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inuyashaluver · 9 months

Note

can you write something for esme morgan please?

arts and crafts - esme morgan

esme morgan x reader

description: in which everyone in the woso community love that you and your girlfriend are an arts and crafts couple

warnings: fluffy es as usual

a/n: our sweet es! thank you for the request! enjoyyyyy❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, esme, met on the arts and crafts table at the lioness youth camp. no one in the team wanted anything to do with it except for you and esme, as soon as it was spotted, you both raced for it.

the two of you just knew each other as teammates, but the time spent at that table grew your bond, escalating in a quick friendship. esme loved to make bracelets and other little crafts while you loved to draw and crochet.

everytime you and esme were at that table, it was peaceful, the two of you lost in your own little world. as time went on, the two of you separately had epiphanies surrounding your feelings for each other, causing hopeless pining for years.

and so, through the encouragement of your teammates, you and esme began to date after 5 years of you being the pining best friends. you confessed to the girl on the bus when you drew her a picture of two little stick figures holding hands with multiple pink and red hearts surrounding them. under, you wrote ‘be my girlfriend? please?’ with two check boxes labelled ‘yes’ and ‘no’. when you placed the folded paper in her hands, you watched as her face contorted from a confused expression into an elated one.

she looks at you with a bright smile, “can i have a pen, please” your eyes widen, the one thing you forgot. “oh, es, i don’t have one” you begin to frantically look through your bag, how could you forget a pen? esme watches your panicked expression, placing a hand on your knee, she smiles at you reassuringly with pink cheeks, insisting that you calm down.

once you were somewhat settled and completely blushed in the face, esme stood from her seat quickly, everyone’s chatter stopping to look at the tall girl with wide eyes. “does anyone have a pen?” she exclaims, moving her head around in hopes she could find one, only to see multiple shaking heads and sorry smiles looking back at her.

“guys, this is actually important, i really need that pen” she pleads, one getting thrown to the back of her head from the front of the bus, she smiles brightly and picks it up, “thank you so much!” she quickly sits down, smiling at you cheekily before taking the paper in her hands, ready to check the box.

suddenly, esme looks at you offendedly, “well turn around (y/n/n)!” you can’t help but smile at her, nodding and turning your head to look outside, you were playing with your hands, incredibly nervous for the blonde’s response. after about two seconds, she gently slips the paper into your hand and you turn towards her, she smiles at you expectantly, giving you a cheeky shrug.

you let out a giggle, gently opening the paper and letting out a big smile. she had checked ‘yes’, you look up at her with love struck eyes, the brightest grin on your face, you pull her into a tight hug, difficult in your sitting position on the bus but you both didn’t mind.

she pulls you close to her with a giggle, humming into your neck as she hides her face there, your breath hitches when her lips lightly graze the point where your neck meets your shoulder. “my lovely girl,” she starts, “why would you even give a ‘no’ option” you pull away from her so you could make eye contact. her eyes were filled with so much love, looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

“because i thought you’d say no” you look down at your lap, fiddling with your hands again until she grasps them in hers, pulling them into her lap. “baby, you’re my dream girl, you always have been, i would never say no to you” she smiles, moving to press a sweet kiss on your cheek, giggling when it grows warm under her touch. “you’re my dream girl, es” you whisper, returning the peck on her own cheek.

you both look at each other with bright smiles until you hear some sniffling coming from the seats behind you, turning to see niamh and lauren hemp crying behind you. you both look at them with wide eyes, “why are you crying?” you laugh, your own eyes filling up with tears, “you guys are so cute, took you long enough” niamh lets out a wet laugh, quickly wiping a stray tear on her cheek.

you can’t help but join her, tears falling from your eyes but esme is quick to wipe them away with her thumbs, you smile up at her and she looks at you tearfully. “so cute” lauren added, her eyes flickering between the two of you as you smile at each other cheekily.

—

and so, the rest is history, you and esme had been dating for three years, playing with each other at manchester city and england. you moved in to her house and lived a life full of love and happiness. the two of you had gotten called up for the world cup, both of you were so happy - representing your country, with your girlfriend beside you, what more could you want?

when you and esme walked hand and hand into the world cup base camp for the first time, you were confused by multiple teammates sending you mischievous looks, you had been the last ones to walk in the room. “what is it?” you question, gripping esme's hand a little tighter, she instinctively pulls you closer towards her, the media staff were filming you in the corner of your eye and you and esme were deeply confused.

until you see it, there stood an arts and crafts table, abundant with numerous projects to complete. everyone laughs at you and esme’s bright eyes, you look at each other with big smiles before you run towards the table, the girl yelping as she trailed after you.

“like old times, baby” you coo, looking up at her with a nostalgic grin. both of you were currently transported back in time, both of you not even 16 when you sat at that table with curious eyes, mindlessly chatting and crafting with flushed cheeks.

“it really is, love” she smiles down at you, placing a quick, sweet kiss on your lips. it was well known by the woso community that you were an arts and crafts couple, this would surely be a popular video when it’s released, you thought.

whenever you had down time before or after training, you and esme would sit at the table and craft and chat for hours, sitting close to each other and enjoying the variety of projects.

esme was totally fixated on making bracelets, immediately making you one in the lioness colours to add to your collection from years and years of knowing each other. you react the same every time, clutching it to your chest with a grin before asking her to put it on with a kiss to her cheek.

you on the other hand would crochet, and through all your years of practice, you were extremely quick. you made your girlfriend a beanie in not even two days, due to the cold winter air in australia, she never took it off.

when requests started flooding in to esme for bracelets, she employed you as her second in command, since she’d taught you how to make bracelets years ago, you instantly agreed and joined your girlfriend in her craft.

the two of you would make bracelets to and from training, during down time, even on the planes to different cities around australia. everyone in the team loved to film the two of you, esme even making tik toks for her channel.

“hi, everyone, me and my lovely girlfriend have been making bracelets for our lioness teammates, so watch our series of how we made them!” esme smiles at her phone, you grab her arm and run your hands over it in attempts to keep her warm. she smiles down appreciatively at you and you smile shyly, kissing her cheek and resting your head on her shoulder.

the whole interaction caught on camera, the two of you would never live the simp allegations down but you both didn’t care. the videos were blowing up, many people wanting more of the series and more content of you and esme being absolute cuties.

everyone found it incredibly endearing that you and esme still had a love and passion for your arts and crafts, many of your teammates also feeling that sense of nostalgia when either you or esme would place a carefully crafted bracelet in their hands.

you had made one for esme, all her favourite colours, you had made it so carefully, wanting her to have the most perfect bracelet ever. though, you had secretly been learning a new method of bracelets, one constructed of hearts, it was incredibly hard to keep a secret from your girl but you just had to.

she was sat on the bus before you after a game, waiting patiently in the aisle seat while she edited the tik tok video on her phone.

you keep your hands behind your back, grinning at her cheekily as you attempt to sneak up on her but she sensed your presence before you even got on the bus, feeling as though she could smell you anywhere. when you approach her, she smiles brightly, immediately dropping her phone to her lap and outstretching her arms out to you, gesturing for you to sit in her lap.

you quicken your pace, settling on the tops of her thighs before asking her to close her eyes. she giggles and follows your instructions, feeling you place a bracelet on her hand. immediately, you see her bright grin gracing her features as you carefully tie it around her arm, finishing it off with a quick kiss to her jaw. “open!”

esme’s eyes widen and immediately turn into crescent moons, smiling so brightly at your heart bracelet. “woah! baby! i didn’t teach you this, it’s amazing, i love it!” she rushes out, moving her hand up to cradle your face affectionately, giving you a loving kiss on your nose. “i learnt it in secret” you whisper, the bus slowly begins to move, esme carefully moves you over to sit in your seat but keeping your legs draped over her thighs.

“my crafty girl” she grins, running her hand over your shin in a steady pattern. “do you want me to teach you, essy?” you let out a laugh at her eager nod, grabbing the sports tape from your bag and taping some strings of her choice on your leg, she uses you as a makeshift table.

you smirk when esme picks all your favourite colours from your selection, the girl had clear intentions. of course, she picks it up well, finishing in a short amount of time and presenting it to you with a big smile. you move to place a hand on her jaw and give her a kiss on her lips, intending for it to be quick but esme slips her tongue past your lips. you gasp when she gives you a light squeeze on your thigh, leaning into you until your back hit the window, kissing until you hear a clear of a throat coming from the front of you.

esme groans and pulls her lips from you, looking up to see the mischievous grins of none other than lauren and niamh, just like all those years back. “why do you two get different bracelets to us? it’s so unfair!” lauren exclaims with a teasing grin, niamh nods along to the girl’s words. “yeah i agree, why does she get all the hearts and we don’t?” niamh points at esme’s arm that was resting on your thigh.

“well, niamhy, you’re not exactly my lover, darling but i do love you” you offer her a charming grin, “but i can be” she sends you a teasing wink, esme immediately squeezing your thigh again before lifting her head up to flick niamh on the forehead. “nope! she’s all mine” esme taunts, moving to place numerous kisses on your cheek, causing the both of you to break out into giggles.

“disgustingly cute, the pair of you!” niamh laughs, pulling lauren to sit down again while the two of you giggle and whisper to each other. you both continue to make bracelets for the rest of the team, as well as the staff taking care of all of you. amongst all the chaos, you and esme always had each other to enjoy your arts and crafts with, acting as a bond tying you together. both of you need to be grateful to that arts and crafts table.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you babes, ily hempo

liked by niamhcharles17 and 44,232 others

esme.morgan: my little lover girl, she’s the cutest

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yourname: you’re the cutest

↳ esme.morgan: no you

niamhcharles17: simps

lauren_hemp: simps

lionesses: simps

mancity: simps

yourname: ENOUGH

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #esme morgan #esme morgan x reader

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rainychaoloveshack · 3 months

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AAAAAAAA LET ME THINK 😗 can i please please request a shadow x fem reader where has a nightmare about what happened with his past, all the trauma coming up to him after all these years. he starts tossing and turning waking reader up, so she starts to try and wake him, and when he finally does he thinks he’s still dreaming and he pushes reader to the bed thinking she’s a g.u.n soldier, anger in his eyes, but in the end he realizes she’s his partner and apologizes and makes it up for scaring her and KWNENFNFKWKWKE omggg please make this hurt to comfort and play with my guts 😍😍

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐀𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

shadow had a nightmare. he didn't notice that it was you trying to comfort him.

content. shadow x f!reader, mentioned engagement, hurt to comfort, crazy angst, unintentional violence, this man is crazy traumatized

☂︎ wc. 1k ☂︎ a/n. I AM DONE !!!! you had me SALIVATING W THIS REQUEST 🤤🤤🤤 might’ve gotten a bit extreme with it… threw sum extra things in there tewww

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!!

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭

⋆｡˚ 🌨 ˚｡⋆｡🌩˚☽˚｡⋆

☂︎

Sleep is ripped away from your grasp as your body reacts to the tossing and turning beside you, causing you to open your eyes slowly and take in your surroundings instinctively. The same as it always is. Pale moonlight shimmers through a small slit in the dark curtains, illuminating your fiance’s sleeping, yet disturbed form, turning onto his back with a small grumble.

You shift your body to the side, propping yourself up on your elbow as you study the features lined on his face, clearly in distress. It must be a nightmare. Poor honey.

Reaching out your hand, you graze it across his soft cheek, not noticing any big reaction besides his current disturbance.

A soft murmur of his name slips out of your mouth, nudging him again once you notice that he’s not waking up. Strange. Usually, he’s such a light sleeper; always on alert and such.

It must be bad.

You frown, reaching over to shake his body lightly, repeating his name yet again, to no response. You lean over his slumbering figure, brushing your thumb across his cheek softly, and suddenly you can feel his body jolt awake, relieved for only a split moment until the expression on him finally registers in your head.

Shadow’s eyes rip open and immediately meet yours in a frantic, crazed stare. A snarl emerges from him and his hand lunges at your throat, using his other one to grab you at the shoulder and flip you over, pinning you down to the bed as something snaps loudly beneath you; one of the wooden supports, perhaps. “YOU!” He snarls, your head slamming into the headboard, forcing a gasp out of your lungs, and the stinging sensation in your head proliferates. “I”LL KILL-” With your teeth clenched in pain and shock, your eyes dart up to his face, seeing the way his pupils slit and his eyes widen in pure terror. “You?”

Ah…

“... [Name].” Shadow says quietly, almost like a statement as he comes back to reality, thankfully quickly, but not quick enough. His breath hitches as he looks at your fear-filled form, your hands drawing up to his still on your throat, loosening its hold on you. He gasps softly, letting go immediately as he gazes at you, almost disbelieving the situation at hand.

Awakened from a nightmare, just to fall back into another one.

“I…” Shadow says shakily, his muscles and grip slowly relaxing on your shoulders as he comes to the realization that it's you, his love. “Honey…” He says softly, hesitating to reach out to you; to touch you. Shadow leans back and away from your shaking form, hands twitching violently as he looks down at his palms, then back up. “[Name].” The tone of desperation in his voice is too much to bear, and you reach out to pull him into a tight hug, feeling the strong resistance at first, but he settles in, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, anguished embrace.

Shadow brings you closer, shakily breathing as his grip around you tightens further, still in shock of his actions towards you, despite it all being a mistake. “I’m sorry.” The quiet words flowed out of his mouth, even though they weren’t necessary at all. You understand; of course you do. How could you not? All of his pain, all of the grief put into one person. It’s too much to bear.

But he had done the one thing he’d feared for so long. Hurting you. The ever-loving you.

Sounds from the vent system can be heard whirring quietly in the corner between your silence as he takes in your embrace, obviously shaken from his nightmare. “I’m sorry.” He repeats, his voice trembling even as he tries to hide it, and you pet his head slowly, your fingers running lightly against his quills. Shadow’s finger traces small circles on your back, twitching and shaking, attempting to ground and soothe himself from not only the nightmare, but also the fear of hurting you further.

Shadow grips the back of your shirt, crumbling further as he snuggles into the crook of your neck, wishing he could suffocate himself with the shame swirling around his head.

“I can’t lose you too; I can’t. It won’t happen again, I promise.” He mutters endlessly, trying to convince you that he means every syllable leaving his mouth, though you already believe it so. You’ve never doubted him for even a moment, if at all.

Shadow loves you with all of his heart, with every fiber of his being and existence, that much was clear already.

A sigh leaves your parted lips as you move him away from you, cupping his cheeks as you brush away the tears forming from his widened eyes, presumably from a lack of blinking, still trying to ground himself as his eyes meet yours again.

“Will…” He mutters, eyes filled with a desperation you’ve never seen before. “Will you really be able to be with me?” Shadow says softly, taking a hand of yours off his cheek as his fingers brush over the engagement ring he gave you, watching the gem glitter softly in the moonlight. “I want it, I do. I know that I can be a hassle but-”

A small smile grows on your lips, and your shoulders shake with the laughter you’re holding in as you press a kiss on his cheek, Shadow not missing the chance to peck one right back on your lips, making sure to display his affection and love for you tenfold. How out of character for him to be concerned like that. Does he doubt your feelings for him?

Now why is he so worried about something like that? There’s no man in any world, any dimension for that matter, that you’d rather be wed to.

#sonic x reader #sonic #sth #shadow the hedgehog x reader #thank you for your request!#shadows past makes me so sad :(#shadow the hedgehog #i love the idea of a husband shadow #yes pls pls #might write smth about that down the line ;)

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vitaminseetarot · 4 months

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PAC: What Hobby Should You Begin Next? 🎨🛶📯

Sup y'all, it's time for a new pick a card reading (this one's especially for you night owls out there as I'm posting this at midnight lol). Ideally, I'd like to post one PAC every week after this but eh, lettuce see about that. 🥬👀

This pick a card was inspired by the remaining energies of late Taurus season. The grass is bright, the air is warm, the flowers are blooming, and it's brought out the artist in me. While I've been finishing a leisure painting, I stopped to draw out some cards to help out anyone who's in the mood to do something fun in their spare time but could use some direction or guidance.

Pick any one of the four Prism Oracle cards below, or its corresponding crystal/emoji, to see what hobby you could explore next, or if there is a hobby you enjoy that is calling for your attention:

Pile 1 - Consciousness + Moonstone 🌙 Pile 2 - Happiness + Carnelian 😊 Pile 3 - Creativity + Amethyst 🎉 Pile 4 - Determination + Citrine 🧭

Pile 1 - Consciousness + Moonstone 🌙

77 Beginnings, Sound+Resonance+Frequency, The Musician, Capricorn Rising - Aspire; Page of Swords, Page of Wands, 9 of Cups, Knight of Swords, XI Justice

Wow, pile 1, I think you have the most obvious answer of all four piles. You're very drawn to pursuing something musical. It could be in a variety of ways. You might try singing, writing a song, playing an instrument, learning to dance, or perform in musical theater (the purple curtain in the Justice card definitely brings theater to mind). You could enjoy collecting vinyl records, or producing music through special programs and apps. You may desire to publish your music online, or dream of going big on stage and signing major contracts with labels. Two Pages tells me you're most likely into more than one thing, as plenty of musical artists can multitask.

Your pile was the only one to get two Prism cards at first as Anxiety initially wanted to pop out. It's also clear that with two Pages and the Beginnings card, you're very new at this hobby. There's an over awareness of this fact, that on some level you may not know where to even start. There's some doubt I sense that you feel you can't be at the level you wish to stand on. Capricorn energy wants to reach for the very top of the ladder in accomplishment; it is a steady energy although not intent on settling. I get that there are many people here who greatly look up to an artist and wish to have their same talents. Try to look past the smoke and mirrors of all the top 40's singers and know that music is way more accessible than it's made to look.

Try embracing the newness of this pursuit, pile 1. It's okay to be a little lost, or feel that there's a long way to go. The only way to go pro is to start small and grow. There are a lot of free resources online for learning music (try out musictheory.net for free lessons) and free vocal technique lessons on Youtube. Some people are very lucky to have the chance to start learning at a young age, but if we were to set a rule stating that only those who did so could play, that would leave a lot of creative geniuses and successful musicians out of the frame. If you're learning to play the keyboard, practice one song or even one note at a time (doesn't have to be Chopsticks, lol). Consistency is key.

When the inspiration and joy to explore music finally strikes you, take the time to really dive in and make something small. If you're trying to write a song, start with a jingle. If it's music theory you want to go over, start with just 1 lesson and see how it feels. If you're learning to dance, begin with warm ups and slow music before working on the more intense songs. Are you looking for writing inspiration? Keep plenty of notes on hand and learn how to identify music so you can easily write a melody down (there are empty music notebooks for this). If this is something you would like to do in the long term, then continue to practice with that perspective by not overdoing it to compensate for "lost time". You are exactly where you need to be on your creative journey.

Pile 2 - Happiness + Carnelian 😊

66 The Selves, You Belong Here, The Wise One, Cancer Moon - Intuit; X Wheel of Fortune, Sagittarius ♐, VI The Lovers, 9 of Pentacles, XVI The Tower

What's going on, pile 2? With the Selves card above Sagittarius, I'm getting that a lot of you may be interested in pursuing theater or comedy, whether that's stand up or it's simply channeled through the projects you create. Your next hobby may involve incorporating a lot of humor into what you do. This pile is the most multifaceted of the four, with many differing hobbies, so I'm going to list a variety of different talents, but what binds them all together is the need to express one's own (very) strong opinions for the world to see.

You may want to be a photographer who documents unusual things, or write something that makes a powerful statement. There's a need here to let go of any of the anxieties that come with expressing your authentic self, because while those feelings are natural, listening to them too much will dampen your creative drive. This is the group that wants to make very surreal graffiti art or provocative dance routines. With the Tower card, here, I feel there's a need for the shock and awe to get your inspiration buzzing. On the gentler side, I can see some of you getting into something nature based like flower printing and permaculture but the caveat is that it's a reflection of your genuine self and beliefs in some way. With Wheel of Fortune, some of you may feel an urge to learn about tarot or pendulum reading, as these things are typically categorized as "unusual".

You may also get into traveling to stay involved in your hobby, or it requires roving about in some way. To break down creative blocks, it might help to actually move yourself to a different location. It doesn't necessarily involve moving to a whole new place, it could just refer to another part of your home or you may benefit from walking or dancing to decompress. I feel that moving your body will stimulate your creative ideas to flow through. A small number of you may have considered trying out extreme sports like free climbing or parkour. I don't really need to mention that these can be incredibly dangerous, so some of you may like something similar like skateboarding or gymnastics as well. It doesn't have to be intense, just active.

With the Lovers, there also exists a social aspect to your hobby. You may be drawn to share you hobby with a friend or with partners. It will greatly help you to be in an environment that supports your avant-garde tastes and not settle for less. It's not always easy to put shocking art with profound messages out there for the world to make sense of it, though some make it seem that way. It's easy to pretend that negative feedback doesn't get to you, but only accept constructive criticism as that will feed you more than shocked reactions. You cannot afford to have others in your life discourage you, as your skill sets require a lot of space for growth. Nourish relationships that want to celebrate your talents with you. Find a community that loves what you love, and wants to see you happy with what you do. Embrace the wild side of your artistic abilities.

Pile 3 - Creativity + Amethyst 🎉

54 Security, the Messenger, The Aspirant, Aries Sun - Assert; 2 of Pentacles, Knight of Wands, 0 The Fool, Aquarius ♒, Virgo ♍

Hello, pile 3. With the 2 of Pentacles, many of you may want to explore a hobby that is both online and offline, or the internet and social media are major components. If you like making artwork, you could be into digital art or simply want to upload images of your offline work for others to see. With Virgo, some of you may have a lot to say, by starting a blog or online journal documenting your life or interests, or you could try out freelance editing. If you were a youtuber, you could be really good at creating epically long videos about niche topics, or short videos explaining how to do a certain task (like tiktoks that showcase a person's routines and what cleaning products they recommend).

I see that this is the pile of innovation, as the Creativity card shows a lightbulb. You could have various ideas pop up in your head, only to feel unsure of how to approach them. Your attention span could split into a variety of different mediums for getting the idea out. Aquarius wants to take its genius energy and spread it around the world. For a lot of you, social media will support your ideas by broadcasting them. Your hobby may directly involve interfacing with others; your creative spark is not for hiding away. Web design, for example, is a hobby but it involves creating something that others will directly interact with. Your work is meant for a wide audience, should you choose to put yourself out there.

This may not always be easy for you, since there could be a pull towards more stable and predictable activities. There's a nervousness here, kind of like imposter syndrome. You may get a really cool idea for a mobile game app before you or someone else goes "but that's an unrealistic goal to spend so much time and effort on", followed by, "how could I ever make something like that?" The thing is, you can be the most talented, skilled, and experienced person when it comes to a subject, yet still have these same worries. Imposter syndrome doesn't magically go away with a college degree, a new job, or 10,000 subscribers. It's completely normal, but make sure to not let your doubts tempt you into doing something more boring and unfulfilling. This is the pile most likely to try a totally new hobby that is unrelated to your other skills, it doesn't have to be realistic.

But also understand that it can take time for something to get really good. Your first fiction draft is gonna turn out clunky, or your app could be filled with bugs, but it's part of the process. There's no perfect time; when you get the urge to try, just try it! Reach out to a local community or chat group so you can get a realistic sense of how long it takes for projects and skills develop. Slam poetry may be a great outlet, so if you'd like to do that, attend an open mic and see how others do it. You are allowed to be imperfect with your hobby--if you wish to evolve your craft, remember the passion and curiosity that brought you to it.

Pile 4 - Determination + Citrine 🧭

57 Spiritual Guide, What Goes Around Comes Around, The Astronomer, Taurus Rising - Enjoy; 9 of Pentacles, Cancer ♋, Queen of Swords, Knight of Wands, Knight of Swords

How's it going, pile 4? So this is the most active and possibly athletic pile we have here. Staying in the house is not gonna work because something is itching you to get out underneath the stars. Could some of you be majoring or planning in major in STEM? I'm getting a lot of natural science here. With the Astronomer card, you could want to use your telescope to go stargazing or visit planetariums. Are you still feeling the buzz from all the aurora storm and eclipse hype? It would not surprise me if these events awoke an interest for you and now you're looking up when the next meteor shower will show up or when Saturn will be most visible in the sky.

Your next hobby needs or is the outdoors on some level. But Cancer energy is that of a homebody. The most laidback people in this group may enjoy relaxing hobbies like birdwatching or gardening. These hobbies could be spiritually fulfilling for you. I'm seeing someone wearing an apron outside, so could some of you be interested in grilling or being the host to a fun party in the backyard. Do people even have book club meetings in gardens? A lot of enjoying nature is simply finding a good spot and soaking in the scenery with no other goal in mind. Just being near trees and beach sides might be enough.

But I see a lot of you mainly wish to have an adventure and go far out in nature when the weather's just right. You could be thinking about hiking or backpacking out on trails. It all depends on your comfort level as we all have different tolerance levels. I don't know if geocaching and pokemon go are still popular, but they can be unique ways to engage with the outdoors. You could try guided nature tours presented by nature conservationists like the National Audubon, where you can identify and take photos of animals as you wander through the woods and plains. You may like a hobby that is seasonally specific, like swimming in warm waters or skiing down a snowy mountain.

Your hobby may have you think deeply about how humans connect with nature, exploring the ecosystem and how our actions influence our environment. Climate change can be a very serious and, for some, directly impactful topic to mull over. Remind yourself that as long as you're respectful (leave no trace), mother nature enjoys your company as much as you do for her. A small few of you may have the urge to travel to weird locations. Two knights in your reading suggest boldness. If you decide to visit an abandoned or haunted place, Queen of Swords says to please be careful and follow rules if it says no trespassing, and remember that abandoned places can be dangerous from faulty wiring and unstable flooring. Overall, I feel this pile just can't do with an indoor hobby. You have the motivation and courage to explore the vast beautiful world out there. It awaits you.

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2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

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averyfromzero · 1 year

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"breathe on me"

pairing: na jaemin x male reader summary: you live in a dorm with your best friends jeno, jaemin and jisung - with a friends with benefits deal with the first two. on a sleepless night, jaemin comes to your room looking for some action. notes: canon universe, smut, friends with benefits, reader is also an idol, cockwarming, jaemin is a top! *you can consider this to be placed in the same universe as "lazy sunday"!

words: 1.6k

Living with Jeno, Jaemin and Jisung led to the four of you growing close together until you were all each other's best friends. Despite not being part of the group, you clicked with the NCT Dream members so quickly that soon it did feel like you were all part of the same team. While you shared a room with Jeno, Jaemin and Jisung shared another.

After just a few months living together, you, Jeno and Jaemin ended up building a friends with benefits deal with each other during a period in which your schedules were so stressful that you guys ended up turning to each other for some relief. While Jisung isn't a part of the deal (he's straight!), he knows. (Ok, maybe he only found out about it after catching you guys in a threesome in the living room once... He was traumatized)

This time, you were sleeping peacefully on your bed. Jeno was also quietly snoring away on his own bed on the other side of the room. That was until a certain intruder comes into the room.

Silently, Jaemin opens your room door and sneaks in, wearing only pajama pants while his toned chest was on display. He tried clicking the door closed silently as to not wake anyone.

Swiftly, he makes his way to your bed and leans in close to you, hand on your shoulder. He calls your name in whispers while gently shaking you until you start to awaken.

With sleepy serrated eyes, you turn slightly to look at whoever interrupted your sleep. In the dark, you notice Jaemin's pretty face looking down on you. "Hm?"

"I can't sleep", he whispers. "Can I sleep with you?"

Instead of giving him a response, you move on your bed to make space for your friend to join you. You feel your back against the wall and wait for Jaemin to pull up the covers and crawl into bed.

You watch as he comes close and notice how he's not wearing any shirt. His chest is getting so toned, and his shoulders are already so big. You were loving this new buff era your friend was getting into.

As Jaemin settled on the bed, he moved his right arm around you and motioned you to come closer. You lied your head on his chest and felt as his arm wrapped around you, hand moving under your shirt to caress your back. You hummed in content.

Getting yourself more comfortable, you positioned your leg over your friend's and snuggled closer, using your right hand to draw circles around Jaemin's plump chest.

After a few seconds, you noticed how Jaemin's hand was moving suspiciously down your back, getting closer and closer to your sleeping shorts. Simultaneously, you felt on your leg as something grew bigger and harder under your friend's pants.

Ah, right. That's what he came here for.

"Jaemin."

"Hm?"

"Wanna fuck?"

You look as Jaemin slightly nods and drives his hand under the fabric of your shorts, grabbing a handful of your meaty ass and squeezing.

Mimicking his move, you also slip your hand under his pajama pants, feeling the wiry pubic hair he keeps tidy before feeling the hardening meat and wrapping your fingers around it.

Taking advantage of the fact that you have your face on his bare chest, you start sucking on Jaemin's nipple while you stroke his 7-incher to full hardness. He moans at the wet sound of your lips and tongue around his nipple.

Once Jaemin's cock is fully hard, you decide to slide down his torso until you're facing his tented-up pajama pants. You slide down the fabric to his mid-thigh and sees your friend's rock hard cock spring up in the dark, tip shining with precum.

Wrapping your hand around Jaemin's shaft again, you move your head closer to it and wrap your wet lips around the tip, tasting his salty precum and the taste of his milky skin. Jaemin tasted delicious.

You heard as Jaemin moaned and brought his right hand to the back of your head, motioning you to move on his dick. Giving in, you started to bob your head up and down his hard cock, thoroughly wetting it.

After a few minutes of endless sucking, you felt Jaemin pull you gently off his cock, a string of spit connecting your lips to the tip of his member.

You moved on the bed so you were face-to-face with your friend again and leaned in, connecting your spit-covered lips with his. Jaemin was eager and immediately darted his tongue inside your mouth, hand on the back of your head as you two made out intensely.

When you felt the need to pull back to breathe, you promptly adjusted your position so you were laying on your back to let Jaemin know you were ready for the next step.

Jaemin sat up and moved until he was sitting in between yours legs, using his strong hands to part them so he could fit his hips against yours perfectly. Before anything else happened, he leaned in again to make out with your for a few more minutes, still intense from arousal. You loved how eager Jaemin was whenever he was horny, acting all dominant while still being gentle.

While making out heatedly, you felt as Jaemin started to pull down your sleeping shorts along with your boxer briefs until you were naked from the waist down. The cold air-con air in the room hit your crotch and you felt a chill running down your legs.

Breathless once again, Jaemin pulled off and sat up in a way so he could remove his own pajama pants, leaving himself completely bare. Even in the dark, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight of your friend's hot body in front of you. Gorgeous face, strong arms, plump chest, defined abs, and a big juicy cock. Your best friend was one sexy motherfucker.

Knowing you had already been fucked by Jeno earlier, Jaemin didn't bother taking out the lube and prepping you too long. All he did was ask for you to suck on two of his fingers and then entered them in your ass for a minute before you were ready.

You watched as he spit on his hand and stroked his cock with it for a few seconds before holding it still and pressing it against your awaiting hole. Didn't take much to go all the way in as you were already used to it. You heard Jaemin groan once he was completely inside.

Worried that you might've woken up your other best friend sleeping on the other side of the room, you and Jaemin turned to check. Jeno was still sound asleep. You didn't care if he watched or not (it already happened multiple times before anyway), but you didn't want to bother him in his sleep and risk your friend waking up grumpy the next morning.

Relieved, you two faced each other again and you felt as Jaemin slowly pulled out before slamming his hips against yours again. He was a pro at it, he knew how to slam you hard enough to make you feel it but not enough to make too much noise. He smirked as you reacted to his strong thirst.

Jaemin had his hands on each side of your head so you had the privileged view of his huge biceps flexing to keep himself up while he thrusted in and out of your hole eagerly (but careful not to make a fuss). His chest and abs were starting to glisten a bit as sweat formed over his milky soft skin. It was a sight to behold.

After a few minutes of continuous thrusting, Jaemin started to feel his arms getting tired from holding himself up in that position. Pulling out of you momentarily, your friend motioned you to lay on your side as he positioned himself behind you and promptly made his way inside you again, continuing to fuck you right away.

You couldn't help but groan in pleasure once Jaemin started to hit your prostate repeatedly, hugging you from behind as he chased his own orgasm as well. You didn't bother stroking yourself to completion and just held onto Jaemin's strong arms that were holding you tight as you waited for him to make you cum untouched as he'd already done several times before.

You could tell Jaemin was getting close to his orgasm once his thrusts became less rhythmic and a bit more sloppy, slamming against your butt with more impact and less worried about not making too much noise.

You felt as he leaned in closer and his face was against your shoulder, heavy breathing blowing on your skin. You could hear his low grunting each time he thrusted in with force and tightened his grip around you.

It didn't take long before you felt your cock twitch and a rush of pleasure run up and down your body as you climaxed. While at it, you involuntarily clenched your hole and drew a long groan out of Jaemin, who reached his high right then and there, cumming inside you as he pressed his nose against your neck as to try holding back a louder moan while his legs trembled slightly at the intense orgasm.

You two stayed still for a couple minutes, breathing heavily as you recovered from your intense climaxes. You felt as Jaemin lazily left a few wet kisses on your neck and muttered out a deep "thanks" before he reached down for the blanket that had been tossed around unknowingly during sex to cover the two of you back again.

Once the room was silent again, you two noticed as Jeno snored softly on his bed on the other side of the room, letting you know he never once woke up while Jaemin pounded into you. Getting comfortable, you two drifted off into a peaceful slumber while Jaemin was still balls deep inside your ass and kept his arms around you.

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bones4thecats · 4 days

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➸ Fear Deity! S/O; Record of Ragnarok

Character: Hermes, Aphrodite, Odin, and Buddha A/N: This was fun to write. By the way, I might allow requests to be open tomorrow. No promises though! Disclaimer(s): Nothing wrong, just fluffy shit

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╚═════ Hermes ═══════════════════════════════╝

📨 As the Greek Deity of Fear, you were hailed for many centuries for your ability to torture someone with visions and dreams of their worst nightmares happening. Because of how bad some of them got, many began calling you Deitas Interni Nocendi, or Deity of the Internal Harm

📨 Hermes gained interest in you after the whole Adamas incident. He had asked if you sided with his uncle, to which you smiled and asked if he thought you feared such a pathetic man so much. He just smiled back and chuckled before evolving into a deeper conversation with you

📨 Years later, you guys stood by one another's side as you were married and began to make your own branch of the Greek Pantheon grow larger and larger. This was especially true when your children of fear from your previous bond with a human warrior, the Terrors, began to see Hermes like a father

📨 During Ragnarok, you stood alongside your husband and now adult-children. While he admired the fights with his father, you merely sat with your head on your hand in boredom. It wasn't until Poseidon lost and Jack the Ripper came on stage that you could feel the fear that flowed through everyone's frames, feeding you amazingly

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╚═════ Aphrodite ═════════════════════════════╝

💐 Aphrodite has always been an alluring woman, and she knows that. She looks at herself so much that she can perfectly draw her body without any issue. But, with breasts that big, how hard would it be to remember your figure?

💐 When you arrived at a meeting with the other Gods, she was shocked to see just how dark you were. Even the God of the Dead, Hades, dressed in more color than you did! You walked in with your children following you, all in cute little color-coded cloaks, while you had a large thorn-made crown on top of your head with some thorns poking out of your skin amazingly

💐 She was entranced with how you held yourself. Many feared you, and the small few who didn't ended up succumbing to your ability to instill fear in all you wish too. Aphrodite was surprised that you seemed to have little animosity with her, and when she asked, she was happy to hear you actually enjoyed her more 'peppy-look'

💐 It was after you guys married and began ruling your realm together that everyone began to notice just how much more joyful you were to be around. You started dressing with more color and plants on you, she even got your little Terrors to dress more colorfully and child-like, despite how they aged to be more mature. It honestly made even the toughest Gods smile on the inside

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╚═════ Odin ═════════════════════════════════╝

🪶 Odin respected you from afar. He knew of your abilities and always decided to stray away from asking you for any insights on the issues inside of your Pantheon

🪶 But, when a couple incidents with Loki grew into including your youngest Terror, Kenaz, he had no choice but to have you come to a meeting. Everyone was internally weary that you would pull something and end up forcing their Pantheon to go into war against you and your seven little fear-monster children. Thankfully, that did not happen and you ended up surprising them by being quite nice to be around

🪶 Ever since that day, you spoke more and more to the Head God of the Norse Pantheon. As he spoke to you more and more, Odin had started to mentally record every tiny event you guys had where you made his heart start beating faster. This led to you guys becoming close allies, then courting, before settling on marrying one another years later

🪶 When your only biological son, Thor, was born, everyone feared you more. Not only could you instill fear and make someone scared so much that they had a heart attack and just drop dead like nothing, you were also married to the Odin, and had the Thor as your son. You were quite the surprise to all

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╚═════ Buddha ═══════════════════════════════╝

🍭 Buddha had always heard of a Deity that lived in Heaven that could control the fear that someone, even an immortal, had inside of them. He never encountered you for quite some time, but when he did, he wasn't that surprised with how you behaved

🍭 He guessed you'd be a quiet and threatening type, which you were. But, you only shocked him when you seemed to be more sunshine and rainbows with your Terror-children. You would kneel to their height, pat them on their shadow-like head, and kiss them goodbye as they went to speak to another mortal on the path to be a better person

🍭 When you guys actually started bonding, everyone who knew you just wanted to know why you were around the 'Human-God knockoff' all the time. You would just smiled and laugh before looking at them with a dead expression and telling them he made you laugh more than anyone else had ever

🍭 Buddha does love being around you, especially after you guys got together. He also loves being around your children. Your oldest Terror, Shui, was more of a shy-type, but when Buddha came around? That just fell faster than a loose rock on the mountain that Sun Wukong was stuck underneath years ago! He was the perfect choice for you and the perfect choice for your children. And you wouldn't have it any other way

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andkisses · 8 months

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♡ a good way | beomgyu ♡

despite the director casting you and beomgyu, your best friend, as the romantic leads, you both promise it won’t change anything between you

♡ beomgyu x gn!reader | wc. 9.1k ♡ genres/tropes: college!au, friends-to-loves, theater!au, hurt/comfort ♡ mentions of/warnings: injuries, lmk if there's anything else ♡ a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote and posted YEARS ago; unfortunately it was eaten up when i accidentally deleted my blog :’) it was originally for joshua from svt; i changed some of the times in the fic from the original, so if it’s a little wonky that’s why :’) pls enjoy ! <3 at the time it was my longest fic, now only second to roman holiday ^^ a/n 2: apologies for my absences ! i had some health issues even tho it was supposed to be my break :') im doing well now ^^

♡ masterlist ♡

It was strange. Weird. Practically unfathomable and there must be some kind of mistake. The play had those two characters as romantic leads. The ones who slowly turn to look at each other, catch the starry glint in the other’s eye before slowly leaning in, before slowly closing their eyes, before slowly feeling their heartbeat accelerate because oh heavens this is it—before slowly kissing each other for the first time with such tender passion some members of the audience start to cry.

Those roles were not ever meant for the ones who have been friends since seventh grade, where one of them accidentally tripped and tossed their lunch all over the other, rendering the former an apologetic mess and the latter slightly smelling of garlic for the rest of the day. Not for the ones who stayed up far too late binge watching whole seasons of anime because they finally turned in that big project and it’s in fate’s hands now. Definitely not friends who are each other’s best friends, always. Never them.

But when the director swings back to the two of you, the mischievous and excited glint in his eye is unmistakable. His giddiness even bubbles over and he repeats himself, happily gazing between you and the best friend of 8 years standing beside you. “Beomgyu, Y/N, you will be the best two leads this stage has ever seen.”

You don’t want to talk about it. You avoid it for as long as possible. Have every conversation about everything else possible except the one topic that actually needs discussion. The trees outside are slowly losing their crunchy leaves, littering the ground with crimson and gold and sprigs of chocolate in between. They rustle and fuss when walked over, and shuffle down the street in a hoard of warning, proclaiming threats of the bitter winds of winter that would soon approach and engulf everyone whole.

Some mornings, you can see remnants of late-night frost on window panes, icy designs laced over the glass in the early morning hours. The grass glistens and shimmers with frozen dew, and the sidewalk is slippery enough to encourage walking slowly or bypassing concrete altogether and walking through the dead leaves. Some nights, you can see your breath curl as you wait outside the diner, a translucent white beast disappearing into the night. As night draws darker earlier, the air grows colder, like a mysterious ghost. One moment, you’re warm—the next, a bitter chill sprints around you, immersing everything in a coldness that drills past your layers and settles into your bones.

But you’d wait a thousand years in the cold just to walk him home. You’d wait forever if it meant seeing him one last time before the day ended and blurred into the next through a series of dreams and quiet darkness.

Beomgyu is one of the last few people out of the diner; he never closes, but he stays as long as he can, helping out and cleaning before his boss gets angry and tells him to “go home! Don’t you have homework?” When he steps out onto the street, making sure to close the door behind him, he’s safely bundled up in a black pea coat and a plaid woolen scarf that, when wound up, nearly encompasses his neck, chin, and even the bottom tips of his ears. When he sees you waiting for him again, he smiles, eyes lighting up like firecrackers and his grin is so warm it starts to defrost your bones, slowly but surely.

“You know you don’t have to wait for me?” he says, falling in step with you as the two of you began the chilled trek back to your apartment.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “but then who will make sure you don’t get lost on your way back? Or, I don’t know, get eaten by a star-monster?”

“A star-monster?” He quirks his head towards you, raising his eyebrow in mild but amused confusion.

You nod your head. “What if the stars gang up on you and snatch you right off the face of the earth and you disappear into the sky? And no one knows or can save you because I wasn’t there? Hm?”

A bitter chuckle escapes his lips. The white curl of his breath fills the air in front of him before it fades, taking the bright look in his eyes with it. “Then I guess I wouldn’t have to be a part of the musical, would I?”

Silence washes over you like a breaking wave—it hurts and stings, knocking everything away and tossing the tiny ships around into chaos. The only sound now is the brush of the wind skirting the leaves down the street with you and the distant city noise. The heels of your shoes hit the pavement in time together, and your breaths slowly start to match up. But something’s off; you feel it in your heart and your bones begin to ache again as the cold ice returns once more, spreading their chilled fingers across them.

Somehow, you find your voice, but it’s quiet and small. “It couldn’t be that bad, could it?”

Beomgyu shrugs, looking anywhere but you. He throws his head back and stares up at the night sky, where the stars kindly twinkle back at him, almost as a promise of we’d never steal you away. You look up, too, but all you see is a menacing darkness that you’re not sure you can get rid of. It feels like it’s bearing down on you, pressing down on your head, your shoulders, and your heart. With it comes a dark doubt, one that oozes into the cracks of your armor and makes you start to question things. It beckons out the dangerous thoughts—the what ifs—and coaxes them into the light and forces you to acknowledge them. What if... this changes things. What if... it ruins things. What if...

“Y/N?”

Your gaze drops back down. Beomgyu stands a few yards ahead of you, in the light of one of the yellow streetlamps. You must have stopped while lost in thought, slowing down until you ended up stuck in between two lamps, in the shadowy part. “Hm?”

He shakes his head. “You just stopped walking.” He turns toward you completely and quickens his pace until he’s beside you again. The look on his face screams of concern, of wondering if his best friend is fine or if it’s something he can’t fix. He reaches out to take your hand in his. “Is everything okay?”

Your heart swells, but it still feels as if it will break, shatter, crumble at any time or place. It feels like porcelain, that if it isn’t handled with care and marked FRAGILE, it will ruin to the point that nothing can fix it. You know what question you have to ask; it’s weighing down on your tongue and you’ll have to force it out.

You gulp, and you can feel your hand shaking in his. Beomgyu’s eyebrows knit together, his starry eyes trying to search for what’s wrong. For what is in need of helping. You stare back at him, garnering the courage to ask the question that’s been plaguing you since roles had been assigned. “The show–it won’t change anything between us, will it?”

And then, he does something unthinkable.

He laughs.

Beomgyu lets go of your hand and bends over in half, practically cackling at the idea, whisker dimples on full display. When he stands back up again, he’s still laughing hard enough he crinkles into your frame, resting a hand on your shoulder and burying his head into your neck, an arm resting across his stomach. His body shakes with laughter, and it’s infectious. A grin slowly spreads across your face, and then a giggle works its way out until the two of you are both laughing like fools. You may be between two lampposts in the shadows, but there’s light where you are.

When the laughter finally subsides to gentle smiles, Beomgyu takes your hand again and tugs you close. He starts walking again, pulling you along, swinging your arms between the two of you. He knocks into your shoulder jokingly, and the both of you smile harder. “Of course not,” Beomgyu says. His smile is pure, assuring. The hand in yours is warm, stable. “Nothing will ever change us.”

Seventh Grade.

The auditorium was full of anxious students, the buzz of noise telling the story of those who were waiting for their turn to shine on stage. The lights were turned on as bright as they would be for a performance, and the stage was decorated with real props from last semester’s performance, a steampunk rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. No one thought the director could pull it off, but when the curtains closed for the last time that first showing, everyone was left starstruck and a new round of students was inspired to try out for the next performance.

A loud clap from the director thundered through the auditorium, signaling for attention and shocking you into your seat a little further. The red fabric bristled against whatever skin your sweater didn’t cover. Outside, the harsh winter weather pummeled the barren landscape, the dead, empty tree branches getting whipped by the bitter, unforgiving wind. The light dusting of snow made everything brighter, almost to the point it hurt to look out the windows at the white world. Inside, however, was full of warm tones and warm breaths. The heat of the auditorium practically had you sweltering, making you wish you had worn layers instead of a bright green sweater. The threads around the collar began to itch at your neck, and you tugged at the hem in search of relief. You really wanted to be here. You really wanted to audition. But the number of people and how long you’ve waited has started to play mind games with you. What if they don’t get to you today? What if they skip over you entirely for someone else? Someone with more theater experience from prior years than you, a complete newbie? What if—

“Hey, uh, is this seat taken?”

You looked up, still fiddling with your itchy collar. It was the boy from the day before—Beomgyu. The one who had accidentally tripped over someone else’s backpack and thrown his lunch all over you. He looked like a complete wreck, one hand holding onto the wrist of the other arm, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he struggled to even look in your direction. You shelf your own nerves and offer up a kind smile and pat the seat, which he hastily filled.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while afterward. On stage, more students rotated through songs and performances, some spectacular and others a little lackluster. It was beginning to become monotonous, and your mind started to wonder if you had gotten here earlier, would you have already auditioned by now? But then something happened. A student walked on stage, introduced themselves politely, and then began to blow everyone and every other performance out of the water. The way they moved, spoke, sang—everything they did was captivating and you felt yourself leaning forward in your seat, drawing ever nearer to the practically perfect audition. There was no music playing in the background, but their vocals and stage presence was more than enough. The entire auditorium erupted in applause when the student on stage finished.

“Wow,” you breathed out. You’d practically fallen out of the chair—feet standing on tiptoes, elbows on knees, chin rested in your cupped hands with a shimmer in your eyes. That. You wanted to be like that. Bewitching, enchanting, and utterly spellbinding.

“I know right?” the boy whispered beside you. The two of you turned to look at each other, and somehow, in the back of your mind, you registered he was sitting the same way you were, looking completely and utterly enraptured with the previous performance. He stared into your eyes—the first time, you noted—and you could see the stars, like a secret milky way full of wonder. There was a serious note in them. “Let’s both do our best so when we grow up, we can be that good.”

“No.” You shook your head, and Beomgyu’s face collapsed into confusion. You shook your head again, this time with a mischievous grin spreading across your lips. “No, when we grow up, we’ll be way better.”

A murmur ripples around campus. Sophomore year of college, and all of high school behind you. You’d think you would be used to it by now, the way quiet words spread around so sneakily but somehow always managed to make their way to your ears, too. But when the girls in the bathroom see you and slyly turn away, whispering how you and Beomgyu have the romantic leads, how of course they do, you can’t help but feel the knot in your stomach form and twist your insides until you feel pressure on your heart as well. Until it feels like you’re about to burst and spill everywhere. You want to spin at them, throw your hands out, and tell them how it’s not like that! That there’s nothing between the two of you except for friendship, the purest of kinds! Stop thinking that way!

But the wiser part of you, the one that’s been through high school, knows that they would just nod their head and try to hide their smirk. You can’t change their minds; they’ll always be thinking and imagining what they want.

Outside, the halls teem with people trying to get to their next class or break. You debate on stopping by your locker near the theater—you won’t need your books again until you go home thanks to rehearsal, but it would be out of your way to get there, on the opposite side of the arts block. But your books are heavy. Really heavy. Like shoulder-breaking, premature back pain-inducing heavy. You find that your feet have started to take you through the crowds to your locker before your mind decides on the plan itself.

In middle school, your and Beomgyu’s lockers were practically as far as they could be from one another. Yours by the gymnasium and near the arts building and the theater. With your mismatched class schedules, you only got to see each other at lunch and for theater. As your friendship grew, he would let you borrow locker space. It got to the point where you basically co-owned each other’s lockers; everything for classes on his side of the building was in his locker and everything for classes on your side was in yours.

By the time high school rolled around two grades later, the two of you were inseparable. As were your lockers. His at one end of the hall, yours at the other end on the opposite side. This only caused trouble junior year, when the two of you had such a bad falling out you could hardly bare to walk past one another’s locker let alone the other person. You would end up taking roundabout ways to your own locker, which worked until you ended up running into him one day without warning.

But you don’t have that problem now. As you walk past Beomgyu, who’s standing by his locker talking to another theater kid, you lightly slug his shoulder. You turn to walk backward and catch his reaction, and he’s staring back at you with fake confusion and his arms thrown up in the air. “You’ll pay for that!” he calls after you.

“Yeah, yeah, sure I will!”

You reach your locker, a happy smile on your face, glad your best friend is the kind of person you can beat up on. You spin the lock with precision, ready to open the door, slam your books inside on the shelf, and hurry to the theater for rehearsals. You can’t wait to see what strange exercises the director would have up his sleeve today; last time, he had everyone stand on the steps in the audience and each time they recited a line correctly, they got to move up two steps. First to the top wins; you and Beomgyu tied for first.

When you pull out the lock and swing the door open, what you see ruins your mood instantly. The crisp, white, inch-thick script stares back at you with quiet remorse. Remember me? it seems to say. Don’t forget about me. You’re almost afraid to touch it, knowing exactly what it holds in its pages even without having read a single line. If your fingers were to graze it, it’s as if an electric shock would shoot out and stop your heart from ever beating again. A tiny part of you wonders if, if your heart really did stop beating, would Beomgyu come to your side and rescue you?

Or would it be like the other night, with a sharp, bitter laugh and a mild happiness over a forgotten kiss.

You’re jostled out of your stupor by a neat punch to your arm, and you fall back into your locker with a metallic clang. When your vision focuses back on the real world, you see Beomgyu walking away from you towards the theater with a confident smirk on his face. He throws out his hands, his smile growing even wider. “I told you, you’d pay for that!”

You’re smiling too, now, and you hurry and grab the script and race after him.

It will all be okay. The two of you had already talked about it, how nothing could change between you two. Regardless of what the girls in the bathroom would dare to say in front of you. Regardless of what anyone else on campus or your major are thinking. Regardless of the script that burns slightly in your grasp, the crisp paper threatening to cut tiny slices into your delicate skin. You and Beomgyu—inseparable best friends for the rest of time.

It would always be that way. No play, no roles, no romantic leads, would get in the way of that. You’d promised each other you’d be each other’s best friend, always.

Freshman year.

Sunlight streaming through the loosely drawn curtains was what woke you, lit patterns playing across your face. Your back ached from sleeping on a couch at a crooked angle for who knows how long. You stretched and tried to pull at your sore joints, attempting to return them to pre-crooked status. The room was still dark; the lamps were all off and the only other source of light was the television, where Netflix was playing some random anime you don’t remember ever selecting or talking about. Vague memories float up to the surface slowly as you finished waking up: you and Beomgyu had turned in a big semester final project that neither of you had thought would be finished on time but somehow managed to pull off. Deciding to get take out and stay up as long as possible watching as many seasons of anime as you could fit in and—

“Boo!”

Your scream echoed through the small dorm and you pulled at the blanket on top of you, trying to hide behind the soft, comforting quilt. On the other side of the couch was Beomgyu, laughing so hard he nearly rolled off onto the shag carpet rug. You half thought about being kind, and warning him to be careful because if he fell he could hit his head on the coffee table, but the other half said he scared you and deserved whatever happened next.

“How could you be so mean!” you whined, reaching behind you to grab a pillow to throw at your best friend’s face. “How long had you been planning something like that?”

Beomgyu paused his laughter to think. “Probably since I woke up about ten minutes ago. It would have been more elaborate, but then you woke up and I ran out of time.”

“You’ll pay for that, you know,” you muttered, drawing the blankets closer against your chest, where inside your heart still beating faster than usual.

“Even after helping you with that project and pay for dinner? On a college budget?” He paused for another moment, resting his chin between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. “Wait, pay for dinner... seems like I’ve already paid for it, Y/N.”

“Beomgyu!” You lunged forward, diving towards his end of the couch. Instead of a successful attack, you landed squarely in his arms, where he proceeded to tug you tightly against his chest. Escape, you soon realized, was futile. You’d have to talk your way out of this one. “Beomgyu, let me go. Now!"

“You know, you sure are whiney when you wake up,” he commented, rustling the hair atop your head. Your heart was still beating quickly and you were convinced the flush of your cheeks was due to large bouts of boiling hot rage streaming through your veins. “And why should I?”

“I would be in a nicer mood if you hadn’t scared me!” You tried to wriggle your arms up and pry your way out, but his grip was solid still, strong and warm. Since when was he ever this strong? His cheeks, you noticed, were warm and rosy as well, but that was from laughing too hard, you were sure. Why else would they be flushed?

“You may have a point…”

“Of course, I have a point! Now let me go!”

Mischief swam around with the stars in your best friend’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, planning something you could only hope wasn’t entirely embarrassing. One eyelid dropped shut, and the smirk on his lips was unmistakable. “I will, but only if you pay for breakfast. From somewhere nice,” he rushes to add. “Student union doesn’t count.”

You released a terse sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Fine! Deal! Now, release me!”

His arms slid away and you rolled over onto the floor, gently landing between the couch and the coffee table. The carpet was rough against your bare arms, but you were glad to be freed from Beomgyu’s death grip.

He was situated on the edge of the couch, chin resting lazily on his forearm, his eyes filled with mild shock and awe. “Really?” he gasped, as if he couldn’t actually believe you’d agreed. “Even if it’s the overpriced brunch food from the boutique down the street?”

You sighed, staring back at him. “Yes. Even the brunch food from the boutique down the street.”

A moment of stillness, then...

“I’m glad we’re best friends," he said plainly, no hesitation in his voice. His dark eyes had warmed to a welcoming honest color, the kind some people could describe as home. The air around the two of you was still, a precious silence that quietly begged to be broken softly. Outside, the morning birds began to sing their late winter tune, beckoning spring to arrive as soon as possible. The sun filtered through the tiny windows brightly now, filling the dorm with warm yellow like that made everything feel nostalgic. Like the perfect ’80s movie.

When you found your voice, your words were soft but not timid. They held the same amount of honesty and weight as his had. “Me, too. We’re best friends, always.”

A soft smile played at Beomgyu’s lips as he echoed your promise. “Always.”

The walk back to your apartment is chilly. Even though the sun shone brightly ahead, the first freeze of the season the night prior plunged your town from late autumn into early winter. What few leaves remain on the trees might as well be frozen on, and the rest of the dead ones scattered around on the pavement, crunchy husks of their former selves. It’s daylight, but you can easily imagine if darkness were shrouded around you, your breaths would be rising out in front of you in vague translucent puffs. Cold describes everything in sight.

Beomgyu is close by your side, nestled in that ridiculously oversized scarf of his. Christmas is a while away, but you’re already planning on getting him a nice, Beomgyu-sized scarf, probably a deep brown to match his eyes.

“What’cha thinking about?” His voice, clear as crystal, cuts through the air like a sharpened knife, but it doesn’t startle you. It’s warm and inviting against the bitter winter weather, a gentle fire among the cold.

“What I’m gonna get you for Christmas,” you reply, burying your hands into your coat pockets. The pavement scuffs beneath your boots, the walk back home growing boring. As you crossed the street where you two used to part ways freshman year, him to the left and you to the right, you remember when he said his parents told him they were moving during high school. How distraught the two of you became, only to find out he was moving in across the street from your house. Now, you split the rent for a two bedroom apartment. “How about you?”

“To be completely honest, I’m wishing I had remembered my gloves this morning, because right now, my hands are extremely cold.”

You laugh, a bright chuckle, and pull your own hands out of your pockets, staring down at the grey gloves cloaking your fingertips. You hold out your hand towards him. “Want to take one?”

Beomgyu scoffs. “And let you suffer from an equally terrible fate as myself? I think not. At least one of us needs to live.”

You laugh again, throwing your hands back into your pocket. “Fine, be that way.” You cut in front of him, dashing over to the short decorative stone wall running as a divider between the grassy park and the sidewalk. In a quick hop, you’re walking along the top as it gradually slopes higher to the point your feet are even with Beomgyu’s waist.

He stares up at you as you hold your arms at length on either side of you, a small frown playing on his lips. “Be careful,” he warns, the tone of his voice surprisingly stern, something he rarely treats you with. When you look down, you see his brows creased as he follows your pace.

“Yeah, okay, dad,” you laugh, finding the bitter look on Beomgyu’s face amusing. The stone wall beneath your feet is sturdy, and your balance is just as solid. Years of strange theater exercises had brought you that. You can even see your apartment down the street; you’d walk all the way atop this wall, taller now still, and show him. You’ll get to the end and hop off dramatically and tease him for worrying. He keeps pace with you perfectly, still by your side even if there’s distance. The look in Beomgyu’s eyes tells you he wants to reprimand you, take you by the waist and set you safely on the sidewalk before scolding you on every reason why you shouldn’t have done that. But you don’t need him to. You’re perfectly safe with no reason to worry and—

You’ve misstepped.

Your foot is too far from the center, closer to the edge of the stonewall than you had anticipated. There’s not enough foot on the edge to save it. Your impressive balance is misplaced even further as your arms circle widely at your sides, trying in vain to regain some semblance of stability. You can feel yourself pitch sideways, your feet finally coming out from beneath you, and now you’re looking up at the crystal blue sky.

There’s not a cloud in sight, odd for this early winter day, and for the shortest of moments, it’s like you're falling through the atmosphere. The cold wind biting at your cheeks is caused by your descent. The screams you hear are just the air rushing past your ears, calling your name, not anyone else. The clunk of bodies hitting the pavement is just an illusion.

Your vision snapping to black is just a mistake, a cruel trick of fate, like the dark doubts that swarm around your head when you’re all alone. The blackness is almost welcoming, and you succumb quietly.

Twelfth Grade

Four weeks. Just under a month. Your life had gone from bold with color and emotion to two steps from dead and lifeless. Subjects you’d once enjoyed, now dull and monotonous. Walks to school were boring. Lunch and free period were non-committal. You’d skipped theater more than your fingers could count; you’d gotten an email from the director asking if everything was okay.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was.

Because it had been four weeks, just under a month, since you’d talked to your best friend.

What you’d even been fighting over, you couldn’t remember. That entire night is a fogged mess in your memory banks, existing but inaccessible. You know it’s there, but your brain, or maybe your heart, refuses to replay the details for you. The only information it relays is that there was a fight, and somehow some kind of words were said that ended in hot tears and storming out of houses with no goodbyes, take cares, or any sign of always.

Life since then had been weird, like you had shifted from one plane of existence but the world didn’t shift with you. Like a blurry camera shot, where one part of the image is in focus with fuzzy edges but everything else is shaken and smeared like thick wet paint.

All the love and joy theater had brought you since seventh grade was gone, five years nearly shattered to pieces inside your nearly-broken heart. You had no idea when the light would return, or if you would ever act again. It was so closely entwined to him, it physically hurt to walk near the theater or even think of certain plays.

Just like it hurt in the classes you shared. Sitting across the room from each other as far as possible, as opposed to right next to each other and sharing looks and soft smiles. The other students and even the teachers were left in a mild tailspin of confusion. There was never a scene made, nor any words spoken. Glances weren’t exchanged anymore. You never looked in his direction; your heart would ache far too much to handle.

Different pathways were even chosen to get between classes. You didn’t want a chance encounter in the halls, you couldn’t handle it. You guessed he couldn’t either, because you never saw him. There were never any accidental meet ups by your lockers, either.

Your plan had been to skip theater again and take the bus home, riding it around until it dropped you off last. You wouldn’t have to see him, it wouldn’t have to hurt, for that day at least. But you were running late, another teacher asking if you were okay needing brushing off. You needed to hurry and stop by your locker to retrieve your books. The bus was leaving soon; if you wanted to leave, you’d need to rush.

The halls were empty, everyone either in their after school clubs or outside waiting for the buses. You hurried to your locker, fingers anxious to spin the code in, grab your books, and leave. You reached inside, ready to retrieve the books by their spine and disappear from this place for what would feel like a short eternity. The hall was too bright, too empty, too--

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat, head whipping to the side. Beomgyu stood mere feet from you, but he might as well have been a thousand miles away. There were no longer any stars in his eyes, no warmth or cheer. They were sad, dark pits of self-doubt. They were muted screams, begging for help but not being quite loud enough. The dark circles under his eyes pleaded as well, and the downturn of his lips was what sent your stoic, bored, “I can make this” facade spiraling downwards.

You reached forward instinctively, wanting to cup his cheek with your hand and gently rub away the dark circles with your thumb, but you froze midway. Your voice even hitched. “Beomgyu... you look…”

“Awful? Dreadful? Like hell?” he filled in for you, and you couldn’t help but nod. Your chest was tight, almost to the point you wanted to clutch and tear at your heart to find relief. And the way your best friend was standing, shoulders slumped and body looking one strong wind from caving in like a fragile house of cards, it seemed like his heart was aching, too.

“What happened to us?” you asked, voice quiet and quivering. The hot buildup of tears began behind your eyes, making the edges of your vision blur together in a mass of sad, muted tones. “Why did we—”

“I don’t know,” he answered quickly, anxiously, as if he doesn’t speak fast, he’ll lose you again. He took a tender step forward, leaving only a few feet between you, but it was still too much space. You missed being side by side, close enough to bump into each other’s shoulders or elbow each other’s sides. Beomgyu took another tiny step towards you when you didn't move back. “What were we even fighting about?”

“I don’t know.” You felt like one step away from crumbling inwards, clasping in on yourself and all the way to the cool hallway floor. Your hands were shaking now at your sides, and you gripped your hoodie hem to prevent the shivers from racing up your arms and shaking the rest of you until you shattered into tiny shards. The moment your fingers curled around the soft hem was when you realized: it was his. You’d thrown in on that morning without even thinking. Now, all you could notice was how strongly, how nicely it smelled like him. You took in a solid breath of air to prevent the tears from spilling over, but it was shaky and unconvincing. “Whatever we were fighting about, it’s not worth this. I miss you, Beomgyu.”

His eyes were still empty, no stars in sight, but now they were glossy with tears. His chin quivered, and his lips moved to say something but couldn’t. His fingers curled and uncurled around the leather strap of his messenger bag. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I miss you. So much it hurts to breathe, so much I can’t stand to look at you in class or else I feel like crying. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, please, forgive me and be my best friend again. I don’t think I can take life without you anymore.”

The both of you lunged forward at the same time, wrapping each other in a hug. Your arms clung to his neck while his encircled your waist, holding you close. Warm, salty tears finally spilled over, running down your cheek and onto the soft denim of his jacket. By his shaky breaths, you figured he was crying, too. “I don’t want you not in my life anymore either,” you managed, hoping somehow that you’d made sense.

Beomgyu laughed in your arms, drawing you even nearer. “Good, because I really didn’t want to have to explain to your father why I was standing under your window with my guitar instead of just letting myself in like usual.”

You laughed too, but the kind of broken laugh where you find pure happiness just after harsh sadness. Your heart swelled with joy, knowing that Beomgyu was still yours. The time you’d spent apart, not talking or goofing around or shoving each other playfully with stupid grins on both of your faces, had been life-draining. You’d never get it back, even if you spent forever together. You never wanted to go through anything like that ever again.

Beomgyu nestled into the crook of your neck, words whispered so quietly you knew instantly that they were just for you. “We’re each other’s best friends, always. Right?”

You wrap your arms around even tighter, a true smile on your face for the first time in weeks. “Right. Always, Beomgyu, always.”

The apartment is quiet. The shades are drawn open, allowing late afternoon sunlight to spill in and swim around on soft carpet floors, bathing them in warm yellow light. The television in the corner is on but mute, the news airing with no noise. The heater kicked on a minute or so ago, filling the house with nicely warm air. Outside, soft baby snowflakes begin to fall out of the sky, the first snowfall of the season. If the sound had been on, you would have known that the weatherman said the snow was no reason for concern—it wouldn’t accumulate to the point it was dangerous. Just a light dusting, something to make the outdoors look nice and wintry.

But you are unconcerned with whatever the weatherman’s words may be or the consequences of the snow. There are more pressing concerns.

Your voice warbles as you pull out the first aid kit from above the washer and walk back into the living room. “Beomgyu, I’m so so sorry, I—” You bite down on your lower lip to prevent yourself from crying; there wasn’t time for that now. The white plastic lid snaps open, and you pull out the gauze, the alcohol wipes, and the bandages with shaky hands. He sits on the edge of the couch, one hand bracing himself on the cushion, the wounded one resting tenderly on his lap.

You lower to stand on your knees and reach out to take the hurt one in yours. You stare down at his split second knuckle, an ugly gash that would surely scar no matter how kindly or tenderly you treated it. Caused because of your stupidity, your recklessness. Caused because you tripped or slipped or something and fell off the wall. Caused because he risked his safety to catch you. You feel your heart break, knowing the scar would be your fault, forever, and you can’t ever fix it no matter how hard you try.

There’s no going back, or rewinding time to try again.

Beomgyu winces as you wipe at the cut with the alcohol wipes, and you mutter sorry after sorry. It’s beginning to not even feel like a real word. You can feel your chest heaving, one step away from a total breakdown as you swim through deep and measured breaths. Guilt pours over you like a thick syrup, sticking to every surface and threatening to drag you down and drown you whole. It fills into the cracks of your armor, bubbling up inside you like a witch’s brew. As you place the gaze and wrap the bandages around his hand, your breaths are coming shallower and shallower, your ability to keep it together fading. When you tie the bandages into place, you let go and drop to sit on your heels, all energy gone. Your head hangs in shame, and you wish you could crawl away and hide somewhere until further notice.

Which would be easier if you didn’t share a damn apartment.

However, your best friend won’t let you.

“Hey,” he calls, his voice soft and soothing. His healthy hand curls under your chin, gently begging you to look up, and you comply. His eyes are calm and filled with stars again, and other emotions you can’t quite place. He smiles kindly, and you can feel your heart shatter at that instant. Right now, you don’t deserve that kindness. Your shoulders spike up and tears begin to spill over. Beomgyu’s face collapses into concern, and he slides off the couch to sit on the floor next to you, legs crossed.

When he places his hands on your shoulders, you try to shake them off. “Please, just...” Your voice falls away. How could you ever apologize for what happened? You knew you shouldn’t have, and yet you did. You knew he seriously disapproved, even if he didn’t voice it totally, and yet you continued. You knew, deep down, that you were getting cocky, and yet you didn’t stop. You had plans on teasing him, mocking him for his concern. The guilt presses down and down, crunching against your head, your shoulders, and your heart until you could scarcely breathe. Quiet sobs heave against your frame, from your torso down to your whole body. You could tell, soon, that you’d simply shake apart into fragments that could never be pieced together again.

You injured your best friend from your own stupidity.

“Hey,” Beomgyu says again, and this time, he reaches for you and pulls you into his lap, safely tucking you under his chin. You don’t resist, and even if you wanted to, you doubt you could have done it past all the crying. He gently rocks you back and forth, rubbing your back, soothing you as one would a small child. Once your sobs have subsided, and your breaths return to a semi-normal state, he speaks again. “I don’t hate you for what happened, if that’s what you think. I could never, I…”

You pull yourself slightly from his grasp, enough to stare at him at eye level, coming out from underneath the warm spot of his chin and neck and shoulder. The emotions swirling around amongst the stars in his eyes are new and unusual to yet, and some part of you feels at home with them. Your voice is quiet, almost hesitant, when you talk. “You... what?”

Beomgyu takes a breath, as if steeling himself. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Need?" you echo, head quirking to one side in confusion.

He nods, staring straight into your eyes. When he speaks, his tone is something you’ve rarely ever heard before. “Need. My chest might burst if I don’t get this off it, and that wouldn’t really help me graduate. Or tell you this. So... and seeming we might as well have almost died…” You roll your eyes at his dramatics, and Beomgyu seems hesitant, but only for a moment. Years of going up on stage have prepared him, but you can tell in this instance, he’s honest, 100% himself, and your best friend, not some actor playing a character for some play.

He takes another breath before: “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes grow wide, a small gasp escapes your lips, but he doesn’t stop.

“No, that’s not right. I know I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for a long time but this... this is different. I want to keep you safe, to wipe away any of your tears. Seeing you sad just... tears at my heart. It hurts. Whenever you're sad or upset, I feel the same way, even if it’s just words over a text message. I really did feel like I was going to die when we had that fight. Living without you was unimaginable, but I had to go four weeks without you. Without your voice, your stupid jokes, your laugh. I guess I was in love with you then, too, I just didn’t know it.”

Words escape you, any witty comeback gone. You stare at him, the honesty in his eyes, thinking you’d see him differently after his confession. But you don’t. He’s still Beomgyu. He’s still your best friend. He’s still your Beomgyu.

One of your hands raises, and you tap yourself on your sternum. “Me?”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes now, as if he expected some kind of response like this. “Yes, you. I mean, who else would look up at the night sky, invent a star-monster, then worry about it taking me? I’ve wondered if I was really in love with you, like really actually in love with you. But when you fell and I caught you and you blacked out and I didn’t know why... Y/N, I was so worried. I could feel my heart breaking and I knew that if you never woke up, I wouldn’t ever be the same again.”

He’s mere inches from you, arms around you, body heat radiating off in such pleasant ways you feel okay with melting straight into the floor. His hands move from around your back to ghost around your face, like they want to caress you but are too afraid you might shatter like a fine porcelain under his touch. And his eyes—damn, his eyes. Every star, every galaxy, stirring together to create a beautiful milky way, a gaze so firm and caring you feel as if you’ll never look away. That if you somehow managed, too, you’d feel as if you were missing something dear and important.

Your heart flutters in your chest, its beat stuttery against your wrists. Oh, how on earth did you get here?

Maybe it was when one was so starstruck by the other they stopped watching where they were walking and dripped over someone’s strewn out, overstuffed backpack. When the other offered up a seat beside them during the audition to help settle nerves. Maybe it was when they woke up next to each other after having fallen asleep after binge watching an entire anime season or two, with Netflix on some other autoplay show, one was wondering how the other could look so soft and delicate just after they wake. When the other was happy that they were in each other’s lives. Maybe it was when they declared they’d always be friends, best friends, but now always seems to be more weighty and mean a little more than before.

Maybe, just maybe, this is when they slowly turn towards each other, catching the starry glint in the other’s eye. When they slowly lean forward, ever closer, to the point they can feel one another’s soft breath. When gazes go from eyes to lips and back. When heartbeats slowly start to be harder and louder. When you feel like you might be the one crying because oh heavens—this is it.

But there are things those plays never mention, things the audience can never detect.

They never mention how the palms of hands become sweaty, or how automatic it is to take a soft breath before another pair of lips meets yours, a touch so delicate you finally understand what all the hype is about.

How nice it feels to have two hands cupping your cheeks so gently, their little fear of shattering you gone, or how your own hand curls into the fabric of his shirt as if it’s second nature, the most right thing in the world.

How tantalizingly dizzy a first kiss is.

How soft lips are, how soothingly warm to the point you wouldn’t mind if they were all you felt. How tender goosebumps trail down your spine until something begins to pool in your stomach.

How, even though you’ve become utterly breathless, you can’t stop at just one, because now something that's been building and growing for years has unlocked.

Hands that trail from cheeks to ghost over the nape of the neck, sliding down arms softly to then find purchase at your waist. Kisses, more warm, tantalizing kisses that leave you craving for more. Kisses that roam from lips to chins, then trail down the jaw to tease and nip tender patches of skin on necks, only to return to corners of lips for more wholehearted, dizzying kisses.

You’re warm, almost hot, but it’s so pleasant. What exposed skin you have tingles with feeling, with a craving touch and affection, too. The two of you rest your forehead on one another’s, breath still shallow from all the kisses exchanged, hands softly interlocked with fingers entwined, or as much as one can with bandaged knuckles. He finds his voice first, though even it is soft and a little hoarse. “I should have done that a long time ago, huh?”

You giggle and snuggle closer, nestling into the crook of his neck. You place a kiss underneath his chin. Beomgyu rubs even patterns on your back with his healthy hand while you take the bandaged one in your own, cradling it gently. You pull it up to your own lips, kissing where each knuckle is softly. When you look up, you see the stars glowing in his eyes, brighter than anytime you’ve ever seen them.

Beomgyu sighs, eyes softening at the corners. “I guess the kiss in the play won’t matter anymore, hm?”

You lightly slug in him the shoulder, a love-filled smile playing on your lips. He smiles back in a similar manner, his eyes lighting up with happiness. “Oh, and I guess this means you love me back, too.”

People fill and mingle around the diner, looking for an open seat among the crowds of customers. And older couple swoops in as soon as you vacate the booth, not even caring that your dirty dishes were still neatly stacked at the edge awaiting pick up. But you didn’t mind. You push through the doors to wait outside while Beomgyu paid. Even though there’s a small crowd at the counter, you knew exactly which one he was. Beomgyu wore his light blue jacket, the one that accentuated all his features nicely. You’d have to make sure that whatever Beomgyu-sized scarf you bought matched that jacket. He needed to wear it as often as possible.

The first official date was almost over, but you knew there would be many more to come.

Once he’s finished paying, Beomgyu makes a beeline for the door, carefully navigating around all the people crowding the entryway. “Is it always this busy?” you ask when he rejoins you.

Beomgyu shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so. But knowing you, the most gorgeous person ever alive, would be there waiting for me was very motivational.”

You do little to hid your smile.

He takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers as if it were second nature. Maybe, it was, and you two had just been trying to ignore it. This walk from the diner back to your apartment had been done countless times before, but this one is special. And now, you think, it really is your apartment.

Beomgyu starts to casually rub gentle circles onto your skin with his thumb. “It’s the perfect kind of weather for me to take off my jacket and give it to you to keep you warm, you know.” He then takes a deep sigh and throws his head back. His next words come out playfully clipped. “But, someone had to be smart and wear their jacket.”

“Well, you’re not dating a fool,” you chuckle. When you notice Beomgyu pouting, eyes downcast away from you, you laugh again and poke him in the shoulder to get his attention. “Thank you anyway, Beomgyu, for always thinking of me.”

He turns back to you, all smiles. “Darling, I don’t think I could stop thinking of you even if I tried.”

“Ew, gross.” You laugh, white curls of breath forming in front of you. But, unlike last time, there is no cold or ice in sight. No dark thoughts and doubts plague you tonight. You’re delightfully warm and happy.

“Ew, gross yourself,” Beomgyu mimics, throwing his tone to match yours. “I’m cold too, by the way. So I guess thanks for thinking of me by thinking of yourself. God, you’re like the smartest person ever.”

As the walk home continues, so does the conversation. "Our parents seemed pretty happy when we told them, huh?" Beomgyu mentions, a smile playing at his lips.

“Maybe they planned it,” you muse. “Maybe the director was in on it. They wrote it all together because they decided it was now or never.”

Laughter fills the air, and even in the dark spots between the lampposts are filled with light.

You nudge your shoulder into Beomgyu’s, garnering his attention. “Can I ask you a question?” When he nods, eager to hear what you have to say, you continue. “Why did you throw your lunch on me that day in seventh grade?”

“That was an honest mistake!” he exclaims, eyes filled with desperate honesty. The blush along his cheeks as he looks away is readily apparent. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with sincerity. “But sitting next to you on audition day wasn’t.”

A soft smile plays at the corner of your lips. “I’m glad I got there late, then.”

“Me, too.” A moment of silence falls between you, but it’s comfortable, like an overtly fluffy blanket made just for two. Afterward, Beomgyu is the first to speak again. “Okay, I’ve confessed something from our past that’s mildly embarrassing yet still endearing. Now it’s your turn.” He turns to you with a mischievous grin on his lips. "’Fess up, darling."

It takes a small instant, before: “Oh! You know that time we stayed up all night and watched anime after that big project? When we woke up the next morning, even though you scared the hell out of me, I thought you were pretty cute.”

Beomgyu’s eyebrows quirk up, his grin grows wider. “Cute? Me? You thought I was cute?”

Pink blush rushes to your cheeks before you smack him on the shoulder. You drop his hand and quicken your pace. “You were cute, you’re not anymore.”

Beomgyu races to catch up with you, takes your hand again, and bumps into your shoulder gently. “Of course I’m not cute anymore. I’m handsome.”

You make a fake gag. “Oh, please!” There’s no sense of lightness when you shove his shoulder.

“Hey, now,” he says, rubbing his shoulder with his free hand, another fake pout on his lips. “Be nice to your boyfriend.”

You scoff. “Is that what you are now?”

“What else would I be? More than friends but not a boyfriend…” Beomgyu’s eyes brighten as he lets go of your hand and snaps his fingers. “Aha! Your husband!”

You shove him with two hands this time. The idea of being with him like that is overwhelming to the max. “Fine, you’re my boyfriend, then.” The word feels foreign on your tongue, but you can easily imagine them growing comfortable. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your Beomgyu.

He slings his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close as your apartment slowly grows larger in the distance. He leans his head over and rests it gently on yours. “I guess I lied,” he mutters, and you pull back confused even with his eyes on you, rich and loving. “I told you the play wouldn’t change things between us.”

A smile slowly spreads across your face. “But... we changed in a good way, right?”

Beomgyu answers you with a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, caressing your shoulders kindly and pulling you just a little closer. “Yeah, we changed in a good way.”

#kdiarynet #kwritersworld #kflixnet #k-labels #txt fluff #txt headcanons #txt scanarios #txt imagines #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu headcanons #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #fluff #angst #scarios #imagines #all #prose #txt

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 6 months

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No One Here Is Alone

Elks Chapter 2 Version 2.0

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's caretaker.. and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home. Chapter Warnings: soft jackson joel, rumors still spread in the apocalypse, 2000's indie rock, interrupted sweet moment, cats in windows, there was only one umbrella, romance, Joel Miller making dinner, thigh paint, knee pillow Words: 4,500 Header courtesy of @saradika-graphics

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Masterlist Playlist

*** “Radio Cure” by Wilco.

It's Monday evening, and you're standing nervously in front of Joel’s house, clutching your messenger bag brimming with art supplies. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, before giving the door three quick knocks.

Joel opens the door with a warm smile. “Hi, come on in.”

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your smile under control.

"Let me show you the room."

Joel leads you into his home to a makeshift studio just off the living room filled with various wood workings, half carved animals, shelves of tools, and a long work table. You'd never expect it, but Joel is an artist.

You love the space, it's so open and warm. Lived in and utilized, you're happy places like this can still exist in other people's homes.

Your eyes fall on a couple of old guitars leaning against a wall.

“You play?” You ask, nodding towards them.

“Been playing almost my whole life. You?”

“Same, my guitar broke a few weeks ago,” you say with a hint of sadness. “There’s a big hole in the side now.”

“That’s rough. Your stereo and your guitar?”

“Afraid so. It’s very quiet in my home.”

“Those guitars are broken over there, but I just haven’t gotten around to fixing ‘em, I’m sure I could easily repair one for you.”

“Joel, you— that’s very nice,” you say, touched but hesitant. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“No, s’okay, I like fixing things,” he insists with a reassuring smile.

“Wish I could fix things,” you say with a nervous chuckle. “By the time I would be done, it’d be a pile of sawdust.”

A huff of air releases out of Joel’s mouth, his smile makes a dimple you’ve never noticed before appear. God, he’s gorgeous. “You’re funny. I can see why Ellie likes you.”

Heat creeps up your chest and settles into your cheeks. “So, Where would you like me to draw the mural?” you ask, using your question as a way to cut through the nervousness inside you.

“Was thinking over on this wall with the window. I can see it from my chair in the living room.”

You turn to examine the large, empty wall. You’re not sure if the cream hue is the original paint color or colored that way from age. It’s a perfect canvas.

“Good choice.” you say. “Do you want the whole wall?”

“The whole wall.”

“Just bluebells?” you clarify.

“Just bluebells.”

“Perfect.”

You pull the pencil from the chest pocket of your overalls, gently pressing it against the wall to sketch out the first bluebell. You can feel his eyes on you, his large body crowding the space behind you. You try to focus on your drawing, blocking out the sound of his breathing and the heat of his closeness.

Joel clears his throat. “I’ll just be in the kitchen making dinner. Did ya’ eat?”

“No,” you reply, glancing back at him. “But I can eat after I’m done here.”

“Have more than enough here for another person and Ellie’s at Dina’s tonight. You like pasta?”

“Of course I do,” you say with a smile. “I’d starve if I didn’t. Shelf stable.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ll be in the kitchen cooking. Just holler if you need anything. Help yourself to any of the supplies I have here.” You nod as Joel turns and strides down the hall.

“What a beautiful face, I have found in this place, That is circling all ‘round the sun, What a beautiful dream...”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as the music starts, breaking the hush that had settled in the room while you quietly sketched. For the past hour, the only sounds were Joel’s movements in the kitchen and the soft scratch of your pencil against the wall. Now, Joel is playing the mixed CD you had left there. Despite being all alone in his studio, you can’t help but grin. You tuck your pencil behind your ear and head to the kitchen to find Joel draining a pot of cooked pasta.

You try not to stare at the way his biceps stretch the sleeves of his shirt or the way the steam floats into the air swirling around him, creating an almost dreamlike scene of domestic bliss.

“Neutral Milk Hotel,” you say from the doorway, rubbing your daisy pendant hanging against your neck.

“S’a pretty good song.” Joel replies, his gaze shifting from the pot to your pendant.

“Thanks for putting it on, I missed hearing music.”

“When’d your player break?” Joel’s asks, his eyes still focused on your daisy pendant.

“A little over a week ago. I lived without a stereo for close to fifteen years, all through my twenties in the QZ. My CD’s sat in a crate next to my bed all those years. I got used to them existing almost like photographs, circular snapshots of memories… silent and incapable of their original use,” you say, your voice trailing off as you remember. “When I got here and walked into my house the first thing I saw was the small boombox on the shelf, I almost passed out when Maria told me it worked. It had to be repaired a few times and Gordon kept warning me that it wasn’t built to last. Took it to him the day after it broke for good and he let me know nothing could be done. I felt like I lost a limb.”

“M’sorry,” Joel says as he begins to dish the pasta and sauce into two bowls.

“Thanks, I still have other things to fill up my time so it’s not as bad as I’m making it seem. I know it’s a luxury and I know I can live without it. It’s just… the noise kept me company, you know?”

“I do,” Joel says, setting the bowls on the table, his eyes still locked on you.

He watches you intently, as if he’s captivated by your presence. You’d be doing the same if you weren’t so nervous about him noticing. You sense Joel doesn’t care if you notice him watching.

You sit at his table, the orange glow of the sunset filters through the window, casting a soft light over everything. Coffee rings cover Joel’s wooden table top, a sign he probably never cleans up his mug until after he’s home in the evening. The smell of tomatoes, garlic, and onion from the bowl of pasta in front of you tantalizes you.

“This looks delicious,” you say, picking up your fork.

“Sauce was made by Maria, she takes pity on my kitchen skills and makes sure Ellie and I are well fed.”

“She’s great,” you say through a bite. “So is Tommy.”

He nods in agreement.

You both settle into a shared silence as you eat.

A slow and haunting song begins to play, Joel looks up from his meal. “This is my favorite song on your CD.

“Cheer up, honey I hope you can,

There is something wrong with me,

My mind is filled with silvery stars”

“‘Radio Cure’ by Wilco.” you say, recognizing the song. “One of my favorite bands. My only CD of theirs is so scratched it no longer works… this is the only song I have now.”

You lean back, closing your eyes, getting lost in the music, mouthing the lyrics silently.

“S’beautiful,” Joel says softly as you open your eyes and find him watching you again. “...The song’s beautiful.”

Your heart skips a beat at the tenderness in his voice. So soft and deep, you wonder if he talks to anybody else this gently.

“If you like it, keep my CD,” you offer. “You’ll get more use out of it than I will now.”

“I’ll borrow it until you get a new CD player,” Joel says as he stands. “You’re welcome to come over and listen anytime. You can bring your other CD’s over if you want.”

“Really? I appreciate that,” your voice lifts with excitement.

“Glad to help.”

“I”m going to get back to drawing before it gets any darker,” you say, handing him your empty bowl. “I really enjoyed dinner, thank you.”

“Course,” he nods, taking the bowl from your hand and depositing it into the soapy water.

You return to the woodworking room, pick up your pencil, and continue delicately sketching flowers on his wall.

“It really, really, really could happen, Yes, it really, really, really could happen If the days they seem to fall through you Well, just let them go”

You hum along to your favorite Blur song, the eighth track on your CD.

“Did you want another light in here?” Joel’s deep voice startles you. You jump and turn to see him leaning against the doorway; you don’t know how long he’s been there. “S’getting dark in here.”

“Y-yeah, that would be great. I just want to finish up the first outline tonight.”

Joel nods and heads over to the large cabinet in the corner, retrieving a work light as you turn back to your work.

“This’ll help,” he says, grunting slightly as he bends over and plugs it in. “It’s lookin’ really nice so far.”

“Thanks,” you reply, still sketching. I love the process of beginning a large piece like this. It makes me so excited to think what it’ll look like when it’s all finished. Breaking it down into small steps, then seeing it all come together.”

“No wonder Ellie’s always so excited about art, when you put it all that way.”

You nod without looking back at him, choosing to focus on your sketch.

“Just going to be in the living room reading my book. Lemme know if I can help,” he offers.

“Thanks.”

You hear him settle into his chair with a sigh. The chair he can sit in and look at your mural, the chair he can sit in and watch you work. Your insides twist as you feel like you’re being watched by him–you like it.

You round each small petal making every flower perfect for Joel’s eyes.

Sometimes you hear a page turn in between tracks, sometimes you hear a sniff or a throat clear, you actually wish there wasn’t any music so you could only hear Joel.

“Okay,” you step back from the wall shaking out and stretching your overused hand and stretching your tired fingers.

“Finished for the night?” Joel asks as he stands and walks into the room, eyes landing on the wall. “It’s really beautiful,” he says as he stares at your preliminary sketch.

“Thanks, there’s still a lot that has to be done, but I’m really happy with how it’s looking so far.” You back up to stand next to him. “When do you want me to come back?”

“I’ll be out on Patrol with Tommy until Wednesday night, Thursday work?”

“Thursday’s good. Same time?”

“Same time,” he confirms with a nod. “I’ll make dinner again.”

“You really don’t have to,” you reply, bending down to grab your bag.

“S’okay, I want to.”

“Okay,” you say, stifling a yawn and blinking your tired eyes.

Joel notices and grins slightly watching you. “Getting late for you, huh?”

“Yeah, close to my bedtime,” you admit.

He follows you to his door. “G’night,” he says, holding the door open. “See you Thursday.”

“Good luck on patrol,” you walk out the door and glance back at him, offering a small smile. “Good night.”

You feel Joel’s quiet, watchful gaze follow you as you leave his yard.

Once you get home, you don’t bother changing out of your shirt when you crawl into bed. It smells like Joel’s home.

“Hey lady,” your friend Helen greets as she leans against the doorway of your classroom, interrupting your paper grading.

You look up and give her a smile. “What’s up?”

“Thirsty Thursday at the Bison tomorrow, you in?”

“Oh,” you pause, putting your pen down. “I can’t, I’m painting something for Joel Miller at his house.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Joel Miller, Joel Miller?”

“Yeah…” you nod.

She steps into your room, crossing her arms and smirks. “So, the rumors are true?”

“Rumors?” you ask.

“Grace said she saw you leaving his place late Monday night. Apparently, Joel stood and watched you walk home the whole way.”

You roll your eyes. “God this place is small, isn’t it?”

Helen laughs, her expression softening as she moves closer. “He nice to you?” Her protective side always shows when it comes to you.

“I wouldn’t be doing this for him if he wasn’t.”

She nods. “Atta girl, I’ll leave you to it,” she knocks on your desk before leaving.

You’ve heard all of the rumors about Tommy Miller’s scary older brother. You’ve listened intently as people regaled tales of his violent past and whispered stories of his brutality. You heard the hush amongst the crowd whenever he’d walk into a room when he and Ellie first showed up. He’s supposedly a monster, and yet all you see are deep, soft brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at you.

Thursday, you find yourself at Joel’s wearing your overalls again. Today, though, you’ve layered an oversized flannel for warmth, shielding yourself and your box of paints beneath an umbrella from the pouring rain. Before you can knock, Joel opens the door.

“Come in,” he says, grabbing your umbrella. “Was lookin’ for you so you didn’t get stuck in the rain.”

“Thanks, it’s awful out,” you reply, stepping inside and shrugging off your flannel. “How was patrol?”

“Same as usual,” he says, taking your jacket and hanging it up on the hook over his coat.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” you say heading into his woodworking room and place your paints on the floor.

“That your book?” Joel nods to the faded black leather portfolio with tattered corners covered in faded stickers.

“Yeah, I brought it over.”

“Haven’t seen something like that in years. Can I look at ‘em?”

“Go ahead,” you say smiling and handing it over to him. “Find something to play. It’s your stereo. Don’t tell me what you pick–I want to be surprised.”

You love hearing the soft, familiar thud of the pages as Joel flips through it.

“Don’t recognize most of these names,” he murmurs.

“What kind of music do you like?” you ask as you unroll your brush holder, picking out what you’ll need.

“Rock, country… a little bit of blues.”

“Country? Really? How typical Texas of you.”

He chuckles. “Good country. Real country. Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, ’n the like.”

“I stand corrected, Texas.”

He grunts in amusement while you begin laying out your paints on the countertop, carefully choosing your colors.

“Found something,” Joel says.

“Can’t wait to hear what you pick,” you respond, pulling your palette out of your bag as he leaves the room.

A bluesy rock guitar intro with a steady drumbeat begins to play as you mix emerald and olive tones together.

“Haven’t heard this one in over 20 years,” Joel says, re-entering the room. “Liked The Rolling Stones.”

You kneel down on the floor to begin painting green stems. You move your brush and body slowly and smoothly, rising up to finish each stem tip. You feel Joel’s steady and attentive gaze follow you.

“Never thought I’d see somebody paint like this again,” he says from the doorway.

“It’s my favorite thing to do,” your focus unwavering from the wall.

“Can tell,” the gentleness of his voice causes your skin to prickle. “M’excited to see how it’ll look when it’s done.”

“Me too.”

You hear Joel take a deep breath and his footsteps shift. “I’m gonna go finish cleanin’ my guns,” he says with an exhale. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you say, twisting your torso to look back at him with a smile. A large dollop of green paint falls from the paintbrush in your hand, plopping onto your exposed thigh.

Joel’s eyes immediately drop to the spot, widening as you grab your paint stained rag and wipe the paint off. He clears his throat, his cheeks blush a subtle shade of red. “Uh, right. I’ll be in the dining room,” he repeats, turning quickly to stride away.

His hurried footsteps fade as they move into the next room. A small smile tugs at your lips and a rush of excitement blooms within you.

You dip your brush back into the paint again, steadying your breath, and begin painting a new stem.

"S'pretty nasty out there, d’ya want that work light again? Sky’s turnin’ real dark,” Joel asks, interrupting your focus.

“Yes, thank you,” you answer as your focus is still on the delicate petal you’re painting.

You hear Joel shuffle behind you to pull the light out, the same small grunt as earlier this week leaves his mouth when he bends over to plug it in. The light buzzes on, flooding the room and your painting with a bright white hue.

“You been kneeling on the floor like that for long?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

“Yep, it’s not so bad while down here,” you reply, still focused on your brushstrokes.

“Ya’ still have the hurt knees and you’re kneeling on the damn hardwood floor,” he mumbles under his breath as he leaves the room.

You’ve gotten used to people not being concerned about such simple things like your personal comfort, Joel’s worry for you makes you feel a foreign feeling.

He returns and holds a pillow out for you. “Here, grabbed ya’ this.”

“Oh, I’m okay, really,” you protest, “I don’t want to accidentally get paint on it.”

“Don’t care, take it,” he insists.

You hesitate for a second before taking the pillow and slipping it underneath your already aching knees.

“Feels much better, thank you,” you say as you wiggle back and forth on the softness.

“Welcome.”

A long sigh escapes his lips, grabbing your attention. You glance up and meet his eyes– his hazel flecks glow in the light supplied by the work lamp. He sticks his tongue out to wet his supple lips, your eyes move to watch. He reaches a hand out, his thumb rests against your cheek, his fingers cradle your chin.

Your breath hitches, lips parting as you inhale deeply, a chill takes over your whole body. The music from the stereo muffles. All that exists now in this moment is Joel’s touch.

“Thank you again, for doin’ this for me,” he says, his voice low and tender. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout how nice it’s gonna be to look over and see this once it’s finished… reminding me of home.”

“O-of course Texas,” you stammer, your eyes still lingering on his mouth.

“Mm,” he grunts, his head dipping with a slight nod.

“L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L–” The music stutters.

“Shit, I forgot this song always does that,” you say as Joel’s hand retreats from your cheek.

“I got it,” he says, quickly striding out of the room.

“You just have to skip to the next track and it should work!” you call after him as your skin still tingles from where his hand had been moments ago silently cursing your scratched CD.

The track changes, the interruption long gone, just like Joel’s touch. You return to painting, calming your body and emotions in the aftermath. You exhale slowly, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in your chest, grounding yourself back into the rhythm of painting. You don’t hear from him until well after the CD finishes and the house falls silent.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says, rapping his knuckles gently on the doorway, snapping you out of your trance. “You got a lot done—s’lookin’ real good.”

You glance over your shoulder at him, surprised by how much time has passed. The shared moment between you now feels long gone and distant.

“Thanks,” you say standing up and stretching, placing your paintbrush in the jar of water.

“Just come to the kitchen when you’re all done in here.”

“Hope you like turkey and barley soup,” Joel says as you enter the kitchen.

“Any soup makes me happy,” you reply with a smile.

“Good,” he places a bowl in front of you. “This one I actually made, Maria didn’t hafta take pity on me for this meal.”

It looks delicious and smells incredible. Joel’s taken the time to set the table tonight, a tattered cloth napkin folded neatly beneath a soup spoon, a glass of water to the side, you notice the coffee stains have been wiped up.

You take a bite, the warm soup slides down your throat, perfect for a chilly rainy evening, it’s good. “Joel, this is… really, really delicious.”

His eyes soften. “I’m glad you like it, haven’t cooked for anybody ‘cept Ellie in years.”

“You did boil me spaghetti earlier this week, remember?” you tease.

“Hmph,” he chuckles, “right.”

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, your spoons against the bowls are the only sound. You should be nervous in this situation but the way Joel handles himself in front of you, as if he’s perfectly comfortable with you in his home makes your nerves settle.

You place your spoon down and sit back in your chair. “What was your favorite food before …everything?”

He thinks for a moment. “Don’t really know, maybe tamales? My mom used to make them every year for the holidays. I could eat six of them in one sitting.”

“I loved tamales, too. God, I miss Mexican restaurants. You know, I just remembered margaritas. I used to always see people drink them when we’d get Mexican and I always thought that looked so cool. I never got to try one.”

He watches you with that familiar expression, as if he could listen to you talk for hours, nodding along with a small smile. “What was your favorite food?” he asks.

“Fettuccine Alfredo, one hundred percent. My mom used to make it for me every year for my birthday. If we went to an Italian restaurant, it’s what I’d always order, definitely Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Never had it, always just stuck to pouring a jar of Ragu over spaghetti or a frozen lasagna,” he says, a small grin on his face.

“I miss those too. Anc cheese. I miss being able to have cheese whenever I wanted so much. The stuff we have now just isn’t the same.”

“Mm,” Joel nods, “kinda like the ice cream we have. Not the same, but good enough.”

“Isn’t that the motto of these times?” you say with a smirk. “‘Not the same but good enough.’”

“S’a good one,” Joel pauses, “you’re funny.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear feeling Joel’s eyes follow your movements as he gets up.

You rise as well, grabbing your bowl to follow Joel over to the sink. He reaches for it, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes it from your hand. “I’ve got it,” he says, placing the dishes into the sink. “You seem to be almost finished in there.”

“Yeah, I think I only have a couple more hours of work left,” you say stretching your back.

“Don’t want to keep you any longer tonight, know you got work tomorrow and know it’s a lot bein’ down on the floor like that for as long you were.”

“Yeah, they’re aching,” you admit with a shy smile. “When do you want me to come and finish it?”

“Tomorrow at the same time, if you want.”

“That works, might be a little late though–Fridays are always busy with the end of the school week.”

“Course, take your time. I’ll be here.”

“Is it okay if I leave my things in the room? If not, that’s okay too I can take them ho–”

“S’fine,” he interrupts gently, he places his hand against your back. “Don’t mind at all. I’ll walk you home, s’getting late and it’s still rainin’ pretty bad.”

You protest. “No, I’ll be okay, I’ve walked through much worse.”

“Don’t care.” he cuts you off as he grabs your flannel from the hook. “I’m walking you home, it’s pourin’.”

He holds your flannel open for you and offers a small nod. You step forward and slip your arms through the sleeves, the closeness sends goosebumps across your skin.

“Course,” Joel breathes out as you step away and grab your backpack.

“You really don’t have to—“

“Now, stop telling me I don’t have to,” he says, mild frustration tinging his voice as he shrugs on his jacket. “I want to.”

He opens the door and motions you to go ahead of him before grabbing your umbrella.

“Don’t you have one as well?” you ask.

“Never got one. S’a nasty storm today, I think it’s going to be just as bad tomorrow.”

You step out, the rain falls in a steady stream. “It’s good for the crops and the water reserves at least,” you shrug as Joel holds the umbrella above you.

As you walk down the road, you notice the rain pelting Joel, his head and shoulders already damp as he holds the umbrella over you.

“There’s enough room for both of us under here, there’s no sense in you getting soaked,” you say, stepping closer to him.

He murmurs something under his breath–it sounds like “Y’sweet,” but the rain drowns out the sound. You almost think you imagined it. He adjusts the umbrella, moving it so that both of you are shielded from the rain.

The two of you walk towards your home, your bodies occasionally tapping against each other as Joel huddles over you. You wish you could slow down, elongate your time next to him, stay under the shelter of the umbrella and his body.

“That’s me, right there,” you say nodding towards your front door.

“Y’got a cat?” Joel asks when he sees your cat Penny sitting on your windowsill backlit by your lamp.

“Yeah, two of them. You like cats?”

“Even if I did, couldn’t have ‘em. Allergic.”

“That’s a shame,” you reply with a shrug.

“Hm,” he grunts with a subtle smile.

Escaping the rain underneath the safety of the awning of your front porch, Joel closes your umbrella and hands it back to you as you tap your wet boots against your frayed welcome mat.

“Well, thanks for walking me home, I’ll see you tomorrow?” You say as you rest your back against your front door.

“Yeah,” Joel says, his eyes holding your attention for a moment longer than expected. “See you tomorrow.”

He turns and leaves your little yard, turning back around at your fencepost to give you a nod before continuing down the road in the dark rain. Joel Miller just walked you home.

#joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #elks #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #jackson joel

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lividstar · 3 months

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‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

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masterpost

៚ wc: 9k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, first person is only used in your journal entries so don’t worry, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Moving to Paris in order to leave your past in Arcadia Bay had been a long-term goal for a while now, and you were more than excited to finally have this dream of yours within your grasp. Of course, things won’t always turn out well consistently, and you had to be reminded of this in the worst way possible.

a/n: i’m having a huge struggle with figuring out how i’m supposed to conclude ‘sly fox, dumb bunny’ thus i decided to put it on hold for now. in order to compensate for that, allow me to introduce an entirely new series to keep you guys entertained <3 this was originally supposed to be oneshot but tumblr’s 1k block limit per post won’t allow that haha :’D still haven’t figured out how many chapters this will have in total but it will definitely be more than 2!

October 24th, 2018

If there was one lesson that struck me the most this year, it would definitely be the fact that in order to be able to move forward, making changes in your life are necessary, no matter how minor or major it may be. Maybe it could be something simple, like trying out a new restaurant different from the one near your house that you’ve been going to for pretty much your entire life, with the 0.5% possibility that you may cross paths with someone in the new place you’ll choose to visit, and the either lesser or bigger possibility that they may be the key to changing the way you view your existence.

Or maybe, it could be something as major as settling in a foreign setting to rewind the clock of your life right back to the very beginning—which is the change I am currently aiming for. I just feel like the opportunities that my hometown offers to me are way too restricted, you know? It’s like I don’t feel like I can push my potential to its very fullest in a place that isn’t big enough to withstand it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I hate it here—in fact, Arcadia Bay is the only place I can call my home without having any second doubts about it. But that’s exactly the problem. It feels like a home with locked doors, and I don’t hold the keys needed for it to be unlocked.

So then, months ago, I decided to take the risk and grab the opportunity to fly to Paris. I don’t know why exactly I chose it out of all the other choices laid out in front of me, but there’s just something about it that captivates me—better yet, draws me in. When I was surfing on the internet, looking to see which places are the best choices if you want to move out and start a new life, I came across Paris, and once I did, I knew I couldn’t just continue scrolling to look for other options. It’s like I had to choose to go there and nothing else, if you catch my drift.

I’m currently writing this in the airport, waiting for my flight to arrive. And by the time I step foot into Paris, I’ll make sure to write an entry as soon as possible—if unpacking won’t take up too much of my time. I honestly can’t wait for Paris! I hope it goes the other way around, too :)

Letting out a sigh of relief, you clicked your pen to push the ballpoint back in, gently shutting your journal and putting it back in one of your luggages. Staring at the sunset through the glass walls of the airport as you let your gaze be dragged back and forth by planes that were both departing and landing, you couldn’t help but let a wistful smile appear on your face. Even long ago, you already got aboard on a ship of longing for a change, a major event that will change the trajectory of your life for all the years that are yet to come. But you’ve never really been brave enough to keep your word back then, thus, the idea eventually rotted until it turned into a thought buried in the very back of your mind.

What you weren’t expecting at all was that very thought to come crawling back to bite you years later, but it’s been a long while since you neglected the idea, and now, you were no longer the same scaredy cat who had a knack for stressing herself out over the potential consequences of her actions instead of choosing to live in the moment—well, you were still a bit of a coward on specific circumstances, but no longer as much now. It wasn’t really charged by a highly traumatic moment or anything—you just came to realization that longing for a change without actually taking an action upon it won’t do anything on a random Sunday while moping over your laundry pile that refuses to decrease when you’ve literally been neglecting your house chores for an entire week straight.

The different jobs you’d take up almost every 3 business weeks due to always being fired over the most mediocre of reasons didn’t help with getting your life together either, especially since all of them had a low pay rate. Well, it only makes sense for things to be that way, considering your town was small and wasn’t really that fortunate in terms of financial matters, but that doesn’t mean you’re supposed to just suck it up and endure it. After all, why would you expect yourself to feel pity for the reason behind why you’re still unsure of what path you’re supposed to tread in life?

This was also one of the many reasons you decided to move to another country—you weren’t just hoping to experience a life-changing switch up, you were hoping to be able to find yourself throughout your journey in a foreign setting. You’ve never really been sure of what you wanted to be, always too busy with thinking of ways to survive rather than ways to live.

The speakers scattered around the walls of the airport then began to ring, signaling the departure of a flight. “Attention, passengers: Flight 276 to Paris is now boarding at Gate 12.”

You felt your heart skip a beat as the announcement rang through the terminal. With a deep breath, you stood up, gathering your belongings with a mix of excitement and nerves. This was it—the moment you’d been waiting for. The walk to Gate 12 felt surreal. People occupied themselves in their personal activities around you, dragging suitcases and chatting in various languages, but it all seemed to blur together as your focus remained on the boarding gate ahead. Handing your boarding pass to the attendant, you couldn't help but smile as they welcome you aboard.

Stepping onto the plane, the cool air and the quiet hum of the engines greeted you. Finding your seat, you settled in, glancing out the window at the fading light of the evening. This was the beginning of your new chapter, and as the plane began to taxi down the runway, you felt a sense of determination wash over you. Paris was waiting.

The flight was short, but for you, who had already been brimming with anticipation for what felt like an eternity, each passing second seemed to stretch into hours. Every tiny movement of the plane, every faint hum of the engines, felt amplified by the adrenaline spreading through your veins. You had spent weeks imagining this moment, and now that it was finally here, the reality felt almost too surreal to grasp.

As the plane soared above the clouds, the world below seemed to shrink, becoming a patchwork quilt of landscapes, cities, and oceans. The setting sun painted the horizon in brilliant hues of gold and orange, casting a warm, ethereal glow over everything. You pressed your face to the window, your breath fogging the glass as you gazed out at the breathtaking view. The sprawling scenery beneath you brought a sense of comfort, a reminder of the vastness of the world and the endless possibilities that awaited you.

Your thoughts drifted to the life you were leaving behind. Memories of your hometown, with its familiar streets and faces, flashed through your mind. There was a pang of nostalgia, but it was quickly overshadowed by the excitement of the new chapter you were about to begin. You closed your eyes, intending to rest them for just a moment. The gentle hum of the plane and the slight turbulence lulled you into a light nap, the anticipation and exhaustion of the journey catching up with you.

You were awoken by the voice of the pilot crackling through the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you look out of your windows to the left, you will see the Eiffel Tower in the distance as we begin our descent into Paris.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the grogginess of sleep quickly replaced by a rush of excitement. You pressed your face to the window once more, your heart skipping a beat at the sight that greeted you. There, standing tall against the backdrop of the glowing sky, was the Eiffel Tower. Its iron lattice structure, illuminated by the last light of the day, seemed to beckon you, a symbol of the dreams and opportunities that lay ahead.

The plane began its descent, and the details of the city became clearer. The Seine River snaked its way through the heart of Paris, its waters reflecting the shimmering lights of the bridges and buildings that lined its banks. You could see people walking along the river, tiny figures in the distance, living their everyday lives in this magical city. The closer you got, the more real it all became.

As the wheels touched down on the runway, a wave of emotions washed over you. Relief, excitement, and a hint of nervousness mingled together, creating a heady cocktail of feelings that made your heart race. The plane taxied to the gate, and the passengers around you began to gather their belongings, ready to disembark. You joined them, your hands trembling slightly in excitement as you reached for your carry-on bag.

Stepping off the plane and into the terminal, you were immediately struck by the vibrant energy of the place. The air was filled with a symphony of languages, the chatter of travelers from all corners of the globe blending together in a harmonious cacophony. The terminal itself was a hive of activity, with people bustling about, some rushing to their next destination, others leisurely browsing the shops and cafes.

You followed the flow of people through the airport, the sights and sounds of Paris already beginning to enchant you. The aroma of freshly baked croissants and strong coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the subtle scent of perfume from the duty-free shops. The polished floors gleamed under the bright lights, reflecting the excitement in your eyes.

With your luggage in hand, you navigated through the crowd, your steps quickening as you neared the exit. The doors slid open, and you stepped out into the cool evening air. The city of Paris stretched out before you, alive with lights and sounds. The aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries wafted through the air, mingling with the distant hum of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby café.

You took a deep breath, letting the reality of it all sink in. This was your new beginning, your fresh start—all chances to achieve every dream you had always wanted to turn into reality were eagerly waiting for you. As you hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address of your new apartment, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe and wonder. Paris was everything you had dreamed of and more, and you were ready to embrace every moment of it.

The taxi ride through the streets of Paris felt like a dream. The city was a blend of old-world charm and modern vibrancy, with historic buildings standing proudly alongside trendy boutiques and cafes. You watched as people went about their lives, completely unaware of the new arrival who was already falling in love with their city.

The taxi driver, an older gentleman with a kind smile, made pleasant conversation during the ride. “Is this your first time in Paris?” he asked in a thick French accent.

“Yes, it is, sir,” you replied, your voice tinged with excitement. “I’ve always dreamed of coming here.”

“Ah, Paris is a city of dreams,” he said, his eyes twinkling in the rearview mirror. “You will love it here, I’m sure.”

Finally, you arrived at your apartment, a quaint building nestled in a quiet street. The driver helped you with your luggage, and you thanked him, giving him a generous tip. As you approached the building, the landlord, a friendly-looking middle-aged woman, stepped out to greet you. “Bonsoir! You must be the new tenant,” she said warmly, extending her hand. “I am Madame Dupont."

“Bonsoir, Madame Dupont,” you replied, taking her hand in yours and gently shaking it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Welcome to Paris,” she said, her smile broadening. “I hope your journey was pleasant. Now, let me show you to your apartment.”

You followed her inside, the cozy interior of the building immediately making you feel at home. She led you up a narrow staircase to the second floor, where she unlocked the door to your new apartment. “This is it,” she said, opening the door and stepping aside to let you enter first. “I hope you will find it comfortable.”

You stepped inside, your eyes widening as you took in the charming space. The apartment was small but cozy, with large windows that offered a stunning view of the Parisian streets below. The furnishings were simple yet elegant, and there was a welcoming warmth to the place that instantly put you at ease.

“It’s perfect,” you said, turning to Madame Dupont with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she replied. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. The other tenants are very friendly, and there’s a lovely café just down the street. I’m sure you’ll settle in quickly.”

“Thank you, Madame Dupont.” You gave her a grin filled with gratitude. “I really appreciate it.”

She handed you the keys, her smile never wavering. “Enjoy your stay in Paris. I have a feeling you’ll have many wonderful adventures here.”

With that, she left you to settle in, closing the door behind her. You took a moment to soak it all in—the cozy apartment, the view of the streets below, the realization that you were finally here, in Paris. Unpacking your belongings, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. You have made it. You were here, ready to start this new chapter of your life. As you stood by the window, looking out at the city that would now be your home, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful adventure.

Once you finished unpacking your belongings, you were about to settle down and immediately continue your journal entry for the day, but then you remembered Madame Dupont mentioning a café nearby the apartment. You mused to yourself, why not start your very first step into your new life now? You went through the rack of clothes you had just finished hanging inside your closet. Since you’d read somewhere that the weather in Paris was very cold lately, you decided to go for a comfortable, chic outfit made with a fabric thick enough to help you withstand the climate, paired with a long beige coat.

Debating whether to wear a beret as a cherry on top, you figured that would be way too much of a giveaway to the city folks that you were new around here. Instead, you chose one of the small bags you brought with you that wasn’t too big but big enough to fit your journal and essentials. Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you smiled to yourself in approval before heading out.

As you made your way outside the apartment, you passed by Madame Dupont, who sent a wide grin your way. “Already going out for an adventure, huh? I see you’ve got a strong sense of spirit in you, young lady. Take care.”

You lightly laughed and returned her smile. “Thank you, Madame Dupont. I’ll make sure to be back soon before it’s too late,” you promised, bidding her farewell before heading out and not looking back.

You felt a little foolish for forgetting to ask Madame Dupont where exactly the café was located before leaving, as now you were on your third circle around the apartment wondering where on earth the café was. Determined not to give up, you tried once more, scanning the streets with renewed focus. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a café came into your line of sight, and you let out a relieved sigh. The place was filled with activity, its warm lights and inviting atmosphere drawing you in. You decided to head for the vacant tables outside, appreciating the opportunity to soak in the vibrant Parisian street life.

Settling into a seat, you placed your bag on the table and took out your journal. The evening air was crisp, but your thick outfit kept you warm. As you opened your journal, you glanced around, taking in the sights and sounds of your new city. The café’s ambiance was filled with the soft murmur of conversations, the clinking of cups and plates, and the occasional laughter from nearby tables. You took a deep breath, savoring the moment. This was your new beginning, your first step into the life you had dreamed of. With a smile on your face, you began to continue your entry for October 24th.

I made it! I’m finally here in Paris, and let me tell you, the way it is described by media articles and people in social media spaces definitely does not entirely sum up just how beautiful it actually is in real life. I know it hasn’t even been half a day since I got here, but I can already feel myself falling in love with this city. Well, I guess they call it the city of love for a reason, right? I mean, in a literal context, how I feel is not why Paris is called such, but I’d like to think falling in love with the endless opportunities a certain place offers to you gives a more heartwarming feeling than falling in love with those who live in it.

Anyway, the journey felt like an eternity, but the sight of the Eiffel Tower from the plane made every second worth it. Stepping off the plane and into the terminal was like stepping into a dream, one you’d never catch yourself wanting to get out of. The energy, the diversity, the sheer magic of it all—it’s everything I imagined and more.

Madame Dupont, my landlord, is incredibly kind. She welcomed me warmly and showed me to my cozy apartment. It’s small, but it’s all I can afford for now, so it’ll do. It provides me with a spectacular view of the streets below, too, so I guess it’s not really that bad. After unpacking, I decided to explore the neighborhood, and now, I’m currently sitting at a charming café just around the corner from my apartment as I’m writing this.

The atmosphere here is enchanting. The air is filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the chatter of people enjoying their evening. I feel alive, inspired, and ready to embrace whatever comes my way. This is the start of my new life, and I couldn’t be more excited. I’m sure it’ll take me a while before I get used to the new environment, but everyone starts somewhere, right?

Just as you finished your entry, a waiter approached your table with a friendly smile. “Bonsoir, mademoiselle. What can I get for you this evening?”

You looked up, momentarily taken aback by the realization that you were truly in Paris. “Bonsoir,” you replied, returning his smile. “Could I please have a café au lait?”

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “I’ll bring it right out.”

As the waiter walked off, you looked around, taking in the sights and sounds of the café and the street beyond. Even though it had barely been 24 hours since you arrived, you could already feel the major changes in your life beginning to take place. Listening to your gut and deciding to move to Paris was definitely the best decision you’d made so far. Your hometown was nice, but it had finished serving its purpose. From now on, it was nothing but a distant memory that could only be fondly looked back at and not returned to.

Minutes later, the waiter came back with your order and placed it down on your table with a kind smile. You return it back with an even wider grin, thanking him with utmost gratitude as he went off to serve other customers and left you with your internal musings.

Paris felt like a breath of fresh air, a place where you could truly spread your wings and explore your potential. The city’s energy was infectious, filling you with a sense of possibility and excitement for the future. The people, the culture, the very air you breathed—it all felt like an invitation to start anew, to discover parts of yourself you never knew existed. As the sky darkened and the street lights flickered on, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets, you felt a sense of contentment wrap you in an embrace.

Noticing that it was getting quite late, you hurriedly began to pack your items. The last thing you wanted was to stay in the streets for too long and risk getting into trouble before you could even start your new life. Plus, you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on Madame Dupont by breaking your promise to return before it got too late. And you certainly didn’t want to stay up too long and miss the opportunity to wake up early tomorrow to start searching for a job to settle yourself in.

In your haste, you quickly gathered your things, placing them back in your bag. However, in your rush, you forgot to place your journal back inside. You slung your bag over your shoulder, the adrenaline of the day still lingering in your veins as you made your way back to your apartment.

As you neared your apartment, a sudden realization hit you—you had left your journal at the café. Panic surged through you as you turned on your heel and rushed back, your heart pounding with urgency.

The café was still open, and you hurried inside, scanning the tables where you had been sitting. Your journal was nowhere to be seen. Swallowing your anxiety, you approached the counter where a waiter was wiping down some glasses.

“Excuse me,” you said, your voice tinged with worry. “I left a black journal here earlier. Do you have a lost and found section?”

The waiter looked up and smiled kindly. “Yes, we do. Follow me.” He led you to a small office in the back and began rifling through a box of forgotten items. “Apologies, what did you lose again?”

“A black journal,” you repeated, your stomach in knots.

The waiter nodded and pulled out a plain black notebook. “Is this it?”

You sighed in relief. “Yes, that’s the one. Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” he said with a smile. “Glad we could help.” You thanked him again and hurried out of the café, eager to get back to your apartment. You clutched the journal tightly in your hands, not bothering to check it until you were safely back in your room.

Once you were home, you finally took a moment to catch your breath. You sat on your bed and opened the journal, flipping past the first page. But something was off. The pages weren’t filled with your handwriting; instead, they were covered in otherworldly sketches of fashion designs, complete with detailed notes.

Confused, you flipped back to the front cover and saw a name scrawled there in neat handwriting: Kim Hongjoong.

Not being able to keep your curiosity in check, you decided to take a look at the sketches in the journal. Opening the first few pages, you find yourself to be immediately in awe with the sight that greets you.

The first page featured an elegant evening gown, the kind that would turn heads at any high-class event. The dress was sleek and form-fitting, with a high neckline and elegantly patterned lace detailing that cascaded down the back. The fabric seemed to shimmer even on the page, giving it a sense of movement and grace. There was a small note attached to the side:

“Inspired by the twilight sky. Use silk chiffon for the outer layer, color: midnight blue.”

You flipped to the next page and found a chic, modern pantsuit. The jacket was tailored to perfection, with sharp lines and a slightly oversized fit, giving it a contemporary edge. The trousers were high-waisted and wide-legged, creating a powerful and stylish silhouette. Another note accompanied this design:

“Power and elegance combined. Fabric: wool blend, color: charcoal gray. Consider adding a silk blouse in white.”

The next sketch was a whimsical cocktail dress. It had a flared skirt that ended just above the knees and a fitted bodice adorned with floral embroidery. The dress seemed playful yet sophisticated, perfect for a summer party, a fancy brunch, or maybe even a date by a park. The note read:

“Spring collection. Use organza for the skirt and satin for the bodice. Embroidery: floral motifs in pastel shades.”

Turning the page, you found a casual yet stylish ensemble. This one consisted of a cropped leather jacket, a simple white tee, and high-waisted skinny jeans. The look was completed with ankle boots and a statement necklace. The note next to it said:

“Urban chic. Jacket: genuine leather, color: black. Jeans: denim, dark wash. Accessorize with bold jewelry.”

You continued to flip through the pages, marveling at the diversity and creativity of the designs. Each sketch seemed to tell a story, and it was clear that Kim Hongjoong had a keen eye for fashion and an impressive ability to translate his vision onto paper. Another design caught your eye—a stunning bridal gown. The dress was timeless and romantic, with a sweetheart neckline, a fitted bodice, and a flowing tulle skirt. Delicate lace covered the bodice and trailed down into the skirt, giving the dress a dreamy, ethereal quality. The note attached was longer:

“Bridal collection. Bodice: lace overlay on satin, color: ivory. Skirt: multiple layers of tulle for volume, same color. Add pearl embellishments to the bodice for an extra touch of elegance.”

You found yourself getting lost in the artistry of the sketches. Whoever Kim Hongjoong was, he definitely knew what he was doing. His designs were not only beautiful but also meticulously planned, with each detail carefully thought out and noted.

You couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander freely. Was he a fashion student? But his designs seemed too advanced for that level. An aspiring designer, perhaps? You had no idea. You hoped Kim Hongjoong hadn’t mixed his notebook with yours as well—but then again, why would there only be one black journal there if yours hadn’t already been taken?

What if Kim Hongjoong had been in the café hours before you came by and went back only to end up retrieving your personal journal instead of his sketchbook? One thing was for sure, you had a desperate sense of hope that he wasn’t snooping through it right now as you lay down and let yourself be drowned in your thoughts.

Well... you did snoop through his sketchbook, but journal entries are way more personal than that, aren’t they? You imagined him reading through your thoughts and musings, learning about your insecurities and dreams, unsure of how to feel about the scenario. It was one thing to admire someone’s creative work, but entirely another to delve into someone’s private reflections.

As you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, your mind whirled with questions and possibilities. Who was Kim Hongjoong, and how could you find him to return his sketchbook and retrieve your journal, in case it was in his possession as well? The idea of someone else reading your innermost thoughts made you uneasy, but at the same time, the mystery of this encounter intrigued you.

Not even a day had passed, and yet Paris was already proving itself to be filled with extraordinary happenings.

—

“So… you’re telling me that not only did you forget the sketchbook you’ve been using since you started fashion school back in college—which you, by the way, claim to be your most prized possession, but when you went back to the café to retrieve it, you ended up taking a stranger’s notebook with you?”

Hongjoong sighed, rubbing his temples as he lightly banged the back of his head against his headboard. “Prized possession or not, you know I tend to be forgetful about my belongings, Seonghwa. So whatever you’re trying to imply, drop it. Plus, how was I supposed to know? The notebook they gave me was a hundred percent identical with what my sketchbook looks like.”

“And you didn’t bother checking the pages first before heading back here last night?” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “You seriously waited until now to tell me about this?”

“First of all, I didn’t wait. You woke me up by telling me you’ll be coming over to check my latest designs for our autumn collection,” Hongjoong countered, crossing his arms in defense.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “So, what, had I not called you, you would’ve waited until later in the afternoon to tell me?”

“That’s not the point!” Hongjoong buried his face deep in his palms, the skintone of his fingers mixing with the dark hues of his hair. “I’m stressed out and I already have a lot on my plate, so please, Seonghwa, if you’re not going to help me out with this, just leave.”

Seonghwa let out a soft sigh before throwing his arms up in defeat. Taking a couple steps to draw closer to Hongjoong’s bed, he took a seat on the edge of it, the cushion underneath shrinking. “I literally help you with everything for a living. I definitely don’t want to validate your stupidity, but if that’s what’ll bring money to the table, then fine, I’m all ears.”

“Will you stop acting like we’re just co-workers and I only hired you as a personal assistant to treat you like a slave? Mind you, you��re the one who came up with the idea of taking this responsibility to begin with.” Hongjoong groaned.

“Yeah, when I was a dumb man back in college,” Seonghwa retorted, though playfully, as he never really took the endless banter between him and Hongjoong seriously. It does get a little serious about twice a year, though, but doesn’t that happen to every friendship in this world?

“What changed now? You’re a dumb man in the fashion industry?” Hongjoong challenged, drawing the blankets closer to his torso.

Seonghwa gave him a disapproving look. “You better quit giving me attitude. It’s 7 in the morning, and I’m not having any of that today.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m your child!”

“Then stop acting like one!”

Hongjoong roughly dragged his palms across his face. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Good. Now that we’ve got that sorted out, have you done anything with the notebook, like, at all?” Seonghwa turned his body slightly to the left so he could face Hongjoong.

“I have. I checked the notebook a minute after you called me to ask about our autumn collection, and flipping through its first page was enough to tell me everything I needed to know. Although I do agree it would’ve been wiser to have done that the night before…” Hongjoong admitted, avoiding Seonghwa’s gaze as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, staring out the window of his penthouse.

“Everything you needed to know?” Seonghwa tilted his head.

“What was on the first page wasn’t a name—it was ‘Letters from the archive,’ and it was written in cursive. My sketchbook has my name on its first page,” Hongjoong explained, eliciting a sigh from Seonghwa.

“Letters from the archive, huh? The owner must be into literature,” Seonghwa mused. “Are you sure it really looks that identical to your sketchbook, though?”

“I am. I swear, there isn’t even a single difference. Here, I’ll show you.” Hongjoong stretched his arms, finally taking the blankets off of him and leaning closer towards his bedside table to pull the top drawer open. Once he had taken out the notebook, he pushed the drawer shut, moving to occupy the empty space beside Seonghwa on his bed. “Look at that and tell me it doesn’t look exactly like my sketchbook.”

“Oh,” was all Seonghwa could say as he examined the journal’s cover. “Well, I guess you’re not that stupid after all. I mean, you’re still stupid for forgetting your prized possession, but not as much anymore. I definitely wouldn’t have suspected a thing if I were you, either.”

“...”

“But I definitely would have decided to check the contents first—”

Hongjoong snatched the journal away from Seonghwa. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, whatever. So… what do I do now?”

“Maybe try flipping a page further? Just to see if you could find any information that could take you a step closer to figuring out what the notebook is for.” Seonghwa shrugged his shoulders.

Hongjoong hesitated. “What if it’s some sort of a personal journal? The eccentric cursive lettering kind of gives it away. Are you sure about that?”

“Positive. And if you’re immediately met with a journal entry, close it shut as soon as you can and we’ll try to find another way to see who the owner is. We’re not invading people’s privacy in the 21st century,” Seonghwa suggested, leaning back and placing his hands down on either side for support as he waited for Hongjoong to do as he said. “So?”

“It’s blank.”

“Huh?” Seonghwa straightened up, looking at the open journal laying down on Hongjoong’s lap. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. What now?” Hongjoong asked, staring blankly at the empty page. “I’m pretty sure the only way we can find out this person’s name or anything remotely hinting at their identity is if we go deeper and read at least one entry. Just one.”

“I don’t think that’s…” Seonghwa trailed off, considering Hongjoong’s words. Even if he hated to admit it, the man had a fair point. He was against his idea, but right now, it’s not exactly like they have any other choice. Sighing in defeat, he slumps his shoulders. “Fine. One entry, but that’s it. That’s as far as we should go.”

Hongjoong nodded in satisfaction, ecstatic that for once, Seonghwa actually views his perspective as something valuable. “Alright, one entry it is,” he mused, almost to himself, before flipping through the pages and stopping at a random entry.

July 10, 2018

Is it unacceptable to long for a major shift in your life? To desperately hope for a miracle to happen almost every night, just a couple seconds before your body entirely falls into the pit of unconsciousness? To be frankly honest, these are questions I have no answers to. Not because I’m empty-handed, rather, I’ve always been too afraid to step out of my tiny little bubble to find out the answers myself. How am I supposed to know if yearning for a change despite already being in an environment considered comfortable is unjustifiable if I’m not making any move to feel at least a fleeting touch of that “change” to begin with?

I know my parents think keeping me alone here in my hometown while they continued their lives in a different country was the best decision they’ve made for my entire lifespan because in their eyes, they view this as a way to teach me the art of independence or whatever my father called it, and don’t get me wrong, I love them dearly and I know they’re only doing all these things because they care for me, but if it’s a good decision in their eyes, why can’t it be in mine?

Yes, Arcadia Bay is the place where I grew up, the only place I feel enough connection with to call my home, but I have to be honest and admit that this place doesn’t exactly feel like something I could call a sanctuary anymore. I love it here, but I feel like this town was supposed to be nothing but a guiding light that has already served its purpose back in my childhood days. I feel like I’m not supposed to be here anymore—who knows, maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling so out of place ever since I started growing up.

I’m still unsure of whether I should initiate a change in my life as of now, but if I were to do so anytime soon, I think following my parents’ footsteps and moving to a new country as well would be the right decision for me. That’s a huge change, right? Maybe once I’m brave enough to stand firm on that decision, I can finally prove to them that I’ve grown to be the independent figure they’ve always wanted me to be. That would make them proud, right? Guess I’ll start browsing the internet for recommendations on one of these following days.

“Arcadia Bay?” Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, Seonghwa, could you look up where Arcadia Bay is?”

The aforementioned man didn’t need to be told twice, already pulling his phone out from the pocket of his tailored pants. “On it,” he replied before typing the words ‘Arcadia Bay’ in the browser’s search bar. Once the results appeared on his screen, he couldn’t resist but let out a hum of surprise. “Oh?”

“Why?” Hongjoong gently closed the journal, placing it on the empty spot to his left as he leaned closer towards Seonghwa, who gave him a clear view of the browser’s search results. “A secluded town located in…”

“So the owner isn’t from here, then?” Hongjoong whispered to himself, yet it was audible enough to make Seonghwa give a curt nod.

“The entry I chose to read was written on July 10, and they said something about wanting to move to a new country. I wonder if they’ve been here for a while or have just settled in…” Hongjoong trailed off. “Should I read the most recent entry?”

“Hongjoong, are you out of your mind? One entry is enough,” Seonghwa countered, but Hongjoong insisted. “I know, but how am I supposed to figure out if they’re new here or not?”

Seonghwa groaned. “You don’t need to know that to begin with. Reading one entry is invasive enough. Just leave the rest to me. I’ll figure out a way to track the owner down and see if your sketchbook is in their possession as well.”

Seeing that Hongjoong wasn’t convinced enough, Seonghwa softened, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Look, I know you’re worried, but we’ll figure this out, alright? I’ll do everything I can.”

“We can wait for autumn all we want, but autumn won’t wait for us, Seonghwa. What if the months pass by faster than we’re currently anticipating, and my sketchbook is still not in our hands? What will I do, then? You know I can’t mess this up.” Hongjoong’s figure slumped, a symbol of hopelessness.

A flash of empathy spread across Seonghwa’s gaze. “I know that more than you think I do, Hongjoong. And that’s exactly what I’m here for. I volunteered to be your personal assistant for a reason. Now, quit moping around, or else I’ll tell Wooyoung about this.”

“Oh, God, no—anything but that. You know he always does everything in his power to make me feel even worse when I’m having a horrible day,” Hongjoong said, groaning at the thought of his fashion brand’s photographer.

“I beg to differ. I think it’s just his own special way of cheering you up.” Seonghwa nudged him, a smile on his face. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about me snitching on you to Wooyoung, since he’s most likely busy with his photography gigs outside of taking pictures of models.”

At the mention of the word ‘model,’ Hongjoong’s ears perked up. “Speaking of models, you mentioned the other week you’re looking for a specific set of features that’ll match the vibe our upcoming collection is opting for, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve been working my soul off to try and search everywhere for a suitable muse, but luck hasn’t been on my side lately. My schedule today isn’t packed since yours isn’t, so I’ll make use of my free time later in the afternoon to conduct another search.” Seonghwa turned to Hongjoong, a grin of determination spread across his face.

“If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be in the trenches and not a penthouse right now.”

“Wish that was the case.”

“This is the only time I’m allowing myself to express my gratitude verbally, and that’s the response you chose to give me?”

You wandered through the streets of Paris, eyes scanning every shop window and café for signs advertising job vacancies. The bustling city, with its charming cobblestone streets and historic architecture, felt both enchanting and overwhelming. Every corner held a new promise, a new opportunity—or so you hoped.

Your first stop was a quaint little bakery that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a storybook. The sweet aroma of freshly baked bread wafted out as you pushed the door open, the bell above jingling to announce your arrival. A middle-aged woman with kind eyes greeted you from behind the counter. “Bonjour! How can I help you?”

You smiled, trying to mask your nervousness. “Bonjour. I was wondering if you might be hiring?”

Her smile faltered slightly, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but we’re fully staffed at the moment. But I do wish you the best of luck in your search!”

“That’s alright. Thank you,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Have a good day.”

The doorbell jingled again as you left, and you sighed, making a note to check back in a few weeks before continuing your job hunt. Next, you approached a charming bookstore nestled between a café and a flower shop. The smell of old books greeted you as you stepped inside, and the owner, an elderly man with glasses perched on the edge of his nose, looked up from his newspaper.

“Excuse me,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. “Are you looking for any help?”

He gave you a kind but weary smile. “I’m afraid not, dear. It’s just me here, and I can manage well enough. But thank you for asking.”

“Of course. Have a good day,” you said, nodding politely before exiting the store.

Feeling a bit discouraged, you decided to try your luck at a nearby café. The place was bustling with customers, and you hoped that meant they might need an extra pair of hands. You approached the counter where a barista was busy making coffee.

“Hi there, I was wondering if you’re hiring,” you asked when the barista had a moment to spare.

She glanced at you, her expression apologetic. “Oh, sorry, but we’re fully staffed right now. Maybe try back in a month or so?”

“A month… Okay, thanks anyway,” you replied, feeling your spirits dip further.

As the morning turned into afternoon, you found yourself in a part of the city you didn’t recognize. The streets here were pristine, lined with designer boutiques and luxury cars. The buildings were grand and elegant, their facades adorned with intricate details that spoke of old money and high status. It was clear that the people who lived here were exceptionally wealthy.

You spotted a small convenience store and decided to take a break, purchasing a bottle of water before finding a bench to sit on. You took a long sip of water, feeling the cool liquid soothe your parched throat. The hustle and bustle of the morning had worn you out, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. Maybe you had underestimated just how difficult it would be to find a job in a new city, let alone in a foreign country where you barely knew anyone.

You glanced around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The buildings here were charming in their own way, but they didn’t have the same vibrant energy as the heart of Paris. You wondered how far you had walked, how many miles you had covered without even realizing it. The city seemed to stretch on endlessly, each new street a labyrinth of possibilities and dead ends.

As you sat there, you couldn’t help but think about how much you missed the familiarity of your hometown, despite its suffocating nature. Back there, you knew the ins and outs, the shortcuts and hidden gems. Here, everything was a mystery waiting to be unraveled—a mystery that, right now, felt overwhelming.

But you couldn’t afford to wallow in self-pity. You had made the choice to move here, to start anew, and you were determined to make it work. After all, wasn’t this what you had dreamed of? A fresh start, a chance to reinvent yourself in one of the most beautiful cities in the world?

You stood up, drinking the last drip of your water before tossing the bottle into a nearby recycling bin. You decided to continue your job search, reasoning that you might as well make the most of being in an unfamiliar part of the city, yet the next few hours passed in a blur of polite conversations and disappointing rejections. You visited a cozy bookstore, a flower shop, and even a small art gallery, but each time the answer was the same: no openings.

At a chic boutique, you approached a stylish woman arranging clothes on a rack. “Excuse me, are you hiring by any chance?”

She looked you up and down, her expression neutral. “Not at the moment. Try again in a few weeks.”

“Oh, um, alright. Thanks,” you said, trying to keep your tone upbeat.

A small restaurant was your next stop. The manager, a burly man with a thick mustache, listened as you asked about job openings. He shook his head. “Sorry, we’re not hiring right now. But I’ll keep your name in mind if something opens up.”

“I would appreciate that very much,” you said, handing him a slip of paper with your contact information.

You continued to push forward, determined not to let the string of rejections defeat you. At a florist’s shop, the owner, a woman in her forties with a friendly smile, seemed sympathetic. “I wish I could help, but we’re fully staffed for the season. Try the market down the street, though—they’re always busy.”

You thanked her and headed to the market, only to find the same disheartening response. The vendors were polite but firm: no openings.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the city, you were exhausted. Your feet ached, and your spirits were low. You had covered a lot of ground, but you were no closer to finding a job than you had been that morning.

You made your way to a nearby bus stop, hoping to catch a bus back to your apartment. As you waited, you couldn’t help but reflect on the day’s events. It was disheartening to face so many rejections, but you tried to remind yourself that it was only the first day. Things would get better—they had to.

Just as a bus pulled up and you prepared to board, you noticed a man standing across the street, staring at you. He was well-dressed, his long, dark hair neatly styled, and there was something about his gaze that made you pause. But you didn’t have the energy to think much of it. You dismissed it as a coincidence, stepping onto the bus and finding a seat by the window.

As the bus pulled away, you watched the city pass by, the streets slowly transforming from the unfamiliar to the familiar. You leaned your head against the window, closing your eyes for a moment. Tomorrow is a new day, and you should continue your search. For now, you allowed yourself a moment of rest, letting the rhythmic motion of the bus lull you into a state of quiet reflection.

If only you had your journal with you.

Seonghwa strolled through the opulent streets, his mind still buzzing with the image of the woman he had seen at the bus stop. There was something undeniably captivating about you—your presence was like a breath of fresh air in the midst of the city’s chaos. Your aura practically reeked of autumn, a season that brought a sense of warmth and nostalgia, and your features harmonized perfectly with the vibe you carried. There was a certain grace you held, a blend of determination and gentleness that made you stand out.

Seonghwa had a unique talent, a third eye for spotting individuals who deserved to be showcased in the fashion industry. Today, it was as if a laser had hit him right in the eye when he saw you. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you were the perfect muse Hongjoong had been searching for.

As he approached Hongjoong’s penthouse, Seonghwa’s mind was racing. He had to tell Hongjoong about you, even if he didn’t know your name or where you were headed. He pushed open the door to the penthouse, finding Hongjoong hunched over his desk, engrossed in his work.

Hongjoong looked up, surprise evident on his face. “Seonghwa? You’re back already? And… wow. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Seonghwa shook his head, still trying to process what he had seen. “No, not a ghost. I saw the perfect muse for your works.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, immediately intrigued. He leaned back in his chair, motioning for Seonghwa to sit down. “Settle down and tell me everything. Did you get her name?”

Seonghwa sighed, frustration creeping into his voice. “No, I didn’t. I only saw her just as she was getting on a bus across the street. But Hongjoong, you have to believe me. This woman—she’s exactly what you’ve been looking for. Her entire aura screamed autumn. It was like she was made to be your muse.”

Hongjoong frowned, disappointed but still intrigued. “You know how rarely you say something like that. In fact, I don’t think you’ve ever used the word ‘perfect’ to describe any of the models you’ve scouted.”

Seonghwa nodded sarcastically. “Thanks for the info, Sherlock. I know that very well. That’s why I’m so certain. She was different, like she wasn’t from here at all.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “Tell me more. What exactly did you see that made you so sure?”

Seonghwa took a deep breath, trying to put the ineffable into words. “It was the way she carried herself. There was a certain grace, a natural elegance that you don’t see every day. She had a strong, remarkable energy, yet there was also a touch of softness to it. Her presence was calming, almost like the gentle fall of autumn leaves. Her features were perfectly combined in a way that was so unique as if she’s the only one who could pull off such an appearance. It was her overall vibe—the warmth, the subtle strength, the sense of being grounded yet free.”

Hongjoong listened intently, absorbing every detail. “And you’re sure she’s not a local?”

“I don’t think so. There was something in her demeanor, a curiosity about her surroundings, that made me think she’s new here. She seemed to be exploring, taking in everything around her.”

Hongjoong’s disappointment deepened. “It’s a shame you didn’t get to speak to her. But if she’s new here, she might not have settled down yet. We could still find her.”

Seonghwa nodded. “That’s what I’m hoping for. We’ll need to keep our eyes open, maybe put out some feelers. Someone must have seen her.”

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, considering the possibilities. “Can you draw? Even just a little?”

Seonghwa blinked, caught off guard by the question. “A little, yeah. Why?”

Without another word, Hongjoong handed Seonghwa a pen and a piece of paper. “Draw what she looked like.”

Seonghwa hesitated for a moment before taking the pen. His eyebrows lightly furrowed as he began recalling the details as best as he could—the way you carried yourself, the way your presence seemed to radiate warmth. He began to sketch, his hand moving swiftly across the paper.

As he worked, Hongjoong watched intently, his anticipation growing with each stroke of the pen. Seonghwa’s drawing wasn’t perfect, but it captured the essence of what he had seen. The lines conveyed a sense of movement, a grace that was unmistakable. When he finished, he handed the drawing to Hongjoong.

Hongjoong couldn't take his eyes off the sketch. The lines were simple yet evocative, capturing an essence that stirred something deep within him. “She’s... ethereal,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It’s like even through this sketch, I can feel what you were talking about.”

Seonghwa leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “See? It was as if she had her own gravitational pull. Among all the people, she stood out. Not because of any single feature, but because of the way she seemed to belong and yet not belong at the same time. Like she was part of this world but also a visitor.”

Hongjoong nodded slowly, still entranced by the sketch. “You really do have a knack for psychoanalyzing people at first glance, don’t you?”

Seonghwa chuckled, nudging Hongjoong playfully. “It’s a gift, what can I say? I see beyond the surface. It’s what makes me such an asset to you.”

Hongjoong smirked, shaking his head. “An asset, huh? More like a pain sometimes.”

Seonghwa grinned. “Only sometimes? I must be losing my touch.”

Hongjoong laughed, the tension easing between them. “Well, you definitely haven’t lost your touch with this one. Seriously though, are you sure you weren’t hallucinating? She looks too good to be true.”

Seonghwa’s expression turned serious. “I’m as sure as I can be. She’s real, and she’s out there. I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes you just know when something is right.”

Hongjoong’s mind raced, the image of you taking root in his imagination. “I need that kind of authenticity, that depth that she seems to hold just from this sketch alone. Someone who embodies change, transition, like the seasons shifting.”

Seonghwa’s eyes lit up. “Exactly. That’s why I couldn’t just let it go. There was a sense of autumn around her—warmth mixed with a touch of melancholy, like she’s seen the world and carries its stories within her.”

Hongjoong’s thoughts were a whirlwind of possibilities. He could already see the designs taking shape, inspired by the image Seonghwa had drawn and the feelings it evoked. “You know, this could be the breakthrough we’ve been searching for. A muse like her could elevate the entire collection.”

Seonghwa smiled, feeling a surge of excitement. “I knew you’d understand. We just have to find her now. Maybe we can start by visiting the area where I saw her. There might be clues, or someone who knows her.”

Hongjoong agreed, his determination solidifying. “Yeah, we’ll start there and leave no stone unturned. I want to know everything about her—where she’s from, what brought her here, and what her dreams are. She’s the missing piece.”

Seonghwa chuckled softly. “You’re already captivated, and we haven’t even met her yet.”

Hongjoong smiled, a mixture of excitement and anxiety in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that. It’s my passion for what I do speaking for me. No personal feelings involved. Sometimes, you just immediately know when something—or someone—is going to change everything.”

“So, what do you think, Hongjoong?”

“I think she’s that someone.”

🪞 — lividstar.

#౨ৎ﹒ノ﹒lividstar．#kim hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong ateez #park seonghwa #jung wooyoung

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calibabii21 · 1 year

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|| call me a jerk || johnny suh

pairing: dom!Johnny x fem brat!reader

genre: minor angst, smut, mature

warning(s): mean dom!johnny, choking, degradation, abs riding, tiddy sucking, fingering (vaginal and anal), overstimulation (reader)

wc: 1.13k

a/n: this literally came to me in a dream so, um, hope you like it heh..

You may as well move in at this point. Except you never will. Not after how big a point you made in denying the possibility of ever catching feelings. Yet every waking moment you find yourself longing to be right back here. In this man’s home.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” his hand rests on your bare thigh, “what’s got you all pent up in the face?” You contemplate spilling your thoughts entirely, but settle for a shrug as you play with his fingers. A heavy sigh leaves him as he slumps further into the sofa in his spacious bedroom, “don’t start this already.” And that instantly brings a deep frown to your face, “start what? And why do have such a tone with me?”

The looks at you with a raised eyebrows is full of attitude, “first of all,” his hand is moves from your thigh as he sits up at full height to face you, and grips your face, “who do you think you’re talking to? You don’t ever get to question me, got it sweetheart?” Your faces changes to a soft frown as you nod at him, “secondly, what’s got you all defensive and offended lately?” There’s a brief moment of silence before you let out a huff, “I just feel so stupid now.”

Confusion is written all over his face as he begins caressing your own, “I don’t follow.” You grit your teeth before taking a deep breath and mumbling, “I was wrong, about..not..catching feelings....” A beat of silence passes. Then another, before you look up at his face to see him holding in his laughter, “u-uh huh.” That was the last straw. Your 13th reason.

You stand up and collect your things as he doubles over in laughter, “fuck you, Johnny.” His name doesn’t even leave your lips fully before you’re flung over his shoulder and tossed onto his bed nearby, “sit your ass back down.” There’s not a peep from you as he takes his sweet time walking around the bedpost and climbs into his spot. “Come here.” A straight command with no extra context. You already knew what to do, so you did it.

“Why are you being a bad girl, huh?” you still say nothing as you straddle his hips, only staring at his shirtless torso. “Hey,” there’s a sharp slap to the side of your thigh, “I know you hear me, stop being such a brat.” That only gives you cause to act brattier. Whining as you throw a fit on top of him, “you’re being a dick,” you continue squirming, upset, until he bucks his hips up into you, drawing a gasp from your lips and a shudder down your spine. “I’m not acting like anything, you just want it.”

His crotch grinds against yours till you’re slightly panting before he stops, “but you don’t get it.” You protest and try to plead your case but he shuts you up with a flick to your nipple through his shirt you’re wearing. “No. You don’t deserve it.” Well there goes my relief, your thoughts are bitter as you respond to him, “what am I supposed to do then?” It seems he took a page from your book, seeing as all he did was shrug.

Assuming he’s instructing you to do all the work, you begin moving your hips against his groin, “Nope.” He shakes his head and grabs your waist, holding you in place, “I told you, you can’t have it.” You can feel your frustration growing, “well what the hell am I supposed to do!” That warrants a pinch to your ass, “watch your tone. and like I said, figure it out.”

You look around the room for something, anything, to get you off before you decide to shift your body higher onto his torso, and grind down. “Ohh,” a whimper leaves you at the relief from the friction. “Yeah? Feel good?” You nod your head eagerly and move your hips faster “M-Mhm.” You don’t even have to open your eyes to know that he's watching you with dancing eyes.

“I don’t believe this- look at you. So desperate you’re grinding your cunt on my fucking abs,” you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head in embarrassment. “Not to mention you’re so soaked you’re slipping.” His condescending chuckles as he tightly pinches your nipples cause you to choke out a moan, “m-more.” You can feel yourself right at the edge, “more.”

It comes out a demand rather than a request, “You want more? More of what, I’m not doing anything.” His fingers kneed your ass cheeks before his right hand slides to gather some of your wetness for lube, “You’re the one fucking yourself out on me.” You feel his middle finger circle your back hole, “You like it? Using Daddy’s body to feel good?” Torn between wanting more pressure on your clit and pushing back against his fingers, you whine incoherently.

His left hand wraps tight around your throat and squeeze as his finger begins prodding into your hole, “I asked you a question, little girl.” More friction it is. Grinding your hips down harder, your moans are constant, “Mmh yes, using Daddy’s body feels so- so gooood.” Your body spasms as an unexpected orgasm hits you, Johnny choosing that moment insert another finger in you.

“Tsk tsk tsk. You know that’s not how things go.” He sighs in false disappointment and removes his hand from your throat, opting to lift your shirt enough to expose your breasts, then move his hand down between your legs. “I’m sorry, ‘m sorry,” Your babbling worsens as his assault on both your ass and your pussy continues, “ ’m sorry Daddy, you feel too good.”

“Yeah? It feels good?” He coaxes babbles from you and coos, “aww my poor baby. Can you give me one more?” he asks even though you’ve already left a puddle on his abdomen from cumming a second time, “Daddy it hurts.” But your complaints are ignored, “it hurts yet you’re still humping me like a dumb little bunny in a frenzy.” His mean words egg on your desperation. “That’s what I thought. Be a good bitch for Daddy and give me another.”

He concludes his insult by latching his mouth onto your breasts, alternating sides, “fuck Daddy, you’re such a jerk.” He grins and bites down on your left nipple, which happens to be your most sensitive, “stupid little girl can’t even come up a good insult.” Next thing you know, his fingers are removed and your cheeks are being spread as he stretches you with the deliciousness of his thickness.

“You can call me a jerk all you want babygirl, I’ll still fuck you to tears and you’ll thank me for it like the horny cockslut we know you are.”

*mdni banner made by ©️cafekitsune*

#NCT #nct johnny #neocity_the_link_atl #nct johnny smut #NCT 127 #nct 127 johnny #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x black!reader #nct 127 x black reader #nct 127 x fem!reader #johnny suh #johnny suh smut #johnny suh hard hours #Z writes✍🏾#z's readers📖💞#is it johnny's babygirl or bitch🎀?#johnny's babygirl☺️🎀

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writing-until-i-drop · 4 days

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What's In A Name? Chapter Six

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: Cathy's not playing fair

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

“Meggy Harding, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Cathy Carter called coming from the direction of the old barn. “Come here, honey,” Meg hurried down the porch to meet her on the lawn, letting herself be swept up into one of Cathy’s strong hugs. “You’re getting skinny, have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Been tryin’ to,” Meg let her second mom place kisses all over her face. “But I’ve been busy.” Cathy pinched her cheek, giving her a playful glare.

“Well, I’ll cook up a big dinner. You here for Kate?”

“Always,” Meg tipped her head back to where Tyler remained on the porch, “And I brought a friend just in case my boot up her ass ain’t enough.” Cathy’s gaze shifted over Meg’s shoulder and the older woman perked up,

“Honey, he’s cute,” She said less than stealthily, wiggling her brows. “He your boyfriend?”

“Cathy, please,” Meg whined, tugging on Cathy’s arm. “Please be the one adult in my life actin’ normal about this man.”

“Fine, fine, I’m on my best behavior.” She messed Meg’s hair, moving past her towards the porch. “And who might you be, honey?”

“Tyler Owens, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, especially since you brought Meggy here to see me,” Tyler’s smile was big and bright. He was every parent’s dream, standing there all handsome, every sentence coming out of his mouth starting or ending with “ma’am.”

Meg abandoned them, wandering off to the barn where she found Kate watching her old science project make a tornado.

“Never gets any less impressive, Katie my Lady.” Kate glanced over her shoulder with a sad smile.

“Never thought we’d be back in the barn,” Kate’s accent was a little more pronounced, heavy with emotion. “Mom never cleaned it out,” Meg looked around, taking in the plastic covered tables. Without lifting the sheets, Meg knew what was beneath each one. All of Kate’s research, Addy’s drawings, Jeb’s cameras, and my binder filled with diagrams of the human body and notes on everything that could go wrong with it. The plan back then had been to become a doctor, Meg hadn’t thought about that dream in a long time.

“We left a lot of things unfinished,”

“Wonder why.” Kate clicked off the simulator, leaning back against the table. “What are you doing here, Meg?”

“I smacked Javi, Tyler stopped me before I could hit him for real.” Kate chuckled, running a hand down her face. “We didn’t kill them, Kate.”

“I’m going back to New York,” Meg sighed. If Kate ran again, there was no getting her back, she knew that. “Don’t try and stop me.”

“We gotta do something, Katie, and runnin’s not an option anymore.” Kate’s response was cut off by Cathy and Tyler strolling into the barn, laughing to themselves.

“You brought Tyler?” Kate snapped, angry. Meg’s temper spiked back,

“What was I supposed to do, steal his truck?” Kate flinched, “Not everything can be solved by runnin’, Kate, sometimes you’ve gotta chase.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to!” Kate shouted, tears streaming down her face, “Not everyone’s okay with the people they love-”

“Kate, go set the table,” Cathy shouted over them both, “Meg, cool off.” Dying. That was the word Kate was going to use and even though Cathy had stopped her, Meg heard it all the same. Kate saw Meg accepting what had happened to their friends as her not caring? It was like a punch to the gut, Meg physically faltering where she stood. Cathy took off after Kate, who rushed out of the barn, sobbing, and Tyler crossed the room to her.

“I’m fine,” She was not fine. “We just,” Tyler wiped away her tears with his sleeve, concern evident on his face. “This barn brings up a lot of memories.” Tyler took a good look around, “Kate’s havin’ a hard time dealing with that.”

“Just Kate?” Meg snorted, pulling her hair out of its ponytail. “Going to be honest, darlin’, didn’t think I’d walk in here to find you two arguing.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve known each other for a decade and I’m pretty sure that was our first,” Meg shook her head. “God fucking dammit, I never shoulda left New Orleans.”

“Hey, hey, hey, no need for that,” Tyler smoothed her bangs back, kissing her forehead. “Friends fight. Boone and I get into it all the time, you two will be okay.” Meg wrapped her arms around Tyler’s waist, resting her head against his chest. “I promise, darlin’, everything’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not, Ty, you can be as charmin’ as you like but I’ve got to help Javi finish getting his data and go home. It’s the only helpful thing I can do while I’m here.”

“About that…” Tyler stroked her back and Meg’s stomach dropped.

“He’s not helping people…is he?” Tyler began to fill her in on all the dirty details of Storm PAR’s involvement with Marshall Riggs and how they took advantage of people in distress to fund their research. All her earlier fight left her body with a great sigh, broken defeat replacing it. “That’s it, I’m going home.” Meg tried to pull away but Tyler held her tight, “Ty.”

“I thought you said running wasn’t an option,”

“Then call me a fuckin’ hypocrite and take me to the airport.” Meg pushed one more time but Tyler still didn’t budge. “You can’t hug me until I change my mind, Ty, it’s not gonna work.”

“Darlin’,” Tyler kissed her forehead again. “If you still feel that way in the morning, I’ll take you to the airport.” Meg expected to feel relieved but instead, she felt even more dejected.

“How’s it going in here?” Cathy came back through the doors, “You cooled down enough for dinner, Meggy?”

“I’m goin’ home tomorrow,” Tyler finally let her pull away, only for Cathy to take Meg’s face in her hands. A disapproving look on her face.

“Unless you’re talking about visiting your mama, I don’t want to hear it, honey.” She opened her mouth to argue but Cathy steamrolled right over her. “What you’re going to do is eat some dinner and get some sleep, then you’re going to finish putting your boot up my daughter’s ass and finish what all of you started. Do you hear me, young lady?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cathy turned her gaze to Tyler, pointing at him,

“And you, she tries to run, you stop her.”

“Already on it, ma’am.”

“Good, knew I liked you. Now come on, let’s eat.”

It took less than a minute being back in each other’s presence for the girls to make up, throwing themselves at each other. Hugging and tearfully apologizing to each other, much to Cathy’s amusement and Tyler’s visible relief. Besides her great aunt Meg’s cooking, Cathy’s cooking was Meg’s favorite, and Cathy kept scooping more food onto her plate until she was ready to burst.

Then the stories started, Cathy was hell-bent on embarrassing both girls and Tyler was all ears, teasing them both. His hand was resting on Meg’s knee, tethering her to him like a lifeline. Things soured quickly the second Cathy brought up their old project, Kate storming off in the most polite way possible.

“Tyler, why don’t you go read through their old research, it’s in the white binder with the cloud on it.”

“I don’t want to push my luck with your daughter ma’am.” Meg patted his thigh, giving him the silent approval, “If you’re sure.”

“Come on, honey, I’ll wash, you dry.”

Meg turned on some 90s country music on her phone to fill the silence while they washed the dinner plates, Cathy was the one to break the silence.

“He seems like a good man, Meggy.” Cathy handed her a dish to dry.

“He is,” She agreed. “Don’t tell me my dad’s got you bettin’ on my wedding too.” Cathy gave a little shrug, failing to fight a smile. “Busy bodies, I swear.”

“What? You expect us to see you with a cowboy gentleman, who seems to love storms as much as you do, and not hear wedding bells?” Meg groaned, taking another plate to dry.

“At least tell me you’re not in on Rabbit’s pool.” The silence was deafening, “Cathy!”

“Well, there is only one bed in the guest room.” She didn’t know who she wanted to strangle first, Cathy or Rabbit. “And you and Kate shouldn’t be sharing a twin bed, the guest room has a full.”

“You’re killin’ me. So, when I wasn’t looking you pulled my bag outta Kate’s room and put it with Tyler’s? Is that what you’re tellin’ me?”

“I’ve got a hundred bucks on it happening before the end of storm season and no one said I had to play fair.”

“Dirty, no good cheater,” Meg mumbled. They then settled into silence again, finishing the rest of the dishes.

“Has Kate been chasing again? She said she wasn’t.” Meg hummed, drying off the last dish and putting it away in the cabinet.

“Javi asked us to come down and help him collect data.” God, things had seemed so much simpler only a few days ago. “So, yeah, we’ve been out chasin’ again.”

“I’m proud of you for coming back, Meggy, proud of all of you.” Meg leaned against the counter, staring up at the ceiling. There was a red mark in the center from where Parveen had eaten a Babybel Cheese, rolled the wax into a ball, and tossed it around. The little wax ball had stuck to the ceiling, the wax never fully coming off.

“I don’t know if I’m back yet, Cathy.” She tossed the dish rag over her shoulder with a sigh. “I want to help people and as much as I love chasin’, it ain’t as helpful as my job back in New Orleans. Those people,” She thought of the last patient she had transported before leaving. A ninety-year-old woman with chest pains, she had told Meg her whole life story in the back of the rig. She wasn’t scared of dying, no, June Bishop was perfectly content. Miss June had lived a long life, she had gotten married young and had three sons, all of whom went to serve in the military, she had lost everything in Katrina like so many others, and had lived long enough to see all of her grandchildren, and one great-grandchild born. Meg had held her hand the whole way to the hospital. “Those people I can help in a tangible way. I mean, if Kate,” Tears pricked her dry eyes. “If we could finish what we started, I think that’s the only thing besides a funeral that could get me to come back.”

Cathy gathered her up in a hug, both of them leaning against the counter. After some time passed, Kate came down from her room, and without a word she joined them in the embrace. A little while later, Meg shot off a text to Lily.

Meg: How’s everything going?

Lily: Boone’s a bit butt hurt but he’ll get over it - you?

Meg: Touch and go

Tyler seemed surprised to find Meg brushing her teeth in the bathroom attached to the spare bedroom when she spotted him in the mirror.

“Not that I’m complaining but I figured you’d be sharing a bed with Kate,” Tyler leaned against the door jamb of the bathroom and there was something so domestic about the whole situation that caught Meg off guard. She’d had plenty of boyfriends over the years, none lasting more than a month before either she got tired of them or they got tired of her. Sleepovers with men weren’t something she was used to though, even in a relationship she liked to sleep alone, kicking her dates out at the end of the night.

“I did too,” She replied after spitting and rinsing her mouth. “I’ve got to wash my face if you want to get changed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He closed the door and when he was done, opened it again, watching her dry her face with a soft, pink towel. “Are you okay with the sleeping arrangements, darlin’, or should I take the couch?”

“I’m fine if you are, I am going to give Cathy an earful for it in the morning though.” Tyler followed her to the bed, claiming the side closest to the door.

“Sounds like there’s more to it than a lumpy couch.”

“Oh, there is,” Meg huffed, relaxing into the pillows, breathing in the scent of air-dried laundry. “My family’s got all sorts of bets running on us and Cathy’s bein’ a cheat.” Tyler shifted onto his side and she could feel his eyes on her while she stared at the ceiling.

“Bets that involve us sharing a bed?”

“Yes, sir,” She drawled sarcastically, turning off the lamp on her side of the bed. “It’s embarrassin’.”

“Well,” Tyler sighed, “I think if I’m being bet on, I should know what for.” Why? Meg closed her eyes. Why was her family like this?

“They bet on how long, Jesus Christ,” She took a deep breath, “They bet on how long it would take me to, and I quote, ride the cowboy.” Tyler, thank God, didn’t say anything but he did chuckle and she could feel his eyes on her. Meg wanted the bed to open up and swallow her whole, her face burning with embarrassment.

“And the other bet?” Meg took another long, deep breath before answering.

“They’re bettin’ on us getting married, Arkansas,” She flipped to face away from him. “Now go to sleep.” Tyler’s hand gripped her waist, flipping her to her other side so they were face to face. “I’m not talking about this, Ty.”

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed,” He squeezed her hip, giving her a soft smile that made her heart beat like crazy. He was backlit by the lamp on his side of the bed, a soft, yellow light highlighting him in an angelic way. “You scrunch your nose like this,” He imitated her and he looked adorable. Meg giggled, bopping his nose.

“Stop, I’m trying to be mad and you actin’ sweet ain’t helping.” He shrugged,

“Well excuse me for not wanting my girl to be mad.” His girl. Those words weighed on her chest like a cat curling in for a nap, warm and comforting.

“You are taking this whole thing about my family bettin’ on us having sex and getting married a little too well,” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you not sayin’?” He blushed, rubbing circles into her hip with his thumb. “Tyler I-don’t-know-your-middle-name-Owens, tell me.”

“Michael,” He muttered. Meg tilted his head up with two fingers under his chin. “That’s my middle name.”

“And mine’s Marie, now spill it.”

“There may or may not be a similar bet going with the group,” Of course there was.

“Bet, as in singular?” He nodded, “Which one do they have goin’?” Tyler’s blush deepened.

“Well, darlin’,” Tyler sighed, smiling sweetly. “Boone’s been planning our wedding since you tried to pool the wool over my eyes when we first met.” He cupped her face and she mirrored him, her hand resting on his cheek. “So they’re betting on the other part.” There were two ways Meg could go with this conversation, serious or teasing, and she’d be damned if she did anything serious while wearing Kate’s Hello Kitty sleep pants from high school.

“Well,” Meg stroked Tyler’s stubbled cheek. “Tell Boone I want an October weddin’ and he’s welcome at it whether you’re there or not.” Tyler shook with laughter, tugging her so she was head first in his chest like they had slept the night before.

“Oh, I’m gonna be there, darlin’,” He kissed the top of her head. “Crying while your daddy walks you down the aisle to me.” So much for avoiding serious conversation. Meg expected to feel a sense of fear or at least anxiety thinking about marrying Tyler but instead, she found herself smiling. His cologne was lingering on his sleep shirt and he was oh so warm wrapped around her. She could see him standing at the altar all dressed up in a suit and tie, Boone behind him as best man, and Preacher beside him ready to officiate like he had promised to when she was little.

“Boone share any of these wedding plans with you?” Meg slipped her leg between his, bringing herself just a little bit closer to him. “Tell me everything.” Tyler began stroking her back.

“He wants to do it outside, said he thinks you’d like to be where you can see the sky.” Boone knew her well, that’s exactly how she wanted to get married, not inside of some stuffy church. “Dani’s picking out dresses she and Lily won’t mind wearing as your bridesmaids, they’ve got one for Kate too.”

“Sounds like they’ve got the whole thing planned out. Lily in charge of the rings?”

“Yes, ma’am. They even roped Ben into picking out table settings and invitations, he complains but is secretly over the moon.” Tyler’s hand moved to her hair, massaging her neck. Meg groaned, not realizing how much tension had been lingering there until that exact moment.

“That feels good, Ty.” She felt herself getting sleepier, relaxing more into Tyler’s hold with each passing moment. “Keep tellin’ me about our wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He kissed her hair again. “The biggest argument is what kind of flowers to get. Boone’s a romantic so he wants roses.” That made her giggle,

“Why ain’t I surprised?”

“Shh, baby,” Tyler teased, kissing her hair again. “You’re supposed to be falling asleep.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Arkansas,” Meg sassed half-heartedly. Tyler’s ministrations paused for a moment before he gently pulled her head back by her hair. He was fixing her with one of those listen-to-me looks she’d seen on her mama’s face a thousand times before, his eyes the color of greenage before a big storm. Staring into them, she wondered if her favorite color had ever truly been yellow, or if it had been green all along and she just hadn’t found the right shade until now.

“Darlin’,” His fingers tightened their grip just a little, giving Meg a jolt of pain that only brought pleasure. “Will you please hush that pretty little mouth of yours and let me talk?” She wanted to sass him again, see what he would do but when she opened her mouth nothing but a yawn came out. He must’ve taken that as a yes, bringing her face back into his chest. He was lucky he was cute enough to get away with manhandling her like that. “Dani’s vote is on sunflowers but Ben and Lily think that lilies would be better.” Meg made an inquisitive noise, wanting to know what Tyler thought. “I’ve got a soft spot for wildflowers, especially daisies. My mama used to keep a vase of them on the counter next to the window.” Meg snaked a hand under the back of his shirt, humming in approval. “I’ll take your freezing hands under my shirt as a yes to the wildflowers.”

Tyler kept talking about color schemes and Dexter’s thoughts on what to cater for dinner. How Ben had insisted they have live music instead of a DJ and the way Boone wanted to use bandanas as pocket squares, all while Meg drifted off to sleep.

She woke to her phone ringing, AC/DC’s Highway to Hell breaking the silence of the night. Tyler’s arms were firm around her waist making it hard for her to retrieve the device from the bedside table.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” She groaned. Tyler didn’t budge from his position curled around her. The man, she was learning, could sleep like the dead. But she would bet he’d be wide awake if she even thought of the word tornado.

“Hey, Honey Buns. How’s the storm hunting?” Nick must’ve been grabbing beignets, she could hear the familiar sounds of Cafe du Monde in the background in the late hours of the night.

“It’s good,” She decided to keep the life and death details to herself for now, not in the right mindset for a lecture. “How’s my baby, you treatin’ her right?”

“She’s purrin’ like a cougar in a college bar.” Meg chuckled, “Hadn’t heard from ya so I thought I’d check in. Cecilia misses you something awful.” Cecilia was Nick’s wife of seven years, an ER nurse at University Hospital. She and Meg would sometimes get lunch together when their days off aligned but Meg knew who was really missing her.

“Yeah, I miss you too,” Nick laughed, commenting on her ego. “The storms out here have been crazy.” Just like she predicted, Tyler stirred.

“Storm? Is that Boone?” Meg rolled her eyes, kissing him on the chin.

“It’s just Nick, go back to sleep, Sweetie Pie.” And then he was out like a light, she shook her head at him.

“Meg Marie Harding, you’ve got a man in your bed?” Nick jokingly scolded her like an older brother. “You ain’t supposed to be doin’ that outta wedlock.”

“Says the man who tried to set me up with that fire fighter who ended up having a wife.”

“Not my finest moment, I’ll admit,” He chuckled. “Well, Honey Buns, I’ll let you get back to sinnin’.”

“Meanin’ your order’s ready?” Nick hung up on her without answering and she laughed softly, choosing not to fight against Tyler’s hold, putting the phone under her pillow.

She’d be back in New Orleans soon enough, riding around in the rig with Nick, going wherever dispatch sent them. But for the first time, thinking about her life there didn’t feel right, her heart constricting the point of physical pain.

Meg traced Tyler’s jaw with her fingertips, then his nose, the arch of his brow, and his bottom lip, the pain getting worse with every second. Helping people was her job, one that she loved and felt called to, but the thought of leaving Tyler was breaking her heart.

“Tyler Michael Owens,” She whispered, watching for any signs that he was awake and seeing none. “I think I just might be fallin’ in love with you.” Meg pressed a feathersoft kiss to his lips, it lasted a second, maybe less, but she felt more in that split second than she had with any of the men Nick had set her up with in the past.

“Again, baby,” Tyler whispered, eyes blinking open. “Please.” He sounded so needy and desperate, matching her own desire for him. Meg didn’t hesitate to brush her lips against his. Tyler tilted his head into the kiss, kissing her soundly, leaving not an ounce of doubt in her mind that she loved him. It had been less than a week but Meg felt like she had known him her entire life. He made her feel safe, comfortable, and seen. The way he held her at night and couldn’t keep his hand off her leg during the day, the way he listened to her like there was no one else around, and most importantly, the way he treated her with kindness and respect. “Nick okay?” Tyler asked once they came up for air, voice raspy.

“He’s fine, just checkin’ on me.” Tyler hummed, giving her a peck on the lips once, twice, three times more.

“And how are you doing, baby?”

“Never better,” Meg kissed his chest, snuggling back into what was quickly becoming her favorite sleeping position.

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @football1921 @katiemcrae @emma8895eb @itsdesiree86 Want to be added to this list? Just ask!

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#tyler owens x oc #tyler owens #twisters fanfic #twisters 2024 #twister 1996 #twisters #fanfic #what's in a name fic

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whirlwindimagines · 2 years

Note

hi!!! after seeing your scenario for an artist reader, i was hit with a thought... may i request a reader x vash and reader x wolfwood (separate) where the reader is an artist that is wanting to study their facial features? just gets really close to their face, making them flustered, esp once the reader is looking at their lips

Sounds good! I would also like to stare at Vash’s face, sorry for acting up. I figured some headcanons would work for this 💙🥰

Vash the Stampede and Nicholas D Wolfwood (Separate) with an artist!Reader

Vash:

• He’s so flattered! He doesn’t really get what you’re asking. But he’s excited all the same lol

• You sit him down in front of you, you’re not sure what to do with your hands but once he gives you the go-ahead, you start to move him around and pose him where you want him.

• He’s so flustered when you put your hands on his face, gently turning it where you want it. And when you pull a chair real close to study his face, he’s not sure if he can get any redder.

• You don’t tease him, too focus on your own work and on your own nervousness. Being so close to Vash and being able to look at him so openly does things to your heart.

• Leaning in closer to study his face, you can see him trying his best to stay still and you appreciate it. He gets nervous with your staring and when he wets his lips, you’re sure you’re going to burst.

“Stop moving.” You whine with no real bite, when Vash shifts for like the 3rd time, he laughs softly muttering out a sorry. He stills and you go back to work, and your heart races whenever you make eye contact with him maybe this wasn’t the best idea… but then again being able to stare at Vash’s pretty face for as long as you want was a big bonus.

Getting into the groove, you focus on your drawing, leaning in closer to Vash you watch a blush form high on his cheeks but you choose to ignore it in favor of continuing your sketch.

You don’t realize how close you’ve gotten until you feel the stuttering breath Vash takes, your eyes glance up and you blush. You stare directly into his blue eyes, your gaze flickers down to his lips and back up to his eyes. Your heart skips a beat when you notice him do the same, he leans forward and you simply wouldn’t be able to survive.

With a blush to rival his red coat, you shove your sketchbook between your faces, “all done!” You squeak out. Vash takes the sketchbook from your hands, his eyes going wide. “Wow.” His voice trails off amazed at your work, you lean back laughing softly glad he likes it.

Wolfwood:

• he’s teasing you hard lol like you want to draw him? Study him? He’s got the smuggest look on his face when you ask, you regret asking

• He acts big game, but once you sit him down and put your hands on his face, he’s like ‘oh shit’ he’s not nervous! He has no idea what you’re talking about and if you tease him, he’s deflecting.

• Eventually he relaxes when you start sketching, he needs a smoke and while you are annoyed you let him light one up. The two of you settle into a comfortable silence. He likes watching your face when you work.

• You keep leaning in closer and closer, eventually with a sigh you pluck the cigarette from his lips putting out on the window sill, he’s about to start arguing with you but then you place your hands back on his face to reposition him and the words die on his tongue.

• You can see his eyes keep flickering down to your lips but for the sake of your racing heart you ignore it.

You are surprised Wolfwood had managed to be this quiet for this long, but you can see him start to fidget. “What’s wrong?” You ask tone light, you wanted to snap at him to keep still but thought better of it. He was doing you a favor after all. He doesn’t answer shifting through his pockets until he finds his carton of cigarettes, he shakes it with a smirk.

You ‘huff’ rolling your eyes, ‘Fine, just don't blow the smoke towards me.” you answer, going back to your sketching, “Wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart.” you ignore the comment, as he lights the smoke. Keeping his promise in blowing the smoke away from you. you’re sketching his profile now, he does look attractive with the cigarette, you’ll give him that.

Getting his side profile down, you wanted a front view now. He was still smoking, letting out a huff you reach forward plucking the cigarette out of his mouth, and he lets out a ‘hey!’ as you flick it out the window, and then grab his face. You blush when you notice, Wolfwood blush. “If you wanted to stare into my eyes all you had to do was ask.” He smirks at you, laughing you let go of his face. “Oh hush, just stay like that for a bit okay?”

Grabbing your sketchbook again, you continue leaning in to get a closer look, you are making him nervous and it thrills you. With a soft laugh, you glance up at his eyes and then his lips. You can see him watching your every move, and it's making you nervous now. You lean back, holding the sketchbook to your chest. After a moment you shyly pass it to Wolfwood, who takes the book gently admiring your work.

#vash the stampede x reader #vash imgaine #vash imagines #vash x reader #vash the stampede #wolfwood x you #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #wolfwood imagine #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader #trigun #trigun stampede imagine #trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede #trigun x reader

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heresthestorymorningglory · 2 months

Text

Together Bound In Madness - Part 3

Summary: So close, yet so far...

A/N: This particular piece of work wasn’t meant to see the light of day and live its life in my WIP folder…it was supposed to….

Then I mentioned to @ken-dom that I might share and well…here we are…what can I say y'all? She’s mad encouraging and I love her dearly for it. Without her none of these would exist.

As always, this NSFW 18+ and has a few extra warnings attached; a kidnapping trigger warning being the biggest one, this part also includes a physical assault trigger,

The title comes from the Marianas Trench song The Killing Kind

Y'all should know by now I rarely post one shots…..so yeah, this will be multiple parts….I’m just not sure on the final tally yet. You can find previous parts here.

Enjoy my loves! <3

You had sat on his bed after changing your clothes, he’d had every intention of making sure you were comfortable, but when he looked up from digging in the first aid kit to bandage your ankles, you had fallen asleep propped against the headboard.

He got to his feet and pulled the covers on the bed back fully before gently shifting you to lie down. You hadn’t even stirred. He bandaged your ankles as he’d initially intended before he pulled the strip of soft fabric he’d had tied around your wrists earlier from the back pocket of his jeans and gently tied your wrists together. He produced another strip of fabric and did the same to your ankles.

He wasn’t 100% confident you wouldn’t still try to leave if he’d left you to sleep.

You had been so quiet, and so scared; he couldn’t imagine how awful it would have been for you had it been someone else, someone truly evil.

He covered you with the duvet as you turned over in your sleep; you looked so peaceful, a stark contrast to earlier this evening. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, here you were safe, here you were cared for, here he could protect you. God you were beautiful; especially in his clothes. Sleeping soundly in his bed; comfortable and safe.

He found a spare pillow from the linen closet and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, locking the door before settling into the soft cushions.

***

You gasped, startling yourself awake. The bed smelled different, because it wasn't yours.

You squeezed your eyes shut wishing this had been some lucid fever dream. The ties on your wrists and ankles confirmed otherwise.

Your heart raced as reality came flooding back.

The apartment was dark, and it was still dark outside; you were still dead tired, you couldn’t have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. You could see the outline of his sleeping form on the couch, snoring softly.

Your own bedroom was on the other side of the wall; all you had to do was get there. Get inside and lock the door.

You stayed lying on your side, pretending to be asleep in case he woke up, your teeth pulling gently on the fabric bound around your wrists. It felt like it was taking you a lifetime, he had been careful not to tie it against your bandages, but the knot was tight. Finally, you felt it start to come loose, making the hole big enough to pull one wrist free and then the other.

You sat up, slowly, careful not to draw attention to yourself, watching the silhouette on the couch for any sign of movement. You pulled your knees against your chest under the duvet, keeping your working hands hidden as they picked at the knot. It finally came loose and you pulled your feet free.

He hadn’t moved, but he was still between you and the door. You consider getting on your hands and knees and crawling to the door, but on the off chance he was awake, or woke up, you could run faster. You hadn’t seen any trace of your phone since leaving work, and you weren’t about to go searching for it. You pushed back the duvet and climbed out of the bed, walking as quietly and as lightly as your bare feet would carry you. You approached the end of the couch where his feet had been, he still had work boots on, his head was turned away from you as he breathed deeply; his arms folded over his chest. You practically held your breath, not daring to make a sound as your crept past. You watched over your shoulder for any sign of movement until you reached the door. Gripping the deadbolt between your thumb and finger, you turned it slowly, biting down hard on your lip waiting for the click. You squeezed your eyes shut as the lock made a loud clunk in your hand. Your hand moved to the door knob, gripping it hard enough to make your hand ache, still listening intently over your shoulder for any sign of movement as you heard the latch click softly. Still holding your breath, you pulled the door open slowly, praying to god it wasn’t going to creak. The light from the hallway was impossibly bright; you didn’t dare open the door any further than you needed to to fit yourself though. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you inched your way out into the hallway and pulled the door shut agonizingly slowly to avoid any noise.

Your whole body shook with a combination of fear and adrenaline as your eyes quickly scanned the hallway, empty. You ran to your own apartment door, standing on tiptoes, your shaky fingers frantically feeling for the spare key you kept on the ledge. Your fingers slid along the entire length, nothing. Your key was gone.

“Fuck, fuck fuck” you whispered dropping back down on your heels.

You ran your tongue between your lips, letting out a shaky breath. You turned on your heel as a shadow darkened the hallway.

“No!’ you gasped, your scream was muffled as his hand clamped over your mouth, squeezing your jaw hard, his other arm wrapping tightly around your midsection as you dug your heels into the carpet, to no avail. Your feet slid against the floor uselessly as you twisted in his grip; he was a lot stronger than you thought, a lot stronger than he looked.

He dragged you thrashing and screaming down the hall back to his apartment. You watched the door swing shut with a loud thump.

He dragged you to the centre of the room, before dropping you on your back a heavy boot landing next to your hip as he loomed over you, trapped between his feet.

You sat up to scoot yourself backwards in an attempt to get some distance between you.

A half step and he has easily closed that distance again.

You looked up at him and his blue eyes flared with anger before you felt a hot sting across your cheek, his leather gloves making it hurt twice as much as a bare hand.

You gasped, crying hard, your own hand flying to cup your cheek.

You screamed in frustration as you sat on the floor, you hugged your knees to your chest.

“What do you want from me?!” The break in your voice betraying your anger. Your cheek burning as you sniffed, dropping your head again, a tear dripping off the end of your nose.

Your shoulders shook as you broke down sobbing, not sure what else to do. You wrapped your arms around your knees, hugging them tightly.

You jumped as he brushed a piece of hair off your face before slapping his hand away.

He caught your wrist squeezing hard, making you cry out as he squeezed against the raw skin under the gauze.

He hadn't seemed to notice, he simply yanked you to your feet and threw you down on the bed. He grabbed your hands together in one of his, producing a length of rope from seemingly out of nowhere. He seemed totally unbothered by your kicking and screaming. He straddled your hips, his weight heavy on your middle as he secured the other end of the rope to the rungs on his headboard.

You pulled hard, but it was in vain as it only caused the rope to bite into your skin. You dropped your arms as much as your restraints would allow with a huff, glaring at him. “I know you’re not a fucking mute, why won’t you talk to me?” you snapped and as you expected, your question went unanswered.

#fic #ryan gosling #not s f w 💀#drive 2011 #driver x reader

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hockeyboysimagines · 5 months

Text

I’ve loved you three

Summers

Chapter 3

Warnings: language, kissing, mild sexual content, some angst and mentions of manipulative/abusive relationships.

Hello friends! Happy this is starting to catch on a bit. @cellythefloshie s chapter should be up soon! When it’s posted I’ll link it here!

Thanks!! Enjoy and let me know what you think.

The grocery store was mostly empty at this early morning hour and Madison was thankful because she had Seth on the brain.

They’d parted ways last night with more kissing and she hadn’t seen him since then.

And she was kind of glad.

She hadn’t even begun to process what had happened the night before and was still not totally sure it wasn’t a dream. The situation with her and Seth could go one of two ways. It could either be a wonderful amazing adventure or she could run the risk of losing a lifelong friend. It really just came down whether it was worth the risk, which she already decided it was. But it wasn’t only up to her. She had no idea how he was feeling.

If she hadn’t been thinking about Seth, she would have been paying closer attention, but she didn’t even see him coming till it was too late.

“Madison?”

She turned and felt something that could only be described as dread start to settle in her stomach.

Darren was standing a few feet away, fake smile plastered on his face, the same one he wore the very first time she ever met him. She did not return it.

“Hey how are you?” He moved closer and she took a small step back. Annoyance flickered across his face.

“Fine.” She moved to walk away from him but when he followed and she turned to face him fully, arms crossed with a frown.

“Is uh-is Harper here?” He asked glancing over her shoulder.

She scoffed “No Darren. She’s not here, but I’m guessing you knew that already. Leave my sister alone.”

“How is she?”

“Did you hear what I just said? It’s none of your business. If you wanted to know that I guess you should have spent the last 6 years treating her better.” Madison’s brows were pulled low over her eyes which were blazing with anger. She wanted to punch him right in the throat and run him over with the cart.

“You don’t know anything!” He snapped loudly at her, drawing the attention of the few people nearby.

But Madison wasn’t having it and stood her ground.

“You might have been able to bully my sister but don’t think for one second you’re going to bully me.” Madison was glaring at him “Stay away from Harper. If you ever really loved her you’ll let her move on. Or if you want to tempt fate show up to the house. I dare you.” Madison smiled a little and for the first time Darren’s confidence faltered. He knew better.

“Can you tell her-“

“Fuck off.” She turned away from him, heart beating loudly in her chest. Darren didn’t scare her, but her sister potentially having to suffer for it did.

She didn’t want to tell Harper and upset her but it would also upset her if she didn’t and Harper found out later. She was glad she had elected to take the grocery store errand and that Harper didn’t or it would be a very different conversation they’d be having

Madison checked out, not even sure she'd gotten everything, and made her way home, noting Seth’s car absent from his driveway, but that Harper’s car was parked in theirs.

She made her way very slowly inside, dreading the conversation she was going to be forced to have with her, and found her at the island in the kitchen.

Harper glanced up with a big smile but it faded a little when she saw her face “You didn’t hit another car in the parking lot, did you?” she teased.

Maddie shook her head and cleared her throat “I ran into Darren while I was at the store, i was just grabbing-“ she sighed, it didn’t really matter what she was grabbing “Nevermind, when he approached me, he acted like he just happened to be there at the same time, which was fine, until he started looking around, waiting, as if you were just going to walk up to us right there in the store, and when you didn’t he got really….” Maddie trailed off “Angry. He started asking where you were, how he could contact you. If I could give you a message-“

Harper’s face was unreadable, and Maddie wasn’t sure if she was mad or sad or even maybe a little bit scared. It had upset Maddie that she’d seen him and he made a huge scene like that, but it would upset her more if this upset Harper.

Sighing, Harper ran her hand through her hair, and sat down with her sister at the island shoulders slouched “He knows where I am,” she sighed, “He’s just too scared to come here.”

They shared a smile and Maddie said, “Dad.”

“Exactly. I can be safe here-” Maddie frowned hoping that Harper wasn’t alluding to what she thought she was “Hey,” she took her sister’s arm, “He never hurt me. Not in the way you think. And he didn’t hurt you, right?”

“I would have cut his hand right off if he had touched me.” Harper laughed and hugged Maddie to her.

”You still going out with your friends?”

Maddie nodded. She had lunch planned with friends mostly as a distraction and to give her some extra thinking time before she saw Seth later on. She would be prepared by then.

“Good, you go get ready, I’ll put the groceries away. Before you go, my new number is on the fridge, and if you need me and I’m not in here, I’ll be by the pool.”

Madison stood and squeezed her hand “I’m really glad you left him Harper. He never deserved you.”

She made her way through the house and up the steps to her room to ready herself for lunch with friends.

**********

Seth was sitting on his bed with his arms crossed staring at the opposite wall. His house was completely silent, which was unusual under normal circumstances but now with Svech living there it was even more. He’d watched Madison leave early, and then leave again and had been sitting in silence since then thinking about her.

He’d done a lot of reflection over the last few hours, having not slept barely at all, and he’d come to the conclusion that he and Madison just made sense. The writing had been on the wall for years and he’d been so wrapped up in hockey that he hadn't been playing close enough attention. If he had it wouldn’t have taken him 21 summers to realize that there’d always been something there just under the surface. It couldn’t be undone now, and it almost made him laugh at how dumb he was. Things he’d forgotten about were starting to come back to him. Most of their close friends knew that their friendship was strictly a friendship. But there had been some questions about them and their relationship over the years.

“So what’s with you and Madison Alexander?”

Seth looked up and frowned at Meghan, a girl he’d been kind of hanging out with for the last week or so. She was picking at a manicured fingernail and glanced up.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged and crossed her arms “Well you guys seem close and she’s the most popular girl in school.” She said it with some bitterness. Madison was in fact the most popular girl in school and for good reason. She was gorgeous, friendly and approachable, and Seth could tell Meghan was jealous. Madison’s popularity wasn’t anything new to him though and he never really thought about her the way others did. But Meghan was obviously insecure and he could sort of understand why.

She was popular but not Madison popular and the one times they’d crossed paths Meghan had been standoffish. Maddie seemed to not notice, but Seth did and it was starting to make sense now.

“And that’s got what to do with anything?”

Meghan shrugged “Just wondering.”

“Mads is my oldest friend. We basically grew up together.”

“And you like her?”

Seth paused and turned to her “No….? Not like that anyways-“

“Then why’d you blow me off for her last night?”

He hadn’t.

Well sort of. He was supposed to hang out with Meghan the night before but he’d spent the afternoon with Maddie and Harper next door. So when they’d insisted he come with them to get food, he had cancelled plans with Meghan and went with Maddie and Harper instead, unbeknownst to them.

He liked Meghan but she could be a lot, and hanging out with Maddie and Harper was so easy.

“I just-“

“I think your hanging out with me and hooking up with her or the other one behind my back.”

“Woah woah hang on.” He held up a hand “First of all, I’m not hooking up with Madison and if I was I wouldn’t be hanging out with you, and second of all, Harper is 23 and used to babysit us. What is your problem? Maddie’s been nothing but nice since you met her.”

“I don’t want you hanging out with her.”

Seth’s mouth fell open “Are you kidding? Your telling me who I can and can’t hang out with? We’ve been talking for like a week.”

“Okay well let me make it really easy for you then. If you wanna continue to talk, and you wanna date me, you can’t be friends with her.” She crossed her arms “Pick one.”

Serbs mouth fell open and he scoffed “Okay. Her.”

The smile slipped from her face and her mouth opened “Wh-what did you say?”

“Her.”

Meghan started yelling and pointing and calling him names, which he wasn’t surprised about, and next thing he knew he was making his way through his backyard and into Madison’s.

She smiled and waved “Hey you okay?”

He sat down on the chair next to her “Fine why?”

She raised an eyebrow and he sighed “You know that girl? Meghan that I was hanging out with?”

“Mhm.” She curled a leg underneath her and pushed a strand of hair from her forehead.

“She-I blew her off to hang out with you guys last night-“

“Seth why would-“

“And she told me that if I wanna date her I can’t be friends with you anymore.”

Maddie looked alarmed and her lips parted “Wow. That escalated uh-fast. So what did you say?”

He gave her a long look “You’ve been a great friend so it sucks that we have to stop being friends this way -“ but he couldn’t even get the words out before he started laughing.

A smile broke out across her face “You douche.”

“I’m kidding. I told her that I didn’t think it was gonna work. I’m not going to give up my friends.”

“I get it but still. That’s not fair of her to ask in my opinion and for her to think we’re hooking up is crazy.”

He chuckled and leaned back arms crossed “Not really. She thought I was hooking up with Harper too.”

“WHAT.”

A splash from next door interrupted his thoughts and he pushed himself up into a kneeling position on his bed. From his room he could see clear into both the Alexander’s back yard, Maddie’s room and part of the kitchen. It had made for one hell of a vantage point for years of hide and seek.

But what surprised him even more was that the splash from the pool was not only Harper, but Svech as well. A bold move he thought to himself with a smile and a chuckle.

Oh he was so getting in on this.

**********

It was late afternoon when Maddie returned home, now noting that all the cars, except her dads cruiser, were accounted for in both driveways, and that Seth and Andrei were both out front.

Fuck.

She hadn’t talked to him all day, assuming he too was deep in thought about what had happened the night before or he was avoiding her. She’d also been a little worried that maybe he hadn’t been thinking about her at all. Maybe it was just another kiss with another girl and things would go back to normal. Either way, she wasn't about to reach out first. She didn’t even know what to say to him.

By the time she got out of the car Andrei had all but disappeared and Seth was making his way over looking at her apprehensively and smiled “Hi.”

She felt her knees get weak and sucked in a breath “Hi.”

She shut her car door and made her way to the front meeting him in the middle. He looked nervous, and she reached forward grabbing his hand and motioned towards her house with a smile “Come on.”

Harper wasn’t in the lower half of the house, and was presumably unpacking in her basement apartment. Seth followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom, which he’d been in before but that was before he’d kissed her in the backyard.

She shut the door behind her and turned to him, brushing past him and sitting on her bed. She patted the space next to her motioning for him to sit. He felt nervous and sweaty and he had no clue what was going on with him. He never got nervous to talk to girls but kissing her last night had rattled him.

Maddie was different. But thinking back he realized she’d always been different to him.

He cleared his throat “So about last night. Should we talk about it?” His arm brushed hers and sent goosebumps across it and despite the warm weather she gave a little shiver.

Maddie looked at her legs dangling off the bed and smiled “Probably..” she had her hands resting on her knees and tentatively he reached out to hold one, resting it there a second before he spoke.

“You know I really care about you right?”

She nodded, her thumb sweeping across the skin of his hand “Yes.”

“And I would never jeopardize our friendship if I didn’t think that maybe we were more than that?…Are we more than that?”

“I think we could be. If you want that is.” She smiled at him, hair spilling over her shoulder as she turned her head to the side. If she hadn’t been holding his hand he would have thought this was a dream. She’d smiled at him more times than he could count, but never like this. It made his stomach churn, and his heart start to pound.

“More than you know. So does that mean I can kiss you again?”

She smiled and nodded, meeting him halfway fingers still intertwined with his. He kissed her very slowly and sweetly, the hand that wasn’t holding hers came up to slide up her neck and rest on her cheek.

It did not last.

Years of feelings and sexual tension began to bubble over like water on a stove. She gave him a little tug and they moved over the bed, her underneath him as he slotted himself between her legs and a hand tangled in her hair. She lost track of what she was doing and let out a breath when he ground his pelvis into hers.

“Is your dad home?” He murmured against her mouth, breath coming out in gasps.

“No.” She pulled the back of his shirt up, tugging it over his head and tossing it down on the floor. She unbuttoned the tank top she was wearing as he sprung the zipper on her shorts and pulled them down her legs, leaning forward to kiss her again as she pulled at the waistband of his shorts. Her heart was beating so loud it was drowning out the hearing in her ears but not enough that they didn’t hear the front door slam from downstairs startling them apart.

“Girls! You home?” Her dad called. She heard his footsteps start to come up the steps and Seth jumped off of her, looking around in a panic. She jumped up nearly falling over as she yanked her shorts up and threw on his shirt, shoving him inside her closet just as her dad knocked on the door. She took a deep breath and opened it.

“Oh hey dad-what uhm. What’s up?” She was breathing heavy and leaned against the door.

He was frowning at her “Are you okay?”

“Yeah why wouldn’t I be okay?” She chuckled a little.

He looked past her into her room and then down at her clothes “Who’s shirt is that?”

“Oh it’s-mine, it’s mine. I found it in my closet.” She was a terrible liar and she could see her dad didn’t believe a word she said.

He nodded slowly eyebrows raised “Right. Is your sister home?”

“I think she’s in the basement.”

“Okay are you staying in for the rest of the day?”

She glanced at the closet “Mhm.”

“Great. I’m going to go talk to Harper and then get some sleep.”

“Okay sounds good. Get some rest big guy, you deserve it. Love you.” She called leaning out the doorway with a big smile.

He chuckled “Love you too Mads.”

She closed the door casually and locked it, letting out the breath she’d been holding and creeping across the floor to open the closet. Seth was crying with laughter inside the closet, hand over his mouth as he leaned on the wall and whispered “He definitely knew I was in here. He’s gonna kill me I-“

“He’s definitely going to kill you if he hears you in here now shh!” Madison shushed him with a giggle and made her way across the room to close her curtains, and flipped her tv on, leaving them in partial darkness. She pulled Seth’s shirt over her head and handed it to him, reaching for her own shirt on the end of the bed.

He sat on her bed and shrugged it back on “This looks better on you.” He watched her with admiration as she pulled the tank top back on over her shoulders and buttoned it, pushing her hair over her shoulder.

She smiled at him and turned the volume on the tv up enough that they could talk undetected and seated herself next to him, getting as close as she possibly could. Though this was the first time she’d ever laid next to him in bed in a romantic way, it felt so natural. Like they’d been doing this since forever, almost as if it was meant to be. He ran a hand up her arm to her shoulder, turning slightly so he could lean down to kiss her again, but she pulled away, instead running her lips over his jaw, tongue sliding across his neck.

She could feel him squirming around and smiled a little.

“Stop.” He pulled her mouth off his neck, holding her face in his hands.

“Stop what?”

“You know what. If you keep doing that I’m gonna start yelling. And then you know what’ll happen.”

“My dad finding you in my room half dressed? He’d probably shoot you.”

“Your dad loves me.” he ran a hand up the side of her neck.

“Not that much.” She sucked in a breath as he leaned down to kiss her again, hand brushing up under her shirt. As his fingers moved across her waist, goosebumps bloomed across her skin and she gave a shiver. She wanted to so bad, but her sisters room was directly under hers and her dad was just down the hall.

He pulled back to look at her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek “You know we can’t do this right?” He said quietly with a small frown “Not with an audience. And I wanna do this right.”

She nodded and sighed “I know. Where though?” She added with a chuckle.

He laughed and ran his fingers through her hair “We’re in our 20s. It’s supposed to be easier to find places to hook up, not harder.”

She chuckled and sighed “I know. But I live with Elliot Stabler and the genius who’s spiraling in the basement and these walls are paper thin. How do you think Harper knows about all the bad shit we did growing up.”

He laughed and ran a finger across her collarbone “True. My house is out of the question too, between my parents and Svechy. Hey we-“

“Absolutely not.” She said putting a hand up.

“You don’t even-“

“The Tiguan is out of the question Seth.”

His mouth fell open and he deflated a little “Okay okay. Just a suggestion sheesh….but out of curiosity why not? Is there something wrong with my Tiguan?”

“That thing is one hopped curb short of being held together by duct tape. Too much movement and it’s falling apart.”

“You have a lot of confidence in my abilities.”

She rolled her eyes and gave the skin on his waist a squeeze “Guess that means you’ll have to really wow me.”

“Oh I’ll wow you.” He said leaning down to kiss her.

Hours later, she’d managed to sneak Seth out undetected and sent him back to his house with another quick kiss and a wave and she was now lying across her bed fighting the urge to kick and squeal because her dad was still asleep down the hall.

She felt her phone buzz and picked it up to see a message from Seth.

What are the odds you can sneak out later?

She smiled and glanced up through the curtains at his window Not so great. That’s the trouble living with a trained investigator.

Damn. Guess I’ll just have to visualize. So what’re you wearing?

Madison giggled and put a hand over her mouth eyes swiveling to the ceiling An oversized shirt and socks.

That’s it? Nothing else?

Like what?

Nothing underneath?

Maddie grinned evily Why would there be? I don’t wear underwear

Across the yard, in Seth’s room a phone slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. He let his head fall back and huffed.

She was killing him.

He’d kissed her on two occasions and she had him wrapped, but before he could have any more thoughts about Madison, or her underwear or anything, Svech burst through the door to his bedroom startling him.

“Do they not practice KNOCKING in Russia Jesus Christ.” He said grabbing the spot over his heart.

“What are you smiling about? And where you been all afternoon?” Andrei asked him sitting at the end of his bed.

“None of your business nosey. How goes the plan to get Harper to acknowledge your existence? Or are you still invisible?”

“Ha ha.” He said squinting at him “We’re not talking about me.”

Seth laughed and shrugged “I’m just having a good day is all.”

“And does that good day have a name? Madison maybe?”

Seth kicked at him “Never you mind about my good day. What’s the next step in your master scheme? You’ve tried stalking, complimenting-“

“I did not stalk her-“

“You.” Seth said sitting up pointing at him “Showed up at her job to go running when she didn’t want you there. I don’t know what they call that in Russia but here that’s stalking my guy.”

“And you.” Andre said pointing at him “Went with me so that makes you an accomplice. And I did it at the suggestion of your good day.”

“My good day never explicitly told you-“

“Aha! So she is your good day.” Andrei said slapping him on the shin and grinning.

Seth sputtered at him for a second before he broke out into a smile “Fuck off.”

“Joking, I’m joking. Is that what Harper meant by “Being good to my sister? Or whatever she said.”

“I think so. Maddie must have said something, I don’t know. Harper knows everything about everyone so maybe she just guessed. She’s smart.” He tapped his temple and Andrei rolled his eyes.

“So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Don’t be an idiot okay?”

Seth was laughing and shrugged “It’s been nice. We gotta get you your own Alexander sister buddy.” He slapped him on the back and stood “Come on, can we go eat I’m starving. We can hatch a plan to make Harper fall in love with you before the summers over.”

Andrei watched as Seth stood and cleared his throat “So you think she might like me a little bit? Maybe?”

Seth grinned “ She will if I have anything to do with it.”

**************

Maddie made her way through the house looking for Harper. She couldn’t talk with her dad about it, and her friends had been too wrapped up with their stuff to pay Maddie and her summer dramas any mind. In fact it had been over a week since she’d even seen or spoken to them. While Harper gave great advice, she was also uniquely qualified to speak about her and Seth because she’d basically raised both of them. Harper wouldn’t steer her wrong.

But really Maddie just wanted to talk. As a teen, before Harper moved out, they’d spent many nights talking and giggling together until their dad finally had to enforce curfew because they were keeping him up at night.

But as Maddie opened the basement door to descend the steps, she heard Harper crying. She paused and stood at the top of the stairs for second before she backed up and shut the door quietly. She wouldn’t bother Harper with this. As she made her way through the kitchen she spotted Seth and Andrei making their way though the driveway to Seth’s car talking and laughing. Seth spotted her through the large kitchen window and smiled and waved at her, which she returned before she made to turn and ran smack into her dad.

“Jesus dad I-“

“You going out with them?” He nodded to the Jarvis’s driveway.

“Me? No im going to sketch a while. Why would I be going out with them?”

“Did you or did you not go golfing with them yesterday?”

She chuckled “How did-Yeah but what’s that have to do with anything?”

He crossed his arms and peered down at her “And which one was in your room when I came home?”

Maddie wanted to shrivel up and die right there on the hallway rug as she looked up at her dad. Though historically he wasn’t a yeller, she and Harper had never really tested his patience. Maddie had always been more trouble prone than her sister but having a boy into her bedroom closet was a new one. They’d always followed the house rules, and their dad was laid back for the most part.

But he didn’t seem angry. He stood staring at her eyebrows raised “Hmm?”

Maddie felt her face get red and cleared her throat, straightening up and looking her dad in the eye “Seth.”

Surprise registered across his face and his mouth opened “Really?”

She hoped that because her dad loved Seth and had watched him grow up that he wouldn’t be as upset about it if it had been Andrei, a guy who had just shown up a week ago. She cleared her throat, crossing her fingers behind her back and smiled hopefully at her dad “So how much trouble am I in?”

He shrugged “Why would you be in trouble?”

“Because I lied. I had a boy in my bedroom….i lied? Really nothing?”

He frowned but looked amused “Do you want to be in trouble?”

She shook her head “No.”

“Okay then. But don’t do it again.” He warned pointing a finger at her.

“Yessir.” She said with a salute and a stifled giggle as she moved past her dad and up the steps pulling out her phone to text Seth with a small smile.

M: My dad knows you were in my closet. He said he’s looking for you.

S: WHAT.

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stevenbasic · 1 year

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GITJ Post 324: A Date with Her Chest, Epilogue

“Jay….” came a soft, singsong voice, rousing me from slumber and into a dream. I knew it was morning, and I knew I’d been sound asleep. For a long, long while.

“Jayyyyy…”

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was that I wasn't in bed alone. Melissa lay on her side next to me. She was staring at me with a dreamy smile and watched as my eyes immediately drifted down, pulled by the gravity of her big breasts, one atop the other and forming a vast amount of cleavage in a brief black bra. I blinked several times, as if still a bit asleep and barely believing what I saw. Those tits! They looked more enormous than ever, and she’d obviously posed to accentuate their size and softness, right in front of my waking eyes. Immediately I began to get hard. She was so beautiful, bathed in the gentle morning light that came filtered through honeycomb shades and gauzy curtains, and her skin was perfect, perfectly smooth, her cleavage more than deeply inviting. Warmth poured from her; I could feel it as strongly as I could the magnetism of her chest, a bountiful bosom that seemed to want to draw me in on this quiet, sunlit morning and smother me in peace. It was a good long moment before she spoke.

"Good morning, sleepyhead,” she finally purred, as I slowly woke up, “Enjoying the view?"

Bashfully I closed my eyes, just now really realizing I’d been staring this whole time, as I’d been coming back to life.

“It’s okay, open up,” she giggled, and as I did I watched her roll a bit towards me, her left breast now squashing voluminously into the mattress, her right arm and shoulder pressing both her huge boobs together to bulge like big balloons.

urk. “oh my god,” I peeped, bringing another giggle from her.

She was so big and so tall that with her proportions it was a dramatic sight. I felt their mass occupying most of the morning, their weight pressed into the mattress aside me. “They’re hard to ignore. I don’t mind if you look,” she said, with easy tolerance as my eyes settled once again between her knockers, “Did you sleep well?”

As she and I had become more comfortable around one another, I did less and less to hide my amazement at her figure. Any prevarication that I wasn’t utterly mindblown by her body was lost in the wake of our love affair. We had gotten, apparently, beyond me having to have any sense of propriety. This was, by god, the woman who was calling herself ‘Mommy’ in bed with me last night and to my chagrin I’d eaten it up like a starvling. How did I even try to salvage dignity from here? Once again: urk.

“Well, I don't know if I've ever slept so good in my life,” she answered herself, reaching out with her right hand to stroke my face tenderly, “I woke up so, like, completely refreshed and rejuvenated. I normally don’t sleep much, but last night I felt like I slept for a year.” Her eyes glittered with deep, satisfied affection. “And I think I know why…”

Melissa allowed herself a mischievous little smile, and I couldn’t hide mine either. She’d rocked my world last night - three times! And the look on her face made it clear that she’d enjoyed herself too, immensely.

“I…I slept well too, I think,” I said, starting to notice details. Her makeup had been done fresh this morning, her hair. She wore a bracelet, earrings…and this bra. When I passed out under her last night she’d been basically naked, and I had, too. Now it was just me. She’d been awake and out of bed for a while, obviously.

“Well good,” she smiled, pleased, “I’m glad you slept. I’m sorry but I had to wake you up, to see you.” She saw the questions start to come to life on my face. “I just wanted to talk to you about things before I left. But you can relax, you can close your eyes again if you want and just listen,” she said, “Or you can keep them open, if you like. Look at me, look at my body. I don’t mind. Relax…” Her hand had drifted down to my left shoulder, began idly stroking my arm.

“You look nice,” I complimented, choosing option number two and letting my eyes drift down again to her bulging breasts, where they got stuck. I caught myself, after a moment, and looked back at her face. “You’re going somewhere?”

Yes, she told me, she’d been getting ready already. She had a meeting at a TV station downtown. Apparently one of the local channels was going to be doing a piece on the grand opening of the new office wings and they wanted to do a pre-interview. With her.

“I’m kinda going to be late already,” she said, biting her lip in some embarrassment. She’d taken my hand, and began playing with the fingers of my left hand with those of her right.

“Yeah huh,” I answered, my greedy ass already half-disappointed that I wouldn’t be spending the morning in bed with her. Of course I couldn’t say that; that’d sound needy. We’d clasped fingers, now, were holding hands. “I maybe should get home.”

“Oh sweetie so…I don’t have time to drive you home,” she apologized, “But I’ll have someone come pick you up and get you back? Is that okay?”

“Yeah that’s okay,” I replied, recognizing my helplessness. No car to my name, I couldn’t drive, and couldn’t afford a taxi or an Uber or whatever. The twinge of my pride, though, was not as strong as it might have been a week ago. I got a gentle whiff of her perfume; man, it’s so lovely.

“I could text Josie now,” she continued, “Is a half-hour enough time for you or do you want to nap more?”

Suddenly I was, actually, feeling a little groggy again. Or maybe just really relaxed. Compared to the meager little bed I had in my apartment her sheets were so soft, everything so comfortable. There was no rush for me, right? What did I have at home to do, anyway? “I could sleep some more?” I answered.

She smiled, apparently pleased. “Omigod you’re adorable. Okay well when you get up just text me,” she said, “and I’ll get in touch with Josie. Your clothes are in the dryer, should be done soon.”

“You did my laundry?” Our hands still played together, casually.

“Mmmmm hm,” she answered proudly, “Anytime you come over you should bring it, your laundry. I’ll do it for you. I know it’s tough to do, no machine at the office yet.”

That would make life easier. “You wouldn’t mind?” And what did she mean by ‘yet’?

She giggled again. “No, I don’t mind you making yourself even more dependent on me.”

“uh, c’mon M-”

“Hey! I didn't say you could have your hand back yet!” she playfully scolded as I’d tried to unlock our fingers, “It's mine." At that she wriggled closer, causing my cock to surge. Good god, down boy! Didn’t you have enough last night? She’d maintained a good grasp of my hand.

I shook myself back, and laughed a little at her joke.

“What're you laughing at, shorty?" she giggled, our faces now just inches apart.

“You don't own my hand, ma’am," I smirked, a playful twinkle in my eye. I was proud at myself for not bristling at the casual diatribe about my height.

“I do now!" she stated, sticking her tongue out at me and suddenly placing my hand, palm and fingers, onto the bounteous bulge of her right breast. I quivered, feeling the softness of her skin and firmness of her swelled-out bust. She held it there, possessively, using her own hand to make me squeeze her intumescent flesh a bit. “MINE,” she stated firmly.

“Okay okay, oh my god yes,” I chuckled, my own hand nearly lost between her larger one and her bosom. Some thoughts were definitely going through my head, how proprietorial she was becoming with me…but I chose to ignore them. Especially when, after a short moment, she brought herself closer to my face, gently placing a kiss on my forehead - treating me to a truly spectacular view of her breasts - before then kissing me on the lips.

Oh jeez this never gets old. She’d brushed her teeth already.

“Now, we’ve decided you need me,” she said, after breaking our first morning smooch, “You need me to protect you.”

Yes yes yes, I remember, I remembered. We’d talked about a lot last night. I began to try to speak, but was stopped mid-blurt.

“It’s okay, Jay, depending on me for things,” she said, a bit pensively, “I know you’re trying to be cool about all this, but you don’t have to pretend around me. I know the elections made you feel upset and confused, and then there’s this whole shrinking thing…”

I tried, again, to speak. I wasn’t ‘shrinking’, I was just-

“I mean, you’re getting so adorable but it makes me feel nervous for you too, just seeing you getting smaller and smaller every day…” she continued, and I felt my brows furrow.

For real?

“...but I want you to know that I’m here to take care of you, okay?” she spoke, with a tenderness I was not used to hearing from a woman, any woman, “You’re my boyfriend now…maybe more than a boyfriend, and I want to do everything to make your life easy and as stress-free as possible. So, any problem, let me know. I’ll handle it. If the girls are bugging you too much I’ll have a little talk with them. Or…if they’re a distraction from everything, a nice distraction and you like that…that’s okay too.”

I gulped, flushing a little. This was not new, this wasn’t much different than what I’d heard yesterday. But here, in the light of the morning, it sounded much more sobering, more real. Not ‘bad’, necessarily…in fact, there was a lot I was starting to see that was actually appealing. She was painting the prospect of me living my life as a coddled thrall; Melissa and her harem of girls could pamper me all they wanted, and who was I to complain. Would I actually be giving up some independence? Maybe? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It was just, like I said…sobering.

And so I sighed, and laying there as best I could I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t quite know what it was that had suddenly made me feel this way. I mean, the remnants of my masculinity were still calling out from the far recesses of my mind, warning me with impuissant cries against submitting entirely to this new world. But I was, yes, in love with Melissa, and I wanted a life with her in it. Plus, look at those tits. They - and her hair, and her eyes, and her smile…and that insanely sublime perfume - made it hard for me to do anything aside from exactly what she wanted. I’m such a sucker!

“I…uhm…well…thanks for…uhh, for saying that, Melissa,” I said, after my few moments of reflection and trying to gather my thoughts, “I mean, haha…uh, I’m definitely still getting…getting used to the whole thing. And, heh, the girls are, uh…have sure been hitting me up a lot recently.” Did she know about the time in the waiting room, with Marisela and Randi and Amelia? Or the times with Morgan, with Vida, all the rest? In fact, now as I tell this story to you, was I remembering it all right? Those times - and there were a lot of them, now that I think about it, seemed distant, as humiliating as they were. “But, yeah…it’s okay. I mean, it doesn’t really bother me. And I know they’re just all being friendly, helpful.” Jesus I really was drunk on this woman!

“You sure?” Melissa asked searchingly, her eyes gazing deep into mine, reading what they could, seeming to see more about me than I knew myself. That makes me laugh, when I think about it now…of course she did. She was scrutinizing my facial expression, deep in thought herself.

“Yeah…yeah, it’s…it’s all good,” I nodded. It was true, it was. I felt good about it, and I made a point to smile broadly after my words, to show her the ease I felt with the situation. She continued to peruse my face for a few long moments, treating my words with the proper skepticism. But I could also see the growing excitement in her. I was saying exactly what she wanted, even as she gave me the chance to speak otherwise. There were many times I had not been able to help but feel smaller under her gaze, and this was one of them. But, I felt not only smaller but safer, like I was in her hands. Plus, I felt that the fact that she was deciding for herself how to take my words just served to accentuate the growing power difference between us. She was, already, very much my emotional caretaker now, and despite my assurances she needed to examine me closely before feeling completely satisfied. I knew she didn’t mean it, at least at the moment, but she was making me feel even more like a little kid. “I trust you, Melissa, I do.”

“Omigod thank you Jay,” she said tremulously, as if she was ready to burst with emotion, “If you put your trust in me, let me protect you, I promise I’ll never let you get hurt.” This was uncharted territory for her, too, I could hear it in her voice. But then she began to settle herself, and I could see it in her face: it was as if she was taking a step forward into something new, with a new strength. “I’m going to talk with them, the girls. They’re all going to become your protectors too, your little superheros. And…it’s okay by me for other girls to comfort you, be affectionate with you. In faccccct…” she continued, with a new brightness to her voice, “how about this for an idea? You can stay here all day while I’m gone and we can hang out when I get back. I had asked some girls over to see the house. We can have a little party tonight? Try it out?”

“Try out w-what?”

“Try out them being your superheroes,” she giggled. Her voice had changed a bit, become playful again. “Hmm? Would that be nice, have a party with all the office girls? Let them treat you right?”

”Uhhh…” This Friday-night date of ours was was suddenly starting to change into something quite a bit different. .

”I mean, what else do you have to do today?” she asked, smiling sparkles into my eyes.

”Yeah, I mean, nothing, I mean…s-sure,” I agreed, picturing a pig-pile of them, me in the bottom, “that sounds fun.”

”Omigod cool,” she tittered, biting her lower lip in anticipation, “The girls would love to see you tonight, help me take care of you.”

“Oh my god Melissa,” I said, unconsciously echoing her, half-incredulous as to what was happening to my life. I’m sure she heard it in my voice.

”You like that idea hm?” Melissa giggled, “All of us here tonight? We can talk about us all protecting you? Have a little meeting, some drinkies. We can play games, you can get closer to the girls? Would you like that?”

”Sounds like I’m going to be surrounded…”

“If that’s what you like..!” she replied, giggling again, “I don’t mind sharing. As long as what’s in here -” She tapped my chest with one finger. “ - and in here - “ She then tapped me on the forehead. “Is mine.”

“It is,” I said, without delay.

“Is it? Your brain is all mine?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” she said with a new twist to her smile, “I want to make it squishy.”

In a sudden move, Melissa scooted herself up the bed a bit, still on her side, so that her big breasts were right in my line of vision, inches away from where I lay my face on the pillow.

“You told me you loved me last night, didn’t you?” she asked.

Faced with her massive right boob, her left right aside it, I could barely speak.“y-y-yes I did,” I agreed.

“Well, that earns you a reward,” she said, as her big lungs pulled in breath, swelling her tit even closer towards me. “I’m late but I’m going to help you get back to sleep. What would help you drift off again?” she asked, with apparent earnestness, “Music? A movie? A podcast? I could read to you?”

Barely registering what she was offering, I nodded to the last of the options. Uh, I guess listening to her read would actually be heavenly, but the look in her eyes - as I lifted my own to look at her best I could - and the fact that her fingers now gently pulled down the sheets and brushed against my belly - suggested she meant to do no such thing.

Smiling like the cat with the short, middle-aged but terminally aroused canary, she pushed me onto my back and fully cleared the white sheets that had laid pooled across my hips. She saw my erection, already standing proud. Slowly she grabbed ahold, and began stroking. Rising now more above me she pressed her big right breast into my face. “You wanted them this big. Might as well enjoy them, right?”

Under the assault of such sudden pleasure, I had no chance of answering aside from the “mmmph!” that escaped my throat. But, the thought did go through my head: What did she mean by that?

It was her bra that I felt against my cheek, nose and lips. Sliding it across my face, she found my mouth with the swell of her covered nipple and urged me to take it through her bra. I whined a bit, something that sounded like words, something that sounded nervous, like anxiety, like my pride.

”I love you,” she said.

“I…I love you too,” I managed, half-muffled.

She re-urged her nipple to me. “Then trust me, okay?” she said, and breathed in a deep sigh when I paused, but then opened for her. I tasted the fabric, the smooth silkiness of her bra pressed through my lips; I licked with my tongue.

“That’s right, Jay, that’s good,” she said, readjusting herself over me, settling me under her, “It’s okay to be weak sometimes, especially around me. Okay?” Her hand had continued to tend to my throbbing nine inches of erection, and was stroking slow and strong, already in a rhythm,

Once I began playing with her nipple, taking it into my mouth as much as I could through her bra, her pace began to pick up. Soon it became a blur of pleasure. She intended on making this quick for me. Except, after a minute or so I still hadn’t finished.

“Whats wrong, sweetie?” she asked, with a hint of concern, “You do like this right?”

Nodding emphatically, I groaned as I felt her movements get even more intense, her bust push more firmly into my face. “Then why aren’t you finishing? Normally you come pretty soon after this sta-…oh.” At that, she paused a bit. Her rhythm slowed. My vision darkened by her bra, world eclipsed by tit, I couldn’t see but physically felt her smile light up brighter. “You’re really getting into this, hm? You want me to talk to you. Like I did last night…”

Slowly a fiendish lilt crept into her voice. “It’s okay little one,” she began again, her rhythm once again regular and strong up and down my big, ready erection, “Let it all out. Let it all out for…mommy.”

Hearing those words were all I needed. She’d unlocked some secret and suddenly I was tensed up and releasing all over her hand. “Good boy,” she purred, chuckling to herself, as I fervently sucked at her nipple through her bra and climaxed, “Let it out just like that.” She purred some more, cooing encouragements and little words of love, indulgences and rewards.

Eventually my orgasm waned, and - breast still on my face - I felt my consciousness drift away. The last thing I remember was her sliding it off me, a kiss, and finally this thought: Maybe this isn’t so bad after all…

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yeah I've got one

#growing into the job

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