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winterarmyy · 1 year

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Thin Walls, Thin Lines

What will happen if a fuckboy falls in love with a hopeless romantic?

Summary: Modern society surely had corrupted the mind of the hundred-something year old man, Bucky Barnes, when he seemed to have forgotten the art of courting a lady. Lost in lust and pleasure, he had been indulging with endless array of different girls on his bed almost every night. And the opposite side of that thin walls of his room, lives a hopeless romantic who he was madly in love with.

Navigation: Original Version || Deleted Scene* (alt. ending)

Pairing: fuckboy!bucky x female!reader

Words: 4.9k++

Warnings: avenger au, explicit language/contents, angst, lil bit of drama, fluff, please bare with the fuckery of bucky barnes, reader is sensitive yet quite fiesty too. i can't backup steve on this one, he is on his own.

A/N: As you can see from the navigation bar, we have two different endings for this fic, because I am greedy and indecisive. The original version ended with fluff and the deleted scene (alternate ending) ended with absolute filth of a smut. So... enjoy! 💕

P/S: And this is also my submission for @jessybarnes 's writing challenge. I have chosen "Kiss me again" from the prompt list and I hope you like the way I used it in this fic!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N has always been a hopeless romantic. She dreams of a love like the ones she read in books. She craved someone who loves her so deeply that she could never find peace in anyone else but him. She wanted all the love songs and poetry to be reminders of him; his beauty, his charms.

Fresh flowers, stargazing, coffee dates, kisses that tastes of cotton candy, warm cuddles, and every little things in between; she longed for it all. She dreams of a love that is so consuming until all that's left in that small bubble of infatuation is their entangled soul mending each other to the bone.

That's what makes her a hopeless romantic.

And very much the opposite of her was Bucky. He is an infuriating flirt. There's not a day goes by that he doesn't call her with sickeningly sweet nicknames; doll, gorgeous, princess, darling, you name it. He will definitely drop some suggestive lines at any given chance and most of the time when she least expected.

He can charm anyone just by his presence, and if you're lucky enough to get one of his infamous smile; then you best believe that you won't be going home alone that night, or able to walk proper the next morning. He is the typical playboy you know and hate; very often she'll see different girl in his arms or on his bed. And that man seemed to not know when to stop. Sometimes, she do wonder if he ever got tired of sex. Because she knows for certain that he can go on and on for hours, daily.

"Fuck,, that's it. Spread your legs for me. Yeah, 'atta girl."

Speaking of the devil.

This has been recurring for months now. It seems like the man never sleep because his voice would always wake her up. She couldn't decide what was worse; between being forced to hear the sounds of the skin slapping, the bed creaking, him groaning and her squealing or being a super light sleeper that even a whisper in her room would jolt her awake.

Y/N let out an annoyed grunt when she swoop her head under the pillow, hoping to silenced the noises even just a little bit. Surprise; it didn't help at all. Her body cringed and her face contorted into a squint when she hear the other woman announcing her release as the headboard hits the wall a little harder, a little faster.

Bucky Barnes sure is a fuckboy but unfortunately for her, he is also the man she fell in love with.

She refused to show it, but lord knows how much her heart simply swell to the sight of his smile. Despite the flirtatious tendencies of his, there was something about him that attracted her like a magnet; or like a moth to a flame.

Maybe it was his old soul, or maybe because she saw glimpses of timeless charm in him; the way he moves, the way he gazes, and the way treated her. Nevertheless, it was such a devastating thing for someone like her to fall for someone like him.

The last thing she wanted in a man, is to look at her like she was just a good fuck and nothing more. She just couldn't imagine herself to be tied with someone like that. And Bucky was exactly that someone.

Y/N haven't been able to get more than 2 hours of sleep for months now. The lack of it had caused her to drastically lose physical strength and lately fatigue has been a constant presence as well.

So she decided to go the medbay to consult Dr. Cho about it. After running some tests, she sat her down for some Camomile tea as she went through the results, "It seemed like the severe lack of sleep had took a really heavy toll on you."

Y/N sighed as she place the tea cup on the back on the table, "Yes, I am well aware of that. That is precisely why I am here."

"Nightmares?" Dr. Cho speculated.

If the definition of nightmare is 'the moans of the man, that she had a crush on, fucking someone else next door' then, yes. She was having long and nearly endless nightmares for months now.

"Something like that." She lied.

"Then, I have some medication that I can prescribe to you. You should take it daily after dinner and..." Before Dr. Cho managed to finish her instructions, Y/N quickly asked, "Is it possible to fix me without meds?"

Dr. Cho frowned curiously, "Why wouldn't take meds? That's the quickest way to help for your situation, as far as I know." she asked.

This was not her first rodeo; she had troubles sleeping back when she was merely teenager. And the last time tried using meds, she ended up almost overdosed herself from it, "It's just... I prefer not to." she evaded.

Dr. Cho nodded understandingly before clarifying the current situation, "Well then, I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do for you. Though some research suggested that meditation routine before sleep can help. Or putting up some natural ambience like the sound of rain or waves--"

Y/N wasn't really listening after the first sentence. Because all she could thought of was how much longer she can bare with this and what will it take for her to finally snap.

Y/N was dying. At least it felt like it.

With her deprivation of sleep and the intense combat training she had to go through today, her patience was reaching it's limit. After visiting the medbay 2 weeks ago, she had tried to approach Bucky about it but he always took it lightly.

There was series of insincere apology followed by a cheeky promise to 'keep the tone down' for her. But nothing changed. She asked him again and again; days gone by he didn't live up to the end of his bargain.

For those past week, Y/N had resorted to sleep in the living room for most of the nights. How she dreaded to leave her comfy bed but she could no longer tolerate the sounds coming from the other side on the wall. Though she still jolted awake from time to time due to how uncomfortable it was sleeping on a couch, but at least she got more than 2 hours of sleep if she was to compare to the nights she slept in her own room.

It's not she didn't notice it at all; she knew exactly how and why it happened. The habit of microsleeping that she developed during the course of this training. The slowed reaction time, the lack of energy, she can feel it. But, there was nothing she can do about it.

The only cure for this was to get some rest. A proper rest. And that can't happened, not without Bucky's cooperation.

When Y/N was marching towards the sargent who was sitting way across the gym; she could see how his eyes undress every piece of her clothing, how his tongue rolled out and his teeth sunk into his lips.

She wasn't even wearing anything remotely provocative but here he was lusting over the way her hips sway especially when he was the one she's walking towards.

The moment she stood in front of him, his mouth lifted into a smirk, "Yes, princess. How may I be of your service?" His voice was sultry and the way he towers over made her slightly nervous for no reason.

Her heart fluttered, yet her lips refused to form a smile, "Don't call me princess."

"I apologize, my queen." Bucky gave her a cheeky smile.

Y/N didn't want to drag this any longer than she should, so she quicky jump into it and said, "So you know how I’m like-"

"-absolutely embarrassingly in love with me? Yes, I'm familiar go on." Bucky cuts in. If panic ever rose in her chest, then she was doing an incredible job of hiding it, "Can you just shut up for a second and take me seriously?"

His eyes glint with flirtaous mischief when he replied, "Doll, you know the fastest way to shut me up is to kiss me."

Y/N simply sighed before she began to rant, "I really don't have the mood for this banter with you, Barnes. I just want you tone down your nightly routine. It is because of you I've been having trouble sleeping and--"

He quickly stopped her before she nags even more than she already did, "Okay, okay I get it. We've been through this, doll." Bucky's face lit up when he suggested, "How about I help you sleep, hmm? I may know a thing or two about tiring someone out." There was surely something unholy in those steel blue eyes of his.

And Y/N picked it up rather quick, but considering the amount of times he had insinuate something more than just a friendly banter, then of course she knew exactly what he was suggesting, so she simply replied, "No offense, Barnes. But, I don't do one night stand or no strings attached thing. And with a manwhore like you? No, thank you." sassy was her answer.

Bucky's head tilted back as he laughed, then when he spoke his voice was like a devil luring an angel to sin, "Oh babydoll, if I were to be a whore, it'll only be for you." He stepped closer so that only she can hear his confession.

His masculine scent hits her nose, mixture of the citrus cologne and his natural odour was just perfect. Annoyingly alluring; but perfect. And it took all her will to hold it together and blatantly rejects him, "Still not interested."

Bucky groaned in protest, "Come on, princess. You can't keep dreaming for some prince charming to court you, do you? You know that's probably never going to happen right?"

Surely he meant only to tease her; that it was less likely that an actual prince to romance her. Not that she did not deserve the world; she does. And Bucky was more than will to burn it to the ground if that's what she wanted.

But, Y/N didn't see it that way. She thought that Bucky meant that she is not worthy enough for a decent man to court her with respect and chilvary; that she was just a toy fit for fucking and nothing more. And the fact that her "insomia" had affected her usually high patience and reduced it to almost paper thin, it was only fair for her to finally snap.

She can tolerate his endless flirtation but she can't simple turn a blind eye for his insult.

Bucky was caught by surprise why Y/N harshly grabbed him by the collar, pushing him back and nearly stumbled; her eyes was pure fire when she growled, "Don't you dare mock the way I value relationship, Barnes." Her nose flared with anger and the commotion has attracted some prying eyes towards the two.

"Just because you enjoy fucking anything that breathes, that doesn't mean that everyone else does." She seethed, "The only cock that will be wrecking my pussy would belong to someone I love and if you have a problem with that, you can fuck right off." She forcefully pushed him until his ass landed on the bench behind him.

Her feet stomped all throughout her exit out of the gym, leaving Bucky in a blinking confusion.

He knew it was wrong.

It felt good. It felt right.

But, it was so fucking wrong.

To keep moaning Y/N's name when he railed those strangers to heaven; when he came so hard into the thin layer of condom. And it was always a soft and slow type of whimper, right in those girls' ears. So intimate, so careful not to let his secret out; knowing how thin the walls between him and the love of his life.

But, he certainly didn't care about the girl he was fucking. If it wasn't for his heavy body pinning her from behind, she would've elbowed him right in the guts for moaning another woman's name. Unfortunately for him, she quickly ditched and see herself out after the first round.

Now, he laid there; naked and bare. Thinking of how he simply couldn't help it. How could he not think of Y/N all the times? Not when he was deeply, helplessly in love with her. But, he knew she wouldn't bat an eye at him now that he had the reputation of a "fuckboy", as the young ones describes it. She especially made it clear today at the gym. She's never going to give him a chance now.

Not when she's a hopeless romantic. And the fact that he too was once the same was just aggravating to him. He was such a gentleman decades ago; before Hydra, before the war, when he was but a young man living Brooklyn.

His Ma had really shaped him into the perfect gentleman; every parents in the neighbourhood wanted him as their son-in-law. They claimed he would make the perfect husband for their daughters. But, things are different now. And he knew that the man he was before was long forgotten.

It was just curiosity at first; about how sex works in the 21st century. However, Bucky quickly fall into the promises of lust and pleasure; changing girls like changing clothes. He let himself dosed in ecstasy, as if it was a drug to silenced the dark and haunting memories of his past, like it was a quick escape from reality, from the Winter Soldier.

Then, Y/N happened.

Bucky never saw it coming; but, he fell. Hard.

They were colleague for years and had been a good friend he can rely on besides Steve. She was so sweet and pretty. Probably the most gorgeous woman he ever laid his eyes on, in the hundred something year old life of his. Most importantly, she was kind and patient and strong and fierce yet so unforgivingly selfless.

But that didn't matter now, does it? Especially when she despise him. And it was all because of the unholy title he held.

At first Bucky didn't notice it, but now that he stepped closer into the living room, he heard it again. The rustling fabric, the quiet whimper coming from the sofa. His steps were as careful as a wolf on a hunt, stalking a hiding prey in between the trees.

If Bucky were to guess what he would find on a late night trip to the kitchen, he would've probably said 'ice cream' and not 'Y/N sleeping in the living room'. His eyes briefly raked her sleeping figure, curling uncomfortably into the pastel purple blanket. Then at the scattered pillows on the floor around her.

Why was she sleeping in the living room?

Another whine passed her lips and his attention was locked on her frowning face; it seemed like she was having a bad dream. Bucky carefully crouch next to her, and ravel in her beauty. Such delicate features, long lashes, pretty freckles across her nose, and those soft looking lips; he would kill just to taste her them, to sink his teeth in between them.

It worried him though; to see her sleeping here. She was clearly uncomfortable, it was a mystery that she managed to even fall asleep in the first place. Bucky suspected she simply passed out due to today's training. It was particularly hard, even for him. Let alone a normal human being like Y/N.

Not to mention the fight that they had.

Then, it clicked. The complains about how she had trouble sleeping. It wasn't just to make fun of him or tease him in any way. It was a plead. She needed to be heard and he completely blew her off with jest and jokes.

"Was it because of... me?" Bucky thought to himself. It all made sense now, "Shit." A curse rang in his mind when he bit the insides of his cheek. He was mad at himself. How could he be so insensitive? And he claimed to love her? Please. What an absolute piece of shit he was.

When Y/N began to toss and turn, her blanket fell from her body. Even in her sleep, the cold managed to catch her. She instinctively curled towards herself, seeking warmth but was no avail.

She look so small and Bucky felt a surge of need to cuddle her close, keeping her safe, keeping her warm in his arms. But if he does that, he'd probably get kicked in the nuts. So instead, he picked up the fallen blanket lay it back across her whole body; carefully not to disturb her sleep.

Bucky smiled softly when she snuggled into the fabric and before he walked away, he swore to stop this corrupting habit of his and apologize for being such a douchebag to her. And if he's lucky, maybe he could even properly court her.

But for now, he just needed to go through tommorrow's mission. So does everyone one else in the team.

"Do you realized what you have done?" Not matter how hard he tried to hold it back, everyone in the Quinjet can see how Steve was seething.

Y/N's lost of sleep had took a toll on her more than she realized now that it had affected her performance in mission. She tried to ignore the way she was basically seeing Steve's feet multiply by the second, and continued to look down in shame, "I'm sorry, Captain."

"Don't apologize to me. Nat's the one who got shot because of you!" He yelled as he pointed at the red haired woman at the side of the plane.

No matter how much she wanted to blame Bucky on this; how he literally robbed her from fulfilling her human needs to rest at night, but she just couldn't. It was her fault that Natasha got hurt. If she was more alert, she would've seen the enemy standing right in front of her. If she was awake enough, then Natasha wouldn't get hurt.

Tears threatened to form when she looked over at her dear friend, bleeding at the side, "I'm so sorry, Nat. I really am. I didn't know what came to me and I--"

"Oh please, I'd take a bullet for you any day of the week, honey." Natasha swiftly cuts into her apology, in attempt to diffuse the heated situation.

But, Steve totally disagree with her, "Don't make this 'okay', Nat. You almost died because for her carelessness. Being inadequate shouldn't be okay for any agent to do. It is extremely reckless and downright stupid."

There was a sound of a distant gasp from the pilot pit, "Language!" Tony was clearly trying to lighten up the mood but it failed rather miserably when no one reacted.

Steve had every right to be mad, especially when his girlfriend was injured because of this, but oh does it hurt to hear his stabbing words. It hurts more when it comes from the Captain America himself.

God, she was extremely tired.

Physically, mentally and that's what happens when a person is lack of sleep. Then when she thought about all her hardwork and struggles to train amongst the superhero themselves, she couldn't help but to crack; and the tears that was building up in her eyes finally fell.

When Steve saw it, he lost it completely, "Oh, you're gonna cry now? WOW. Real mature, y/n. You can't disappoint me more can you?" At that point, he was being a little too mean for anyone's liking.

Especially Bucky.

So Bucky slowly pulled Y/N back, and shielded her body behind his as he went on face to face with his bestfriend, "That's enough, Steve." He warned but Steve doesn't seem to get the idea, "No, Buck. Do you see--"

Bucky took one step closer, his menacing glare went right through Steve's soul, "I said... that's enough." He repeated his words. This time the message went through.

Steve gulped and cleared his throat as he waved a dismissing hand, "I expect a full report and a letter of apology from you when we get back, y/n." He ended his sentence with his back turned and then walked away towards his girl.

When Bucky turned around to face Y/N, she was but a crying mess. Tears kept streaming down and her lips quivered in so much sadness. Now, that she was in the light, Bucky could see the darker shades on the bag of her eyes.

This was his fault. If he just stopped goofing around and listen to what she had to say yesterday, she wouldn't need to go through this, "Oh sweetheart..." though he meant to call her in his mind, it might just slipped through his lips.

Y/N glared up at him, "This was none of your concern, Barnes." She spat.

He shrugged, "Well, lucky for you, I don't care whose it is. What I know is I care about you. Now, let's get that wound patch up." Bucky simply said, and that was when she realized that her ribs were slashed open, bleeding and torn. Maybe it was not too deep, that was why she didn't notice it.

But it is an injury nonetheless, and it was a surprise to her that Bucky noticed it. "I don't want your help." She frowned yet continued to sniffle.

"Yeah, but you need it." He replied as he carefully tucked the loose strand of her hair behind her ears.

Unable to think of any comebacks, she let her fatigue win over. Her lips shut tightly and her chest shuddered for breaths. And when Bucky took her hand in his and lead the way, her body instantly responded by gripping him tight.

Bucky's heart soared at the touch of her small hand in his, while fire was burning in hers.

She hates him. She hates how caring he can be. She hates how soft he was when handling her. And she hates how easy it was for him to make her fall for him even more.

Y/N's body quickly went on auto pilot; she let him undress the blood soaking top and patch her wounds. And Bucky let her cry her heart out on his shoulder all the way back home to New York.

That night when everyone had settled back to their own rooms, Y/N was prepping to sleep outside again. It was like a schedule for Bucky to always fuck whatever his frustrations out when they finished a mission.

And she doesn't want to hear any of it. Not tonight.

Thankfully, her wounds were mostly healed thanks to Dr. Cho and her ingenious of a machine, Cradle. That thing fixed the teared tissue right up with its regenerative functions.

Now, Y/N just needs to endure the bruises but those are bearable. What she couldn't bear is the lack of energy and goodnight's sleep. She wished to just pass out for days and not wake up even if a prince came to kiss her to wake.

And she knew that sleeping in her room won't give her that.

Y/N piled her pillows and blanket on top of another before scanning the room one last time to make sure she didn't leave anything behind. Because she was not planning to step foot in her room until dawn comes, hoping the sounds from the other side of the room died down by then.

When she was walking pass Bucky's, she noticed how awfully quiet his room was, but she didn't think about it too much. She waited for the elevator to open its door only to reveal the man himself, "Barnes."

He eyed how Y/N's figure almost hidden behind the piles of pillow in her hold. He stepped out as he asked, "Where do you think you're going?" Bucky knew exactly where but he was not having any of that.

It was weird to her that she didn't see any sign or Bucky's hook-up in his arms, but she bet that there will be one after she's gone downstairs, "Away from you, that's for sure." She said, taking a step into the elevator but instantly stopped the moment Bucky blocked her path.

Bucky lips flatten against each other; he didn't say anything, he only frowned down at her then simply grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to her room.

Utterly confused, "What are you doing? Hey, let go of me." She twisted her wrist in his hold, while trying to balance the pillows from falling. A useless trial it was; because who could even escape that metal grip of his.

Bucky quickly respond, "No. You're not sleeping on that shitty sofa tonight." He stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to her, "You're injured, y/n. You need on a proper rest on a proper bed." He coaxed.

How did he know that she had been sleeping on the coach? She thought before saying out loud, "I'm fine, Barnes. It's not even that deep of a wound, the Cradle fixed it clean. So, can you just... let go of my hand?" She sighed.

But Bucky refused to even spare her a glance, he silently tug her and stomp his way towards her room. There waa retaliation on her side, but his lack of response had lead Y/N to her defeat. She begrudgingly followed his long strides until she they stood by her bed.

He snatched each of the pillows and blankets off her hands, while Y/N simply blinked speechlessly as she watched Bucky started set up her bed like he had been doing it everyday.

Weirdly, at times like this, she found him extremely lovely. There was no corny and flirty comment about her, or his annoying habit of teasing every little thing she does.

There was just a comfortable silence and a kind gesture; the type that pulled the red strings of her heart just enough to make her want to dream of him.

Fucking hell, she can't believe that he managed to do that again! Making her fall for his antics. He really needs to stop doing that, it's simply rude.

Y/N broke from her love struck trance when she felt his cold metal laced around her hand again, he pulled her closer, "Now hop on, bunny. You need to rest." He lead her under the blanket and she grumbled curses under her breath, something about he need stop calling her weird nicknames like that.

When she was well tucked in and comfortable, Bucky sat at the edge of the bed by her side and spoke, "I'm sorry. For not trying to listen to you at the gym yesterday. I was a jerk."

His apology was so sincere that Y/N caught herself in a shock. Who is this man? What has he done to Bucky Barnes?

His eyes lingered to the wall behind her bed as if he was trying to find the right words to address it, "About the noises..." he trailed, "...it'll stop from now on."

Oh. Nevermind. She liked this Bucky. She wants to keep him forever, "Really? You mean it?" There weren't any effort put to hide her excitement when her voice nearly squeaked.

Bucky chuckled amusingly at her reaction, "Really, doll. But, you gotta promise not to sleep on the couch again."

Sparks of joy filled her chest when he confirmed his decision. Sure, it was such a small favour to do to anyone. But, she appreciate his efforts to make amends. "Hmm, I promise." She hummed happily, blinking slow as the comfort of her bed lured her into a drowsy state.

"Thanks, Bucky." Her mentioned his name.

Thank god for the super sensitive hearing ability, cause Bucky surely love the sound of her voice whispering his name so softly, "For apologizing or for tucking you to sleep?" He jest.

It only made her eyes rolled to the side and a smile spread across her face, "Both." she said. "And for what you did on the jet."

Bucky simply shrugged as if it was a normal thing to do. But, it wasn't. It was rare for him to challenge Steve like he did. And he did it for her, "Really, I owe you one." She said assuringly.

A playful smirk pulled on Bucky's lips when he spoke "Doll, you shouldn't be saying that so carelessly. Who knows I might use it for despicable things." Surely, he love to be the cause to bloom those red shades on her cheeks.

But it didn't happened when she asked quietly, "Will you?"

And the silence that came after was heavy with tenderness while their eyes spoke the truth to one another. As the thin lines in between got blurry, for once, there was just streams of genuine feelings pouring out of them, leaking through and contaminating the air with its magic.

Would he? Take advantage of her?

How could he though? He loved her too much to even think of purposely hurting her. "No." Bucky replied as he leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead, "Sleep well, princess." He mumbled against her skin.

And he pulled back, he grinned a cheeky smile. There it was; the pink blush on her face, wide surprise of her eyes and her slightly parted lips. She looked so adorable. He swore couldn't get enough of it.

"Kiss me again..." she nearly growled, but her blushing on her face didn't indicate anger, "...and I will choke you in your sleep." Though it was an attempt to threaten but typical of Bucky to just love to turn things around, "Hmm, is that an invitation, princess?" He purred and stole another kiss; this time, on her cheek. "Then, I will be looking forward to it." He whispered as quickly as he removed himself from the scene.

When he found his own bed, he couldn't help but to laugh at the muffled scream coming from the opposite side of the thin walls, "James. Fucking. Barnes!!!"

End.

Alternate ending (smut edition): Deleted Scene >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I hope you drop some thoughts behind before going to the deleted scene. Which I know you will. See you on the other side 👀

#jessybarnesreaches500 #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #avenger!bucky #fuckboy!bucky #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #thin walls thin lines au

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zhaobear · 23 days

Text

28 (teaser)

It takes you 28 weeks to leave Kim Gyuvin, but only 28 days to run right back.

PAIRING : kim gyuvin x fem reader

GENRES : fluff, crack, eventual angst, with a happy ending, enemies to lovers au, strangers to lovers au, rich girl au, bakery au, falling in love in france!!

WORD COUNT : 1209 (teaser), estimated to be 20k

SUMMARY : when you pack your bags and move to france on a whim, you don’t expect just how many challenges you’ll meet — whether it’s your difficulty in adjusting to the new country, the harsh truths of the fashion industry, or most infuriatingly, pastry chef kim gyuvin, whose immense talent doesn’t stop you from deeming him the bane of your existence. despite yourself, his shop soon becomes more of a home than you’d like to admit, as gyuvin’s delicious creations and honest words slowly worm their way into your heart and show you that affection is more than just a monetary transaction.

WARNINGS : profanity, might be suggestive, red hair gyuvin x blue hair mc, mc wants to go to fashion school and gyuvin owns a pâtisserie (both are 20), mc is a bad bitch but sometimes superficial/spoiled but!! has char development, gyuvin shows love by being a little shit, i apologize for the banner graphic design is not my passion

AUTHOR'S NOTE : happy gyuvin day!! i wanted to finish this whole fic for his bday but i'm not quite there yet so take this teaser <3 if anyone wants to be tagged for this lmk and i'll start a taglist! i'm super excited to finish this fic even though gyuvin already got rid of his red hair......i will pretend it's still there

"NOT TO BE RUDE OR ANYTHING, BUT COULD YOU MOVE THE CRYING SOMEWHERE ELSE? YOU'RE AFFECTING BUSINESS."

Your mouth falls open. Out of all of the words you expected to hear from the employee with the red hair, these weren't at all what you imagined.

The sheer nerve of a stranger — you can’t help but fume. Your status has led you to experience all sorts of men, most commonly the kind that fall to your feet at first sight, begging you for a mere minute of your time. You’ve unfortunately experienced their rotten sides too, particularly the petty insults and misogyny that come with your industry. You’ve also experienced the raging anger when they realize you take too much pride in yourself to become their dolls.

But to be insulted so brazenly on the first meeting, given your name, your reputation — men do not dare.

“Well, excuse me for choosing your store to have a mental breakdown under. I couldn’t exactly—”

“Excused.”

“What?” You seethe, your face growing hotter by the second.

“You’re excused,” the boy repeats simply, before turning back to the door. “If you want to sit inside, you’re welcome. Please just don’t cry outside of my shop,” he calls over his shoulder.

The door closes behind him before you can even say anything back. You’re frozen in place, shocked by the pure shamelessness of the boy. Surely no manager would let their employee act this way? You’ve never been much of a Karen, but you’re tempted to find out.

Finally, you look inside the store, peering through the glass door. Despite yourself, you’re pleasantly surprised upon the realization that you’ve stopped under a pâtisserie. Although none of the French bakeries have made any lasting impact on you, the decent crowd inside the shop has to amount to something.

A variety of pastries are neatly lined on the glass shelves, clearly crafted with great care and intricacy. Almost all of them are unfamiliar, but your mouth waters anyway. You didn’t even know it was possible to crave something you’ve never had.

You observe a flash of red hair saunter behind a door at the back, and all your cravings disappear. That bitch. You’d rather die than sit inside the shop and let him win, but you cajole yourself with the thought of making a complaint as soon as you find the right person.

You push the door open, greeted by the bell that chimes overhead.

Warmth.

That’s your first impression of the store, and it’s not just the significant temperature difference. Something about the aura of the shop itself, the quiet but contented chatter of customers and the soft music spilling through the overhead speakers — you hate to admit it but it gives you a sense of comfort you were missing in the past three days.

You shake your head. Pull yourself together.

You storm past the line of customers, immediately met with their indignant shouts and protests, and stop in front of the young boy manning the register. His eyes widen, flitting back and forth between you and the customer he was helping.

“Miss, I—I’m sorry but you can’t just cut in line like that…” he trails off nervously. His expression makes you think of a nervous rabbit, cornered by prey twice his size with nowhere to go. Twitchy nose and all. It’s kind of cute, and a part of you feels bad. You know he didn’t do anything wrong, but maybe the intimidation will get him to help you faster.

“I need to speak to your manager.”

The boy balks, clearly unsure how to respond. He covers his confusion with a small smile.

“I’m sure whatever it is, I can assist you. Can I ask what the problem is?”

“Look, I appreciate you trying to help, but the best thing you can do for me is just get me the manager,” you huff. “Please,” you tack on awkwardly, feeling worse at the small flash of hurt in his eyes. The boy nods and leaves, disappearing behind the door at the back of the store.

You tap your foot impatiently, ignoring the string of curses the customers in line direct at you. Already irritated with the amount of time they’re taking, you consider leaving, about to turn around until the door finally swings open.

However, you’re not prepared for the man who emerges from the back. You gape at the sight of the red-haired boy, who raises an eyebrow at the sight of you, giving you an infuriating once-over.

“Is something the matter?” He asks coolly, like he didn’t insult you mere minutes ago. Like you’re just a regular disruption and not — not you. The heir to one of the most widespread fashion companies in the world. The girl with everything.

“I asked for the manager,” you hiss. But the boy’s face only brightens at the word, a casual grin spreading across his face.

“Looks like you’ve found who you’re looking for,” he replies, raising his hands. “Manager by day, chef by night. What can I do for you?”

Your hand clenches into a fist against your will, the need to punch the cheeky smirk off his face overpowering you. You hold yourself back, instead matching his attitude with a sickly sweet smile of your own.

“I thought most managers were aware of basic customer service. But I suppose I expected too much from a hole-in-the-wall place like this,” you simper, watching his face turn the same shade as his hair.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” the man splutters. “I—I have five star reviews on Google!”

You try not to snicker at how quickly you’ve caught him off guard, schooling your expression into something that you hope is cool and unconcerned. “Well then, I’m sure Google would love to hear my thoughts instead. No use being here if I can just put a few dents in those five stars, right?” You shrug noncommittally and turn around.

“Hold on,” the boy says, a hint of desperation in his voice. You face him, trying to smother the smug smile threatening to overtake your features. “Would a free pastry help?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “I don’t know. None of the pastries in Paris have been particularly outstanding to me yet.”

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be a problem here,” he answers, smiling. The smile looks genuine enough, but you notice it doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze is stuck on you — calculating, wary, like he’s still trying to make sense of you. “Yujin-ah!” He calls out without taking his eyes off you. The boy from earlier emerges behind him, refusing to look at you.

“Yeah?” He glances at the redhead with a lingering hint of that bunny-like anxiousness.

“Get her a kouign amann on the house for me, please.” He finally breaks eye contact with you to look at the smaller boy with a gentle smile that you can tell is reserved for him. Yujin nods, hurrying to grab the pastry.

“If it’s not to your liking, you can mention me personally in the review. The name’s Kim Gyuvin,” the redhead says, giving you a maddening wink before walking away. You splutter at him indignantly, but to deaf ears as he vanishes behind the back door.

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lovinggstar · 8 months

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# JEALOUSY ★ !!

— where one of their friends get too close to you, and their reactions !

cw :: not proofread, MAY BE OOC NOT SURE, written with modern au in mind (but it can be read in the genshin universe ^_^) the tiniest bit suggestive in childes part, use of childe's real name in his part, swearing in scaramouche's part, fluff, gn reader !

characters :: albedo, childe, scaramouche

阿贝多 ALBEDO :: everytime his friend would sit next to you really close, everytime his friend would put his arm around your shoulder, everytime his friend would talk to you a little too much, he kept his composure. or atleast, he was subtle about his jealousy.. he would put the mug on his table a bit too hard, causing a sound enough to alert people, he would be passive aggressive towards his friend, he would interrupt conversations towards you and his friend (which he almost never does with anyone else because he knows his manners), etc. after the hangout with albedo's friend, he goes up to you and hugs you from behind. "oh? what's this for?" you question him, although you enjoy this, you're curious why the sudden backhug is given to you. albedo hides his face into your neck, "mh.. let's stay like this for a while."

公子 CHILDE :: ever since childe introduced you to his friend, you started talking about them alot to him because you think that the more you and childe have in common, the better ! but childe is more jealous than ever..

"oh and then THEY said that i—" "stop talking about themm.." he murmured to hinself, pouting, however, you heard it. "huh?" you look at him, confused, childe starts stammering, noticing his mess-up. "ajax.. are you jealous?" you smirk at him, it's not everyday you see him stammering like this. "alright, alright.. you caught me." he put his hands up in defense, "awhh c'monnn, you know i'd never be with another guy!" you playfully hit him in the arm, but to your surprise, he caught your hand as you were doing it, and raises it up to his cheek, "i was just jealous, i know that i can make you feel good more than he can." he smirked playfully at you trying to get a reaction from you, "i'm not going to teucer's mr. cyclops themed birthday party." "WAIT NO—"

国崩 SCARAMOUCHE :: he would outright be the pettiest, in denial little fucker ever. he would go "tch, i don't care." and proceed to be ripping out paper napkins to shreds to control his anger. "scaraaa..." you lazily put his arms around his neck, "yeah?" as he said that, there was a bigggg rip on the napkin. "why are you soooo.. mad? sad?" you questioned his emotions, confused at whatever he's feeling. "i'm" riiippp "not." "oh? are you maybeee, jealous?" you smirked, laying your hand next to his by putting your head on his shoulder. "what!? hah—wh— NO.. me? being jealous? in your dreams.." he stammered and contiued grumbling under his breath. "scara, y'know i love you and only you, right?" you told him, nevertheless, he was still persistently pouting. but red.

you heard him mumble something under his breath, "hm? what is it?" he mumbled again but louder. "what?" you were there confused and wondering what he needed to say. he mumbled AGAIN. "huh????" you knew what he said now, still, you wanted to tease him, "I SAID I LOVE YOU TOO, GOD DAMMIT." he finally huffed, realizing that he screamed that, he covered his mouth, and was red. "i know !!" you slyly smiled and kissed him on the cheek, "i just wanted to hear you say it !"

note :: i tried doing more chars but im currently not in that much of a mood to write + THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGEESSS

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mxltifxnd0m · 2 months

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beach confessions 𓍼 i. lahey

summary: a beach day with the pack

pairings: isaac lahey x reader, isaac lahey x fem! reader

word count: 5.5K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', an au where allison didn't die or where she and isaac were a thing, tooth-rotting fluff, some swearing, mutual pining, suggestive content, kissing

a/n: it kinda seems that the teen wolf fandom is a little dead, and the isaac lahey fandom is even deader, which is sad bc who doesn't love isaac lahey, but I'm posting this regardless bc I worked hard on it

but if isaac lahey has no fans, it means i'm dead

please reblog and comment! i love to see what you guys say ;))

𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘢𝘤 𝘭𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Salt air filled your lungs as you climbed out of Lydia's car. The two-hour drive with Allison and Lydia was filled with singing, gossiping, and laughing. Lydia was ahead of Stiles's blue Jeep as they drove along the highway to the coast. Even when driving, Lydia led most of the conversations, never letting the car be left in a dull silence.

Summer had finally arrived, and school had finally come to an end. It was a long school year with supernatural threats looming over the pack almost every month. Summer break was a reprieve from the constant dangers that Beacon Hills seemed to attract.

The six of you, Scott, Stiles, you, Allison, Lydia, and Isaac, decided to head down to the beach to cool down from the blistering heat wave that struck your hometown earlier that week. As much as you loved Lydia's pool, you craved to be by the beach, wanting to feel the ocean breeze through your hair, the sun kissing your skin, and feel the coolness of the water wash over your body as you dived under a wave. The sand was the only part of the beach that you never enjoyed, having found it in places where it was unwanted. Still, you could overlook the sand and bask in the beauty of the beach and what it had to offer.

You remember a time before your world had turned upside down by the mere existence of the supernatural, that every summer, you and your family would go down by a spot on the beach that your mom and dad had discovered back when they were dating and spend the entire day there, splashing around the water, building sandcastles, or seeing who could ride the biggest wave on their boogie board with your siblings and cousins until your dads had to carry you on their backs because you were exhausted from the day.

So you decided to plan out this day with the help of Lydia, and it took little to no convincing to get everyone on board with the idea of a day at the beach. You would have driven to the spot since you knew where it was, but your parents had taken your car for a road trip they were doing with the rest of your family. You opted to stay home with your friends and told your parents that you would join them next year.

But now it led you to the beach, and you could hear the ocean calling your name as you helped Lydia and Allison unpack the car. Yesterday, the three of you spent the day shopping for snacks and supplies that you didn't already have. You stuck all of the heavy stuff, like the chairs and canopy tent, in the back of Stiles's Jeep while the drinks and snacks were in Lydia's Prius.

The boys were parked right next to you guys, and they were also unpacking their car very loudly, you may add, with Stiles complaining about how heavy some of the stuff you guys brought was.

You rolled your eyes at Stiles's whining, but you knew it was because he was stuck driving his Jeep for two hours straight (even though he didn't allow anyone else to drive it besides himself).

You turned to the boys with an amused smirk on your face. "Suck it up Stilinski. You won't be complaining once you get into the water."

Stiles scoffed and grumbled to himself, Isaac and Scott stifling their laughs at his words, being able to hear his words loud and clear because of their enhanced hearing.

Your eyes shot to Isaac, hearing his poor attempt at concealing his laughter. You felt something in your chest flutter as you saw amusement glint brightly in his eyes, which seemed to shift between shades of blue according to his mood. Right now, they match the color of the clear blue sky. Isaac must have felt your gaze on him since he made eye contact with you and winked at you.

You rolled your eyes at him to hide the fact that you were staring at him. You looked at your friends, their arms filled with various items you guys had taken from the car, and nodded.

"Let's get this show on the road!" You said, smiling, and started to walk away from the cars and down to the beach. The rest of your friends trailed behind you since you were the one who knew where the spot was. You walked for a couple of minutes until you made it to a flight of stairs.

Lydia called your name out. "You didn't mention there were stairs?" Her voice was tight with slight apprehension.

You looked back at her with pursed lips. "I didn't?" You asked with a cocked head.

The rest of the pack shook their heads. It was comical how their heads nodded in synchronicity. At that, you had to press your lips together to suppress the chuckles threatening to escape your mouth.

You hummed. "I could've sworn I told you there was some to get down to the beach."

"Well you didn't." Stiles said.

"It's only a flight of stairs."

"Oh."

"'Oh.' is correct, Stiles. But I do have to warn you guys that the stairs are steep. Now enough chit-chat, it's supposed to get hotter and the water is calling my name." You said before heading down the stairs that led down to the sandy beach.

It didn't take long to find a spot to set up camp since the beach was pretty vacant, with a few people and a family occupying the beach. You picked a place close to the stairs since the odds of someone (one of the boys) forgetting something in one of the cars were pretty high. But you also chose to set up near a fire pit, having made Stiles pick up some firewood before you left the beach.

Once you had set down your stuff, everyone else followed suit, setting down the snacks, chairs, and the canopy tent that you now had to set up. With some fumbling and Stiles not listening to your directions, all six of you were able to set up the tent for shade and set up the four beach chairs you had brought.

You all had agreed that you guys would trade off the chairs and sit down on an outside blanket that you had brought, as well as your towels. The boys were eager to jump into the water after stripping themselves of their shirts, but you quickly stopped them.

You waved the sunblock you brought in the air. "Nuh-uh. You guys need to put on sunblock because I don't want to hear groans of pain when you guys get sunburnt." You pointedly looked at Stiles and Isaac since they were the palest of the boys (you don't think Scott would burn; if anything, he'd probably just get tanner).

They reluctantly agreed, and Scott took the sunscreen from your hand. Lydia had also brought her own and began to lather herself in sunblock. You let the sunblock be passed around to everyone first while you set up the cooler and organized the snacks.

When you were done organizing the snacks, you pulled off the white collar shirt that was acting as your beach cover-up and jean shorts. You crouched down and looked through the bag that was on the blanket for your hair ties to put up your hair. A tap on your shoulder got your attention, making you look up from your bag. You turned around to see Isaac holding the bottle of sunblock, looking a little sheepish.

"Could you do my back?" Isaac asked. You caught his gaze roaming your body before his eyes darted up to meet your own.

You looked around to see that Scott and Stiles were running toward the water, with Allison and Lydia following their lead but walking instead of sprinting behind them. You raised an eyebrow at the sight of Lydia walking towards the water.

Huh, I thought Lydia would have wanted to stay and tan first. You thought to yourself before looking back at Isaac.

"Yeah, let me grab my hair ties real quick." You sent Isaac a quick smile before turning back to your bag and pulling two black hair ties. You rolled them on your wrist before Isaac handed you the sunblock. Isaac just stared at you expectantly as you uncapped the sunblock.

"Hey wolfy, I'm gonna need you to turn around if you don't want a bad sunburn on your back." You quipped as you gestured for him to turn around with your finger.

Isaac rolled his eyes at your nickname for him, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch up, and he turned around to face the water. You put some sunblock in the palm of your hand before closing it and tossing it on a nearby chair. You stepped closer to Isaac as you rubbed the sunblock on your palms, warming it up before starting to rub it into his skin.

You saw some of the muscles in his back twitch when you placed your hands on his back, beginning to rub in the sunblock. You've never seen Isaac shirtless before, and it was hard not to keep your eyes from roaming his back as your hands trailed over his broad shoulders and back.

You could feel some of the muscles he had gotten from lacrosse. You were close enough to see the freckles that were spattered about his back. You were tempted to trail your fingers over them, connecting them with an invisible line that was drawn from the tips of your fingers.

You cleared your throat before ripping your hands from Isaac's warm skin and stepping back from him.

"All done." You managed to say without choking on your spit.

Isaac turned around and sent you a thankful smile. The sight of his smile made your heart flutter.

"Uh, did you want me to do you?" With his words, you choked on your spit. You had a coughing fit, trying to clear your throat.

"Umm, what?" You asked him once you calmed down.

Isaac's eyes went wide with realization. "Oh god, I didn't mean it like that. I-I meant did you want me to do your back? Like with the sunblock?"

You blinked at him before nodding. "Yeah, if you could that would be appreciated." You sent him an awkward smile.

Isaac mirrored your smile and grabbed the sunblock from the chair you had tossed it on, and you turned around. You pulled your hair up to get it out of the way. You heard Isaac open the sunblock, and you jumped at the feeling of the cold sunblock on Isaac's hands.

You felt him pull away. "Sorry." He said.

"S'fine. It was colder than I expected it to be." You shot him a reassuring smile over your shoulder.

Then you felt his hands on your back, beginning to rub the sunblock into your skin. You tried not to shiver at the feeling of his warm hands going up and down your back. You could tell Isaac was trying to be respectful and avoiding the straps of the halter bikini top you were wearing.

"Hey, Isaac." You called to him. He hummed in response.

"You're gonna have to put the sunblock underneath my bikini straps."

"Oh, I wasn't sure if I could."

You chuckled at his hesitance. "You're fine, Isaac."

With your permission, his hand slid under the straps, and you felt goosebumps on your arms at his gentle touch. Issac's hands seemed to linger on your back before you felt them pull away as he stepped back.

"Thanks Isaac." You told him as you turned around and shot him a smile.

He nodded. "No problem." Isaac shoved his hands in his pockets as you pulled your hair out of the bun and began to part it down in the middle and start braiding the two sections. It would be a little complicated to French braid without a mirror, but you could do it.

You saw a confused look on Isaac's face as you began to braid the left side of your hair and moved to sit down on a chair.

"I'm braiding my hair before I put on sunblock so I don't get it in my hair." You offered an explanation, and his face morphed into one of understanding.

"You can go and enjoy the water, I'll meet you guys out there." You jerked your chin out to the water as best as you were halfway done with your braid.

"Nah, it's fine I can wait," Isaac said in a nonchalant tone as he moved to sit in the chair right next to you.

You were done with your first braid and moving on to the second one when you raised your eyebrow at him. "Okay then... how was being stuck in a car with Stiles?"

You heard Isaac huff loudly. "If Scott wasn't there, I would have found a way for us to crash."

You couldn't help it, and a loud laugh escaped your lips.

It's no secret that Isaac and Stiles have a frenemy dynamic with one another. Stiles's sarcasm had finally met its match with Isaac's sass and dry sense of humor, and it was amusing to see them snap back at each other. At first, there was animosity between them. But after everything that had happened in Beacon and being forced to work together, they grew to like each other (even if they wouldn't admit it). Now, there wasn't any venom behind their words, and they did it to annoy each other.

"I don't think it was that bad." You said once you calmed down from laughing. You finished your braid and tied it off.

"You try sitting in the car with Stiles rambling for almost two hours straight." Isaac scoffed.

"I have. I've learned how to tune Stiles out when he gets into a talkative mood. You learn how to soon enough my dear Padawan." You sent him a wide grin as you grabbed the sunblock and began to put it on your arms and legs.

You saw out of the corner of your eye that Isaac mouthed out the word 'padawan' with furrowed brows. You rolled your eyes at him.

"I have to get you to watch Star Wars so you can understand my references."

"Over my dead body."

You were done with lathering your body in sunblock, so you got up from the chair and stood in front of Isaac. You leaned down in front of him, resting your hands on the armrests, a sly smile on your face. Isaac's eyes flickered down to your chest before they roamed your face.

"Fine, how about a little wager then?" Isaac's blue eyes met yours, his eyebrow raised in wonder at your words.

"I'm listening." He said with a growing smile as he leaned closer to you. You tried not to let Isaac's closeness affect you as you swallowed thickly.

"Who ever gets to the water first, gets to pick the movies to watch for the next movie night." You proposed.

When Isaac first became a werewolf, neither of you knew each other well or got off on the right foot at first (you may have stabbed him in the leg with your pocket knife when he broke into Scott's house to try and kill Lydia). But when he started to be a part of the pack, he would reluctantly get rides from you. You apologized to him one day when you were taking him to Scott's house after school, and from there, your friendship grew.

Both of you seemed to be drawn to one another, and you have no clue how it started, but the two of you had movie nights to try to distract your minds from school or the next potential threat to Beacon Hills. These were the nights that you looked forward to since it was just the two of you in your living room watching these movies, and sometimes you guys would talk through a movie if it was boring. This was also the moment where you realized that you had liked Isaac.

The realization hit you like a truck, and ever since that day, you have felt like you didn't know how to act around him, but you have tried to act as normal as you could around him. Luckily, Isaac didn't seem to catch on to the change in behavior from you. But the girls and Scott noticed (curse his werewolf senses) that you liked Isaac, but you made them swear they wouldn't say anything to him.

Isaac smirked. "Deal. You ready to lose?"

Your smile slowly grew. "I'm so not sorry for what I'm about to do."

"What?"

You pushed the chair backward by the arms of the chair, causing Isaac to topple backward in the chair and hit the ground. You laughed at Isaac's pained groan and quickly sprinted away from him and towards the water. You heard Isaac shout after you, and you risked a glance over your shoulder to see Isaac sprinting.

You pumped your legs faster, but it was difficult to run through the sand. You noticed as you ran towards the water that Stiles and Scott were engaged in a splash war while Allison and Lydia were in the water until it hit their thighs. They had yet to be fully submerged as the waves were pretty calm at the moment.

You made it to the water first and turned around to see Isaac slowing down and walking down to where you were on the shoreline. You sent Isaac a cheeky grin, doing a little victory dance as he approached.

"You cheated." He said, a slight pout on his face as he caught his breath.

"You're a werewolf. You had an advantage. I just evened the playing field." You said while shrugging.

Isaac rolled his eyes, but a smile began to grow on his face. "Then, I'm so not sorry what I'm about to do." He parroted the words that you said earlier to him.

"Isaac. No." You said warningly as you narrowed your eyes at him, backing away from him slowly.

Isaac sent you a wolfish grin before he quickly grabbed your waist and hoisted you up on his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You let out a shriek of surprise as your world turned upside down, as you found yourself staring at Isaac's navy-blue swim trunk-covered ass.

It's not a bad sight, though. You thought to yourself before you realized Isaac had walked further into the water.

"Isaac! Put me down!" You exclaimed as you slapped at his back, the skin turning red as you did.

"What was that sweetheart?" The nickname made your face warm, but you scowled as he pretended not to hear you.

"I swear to God, Isaac! Put me down!" At this point, Isaac was about hip-deep in the water.

"Put you down? Okay, whatever you want, sweetheart." You could hear the smug smirk that was on Isaac's stupidly attractive face. Before you could respond, he threw you off of his shoulder and into the ocean.

The cold water was a shock to your senses as you were enveloped by the salty water. You quickly regained your bearings and stood up in the water. You wiped away the water that clung to your eyelashes and glared daggers at Isaac as he clutched his stomach, laughing his ass off at you. But you couldn't help but smile at the sound of his laugh, your chest warming at the sight of Isaac's flushed cheeks as he calmed down from his laughing fit.

"You're in for it now, Lahey." You growled playfully before splashing water at him. He flinched at the sudden feeling of being sprayed with the cold water.

"You're on." Isaac smirked before you guys had your own splash war.

While you were messing with Isaac, you didn't see the matching smirks that Allison and Lydia were sporting as they saw you play around with Isaac.

"How long do you think it's going to take for them to admit their feelings to each other?" Allison asked Lydia.

Lydia hummed before responding. "I have a feeling it's going to be soon."

Scott and Stiles somehow made their way over to where you and Isaac were playing, and it became a battle between Scott and Stiles and you and Isaac. You guys obviously won after a couple of minutes of nonstop spraying water at one another.

"Allison, Lydia!" Scott called to them and waved them over. "Let's play chicken!"

"I call Scott!" Stiles quickly said as he swung an arm over his friend's shoulders.

"What? Dude, no." Scott pushed him off. "You're too heavy."

Stiles gaped at his (supposed) best friend, making you giggle. "You're a werewolf and you say I'm too heavy?"

Scott rolled his eyes at Stiles's dramatics. "I don't have super strength."

"Yes you do!"

"As cute as the two of you bickering like an old married couple is, we want to play the game now." You cut in before Scott could retort.

Lydia nodded. "She's right. I'll go with Stiles, Allison with Scott." Then Lydia paired you with Isaac.

You turned to Isaac, trying to hide your nerves as you smiled at him. "We got this." You said as you held up your hand for a high five.

Isaac nodded, reciprocated your high five, and grabbed it. "We got this."

You all got onto the boys' shoulders as you guys readied yourselves for the game. You felt Isaac grip your thighs as he adjusted you slightly on his broad frame. You swallowed thickly, but you noticed that Isaac's curls were flattened on his head and were getting into his eyes. You carefully brushed the hair out of his eyes.

"Thanks." You heard him breathe out, making you smile.

"No problem." You patted the top of Isaac's head, fighting the temptation to run your hands through his wet curls.

Isaac had to resist gripping your thighs tightly as he felt the heat of them surround his head and neck. He could only think about different scenarios where they were around his head for a different reason. Isaac had to move his hands to rest on your knees, close his eyes, and take a deep breath to rid his mind of those thoughts.

"Ready?" Allison asked the group. Everyone nodded in response.

"Okay. Go!"

The fire burned bright as Scott threw another piece of firewood into the fire pit in front of you.

The rest of the day flew past you as the six of you enjoyed the beach. After the multiple rounds of chicken fights, you guys swam around for a little, trying to dive under the large waves that began to form. Once you felt tired of swimming, everyone headed back to the tent, and you distributed the sandwiches that you made the night before to everyone.

Conversation flowed as everyone ate and started to snack on the fruit and chips that were out from the cooler. You sneakily took pictures and videos of everyone on the digital camera you brought to document the beach trip. You had even filmed the boys boogie-boarding when they grabbed the boards from the Jeep.

As the day progressed and the sun began to fall, you put on an old red henley that once belonged to your dad and some comfy shorts once you had rinsed off the saltwater on your body.

After everyone was rinsed off and in their comfortable clothes, you had Isaac and Scott grab the firewood from the car and start to prep the fire pit. You had brought dinner to cook over the fire, which was hot dogs and some sweet corn you would roast if anyone wanted. You also brought ingredients for s'mores because what's a summer night without them?

You continued to snap pictures of the pack enjoying the food, and the smile you had since you swam in the water never left your face as everyone had fun. You could tell everyone needed today, needing to spend the day acting like teenagers and not detectives of the supernatural or the saviors of Beacon Hills.

After everyone had their fill of s'mores, Stiles had run back to the Jeep to grab a bottle of whiskey he was able to nab from his dad and showed it to the group like an eager kid showing his parents what he drew in school.

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at Stiles. "Aren't you driving?"

Stiles shook his head. "Nah, Scotty here is gonna drive back. Besides, it's not like he'll be affected if he drinks." He said as he patted Scott's back as he sat back down next to him.

You made an 'okay whatever floats your boat' face at Stiles and snapped a picture of him with the flash on as he took a swig of the liquor, his face grimacing at the burn of the alcohol. The bottle was passed around the circle, and you took a sip of the whiskey, but when it made it back to you again, you passed on it, not wanting to get drunk.

You, Scott, and Isaac were the only ones sober. Allison was leaning on Scott, clearly buzzed. While Stiles and Lydia were slowly getting tipsy as the bottle of whiskey kept being passed around. A warmth settled in your chest as you looked at your friends, and the warmth expanded down to your toes. You looked at Isaac, who was sitting next to you all night, his shoulder brushing against yours, when either of you shifted in your seat.

Not that you noticed (but you did) that Isaac was very fidgety right next to you, always playing with something in his hands, and he would look away quickly when your eyes met. A shiver racked your body as the breeze whipped through the beach.

You felt Isaac shift next to you, and then a jacket was draped over your shoulders, snapping out of your daze from staring at the fire in front of you. The smell of sandalwood, clean linen, firewood, and something that was just Isaac invaded your senses. You turned your head to see Isaac looking at you with a soft smile.

"You looked cold." He gave you a half-shrug before tuning back into the drunken babbling that Stiles was spewing.

You thanked him before sliding your arms through the sleeves and wrapping yourself in the jacket, letting Isaac's scent comfort you further. You looked up at the moon shining down at the crashing waves of the beach, and you decided that you wanted to take a bit of a walk along the shore to stretch out your legs.

You slowly got up from your seat, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself.

"Where are you going?" Isaac asked lowly.

"Oh, I just wanted to walk along the shore to stretch out my legs." You told him softly.

"Can I come with you? I don't think I can hear Stiles blab anymore."

A soft chuckle left your lips. "Yeah, you can."

Isaac smiled at you and followed you as you walked away from the group. Your and Isaac's departure didn't escape Scott or Allison's gazes. But they shared knowing smiles with one another before responding to Lydia and Stiles.

The two of you walked side by side in comfortable silence, content with listening to the waves crash into each other. You would steal small glances at Isaac, only to find him doing the same, making your cheeks warm as you looked away from each other with shy smiles on your faces. Your hands would brush against each other as you walked, making you feel giddy.

You guys walked for a couple of minutes before you sat down on the sand, not wanting to go back to the rest of the pack just yet. Isaac sat down right next to you as you stared out at the water, admiring how the moonlight made the surface of the water glitter like tiny diamonds were floating in the water.

You let out a content sigh as your head fell onto Isaac's shoulder, a wave of exhaustion suddenly hitting you. Isaac shifted closer to let your head rest comfortably on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

"Have fun today?" You asked as you lifted your head up from his shoulder to rest your chin on and look at him.

Isaac hummed as he turned from the water to look at you. He was closer than you anticipated, his nose almost brushing against yours. One side of his face was dimly lit by the soft moonlight. His eyes were more of a cobalt blue because of the night sky.

Your gaze roamed his face, taking in the sharpness of his cheekbones, how the salt water made his hair curly and fell into his eyes slightly. You studied the slope of his nose and how it led down to his cupid bow, and your eyes were stuck on the fullness of his bottom lip.

God, he's so pretty. You thought to yourself until you realized that Isaac was calling out your name. He was speaking the entire time you were admiring him, and a smirk rested on his face.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that." You said with a sheepish smile on your face.

"Tired?" Isaac questioned instead of repeating his words.

"A little. But did you have fun today?"

Isaac nodded. "Yeah, I hadn't been to the beach before so it was cool to come here with you guys."

You were a little shocked at Isaac's admission. "You've never been to the beach?" You asked quietly.

"We never had the time to when I was younger." Isaac cleared his throat. "Besides, my dad never really liked the beach."

You knew that Isaac's dad was a piece of shit (your words, not his), and so this shouldn't have been a surprise to you, but you weren't expecting it.

"Well, I'm glad you had fun today." You sent him a tender smile; Isaac mirrored your smile before the both of you fell quiet, letting the waves lapping at the shore fill the calmness that settled between you.

The two of you were just staring into each other's eyes, inching closer until your foreheads rested against one another. Isaac took the hand that wasn't over your shoulder and grabbed your hand.

Your heart started to beat faster as Isaac leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours in an Eskimo kiss. A smirk grew on Isaac's face, and you knew it was because he could hear your heartbeat grow faster.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked gently, feeling his breath against your lips.

Instead of verbally answering, you pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss. Isaac's lips were warm, and you could taste the whiskey that he had taken a few swigs out of earlier. You pulled away, your eyes closed and your forehead still against his, breathing shallowly.

"I really like you." Isaac breathed out. You opened your eyes to find his already on you, and you could barely see the blue in his eyes because of how dilated his pupils were.

You felt your lips pull into a wide smile at his words. "I sure hope so, because I don't know what I do if you kissed people that you don't like, like that." You couldn't help but tease.

You felt Isaac huff against you and opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, you cut him off with another kiss, this one harder than the last one. He melted into the kiss as he let go of your hand and cupped your cheek, his thumb swiping the apple of your cheek as you leaned into his touch.

You don't know who pulled away this time, but Isaac still had his hand on your cheek as you looked at him.

"For the record, I like you too." You said.

"And here I thought you were just kissing me because you hated me." Isaac teased.

A light laugh left your lips as you shoved him slightly. "Shut up. You're a dork."

Isaac chuckled as you pulled away from him and stood up, brushing the sand off of your butt. You stuck a hand out for Isaac, and he took it as he stood up, not letting go once he brushed the sand off.

"Let's go. We have a long drive home, and everyone is gonna crash once we get to my house."

"Could I crash in your bed?" Isaac asked jokingly as you guys walked back to the firepit with the rest of the group, his hand still in yours.

"Sure, just no funny business." You wagged a finger at him, sporting a serious face.

Isaac chuckled and nodded. "No funny business." He made it a point to cross his heart.

"Good." You stopped and leaned up on your toes to peck his lips, but he caught your neck and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. You couldn't help but smile against his lips and melt into it.

You were so glad you had planned this beach day.

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honeykyeom · 8 months

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white noise / track 3: ghosts (teaser)

pairing: lee seokmin x afab! reader

series summary: your best friend seokmin has always been there for you. after a particularly rough heartbreak, you find out he's there for you in more ways than just one.

series notes: uni!au, best friends to lovers, friends with benefits, kpop 97 line antics and shenanigans (specifically seventeen & loona), 18+ (smut is outlined/warned beforehand)

teaser notes: suggestive kinda but no smut, seokmin is a SIMP, two idiots being idiots tbh and there's absolutely no way this could go wrong!!

teaser wc: ~900 words

a/n: heeey...... hey... how ya'll doin? yeah i never thought i would be far enough into writing that i could ACTUALLY post a teaser for the next track.. shoutout to my accountability buddy @smileysuh, ur the best babe. wouldn't want anyone else to cheer for my maybe 800 words a day lol. also congrats to @bitchlessdino my bb i can't wait to see you walk down the aisle so take this lil treat as a token of my love ♡ also pspspspsps @onlyseokmins (love u wife)

If you had told Seokmin that he would be in the position that he’s currently in, he’d think you’re full of shit.

But here he was, sinking into your sectional as you grind on his lap and making his head spin with the ease in which you pull at his roots. Seokmin keeps telling himself it’s a fantasy, one of his many recurring dreams where he’s finally with you, the person he’s been in love with for the past two years. He repeats it like a mantra, to will himself it’s all in his head until it’s something he can no longer deny when a moan leaves your lips, sounding more ethereal than any dream he’s ever had.

Seokmin’s lips slot between yours perfectly, his tongue gracing your bottom lip. Your mewls ring like bells in his ears, sweet and inviting–he can’t help but smile into your kiss. He’s determined to continue hearing your noises, his nerves firing against every logical thought in his brain.

The kitchen counter of your humble apartment is littered with chips, stray alcohol & red solo cups. Neither of you pay it any mind though, too preoccupied with the present moment as Seokmin’s hands graze your lower back and you straddle his hips, your bodies sinking further into the soft fabric of your sectional.

Seokmin’s lips chase yours when you pull away from him, not wanting to lose your warmth. He’s completely dazed as you view him from above, eyes glazed over in lust and desire. You giggle, bringing your hand to his chin and supporting his head to keep his eyes on you.

“Are you still with me, baby?”

He blacks out at the pet name–his brain short-circuiting at the way your breath warms his skin as you speak, only getting enough energy to respond with a soft yes as Seokmin watches you smile at him.

It’s baffling how you have him under your spell and you’re oblivious to that fact.

Seokmin slowly comes down from his high of the past 20 minutes–registering the words that you’re speaking to him.

“We need to talk.”

“About?”

“This…” you take a pause, your thumb caressing the soft skin of his chin as you focus on the oceans of brown in Seokmin’s eyes before you continue. “Us.”

Seokmin quickly sobers up, his hands removing themselves from your waist but laying purchase on your thighs. He tries his hardest to keep his composure–you’ve always been able to read him like a book, better than anyone else in his life. You were able to capture every tell with ease, down to a small eye twitch or throat itch. Knowing this, he finds it hard to believe you’re unaware of his feelings for you–the immediate red shade of his ears appearing when he’s in your presence.

‘Breathe’, he tells himself. He does just that before focusing back to the present moment, with you, instead of stuck in his own thoughts.

“Okay. What about us?”

“We need to establish some ground rules.” You take a quick pause, brief, but enough for Seokmin to notice the small drop of sweat growing on the tip of your eyebrow. “Just so we’re on the same page.”

“Ok then. Rule number 1?”

“This stays between us. Can’t tell the rest of the group.”

“Ok… Seems fair enough.. Rule 2?”

“No unusual PDA.”

Seokmin retorts with a small pout, “So I can’t hold your hand in public anymore?”

You bring a soft smile to your face, slightly giggling at the sincerity in his tone. Running your hand through his hair, you respond, “No, that’s not what I meant! We just don’t want to give ourselves away. So, hand holding between friends is okay.” Leaning closer into Seokmin, he’s suddenly falling into the swirls of color in your eyes and into a trance when your voice gets quieter as you speak. “But kissing,” you punctuate your statement by connecting your lips to his. Seokmin has to swallow a moan as he gets lost in you, pulling you closer and molding your body to his. His hands come to grasp at each side of your face, gentle yet desperate to keep you two moving in unison.

His efforts were futile, though, as you pull away from him with a smirk, leaving him with the inability to catch his breath. “Isn’t allowed.”

Seokmin is only left able to stare at you, his hands feeling clammy as they still rest on your cheeks. His thumb brushes across your face, his own body heat making your skin hot to the touch. All he can do is chuckle, shaking his head at the predicament he’s found himself in before he’s looking back at you. “Okay. Fine. Is that it?”

“One last rule. No seeing other people without us talking about it first.”

‘Easy,’ Seokmin thinks, but he still has to play it cool.

Raising his eyebrows, a playful tone enters his voice as Seokmin asks, “So, we’re exclusive fuck buddies now?”

You roll your eyes. “Not exactly. It’s more of a safety thing, you know?”

“Yeah, I’ll pretend that you aren’t just keeping your jealousy in check.”

“Do we have a deal or not, Lee?”

You present your pinky finger in between you, a lighthearted ritual that holds the weight of the future of your relationship with Seokmin. It seems too lax for such a situation, but he knows this is as important to you as it is to him with the small appendage in front of him.

“Fine. Deal.”

hehe <3

#seventeen x reader #seokmin x reader #seventeen smut #dk x reader #dokyeom x reader #seokmin smut #dk smut #dokyeom smut #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt smut #svt scenarios #wow we're actually here that's crazy lol

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1800jjbarnes · 1 year

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◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟓: 𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦 - 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 ◇

Dimly Lit Bathroom

【Synopsis】 : Bucky couldn't keep his hands off you on a regular basis. But when he sees you in such a sexy outfit, he has no choice but to drag you to the nearest bathroom.

『W.C』 : 801

-> Genre: Modern Avenger Au. Suggestive.

Pairing: Avenger!WhiteWolf!Bucky x ShieldAgent!Reader

[Warnings] : Fingering. Marking. Pet names. Dirty bar bathroom sex. Clit play. Making out.

Masterlist | Kinktober List

You never thought Bucky would be up for something as risky as this. Cause let's face it, even though he loved attention, you never expected him to be rushing you towards the women's bathroom in the back of a loud crowded bar away from your group of friends that would surely be looking for you both at any moment now. His grip on your wrist was tight, while his eyes scanned for a spot perfect for what he wanted to do. When he saw you show up in your outfit tonight, he couldn't keep his eyes anywhere but on your body and the way you swung your hips to the beat or laughed at one of his friend's jokes, he knew in the bluntest way possible, needed to fuck the living shit out of you.

The bathrooms were covered in graffiti, and the smell of overly-scented perfumes and weed tickled your nose enough to make you cough lightly. And the mess was severely unhygienic. But none of that mattered at that moment. All that did was getting your lips on his. And that is exactly what happened. Teeth clashing and tongues were dancing. Desperation was the only thing present, and Bucky was in the mood to feed it.

”You look so fucking hot in this outfit baby, I can’t keep my hands to myself.” His breath tickled your flesh as his words danced down your jaw to your neck. He bit down harshly on your jugular, suckling a purple love mark on you. You just leaned against the countertop, taking his assault on your neck obediently. If someone were to walk through the main door and swing the corner they would be greeted straight away with a sight of the century. The white wolf, the infamous winter soldie, fucking his pretty girlfriend. The idea sparked excitement, the crudeness, the rawness. Everything was so dirty. Something you’ve never done. And Now Bucky was the one tainting you into enjoying something as messy as this situation.

His right hand was kept tightly on your hips, but his metal left hand explored your body. Squeezing your breast lightly, tugging on your clothes, and slipping into the top of your pants. His cold fingertips glided along your panties, pulling on the fabric before letting it go so it would snap back against your skin. You hissed at the feeling. Bucking your hips, you non-verbally gave him approval to slip further into your undergarments, letting him cup your pussy. His long fingers slip along your folds, stroking until he finds your clit, pressing down harshly. “Like that doll face?”

You nodded like a ridiculous bobblehead, moaning as your hips didn’t falter against his hand. His free hand, which sat on your hip, slowly made its way to your neck, wrapping around it tight enough to cause your brain to short-circuit. Your whimpers were music to his ears, and no matter how loud the yelling and noise people call singing outside grew, all he could focus on was your pretty voice. His slim appendages slipped into your dripping cunt thrusting in and out at the pain-staking pace. He watched your face scrunch up with your brows knotting on the top of your cute head. Your eyes opened vaguely, staring at him with his favourite expression. Fucked out and begging.

“Please, Buck. F-faster pleaseee.” Your words made his ego grow, and the way you sounded was so hypnotic, how could he possibly say no? but he wanted you to work for it.

“Come on baby, you can be louder. Let everyone hear how good I’m making you feel..”It was only when you heard his growling voice that you remembered you were in a very public place and that anyone could see you in such a vulnerable position. But yet a tingle in your gut made you realize you didn’t care. All you cared about was being a good girl for Bucky and getting what you wanted. So you moaned, heck almost screamed his name as he got faster, maybe not as loud as the music but definitely loud enough that if anyone were to come to the door they would hear you.

And as you got closer to your release, Bucky held onto you tighter, clashing his lips on yours. You came all over his hand with a high-pitched moan feeling your brain fill with fuzz. It was euphoric and messy all at once. “You think the others would be looking for you by now?” you choked out panting against your lover's neck.

Bucky had to chuckle, catching his gaze in the mirror behind you. Kissing your cheek, he noticed a pair of eyes in the mirror, hiding behind the corner. “Don’t worry, I have a feeling they know what we're doing.”

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teapartyprincess4two · 5 months

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Vampire- J. Guilbert (prologue)

pairing: Princess!reader x Vampire!Johnnie

classification: SMUT, fluff, slight angst, vampire AU

inspiration: request1, request2, Vampire by Johnnie Guilbert

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex; mentions of mortality, biting, blood, parental death, death, killing; set in 14th-17th century Renaissance, pretty modern dialogue tbh, sub!Johnnie (kinda?), use of Y/n

summary: You take your relationship with Johnnie, your vampire lover, one step further.

Vampire PT.1

—

Autumn leaves crunch against your shoes as you walk through the castle garden. Beautiful red and white roses line the outer walls, each one beginning to die due to the cold temperature the season has brought.

You take a fleeting look behind you, footsteps quickening as you follow the row of roses to the garden’s outer gate. If anyone were to see or follow you, you’d have to save your escape for another day.

Luckily, no one is watching. The guards are too busy patrolling the front of the castle, your father is in a neighboring village, Bernadette is completing her chores, and your mother is deeply immersed in literature in the castle library.

Your hand pushes against the big, rusty gate. You hold your breath and wince when the metal creaks, examining your surroundings one last time before slipping through the crack.

The ground is soft, dead leaves and fog hiding your feet as they trudge through the mud.

“Johnnie?” you whisper shout, your delicate hand supporting itself against a tree. No response, just a howling gush of wind.

You decide to hike further, knowing that Johnnie hates meeting you close to the castle. After walking for some minutes, you find yourself in a clearing.

Moonlight shines through the gaps between the branches and the meadow’s bioluminescent moss glows with every footstep.

“Johnnie?” you try again, only raising your volume slightly.

You wait for a response, or to see his figure approach from within the forest, but all you hear is a coyote crying in the distance.

Every 3 days you venture out into the forest. Sometimes he shows, sometimes he doesn’t; it’s something that he’s explained to you time and time again. He’s a vampire, viewed as a predator by the rest of the world, and when he has villagers coming after him it just isn’t safe to meet you.

He’d never forgive himself if anything ever happened to you, and you know that, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

You’re about to give up and walk back home, when cold fingers swoop your long hair to one side. Johnnie’s lips find your skin, trailing kisses from your shoulder to the soft spot behind your ear

“I’m here, Princess,” he murmurs.

A smile forms on your face as your head falls back onto his shoulder. His arms have wrapped around your waist, holding you in place firmly as he continues feathering kisses all over your exposed skin.

“I’ve missed you, my love,” his breath fans against you, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve missed you more,” you reply, and it’s true.

You turn to face him, warm hands delicately landing on his face. He’s so beyond beautiful, especially under the soft moonlight.

Your eyes dance over his face, watching as his fangs twinkle when he smiles. Most women would be running away in fear at the sight, but it only makes your knees buckle.

“3 days is too long.” His voice is still quiet, almost like he’s afraid someone is lurking nearby, ready to save you from a monster like him.

“You could just come visit me in the castle after everyone’s fallen asleep,” you suggest. His face was slowly inching towards yours, but he stops in his tracks at your comment.

“Y/n,” he warns, using your actual name instead of a pet name.

“We’ve been over this.”

“I know— it’s just— I miss you.” The last part sounds more defeated than you’d like.

“It’s not like we have forever, you know,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around your waist for some comfort. He knows that your time together is limited, and he hates that you’re constantly reminding him.

“Don’t start this again. Please,” he pleads. You only have a few hours together before the sun rises and he’s forced back into hiding, he doesn’t want to spend those fleeting moments arguing.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you say, your voice breaking slightly at the end. You’re close to breaking down into tears and he knows it.

“Y/n.” He pulls your gaze to his by your chin. Your eyes are glossy, a heartbreaking sight.

“I promise it won’t always be like this,” he says, not breaking eye contact. You’re not sure you believe him, mainly because of the ticking time bomb that is your mortality, but you want to believe him.

“Promise?” Your eyes hold so much hope.

“Promise.” He pulls your face in, finally kissing you after what seems like forever.

It’s slow and passionate, your lips moulding together at a steady rhythm. His hand holds a firm grip of your face, the other resting on your hip and pulling you closer to him.

You’re wearing a simple dress that contrasts your usual, elaborate gowns. So, as he pulls you in, you feel his erection pokes your lower abdomen. Subconsciously, his hips grind against you and a strained sound escapes his throat. He pulls away from the kiss, forehead flush against yours.

“What’s wrong?” you asks. His hand still holds your face and yours travels up to hold it, caressing his skin with your thumb.

“I should just— you should just go home,” he says, attempting to pull away from you completely, but you manage to keep him there. It’s surprising how someone so strong can be so weak when they’re in love.

“What? Why? We still have a couple hours left before the sun rises.”

“Because it’s dangerous out here. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You roll your eyes. “No one is out here, Johnnie.”

He’s quiet. His mind his racing as he fights against his sinful thoughts. What he wants is to make love to you under the soft moonlight, but he’s worried that once he gets a taste of you, he won’t be able to control himself.

“Tell me what’s really wrong,” you say, pulling his hand off of your face to place gentle kisses on his knuckles.

“I’m just… I’m scared,” he admits. It’s an embarrassing confession coming from him, someone who doesn’t have to worry about anything other than what his next meal is gonna be.

You urge him to continue with your eyes.

“You do things to me that I can’t explain. I feel things that I’m not sure I can control when I’m around you.” Confusion is written all over your face.

“Here.” He guides your hand down to his erection, letting it cup his member over the fabric of his pants. “That’s what you do to me,” he gulps, struggling to hold himself back.

The feeling of your small hand wrapped around him is already excruciating enough, and the images that his imagination creates don’t help either.

“Johnnie,” you begin, already sounding breathless. A wetness grows between your thighs, and they subconsciously press together to relieve some tension.

“You’re not going to hurt me.” He appreciates the reassurance, but he’s still uncertain.

“I don’t want to risk it,” he replies through gritted teeth. His eyes clench shut when you begin massaging him, dick twitching and begging for release.

“Let me make you feel good. We can stop if it becomes too much,” you whisper, inching your face closer to his until your breath fans against his lips.

Your lips are ghosting his, barely grazing as he replies, “What if I can’t control myself? What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t. I know you won’t.”

Finally you close the gap between you two, opening your mouth to give him the access he’s been craving. It’s a sloppy, needy kiss fueled with passion and hunger. Your tongues battle for dominance, each lap mixed with moans and whimpers.

There’s a large tree stump in the middle of the clearing and you slowly guide Johnnie towards it by his hips. He walks backwards until his calves hit the bark, knees bending, causing him to sit.

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you like you’re his most prized possession as he stares up at you in awe. “I’m in control, okay?” you say, kissing him again before allowing your dress to fall past your shoulders and onto the ground.

Immediately, he tenses, feeling his animal instincts overcome him. The hunger is painful, so painful that his grip around you tightens. You’re not wearing a bra or panties, a beautiful sight that causes his pupils to dilate.

“Hey, look at me,” you say gently. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

Johnnie nods his head, allowing his eyes to dance over your body. You’re so beautiful; your round breasts bouncing slightly with your every movement and your curvy hips swaying as you position yourself between his thighs.

He can’t take it anymore, he needs to taste you. You gasp as Johnnie suddenly takes your left nipple in his mouth, gently sucking and licking on your sensitive nub.

“I really, really need you,” he rasps against your skin. “I know baby. I know,” you reply through a strained moan. Your hand finds his hair and pull him impossibly closer to you.

His lips travel from your nipple to the valley of your breasts, kissing licking his way down to your belly button. “You’re so beautiful.”

You’re about to reply but his mouth feverishly makes its way back to yours before you can, engulfing your lips in a steamy makeout session that has you whimpering. You can feel him trying to take control, and if you want this night to go well, that can’t happen.

So, you make work of his pants and underwear in between kisses, tugging at the fabric until it pools on the ground around his ankles. His penis springs free, slapping against his stomach.

“Remember who’s in control,” you remind him through the kiss.

He takes a deep breath, resting his forehead against your chest as he attempts to compose himself; to measure his strength as you two venture into uncharted territory.

You play with his hair, giving him the time he needs before pushing him back onto the tree stump until he’s laying on his back. Slowly, you crawl over him until you’re straddling his lap.

You lean down to his ear, placing a few open mouth kisses on the nape of his neck as you whisper, “We’re gonna take this slow, okay?”

“I—” he begins, cutting himself off.

“We can stop if you want to.”

“I don’t want to stop,” he says, “and that’s the problem because…”

“Because if I were to hurt you, Y/n, I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself. I’m struggling to keep my composure and we haven’t even done anything yet. If I get too carried away, pull me back into reality with you. Please,” he pleads the last part, tentative hands coming to rest on your hips. His touch is gentle, but firm.

You don’t respond, instead you nod your head and take his cock into your hands, dragging it up and down your slick folds before lining it with your entrance. His grip on your waist tightens as you begin to sink down on him, he clenches his jaw and watches tentatively as you take him without complaint.

A small moan escapes your lips at the stretch, your hands falling onto his chest for support. His skin is ice cold, a sensation that you quickly welcome. Johnnie fights to keep his composure, teeth digging so far into his lip that he’s drawing blood.

“Ready?” you ask sweetly. Johnnie responds by bucking his hips upwards, ensuring not to get too lost in the feeling.

He’s amazed that someone as delicate as you can hold this much power over him. He’s putty in your hands, he can’t remember the last time he felt this submissive.

You take the hint and begin moving up and down on his cock, bracing yourself with hands on his chest and knees on either side of his hips.

Johnnie’s grip on your waist is getting impossibly tighter, and if you weren’t so immersed in the pleasure, you might’ve registered the pain.

Your boobs bounce with your every movement, placing Johnnie in a lust filled trance. Your hair falls over one of your shoulders, swaying back and forth under the soft moonlight.

“Sit up please,” you command, your voice strained. Johnnie does as he’s told, and immediately you guide his face towards your breast. He’s hesitant at first, but the look you give him is enough to convince him that he can keep himself from taking a delicious bite from you.

His lips wrap around your left nipple as you continue bouncing up and down on his member. He’s completely lost in the euphoric feeling of you wrapped around him, a strong arm tightening around your figure.

“Johnnie,” you moan, your voice bringing him back to reality. He loosens his grip and brings you in for a kiss, drunkenly moulding his mouth against yours as you continue whimpering into his mouth.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, begging for entrance so he can taste you. One of your moans serves as the perfect opportunity for him to slip his tongue in your mouth, drenching you like his existence depended on it.

Your tongue grazes one of his fangs, cutting you just enough for him to taste your blood. You feel the prick, but continue bouncing on his cock without paying too much attention.

“You’re doing so good, just like I knew you would,” you speak into the kiss. He loves the praise, especially because he just tasted your blood for the first time and can easily say he’s already addicted to

The position you were currently in was amazing, but your knees were starting to hurt and you really wanted to see what he’d look like from on top of you.

You hop off of him, earning a wince from him from the lack of contact. You lay back on the tree stump, innertwining your hand in his as you guide him over you. He follows your lead, immediately returning to the heated makeout session from before.

Slowly, he positions himself between your legs and lines himself up with your entrance. “Are you sure?” he asks breathlessly. This position gives him all the power, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself even if you try pulling him back to reality.

But you’re not scared of him, you never have been and you never could be. “Yes, my love. I’m sure.”

He looks beautiful on top of you, everything about his dark aura luring you in. Johnnie slowly sinks himself into you, one of his hands gripping the edge of the tree stump. The bark is rough against his fingers as he applies a pressure so powerful that it cracks the aged wood.

His thrusts are slow at first as he tries setting a manageable pace, but as he continues his eyes cloud with lust and desire and he begins pounding into you. The sound of your skin slapping together and your moans echo through the forest, his tip kissing your cervix every time.

His forehead is flush against yours. Johnnie loves you so much and it’s evident in the way his red eyes never break eye contact, despite the intensity of his movements.

He’s fighting against his strength to stop himself from breaking you in half, because if he really wanted to he could.

You keep bucking your hips into his as you chase your pending orgasm. Johnnie’s head falls onto your shoulder, grunts and groans fanning against your neck as his other hand pushes your hips down.

Your skin was sure to bruise, but none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was the feeling of his pelvis rubbing against your clit, bringing you dangerously close to your climax.

“I’m close!” you squeak.

Johnnie continues to snap his hips into you, fangs grazing your skin ever so slightly. He wants to do it; to take a bite of you, but he’s willing himself not to.

You wrap a leg around his waist, pulling him in until all he can do is roll his hips against you. Your pussy flutters around his cock as your orgasm washes over you.

The feeling of your spongy, warm walls clenching around him is enough to send him over the edge. His unmatched strength breaks yet another piece of the tree. He needed to occupy his mouth, so he’s latching onto your neck and sucking until the skin is bruised.

“I love you,” he murmurs through his orgasm, repeating the sentence so many times that it’s engraved in your mind.

Your voice is choppy as you try catching your breath, “I love you too.”

—

The next morning you wake up on a comfortable mattress surrounded by expensive pillows and a billowy comforter, but you wish you were still in the forest with Johnnie.

The night replays in your mind as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. A yawn escapes your lips as you stretch.

Suddenly you feel a throbbing pain on your waist. Your fingers trail down to the sensitive skin and you wince once they make contact.

Slowly, you throw the comforter to the side and walk over to your vanity. You bunch the fabric of your nightgown up against your breasts as you examine yourself in the mirror.

Your skin was lined with bruises so purple they were almost black. Quickly, you adjust your dress and make a mental note not to let Johnnie see them. You wouldn’t see him for another three days anyways, that was enough time for you to heal, right? Wrong.

Three days have passed and your bruises have only become more sensitive. They’re easy to hide when you’re home, mostly because you wear dresses so big that no one would ever notice them. The hickeys on your neck were masked with makeup and hidden behind your long hair.

You decide to stay home, because you know that Johnnie will somehow find out about the secret you hide under your clothes.

Just as you’re getting ready for bed, a sudden gush of wind blows past you. Johnnie enters through your bedroom window, looking around your room in a panicked frenzy until his eyes land on your figure.

“Johnnie?” you question in surprise. “Thank God you’re okay,” he sighs in relief, immediately walking over to you.

“You didn’t come to visit me,” he whispers sadly, “Why?”

When he waited in the clearing, and you never appeared, his mind raced with every and any possibly. Did someone hurt you? Was your kingdom under attack? Did you regret that night?

“I’ve just been really tired,” you say. It’s a lame excuse, but you hope he believes it.

“Did I do something wrong?” Johnnie’s hands land on your hips. You immediately wince, but try masking it with a cough. It’s no use though, he notices right away.

Johnnie bawls the fabric of your nightgown in his hands, ready to expose whatever you’re hiding. “Wait! No, Johnnie—” you try pushing him away, buts he’s so strong that he barely moves.

He wastes no time in lifting your nightgown, revealing the bruises that he left on your skin just three nights ago.

“I promise they look worse than they are,” you try and reason, but he’s not hearing any of it. His jaw is clenched, eyes trained on the horrific colors that blend across your skin.

“Never again,” he grits, letting the fabric of your dress fall back down. It felt like a shameful curtain, you wanted to rip it off and crawl into bed.

“What?!” your voice cracks.

“You heard me. Never again. If that’s what I did with my hands, imagine what would’ve happened if I lost control.”

“But I can take it—”

“Yeah? You think you’ll be saying that when my fangs inevitably find their way to your neck?” he snaps, his tone so harsh that it slaps against your ears.

“So then turn me,” you reply. Everything always seemed so simple to you, but becoming a vampire wasn’t something he ever wanted you to experience.

“Don’t,” he warns.

“Why not, Johnnie? Huh? Why not? Are we just going to continue having this same conversation until the day I die? Do you think I asked for the bruises? All I wanted was to love you, but if I’m going to continue getting hurt then why not just turn me?”

He remains silent, watching as the tears brim your eyes.

“I can’t live in a world where I don’t get to love you, to properly love you,” your voice is hushed, tears streaming down your face as you sit on the edge of your bed. “It isn’t fair.”

“I’m a monster, Y/n. All I do is hurt everything and everyone I love. Trust me, you don’t want to love someone like me,” he spits. His words completely contradict what he truly feels.

“I didn’t ask to love you, Johnnie. I just... do.” You sound so defeated.

He sighs, kneeling front of you and trying to catch your gaze. “I love you too, Y/n. That’s why this hurts me so much. I don’t want to be the reason for your pain, even if it is accidental. I want to protect you so that I can love you for as long as possible. Do you understand that?”

“Then love me,” you plead, “What’s the point of protecting me if you’re not staying true to your promise? We’re running out of time, Johnnie. Everyday I wake up a little older and a little closer to death, so please just love me. Love me despite our differences. Love me even if you think I’m weak.”

You bring him in for a kiss, one that is so passionate that he can’t find it in himself to pull away. You lean back onto the bed, pulling him with you until he’s laying on top of you.

“Princess, please.”

“Just love me.” You murmur against his lips, and just like that he’s making love to you under the soft candlelight that illuminates your room.

From that moment forward, Johnnie has vowed to love you everyday like it’s your last.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: thanks for being patient with me guys, ily! Also I hope you enjoy this anon (requests are linked) I haven’t proofread this so be gentle with me guys 🥹 I’ll proofread it mañana

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

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itsharleystuff · 1 year

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↳ II. 𝘍𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘝𝘖𝘐𝘋

Read part one here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au).

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.6k (once again, I’m sorry)

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after your steamy encounter with Joel during your homecoming party, things between you have been stagnant. Although, fate seems to be on your side when both Sarah and your dad have to leave town for a short while.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, p in v sex, Joel hits it from behind, blowjobs, some teasing, a bit of spanking, pet names (darling, sweetheart, honey), unprotected sex (pls do not attempt), cum eating, taking nsfw photos, Joel tries to be dom but fails, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), reader is kind of a brat, fluff and feelings (yes, this is a warning), alcohol consumption, brief mention of family death. Barely edited, sorryyy. No use of y/n.

—A/N: this can be read as a stand-alone but I suggest reading the previous part for a better understanding. Btw, there’s a couple of Easter eggs from the game in this! Also— I tried making a moodboard and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’ll probably stick to gifs in the future, lol.

“I like Indiana Jones," you babble, taking a sip from your coffee without looking at anyone in specific. "I was twelve and in love with Harrison Ford..."

"Okay, so that's one movie we're definitely not going to watch." Sarah chimes in, lazily chewing on her scrambled eggs. "How do you feel about Robert Pattinson?"

"That depends," you reply, moving your head side to side in a contemplative manner, "are we talking twilight or Harry Potter?"

You hear your dad snort on the other side of the table and see Joel chuckling beside him. Sarah crosses both arms over her chest and raises a brow at them. “What's so funny?"

"Nothing," your dad clears his throat and side-eyes his friend. "Just thought you two were a bit old for those crappy vampire movies. Maybe watch-"

"Forgive me, but I don't think it's a good idea to take recommendations from either of you," you cut him off, leaning back on your chair. "You're both obsessed with die hard, think The Godfather is incredibly complex and in your spare time watch construction programs. We'll be fine on our own."

"Touché..."

It's been three weeks since your homecoming party, and ever since then it has become a habit to have breakfast together every weekend. Today, Saturday, it was the Miller's turn to cook, which consequently had you and your father sitting at their table. As of now, you and Sarah were discussing your movie night, which had to be postponed due to her road-trip to San Antonio— apparently, she and her friend Ellie were going to visit some college campuses there.

It's also been three weeks since that little, hot encounter you and Joel had in your kitchen. And, contrary to your better judgement, both of you were more than eager to spend some extra time alone. Things since then had been uneasy, specially when being surrounded by others; always worried that someone might notice those stolen looks you'd share or sense the palpable tension that rose when you would stand too close to each other.

You try not to think about it. Except when you do. A swirl of memories would come flooding your mind in the most inappropriate moments, creating that heat that made you remember exactly how his fingers felt inside you, his tongue between your folds, the sloppy kisses and that feral, hungry look in his eyes while eating you out, touching you like you were the most precious thing on earth.

"How about pride and prejudice?" the girl wonders, standing up to clean her dishes and snapping you back to reality.

"Shit, I love period dramas!" your dad shoots you a reproachful glare at your language, but you chose to ignore it. "As a matter of fact, most of my designs are inspired by the Victorian and regency eras."

"Oh, yeah," Sarah recalls, "I remember I read about it in one of your blogs. Dad showed it to me, by the way..." Joel clears his throat loudly, making her giggle.

Although she had mentioned it before, it was still kind of weird that he acknowledged your work. At first you thought it was merely because he wanted to connect with you somehow, but lately he'd been asking if he could see your new sketches and would let you borrow some old magazines he had around the house. Your best friend, Sophie, mentioned he might've been trying to show his interest in you subconsciously. And she was that one psychic friend who believed in zodiac signs and angel numbers, so you decided to believe her.

In that moment, your dad receives an incoming call on his cellphone; he excuses himself and heads to the living room. Your eyes lock with Joel's, and the fact that he was uninhibitedly staring back at you drew a smug smile on your face.

"Are you interested in fashion, Mr. Miller?" he sulks out a dry 'no', but you could see him fidget with his watch nervously. "Pity. I thought maybe you could model some of my male designs."

Sarah genuinely cracks up at your comment, slapping one hand on the table. "You want dad to pose for you? Seriously?"

"Why not? I brought my Polaroid camera, I can get some very nice shots." You were partially joking, but deep down you just wanted to see how he'd react.

"I mean, I know dad's got his charm with women, or so they keep saying-"

"No way anyone says that," he rambles.

"But the idea of him modeling is probably the funniest thing I've ever heard."

The fact was that you didn't want to take pictures of him so anyone else could see them. You wanted them exclusively for yourself. A couple of naughty Polaroids to keep around for whenever you were aching for him —which has been nearly every fucking night since your arrival—.

"It was a silly idea," you finally agree, shrugging. Joel stands to take his things to the sink. "Do you really have to leave for the weekend? You're like, my only friend here."

"Uh, about that..." she leans in towards you and you can practically smell a scheme on her. "Would you be mad if I gave your number to someone?"

You can quite literally feel the man standing behind you tense up. "Huh?"

"Yeah, like... To a guy." She moves in her place, but there's still no answer from you. "He's my English teacher. His name is Will and he's super smart, young, really funny and very handsome, I might add. I believe he can be your new male model." Sarah adds that last bit with a grin.

When you turn your head to see Joel, there was a deep scowl etching on his face, his body remaining still as a stone.

"I don't know... As friends, maybe." You weren't sure why, but the idea of meeting anyone new didn't really sound appealing.

She opened her mouth to say something but before she could actually do so, your dad walked in again. He appeared upset, gesturing nonsense and muttering impassively.

"What's wrong?" your tone comes out concerned.

"I have a meeting in Boston," he sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder apologetically. "Apparently it's urgent and I have to catch the next flight if I want to be there by nightfall."

"Oh, don't worry," you smile at him warmly. "I understand. Besides, I'm an adult. I can manage a weekend by myself."

He nods, still seemingly aloof. "I know but- I just wanted to spend some more time with you."

And of course you wanted that too, but saying it out loud could literally bring him to quit his job. He was always very extreme when it came down to you.

"What time d’you leave?" his friend asks him.

"Half past four. Why?"

"I can drop Sarah off at Ellie's and then drive you to the airport, if you'd like." Such a caring friend, Joel Miller. So selfless. Helping your dad out, attending his daughter's every special need...

"Yeah, thanks a lot, man. Take care of my little girl while I'm away."

You see his eyes gleam with a mix of unknown emotions, "Will do."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The last few days had been no less than torment for Joel. Each moment that went by in which he didn't get a chance to be near you had him losing his mind. Badly. And it wasn't necessarily a physical thing— not always, at least.

Every morning, he would wake up and go to work, knowing for certain that when he comes back home he'll find you hanging around with Sarah or sitting out on your porch with a sketching notebook on your lap.

He liked to guess what you'd be doing.

Would you be playing board games with his daughter? Watching a movie or baking desserts? Maybe you were thrift shopping with your dad or simply going to the mall. And later on, when he finally gets to see you again, you'd tell him all about it.

Joel also liked to imagine what kind of clothes you'd be wearing. One thing he noticed is that you never stick to one particular style or aesthetic. One day you could be wearing pastel sundresses with ribbons in your hair; the next one could be long, black skirts paired with basic tank tops and multiple necklaces, or even something more extravagant, depending on your mood.

Seeing you was an experience— one that he could never get tired of. It's like every time he sets his eyes on you there's a certain color palette that changes constantly, or the feeling of gathering all your favorite songs into one playlist and then hitting the shuffle button. He never knows what to expect. Hence why he had given up on trying to relate you to the silly things around; like seasons, animals, artists or foods. Instead, he started associating you with feelings.

You were creative, unique and incredibly fearless. In a way, you made him feel uneasy, excited, thrilled, confident and many more emotions at the same time. If he had to describe you in one word, he'd say evoking.

Oh, how you pestered his brain.

He hated how much he thought about you, and how little guilt he felt from it.

Right now he was sitting on the drivers seat of his truck, waiting at the airport's parking lot. You asked him if you could walk your dad to his corresponding gate and he agreed. The downside: it had started to rain, probably not too bad for your dad's flight to be delayed but enough for your clothes to get soaked on your way back.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you muttered, shutting the passenger's door behind you. “The seats are gonna get all wet..."

"Here," Joel takes off his jacket to place it over your shoulders.

It feels warm and it smells like him, "Thanks."

He starts the car without saying anything else, keeping his eyes glued to the road. You, on the other hand, could not stop staring at him. Now that no one else was around, there was no shame in admiring his side profile, the way his muscles flexed and his hands grasped the wheel. There was something inherently attractive about men driving, but- Jesus... This image had your mind roaming around dark places.

Suddenly, realization sinks in— you're alone.

Alone with him.

"I, uh..." he taps the wheel with his thumb, still avoiding your gaze. "I wanted to take you out for dinner. The weather kinda ruined it."

The corners of your mouth hitch up in a silly smile. "Too bad. I really didn't want to be alone tonight."

Joel hums, appearing somewhat distraught. In reality, he was fighting for his life. The clothes you chose to wear today were not fitted for the rain; denim mini-skirt, high pair of boots and a white top that complimented your upper body. He tried not to look at the raindrops rolling down your thighs or note how transparent your shirt has become, forcing himself to stare at your hands and the many rings that decorated your fingers, seeing there the one he gifted you.

"How about you come over to my place?" you suggest, trying to catch his attention. "I'll need a shower and a change of clothes but... Maybe we can do something afterwards."

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, still avoiding your gaze, "Like what?"

This time your voice goes lower, a smirk spreads across your face and something in your eyes flickers; a darker, sensual spark.

"Oh, you know..." your hand carefully comes to rest on his knee. His thigh tenses but he doesn't say or do anything to push you away. "Whatever you want."

He swallows hard, feeling the pads of your fingers run circles on his leg, your nails mildly scratching over the jeans in a way that raises goosebumps on his skin and eases his nerves.

"I've got a better idea," he says, keeping his tone calm —barely—. "Why don't you come to my house instead?"

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Sure, but- what about my clothes?"

And then he smiles cockily, as if this had been his plan all along, "Wear mine."

Well, there was absolutely no way you were going to turn him down. With a bit more boldness, you slide your hand a few inches up his inner thigh, still rubbing soothing patterns. His jaw clenched, but remained silent and apparently unbothered.

"Joel?" his name rolled off your tongue sweetly, in a way only you knew how to. He uttered a 'hm?' in retort. "Did you miss me?"

"I've seen you nearly every day," he answers playfully.

You laugh, stopping your movements and simply resting your palm there. "So... No?"

"Didn't say that, darlin'." The truck suddenly stops at a red light as he exhales heavily, giving in to you at last. "But I'll let you guess."

A push and pull game, like a cat chasing a mouse. Your smirk widens. "I don't think so. Not as much as I have."

His eyes scan your body from head to toe, the way you sit with your legs slightly parted, back laying flat against the seat and face turned towards him with heated cheeks and low gaze. Unexpectedly, your hand draws back from his lap as you start looking through your purse and a frown forms on his face, baffled by the loss of contact.

"Which is why..." you take the Polaroid camera out and see a whole shift in his eyes, like he's about to burst in laughter. "I brought this."

"No," despite his categorical denial, you still held the object up.

"You have a green light," he curses under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. "Just let me have one, please."

He sighs in defeat, "Why'd you want that?"

The rain had started to settle down but the air was still pretty cold, all that could be heard besides your own voices being the drops that crashed against the car.

"Cause you're handsome," he rolls his eyes sarcastically. "And I like you."

Hell, you were always so straightforward. It made his heart jump inside his chest, wondering if it was gonna burst out.

"You won't like me as much once you meet that Will dude," Joel prattles through gritted teeth, remembering his daughter's suggestion from earlier.

"The guy Sarah mentioned?" your brows furrow subtly. "Why? What's up with him?"

He yanks his head to the side, glancing over at you for a second, "Nothin'. Just thinkin' out loud." In spite of your puzzled expression, he decides to grant your wish. "I'll let ya' take it. But only if I get one in return."

Your lips purse in a smile, "As many as you like, Miller."

He doesn't say anything in response, but his grin doesn’t fade either and you managed to capture it on paper. The image slowly started to become visible and your first thought was how well it captured the whole 'Joel Miller' essence. It was a simple photo of him driving with one hand on the wheel and the other arm thrown lazily over the backseat. That denim shirt hugged his arms exquisitely, the rolled-up sleeves adding to his appeal. He was looking at you when it was taken, so you could see more than half his face— and the way he was grinning, you couldn't help but think he appeared so much younger when he did that. The entire thing felt so much like him: snuggly, blue, genuine and you absolutely loved it.

"There," you show it to him as he started to pull over. "Isn't it nice?"

"Just keep it to yourself, aight?" the man grumbles.

"F'course," with a spark of joy, you slide the photo inside your wallet. "Wouldn't want anyone else peeking at that gorgeous smile of yours. That's a treasure of my own."

"Shut up-" he rumbled, turning his face the other way and opening the door, seemingly flustered. And out of all the amazing things you've accomplished in your life, making this rugged looking man blush was probably your greatest pride.

When he helps you out of the car, holding your hand firmly and cleaving to your waist; you wanted nothing more than to kiss him under the pouring rain, wildly and unhinged, just like last time. But this particular spot possibly had too many curious eyes of which you were unaware of. He obviously doesn't need to guide you through his house, since you already know nearly every corner of it, except for one. His bedroom. And apparently, that's the precise location he's taking you to.

"Please excuse the mess," he says, placing one hand on the door handle, "I haven't had a woman in here for ages, so I'm afraid I probably won't live up to your expectations."

"Joel," you snort, "it's been a decade and a half since you last dated anyone. Trust me, my expectations are pretty low."

He scowls, squinting both eyes. "You didn't have to say it like that..."

It's honestly better than you thought. His bed is nicely done, brown bedsheets striking as warm and welcoming; the walls were painted a pretty, light shade of blue that matched the grayish curtains on the left. The drawers in front of his windows had a bunch of stuff scattered on top of them: a CD player along with a few music discs, some papers, a cap and a pair of reading glasses, batteries, one screwdriver and a framed picture of him and Sarah at the beach. Meanwhile, the nightstand simply had one lamp and an alarm-clock on it. Over the bed's headboard were one poster of a music festival, the image of a landscape and an advert of what you guessed must've been a club, that read 'tacos and beer" on it. The door to the bathroom was on the right.

Messy, yet tidy at the same time. Very Joel-like.

"No way..." you murmur, eyeing the guitar beside his bed. "All this time I thought it was a myth."

"What?" he asks from behind you.

"Dad told me you used to serenade girls back in college and that you wanted to become a singer." A giggle escapes your lips, unable to contain it. "I remember saying he was surely making it up, but..."

"I didn't- I mean..." he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck and feeling his chest swell with your laughter. "Oh, shut up!"

"Make me." The lingering, mischievous smile on your face made his heart pound and blood rush. "Come on, Miller. Shut me up, I dare you."

His eyes darken, but you don't falter for a second. He doesn't move a muscle, solely watching as you took off his jacket and threw it to the bed.

"You dare me?" his voice goes drops an octave, following your every move closely. "That's rather bold of you, sweetheart."

"Mhm," without breaking eye contact, you start taking off your boots. "And yet you're doing nothing about it."

Joel starts walking towards you slowly, holding your gaze intently. Your hair was damp and your clothes were still wet; it didn't really matter that the air was chilly cause you still felt warm all over. He soon invades your space, cupping your chin in his big hand and lifting your head upwards.

"Well, you're awfully quiet now, aren't ya'?" his hot breath fanned across your cheeks, the gap between your faces being basically invisible.

"I'm just waiting for you to start singing some random song by Alabama or Johnny Cash," you scoff. "Like a good ol' Texan ma-"

He doesn't let you finish the sentence, abruptly crashing his lips into your own. Joel isn't delicate about it and the fervor with which he kisses you makes your body stumble a few steps backwards. Your shoulders hit the wall and he pins you against it as your mouths find a way to mold perfectly, at a much nicer pace than last time. You throw your hands around his neck and let your fingers tangle in the curls around his nape, tasting the fresh mint on his lips. His hands rest on your hips, chests pressed together as the temperature kept rising with each second that went on.

You part your lips in order to grant him deeper access, feeling his tongue slide past your teeth and meeting your own in an ardent, heated way. It was perfect, until he broke apart, looking down at you with an asserted confidence.

"You really know nothing 'bout country music," he says in between shaky breaths, beaming. "S'that what you wanted?"

"Yes," you manage to say.

"Then say 'thank you'," Joel indicates petulantly, stroking your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, don't be such a brat."

You blink twice, your brain still buzzing with the sensation of mouth on you, barely capable of processing anything else. "But I want more..."

"You'll take what I give you."

Shit, when he said it like that- "Thank you."

"That's my girl," he straightened his back, opening the door next to you. "Now, get your pretty ass in the shower before you catch a cold, 'kay?" You roll your eyes and hear him chuckle. "There's clean towers under the sink. You can take some clothes from my drawers, or Sarah's if you feel like it. I don't think she'll mind."

"Understood." He can tell you're annoyed, which he finds funny.

"Don't be mad at me, angel." Joel tugs a strand of hair behind your ear. "Promise I'll make it up to you."

You nod distractedly, lost in the cocky spark on his eyes. "I'm not mad. Just hoping you fuck me real good if you're making me wait for it."

Your words almost make him choke on his own saliva. "Sweetheart, you're making it real hard for me to be a gentleman."

It makes your ego boost, in a sense. "I'll be quick. Can you get something for dinner, though? I'm starving."

"Shit, darlin', pick a struggle," he mocks as you enter the bathroom, "are you horny or hungry?"

"Oh, you jerk!"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

6:15 pm.

You take a quick glance at Joel's alarm clock once you come out of the shower. It's been little more than an hour since your dad's plane took off. You hope the rain hadn’t made his flight any difficult, cause the weather turned out to be quite a blessing for you.

The cozy feeling of a nice, warm shower after being soaked under the rain was starting to settle in your bones, making your limbs relax. Then you realize, you smell like Joel. The scent of his soap, his shampoo, even his laundry detergent, is all over you. It's intoxicating in the most fantastic way possible, making your insides burn with a thrill of excitement. You took one on his flannels, —dark green with red stripes— and decided to wear it without anything besides your underwear. It was pretty big anyway, and covered just the necessary areas.

You slid your socks back on when all of the sudden you hear the faint sound of music from the floor beneath. Curious, you walk towards the noise, finding out Joel was in the kitchen, crouched down in front of the opened fridge. The CD player that you saw earlier on his room was now on the table, playing a melody that you recognized almost immediately.

"I like this song," you say, leaning against the wall. "That's Billy Idol, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he recalls, taking out a medium sized plastic box from the fridge. "Tommy made that mix. There's plenty of hits from past decades. I think you'll enjoy it."

The man finally turns around to face you and his face fails to hide his surprise. The way his prying eyes sweep your body in detail, taking his time particularly on your bare thighs, almost made you feel self-conscious if it weren't for that shadow of desire that crossed his eyes and the way his nostrils flared from a contained breath.

"How is he, by the way?" you ask, still on the subject. "Haven't seen him in a while."

"Who?" he clearly forgot what he had just said.

"Your brother," you call to mind, "how is he?"

Joel sets the box down on the table and drifts his gaze back to your face. "Fine, I guess. Last time we spoke he said he'd go to Dallas." He takes two glasses from the pantry and what it looks like a bottle of wine. "I-uh... There isn't any real food in here besides those strawberries and chocolates that this guy brought for Sarah. Should I order something?"

You shake your head and walk over to him, "This will do. Won't she get mad if we eat them, though?"

"Don't think so," he replies, pouring the red liquid into the glasses. "I'll blame you if she does."

"Oh, okay-" you cock an eyebrow at him and hold back a giggle. "Thought you didn't like wine."

"It's a fancy drink," he explains, "s'only for special occasions."

"Oh?" you take a sip from it, eyes boring into his. "And what's tonight's?"

Joel smiles conceitedly, jutting his chin out. "I've got you all to myself."

You snort, feeling the heat soar across your cheeks. He takes the snack box and with a sly gesture asks you to follow him into the living room, the melodic sound of the eighties tune turning to background noise as you do. The only lights on are the ones in the kitchen and the lamps beside the couch, shining a perfect light on his features.

"Come here," he calls, the leather squealing under his weight when he sat down. You set the glass down on the coffee table in front of the tv, going to sit next to him. "No, sweetheart," he grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him. "I meant here."

His legs part slightly, making room for you to sit on his lap. Your smile broadened toward a soft chuckle, settling yourself on his thigh. Joel immediately gets his hands on you, one on your lower back and the other merely resting on your upper leg.

"So, who's this mystery man that's been giving gifts to your darling daughter?" he scoffs in response, reaching for a chocolate from the box.

"Honestly? No fuckin' clue." You hum in surprise, drinking from your wine. "She never involves with them, thank god, and once they meet me they never come by again."

"I see,” you muse, “you're the overprotective type," you bite on a strawberry next.

"I wouldn't say it like that..." he sees the sarcastic glimpse on your expression and holds back laughter. "It's a dad reflex, I can't control it."

"Right, sounds convincing."

You stretch your arm behind the couch, setting your elbow and laying the side of your face on your palm. His face is very close to yours but all you do is simply stare at each other; Joel's big brown eyes glimmer with infatuation. “Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?" he asks lowly. "Somethin' more serious."

You wince in confusion, but still nod, "Sure."

He inhales sharply, taking a couple of seconds to actually say what he meant to. “Why are you here?" your frown deepens at his words. "I mean- Texas. I know you said you wanted to make up for the lost time with your old man, but... I feel like there's something else you're not saying."

It takes a minute for you to really sink in on his question. You nearly gulp down the alcohol before setting the glass down, avoiding his ardent gaze.

"Honestly?" you sigh, "There's so much to unpack that I don't even know where to start."

"Try." Although he didn't sound harsh, the effort he was asking you to put in wasn't something of your liking.

"Well, first of all," you meditate, clearing your throat, "the city didn't feel like home since my mom passed. It made me realize how much I missed here." He nods comprehensively, caressing the exposed skin of your thigh in a reassuring manner. "And then there's this- fear. Yeah, I guess it is fear... I've managed to accomplish so much in such short time that it actually fucking scares me to go any further and see that-" you stop, sighing and shaking your head. "That I've reached my limit."

For a moment, there's just silence floating between you, all that could be heard were the rain and a song by tears for fears.

"Darlin', look at me," he asks softly but you can't bring yourself to do it, embarrassed by your confession. "Please, let me see those pretty eyes of yours."

And it's practically impossible for you to deny him anything. Specially when he asks so nicely, when his hand grabs the side of your face so gently— you give in, just like that.

"You're afraid to succeed because you don't know what to do with yourself afterwards. Is that it?" You nod faintly. "Can I speak frankly?"

"I have a feeling you will anyway-"

"Yeah. A bit of tough love, but you need’a hear it." Joel strokes your cheek sweetly and you get shivers from the affection in the action. "Sweetheart, I know what you're going through. Shit feels like it's either moving too fast or not moving at all. And I know how scary that is. Trust me, there's still plenty of time for you."

You square your eyes to his, "Sure, bet you were frightened when you were twenty four."

"Terrified," he spoke truthfully. "Everyone I knew was getting married, moving out or working their asses off."

"And you?" he grunts, taking a strawberry from the box. "What were you doing?" Joel eats the fruit patiently, simply staring at you silently. "Come ooon, don't play hard to get."

"Gotta promise you won't laugh."

It's a tricky business for someone who makes fun of everything, and yet you simply reply: "I swear."

"Fine," he rasps out in fake annoyance. "I used to make my own guitars and- sell 'em sometimes. I'd also teach guitar lessons and horseback riding."

Your eyes widen in surprise and something flutters in your stomach. "Shit, that's actually pretty cool!"

He groans, rolling his eyes at the same time, "I told you not to make fun of me."

"No, no- I mean it." You shuffle on his lap, resting a hand on his chest. "And you sound passionate about it... Why'd you stop?"

The man shrugs his shoulders, tightening his grip on your waist. "It went well for a couple years but I eventually had to get something more solid. More so after Sarah was born." He takes a deep breath in, the smell of his own shampoo on your hair hitting his nostrils and catching him off-guard.

"You should teach me," you suggest with a smug grin. "I always wanted to learn."

"What, guitar or horseback riding?" he wonders, suddenly nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck.

"Guitar. I'm pretty good at riding, if you must know." You feel him chuckle against your body, his facial hair scratching your sensitive skin.

"We'll see 'bout that," his voice comes out husky as he starts kissing along your jawline.

Joel's common sense jumped out the window long ago, but the string of self control that kept him sane all this time couldn't bear the weight of you wriggling on top of him, semi-naked and with his scent all over you. Something primal took over him, a glimpse of possessiveness that he didn't believe himself capable of feeling towards you specifically. He wanted you to wear that flannel around town so people would look at you and know who it belonged to; whose bed you've been visiting. He wanted you to smell of his cologne so other men would know that you weren't free for them.

Your fingers run through his soft curls, messing his hair while he grabs the back of your thighs and manhandles you onto straddling his lap. He nips and licks over all your vulnerable areas, making your breathing start to labour. How could he possibly know this well the easiest ways to have you so desperate this quick? Leaning into his touch, yearning for him even with the smallest action? He wasn't aware of the answer himself, he just knew.

Joel instinctively throws his head back when you tug at his hair and seize the opportunity to duck down and lay a sweet kiss on his forehead. His hands coast up your thighs, splaying his fingers on your ass to squeeze the flesh. You hold back a giggle, kissing the curve of his nose before catching his soft, soft lips on yours.

He slides an arm around your waist, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades to keep you as close as possible. You feel your nipples harden when his tongue ran along your bottom lip— tauntingly slow, until you allowed him full access to your mouth, letting him taste the sweet mixture of wine and strawberries on your tongue. But his vehemence didn't make you any less eager, kissing him back with just as much passion and vigor, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip and mildly pulling at it with minor strength.

The action ignites a fire within him, seeing you on top, feeling your fingers roam around his cheekbones and along his jawline like you knew just how much fucking power you had over him... It was a new sensation, a new kind of desire he didn't recognize at first.

Joel's lips were swollen and his own excitement was starting to feel evident underneath you, which created a blunt ache between your legs. He usually appeared so big and mean, with those broad shoulders and permanent scowl on his face. Now, though... He seemed like he'd let you do just about anything with him, to him— it didn't really matter as long as you kept staring at him like that; through heavy lids, eyes sparkling with a profound, desperate need that spoke without words, saying 'only you get to see this side of me'.

You start grinding your hips against his, rubbing your clothed core above his growing boner in small, calculated circles as you shore yourself up with a hand to his chest. He merely admired you from his position, letting you have your way with him; all the while his gaze reflected patience, like he could take over the situation any second but enjoyed watching you lead.

"Joel," you call his name, leaning forward to kiss his chin, moving your lips all the way down his throat and feeling the nice scratch of his beard. Your hands grab the collar of his shirt as you come up to whisper in his ear: "Stay still."

Panting, he narrows his eyes in confusion, "What?" Though you don't give him enough time to figure out your words, getting back on your feet and parting his legs further with a light thump of your knee.

He observes your every move quietly, amused by your confidence and determination when you drop to your knees in front of him. Joel's cocky expression doesn't sway, not even when you drag your nails across his inner thigh, inching closer towards his very visible hard on. However, his body betrays him, selling a whole different story. His muscles tense, his jaw clenches and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"Stop being such a fucking tease," he hissed, refusing to place his hands on you.

"Or what?" you drawl, coming to rest your palm on his crotch. A simple, feathery touch that made his pulse accelerate.

"You'll regret it," he warns grimly.

"S'that so?" you start to unbuckle his belt, way too slow for his liking, tugging down the zipper of his jeans. "I think I can handle it."

He smirked, his hand slithers to the back of your scalp and forces you to lock eyes with him. "Don't test your luck, sweetheart."

You pout mockingly, doing exactly the opposite of what he was saying while dragging down the fabric just enough to free his cock. Your new found courage falters for a second, finally seeing him in all his size and girth. He was, by all means, a big one, the amount of precome oozing on the tip telling you just how much he loved being teased, despite whatever words came out of his mouth. The mere sight of it sent a new heated wave of slick between your thighs.

Joel mimicked your expression scornfully, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone, "Too big for ya'?"

"None of that," you wrap your hand around the base, not really applying any pressure; though the sole warmth of your touch was enough to give him goosebumps, "we'll make it fit."

"That's my girl."

With a chuckle, you lower your head to kiss the inside of his thigh, the pads of your fingers softly grazing the veins on his length. His whole body shudders, leaking onto your hand and letting out a subtle gasp as you spread kisses all along his shaft. Your eyes peer into his soul when you gently place your lips to the slit, tasting the salty precome as he calls your name in what resembles a desperate plea. In a swift move, you finally take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and deciding to put an end to his suffering. He mutters a gruff 'fuck' when you attempt to take him farther, pumping what you couldn't yet fit and snaking your free hand under the hem of his denim shirt to caress the soft skin of his belly.

"Shit, darlin'-" you feel the heaviness of his palm simply resting on the back of your head, not pushing or forcing you in any way, but allowing you to adapt to his size. "The only way to get ya' to stop talking is with a mouth full of cock, ain't it?"

You hum in response and the sensation is completely enrapturing for Joel, his callused fingers tangle in your hair to ground him as he releases a shaky breath. It's a huge challenge to focus on anything else but him; your mind whirring with a familiar dizziness while you bob your head up and down his shaft, intoxicated by the taste of him, the smell of him and every sound that escapes his lips, making your clit throb with need and your arousal pool in your panties, uncomfortably sticking to your skin.

For Joel, it's overwhelming.

He's never really been the noisy type during sex but heck— you were doing it for him. He's a panting mess above you, his hips buck ever so slightly in tandem with your mouth, trying not to lose it entirely. Your spit drools down his dick and the way your dark, dilated pupils sparkle with lust as you hollow your cheeks around him pulls a groan deep from his throat.

"That's it, you can take it," he coaxes when your nose nudges his pubic bone, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. "Good fuckin' girl, just like that..."

Enticed with the praise, you keep repeating the motion, sliding one hand to hold his hipbone for support and feeling his burning skin under your touch whilst the other plays with his balls to aid his pleasure. The obscene slick sounds mix in the air with his hoarse cursing, the rain and the faint music of kings of leon, sex on fire.

He looks so good from this angle, chest rising and falling with heavy, irregular breaths, head thrown back and both hands on you, keeping you angled for his cock. Drops of precum roll on your tongue as you keep changing the pace at which your head moves, tears welling in your eyes and jaw going slack. Shit, you're aching for him so bad that the only thing you can think of to relieve the need is squeeze your thighs together in order to create some friction. And it works, the action eliciting a moan from you that makes him fucking whimper your name.

"Bet your cunt's drippin' just from sucking my dick," he muffles a laugh that turns halfway into a sigh when you pay special attention to the ruddy, sensitive tip. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum-"

You can tell he is by the way his cock twitches in your mouth; his spine straightens at the heat gathering between his legs and he tries to pull you off against your will, uttering a warning that you chose to ignore. Joel's lips part in a throaty groan when he reaches his high, feeling the outline of your fingers digging harshly on his hip, your hand rubbing his length and your tongue lapping at his slit, taking in every single drop of his release until he's spent, right before pressing a soft kiss to it that makes him shiver. And hell— contrary to others, he tasted good; warm and thick, coating your senses.

His heart beats aggressively against his ribs and he loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to get back on your feet while resting your hands on his waist. Although his eyes are barely open, he can quite literally feel your smile when you chastely kiss his lips. He chuckles breathlessly as you sit beside him, tugging himself back in his pants.

"We're not done yet," he says, grabbing the back of your knee and promptly engulfing your leg around his waist, maneuvering your body so that your back rests against the couch and he's crouched down, caged in the middle of your thighs. "I said I'd make it up to you and I will."

"Well, you've certainly got some stamina in you, old man," you poke fun at him, raising a hand to move those rebellious curls away from his eyes.

Joel smiles, caressing your cheek affectionately. "Always got somethin' to say, don't ya'?"

"Oh, Mr. Miller," you coo, enveloping your arms around his neck, "we both know just how much you love to hear me talk."

"Mhm," he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, "yes, I reckon you're right."

His big hand covers nearly half of your face as he holds you still, crashing your lips together. He kisses you deeply, vigorously, in a way that makes you wonder if you could possibly drown in a person's essence. His other palm slides between your bodies to start undoing the buttons of the flannel —his flannel— you were wearing. You can't help but whine when he draws back, watching you from above.

"Joel-" blood rushes through your ears and can feel your cheeks warm up as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers coasting down your throat and to the valley of your breasts, licking his lips when he sees your hardened nipples.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he speaks freely, without holding back emotion, and it makes your heart skip a beat. "Such a sweet, sweet girl I can't get enough of."

"Then take a picture," you purr, "it'll last longer."

He stares at you through a measuring squint, a lighthearted smile forming on his face. "Since you insist." It takes a moment for you to realize what he means, until you finally recall that there's actually a camera inside your purse; one that he reaches for. "If I remember correctly... You said I could take as many as I like."

You lightly squeeze his waist with your thighs, feeling your whole body burn with anticipation. "I did say that..."

"Let's just pray your dad won't find these hanging around," he ponders, turning your face slightly to the side. "He'll have my head."

"And that would be terrible..."

He takes the Polaroid with one hand, the other coming to grope your breast as he backs off for a better angle, ultimately deciding to wrap his fingers loosely around your neck instead, purely holding you there. You glance at the lens, making your best "fuck me" eyes added to a cheeky smile, hearing him curse under his breath prior to snapping the picture.

"You've got the prettiest fucking tits I've even seen, sweetheart," he snarls, laying a palm flat over your lower abdomen while he waited for the photo.

"Has anyone ever told you you've got such a marvelous way with words?" he suppressed a laugh, safeguarding the picture on the back pocket of his jeans.

"Just a few women." Before you can even begin to act annoyed, he sets the camera aside and leans down to kiss your collarbones, the pad of his thumb kneading circles around your sensitive nipple. "Look at you, honey," he murmurs, "you're so easy to please... Or is it just because of me?"

You're panting, your back arching in response to his constant ministrations, every inch of your skin blushing under his attention. "I think it's-" you're cut off by the sudden need to swallow when he sucks a mark on the vulnerable skin between your breasts, "you."

His body vibrates with a laugh and you feel his hand palm your clothed sex, dragging his tongue over your delicate nipple, gently nibbling at it. You screw your eyes shut and let a single, fluttery moan slide past your lips when his thumb nudges your clit.

"So wet just from giving head?" Joel shakes his head in fake disapproval. "Who knew you were such a horny little thing?"

You are holding onto his bicep for dear life, fearing you might collapse into oblivion if you part from his body. His index glides across your slit over the drenched cotton fabric, making you squirm beneath him.

"You- you tasted good," you babble, mind all over the place.

"Yeah?" his chest swells with pride, "you should taste yourself, angel," his mouth travels across your abdomen, "sweetest thing I've ever had."

It's pointless trying to conjure a response, you're simply too far gone by now. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and buries his head between your thighs, flattening his tongue against the bundle of nerves. You whimper, running your fingers through his locks and bucking your hips to meet his face.

"Please," you blurt out, "Joel, please..."

"What, sweetheart?" he asks, moving the underwear aside to directly touch your clit, fondling it as he watched your slick coat his fingers. "What do you want?" But you can't conceive an answer, all that could come out of your mouth were those pathetic, desperate moans. "Use your words."

With his free hand he plays with your nipple, grabbing your breast with his entire hand. "I want you."

He tauntingly moves his fingers around your seam, refusing to go any further. "Say it again."

"I want you, Joel."

Cocky bastard.

He licks his fingers clean and starts getting off the couch, leaving you with a confused, dumbfounded expression that nearly makes him crack up.

"You didn't really believe I'd be fucking you on the couch, did ya'?" he teases, but all you can muster up is a barely audible 'oh'. "Come on, let's take this to my room. And don't forget to bring that camera of yours."

Mind still dazing, you obey his instructions, following him silently upstairs as he undoes the buttons of his shirt. For a second, he glances back at you, gifting a soft, reassuring grin before extending his arm to grab your fingers, holding your hand in a pure, intimate touch.

And just for that moment, you forget that he's actually your dad's oldest friend, that he's Sarah's father or any other thought of the sort. He's just Joel. Joel Miller, the only man that has managed to make you feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach, or that made you blush with merely a few compliments.

"Ask me to kiss you," he urges, taking the camera from your hands and carefully placing it on his bedside table, his eyesight fixed on you.

"Kiss me," you don't ask, you downright beg.

He does, though it's not like the previous times. He's tender, almost languid about it. His hands are on your bare hips while yours cup his cheeks; Joel's fingers reach to remove the flannel from your shoulders and moves his lips to the newly exposed skin, murmuring constant admirations. You feel your lungs clench and a tingly sensation on your lower belly.

"I'll take care of you, darlin'." You let the shirt slide down your arms and fall to the floor. "Gonna show you what you've been missin' out on by fooling around with those stupid boys." His words go straight to your core as he takes a step back to sit on the edge of his bed. "Take them off," he gestures to the last piece of clothing on your body.

You compel to his wish, stripping under his prying eyes while he lazily gets rid of his boots. His lips twitch in a smile when he sees the glistening mess he's made of you, promptly dragging you on top of him. Your hands lay flat on his exposed chest shortly before he switches positions, readjusting you on the middle of the bed.

"Joel, please just-" you whine when he keeps playing with your entrance, stretching you with his fingers. Your skin scorches with desire, knees weak from the growing heat on your lower body.

"Stop nagging, sweetheart," he grits through his own lust, his gaze impossibly dark. "I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Joel, I'm too worked up, I-" you gasp when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that particular spot that made your toes curl. "Fuck..."

"Come on, baby." He ducks down to kiss the skin behind your ear and his beard tickles nicely. "It's just the two of us now, feel free to be as loud as you need to."

His pants are undone and hanging loosely on his hips, the image being so blatantly erotic that only managed to get you more aroused as you fumble to get rid of his shirt. He chuckles at your eagerness, shrugging it out of the way and haphazardly kicking off his jeans and underwear altogether, discarding them on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

You take a second to revel on his naked figure, his tanned skin, broad shoulders and sturdy chest, the marked collarbones and every noticeable mole. His hair is messy from your fingers, a thin layer of sweat sticks some curls to his temples as his wild, hungry eyes bask in the view of your sopping pussy when he parts your shaky legs further. But the moment of appreciation is brief, both of you being edged and spurred on.

He maneuvers a hand to your lower back and aligns your hips with his, watching the way your hole drips for him, wetting his bedsheets. You're a panting mess beneath him, lightly scratching his shoulder-blades and biting on your bottom lip, looking up at him doe-eyed and all splayed out for him to take. Joel wants to tell you just how badly he's longed for this— how he's been yearning to have you so achingly bad. But right now, feelings overrun his thoughts, especially after hearing his name spilling from your lips, begging for him to take you.

"Relax, darlin'." Joel teases your slit with the head of his cock, rubbing it along your sex and coating it with your slick. Your head tilts backwards, dipping on his pillows, small whines keep spilling from your mouth. "I won't go easy on you."

"Great, cause I don't want you to-" your slurred words get muffled by the sudden feeling of intrusion as he finally buries himself in your cunt, letting out a filthy, guttural groan.

You close your eyes, feeling lightheaded and staggered from the way he was filling you up so nicely, the stretch being a tad painful at first, but the kind of pain that could only ever feel good. Then your whole body quivers from head to toe.

"That's it, you can take it," he mutters, peppering kisses to your chin and collarbones as he bottoms out. "Fuck, you feel divine-" The tight, warm grip you welcome him with resembles nothing he's ever had before. This is new, this is you.

You bear down on his cock, enveloping your legs around his waist and lifting your hips to encourage him. He holds you down with a firm grip around your neck, starting to set a pace with his hips as he draws out and then back in slowly, roughly, making your back arch. Your erect nipples brush against his strong chest and create a delightful friction that has you moaning louder than you could've expected. You're amazed by the way he thrusts into you, somehow mindful to hit every right spot inside you —needless to say that it was something that others could hardly manage before—, his pubic hair tickles the skin below your belly button, sending shivers down your spine that prompt you to drag your nails down his back.

"Look," he indicates, despite your inability to even think straight. "Look," he repeats harshly, using the hand that was on your hips to tilt your head downwards, forcing you to stare at where your bodies connected. It was obscene, the wet noises of your pussy and skin clapping against skin sounding purely pornographic. "Look at the mess you're making."

"Joel, I-" you can't form sentences properly, all your attention being focused on how good he's making you feel. "I'm so close, for god's sake..."

"Lemme help with that," he speaks breathlessly, pining your leg over the crook of his elbow to make his thrusts deeper, more precise. You cry out in bliss, feeling the heat expanding from your stomach to your legs. "Yeah, you're close, I can fuckin' feel it- fuck..."

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing his dick just right. He knows he's in too deep when you call out his name like it's the only word you can remember, when he wallows in the glorious view of your pretty face contorted in pleasure. He looses the grip on your neck and strokes your lower lip with his thumb, prodding you to keep eye contact as your orgasm washes over you. It's electrifying, a feverish kind of sensation that gratifies every nerve on your body.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, overcame by the intense feeling of euphoria that your body was providing. You realize in that moment that the reason why Joel could fill that void so easily was because he kept prioritizing you above him. Your pleasure was his, too.

"Jesus Christ, Joel-" you mewl when he abruptly pulls out, “… Worth the wait.”

He laughs shakily, kissing your lips shortly. "Turn around, sweetheart. I want to fuck you from behind."

With a buzzing dizziness, you follow his instruction. God, right now you'd do just about anything if he asked you to. You notice movement from his part and patiently wait with your butt up in the air for him to stuff you again; instead, you hear the familiar clicking sound of the Polaroid camera.

"You fucker," you chuckle, "did you just take a picture of my ass?"

"Couldn't help myself," he groans, caressing the soft flesh before lightly slapping it. "You look too damn gorgeous." The hit on your skin burns nicely and you can't hold back the gasp that escapes your lips.

"Shit- do that again..."

You can practically hear his smile when he talks, "You into that?" he repeats the action with a little more force and the pain sends a shock of pure pleasure between your legs, your own fluids dripping down your thighs. "F'course you are, I should've guessed with that attitude of yours."

He plays with your swollen pussy, enjoying your tiny moans and the way your legs tremble as you fist the sheets underneath you, burying your face on his pillow when he spanks you again— this time so hard that it probably left a mark. But before the sting washes away he takes the opportunity to enter you in one swift move, holding your hips steady and trailing his fingers along your spine.

"That's my sweet girl," he praises a midst, starting to grind his cock inside you. "Taking me like you were made for it."

This is way more intense, the angle allowing him to hit deeper, harsher. His gruff moans become more frequent as he speeds up his pace, letting you know just how good you were making him feel. The sensation was purely fantastic, melting every thought away and just leaving Joel Miller to fill you in every sense of the word. His hands are never still, roaming your responsive areas, caressing the most sensitive and always taking care of your aching clit.

You might cry from the overwhelming ecstasy— the way his tip constantly hits the depths of your cunt with each relentless thrust has you seeing stars. Joel gets a thrill from the way you can't seem to get enough of him either, throwing your hips back to meet his unwavering pace, clawing at the pillows and moaning helplessly, pushing him close to his climax.

"Joel, it's too much..." you mumble. "Please, I can't-"

He hunches over you, kissing your nape to ease the overpowering sensations, "Yes, you can. You're a big girl, you can take it." And then your vision goes blurry, all you're able to hear being his disjointed, lewd moans; all you can feel is his hard, hot body flushed to yours, his cock twitching inside you and the wetness of your own body. "That's it, give me another one, baby- fuuuck..."

The buildup is so strong you nearly collapse, feeling yourself tremble as he chases his orgasm, fucking you through yours. His fingers reach your bundle of nerves and apply barely any pressure, which has you coming undone in seconds, absolutely soaking his dick and the sheets beneath you, chanting his name like a prayer. A string of curses falls from his lips as he pulls out and quickly manhandles your fucked out self to lay on your back. He exhales sharply through his nose, spilling his load all over your stomach without even touching himself.

You both stay there for a while, catching your breath and looking intently at each other’s eyes before he rolls over, going limp beside you. You stare blankly at de ceiling, suddenly feeling aggressively aware of your sticky skin covered in sweat and cum, the numbness on your lower body that will surely feel sore in the morning and all the marks he's left dispersed on you. You feel satisfied, fulfilled even. Joy bubbles up your chest and comes out in form of a giggle, one you're unable to hold back.

"What?" he asks, turning his face towards you with a half-smile.

"I don't know, I just..." you shake your head, still laughing. "I don't know."

He chortles in disbelief, holding out a hand to take some tissues from the bedside drawer and going to swipe his mess off your tummy and inner thighs. "Shit, I think I might’ve just fucked the sense out of ya'."

Joel sets himself between your parted legs, laying the weight of his upper body on top of you, resting his chin on your chest, eyes boring into yours. He looks so young like this, despite the greying hair and the small wrinkles, his beautiful brown orbs sparkle ever so brightly under your attentive gaze.

"What will your dad say when he returns and finds out his only daughter has completely lost her mind?" he jokes, cradling you in his big arms.

"Come on," you roll your eyes playfully, "we both know that if I had been in my right mind since the beginning, I probably wouldn't be in your bed right now." He doesn't reply, but his smile doesn't fade either. Joel nuzzles his face on the crook of your neck, kissing your pulse zone briefly before closing his eyes. You run your fingers through his hair, softly massaging his scalp in utter silence.

The wind was howling outside, rustling the tree branches, but at least it wasn't raining anymore. You can feel Joel's heart beating against your ribs, his deep breaths fanning across your shoulder and his unique scent all around you, on you. In spite of the cold air, your naked bodies are warm enough to stay comfortably in this position, at least for a while— however, there's something deep inside you that doesn't want this moment to end.

"Hey," you call him lowly and he hums in response, "can we order pizza?"

He nods faintly, "Anything you want, honey."

Anything.

If only.

"I'll call," you say. "Any specific requests?"

"As long as there isn't any pineapple on it, we're fine." You glance down at him, almost appalled.

"You don't like pineapple on pizza?"

"No. That's disgusting, come on."

"Oh, grow up!" he opens his mouth to retort, but when he sees your dismayed expression he can merely bark a laugh that you get infected with.

"Order whatever you want," he whispers in your ear. "But you'll have to promise something."

"What's that?" you raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Say you'll stay," he murmurs, slightly hesitant. "Stay here and spend the night with me."

The proposal takes you by surprise, so much that you actually stopped breathing. You ponder wether if you could or you should; because, at the end, what would a night really mean? What could possibly change?

Nothing, right?

Besides, no one had to know.

(...)

A few moments later you're downstairs looking for your phone, wearing nothing other than his green flannel. Joel decided to take a shower while you ordered the food and you chose to walk around the house, paying attention to the little details you hadn't quite noticed before.

Now that you see it, there are plenty of horse images here and there. Very Texan of Joel, you can't deny. Lots of pictures of Sarah growing up, some of him and Tommy and a good deal with your dad. None of his ex-wife. In fact, there's no proof that she even existed. You decide not too think too hard about it, since it was none of your business after all.

You pour yourself a glass of water and wander your eyes across the amount of pills he usually takes. Anxiety pills, painkillers, vitamins. What could possibly be troubling this middle-aged man so bad? Again, you decide to turn a blind eye and simply pick up the phone, expecting a message from your dad to tell you he arrived in Boston well and safe. Instead, you find that your direct messages in social media have new requests. Curious, you open them to see what the fuzz was about.

Hi!

This is Will

I don't know if Sarah mentioned me...

I'm her English teacher, haha

I hope you don't find this creepy, your profile popped up in my 'people you may know' section and since Sarah said she wanted to introduce us, I thought I might just say hi 😉

Honestly, with everything that went down you had nearly forgotten about Sarah's 'you should hang out with people your age' speech. And now that you were stalking his profile, he appeared to be maybe a couple years older than you— handsome in a boyish, intelectual way, if that made sense. Apparently, he studied in New York too, and lived in Queens.

Hi!

Yeah, I reckon she did

What's up, Queens? :)

You don't really expect a reply, not giving much thought to anything in the moment. Though, an involuntary smile twitches your lips when there's a quick message that reads "Not much, Brooklyn" and the writing bubble underneath.

After all, having a friend in Austin wouldn't hurt.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us au #smut

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todorokis-girl · 4 months

Text

I Never Knew You Were Alive - Soulmate AU (II)

Touya x f!reader

I do apologize, I have a certain love for the mundane, and I like to expand on boring things before I get to the "meat" of the story. This one has nothing but mundane.

If anyone has any suggestions, I am open to hearing them. I have a rough plot, but like I said, I get side tracked with exploring random things, my pacing can be kind of slow. I do filler chapters when I feel like writing but I haven't finished the main chapter yet.

Also, if you want to get tagged in the next one, please let me know.

No actual dabi in this one

Chapter I: So it starts Chapter II: A late arrival Chapter III: belive of be doomed Chapter IV: What are we doing? Chapter V: Last minute encounter Chapter VI: Deciding to fall in love with you

masterlist

Previous chapter

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Chapter II: A late Arrival

As the sun rose over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, a new day dawned at The Hero Academy. Excitement buzzed through the corridors, echoing the eager chatter of students and the hushed whispers of anticipation, at what this new semester would bring them.

Amidst the throng of pupils eagerly making their way to class, one figure stood out—a newcomer, her footsteps quickened by nerves and determination. Unbeknownst to the students, she was already late, the weight of unfamiliar hallways slowing her progress as she navigated the maze of the school seemingly for the first time, even though she had been there before, as a student herself. With each passing minute, her heart raced, a slow, calming breath exhaled though her nostrils, the anxiety of tardiness threatening to overshadow the promise of a fresh start; and as she finally stepped through the classroom door, a momentary pause hung in the air, hinting at the unexpected journey that lay ahead.

She was unlucky Aizawa had told her to simply step into the classroom the moment she arrived, he had start of the semester paperwork to get done, he could leave them alone for a couple of minutes to wait for her. New people scared her, and children made her anxious. Why did she think she could do this job again? Keigo had a point telling her to reject the job.

She placed her things quickly behind the podium, and grabbed a piece of white chalk from a box of them that already lived there. She was gonna do the classic cliche of writing her name on the board; but what was she to do, she was anxious and still terrified to attempt to look at the students. Taking a second to adjust to the admosphre, and get their attention withought looking at them seemed the most apropriate.

She hadn't meant to be late, she woke up this morning at the UA dorms like she was supposed to, with plenty of time to spare, she was even having a lovely talk with her new co-worker about how to approach the students of class 1A; but there had been a sudden emergency at the agency and Endeavor was already split with work. As talented and powerful as he is, he can't be in two opposing places at once; and she was still the second to call there.

The coffee was sweet, with an adequate amount of creamer, it tasted... perfect nutty with a creamy texture "This is delicious," My eyes brighten intensely making direct eye contact with Aizawa, Sh was truly not expecting it to be so good "thank you for the coffee" I'm never going to a coffee shop again.

He ignored her and started talking about his students, giving careful insight into the ones he considered harder to handle "Bakugou can be a little rough, he might sound aggressive, but he's truly just a dedicated person" She nodded signaling that she was listening, but never forgetting her coffee.

As calming as the morning might seem from an outside perspective, she wasn't feeling calm at all, and she didn't know why. She woke up with waves of anxiety washing over her, and as the hours passed, anxiety turned to determination and slowly... a weird mixture between happiness, satisfaction and sadness. Where it al came from she didn't really know. What she did know is that she was thankful Eraserhead had taken time out of his morning to help her out not just with advice, but with company, allowing her to control the conflicting shift of emotions. Even if she didn’t really know where they came from.

She was about to open her mouth, to ask a question about the best way to structure lessons for them, to add to the previous insight she was given, but she was stopped by the loud ring of her phone, the ringtone she had for any calls coming from the agency.

She quickly picked up the phone, excusing herself from her co-worker "This better be important, Heatstroke" She took one sip of her coffee as she heard the intense response, "Endeavor is busy in a meeting with the commissioner, emergency fire at a building, too hot for any of us to walk into....it's the bluefire quirk" immediately putting the mug down (regretfully), she hung the phone and got ready to leave

Before she could she quickly turned to Aizawa, before leaving "I might be a little late... any chance you'll keep the students entertained until I get back?" A hopeful expression covering her face.

"Just walk in, they won't burn the classroom down, or I'll make them suffer; a couple of minutes won't hurt" I laughed running out the door, his reply calmingly amusing and grateful my hero suit was my uniform.

She took one final deep breath when her name was finally written on the board, time to turn around...

She cleared her throat attempting to get the attention of the members of the class, not noticing that she already had it "Good morning students, sorry for the wait," she greeted them with her usual bright smile, hero work had it's perks outside of using your quirk freely; it provided professional level acting experience "I'm the temperature hero, Thermiforst, and I will be your teacher for the new class 'Alternative Strategies' it's a pleasure to meet you all"

.......

"You did good, the students seem to like you" She looked up from her paperwork to make eye contact with Aizawa, making her relax just a little bit. She had been overthinking all day about the impression she had made of the students of both class A and B.

"Thank you, it was all thanks to you really, "controlled curiosity"? Was not expecting that to work" He sat down a cup of lavender tea (the smell was quickly feeling her nostrils, she didn't even need to get close to the cup to identify the type) next to the paperwork she was working on, following it up with a plump and juicy looking peach. She smiled and looked up at him carefully, with a soft smile, she felt so welcomed "Thank you". He simply waved her off over his shoulders as he walked away to his own desk.

Going back to your old school always sounds like such a lame thing to do. Sort of like reminding yourself of all the times graduated students would come back to the school to visit to seem cool, and it just ended up seeming stupid; it's different when you're coming back to teach, but it still gives a bad feeling at first.

Also, the whole thing with Hawks the week before had undeniably rattled her, at first she was just mad that he was implying that she couldn't take care of herself as well as the students, but now, with fresh eyes and a new perspective of the situation... she was just worried. Hawks was over protective of her, so was everyone else around her, but this was unusual, he'd never question her heroism, or her ability to take care of herself. He knew more than he was saying, and if she knew anything about Keigo and his background, the hero comission was one-thousand percent behind all of this, and that scared her; it appeared he was in a lot more danger than she could possibly be.

The league of villains. She could see how the comission could care about them, currently they are a danger to not just society but the hero community, and there was no chance, the hero comission was simply going to let that go...

Kaigo... what the hell did you get yourself into...

Her thoughts running so high she once again started to feel a slight bothersome in her soulmate mark, it always demanded attention when she seemed to be running high on emotions. She always thought, it was simply her body asking for her soulmate for comfort, but she didn't have the ability to do that; and she hated the constant reminder.

ding

She got snapped out of her thoughts and her eyes went to her phone freshly lit up screen. A fresh message from Keigo. Speak of the devil.

'How was the first day with the brats?' She looked over at the time realizing that she was due to clock out, and started packing up her things before she took the time to answer the message. Quietly thanking him for reminding her she did't have to sit there indefinitely.

She placed the straps over her shoulder, the weight of the one strap she used causing her to lean slightly to the side. She took the clip off and dropped it on her desk, if she forgot to take it off, she would have nothing to hold her hair up with it.

She finally took her phone to finally reply to her messages; as she did she remembered the blue flames from earlier in the morning, and how for some reason they had caused a sense of familiarity and a deep longing.

She was used to walking on fires, and extremely cold temperatures; nothing to worry about. What she was worried about what the fire felt like, on her skin, it felt like she could stand there for hours and feel at peace. She felt comfort. She'd have to look into it later.

'It was really fun, don't call them brats, they're really sweet kids'

'yeah yeah, whatever. I'll see you this weekend for coffee as usual, right?'

'of course loser, stay alive till then, ok?'

'Sure, See you Tomorrow at the usual place"

'see you tomorrow’

Weeks later

In the hushed confines of the darkened living room, a rhythmic tapping sound reverberated as the back of laptop was lifted the back of her laptop, her fingers clutching the sleek device with a hint of tension. Her gaze remained fixed, unwavering, on the solitary blue radiance emanating from the unassuming coffee machine stationed on the kitchen counter. Yet, amidst the ambient glow, her vision faltered, blurred by the shimmer of tears that veiled her eyes, from her perspective, casting twin reflections of the light. As they spilled over, tracing a silent journey down her cheek, the world seemed to blur into a poignant symphony of emotion.

She had a feeling that something was off, her soulmate's name on the inside of her arm burned, it burned so much it made her resolve falter. She went into the blue flames enveloping the building, with the intention of finding survivors, she was the only one who could walk into them; and Endeavor had been in the middle of a reunion with the commissioner when everything started.

The feeling of the fire on her skin felt... calming, almost comforting, and it shook her to her core but she ignored it and pushed herself to walk to save people. Through out the entire event, the more she stood in the flame, the more her soulmate mark screamed. Once the job was done, and the reports are written she gave herself the time to look over the person behind the fire.

Dabi, member of the League of Villains, quirk? Bluefire. Similar to Endeavor's.. but hotter, much hotter, so much hotter it seems, that it slowly burns away his own body from the inside out. No one knows where he came from, who he is or even what his name is; all we know is that he's... Dabi.

The current knowledge was making her overthink, what she was thinking was insane, absolutely fucking crazy. yet, if it was true... it wouldn't be hard to believe. Sure, Endeavor helped her out, basically raised her and allowed her to use the family name after her own parents ditched her... but she wasn't delusional. Enji Todoroki wasn't a saint, and she knew it. The state of the family was definitely a tall tell sign of that.

You're crazy, years without a soulmate has made you delusional.

But, the feelings, the soulmate marks, the quirk similarities with Endeavor, the seeming obsession with Shouto and Endeavor....

She had to find him, he was out there and she had to find him. She was going to ask him, and she'd let him go, just this once... for his troubles, just in case she was wrong. She needed to tell him, even if she had no response from him. Because if she was right, he already knew who she was, and that killed her.

She quickly snapped herself out of her trance, and looked around the even darker room, random scattered lights all around from multiple appliances; she took a deep breath to snap herself out of the heartbreak she had caused herself and opened her laptop again; quickly accessing Endeavors agency database and into her profile, placing a pin on the villain and setting notifications to be sent to her phone.

With the process over, she looked around her inmediate area, attempting to find her phone. She hadn't had any confirmation in the next few weeks, but she was sure of who could give her the information she wanted, and he was going to help her.

She scrolled through her phone's contacts looking for his name, once she spotted it, she quickly proceeded to click on his name and placing the phone in her ear.

Ring

Ri-

"Hey Birdie, it's kind of late for a call, you ok?" His voice was gentle, you could hear the clear worry.

She looked up to the clearly visible time in her microwave '3:00 am', she swallowed guiltily, she hadn't even noticed; but she wasn't gonna wait anymore.

"Hey Keigo, I need something from you"

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holdupjack · 1 month

Text

The Asylum Pt.1

——————

Pairing: Hermione Ganger x Fem!Reader

AU: Earlier 1900’s & Horror

WARNING: 18+ MINORS DNI/SUGGESTED RÄPE/GORE

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

July 1899

Y/n let out an anxious breath as she looked upon the Brightwood Asylum in the remote location in the north of Ireland.

Woods surrounded the structure, they were all dead and rotted, Y/n couldn't even see a living tree anywhere around her.

A bad omen.

Two horse-drawn buses stood dormant in the vacant lot as Y/n strolled near it, the animals were nowhere to be found. Her eyes shifted across the straps that lay on the ground, they had been cut free intentionally, but why?

It was a long walk to and from, and she should know, no one would take her here in the town a few kilometers/miles away. The feeling of eyes on her as she trudged her way through the woods was very prevalent.

Y/n looked back at the building and noticed it was eerily quiet, which was confusing since this place had bared windows that were always open. People in town had said that they could hear the patients screaming at night after most of the citizens had gone home.

One man she had talked to had said that the shrieks were the most common, but the calling for help from anyone, god, and the devil was the hardest to bear when he was outside past dusk.

Y/n had asked about a new patient that was brought here a few months ago, a woman around her age, that was accused of witchcraft in England.

The man had asked for a picture, to which the young woman quickly dug one out of her coin purse and showed him.

Hermione Granger, her girlfriend.

It had been a dubious trail, a constable had grown quite fond of Hermione since they crossed paths on her way to work in the local factory.

She had turned down his advancements kindly, but that wasn't enough. He had tried to force himself upon her one night, but Hermione was able to get away and run back home to her 'roommate'.

Like clockwork a few days later, she was placed in handcuffs under the suspicion of witchcraft. It turns out that the constable was a very well-liked and influential man, his reach stretched far into the justice system.

When Hermione arrived at the courtroom later that week, she had asked for a barrister to represent her in the trial, to which she soon found out that the officer had blacklisted her from any willing help.

She was completely ostracized.

Before Y/n knew it, her girlfriend was sentenced to life at Brightwood Asylum as a 'willing participant' for their observations.

Y/n was horrified by the letters Hermione would send her before they randomly stopped a month ago.

Her hand snuck into her coat pocket and pulled out the last letter she had received from her girlfriend.

'June 11th, 1899

Dear Y/n,

As you remember in my last letter, I have been hearing rumors from other women in the female ward that an uprising was on the horizon. It wasn't till this morning that my fears were confirmed, a woman named Susan, who suffers from random outbursts of chaotic episodes, came into my room and told me to stay inside tonight. She told me to not come out no matter what I heard or saw and to keep my door locked until another woman came to get me.

Susan kept insisting that I should not open my door to any man or doctor. I'm terrified of what tonight will entail.

If you do not hear from me again, please don't come here looking for answers.

Please Y/n, I need you to stay safe.

I forgot to ask you in my last letter, but didn't the moon look lovely last night?

Patiently waiting for your letters.

- Hermione Granger'

Y/n eyes shifted back onto the seemingly empty asylum as she folded the letter back into her pocket, and sighed,

"I can't just sit in our home and wonder what has happened to you" she whispers as she looks around the lot one last time.

Then she noticed a horse chewing on some grass at the edge of the treeline, at first she thought it was one of the bus horses, but then spotted a constable logo on the blanket under the saddle.

The man's story in town popped into her mind.

"A few weeks ago the screaming just stopped. At first, everyone was relieved! We watched as the day shift was taken up the trail the next morning, but the night shift never came down. That's when we knew something horrible had happened, the chief of police sent a group of men up there that night, and guess what? They haven't returned either."

Y/n shook her head and slowly made her way up to the entrance of the building, the doors rattled as she tried to open them, but it was locked tight.

She raised her knuckles to knock, but hushed whispers seeped through the cracks.

"Someone's at the doors, do you think it's the chief?" a man asks as another scoff in detest.

"No, he's too much of a git to come up here. Too afraid to see the monsters he created" he replied as the voice got closer to the door.

"Who is it." a gruff man asks through the door and Y/n clears her throat to respond clearly.

"My name is Y/n Y/l/n. I've come to check in on my friend, Hermione Granger. I haven't received a letter from her in quite some time, and I am worried" she replies, and it's quiet on the other end for a moment.

"The Asylum is closed until further notice, have the Chief of Police contact us for further orders" he replies, and Y/n furrows her brows in confusion.

"The Chief of Police? What does he have to do with this?" she asks and a sad chuckle comes from behind the door.

"Everything kid...everything."

Y/n paused and began hearing footsteps walk away, which made her panic.

"Wait! Is she okay?" she calls out, and the footsteps stop.

"Who were you looking for again?" a frail man's voice asks, someone different.

"Hermione Granger, she's on the third floor of the woman's ward, room 11B" Y/n replies as she hears the shuffling of paper.

"She is still alive, but please, leave before you get hurt," he says and Y/n shook her head out of pure confusion.

Still alive? Before you get hurt?

What the hell is going on?

"Wait-"

"We must go, I'm sorry"

"Hey! Wait! Tell me what's going on here!" Y/n yells as she pounds on the door, but it is no use, her questions aren't going to get answered with a door between her and the voices.

Y/n backed up into the lot and looked around the front of the building, Hermione had written in one of her letters that her window had a beautiful view of the town, so that must mean her room in the front.

She had said the female ward was on the right, but did she mean facing the building or away?

"Dammit" Y/n sighs as she began walking around the huge facility, looking for a ladder or basement that they might have left open.

"Please be a ladder-please be a ladder-"

Of course, there was no ladder, just a small walk down towards a door marked 'basement' in the back.

"For love" Y/n reminded herself as she slowly stepped down to the door, which she now realized had a bloody handprint smeared on it.

"If that doesn't scream 'walk in here and we'll kill you', then I don't know what does" she whispers with a nervous chuckle as the door opened with ease.

The smell of sulfur was pungent, almost making Y/n double back in disgust as she pressed her wrist to her nose.

"Oh god" she mumbled in horror as she closed the door behind her quietly, the hall had a track on one side, and the words 'MORGUE' with an arrow painted on the wall towards the door she came through.

There was a small building in the back that had a smoke stack coming from its small metal pipe in the roof like a blazing fire was stuck inside.

Y/n wouldn't be surprised if there was a cremator in it, it was the easiest way to hide any evidence of foul play for an Asylum.

Hermione had said that they seemed to be experimenting on any patients which caused a ruckus in the building.

This happened a lot, because there were many people stuck in this building with mental illnesses and disorders we don't understand yet.

Y/n found it horrible what they did to people who just don't understand what they have done wrong. Sometimes she thought the doctors didn't know either

The light flickered above her as she slowly walked down the passageway, a small whisper could be heard as she made her way toward the stairs next to the closed elevator.

It was locked purposely, a chain was wrapped around the door that would usually be pulled back to let someone off. To Y/n's surprise, she found a young man curled up and rocking in the fetal position, in his late teens, he was the whispering she had heard.

"Dr.Matthews doesn't like it when I'm not in my cell-but where is he?-is he sleeping in the supply closet with Nurse Rose again? No. I think he was the next to be-"

Suddenly the man looks up and stares at Y/n, her eyes widening in horror at the missing skin and tissue that is supposed to cover his right cheek. She could see his teeth without him having to open his mouth.

"You're not supposed to be here" he sang as he stood up and got closer to the steel door, Y/n opened her mouth a few times as she stared into his eyes.

"Who locked you in here?" she asked as he fiddled with the name bracelet on his wrist.

It said, Regi Willis.

"Dr.Matthews said he would be back for me, but he never returned yesterday" he mumbled as Y/n looked around the hall, she gazed near the stairs and noticed a dragging trail of blood that led through the broken-down door.

"I saw Willie take him in there, he screamed for so long until he either got away or gave in" Regi states as she looks back at him.

"I'll be right back, let me see if he dropped the key nearby" she whispers as he just nods and stares at his feet.

Y/n slowly followed the trail that no one should ever purposely investigate, but she just can't leave him to die in an elevator.

Slowly she poked her head into the dimly lit stairway and shut her eyes immediately at the sight she saw.

Presumably, Dr.Matthews lay on his stomach against the stairs. His pants and undergarments had been forcibly ripped away, and it wouldn't take a genius to put together what had happened to him. Dried blood trails had left paths down the back of his legs.

"Oh god..." Y/n whispered as she opened her eyes again and slowly walked over to what was left of his pants, which lay next to his body.

Her hands shook uncontrollably as she searched for the key, hoping to save at least more than one person from this god-forsaken place.

"Help me" a horse voice whispers next to her, causing Y/n to stumble away, looking at what she thought was a dead body. His eyes were barely open, and his lips were cracked from lack of hydration.

"Dr.Matthews?" Y/n whispers as a tear falls from the corner of his eye onto the wooden stairs.

"Please help me," he said again, and Y/n nodded quickly.

"I am, I've come for my friend, but I'll have this place swarming with help soon" she replies as he begins to sob, either in relief that this nightmare was almost over or the fact that it would still be a while before any help came.

Y/n wasn't sure.

"He broke my spine, I can't move" Dr.Matthews whispers as Y/n quickly searches through his pants pocket, and finds the key.

"Regi might be able to help, let me go unlock him," Y/n says and the doctor sighs in relief.

"He's okay? Thank god" he states as Y/n quickly runs towards the elevator.

"Regi? Dr.Matthews needs your help. Do you think you can carry him to the town hospital?" Y/n asks as she finds him still standing where she left him.

"Yes. Dr.Matthews is my friend! He saved me from the room with the lightning" he replies as the Y/n shoved the key in the lock and watched as the chain fell to the ground.

As she opened the door, Regi quickly stepped out and walked toward the stairway, Y/n followed after and stuffed the key in her pants pocket.

"Hi, Dr.Matthews" Regi whispered as he stood at the doorway, biting his nails, the doctor let out a soft chuckle and sighed happily.

"Hi Regi, are you alright?" he asks as Y/n takes off her coat and places it around the man's lower region.

"I'm okay, are you okay?" he asked as he stepped closer and watched the young woman slowly flip the doctor onto his back.

"No, I'm not" he replies calmly, almost like he wasn't just desperately asking for help earlier.

"Regi, I need you to carry Dr.Matthews to town. He'll be able to get help and save some more of your friends in here." Y/n says as the young boy nods and begins to take the older man into his arms.

"You're my friend now, right?" he asked and Y/n smiled at the boy.

"Of course Regi, my name is Y/n" she replies as the boy smiles back, looking happy that she had agreed to be his friend.

"I have four friends now Dr.Matthews," he says happily, to which the older man smiled.

"That's wonderful Regi, maybe we could all get together and eat dinner after all of this?" he asks and the boy grinned, his loose skin stretching around his exposed teeth.

Even in tremendous pain, the doctor still cared about his patients more than anything.

"Oh Y/n, take this key in my front pocket before we depart" the doctor states as she quickly pulls out a silver skeleton key from his shirt pocket.

"This will unlock most doors in the facility," he says as his eyes meet hers.

"Will it open the cells?" she asks and his eyebrows flew up in surprise.

"No, why would you want to do that?" he asks and Y/n lets out a breath.

"My...friend is here, and she's not supposed to be" Y/n whispers as she averted her gaze.

"Who is it?" Regi asks as he taps his fingers on Dr.Mathews's side in an unknown rhythm, she quickly looks back at him with a smile.

"Hermione Granger, she's on the third floor" she replies as his smile resurfaces like an empty water bottle that had been held underwater.

"She's my friend too, she gives me her pudding at lunch" he stated as Y/n chuckled, and slowly escorted them back into the hall.

"That sounds like her, I bet she'd love it if all of us got together" Y/n states as points to the door at the end of the corridor. Maybe it was just to calm the boy's mind, or maybe it was to calm her own, but these promises did sound nice. Especially in the place she has not even been in for half an hour.

"Go out that door and follow the road back to town, Dr.Matthews will get help and hopefully get this mess handled," Y/n says as Regi nods as the doctor begins to speak to him in a quiet voice, something about getting him some honey-covered fruit. She watched the boy shuffle off to the door at the end of the long hallway, noticing the way his body shifted from side to side with each step.

Once she heard the door creak open and slam shut again, a sudden feeling of isolation took over Y/n's body. Feeling the way the air on her body stood at attention in the dim lighting, the distant songs of yelling and footsteps made it even more uncomfortable for her.

Her eyes slowly turned toward the stairs case, a beat of sweat across her forehead as she took a deep breath. One foot in front of the other. That's it. Just take it slow.

Each step up the stairs was quiet and calculated. All she had to do was sneak up to the third floor, get through the male ward, across the lobby, and into the female ward.

Easier said than done.

Once she made it to the main floor, she could hear the men from the front door were bickering to each other. Y/n slowly peeked her head around the corner, seeing their silhouettes dancing against the wall.

"Are you sure Willie has been secured back in his cell? God, did you see what he did to Dr.Matthews? It wasn't supposed to be like this man, we were only trying to get better care, but the-" the frail voice was cut off by the more dominant one, who silenced him with a simple wave us his hand.

"Yes, that monster is back in his secured cell, and speaking of Doctor Matthews, why don't you put him in the incinerator out back?" he responded and Y/n's eyes widened in fear. What the hell is going to happen when they realize he's gone?

"Incinerator? Do you hear yourself? That man may have been a whore, but at least he was kind-" he was cut off again.

"Don't you get it, Bernie? If the Chief finds out that we let one of our hostages get assaulted to death, don't you think he'll have us lined up against the wall?! This is life or death for us, so do as you're told! And kill Regi! His yapping mouth will give us away for sure!" The gruff man yelled as Y/n saw one of the shadows move quickly, which caused her to throw caution to the window and run up the next flight of stairs.

Y/n found the second floor to be completely pitch black, even the emergency lights were busted out. She squinted her eyes in the darkness before shaking her head and taking her chances to sneak up to the third floor. This time she was much quieter again, her head peaking over the railing to see a figure walking down to the basement.

She didn't have time, and a hiding place was the best option at the moment. Y/n took a small breath before finally making it to the fully lit third floor.

"Mark! Mark! Dr.Matthews is gone!" A voice rang out before Y/n felt the hairs stand up even taller, her body subconsciously moved into the empty hallway before quietly fitting under the nurse's station desk. Her heart pounded like someone was squeezing clay between their fingers and letting go.

She pulled in a chair to cover herself better on the exposed side of the desk. Y/n could hear the sound of footsteps running up and down the stairwell. Panicked voices repeating questions or not even getting them answered.

"Someone's here! Someone has to be here! Who would have let Regi out of the elevator? Dr.Matthews was dead! Or at least at its doorstep!" The man, apparently named Mark, says. The other one, Bernie, was mumbling incoherent prayers, almost like he was on the verge of tears.

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat as she heard the footsteps get closer, slowly coming up the stairwell and into the hallway. Then it was quiet, a few sniffles from Bernie passed by until a deep breath was let out.

"That kid from the door...what was her name?" Mark asks almost directly in front of the nurse's station. Y/n covered her mouth to stifle the loud breathing that tried to escape her as her heart pounded like a drum circle.

"Y/n, Y/n Y/l/n" Bernie responded as he took a deep breath as well, but much shakier than Marks. Then there was silence again.

"She had said that Hermione was the reason she was here" Mark hummed as his footsteps slowly walked toward the other end of the hallway, back toward the stairs. Y/n wanted to move, but the chair was in her way, and she's screwed if it scrapped on the ground or slammed into something else.

All she had to do was wait.

"Look for her, now"

This might take a while.

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian #fanfic #fluff #angst

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chuuyrr · 1 year

Note

would scarlet witch reader be able to read dazais mind?? i dont know if he would be able to completely nullify scarlet witch readers ability tho right? IM JUST OBSESSED WITH THIS NEW AU OF YOURS

scarlet witch! reader reading dazai's mind

bungo stray dogs x scarlet witch! reader

masterlist of the series

╰➤ CW(s): fluff, suggestive, headcanons

╰➤ PAIRING(s): dazai osamu

╰➤ SYNOPSIS: in which you, the scarlet witch, reads dazai osamu's mind using your "wiggly-woos" or chaos magic

headcanons !

dazai's mind has an array of thoughts.

there are thoughts of him committing you know what, strategies and deductions, and you were taken aback to think this man had feelings for you as he had thoughts for you.

dazai didn't even know you could read his mind at first since he was confident in his ability, but he was obviously wrong.

he is aware that you have the ability to enter other people's heads and read their thoughts given your special ability, but he also knows how you rarely use it unless absolutely necessary.

but you then caught dazai thinking about you one day in the office since his noisy thoughts were all over the place as they progressively built up over time.

and to be fair, dazai flirts with anyone and everyone, so it's difficult to imagine he likes you so much when you see how his head is filled with thoughts of you.

thoughts of you flashing him such a charming little smile, thoughts of you tilting your head at him whenever he asks you on a double suicide or flirts with you, or thoughts of you tilting your head at your foes when you're literally ready to annihilate them with your chaos magic ability.

all of dazai's mind was you, you, and you.

apart from every other thought that is.

dazai was actually surprised when you read his mind because his ability cannot negate yours, and your blushing made that clear.

is he embarrassed? no, of course not. he's dazai. he even has a shit-eating grin on his face when he sees your shy and blushing, surprised expression, and he's not even furious that you can read his thoughts.

dazai actually uses the fact that you can read his mind more of his advantage.

he often makes himself think about and play suggestive thoughts for you to see and read with your "wiggly-woos" magic.

dazai, being dazai, makes you see for yourself through his mind how badly he wants to kiss your lips, nibble at your neck to find your most sensitive sweet places and maybe mark you as his, and get a hold of you to feel up your soft, warm, and velvety skin.

dazai also imagines you in various attire that may or may not be revealing at times, or just how adorable and beautiful you would look with his coat and other clothes on you.

he loves your blushing and wide-eyed expression as you read or see it from his mind, or how you close your eyes shut while telepathically yelling at him to stop.

on a more serious side, dazai does use it in a more proper and beneficial manner during missions for the detective agency, but he genuinely likes making you red and shy with his very own thoughts about you.

and, on an annoying note, dazai does, in fact, utilize your ability to read his mind to make you hear his cheesy poetic sweet nothings, like how adorable you are when you scrunch your brows, how beautiful your smile is, and how stunning you are even when you're a mess.

he even calls you sweetheart, darling, and precious in his thoughts and not just in reality, making sure to say it aloud in his head especially for you to hear or read.

dazai also has a habit of mentally calling your name repeatedly just to get your attention and poke fun with you when you ignore him or are otherwise preoccupied.

you may be the fearsome and all powerful scarlet witch, capable of twisting reality to your liking with the snap of your fingers.

but with dazai around, you're no match as he knows how to make you nervous, flustered, and all vulnerable with his genuine and loving affections for you.

[ author's notes ! this was my first time writing something suggestive which i honestly doubt is even suggestive, but it is for me, so yeah. i've been listening to fetish, the ariana granda x selena gomez remix, and i got the motivation to write for dazai and attempt at something (which i ain't entirely proud of ngl), but anyway, it is still a new post from me, yours truly, niki, and i hope you still liked it !! (๑>◡<๑) ]

[ join my taglist, perhaps ? @atomi-mi @anonymousewrites @magpiemissy @anqelically @96jnie @lovesick-fairy @soleelia @celestair @irethepotato @nianre @sigmasdarling @lenasvoid @bloobewy @sittingalonereads @weedswitch @dazai-gojo-kinnie @17chuuya @idunnomynamesince2005 @youdidntseemehere21 @just-here-reading @achlysyo ]

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gluion · 9 months

Text

here’s much to do with hate, but more with love ➵ lee sangyeon & lee hyunjae

non-idol!lee sangyeon x reader, non-idol!lee hyunjae x reader

when you land the lead role for your university's upcoming play, you expect your scene partner to be your best friend, lee hyunjae. but when your eyes discover a different lee beside romeo montague's, you're certain that the universe is not on your side.

genre/warnings ➵ enemies to lovers, slight friends to lovers (kind of), afab reader (they/them pronouns), university au, theater au (?), suggestive themes, drinking, pet names (sweetheart), huh yunjin is your bestfriend, i don't remember much from physics so my bad if angular momentum is not taught in college (or probably a basic lesson), kevin moon is the director and kibum from shinee is the teacher advisor, three different scenes and one flashback, p1harmony cravity twice and ive cameo too, theater kids do know how to have fun!, sangyeon macbeth burn, the scottish play is macbeth btw, theater superstitions mentioned!!

word count ➵ 6.1k words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @vernyangel @mosviqu

a/n ➵ here's my submission for the secret santa fic exchange of the deoboyznet! i got daisy @daisyvisions <3 i hope you enjoy this, and i hope i got to fulfill your request (and did justice to sangmil) <3 thank you to @vernyangel and @winterchimez for betareading this <3 also thank you to @shegotthewoobies and @sizzlingdino for sharing your theater knowledge <3 much love <3 i'll definitely consider writing a part 2 for this fic if anyone wants it :') for everyone, please don't forget to reblog (even if it's in your tbr) and leave feedback <3

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

To exist is to perform. At every waking moment—every second, every location, every play—is an audience ready to witness an act, regardless of whether they attended the first act or came in the middle of the third. To exist is to perform. No matter what role you signed up for, you’re left to act as your own backstage crew, cast, and director. To exist is to perform. There’s no such thing as intermission for the crowd remains rooted in their seats. To exist is to perform. You’re born an actor; nothing can change that.

There’s an unwritten contract that comes with being an actor; it is to understand your role and scene, and then immerse in what your character is undergoing. Let the curtains draw back and feel. And most of all, never allow the audience or your castmate to disrupt the show.

(It didn’t matter if you were performing for someone or no one. The roles you undertake are made for you, after all; it’s only right to perform, perform, perform.)

(And regardless of the nature of the role—ensemble or lead, it didn’t matter because they held their own value—you knew to perform it as if it were your last show. But you’ll never allow yourself to be a ham; you would rather have someone exclaim the official name of “The Scottish Play” in the theater—scratch that, you would rather hear “good luck” at every opening night.)

For today’s play, you’re left with a monotonous role—a university student forced to listen to the blabbering of a lecturer as they teeter on a tightrope. At any second, you swear you could almost slip and fall into slumber, but the sound of your professor clearing his throat is what has you scrambling back into focus.

“So, angular momentum.” God, you need to get out of here.

Before you can find yourself falling back into your thoughts, the table vibrates. You look down at your phone to see a text from your best friend.

jennikirin: GIRRRLLL… jennikirin: i just heard that sir key posted the casting list

Your eyebrows shoot up. With hands quick to grab your phone and type out a reply, the voice of your professor turns into elevator music.

y/n: HUHHH isn’t that supposed to be coming out next week??? jennikirin: YEAA but zuha told me that sir key and kevin wanted it up early just so they could start preparing for the production jennikirin: jichang told her btw HUEYIQEYE y/n: IMCRYAINDG!?!@?@ y/n: fuck ME now i have to sit through the rest of this class knowing that the list is out already??? jennikirin: DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED i’m stuck with sir son in stupid econ… jennikirin: like I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU GREGORY MANKIW!!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!! y/n: i’m learning about stupid angular momentum under sir won… y/n: like i’m only here because ITS A GENERAL SUBJECT!!! I’M AN ADVERTISING MAJOR?? jennikirin: nvm sir son is dismissing us early 💗 i’m bolting to that corkboard see ya y/n: FAWK YEWWWW

All you have to do is follow through with your role until the curtains draw close—a simple task that seems impossible to complete. If your knees were to hit the ground and your hands would come together in a prayer position, would the performance be life-changing that the show is cut short? Could you be free from your duty as an actor playing a student?

(And it’s funny because you spent countless hours studying and praying to get into this university; you were in no position to complain.)

“That’s it for today’s class! Please make sure to read up on—”

You were out of the classroom before you could hear your professor’s full announcement. The details of your next assignment don’t matter when your fate is stored in a paper posted on a corkboard.

(Though, you know it is a lie. You did need to pass Mr. Won’s class to get your degree, and you didn’t want to go through Physics a second time.)

The hallway is filled with rumbling students, off to go to their next class or itching to get some food during their break in between. As you made your way through, you could only spit out half-hearted excuses—Sorry! Just passing!—as you bumped shoulders with strangers. Different looks were thrown your way, apologetic and scornful ones to name a few.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and you look down to see a text message from Yunjin. A sigh leaves you as you type out a reply while walking.

jennikirin: I JUST GOT HERE jennikirin: WRU y/n: OTW WAIR FIR ME jennikirin: BITCHHHH OKAY

Once you’ve made it out of the sea of extras, you can spot the brown corkboard surrounded by a crowd of students, and you can see your ginger-haired friend looking down at her phone. She’s pacing around, struggling to not look at the cast list.

“Huh Yunjin!” Her eyes land on you as you call out her name. You scurry your way to her. “Sorry! The hallways were packed.”

“It’s fine! Now, we need to check the casting list. I was practically dying not looking at it.” She tugs on your arm, maneuvering you both closer to the paper plastered on the corkboard. As she says excuses, you spot familiar faces leaving with different expressions—joy and disappointment to name a few.

You can spot Yoon Keeho and Hwang Intak walking away, sighs of relief leaving them. Shoulders down are what Kang Minhee and Ham Wonjin sported, a teary-eyed Song Hyeongjun trailing behind the two. Faces of those you knew during your time in countless productions, and others you’ve only met during auditions; they’ve read the paper that had their fates.

Every step is a dreadful one as you trudge your way through the crowd. (Or you could say being dragged by your best friend.) But before you can attest, you find yourself facing Yunjin, both of you only one look away from finding out your fates.

“Okay, are we ready?” Be still, your heart.

With one nod, you both look at the piece of paper that holds the names of those participating in the Romeo and Juliet production. As you spot Yunjin’s name beside Rosaline Capulet, your heart leaps at the sight.

“Oh my god, Yunjin, you GOT IT!”

“Y/N, YOU’RE JULIET!” You lock eyes with your best friend, eyebrows raised in confusion at her words. “Girl, look!” She moves your face with one hand and has the other pointing right where your name lands—Y/N as Juliet Capulet. Your hand reaches to your face, palm covering your mouth as you hold back a gasp. Mind jumbled, you didn’t know what to say.

Yunjin pulls you into an embrace, jumping in her place. “WE GOT IN!” Her cheer sounds throughout the hallway, earning stares from those surrounding you two and those passing by.

Your eyes trail down the list, trying to find someone’s name. The sight of your other best friend’s name has you smiling, but you’re pulled out of your utopia when you find it situated beside a character he didn’t audition for—Lee Jaehyun as Count Paris.

“Hyunjae didn’t get Romeo?” The whisper has Yunjin halting her actions.

Her eyes rest back on the casting list. “What? He didn’t get in?”

“No, he did, but he’s playing Paris.” With furrowed eyebrows, your eyes look to who your scene partner is; who is your Romeo Montague? And when you see the word “Lee”, you expect that Sir Key might’ve made a mistake and inputted Hyunjae’s name twice.

That is until you read the word that trails after the first—Lee Sangyeon as Romeo Montague.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Lighting erupts within you. The air current moves at a speed fast enough to form a tornado, and it just so happens that you’re in the eye of it. You’re face-to-face with a natural disaster, wondering its next course of action—to consume you whole or to leave you be.

Lee fucking Sangyeon; oh how you couldn’t even say his name without your blood boiling. Is there anything even good to say about the cocky motherfucker?

You shared the tragic fate of attending the same high school as Sangyeon. And just like you, he was in the theater club. At first, he was just someone like you—a student with a passion for acting. But the thing about Sangyeon is that he presents himself well, earning gushes from those part of the club, students and teachers alike. It seemed that he was the perfect actor, always landing the leading roles. At one point, you wanted to believe that it was because he was a good actor, but the reality unraveled itself when you saw what was behind the scenes.

Lee Jaehyun, or Hyunjae as he goes, shared the same dreams as Sangyeon. They both wanted to act, ideally landing leading roles. The passion the two shared should’ve fostered friendly rivalry, a way to propel them to reach heights never imagined. But the more Sangyeon received countless opportunities to play the lead role, the more Hyunjae’s determination started to crumble. What makes the whole thing even bleaker is that Sangyeon knew what his rival felt, and made the most out of that opportunity to tear him down.

What started off as genuine words of encouragement had turned into two-faced statements. And it hurt to see your best friend believe he was incapable of becoming an actor. If anything, you could name countless roles that he deserved to play the leading role, and many could agree with you. As your best friend started to crumble, you were driven by the desire to protect him. With every appearance Sangyeon made, your hostility towards him grew, and it didn’t help that he solidified it with only one interaction.

Scratchy; that’s what your sweater feels like against your skin. Perhaps it’s the heat of the hallway that has you wanting to strip your knit sweater off, or the material has just worn off. You tug on the collar, hoping that the discomfort will dissipate. Eyes trained on the corkboard that held the names of productions your club has done throughout the years, you wonder what role could you land for The Scottish Play.

It’s unlike you to audition for a big role, a leading role to be exact, for you found yourself growing comfortable in minor ones and ensemble. Yunjin has never been able to convince you to audition for the big roles, and your other friend, Kim Younghoon, could never find the right words to push you to sign up under a main character. But Hyunjae held some power over you—If you audition for Lady Macbeth, I’ll try out for Macbeth—and you couldn’t find it within yourself to say no, especially when Hyunjae was considering giving up auditioning for leading roles overall.

You can feel the coolness of the concrete wall against your nape. Hamlet, Three Kingdoms, Sweeney Todd, and more are the productions you’ve hesitated to audition for the lead roles. You close your eyes in an attempt to calm your nerves. One audition wouldn’t kick you out of the club, right? If Ms. Jang learned that you were unfit to be an actor at that moment, you put the blame on Hyunjae.

(But in reality, you knew you would blame yourself. Hyunjae wouldn’t be at fault for what Ms. Jang decides to do with you. Every failure you face is caused by you, and you need to take responsibility for each one.)

Then, the door swings open, and the cold air that the air conditioners of the theater expel hits your skin, causing goosebumps to form. A shudder runs down your spine. Your eyes peel open, and you’re ready to greet the person who exited the theater, about to wish them luck. But when you catch sight of the one person who has done nothing but tear your best friend down, the taste in your mouth is like acid.

His head whips in your direction, catching sight of you seated with the sample script that Ms. Jang provided resting on your lap. His eyebrows shoot up and his eyes trail you from top to bottom. “So, which one?”

The question catches you off guard. Although you didn’t like Sangyeon, you two didn’t really talk for there was no reason to do so in the first place. So, when he does decide to talk to you—like this moment, and it’s not like you two really talked until now—you find yourself surprised at the interactions.

When you tilt your head in confusion, he chuckles with a smug look plastered on his face. “Which of the Three Witches?”

And with just one question, you feel your resolve snap. For him to assume that you were auditioning for one of those roles felt like an insult. It’s not that you didn’t see the value of these roles; you know that the production is nothing without the people to fulfill the minor roles. But to hear such a question from him with his record of humiliating Hyunjae, you cannot help but believe he’s trying to do the same to you.

“I’m auditioning for Lady Macbeth,” you answer, venom laced with your tone. It doesn’t help that shock casts on Sangyeon’s features.

“Oh, I see,” he starts. He clears his throat, an attempt to hide his bewilderment, and shoots you a smile. “Well, I’d like to have you as my scene partner.”

Cocky—that’s all Lee Sangyeon will ever be. His ego has been inflated with all the leading roles he’s landed. You’ve never met anyone filled with pride like his; how could he prance around with confidence that he would get the role he auditioned for every single time?

You roll your eyes as you stand up from your seat, the script now in your hands. “I can’t believe you’re so confident that you’ll be playing Macbeth. Have you ever considered that maybe you won’t play the main role for once?” The glare you shoot at him does nothing to his pride.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty confident about the performance I gave just a few minutes ago.”

It baffles you. Sangyeon continues to prove that he’s never been given a reality check; maybe you should snap some sense into him.

“I’d rather settle for being part of the ensemble—no, having no role than play your scene partner.” If Sangyeon is thrown off by your statement, he does a good job hiding it, just like the supposed perfect actor when it comes to handling ad-libs on stage. He would never understand what it means to be an actor—what makes a production successful—if he didn’t appreciate the minor roles.

If he had something to say back to you, you don’t give him a window to do so for you have taken your leave. You first came with a desire for the auditions to be over, but now, you come with a desire to prove you’re an actor capable of any role. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought, especially whatever Lee Sangyeon seemed to think about you.

For the first time, you and Hyunjae played the leading roles in a production. Sangyeon was left as an understudy.

Although you were in university, it’s not that you could escape Sangyeon for you two were in theater. Thankfully, the productions you’ve had a chance to work on didn’t always have Sangyeon playing the leading role.

(Though, he did still play a handful. Perhaps he still held some charm over the university crowd.)

But due to the bigger cast and production team, it was usually easy for you to avoid him. You know when to take your leave, and you know to tune him out if you can hear him act (or speak, really). Nothing good ever comes out of interacting with Sangyeon; it’s best to limit your interactions with him for it would preserve your sanity.

But the universe seems to have other plans for you. Face-to-face with his name situated right beside the name in which your character is romantically interested, you cannot help but read his name again, and again, and again.

You wish that this is just a nightmare, that you fell asleep in the middle of Mr. Won’s class, and that you’re paying for the consequences by your consciousness presenting you with the worst outcome. God, you really did mean it when you said you would rather settle for no role than play Sangyeon’s scene partner.

Stupid Sangyeon, Sangyeon, Sangyeon. And as if it were the curse of the Bloody Mary, saying his name three times brings you to your demise.

“Huh, guess you ended up being my scene partner after all.”

You whip your head to where the devil stands, right beside you with arms crossed as his eyes remain on the casting list. His gaze lands on you, and a smug grin rests on his face. “I’m wondering if you’ll talk to Kevin or Sir Key about withdrawing from the production.”

His words make you frown. Before you can retort, he walks away, your eyes burning holes into his back. Yunjin could sense the rage within you and kept her hands on your shoulders in an attempt to calm you down.

An exasperated sigh leaves you. “I cannot believe that guy.” You look at your best friend who only holds an apologetic look. “Can’t believe I have to deal with his shit even ‘till now.”

“I know.” She bites on the inside of her cheek. Before she could say more, her phone vibrated in her hand. As she reads out the notification, she groans. “Fuck, I need to go. I just remembered I have a project to work on.” She stores her phone away. “Where are you headed?”

“Uhm, I’m gonna wait for Hyunjae,” you say as your shoulders sag down. As you hear your best friend hum, you spot a teasing smile resting on her lips and you roll your eyes. “You’ve got to stop that.”

“Stop what? I’m not saying anything,” Yunjin attempts to defend herself but you both know she’s far from innocent.

You shake your head, a giggle leaving you. “Whatever, go! I’ll see you later.” You’re left staring at the cast list as she takes her leave. Busy hands fiddle with your phone, clicking one of the contacts marked as a favorite. You bring it close to your ear, waiting for him to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hyunjae-ah, where are you?”

“I’m on the way to where the cast is posted!” His hurried reply signals that he’s running to where you are. “I just heard from Joshua that it was released early.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, I heard the same from Yunjin. I’ll wait for you.”

“No need to wait too long.” You look behind you to see your best friend standing a few meters away. His hair is tousled up from all the running but still falls back perfectly in place. His hand combs through it, a grin resting on his lips at the sight of you, as he jogs towards you.

“Hey, where’d you come from?”

His arm finds its spot around your shoulders, bringing you close to his side. All while he is transfixed on the castling list, your gaze rests on your best friend. “I just had Ethics—oh my god, YOU GOT JULIET!” He spins to face you and brings you into a hug.

“Yeah,” your arms find their place around his shoulders as his limbs rest on your waist. “But, you know, you got Paris.” When you lean back, you only see a grin on his lips.

“Yeah, but who cares? I mean, my sweetheart got the part she wanted.” There he goes again, using the pet name that started as a quip but still sticks years later. You roll your eyes at his remark, but before you can say any more, he beats you to it. “Don’t think about backing out now.”

A sigh leaves you. “But,” you glance at the name of your (and Hyunjae’s) enemy, “I’ve gone through enough of him in high school. Can’t I live my uni life in peace?” You pout at your best friend, and he chuckles at your behavior, cheeks dusted with hues of red.

“Do you really want to give him the satisfaction of making you quit such a big role?” Would it be that bad to say yes? “C’mon, playing Juliet is a huge deal! You’re destined to play that role! And, I mean, you wouldn’t want to disappoint Sir Key and Kevin…”

God, it did hurt you to agree with Hyunjae. You didn’t want to waste the time and effort Sir Key and Kevin Moon, the teacher adviser and the director, must’ve put into crafting the cast list. But to go through months with Sangyeon, all for a university play? It’s not that you were pursuing a career in theater, or acting for that matter.

But would you from a few years back—a high schooler who treated every theater production as if it were a Broadway one—say the same thing? Is this the role you wanted to take on as an actor, one willing to step down over a nuisance?

With one sigh, Hyunjae knew what your answer was. He smiles before dragging you away from the piece of paper that seems to only bring downpour. “I don’t know if this will make you feel better but I heard from Changmin that there’ll be a house party. Maybe we can drink the sour mouths away.”

“Drink the what away?” You chuckle at his choice of words. “Hyunjae, I’m so glad you aren’t a scriptwriter.”

He scoffs at your insult, “But you get what I mean.”

“I do not.”

He rolls his eyes, playfully shoving you which causes you to giggle. “Let’s just drink the bitterness away. We could be meeting our other castmates and the prod team, maybe getting to know them more.”

You cannot help but hum as you ponder over your schedule for the rest of the week. “I don’t know. I have this one homework for Mr. Won’s class that I sure as hell don’t know how to answer. I mean, I don’t even know what the instructions are!”

“Ah, just trust me! I’ll help you out with that. Just,” he stops you two in the middle of the hallway. There were barely any students for they scrambled off to their respective classrooms or looked for lunch. He pouts at you, his hands now holding yours as his fingers draw circles on the back of your dorsals. “Go with me, will you?”

It doesn’t take you a moment for you to make up your mind; you’re sure the trade-offs that come from that party won’t save your ass from Physics or Sangyeon.

But when Hyunjae leans in, his lips ghosting your ear, your breath hitches. “I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart.” You’re nothing but a puddle (and a sheep). So once he leans back, you nod. At the sight of your confirmation, he smiles. “Okay, let’s go have lunch.”

You can only hope that Hyunjae (or any of your friends, really) understood annular momentum, or whatever it’s called.

(You truly are a lost cause in Physics, and you’ll be blaming it on Sangyeon. Every inconvenience is caused by him, anyway.)

For anyone who thinks theater kids couldn’t party, they’re wrong (partially, only). Sure, there were the occasional show tunes that played from Kevin’s playlist, and a certain someone named Ju Haknyeon who belts out of the blue, but no one complained.

With only a few drinks in, you and Hyunjae are buzzed. And although you both agreed on using this party as an opportunity to get to know the other members, you still found yourselves sticking together—shoulders bumped, hands laced, or arms wrapped around each other.

Now, you two along with Yunjin and Younghoon were hanging out in the kitchen, not away from where the crowd was but quiet enough to have your own conversations.

“You know, I finally got to talk to Jihyo,” Yunjin says before taking a sip from her drink.

Younghoon tilts his head. “Park Jihyo? The one playing Lady Capulet?” A hum of confirmation leaves her as she continues to drink. “Did you see her audition for The Baker’s Wife for Into The Woods?”

Yunjin nods, letting the rim of her cup leave her lips and smacking Younghoon’s arm repeatedly. “I was able to sit in for the auditions because I signed up for prod team instead. Girl, I can’t believe she didn’t get the part.”

“Yeah, didn’t Rei get the part instead?” Hyunjae asks to which Younghoon nods.

“Didn’t she audition for Little Red Riding Hood?”

Yunjin shrugs at your question. “I’m not sure, but I do see her playing that role versus the wife.” She sets her cup on the kitchen counter behind her. “Don’t get me wrong, though. They’re both outstanding actors but I would’ve changed the casting. Some of them would’ve played different roles that suited them vocally and acting-wise.”

“Well,” you sigh. “You know that some directors are just batshit blind.” Hyunjae cannot help but elbow you, earning a whine from you as he chuckles. “I’m serious, though! Like, look at Hyunjae! He’s the perfect example.”

“Ouch. Thanks for reminding me of my tragic history.”

You roll your eyes at Hyunjae’s words, the playful tone evident in his words. “I’m just saying, some directors don’t know what they’re doing.”

In no way did you have anything against Kevin. You’re certain that he knew what he was doing; it didn’t sit right that Hyunjae lost a huge role to the same prick who couldn’t get off his high horse. But there is no point in contesting because your best friend wouldn’t allow you. All that mattered to him was that you got the role.

“Yes, but I trust Kevin. Honestly, I’m just glad I still landed a role,” Hyunjae shrugs as he sips.

Younghoon hums along. “Exactly! I heard Hyeongjun didn’t even make it to ensemble.”

A groan rips out of your throat, knowing that the two made a good point. “Yeah, I trust him, too. I just,” you shake your head at the thought of your enemy. “I’m just sick of Sangyeon.”

At the mention of the devil’s name, you feel an arm wrap around your shoulders, your shoulder hitting against something firm. And when your eyes drift to the stranger, you’re met with the bane of your existence.

“Talking about me, sweetheart?”

To hear Sangyeon use that pet name had your stomach churning. You plant your hand against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but you feel his pecs through the white, cotton material, and you quickly retract it. Instead, you shrug his arm off.

“What are you doing here?”

His gaze rests on the boy beside you, shooting him a smile. “Shouldn’t we use this time to build our chemistry?” To others, Sangyeon may have genuine enthusiasm to get to know his scene partner, but you and Hyunjae knew that his grin held nothing but arrogance.

You move closer to Hyunjae and his hand finds its spot on your waist. Sangyeon’s eyes flicker to your best friend’s hand but he still holds the same smile.

“Sangyeon, it’s just acting. I can easily fake chemistry,” you shake your head, trying to scoot even further towards Hyunjae. There’s barely any space between you two. “Unless your supposed great ass can’t fake it. Did all those years spent in theater not teach you anything?”

There’s no way to fake chemistry; everyone knows that, from actors to audiences. But when you’re face-to-face with Sangyeon, you would take any opportunity to get back at him for what he’s done—not only to Hyunjae but to you, as well.

Despite your words, Sangyeon’s expression never wavers. Stoic Sangyeon—he always knew how to get on your nerves. “Isn’t the point of this party to get to know each other?” You roll your eyes, looking away to give your eyes a break from the nuisance.

But when you feel his breath fanning against your left cheek, you’re afraid to say anything. The distance between you two right in front of your friends makes it feel like it’s forbidden, especially when Hyunjae has his arm wrapped around you.

“Especially with our kissing scenes.”

A chill runs down your spine. You know what he’s doing—embarrassing you in front of your high school friends just to rile you up, and rubbing it into Hyunjae that he got the lead role once more. Whatever place Sangyeon first held in your life didn’t matter anymore; he’s dug himself deeper into the pits of hell that you never knew of until this moment.

You want to push Sangyeon off and drag Hyunjae out of the house, alone together and far away from him, but a booming voice breaks the tension.

“Wow! It’s nice to see our Romeo and Juliet getting to know each other,” Kevin comes into the kitchen with a grin and gains everyone’s attention.

Under the gaze of your director, you don’t think twice about what you do. “Yeah!” Your arm quickly links with Sangyeon’s, and you notice Sangyeon freezes up. It’s out of character for you to do such; you can only imagine the expressions of your friends. “Just old friends catching up, right?” When you look at Sangyeon, you notice a flicker of confusion in his eyes, but your forced smile is enough for him to get the message.

“Yeah,” he smiles at Kevin. “I’m just glad that my Juliet is someone I know.” My Juliet? Oh, you’re going to be sick.

Kevin is amused with the newfound information. “I didn’t know you two were friends! I never see you two interacting.”

Perhaps your animosity towards Sangyeon is obvious but you weren’t going to allow the feud to get in the way of the role of a lifetime—Kevin can never know about the water that has gotten stained with red.

“Oh, we all went to the same high school.”

“Same theater club, too,” Sangyeon chimes in.

Kevin looks at everyone with amazement. “Oh, that’s so cool! From the same high school to the same university. I’m sure you’re all happy to see each other in the theater scene again.” Everyone but one, really.

“I’m looking forward to seeing everyone work in the production,” his eyes rested on you and Sangyeon once more. “Especially the chemistry between you two.”

When Kevin takes his leave, you all bid him farewell. And once he was an earshot away, you shrugged Sangyeon off. “See? I can fake chemistry.” Your glare finally causes a small reaction from him—the startled expression on his face makes you reign victorious. “Clearly, you need to work on that.”

If Sangyeon wants to retort, you don’t allow him to do so as you leave the kitchen with Hyunjae’s hand in yours.

A few hours have passed since Sangyeon decided to come and dampen Hyunjae’s and your moods. Thankfully, you haven’t seen him since but it could be because you were too drunk to care, or maybe you were too distracted by the boy whose lap you sit on.

“Hey, why don’t we get out of here?” Your best friend’s lips graze your ear. His hands hold onto your hip, his thumbs drawing patterns on the exposed skin that’s starting to peek. You giggle as you shake your head, earning a chuckle from him. “Why not?”

His whines have you dizzy (or it’s probably the effects of the alcohol), but you do your best to answer. “Hyunjae, we’re supposed to be getting to know our castmates better. Isn’t that why you asked me to go with you?” As you looked at everyone in the living room, you know for sure there was no chance to talk to them anymore for they were too intoxicated to remember tonight’s events.

When he presses his lips to your jawline, you cannot help but close your eyes at the sensation. “Yeah, but we aren’t even talking to anyone. Why don’t we just go back to your place and just, I don’t know, make out?” He whispers the last words as if it were taboo.

This is what you and Hyunjae were—friends who couldn’t help but enter territories that blur the line between platonic and romantic. Since you two first entered university, you and Hyunjae couldn’t seem to keep your hands to themselves, always finding their places on each other. It started in such a blur—at a party just like this, both intoxicated—but both of you couldn’t help but keep it going. You still limited your relationship to occasional make-out sessions and snuggling, but you never went past such stages with him. The two of you didn’t mind the unclear boundaries, anyway.

“I don’t know,” you finally look at your best friend. His eyes seem to glimmer, and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “I haven’t gotten to talk to Daniel.”

His eyebrows shoot up in amusement. “Kang Daniel? The one playing Lord Capulet?” As you hum, he chuckles. “I can’t believe you’re thinking of another man while you’re on my lap, sweetheart.” There he goes again, using that pet name.

“What do you mean? I just want to get to know my castmates better.” The teasing tone is evident. You crave the attention—the possession—Hyunjae seems to have for you.

And when his nose brushes against yours, all thoughts are knocked out of you. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to know anyone else, not even their names. You already have me.”

For a moment, you almost think this is it—the two of you will enter domains never traversed and there will be no way to go back from it, but you don’t mind, not with him, anyway.

His eyes flicker to your lips, and you hold your breath. “Don’t do that,” he chuckles. “You need to catch your breath before I take it away.”

Before he can do anything, you feel the couch move as someone takes a seat beside him. You’re ready to put some distance between the two of you, but when your eyes land on the stranger, you realize that the universe is not by your side or Hyunjae’s.

Hyunjae scoffs and his hand cradles your face, an attempt to get your attention back, but your blood boils over the sight of the same guy who always ruins everything.

“I didn’t know Juliet gets so touchy with Paris.” Sangyeon’s comment has you rolling your eyes. Clearly, you’re too distracted by him, and Hyunjae can’t do anything but give up. Instead, your best friend just settles on holding you close to him while your gaze remains on the devil.

“What’s with you? We don’t have to talk to each other unless it’s for rehearsals.” A frustrated sigh leaves you. “Don’t you know that all we have to do is act?”

When all you’re met with is the same cocky smile he flashed Hyunjae back at the kitchen, you shake your head. You’re about to glance at your best friend, prepared to tell him that you two should leave and retreat to your place.

That is until you feel someone’s fingers hold onto your chin, redirecting your gaze to Sangyeon. Now, you’re face-to-face with Sangyeon, the distance between you two is even smaller in comparison to when you were in the kitchen.

The air is knocked out of your lungs, your eyes looking right at Sangyeon’s. Whatever you looked like had him smirking—you were defenseless against him for once.

“Can’t handle it?” The question is meant to provoke you, have your blood boil so that you scream profanities at him. You’re sure he’s pertaining to all the little stunts he’s been doing; teasing you to get a reaction from you, acting like you two are friends, and making comments about your acting experience.

But for a second, you almost think he’s talking about himself—could you handle him not only on the show dates but also be surrounded by him for the upcoming two months?

And once more, your brain turns into mush. The lights become streaks of different colors, and they do their job of making Sangyeon look different—still the same cocky motherfucker, but now, you want a taste.

Your mouth goes dry and you’re scared to exhale, but Sangyeon only smiles before letting his hand leave your chin. It’s clear he’s happy by your soundless reaction. When he stands up from the couch, he glances at Hyunjae, and his smile turns almost sinister.

You would’ve said something like you always do, but you’re unable to form a coherent sentence. You’re intoxicated; the alcohol’s still in your system, but Sangyeon’s gaze shows that the drinks you’ve had are nothing compared to him.

With that, he takes his leave. Whatever moment you and Hyunjae shared is now lost—all thanks to Sangyeon, once again.

if you enjoyed reading this, please do reblog with feedback!

#deoboyznet #dbn: holiday party #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #works of moni #the boyz #the boyz x reader #lee sangyeon #lee hyunjae #lee jaehyun #lee sangyeon x reader #lee hyunjae x reader #lee jaehyun x reader

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btsgotjams27 · 1 year

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don't push your luck | knj

you’re asked to present at an important meeting, but of course, your rival has to come along for the ride.

✨ title: don't push your luck | one-shot ✨ pairing: namjoon x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex college rivals, e2l, co-workers, one-bed trope ✨ rating: pg-18 | ✨ word count: 6.4k ✨ warnings: language, joon loves to call reader a lot of pet names, suggestive language, they're both kinda jerks to one another, they've also known each other for a long time (and slept together once), both are literary agents, mentions of surgery and cancer, banter, mentions of alcohol, they sleep in the same bed, there is a small hug, reader has misconceptions of joon, did i mention angst?, reader likes to blame namjoon for her shortcomings ✨ a/n: hi--so this was originally supposed to be out for joonie's birthday lmao and here it is a few weeks later. don't be afraid to let me know what you think. i love hearing from readers.

“Hold the door!”

A heaving sensation fills your chest and you feel out of breath. Everything you could imagine going wrong before a flight happened—your alarm wasn’t set, the Uber arrived late and hit every traffic light, security ‘needed’ to rifle through your suitcase for suspicious items, and the stupid expensive carry-on you purchased has given up on you.

“You made it just in time,” the attendant smiles and scans your plane ticket.

“Oh, thank god.”

You’re grateful to be in first class and now you can finally relax. It’s even better when you look at your row and the seat next to you is empty. There are a few glares from other passengers, but you don’t care–you’ve made it, and that’s all that matters.

When you settle into your seat, you check your phone for any last-minute work emails. The flight attendant announced the plane was ready to taxi for take-off. They ask everyone to be seated and buckled.

As you’re ready to plug your earbud in, you hear a muffled bang from behind. Peering over your shoulder, you realize you’re in the row before the bathrooms. Great, you think, that’ll be fun. You can hear clinking and clanking from the bathroom door along with someone shuffling out as the door slam shuts.

“Sir, please take your seat. We’re ready for take-off,” the flight attendant says.

The man clears his throat. “Oh, yes, of course. My seat’s right here.”

You look up to see none other than the person who has become the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. They say keep your friends close, but your enemies closer and he loved to be so close to you alright–everywhere you are to be exact.

Your jaw clenches as he plops down beside you. A few seconds later, a woman emerges from the bathroom. She brushes past the attendant, holding a card between her fingers as she peers down at Namjoon. “That was fun. Call me sometime,” she grins while walking away.

“You’re disgusting.” A shiver runs down your spine as one can assume what they were doing in there.

Namjoon gives you puppy eyes. “You’re so mean to me,” he pouts, folding his arms against his chest as he looks down. Not a split second later, he turns to you with a smirk. “I can rock your world whenever you want, angel.”

If only he could see the smoke fuming from your ears. He would never let that one time you slept with him go, would he? It was a moment of weakness you wish you could take back.

You scoff at his comment. “I can’t believe they just let anyone on airplanes now.”

His eyes rake over you. “I could say the same about you,” he retorts.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“What do you think I’m doing here, darling?”

Your body cringes at the stupid pet name. “Oh, I don’t know, to annoy the fuck out of me?” you say, flashing a wry smile.

“Ah, yes. That’s on my itinerary too, but you know I can’t resist an all-expenses-paid trip when it’s offered.”

This was your chance to make an impression on one of the biggest publishing houses. But with Kim Namjoon tagging along on this little trip? He will consume your thoughts because you can’t think of anything else when he’s around–plotting and scheming ways to take you down.

“Just stay out of my hair tomorrow.”

Namjoon sucks his teeth. “Wish I could, sweetheart. But, whatever Ms. Davis wants, she gets.”

A part of you wondered if Namjoon was sleeping with her to get to the top of the food chain, like the vulture he is. You shivered at the thought of the two in compromising positions. Namjoon’s college shenanigans were something that continued even into adulthood, you guessed.

The blinking cursor in this blank Word document has been mocking you, thinking you’re a clown. But you blame Kim Namjoon. He’s pushed his seat back, legs crossed and reclined, hands behind his head as he’s laughing obnoxiously at the movie on his computer screen. Every stifled laugh and clap has you rolling your eyes.

You can’t concentrate when he’s around, and that’s how it’s always been since sophomore year of college. The countless conversations with yourself because you had to be ready with a witty remark in case he is a smart-ass about anything and everything.

It was a sweet relief when you walked across that stage to shake the president’s hand and retrieve the rolled-up paper. And when you lifted your tassel from one side to the other, you exhaled because you never had to cross paths with him again.

That is four years into your job, and who shows up sitting in your office? None other than Kim Namjoon–your old academic rival.

You’re 29. No man should have you gritting your teeth, ready to claw at him. Then again, he’s no ordinary man–more like the devil incarnate. He makes your skin crawl. His presence makes you want to jump out of a window–because he’s suffocating, and the air in your lungs doesn’t exist.

Okay–maybe you’re exaggerating. But right now, you want to spill your glass of red wine just so he’ll have a stained shirt.

Your mouth twists as you nudge the giggly goon head. He takes off the noise-canceling headphones. “What?”

“Can you zip it? I can’t concentrate,” you say, repositioning in your seat.

Namjoon snickers. “Aw baby, you weren’t able to concentrate before I even started the movie. What makes you think me turning it off will help now?”

With a click of your tongue, you’re unsure why you even bothered asking him, so you return to your blinking cursor and blank document.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into New York City….” the announcement continues.

Guess it didn’t matter, anyway. You’ve spent two hours unproductive on a flight while Namjoon lollygags. At least you’ll have time to work on your presentation in peace when you get to your hotel.

You notice the way he walks and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder-practically about to drop, and you can’t forget the stupid overcoat that’s a tad too big for his frame. The crooked black tie contrasts against the crisp white button-down, and you want to help him fix it, only to make it snug enough to choke him a bit. It’s the way his cheeks lightly push against his thick black-rimmed glasses when he smiles, and his crescent eyes disappear, then immediately he widens them. It’s the way his hair falls perfectly above his glasses, and he daintily moves it away like the unflawed prince he is.

You hate you notice all these details about Kim Namjoon, but you’ve been around him long enough to have your guard up in case he pulls any funny business.

He doesn’t even care to check in at the front desk. Instead, he runs off to the bar when he sees a beautiful woman walking the same way.

You’re third in the check-in line, and you can’t help noticing the crowd hanging out in the lobby. Everyone’s dressed as some kind of anime character. It almost makes you feel underdressed in your plain white tee that’s tucked into your jeans.

A nudge from the side causes you to catch your footing. You clench your jaw before breathing out a sigh of frustration. He’s like a fly that won’t leave you alone.

“Want a sip? I think you could use a drink,” Namjoon says, tipping his glass toward you.

“I don’t drink on business trips.”

“Damn, baby. Lighten up. One drink won’t kill you,” he raises a brow and smirks. “Maybe it’ll even warm you up to me.”

If only your eyes could shoot laser beams every time he opened his smart mouth. Facing him, you took a step toward him, pretending to pick off lint from his coat. “It’s cute you think I’d warm up to you,” you pout.

Namjoon gives a lopsided grin, licking his lips. “Don’t worry, love. I’m sure we’ll become real cozy.”

When it’s your turn at the front desk, the receptionist flashes a warm smile, asking for your information. “Is this man with you as well?”

“No,” you say.

“Yes,” Namjoon chimes in.

You roll your eyes, glaring at the man who is the bane of your existence. “No. Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “He is not with me. He needs his own room.”

The receptionist doesn’t respond. She types and clicks around on the computer, her eyes darting around the screen. “I’m sorry ma’am, but it looks like we only have one room left,” she says, avoiding your gaze.

“What do you mean there’s only one room left?” you articulate, gritting your teeth.

The receptionist clicks around her screen again. “Again, I’m so sorry, ma’am. But we’re overbooked because of the anime convention in town. We can book this room for the two of you or give you a free hotel stay for another time to compensate for the inconvenience.”

Free hotel stay for another time? It wasn’t an option at the moment. You needed this hotel room to prepare for your presentation tomorrow.

Someone cosplaying as Sailor Moon walks past you and Namjoon. His elbows are propped on the counter as he faces toward the lobby. He turns to you. “Guess we’ll just have to share,” he raises a brow and licks his lips.

“You cannot think I’ll sleep in the same bed as him. I’d rather burn in hell instead.”

Namjoon turns to the receptionist. “She’s joking. She doesn’t want to sleep in the same bed because she knows she can’t control herself around me,” he grins, holding his hand out for the key card. “We’ll take what you have, love.”

You grumble, muttering curses under your breath as you grab your things, heading toward the elevator. First, he shows up unannounced, and now you have to share a room with him. Let alone a bed? What’s next? He’ll take over your presentation, you bet.

Namjoon whistles a cheerful tune while strolling down the hallway. How is he like a ray of sunshine right now? But to you, he is like a lingering cloud ready to rain on your parade.

When he reaches the door, he turns to you, still whistling, tapping the keycard against the sensor. The door almost slams in your face. You’re struggling to keep the heavy door open while dragging in your luggage.

“Really?” You huff with irritation in your voice.

Your eyes follow him as he makes himself comfortable on the bed. He’s lying down, his legs are dangling off as his feet touch the floor. And you hope the phone screen illuminating his honey skin drops on his face. You’re vile, you know. But Namjoon’s like an itch you can’t seem to reach.

Setting down your things, you walk over to him, slotting yourself between his legs, arms folded against your chest. “What are you doing in my bed?”

He chuckles, placing the phone beside him. He props himself up on his elbows, eyes raking over you. “Waiting for you to hop on, baby,” he sneers, patting his thigh.

How are you supposed to get any work done if he’s around invading the very air you breathe?

“In your dreams, Joon. You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, baby girl. You don’t even wanna know what you do in my dreams.”

His dreams, huh? You’ve wondered how many times you’ve shown up. “Let me guess, am I strangling you?”

Namjoon sits up, pushing himself off the bed to stand. It forces you to take a step back. There’s a moment of silence before he speaks, “Actually, you’re the one who likes it, remember? Not me, princess.”

You’re inches away from him and you hope he doesn’t see you visibly gulp. It’s like everything is stripped away when Namjoon’s around. As much as you try to hide it, you hope he can’t see through your bullshit.

Clicking your tongue, you try to compose yourself, tilting your head as you gaze into those dragon eyes. “Keep dreaming, Joonie because that’s the closest you’ll ever come to fucking me.”

“Again—” he corrects you. His gaze turns dark as he scans you from head to toe. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Come on, love. Don’t you want another taste?”

You roll your eyes, pushing away his hand. “Another taste of Kim Namjoon?” you tut. “Please—I eat boys like you for breakfast.”

A stupid grin spreads across Namjoon’s face. His scent invades your space again, making you step back. “Well, I’ll be sure to serve you breakfast in bed tomorrow. I hear the sausage is great.”

You huff a breath, glaring at the tall, beefy man. “I swear to god, Kim Namjoon if you don’t stay on your side of the bed—there’s gonna be hell to pay!”

Namjoon puts his hands up in defeat. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep my package safe, but it's cute you think your mouth is big enough for me.” He raises a brow, gently nibbling on his bottom lip.

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself, Joon. Always talking a big game, but you gotta put your money where your mouth is love.” You almost retch as the last word rolls off your tongue.

The night you slept with Namjoon was a hazy one. You blame the wine that was coursing through your veins and the critique you received from your professor—it messed with your head and you wanted nothing more than to get your mind off it. Namjoon was in the right place at the right time—annoying you like always. Naturally, he wouldn’t shut up, so you shut him up. One thing led to another and before you knew it, you had slept with your rival.

Walking away, you grab your bag, breathing a sigh of relief once you’re out of the room. It’s a stupid game the two of you have played since college—he riles you up, and you retaliate, but you would try your best to not let him get to you.

You spent the last few hours sitting in the hotel’s bar, with headphones on as you clicked and clacked away at your laptop, finally getting your thoughts onto this Word document. There’s no music playing. You wanted to drown out the noise of the crowd.

As you’re facing out toward the lobby, you look up, glimpsing the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. You watch as he makes his way out of the hotel lobby, and now is your chance to sneak back up to the room and have some quiet for once.

When Namjoon’s out of view, you gather your things, making your way back up. As the door closes, a breath expels from your lips and you can finally breathe again.

Sitting down at the small table, your stomach growls, a reminder that you had ignored for the past hour because this presentation was more important than nourishment. You’re more than halfway finished, and your reward would be a delicious meal.

It’s nearly 9 o’clock, and your meal is nowhere in sight. The outline is finished, talking points are ready to go, but your laptop is dead, and with your luck, you forgot to pack the charger.

You want nothing more than to disappear and crawl into a hole and never come out of it. You’re ready to jump ship without a lifejacket—it’s practically what you’re doing going into this presentation. If only you had more time to prep instead of being thrown into this so last minute. Maybe you shouldn’t have told your boss you’re always ready for whatever’s thrown your way.

The rumbling in your stomach continues, but you’d rather wallow in self-deprecating thoughts than fill your belly with a delicious meal.

Why can’t things go your way for once?

As you’re sitting on the couch beside the window, a sprinkle of rain falls, and it’s perfect, actually–matching your exact mood. You place your chin against the jade-green velvet-colored couch, breathing a sigh of frustration.

How are you meant to get others to care when you're apathetic about why you got into this profession in the first place? You remember discovering your first author and how they made you kick your feet and giggle all night. The feeling of watching someone grow from a small audience into a commercial success made you love your job, and when you and an author are on the same wavelength and both so passionate about a story? You were unmatched when the stars aligned.

But this trip was a different story. You had been working with this author, but Ms. Davis asked Namjoon to chime in, and once something is in Namjoon’s hands, it’s never yours again. It was like a repeat of your college years.

So when Ms. Davis asked you to fill in for Namjoon, you jumped at the chance because you had missed this story and this author, and you hoped Namjoon didn’t distort the beautiful story and world that she had built. You get why everyone fawns over Namjoon. Admitting it crushes your soul just a tad, but he’s smart, charming, suave, and not that bad to look at. You just wished he’d let you have a win now and again. You’re tired of being second best.

When you hear a beep from the door, you sigh, throwing your head back. You don’t acknowledge your roommate for the night and instead focus on the rain droplets hitting the window. Pulling your knees toward your chest, your arms rest on them along with your head as you stare outside. You’re not in the mood to deal with Namjoon right now.

A delectable aroma fills your nose when Namjoon’s presence occupies your space. He sets something next to your feet while on the couch. You look at the box and then at him.

“What’s this?”

“You need to eat.”

“I already ate,” you lie, and your stomach growled, loud enough you’re sure Namjoon heard it too. You make a face, clenching your stomach, hoping it doesn’t do it again.

“Just eat,” he says, bending down to grab the box for you.

“Is this your way of poisoning me, so you can do the presentation tomorrow?”

Namjoon scoffs. “No, actually. It’s me being a decent human being. I saw you at the bar, and I know how you are when you’re in work mode. You forget to eat.”

There’s a fire rising in your chest, and you want nothing more than to be left alone. “I didn’t think the devil had a heart,” you quip back. It’s easier when he isn’t, makes you feel less of an ass—and so much for not being in the mood to argue.

He tuts. “Why are you always like this? Even when we were in school together. You’ve always hated me.”

Maybe it’s how everything’s been handed to him on a silver platter–like how he doesn’t have to work his ass off just to get a sliver of recognition. Maybe it’s because he could be the good guy, but he chooses otherwise. Maybe it’s because somehow he always shows up wherever you are, ready to take things from you.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Fine, starve. I don’t even know why I tried.”

You groaned. “Can you just go away? You’re so annoying.”

“Me? Annoying? You’ve had a stick up your ass ever since you saw me on the plane, and I haven’t done shit to you. I’m here out of courtesy for our boss. What am I supposed to do? Say no?”

“Yeah! You should’ve.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “God–there’s no winning with you, is there?”

You ignore his comment, shifting in your seat, eyes focused on the rain again.

His jaw clenched as he backed off. “I was trying to be nice–break the ice, but it’s useless when I keep hitting a wall with you. See you later. I need a drink.”

Your eyes squeeze shut when the door slams. Sometimes you wonder if you’re too harsh or if you channeled your hatred toward something else, if it would benefit you more. But this was the circus of you and Namjoon–mortal rivals, nothing less, nothing more.

It’s well past midnight when you illuminate your phone for the third time. You’ve been tossing and turning, panicking about tomorrow’s presentation. Maybe you’d have to forgo using a slideshow and go off your outline. Graphic design isn’t your passion anyway because Canva was your best friend for presentation templates.

You had prepared yourself for having to share a bed with Namjoon, but you can’t help but notice that he hasn’t returned from wherever he went. You wonder if this was it–if it was the final straw for him, with you and your bitchy attitude.

As you’re on your phone, going over your outline, a beep from the door alerts you that Namjoon is back. You quickly stuff your phone underneath your pillow, turning in the opposite direction with your back facing him.

“Yeah, mom. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” His voice softens when he sees the lights are out.

An indistinct voice is heard from the other end, but you close your eyes, pretending to be fast asleep.

“Yes, I have it on my calendar and already asked for the days off. I’ll be back before your surgery.”

You feel bad listening in on his conversation and even worse when you realize his mother is having surgery.

Namjoon hums. “I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you next week. Mm–bye.”

He sets his phone down and cards his hand through his dark hair, but it softly falls back in place. You can hear him ruffling through his bag before he walks off to what you guess is the bathroom to wash up.

You turn over when there’s a sudden ache in your side. Your eyes open to see the light shining from underneath the door, and he’s pacing around as he brushes his teeth.

When the water shuts off, he opens the door, turning off the light. The darkened curtains eliminate all light sources in the room, save for the bit peeking through from the moonlight shining on him, revealing his broad shoulders and honey-skin chest. Thank god it’s dark, otherwise if Namjoon saw you ogling him, he’d have a field day. But the gawking ends when he slips on a shirt.

You shift back to the side that’s still aching and Namjoon slips under the cover, keeping his distance. You’re facing away from him, and you can’t help but hear the frustration when he huffs a breath.

Of course, the stupid ache doesn’t dissipate, and you’re back on your side, facing Namjoon. You peek an eye open. His phone is dimly lit before he turns it off, setting it on his chest. Both of his hands are laced behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, and you’re fighting the urge to say something.

What you overheard was personal, something you weren’t meant to hear. After all these years of being academic rivals and co-workers, you knew little about his life except that he was a trust fund baby and had a younger sister.

“Namjoon?” You quietly croak out.

He quickly gazes in your direction. “Sorry—did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, I couldn’t sleep, and then I heard you come in.”

A muttered apology escapes his lips along with ‘Night,’ as he turns on his side, facing away from you.

His demeanor is different, almost as if he’s let down his guard. You’ve never seen him distraught before.

“Namjoon?”

He hums but doesn’t turn around to face you.

“Is everything okay with your mom?”

Namjoon clears his throat. “Yeah, she’s okay. At least, I hope so.”

You’re nibbling on your bottom lip. “I couldn’t help but overhear she’s having surgery?”

“Oh—yeah, we, um, recently found out she has breast cancer and has to have a mastectomy.”

“Joon,” you utter. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. “Everything happened so fast, and I feel like I haven’t had time to process my thoughts. I’m trying my best to stay strong, you know?”

You place your hand under your cheek as you’re staring at his backside. The two of you stay silent for a moment.

“I get that,” you say, lying on your back, bringing the duvet to cover you. “Um, my mom also went through breast cancer a few years ago, if it’s any consolation, I suppose breast cancer is one of the better ones to have? If that’s such a thing—I mean, there’s a lot of research that’s gone into it, and there’s so much support out there if she wants it. So, um, yeah, just keep your head up. Your mom will be okay.”

Namjoon mumbles, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t turn to you, and you don’t blame him. You have been a bit of an ass to him, but you’re not made of stone—there’s a heart buried somewhere inside.

Flipping on your side, your backs are facing one another, and you hear a sniffle. Immediately, you turn back, hesitant about being in this position. In the time you’ve known Namjoon, he’s never cried in front of you. There are more sniffles, and you can hear him holding back whatever’s caught in his throat.

Your heart’s racing, your breath is slow and controlled. You shift closer to him, removing the pillow you had placed in the middle to separate the two of you.

“Joon?”

He wipes his nose and clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if I hugged you?”

Namjoon hums in agreement, and you take it upon yourself to inch closer to him. Somehow he seems so much smaller when you’re this close. You snake your arm underneath him, wrapping it around his waist, pressing your body against his. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, and then his hand finds yours, entwining them together.

You’ve been where he has and any kind of surgery is scary, especially when it’s a loved one. Your mind can only wander to the worst-case scenarios.

Your bodies are in sync as you can feel his chest rise and fall. But his breath is ragged and shaky. You suppose he’s fighting off any tears threatening to fall.

“You can tell me to fuck off.”

He chuckles. “No, I like this. It feels nice.”

Your mind finally settled during the night, and you could fall asleep. Namjoon’s snores were your alarm clock this morning. The weight of his arm draped over your waist. It was a familiar feeling—just like the day after you had slept with him. Only this time, all your clothes were on, and there was no accompanying headache.

Peering over your shoulder, he was still fast asleep, so this was your chance to sneak away. You were hoping to go over your presentation a few more times before your meeting today with the publisher. But as soon, as you decide to slip away, a buzzing from Namjoon’s side causes you to close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t trying to get up.

It buzzes a few times before Namjoon stirs awake, fumbling around to find his phone. “Hello?” he says in a groggy, raspy voice.

You shift away from him, snuggling underneath the duvet. The conversation is indistinct, and you can’t hear anything but Namjoon’s responses.

“Wait—” Namjoon sits up, turning away from you, his feet planted on the ground. “You want me to do what?”

He’s frustrated by whatever he was told.

“No, I can’t do that to her.” He quickly peers in your direction, and he sees you fast asleep. The voice on the other line continues along with Namjoon’s frustration. He’s rubbing his temple and sighs. “Please don’t make me do this. She already hates me as is.”

You can’t help but wonder who’s on the other line and who the ‘she’ is.

Namjoon shakes his head, and his voice quiets down. “She’s been working so hard on this presentation. I can’t just take this from her.”

Your heart sinks when you realize he’s talking about you. There’s no one else doing a presentation, and Namjoon was working with this author before they were handed back to you.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let her know,” he said dejectedly. Namjoon doesn’t even say goodbye. He’s crouched over, elbows on his knees as his head hangs low.

The soft chimes of your alarm go off. You wait a few seconds before reaching for your phone to silence it. Sitting up, you glance over at Namjoon who’s looking right at you.

“Morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, my alarm woke me up,” you say before flipping the duvet over. You stand, smoothing down your hair. “Big presentation today. I should get ready for the day.”

You’re ready to run to the bathroom, but Namjoon stops you. “Um, about that.”

Slowly, you turn to him. “What about it?”

Namjoon’s hands are entwined, and his thumbs fiddled out of nervousness. “Ms. Davis called and wants me to do the presentation.”

You suck in your lower lip, gently chewing on it. “But I worked on it like a madwoman last night. Why would Ms. Davis ask me to do it and then go back to asking you?”

A buzzing from your phone interrupts you. The screen flashes ‘Ms. Davis.’ You peer at Namjoon, then answer the phone. “Hello? Ms. Davis?”

“Good morning, ____. I hope you slept well.”

You hum in response.

“I know I asked you to go to New York, but now that Namjoon is there. I think it’ll be better if he does the presentation. He just has a way with words, and I think he’ll be able to land this deal, don’t you think?”

Namjoon avoids your gaze by scrolling on his phone. You remember Namjoon’s words from the day before, ‘What Ms. Davis wants, Ms. Davis gets.’

You take a moment before responding. “Why yes, Ms. Davis, I agree. Namjoon would be perfect for this presentation.”

She continues about supporting him in whatever way he needs today, and you’re seething like a teakettle that’s ready to burst. You agree with everything she says.

“Mmhm, yes. I’ll make sure he has everything he needs.”

You bid her a chipper farewell before hanging up. Your phone’s clenched in your hand, and your chest is heaving. Thoughts are running rampant—you’re ready to quit on the spot.

Licking your lips, you look at Namjoon. “Well, good luck with your presentation today. Don’t ruin it for our author and Ms. Davis.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No–you worked hard on it. You should do it.”

You scoff. “Don’t act like you don’t want to take this from me, Joon. It’s what you’re good at. You always get your way—just like when we were in school and now even at work. No matter how hard I work for everything, you’re there to reap the reward.”

His jaw clenches. He stands, walking to you. “You’re so fucking exhausting,” he spits out. “You think I’m some guy who’s out to get you or wants the worst for you–it’s like whatever preconceived notion you’ve fabricated has overlooked the fact that I’m a pretty decent guy if you could get past whatever thing that I’ve done to tick you off.” He sighs. “I’m telling you to do the presentation, but here you are blaming me.”

The warmth from his body is scorching as he nears you–it matches the energy firing inside you. Here he is, allowing you to shoot your shot, but you’re stubborn and temperamental.

Your gaze pierces through him. “Do whatever you want, Joon. I quit.”

Quickly, you gather your things, stuffing them into your carry-on. You know how ridiculous it sounds, but Kim Namjoon tends to bring out your foolishness. You’ve had seven years of him right by your side, which was too many for you. Maybe it was time to find a private island with no form of communication to escape him.

Namjoon doesn’t stop you, he lets you leave. He knows how strong-willed you are and once you’ve decided, there’s no changing it.

You wash up in the hotel lobby’s restroom, rushing off to nowhere because well–you had quit and home was two hours away by flight and it wasn’t leaving until tonight.

Cars and buses screech to a halt along with the sounds of never-ending honking. Chattering from tourists and bicyclists whiz by your side. There’s never a dull moment so you can get your head on straight.

A buzzing from your bag goes unnoticed because you’re too busy figuring out the next steps. You don’t know what you’re doing. Quitting, so suddenly? Was it out of spite? If you couldn’t even handle Namjoon, how would you handle the next prick that came along?

You held your arm out, trying to hail a cab, but no one stopped. Well, it was probably the worst time to grab one, anyway. Checking your phone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail, and it wasn’t from anyone you were expecting.

It was from Noa Skye, the author you were trying to get published.

“Hey ____. I know I’ve been working with Namjoon for the last several months, but when I heard that you’re doing the meeting with HarperCollins instead, I screamed! I know you’ll be able to pitch my book well because you love this story as much as I do. So, yeah, I just wanted to call and wish you good luck. You’re going to do great. Talk to you soon!”

Your heart sank to your stomach when you heard Noa’s voicemail. It was true–you loved her story, and you wanted the entire world to read it so they could laugh and cry along with you. Her book deserved to be on bookshelves and New York’s best-seller list.

Should you buck up the courage and walk in with your head held high? And for once, maybe Namjoon was right–that you were looking for someone to blame and he was conveniently the scapegoat.

Noa deserved better than this ongoing battle between you and Namjoon; maybe more you than him–but regardless, you needed to set aside your ego for the sake of your author.

Huffing out a deep breath, you pulled your hair back, ready to fight for this presentation.

Namjoon was typing furiously, looking through his previous notes on Noa’s novel. He wished he had spoken to you about what you had outlined to get a better grasp. You and Noa had been working on her novel for a couple of months before Namjoon came into the picture. Surely, he knew how to charm the pants off publishers, but sometimes he felt like you captured the heart of these stories better than he did.

You’re jabbing the number seven several times, encouraging the elevator doors to close. Looking at your phone, there’s half an hour before the presentation. You hoped it was enough time to sort things out with Namjoon and go over your outline.

Turning the corner, you find Namjoon sitting with a laptop. He looks up, almost relieved when he sees you, but of course, he doesn’t make it known.

“Thought you quit,” he says when you’re near.

You flash a thin smile, sitting beside him. “I never waste a moment where I can rescue you, because it looks like you need my help.” A glimpse of a nearly empty page proves your point.

In normal Namjoon fashion, he’s ready to bite back, but he holds his tongue. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You can say ‘thanks’ and I’ll call it even.” He mumbles something indistinct and you cup your hand up to your ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the sound of your ego.”

His shoulders slump, and he cocks his head. “Thanks, ___. I owe you one.”

Wiggling in your chair, you’re smiling proudly because this is the first genuine show of gratitude from Kim Namjoon.

“Here’s what I have. Can you tell me what you and Noa have been working on?”

Even without visuals, you felt the presentation went well and did Noa justice with her novel. Namjoon was another surprise. He didn’t interrupt, waited until you finished before adding in his two cents.

Although the presentation and trip to New York were short and sweet, it was eye-opening for you because you had been toying with the idea of opening up a literary agency. The sound of being your own boss sounded lovely.

“We did good, huh?” Namjoon says as he stands beside you.

“We?” You quirk an eyebrow.

He tilts his head. “You. You did a good job.”

You stand proud outside of the hotel’s driveway as the two of you wait for an Uber. “I know. I always save the day.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Well, have a good flight back home.”

Whipping your head back to him, your brows stitched in confusion. “Are you not going back to Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “My mom’s surgery got moved up, so I’m flying straight to Seoul. I’ll be back in Chicago in two weeks.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thanks,” he flashes a small smile. A car pulls up to him. “Looks like my ride's here. I’ll see you.”

Namjoon grabs his carry-on, ready to leave, but you stop him. “Joon–” He turns back around. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. You’re right. I haven’t treated you nicely and have blamed you for a lot of things over the years, and it’s no one’s fault, but my own. I hope things go well with your mom, and if you ever need anyone to talk to, you can call me.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Call you, hmm?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Just–” you groan. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t even know why I tried.”

Namjoon lets go of his carry-on and walks back to you. “I’m messing with you.” He chuckles lowly, taking another step closer to you. He lifts your chin with his forefinger, his dragon eyes gazing into yours. “It’s our thing, isn’t it? You hate me, I hate you. We find some kind of common ground, then fall in love. Isn’t that in all the books we read?”

You lick your lips and nod, pointing to yourself. “Me? Fall in love with you? Don’t push your luck, Joon.”

read 'under the mistletoe' (a don't push your luck drabble)

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #rm fic #rm fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenario #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x you #fic: don’t push your luck

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shuadotcom · 1 year

Text

Polaroid Love | KMG

Summary: The prospect of meeting Mingyu’s family has you feeling a new emotion that you’ve never felt with anyone else.

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x GN!Reader

Genres & AUs: Fluff, slice of life, established relationship au, college au

Rating: PG15

Warnings: Profanity, a make-out scene, mention of something suggestive but otherwise just fluffy

Words: 4.8k

Note: This was supposed to be posted on Mingyu’s birthday, but life happened so here it is now! Thank you to my wonderful beta @playmetheclassics ily Indi mwah! 😘 This banner took me like an hour to make in canva and I’m very proud of it thank you very much. Anyway I love Mingyu 🙂

Net tag: @kflixnet

“Please? It'll be fun!”

“No.”

“Please? You just have to show up and talk to a couple of my family members. It's not a big deal.”

“Mingyu, no.”

“Pleaseeee!”

“I said no, Gyu!”

A chorus of shushes is heard after your outburst, along with glares from the other library patrons. Bowing your head quickly, you whisper apologies while your boyfriend giggles from next to you. A light pinch to his thigh stops him, though.

“Ow!” Mingyu whines, rubbing the sore spot. “That hurt! You're always so mean.”

Rolling your eyes at his dramatics, you stare at your book again. “Don’t be such a baby.”

He’s about to respond when you’re interrupted by your best friend and roommate nearly colliding with your table.

“Did you guys hear!?” Jeongyeon is out of breath as she harshly whispers at you.

“Did we hear what, that you're in love with Park Jimin? The whole campus knows.” You laugh and dodge the pen she throws at you.

“No, smartass! We're going away for spring break.”

“Who is we?”

“All of us! You two, me, Soonyoung, Hansol, Junhui, everyone. Jeonghan was able to convince Seungcheol to help drive us all to the beach for the break.”

“How the hell did he accomplish that? I remember when we brought it up a few months ago, Seungcheol said he’d rather do a pop quiz every day over break before taking all of us anywhere.”

Jeongyeon shrugs. “Who knows? You know Cheol can never say no to Jeonghan.”

“How many vans do you think we'll need to get?” Mingyu asks, leaning over the table in excitement.

Jeongyeon taps her finger against her chin in thought. “Maybe two? There’ll be fifteen of us, so it depends on how many seats they have.”

“Oh, only fifteen? I would’ve thought Jimin would be coming,” you tease, watching her get flustered at another mention of her crush’s name.

“I - I don’t even know what he’s doing for the break.”

“Ask him and see if he’s free. Maybe if you're lucky, you guys will get to sit next to each other for the whole drive.” You watch Jeongyeon's eyes widen, and you can practically hear her mind running at full speed in thought. “Well, I'll leave you with that thought. I'm off to lunch.” You stand up and gather your books with Mingyu right behind you.

“Poor Noona. You’ve left her in there to stress about how she’ll ask Jimin-hyung on the trip," he chuckles, throwing an arm over your shoulders.

Rolling your eyes, you wave off his concern. “She’s fine, I promise. She’s been into him for about two years and frothing at the mouth for a chance to get closer to him. He likes her too if the way he practically drools over her whenever they are within a five-foot radius of each other is any indication. One of them needs to suck it up and ask the other out because they're torturing themselves.”

“If it’ll help, I can talk to Jungkook about it during class later and see if I can get him to mention it to him.”

“Good idea, Gyu,” you praise him, placing a kiss on his hand that’s dangling over your shoulder.

He squeezes your shoulder in response, pulling you closer to his body. “Don’t worry about it. The only thing you need to worry about is picking out an outfit.”

Skeptically you crane your neck up to look at him, brows furrowed. “For what?”

“For my family reunion.”

“No.”

“Please?!”

“I said no. I'm not going.”

“But-”

“No.” You reach the cafeteria then and slip from Mingyu’s embrace. He has a class in the building next door, so you know he won’t pester you anymore for at least an hour.

“Baby!”

“See you later, Gyu!” You blow him a kiss and slip inside before he can say anything else.

The rest of the week is crammed with last-minute assignments, everyone making plans for spring break, and Mingyu bringing up the family reunion any chance he gets.

It's not that you don’t want to go because you dislike Mingyu's family or anything. You’ve never actually met them, which in itself is the real problem. What if they don’t like the way you look? What if they don’t think you’re good enough for Mingyu? What if they end up hating you completely?

You’re not usually one to worry too much about what people think of you, but the idea of anyone as close to Mingyu as his family not liking you fills you with an immeasurable amount of dread. You’ve been dating for nearly a year, and you care about him more than anyone else you’ve ever been with. You’re lucky enough to have been able to fall into his friend group so easily and get along with everyone, but his family is so much deeper than that. You’re not sure you can handle someone like his mom taking one look at you and deciding you’re not right for her son.

You have a few weeks before the reunion, so you figure if you can deny him enough times, he'll forget about it and stop bringing it up. So far, your plan is failing miserably, though, as every other day, he’s bringing it up in person or sending you message after message about it.

You’ll be the first to admit that you have a problem opening up and talking about your feelings. You tend to bottle your emotions up inside, keeping them tucked close to you and have been that way as long as you can remember. Because of this, you’ve yet to tell Mingyu the real reason you keep turning him down, at least not yet, not until you can gather the courage to dive into your feelings more.

It’s been a week since you’ve been trying to deter the reunion conversation with Mingyu, at times even turning down hanging out with him completely to doge the topic, citing you being too busy with assignments, which is half-true. Running from your feeling is the other half of that excuse, but he doesn’t need to know that yet.

After your last class on Friday ends, you head to the library, hoping to finish your homework before meeting Jeongyeon for dinner and starting the weekend. While you’re on the last question of your sociology assignment, a noticeable shadow appears over your table. When you glance up, Wonwoo, Mingyu’s roommate, is staring down at you with a stoic expression.

“Yes?”

“Mingyu is very distressed.”

“And?”

“And you should fix it. He's been moping around our room all day and blowing up the group chat nonstop. He keeps whining about how you won't go to his family reunion and meet his family.”

“He's a drama queen,” you mumble. Wonwoo sighs and leans over the table in front of you. Wonwoo is probably one of the guys in your large group of friends you were closest with, besides your boyfriend, of course. The tall, dark-haired man seemed intimidating and cold when you first met, but his looks are deceiving. Wonwoo is nothing but sweet and funny and has proven to be a great listener when you needed to vent when Jeongyeon or Mingyu weren’t around.

“He really likes you, you know. He doesn't shut up about you when you're not around, and it kind of makes the rest of us want to strangle him.” Wonwoo lets out a laugh and looks back at you as you avoid his gaze.

“Look, he wants you to meet his family because he's serious about you. He's only dated three other people in his whole life, and none of them met his family beyond maybe his parents and sister here and there. He never even mentioned bringing any of them around his entire family, so think about that.” He stands upright after his words, giving you one more look.

“I don’t want to pry, so I won’t ask you to tell me why you won’t go, but just know it’s more important to him than he’s probably said to you.” With that, Wonwoo sends you a wave that you feebly return before leaving you alone in your corner of the library.

The thought of just how important the reunion is to Mingyu hadn’t been something you thought about. And the knowledge of you being the only partner of his to meet his whole family has butterflies taking flight in your stomach and dread washing over you. Something new and foreign stirs in your chest at that moment, which has your mind whirling.

Quickly, you stand up and gather your things, sending a brief text to Jeongyeon to bring dinner to your shared room because you have something very important to discuss with her.

Your dorm building is just as busy as it usually is when you get inside, with students kicking soccer balls in the hallways, leaving their doors open while they blast music, or loitering in the halls and chatting. You take the stairs to the second floor to successfully dodge Joshua, who you glimpse heading into the elevator down the hall. Wonwoo had only cornered you to give you a small lecture, but you’re sure Joshua won’t hesitate to bring it up and try to press a little as to why you keep turning Mingyu down.

When you round the corner of your hall, you spot Jeongyeon already there, hanging outside your room while conversing with one of the younger men in your group of friends.

“Beat it, Chan.”

“What?” A look of surprise flashes over his face as he looks between the two of you.

“You heard me. Leave.”

“But earlier this morning Jeongyeon-noona said I could eat dinner with you guys tonight!”

“Yeah, well, Jeongyeon and I have something very important to discuss, and you're not invited.” His intense pout instantly makes you feel bad.

“Sorry, Chan,” you sigh. “I just really have to talk to her about something that’s kind of an emergency. Can we take a rain check?” You soften your tone, hoping to lessen his disappointment.

Chan glances at Jeongyeon, who shrugs. “Alright, fine,” he relents. “But you have to buy me a snack next time for being mean.”

“Deal,” you roll your eyes at both him and the smirk on his face. “I think your boyfriend needs some company anyway. Bye!” He meets your gaze, chuckling at the face you give him, which you know is one of exasperation. You wait until he’s down the hall before turning to face Jeongyeon.

“I guess you weren't joking in your text about something ‘life-changing and imperative’. What's going on?” She asks as she unlocks the door.

“Well, I haven't told you something because I just wanted to keep it to myself because I hoped it would go away soon, but Mingyu is stubborn, so it hasn't.”

“Which is exactly why you two are meant for one another.” You shoot Jeongyeon a look and snatch one of the bento boxes from her hands.

“Could you hang back on the sarcasm while I talk? And just let me get it all out first.”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead. I'm all ears.”

You each sit on your respective beds facing each other, and you let the word vomit flow. You recount Wonwoo’s words about the family reunion to her and what he had told you about Mingyu’s past partners, and how much this all means to him. You also let out your feelings that you’ve been trying to keep to yourself - about your insecurities and worries about making a good impression and the guilt nagging at you every time you turn Mingyu down.

“This is just so important to him, and I can't even do this one thing! The thought of all of those people there judging me for my major or the way I look or the outfit I decide to wear, or literally anything about me! It's way too overwhelming, and every time I think about it, I go into panic mode, and I start to feel anxious and itchy. I’m terrified that they won’t like me, Jeongyeon.

“What if they try to tell Gyu to break up with me or something? What if we get there, and he sees me being weird and awkward, and I make a bad impression, and he decides that I’m not who he thought I was, and he wants to break up with me on his own? But then I’m so guilty about disappointing him and not going, and I feel like I lose whether I say no to him or whether I go and then fuck everything up. I just don't know what to do!” You let out a groan and flop backwards on the bed. Your forgotten dinner, now getting cold, jostles on the bed next to you.

The room is quiet for a few minutes before Jeongyeon speaks. “You love him.”

You sit up so quickly that your head starts to hurt. “What did you say?”

“I said you love him. That's why you feel so guilty and are so confused. I've known you since we were teenagers, Y/n. You are one of the most stubborn people I have ever met. When you don't want to do something, you simply don't, and you don't give it much of a second thought. Of course, you consider doing things you don’t want to for me and your other friends, but this is different!”

Jeongyeon hops off her bed to sit next to you, offering you a comforting back rub. “You feel the way you do because you love Mingyu, and you’re scared that his family won’t like you, which will break your heart, and you don’t want to lose him.”

You don’t respond to her, so she continues.

“If you want my opinion, I think you should go to the reunion. If you want to stay with Mingyu and keep this relationship going, you’ll have to meet his family eventually. You can’t hide from them forever if you stay together. Plus, I’m willing to bet he feels the same. Mingyu looks at you as if you are an actual ethereal being and like you’re the center of his world. I don’t think you have to worry about his reaction when and if you decide to tell him the truth about everything you’re feeling.”

Jeongyeon’s expression is soft as she looks at you, waiting for your response and giving you time to process everything.

Do you love Mingyu? Sure, you love spending time with him. He’s the most attentive, sweetest, kind-hearted partner you’ve ever had. He pays attention to every detail about you, whether your likes and dislikes or silly, arbitrary things. Every day with him feels like a dream, and you often wonder how the hell you got so lucky to end up with a boyfriend as amazing as Kim Mingyu.

Being with Mingyu is the happiest you’ve ever been, and the idea of loving him - of him being the first person you’ve ever been in true, genuine love with is uncharted waters for you. The mere idea of losing him leaves a gaping hole in your chest - the hypothetical of that situation alone makes your eyes water. Not hugging Mingyu? Not holding hands or sharing laughter with him? Not seeing his beautiful, perfect face in the morning as he snores just the tiniest bit? You and Mingyu haven’t been together for that long, but any world where you have a Mingyu-shaped piece missing from your life isn’t one you ever want to think about.

As if sensing you deep in thought, Jeongyeon gives you a final pat before leaving you alone. She grabs the rest of her dinner, letting you know she’ll be back later and mumbling something about “finally having a breakthrough and needing to take care of something.” You bid her farewell with a simple nod, reaching for your bento box to quiet your grumbling stomach. Eating in silence, you try to sort through the jumbled mess in your head, digesting the new thoughts and feelings you’re experiencing, all for the first stressful time.

You stay holed up in your dorm room the rest of the weekend, thankful now more than ever that you managed to get a schedule with only weekday classes.

Mingyu, being the caring boyfriend he is, knows something is wrong on Saturday morning right away. When you wake up, you have a few texts from him, asking to see you and take you out.

His desperation to check in with you and see you are obvious, even through written words, which makes it hard to turn him away.

[Y/n] I want to be alone this weekend, okay, Gyu? I’m not feeling very social.

[Gyu💖] Are you sure? Is everything okay?

[Y/n] Yeah, I just want alone time, okay? 🙂

[Gyu💖] 🥺

[Gyu💖] Okay, baby. Whatever you want ❤️

You can practically hear the pout in his text, and it feels shitty to turn him away, but you need more time. Since Friday night, when Jeongyeon had planted the seed in your brain, you decide it would be best to avoid Mingyu just to get your thoughts in order.

Jeongyeon passes along the message to the rest of your friends that you’re fine and just need some alone time. It’s the only thing that quiets your phone and stops your various group chats from continuing to go off. Everyone is kind enough to respect your wishes though, allowing you to spend the two days drowning in your thoughts and eating almost half of your and Jeongyeon’s instant ramen stash. It was probably dramatic to hide away all weekend, but it helped you wake up on Monday with a clearer head.

“I hope you plan on talking to Mingyu today,” Jeongyeon says as you get ready for your Monday morning lecture. “I saw him yesterday when I was eating lunch, and he looked like a lost, sad puppy without you there bossing him around. All he needed was a rainstorm and a choreography routine, and he would’ve looked straight out of an early 2000s break-up song music video.”

The image makes you laugh just a little before frowning and feeling bad for leaving him hanging all weekend.

“I am, I promise. I just needed to get my shit together.”

The two of you head out across campus to your shared lecture hall. Mingyu has class is in the building on the other side of campus, so you won’t have to see him for a couple of hours, giving you plenty of time to calm your nerves.

That idea is dismissed when you get inside and spot him by your classroom door. Mingyu’s long legs allow him to reach you in an instant, gently grabbing your arm and whisking you around the corner and into the stairwell. You can already tell he’s unhappy just by the look on his face.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Is the first thing out of his mouth.

“What?”

“I asked if you’re breaking up with me. I know you said you needed time alone, and Jeongyeon told us all the same thing, mentioning that you were just taking a couple of mental health days, but does that mean that you’re breaking up with me and were just taking time to think about doing it?”

“Mingyu, I-”

“Is it because I keep pressuring you to meet my family? You don't have to!”

“It's not that I just-”

“Am I too annoying? I swear I won’t bring it up again! And if there’s anything else that I do that’s too annoying or immature, just tell me, and I'll change, I promise!"

“Mingyu, you don't understand. I just need to-”

“No, you don't understand! I really like you, okay, Y/n? I like you more than anyone I’ve ever dated. Just going two days without being around you killed me! That, on top of the fact that I couldn't even call you or see your face, made it so much worse! I just wanted to break down your door and come in and hold you in my arms even though you'd probably be yelling at me the whole time. I just hated the thought of you being unhappy, and I couldn’t do anything about it.” Mingyu looks almost near tears as he takes in a big breath.

“I don't care if you say that it's too soon, but I just need to say that I think I'm in love with you! You don't have to feel the same yet or say it back, I just needed to say it. Even if you think I'm foolish or that I don't know anything, and-”

“Kim Mingyu, I love you too!” You yank the front of his shirt and pull him closer.

“What did you just say?” Your forehead rests against his, his brown eyes wide as he gapes at you.

“I said that I love you too. That's what I was doing this weekend. I needed time to think about my feelings and figure out if I was in love with you, and I am. I felt bad about saying no to meeting your family, and I felt like such a terrible partner, and I couldn't figure out why, but I was able to think about it, and goddammit, I love you. I love you a lot, and it scares me because I don’t think I’ve ever truly been in love, but I know that I love you.”

You barely have the chance to catch your breath from your speech before Mingyu is leaning down and stealing the air left in your lungs. He presses you against the wall as your arms wind around his neck, and you sigh into the kiss, indulging in the familiar, comforting taste that is Kim Mingyu. He drags his tongue across your bottom lip, asking for entrance which you immediately grant him. The kiss easily deepens as your tongues intertwine, and his grip on your waist gets tighter. If you hadn't needed to breathe, you would've spent the rest of the day exactly the way you are.

Mingyu pulls away, allowing you to breathe, both of you panting, flushed, and smiling like idiots at each other.

“You love me,” Mingyu whispers.

“I love you.”

“Say it again,” you roll your eyes at the wonderful, wide grin he shoots you but repeat yourself, punctuating it with a quick kiss on the tiny mole on his nose.

“And I love you too.” Mingyu murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours before capturing your lips once again. Your hands move to his hair, fingers grabbing at his soft strands.

“Ahem!” A sudden voice makes the two of you spring apart. When you glance to the doorway, you see Jeongyeon waiting, her face serious and her arms crossed. “Hey, so this is cute and all, don't get me wrong, but we have a lecture to get to like now, Y/n.”

Groaning, Mingyu peeks over his shoulder at Jeongyeon. “Fine, I'll let go.” When he turns back to you still in his arms, a different expression clouds his features. “But this evening, after your last class, I'm coming to your room, and you're all mine.” His words and the look in his eyes make your face heat up, already knowing what you have to look forward to tonight.

“O - okay,” you croak, clearing your throat. Mingyu gives you one more kiss before slipping past Jeongyeon and waving at you both down the hall.

“Ugh, please don't tell me you guys are going to have sex in our room. What about me?!”

You snap out of the trance your boyfriend left you in and side-eye your best friend. “What about you? Why don't you go do the same with Jimin while we're busy? I may have barricaded myself in our room, but I still have a way of knowing things. Like how Professor Ok caught you two making out and having quite the heavy petting session in the back of the cafeteria yesterday.” Jeongyeon’s jaw drops as her cheeks begin to turn bright red.

“How did you know that?!”

“I have my ways.” You smirk as she follows you into your lecture. Even though you were a recluse all weekend, you still checked your phone from time to time. A celebratory message from Seungkwan in your group chat with a few other nosey friends confirmed the news and everyone was relieved to finally have confirmation that Jeongyeon and Jimin had admitted their feelings for one another.

“All I know is, it's about damn time.” You practically skip to your seat, leaving Jeongyeon stuttering out an excuse behind you.

“I'm not moving this van until you all have your seat belts on.” Seungcheol eyes all of you in the rearview mirror and waits until he hears the click of seat belts to pull out of the campus parking lot.

After much debate, all of you decide to spend the week in a hotel near the closest beach to you. Winter has officially left, and spring is now in its place, with weather warm enough for shorts and tank tops. You had all chipped in to rent a fifteen-passenger van and are leaving campus at eight in the morning, thanks to Seokmin’s nagging about getting the best spot on the sand.

Once the van starts to move, Jeongyeon turns around to the row of seats behind her and lays her head on the back of the seat. You look up from your phone to meet her gaze, already knowing what she’s going to ask.

“So, how was the reunion? I didn't get a chance to ask you since you guys got back.” You and Mingyu had gotten back from his parent's house the night before when Jeongyeon was asleep, and with the excitement of getting ready to leave this morning, the two of you hadn’t gotten much time to talk about it.

“It was really fun, actually. His family was super nice and accepting. He threw a fit at one point because his little sister and one of his cousins were attached to my hip. His mom threatened to show me any and every embarrassing picture of him she had if he didn’t stop acting like a baby and that worked.” You let out a quiet snicker, glancing at Mingyu, asleep on your shoulder.

“She was seriously so sweet, though. And the only time I embarrassed myself was when we were going into the house to help her with some of the food, and she said something along the lines of ‘When you two get married,’ which made me trip, and Gyu had to catch me before I ate dirt.”

Jeongyeon stifles a laugh, covering it with a cough. “Well, hey, at least she likes you! You were worried over nothing.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But oh! I take it Jimin had other plans for break?”

She flushes, nodding. “Yeah, he already had a trip booked with his friends, so he couldn’t come. We have a date planned for when we both get back to school, though, so I’m excited about that.” A dopey smile plays on her lips, and you coo at the gesture.

“I’m so glad you two finally admitted that you like each other!”

“Me too!” Soonyoung pipes up from next to Jeongyeon. “Do you know how annoying it was to hear Jimin gush over you in dance class every week? I swear, every time we were partnered up, his first questions were always about how you were doing and if you were seeing anyone. I can only answer back ‘fine’ and ‘no’ so many times before I lose my mind!”

“Shut it, Soonyoung! I thought you were asleep!” He ignores Jeongyeon and turns in his seat to face you.

“I hope I don’t have to hear him talk even more about how great she is! I don’t think I can stand fifty minutes of him running how mouth about how much he likes her and all the dates they go on and how good she is in bed and -”

Jeongyeon sucks her teeth, snatching his tiger plushie from his hands and hitting him over the head with it a few times. “You know all about running your mouth, don’t you?! Stop talking about my relationship!”

“I’m sorry, stop it! Y/n, get her!”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you!” Popping your earbuds in, you gesture to your now occupied ears, dramatically shrugging at your friends.

Mingyu stirs next to you, and you can’t help but brush away a stray piece of hair from his face. The commotion barely phases him as he adjusts to wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face into your neck.

Aside from Jeongyeon threatening Soonyoung’s life, everyone else is either chatting quietly with each other or sleeping, the energy low from getting up so early, but you’re nowhere near tired, still feeling full of warmth and admiration for Mingyu’s family and how well they treated you. Instead of trying to sleep, you settle for laying your head on top of Mingyu's and simply enjoying the warmth of your boyfriend the man that you are wholeheartedly in love with.

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