath your jeans and brings his fingers to his mouth. He bites down on the leather of his glove and yanks his hand free from it. All in one swift motion, he pushes his hand back into your pants— but this time, it’s beneath your underwear.

His warm fingers slip between the folds of your soaking wet pussy. He easily presses two fingers inside of your aching cunt. Jerking his hand back and forth, thrusting his fingers quickly and deeply inside your seam.

You try your best to keep up with his new found pace. Skimming your hand faster along his twitching shaft.

His fingers curl deep inside of you, hitting sensitive spots you didn’t know you had, forcing stars across your vision.

Your mouth falls open but you somehow manage to keep yourself from moaning his name too loud. You clamp a hand against his shoulder, gripping onto him for any kind of support. Your nails dig into the thick of his shoulder but his pace doesn’t falter or slow down. He continues to thrust his fingers inside, winding the coil inside of your lower half tighter and tighter.

“Joel,” you gasp, thighs trembling with every damn flex of his fingers. “I won’t last.” You practically sob, trying your best to continue to move your own hand along his throbbing cock.

Joel chuckles between rugged breaths. His palm rubs heavy against your clit while his fingers spear inside your core. He rolls his hips, fucking into your hand and you tighten your grip instinctively. You press your thumb into his tip, feeling Joel shiver beneath your touch. He may not be as vocal about it but you can tell he’s also reaching a limit. His cock throbs under your touch, his hips thrust forward faster, his breath is quicker, his fingers inside you curl a little tighter— he wasn’t lasting much longer either.

Meanwhile, a fire burns hot in your lower half. His skilled fingers push you closer and closer to your orgasm. If he wasn’t supporting you, you’re sure at this point your legs would’ve given out on you. Pleasure pumps hot— like lava— through your veins and you know your climax is going to come rushing up any second. And you know you’re going to be far too loud.

You release your grip on his shoulder, snatching the glove out of Joel’s mouth before returning your hand back to his shoulder; glove in hand.

“Fucking kiss me, I’m!” You hiss through clenched teeth.

Joel presses his lips hard into yours just in time. He silences you as your orgasm rocks through you. You cum, hard, around his fingers. Hips jerking erratically to ride through the fire burning beneath your skin. You sob into Joel’s mouth and he keeps it contained, so no one else can hear it but him.

He swallows all of your moans. Tasting his own name off of your tongue as you cum, crying out to him. But Joel doesn’t stop moving his fingers until he knows you’ve finished. His hand continues to move until it becomes too much; when his palm drags across your overly sensitive clit, you quickly tap on his shoulder to get him to finally stop.

He removes his fingers at your request, quickly wrapping them instead around your hand that grips his shaft. His slicked hand caresses your own as he swiftly moves both of your hands now.

He breaks the kiss with a grunt. Hips stuttering at the contact of both hands on his lower half now. He tangles his fingers up with your own, guiding your hand along his thick, and very stiff, cock.

“Yeah sweetheart, just like that.” Joel grunts, helping you in jerking himself off. He moves both of your hands over his shaft, hard and fast, his hips jerking with every stroke. He groans your name, low and quiet, making sure to keep his own voice in check. It's a deep rumble from within his chest that sends a wave of warm pleasure to the very tips of your fingers, encouraging you to keep up with his pace.

His breath picks up and you can feel him tighten beneath your fingers, closer to his own end. He turns his eyes to stare down at your connected hands and you follow his gaze.

“Dammit.” Joel curses under his breath. He grunts as his orgasm rushes over him. He presses the head of his cock into your lower abdomen; pressed right into exposed skin and against the waistband of your underwear.

You watch as he cums. Feeling every twitch and throb beneath your fingers as he ropes out every last drop. The warmth of his orgasm smears across your body. You bite down on your bottom lip to keep from groaning too loud as you watch it all unfold with an exhausted gaze.

After a few more strokes, Joel finishes entirely with a groan. You’re both left sweaty— despite the cold— panting hard in an attempt to catch your breath, and now you’re left with the evidence of the night sticking to your skin. Silence stretches between you two. Both of you are just staring at the mess he’s made against your body and clothes.

Your mind is blank until the noise of the world slowly comes back into your senses. You suddenly remember where the two of you are. The distant voices, the laughs, and music of the party snaps you back into reality.

“Joel—“ you begin to say but he stops you from speaking, as he comes back down to Earth too.

“Go home and get cleaned up.” Joel interrupts, shaking his head a little. His post clarity sobers him up real quick and he’s suddenly realized everything that has happened. The confessions, the touching, the kissing— all with his best friend’s daughter.

“We’ll…talk…tomorrow.” Joel whispers, the sour of guilt and regret heavy in his tone. He drops the leg he had been holding up for your brief encounter before quickly, and embarrassingly, he adjusts himself back into his pants. All while avoiding your gaze.

You nod your head, again not wanting to test your luck more than you already have, fixing your own pants up. You wipe the sticky mess away with your shirt before zipping your jeans back up.

“I’ll walk you home.” Joel mumbles, his hands move to gently fix up your messed up coat.

Always the gentleman, despite everything.

You stay silent, handing Joel back his glove before tucking your hands into the pockets of your coat. You cross your arms, hiding the front of your jeans and your shirt with your coat, as you turn to make your way home.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to make it back to your house. Luckily, you managed to make it back without anyone stopping you or seeing the two of you together. Plus, no lights on in the house next door; which meant your dad wasn’t home yet or he was dead asleep in bed already.

You think for a second that never in your life would you get as lucky as you have tonight, ever again.

Joel keeps his promise though. Walking you all the way home and up onto your front porch. He waits until you unlock the door to relax his shoulders.

“I, uh,” Joel clears his throat, stopping at just the threshold of your front door. He flexes his fingers, smoothing his thumb into the center of his palm while he searches for something, anything, to say to you. After everything, he isn’t sure what either of you could say to make it all somehow magically return to normal.

It would never be normal again.

You didn’t want it to be normal again.

A few seconds tick by before he finally gives up in his search. “Goodnight, darlin’.” Joel says softly, slightly leaning against the doorframe of your front door.

Your heart skips a beat. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Because no matter what, Joel would always be tender. He’d always look out for you.

You take a deep breath in, calming your nerves, before you take a step closer towards Joel. You lean in close, placing a kiss on his cheek before stepping away from him once more.

“Goodnight, Joel.” You reply.

“Alright…” Joel hums, clearing his throat again as his fingers fiddle with the strap of his watch. He takes a step back from your home, dipping his head in his last goodbye for the night.

It almost gave you the feeling that he didn’t want to leave…but he had too.

He turns on his heel, making his way back down onto the road from where you two had just come from. And you watch him walk off into the cold night, waiting until he disappears from view before closing your front door.

You groan at the cold you suddenly feel, shivering as you rush off to your bathroom. You strip quickly, shoving your stained clothes down to the very bottom of the laundry basket. Something you’d deal with on a later day.

You clean up in the shower while the night replays in your mind like a movie. And it doesn’t stop playing until you crawl into bed, curling up with every single one of your blankets to somewhat recreate the warmth you had with Joel, and finally falling asleep.

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

Waking up the next morning makes everything from the night before feel like a fever dream. You can’t tell if it was just a really good fucking wet dream or if it was in fact something that happened. And the only way you’d confirm everything, was to speak with Joel. And the only way you can get some uninterrupted, alone time with him is by doing something you’ve been putting off since arriving in Jackson.

You wash and get dressed before going next door to your father’s home. It was already late enough that he should be back home from his patrol and you find him in the kitchen, doing whatever it is that he does. When he looks at you, he’s a little confused but happy nonetheless to see you.

“Hey kid, what’s up?” He asks, wiping his hands on a nearby towel.

You take a deep breath, picking at the seam of your shirt sleeve, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “I want to start patrol training.” You respond, finally making your mind up.

Your father, thankfully, doesn’t ask why you’ve suddenly changed your mind about patrols. Or your disappearance from last night. And while he’s a little confused about it, the smile that splits his face tells you he’s more excited than anything.

If only he knew.

“I’ll speak with Tommy then.” Your dad confirms, offering you a cup of coffee.

@ 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐙𝐄𝐕𝐑𝐑𝐀 | 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖/𝐎 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

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