#I’ll tag her other posts…..eventually…

[keekity]

Her again eeheehee

[beauzos]

I will say the one regretful thing about The Endless Ocean is I somehow once again managed to not include George at all in it. He haunts the narrative of it sure but he doesn’t even have a line in it KDNDN like he has more lines in ACOH (one)

I swear I’ve thought about that guy a lot and really like him. I never planned on having him in this MUCH but I thought he’d have a brief scene. Bryce, George, and Barb are three of my favorite villager-adjacent OCs which is why they were there but Bryce was the only one who got a decent Amt of time to be shown off

Somehow I always do that, it’s so funny. I always intend to use them more than I do. I think the way the fic is written is completely fine, it’s just funny realizing I managed to sidestep including him as a major character AGAIN. You’re just never gonna see this kid at this rate

Barb was also supposed to be in ACOH and this more but wasn’t, though this time she had lines lol. I guess it’s tough when all these characters have been dead for like twenty years.

[shibaraki]

OUT OF MY HEAD, HALF BURSTING ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: japan’s sweetheart and saviour is in a quirk induced coma. you’re the only one that can bring him back.

tags: GN reader, post canon au, pro hero deku, quirk accidents, fluff + angst, hospitalisation, mutual pining, intimacy, technically doctor/patient but they know each other, friends to lovers, reader has quirk (‘dream walker’), memory/dream sharing, referenced depression, getting together, kissing, cheesy idc idc

wc: 5.2K

In your years wading through patients' memories, you’ve found that people have the most uncanny ability to resign themselves to their fate. You’ve wondered time and time again whether it’s instinctive to ruin things—if humans couldn’t help but stumble and make a mess of the things around them.

You recall that thought process now with a weary sigh, as your eyes skim over the patient's name for the tenth time in as many seconds. Midoriya Izuku.

“Well? Are you gonna do it or not?”

You’ve been staring at the medical file for long enough that an uncomfortable silence has dawned upon your office. Two weeks prior, a villain named Catatonic used her quirk to force Deku into a comatose state, that which he has yet to wake from. Even after the liberal use of quirk inhibitors, countless visits from Eraserhead and the administration of various stimulants, Deku would not stir. Realistically he should’ve roused from the coma naturally as soon as the quirk was cancelled. But he hadn’t, and his doctors can only assume it’s because he can’t, or refuses to.

Thus the case in your lap. A last resort.

“I’ll do it,” you intoned, thumb flicking at the corner of the manila folder. There’s already a deep crease there. The file itself is the heaviest you’ve ever had in your hands. Dense in a way that makes you ache. You and Deku are good friends—the kind of friendship that forms mainly because you frequent the same places. That place in particular being the hospital, except you were there to work, and he was often wandering the hallways listlessly to burn off the dregs of whatever sedatives he’d taken or visiting with patients.

Awkward small talk eventually blossomed into real, fulfilling conversations, and you started to like him, a lot more than you should. You kept the memory of his small, sincere smile close to your chest; nothing like that dazzling grin he wore on duty, it was softer, something private, and you relished being on the receiving end of it.

He was skilled at talking around his injuries. Sometimes if you felt especially bone-weary after a shift you’d be so relieved to see him that you forgot to ask. That sits with you. Deku is a hero. A good one, the best one. He’s brilliant at what he does—keeping people safe, protecting them from harm. In the entirety of his career, it appears he rarely, if ever, turned that care and consideration onto himself. You’re not a licensed therapist, and barely a doctor. Still you contemplate his medical history with a cold sense of regret.

“You realise there’s a large possibility I’ll end up seeing a lot of confidential stuff while I’m in there”.

“Don’t care. S’not like you can tell anyone”.

“I don’t think you understand how invasive this will be. I’ll see personal things. Private things, Bakugo. He won’t be happy”.

“Don’t care. If he doesn’t like it then maybe he should fuckin’ wake up”.

“This might not work, you know,” you finish tiredly.

Bakugo arches his brow at that. Despite the shadows under his eyes there’s no defeated slope to his shoulders, only a fierce scowl. “Either you can do it or you can’t,” he says, voice unsteady as if reeling between rationality and outright aggression. “You’re supposed to be the best at what you do”.

“I am the best at what I do, Bakugo. I can promise you I’ll find him”.

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

The file feels heavier. It feels like a foregone conclusion. You swallow, your throat dry. You don’t bother attempting a smile. You’ve lost the will to maintain your professional veneer.

“I can’t promise he’ll want to come back”.

Dream walker.

At twelve years old you thought it made your quirk sound whimsical, and gentle, and not at all the invasive thing that it actually is. After all, your reach didn’t end only at dreams. You were able to project your consciousness into another’s mind if it pleased you, parse through every memory, ambition, fantasy, trauma and fear, and manipulate them however you liked. Back when your control was non-existent you would drift into people’s heads whenever you slept like some wayward soul and saw far too much far too young.

The need to understand yourself and your quirk is what drove you to studying medicine. Neuropsychology, mainly. You carved meditative techniques into the very recesses of your own brain and learned to keep your consciousness tightly moored but had no real ambition beyond that. After the war and the complete upheaval and reform of hero society, it was difficult to find your place.

Until Okumura Yukiko.

At the small age of eight, Yukiko fell under the effects of a severe nightmare quirk, and despite the quirk being canceled she couldn’t wake up naturally. You had carefully walked through the delicate threads that made up her young mindscape—quirk-infested by formless shadows with knife-sharp teeth and worse, eerie figures that wore the appearance of her father—you found her trembling inside her mothers figmental wardrobe, took her hand, and guided her out.

When you came to she was curled up in the swaddle of your arms, trembling still, but awake. Her timid incantations ring true in your ears even now. Those tiny little thank you, thank you, thank you’s inspired the person you are today. Not quite a doctor, or a therapist. A specialist for special cases.

Something in your gut told you that traipsing into Midoriya Izuku’s mind wouldn’t be simple. That it would permanently change things. This isn’t some stranger, or a patient you’d never cross paths with again. He’s important to you in a way others aren’t.

Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips brushing his temple. You push your fingers into his thick green hair, rich in colour and soft, no knots to catch on your knuckles. His friends have been visiting in shifts, keeping him comfortable and presentable.

Bakugo had managed to keep the Hero Commission at bay for the time being, but if you came back without Midoriya tomorrow there would be far more than one scowling man looming in your office. Though the possibility left a bad taste in your mouth you can admit, in the privacy of your thoughts, that you’ve contemplated prolonging his recovery for the sake of allowing Midoriya rest. There must be something keeping him under, his genuine reluctance or worse; you’ve been reassured repeatedly of All for One’s death and the absence of the previous quirk holders but it’s best to exercise vigilance.

Midoriya does not react, not even a twitch of his nose, but there’s a flutter beneath his eyelids and a sleepy-sweet warmth to him that has you smiling, fond. Tucking your feet around the legs of your chair, you scoot it forward and bend closer, elbows resting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m not sure you can hear me in there. Maybe not. But I hope you won’t hate me for this,” you tell him.

Midoriya’s face remains serene as ever—more so than you can remember. It makes you wonder how much pain and discomfort he’s been hiding throughout your interactions. The tension has been sapped from his expression, lashes fanning over his cheeks. You’re close enough to count each individual freckle. Lightly, your thumb taps the space between his brows. “There are a lot of people out here that love you. They’re waiting for you to wake up, so I’ll have to have a look around your head a bit. Okay?”

Nothing. Heartbeat monitor pulsing a healthy rhythm, broad chest rising and falling, Midoriya continues to sleep. You sigh and cast a final glance around the private hospital room. The clock reads 18:22. Outside the window you see a single cloud, wispy as a dandelion, slowly disintegrate across the dusky sky. You make a cradle with your arm, head resting in the crook while you take Midoriya’s hand and try to relax. Anticipation turns in your gut. Years of experience aside, you’ve never really acclimated to the feeling of that first step into another’s subconscious.

Pressure gathers inside your skull as your quirk activates. You inhale a quick, wounded breath at the sensation. Your eyes roll back, vision swallowed by abrupt darkness, and you jerk against the distinct sensation of falling as your stomach roils. You’re overwhelmed by a cacophony of images and sounds—a determination that happiness would come, then moored to the burden of expectation, any optimism muffled under exhaustion and pain, replaced swiftly by a sense of discontent, grief and regret that swelled over time.

And then everything stops.

Your arms feel empty. Your chest feels hungry. You ache with it, the disquieting loneliness. Fog leaks into the memory, surroundings concealed beneath a thick mist. Behind you is a small pond. There’s a notebook soaking in the water. The koi are mouthing curiously at the weathered corners, faint black tendrils of ink curling off the charred pages. Scrawled boldly across the top is ‘Hero Analysis for The Future: No. 13’. Your strikingly young reflection ripples as you plunge your hand in and fish it out, holding it at arm's length as you shake the excess away.

Sufficiently less soaked, you draw the notebook to your front and carefully turn the cover to read the first page. You can feel the slight indentations on the back where a pen has been pressed hard enough to score the words through the page. Written inside, smudged but undeniable, is Midoriya Izuku’s name.

“Uh—excuse me…” a shaky, pitched voice comes from behind you, belonging to a very familiar pair of teary eyes. Midoriya is not just small, he’s scrawny. His hair is longer, unable to decide on which direction it wants to grow, and his middle school uniform is slightly ill-fitting, as though his mother bought it a size bigger for longevity. He ducks into the higher collar to hide his reddened face when you look at him.

The urge to bundle him up and hide him from the world is fierce. The situation is odd, but you offer a smile and his blush worsens. “Is this yours?” you ask, holding up the notebook. You try not to grimace at your own childlike voice. Midoriya nods frantically. His hands flex around the straps of his backpack. Smaller than the broad palms you’re familiar with, neither scarred nor crooked, trembling where they motion to clasp around the notebook. Your fingers brush and he attempts to swallow the yelp that bubbles in his throat.

“Thank you,” he stammers, pressing the notebook flat to his own chest. Midoriya swallows. His gaze never strays from you, growing brighter with each passing second as the idea in his head takes shape.

“Do you go to school here?”

“Oh,” you blink and the shadows have elongated. The pond is now hugging a school building. You recognise it despite never having seen it before. Aldera Junior High. “I don't,” you answer, sounding sorry. He predictably deflates. “I live close by, though!”

Midoriya perks up again. He shifts his weight between each foot. Red faced and unsteady, he quietly asks, “Do you think we could be friends?”

Your mouth slacks a bit, answers dying in your throat. You look down at your hands, palms upturned and unblemished. The dappled sunlight passes through your incorporeal form. Interaction with anything aside from the true patient during your work is incredibly rare though not entirely unfounded; people who daydream in vivid detail or ruminate chronically on old regrets usually had false memories in excess. Their minds seem to naturally meld around your intrusion, but they never went so far as to seamlessly incorporate you. Which can only mean one thing.

You fit because Midoriya has imagined this numerous times before—befriending you as a child.

Before you can respond you’re being dragged abruptly into a memory, the echo of a blinding flash of pain rippling through you. A reflexive gasp has your chest heaving and you curse at your lack of control. There’s barely a shard of light. Behind you is a hard, jagged surface but below is loose, uprooted. Attempts to move are futile, and agonising. You slump into the displaced rubble, silt and icy embrace, and listen. From above there is only a haunting silence but only a few feet ahead you hear muffled crying and Bakugo’s strangely tinny voice.

Your vision adjusts in increments, from pure darkness to a soft outlined blob to a comfortingly familiar silhouette. Midoriya is poised like an Atlantean statue, holding up the creaking structure and keeping it from crushing the young girl cowered in front of him.

Another wave of pain washes over you as the rubble groans. Midoriya bites back a whimper. His body is sinew and bone pulled taut, skin stretched over a drum. Everything seemed to swell dramatically around him.

“We’re almost there, kid. Two minutes,” Bakugo’s voice spills jarringly from the bulky earpiece hugging Midoriya’s ear. “Now look at Deku for me. You lookin’?” the young girl does as he commands. You see her trepidation falter at the easy smile Deku is wearing. “Bet he’s got a big dumb grin on his face right now, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” she echoes, clutching the dirtied hem of her dress.

“You think he’d be smiling if there was anythin’ to be scared of?”

Her shoulders slant, the tension released, and she offers a tremulous smile of her own, “No”.

But you can feel, quite viscerally, how scared Deku was in that moment. The nauseating pain in his arms has dwindled into numbness and he daren’t spare himself more than the occasional shallow breath, as if the bloating of his lungs alone might disrupt his balance. Not once does his smile falter.

The surroundings warp again. You struggle against the whiplash, flung unwillingly into another memory. Breath forced from your lungs, the echo of Izuku’s pain dissipates in a blink and you land on unsteady feet, coughing and spluttering in the middle of an eclectic café covered in tinsel.

A sign written in cursive above the chalkboard menu reads ‘Mean Mug’. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and the bell above the door is soft enough to get lost in the smooth notes. You’re cocooned by heat and met with bold patterned wallpaper. The unifying palette seems to be warm-toned colours; red, orange and brown come together amidst the mismatched decor to create a cosy atmosphere.

A half heartedly disguised Midoriya shuffles awkwardly by the counter, looking up at the door with trepidation every time the bell chimes to signal another customer. He grins once Uravity arrives in a casual disguise of her own, eyes still bright beneath the shadow of his cap.

They order and settle in a quaint alcove away from the windows and any prying eyes. Neither hero notices your presence as you seat yourself at their table and listen to their conversation. There are things you don’t understand. Code words to be used when discussing sensitive matters outside of their agencies. Inside jokes that you weren’t there for. But most curious of all is the knowing look on Uraraka’s face when Midoriya mentions that he saw you at the hospital that day.

“You’re hopeless, Deku-kun,” she says, as fond as she is amused. “What was your excuse this time?”

Midoriya clears his throat. He grips his cup, pressing until his knuckles turn white. It draws your attention to the thin cast splinting his ring and middle fingers together. “I broke my fingers sparring with Kirishima”.

You remember that, though too entrenched in his memory to attempt receding into yours for details.

“So you leapt halfway across the city to have them stuck together despite the fact that your agency has an on-site infirmary,” Uraraka’s hair falls in a gentle swoop beneath her jaw as she laughs. Midoriya shrinks into himself ever so slightly and her eyes soften. She pokes at his forearm. “C’mon Deku—why haven’t you asked yet? Do you really think you’ll get rejected?”

Glancing back and forth between them, your heart beats a tattoo across the inside of your ribs. You feel as if you’ve both missed something quite important and heard too much. You push your chair backwards and fall away from the table, and the memory, before Midoriya can respond.

With renewed determination—and heat rising to your cheeks—you reign in your quirk, steering cautiously through Midoriya’s subconscious mind as you should’ve in the first place. Images flicker in and around your periphery, each as desperate to draw you in as the last.

You see Midoriya crying, bleeding, lashing out in anger. You see him in a sterilised room, lulled by monotonous beeps, flesh stitched back together. You hear the doctor's voices coalesce into white noise. You watch as he’s handed crudely drawn thank you cards, coffee-stained police reports and thick manila envelopes marked as confidential in large red letters.

You turn away as Eraserhead approaches, a solemn expression, a quiet clink accompanying his footsteps, unnaturally heavy to one side, a young girl with silver hair following right behind him.

Your heart leaps to your throat when he screams in agony. You look down. There’s blood running down the street in rivulets, skin coming apart like wet paper.

You close your eyes. Next you risk a glance All Might is there, thinner than ever. He’s sitting in a wheelchair by a large window swaddled in a thick knitted blanket, watching over the city, smiling.

You turn away, feeling a pang of grief. Midoriya is expressionless, examining his battered body in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the glass, tendrils of heat curling upward as the shower drain gurgles.

Then he’s in a dark room bringing a stranger's hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of their palm, drawing the finger into his kiss-bitten mouth and sucking with a hazy gleam in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming. You stumble and suddenly Shouto is eating across from Izuku. He brings his chopsticks to his lips, noodles hung limp between them. “It’s obvious you like each other. You should just confess,” he says before shovelling his food.

Too private. You turn on your heel and find a patient of yours on the bed, unresponsive. Izuku is beside you, muttering under his breath, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. He reaches back to brush your wrist and offers a tentative touch of reassurance. You watch yourself lean against him for a moment and then retreat, grateful for his consideration, unneeding of it, and desperately wanting it, all at once.

The scene ripples violently. A reporter is staring up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. Her hair cycles through an array of colours as she shakes with excitement. “It’s amazing, Deku-san,” she insists. “For your spirit to be so heroic that it physically steers your body… that’s special!”

Izuku conceded with a strained laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. You feel how his stomach knots. “I used to think so too,” he says, sounding far away.

It’s the middle of the night somewhere when your search finally comes to a halt. You find you’ve landed on an empty street, in that dense, heavy darkness that makes you feel like the only person in the world who’s awake. There’s a tall residential building hugging the pavement. Intuitively, you know this is where Izuku lives.

Your footsteps are made heavy by Izuku’s lingering hurt and exhaustion. It’s disconcerting, the way he feels about his apartment. Coming home should be effortless. People come home in the same way they draw breath. But to Izuku, it's a weary, miserable journey that he must consciously think about and do. His perennial loneliness is overwhelming, a near physical force repelling you from opening the large glass door.

One foot in the lobby and the surroundings undulate. You’re dropped in the middle of his living room. It’s vacant. There’s a large box of case files tucked under the coffee table, an old takeout box left out on the counter, a blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch cushions. You pinch the soft fabric and rub it between your fingers, bringing it to your nose as you’re overcome by the urge to smell it. Izuku’s warm scent floods your senses.

Something thuds outside, followed by a tinkling of keys on a chain. Your blood runs quicker as the front door abruptly opens. Izuku looks harried as he ducks into the genkan, quite visibly frayed. The upper half of his hero suit is unzipped, pushed down to hang over his hips, littered with debris and dry mud. You hold your breath as he kicks off his shoes and lifts his head, meeting your wide-eyed gaze. The air around you is charged. Trepidation prickles at your nape.

Then the shadows over his stormy face recede. Izuku gentles, light returning to his previously empty eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes. “I missed you”. His voice shivers down your spine—you know in your gut that this is him, the real Izuku, but that fact is hard to believe while he’s looking at you like he wants you.

“Welcome home,” you smile back, slipping the blanket around your shoulders as you move toward him. “Hard day at—?”

Your intentions are to sit him down, keep him calm so as not to be ejected, and explain what’s happening, but before you have the chance his larger body crowds you against the wall—the dull impact reverberates through your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and he’s kissing you as if it’s something he always does.

Though it’s more of a collision than a kiss. The sensation is indescribable. Information spills into your mouth, your quirk reflexively absorbing his every fantasy, ache and want. Your knees almost buckle. The blanket puddles at your feet. Fingers snake into his thick hair, nails dig into his roots where skin becomes earth as you try to reciprocate his fervour.

Under your tongue you feel the cut on his lip, under your palms the dark swell across his cheek. You shake off the cloud of desire. Too many lines have already been crossed. “Izuku,” you whine. His name comes naturally now; you know him deeply enough. Blunt teeth graze at your jaw, your throat. You lean away for air only to catch a glimpse of another angry ivory-red bruise peeking from beneath his loose collar. “Izuku,” you tried again. Then louder. “Izuku, that’s enough”.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Izuku rasps as he rears up from the crook of your neck with wide, glassy eyes.

“No—I’m,” your heart beats hard in your ears. Dread sinks low in your belly. “It’s me. I’m really here, Izuku. You’ve been away for too long. I had to use my quirk. We need to wake up”.

“Wake up? You’re… oh,” his eyes grow wider, then shutter closed on a shaky exhale. The cut on his bottom lip has started bleeding again. Rivulets seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. You yearn for the searing heat of his hands as he releases you and staggers backwards to scrub at his face. “Oh my god”.

“Wait. Please don’t throw me out,” you say quickly, reaching to clutch at his wrist in case he panicked. Izuku tenses at the contact only to relax a beat later, his fingers spreading over his eyes so he can get a peek at you. “It took me forever to find you here. There’s a lot of stuff in your head”.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he mumbles. You could collapse in relief. He’s not angry, he’s embarrassed.

“Thank you. I promise I tried not to look at anything too private”. Your mind didn’t make it easy, you think. It was almost like he wanted me to see everything.

Izuku groans and lets his hands drop to his sides in defeat, revealing an entirely pink face. You keep your fingers curled around his wrist, his pulse light and fast. “Okay. I’m okay. We should probably sit down for this,” he eventually croaks, a tremulous smile working its way across his lips. “Drink?”

You pick up the blanket and make your way to the couch while he briefly disappears into the kitchen. Around you the apartment takes on a rosy sheen. A dull clink shudders through the silence as Izuku sets a cup on the coffee table in front of you. It’s your favourite work mug down to the smallest details.

“You remembered this old thing?”

Shaped like a cat, the handle curved in and away like a feline’s tail. It’s piping hot, steam already curling up from it like a crooked finger, like the invitation he meant it to be.

Izuku nodded awkwardly, perched so far forward that it stretched credulity to say he was on the couch at all. He tracks your movements with intensity when you lean to pick up the hot drink. The initial sting to your palms quickly dwindles into numbness as you bring it closer and realise what’s inside. Hot chocolate. The surface sprinkled with those small, cube shaped marshmallows that he likes.

You swallow and feel the warmth spread through your body. A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as the thick, saccharine flavour floods your senses, washing back the bitterness and thawing your anxiety. You can hear the tension in Izuku’s shoulders snap as he slumps forward, arms hung over his knees and head low in relief. His reaction is oddly vindicating, if not contagious.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks. “Time is weird here”.

“You’ve been comatose for over two weeks,” you reply. “They tried everything they could before Bakugo insisted on bringing me in. You have a lot of people waiting for you”.

Izuku inhales sharply. He makes an aborted motion to scoot closer before thinking better of it. Your attention strays to the nervous wringing of his battle worn hands. Endeared, you put your mug down and close the distance yourself. Pressed thigh to thigh, you envelop his tightly curled fists, bringing them into your lap. The shaky breath he takes is loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Honestly I’m surprised you’re still working”.

He looks at you with an unsure, watery smile, sunlight caught in glassy eyes. His voice is thick as he asks, “What do you mean?”

You smile sadly and run your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ve been on patrol. I thought you might’ve locked yourself in your head because you needed a proper break—and who could blame you, really. But you’re working yourself thin even in your dreams”.

Izuku huffed a laugh, more breath than humour. “I love being a hero. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he says, his voice tight. You sink into his side and feel his diaphragm stutter. “But it isn’t everything. It felt like I was suffocating and I needed something more. Something to come home to for a little while…”

His red-rimmed eyes quickly return to his lap when you meet them. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Your quirk really is incredible”.

You can feel the shame swatting at you like a summer-born heatwave, reminded of just how deeply you’ve invaded his privacy, and how easily you overstepped your bounds.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, at the same time that you tell him, “I’m sorry, Izuku”.

“Please. Let me go first,” he murmurs like a question. You nod your assent. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I thought you were a part of my imagination, like the rest of this place. I should have realised you weren’t. I’m sorry,” he rambles on. “I wanted to be closer to you but I got carried away and I’m sorry”.

“You couldn’t have known. I should have told you it was me as soon as you walked in,” you firmly interject. Izuku doesn’t look any less stricken in your periphery, cheek sunken where he’s gnawing at the flesh. “And you didn’t force anything. I hardly pushed you away,” your brow wrinkles and you smile despite yourself. “I got a little lost in your head, too. Not my most professional moment I admit. But I wouldn’t want to leave either, if we were cuddled up in here all day”.

“Really?” Izuku blinks. Hope colours his cheeks. He clears his throat and shifts in place as he tries very hard to appear unaffected. “You don’t think it’s creepy—me picturing all this with you?”

You think of that young boy yoked with the burden of expectation and feel your heart crack. You can still taste his desires. They’re insipid, belying their age, as though they’d lingered long enough to stale. Izuku treasured his friends and fans', their love and loyalty; yet he felt guilty for allowing them to foster such a blind faith in his goodness. He was a man with faults like any other, capable of making mistakes, of inflicting harm. More than anything Izuku longed for someone to see the darker, uglier corners of his life, and make room for all of him. And you wanted to be the one to do it.

“I’ve imagined this with you. This and more,” bolstered by everything you’ve seen, the confession spills out with startling ease. Your eyes squint above the curve of your grin. “I like you too,” you coaxed his fist open as you spoke, mapping out the carved furrows, shallows and depths on his palm. “A lot”.

“Oh,” he exhales, slowly entangling your fingers.

You give an emphatic nod.

“How mad is Kacchan?”

“Pretty mad. But when is he not?” you laugh at his grimace. “I’ll be there as a buffer when you wake up. It’s my professional opinion that you need a few more days to recuperate and take me out for crêpes. So will you come home with me?”

There’s a gleam in his eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugs at your chest. His gaze flickers across your face, from your lips to your eyes in askance. You lean in and he kisses you again, sipping gently at your mouth, firm and slightly sticky with congealed blood. Strange. It feels so real. You suppose it is, in all the ways that matter.

“Okay,” he whispers after one last peck to your lips. You get to your feet as he stands and gestures nervously toward the genkan. “I, uh. I don’t really know how to get out of here so… lead the way?”

You laugh and take him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The way home is always a lot faster. It’s a little disorienting—watch your step,” you warn as he follows you through the front door. Rather than the lobby, or a stairwell, both bodies are swallowed up by darkness.

Spat out just as abruptly, your senses return to you piece by piece. Breathing through the vertigo you peel your eyes open to the rapid rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he reorients himself. A crick in your neck, a knot in your spine. The clock reads 07:12. There are already nurses bustling around the hospital bed, likely alerted by the frantic heart monitor; that which does little to hide the way Izuku’s pulse stutters when you lift your head to get a look at him.

“I’m up,” he says, throat rough from disuse. There’s a shaky smile on his face. “I’m home”.

Your hands are still entwined, albeit a little sweaty. You smile, “Welcome home”.

[highvern]

Patterns II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, hand job, dry humping, oral (face sitting), lots of teasing/minor degradation if you squint, overstimulation, breath play

Length: ~9.9k

Note: part 2 is here, let's goooooo! thanks for being so patient and thank you @millennial-fangirl and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing!

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Avoiding Wonwoo post D-Day, as Amina calls it, proves to be surprisingly easy. An entire week of back to back meetings leaves you blocking off parts of your calendar just to use the bathroom. And according to the grapevine, there’s been zero proof of life from Wonwoo’s end either which has caused Mingyu to break out in hives. 

But as the weekend draws closer you’re given the greatest gift the universe can bestow.

“Monday is a disconnect day for the client which means all of us are on black out. No emails, no phone calls, nothing.” Mona announces in the team huddle.

Tears of joy bead in your eyes at the news. However, it's short lived.

“We’ll need to hit the ground running when we come back so make sure everything is done Friday. Even if you have to stay late. Understand?” 

Your laptop pings with a message in the corner.

Gerard: how does she make free PTO sound like hell?

Y/N: i think she said it was her special talent when we did ice breakers at the beginning of the project

Gerard: oh yeah right after she said she hates puppies

Y/N: and joy

Mona slaps her own computer shut, sending you ten feet in the air before continuing, “If there isn’t anything else. We can wrap this up. Shoot me a message if there are any questions.” 

“And how will you be spending your new found free time?” You ask.

Gerard holds the door open as you walk past, “The way the universe intends. In bed, sleeping. Maybe I’ll finally unpack my suitcase from the last trip Mona dragged me on.”

“Wasn’t that like, a month ago?” You ask.

“And?”

The rest of the day is a blur, rushing from meeting to meeting with barely enough time to breathe. It’s only the end of the day that grants you the next glimpse at the world outside the dreary office walls. Albeit through the bright screen of your cell phone.

Once back at your desk, you unlock your phone to find several unread messages. Several from Amina document her jealousy that you and Lisa have long weekends. Lisa offers to kick Mingyu off the long planned trip to the adorable bed and breakfast she found for their anniversary. 

Amina 🍑💗: FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF CORPORATE AMERICA

Y/N: Your honor free her!!!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: Girls trip! Girls trip! Girls trip!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: mingyu will understand 

Y/N: I am begging you to go have gross emotional sex somewhere other than our apartment

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: we’ve done it plenty of places that arent the apartment :) 

Y/N: whore

But a separate thread unleashes a coldsnap in your veins.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): forgot to give these back…

Attached is a photo. A familiar swatch of cotton contrasting with the rich navy of his blanket in the background. His long fingers grip the hem, involuntarily jolting memories of them curled around your body.

Upon realizing you’re sitting out in the open staring at a picture of your panties, you hastily lock your phone and shove it into the deep recesses of your purse. Thank the stars no one else was around to glimpse the crude picture or the sudden sweat along your brow. How dare Wonwoo’s first attempt at speaking to you post hook up be a picture of your underwear in the middle of the work day. Who did he think he was?

Overcoming the initial embarrassment that floods your system, you decide to ignore his bid for attention. If you ignored him then he wouldn’t know the power he held. Plain and simple.

—

The next few days fly past without incident. Wonwoo remains silent and allows you to fall back into forgetting his existence.

As Friday hurdles forward, the usual shenanigans of bar hopping is replaced by plans for a movie night. You aren’t the only one suffering from sleep deprivation; Amina’s job ran her into the ground, and same with Lisa’s. 

The idea fills you with dread, spurred by yearning to spend every moment of free time to catch up on sleep. But knowing your friends, the probability of successfully ditching is on the negative side of zero, especially since you’ve barely spoken to one another all week and they’d both be out of town for the weekend.

The atmosphere of the office is sullen. Late Friday afternoons are reserved for pretending to work and gossiping. Unless you work for your team. In which case, you’ve spent the past hour agonizing over different powerpoint transitions and if they convey professionalism yet approachable.

A throat clearing behind you breaks your trace.

“Okay, I need to go home.” 

Looking up from your laptop, an aura of visible graveness radiates from Gerard. His theater minor really came in handy.

“Why?” You ask skeptically. 

Gerard was nice. But he wasn’t that nice.

“Because I’m already going to be stuck here all night.” He sighs. “And there’s no point in both of us suffering. You have the report ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a new powerpoint and get it finalized.”

“Then let me handle it. Mona wants me to re-do the other report you need for the deck so I’ll make it when I’m done.”

Hands moving of their own volition, you shove your scattered belongings into your purse. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He groans. “If I need something I’ll call. Now go. Be free.”

He shoos you without another word, diving into his own computer. Before Gerard can change his mind you’re in the elevator and own your way home.

Thirty minutes later, you find Amina and Lisa already in the midst of a full apartment clean up. A 2000s playlist blasts from the speaker on the counter while Amina shoots daggers at the furniture in the living room.

“Do you think we should move the couch?” Amina shouts at your entrance.

Her lips move but you can’t hear anything over the blasting noise. “Huh?” 

“The couch!” She repeats after cutting off the sound.

You nod before realizing you're still in work clothes. Rushing to your room, you quickly change into something more presentable.

When you return, Lisa is in the kitchen putting away dishes. You and Amina descend on the living room, heads bobbing in sync to the music while you work. Under combined efforts, the space shifts from wild disarray to sparkling clean in no time. 

Moving in sync, you both work to tetter the furniture into different arrangements. It takes four attempts before she throws her hands up, accepting defeat and moving to the counter to join Lisa. You fail to silence a half hearted cheer before flopping down onto the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Who said they were coming again?” Amina asks, her head resting on her arms crossed in front of her on top of the cool marble.

“Mingyu, Soonyoung, Eva,” Lisa pauses as she scrolls through her texts to find confirmation. “Wonwoo.” 

Both Amina and Lisa snap their necks to pointedly look at you.

Much to your own disappointment, your cheeks heat. Avoiding the scrutinous gazes of your roommates, you roll off the couch and busy yourself with replacing the pillows and blankets Amina tossed aside earlier.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Amina questions, walking over to reorganize the coffee table, sweeping their trinkets and books away for the drinks and food that would soon be spread atop it.

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t texted you or you haven’t responded?” Amina’s eyebrows furrow, as if Wonwoo’s silence is the most confusing thing between you two.

“He hasn’t texted.” You lie, pulling at a frayed thread at the corner of the pillow.

Lisa joins the effort, folding blankets and organizing them in piles. “Well that’s lame.”

“I’m sorry? Weren't you the one who threatened to kill him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “So? A girl can’t be dramatic?” 

“There’s dramatic and then there’s you.” Amina chimes.

“Whatever.” Lisa scoffs before looking at you. “Wonwoo’s cool but if he ghosted you then he’s a loser.” 

You shrug before responding, “It was just a one time thing. It’s not like I was reaching out to him either.”

“I thought you said he was good?” Amina asks with round eyes.

“He was but it was just a one time thing. Let’s not make it weird, okay?” You wait until they both nod before continuing. “What time is everyone coming?” 

“Around seven, I think?” Lisa throws the question to Amina.

“Yeah, seven.” Amina answers, eyeing the furniture again. 

Glancing at your phone you spot the time, 4:46PM. Perfect. 

“I’m gonna shower and take a nap,” You call, heading down the hall.

Once in the bathroom, you undress as the water warms to a tolerable temperature. Finding it suitable, you make to enter but the dig of your phone distracts you. The screen illuminates and you spot a familiar name.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I was planning on coming with mingyu tonight but if you don’t want me to I'll hang back

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

Strange as it may be, you're oddly endeared by his consideration. But his last messages sit on the screen just above and cut the warmth short.

Y/N: and yet there’s a picture of you holding my panties that says the opposite

Y/N: im not spooked so easily

Locking your phone, you jump in the shower. The hot water lulls away the anticipation flooring through your veins. It didn’t have to be weird. Tonight would prove it.

The short nap leaves you disoriented but the laughter of friends draws you out from the covers. Bravely, you change out of pajamas into more presentable pajamas consisting of sweats and a sweatshirt. Once settled, you slide into the hall and meet company. 

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, you scan the group. Eva and Soonyoung sit across the counter, both of them smiling your way. Amina is fussing about, attempting to organize the drinks spread across the counter into some kind or order. An expensive bottle of liquor Mingyu no doubt supplied sits in the middle like a prize, however he’s nowhere to be seen along with his roommate and girlfriend. You try to assist Amina but the space between the island counter and the stove is barely large enough for one body, let alone two. Amina shoos you away after barely a minute.

A trio of voices echo down the hallway.

“Every project he doesn’t want to do just gets thrown on me.” A deep voice complains. “I don’t even know what his actual job is.” 

The timber sends electricity down your spine. You try not to stare as Wonwoo steps into the light of the kitchen trailing behind Lisa. Apparently Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Lisa were tasked with food duty; however, Lisa's hands are completely empty. A stark contrast to Wonwoo and Mingyu behind her balancing several stacked boxes between them. 

You exchange a brief friendly smile with Wonwoo, before he continues with Mingyu. Shoulders sagging, your relief is only momentary. The weight of your friends watching the interaction is unbearable, despite everyone being wrapped in their own conversations. Lisa and Amina argue over the best order to organize everything while Mingyu sets about actually arranging the boxes. Soonyoung and Eva exchange gossip at the counter, their own laughter slicing through the air above them.

Pouring yourself a drink, you snatch the pitcher next to Eva, no doubt containing one of her deadly concoctions. Filling the glass halfway, you take a sip. Fruit and spicy sweetness tingling on your tongue followed by the warmth of cinnamon. The slight burn is masked with a deceptive tang of citrus. It goes down much too easily for the amount of alcohol Eva includes in her drinks. You estimate it’ll take two servings before you’re asleep against the arm of the sofa. Empting the glass, you pour another helping and cast off from the counter. 

Heading into the living room, you beeline for a spot on the sofa before anyone can object. Despite Amina’s attempts earlier, a few people would have to take to the floor and you refuse to be one of them.

“Alright everyone, come eat.” Amina calls in the small space.

You forgo the pizza for now. There would be plenty after everyone settled. Wrapping in one of the large fleece blankets, you burrow down into the sofa. Bending your knees, your legs cross while you lean back into the seam between the plush cushion and armrest, head perfectly positioned to see the television. 

Your cup empties before anyone comes to join you. Lisa and Mingyu squash into the recliner on the other side of the living room, the shabby chair groaning any time their weight shifts. You hope it's enough of a deterrent for their determined wandering hands. Many movie nights had been ruined because of their less than family friendly activities. Amina settles in front of the coffee table amongst the pile of cushions and thick blankets. Eva and Soonyoung curl up on the loveseat against the wall.

Wonwoo crashes down into the space next to you, sending a tight lipped smile at your responding frown. His legs spread apart as he leans forward to eat. Your shin brushes against his thigh through the blanket but fatigue prevents any sort of reaction beyond registering the presence of his body. 

Someone knocks out the lights and your eyes cement shut. The horror movie Lisa chose begins, lights from the screen dancing across your eyelids. It's a shallow rest at best, allowing you to catch snippets of dialogue from the characters and muffled whispers from your friends. But it’s like being underwater, senses dull as you experience it all from far far away.

You even forget about Wonwoo until he leans back into the cushions. The contact from his thigh breaking when he props his legs on the coffee table. A particularly loud scream comes from the TV but it's Wonwoo’s voice that startles you.

“Mind sharing?” He whispers, asking for permission despite already lifting the corner of the blanket draped over your knee.

You shake your head, nuzzling further into the armrest and away from temptation.

Wonwoo untucks the fold of the blanket from under your legs, stretching it across his lap. The heat of his side radiates into you even more. Even in your lethargic state the hyper awareness refuses to fade. It stokes a part of you wishing to move onto his lap and work you both back into the blissful high of a few nights ago. But you refuse to acknowledge the craving to dive into him, press your face into the front of his sweater and allow the beat of his heart to lull you into a rest.

You're fully aware all you need to do to get the first thing is let him give it to you. You were the one who ran away, shunned his attempts for a repeat, ignored him. Wonwoo provided several opportunities for a repeat of Friday night, now it was up to you to accept his invitation. 

But try as you might not to care, the dread of what your friends will think rears its head. It's a cop out; no one really cares that it's Wonwoo, only happy you’re finally getting laid again. 

You need to act before your nerve fades but in a room packed full of watchful eyes you’re unsure how to proceed. Feigning a yawn, your eyes pry open to lazily scan the room. Soonyoung has Eva between his legs, her back resting against his chest.. From where you are sitting it's evident they both have their eyes glued to the screen, Eva takes movie night too seriously to allow any funny business. Amina slouched down enough you can no longer see the top of her curly hair. Cautiously swiping at Lisa and Mingyu, it takes only a second before you look away. Thankfully Eva insists on blasting the TV volume to a deafening decibel. 

The movement of Wonwoo’s chest, lulled by the shallow rises and falls, clarifies in the fliting light of the screen. More memories of flushed skin shuddering with ragged breaths come to the forefront. Following the curve of his throat to the arch of his jaw, you find Wonwoo already staring back from the corner of his eye.

He arches an eyebrow, challenging and curious. It demolishes whatever resolve you possess to not look away. Instead, you focus back on the movie while untangling your legs and resting them on the coffee table next to his, ankles crossing under the blanket. The sudden motion leaves the entire span of your right leg flush with his left, a comforting warmth spreading between the layers of thick fabric between.. 

In the haste, the top of the blanket falls down to your lap. You tug it back up swiftly, wanting the layer to conceal your next action from the rest of the world. Satisfied with re-arranganged fabric, your hand doesn’t return to its previous home in your lap. Instead, it rests in the small stretch of space between you and Wonwoo, allowing your shoulders to brush lightly and her fingers to ghost along his thigh.

The heat of his sideways gaze continues to heat your cheeks despite your attempt at playing oblivious. Shifting closer, you pause; Wonwoo doesn’t take the opportunity to move away. Instead, he presses back. Some twisted part inside your mind relishes in victory.

Wonwoo’s left arm slouches down from its place on top of the cushion, joining yours in the space under the camouflage of the blanket. The back of your hands timidly brush before he extends his arm. It's sweet for a moment; shy and coy. But Wonwoo doesn’t allow you to sink into the gesture because his hand rests on top of your thigh and squeezes.

Thankfully you’re far enough back that no one can see unless they turn their neck so far it almost snaps off. Even then, the thick fabric of the blanket doesn’t give away what's happening underneath. The only clues are your labored breath and the shit eating grin threatening to split Wonwoo’s lips. The two couples on either side of the room are in far more compromising positions but with Wonwoo’s hand so high on your leg, you might as well be nude.

Calloused fingertips begin tracing across the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. Without thinking, your ankles uncross, letting your legs part slightly to grant him more space. A wince escapes between Wonwoo’s teeth from your nails digging into his own thigh.

Wonwoo’s hands are lazy in their journey upwards. Fingers massaging firmly against the supple skin, pulling at the flesh with a fraction of the intensity he’s capable of. His thumb kneads into cords of muscle, working out the knots he detects along the way. When he grazes the edge of the large bruise, you stiffen.

Most of the hickies he gifted that night healed, some already disappearing completely. The one he’s prodding now stubbornly remained, much to your mortification. With the irritated skin still sore to the touch, you were constantly reminded of its presence each time you moved. In your peripheral, Wonwoo turns his head. A downward twitch of your jaw motions for him to continue.

The scene on the TV is almost pitch black, throwing the room into a similar darkness. Wonwoo makes use of the cover and creeps his hand past the waistband of your sweats. He lets his palm rest against the lower part of your stomach, the pleasant warmth seeping in, soothing the nerves. The respite is short lived when his long middle finger traces along the elastic of your panties, teasing the skin under the band.

Sweat blooms on your brow and your breath grows stunted. It's embarrassing how worked up he has you. Barely twenty minutes into the movie, less than five of Wonwoo’s touch and yet the distinct wetness between your legs swells. But rather than relief, Wonwoo waits. And he waits. And he waits.

What is he waiting for? You think.

Eventually the movie will end, signaling your friends to get up. The second any of them spared a glance at your corner of the room everything will become clear and exactly what takes place under the blanket will become easily decipherable.

But there is nothing you can do to make Wonwoo’s hand dip lower and feel the dampness he spurred. Attempting to distract yourself from suffering, you switch focus on controlling your breath. Counting slowly to four while inhaling, holding for another four, and then exhaling in the same measure. Even your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh follows the rhythm. 

Mouth watering at the tense flex of the muscle under your fingers, you indulge in the visual of his room again. This time, he’s in nothing but his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be seen. Red nail marks marr his chest and his hair is wild. You’re perched in his lap, completely naked and grinding against the evident bulge, dripping a wet spot on to the gray fabric. Wonwoo would watch while you used his body to get off, his hands tearing into the sheets. Fantasy Wonwoo would beg. He’d beg to kiss you, beg to touch you. Nothing like the devil sitting next to you, forcing you to plead for every once pleasure. 

Next time Wonwoo would beg. But patience was never a virtue you took pride in. 

Your hand wanders higher, finding exactly what you knew you would. Everything in you fights against grinning like the cat who got the canary. Despite the fact that you haven't really touched, Wonwoo is half hard. Even more satisfying is how he strains against his pants with only a few teasing passes.

He releases a heavy sigh when you push against him a little more firmly. Breaking attention from the movie, you sneak a peek at his reaction.

Wonwoo’s features are void of emotion. No matching bead of sweat at his temple and the heat you feel on your cheeks fails to present itself on his. Not even a wrinkle across his forehead. He almost looks…bored. It's a stark contrast to what you can feel under her palm.

But then you look closer and discover a discrete clench of his jaw and the minute flare of his nostrils. A glimpse at his neck highlights the stiff muscles, taunt like he’s fighting to break out of his own skin. You can’t stop looking. Subtle as the signs are, Wonwoo is just as much of a mess as you are. The only difference being he’s better at concealing it. 

Wonwoo continues to play with the band of your underwear, content to pull the elastic and let it snap against your skin, providing no solace. It's maddening but gives you a chance to brace for his next move. He really only has two options, pull his hand away and end the game. Or push his fingers down further and indulge. 

When a deafening scream blasts the TV prompts everyone to jump, he strikes. Wonwoo’s fingers wedge in the tight space between your legs. The sudden intrusion makes your thighs clench, a detrimental mistake since it forces the heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit. He wastes no time before prodding against the soaking fabric curiously. Extending his fingers downward, Wonwoo teases at your entrance through your  underwear. You could cry at the relief but control yourself, lip nearly splitting from biting back a squeak. You’d sell your soul to the devil if it meant you could be alone, sitting on his lap as he talks you through it, whispering for you to be good while he stretched you over his cock again and again. 

But that's impossible. So you’ll settle for this.

Your friends are none the wiser while you build each other up under the blankets. When you stuff your hand under Wonwoo’s waistband, you find out he is certainly not wearing underwear. Immediately you take advantage, letting your thumb graze against the weeping tip. The angle doesn’t allow for a smooth so you play with the head, letting catch on his slit to over and over. Each pass earns you a shudder of his stomach against the back of your forearm.

Wonwoo pushes aside the thin strip of your underwear, two fingers tracing your entrance before dipping inside, curling up to his middle knuckle. It’s hardly enough to get off but the threat of getting caught spawns more and more arousal. At this rate, your sweatpants will be sporting a wet patch if they aren’t already.

She’s so fucking wet. Wonwoo thinks, the revelation sending a shot of want straight to his cock. He curses whatever he did in a past life preventing him from hauling you into your room and burying himself inside your cunt until he passes out. The irony of the position isn’t lost on him. Wonwoo waited all week for a green light and of course you decided to give it to him in the middle of a packed room with a dozen prying eyes and ears. But he isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. If you want him to get you off under the blanket, then he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Wonwoo repositions his hand, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, abandoning the shallow thrust at your entrance. When his fingernail scrapes delicately over the bundle of nerves, a whimper breaks from through your parted lips and almost blows their cover. 

The movie, unlike you or Wonwoo, is at its climax. Loud screams and distorted music occupy the attention of everyone in the room. But still, you both pause, frozen and waiting for a sign someone heard. Wonwoo debates pulling away. He’d seen the film before, and while his mind struggles to remember the plot he knows there's simply not enough time left before the credits roll and the illusion is shattered. 

Brain riddled with hormones and lust, Wonwoo faces an impossible choice. Call timeout and hope you’re generous enough to give him another chance. Or, he can make the most of the opportunity literally at hand and pray he’s fast enough. 

He’d already waited an entire week, what was another day? And if he waited then maybe he’d get to fuck you properly, away from any onlookers. Where you can sing all the noises that drive him crazy.

The way you play with his cock makes confident he’ll get another turn; so, with herculean effort, Wonwoo extracts his hand from your underwear, moves it back on top of her thigh and gives a minute squeeze in apology. He looks down at your face, witnessing the moments of confusion. Your eyebrows knot under his scrutiny.

“Later.” He mouths, hoping you’ll accept his promise to finish what was started.

In an instant, confusion transforms into cold rage. Features smoothing, your chin tips in defiance. Wonwoo already regrets his decision, tempted to go right back to where he left off but you look like you might rip his arm off if he tries. You turn back to the movie and ignore his existence. 

The hand in his pants doesn’t leave, and a chill of fear trickles down his spine. You aren’t prone to violence, but having his most prized possession in the palm of your hand, coupled with the sinister coldness on your face doesn’t inspire any faith that he’ll walk away unscathed.

Wonwoo isn’t sure how much time passes before you act. Seconds drag on, forcing him on the edge of his seat with anticipation. The knee closest to him bends, your foot resting on the end of the cushion, providing a tent of space over his lap. A decisive twist of her wrist catches him off guard. The space between his lap and the blanket hides the rough fists of his cock with their friends only feet away. The motion steals his breath; the way you use the slick to slide across his shaft, squeezing tightly to the point stars float in his vision.

With embarrassing swiftness, he’s close. Teeth pinching at his lip barely prevent the grunts building in his chest; praises for the devil next to him dying on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo’s hips threaten to cant up, matching the rhythm of your hand with his thrusts. The warning signs of his end sizzle through his veins, the fuzzy snaps of pleasure racing up his spine. 

Wonwoo takes one last glance at your face, finding he’s already being watched. His eyes scan the mischievous smirk on your lips and realizes a second too late that he fell right into a trap. Without warning, your hand stills.

You smile sweetly as your hand slips out of his pants, snaking it into the bottom of his sweatshirt to wipe the mess of cum against his stomach. When your hand leaves his body and returns to your own lap, Wonwoo he’s been punched in the gut. 

He has no time to ponder what the hell just happened because the credits roll and Amina is already up and moving towards the lights. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, thinking about anything that will make his hard-on deflate before he has to stand up. Cold showers, old neighbors morning sex routine, getting hit with a car… he repeats like a mantra.

On his left, you hop up, all but skipping down the hall and into the darkness. Wonwoo wants to chase and finish whatever the hell just happened given that his cock is soft enough he can tuck it up in his waistband. But his phone buzzes before he can. The screen lights up with a new message from the minx herself.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes with utter disbelief at his life. Your texts burned into his skull.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

Wonwoo: Next time?

Y/N (lisa roommate): you can think of this while you wait

The photo haunted him in his sleep. He stared at it for so long he’s sure he could draw the details from memory.

On your knees facing away from the mirror, your ass is on full display. Wonwoo doesn’t know it is better or worse that you’re lent forward with a lewd curve to your spine. Better because he can see everything. Worse because he received it minutes after you fled to your room, which means the wet cling of your panties to your folds was his doing. 

More effective than the picture is the fact you were all but twenty feet away in the privacy of your room, taking nudes while he pretended everything was normal. The entire time he helped tidy up, the walk back to his apartment, and long before he fell asleep, Wonwoo wondered if you were touching yourself. He wanted to ask; ask if you were thinking about him while you did it and if you weren’t, could he give you something to think about?

But every time he opened the thread to message you his finger refused to type. Wonwoo remembered what it was like to have you on your knees. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But now he has an idea what you look like from the back and it might end his life.

Instead of spending the night with the subject of his desires, Wonwoo found himself the subject of torture. Lisa came back to their apartment so the couple could leave first thing in the morning to some rural bed and breakfast outside the city to celebrate their anniversary. Apparently, they decided to start their celebration early. Hours of Lisa and Mingyu going at it across the hall stretched on with no end in sight. 

Their usual antics would piss Wonwoo off but he’d deal with it. However, last night it only reminded him how much he is not getting laid and he has no one to blame but himself. Crushing a pillow over his head, Wonwoo attempted to make up for the sleep he is already desperately missing. 

His efforts were hopeless. Barely five minutes passed before he turned fitful, tossing and turning without finding comfort. Every trick he knows failed; counting his breath, meditation, relaxing music, turning off his phone. Nothing works. He gives up after an hour.

When dawn came, Wonwoo’s bad mood set in to plague him the rest of the day. 

Sheltering down in his room, he remains hidden until he is certain Mingyu and Lisa are long gone. When he does finally leave his bed, the choke of storm clouds outside have darkened the skies to the point that if not for the clock on his phone he would think it's closer to midnight than it is to noon.

When he decides to step out to grab food, his mistake doesn’t hit him until he’s already shut the door. 

Wonwoo’s keys are still on the kitchen counter. Next to his wallet. And his will to live. 

Several streets over, your day is going much much better; refreshed from a full night sleep and the thought of what Wonwoo’s face looked like opening the picture.

Lisa and Amina granted clemency last night, cleaning the mess from the evening before abandoning you for the weekend. Lisa off with Mingyu while Amina joined the college friends on their annual retreat (re: party weekend at the coast). Leaving you all to your lonesome for the next two days, nothing but rest and relaxation dancing on the horizon.

The murky darkness of thunder and rain outside the window is staved off by the warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the living room and the dancing lights of the TV as a random show whispers quietly. The warm air is clogged with the sweet smell of vanilla and bergamot from one of Amina’s large candles that rests on the coffee table. And bundle on the couch in the same blanket soiled from the night before, you doze off like a house cat. 

A rogue buzzing pulls you back from the shallow slumber, eyes cracking open lazily to search for the device lost in the cushions. By the time you find it, the call has gone to voicemail. The notification on the screen means you must still be dreaming.

MISSED CALL: Wonwoo

A flash of panic tightens your chest. A million thoughts race by, all regarding what could prompt Wonwoo to call you. He doesn’t call you. In the year and a half you’ve known each other there isn’t a single instance of it. The complete uncharacteristic nature of it has you calling him back before giving it a second thought.

“Are you home?” Snaps through the speaker after the first ring.

He sounds pissed. It’s not the usual sarcastic lit that graces his interactions. It’s dry and pointed and already grating your nerves.

“Well, hello to you.” You sneer back.

“Hi.” He deadpans. You can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Are you home?”

“Why?”

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and both your roommates are out… of course you’re home.

“I’m locked out and I know Mingyu gave Lisa a copy of the key.”

“You’re locked out?” You parrot. It’s not that it’s an impossible situation, it’s just ridiculously unlucky timing.

“Good to know you’re listening.” He bites.

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m out of town.”

“Y/N…” He interrupts, voice clearly exhausted.

Normally, you would goad him until blue in the face. His stunt last night doesn’t warrant patience. But you know he’s had a week from hell too based on what Mingyu and Lisa shared.

“Yeah I’m home. But Lisa took her keys with her so I doubt the spare is here.”

“Great, just fucking great.” He erupts.

You wince, “Sorry.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t respond immediately. The measured cadence of his breath echoes through the line. When he finally speaks again he sounds calmer.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Timing is just shit given the week I’ve had.”

“Your landlord can’t let you in?”

“Not answering his phone.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Also not answering.”

After that, words fail you. But given Wonwoo truly seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, you throw him a bone.

Readjusting the phone on your shoulder, your hands pick at the frayed hem of the blanket. “Look, if you want to sleep on the couch here, be my guest.”

Silence.

“If you’d rather call a locksmith go ahead.” You rush. “Just thought I’d offer.” 

“If you wanted a slumber party you could have told me.”

Apparently, even poor luck can’t prevent Wonwoo from being a complete smartass.

“Have fun sleeping outside!” You croon sweetly, looking for the button to end the call.

“Wai—”

Phone locked and tossed to the floor, you burrow back into the nest of pillows and blankets. Any prior  drowsiness transforms into irritation. 

Less than a minute passes before your phone begins ringing once more.

 It's your turn to snap at him. “What?”

The pause on the other end of the line is heavy. 

“I was being an ass.”

“You’re always an ass.” You respond with a deep sigh.

“The locksmith won’t come till morning so…”

Despite your better judgment, you take pity on the poor man. 

“Come over.” You concede, cringing at the implication of the phrase. Wonwoo is coming over because he’s locked out. Not for any other reason. He’s desperate and needs somewhere to crash until his landlord can let him in.

“…Thanks.” 

The call ends.

Wonwoo knocks on the door twenty minutes later. You can’t believe what you see through the peephole. He’s soaked down to his skin, hair matted to his forehead despite the hood of his jacket. The chill of the hallway makes him shake like a leaf in a windstorm. When you finally open the door to face him, he’s somehow worse than he was through the glass.

If it was under any other circumstances the cling of the hoodie against his broad chest would stir something inside you. But Wonwoo has never looked so… pitiful.

“Oh my god,” You manage, choking on laughter.

“Are we just gonna stand here or can I come in?”

Shouldering open the door, you snicker as Wonwoo steps around. At least until he starts abandoning his wet clothes once inside.

“Wait, let me get some towels.” 

Running to the bathroom, you snag whatever towels can be spared. You catch yourself in the mirror before exiting. Messy hair with an indent on your cheek from the crease of the pillow is the least of your problems. There's stain on the front of your sweater from the leftover pizza scarfed down for lunch and you aren’t wearing a bra. 

It doesn’t matter considering Wonwoo looks like a drowned cat but you’re still self conscious. The best you can do is splash cold water on your face and remember he is worse off than you.

Wonwoo waits right where you left him by the door, dripping more water with each second. His bare chest glistens in the dim light. When he looks up from his phone you chuck a towel at his head. 

“You can wait in the bathroom while I find some dry clothes.”

Wonwoo trudges behind as you lead him back the way you came. 

Once again, he immediately unbuttons his pants without regard for your presence. Deft fingers make quick work. You remember where you are when he goes to force them down.

Wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror, “Staying to watch?”

“I’m just gonna…” You mumble, looking anywhere but at the show he puts on.

The door latch clicks just as the heavy thuds of his soaked clothes land in the sink. Leaning against the opposite wall, your head gently rests against the cool surface. A deep sigh leaves your nose.

You’ve seen Wonwoo naked. Your hand was down his pants less than twenty four hours ago. A picture of your ass lives in his text messages for Christ sake. Seeing him shirtless and wet shouldn’t have you blushing like some virgin.

Ruminating on your momentary lapse of dignity will get you nowhere so you start hunting for the collection of Seungcheol’s clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser. A few months ago the sight would have sent you to tears. Now, it’s comical. The fleeting memory of Lisa’s bewildered face when you choked down sobs after Amina threw out your ex’s toothbrush rears its head. Crazy how things can change so quickly from hurt to nothing.

You're in and out of the bathroom in a flash, collecting wet clothes in exchange for dry ones. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t jest from behind the current.

While he continues to shower, you’re busy with making the couch habitable. Knowing you can’t deal with another of Wonwoo’s uncouth comments, the blanket you previously used is exchanged for the one draped on the armchair. Rather the blanket Mingyu and Lisa sullied than the one tainted by yourselves.

Wonwoo comes down the hallway just in time, toweling at his damp hair. 

“Well, this is it.” You say, avoiding eye contact. “There's a charge plugged in near the TV you're welcome to use. Um, good night.”

“Gonna make me sleep all by myself?” He plops on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. Wonwoo’s too cocky for someone who looked like he drowned on dry land twenty minutes ago. 

Wonwoo’s triumphant smirk doesn’t last when you plop a heavy knitted quilt over him. He scrambles free but you’re already halfway to your bedroom.

Scoffing, you respond,“What? Are you scared of the dark?”

“If that's the excuse you need to come over here, sure. I’m terrified.”

“Awww,” you coo sarcastically. “You’ll cope.”

In the confines of your room, you manage the first deep breath of the night. You won’t be able to sleep. Not with him so close. Not when temptation is just beyond the door and down the hallway. 

How dare he ask you for a favor and then act like an ass. Of course, he’d use something so unfortunate to get his dick wet. 

More steam pours from your ears as you ruminate. Pacing back and forth you scoff at his audacity until it boils over and you're stomping back into the living room.

“You know I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here.” You fume, stopping a few feet away from where the biggest pain in your ass rests. “I could have let you go to Eva and Soonyoung’s and deal with their bullshit but I didn’t.”

Wonwoo lifts on one elbow, eying you silently. 

Faltering under his gaze, you continue to ramble. “How dare you ask me for a favor and then act like a pig.”

“You’re right.” 

“What?” You choke.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo concedes. 

You falter for a second in disbelief, mouth gaping over silent words. It couldn’t have been that easy. 

“I shouldn’t have believed you giving me a handy meant more than it was.”

Huffing, you stop and turn back to your room. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet, you still sent me a pic of your ass.” He snorts, collapsing back into his pillow. “Pick a lane, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flinging your hands in the air, you return back to your room to stew until morning.

“So that picture was all talk?” Wonwoo yells in your direction.

He wants a reaction and that's exactly what he gets. Pivoting, you storm back in front of the couch. 

“Oh! I’m all talk? You’re the one who can’t even finish what he started.”

“And what did I start?” He sneers, sitting up. 

You know what he’s doing. Attempting to rile you up until there's no choice but to give in. And it’s working. Wiping that stupid smirk on his face is as simple as swallowing his cock until he’s nothing more than a twitching mess. But if Wonwoo wants you, he’ll need to try harder than goading a response out of you. 

Biting back you prod his chest, “Nothing worth my time, that's for damn sure.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, rising to his feet. “Didn’t seem that way last night.” 

Chest to chest, he’s more intimidating but you won’t falter. Instead, you switch gears. Your finger skims dangerously close to the waistband of his pants. 

“I’m a really, really good actress.”

A battle of wills ensues. Wonwoo stares you down, unflinching at your smirk. He’s pissed at the implication. It's clear in his body language; tense shoulders, shuddering breath. 

Your fatal mistake comes when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. The memory of what they felt like jolts an ache in your bones. 

A tilt of his chin is all the invitation you need to drag his mouth to yours.

Wonwoo has you perched on his lap in an instant, legs splayed over his spread thighs and his hands pulling you forward. It's clumsy but eagerness blinds you both to anything beyond the powerful drag of your core hips against the tent in his pants.

Twisting a hand in the short hair at the base of Wonwoo’s neck, you tug hard enough to move him how you want. A throaty moan is the only response he gives, easily following your demands. But the way his large hands grab at the curve of your ass move you how he wants.

He groans into the curve of your shoulder with the next cant of your hips. “God, you’re so hot. Shit.”

Despite the chill that has creeped its way inside the apartment, you’re burning up; skin flushed and hot to touch. The hand not tangled in Wonwoo’s hair slips under his shirt, nails skating up the taunt muscles of his abdomen. His own hands echo the path, finding their way beneath your sweater.

Wonwoo lifts your sweater and swiftly drops it to the flooring, busying his hands with cradling the soft skin he’s uncovered. He leans away to break the kiss, but you manage to drag him back. 

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you curse, clinging tighter when he breaks the contact and drops his mouth to your chest.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, leaving you dizzy and desperate. Head in the clouds, you fold and bend as he tortures your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb leaves goosebumps in its wake, skating across your nipple until it pebbles. One reflex you twist the fist of his hair harshly when he pinches and are rewarded with a moan and rush of his cock into your covered cunt. 

A hot trail of sloppy kisses sends your heart into a tailspin. Wonwoo must feel it with the way he licks and sucks your nipple; pulling until it pops out of his mouth before he leans back to repeat the motion once more.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s borrowed sweatshirt is abandoned on the floor as well but neither of you find the rush present from your previous romp. You follow when Wonwoo leans back, flat against his chest.

Hazy fatigue swells around the edges. The feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, and roaming hands brings everything to a calming lull. Without the fog of alcohol or the threat of nosey friends, you explore each other with feather light touches that turn into gentle gropes, and hot wet kisses that transform into drags of teeth and lips. From shared exhaustion, running on nothing less than minutes of sleep and a near lethal dose of caffeine, you sluggish trapeze through the motions. 

Taking advantage of the moment, you discover exactly what Wonwoo likes. When you rake a hand through his hair, nails pulling through the damp locks to scratch against his scalp, then Wonwoo shudders and sucks at your chest with more enthusiasm than before. He likes when you bite him, his hips rutting up harshly with each nip at his throat.

Each breathy sigh you release spurs him on. Melting into a needy mess, you can’t find an ounce of embarrassment; even as Wonwoo massages your cunt through your sweatpants and pathetic whimper after pathetic whimper pours from your throat.

Having his focus on you makes you crave him more. A never ending cycle of want. 

“Please,” you beg. The second the word is out of your mouth, Wonwoo is ushering you towards your room.

You trip through the living room with Wonwoo’s mouth still latched to your chest. Pinned between the back of the couch and his body, he sucks until your shoulders cave and you force him from his hiding place. 

“What?” he smirks into your jaw. “What do you want?” His hand sneaks its way under your pants, squeezing a palm full of your bare ass before slipping down further. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He nips at your chin, fingers dipping into your entrance. “So messy for me.”

Your hands scramble for something to comfort from the onslaught. Wonwoo is already back between your breasts, humming around the flesh every time you shudder from his ministrations. He twists his fingers into your core, the noise loud despite the cover of your pants.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you rasps under the prod of his thumb against your clit. Rather than succumbing to the mind numbing assault, you jolt into action. 

Wonwoo angles his hips just right when he realizes your aim. It’s too easy to force your hand under the fabric and find him hard and waiting just like last night. But unlike last night, you don’t have to hide. And the freedom dooms him from the start. 

Anchoring one hand on his chest, you push until he’s upright. He’s a wreck; eyes half shut behind the lens of his glass and lips a delectable shade of red. You pull your hand out of his pants and lap away the evidence of his arousal, delighting in the way a vein on his neck jumps when you give them a lewd suck.

Turning, you saunter down the hallway, shedding the rest of your clothes as you go.

“Coming?” you call over your shoulder, pinning Wonwoo in place as you bend to slip off your sweatpants, flashing him the barest peak of your cunt, before continuing to your room.

You don’t hear him following until you're at the threshold. A rush of footsteps and then he’s emerging from the darkness, eyes taking in your naked form. Wonwoo looks like he’s been starving and you’re the first meals he’s about to have in years.

Wonwoo pins you to the wooden door, one hand finding your jaw while the other bats your legs wide before roughly swiping at your sensitive clit. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear.

Two fingers tap against your lips. Without hesitation you present your tongue, lapping the digits like you would his cock. Wonwoo watches with so much heat in his gaze you can’t stop a moan from slipping free when he puts pressure on your tongue and causes you to drool. He makes to pull away but stops when you grab his wrist and force him in place.

You suck his fingers deeper, eyes never leaving his the entire time. The pressure against the inside of your cheek leaves you reeling. Pure desire inks your brain and makes you desperate. 

Both unsatisfied, you let Wonwoo go. He’s quicker than you imagined. A force full grab of your jaw tugs you away from the door and into his mouth. The slide of his tongue against your own verges on pornographic but you're too busy focusing on the same fingers you’d just been sucking on splitting your folds before stretching your walls. 

Slowly falling to his knees, Wonwoo shoulders under your leg until your pussy is splayed for him to enjoy. The trail of hot kisses across your hip do nothing to comfort you. Not with the swift pace of his hand.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare all night?” 

The strip he licks up your core, tongue flat and heavy, makes you double over. Wonwoo remembers exactly what buttons to push to shut you up, overwhelming you with his mouth and hand buried in your cunt along with the hand continuing to tweak your nipples. 

“Fuck,” you mewl. “You can do—shit—better than that.”

The raze of his teeth on your clit is punishment enough for the outburst. But Wonwoo loves to prove a point. His pace becomes slower than ever, still hard but the tempo of his hand is reserved. It makes you hot all over. Choking on air, your brain melts and bones jelly under the lashing of Wonwoo’s tongue. 

Just as he finds the perfect angle, he falls back.

You snap. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer. Wonwoo pulls away his hand and rises to his feet. Once nose to nose, he smiles. The sudden change is disorienting. Even more so when he leaves a gentle peck against your cheek and heads for the bed.

Perching on the bed, he leans pack on to his palms and presents his lap like a throne. “Come here,” he commands.

Scrabbling into his lap, Wonwoo catches you off guard. His hands strike across your waist as he leans back, shuffling you up his chest until your knelt over his face.

Your hands steady on your thighs, brushing his. In an uncharacteristic act of sweetness, he tangles his fingers with your own. 

The gesture leaves you reeling. “Wonwoo?”

His hands curl around your thighs and force you down onto his waiting tongue. There's no build up, only hunger. Wonwoo points his tongue and uses it to trace hard circles around your clit before suck so harshly you buckle in half. 

If Wonwoo minds he makes no show of it. Instead, he pins your tangled hands in place and licks deeper, tracing anywhere he can reach. Every muscle in your body jerks from the sloppy way he eats you out.

Sweat blooms on your skin. Each breath stilted and you’re drooling when cracks open an eye to take him in. The flex of his biceps when you lurches against a vulgar suck of his mouth. Even the mop of his hair buried between your thighs makes you whimper. 

One hand leaves your, reaching around and pinching your ass punitively.

“Work for it,” he hums into your pussy.

Not needing to be told twice, you rock where your bodies meet. Your free hand tangles in his hair and uses the leverage to grind against his tongue. Wonwoo’s hand continues to follow the curve of your ass until he’s able to tease your entrance. 

Foul noises radiate from where he works you, from his hand and your mouth. Spit and arousal smear on his cheeks and you can feel it against your thighs bracketing his head.

You want to see his face. The heat in his eyes when he’s focused on something, focused on you, making you cum. You pull Wonwoo’s hair again.

“Focus,” His muffled voice is thick and broken, like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

Whining from the vibration against your clit, tears threaten to fall from how tight you pinches your eyes shut from the onslaught. 

“Wonwoo, I’m—” you sob. “Please, fuck. Please, I’m gonna cum.”

The world holds its breath. And then it shatters into a million pieces.

You’re whole and not. No more than a supernova. Whine after whine claws its way out of your lungs until you choke on them.

Wonwoo pays no mind, continuing to work you until you try and fall away. But he expects it, moving with you and staying between your thighs like you haven’t cum at all.

“Too much,” you gasp when he spits on your ruined cunt.

Flashing the pink of his tongue, he sneers your own words back with acidic sweetness. “You can do better than that.”

Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he digs in again. 

It hurts. Wonwoo isn’t easing you into a second orgasm. If anything, he’s bullying it out of you. 

And you take it.

“I can’t,” you plead, dipping your chin to meet his eyes and beg your case. “Too much, Woo. I—”

Wonwoo leans back and slows the three fingers buried inside you. The hand pressed to your stomach rises to cup your face, his thumb tracing the bow of your lips. 

“You can.” He coos. His thumb slips into your mouth a second before he spits on your clit and uses his soiled hand to slap.

The scream ripping its way out is silenced by the digit in your mouth. Wonwoo dives back in, taking zero mercy. Your hips buck into his mouth involuntarily and the bastard laughs.

“See? You want it so bad, don’t you baby?” 

His thumb pops from your mouth but not before you manage a quick nip. The look on Wonwoo’s face tells you it was the wrong answer to his question.

Your breath falters when the faintest amount of pressure ghosts along your throat, waiting for your okay before committing. 

Spreading your legs wider and tucking your hands behind your knees, you nod, “I want it.” 

Pupils blown wide, Wonwoo goes rigid before exploding into a frenzy. 

He sucks your folds into his mouth, hastily laving you in his spit before forcing another finger inside your tight hole. 

“C’mon, you can do it for me. Give me one more.” He demands while coming up for a breath. “Such a fucking mess for me.”

Your hips snap harshly, nails digging into his wrist resting on your chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

Feet planting onto the mattress, you rock against his face with more force than before. A cacophony of vulgar squelches and desperate whines fill the room. He squeezes until stars dot your vision from the lack of blood flow only to release with a rush of lightheaded bliss. Using your hands to tug at your sore nipples, you finally give Wonwoo what he wants.

“W-Wonwoo, so good.” You pant. 

He cleans up the mess the same way he made it but with a gentler touch. It doesn’t stop the quivers of overstimulation from wrecking your nerves but he whispers an apology for each one and rubs it into the crease of your thigh when you wince.

With a final peck to your clit, he releases you.

Wonwoo’s chest heaves, eyes drooping in lust or fatigue, you don’t know. Maybe both. When he rises from his spot between your legs, you scramble for his face. Mouths meet in a slow kiss, nothing more than a languid press against one another and a few deep breaths. You taste yourself but ignore it. You’re too tired, too sated, to care. 

You try and palm his cock, eager to return the favor but Wonwoo shifts away. He crowds you up to the pillows, pulls you into his chest, and sends you off to sleep with his lips against your forehead.

You simply lay there, curled around one another until sleep claims you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho @kyeomofhearts @beananacake

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[multifariousqueer]

hear me out— crazy and openly flirty! reader with her crazy and jealous bf Miles 42. Expand on that however you want

Okay so I had a thought...

A/n: Keep requesting fics as always. I’m not gonna be as active but I’ll post as often as I can bc I’m going on vacation for a week but idk, ill prolly still post a ton 💀

Warnings: Mentions of blood, implied murd3r, you being a flirt and Miles being crazy asf, lmk if I forgot some

It seemed like a pretty normal day, you were designing some stuff for one of your classes and y/f/n(your crush/friend) decided to tag along. Y’all weren’t that close but everyone could tell there were sparks between you two, even more so than your boyfriend Miles.

Everyone(even y/f/n) knew that you two were dating and were happy but they still interfered. People claimed you were a slut and you were insane and you were forcing Miles into a relationship even though, people close to y’all claimed it to be the opposite. You never really broke the habit of flirting for fun and this pissed Miles off to no end:

“Y/n he thinks you’re single” Miles would say

“Well I’m not. I’m just naturally flirty” you would defend

“You’re also beautiful mami and people want to take advantage of that” Miles said

“Well thats why I have you” you would say, standing on your tiptoes to kiss Miles

“Mmm he better watch himself, let’s just say that next time he pulls that shit, I might not be so nice"

Miles was a wonderful boyfriend but your exact opposite. Where you were bright, happy, always had a smile on your face and friendly; Miles was dark, nonchalant, cold and walked around like his opps were around the corner, about to kill you. You two shared a few things though, you were both crazy and possessive of each other. If Miles spoke to a girl you didn’t know, you would come over and kiss him, touch him, and flirt with him; making him flustered

“Miles, te necisito, papi” you would flirt while tilting your head and rubbing his lower back

“Oh! Who is this?” the girl asked, with a hint of venom in her voice

“I’m Y/n but you can call me his wife” you said, putting out your hand for her to shake

“Girl chill, we’re 16. He ain’t marrying you anytime soon” the girl clapped back

“You don’t know me.” Miles would say coldly to the girl

“And you won’t get the chance to” you would finish and smile at the girl

The girl walked away in a huff after that and Miles smirked at you:

“You jealous ma?"

“No. I just don’t want people pushing up on my man” you said

He chuckled and said:

“Don’t worry, Mami; I’m not feeling no one else but you."

After this little escapade; You and Miles had the mutual agreement to stop flirting with other people and you held up your end of that well until y/f/n came along and kept pressuring you to go out with them and give them a chance:

“You know, if you were with me, I’d never let you out of my sight. Anywhere you go, I’d go. Class? I’ll carry your books. Home? I’m right behind you. The Bathroom? I’m-“ they started

“You’re what? No. Go ahead and continue that sentence, I dare you” Miles said suddenly

“MILES!!! Thank God you’re here, I was so scared” you said, clapping your hands together like a prayer had been answered(because it had).

“Dude, chill; I was just joking. Y/n knows I’d never overstep like that, bro” y/f/n said, holding out a hand in an attempt to dap your boyfriend up

“I’m not your ‘bro’ homeboy, watch how you step, it might be your last if you keep fucking with my girl like that” Miles said taking a step towards the person. They were almost equal height but Miles was slightly taller(6’2 yes ik its not canon and idc)

It seemed like they would fight right there in the hallway with the way Miles was staring at y/f/n and while y/f/n was a bit intimidated, they weren’t backing down. They were another one of your victims of over-flirtation but unlike the others, they were persistent and tried the friend angle in order to get to you but they didn’t sound on your boyfriend being jealous and possessive. Eventually, they walked away and Miles pulled you aside:

“Don’t fucking talk to them again, you understand ma?” Miles said

“I understand. I am so so sorry, they just came up to me and cornered me.” you explained with watery eyes

“It’s fine, ma. Don’t let it happen again, tu entiendes?” he said, grabbing your chin to look him in the eye

“Si, papi. Te amo” you said

The next few days were quiet. Miles stayed closer than usual to you, y/f/n stayed away but they stared at you constantly and smirked at you. It was one faithful Saturday that would change all of that in a flash.

Miles was away doing Prowler stuff and you were designing possible suit, mask and gauntlet combos when you heard a knock on your dorm. You opened the door and were shocked to see y/f/n:

“Hey, y/n. Can we talk?"

“Uhm I should wait for Miles. He’ll be back shortly” you lied. Prowler shit took four hours min because Miles would carry stuff out in bulk so he could spend more time with you

“We can talk without him right?” Y/f/n said, pushing into your dorm. Your dorm mate was away for the weekend, visiting her parents in nantucket.

“Oh. I guess” You said

“so what you drawing?’ they asked

“stuff” you giggled

“Fuck I love your laugh.” they smiled

“um thanks” you replied

“a pretty laugh for a pretty girl” they said, grabbing your chin and staring at your lips

“thanks. You caught me at a bad time, I’m just about to go shower” you said pushing their hand away

“Oh can I join, haha?” they joked

“hahaha.” you said, silently praying Miles was outside your window witnessing all of this and waiting to strike

“You know, I’ve had a huge crush on you since you first came here? You were genuinely sweet and kind and pretty. Miles doesn’t know how lucky he is to have someone like you” They confessed, closing the gap between y’all

“Yeah but I can tell he appreciates me. He never makes me feel uncomfortable” you said with a hint of venom

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” they asked, approaching your lips

“Yeah, very” you said trying to back away. At this point, you were praying for a miracle when all of a sudden, you hear a slashing noise and see blood on your floor

“I told you to stay away from her. I gave you a warning, this is on you homeboy”

“Who are you?” they spluttered out.

A mask opened up and suddenly he appeared

“I’m Miles Morales, but you You can call me the Prowler. Right, Amor?” Miles looked at you

“Right, baby. You said, kissing your man as the person in front of you, fades away.

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 3

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. ♣ prev part | next part

Chapter 3: Movie Premieres, SNL and Quarrels

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Otherwise known as the One in New York. What do you guys think about R and Jenna's dynamic so far? 👀 (taking a break for a few days/maybe a week after I post this, I think I've kept you all fed for a bit while I'm gone lol, in the meantime, send asks I'll try to answer all of them!😋)

Word Count: 6.4k+

“You get on that plane and I’ll drop you as a client.” Jake’s voice rings out from your work phone. 

“What the fuck, Jake, are you serious?!” You seethe, practically red in the face. 

You have been on the phone with Jake for the last hour – Liv refuses to pick up your calls after you blew up the group chat, rehashing your argument with Jenna. Desperately pleading to fly back home because you couldn’t stand being in the same city as the actress, at the moment. 

You couldn't even think about her words without it making your blood boil.

“Fuck yeah, I’m serious. Do you know what time it is here?”

Glancing at the clock it read 3:46 A.M. EST, you roll your eyes. “It’s just past midnight in L.A. You won’t die if you don’t get eight hours of sleep.”

“Be quiet. I don’t wanna hear another word from you.” He nearly shouts and you imagine that one vein popping through his forehead. You liked to stare at it when Jake goes off on his shouting tangents at you. 

He never notices that you're not paying attention.

“Maybe we should get Liv on the phone or maybe Sarah?” Link glances at you worriedly.

He hates seeing you so riled up, so he often played the middle-man with your quarrels against Jake and Liv.

“Liv says she doesn’t wanna hear it. Sarah says forget it and I’m saying, I’m not fucking around this time Y/N, this is your last chance. I’m over your shit.” He hangs up the phone, leaving the line dead.

You jump face-first into the stiff bed, groaning loudly.

“Looks like you’re outta luck.” He pats you back, leaving you to sulk alone as he shuts the door. “Try to get some sleep.”

There was no way you ended up in this situation. 

You guess, it was fair to acknowledge your recent streak of bad behaviour. First, it was tame — ignoring your phone, running away to party, getting mixed in the wrong crowds – eventually, Link had to start dragging you out of bed by the legs (sometimes kicking and screaming) just to make it in time for a gig.

You’re not sure when all of this started. All you knew is that you were so tired. You just wanted one second to breathe; to feel like that young child again, with hopes and dreams. But no, someone was always hovering over your shoulder ready to drag you away to another event you could care less about. 

You close your eyes, allowing the jetlag and exhaustion to set in as your body moulds into the mattress.

– 

The next day, you find yourself standing in front of Jenna’s hotel room. The large double door looks menacing and faintly, you can already hear a bustle on the other side. You really didn’t want to knock but you know what was on the line so you swallow your pride and raise a fist to knock. 

But before you can knock, the door is opening revealing a girl, with dirty blonde hair bearing a semblance to a certain actress. “Oh, hi!”

“Hello.” You greet warmly.

“I’m Aliyah. Jenna’s younger sister.” She holds her free hand out.

You shake her hand, “Nice to meet you, I’m–”

“I know who you are.” She smiled then laughed, “Everyone knows who you are.”

You chuckled, shyly nodding. “I guess.”

“Are you two done?” Jenna suddenly appears, yanking the door wider so you can see her. Her makeup complements her well; the green bustier two-piece looked expertly crafted just for her; and the way her hair fell in soft waves framed her face nicely. 

“Hi…” You say a little vacant-sounding.

You don’t say anything else.

From the corner of your eye, you see her sister’s raised brow but you think you’re imagining it because you can’t keep your gaze off of Jenna. The actress raises her brow at you, impatient.

“What did you need?” She asks.

“Uh—I wanted to talk, about last night."

Jenna watches you momentarily before rolling her eyes; pulling you inside with a rough yank. “Get inside before someone sees you — Aliyah close the door.”

You stumble, still a little dazed but the smaller girl’s nails are gripping your arm painfully making you snap out of it.

“Ow, ow, ow.” You whisper, not inattentive to the multiple people scattered around the large room.

“Guys, this is Y/N.” She ignored your complaints and pulled you past the foyer into the living room – her entire team had taken refuge in the room to get the star ready for a day of press interviews.

Various echoes of your name and greetings are sent back to you but you certainly don’t miss the awkward tension in the room started by your sudden presence. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I can just go.” You point behind you.

“Nonsense.” An older woman that looked kinda like the actress waves off. “It’s great to have you here, Miss L/N. Jenna was just talking about you.”

“Oh please, just Y/N is fine.” Shaking your head bashfully, briefly wondering what she could be telling her family and team about what kind of person you are.

“I’m Jenna’s mom. That’s her dad, her other sister Mia, and her brother Markus.” She points and you try to keep up with the names of the people she’s throwing at you; Jenna’s family and team included.

“It’s so great to meet you all. It’s not hard to see that Jenna is so loved.” You say sincerely.

“We try our best.” Her dad says looking appreciative of your words. You smile at everyone and it seems to ease a bit of the tension in the room.

You didn’t see Jenna rolling her eyes again (her favourite to do around you) disregarding the encounter; she hides the surprise she feels from your genuine compliment.

Last night's argument with you, still burning in her brain.

“What did you want to say?" She says a little bluntly.

Watching as everyone turns to go back to what they were doing, you look down at Jenna. “Um… I wanted to apologize for last night. And call a truce, maybe over dinner?

She looks surprised not expecting you to be the first one to give in. “Oh…”

“Yeah…”

“I appreciate it.” Jenna cuts in, “I’m sorry too… a truce sounds good. Sarah got mad at me too, for what it's worth. She even said I was whining.”

Jenna jokes, dropping her walls a bit.

You rub a hand on the back of your neck, chuckling, “Good to know.”

“I can’t do dinner though.” She shuts her eyes as if remembering something. 

“Oh, that’s okay. Maybe another time.”

“Or maybe… you can be my date to the Scream cast dinner?” She offers, looking a little hopeful.

“Are you sure?” You chew your lip. Ignoring the word date.

“Yeah! Totally, you can meet everyone, it’ll be great. Not to throw anyone under the bus but they’ve been trying to meet you.” She says sheepishly.

You laugh, dropping your walls just a tad. “Sure I’ll be there.”

She smiles warmly, satisfied with your answer. “Yeah, it’ll be great. I guarantee there’ll be paparazzi, so it’ll be good for publicity. They’ve been hounding me since I landed, my dad nearly pushed a guy in the airport. I couldn’t even walk to the door by myself at the SNL dinner cast party.”

You lose a bit of the smile but Jenna doesn’t see, laughing at her memory of the paparazzi. You blink around, making sure no one saw you, it might give them the wrong idea. “Uh, yeah sure. I’m good with whatever.”

“Okay, cool.” She shoots a thumb up, walking away from you. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Mhmm.” You smile, waving goodbye to everyone and booting it out the door. 

Unsure where the tension in your chest is coming from you swiftly walk to the elevator; aggressively tapping the button as if the elevator would come faster that way. And practically throwing yourself in the metal box as soon as it opens.

You miss the entire pandemonium that implodes in the room when you leave.

“Holy shit?” Mia exclaims.

“Language.” Her mom chastises. 

“No, holy shit, indeed. Jenna oh my god what did you do to that poor girl?” Aliyah walks past Jenna to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“What are you talking about?” She looks at her sisters confused.

Mia’s rolling her eyes, standing up from the couch. “Did you not see the way she was looking at you?”

“No? How was she looking at me?” She turns to her mom who had a hint of a smile on her lips as if she knew something. Jenna was starting to feel left out. 

“She likes you, Jen.” Her brother speaks up, not even bothering to look up from his phone. 

“What? You guys are crazy. We barely know each other.” Jenna starts shaking her head furiously, turning to Enrique, her stylist and close friend. “Enrique, tell them they’re being crazy.”

But he shrugs, sharing that same Cheshire grin her mom had. “God, not you too.” She clamps her eyes shut with her hands.

“Hey! Watch the eyes!” Her makeup artist warns. 

“Dad?” She drops her hands, pleading at the silent man, who, she knows is listening. Why do Dads do that thing where they let everyone argue, only stepping in when the Mom asks for backup. 

He remains in character – staying silent.

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. She was literally here for five seconds. How could you possibly think she likes me from that.” Jenna turns to everyone else.

“I don’t know, Jen. The eyes never lie.” Mia says, privy to the way your smile fell when Jenna mentioned being spotted for publicity tonight. 

“I’m– I’m late for interviews, I need to go,” Jenna mutters, grabbing her purse and walking to the door. 

–

“This is gonna blow up.” Your producer says from beside you. 

“I don’t know. I still think it’s missing something.” You sigh, sliding the headphones off as you slump onto the plush leather seats. 

You sneaked off to the studio not too far from the hotel in lower Manhattan. See you would have told Link or anyone really, but you were trying to be discreet. And Link is one ‘ol snitch and the personal fun police. 

It seems after your fight with Jenna, Jake and Liv put you under strict instructions not to leave the hotel unless accompanied by someone from your team. 

You’re not a fucking child. You don’t need a babysitter. So here you are, with your producer in the studio trying to record this damn song you’ve been stuck on for three months.

“Maybe it’s time to scrap the song then.” He offers. “It’s never gonna be done before Coachella.”

Immediately you are shaking your head. No, this song is special, you can feel it. If only you can get your head out of your own ass long enough to find the damn words. 

“No, just– just put it on hold. Let’s work on something else.”

He sighs, clicking the screen to pull up another file. “Your call.”

The buzzing of your phone against the wooden table echoes into the silence that grew as you waited. “Ah fuck.”

Reaching over, you grab the phone and are bombarded by a flurry of texts and missed calls. 

Some from Jenna, some from your bodyguard and driver, most from Link.

Jenna’s is the first one you click.

The phone rings three times before it gets picked up. Muffled, loud voices are all you hear at first before she eventually speaks up, “Hello?”

“Hey, I am so–”

“Where the hell are you? You’re ten minutes late. We’re all waiting for you.” Her tone is sharp and snipped. 

You had fucked up.

“Fuck… I’m sorry, I’ll be right there– there was…. uh.” You stand, gathering your jacket and silently bidding your producer goodbye as he looks on confused. “There was a lot of traffic. I am so sorry, I’m trying to make it as fast as I can.”

She sighs through the phone, “It’s…fine. Just get here as soon as you can, please.”

A little white lie never killed anybody.

You make it to the restaurant in record time. Pushing through the paparazzi camping outside the restaurant doors. Do they have no shame? Clearly not as they shout Jenna’s name at you; asking if you were there to see her, trying to get their piece of the scoop. Thankfully, the security guard had seen you and personally ushered you to the cast‘s table. Someone must have informed them that you were coming.

You’re still blinking away the spots in your vision from the camera flashes when you feel an arm pulling you down to sit. 

“What took you so long?”Jenna asked assertively, scanning you.

“I told you. Traffic.” You plaster a smile at all the eyes on you, subtly shrugging Jenna’s arm off yours with a little bit of attitude.

You don’t miss her clenched jaw. Plastering a smile in front of her costars who were trying their best not to gawk at you. "Well, where were you then? No one could get a hold of you, we were worried."

You tried your hardest to school your genuine surprise at her worry. "Sorry. I was working. My phone was off."

“Hi! I’m Melissa, it’s so nice to meet you, I’m a big fan.” A brunette extends her hand from across the long table – interrupting Jenna before she can say anything else.

You make the usual greetings, introducing yourself to Jenna’s costars and colleagues. You felt a bit like a trophy wife if you were being honest. Like eye candy on her arm, serving only to make her look good. Upon that realization, you feel a little flushed. You’re not sure why, that is the whole point of this whole thing. 

Her castmates have been sending you two knowing eyes over dinner — giving Jenna inconspicuous smirks and smug grins as if you couldn’t see. You keep your head down after the pleasantries are over and the main courses are brought out. 

Grateful, you don’t have to talk about your upcoming projects any longer.

“What’s wrong?” You nudge her elbow, noticing how she was pushing away some pieces of food on her plate. 

“I don’t like apples.” She mutters. 

You can’t fight the smile that creeps on your lips but you don’t tease. “Just push them off to the side and I’ll eat it.”

She looks at you. “You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.” You shrug taking a sip of your wine. 

“That doesn’t gross you out or anything? I know some people are weird about that sort of thing.” Jenna explains. 

“Dude, I’ll eat your apples, chill.” You laugh.

“Okay, thanks…” She mumbles, still looking at you but you turn, talking to Mason and his girlfriend.

Jenna feels a nudge on her side. “What?” 

“You two are cute.” Jasmin smirks. “And Y/N L/N? Not a bad catch at all.”

“Stop.” Jenna blushes. Unsure if she feels uncomfortable that some of her close and respected friends believe this lie so easily.

–

“Hey, give them some space!” The security guard shouts as the paparazzi come rushing toward the door as soon as the cast steps out. 

You were standing in the lobby waiting for Jenna. “Shit…” You hear her mutter, watching as she searches for something in her bag. 

“What’s up?” You ask.

“I forgot my sunglasses in my room. The flashes hurt my eyes.” She frowns. Wordlessly, you fish the pair you stashed in your jacket. 

“Here, wear mine.” You hold the glasses out, watching as she just stares at it. Rolling your eyes, you push it toward her. “Dude, just take it.”

“Thanks…” She mumbles, sliding them up her hair. 

You walk ahead of her, holding the door open as everyone trickles out. You’re regretting giving Jenna your only sunglasses cause the flashes are bright and it’s making your eyes water.

“Go ahead,” You usher, only leaving once everyone’s gone ahead of you. You trail behind ignoring the various men with large cameras chasing you as you walk down the sidewalk. 

“Y/N over here, please! Just one photo.”

“Y/N, just one photo of you and Jenna, please!” 

“What do you have to say about Vegas?”

You ignore them keeping your head down trying not to fall behind. 

“Where’s Y/N?” You hear over the sea of nameless faces. 

“Right here.” You say, sliding in beside her.

You miss the subtle sigh of relief she lets out.

“You can’t just walk behind everyone like that.” She grits, frustratedly.

"I tried to keep up." You mumbled like a scolded husband.

The shouting increases when you stand beside one another; practically rendering you blind with all the flashes. “Dammit.” 

You place an hand on her back, pushing her forward. “Put on the sunglasses and walk.”

“Y/N, please over here. Jenna!” The shouting is constant and blurs altogether all at the same time. 

“Ow.” You feel Jenna tumble when someone bumps her side causing her to bump harshly against you. Firmly, you grab her arm to preventing her from falling and pushed back against the crowd to check on her.

“Are you okay?” you ask worriedly as she fixes the lopsided glasses. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Hey. Watch it–” You grit at the closest person holding a camera. “It wasn’t me.”

The man insists, still shamelessly snapping flashes directly into your face and you begin to grow angry, slapping the camera out of his hands. “I said fucking watch it, asshole.”

You glare for a brief moment as the shouting gets impossibly louder. Knowing if you didn’t pull Jenna out of this, chaos would ensue. You link hands and drag her through the crowd, briskly walking to her castmates who shared looks of concern.

“Are you okay?” You ask, still walking but now barricaded by security and her friends.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I promise.” She squeezes your hand but then sighs, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

You scoff, “Are you serious? That guy pushed you.” 

“It was an accident and you kinda overreacted.” She whispers lowly. 

You clench your jaw, dropping her hand — Not wanting to blow up in front of her colleagues, you walk swiftly ahead.

You don’t talk even when you are both side-by-side being driven back to the hotel. Her driver has the partition up halfway but you see the nosy glances he keeps making at the rearview mirror as you and Jenna sit in silence; acutely aware to the growing tension between you and the actress.

You refuse to speak, just looking out the window as other cars pass by on the street. 

“Are you done ignoring me now?” She speaks up but you still don’t want to talk. “Seriously?”

“Y/N all he did was push me. A little shove, that’s all. I’m okay. What’s not okay is the phone call you know we’re going to get from Liv and Sarah about that guy’s camera.”

“He deserved it.” You mumble through the palm holding your head up. 

“I’m not saying he didn’t but you can’t just be aggressive to paparazzi like that. It’s exactly what they want.” She reasons, turning to you. Hoping you’ll finally look at her. 

“I know…”

“Look at me, please?” She places a hand on your arm.

You turn, keeping your face impassive.

She sends you a shy smile then laughed. “I mean it though, thank you for having my back. My Dad is gonna think this whole thing is hilarious.”

“Why?” You can’t help but join in.

“He’s a cop, so he’s a little protective. He’s been waiting to shove away a pap for the longest time. He’s gonna be so mad you beat him to it.” 

You laugh imagining her father’s reaction. 

–

“You haven’t seen Scream? Not even the original?” Jenna turns bewildered like it was the most blasphemous thing she’s ever heard. You were in her hotel suite, watching movies. For some reason, Jenna invited you over to her room after being dropped off at the hotel. “How? You’re an actress.”

You couldn’t think of a good reason to say no so you accepted.

“Yeah, sorry. Jeez. Way to sound like a film snob. I didn’t know there was a checklist of movies to watch before becoming an actor.” You snort reaching for more popcorn from the bowl beside you. 

“Shut up.” She hits you with the remote. “How have you not seen any of the Scream movies? You’re literally going to my premiere tomorrow.”

You hold up your hands in surrender, throwing a couple of kernels in your mouth. “Sorry, they’re not really my cup of tea.”

She rolls her eyes, snatching some popcorn from your hand, ignoring your protests. “Oh sorry, I forgot we have an action star in our midst.”

It was your turn to hit her arm, “Shut it. I just mean… I haven’t found the time to sit and watch them. They’re not exactly short films.”

“You’re in the MCU and Dune. Don’t talk to me about long movies.”

“Touché…” You can’t beat her there. They are ridiculously long movies. Probably why you’ve only ever seen them during premiere night and never again. “Well, put one on then. Let’s see what all the hype is about.”

She grins scrambling for the remote. “You’re on.”

You wait for her to pull up the Scream catalogue, chuckling at her visible excitement.

“Hey, why did you become an actress? and singer while we’re at it, Miss Grammy winner.” She nudges your shoulder.

You snort, shoving her lazily. “Shut up… Do you want the press interview answer or the real one?”

She raises a brow, immediately deciding. “The real one.”

You nod, feeling like she would say that.

“My mom... She was a rising star in the 80s but something happened and she never got to live out her dreams. When she had me she put me through all of the arts. I bumped and failed with most of them but acting and singing kinda stuck… I guess she saw those were the only two things I could stand so she pushed and pushed, it led to Jake discovering me and here we are.”

Jenna stays silent processing your story, she doesn’t miss the slight solemness your tone had taken. "Why do I feel like there's more to it than that?"

You chuckle, licking your lips. "Caught me... it's why I don't talk to my parents anymore."

"Oh..."

"Yeah. As soon as I turned eighteen I cut ties with them. She got too controlling, wanting money, wanting autonomy over my career so I took Link with me and moved to L.A. and did it on my own. I think... at some point acting became a spite thing with me because of her.

“Spite?” Jenna asks?

“Yeah… it was all I’ve ever known for a long time until I started making music. Probably the only time I’ve ever felt sure about a decision.”

"Oh..." Jenna finds herself saying again.

"Uh–sorry. I didn't mean to make it weird. We can just forget about it." You curl into yourself, tugging the blanket to your lap.

Jenna blinks, feeling dumb that she's made you think her silence is a bad thing.

"No..." She grabs your wrist. "Thank you for sharing with me."

You look into her eyes, feeling a bit small at her kind eyes. You know it's not out of pity but you couldn't help but want to close up again.

Pulling your hand away from her grip, you cough. "Of course, we're friends now."

"Oh, are we?" Jenna ignores the drop in her chest when you pulled away like that. ���Okay, what’s the press answer then?”

“That I watched the movie Cabaret when I was younger and wanted to be like Liza Minelli.” You admit.

Jenna scoffs, “That’s literally my answer.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah except, it’s Dakota Fanning in Man on Fire.”

You chuckle, “doesn’t Denzel die in that one?”

“Yeah and what about it?” She raised a brow.

"But see, don’t fight it we’re meant to be friends... we even share the same answer."

"Shut up, dummy. Every actor has some sort of answer like that.”

Eventually, the two of you start a marathon of the Scream franchise. Which in hindsight, is kind of a bad idea seeing as it was way past midnight and the other actress still has a long week ahead of her. It seems like the events of the day catch up to her cause you feel a head slipping on your shoulder; distracting your focus halfway through Scream 3.

Jenna had fallen asleep with her head on your shoulder. You fight the urge to tense up not wanting to wake her up. She looked like she needed the rest and you relate more than anyone to her exhaustion. 

“Jenna…” You lightly tap, “You fell asleep, you need to go to bed.”

She grumbles, whining in her slumber. You feels your cheeks warm when she unconsciously moves to snuggle closer to you, throwing an arm over your waist.

Fuck.

Really?

God, I am not your strongest soldier. 

“Jen, seriously. Wake up.” You shake her arm.

“What?” She complains, her words muffled by your collarbone.

“You need to go to bed.”

The feeling of her soft lashes brushing against the material of your shirt as she blinks sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh…”

Jenna mumbles mortified. Quickly pushing herself off of you, unable to look you in the eyes. “Sorry.”

You don't mention how she might have punched your stomach and that you were desperately trying not to cough.

“S’okay…” You shake your head softly. You couldn't help but notice the way her hair fell over her eyes messily. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asks once she regains her senses, waking up from her short slumber.

Something tells Jenna she won’t be sleeping with how fast her heart is pounding; uncertain as to where her sudden anxiety is coming from. 

“Yeah… I’ll be waiting for you inside.” You stand gathering your belongings.

“Wait, you’re not walking the carpet with me?” Jenna pulled a face.

You raise a brow, “No? At least, I wasn't told I had to. They just said I had to show up.”

“Oh… okay.” She nods then sighed, long and profound.

You continue to raise a brow but don’t say anything. Not wanting to push her. You remember the last time you guys fought and are immediately turned off. No thanks, not trying to open that can of worms.

“Okay. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” She leans against the door.

Her premiere is a success. After borderline shoving you inside a tinted Cadillac, Link brushes your vintage Prada gown down; making sure you are in tip-top movie-star shape. You don’t walk the carpet, instead heading straight inside – making headlines. 

Your every damn move is a headline these days.

Silently thanking whatever God was out there that you didn’t because the way your jaw dropped when you see Jenna was downright embarrassing. Your reaction would surely have been a running piece if cameras were around.

Your managers would love it though.

Link had to forcefully elbow your side as Jenna walks up to greet you. 

“Wow…” You manage to say. “You look stunning Jenna.”

Jenna was glad for the dim lights in the theatre, “Thanks.” She blushes, casting her eyes down.

“You look great too.” She scans you up and down, suddenly feeling warm under her gape. 

Maybe it was the way her makeup is done or the deconstructed tuxedo for a dress that she had on tonight but she looked more mature, intimidating? Like she could throw you around a little and you’d just gladly ask her to do it again.

Wait, what?

“Thanks… Link and I should head to our seats but I just wanted to congratulate you. This is seriously amazing.” You express sincerely.

Jenna flushes more, waving you off with a huff and a lazy hand. “Please.”

“Seriously!”

Link coughs loudly, interrupting the bubble you and Jenna found yourselves in. “Okay, someone’s a little impatient. We better go.”

A hand reaches out, grabbing you. “Do you wanna, maybe, I don’t know. Sit beside me?”

You turn, surprised. “Oh? What about Enrique?” You glance at her stylist standing just behind her pretending like he wasn’t listening; fiddling on his phone. 

“I’m sure he won’t mind switching to sit with Link, right Enrique?” She turns, asking her friend.

He grins widely, “Nope. All good with me!”

“Perfect!” She smiles at you, still grabbing your arm. 

“We’ll be down there!” Jenna calls out to Link and Enrique linking your fingers out of nowhere as you walk to beside her costars.

You still don’t say anything when Jenna wraps herself around you when you make it to your seats, waving as people cheer with a large smile before pulling you to sit down. 

Only then did she pull herself away, “sorry about that.”

“All good.” You mumble after realizing what happened; turning to face the large screen.

Perfect photo op.

“Hey is that sharpie on your dress?”

“Yes.” She sighs.

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch but you can’t stop the growing unpleasantness in your chest. You decide to brush it off and save face for Jenna’s night. Your sulking and feelings can wait in the privacy of your own four walls and definitely not at a high-profile movie premiere.

By the time you found yourself at the NBC building in a random dressing room at the SNL studio, waiting for Jenna’s monologue you forget all about it. You lay lazily on a stiff and most likely old couch, scrolling through your phone. 

A knock on the door has you pulling off your headphones. “Come in.”

“Hey Y/N.” A head peaks in making you sit up briskly. “Aliyah, hey. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just uh– Jenna’s asking for you.” She sends a sheepish smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“Oh,” Your head perks up. “Is she okay?” You question, following the smaller girl past hallways that all looked the same; trying not to bump into the various stagehands buzzing around. 

“Yeah, yeah, she’s kinda freaking out, though and… we can’t get her to calm down.” You both stop at a closed door. 

“Oh… why me?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Uh… okay she didn’t exactly say you but I saw your episode and you were hilarious and who better to talk her down than someone who’s done it before.” She flashes a large grin before opening the door and shoving you inside.

The room is empty save for Jenna dressed in a short-legged suit. You force yourself to blink, reminding yourself that you are on a time crunch.

“Jenna.”

She snaps her head at your voice, and a noticeable tremble in her fingers is the first thing you see. “What–what are you doing here? I thought you’d be in your seat by now.”

“Your sister asked me to come.” You admit, walking forward.

“I’m fine. Go to your seat, I’ll see you after the show.” She turns her back to you, looking over sheets of paper with multi-coloured inked notes scribbled on every open space.

“Take a deep breath for me, Jenna.” You walk closer, slowly bringing the hand tightly clutching her notes down. The bones in her fingers relax as she drops the paper. She doesn’t say anything when you don’t disconnect your hands. 

You find yourself standing much closer to her.

“Take a deep breath.” You repeat.

Jenna closes her eyes, inhaling a long, deep and audible breath in then out. She clutches your fingers as she does so, unconsciously leaning back against you to ground her bubbling anxiety. 

She stays in your hold with her back against your chest: a death grip on your fingers. Your swipe a thumb over the skin of her hand. “It’ll be okay…”

“Thanks…” Jenna looks into your eyes, taking one last deep breath.

Briefly, you hold her gaze feeling tepid under the intense look in her eyes. You can’t tell what they're saying but for some reason, the way her dark pupils seemed softer under the fluorescent lights had you under a spell.

And for a fleeting second, you thought she was leaning in closer to you — eyes flickering to your lips.

“Don’t mention it.” You drop her hand immediately, taking wide steps back.

Not liking the way her eyes flickered down.

You don’t like what that could possibly mean.

Jenna’s turning rapidly, pretending not to notice as you take sizable steps away from her. “What did my sister say?”

You laugh, shoving your hands in your jacket. “That she liked my SNL episode and thought someone who’s done it before can talk you down.”

“Talk me down?” She scrunches her nose.

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” You shrug.

“Your episode was okay.” Jenna turns away to face a mirror, brushing away her bangs.

You take the bait, glad she wasn’t trembling anymore. “Okay? I got the whole cast to break, it’s considered a classic. It was nominated for an Emmy that year.”

“It didn’t win though.”

You scoff playfully, “I’m leaving. You clearly don’t need my help anymore.”

She laughs obnoxiously as you stomp out of her dressing room. “Wait.”

You stop just before you open the door. “Yeah?”

“Thank you… for talking me down.” She tucks a hair backs, a little shy.

The small smile creeping on your face is hard to subdue. “Don’t mention it. Now, go. You’re gonna kill it.” You wink, exiting the dressing room.

“She’s all good.” You tell her team.

“That’s it? She hasn’t calmed down all day, it takes you – what, five minutes?” Enrique crosses his arms. Jenna’s mom smirks, patting his back then walked past him and into the room as the rest of her family slowly trickled in; her sisters staring at you intensely.

“Uh sorry?” You blush furiously, walking off in the other direction to find your seat.

Jenna kills it, but that was never a surprise. You can tell she’s nervous throughout her monologue but after Fred Armisen does his bit – from beside you, which had been a pleasant surprise. She begins to grow confident, feeling pleased with your embarrassment when the camera pans to you and Fred.

You’d get her back for that. Making a mental note to cook up a special revenge plan, just for her.

Eventually, she falls into the role naturally. Nailing her punchlines perfectly, working the crowd like an expert, and exquisitely performing her skits. It’s a shock to you when you overhear someone behind you say she’s never done live stage work before.

She's so natural at it.

It's a privilege to watch her perform.

You nearly die when she changes into a red suit as she introduces the musical guest of the night.

Actually, you begin to slide off your seat when she comes out in a pinstripe suit — a reference to the Addams family you overheard in passing.

When credits roll and the ‘LIVE’ sign turns off. You remain in your seat. Unsure if you are just admiring her or if it’s ‘cause your legs no longer functioned. You can’t fight that admiration as it grows when you see how supportive her family is as they cheer her on and celebrate this win as one unit. 

You smile, wishing you can relate. At least some people had that in their lives.

A part of you thinks it makes the whole world’s difference, having a support system like that. But you would never know.

Silently, you slip out the stage doors and back to the random dressing room you’ve decided to take refuge in. 

You narrowly miss Jenna trying to find you through the masses; her smile dropping a bit when she realizes you’re gone.

– 

You don’t get a chance to personally congratulate Jenna because Link was bursting into the dressing room — after complaining about trying to find you for ten minutes. Rambling on how you’re needed back in Los Angeles and there was no time to say goodbye.

When you catch the other actress it’s by pure stroke of luck. You're going through checkout at the hotel, waiting for Link to do all the work as you wait behind him. 

You feel slightly guilty that you're just leaving without warning.

You should send Jenna a text, right? But would she even care if you left so suddenly? She did want you out of the city just a few days ago.

But then, you two literally just, might’ve, maybe, almost kissed/shared a moment in her dressing room, so who knows what you should do at this point.

You feel a migraine forming at the base of your skull, the longer you thought about the other actress.

“Y/N?” A voice breaks your self-deprecating thoughts. You turn to see Jenna with her team and family trailing beside her.

Jenna’s smile falls when she sees your bags. Her family walks ahead but you certainly don’t miss their curious eyes as she stops in front of you.

“Where are you going?” Her eyes keep flickering between you and your bags.

Link avoids her sharp, accusing eyes.

“Back to L.A. sorry I was just about to send you a text, actually.” You confessed, a little ashamed. 

It felt like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing… like when you lie to your long-time partner about the real reason why you want some time apart.

“A text?” She raises an unamused brow not liking your answer.

“Yeah, Jake wants me back in L.A. Uh– sorry, was I supposed to tell you?” You ask, a bit confused.

“Tell me?” She scoffs, face dropping. “Yeah, you’re supposed to tell me. I was going to invite you to dinner to celebrate with my family and the SNL cast tonight. But you weren’t even in the audience anymore by the time I finished.”

“Sorry… I thought you’d want to celebrate with your family.” You shrug lamely, torn between feeling guilty and confused at her reaction to the news of your sudden departure.

She made it feel like you were trying to escape.

“Well, I thought–” 

She cuts herself off with a huff then looked back as her family waits for her by the elevator.

“Thought what?”

As if remembering she was still out in a very public setting, after hosting one of the most recognizable programs in America; Jenna blinks out of it. Shoving her feelings down.

“Nothing. Have a safe flight back to L.A. I’ll see you in a few days… or weeks” She mumbles with an edginess to her words, walking away before you can say anything else.

“Tough break, buddy.” Link pats a comforting hand on your shoulder as you were rendered speechless. Unsure if you should chase her down and apologize.

Damn can she walk fast in those heels.

But, why would you be apologizing for having to do your job?

But the way her brow creased like she was actually upset caused an unpleasant drop in your chest. Not enjoying how she was upset and that it seemed like it was all your fault. You? Nah. Maybe she’s still dealing with other stuff and is just taking it out on you. 

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“What. Just. Happened.” You turn, aggressively snatching your card from the hotel worker who definitely enjoyed the show.

“Are you blind?” He scoffs then walks away from you.

“What do you mean? Link… what do you mean?” 

-

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[begko]

keep quiet. -seijoh 4

warnings: 18+ MDNI, poly, implied masturbation, implied sex(? I think), idk how to tag so lmk if there's anything else

contains: fem reader, seijoh 4 x reader (but mostly Matsukawa x reader and Hanamaki x reader)

wc: 1.2 k

a/n: I feel like there's not enough seijoh 4 fics out there so I decided to write one myself lol. This is my first fic so if anyone likes this I'll finish this and try to post more. Just ask and I'll lyk if I can do it!

Living in an apartment with four other boys never left your days feeling dull. Although you were all in your 20’s and supposedly more mature than your younger selves, they were still boys. 

They would each find ways to somehow piss you off, whether consciously or not. Dirty laundry in the living room, a bag of chips left open on the counter, or the loud moans of a random girl spilling through the crack in their bedroom door. These things wouldn’t typically leave you feeling so annoyed, but hearing a repeating “Yes Oikawa!” at 3 AM– the night before your abnormal psychology midterm may I add– was seriously starting to test your patience. 

Before you knew it, you found your feet gliding stomping down the hallway towards the brunette’s room, unknowingly drawing the other three to peek out from their own doors. 

“I SWEAR TO GOD TOORU. IF SHE DOESN’T SHUT UP YOU WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN.” You emphasized your threat by loudly pounding your fist on his door, then swiftly retreating back to your room, slamming your door for good measure. You put your earbuds back in and tried to focus on the music that filled your ears.

Thankfully, you eventually drifted to sleep, but the groggy feeling you had the next morning did not dissipate, even with the large coffee you had made. After fumbling with your keys for what seemed like forever, you were met with the faces of your roommates, all waiting to greet you. They each gave you a warm smile, which normally would brighten your mood a bit, but the sight of Tooru’s face made a frown appear on your face. Without a word, you disappeared into your room and threw yourself onto the bed, hoping to catch up on some sleep.

“What did I do?” Hajime immediately slapped the back of Tooru’s head in response. “You idiot! She had an exam today and you haven’t even apologized for keeping her up!” Hajime clicked his tongue in annoyance at his best friend. Tooru rubbed the back of his head to soothe the pain. “Well how do I make her forgive me? I didn’t know she had an exam!” 

Hajime merely shook his head, “Figure it out.” he said before going to check on you. As he opened your door, he found you– jeans and all – laying face-down on your bed. A groan of acknowledgement came from your figure, causing Hajime to let out a breathy laugh. “You okay?” 

“Headache.” Was all you managed to say before beckoning him to lay with you. He obliged, letting you roll over before laying on top of your half-made bed with you. He adjusted you both so your head would be comfortably caged in his arms, while you curled into his warmth.

“It’s alright, just get some sleep. I’ll stay with you, baby.” There it was. That nickname he gave you. It always put a smile on your face, this time no different, as you drifted off with your lips sleepily curled up at the corners.

While, yes, they were annoying at times, one could argue that they had a soft spot for you. They would often lay with you if they knew you wanted the company, just as Hajime was doing. When a boy would break your heart, you would find one of them waiting outside of your lecture hall with a bouquet of daffodils, ready to take you out to eat or to a club. With them, you never needed to watch cringey rom-coms while incessantly crying. They distracted you from the heartache, until it eventually melted away. And those nicknames, god, those nicknames. You were sure that they meant nothing, but the way that they locked eyes with you as they uttered ‘Princess’ or ‘Darling’ made your heart stop in ways that felt more than platonic. Sometimes, when you touched yourself in the dead of the night, you found yourself imagining them saying it, driving you to your climax. But you would never admit that to any of them. Just as they wouldn’t admit that you would sometimes let your moans get loud enough for them to hear, driving them to let their hands wander down beyond the waistbands of their boxers. They quickly chased their high, knowing that without the sweet noises of your pleasure seeping through the thin walls, they would be left unsatiated.

You awoke to the delicious smell of food wafting in from the kitchen. After stretching a bit, you opened your eyes to find Hajime no longer next to you. You followed the smell into the main area of your apartment, finding the boys sitting at the kitchen counter chatting while Tooru stood with a pink apron on. 

Your small laugh caused them all to turn their heads to wear you stood, a smile appearing on each of their faces. You walked up to them and put your hands on the counter, surveying the mess left on top of it.

“I made you your favorite! And before you say anything, I was just about to clean up.” That drew another giggle to fall from your lips. You mumbled out a ‘You better.” as Tooru wrapped his arms around your form. “I’m sorry for keeping you up last night, please forgive me?” 

“ Fine, just buy a gag for the next time you wanna bring one of them home.” The four laughed while you began to set the table.

After dinner, Tooru told you to put on a movie while the rest of them did the dishes and grabbed something sweet to snack on. You opted to take a quick shower before doing so and changed into a comfortable tank top and shorts. As you plopped down on the couch and simply chose to re-watch The Hunger Games, Hiro and Issei sat down on either side of you. Issei guided you between his legs, allowing your head to lay on his chest, as Hiro moved your legs into his lap. Hiro draped a blanket over your form, as you gave him a small smile of thankfulness. Soon after, Hajime and Tooru sat in the smaller armchairs and started the movie. 

You’ve seen this movie a million times, after all it was your favorite. But as you watched Katniss tie herself to a tree in an attempt to get some sleep, you began to grow bored. You shifted from your position, fidgeting in hopes of becoming comfortable again. “Sit still, pretty girl. I wanna know what happens next.” You heard Issei whisper into your ear. You freeze. For some reason, the mixture of the hot breath that you felt on your neck and the raspiness of his voice made your stomach form a knot. But it wasn’t until you felt Hiro’s hand start to slowly travel up the length of your leg that you finally realized what you were feeling. You felt hot, making you squirm even more. Issei’s arm snaked around your middle, holding you in place. “I said sit still. We’ll give you a reward if you’re good.” Suddenly it felt like your senses were heightened. The feeling of Issei’s arm and Hiro’s wandering hands made your breathing come to a halt. Is this a dream?

“Do you trust us, pretty girl?”

[lovelytsunoda]

hounds of love // yuki tsunoda

summary: yuki is in love…aka, the yuki soft launch <3

pairing: yuki tsunoda x normal girl! reader

yukitsunoda just added to his story!

yukitsunoda just posted to his story!

yukitsunoda just posted!

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, liamlawson30 and others

yukitsunoda we did the monster mash

see all comments

user yuki stop wth the soft launching we wanna see her!!

user I bet she’s so fucking pretty-

danielricciardo so what kind of monster mash were you doing?? did it involve a bed or a jukebox (or both)?

-> user LMAO DANNY U KNOW UR COMMENTS R PUBLIC RIGHT?

-> user oh he defo knows, hes just trying to work yuki up

->user what do you know that we don’t!!

liamlawson30 so can you tell her to bring some of those cinnamon rolls next time she’s in the paddock? they were to die for and genuinely I hope you guys never break up simply because I don’t think I could live without her baking

-> yukitsunoda I will tell her that! I also hope we don’t break up (she still has so many recipes to teach me)

user yuki and liam going on about mystery girls baking skills is SENDING ME

-> user oh you know they eat well in that house

yukitsunoda just updated his story!

yukitsunoda just posted!

liked by yourusername, alphataurif1, liamlawson30 and others

yukitsunoda always ❤️

see all comments

user NOT HIM LINKING IT BACK TO THE SONG HE FIRST HSED TO SOFT LAUNCH IM GONNA CRY

yourusername I love you baby 💕

pierregasly welp i guess the cats out of the bag now

-> yukitsunoda if I had never left you alone in the same room as my phone nobody would know what she looks like and this wouldn’t have happened straightaway

-> user lmao not Pierre spoiling the soft launch

liamlawson30 so can you send me the cinnamon roll recipe?

-> yourusername no you’ll ruin it. but I will gladly bring a Tupperware container to the next race

-> alphataurif1 but what if admin wants the recipe? 🥺

-> user damn how good are these cinnamon rolls?

-> danielricciardo better than sex. by a LONG SHOT

user what kind of sorcery did he use to pull her?

-> yukitsunoda i was like the stray cat following her home and eventually she took pity on me

-> yourusername LMAO no we met through a mutual friend, someone who does martial arts with my sister is embedded in the racing world

danielricciardo aw you guys are too cute! and don’t worry yourusername, i promise I’ll take care of him next season ❤️

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @clemswrld @httpiastri @twinkodium @lorarri @thatsdemko @scuderiamh @oconso @cartierre @silversainz @thatsdemko

[sherifftillman]

What Are Friends For?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Stranger Things (series), 18+ (MINORS DNI), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), masturbation (f receiving),

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: A late night post-Truth or Dare chat with your best friend has you admitting your own lack of experience, sexually. Thankfully, he's more than happy to tutor you.

A/N: finally got inspo for one of my wips! just another 12 to go 🙃

As Nancy and Robin work together to drag a near-catatonic Eddie out of Steve's living room, you nudge the party’s host’s foot with your own. “Alright, Harrington, truth or dare?”

He chuckles, “Seriously? Still? We’re the only two people left, right now.”

You shrug, “’M not ready to go home, yet. Unless you’re really willing to turf out your best friend onto the cold, dark streets of Indiana?” You look at him, doe-eyed, and he laughs again.

“Okay, fine, I’ll bite. Truth.”

“Who’d you lose your V-card with?” you ask plainly, and Steve, halfway through a sip of his drink, chokes on it.

“What the hell! Remind me who it was that insisted on the ‘nothing sexual’ rule when we started playing?” he sputters out.

You shrug, “Around the others, sure, but I’m curious. It’s like, the one thing we never talk about.” 

Steve sighs in defeat. “It was… Tina Langdon. At that party on the last day of sophomore year. The one you wouldn’t go to.”

“Couldn’t,” you correct him, “I was ill, remember?”

He scoffs, “Please, you were fine all day, you can’t fool me, you just chickened out!”

“This isn’t about that,” you shake your head, feeling yourself get flustered.

Steve grins slowly. “Yeah, it is! I know you, you were getting some heavy hints from… Who was that guy, oh my god, this is gonna bug me…” He falters, rubbing his jaw in thought.

"Greg Patowski," you mutter.

"Greg Patowski," he repeats in a reminiscent tone, shaking his head and looking up as he waves his finger up and down. "Alright, 'fess up, your turn now. Who was yours?"

Your cheeks burn hot. "Steve!"

He grins wickedly at you. "C'mon, dishing out what you can't take? That's not like you! You started this!"

After a moment, you bashfully murmur, "It was… It - you just…" Steve still looks at you with anticipation, so you blurt out, "It was Greg, okay?!" He scoffs in disbelief. "He - it was that night, too, actually. He came over from the party to 'check on me', we made out on my bed, it… went further. He was in the room and out again within ten minutes," you admit with a scowl.

Steve's jaw drops in shock. "Are you serious?!" You nod. "Who el-"

"No! My turn to ask now." You take another moment to compose yourself before asking, "W-what's your favourite, like, part of it?"

"Sex?" he asks, and you nod. He blows a long breath out before eventually answering, "Probably the stuff before it. Like head, god. Giving it? Hell, yeah. Getting it? I swear, I don't care what else happens," he throws his head back and smiles wistfully.

Shuffling in your seat, you ask, "H-how did you know what to do?"

"Hm?" Steve asks, and you die a little internally as the thought of repeating yourself, though it seems as though he's heard you. "Oh, well, Tina was, as you know, the grade above us, so she was already more… Experienced, and that helped a lot. She pretty much told me where to go and what to do." He shrugs. 

You're already nervous enough about having to explain yourself to him, when Robin and Nancy reappear at the doorway. "Hey," Nancy calls, making you jump. "Uh, we threw Eddie into one of the guest rooms. Rob and I are just gonna head home, now."

Steve frowns, "You carried him all the way upstairs? I could've done that for you!"

Robin glares at him from under her brow. "What, because two poor, defenceless young women couldn't handle it on their own?" She gives you a look which you silently translate and respond by punching Steve in the arm, which makes Robin laugh, "Nice. See you kids around!"

"Night!" Nancy calls after her before they both head out the front door.

Steve rubs his arm and pokes your shoulder. "So, Jumpy McPuncher."

"Good one," you deadpan, and he laughs.

"C'mon, spill. What's got you so worked up?"

"Well…" you start hesitantly. "You know I was telling you about the guy who's been kinda flirting with me at work?" Steve nods. "I was, uh, thinking of asking him out, but then I was thinking about the bigger picture, and how eventually that's gonna lead to - to, y’know, possibly sleeping with him, and I was wondering how to make it… Enjoyable, since I don't really know how to…" you falter through the end of your sentence, and Steve frowns.

"You've… Been with others since Greg, right?" You shake your head, and he looks at you incredulously. "What?! You've dated people since then!"

"Dated, sure, but I'd make up some shit about not being ready for a commitment before it got to that point," you admit quietly. 

Steve nods slowly, with a thoughtful frown. "Okay. So… You wanna learn how to please a guy?" You nod bashfully and his nod quickens as he hops up onto the couch you'd been leaning against. "Alright."

You look at him in confusion. "W-what are you -?"

He takes some pillows off of the couch and hands them to you. "For your knees," he explains.

"Are you…?" You ask quietly.

"Offering myself as your test dummy? Sure, if it'll help you out," Steve's reply is so casual. "That is, of course, if you want, don't feel like you have t- oh, okay," he smirks as you tentatively unbutton his jeans.

You snap your hands back into your lap in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, did you want to do that?"

"No, no, if… If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, we really don't have to," he studies you with concern, but you shake your head.

"No, I… I want to. This is the best case scenario, right? I can learn, and not worry about disappointing - not that I don't care what you think, but like, you're you, you know?"

He smiles warmly. "Sure am, and you're you. And I'll guide you on what to do, but you gotta be confident with it, 'kay? Just get going with it, and don't take it personally if I tell you to do something a little different, alright?" You nod, and once again reach to undo his jeans. He shuffles them down to his thighs, and you can see a noticeable bulge in his underwear. "You wanna take it out, or me to, or not yet?"

"Can I…?" You clear your throat, remembering what he just said about confidence. "Can i just touch it over…?" You hold your hand to hover just over his crotch area and he smiles with a nod. The affirmation is oddly calming as you start palming him, and he hums out a soft moan.

"That feels nice," he muses. "Nice and gentle."

He keeps humming with delight as he watches you, and you notice something as you keep palming him. "You're getting hard, already."

"Doesn't take much, right?" he smirks. "Plus, you're doing so well, there."

"I, um… I know you're saying I should take things at my own pace, but I don't wanna take too long, should I take it out now?"

"Go for it," Steve mutters under his breath, still smiling.

You reach beneath the elastic of his underwear, take his shaft in your hand and move it out into view. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops when you see the size of it. "You, uh, you're much bigger than Greg Patowski."

He chuckles, "Good to know. Still wanna keep going?"

You nod, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah. So, what do I do from here?"

"Whatever you feel like doing," he shrugs. "You can use your lips and kiss it, or use your tongue and lick it, or you can get straight onto putting it on your mouth. I promise you, as long as it feels good for you, it's gonna feel good for me, too."

You study his member for a few seconds before tentatively licking along his length. He lets his head loll against the back of the couch. "Oh, god, yes. That feels so good. Mmm, and you look good doing it, too," he muses as he looks at you. You look up at him and chirp in questioning affirmation, and he bites his lip. "So good. You know, if you really wanna tease them, you can push your whole mouth against it without wrapping your lips arou- oh, fuck, just like that," he groans as you lean into your motions.

You sit back on your heels to frown, "But if I do that, there's still so much that I can't fit."

"So there is," he raises his eyebrows. "Why don't you try spitting into your hand and getting to work on the rest of it?"

After spitting into your palm, you smirk up at him. "Oh, you want me to get to work?"

He's about to give you an equally smug response when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and start working it. "Fuck, yes, there you go, just keep touching m- mmfff," he moans. "God, see? You're a natural."

Still stroking him, you experimentally run your tongue around his swollen mushroom tip, to which he grips the cushions next to him oh-so tightly. You finally wrap your lips around his member and sink down onto it as much as you can.

He moans so loudly that he brings the couch cushion up to his mouth to bite down on it. It makes you instinctively hum around his cock, which makes him squirm and whine more. You pull back again to look up at him in awe, and he asks, "What? Surprised that I'm moaning, or that you're able to make me?

"A little of both," you admit bashfully, and he sits back, spreading his legs further as he leans back. 

"Well, when you're doing such a good job, of course I'm gonna," he smirks.

"S'pose I've got a good teacher, huh?" You raise your eyebrows as you jerk him off.

He shakes his head, "Can't take credit for that, baby, this has all been you. Though, if you want a little guidance, why don't you try sucking your cheeks in while you're down there?"

You happily take him back into your mouth, revelling in his moans as he encourages you. Every ounce of praise he gives you tingles that shoot to your core, and every instance of him calling you a good girl has you light-headed.

You try and sneak your hand between your thighs, but it doesn't go unnoticed. With a chuckle, Steve asks, "You good?"

You whine, "Y're not… Th'only one who's… Enjoying this."

His smug expression stretches into a full-blown grin. "Yeah? You wanna touch yourself? Go ahead."

"Is this good? The right thing to do?" You ask as you reach inside your panties, face melting with pleasure as you finally make contact with yourself.

"Fuck, yes, baby, you look so fucking hot down there, getting yourself off to - what is it, huh? You like the praise? The moans? Or do you just really like having my cock in your mouth?"

That's the real answer, right at the end. You've never especially wanted to get this intimate with anyone, not even that one flirty customer you'd thought about asking out, but now there's only one person you ever want to be thus close with.

But he's your best friend. He's doing this in the name of helping you overcome your anxieties, that's all. You can't jeopardise what you've got with him.

"All of it," you whimper out, briefly looking over to glance at his fingers to allow yourself to imagine them as you sink your own inside you, getting back to sucking him off, making sure you hollow your cheeks every now and again like he told you.

With his moans, you lose yourself in the moment of imagining him touching you that as you hook your fingers inside of you, you instinctively keel over, sinking yourself further down on his cock. Steve lets out a long, stuttered groan at that. "Fucking shit, baby, y'almost got me in whole, god, wanna fuck the rest of me into you, too." You whine around him and he tuts, "Don't think you're ready for that, yet. You're gonna gag, and I don-"

You push yourself even further down, trying desperately to ignore your gag reflex, and he throws his head back to moan, "Fuck, yes, good girl! Such a good girl, taking all of that fucking cock, and holding it there, all while touching yourself, fuck. You're so hot, y'know that? Oh, fuck, baby, you need to breathe, c'mon," he reminds you softly, pushing you away. "That's it, oh, look at all that drool," he simpers, wiping the spit from your chin.

"Do… Do people like that? Seeing all… This?" You gesture towards your face, and he shakes his head.

"Don't know, don't care, doesn't matter. I fucking love it," he groans as you wrap your hand around his shaft again, stroking him all the way from base to tip. "Oh, shit, you really are a fucking natural at getting me off, baby. You gonna get us both off at the same time, yeah?" You nod, and his face contorts with his impending climax. "Fuck, get that mouth back on me, I wanna feel your moans against my cock coax the cum right outta me."

Not needing to be told twice, you happily comply, making sure you try to moan around him as much as possible. He strains out another moan, gasping out, "Fuck, so… So proud of you, look at you. Taking me so well, looking so fucking good touching yourself. Such a good little student, 'm gonna teach you so much more. How a real man eats you out, how a real man fucks you, fuck, so much for you to learn. Y'want that, baby? Tell me. Tell me with my fucking cock in your mouth."

"Wan' y'to hh-fuck me, hh-so bad," you whine, not moving, and he groans.

"You're so fucking cute when you talk with your mouth full, baby. Aww, you gonna do it? You gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth of yours?" he groans, and you rub at your clit rapidly. "That's my good girl, fuck, look up at me with those eyes, so sweet, so sexy, while you get us both off, c'mon, baby, you can do it, atta girl."

The impending desperation in his tone mixed with his words finally sends you over the edge, moaning shrilly around his cock as you feel your orgasm press deeper than anything's ever felt before. You practically see spots as you squirt all over your fingers, trying desperately to stay focused on keeping Steve's cock in your mouth long enough to take all of his load, swallowing everything as he gives it to you.

He breathes deeply as he comes down from his high, smiling blissfully as he sits forward, cradling your face in his hands. His large, thick-fingered hands. He licks his lips to speak when the wet patch on the pillow you'd been sitting on distracts him. "Holy shit, did you squirt?!" You look up at him and shrug, and he strokes his thumbs against your cheeks. "From now on, I'm making that happen for you, 'kay?"

"So, you meant it? You'll keep teaching me?" You ask hopefully.

"In a ways," he shrugs. "I'll keep showing you what real pleasure feels like… But not for some… Guy who shows up at your work sometimes. Sure as shit not for some Greg Patowski type. I'm. Here to please, you. Got that?" 

You nod, licking your lips, a hint of a smile tickling at you. "Real hung up on Greg still, huh?"

"Yeah, well, it should've been me," Steve admits. "I wanted to make my move that night, but then Patowski bounced early, and everyone was talking about how he was bragging about how he was gonna seal the deal with you. And so, my young and stupid self went and drowned my sorrows with Tina."

You chuckle softly. "You know, when I heard knocking at my window that night, I really hoped it would be you. Always dreamt of you sneaking in through my window and having your way with me. But I like this better."

"You do?" he asks, leaning closer.

"Yeah. You were right, about getting with someone with more experience." You shuffle yourself closer to him, further between his legs, letting go your arms rest around his hips. "'Cause now you've definitely ruined other men for me."

He grins, pulling you up and scooping you I to his lap before grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you fervently. "You wrecked me a long time ago, baby. Glad to see you're finally catching up."

[neteyamssyulang]

Accidental stimulation

Day 9

Pairing: Neteyam aged up x Fem tawtute reader

Summary: you and Neteyam grew up together as your father Norm and his father Jake were close friends. One day as your over at the sully’s you notice his stare lingering on you but don’t comment on it till that night when something happens.

Warnings: Dom Neteyam, Sub reader, P in V, Fingering, Explicit language, Creampie, Bit of kuru play.

Word count: 1365

Translation(s): Ma yuey syulang -> my beautiful flower, Yawne -> Beloved.

A/N: so this is my first kinktober post! I hope you all enjoy <3

Tags: @pandoraslxna @teyamsatan -idk who else would want to be tagged😭-

It was a quiet day in the lab, the scientists all agreeing that one day off wouldn’t hurt so they all slept in. You had jus woken up and changed into a simple blue T-shirt along with black shorts when there was a knock on your door.

“One minute!” You shout at whoever is there but the knocking persists making you annoyed. Huffing you open the door only to see Lo’ak holding his hands up in surrender.

“Easy tiny” he chuckles nervously. “Mom and dad wanted me to invite you over tonight”

Your face lit up at his words as you loved going to the sully’s and hopefully spending the night. It was your second home besides the lab. “Ok, I’ll be there”

Nodding at words he goes to leave but hisses in pain as a book gets thrown at the back of his head. “Next time knock only once skxawng”

He gulps before running to the exit of the lab covering his head in fear of more books or anything being thrown at him.

He’s so annoying but you love him like a brother. You spend the next few hours just relaxing in your room only going out to get some food or water.

When the time finally came for you to head to the sully’s you quickly changed into an oversized shirt along with baggy sweats as it could get pretty cold, atleast for you.

Exiting the lab you walk on the path towards the village while keeping an eye out for any predators that might want a human as a late night snack.

After a few minutes you reach the village and make your way to the sully’s hut eventually entering it. Looking around you see Neytiri preparing some fresh telu along with slices of yovu fruit.

Your mouth watering at the sight, you’ve always preferred na’vi food over the food the scientists made, it just tasted better for some reason.

The woman glances up at you and smiles “Come in, come in Ma’Ite” she gestures for you to come inside and sit which you do. Your seated next to her watching as she continues preparing dinner.

She must have sensed your confusion on where everyone else is so she speaks “Jake took them to the lake so afterwards they’ll be tired and sleep, especially Tuk”

You stifle a giggle and nod “That was a smart idea” to which she chuckles softly nodding. A few minutes pass before Jake walks into the hut carrying Tuk while Neteyam, Lo’ak and Kiri follow behind.

Jake places Tuk on the other side of Neytiri, he then takes his spot infront of you leaving Neteyam to sit next to you and Lo’ak by Jake. That’s how it always was, except for this time when he traded places with Lo’ak making you curious but didn’t say anything.

Once everyone was eating you noticed Neteyam glancing at you while he ate only to look away when you tried capturing his gaze with yours. That happened all throughout dinner till Jake and Neytiri said for everyone to go to bed.

Thanking them for the food you went to where your sleeping mat was at the corner of the hut with a privacy screen around it. Jake installed it as you grew older so you’d be more comfortable, you liked it yes but didn’t really need it, or so you thought.

Your woken up to the sound of the privacy screen opening only to be closed again shortly afterwards. Closing your eyes again you pretend your sleeping so whoever it is can leave.

“Ma yuey syulang..” the person mumbles quietly and immediately you know it’s him.

“I know your awake y/n” Neteyam whispers next to your ear sending shivers down your spine. You still pretend to be asleep hinting for him to go away since no one’s allowed in here but you obviously.

“Teyam go, your not allowed in here” you whisper shout at him but he doesn’t budge. Instead he lays down spooning you while his tail wraps protectively around your thigh. “But I missed my favorite tawtute”

You groan annoyed but sigh “Then shh and let me sleep.” He says a quick ok before nuzzling into your neck inhaling your comforting scent and moves his leg between yours accidentally pressing against your core making you whimper softly.

An idea suddenly pops into his mind and as your trying to fall back asleep you feel him slip his hand down past your pants into your panties cupping your mound in his palm.

“T-teyam? What are you do-“ your cut off as he plunges two of his long fingers into your drenched hole. It took everything in you to not scream as his family is just on the other side of the screen.

“Shh sevin, gotta stretch you first” your bestfriend says as he starts pumping his fingers into you curling them. Placing a hand on your mouth you try to hold back your moans but damn does it feel good.

Neteyam smirks feeling your walls fluttering against his fingers signaling you were close. “Come on sevin, cum for me”

Your body immediately obeys releasing onto his fingers while holding back your moans, he groans pulling them out of you before licking them clean. “You taste so good yawne.”

Quickly he unties his tewng taking it off throwing it off to side doing the same with your pants and panties as he lays down on his back pulling you ontop of him. “Your too big Teyam it’s not going to fit..”

He chuckles softly “Oh it will don’t worry.” With that he presses the tip to your entrance slowly sinking you down onto him. “F-fuck your so tight..” he says through clenched teeth trying to be quiet still.

You can’t even form any words, his cock is stretching you out so deliciously good so when he finally bottoms out his mushroomy tip is nested against your cervix.

After getting adjusted you give him the go ahead to move and he slowly starts to thrust up into you. “Eywa you feel so good” the na’vi whimpers softly.

With his help you begin to move against him matching his thrusts making you hold your hand to your mouth to stifle the moans threatening to break free.

Your other hand reaches down for his kuru gently tugging on it making him hiss in both pain and pleasure. You watch his eyes widen as you bring the beautiful pink tendrils to your tongue letting them wrap around it.

He shudders pumping faster inside you making you let go of his kuru, it detaches from your tongue and you collapse ontop of him hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Taking the chance he wraps one arm around your waist and the other around your neck keeping you in place as he goes harder.

You want to scream, let him know how good he’s making you feel but you can’t. The only sounds in the hut are of his family snores and the faint sound of his balls slapping against your clit which immediately send you over the edge.

“Almost there yawne almost there I promise” he pants quietly. Squeezing his eyes shut he feels his orgasm rapidly approaching, you feel him throb inside you before he stills spilling his hot load deep into your empty womb.

Carefully he sits up and pulls out of you with a squelching sound watching his cum drip down your thighs. He lowers you onto the sleeping mat getting a cloth and dips it into a bowl with water cleaning you up as gently as he could.

Finding your panties he decides to keep them for himself and just put your pants back on while he puts his tewng back on stuffing your panties into it for safekeeping.

Honestly you don’t care about that but smile as he lays down pulling you ontop of him whispering “Goodnight yawne.” You manage to mumble out a goodnight too as you eventually fall asleep listening to his heartbeat.

Making sure your asleep and alright the mighty warrior allows himself to fall into a deep peaceful sleep.

[crystalflie]

𝐒𝐡𝐡..𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐍𝐨𝐰..

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 (𝟏𝟖+)

Tags: Porn with Plot, Two Shot, Female Reader, Canon Divergence, Getou is a teacher at JJT, Rough Sex, Office Sex, Almost Caught, Crying, Filming, Degradation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Making Out, First Time, Dirty Talk.

Word count: 6500~

[Cross-posted on Ao3]

Description: Getou sees how whipped his best friend was for the cute new office assistant. It’s too bad that his best friend was also a total idiot when it came to romancing, so it’s not Getou’s fault if he got to fuck her first..

Romantically..

Over Gojo Satoru’s desk.

————————————————————————

“Everybody! MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASEE!”

Gojo clapped his hands together for emphasis, successfully capturing the focus of the first-year students. The man began walking down towards the open field as the three turned their heads at the sound of his voice. It was a rather sunny day, the heat pouring down on especially this area of the school, so it was no wonder when they all looked somewhat annoyed at the interruption. The sooner they can complete their training, the sooner they can go back inside.

Nobara and Yuuji took a pause in their spar session, both out of breath and wiping the sweat off their faces. Sitting a few feet away from them, Megumi twisted the cap of his water bottle back on, curious as to what their teacher had to say.

“Gojo-sensei.” The dark-haired boy nodded as Gojo reached the bottom of the stairs, but he quickly noticed that someone else was following behind the man.

“Gojo-sensei! What is it?” Yuuji approached them with Nobara at his side, fanning himself with the collar of his shirt. Gojo lets out an airy laugh at the disheveled state of his very much tired students.

“Well, I’ll make this quick so you guys can catch a break..”

He stepped aside and gestured his head to the individual standing behind him, which was your cue to come forward and introduce yourself…

All three pairs of eyes follow you as you finally step out of Gojo’s shadow, offering a small bow before speaking.

“Hello.. Nice to meet you, I will be Gojo-san’s new assistant. Please let me know if you need anything..”

Your words trailed off and you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward as stares were being burned into you. The trio looked rather.. bewildered, making you question if you had said anything wrong. I mean, you can’t possibly have, since you've only spoken one sentence, but maybe teenagers are just weird..

“Sensei..you have an assistant?”

Yuuji sounded confused, inspecting you once over and then looking back at Gojo for an explanation. However, your boss only swung his arm around your shoulders and said,

“Yep! She can see curses, cursed energy, and all that jazz. Just don’t try to fight her, ‘cuz she’s not a sorcerer.”

Nobara quickly cuts in after him, “What he meant is why do you need an assistant if you don’t do shi-”

“KUGISAKI! S-sensei, that is not what I meant!” Yuuji waves his arms around frantically and shoots Nobara a glare, only for her to flip him off in return.

“Okay, okay~ Settle down you two. But for your information, I do a lot! Nobody ever gives me credit..”

You hear Gojo sulking, his face not too far from your own. Maybe it was your imagination, but his arm around you felt a little tighter when he spoke the last part..

Megumi rolled his eyes at their antics and stood up from his spot, facing you and giving a bow as well.

“Nice to meet you. I am Fugishiro Megumi.”

You smiled at Megumi, he seemed like a very polite boy, although noticeably less energetic than the other two. You hoped that they’d eventually come around to your presence since it didn’t seem like Jejutsu Tech often had any new teachers, not that you consider yourself one, you're only going to be around to help with some paperwork.

Gojo hums and, much to your disappointment, removes his arm around you to cross them across his chest.

“Thank you Megumi…and NOW YOU TWO!” He dramatically points to Nobara and Yuuji, who immediately straightened their backs like army soldiers.

“Hurry up and introduce yourselves so I can go eat lunch with my cute assistant!”

You would’ve stuttered if you were the one talking to him, did he really think…no no, your boss is just a little out there, that's all.

“I AM ITADORI YUUJI!”

“I’m Kugisaki Nobara.”

The difference in their enthusiasm caused them both to slowly turn their heads and after a few seconds of silence, Yuuji and Nobara burst out laughing while jokingly smacking each other. Megumi let out a long sigh, briefly glancing back at you. You glance back at him too and see a slight flush growing from his neck before he quickly averted his gaze.

“Can you guys not embarrass yourselves for once?” Megumi grunted.

You chuckled to yourself and reassured Megumi that they weren’t at all embarrassing.

“Actually, you three are adorable..” You commented quietly.

Before you can receive any sort of response, you feel Gojo nudge your right arm gently.

“Well, that’s enough of them! Wanna grab some food? I’m feeling some yakitori today.” Gojo was quick to dismiss the protests from the background when it was clear he planned to go stuff his face while they continued training in the hot sun. Your eyes widen in a bit of surprise, you didn’t really expect to have lunch with..well your boss, you thought he was joking earlier.

Gojo’s expression morphed into one of confusion at your lack of response.

“What is it? Are you..vegetarian?”

You snapped out of your shock and shook your head no, after all, you might as well spend some time getting to know the man you’ll be working with. You’ve only met Gojo a few weeks prior to coming here, you know nothing about the way he works and what he needs help with, only some minor things he’ll tell you from time to time.

“Oh no, I’m not, we can go eat whatever you want. I’m not too picky.”

At least that's what you kept telling yourself as you walked side by side with Gojo leading the way, who was close enough to brush sides with you every now and then. Mostly it was he who made small talk, but it was a little hard to think of anything intelligent to say when a man this attractive couldn’t stop throwing flirtatious remarks between sentences. But like, just because your super hot boss was inviting you to lunch doesn’t mean you should develop a crush on him, it was way too unprofessional!

Besides, you thought, he probably acts this way to every woman he meets, so it's best not to dive deeper into his actions..but you were a little disappointed no doubt.

“Oh shit.”

Gojo abruptly stopped walking, and you stopped alongside him, wondering what was wrong.

“Gojo-san? Is something wrong?”

Not even a moment later, a half-smile took over his lips at your concern, and Gojo reached forward to take a spare strand of hair in front of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“You know I already said to call me Satoru right?”

When he retracted his hand, one of his fingers grazed the side of your cheek, and took everything you had to not shiver in front of him. Gojo laughed at your stiff reaction, and used the hand that just touched you to cover the back of his neck as he turned away again.

“It’s nothing by the way. I just remembered that I agreed to have lunch with Suguru, but I kinda got carried away with you and forgot about him..”

His statement successfully manages to fluster you, and you're glad that he wasn’t directly facing you to see how you blushed at the thought of him being carried away with you..

“O-oh..should we go back for him?” You asked to be polite, but there was nothing more that you wanted than to have a few more moments alone with him..without your probably other co-worker.

Gojo scoffed, “Oh please~ let’s just get a seat first, rush hours during lunch, he can join us later.”

You nodded slowly in agreement, it wasn’t like you’ve got anything against this ‘Suguru’ person..but you also didn’t want to walk all the way back to school.

“Alright then.”

————————————————————————

Gojo whistled the rest of the way to the supposed ‘best yakitori place in all of Tokyo’ and you followed behind, keeping an eye on his mob of white hair to not get lost in the crowds. At some point, he noticed that you were struggling to get around passersby on one of the narrower streets, so he took the chance to grab your wrist when he was close enough, and the rest of the way went smoothly.

The two of you eventually arrived at this small but cozy feeling restaurant, and Gojo casually strode in, seeming quite friendly with the owner, an elderly woman who teased him for bringing you along.

He must be a regular here...

You and Gojo were sat down by a server at a table, and they left shortly to give you time to decide what to order. Gojo hardly glanced at the menu, only propping his arm on the table and setting his gaze on you, who pretended not to be paying attention to him by flipping through the options.

“So..later when Suguru comes..” Gojo started, a little hesitant, but you gave him your attention and put the menu down.

“I just wanted to warn you that he’s a little reserved..and kind of cocky.. and kind of arrogant … b-but he’s a good guy!”

Gojo sounded like he just slapped on the last part so you wouldn’t be put off, but admittingly you were even less thrilled to meet this person now..

“Hey, don’t look like that..next time, we can go somewhere with just the two of us.” He sends you a playful wink before laughing it off, then ushering the server over to place your orders. You internally cursed him for being a flirt, it was not at all good for your heart, knowing that he wasn’t serious.

“Ahaha..sure..”

Gojo Satoru was way out of your league.

Both of you settled on sour plum juice for a drink, which made your mouth water from thinking how refreshing it was going to be after the sun was practically beating down on you. It didn’t take long either, so you were able to quench your thirst with a satisfied sigh. You see Gojo do the same before checking his phone.

“Looks like Suguru’s gonna be here soon. I just need to use the restroom real quick, I’ll be righttt back.” He gets up from his seat with a grunt and disappears into the back of the restaurant, where you assume the restrooms are. Now alone at the table, you resorted to playing with the straw in your glass while waiting for Gojo to return. It almost felt a little unreal, how you were eating yakitori with one of the strongest sorcerers alive. Just walking around Jujutsu Tech was enough to make you feel like your ability to see curses wasn’t all that special..perhaps if you were blessed with a cursed technique, you’d be a pretty badass sorcerer..

Around three minutes passed with no sign of Gojo coming back, and you were just about to go on your phone when a jingle from the entrance of the restaurant caught your attention. The windchimes by the door signaled the arrival of a customer, and this time, you couldn’t help but stare at the person walking in. It was a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair tied back into a bun with pieces to spare. He’s got those bottomless, lazy eyes that no doubt can send anyone’s knees buckling, and he just happened to be looking around for something. He doesn’t have to look for long before the elderly woman from earlier brightens up at the sight of him, happily ushering him towards the seating area in the back, where you and Gojo’s table also happened to be.

He must be meeting up with someone..

Unknowingly, your chest was thumping when it seemed like he was being brought closer and closer to you, you wanted to stop gawking, but it was just too hard to turn away.

The way he carried himself was so alluring…and to top it all off, everything about him was surrounded by an air of mystery.

Total. Eye. Candy. Material.

You wouldn’t be surprised if other patrons had the same idea as you. I mean, it’s not illegal to appreciate the fine arts of the world.

The man was standing over your table when you accidentally made eye contact, eye contact which you held not because you were a confident girlboss, but because you were frozen in embarrassment from getting caught checking him out. He stared right back for some seconds until his gaze traveled from your face down to the collar of your unbuttoned shirt.

.

.

.

He was so lucky he was hot, or you would’ve considered it harassment…just kidding! But you felt a little hypocritical for thinking like that when you’ve clearly been looking at him the exact same way. In fact, you definitely were guilty, not so long ago you were crushing on your boss of all people, and now you were daydreaming about some stranger.

You shifted in your chair as an excuse to glance away and for him to move on.

It took you some time to realize said stranger wasn’t budging from the spot over your table, and the elderly woman had already left.

No way..could he be-

“Suguru!”

Gojo suddenly returned from the restroom at the perfect time, thankfully saving you from any awkwardness.

“Who’s this?” The man ignored Gojo’s attempt to greet him in favor of asking about you, and his voice was way huskier than Gojo’s for sure..

“Suguru, meet my new assistant. Isn’t she just the cutest?” Gojo pulled out a seat for ‘Suguru’ and sat down on his original seat across from you.

You wished he would stop saying things like that out of nowhere, you were never ready for any of his ‘compliments’.

“Assistant? Yeah, you sure do need an assistant.” He didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm as he replied, taking the seat next to Gojo.

“C'mon, quit being rude..and you didn’t deny the second part.”

Getou sighs and looks over at you with a stoic expression, unrevealing of his feelings towards your presence.

“I’m Getou Suguru. I am a special-grade sorcerer and I currently teach the second-year students.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape at the mention of him being a special-grade sorcerer, you recall that Gojo told you something similar, of how all sorcerers and curses were organized in a rank system.

“I see..Nice to meet you Getou-san.” You introduced yourself after him, but it wasn’t like you had much of an impressive background, so it was only a mention of your name and how you graduated college not too long ago. Weirdly enough, you almost see his brows slightly furrow in what you could only assume was confusion when you finished speaking. Gojo must’ve noticed too, and he leans forward to add,

“She’s not a sorcerer.”

Getou was unable to contain his frown at that revelation, leaving you feeling very much self-conscious and taking another long sip at your drink. You didn’t know what his deal was, but maybe it wasn’t the best time to ask yet.

“Suguru..” Gojo begins with a warning tone, if you weren’t mistaken, and lowers his shades to shoot Getou a half-glare.

“Princess here is going to handle my paperwork and some other minor things at school while I’m out exorcizing curses and being a boss-ass bitch. She doesn’t need to be a sorcerer to do that, right? Besides, she can see curses, so no need to traumatize some random civilian with the characters at our school.”

Gojo delivered his sentences with a defensive undertone, fully shutting down anything that Getou could possibly say about you and your lack of…uh, sorcerer status. You still felt a bit uncomfortable with the atmosphere they’d established, but soon enough Gojo completely switched back to his usual carefree attitude and began to rave to you about the food. You let him and Getou order what they wanted since you didn’t know what was good or not, so it was best to trust the expert. The conversation that followed wasn’t as awkward as before, but it was still mostly just Gojo talking to you and Getou separately. The dark-haired man didn’t exchange many words with you while you all ate, and honestly, you’ve spent most of time hoping for this lunch to be over so you can start planning on how to avoid him for the rest of your time at Jejutsu High. Unrealistic, yes, but the only way you know how to avoid situations like this is to avoid confrontation all together…

You still didn't know much about Getou at all, just that he was a handsome asshole that looked down on you.

You took another bite of your food.

“So..you said you just graduated?”

It was a surprise when he directly addressed you, without the prompting of Gojo.

“Yes, I did.” You nodded to confirm, wondering where he was going with this.

“How old are you?” Getou asked.

Was he trying to get to know you now? You were even more confused about his intentions, as you previously assumed he probably didn't like you much. You told him your age anyways, and watched as he blinked, placing his chopsticks down. Getou leans to his side to whisper something to Gojo, and although it didn’t prevent you from hearing, you pretended not to for the sake of not making this even more unbearable.

“Satoru, you wolf.”

A loud stomp came from beneath the table, and a passive aggressive grin spread over Gojo’s face at the other man’s trembling hand forming into a fist.

“What did you say now?”

Getou gives him a twitching smile, but his eyes scream that the only reason he was letting this play out is because they’re in public.

“Nothing.”

The rest of the lunch consisted of them somewhat bickering, and you silently eating unless spoken to.

.

.

What an unusual pair..

————————————————————————

Over the next weeks or so, Gojo taught you the basics of the school and introduced you to the rest of the staff. Everyone you’ve met so far were all pleasant and very accommodating to any questions you asked, except for, well, Getou Suguru...but other than that, you felt welcomed. Gojo made it easy to forget you were ultimately different from them, he treated you like you would be there for a long, long time, even if you didn’t know if you would. You agreed because he initially made it sound like a part-time intern thing, so you thought you could just stay while you figured out your actual career. All you really needed to do was sit in his office and fill out some paperwork for any missions the students were sent on, among other things. It wasn’t hard per say, and it was fun working with the students. Repetitiveness was a guarantee, though Gojo humored you at times with stories about his day.

Everything was lighthearted until you got your first paycheck. You realized you were being paid the equivalent of what a full-time office worker would be paid. It was more than a livable wage..and to think that Gojo had offered you a place to stay too.. You didn’t take that up since you already had your own apartment in Tokyo, but wow…this would be a dream come true for any broke college graduate.

Or just anyone in general.

“Is something wrong?” Gojo’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you nervously looked up from the paper check in your hand.

“Oh, no..it’s just, this is a lot..”

He tilts his head curiously, like an owl, urging you on to elaborate.

“What I mean is, this is a lot..for what I do, which- isn’t a lot.”

Silence fills between you two before Gojo laughs, but not quite in his usual manner, as it quickly dies down, and he begins to approach you. When he stood close enough, he took his index finger and pressed it softly against your forehead.

“Don’t underestimate yourself. Or else you’ll be taken advantage of by more..dishonest people.”

You reach up to grab his wrist, bringing it down from your head.

“Oh please, Gojo-san, you are the one overestimating what I do for you.”

You think he’s probably going to deny it again, you learned that your boss could be quite stubborn over minuscule arguments, but it wasn’t like he meant any harm.

“Finee. Since your hefty paycheck is just too much for you to handle, maybe there’s something else you can do for me..” Gojo’s voice grows quiet and you find yourself loosening your grip on his hand— that you haven’t released. You tried to let go immediately, but Gojo was faster, snatching your wrist with his other free hand and pulling you in until your faces were inches apart. His smile has long faded, not showing a hint of the similar mischief in his words.

Gojo’s chest was pressed up against yours, and suddenly being alone in his office with him felt very, very inappropriate.

This was where you worked for god's sake..

“You’ll listen to me.. Right?”

What does he mean? What can Gojo possibly want from you, in your eyes, he has everything…and even if he doesn’t, you know for sure he can take it. You didn’t want to think about what he was insinuating, how can he possibly even suggest such an idea with a straight face? He wasn’t like the Gojo you know, although not for long, you wanted to picture him as someone who was innocent to your feelings. You weren’t sure if he was aware of your little crush on him, but if he wasn’t, you weren’t sure if it was for better or worse.

You wordlessly nod. It just wasn’t possible to deny Gojo. He’ll just try to worm his way into getting what he wants.. Besides, you think he’s sweet.

“Then, I want you to..” Gojo moves in to close the tiny distance between the two of you, gently pressing his forehead to yours.

This was too much, you must have been as flushed as a tomato, and your lips felt wobbly from how hard you were biting them inside. The only thing that made you feel less self-conscious was that Gojo wore a similar shade of pink on his face as well, the only difference was that he was a lot more put-together on the exterior.

You sharply inhale when his hand that held yours starts to trail up your arm.. until it reaches the nape of your neck. He wasted zero hesitation in keeping you in place, securing his palm against the spot that drew out the most exhilarating shiver.

His skin was so cold.. But does nothing to cool the internal heat spreading through every part that was in contact with him. You unconsciously allow yourself to bask in the feeling, as much as you can while pretending that the drumming in your ear doesn’t exist, while pretending that you were just as put together as he was.

None of you said a single word until you saw Gojo swallow, and he made a small incomprehensible noise before abruptly letting his head fall on your shoulder, hiding in the space beneath your ear.

“Gojo-san?”

He readjusts his arms to wrap around your lower waist, now engulfing you in a rather wholesome hug.

“God..you’re so-, you can’t just let me-” Gojo cuts himself off, realizing he was still technically touching you.

He releases his hold and takes three large steps back.

“Is..something wrong?” You try to ask him. You wondered what caused the change in his demeanor..you hoped you haven’t accidentally done anything to put him off.

“YES! Uh- NO! I MEAN NO! Listen darling-”

Gojo was acting all skittish and nervous, but he wasn’t telling you what was wrong. Have you actually done something to offend him? He notices the change in your expression and moves in again to a reasonable talking distance.

“Uh, so..uh..”

Gojo continues to stutter, your increasingly sulky face destroying the last bit of composure left in him. He was stumped, what did you want him to do? He totally fucked up the mood…and there’s no going back. Gojo had never wished more in that moment that he was born with a cursed technique that could turn back time, by like- 3 minutes is enough. Of course, he gets the shit that does nothing for his impressive awkwardness around his adorable assistant. He’s usually pretty smooth, he’d like to think so..

“Oh, look at the time! I’mlateformymeetingokaybye!”

You watch Gojo point to some nonexistent clock on the wall, and leave the room at the speed of light without so much as looking at you. The door hangs slightly open after he disappears, swinging back and forth, almost depressingly while you stand there alone. A takes a while for what just occurred to sink in, giving you enough time to feel ashamed and oddly shy out of nowhere. You began to pace around aimlessly in a circle while patting your heated face, thinking about Gojo’s words, thinking about his every reaction…

You’ve messed up, haven’t you..now you're going to have so much fun avoiding the person you work for.

————————————————————————

You were pouring some coffee in the shared staff room when your mind began drifting to the white-haired man that you’d hardly seen the past two days. You were almost certain that he was avoiding you too, perhaps a bit more than you are avoiding him, but the point stands. Gojo would text you about whatever he needed you to handle, while he claimed to have some “off-campus” business to take care of.

You sighed to yourself, oblivious that your state of discouragement was obvious to just about anyone who set eyes on you for longer than a second.

You proceeded to add an absurd amount of creamer and two cubes of sugar into your cup, stirring it randomly with a spoon. Now that you think about it..this was also how Gojo preferred his coffee.

“Excuse me.”

A deep voice spoke out from behind you, snapping you out of your morning daze. You realized you were probably blocking other people from using the counter and moved aside with a short apology. When you turned around, you realized that the person you were blocking was none other than Getou, which was the other awkward encounter that you’d been trying to avoid. He began making himself a drink, not seeming to care enough to initiate small talk. You pretty much understood he didn’t like you and was only doing the absolute bare minimum to remain cordial, but you still lingered around for him to finish using the coffee machine.

“Strange to not see you around Satoru all the time.” Getou offhandedly states, popping on the plastic lid over his cup.

It catches you off guard and almost feels like a dig, but you convince yourself that it was just the way Getou was..not the overly friendly type.

“Oh..Gojo-san is busy.” You didn’t know what Gojo was doing in all honesty and you also felt weird discussing this with Getou, who should know Gojo better than you do. They have been best friends since high school according to your boss, but you often question how two people who are so different manage to be this close.

“Really now? Is he at school today?”

You shrugged and replied,

“I don’t think he’ll be back until tomorrow, something about a mission..”

Getou seemed curious at the information, giving a small hum, and that was the end of the conversation.

————————————————————————

You headed back to Gojo’s office to clean up the lesson plans that he messily tossed on his desk before he left for his mission. It was quiet around here without him..and you start to dwell on how you bumped into Getou earlier. It was a bit easier to forget about him when you didn’t need to see him nearly as much as Gojo. Still, the moment he spoke to you again..you couldn’t help but keep thinking back to how… unbothered he was, compared to how bothered you were whenever he was near any vicinity. Even knowing that he had a distaste for non-sorcerors..it did nothing to quell the gutting desire you held to get his attention in the same way, you had Gojo’s.

At least Gojo acknowledges you.

You thought maybe Getou was finally coming around..but it’s hard to read someone so nonchalant, he doesn’t talk much about himself or voice his likes or dislikes, unlike Gojo who physically cannot stop speaking. You giggle to yourself at the thought of how lively and sweet Gojo is, he was the perfect prince charming…but you remain unsure of actually pursuing him.

How can you do that without feeling guilty, knowing how you thought about his best friend?

And, you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself..what if the interest was only one-sided on your part?

You neatly slide the last organized folder into the drawer of Gojo’s desk and plop down in his comfy, cushioned seat. The chair that Gojo always sat in felt a lot bigger now that you were sitting in it yourself, but you took a couple of spins around to test out the wheels. It traveled across the marble floor easily, while you spun around laughing to yourself.

Yeah, it kinda made you seem stupid..but you felt stupid, letting men like Gojo and Getou drive you insane.

.

.

.

“Having fun?”

You grip the armrests in an attempt to restabilize yourself, thrown off by the sudden voice piercing through the air. Slowly, your eyes flickered toward the entrance where someone was leaning against the doorframe.

It was Getou. You already knew before you could confirm with your eyes.

He grins in a mocking type of amusement noticing how you swallowed, trying to not squirm under his gaze.

“Getou-san..do you need something?” You questioned, not anticipating this visit.

Why was he here? You doubted he just happened to drop by for a little visit, and Gojo wasn’t here today like you told him earlier.

Getou slithered his way inside without another word, shutting the door behind him.

“No, not really, Satoru asked me to check up on you.”

He made exaggerated motions to stretch while walking across the room, and you stood up from Gojo’s chair. It would be weird for you to sit there with him watching you, and you probably shouldn’t sit in your boss’s chair in the first place.

Speaking of, you were embarrassed.

“Oh, Gojo-san did?”

Getou nodded, stopping right in front of you. You didn’t know what he was doing, but you stayed still and waited for his next word.

“Yeah..but it looks like you’re perfectly fine without him.” He lets out a small chuckle, staring down at your form.

“Uhm.. I finished doing what he asked of me. Is there anything you need help with?”

You unknowingly began rocking on your heel, being alone with Getou is rather nerve-wracking, and no disrespect, but part of you wanted him to leave while the other was screaming for him to make a move.

“Yes, actually. Just a question.”

You swallow. Okay, well, you didn’t know what you could possibly answer for Getou that’s work-related..

“Wha-”

You hardly got a word out when Getou slammed both his arms on Gojo’s desk, encaging you between the two.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” He leans down to whisper in your ear, letting you feel his breath travel down your neck.

You were frozen in shock, eyes widening in disbelief at what was unfolding. You were sure that one second he was standing in front of you, then the next he was hovering over your smaller frame.

“What..?”

Getou took one look at your dumbstruck face and threw his head back to laugh, unrestrained, unlike all the other times he’d send you a condescending smile.

“No..I think you might be the stupid one.”

He brought his face back down and smashed his lips onto yours, nibbling until you gave in and let his tongue inside.

“Mmph..!”

You shut your eyes, everything was moving too fast.

You felt Getou engulfing you in a heated kiss, leaning further and further into you while the strength in your knees gave away. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed every thought you tried forming, leaving you blank and mindless as a doll. Your brain was filled with nothing but static, a pleasant fuzziness from him sucking the absolute breath out of you.

It lasted for a few more seconds until he released your mouth, both of you panting and staring into each other's eyes in silence.

“G..Getou-san..y-you..”

You tried to speak coherently while propping yourself up using the edge of Gojo’s desk, but a hand effortlessly shoved you to fall back, sprawled out on the wooden surface with hair tangled in a mess.

You were completely stunned...Getou had kissed you. He kissed you, and you hadn’t even gotten to kiss Gojo yet...in fact, you have never kissed anyone in your life, and he took it, just like that.

“I’m what?

He doesn’t wait for you to answer before fitting himself in the opening between your legs, both hands leisurely sliding up your thighs, until finally stopping to pinch at the fat peeking out from above your black stockings and beneath your pencil skirt. You squeak and reach down to grab one of his wrists, causing Getou to send you a curious look.

“Well..go on, finish your sentence.”

Your mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out, you lie there, looking scandalized and gazing at him through heavy eyelids.

Getou takes in the sight of you, scoffs, and delivers another pinch.

“Are all non-sorcerers as brainless as you? Truly a wonder that you lasted this long here..but I suppose even the most simpleminded mutts should know how to get properly fucked.”

He bends his body down to press a small kiss on your collarbone, then blows softly on the spot, tickling your skin, which was feeling way too sensitive for your liking.

“Right baby? Because that’s why Satoru is keeping you around..all locked up in his office and being a fucking tease.”

Getou’s harsh, accusatory words connect zero dots in your head.

What the hell is he on about..?

“I.. don’t know what you mean..”

You hear him huff against your neck,

“You don’t? You should…since you’re his darling princess. That idiot cannot shut up about you, you know.”

The way he spoke made it clear he was teasing, you knew Getou saw you as a toy, something to mess around with..but it didn’t stop your stomach from curling everytime he jokingly calls you a pet name in that sultry voice.

Bad.

He was a bad man.

But along with the embarrassing warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.. you were kind of pissed. The only thing he’s done was belittle and insult you since the day you two first met.

All for what?

Just because you were like the majority of the population, because you weren’t a godly sorcerer like him?

It made you want to knock him off his high horse.

“So..? So what if I did let him fuck me, what is it to you, Getou-san?”

Your tone stayed so polite, it was hard to believe something of this nature could come out of your innocent mouth. Getou practically went still as a rock, still breathing down your neck.

Was he shocked?

You could almost afford to let satisfaction sink in, but a low, guttural sound slip out between Getou’s teeth, muttering,

“Shit..”

You couldn’t gouge the meaning behind his cursing, and you didn’t have to, as through your confusion, he swiftly bit down into the tender area connecting your shoulder to your nape. You let out a small shriek while Getou proceeded to bruise the once unmarred surface, relentlessly suckling and licking.

“G-Getou..san!”

He pauses.

“I really.. wanted to have you before Satoru..that scoundrel couldn’t even wait to pounce on fresh blood.”

Genuine annoyance. He bought your bluff, but the statement only seemed to have the effect of pissing him off instead of convincing him to stop.

“Oh well. I guess I got used to sharing with him anyway. Bastard always wants to compete with me..”

With that, Getou got up from his hovering position to admire the disheveled piece of art in front of him, furious red marks blooming from your collar and legs trembling around his waist. He looks down at you with an unassuming expression, but you don’t miss the way he discreetly wet his lips at the rise and fall of your chest.

“Fuck. I’m still mad you know. All this time, you were making those bedroom eyes at me, meanwhile also bouncing on Satoru’s lap. So. Fucking. Shameless.”

He knew. He knew the entire time, how badly you wanted his attention. And now, you finally had it.

Getou’s hand on your thigh traveled up even more, successfully pushing past your skirt, bundling it at your waist, until it reached the band of your panties. He rubbed a few circles on the side of your hips, drawing out a desperate whine from you, before pulling on the elastic and snapping it against your burning core.

You cried out, in pleasure or pain you don’t know, and he continued to coo out more degrading phrases.

“Naughty girls should be punished. But you look to be enjoying this..hm?”

A finger traced the outline of your pussy through the now soaked, thin fabric of your underwear, applying just the tiniest bit of pressure. The jolt of simulation has your head spinning, muddled with euphoric tingling over every inch of your body. You wanted more, this wasn’t enough..you tried to push back into Getou’s hand but he pulled away, holding your waist down with his other arm.

“Ah, ah, ah. Be patient sweetheart..and listen carefully. I’m going to give you two choices.”

He clicked his tongue, addressing you again in that mocking tone. You feel his grip tighten.

“You can either..tell me to stop, and I’ll leave you just like this, hot and wanting to get off by yourself..”

Getou pulled your hips down until you felt his own press into your ass, the unmistakable hardness beneath his pants telling you he was just as affected as you were.

.

.

.

“Or..you can beg me to fuck you silly, right here, right now.”

————————————————————————

AN: Part two will be up soon!

[anjelagarrick]

ink

john price x reader

summary: your husband notices something new.

tags: established relationship, very domestic, fluff!!!, talks about having children, i love him sm 😭

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

JOHN’S CHEST RISES and falls with each deep breath. You’re on your phone, back pressed to his chest, other hand resting upon his forearm, gently rubbing circles with your thumb. John loved his work, but he loved you more; he always craved being beside you, having you in his arms. The bedroom is quiet, other than a fan running to keep you both cool in the summer heat. “John, look.” You smile, offering him your phone. Just as he’s about to take it, a line on your wrist catches his attention. Slowly, he takes the phone, trying to peer at what was on your skin, yet you moved your hand away as he took it. It was a simple post of a saint bernard puppy, his favourite breed of dog. It makes him smile. “His name is Cash. Isn’t he adorable?” You giggle, rolling over in your husband’s arms to huddle closer to his chest. “Yeah, very.” He hums, handing you your phone back. You’re smiling as you continue scrolling.

Eventually, curiosity gets the better of John, and he gently grasps your wrist, pulling ever so slightly. You glance at him, watching his eyes trace over the tattoo upon your wrist. It was only small, barely noticeable. “When’d you get this?” He asks softly, smiling a little. “A few weeks ago. Do you like it?” You respond, a ghost of a laugh on your voice. It was a small, fluffy bear with a bucket hat on. John’s eyes are bright with amusement. “I love it.” He chuckles, it rumbles in his chest as he lifts your wrist; pressing a kiss over the mark. “Ive been talking about one for a while, and I figured i’d get something of you. To remind me you’re still here even when you’re away.” You explain, letting him run his thumb over your inked skin. “Maybe I should get something of you.” He muses, looking at you.

“I thought you didn’t want tattoos.” You tease, kissing his lips gently as John lowers your wrist once more. “I’d do anything for you.” He mutters, smile creasing his eyes. “Sap.” You chuckle, gently hitting his chest. “What would you get?” You add on, resting your head upon your lover’s shoulder. “A swan, maybe on her phone.” He half-jokes. “A swan?” You giggle, looking at him. “Mhm. They’re beautiful birds, very elegant, very precious too. You’re definitely my swan.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Aw, John.” You croon, cupping his cheek to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “Perhaps you should make a design for me.” John suggests, holding you closer. “Yeah? Maybe I could…” You reply, letting your head rest once more. “Mhm. I’ve seen your little doodles. It would feel more… special, intimate.” He adds on, fingers brushing over yours before tangling between them, he brings your hand up to a soft kiss; focusing upon your ring finger where your wedding band sits.

“I’ll see what I can do.” You respond, smiling brightly. “Good, good. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” John chuckles, already picturing what little creations you could come up with. “Let’s just hope your boys don’t tease you.” You joke, scrolling through your social media’s once more. “They wouldn’t.” John rolls his eyes playfully. “Mmm… they would.” You smile, kissing his collarbone. John let’s out a soft chuckle. “They’ve been asking about you.” He notes. “Yeah?” You chuckle, looking up at him. “Mhm. It’s all ‘how’s our mama bear?’ and ‘when can we see her again?’ It’s mainly Johnny, you know how he is.” He laughs gently, you smile. “They’re probably the closest we’ll have to kids.” You joke, knowing how fond they were of you. “I think kids would be less difficult.” John grins. “Yeah,” you laugh. “Kids don’t have access to C4.” John lets out a joking groan. “Don’t remind me.” You laugh again, gazing at your husband as the room settles once more. “What..?” He muses, smiling gently at you. “Nothing.” You smile wider, kissing him.

“Nah, somethings up. What?” He muses, hand rubbing your back. “Just… would you want kids? A family?” You ask, pressing your head into his neck. “Of course. We’d have adorable kids.” He chuckles, “They’d look like you, i’m sure.” He adds on. “Yeah?” You smile, squeezing his torso a little tighter. “Yeah. I wouldn’t mind having a few kids with you, doll.” John insists, muscular arms moving around you securely. You giggle softly, snuggling closer. “I love you.” You tell him, chest elated with joy. “I love you more, darling. Get some rest, eh? It’s getting late.” John whispers, kissing the top of your head. “Alright. Good night, John.” You respond, curling closer. “Night, lovely.”

[urfavoritegirlkisser]

"To All of the Girls I've Loved Before" II Hazel Callahan x Reader

“Hazel goes to her favorite diner, ordering her favorite food and a large chocolate milkshake to go with it. It definitely helped to deal with her existential crisis on a full stomach and she eventually calmed her emotions.”

Tags: Cheerleader!Reader who is kinda mean oopsie, girls kissing, fem!reader, no use of y/n, lightly proof read

A/N: Wow, didn't expect y'all to like the first part, again this is based loosely off of the plot of "To All the Boys I've Loved Before" except it's gay and we love it. This is part two, go to the first part if you haven't read it already! Also, don't steal my writing, I only post on Tumblr.

Hazel wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there for eternity. She didn’t even wait for the dismissal bell as she grabbed her things and immediately rushed home.

How did the letters even get out? She had made sure to put them all in a small shoe box in the back of her closet…

As soon as she got home, Hazel ran up to her room and searched her closet from top to bottom, but all she found was a now empty shoe box.

“Hazel? Why are you home so early? I thought you had that fight club thing today” Hazel’s mom says as she leans against the door frame in that ridiculously overpriced bathrobe.

Hazel sighed and looked up at her mom, “Yeah…they, uh, canceled today” she says quickly while holding the shoe box and running a hand through her hair in frustration.

Her mother pointed to the box, “I made sure to mail those for you so you didn’t forget, and so they didn’t sit collecting dust.” she says while taking a sip from the drink in her hand

Hazel freezes and looks at her mother, her shock slowly fading into anger, “You were the one who mailed them?”

“I mean it seemed like you had forgotten about them, so I took it upon myself” she says shrugging her shoulders like her decision didn’t cause Hazel to make some of the biggest mistakes in her life.

Hazel throws the shoe box to the floor and rushes out of the house without another word as all of the emotions start flooding her mind and she sits in her car trying to blink back tears. She hits the steering wheel in frustration and then lays her head on it which causes the horn to blare.

“My life is ruined” she groans and then leans back, closing her eyes. She then starts her car and puts it into drive.

She needs to go somewhere and think

Hazel goes to her favorite diner, ordering her favorite food and a large chocolate milkshake to go with it. It definitely helped to deal with her existential crisis on a full stomach and she eventually calmed her emotions.

And then you walked in

You scanned the diner and immediately spotted Hazel, walking over and sitting across from her in the booth. You had your cheerleading uniform on which told Hazel you must have come straight from practice.

“Hey Hazel” you say with a bright smile which Hazel can’t help but return, a small blush coating her cheeks.

“So I just wanted to come over and talk to you about what happened at the track earlier and I also want to offer you a deal” you say with a smug grin, “I need help getting my ex jealous, so I was thinking that maybe we keep up a little charade” you say as Hazel look at you dumbfounded at what you’re saying.

“It’s perfect! I’ll get Josh back for cheating on me, and you’ll finally get noticed by people other than those girls in your little club!” you say, a little condescendingly as you mention the fight club Hazel was apart of.

Hazel decided to try and scrounge up some form of her pride to leave with, “Yeah, look, I just wanted to say that I totally do not have a crush on you, I just needed to make sure another person also didn’t think I had a crush on them” she says confidently, and she isn’t technically lying…more like she was only saying half of the truth, right?

You weren’t going to lie, that made a spike of jealousy shoot through you but were quick to push the feeling down as you looked back to Hazel with a curious expression, “Oh? And who is this mystery person?”

Hazel fiddles with her rings nervously, wondering if she can trust you, “Well…um, her name is PJ but I’m sure you don’t know her-”

“But isn’t she like one of your best friends?” You questioned as you interrupt the brunette.

Hazel rubs the back of her neck anxiously, “I mean yeah, she is, but I never really had a crush on her until that kiss during the game happened and you know things got like super confusing for a while…” Hazel rambles until she slowly looks to see you checking your nails, seemingly uninterested.

“Look…maybe this fake dating arrangement could benefit both of us, you prove to PJ that you are totally not into her and I make my ex jealous, it’s really a win-win situation” you say, trying to push the idea forward again.

Hazel doesn’t know how to respond to this question…could she really date you, kiss you, love you while knowing that you don’t and will likely never feel the same?

She looks up and shakes her head, “I don’t know…this could really crash and burn if we ever get found out” she says softly

“I mean it’s not like we’ll ever tell anyone the truth” You say before sighing, “Just think it over, ok?”

Hazel nods and you flash her a smile before leaving.

“What is my life?” Hazel groans as she lets her head fall to the table in front of her

The next day, you were at cheer practice, running over drills when you heard a voice call your name.

You look to see Hazel walking up to you until she stops right in front of you, tilting your head up a little, you can see a devious grin playing on her lips

“Let’s do this” she whispers to you

You cast a quick glance to your teammates around you and smiled before pulling Hazel into a quick but passionate kiss.

Hazel stumbles back a little after you break away and then looks around at all the people staring, her face starting to turn a vibrant shade of red as she laughs nervously.

“Yep, that’s my girlfriend alright” she says trying to play it cool but ultimately failing as she quickly walks away, “Carry on!” she squeaks out before running away, leaving you giggling softly at how cute Hazel looked when she was flustered.

A/N: Thank you again for reading!! I had no clue that a silly little idea of mine would be enjoyed by so many. Anyways, go drink water you girl kissers.

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 3

~~~

part 1, part 2

~~~

Author’s Note: First of all, thank you for the lovely comments! 🥰 Second, I’m writing this as I go, so while I’ll try to post every other day, it might come a point when I’m not done on time. Just so you know if it suddenly takes longer for the next part to be posted.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… now you do. And you’re not handling it very well.

~~~

It’s almost sundown when you and the others are back at the camp again. It’s been a good day, all in all. You were able to stock up on potions and scrolls, and Karlach sweet-talked her way into a good deal on a handaxe. Not that you were there to watch it happen — Halsin’s favour had you talking to both the new leader of the Druids, Francesca, and Rath, the latter engaging you in a longer conversation than originally planned. Not that you minded, Rath is a good conversationalist. And quite handsome.

Yes, you did notice, but you kept it polite, not at all in the mood for flirting. Not when your thoughts continuously drifted back to a certain vampire that declined tagging along at the last minute.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but your eyes roam Halsin’s tent when you search him out to relay the information you gathered today. It’s probably a coincidence that Astarion decided to remain, but you can’t help but look for signs of someone sharing Halsin’s bed.

If Halsin sees you snooping, he doesn’t confront you about it, and you feel silly when you leave him to find the others. Who he sleeps with is none of your business, and you tell yourself that this is enough. Either you get over yourself, or you let Astarion go.

Which is easier said than done.

“Hey Karlach, let me see that axe of yours.” The rest of your party is gathered around the fire, preparing tonight’s meal. “From what I hear, I should bring you every time I need to haggle down the price for something.”

“Look at this beauty!” Karlach happily shows you her new weapon. “I’m going to polish it tomorrow, really bring out the shine it deserves.”

“How come you weren’t there, Tav?” Astarion sounds nonchalant, like he couldn’t care less but decides to ask anyway.

“I believe Tav had more important things to do.” Trust Lae’zel to come to your rescue.

“Halsin wanted some updates from the Grove,” you add.

“Mhmm, but surely that’s not the only reason why you talked for so long with Rath, Tav?” Shadowheart teases. “It seemed like you two really hit it off.”

“Yeah, he’s cute, Tav. Go for it!”

You want to look at Astarion, but you force yourself to turn your attention to Karlach instead, making sure to sound as casual as possible. “He’s nice, but…” You already have someone. “Perhaps you should go for him, Karlach, if you find him cute?”

“Nah, I have my eyes on someone else.”

It’s adorable, the way she lights up, and you wish you could hug her. “Hmmm, might this be a blacksmith we all know?”

“Tav!”

“This is secret to none, Karlach,” Lae’zel says. “Even a blind fool couldn’t help but notice the way you swooned when he helped you in the Grove.”

“I didn’t swoon!”

“There was definitely some swooning happening,” Shadowheart chimes in. “We all saw it.”

“Aaaanyway…! This was about Tav, not me.”

Dammit. You should’ve left for your tent when you had the chance. “No, no, I think we should talk more about you and Dammon.”

“Come on, Tav.”

“Yes, Tav, tell us all about your conversation with Rath.”

For a moment you somehow forgot that Astarion is there, too. “There’s nothing to tell. He’s just nice and easy to talk to.”

“Hmm, you’re not very convincing, Tav.”

With a groan, you turn to the wizard. “Not you too, Gale.” For someone so hung up on his ex, he sure looks jealous over the fact that you might be interested in someone else. “I know you all probably only mean well, but if you don’t drop this right now…”

You expect either Astarion or Lae’zel to make some kind of comment, but none of your companions say a peep. There’s an awkward silence for a few tension-filled moments and you wonder if you sounded too harsh. They only want your best, after all.

Thankfully, Shadowheart steps in, clearing her throat. “I think our food is ready.”

Once you sit down to eat, you watch them all as they talk and laugh. It feels like usual again, and you’re reminded how lucky you are to have come across such amazing people in this extraordinary situation life put you in.

Your gaze rests a little bit longer on your lover. He’s always beautiful, but it’s entrancing the way the flickering flames seem to caress his cheekbones, the arch of his nose. His smile. He’s laughing at something Lae’zel just said, and going by the look on her face, it wasn’t meant to be funny.

It’s quite the motley crew you’re leading — and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You freeze when you suddenly find yourself locking eyes with Astarion. He isn’t supposed to catch you staring, and you quickly look away even though you know it’s too late. You wait a few minutes, and when you glance in his direction again, he’s talking to Gale.

Why must it be so difficult? Are you making it more difficult than it needs to be? You want to be with him and only him, so why not just ask it of him? If he says no, you’ll at least know instead of always wondering. And if he says yes, maybe he’ll grow to love you back.

Once again, you wish you had someone to talk to — and after today you think you can confide in Karlach — but it feels good to have come to a decision. Hopefully you can get him alone after dinner, because you would prefer to have it done before the stargazing Gale has planned.

You allow yourself to imagine the two of you lying next to each other in the grass, holding hands, smiling. Or his arm around you, holding you near.

You refuse to think about the other option, even though it’s the far more likely outcome.

For now, you’re going to pretend that everything’s going to be alright.

[acewritesfics]

Past Love: Part 03 | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: From anon

Fic Type: Blurb

Prompt: "I’m happiest when I’m with you." & “You feel like home to me.”  

Warnings: It does allude to smut. Also alludes to cheating which I don't condone.  

Word Count: 589

PART 01 | PART 02

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST

As Y/N drives away from the pub, it starts to pour with rain. Near the end of the street, she pulls over unable to see clearly through the rain and her own tears. Unable to bring herself to leave, she thinks back to the last time she was truly happy.  

It was the last time she was with Tommy. He surprised her, turning up on her doorstep three nights before he was to marry Grace, who Tommy had successfully distracted her from thinking about over the two days he was with her. They had spent most of the time in bed wrapped up in one another. It felt like it had before the war had turned their lives and relationship upside down.   

“You stupid fool. You love him,” she cries talking about herself. Feeling angry at herself, she thinks about what could have been if she had just been a little selfish and didn’t put everyone else ahead of herself.   

Now was the time to put not only her wants and needs but also Tommy’s above the others. Stepping out of her vehicle, she starts making her way back to the Garrison. By the time she reaches the doorstep she’s soaked head to toe from the rain.   

As she goes to reach for the door handle the door swings open revealing Tommy who looks stunned to see her standing there.   

"I’m happiest when I’m with you," she begins to tell him, her tears mixing with the rain drops. “For so long I have been putting every other woman first, not listening to what I want or what you want, and I can’t do it anymore,” she pauses to take a breath. “I love you; I need you and, I wa-”   

She’s cut off by Tommy’s lips crashing to hers, kissing her with all the love he feels for her as he pulls her close to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she holds him as tight as she can as the kiss becomes sloppy. She’s afraid if she lets go and if she opens her eyes and ends the kiss, that he’ll disappear, her mind having played a cruel joke on her.  

Tommy eventually breaks the kiss and lets her go long enough to open the door back up and pull her back inside, locking it. Within a matter of seconds his lips are on hers again, deepening the already heated kiss.   

Sitting on his lap facing him, wrapped in his arms as both catch their breath and ease their racing hearts, with the musky smell of sex lingering around them, Y/N runs her fingers along his forehead, moving his hear out of his face so she can see those beautiful blue eyes she loves so much. “I need to go find me a room for the night and you need to go home and talk to Lizzy. I won’t be the other woman.”  

“You’ve never been the other woman,” he assures her. “They were just a means to try and get over you.”  

“You still need to go home,” she says going to move off his lap, only for him to pull her back down on it.   

“You feel like home to me,” he says as he moves his hand to the back of her neck and massages it a little. “You are my home. Let me have tonight with you and I’ll talk to Lizzy in the morning.”  

Against her better judgement, which was long gone by now, she nods and leans in, kissing him again. 

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @forgottenpeakywriter - @star-ggirl - @iceman-kazansky - @alexxavicry - @galactict3a - @crispynutella - @il0vebeingdelulu - @nicole-19s-world

Bold means your @ didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Here's a post I found that could help if your not able to be tagged: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

Sometimes your blog will be linked after posted but I don't think you get the notification. Tags have been weird lately. I might start putting the tags in the comments. Let me know if you get the notification.

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 32

read on ao3! (146k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Series tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Warnings: animal death

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter 32:

Two weeks later

Joel's POV:

“Get your gun out,” Joel commanded, pausing his own movements to watch as Juliet’s hand reached into the pocket of the jacket he had given her. 

That jacket had been with him since before Boston, before he had even met her, and now it hung from Juliet’s shoulders, marking her, in a way, as his.

Those months in Jackson, after he’d pushed her away in the cruellest way possible, Joel watched as Juliet formed a life for herself just as she had all those years ago in the QZ. He would watch her leave for patrol with aching terror weighing him down, and he would see her walk past his house with Ethan as that dark jealousy almost ate him alive. And when Joel came to his senses, and his world was drenched in thick regret, there was one thing that let him hold out hope that he could be forgiven, that there might still be a chance for them: When Juliet left for patrol with Matt, or ate in the dining hall with Ethan, or laughed with Tommy, she was always wearing his jacket. 

That mark of his depraved possession was still on her and Joel knew that deep down their connection remained. 

“I’ll do the talking,” Juliet announced as she tightened her hold on the horse and adjusted her gun in her other hand. 

She looked ready for battle. Her hair tied back in a ponytail and her face wiped clean of any fear. 

Joel still thought this whole trip was the most idiodic thing he’d ever agreed to. But to Juliet, it really was a battle. She was fighting for the truth about who she was, and what was done to her. She didn’t want revenge, Joel had already sorted that for her. Juliet just wanted to find a way to move on, and Joel would fight to give it to her. 

They stood in the field between the edge of the forest they had just travelled through and the fence surrounding Elijah’s community, or that’s what it had once been. Joel feared where the leadership landed following his death. 

Joel released a heavy sigh and focused his gaze on the tall fence in the distance. He didn’t see any movement but that meant nothing. The greatest threats were usually difficult to spot. 

He turned to Juliet behind him, allowing his eyes to sweep down her body. It was a nervous habit, Joel was always searching her body for any signs of hurt. 

When he closed his eyes he still pictured her lifeless body in that metal chair. 

His fists closed around his shotgun, tightening until his knuckles were a stark white. 

“Any sign of trouble, we get the hell outta there. You hear me?” he warned Juliet, already contemplating changing his mind and taking them back to Jackson before they even reached the fence. 

Juliet would find a way to get here on her own, Joel knew she would. That’s why he agreed to this fucked up plan in the first place. 

That crease between her eyebrows formed as she looked at him, then she nodded slowly. Joel allowed himself to take another breath, then another, as he turned back towards the fence. 

“Right, let’s get you some answers.” 

………………

They approached the fence cautiously. Joel walked in front with his gun ready and Juliet was only a few steps behind, holding the reins of his horse who walked beside them. 

The last time they’d been here, Elijah’s men had circled them immediately, having spotted them in the watchtower a mile off. 

Now, there was nothing. No security, no sound. But that’s not what made Joel pause. As they drew closer, he noticed that the towering wooden gate… was open. Almost as though they were waiting for someone to stumble in.

Joel turned back to Juliet, catching her wide eyes with his own. He shook his head quickly before turning back to the fence. He wanted her to stay where she was. Joel was going first.

That voice in his head was screaming at him to turn back. But maybe the town was just abandoned and, if Juliet could see that, they could head home, back to Jackson. Maybe Juliet would learn to live without closure. 

Joel’s already tight jaw tensed even further, his teeth grinding together as he walked quietly to the open gap in the fence and stepped inside. 

With his shotgun raised, Joel sweeped his eyes across the field in front of him and narrowed his gaze towards the buildings in the distance. 

It was empty. 

He stood for another minute, barely breathing as he listened. Still, he could hear no voices and he couldn’t track any movement on the mainstreet. 

Joel had been doing this for long enough to know that this initial observation meant fuck all if there were people hiding out in the houses, or waiting eagerly for him to draw closer before they decided to strike.

Something about this was different, though. He knew the history here. Their leader died a few months ago, and the townspeople seemed useless. Maybe the entire community just fell apart.

But why would they leave? 

“Joel,” a sharp whisper beckoned him to turn around. 

The decision lay heavy on Joel’s chest. They could turn around now, leave this place behind forever, and just put this whole quest behind them. 

Meeting Juliet’s eyes, and seeing the glimmer of sacred hope forged in them, made Joel decide otherwise. 

Slowly, he nodded, and let his shotgun swing from his shoulder as he wedged the fence open wider to allow Juliet and his horse to come through. 

Instantly, Juliet stiffened. She looked as though the weight of her memories were consuming her from the inside. Joel itched to sooth the crease in her forehead and erase every dark thought, but his hands were too rough and he could never find the words. 

“Don’t wanna be in the open too long,” Joel said, squinting in the winter sun, “if Danny is here, we better try and find him.”

Juliet nodded but said nothing, just tightened her grip on the horse and started heading towards the mainstreet. It was like she’d never left this place, the way her shoulders instantly dropped as she walked through the fence. 

Joel ground his jaw and prayed to whatever god still looked down on this wasteland that Danny was still alive and was able to ease the horror that lived in her head. 

…………………….

It was worse than he’d imagined.

Every house was ransacked. Doors were broken down, windows had been smashed in. The glass littered the rickety wooden porches. 

The people here hadn’t left willingly, if they had left at all. 

There were dark patches on the concrete pavement, trailing a map of spilled blood down the street. The stains were black, indicating that this had happened a while ago.

“Raiders,” Juliet whispered as her eyes flashed to him. 

It wasn’t a question but Joel still nodded slowly in silent agreement. They had both lived that life and knew exactly what mark it left behind.

Joel wondered how long the community had held out after Elijah had died.

Juliet let go of the horse’s reins to wipe a hand over her forehead, then she turned to Joel.

“Maybe Danny’s still here… he’s resourceful, he could have survived this,” Juliet said quickly, then paused, biting her lip as the reality of the situation seemed to hit her.

Joel gave her time, his eyes stayed locked on her face as she puzzled over their situation. 

Finally, Juliet inhaled a deep breath. “We came all the way here, we have to try,” she decided, reaching to grip the reins again. 

“Okay,” he ground out through his gritted teeth. 

If he had the guts, he’d throw her over his shoulder, get them both on the horse, and get the fuck out of here. But, in doing so, he’d be sacrificing whatever affection Juliet still had for him and he couldn’t let that go. 

Instead, he stepped in front of her, raised his gun higher and led the way down the street to where he remembered Danny’s “bar” being. If they were doing this, he wasn’t letting a fucking thing happen to her. 

………………..

“Shit,” Joel murmured under his breath as they approached the building. 

Panels of wood had been nailed across the door, blocking all sign of entry, or keeping something out…

“Take the horse,” Juliet said from behind him in a detached voice, as she dropped the reins and began to jog around the side of the building. 

“Juliet,” Joel scolded as he grabbed the reins and followed her. Joel’s heartbeat had begun to roar in his ears, echoing the desperate fear that consumed him when Juliet was out of his sight. 

He watched from behind as Juliet reached the gate around the back of the building and walked inside, with a carelessness that made Joel’s heart wrench. 

Every inch of the town was thick with an almost impossible silence and Joel cringed with every brush of their feet on the concrete. 

When Joel reached her, Juliet was standing at the back door to Danny’s building. Joel dropped the horse’s reins, stalked over to her, and gripped her arm, pulling her in a hard tug towards his body. Once she was plastered to his side, Joel dropped his mouth to her ear.

“What’re you playin’ at?” he demanded, breathless. 

Juliet’s breathing was quick and wild as she turned her head to blink up at him. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Juliet looked dazed, as though she hadn’t realised what she had done. From the looks of it, her mind was back in that basement with Elijah. 

Joel eased his grip on her. 

“You move when I move, that’s it,” he said in a cold voice, his heart still pounding. 

Quickly, Juliet nodded back. 

Joel turned to look behind him, his horse stood patiently inside the fencing that surrounded them. There was still no sign of people, so Joel decided it was safe to leave him out here while they searched the building. 

With his hand still circling Juliet’s arm, Joel swung her around until she was at his back, ignoring the sharp gasp she let out.  

The quiet that surrounded them seemed to scream in his ears like those old white noise machines people used to have. His thoughts condensed into one mantra: get in, get out, keep Juliet safe. 

The handle turned easily and Joel’s eyebrows furrowed. 

He pushed and held his breath as the darkness inside the building beckoned them in. 

It was in this bar that he had met Ethan, who confirmed the worst assumptions Joel had made about Juliet’s father. The memory was like a bitter taste in his mouth, reminding him of his own stupidity. 

He was always too fucking slow. 

Joel took a step inside, then another, and heard Juliet do the same behind him, mimicking his movements in the way only she knew how to do. 

The darkness was fierce as the boarded up doors and windows blocked any light from entering. Joel inhaled a breath and regretted it almost immediately. The air was thick and unusually humid like the bar hadn’t realised outside had turned to winter. 

Once they were in the centre of the room, Joel stopped, reaching a hand behind him until it hovered over Juliet’s waist. Then, he squinted his eyes and attempted to the best of his ability to search every corner of the room, searching for godknows what - 

“Who’s there?” a startled voice rang out in the empty room. 

Joel gripped Juliet’s waist tighter, pressing her to his back, shielding her with his body. He couldn’t see a damn thing, didn’t even know what direction the voice came from. 

Suddenly, he was blinking as an oil lamp was turned on, bathing the room in a soft, warm light.

Juliet stepped around Joel’s body. “Danny?” 

“Juliet?”

Joel stiffened as he took in the man before them. This was not the bartender he remembered. This man’s face was unshaven and his body looked as though he hadn’t eaten a thing in several weeks. His eyes were the worst. They had that starved look about them, the look that usually meant that he’d forgotten what it meant to want anything other than a meal. 

“Jesus,” he coughed out, stumbling closer as he walked around tables and chairs with a stiff, painful looking gait. “The last time I saw you, you were bleeding out on a table.”

Juliet’s entire body recoiled and Joel flexed his hand around the trigger of his gun. 

“What are you doing back here?” Danny asked cautiously, scratching his head. 

Joel looked down at Juliet, but she was just staring ahead at the man, looking as though she’d seen a ghost. And maybe she had; it didn’t look like there was much life clinging to the man. 

“What happened here? Where is everyone?” she asked quietly, in a voice barely above a whisper. 

Danny’s lips spread into a thin line as he slumped into one of the chairs, having grown breathless from his short walk across the room. With a trembling hand, he reached out in front of him, gesturing at the other chairs. “Take a seat,” he grunted. 

The man couldn’t have been older than his mid-forties, but he had aged rapidly in the last few months. It was hard to imagine this being the same man who helped him restrain Ethan in the back room. 

Juliet carefully lowered her gun and stepped forward towards Danny. Joel did the same, but his gun didn’t drop an inch. Once they were both seated, the weight of Juliet’s unanswered questions hung between them, unable to be ignored. 

Danny sighed and shot a look behind him before he leaned forward until his sharp elbows rested on the table. Joel shifted in his seat, positioning his gun under the table to face towards its potential target, should he need it. 

“Please,” Juliet breathed in a voice far gentler than he expected, “what happened?” 

Joel looked at Danny and watched as his eyes softened at the sight of Juliet’s pleading. The sight made him wonder what kind of friendship they had before she left town. Joel remembered the horror on his face when he saw Juliet on that metal table, with the evidence of her father’s hate etched on her body. The healed scars on Juliet’s body told him that her spilled blood was not an unusual sight in this town. How could a man stomach to watch a young girl go through that and still stand by the man who made her bleed? 

Joel’s finger hovered over the trigger.

Finally, Danny ran his hand through the greasy strands on his balding head and met Juliet’s eyes. 

“Things fell apart pretty quick after Elijah died,” he began. Joel didn’t miss the way his glassy gaze flickered to him. 

“Your father liked his secrets,” Danny said with a strange smile as he clasped his hands in front of him. “It was the mark of a great leader, I’d always thought. He made sure we didn’t know everything, to keep us from carrying the burden of the town.”

Joel’s eyes hit the ceiling as he puffed out a breath. 

Danny ignored his reaction and continued. “He told the town that they were the only survivors. It was a lie, of course, but a necessary one. It kept people from wanting beyond their means -”

“And it kept people dependent on him,” Juliet cut him off sharply, shifting in her chair to cross her arms over her chest. 

Danny laughed, and Joel was struck by an intense urge to squeeze a little tighter on the trigger. 

“Well, yes. I suppose it did. What I was trying to say was… your father held those secrets a little too close to his chest. Meant that when he died, we had no access to his suppliers anymore,” Danny grew quieter, his eyes locked on his hands. 

“Your father was a God to these people,” Danny paused, shaking his head, “when they found out he died….” 

He scratched his neck, turning to look back over his shoulder. 

Joel’s eyebrows lifted. 

“So where is everyone?” he demanded. 

Danny’s eyes thinned. “Did you not see the streets? They’re all dead,” he swallowed and dropped his hands back onto the table, “raiders got to us, we had no defences left. I’m the only one left.” 

Ain’t that convenient.

“What are you doing here, Juliet?” Danny asked, pointedly avoiding Joel’s stare.

She shifted in her seat. 

“That night, when I came back… my father told me something before he died. I have to know if it’s true,” Juliet answered as she straightened her spine. 

Danny’s eyebrows furrowed. “What did he say?” 

Juliet swallowed and Joel ached to touch her, but he was too tense. Being gentle wasn’t an option for him. 

“He told me that I wasn’t really his daughter, said that he killed my real parents,” Juliet revealed in an almost robotic voice, distancing herself from her emotions. 

Joel kept watch of Danny’s face, tracking his reaction like a hunter. 

It looked like he was doing a damn good job of not reacting at all, apart from the slight quiver of his lip as she continued to stare at Juliet. 

“Your father told you that?” he asked quietly. 

Juliet nodded. “Was he telling the truth?” 

Danny dropped eye contact with Juliet, leaned back in his chair, and for the third time since they had sat down, he looked over his shoulder towards the back door. 

That instinct that had guided Joel for the past twenty years, the instinct he should have listened to all those months ago when they first walked through this town, was roaring at him to bolt. Something wasn’t right here. 

Joel stood, bringing his shotgun with him. “Who else is in this town?” he demanded, flicking his eyes between Danny and the back door. 

Danny’s eyes widened and he held his hands in front of him. They were still trembling. 

“Joel,” Juliet hissed, moving to stand beside him, trying her best to get him to look at her. 

Danny broke out into a sick cough, pulling their attention to him. “No one,” he said between thick breaths. “Just me, I told you.” 

“Joel, what are you doing? He knows something!” Juliet protested, gripping his arm to lower his shotgun. 

“I know he does,” Joel agreed coldly, then turned his focus back to Danny. “Why’d you keep looking behind you?” he challenged.

Danny’s hands were still in front of him. “I haven’t! Just put the gun down and we can talk about this,” his eyes darted to Juliet, “I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Please, Joel,” Juliet whispered to him, seemingly blinded to all danger by her desperate need to know the truth. 

But he knew what was best. He knew how to protect her, even when she couldn’t do it herself. 

So, Joel stepped around the table and stalked through the room towards the back door. Juliet was on his heels. 

“I swear, there’s no one out there,” Danny called out behind them, struggling to match their pace. 

When Joel’s hand reached the door, he paused, listening. Beside him, Juliet did the same, slowing her breathing. Seconds later, she looked up at him and Joel watched as her eyes darted to the door with a nod. Juliet’s self preservation had returned. 

He nodded back and held up his hand, asking her to wait, to trust him. Juliet pulled her gun out and flipped the safety off, nodding back. 

Her faith in him nearly sent Joel to his knees. 

His hand met the cool metal handle and he turned, pushing the door open only an inch. Joel turned back as the winter sun streamed in, illuminating the red hidden in Juliet’s deep brown hair. 

Then he pushed the door open further, and stepped out into the small courtyard. His head turned quickly, scanning the area for any movements. His horse was -

Where was his horse? 

Hot blood rushed in Joel’s ears as his gaze dipped. 

No.

The carcass barely resembled the creature they had ridden here on. 

It lay on its side, with black eyes now devoid of life. The head was the only part of him still intact. Its torso had been split open, its ribs had been cracked and only red nothingness remained inside. 

Shock didn’t usually get to Joel, but the sight made him pause. 

Time slowed to a crawl. He should have called out to Juliet, yelled at her to slam the door closed, to lock herself inside. The words coated his tongue but he couldn’t get them out. 

Whoever did this was still here, waiting, lingering. They had probably been watching them the whole time. 

He didn’t know where to look. They could be anywhere.

Time started to speed up again and Joel’s head turned as his warning began to leave his lips. 

“Stay insi-”

His world tilted so suddenly, Joel wondered, for a split-second, if the world had been knocked off its axis. Then the pain exploded across the side of his head.

Joel’s vision blurred as he dropped to his knees on the biting concrete. His shotgun slammed to the ground beside him, echoing the sound across the walls of the courtyard. 

A piercing scream unleashed from a direction he couldn’t figure out, he thought the voice called his name but his head hit the ground and he couldn’t hear anymore.

He was always too fucking slow. 

___________________________

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