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pearlescynt · 11 months ago

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Redamancy ['red-a-man-sE] noun ;a love returned in full

Part II out now!

{ Pairing } - idol!bangchan x staff!afab.reader (with a hint of bestfriend!jisung?)

{ Genre } - NSFW, the trifecta (s/a/f), frenimies to friends to lovers? idk but we'll get there in the end

{ Synopsis } - Han Jisung is your new bestie & technical colleague, of course you befriended the rest of his members. Group nights became a tradition, & tonight involves liquor and drinking games for the first time. Truth or drink?

{ WC } - 6.7k

{ Warnings & tags } - 18+ MDNI, NSFW, smut, angst, fluff, drinking, breath play (choking), swearing, dry humping, use of 'babygirl', mention of wet dream, talk of edging, talk of domming, talk of choking, talk of exhibitionism, all of ot8 is suggestive af when they drink, reader and jisung are PLATONIC I promise they're just touchy, they're all giggly drunks so overuse of laughing chuckling and giggling, chan is kinda dumb in this he just... is in denial land but we'll find out more about that later, unrealistic work scenarios, unrealistic dorm setup? idk lol

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated with the actual skz, and is a fictional piece. I DO NOT own Stray Kids, this fic is just influenced by them!

{ A/N } - Okay I know I took forever to post & this intro is hella long & I'm sorry! Once again, I will say this is my first skz fic. I come from the world of AO3 & dramione. I am out of my comfort zone lol. First time posting stories on tumblr too! So if I missed anything please let me know <3 there will be a part 2, I've already started writing it! The plot is weak af, but gimme a few more stories and I'll find my groove. Promise! Unbeta'd, be gentle with me ♡

It was supposed to be a relatively chill Saturday night, so you were excited. You just got off work, and had arrived at Jisung's. He swung the door open smiling and pulled you inside, into an immediate hug. Everyone said their greetings, and then Jisung went immediately to whining.

"Finally, what kept you so late?"

You took your shoes, mask, sunglasses, and hat off, letting your curls fall down your back. Then you unzipped your sweatshirt, shrugging it off your shoulders and exposing your fitted white tee. You gave your jacket and bag to Ji so he could put them away. You always arrived in 'disguise', in baggy clothing so that no one suspected anything. Though you thought it was ridiculous. It doesn't matter how baggy the sweat pants or hoodie is, there's no hiding the curve of your ass.

You were a content editor at JYPE, and had become really good friends with Han Jisung. Friendships between idols and staff certainly aren't forbidden, in fact they're encouraged to an extent... as long as no lines are crossed. But it's pretty much an ignored rule. Anyways, you were a small 'behind-the-scenes' employee, not a manager or assistant or makeup artist. Not anyone directly involved with any idols. No one off the street knew who you were. Still, over the last almost year or so, you and him became besties. You frequently shared meals together at work, had sleepovers, you even went camping. You were basically glued to each other. It could easily be taken the wrong way by the media and fans. Hell, it gets taken the wrong way by co-workers, other idols, and even his group members. Although they've mostly accepted that's not the case. It's a given with the way you two act though.

Your relationship is definitely platonic, confirming pretty early on that neither of you felt anything more than friendly love for each other. But you both love teasing the other suggestively. You suppose that's partly why you two got so close so quickly. Your personalities are so similar, it's like you share the same singular brain cell sometimes.

"Editing, per usual." You finally reply with a sigh, "We had to cut A LOT out of nexz's new video. They're so high energy, they slip up a lot, especially with the swearing, but nothing we can't handle."

"Gotta love kids." Chan snorts while sipping a beer.

You smile awkwardly in response and look around the room. Everyone is here, all with their preferred beverages, and chatting away or scrolling.

Ji comes back with a drink for you, he knows you're partial to tequila and always keeps it on deck. Normally, you spend every weekend you can together, which sometimes is not as often as either of you would like. Sometimes you'd both head back to your place, and just have all nighters, binge watching anime and gorging yourselves on junk food. More recently, like tonight, you get invited over to hang with him and the rest of the boys.

It usually results in a few drinks and a movie, or talk about work. Sometimes you just play music and talk and vibe, or try to cook food together when you get the munchies... Which more than likely results in Minho taking over because he just can't help himself. However the nights play out, they're always fun, and you're gradually getting closer to the rest of the members too. Although no one can compare to the bond you have with your Jiji.

"I don't wanna watch a movie tonight, my eyes hurt too much." He starts complaining.

"Poor baby." You tease and run your fingers through his hair, laughing.

"When are you two just going to come out with the fact that you're in love?" Seungmin asks.

You roll your eyes, "When dwaekki's fly."

"I can easily make that happen." Changbin laughs.

"We could play a game?" Felix suggests, already looking flushed from the alcohol.

Jeongin gets excited, "Let's do a drinking game! It's been a while."

"I don't believe I've ever played a drinking game with y'all."

Hyunjin hums, "Mm, you haven't. Mostly because we get crazy, we've never brought up the idea."

This piqued your interest, "More crazy than I've already seen? I don't think that's possible."

Minho chimes in this time, "You forget we're a group of men sometimes, I swear. Mix alcohol and suggestive games, it definitely gets 'crazier' than you've seen, inappropriately crazy."

You level him with a smirk, "I'm down."

"That's my y/n!" Ji says, while pulling you to sit in his lap, "Fearless."

You giggle and lean into him while Minho just narrows his eyes at you and purses his lips. Something tells you he's up to something, but you're ready for any challenge.

"Fine. Then we'll play something easy, truth or drink. If someone refuses to answer, they drink. Whoever finishes their drink first loses." Minho says.

"What does the loser have to do?" You ask.

"Pay for everyone's lunch every day for a month!" Changbin says.

"Deal." You say.

You're an open book, Ji knows this. There's no question you won't answer.

Everyone is up now, getting new drinks & refills before the game starts. You can't help but notice that Chan didn't get up, he looks a little nervous for some reason. He was always the most worried about you being around so much. In the beginning it definitely came across like he didn't like you. Now you know that's not the case... you think. He tolerates you now to say the least. You couldn't blame him too much, he was just protective of his boys. You actually found it incredibly sweet, or maybe it's just that stupid soft spot you have for him.

He always tried to keep you at arms length from the group. Not wanting anyone to get too close to you. Until Jisung put him in his place, as best he could anyways.

You were in Ji's lap, watching Spirited Away. He was drawing imaginary lines and shapes on your back, while you rested your head on his shoulder, facing the tv. His head was resting on top of yours as well, and a blanket covered you both.

Chan walked in seeing this, and nearly had a stroke. He said we were being inappropriate. And specifically made it a point to tell you to be more professional as a member of the staff. Short version: know your fucking place, you're overstepping.

You scoffed at him, prepared to confront him about his growing disdain towards you. Let him know he's the one being inappropriate, downright childish. But Ji nudged you onto the couch and got to him first.

It was kind of cute watching him standing there, ears becoming red and getting in Chan's face. Cute in the way that it was like a maltese puppy trying to stand up to a doberman. Then he proceeded to yell at him about how he was way out of line. Saying he was being flat out disrespectful and that he was done with the ridiculous way he has been acting about you. The last thing he said was that he didn't know what got into him, and that he'd never seen this side of Chan before.

Chan was silent, looking intensely into Jisungs eyes. But he never backed down, so Chan poked his tongue to his cheek, then retreated to his room for the whole night. You had to scoop Ji off the floor right afterwards. He had let his knees buckle, and fell to the floor once Chan was gone. Citing that he wasn't sure he was going to live through the night to see the morning sun. Typical dramatic fashion for your best friend. But you soothed him, fluffing up his ego about 'defending your honor'. His words, not yours.

As that night went on though, the tiniest bit of worry coursed through you. Chan hadn't come back out. Not even when the other members came home, trying to knock on his door to greet him. Or when the food was ready to be served, you had even given knocking a try. Only after Hyunjin begged you to, because 'He already doesn't take care of himself. He needs to eat.' No, you didn't see him again that night until you had already walked out the front door. He slipped out behind you shortly after, grabbing you by the wrist and stopping you.

You thought he was going to continue the argument for a moment, but no, he was apologizing. Not much more was said afterwards, but his apology was genuine and heartfelt, so you accepted it. You two ended up hugging it out, and thank goodness no one saw that, because it was incredibly cringeworthy. He had no more major issues after that. But he was still unexplainably awkward around you, but it's not like you were any better. You two simply didn't know how to interact with each other for longer than 30 seconds. And that was pushing it. You suspected that might not ever go away. He likes to keep his walls high and strong, and you're stubborn at times.

But of course, despite that stubbornness. You developed some sort of feelings towards him. Feelings you refused to acknowledge, well tried to refuse. You would push those feelings down deep within your heart, put them in a little box, and tape it shut trying to forget it's there. There was no need to pine over the man, he had stay to do that for him, and who knows who else in his life. Somehow that box always ended up ripped open again.

There was never a reason to act on these feelings. Not to mention, you think you'd be breaking SO MANY rules. Putting your job, his job, hell everyone's job at risk. Or worse, making a fool of yourself when he would downright reject you.

You keep watching him, now he's shaking his leg up and down, seeming agitated. Maybe he just doesn't want everyone getting into a vulnerable state of mind while playing? Maybe he's worried somebody will say or do something wrong? That someone will cross a line, as he loves to say?

Trying to ease his negative feelings, and extend yet another olive branch. You toss a throw pillow at him, hitting him in the chest and pulling him out of his thoughts.

He looks at you, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, and you just chuckle nervously at him saying, "Don't worry, it's like Vegas. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

"God how fuckin' corny was that?" Ji teases you, poking your side making you giggle more.

To your relief, Chan is laughing with you, and shaking his head, "I just want them to behave."

"Oh relax, we're all grown. We're all friends. So we'll get to know each other more intimately, big whoop." You shrug.

"Mmm..." He replied, before raising his voice so everyone could hear him, "Whatever is spoken about tonight, doesn't leave this room."

"I swear you're the one with anxiety sometimes, not me." Ji mumbles.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... dad." Hyunjin says as he sits next to you and Ji.

"As if that announcement even had to be made, I swear, and you wonder why we call you old." Seungmin comments.

Once everyone is settled in with their drinks, Minho directs Chan to start the game.

"Jisung, when was the last time you cried?"

He laughed, "You're trying to embarrass me because you know it was this morning, but I am confident and secure in the fact that I am a sensitive man."

He said the last bit with his hand over his heart, and his eyes closed, effectively making everyone chuckle.

"My poor baby, why were you crying?" You question teasingly.

"Please don't bring it up, he'll start blubbering all over again. Stupid, sad, dog rescue videos." Seungmin mumbles.

"Minho!" Ji shouts, pointing at him dramatically, "This question is for you. If you had to kiss someone in this room on the cheek, who would it be?"

"Hyunjin." He said bluntly, making you and everyone else laugh while Hyune just rolled his eyes.

"Would you kiss me back?" He asked him, eyes full of hope and bottom lip jutted out and pouting, trying to act cute. And succeeding, honestly.

Hyunjin acted like he was pondering the question, but ultimately was the first to take a sip from his glass, "I decline to answer."

He looked to you next, a suggestive smirk on his face, making you the next victim, "Y/niiieee..."

"Oi, be respectful." Chan scolds immediately, not liking the look at all.

"All I was going to do was repeat the question!" He said defensively, "Y/n, if you had to choose, who would you kiss on the cheek?"

You tried hard to keep your eyes from trailing over to Chan, a tingly feeling spreading across your skin at the mere thought of innocently kissing his cheek. Instead you chose the easy answer, because it wasn't a lie. You'd also kiss your best friend on the cheek any time.

"My Jiji of course," And you took his face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks between your middle finger and thumb, and plant a loud smooch on each of them, "he probably only asked because he wanted one anyways."

He just chuckles, letting you baby him and Seungmin fake gags.

"Minnieee..." You pause trying to come up with a question, "when you dye your hair next, what color would you want?"

"Green, my entire head green."

"That would look interesting." You laugh.

You all go 'round in circles for a few rounds, completely forgetting about the rules of the game. Having now finished your glasses from casually sipping throughout the game, most of you have switched to occasional shots. You're starting to feel warm and tipsy. Of course the more you all drank, the more the questions started to get more... amorous. Which is exactly how you all assumed this game would go. No wonder Chan was so anxious.

However looking over to him now, he's definitely having a good time. Like every other person, he loosens up while drinking, but tonight he seems even more so.

"Y/n," Chan starts with a sly look making your skin buzz again. Among all of you, he is 100% the most inebriated right now, "when was your first kiss?"

"Yah! He tells us to be respectful, but look how he is after a few drinks!" Changbin yells laughing.

Chan loses it, "You're right Binnie, you don't have to answer or drink." He says in between fits of squeaky laughter.

You think you could listen to him laugh all day.

You shake your head and snort, "I've answered worse questions playing this game before. I was 13 when I had my first kiss."

Hyunjin nearly spits his drink out, because again, no one is drinking just as punishment anymore, "13?!"

"Well, yeah, it's a pretty normal age in America... I think..." you started to blush, "why, how old were you?" you ask Hyunjin.

He hesitates, but eventually he spoke, "I was 18."

The rest chime in saying they were also 18 or 19. With the exception of Felix who said he was 16.

Without even thinking you start to say, "Aaah, see I was 18 when I-" and you're abruptly stopped with Ji's hand slapping over your mouth.

Your eyes go wide, caught off guard, but understanding as you almost blurted out unnecessary information. Nothing that Ji hadn't known obviously, it's just that everyone else doesn't really know you on that level.

"Jagi, you only had to answer the one question, adding extra info, that's not how you play the gaaaaame." He says in a sing-song voice, "Hyunjin it's your turn to ask someone."

"No no no no! What was she going to say?" Chan chuckles.

When you looked at him, he winked at you, and you had to stop yourself from going limp in Ji's arms. He knew damn well what you were going to say. Why is he teasing, no torturing you like this?

You peel Ji's hand off your mouth to respond "It's not your turn, you'll have to wait to ask me that."

The group starts laughing and shouting, teasing Chan who is ignoring it all, just staring at you with curious eyes and his tongue in his cheek. Does he know how hot he looks doing that?

"Okay, so then I'll ask you. What were you going to say?" Hyunjin asks calmly, trying to fight the smile off his face.

You pour yet another shot, and knock it back thinking, what the hell, "I was going to say I was 18 when I first hooked up with a man."

Some members looked surprised, the game taking an obvious turn. However Hyunjin, Felix, and Chan started laughing again.

"I knew that's what you were going to say." Felix slurred.

"Yeah I was definitely teasing you on that, because I knew." Chan followed.

"Mmm, well judging from the shocked faces of everyone else, you two seem to be the only psychics." You try to joke, wanting the attention off of you suddenly.

"No, don't get us wrong, not all of us are as innocent as you think." Seungmin says defensively.

"Oh really now?" You respond, one brow quirking up.

Seungmin just turned red, and sat back in his seat. To which Chan started laughing, yet again. He's a giggly drunk, and you love it.

"Don't tease my puppy, babe." Ji slurred, trying to reach his arm to console Seungmin, but ultimately failing.

"I mean I was 18 too, with the same girl I first kissed." Hyunjin shrugged.

"But what do you mean 'to a man'?" Jeongin asked with a shit eating grin on his face.

You promptly turned into a tomato, and started choking on air.

"You're not that slow pabo, obviously it means she's been with women too." Ji says, rather loudly and speaking freely, all while patting your back.

You're quiet. It's not like it's a secret, you've never hidden your sexuality. But it never came up in conversation with anyone here, except Jisung.

Wanting to ease the tone, Felix speaks up, "Well I was 18 when I first hooked up with a dude."

"I was 21, but everyone already knows that story." Ji slurred.

The whole conversation triggers another group laughing fit. Except for Chan, who is looking at you with those dark eyes again. And... is he blushing? Or is that the alcohol? He eventually snaps out of whatever daze he was in, and slowly smiles at you reassuringly.

You mentally kick yourself for getting your hopes up, of course he couldn't ever think of you like that. You're imagining things.

"But then, how old were you when you first hooked up with a girl?" Jeongin asked again, genuinely curious.

"A lot younger than 18..." You trailed off laughing, "I'll just say in high school."

"The air is different outside of Korea." Changbin says suddenly, sounding thoughtful.

Hyunjin nearly collapsed laughing, slapping Minho on the knee repeatedly, despite the glare he was shooting him.

"Well I just answered a bunch of questions in a row so that means I get to ask two people a question. And the second person I ask gets the next turn." You say, making up new rules.

"So... Chan." He looks at you with his eyebrows raised and you just smirk, knowing you're trying to get back at him, "How old were YOU when you lost your virginity?"

He gulps and looks around at the group before answering, "I... was 18."

"Chan-hyung, you never answered us when we would ask you! Why answer her?" Jisung whines.

"I honestly don't know, maybe it's the liquor. None of you ever asked me drunk." He starts giggling.

"Okay so question 2... Binnie!" He gulps and looks at you with wide eyes, "Are you more of a boob guy?" You say grabbing your own, not even really thinking about it, "Or an ass guy?"

Changbin started laughing and answered, "Definitely ass, but I appreciate boobs too, equality."

"I am just learning so much about my fellow members lately." Seungmin whispers.

"Is that a bad thing?" You giggle.

"Not at all, it feels strangely comforting, letting loose like this." He replies and smiles softly at me, "It's been a while."

"It's freeing!" Jeongin yells abruptly, throwing his hands in the air.

"Aye, my question is for you then Min. Have you ever had a wet dream?" Changbin asks.

"... what guy hasn't? Don't all guys get them?" He asks looking around.

Then you chime in again frankly, "Girls can get them too you know."

Why does it feel like you've opened pandora's box on your sex life, in every single aspect?

Ji starts laughing, nodding his head vigorously and you know where this is about to go.

"Really now?" Felix says, mimicking your exact tone from earlier, "What was it about?"

"Mmmm... it's not your turn to ask," Then you turn to Seungmin, "And if you ask me, I will absolutely drink and not answer. No way I'm explaining a sex dream right now."

Seungmin just rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh.

"But I wanna knooooooow," Jisung whines, "You looked so cute having one last weekend, you never told me what it was about."

Everyone was watching you two closely now, waiting to hear how he knew what you looked like in that situation.

You turned around and smacked his arm, "We weren't going to mention that ever again! Remember?!" You attempt to be angry, but you can't help it and end up smiling.

"Okay, well now I'm curious since you two are bringing this up." Minho says with a glint in his eye.

"Y/n may or may not have had one when I slept over, and I woke up to her moaning and hump--"

This time it was your turn to slap a hand over his mouth, "Jiji, Sungie, my love, my sweet sweet SWEET best friend. I don't want to kill you, but I will." You say in a dulcet tone.

He raised his hands, eyes wide and nodded his head. You couldn't help but laugh, apparently you're a giggly drunk too.

Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Chan adjusting himself in his pants. But then you reminded yourself that it was just wishful thinking and an alcohol induced hallucination. Horny hallucination. God you needed to get over him and under someone else. This unrequited shit wasn't for you.

"I'm so never going to drop this you know, I wanna know what the hell happened." Minho smirked at you, to which you flipped him off jokingly.

It's Seungmin's turn next, and he's just staring at Jeongin with a blank face, "Have you ever had a one night stand?"

He pauses for a moment and then finally answers, "No, I haven't."

He looked at you now, asking his question, "You know what I have to ask now, right?"

"Go ahead." You challenge, fully prepared to choke down another shot and not answer his question, and he smiles.

"What's one of your kinks?"

You were unprepared for that question. And how could you know he would ask that, these men like to fuck around with your head.

"Relax, I just wanted to see your reaction." He says before chuckling.

You glared at him for a moment, halfheartedly. They think they can just retract questions when they get scared that they went too far. Screw that, you're answering.

"I guess the most simple one I have is edging." You shrug.

"The most simple one?!" Hyunjin asked.

"What are you a masochist? Edging is the worst, feels like torture to me." Ji says.

"But the build up is so delicious, and the end result is so worth it. It's so intense." Felix chimes in, "Choking too, that can be intense."

"Hm, breath play might actually be my favorite." You admit.

"Damn y/n." Ji says, eyeing you with a smile, "You're full of surprises, even to this day."

You shrug again, "Everyone has different kinks... What's one of yours?" You ask him.

He ponders for a moment, "I like being dommed sometimes."

"Big surprise." Minho says and you all laugh.

"Good one though," You nod, "That's one of mine too."

"I think I'm an exhibitionist, to an extent of course." Hyunjin says next.

"That's also not a surprise." Minho replies.

You can't help but let your eyes wander over to Chan again, while everyone else is sharing different things they're into in bed. The liquor has everyone speaking loosely. But Chan doesn't seem to care about it anymore.

You find him staring right back at you, that same look in his eyes from earlier, and you feel heat spread in your stomach, and wetness starts to pool in your panties. Maybe you weren't imagining things.

But you don't notice that Ji's observing both of you in his drunken haze. Not too faded to ignore you and Chan eye-fucking each other.

Your heart starts racing the longer you hold eye contact, and you start shifting uncomfortably on his lap, before looking away and deciding to get up.

"Alright... I need some bread to soak up this alcohol, and then I need to get home because it's already 2 in the morning." You say with a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I'm wasted right now," Jeongin says and stands, "Bed's a good idea. Goodnight everyone." And he leaves to his room.

Ji grabs your wrist, preventing you from moving, "You're not going anywhere. We're all drunk, you can't drive and no one can bring you back home."

"Fiiiiiiine," You say, "but I still want bread."

"You and your bread fixation whenever you drink." Minho mumbles, heading to the kitchen anyways to grab you some.

When he comes back he hands it to you and you start munching away happily, doing a little dance.

Meanwhile, Felix is trying to tug Chan's arms to make him stand up, but he's fighting him on it and whining. Clearly he exceeded his limit tonight drinking. He probably won't even remember the looks he was giving you, you think.

"I don't wanna go to bed." Chan whines.

Felix finally succeeds in pulling him up, "C'mon mate, you definitely need to sleep this off. You'll be miserable tomorrow. Let's get you some water too, hmm?"

Chan reluctantly holds his arm, and follows him down the hall, stumbling over his own two feet along the way. You can't help but laugh at the sight.

More of the boys say goodnight and head off to their rooms, but Ji and Minho stay with you in the living room, chatting a little longer before bed.

Ji starts going through his bags, determined that you left some pajamas here from when you slept over previously, and he kept them in a bag to give back to you. He pulls out the nightie, that you honestly forgot you brought here. But you see why you didn't ever wear it at the time. It's dark green, spaghetti straps and has lace along the bust line. It also has slits on each side of your thigh, and only covers you to the middle of your thighs. Your go to sleepware was always nighties or large tees, they're comfortable and sometimes you get hot at night. Mix in the fact that you were drinking tonight? You're already feeling overheated. But wearing this?

"Jiiiiiii, don't you have any t-shirts I can wear?" You whine.

He's already under the covers, fighting sleep, "Sorry babe... haven't done laundry... Nothing clean..."

You whine again before taking it and heading across the hall into one of the bathrooms. It was this or sleep in your sweats, and that idea sounded entirely too suffocating to you.

You slip the nightie on and brush your teeth with your designated toothbrush you had there. Jisungs idea, after you had too much tequila one night and he diligently held your hair back as you got sick.

You sigh as you're leaving, and make your way towards Ji's room. Before you reach the door though, Chan walks out of his room. He's in a black tank top, and red boxer briefs... your eyes immediately trail down and go wide. His outline clear as day. But you change your view quickly, hopefully before he notices.

It doesn't help though, now all you're doing is eyeing his arms, the muscles cut throughout them. The veins that trail all the way down to his hands. God, his hands... What wouldn't you let those hands do to you...

He scratches the back of his head, and the movement snaps you out of your gaze. You find him staring back at you for a second before answering, "Sorry, I'll just..."

You start to shake your head, "No, no. No reason to apologize." You chuckle and start shifting on your feet. You feel the skirt of your nightie swaying with you. It opened the slit wider, and Chan immediately looked down at your exposed thigh. He inhaled quietly, sucking in air through his nose.

Any other day, you'd be scrambling to cover yourself. Feeling insecure and too bare. You don't know if it was the liquor in you, but tonight? Being on display? It turned you on.

You clenched your thighs together, almost involuntarily, and Chan didn't miss that.

Time seemed to be moving too slow. He stepped towards you, nearly closing the gap between you. He's only inches away, and looking down on you. His eyes have that dark, smoldery look again. He raised his hand and brushed the curls off your face and behind your ear. When he rests his palm against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut and you lean into his touch. It's so warm, and comforting. As if it was always meant for you.

When you open your eyes, you can clearly see the lust in his is only growing. He's not holding it back anymore, biting his lip as he stares at you. You almost whimper in anticipation.

"This is your opportunity to walk away if you're not okay with me kissing you." He says lowly.

You closed your eyes, and his lips met yours. The first few seconds were sweet and soft. Almost too innocent for the heat of the moment, but then he deepened it. He was pulling you by the waist into him, running his hands down and resting them on your ass. You could easily feel how hard he was for you, even through the thin fabrics. This time you let the whimper out, and he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. When you tried to do the same, he didn't give you the chance. Instead he slipped his tongue in. It was like he was lost in desire, and greedy for more. You couldn't help it when your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

He groaned and started backing you into the wall, his lips never leaving yours. He grabbed your thighs in each hand, and hoisted you up, slotting himself between them. Your legs naturally wrapped around him, and he started rocking his length against you. His pace was achingly slow, but still delicious.

You moaned and slipped a hand up to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of hair. He breaks the kiss and throws his head back with his eyes closed. He half hisses, half groans, and you can't help but rock your hips against him harder, hoping to hear more. He grips your thigh tighter, and leans down to press a quick kiss to your neck, before licking and sucking on it. He's meeting each roll of your hips with rough thrusts. And even clothed, you feel how perfectly he's rubbing your clit.

Your head is so clouded with need. Need to be touched. Need to touch him. Need to feel him inside of you. You don't even think twice when he glides his hand up your stomach, and over your breasts. He gives one a light squeeze before moving up to wrap his fingers around your neck, and your brain loses all sense for a moment.

He's just resting his hand there, but you wish he'd do more. You're not sure if this man knows just how pliant you are for him right now.

Then he brings his lips to your ear and whispers, "Can I touch you?"

His warm breath gives you chills, and you nod your head as best as you can. But that doesn't suffice him, he stops his movements against you and his grip around your throat tightens. You think you could probably get off on it if he tightens his fingers just a bit more, but he doesn't, instead he says, "I'm going to need words, babygirl."

Your hips buck into him, and you breathe out a quiet "Yes. Please..."

With that, he yanks your face closer to his by your neck. He's squeezing ever so slightly tighter around your throat. He bites your lip and you groan. But he's quick to silence you with his tongue.

Letting go, he trailed his hand back down your body and to your core. Slowly he started to rub you through the thin lace. You were so sensitive, that when he found your clit and pressed a circle into it. You couldn't help but breathe out his name. He pushed your panties to the side, and when he felt you for the first time you felt him smile against your lips.

"Babygirl... fuck, you're so wet for me."

And as he whispered that, he slipped a finger in you. He set a steady pace, dragging against your walls with a curl. Each pump hitting your sweet spot, and the heel of his hand creating delightful friction against your swollen bud. His breathing was heavy in your ear, breaking through all your helpless whimpering. When he added a second finger, you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Chan..." You moaned louder this time, while simultaneously letting your head drop against the wall with a thud.

He pulled his lips off of you, eyes wide when he met yours. He started blinking as if he was coming back to reality. When he looked into your eyes again, he looked startled.

"What's wrong?" You pant, feeling hot and dizzy, wishing he would keep moving his hands.

Instead, he quickly slips his fingers out of you, and sets your feet on the floor. Then he backs away.

"I'm sorry, y/n... I don't know what came over me, that was incredibly inappropriate and out of character." Chan mumbled.

Your heart sinks, as you feel the sting of rejection. Tears threatened to well in your eyes, and you immediately felt the oncoming headache from holding them back. You shouldn't feel so emotional and upset. This was all spur of the moment. But you do, you feel devastated.

Regardless, you clear your throat, "I understand." You force an unsettling chuckle out, when a sob threatens to escape instead.

He puts on a blank face that feels so cold, and responds with "Don't forget to drink some water, stay hydrated... I'll be heading to bed now, you should too."

All you really want to say is don't leave, because you want to finish what was started. Because you've wanted this for so long. Because the box you kept away in the depths of your heart had ripped open once again. And all the languished emotions were here, front and center, aching to bear it all to him. To let him see. Confess. But that would be selfish, he's clearly uncomfortable with it all. He probably regrets it. An alcohol induced affair. In his eyes, a complete mistake.

So instead you say, "Okay."

Because that's all you can muster before the tears start to fall. You turn away, going back to facing Ji's door.

"Goodnight y/n... Sleep well." He says, and puts a tentative hand on your shoulder.

You shrug it off, and escape to Ji's bedroom. To your surprise he's sitting up in bed, and ushering you come to him with his arms open and bottom lip pouted out.

You run to him, a bit dramatically and fall a part in his arms. But you can't help it, you sealed these emotions away for too long. You were too hurt at the moment to even try pushing them back down.

Jisung is your life saver, he's comforting you, rubbing his fingers on your scalp and rocking you back and forth to try and calm you. He gives you time before you have to explain why exactly you're having a melt down.

"Chan's an idiot." He finally says.

And you lean back to look at him, confused on how quickly he's put two and two together.

"Well you weren't exactly quiet. Between your exaggerated moans and his animalistic grunting right outside my door, of course I heard it." He rolled his eyes jokingly and that earned a laugh from you.

You smacked him lightly, "I was lost in the moment... don't judge me."

"Jagi..." He says, and wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, "You've liked him for so much longer than a moment."

Your heart starts pounding faster again. How could he know that. It's the one thing you've kept from him, from everyone, hell you even denied it to yourself for as long as possible. Was it that obvious? Who else knows? You go to speak, fear written across your face.

"No. You were not obvious, in fact you're an amazing actor. I'm sure none of the other members noticed, and definitely no one else at work knew." He answers before you can even get words out.

You nod slowly, "So then, how'd you know?"

He smiled proudly, "I'm a people watcher, I see all."

You smack him again, a little harder this time.

"Alright, alright, but I really did see all the looks you'd give him when no one else was watching... I know what longing looks like, and..." he trailed off.

You knew that wasn't all, "And?"

"Aaaaand... maybe that night you had that wet dream. You were moaning his name while humping the pillow..."

"You never told me that!" You shoved your head into your hands, distraught.

"Well I didn't want to embarrass you! I honestly didn't think you looked at any of us that way until then. Like I said, a good actor. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready to."

You sighed, "I'm sorry. It's just a stupid crush, it'll pass."

"You're grown, you don't have to apologize to anyone for liking someone. But y/n," He cupped your cheek forcing you to look at him again, "this isn't just a simple crush, is it?"

With that question, you felt the tears spilling all over again. He pulled you to lay down with him, holding you tight against him and letting you cry it all out. Somewhere between his low humming, and your quiet weeping, you fell asleep.

When you blink the sleep away from your eyes the next morning, you're still entangled with Ji. He's literally wrapped around you like a koala.

You snort out a laugh and go to check the time on your phone. 7:30 am, entirely too early. You decide to try and fall back asleep, but last night's events rush back to you. Dread fills your chest, and your fight or flight kicks in. You're trying to gently escape Ji's hold, and not hyperventilate. The latter is more difficult but, since that man can sleep through anything, you were able to succeed.

You get changed back into your clothes, and leave a note for him saying that you're leaving and you'll text him when you get home. You can't bear to face Chan, let alone anyone else who might've heard you two last night. So you decide to skip out on the usual coffee and breakfast routine. You all have that tradition after a drunken night, but you know Ji will cover for you with everyone anyways.

You're rushing down the hall, wanting to grab your things and head for the door. Panic is starting to bubble over, and you're haphazardly covering yourself up to be unnoticeable. As you're slipping the mask over your face, a voice stops you.

"Morning... don't you want to stay for breakfast?"

You can't bring yourself to look at Chan, those words only setting the box of emotions in your heart on fire. You know he only means it in the way that it is an unbroken tradition. No matter how sick one of you gets, group breakfast is a must for recuperation. No one has skipped it in the months you've been doing it. We all take care of each other. But the idea makes your mouth bitter, because you wish it was just you two. Alone. Making breakfast the morning after earth shattering sex. And the fact he doesn't mean it in that way in the slightest makes tears prick back into your eyes.

Yes, you know you're being petty. You should stick it through for your friends. Take a page from Chan and act like nothing ever happened. You just can't find it inside you to care, you need to go home and lick your wounds before facing anyone here again. Call it childish, but you didn't care.

You're struggling to find words and just blurt out, "No thanks." And rush out the door, heading to the safety of your car.

You left Chan standing there. Unbeknownst to you, hurting just as much.

Special thank you to @jeonginsleftcheek who encouraged me through finishing this! I had finished it, and then accidentally deleted the entire ending. But in turn, that was a good thing I think... because now there'll be a part 2! If you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know and I'll start one! Feedback is always cherished, but be gentle pleeeeeeeease ♡

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marblehazel · 1 month ago

Text

Deeper

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Part Two of Sitter

After nine months of no contact since the night Joel spent at your house, you run into him again over winter break.

Tags: Explicit MDNI, no outbreak, age gap, hurt/comfort, lots of feelings and tensions and arguing, which eventually lead to, car sex, unprotected penetration, fingering, first kiss (yay?!!)

Word count: 8.1k

You wake up disoriented.

The first thing your brain registers is how hot your face feels. After blinking a few times, you squint and look around. Sunlight is pouring through the window to the room, hitting you with what feels like a gigajoule worth of heat right on your cranium. You yank the blanket that is covering you away, cursing at how hot and sweaty you are under.

Supporting yourself up with your elbows, you plant your feet on the floor before sitting up straight, stretching your back and arms and groaning while doing so. You scare yourself hearing how nasally your voice is. Your mind runs, dissecting the events from the previous night.

Oh, right. You were sick last night. You slept in front of the TV after taking some medication. You remember the ache in your muscles and joints, the debilitating fever. How you embodied a person in Victorian times on their deathbed, pale and sickly, and all they wanted was to see the garden for one last time. You touch your forehead, and then your neck. Seems like the fever has gone away, leaving your skin sticky with sweat. Your nose isn’t stuffy anymore. And the sore throat is almost gone. You should send a love letter to Vicks headquarters.

While rubbing your face, you are hit by the sudden realization of this strangely vivid dream you had about Joel. It was definitely a wet one, on top of how it was obviously strange and came out-of-nowhere. The kind of dream only fever and probably too much Benadryl can produce. You remember that in the dream, you were watching TV with Joel, and it escalated to going down on him before he went down on you. Fuck, that was embarrassing. And so… porn-y. Straight out of a cheap adult video production company. Ooh, look at me, I’m sick and I’m alone and my dad’s hot friend came and ate my pussy out. What’s next, a plumbing guy? A pizza delivery boy?

Going upstairs is a chore. Your joints are stiff and the knob of the upstairs bathroom’s door gets stuck from time to time, and apparently today is the time. After almost kicking it down, you run the tap and give your face a good wash with cold water, resuscitating your brain cells from doxylamine-induced coma. After that, the very much needed teeth brushing.

You glance at the mirror, cringing at how disheveled your reflection looks. Maybe you should take a hot shower while you’re at it. Toothbrush still in mouth, you run your fingers through your hair, feeling the oily scalp under your fingertips.

And that’s when you find the proof of Joel’s visit. His release, not even fully dried up, is lodged between the strands of hair near your forehead. You pick at it and bring the sample to your nose, half hoping it’s snot. One whiff and it’s confirmed. The dreamy sequence of Joel Miller eating you out was, in fact, not a dream.

The realization hits like a truck. Your body is ahead of your mind and before you realize it, you’re already halfway downstairs, almost tripping and splitting your skull on the staircase. You turn the living room upside down, trying to find your phone. Eventually, you find it after digging in every crook and corner of the couch. It’s dead. You quickly plug it in and wait for the home screen to appear. 4 missed calls from your father, 2 from Amy. A bunch of texts.

Dad

Sweetie? I was asleep. I am so sorry you’re going through it alone. I called Joel. He should be on his way.

Is he there yet?

Didn’t hear from Joel and I can’t reach you. Please call me ASAP.

I hope you’re just asleep. Rest up and text me when you’re finally awake, okay 👍

Sweetie?

Amy

Your dad and I are worried sick. I hope you’re feeling better! Say hi when you’re up

Make some lemon ginger tea if your throat still feels awful

Ignoring the fact that you are pretty much shaking, you scroll until you find Joel’s contact, checking if he has left any message before leaving. The last conversation was from him last year on your birthday, to which you said thanks with a bunch of emojis. Nothing new. You check around the house, thinking maybe Joel left a note. Also nothing.

The house is eerily clean from his trace. In the kitchen you find everything is where it should be, and he even took the trash out. The front lawn seems unchanged, too. No tire marks on the driveway, no flattened grass, no dried mud in the shape of the sole of his boots on the porch. It’s like he was never here.

If you hadn’t found the remains of his semen on you, you would totally believe last night was just a dirty fantasy that somehow managed to override your brain while asleep.

You’re not sure what to do, or even how to feel. Guilt? Disgust? You guess it wouldn’t have bothered you that much if not for the fact that Joel tried his best to pretend he never visited. It makes your stomach churns.

Your phone rings. Dad.

“Sweetheart?”

“Dad,”

A relieved sigh from the other end. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I can run a marathon.” you let out a breathy laugh. “Sorry I left you worried last night. I took some NyQuil and slept,”

That was technically not a lie.

“Yeah? I figured. Did Joel come? He said he would check, but we haven’t heard anything—”

Fucking pussy, you mouth. “Uh, I was probably asleep when he came. If—he came.”

Not only did he come figuratively, he also came metaphorically.

A faint ding sound, and your father pauses to read the notification. “Ah, there he is! Sorry… Car broke down… Phone died… Couldn’t find the damn charger. Ha!”

You chuckle dryly, heart sinking. “Yeah, it was storming last night, too, so…”

“Ah,” he gasps. “Well I sure do hope he wasn’t in the middle of the road when his car broke down! Did I tell you about that one time a chair—“

You can’t hear anything past that.

Joel is scared.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about what happened since the second he left your house. He doesn’t even remember driving home. One moment he was grinning as you skipped your way to the land of dreams, the next he was pulling on his jeans with shaking hands, and then he was standing in the middle of his kitchen staring at the microwave clock, heart thundering like he just ran ten miles.

What the fuck did I do? It plays in his head on a loop, over and over again. Not the way your mouth felt, not the way your voice cracked when you begged, not even the way you looked up at him with those wet, feverish eyes like you needed him more than air. No. None of the good stuff. Just the guilt. The sinking, oil-thick weight in his chest when he looked down at you and remembered who you were. Who your father is. What you meant to him before last night blurred all the lines.

At work, he drops a box on his foot. Snaps at someone who didn’t deserve it. Spends a full ten minutes staring at a power drill someone hands to him to fix, unable to remember what the fuck he’s supposed to be doing. His head isn’t screwed on right. It’s full of images he doesn’t want to replay, and feelings he doesn’t know what to do with.

You text him mid-afternoon.

Thank you for last night. I hope you have a good day at work.

He sees it pop up on his screen while he’s staring blankly at the schedule of the construction, unable to assess whether it’s on track or not. He doesn’t open the message. Doesn’t reply. Can’t.

Another one comes two hours later.

Can we talk? I was thinking maybe dinner. At my place, or yours, or anywhere you want. Please?

He turns his phone off and tells himself it’s the right thing. That not answering is kinder than… indulging you. That if he keeps quiet, maybe it’ll just fade. Maybe you’ll forget. Or at least catch the hint.

He spends the rest of the day in silence. Takes the long way home. Opens a beer and leaves it on the counter untouched. Stares out the window until the sun goes down and he’s just a silhouette in his own house. Feels like a coward. Because he is.

He knows he should regret it because it was wrong.

He does regret it.

But with each minute passing, it comes to his mind that he doesn’t regret making you come apart in his hands as much as he regrets—and realizes —how badly he’s wanted it for longer than he should have. How despite him trying so hard to deny and fight himself on it, the first word that came to his mind when you looked at him like that last night, all flushed and needy and trusting as he spent himself on you, was ‘finally’.

Back at your place, you sit curled on the couch with your phone in your hands, screen glowing against your knees. You check it every few minutes. Nothing. You start composing a message, delete it. Try again. Delete that one too. Eventually, you just set the phone down and bury your face in your hands.

You don’t even know why you’re crying. Maybe it’s the way he left. Or the way he’s pretending it didn’t happen. Or maybe it’s just that being sick and alone is already shitty enough without adding heartbreak to the list.

Heartbreak? You laugh at your own thoughts, but nothing comes out of your vocal cord.

You eat some stale bread over the sink for dinner that night, tears still running down your cheeks.

You make up your mind around noon, halfway through a cold cup of tea you never meant to finish. The ache in your chest hasn't dulled, not even after crying yourself to sleep and waking up three separate times just to check your phone like some pathetic addict. No new messages. No missed calls. You drive over to his house like a goddamn lunatic, cursing yourself when you keep checking yourself on the rearview mirror like Joel would care.

You wait. Hours pass. The sun shifts. You scroll. You text Amy some bullshit about feeling “a little better.” You rehearse what you're going to say and then un-rehearse it because you know damn well you’ll go off-script the second you see his face.

Every truck that drove by had your heart in your throat, but none of them were Joel’s until now. You see the familiar beat-up Ford come up the street, slow into the driveway. Your whole body goes still. His expression passes through surprise, confusion, resignation. Then he gets out, slams the door, and approaches.

“What are you doin’ here?” he says, cautious. Almost gentle.

You shrug like you just happened to be in the neighborhood. “Thought we could talk.”

Joel doesn’t say anything at first, just exhales through his nose and unlocks the door. “C’mon in.”

The house is dim, cooled by the late afternoon. Lived-in, but quiet. He toes off his boots at the entryway. You follow suit.

“Been out here long?” he asks, not looking at you.

“Just a bit,” you lie.

He nods like he knows you’re lying. Heads to the kitchen, opens the fridge.

“You hungry?”

“No.”

“I got leftovers. Chicken and rice. You could eat.”

You smirk, bitter and tired. “I gotta say, you have a very interesting modus operandi. Feed me, eat my pussy, then act like I don’t exist, and then feed me again. By the pattern I guess you’ll eat my pussy again after this? Can’t wait.”

Joel closes the fridge, slow and quiet. Doesn’t move. “Quit it, kid.”

“Quit it, kid,” You parrot him, leaning against the counter, trying to keep your cool. “Oh sorry, you know, for having the balls to talk to your face.”

His face doesn’t shift, not even the tiniest bit, and it only pisses you off more. “The way you were just, gone, and all. Didn’t even leave a note or something. Lied to my dad, saying you didn’t even come over. Like it was so disgusting you don’t even want to remember. Like I was disgusting.” Each word is delivered sharper than the last without you meaning to.

He sighs. Deep, guttural. Like this whole thing is dragging something out of him he’s spent years trying to bury. He finally looks at you, and you wish he wouldn’t. There’s too much in his eyes. Grief, guilt, something like longing, but dulled at the edges.

“It was a mistake,” he says, low.

You hold your arms across your chest like they might catch you if you fall. “You didn’t stop me. You could, but you didn’t. You wanted it as much as I did, Joel.”

“I know.” He takes a small step toward you, then stops himself. “And I ain’t proud of that.”

“Why?” Own it, Joel, don’t take it back, you want to say, but your voice cracks before you can voice the rest of it out loud.

“Because you’re you,” he echoes, pain blooming in every syllable. “Because I’ve known you forever. Because I used to sit on that porch with your dad talkin’ about you. Because I care about you and that means I shouldn’t want you the way I do.”

You blink fast. The weight of it lands too heavy in your gut, and you both stand in silence for what feels like years.

“You know,” you say, forcing levity. “It’s not like I was about to ask you to marry me.”

Joel exhales through a tired, pained laugh. “Didn’t think you were.”

Joel looks at you for a long, long moment. And when he finds you silent, processing, his voice softens again—dangerously soft, like the floor’s about to give way.

“You’re beautiful. You’re strong. One day you’re gonna have someone who sees you and knows exactly what you need and gives it without all this…mess.”

“But it won’t be you.” you look at him, fighting the feeling of barbed wire closing around your throat.

“No. It won’t be me.”

The way he said it. Soft. Like he was trying not to scare a stray duckling away. Like he was mending pieces of a broken vase and loud noises would make it shatter again. He knows you. You know he’s not trying to hurt you. But it still stings, opening an old wound somewhere that you can’t locate.

The silence after that is unbearable. You hate that he said it kindly. You wish he’d screamed, or thrown something, or just been a dick so you’d have a reason to stay angry. But no. He just says it with that same sad softness that makes your chest cave in.

You force a brittle laugh. “Well. I guess I’ll go let someone else ruin my life, then.”

Joel’s mouth twitches like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

You move to the door. “Take care, Joel.”

“You too, kid.”

“And. Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t. My fault as much as yours.”

“Yeah. I hope you, uh, go find someone that’s not… uh,”

“My friend’s kid?” Joel cuts, filling in the blank.

“Yeah,” you laugh dryly.

“Right,” Joel concurs. “Someone that’s not, uh, affiliated with me, I guess.”

You don’t see Joel again after that. You don’t tell a soul about what happened, either.

After that conversation with Joel, you drive your blue Pontiac Vibe back home, all teary and snotty. Two days after that you spend in front of the TV, eyes pointed at the screen but mind elsewhere. Your tears dry soon after, and you ridicule yourself for reacting so strongly over the whole thing like you are going through a divorce or something. You blame it on the hormones.

Your father and Amy come back home later that week, all tanned and radiant. They bring back a vintage jewelry dish for you and a leather wallet for Joel, plus a couple bottles of artisan wine. Your father suggests inviting Joel over for dinner before you go back to school, but before you get to find a convincing excuse to not have to participate in said dinner, Joel declines the invite, saying he is busy handling a big project. While setting the jewelry dish on your vanity, you lament how you should’ve probably gone to Italy instead of staying home.

That weekend you drive back to college. Nothing really changes. Same old routines of going to class and the library, occasional hangouts with friends. By three or four weeks, you have forgotten how seemingly serious the whole ordeal was. The days stretch out, lazily unfolding into summer.

Your father proposes to Amy in July. They send you pictures of the ring and them smiling. Amy cries tears of happiness on the phone, and you discuss the best time to hold the wedding and where, what color and theme, which friends and acquaintances should get invited, and if you’d bring a special someone. You laugh it off.

One day late summer your father sends pictures of him and Joel fishing. Joel is wearing a baseball cap in the picture, biceps flexing as he’s holding the biggest bass you had ever seen, its green scales glistening under the sun. God, he is insufferable. Isn’t bass hard to catch during this time? Even a fish finds Joel irresistible, it seems like. Your father puts his classic goofy smile while having his arms out, holding a phantom fish. In the other picture is Tommy with a catfish. “Day out with the boys 👍” your father captions.

Summer goes by, and fall doesn't stay long. You don’t go home for Thanksgiving, opting to take a few small jobs around the school while taking care of your roommate who landed on her ankle wrong trying to copy a girl from the cheer team.

When winter break starts, she’s picked up by her family and you drive back to your hometown, the two hour trip spent singing and pointing at things around the highway to yourself.

You hug your father and Amy first thing after stepping out of the car. The first meal you have together is warm, fun, familiar. You do the dishes and plan to catch up with old friends in town before Christmas.

The next day, you go out to go Christmas shopping. You have secured a really nice silk scarf for Amy after seeing a same one worn by a friend in school that you think would totally go well with her purse, but nothing yet for your father. He’d be satisfied with a tie or a pair of socks, but maybe you’ll get some air dry clay and sculpt something to keep on his nightstand.

After copping some art supplies, wrapping paper, and ribbons from a chaotic Hobby Lobby, you walk around the mall and get a few books your father might like. Next stop is a makeup store, and you swatch some lipstick on the back of your hand before checking out two, one for yourself and one to fill Amy’s stocking.

You catch up with an old friend in the afternoon, drinking smoothies instead of margaritas because she’s apparently pregnant. Baby Daddy? Your crush in middle school. They didn’t know each other until last January, when she hit his truck trying to parallel park and exchanged numbers to give him her insurance information and they allegedly “fell in love at first sight”. It’s not like you and this guy had ever progressed past stealing glances in the hallway, but it still hurts your ego and quite possibly starts a premature existential crisis. Quarter-life crisis, if you will.

You say goodbye and decide that you need a drink. In the area is a sports bar, and for a brief period you think any kind of bar will do as long as they got liquor. But inside the bar there are far too many people occupying a limited space waiting for the game to begin on large TVs mounted over the bar, and it doesn’t seem suitable to drink and maybe cry while people are cursing over a missed field goal. You quickly go back to your car, feeling suffocated, and flee the scene.

The road was surprisingly clear, as is the sky, but the radio plays the most obnoxiously ill-sounding songs that get to your temper. You smash the buttons, almost hitting the curb. Twenty curse words don’t satisfy you and you turn the car and rear into an empty parking spot in the back of a bar that looks quieter than the one you previously visited. You ditch your sweater, leaving out a padded tank top that shows your outline in the best way, thinking maybe you can at least get somebody inside to notice—maybe even fuck the feeling of being left behind out of your brain in the parking lot. Anyone. Anything, really. Maybe the universe will feel bad and throw a fall-in-love-at-first-sight there for free, too.

Your eyes sweep the vicinity upon entering. It’s quiet inside. Even the jukebox is playing on a low volume. Under ten people are scattered around the tables and bar, some of them conversing, a tall man playing pool by himself, the bartender straightening bottles on the shelf.

A familiar figure is sitting alone on the stool by the bar, his shoulders stretched to the front, posture almost slumped, but it doesn’t hide the broad that his frame is. Your heart sinks when you realize who it is.

“Joel,” You call from behind him. Upon hearing his name, he slightly turns his back and his eyes find yours.

“Kid!” He raises his eyebrows in surprise, teeth showing behind his almost-too-long beard that he likes to grow out every winter. He stands up and almost opens both of his arms to embrace you before he visibly realizes something, pulling you into a side hug instead, giving a couple pats to your arm.

“Been a while,” he says as he sits back down. You take a seat on the dark wooden stool beside him, placing your purse on the bar.

He asks what you want to drink and gestures to the bartender after you tell him you’ll have what he’s having. He then slightly faces you before asking when you arrived in town.

“Couple days ago,” you fidget with the bottle just set in front of you. It’s cold under your fingertips, and you can feel the condensation forming. “You looked so gloomy. Can’t find someone here that is not affiliated with you to take home?” You gently nudge his shoulder, teasing.

Joel chuckles, shaking his head before taking another swig of his beer.

“Eh, just usual shit day at work,” he shrugs.

“People still renovate this time of the year?” you furrow your brows.

“That’s the thing—They’re pushin’ for everythin’ to be done in one night before family comes over like I'm a genie in a lamp.”

You chuckle sympathetically before taking a sip of the beer. The smooth rounded glass mouth touching your lips, your lip gloss staining the already foggy surface. You feel Joel staring, and you would prefer it if it wasn’t true. But you don’t check to confirm. The carbonation is sizzling weakly on your tongue. Hops and malt are not exactly your favorite. But what wouldn’t you give to appear more relatable in Joel Miller’s eyes? When you set the bottle down on the bar, Joel is looking at his own bottle.

“How’s the old man?” he asks, shifting in his seat.

“Oh, the usual.” You smile. “Did Dad invite you over for dinner on Christmas Eve, yet? If not, you’re invited.”

Joel smiles. Your father did, and he said no, but he lets himself enjoy your courtesy, avoiding declining your invitation blatantly. He then asks if you’re on track to graduate next year, to which you spoil him with the stories of things that had happened to you during the nine-months of no contact with him. He listens intently, chuckling as you go, at one point supporting the side of his head using his hand with elbow on the bar. You look so lovely under the warm overhead light, and Joel suppresses the urge to focus on how your eyes gleam instead of your story.

You don’t change at all, he thinks. Still as sweet as ever. He’s amused by how you seem unaffected by whatever happened between the two of you. The cheerful optimism, almost naive way of thinking that is only wasted on the youth. Or maybe it just didn’t mean that much to you, he reckons.

Somehow the thought breaks his heart.

In this new angle his eyes catch the pool player eyeing you before moving to him. Joel’s pretty sure the stickman furrows his brows before looking at you again, an unreadable expression on his face. Like questioning.

Like accusing.

Suddenly he becomes hyper aware of how this looks again, of his age, of your age, of how he’s betraying the only person he can call a friend, of how he’s ‘preying’ on the young or something. His shoulders are getting tense, his spine leaning ever so slightly away from you.

He’s being paranoid. He’s not even touching you. The last time his skin touched your skin was almost a year ago. But he can’t help himself.

“…and they said they are probably gonna get married next year when the baby’s here, and it’s not like I’m angry, or jealous, you know? It’s just—“

“Sorry, I’m gonna, uh, use the restroom.” he clears his throat before scurrying away. You mutter a quick ‘okay’ before fidgeting with your bottle again, wondering if you killed the vibe by telling him the old friend old crush situation. Maybe that kind of story is best reserved for a person like your roommate and not a fifty something year old contractor that you fucked once. Well, you didn’t exactly fuck him. But.

You sigh and stare into the neck of your bottle. The soft hum of the jukebox continues, a Teddy Pendergrass song now drifting in like fog. You tap your nail absent-mindedly against the glass, annoyed at yourself for rambling, for oversharing, for hoping too much again. Not to mention how acutely aware you are of how cold your shoulders feel now, how your exposed arms—meant to be a silent dare to the universe—now just make you look lost. Just a sad and lonely fool looking for some quick-relief, when you know deep inside that’s not what you want at all, now that you’ve seen him again.

You feel... stupid. Joel might not even come back—he probably has left the bar now for all you know, not being able to handle this again. You reach for your purse, pretending to search for something to stop yourself from thinking.

A voice interrupts.

“Trouble in paradise?”

You turn slightly. The pool player—tall, maybe late twenties, shaggy hair and a smirk that tells you everything you need to know—has approached and is now leaning one elbow against the bar. Too close. To think that you would’ve been waiting for this moment if not for meeting Joel…

And, god, he’s not it. Not even close. All you can see now is how un-Joel he is. You’re offended you almost let yourself settle for this. You straighten a bit. “Excuse me?”

He gestures loosely toward the empty stool beside you. “Mind if I sit?”

“I do.”

That makes him chuckle, but he sits anyway. “Didn’t mean to overhear, but sounds like you and your... old man had a disagreement.”

You blink slowly, then roll your eyes. “He’s not my dad.”

“Oh,” the guy replies, his eyes shifting a little like he’s just caught the scent of blood. “So... that older guy isn’t your father. Interesting.”

“Not really,” you say coolly. “He’s just someone I know.”

“Sure. Someone you know.” He lets the words hang in the air, thick with implication. “Well then. I was gonna say, it’s a shame someone like you is wasting your night sitting next to—what is he, your boss or somethin’?”

You push your bottle away, now entirely uninterested in the drink or the conversation. “Do you want something or are you just trying to see how many wrong assumptions you can fit into a minute?”

He leans in just a touch, eyes gleaming like he thinks this is all flirtation. “How about we step outside? Get some air. I know a place not far from here where you can actually hear yourself think.”

“I don’t need air,” you reply evenly. “I need you to get lost.”

The guy’s smile falters for a second, just enough to show what’s underneath—the entitlement, the ugly little bruise of a rejected ego.

“You sure? Doesn’t look like that guy’s coming back anytime soon.”

You don’t get to answer.

“She said she’s good.”

You both turn. Joel’s standing just behind the man now, tall and still, a hand resting loosely at his side. His expression is deceptively calm, but his eyes are hard, unblinking.

The pool guy sizes Joel up for half a second, like he’s thinking of saying something else—but he doesn't. He just shrugs and backs off.

“No harm meant, man,” he mutters, walking off toward the tables again.

Joel waits until the guy is fully gone before he turns to you. “You alright?”

You nod once, your face hot. “Yeah. I was fine.”

Joel doesn’t say anything. He just settles back onto the stool beside you and places his bottle down, fingers wrapping around the glass with a quiet tension.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

You glance over. Joel’s jaw is clenched. His thumb moves idly over a drop of condensation on the bottle. You want to say something to lighten the moment, but your throat is tight. There’s something about the way he’s sitting—close but not too close. Like if he touches you he’ll lose the reins completely. But still, he stayed. Still, he came back.

“Thanks for stepping in,” you say softly.

Joel turns his head to you then, eyes meeting yours with that unbearable softness he reserves only for the moments where he’s too tired to hide it. He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t trust himself to do it.

“I’d do it again.” he says.

The jukebox changes to a quieter track. You wonder if he knows what he just said. If he knows what he means.

“Ain’t you cold in that?” Joel gestures toward you with the heel of his bottle. He takes a quick gulp right after, like the words tasted too vulnerable coming out and need to be drowned fast.

You blink at him. “Oh—this?” You look down at yourself, arms bare, chest rising in the tight tank top. Suddenly you feel exposed, and not in the sexy, power-holding way you imagined when you ditch the outer layer of the outfit. “Left my coat in the car. Thought it’d be warmer in here.”

Joel’s mouth presses into a line. He nods like he accepts that, but it bugs him. You can tell. He drains the rest of his bottle and taps the bar for the check.

You step outside a few minutes later together, the door shutting behind you with a low mechanical thunk. The cold hits instantly. You cross your arms in front of your chest, trying to fake composure, but it bites through the fabric quick. Joel walks beside you in silence, hands deep in his pockets, his boots heavy against the pavement.

“You sure you’re alright to drive?” he asks, voice low.

“Yeah. Only had the one.” You shrug, still not looking at him.

The parking lot’s near empty. His truck and your car sit apart, like siblings who got into a fight and were told to face opposite corners. Nine months, wasted down the drain. You could’ve lived a very different life if he didn’t push you away—maybe today would’ve been an illicit date instead, your arms linking, his jacket on your shoulders. Alas.

“Guess this is where we say goodbye again,” you mutter, half-laughing, but it lands bitter and brittle in the cold air.

Joel exhales, annoyed. “Don’t start.”

“What?” You turn to face him now, jaw set, but the disbelieving scoffs can’t stop making their presence known, and you’re halfway to freeze to death yet the glacier encasing your anger, your sadness, is melting down out of nowhere. “You don’t like hearing how it felt like shit?”

Joel blinks. “That’s not what I—”

“No, I know what you said,” you snap, stepping closer, heat rising in your throat. “You said it wasn’t right. You said it shouldn’t have happened. I heard you the first time, Joel, pretty much the only thing I could think about for the past nine months, by the way.”

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s trying to shut it out. “Shut up, for god’s sake, just, cut it, it’s not—” He stops himself, lips pressing into a hard line.

“It’s not right? Yeah, it’s not fucking right alright, Joel. Sorry I manipulated you into agreeing to get your dick sucked or something. My fault.” You throw your hands in the air, desperate to leave, to drive and step on the gas, yet your feet are unbudging.

“Kid,”

“I’m not a kid!” you snap, eyes burning. And you fucking hate how much you’re the only one ‘furious’ and ‘emotional' here, essentially proving yourself to be as immature as Joel probably thinks. It makes your head spin with rage. He says something, but you keep shooting. “Stop calling me that. I came into that bar tonight thinking maybe, maybe, I could move on—and then I saw you, because of course, of course of all places and all fucking time in the entirety of Austin County you had to be there—and I knew. I can’t.”

“You’re bleeding,” he says again, clearer, louder.

You blink. “What?”

“Your nose. It’s—shit—” He fumbles in his coat pocket and pulls out a napkin, stepping forward to press it into your hand. “Here.”

You touch your nose and wince at the warm stickiness trickling down your lip.

“Goddammit,” you mutter, tilting your head back, suddenly humiliated. You swipe at it, annoyed, feeling foolish and hot all over. The cold, maybe. Or your body just caving under the weight of it all.

“Get in the truck,” Joel says.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, eyes stinging.

“Get in the goddamn truck.” he says again, and you finally move.

The inside of the truck is still warm. You climb in stiffly, heart still pounding from the fight, blood still trickling into the damp napkin. Joel gets in a second later, slamming the door, rummaging through the console for something better than the now-soaked paper.

The silence is thick.

You sit there, breathing hard, your throat tight. Joel shifts in his seat, jaw ticking, hands clenched on the wheel like it's the only thing keeping him tethered. You dab at your nose with a fresh tissue, watching the red smear dull across the paper. You're still simmering, blood still hot, even as your face feels cold and clammy.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “But you can’t blame me for feeling.”

He turns then. Slowly. Like if he moves too fast, he might break something. His eyes are molten, locked on yours, full of restraint barely holding.

“You think I don’t feel?” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel sliding down a slope. “You think I don’t—every fuckin’ day—I try not to think about it. About you.” His chest rises like he’s swallowing a scream. “You walked in that bar tonight and I swear to god—”

The air goes taut.

Something in him snaps.

One hand reaches across the console, rough fingers curling around the back of your neck, the other on your thigh, hauling you over the center divide like the whole world is breaking under him and you’re the only thing he needs to hold onto.

And then he kisses you.

His mouth crashes onto yours with months of hunger behind it, years of guilt and need unraveling all at once. It’s not careful or measured—it’s needy, punishing. Teeth clashing, lips bruising, breath stolen. You gasp into his mouth and clutch the front of his jacket like you’ll die if he pulls away.

Your legs are halfway in his lap now, the cold forgotten, the bloody napkin crumpled under your thigh. His hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head just how he wants it, deepening the kiss until your moan slips free—and he lets out a low sound from his throat, like he’s been starving and just remembered what full tastes like.

When he pulls back, just barely, your lips are slick, swollen. You chase him, whimpering, desperate for more, but he’s just looking at you.

“This is wrong,” he murmurs, voice shaking.

“Then stop,” you whisper back, eyes locked on his.

His breath stutters. His mouth opens. But the words don’t come.

Because he can’t.

The second kiss is worse—worse because it’s better. Hotter. Deeper. There’s no hesitation in it now. No breath between. Joel’s hand cradles the back of your head as your mouth parts under his, teeth catching on his lip before he swallows the sound you make. It’s a kiss meant to punish both of you—for the months you lost, for the things unsaid, for the heat neither of you dared acknowledge until now.

You shift closer, knee on the seat, hands fumbling for his jacket to drag him closer. Joel grunts, half in surprise, half in surrender, pulling you practically across the console. His large hands span your back like he needs to anchor himself to your body or else spin out.

When you roll your hips forward, testing the waters, he chokes out a low, broken noise that sounds like something breaking in his chest.

“Jesus, kid—”

“I’m not a kid,” you breathe. “Not with you. Never was.”

He exhales sharp through his nose, forehead still pressed to yours like he’s trying to restrain himself. But the restraint is dying fast. He palms your waist, thumbs dragging along your ribs like he’s memorizing them.

You kiss down the side of his jaw, your breath warm against his scruff, the beard tickling your lips. He smells like old leather and pine, like beer and smoke and winter air. It’s dizzying.

“Fuck,” he murmurs when you nip at the sensitive spot beneath his ear. His fingers twitch on your skin. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you back in—no more space, no more questions. Just mouths and hands and breath. The kind of kiss that’s nearly a collision, like two storms crashing into each other.

You don’t even remember when your legs end up straddling him in the seat, your thighs bracketing his, but suddenly he’s beneath you, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, and you grind down on him with a gasp you can’t swallow.

Joel curses, low and rough and reverent. His head falls back against the seat as your lips trail down his throat, and he lets you, lets you taste him, own him, just for a moment. His hand slides down your lower back, wiggling its way through your almost-too-tight pants, trembling just a little as it curves over the swell of your ass. You reach down to unclasp the button and give him more space to work with.

His mouth finds yours again, sloppier now, breathless. Your nails scrape his chest through his flannel, and he groans into your mouth like it’s killing him. And maybe it is.

You rock against him again, slower this time, deliberate. Joel exhales like he’s in pain. Not from you, never from you—but from everything else that makes this wrong when all of it feels so, so right.

You tilt your hips again, more confident now, and feel the press of him through his jeans, thick and straining. Your tank top clings to you in places now, damp from the heat growing between you, and Joel’s hand slip up beneath the hem, palms callused and warm as they coast up your spine and then over the swell of your chest, the other still fondling your ass. He breathes in sharply as his thumbs brush your nipples, and you arch into him like a lit fuse.

It’s quiet in the truck except for the rush of your breath and the sharp inhale he takes when your hands find the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers tremble only a little as you pop the button and lower the zipper. You feel him hard against your palm, feel how he flinches when your hand grazes him through his briefs.

“Jesus,” Joel murmurs against your shoulder, voice hoarse. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You smile into his neck, nipping lightly at the stubble there. “I think I do.”

His laugh is strained, like it’s breaking on the way out. His hand dips lower, over your ass, fingers curling under the waistband of your pants. “These gotta come off,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You rise up just enough to shimmy your pants down—tight denim making the motion graceless, awkward even—but Joel helps, dragging them over your thighs with a touch far gentler than it has any right to be. You tug the fabric from your ankles and throw them to the backseat. Joel reaches down, kissing your lower abdomen as he pulls your panties down, almost impatient.

“Jesus,” he says again when you’re bare from the waist down, pulling you back into his lap, one hand palming your breast through the thin cotton of your top, the other settling between your thighs like it belongs there. You’re already soaked, and he groans when he feels it, followed by your own gasps and restrained moans.

“You’re killin’ me,” he whispers against your collarbone, and then you kiss him again—messy, open-mouthed, full of teeth and need. He kisses you like he’s starving. Like he wants to memorize every corner of your mouth. Like he doesn’t want to ever come up for air.

You both know this can’t last. That this little world, this heat and ache and dizzying need, exists only for now. That when it ends, things might not be the same. But none of it matters when he finally pushes his briefs down and you both freeze for just a moment—because this is the point of no return.

You meet his eyes. They’re wide and dark and a little scared, same as yours.

Then you sink down.

A gasp breaks from both of you, raw and involuntary. His hands clench hard at your hips as your bodies connect, slow but sure, the stretch pulling a sound from your throat that you try to smother against his shoulder. Joel swears again, under his breath, grounding himself in your skin, your heat.

He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in like a man on fire finally finding water.

You move in a slow rhythm. Not rushing, not taking, just being. Registering the shape of his cock inside you and the sweet symphony of squelch every time you sink back into him. His hands map your torso, breath uneven like he’s three inhales away from dying, but he’s smiling.

“Can’t believe you’re here,” he mutters. “Can’t believe I’m…”

You shush him gently, fingers threading through his hair, tugging. “Just feel. Don’t think.”

But he does think. You can feel it in the way he holds you, in the way he kisses the base of your throat like an apology and a promise all in one.

He doesn’t last long. The build-up, the months of repression, the way you move over him, how warm you are, how soft. It’s all too much.

You feel it before he does: the subtle tremble of his legs, the catch in his breath. He comes with a low, guttural sound against your neck, holding you to him like the act alone might stop time. It’s filling you up, warm and strange and by all means should make you panic, but it doesn’t. Instead, you impossibly feel the organs inside your ribs soften, the muscles of your walls clenching around him greedily, as if trying to hold onto him forever.

You go still, still joined, breath shallow and skin damp. His eyes close, jaw tight.

“Shit,” he says, guilt setting in immediately. “I—I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead. “It’s okay, Joel.”

He doesn’t look at you as he lifts you up and turns your back to face him, your cunt already missing his softening cock. You position yourself on his lap, cheek touching his equally sweaty cheek as he holds your frame with one arm in place, the other reaches down to the still pulsing, overall sensitive skin.

“I got you,” he whispers, voice strained, remorseful, full of something you can’t name.

His fingers are slow and sure, working with grit and determination despite the narrow space and nearly awkward angle, and you reach to grab his arm.

“Joel, Joel,” you whine. The pleasure builds up, stronger this time, like it’s an arm reach away. He pins you into place, the pad of his thumb not losing its steady pace on your clit, the others somehow pushing, slightly curling inside you, covered by his own spend and your juice. You buck your hips forward, swallowing screams, it feels hot, hot, hot, your legs twitching and kicking and—

It’s like a blitz, showering you with bliss and pleasure and your body arches, chasing it like a bow.

The next thing you know, you’re limp against Joel, sweat and cum pooling on the seat.

“Safe trip, sweetie,” Amy hugs you one more time while your dad asks if you didn’t miss anything for the fourteenth time.

“Yes, Dad,” you sigh. “Print a checklist next time so we can both check and spare me the headache and anxiety, okay?”

You kiss his cheek and pat him on the shoulder. “Bye, guys.”

You’re releasing the clutch when you hear your dad shouts again, “Did you say goodbye to Joel?”

“Do I have to?” you laugh lightheartedly, putting your best acting attempt to look nonchalant.

Your dad shrugs. “He did give you a nice Christmas present. Be nice.”

“Yeah, alright.” you tap the steering wheel. “I’ll send him a text.”

The sun’s barely up when Joel shuts the trunk of your car.

Your duffel sits heavy against the bumper, almost not being able to zip up from yesterday’s clothes you crumple on top of the folded pile. The car breathes cold in the early morning air, engine idling low, your playlist queued up but not playing yet. It’s quiet. Too quiet for a goodbye, but maybe that’s the point.

You hand him his coffee back and he leans against the side of his own truck, arms folded. He’s got his jacket on, but his collar’s still turned wrong. You almost fix it, but you don’t.

It was definitely a crime to say goodbye to your unsuspecting parents and drive your car straight to Joel’s driveway, but you don’t really care about that right now. Neither does Joel, apparently.

God, you can still feel the ghost of his hands, how they held you close this morning, the fine arm hair you traced under your fingertips.

“You got everything?” he asks.

“Yeah. Got what I need.” you nod. “But if I did, I’d have a good excuse to come back.”

He chuckles. Finally, he sets the coffee on the truck bed and steps toward you.

“You drive safe, alright?” his voice is soft and almost impossible to hear as he pulls you for a quick hug.

“I will.”

His hand hovers near your waist for a second too long, like maybe he wants to pull you in again, kiss you senseless in the driveway—but doesn’t. Instead, he just looks at you like he’s memorizing something he can’t say out loud.

“Call me when you get there,” he says.

You smile. “You know I will."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #dbf!joel #dbf!joel x reader #dbf!joel miller x reader #tlou #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #dbf!joel miller

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duvetchico · 2 days ago

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game over

summary jimin drags a very lazy you out of the apartment for an impromptu arcade date.

genre fluff / crack / established relationship

pairing yu jimin x fem!reader

masterlist.

you and jimin were supposed to have a chill day.

like. netflix. food. nothing that involved pants or social interaction. easy, right?

except that apparently god wanted to see you suffer. because barely five minutes into your movie, jimin perked up and went

“baby. i wanna go to the arcade.”

you blinked. “the what.”

“arcade. like the one with the claw machines and the dance game.”

“we are literally in our pajamas.”

“so?”

you stared at her. messy hair. oversized hoodie. bunny socks.

and she wanted to go out in public.

“jimin.”

“pleaseee,” she whined, crawling into your lap and squishing your cheeks with her hands. “we can win a stupid plushie and you can brag about it to the members.”

you were this close to saying no.

but then she did that thing where she looked at you with big ass puppy eyes and tilted her head and basically murdered every last brain cell you had.

“fine,” you groaned.

“YES.”

fifteen minutes later you were in the car, both still in hoodies and sweats, jimin bouncing in her seat like a child.

“why are you so hyped,” you asked.

“because i get to show you off in public,” she grinned. “and kick your ass at air hockey.”

“bold of you to assume.”

“you love it when i’m bold.”

you choked. “shut the fuck up.”

“you dooooo,” she sang, poking your side.

you swatted her hand away, already blushing.

the arcade was packed.

kids screaming, machines beeping, neon lights everywhere.

jimin grabbed your hand and practically dragged you inside.

“first game?” you asked.

she grinned. “dance battle.”

you blinked. “excuse me?”

“you heard me.”

you wanted to protest but she was already at the dance machine, swiping the card and smirking at you like a damn villain.

“you scared?” she teased.

you narrowed your eyes. “oh you’re on.”

cue two idiots in hoodies trying to out-dance each other while random strangers stared.

you were doing fine. until jimin started adding body rolls.

“you’re cheating!” you hissed between steps.

“it’s called talent,” she winked.

you nearly missed the next move. fuck she’s so hot—

“eyes on the screen, babe,” she smirked.

you were gonna explode on the spot.

after the dance battle (which she barely won and would not shut up about), you moved to the claw machines.

“okay this one’s for you,” she said, pointing at a giant plushie.

“good luck.”

“watch and learn.”

you watched. you learned.

you also laughed your ass off when she failed three times and yelled “THIS MACHINE IS RIGGED.”

“sure, baby,” you giggled, wiping tears.

she huffed. “your turn then.”

you stepped up, focused hard… and somehow snagged the damn plushie on your first try.

“NO FUCKING WAY,” jimin shrieked.

you handed her the plushie with a grin. “for you.”

her ears turned pink. “stop. you’re so annoying.”

but she was grinning so hard it looked like her face would split in half.

next stop, air hockey.

you were determined to redeem yourself.

“winner gets a kiss,” jimin said, smirking.

you nearly choked on air. “wh—fine.”

the game started.

it was brutal. the puck flew back and forth, both of you swearing like sailors.

“STOP DEFLECTING,” jimin yelled.

“STOP CHEATING WITH YOUR SMILE.”

“THAT’S NOT EVEN—” clack goal.

you threw your head back. “FUCK.”

jimin laughed so hard she nearly fell over.

“that’s my girlfriend,” she said proudly to no one in particular. “can’t play for shit but she’s pretty.”

you blushed so hard you wanted to melt through the floor.

by the end of the night, your legs were dead, your wallet was lighter, and jimin had one giant plushie and a million photos of you being embarrassed on her phone.

you were walking back to the car when she suddenly stopped.

you turned. “what?”

she leaned in, kissed your cheek softly. “thanks for coming with me.”

your heart did a full triple backflip.

“you’re welcome, you brat,” you mumbled, cheeks on fire.

she giggled. “you’re really bad at hiding how red you get.”

“shut up.”

“nope.” she laced her fingers with yours. “i’m keeping you forever.”

you squeezed her hand. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

and just like that, you were the one turning into a puddle.

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jjenthusee · 8 months ago

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Safe House

Pairing: Red Hood x Reader

A/N: I love the idea of being afraid of Red Hood, but at the same time sharing only one brain cell with him lol ENJOY :) comment, reblog, and like if u can <3

check out pt. 2 here!

Summary: The Red Hood took you back to his safe house, as a hostage? a witness? Doesn’t matter when you can’t help but snoop around the vigilante’s safe house.

Tags: unhinged Jason, annoying that muscular man would be my love language, chaotic duo, banter, another part if u all want one??

Word Count: 706

If someone told you that you would spend your evening sweeping the floor of Red Hood’s safe house, you would not be expecting to be ten dollars richer, but you stood there, diligently sweeping the entire box of loose-leaf tea that you accidentally dropped while snooping around.

Dark tea was scattered across the old, but clean floorboards. You grimaced at the thought of tiny tea leaves permanently stuck in the crevices of the wooden floor.

You figured that when you are a leading crime lord, you constantly deal with too many unknown bodily fluids and pick up a few award-winning cleaning habits.

What’s worse is that you clumsily dirtied that leading crime lord’s current home.

“I’m so dead.” You stared wide eyed at the mess you created.

After sweeping together a neat pile, you went back to the small storage closet you found to grab the dustpan. It paid off to snoop because you found Red Hood’s broom and hopefully could clean everything before he came back.

All his supplies were neatly arranged with a proper place for all of his cleaning products. Broom and mop hung on the wall, shelves organized by the type of disinfectant, towels and rags neatly folded.

It was scarily neat.

“Maybe I can offer a lifelong employment as a maid?” You somberly laughed to yourself, almost in a craze that you were on the verge of panicking and laughing hysterically.

As you murmured to yourself, you spotted some sprinkles of tea that escaped you.

“I just don’t want a bullet hole between my eyes.” You sighed.

You located the dustpan hanging where you grabbed the broom earlier, intentionally avoiding eye contact with the gun mounted to the edge of the shelf with the disinfectant sprays.

“I’m so screwed.” You told yourself.

“Yeah you are.” A voice boomed behind you.

You threw the dustpan in your hand at the direction of the voice, in your frightened state you didn’t even bother aiming and the plastic dustpan flew past Red Hood’s side.

You stepped back into the closet as you panicked, hearing numerous bottles fall behind you. One by one crashing into another as a final bottle rolled to your shoe.

Your face scrunched at the clear mess you couldn’t see but heard.

“Red! Hey, oh wow, you’re back. I missed you, really, I stayed just like you said—“

“I said to stay over there.” He lazily nodded in the direction of a lonely wooden chair in the corner facing the wall.

“Are you kidding me? I look like I’m a toddler in time out if I sit over there.” You were in disbelief.

“You are.” He looked at the mess you made behind you and the small pieces of tea still spread out on the floor.

A modulated sigh voiced out his helmet.

You were so dead.

“Move.” Red nudged you aside, making his way to the doorway of the storage closet. “How did you make such a mess?”

You saw him bend down, picking up bottles and reorganizing the messy shelves. You curiously looked over his shoulder when you noticed he stopped, he reached for something out of your view.

You froze, remembering the mounted gun.

Your heart started to race as your eyes nervously glanced his way. Then, like you were in slow motion, you watched Red slowly stand up, towering over you as you could only watch the back of his shoulders straighten.

He turned, so slowly you wanted to scream.

“Don’t shoot me!” You yelled, covering your hands over your head in a lame attempt to somehow protect yourself from a bullet.

“You idiot, I’m giving you a dust brush!” Red held out the brush in his hand, no weapon in sight.

“Oh.” You moved your hands back down.

“Now sweep up the shit you spilled. You threw the dustpan earlier so find it.” Red spoke in annoyance.

“Dammit.” You sighed.

“Do I need to remind you that this is your mess?”

“Fine, fine. Don’t get your helmet in a twist.” You grabbed the dust brush, trying not to give the Red Hood one last side eye. You failed. “Stupid tin can.”

“I don’t hear you cleaning!” Jason yelled over his shoulder.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd #red hood #writing

579 notes · View notes

honeylations · 1 year ago

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KIM MINJEONG x FEM!READER

Prompt: your usually shy girlfriend wants to ask you to help her but your bad mood scares her off

Warnings/Notes: g!p Minjeong, subby Minjeong, riding, squirting, creampie, handjobs, blow jobs

“H-Hah I’m s-so close…N-Need to cum..” Minjeong growled, stroking her cock faster and shutting her eyes tight when she could feel herself going to the edge.

She wished you were there stroking her instead. Kissing her until she made a mess on your hand.

She needed you.

“Oh my god just fucking kill me, will you!?”

“Wah!” Poor Minjeong jumped from the couch at your sudden dramatic entrance and how the slamming of the door pretty much shook the entire apartment.

You were too pent up with your rant that you didn’t see your girlfriend rushing to pull up her boxers and pants with a red face.

“What’s with the manager being up my ass all the fucking time?! I’m only one person and it’s not my fault other people in my damn group don’t even make up one brain cell! NOT EVEN ONE!”

Minjeong stood in between the gap that separated the living room and kitchen, watching you slam your purse on the counter and pacing back and forth.

Profanity after profanity left your lips and Minjeong could see the steam coming from your ears. Your girlfriend fiddled with the sleeves of her hoodie and cleared her throat to try and get your attention.

“H-Hi babe”

“Ugh and I don’t even get paid extra for doing most of that shitty work! I might as well quit on the spot and see him cry!”

Minjeong sealed her lips and couldn’t ignore the pain in her dick, begging to be touched.

You finished your rant with a click of your tongue and saw your girlfriend standing there in fear. “Shit, I’m sorry Jeongie. I didn’t mean to scream around like that, I’m just really over my shift today”

“It’s okay, babe. Wanna sit down and talk about it?”

Aw your baby was such a sweetheart.

“No no, we can do that later. I think a nap will fix it all”

Minjeong smiled and took your hand to lead you to your shared bedroom. Being in a relationship for so long, you two always slept half naked. You being in your panties and Jeongie in her boxers.

Something about the skin to skin contact was just so comforting.

Only issue is, Minjeong’s boner was still rock hard and you managed to miss it even when you finally got under the covers with her.

But your girlfriend wouldn’t let you cuddle.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” You questioned, making her even more nervous.

“Uh it’s nothing, really..”

“Puppy, whatever it is, spill it right now” You practically ordered, eyebrow twitching.

Minjeong huffed. “ihaveabonerandineedyoutohelpmecum”

“Huh?”

Minjeong spun on her other side away from you and hugged the blanket over her head. “Haha nothing never mind! time to sleep goodnight I love you!”

Ripping the covers off your girlfriend, you made her lie on her back while you sat on her stomach. “Stop shying away pup. Tell me what you want”

“I’m gonna go get a drink of water—WAH!” Minjeong yelped at her wrists being pinned on each side of her head.

“Say it”

Your girlfriend’s pout almost made you fold but you clenched your jaw to not give in so easily.

“M-My dick is…uh very hard..”

“Uh huh…”

“A-And I n-need you to help me..cum”

You kissed her lips and smiled. “Now was that so hard?”

“Well yes! You stormed into the apartment like a mad woman!”

Now it was your turn to pout and huff. “I said I was sorry!”

Your girlfriend looked away. “You seemed really tired too so I didn’t want to bother—“

Kiss

Minjeong went redder at your sudden move. “H-Hey!”

“Don’t you ever believe you’d bother me, okay pup?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Good. Now let me suck your dick”

Minjeong couldn’t even answer since you already yanked her pants and boxers off to start playing with her dick. She watched you with parted lips, panting at the sight of your small hands working itself up and down.

“You alright there, puppy?” You smiled into her neck as her head hung back in pleasure.

“Better than alright”

You kissed her slowly and got your tongue exploring Minjeong’s mouth which she moaned into. She would pause for a moment to watch you jerk her off faster, losing the strength to keep her eyes open.

“C-Can you please suck me off, baby? Pretty please” she whimpered while looking so deep into your eyes, you were able to see Minjeong well up tears.

“Of course, my love”

You lowered your head down and quickly sucked at your girlfriend’s leaking tip before taking her entirely inside. Her hands found comfort on your head that began to move, being one of the lucky people to not have a gag reflex.

You were able to deepthroat her so easily without a problem and Minjeong was in heaven every single time.

“Fuck. Oh fuck, Y/n-ie”

The vibration from your hum triggered your girlfriend’s hips to thrust, shocking her immediately. “N-No I’m sorry! A-Are you okay?”

Keeping her cock deep inside your throat, you gently caressed her hands on your head and she took it as the green light to do as she pleases.

Minjeong relaxes more and resumed her hip movement, tucking your hair behind your ears as she hissed out profanities.

“So so fucking good, Y/n-ie. I want to cum in your mouth. Can I pretty please?”

Another approved hum from you, and your girlfriend reacted with a punched out groan at the same time she fills your mouth with cum.

“Hah…so good…”

You sat up with pride after swallowing your personal favourite liquid snack, cleaning your mouth with a simple swipe from the back of your hand. Minjeong was still catching her breath when you hovered above her lap and held her still hard length at your soaked folds.

Minjeong doesn’t even remember seeing you remove your clothes because now here you were bouncing on her cock with your plush tits in her view. She kissed the flower tattoos across your collarbones before resting her lips on your right nipple, sucking gently as her hands held your hips.

She could almost touch the tips of her fingers together from how small your waist was, her middle fingers resting on your back dimples perfectly.

“Hah fuck! My Minjeongie is so good for letting me use her cock hm?” You managed to word out despite constantly impaling yourself onto her thick and long cock.

Minjeong nodded cutely and almost choked on her saliva when your cunt seemed to tighten around her more. “U-Use me all you want, Y/n-ie”

“Fuck, feels so fucking good, Jeongie! I’m so close, help me cum baby”

Your girlfriend didn’t need to be told twice. She planted her feet on the bed and wrapped you in her arms like a bear before destroying your pussy with repeatedly hard thrusts.

The bed was constantly being driven into the wall from how fast your girlfriend was going but who were you to complain? Her cock was kissing your cervix deliciously and you immediately became mush in Minjeong’s hands, crying and moaning into her neck to the point you even started to drool.

“Oh god yes yes yes that’s it, puppy! Gonna make me cum all over your big hard cock hm?”

Minjeong painted your neck with hickies. “Mhm want to make Y/n-ie cum!”

“Fuck you’re so good to me pup. Give me all of your cum okay? Want you to fill me until my pussy aches. Can you do that?”

Minjeong’s eyes rolled back at your words. “Hah..I’m cumming!”

“That’s it, baby! Fuck I’m gonna squirt!” You bit onto your girlfriend’s broad shoulder and shook in her arms as you sprayed clear liquid all over her cock, pelvis and even the sheets.

Minjeong continued thrusting until she emptied her balls inside your drenched cunt. “Holy shit…”

You pulled your ass up slowly as Minjeong’s cock fell limp and watched thick globs of semen rain from your pussy, moaning at the sight.

After taking a quick taste of her cum, you took the covers that you pushed off earlier and hugged it over you and Minjeong’s bodies, comfortably laying on top of your girlfriend.

Minjeong brushed your hair and was about to ask how you were until she heard slight snoring. You were knocked out quick. Smiling at the sight, your girlfriend sweetly kissed your head and fell asleep with you, reminding herself to give you a good shower once you woke up.

#gxg #wlw #kim minjeong #minjeong smut #minjeong x reader #kpop smut #aespa x fem reader #aespa smut

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shhhsupertopsecret · 8 months ago

Text

Bats - Connor Kent

an: some sort of established connection between reader and batfamily (I’ll let you decide) and based on the half-canon “No Metas in Gotham” rule because I think it’s funny. I love domestic batfamily. Let them be a lil silly. Not beta'd :)

WC: 1205

Secretly dating someone with a single brain cell was not for the faint of heart. Dating a meta from out of town while you live in Gotham was also for the faint of heart.

“Connor, for fuck’s sake!” You fell onto your back, knocking the air out of your lungs, when Connor appeared upside down in your window. He looked at you, his gaze soft with humor. A shit-eating grin pulled at his lips.

“May I be gifted entrance?” He tilted his head, a strand of hair falling from where his glasses were pushing his hair back. When you had just about gathered your bearings, you pulled him through the window.

“What if B sees you? Are you out of your mind?” Your face was pinched in reasonable concern.

“No ‘hello’? No ‘how are you’? No ’thank you for breaking Batman’s rules to come see me because you love me so much?’” He wrapped one arm loosely around your waist. You really did miss him. There hadn’t been a reason to work together as of late. Making excuses to see him when surrounded by detectives was really hard. By god, you missed him.

“Hello, I love you, I am so happy to see you, I was numb with loneliness before you appeared”, you placed a kiss to the tip of his nose, “Satisfied?”

“I’ll accept it. So…I can stay?” You rolled your eyes at his half-smirk. He was such a dork.

“Fine, if you must.” Your voice was thick with mock-aloofness, you turned up your nose. You pulled the curtains closed (maybe that was a little paranoid, but all it took was one far away picture in the groupchat to have a dozen bats - mainly Tim - at your door).

“Movie?” He had already made himself comfortable amongst your pillows and stuffed animals.

“Of course. My pick this time!” He laughed and relented. As you approached the bed, he opened his arms for you to lay down. You wished he could be with you all the time. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of him, you could not think of anyone you would rather be with, but you were a little apprehensive for the other bats to know. Firstly, you would have to fight Tim for his attention and you were not good at sharing. Secondly, you would be fraternizing with a Kent and Bruce was real weird about Supes. Thirdly, you had a pack of pseudo-brothers who would want a few words. Bad mix. It was nice to share a bubble with Connor.

Halfway through the movie, you and Connor had molded into one person. Arms and legs were entangled. You were both cocooned in your comforter. You laid nearly fully on top of him, ear over his heart. You were half-asleep, more comfortable than you had been in a while. There was a knock at the door, not unexpected as you had ordered food 30 minutes ago. You pulled away from the tangle, not without Connor letting out a whine.

“Food, babe. Be right back.” You placed a kiss on his forehead and grabbed his jacket off the bedside chair to cover your pajamas.

“Coming!” You called as you shuffled to the door, pulling it open.

That was not a pizza delivery.

You met eyes with Tim. You contorted your body in an approximation of casual body language.

“Hey, Tim. What brings you to these pastures?” You leaned against the doorframe. That was a really fucking stupid thing to say. You were not selling casual very well. You had been ambushed!

“...Hey?” If Tim’s expression was anything to go by, you looked crazy.

“The Computer’s systems went down before I could finish saving some files and Bruce said you had the physical drive?”

“Oh shit, yeah. It’s in my room. Just…wait here.” This was an easy fix. Give Tim the drive and he would be on his way. It was then that it struck you - you were wearing a jacket three sizes too big with very recognizable spikes on the shoulders. If you turn around there would be a blazing emblem sealing your coffin. No way any of this got past Tim. You felt like you were harboring a fugitive. You kept your cool - and slammed the door in Tim’s face. As quickly as possible, you ran to your room and ransacked your own drawers in search of the cursed USB drive. You ran back to the door, no doubt ten times more disheveled than when you first answered it.

“Here you go!” You pressed the drive into Tim’s palm and slammed the door once again. Crisis averted??? You commenced the walk of shame back to your bedroom, no doubt that Connor heard that whole ordeal.

“Pastures!?” You picked up the nearest pillow and slammed it into his face.

“I KNOW!”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You received a page to the Batcave. While you were hoping for a break, you were always on call. Not unexpected. You pulled yourself together and headed out the door. Your commute to the manor was thankfully uneventful. The sight that greeted you upon your entrance, however, was unexpected.

Dick, Tim, Jason, and Damian sat around a table at different levels of enthusiasm. Dick and Tim wore matching expressions of mischief while Jason and Damian had equal expressions of disinterest. No doubt they were forced to be here.

“Thank you for attending this meeting. Some information has come to light that we feel the need to debrief.” Dick was definitely having fun fucking with you.

“I was forced to be here.” Jason was reading a book under the table.

“I concur with Todd.” Damian didn’t even look up from the notebook he was drawing in. Aww, you felt so loved.

“Is this necessary? I don’t interrogate you about your romantic escapades. And you-”, you pivoted to Tim, ”You really couldn’t keep this to yourself! You would think a detective would have more tact.” Tim was still smirking at you.

“As a detective, I am incredibly nosy.” You leaned over and flicked his forehead.

“Uncalled for!”

“Very called for!”

“Just wait until we tell Bruce.” You slammed your hands down on the table.

“Dick, please don’t. I will tell him when I have to. I would never get to see him if Bruce knew.” You were dead serious and borderline begging, which seemed to make this less fun.

“You’re serious about him?” Dick softened into his more caring big brother mode.

“So serious.” Dick smiled at that. He and the other bats had terrible romantic track records and it made him happy to see you able to succeed in that department. He slipped back into his business demeanor.

“The council has decided - we will not be reporting to the higher authority, but we will be conducting a thorough examination of the suspect.” Was he a Supreme Court Justice now??? This did seem to perk Jason and Damian’s interest. Figures. Jason did have a history of trying to scare your romantic suitors. You threw an arm around his shoulder around Dick’s shoulder.

“Thank you, dork. Don’t try to scare him too bad.” If this was their weird way of caring for you, you would let them have it. You would also have to warn Connor.

#connor kent x reader #connor kent #kon el #superboy dc #dc x reader #dc comics

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moonlight-records · 6 months ago

Text

BTS shopping| FC43 (HAC #8)

pairing: franco colapinto x reader

summary: a glimpse into what shopping is like with you and franco

warning: fluff!

fc: none!

a/n: f1 seating changed. day 8 of moonlight records holiday advent calendar! another sm au!

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | current day | day 9

francolapinto tagged ynvibes in a post

liked by ynvibes, arthur_leclerc, ynbestie, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 1.2m others

francolapinto prettiest view of 2024 😊

view all 1.1m comments

ynvibes oh stoooop it babe (keep going)

↳ francolapinto thanksfully, i won't stop ↳ ynvibes good 😊 ↳ ynbestie excuse meeeee ↳ francolapinto and my favorite chaos buddy appears! ↳ ynbestie damn RIGHT

user1 NEW FRANCO SIMP POST JUST DROPPED!!

user2 me too franco, me too ↳ ynvibes liked this comment

landonorris and no invite?

↳ francolapinto you're alive!!! ↳ ynvibes we tried but you were hungover, but we can bring something back for you!! ↳ landonorris my savior!!! ↳ ynbestie can you bring y/n home so we can go shopping? please?? i miss my wife 😫 ↳ francolapinto how about i bring y/n home and i take both you out to shopping? ↳ ynbestie I KNEW YOU WERE MY FAVORITE FOR SOME REASON!!! 😍

user3 WE NEED A SHOPPING HAUL STAT

↳ ynvibes ask and you shall receive! ↳ user3 LETS GOOOOOO!!!!

user4 I NEED THAT RED BAG!!!!

user5 this haul bout to hit, i just know it!!!

ynvibes maybe i can help get your secret santa gift

↳ francolapinto PLEASE

ynvibes tagged francolapinto in a post

liked by ynbestie, francolapinto, charles_leclerc, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 835k others

ynvibes got the secret santa gift and then went back for movies & legos

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user6 oh to shop and then watch movies and build legos after

maxverstappen1 what lego set is he building?

↳ ynvibes no clue but it was on sale. so were the flower sets since I know P wants to build legos!! ↳ maxverstappen1 i knew there was a reason you're my favorite wag ↳ user9 HELLO? ↳ ynvibes awww max!!! ↳ maxverstappen1 don't get use to it

user7 I love Up!!!!

user8 god bless y/n for expanding franco's fashion design. doing the lords work 😫

landonorris whatcha got there? 👀

↳ francolapinto a surprise ↳ landonorris boooooo

user9 it's either for franco or secret santa and either way someone's winning

user10 im excited for them shopping for each other

francolapinto tagged ynvibes and ynbestie in a post

liked by ynvibes, arthur_leclerc, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 1.8m others

francolapinto when we together, it's only one brain cell between all of us

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user11 who's in the first one???

↳ user9 i think that's ynbestie

user12 these are the vibes we need this holiday season

ynvibes REUNITED AT LAST!!!

↳ ynbestie I KNOW THATS RIGHT!!!

user13 oh to witness them shopping

alex_albon the paddock's favorite three musketeers!!

↳ francolapinto thank you amigo!! ↳ ynbestie damn straight!!!

user14 OMG I WALKED BY FRANCO IN THE PILLOWS AND THOUGHT IT WAS SOME RANDOM GUY 😭

↳ user15 OMG!!! ↳ user14 I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE I WAS JUDGING SO HARD

ynvibes tagged ynbestie in a post

liked by francolapinto, ynbestie, landonorris, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 594k others

ynvibes this and yapping ❤️ (thank you franco for giving us your card while you took a phone call you forgot about)

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user16 THIS HAUL BOUT TO SLAP!!!

user17 this is what girlhood is all about

ynbestie OH THANK YOU DEAR FRANCO!! I SHALL BAKE ALL THE BOOZY BROWNIES YOUR HEART DESIRES!!! 🩵 ↳ francolapinto I WIN!! ↳ landonorris I WANT BOOZY BROWNIES???!!!! SHARE PLEASE!!!???? ↳ francolapinto of course i will! ↳ landonorris LETS GOOOOOO ↳ ynvibes smh not you trying to court with the boozy brownies, i am right here ↳ francolapinto my love, i have two hands. one for you and one for lando. like you and your bestie and i ↳ ynvibes this is true. i call one corner piece and i'll accept this arrangement ↳ francolapinto deal!

user18 soooooo book haul when???

↳ ynvibes soon 🤭 ↳ user18 YESSSSS

user19 need a man like this

user20 where's the coffee?!

↳ ynvibes we finished them before we took photos!!! ↳ user20 valid!

francolapinto posted

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francolapinto post shopping lunch and celebration 🥳

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user21 WHAT CELEBRATION???

user22 k-pot after shopping? oh y'all got this under lock and key

landonorris what news???

↳ francolapinto soon! ↳ landonorris sir????

user23 WE THE PEOPLE ARE NOSY FOR ANSWERS!!!

ynbestie i know you're doing to do great things 🩵

↳ francolapinto thank you amigo 🩵

user24 YNBESTIE CONGRATULATING FRANCO??? FRANCO IN F1 SEAT???

alex_albon hell yeah!!! congrats franco!!

user25 OMG OMG OMG IS FRANCO TO WILLIAMS???

ynvibes so proud of you babe 🩵

↳ francolapinto thank you mi amor ❤️

ynvibes posted

liked by ynbestie, francolapinto, arthur_leclerc, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 937k others

ynvibes family presents ✅

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user26 you love playing with fire, don't you? 😂

user27 ugh target run sounds so nice right noe

charles_leclerc i thought you said you needed one thing? ↳ ynvibes target tells YOU what YOU need. ↳ charles_leclerc ...y/n wtf???

user28 any good sales going on??? love target but it's so far

↳ ynvibes a few! if you need household items and clothes def check them! ↳ user28 i will!!

user29 that fuzzy jackets look SOOOO comfy

logansargeant we love a good target run

↳ ynvibes YOU GET IT!!! ↳ logansargeant i do i do ↳ francolapinto petition for you and logan's partner to go to target while logan and i stay back and play video games ↳ logansargeant where do i sign this petition?? ↳ ynvibes petition granted

user30 time to run to target!!

francolapinto posted

liked by ynbestie, arthur_leclerc, ynvibes, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 2.1m others

francolapinto christmas shopping officially done (ft. y/n refusing to let me to carry her bags)

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user31 y/n is a strong independent woman!!

↳ user32 independent yn 🤝 simp franco ↳ user31 god you're so right ↳ user32 wonder if franco carried the bags in ↳ ynvibes he did 😒

user33 can't wait for the wrapping video!!!

ynbestie so am i coming over to help wrap presents???

↳ ynvibes fuck YEAH ↳ francolapinto am i getting wine? ↳ ynbestie yes please!!!

user34 please tell me you guys are doing advent calendars for each other!!!!

↳ user35 PLEASE ↳ user34 begging for it

ynvibes posted

liked by ynvibes, landonorris, alex_albon, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, quadrant and 2.5m others

ynvibes welcome williams newest driver & qudrants newest member 🩵

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quadrant welcome to the team, franco!!!

↳ francolapinto thank you for having me!!

user36 OMG OMG OMG!!!

user37 BEST. DAY. EVER!!!!

landonorris glad to have you apart of the team, amigo

↳ francolapinto thank you for having me!! ↳ ynvibes just make sure i get to see him ↳ max_fewtrell i will ↳ ynvibes thank yoooou

user38 YAY MORE FRANCO CONTENT!!!! AND Y/N WAG ERA!!!

user39 im crying this is great

user40 what movie y'all seeing?

↳ ynvibes wicked! ↳ user40 are you guys holding space??? ↳ ynvibes ofc!!!

#moonlight releases #bts shopping #franco colapinto smau #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto imagine #fc43 sm au #fc43 x reader #fc43 imagine #moonlight records holiday advent calendar #mlr.hac day 8

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warcats-cat · 15 days ago

Text

Confinement

Summary: In Hermes’ incredibly correct and not at all humble opinion, humans should have stuck with horses, but then humans went off and invented cars. Awful... Hermes loved you; he really did. He adored you. But he loathed your car.

A/N: I'M ALIVE I SWEAR!!! I'm still writing for Hermes and this fandom!!! I love you all and I've MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! TLDR - I was in a car accident right after my birthday at the beginning of April, and while I wasn't badly injured, I've been mentally all over the place since then. Recovery-Scatter-Brain and Stress-Scatter-Brain are real... ANYWAY the irony is that I have had this one written for like forever and I was gearing up to post it right before I had my accident. So I guess Hermes was just trying to warn me in his own loving, mysterious, mischievous way. Also I linked to a song within the fic; it is one of my favorites to sing and one I sang as a part of my Senior Recital when I graduated university; if you take the time to listen I really do hope you enjoy it! (ALSO also, because of this, the reader does refer to themself as 'female' but only in the context of the song!) I hope you guys enjoy this one and hopefully I will have another edited/polished and posted for you before the two month mark... as always please let me know if I've missed any tags and have a truly lovely day, darlings!!!

Read on Ao3 Here!

-----

In Hermes’ incredibly correct and not at all humble opinion, humans should have stuck with horses.

Really, it was the altogether better option, compared to other modes of transportation, although he'd never tell his uncle that. Especially now, in the ‘modern era’ as humans called it, when things like capitalism and pollution and climate change hung over humans’ heads like a guillotine.

Horses didn't need oil from hundreds of cubits underground; they could just graze the grasses around where they were. Horses still went pretty fast over land compared to walking. Horses didn't stink like death-plastic-smoke that was worse than Tartarus.

But humans had gone and invented cars.

Awful.

Sure, cars went fast. Not nearly as fast as him, but Hermes was the god of speed; nothing went as fast as him. Cars could go a lot faster than horses, and in America, where the land was so massive and everything spread out so far, Hermes supposed it was nice to get to the grocer as quickly as possible.

But cars were also considerably small.

Therein lay the problem.

He wasn't necessarily claustrophobic, but Hermes didn't like small spaces. He didn't like feeling trapped. And cars did exactly that - with heavy metal doors that slammed and locked like prison cells, rough, scraping straps that pinned one in place (for safety, of course, which he couldn't begrudge; but he didn't have to like it), uncomfortable seats that pretended to be the ‘luxury’ of real leather even though he could smell the oily plastic layered in to make it cheaper.

And the windows only made things worse somehow - opening them made the winds beat the inside of the car and the unfortunate rider’s ears, easily causing hearing damage with the constant concussion. He’d tried pushing his head out, once; curious at seeing some teens in a car ahead of them do so, but the same beating effect applied; making his eyes sting and his ears ring from the force of it.

He didn't even have that problem when he was flying.

Hermes loved you; he really did. He adored you. But he loathed your car.

“I could get us to the craft store a lot faster,” he said to you, the barest hint of a whine in his voice. If he played it just right, with a little pout and a little whine, maybe he could change your mind.

“You would have to carry me, not to mention anything we bought, and I don't want to lose my supplies in your bag-of-holding.” You replied, not even looking at his big, slightly watery puppy-eyes.

No luck…

He sighed, and let his face drop back to normal. At least he understood the reference you made this time - you’d called his messenger bag a bag-of-holding a few times before he asked about it; it was a bag, it was supposed to hold stuff? But you were referring to a game you liked to play on nights he was away; a special bag that could hold almost anything a person put inside it, and was nearly endless. He’d had to admit after that that it was a fair nickname.

And it wasn't necessarily that things got lost in his bag; he could call up any paper or item that was in it by just thinking about it. It was that he could conveniently forget to grab some things back out. Or slip things in to hide them for later.

He was the god of thieves and master of tricks. Sue him.

He stared down the door handle of your car as if he could make it cower like a mortal he disliked. You slipped easily into the driver's seat and grinned at him; the cute, slightly devilish grin that he loved so much. Damn.

Hermes grumbled a Greek swear and submitted himself to the confinement.

Thankfully, you weren't an overly cautious driver going 10 under the speed limit.

The drive would take approximately 20 minutes; 18 if you pushed the speed limit a little and 16 if you managed to pass through the traffic lights without them turning red. Ugh. Traffic lights.

When horses had to cross a road, they could just go across. You didn't have to worry about being catastrophically slammed into from the side because horses had brains. …most of the time…

Hermes clicked the seatbelt into place. His feathers ruffled as he shuddered, but he felt your hand slip into his and squeeze in sympathy, and that made it a little better. The car rumbled under his feet like an angry animal as it started, and you began the drive, switching on the radio as it connected to the phone in your pocket.

Frankly, there was only one reason Hermes tolerated car rides at all.

“When I was a girl, I had a favorite story...”

Every time, he got to hear you sing.

“Of the meadowlark who lives where the rivers wind…”

In Hermes' very correct and not so humble opinion, you had the most beautiful voice. And he bragged to Apollo about you all the time, how he had found you and won your heart before the sun god even heard a single note. Hermes loved listening to you sing - singing along to movies you watched, singing quietly while you worked on a project, and yes, even singing in the car.

Car singing was the second-best singing, only because you weren't afraid to be loud . Your voice filled the little space with warmth, wrapped around Hermes like a safety blanket. If you had to stop at a traffic light, you liked to wiggle in your seat like a little dance. It felt like a secret, shared only between the two of you; the little moments he tucked away in his memory like shining jewels.

And you sang everything - regardless of the original musician’s gender. Musical Theater tended to be your favorite, but your phone shuffled through rock songs and pop songs and a few electronic melodies; indy and songs about video games and even (very rarely) a country song you said you kept because it was silly. Hamilton, and SpongeBob; Wicked, and Phantom of the Opera. Lately, you’d been fixating a bit on some songs from Next to Normal that made you tear up as you sang, and Hermes would reach over and pat your shoulder or take your hand, knowing that the music meant more to you than he could really understand. Songs full of stories that you knew by heart and told to yourself (and him) over and over again.

It felt extra special, sometimes; knowing that you were comfortable enough to sing with him around. Apollo had asked, several times now, but you had stammered and said you hadn't done any warm-ups and didn't know what he would like; maybe some other time. You’d confided in Hermes after the third time; for anyone else, it felt like a high stakes audition, especially for the ‘literal god of music’ as you had said. But Hermes made you feel comfortable, like you were singing with him, even though most of the time he wasn't actually singing; he joined in subtler ways. His head bobbed and swayed along to your music, and occasionally his wings ruffled and flapped for a particularly high or long or powerful note, and he savored every single second of it.

And then all too soon the show was cut short, as you slowed to a stop in the little store's parking lot, and Hermes became aware once again of the sensation of being trapped.

He all but ripped the seat belt apart - he actually had ripped the seat belt the first time, which you had been very upset about. He hadn't meant to, and thankfully you understood after an explanation (and when he offered to pay to fix the car - a full “work up” as you said. He’d kinda shrugged it off; money was a mortal thing.)

This time, he was out of the car before the belt had the chance to fully retract back into its hiding place, hopping a little from foot to foot to shake the phantom feelings of chains. You gave him a look of apology, and offered a hug, which he graciously accepted.

Finally, after a minute to fix his sunglasses and steal your hand for holding, the pair of you headed inside the craft store.

And if he slipped a few things that you seemed to like into his bag when you put them back down upon seeing the prices, well. That was his own little secret. He just couldn't resist the way your eyes glittered when he gave you presents.

You didn't need to know where they came from…

(If you enjoyed, please reblog!!)

#warcats writes #hermes x reader #hermes epic the musical #epic hermes #reader insert #gender neutral reader #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #ask to tag #another one i have no idea what to tag #driving #implied claustrophobia #claustrophobia #cars #Hermes' POV

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 7 days ago

Note

I BEG YOUR PARDON, IM GONNA NEED A PART TWO TO THAT FIC YOU JUST WROTE TO SLEEP PROPERLY

-sincerely, same person who requested it

A/n: This is not late at all right on time don't lie to yourself I'm practicing my gaslighting

Warnings: Smut, mutual masturbation, use of toys, daddy!kink, degradation, phone sex, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Part 1

You found the nearest camera, the one in the living room, but then you had a better idea and went outside to the front porch. You still had James on your cell, he was doing whatever on the computer to find you.

"Come on now, sweets, tell daddy where you are." He urged, flipping through the camera's he had throughout the large property.

"Come find me~" You purred, stripping while watching the camera closely, waiting for it to find you.

You heard it the moment James saw you, the camera turned to you and James let out a heavy sigh, a roughness to the sound. "Oh, sweetheart... what a good girl for me." He could already feel his cock twitching back to life, hand finding it fast and gripping the base. "Sit your ass down." You smiled and took his order, sitting in a nearby chair.

There was a cool breeze, you wouldn't lie and say James and you had never done anything around the property, you'd just never done anything by yourself outside, and definitely not in view of the road where people could just drive by and see you.

"So fucking wet, I can fucking see it on the camera." James groaned, stroking himself real slow, eyes glued to the screen of his laptop. "Use two fingers, do your best to stretch yourself out, just like you're prepping for daddy to come home." You nodded, hooking your knees over the armrests of the chair and bringing your hand to your cunt, pushing two slender fingers past your needy opening.

They got sucked in with a soft moan, James watched your lips part as the noise left you. You knew your body well enough, curling your fingers and finding that good spot, the spongey one that had your vision going white. "That's good... Go slower." James instructed. You whined but listened, slowing down the pace your fingers were pumping in and out of you. "Slower, sweetheart." Your eyes widened slightly and your brows knit together.

"Jamie, I-"

"Jamie?" He asked. "Come on, do you even want to cum? Say my name right." His voice was harsh, sharp and threatening.

You huffed. "Daddy, I can't go any slower or my fingers won't move..." You whined, lips pursed into a pout. You couldn't see it but James's grin widened, his cock twitching as he watched you sit there, all helpless and alone.

"And I said go slower, you wouldn't want to disrespect daddy now would you?" He knew you'd listen and shake your head. "Sit there with your fingers inside, don't fucking move."

Cockwarming him was one thing, you never lasted more than an hour and even that was one time because he was working on something so you couldn't do anything. James was big, thick and veiny, girthy, he made you needy and when he would twitch inside you you'd lose it and start bouncing on his cock until he flipped you over, pinned you to the nearest surface, and blew your brains out with his load.

Your fingers did nothing. You had a hard enough time getting yourself off, that's why you loved James because he was experienced and he knew how to touch you, just what you liked. His fingers were thick and calloused, yours were slim, manicured shorter than his. They didn't do much when they were moving, just sitting with them in you in the cold with cars passing by...

James watched you get progressively more pissed off as he groaned into the speaker, watching you sit there all huffy and bored, uncomfortable even. "Alright, sweet girl, go to the bedroom and then wait for my instructions, can you do that?" You nodded eagerly, pulling your fingers from your cunt and racing into the house, running straight to your shared room. James chuckling in your ear the whole way up only fueled your need. "Get that clear toy I like."

You flicked the lights on and went to the closet, pulling out the small box of toys James kept for you for when he was away and you were missing him, of if he wanted to have a little extra fun with you. You pulled out the clear toy, only six inches and much slimmer than James, not what you were used to at all but it would work.

There was a camera in the corner of the room by the door, so it could see the whole room when it was aimed properly. Now it was aimed at the foot of the bed, the floor. "Sit pretty for me." He instructed, hand moving along his length once more, a little bit faster now. "Stick that pretty toy on the ground, get on your knee, and you're going to listen very close, do you understand?" He watched you nod but it wasn't good enough. "Use your words, slut! Daddy needs to hear you."

You suctioned the toy to the ground and looked to the camera, holding your phone to your ear. "I understand..." You paused, nearly forgetting a very important part of that statement. "Daddy."

James chuckled lowly over the line and nodded approvingly. "Good girl, now look at the camera and you're going to take all of it slowly." You kneeled over the toy, cunt hovering over it and then sinking down, obeying James's command. "Good... and up all the way.... good, back down." You followed his orders for what felt like forever, the painfully slow pace infuriating you.

"Please, daddy, let me go faster?" You begged, looking up at the camera with your best pout and beadiest eyes. James was following your movements, his hand moving with you on his cock so he could pretend. It felt much better for him than it did for you.

"No, this is good for you, maybe it'll teach you to be a good girl." You chewed your cheek, something snapping in you at that. He wasn't here, you wouldn't have to deal with the fallout for at least another month or two... however long it was until he came back.

You dropped yourself on the toy, a moan falling from your lips. "Bitch!" James barked. "Do yourself a favour and listen." You thought about it for a moment before shaking your head and riding the toy like you wanted to ride him, fast, picturing his rough hands holding your hips and guiding your movements up and down, hips snapped against his.

As angry as he wanted to be with you your defiance was hot to him, not nearly as hot as watching you get yourself off, but definitely hot. "Fuck, you're just asking for it when I get back, huh?" He asked, hand moving faster along his length. He could feel another high approaching him, his third while you were barely reaching for a first. "Both know you're not getting yourself off, just gonna spend all day on your knees for nothing, begging daddy to come back." His words were helping, he knew they would and he could hear your moans getting higher.

"In the nightstand, baby." He muttered, making you pause to think for just a moment. You got up and grabbed the bullet vibrator he kept in his nightstand and went back to where you were. You bent over, giving him a good view of your ass before pushing the toy into your pulsing pussy and turning it on. Immediately it had an affect on you, making it hard to stand.

You went back to the toy on the ground and resumed your pace, though it was harder with the toy. Each time you took the toy in it pushed the bullet deeper, hitting all the best spots. Your movements became erratic, James's groans followed the pattern, his hand losing its rhythm as well as he held back his orgasm. "C'mon, pretty girl, cum for me, cum for daddy." He was on the verge of begging, he needed this so bad. Pre was leaking out of his tip and dripping down his hand. "Be a good girl for daddy." Spurts of cum were already shooting from his cock onto the screen when you finally came, chest heaving and eyes rolling back as loud moans ripped from you.

James swiped a finger across the screen, gathering his cum and licking it off his pointer. "Go on and crawl back into bed, ok?" He muttered, it was nearly noon for you now, you'd not done much all day and your eggs were waiting for you downstairs, probably cold now. "Just wait for daddy to get there, I'll get a flight back tomorrow. Be ready."

#metallica #metallica rp #metallica fic #metallica family #metallica fanfiction #metallica imagines #metallica smut #metallica x reader #metallica x you #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield imagine #james hetfield #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield x you

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justagirlswrld · 2 months ago

Text

Winter’s bite

a/n: a drabble(?) for my ephemeral universe. here’s the fic if you missed it.

summary: you were a thousand miles away from home but he still seemed to haunt you (takes place during new moon).

warning: typical ex stuff. angst? no smut, just Edward being Edward.

The knock at your front door pulls you from the trance your text book had you in, It’s well past your bed time but it was imperative that you cram for the test you had that afternoon. You look to the clock ticking on your apricot living room wall to make sure you weren’t lucid from lack of sleep but the time still read 4:00 AM.

You decide to ignore whoever was rapping at the door, with Nina at work you figured it wasn’t wise for a lone, young woman to open the door for a stranger in the wee hours of the morning. You’re ready to stuff your nose back in the pages of your book when the knocking begins again. You groan from your place on the couch, cell phone in hand just incase you needed to call 911.

You grab a knife from the kitchen, holding it tight in your hand as you creep towards the front door, blanket still hanging from your shoulders. When you finally look through the peep hole the knife falls from your hand and hits the floor with a clatter, you almost find yourself dialing Nina as you look upon the boy who ripped apart your heart with his fangs.

You have to step deeper into the living room for a moment, pinching yourself to make sure you weren’t having a nightmare before finding your place at the peep hole again.

Edward Cullen was standing in front of your apartment.

He looked the same under the muted porch light, save for the dark circles under his topaz eyes, not that you expected a undead 17 year old to change in the months you’d been gone.

This was the last thing you were expecting (or wanted) on a boring Saturday night. Your hair was a mess and your pajamas were stained with the ice cream you’d just devoured but that was the last thing on your mind with the leech (as Embry would call them) in front of you. Your hand trembled slightly as you reached up to unlock the door.

The dry December air hit you as soon as you pulled the door open but you weren’t sure if that was why a shiver ran down your body. Nobody said anything for a moment, you still weren’t sure if this was a hallucination coming from a twisted part of your brain, so your words were uncharacteristically soft when you decided to speak.

“How did you find me?”, You’d never told Edward that you’d accepted the offer in California after your future plans of running away with the Cullen’s were destroyed. He has the decency to look sheepish when he answers, “You were on your mother’s mind.” He doesn’t have to explain that he meant he went poking around in her thoughts.

“..And what are you doing here?” He looks down at his dark boots then back to you, your expression hard and unwelcoming. “I can’t stop thinking about how I treated you. I can’t…live with the idea of you hurt because of my misdoings. I was wrong and I’m so sorry, Y/N.” You’re not sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t that, even though it was the most Edward thing to do. But you weren’t sure you even really knew him after the incident in the garage.

“I fight my.…vampiric nature as much as i can but it slipped out of me in that moment. I was cold and uncaring and you didn’t deserve the real me- the monster.” You listen to Edward stoically from your place in the threshold. “I was horrible to you, using you for my own selfish gain after lying to you for months.” Your hand grips the door so hard you fear it might turn into dust, you’re blinking ferociously to keep the tears that threatened to spill at bay while he rambles on and on.

You hadn’t entirely gotten over Edward’s betrayal despite the months that passed, you’d decided to ignore the pain rather than confront it so Edward standing in front of you felt like ripping out fresh stitches.

It felt useless leaving Forks, you were so far from home that you’d assumed you’d be far from Edward or anything or anyone that would remind you of the brooding vampire….yet here he was.

Your lips form a line after Edward’s finishes his long winded apology then looks at you expectantly. “Well, i’m glad you were able to clear your conscience-“ You cut yourself off as you begin pulling the door closed, groaning when it’s stopped by a pale hand, your frustration growing when his words from the garage incident begin to swirl around in your head.

“No..it’s so much more. I…love her, i’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

If you weren’t so prideful you might’ve started crying, instead you explode into anger. “Edward get the fuck away from my door-“ You push at his chest and he gets the hint to back up, “What the fuck are you doing here anyway?!”, he looks at you incredulously now.

“I wanted to make amends-“ You throw your hands up and he stops mid sentence, “No, why are you in California, bothering me at four in the morning instead of in Forks with the girl you left me for?”

The wound was definitely still raw.

Edward looks away from you now, the light wind pushing his already mussed, bronze hair. You knew you could go in the house, you knew he wouldn’t stop you from closing the door this time but for some unexplainable reason you wait for him to answer.

“….I- we had to leave. It’s too dangerous for Bella with us there. She can’t protect herself like you can.” You snort. Partly because the last time you ran into vampires that weren’t the Cullen’s you almost became dinner, secondly because it was so ironic that they ended up leaving anyway after you practically begged Edward to join you out of state.

You shake your head, deciding not to voice either of those thoughts. Instead because some stupid, soft part of you still cared about Edward your next words slip from your lips, “And where’s your family? Why aren’t you with them?” Not that you actually cared.

“They’re in Ithaca…i’m tracking Victoria.” You laugh lightly, earning a confused look from Edward. “You’re a horrible a tracker.” You’d learned this from the time you’d spent in the woods together.

“I know” Edward laughs but it sounds void of any happiness. There’s a long stretch of silence, Edward just stands there instead of leaving and you’re holding the door instead of going inside.

Your mind races with questions, the main one: did he ever really love you or he did he just keep you around? like a pet. But you won’t ask, refuse to actually and when his tawny eyes meet yours you remember that he can read minds and you never put your wall up.

He goes to speak but you point an accusatory finger at him, “Stay out of my head and away from me.” When you slam the door this time there’s no restrictions.

“Y/N-“ Edward’s voice is barely muffled by the wooden door, “I did love you- I’ll always love you….you were one of my best friends.” Edward continues even though you don’t respond, “I still think about your grandfathers song. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and we can be friends one day.”

You wipe at the tears threatening to spill out your eyes and walk back to your place on the couch. You don’t bother looking out the peephole because knowing Edward he was already gone.

#twilight fanfiction #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen/reader

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mixelation · 4 months ago

Text

have some reborn au. tori's second chunin exams arc

i think i've posted some of this before, and some of it i..... don't think i have? the beginning i'm like 90% sure i posted, so don't just skip the whole post if it seems familiar.

there's a [...] where there's missing scenes. also i think the reason i never posted sections of this are i didn't like certain details or wanted a few scenes to be better. however i'm in a Posting Mood

xXx

Tori was having a problem. Several problems, actually.

“I’m not even allowed to submit a proposal without some idiot chunin co-signing,” she complained, pacing back and forth in front of Deidara. He was seated on his bed, rubbing ointment into the pink patches of his feet and legs that his medic hadn’t quite healed all the way.

Deidara had… set a field on fire, or something, on his mission. Whatever. Kushina-sensei had gently hinted at Tori that she should go over and make sure he didn’t need help cooking or cleaning, as while Konoha hospital could fix up most things, Deidara had still landed himself three weeks leave with foot injuries.

Obviously, Deidara had yelled at her and set a clay flea off in her face for even hinting he might need help. Convincing him to let her ladle the big pot of her mediocre curry soup she’d lugged over into his own tupperware had been a whole ordeal filled with yelling and a couple minor explosions. But once she had that out of the way and a bunch of tupperwares in his fridge, she was taking his presence in town as an excuse to rant about her own problems in her new lab assignment.

“My new supervisor wants me on dish duty,” she went on, gesturing furiously with both hands. “I know every piece of research fuinjutsu better than anyone there, and I get dish duty? I wouldn’t mind cleaning my own dishes, or if everyone was cleaning dishes, but my ideas for projects just get ignored. Who cares that I’m a genin? I have more experience than any of the chunin in that lab.”

She’d complained to higher management and attempted to get reassigned, but it seemed she was being ignored. She was afraid she’d have to go through Kushina to get facetime with the Hokage. She didn’t want to play nepotism; she wanted to earn this herself.

Deidara looked at her like she was stupid.

“If it’s a rank problem,” he said, “then just go get promoted to chunin, yeah.”

Tori stared back at him, flummoxed. This idea hadn’t occurred to her. She was quite confident she could handle any task any chunin might encounter in a lab. She was reasonably certain she could perform better than some of the jounin in a lab, even, especially if she got to head her own projects in her own specialties. But… chunin were meant to lead missions. They had to be able to fight things, had to know some set number of jutsu, had to have all the rules and ordinances memorized.

“Do you think I’m qualified?” Tori wondered out loud.

She really only had a grab bag of jutsu under her belt, the product of only bothering to learn things that interested her. Her combat skills mostly revolved around hitting things with a stick, or irreversibly destroying flesh in an extremely slipshod way. It seemed like a vast overestimation that she might be qualified for a promotion.

Deidara managed to look even more unimpressed with her.

“What the hell do you think chunin are?” he asked.

“Squadron leaders?” Tori tried.

“Not the baby ones,” Deidara told her. “Anyone with two brain cells to rub together can make chunin. The only reason you’re not already promoted is that Iwa is filled with assholes, yeah.”

This seemed… wrong, somehow. She’d mostly just gotten as far as she did in the Iwa exam by relying on others. But, maybe, she could swing an internal promotion?

Tori went and looked up the official minimum qualifications for chunin promotion. She did qualify, it seemed. Apparently you only needed the Academy three ninjutsu to make chunin, although more were recommended. And maybe she should review all these rules and internal structures she was supposed to know…

The minimum mission requirement was also only one C-rank, which seemed too low. It also seemed like her various higher ranking missions maybe shouldn’t count. The Iwa fiasco had mostly just been her playing side-kick, up until she basically just lied through her teeth for a very stressful few hours. The Sasori fiasco wasn’t exactly a shining moment for her either. It all really depended on her being on a team with a bunch of monsters rather than her own talents, honestly.

Oh well. It wouldn’t hurt to try, she supposed. It wasn’t like the Hokage’s office didn’t know exactly who she was and the details of her on-paper accomplishments.

She filled out a form for promotion-by-mission and turned it in. Two days later she was called into the Hokage’s office. Minato was literally eating a sandwich while he talked to her, apparently on his lunch break.

“Right,” Minato said, swallowing. He picked her application off a pile of papers and slid it across his desk to her. “I’m not approving this.”

“Okay,” Tori said, having expected as much.

“Because I want you to go to the next exam,” he continued. “It’s in Kiri.”

“Oh,” Tori replied, surprised. So she’d have to prove her qualifications? Annoying.

“I think you should aim to win the tournament,” Minato said through another mouthful of sandwich. “Make it flashy. It’ll be a good showing for Konoha.”

“Wait—” Tori started. “I’m not—”

“I’m going to okay you to reduce lab hours if you feel like you need training,” Minato continued, unperturbed by the madness he was spitting. He passed another, stamped form across the desk for her, brushing sandwich crumbs off of it. “You have six weeks. Kushina said she’d register you. Let me know if you need anything.”

He dismissed her. Tori wandered out of his office gripping her exemption paperwork in both hands. Less lab time was the opposite of what she wanted!

Deidara laughed at her when she reported what happened. There was, she noted, empty curry-stained tupperware in his sink.

“I can’t win the tournament,” Tori bemoaned as he snickered. She was really more of a “promoted due to clever thinking” type of kunoichi. “Make it flashy? What is he thinking?”

“Probably that most genin actually just suck, yeah,” Deidara told her. “Do you think Kushina-sensei could convince him to let me go to the tournament?”

Apparently the idea of watching her fight was deeply funny to Deidara. He talked for a very long time about wanting to see her panic and melt a small child into goo in front of all their friends and family. Tori buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, then you’d get a pay raise,” Deidara said, eyes suddenly brightening. “We could move somewhere better, yeah.”

“Deidaraaa,” she whined.

xXx

The lab sink was already filled with dirty test tubes in the morning. The new chunin had mislabeled several samples the day before, and now the experiment was ruined, and Tori was in charge of clean-up. Tori listened to the chunin explain this, glaring at the sink.

“So I’ll be setting it up again while you clean,” the chunin said.

It wasn’t that Tori thought she’d never mislabel something. It was that she had enough experience to know to double-check, and if she managed to screw it up anyway, she’d clean up her own fuck-ups.

Plus, everyone had ignored that she’d pointed out their control for this experiment made no sense. There was a huge risk that whatever results they got, if this chunin could get it to work at all, would be totally uninterpretable.

“Actually, I have an exemption,” Tori told the chunin. “I just came in to say I’ll be out for a while.”

She fled the lab. Kushina’s office door was always open.

“Oh!” Kushina said when Tori knocked. “You’re getting started on training earlier than I thought. Donut?”

She had a small box of donut holes she pushed at Tori. Kushina always had snacks on hand, because she liked bribing people into see her in person.

“I talked it over with Minato,” Kushina said, twirling a pen in her fingers as she spoke. “Basically, we think it’d be a good PR move if you sort of showed off that Konoha is basically the best at fuuinjutsu.”

“Okay,” Tori said. She could do that, at least… probably.

“You weren’t really flashy with it in the Iwa tournament,” Kushina continued. “So we’ll have to come up with something. Maybe you can work on giving some speeches about how your jutsu works like some weirdos do. Oh, but don’t show off you can use nonhuman chakra; we don’t want that getting out until it has to.” Kushina frowned slightly. “And I guess you shouldn’t melt any other genin. That’d be bad for international relations.”

“Okay,” Tori repeated. That just severely limited her combat capabilities. “Um, Hokage-sama told me to… win the tournament?”

She waited for Kushina to say Minato was being ridiculous. Instead she beamed and said, “Well, of course! I want my team to be three-for-three, you know!”

Kushina then made her take the rest of the box of donuts and shooed her out of the office, with a promise they’d make a training schedule.

“It’ll only be like twice a week,” Kushina said as Tori gathered up her bag. “Don’t want to distract you from the lab!”

“But,” Tori started. She needed… more than that, if she was even going to pass, let alone win a tournament.

“Bye!” Kushina replied.

Tori walked out of Hokage Tower feeling completely unsure of what to do. She could go… think about combat fuuinjutsu? Except, she’d moved most of her materials to her desk in R&D in a bid for separate work and personal time, and she did not want to go back there right now.

Well, she knew Deidara was in town and not doing anything. She went and asked him if he wanted to train.

Deidara took at her in deep distrust. “Who are you and what did you do with Tori?”

“Come on,” Tori whined. “I brought you donuts.”

Deidara was walking with a slight limp, but he did accept the rest of the donut holes and then shuffled out the door.

“We can use my grounds, yeah,” he said, still sounding suspicious that she wanted to train at all.

Deidara had his own assigned training ground, out in a field away from anything else. It was filled with half-made sculptures covered in tarp that Tori had decorated in fuuinjutsu herself, to reduce the chance of random explosions.

The field was also completely riddled with potholes, blown into the ground by Deidara’s various experiments. Deidara wasn’t exactly quick on his feet right now, but he did spend the rest of the morning attempting to shove Tori into various holes and then close them over her, making fun of her the entire time.

So probably she was improving at… something. Getting out of death traps, maybe.

Kushina, at least, did get back to her with a schedule fairly quickly. Kushina had blocked off some time in the afternoons on Mondays and Thursdays, and gone ahead and made training ground reservations.

“Do you have anything you want to do?” Kushina asked while she tied her hair up in preparation for what Tori assumed was two hours of kicking Tori’s ass.

“I mean, I can come up with something,” Tori said. Then she added slowly, “But I’m not sure it would be… flashy.”

“Nah, flashy isn’t really your style,” Kushina agreed. “I figured I’d just give you something from the ol’ vault.”

“‘The vault’?” Tori repeated.

“An Uzushio technique,” Kushina clarified.

“But isn’t that…” Tori started, and then was unsure how to finish her sentence.

The Konoha school of fuuinjutsu— which was ultimately closest to what Tori had ended up teaching herself, since her main instructor at the very beginning of her convoluted journey was Orochimaru— was the most similar amongst shinobi villages to traditional Uzushio practices, due to generations of intellectual trade between Uzushio and various Fire Country shinobi clans, especially the Senju.

Konoha fuuinjutsu and Uzushio fuuinjutsu weren’t synonymous though. A lot of Uzushio practices had been completely lost. Kushina had immigrated to Konoha with an entire trunk of scrolls, and one of her long term projects as Konoha’s head of fuuinjutsu was hunting down and recovering Uzushio techniques for preservation. These techniques were highly prized and rarely taught even to Konoha ninja, and Tori was barely even Konoha.

“Isn’t that like… for your family?” Tori asked.

Kushina frowned down at her.

“What are you talking about?” she said. “You’re my student. Of course I’m teaching you my techniques.”

Kushina did proceed to kick Tori’s ass for the next two hours, except instead of just hitting things at her, Kushina threw in some “what do you think of THIS technique?” moves. The training ground ended up completely ripped to shreds. Afterwards, Kushina lined up a bunch of scrolls containing the techniques which had nearly just murdered Tori and went over the pros and cons.

“I want something more subtle,” Tori said, clutching her bruised ribs, because what the fuck?

“No,” Kushina chided, “it has to be big and flashy, you know! We went over this!”

Tori was assigned a scroll and sent off to study it.

xXx

Tori attempted to demonstrate it for Deidara. She dropped the sealing paper into a bucket of water. The water inside twisted into gentle swirls.

“Uh huh,” Deidara said, unimpressed. He held out a hand and a clay water strider hopped onto the water’s surface. It zipped around, not the least bit disturbed by the slowly moving water.

Tori frowned and made a hand sign, attempting to add more chakra to the seal. The water picked up slightly. The clay bug was still unperturbed.

“A whirlpool, you said?” Deidara said, a mean smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Shut up,” Tori replied.

xXx

[...]

xXx

The problem with doing anything with Kushina was that there was a small but very real chance the Hokage would just be there.

Tori had expected to speak to him. He was their ride to and from the beach. She assumed the necessity of his presence was why she was meeting Kushina at her house and not some more central location. Tori had also assumed that Minato’s presence would be temporary.

Instead, Minato was in swim trunks and holding a large straw bag. Naruto was behind him, also in swim trunks, swinging a shovel around like some sort of weapon and making whooshing noises with his mouth.

“Uh,” Tori said.

“Don’t mind them,” Kushina replied. She was also dressed for the beach, in a mesh dress over a one piece. A pair of sunglasses sat on top of her head. She held a second straw bag in her hands. “They’ll just be hanging out.”

“But…” the protest died on Tori’s lips. It was an extreme act of favoritism for her to get to go to a beach for training for a day. It would be rude to complain that Minato and Naruto also wanted to hang out with Kushina. “Okay.”

The beach Minato teleported them to was on an island, out in the middle of nowhere off the southern coast of Fire Country. Unlike a lot of his Hiraishin markers, this one was not here as the result of a war mission, because this place had seen no fighting.

The marker he took them to was in an old outpost building on the eastern most point of the island, left over from generations ago during the warring clans ers, when there was fear of an attack from the sea in this area. But since Konoha had unified all the ninja in Fire Country, all the in-fighting had halted. The only true risk of attack came from Water Country, and there were more and better placed outposts to monitor their waters. This building was abandoned and basically falling apart, and only good for providing shade.

“Remember when your dad abandoned us here,” Kushina was saying to Naruto, tone humorous, “and it stormed, and we had to hide inside for hours?”

“Oooh yeah,” Naruto nodded knowingly, “because he had an ‘emergency meeting’ about something dumb, and he said he’d come right back, but then he didn’t.”

“The fruit vendors’ union was in a state of extreme duress,” Kushina said solemnly.

“They’re never going to let me live that one down,” Minato said to Tori with a good humored smile.

Kushina led them down the beach and around to the side of the island that faced the mainland. There were barely any waves on this side of the island, and the tide was far in enough that there was only a thin strip of white sand between the water and the tree line. Naruto kicked joyfully in the shallow water, running ahead and then running back.

They hung their stuff in the trees, with Kushina pulling out a belt of scrolls and strapping it around her waist.

“Is Mom going to do something cool?” Naruto said, vibrating in place.

“We can watch,” Minato said, squatting next to him. “Here.”

Naruto climbed onto his back, giggling as he went.

Oh god, I’m their entertainment, Tori thought. She did not, actually, want the Hokage to watch her embarrass herself. She didn’t even want a ten year old kid to watch her.

(Maybe she especially didn’t want the ten year old kid watching her? Little kids could be mean and judgemental, and Minato had taught Obito. He’d definitely seen more embarrassing stuff than whatever Tori was about to fail at.)

They walked out over the water. It was shallow for a long while, and the water was clear enough that Tori could see all sorts of big rocks waiting to appear when the tide went out. When they reached deeper water, the water beneath them suddenly went dark.

“Don’t like that,” Naruto said, squinting down at it. It was kind of spooky, Tori privately agreed.

Kushina motioned for them to stop, then walked out further by herself. Then she turned to them and pulled a scroll from her belt.

“Okay!” she called. “Get ready!”

She then bounded backwards, putting even more distance between them, and tossed the scroll out from herself. It unrolled at her feet and across the surface of the water, and then ink rapidly crawled out from it. Tori squinted at it. It looked like the lines of characters crawled out from the scroll and then sank into the water.

There was maybe a thirty second delay between Kushina unrolling the scroll and then the water in front of them suddenly moving. It swept sideways, and then grew in velocity such that both Tori and Minato had to leap back to avoid being swept away. The giant whirlpool’s center dipped down into the water. If they’d started off closer to Kushina, Tori wasn’t sure she would have been able to escape being sucked in. If Tori hadn’t known exactly what was going to happen and not been warned, she probably wouldn’t have expected the attack to have this sort of range and not backed off quick enough.

“Whoa!” Naruto cried. “Mom’s so cool!”

“Right?” Minato replied.

Kushina skirted the edge of the whirlpool back to them.

“Ta-da!” she said, throwing her hands in the air. She had to pitch her voice loud over the sound of the water. “These used to be all around Uzushio, to keep people out. And we used to use little ones to fish. But I don’t see why you couldn’t use it for that very flashy attack you want, Tori, right?”

Tori hadn’t actually wanted a flashy attack, but she didn’t point that out with the guy who ordered her to be flashy standing right there.

“You’re going to use that in a fight?” Naruto asked, peering down at Tori from his perch on his father’s back. “I thought you were the lame one on your team.”

“Naruto,” Kushina scolded immediately.

“That’s the plan,” Tori told Naruto, unperturbed. “I’m supposed to convince everyone I’m cool.”

“I thought you were just going to win the tournament,” Naruto said. “Everyone would think you’re cool if you won.”

Oh god, what has Kushina-sensei been saying about me? Tori wondered. Outloud, she said, “Sometimes the goal of a fight isn’t to win.”

“Really?” Naruto asked, wrinkling his nose like this was perplexing. He aimed his question at the back of Minato’s head rather than Tori.

“She’s right,” Minato said. “You and I can talk about it more when we go make a sand castle.”

“She is going to win though, you know,” Kushina said, hands on hips.

“Just keep in mind the goal is to show off fuuinjutsu,” Minato said, turning to Tori. “You want the audience to see what you’re doing. Don’t be sneaky.”

“What?” Tori said. She pointed at the whirlpool. “That took like half a minute to activate. How am I supposed to use it without being sneaky?”

“Thirty seconds is pretty fast for a genin,” Minato said.

Tori chewed her lip, unsure how to answer. So he thought she’d be even slower? How did pointing that out help her?

“It would also be good for PR if you seemed…” Minato arranged Naruto on his back awkwardly. “I don’t know, peppy?”

“Peppy?” Kushina repeated with a barking laugh.

“I don’t know, what makes people want to hire a teenaged girl?” Minato asked.

“Coolness,” Naruto said immediately.

“Oh, you think she should be cute?” Kushina said, frowning slightly. She tapped her chin. “Tori, you can be charming for a couple hours, right?”

“No?” Tori tried, voice cracking. Well, probably if she was playing off a specific person. But she had no idea how to charm a whole audience and then also do all this crazy combat stuff at the same time.

“I’m sure you can manage,” Minato said, smiling at her with more confidence than his opinion deserved. “C’mon, Naruto, let’s go play.”

He left. Tori watched them, and when they were back at the beach, she asked:

“Did you give Deidara this many caveats?”

“Hm?” Kushina said. “No, of course not. You think Deidara could be anything but a screaming maniac in a fight? We just told him not to kill anyone and figured the explosions would make anyone want to hire him.”

Wow, Tori thought as Kushina turned to deactivate her whirlpool. I can’t believe marketability is this important to being a ninja.

Tori spent the rest of the morning squatting on the water with scrolls in her lap, making seals for whirlpools while Kushina stood over her with arms crossed. The seal required a certain amount of chakra manipulation from the user, which wasn’t the way Tori liked to design her own seals, and her misunderstanding of this was what had been causing her problems. It took several tries to get an actual whirlpool.

It was… very small, only the size of her palm. It was almost cute.

“Well, it worked,” Tori deadpanned. “Could I catch fish in it?”

“Absolutely not,” Kushina said, but her tone was good-humored. “You definitely got the jutsu down though; good job. You just need to put in more chakra to make it bigger.”

“More chakra?” Tori asked, peering up at Kushina. She did a few calculations in her head. If the amount of chakra was proportional to the size of the whirlpool… “I’m not sure I even have enough chakra to make a whirlpool as big as yours.”

“Eh, you probably won’t even have that much water,” Kushina said dismissively. “Do it again, and we’ll see how big you can make it.”

Tori went back to the shore for lunch feeling deeply dissatisfied and weak-limbed from chakra loss. Naruto ran over to them the second Kushina’s foot hit the shore, Minato following him.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kushina said as she unpacked their food. “Lots of jutsu have high chakra costs, and shinobi deal with that everyday. Minato, how many times can you use rasengan in one fight?”

Presumably because the limitations of a Hokage’s signature jutsu were state secrets, Minato took a long chug of water instead of answering.

“I don’t like it,” Tori muttered, accepting a bento box. “It doesn’t feel… safe. I’d rather use algae chakra or something.”

“Okay, this isn’t going to be life or death, you know,” Kushina said. “This is a perfectly safe opportunity to get comfortable with risk assessment for when you can or should use a chakra-heavy technique or not.”

“She’s right,” Minato agreed. “Our relations with Kiri are good. This isn’t going to be like your other exam. No one’s going to try and kill you.”

I don’t think that’s true, Tori thought. People were always trying to kill her. It was part of her charm.

“Are you worried about pushing through a fight low on chakra?” Kushina asked, settling down on a beach towel with her own lunch. Naruto plopped down next to her, immediately getting sand all over the towel.

“No, I’m confident I can handle that,” Tori said. She didn’t favor chakra-heavy techniques, but she’d definitely fucked up a lot of jutsu experiments and spent way more chakra than she meant, and being in Oto ment sometimes you just had to do a task post losing all your chakra to an experiment.

“Good,” Kushina said, nodding to herself. “Because I know you’ve been sparring with Deidara, and… well, I don’t think he or I are good for advice on that.”

Tori snorted. No, she didn’t think they would be.

“Do ninja have to fight a lot with no chakra?” Naruto asked, sounding concerned.

Minato, seated on his own towel rolled out next to them, poked Naruto’s leg with one foot.

“You probably won’t have that problem,” Minato said. “Because you’re your mother’s son. But yes, it’s normal to have to do a mission low on chakra, or tired, or hungry.”

“That sounds like it sucks,” Naruto said, frowning. “Why would you assign a mission that sucks?”

Minato grinned back at him. “Well, I try really hard to make missions as easy as possible, but sometimes things go wrong.”

“Like a storm during the fruit vendor union’s meeting,” Kushina said brightly.

“Er. Yes, like that…”

Tori sat on her own towel across from them, eating in silence as she watched the family tease each other. It seemed wild they were all being this nonchalant while she was freaking out. Then again, why would they care about her, when they had their own little happy family to concern themselves with?

The problem with practicing high-chakra techniques was that Tori had already spent so much chakra that not even resting and eating had recouped enough to make anything besides a tiny whirlpool. She was done with that training for the day, whether she wanted to be or not.

“I guess Minato can take you home, if you want,” Kushina said. “Or you can stay. Have you ever been on a beach before, Tori?”

Tori hadn’t seen a beach in years. Tori did actually quite like the beach; she probably would have been overjoyed if she hadn’t come here already stressed and upset. She agreed to stay.

The tide had gone out, leaving a wide stretch of wet sand that glinted in the sunlight, algae-covered boulders, and shallow tide pools. Tori watched the Namikaze-Uzumaki family walk out over it, led by Naruto’s screams of delight.

Tori stripped off her kunoichi dress, down to her bathing suit, and kicked off her sandals. She’d been swimming in plenty of rivers and lakes, but she’d missed the sensation of sand between her toes.

“Whoa!” Naruto cried. “Look at this guy!”

He held up a horseshoe crab. Tori jogged over to them, eager to look at it herself.

“They have blue blood,” she told Naruto excitedly. He looked up at her curiously. “Because their blood cells use copper as an oxygen carrier instead of iron. Isn’t that cool?”

Naruto’s face of wonder at the idea of blue blood shifted to confusion. Tori wasn’t sure this kid had understood a single thing she’d told him, possibly ever. Kushina laughed at them.

They spent the afternoon combing the tide pools for cool little creatures. Kushina knew the names for almost all of them, from the two different types of mudskippers they unearthed, to a bunch of different types of crabs, to a handful of sea cucumbers, to a rainbow of anemones and seaweeds.

“Tide pool hopping was my favorite game, back in Uzushio, you know,” Kushina told Tori with a hint of sadness in her voice. She held up the tiny hermit crab in her palm. “I used to keep a bunch of these. I was always hoping they’d move into the prettier shells I’d find for them. They never did, though.”

She laughed, but the sound was quieter than Kushina’s laughs usually were.

Tori opened her mouth to say she’d always begged her parents for a hermit crab when she was a kid, because she liked the painted shells seaside shops sold with them. The story died on her lips before she could make a single syllable. That part of her life was way over. She only ever let herself think about it in the darkest part of the night now.

Instead she said, “Yeah, tide pools are super cool. I like reading about them. I’m glad I could see them in person.”

Kushina grinned at her.

“I’m lucky I can still share stuff like this with my family,” Kushina said, voice brighter now. She gently replaced the hermit crab on the edge of its tide pool. “If you ever want to join us again, sometimes we also go to a mainland beach in…”

Kushina babbled. At some point, Minato disappeared and reappeared with a bunch of popsicles. Tori found a spiral of shark eggs and attempted to convince a giggling Naruto he should eat them. They went back to their things only to discover biting ants had invaded all of their bags.

“We could put out food and draw them away!” Naruto said, a handful of chips from their lunch suddenly in his hands.

“Do not do that,” Minato yelped, grabbing for Naruto’s wrist.

They went home all covered in ant bites. Apparently not even a Kage could win against mother nature.

Tori walked home with a smile on her face, happy with her afternoon. It wasn’t until she was home and heating up water for instant noodles that she realized she hadn’t actually solved any of her problems. She could make a medium whirlpool now, but she’d only get one shot at it, and she had no idea how to approach that.

Oh god, she thought, heartbeat suddenly increasing. And I only have two weeks left!

xXx

Kushina and Deidara just spammed high-chakra techniques as much as they wanted. They wouldn’t be good for advice. But Tori did have another teammate.

Itachi was annoyingly hard to track down nowadays. He took a lot of away missions in ANBU, which Minato was tightlipped about with even Kushina, so that route of tracking his movements was limited. If Tori wanted to find him, she had to talk to his family, which she always felt super awkward about.

“He didn’t give us a return date, dear,” Mikoto told her when she answered the door, smile serene. Tori wondered if she seemed dumb in Mikoto’s eyes. Yes, she knew ANBU agents often couldn’t say when they’d be back. She just thought she’d ask on the off chance that he had!

Mikoto offered to let her stay for tea. Tori fled as quickly and politely as she could.

Tori started doing increasingly unhinged things, like watching the Academy when it let out because she knew Itachi liked picking up Sasuke and would prioritize getting home in time to do it if he could. She spent a lot of time haunting the outside of ANBU HQ and Itachi’s favorite bakery. None of these things, her anxiety-riddled brain pointed out, helped her train at all.

She didn’t even find Itachi doing this. Instead, Kakashi tapped her on the shoulder while she was sneaking into the ANBU breakroom after hours.

“Fantastically illegal activities you’re up to, my sweet ninja sibling,” he drawled.

Tori had basically jumped out of her skin, but she’d managed not to scream. God, Kakashi could hide his presence completely.

“I’m trying to find Itachi,” she said, voice strangled. Then she cocked her head to the side as she considered Kakashi. “Actually, maybe you can help instead. Got a few minutes for some mentoring?”

Kakashi was in full ANBU uniform, so she couldn’t see his face. He did lean back slightly, regarding her. She knew that, despite his posturing about calling Team 4 his “siblings,” Kakashi was pretty hit-or-miss about actually wanting to hang out with anyone at all. He liked privacy and was allergic to intimacy, and she had no idea if helping a genin out of the goodness of his heart was pushing it or not.

After a long, awkward silence, Kakashi finally said. “Alright. Give me twenty minutes to shower and change.”

He sent her to a nearby teahouse to meet and then didn’t show up for another forty-five minutes. The tea Tori ordered for them was lukewarm by the time he walked in.

“I became lost in thought in the shower,” he said dreamily.

“Gross,” Tori told him.

Kakashi blinked lethargically at her. “I did not imply that at all, my dirty-minded sibling.”

Tori cut to the chase, explaining her current mess of a situation to him. She was supposed to win a bunch of fights, act charming and cool while she did it, and on top of all that, she had to use a high-chakra fuuinjutsu technique she was unlikely to get comfortable with in the current timeframe.

“What… exactly… are you asking for advice on?” Kakashi asked when she was finished.

“You end up with chakra exhaustion a lot,” Tori said pointblank. “I guess I was wondering… I don’t know, how do you deal with not having enough chakra for your own techniques?”

“Hmm,” Kakashi said, drumming his fingers on the table between them. “You know, you’re right. Maybe being charming and ‘peppy’ is impossible for you. That was pretty mean.”

Tori kicked him under the table.

“I still don’t understand what you’re torn up about,” Kakashi said, his eye crinkling up in a teasing grin at her. “When I met you, you had no accessible chakra, and that didn’t slow you down at all. Why does the idea of spending it all on one technique upset you so much?”

“I guess…” Tori fidgeted with the cup in her hands. “If I just had to win a fight, that would be one thing. But I’m supposed to do a very specific thing, and I’ll only really get one shot at it.”

“Ah,” Kakashi said. There was a long pause. Then he said, “I am trying to think of a joke appropriate for a fourteen year old.”

“Gross!” Tori laughed.

“Maa,” Kakashi said. “Unfortunately I don’t think there’s a very good answer to your conundrum. If you screw up, you screw up. Any big technique is like that. If it helps, you’re at a normal part of any ninja’s journey.”

Tori wasn’t… she wasn’t a proper ninja, though. She felt like a pretender, a fake, a kid playing make believe. She had no idea how to communicate this to Kakashi without sounding completely insane.

“I think maybe,” Kakashi continued, leaning back in his seat, “you’re more anxious because it’s not your original technique, so you’re not as confident with it. You’re used to having done all the development and troubleshooting yourself, and the lack of control on that end is freaking you out.”

“...Huh,” Tori said. That… that definitely could be part of it.

“I’m not the person to ask about original techniques,” Kakashi drawled. “But I will say that the key to mastering someone else’s technique is to make it your own. You don’t have to use it exactly the way Kushina does. You have to figure out how to make it work with your style.”

“That’s actually really helpful,” Tori said with a weak smile. “Thanks, Kakashi.”

“Anytime,” Kakashi replied, and then disappeared into a puff of smoke, leaving her with the bill.

xXx

Tori felt slightly at peace for a few more days, spending time analyzing the jutsu scroll and cross-referencing pieces of it with her research materials. This seemed closer to who she actually was. It soothed her.

Then Deidara spiked her anxiety all over again by showing her a lease he’d signed. There was another line with an X next to it, for her to sign as well.

“I haven’t even seen the apartment,” Tori said, feeling hysterical. Why was everyone making all these insane decisions for her?!

“It’s cool, I promise,” Deidara said. “But we have to sign quick. The landlord only gave me a couple days to decide, yeah.”

Tori leafed through the lease furiously. The address was in a really nice neighborhood, the square footage was impressive, and the lease listed patio furniture among assets they’d be liable for, implying the existence of that outdoor space she wanted. Half the total rent would be a huge stretch even on a chunin salary, and she might not even get that.

“I’m willing to divide up rent proportional to our salaries, but I get the bigger bedroom,” Deidara said.

“Even if I stay a genin?” Tori snapped. She shoved the paper and the pen at him.

“You’re not going to stay a genin, yeah,” he replied, annoyed, and shoved it back at her.

“The average age of promotion is fifteen,” Tori said, her voice cracking embarrassingly. “Thirty percent of shinobi never even make chunin.”

Tori had less than a week to prepare before heading out. She felt like she needed months to practice as much as she wanted, and she didn’t have the time or energy to deal with this. And yet, she found herself skipping her training ground booking to take a tour of an apartment.

“Be quick,” the landlord said. “The current tenants only agreed to thirty minutes.”

The apartment was really nice. Nicer than she’d even ever considered an apartment could be, really. All three of the bedrooms and their own narrow balconies, not quite enough for furniture but enough for a potted plant and to step out onto in the morning, and there was a rooftop terrace.

“We could make this one an office,” Deidara said, gesturing at the smallest bedroom, which was the size of a very determined closet and currently done up as a baby room. The current tenants wanted an actual house for their growing family, apparently.

Deidara could easily afford a pretty nice apartment on a Jounin salary, even if he had zero savings to fall back on. Tori assumed his insistence on her rooming with him was the little income bump to get him something even better than “pretty nice.” He probably felt like he deserved it, after all those years as a feral forest child.

She certainly couldn’t afford anything approaching this good on her own. If she wanted anything bigger than her dorm room on her own, she’d have to either get incredibly lucky or look in one of the shittier outer neighborhoods, which was why she hadn’t done it.

When they were done with the tour, the landlord stared expectantly at them. Deidara cleared his throat and looked meaningfully at her.

Oh, so he’d gotten this last minute tour because he’d promised the landlord she’d sign.

Tori low-key felt like flipping them both off and stomping off. Her hand balled into a fist.

“The café on the corner is supposed to have the best coffee in Konoha, yeah,” Deidara said, eyes glinting.

“Fine,” Tori seethed. “I’ll sign.”

If she didn’t make chunin, her life really was going to turn into a shit show.

So long, take-out lunches, she thought as she signed her life away.

As they walked back to the dorms, Tori actually thought a little harder about what they’d just done. She’d never rented an apartment herself before, but Deidara had been working on moving out since he made chunin. She’d listened to a lot of rants about biases landlords had against younger ninja, even if they had high salaries. Usually ninja got charged high, multi-month deposits, to cover the landlord in case the renter should randomly die. It prevented younger ninja, who didn’t have savings, from renting higher-end places even if they could afford the monthly rent.

“There wasn’t anything in the lease about a deposit,” Tori said, confused. Was that a separate thing she’d also suddenly have shoved in front of her? “Or… key money?”

Deidara beamed at her. “I found a way around that! I just got a cosigner to cover us, yeah.”

“Cosigner…?” Tori repeated. “That wasn’t on the lease…”

“Yeah, usually that’d be in there and it wouldn’t get you out of a deposit,” Deidara agreed. “But turns out you can get away with anything with a letter from Hokage-sama, yeah!”

Tori stopped dead in her tracks. Oh good, now if she didn’t make chunin, the Hokage would know she couldn’t make rent.

“What?” Deidara said, putting his hand on his hip. “You wanted to read his note too? Tori, you're such a nerd–”

Tori resisted the urge to scream.

xXx

Itachi finally found her two days before she was set to leave. He found her setting up at the training ground she had booked for the morning.

“Both my mother and Kakashi-sempai said you were looking for me,” he said, eyeing the line of bamboo poles she set out in the packed dirt.

“Yeah,” Tori said, pointing accusingly at him. “You are impossible to find, asshole.”

“I apologize,” Itachi said, not sounding the least sorry. “I’ve been… increasingly uncomfortable at home, and have been taking longer missions.”

Tori squinted at him. She’d thought Danzo being gone would make his family situation better, not worse.

“Is something wrong?” she asked carefully.

Itachi, being an uncommunicative asshole, just shook his head. He didn’t look any more stressed than he usually did: he had killer bags under his eyes, but that was his normal state of being. His hair was recently washed and shiny, not gross from too much time on missions and not enough time with shower access. His body language was calm and lacked the weird twitchy movements he’d get when he was trying not to lose his shit on someone.

He was at least physically taking care of himself, then. She had no idea what went on in his messed up little brain, but Sasuke had seemed perfectly happy and sociable those days she’d clandestinely stalked him, which was a good predictor of Itachi’s anxiety levels.

“Did you want something from me?” Itachi prompted.

“Oh,” Tori said. “Kakashi ended up helping me out, actually.”

She briefly explained her current conundrum.

“Kiri?” Itachi asked, and Tori noted he brightened ever so much. This was basically the Itachi version of perking up like a dog hearing the treat bag rustle. It was almost cute.

“Yeah,” Tori said. “The other thing I wanted to ask was if you want me to tell you-know-who anything.”

“Hmm, no,” Itachi said, without the slightest hint of malice in his voice.

“Really?”

“If I had something to say,” Itachi said blandly, “I would simply send a crow.”

Tori’s lips thinned. Itachi was… not a very good friend, in her opinion. But it also wasn’t in her place to micromanage his friendship with Kisame.

“Perhaps you can ask how he’s doing,” Itachi said mildly. “I would like to know.”

That was… that was cute, actually.

“Sure,” Tori agreed.

Itachi next turned back to her bamboo poles.

“Is this for your mission?” he asked.

“Mm,” Tori said. “I’m making an overly complicated jutsu to look cool. Wanna help? I need someone to swing a sword at me.”

Itachi was happy to comply. He was, Tori abruptly remembered, a terrifying person to have swing a sword at you.

But she did get her jutsu working.

#reborn au #toriverse #my writing

108 notes · View notes

theemporium · 1 year ago

Note

Oh, please write for Mat! What about something fluffy with surprising the partner at home?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

You were dragging your feet by the time you reached your apartment after work.

The exhaustion you felt went beyond lack of sleep and long days, it was set deep in your bones and made every part of your body feel ten times heavier than usual. Everything felt harder than usual. From falling asleep at night to getting up in the morning, from focusing in classes to paying attention during your shifts, from just pushing your body to work on some twisted sense of routine that made you feel like you were a robot completing tasks to the fact you hadn’t felt like yourself in a while.

It was tiring, it was exhausting and you didn’t know what to do about it. And coming home to a completely empty apartment didn’t help settle the unease in your chest, the one that had been bubbling since Mat left for a roadie over a week ago.

However, being on the other side of the country only put a damper on your already shitty mood. By the time you could manage a conversation over message or call, it was late for you and you were fighting to keep your eyes open, even if you knew you would inevitably be tossing in your bed for a few hours trying to fall asleep. Though, you never did sleep well when Mat was gone.

Despite every cell in your body screaming for you to forget dinner and curl up in bed with the hopes that you could manage more than a few hours of sleep for your first day off in almost two weeks, you knew there was still so much buzzing in your mind for you to do and you didn’t even think the comfort of being home would help.

You were so lost in your thoughts that it took three attempts before you managed to slot the key into the lock, turn the handle and shuffle inside. You hadn’t even acknowledged the extra pair of shoes by the door or noted the bag dumped a few feet away.

You didn’t even catch on to any of it until you lifted your head and found Mat standing there, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and hoodie, with his arms spread open and a massive grin on his face as he stared right back at you.

“Surprise!”

You blinked, your brain unable to even process the sight in front of you.

“We decided to take a late night flight because the early morning one got cancelled so we came home early,” Mat explained as he closed the distance between you, grinning at your silence thinking you were just shocked. “Couldn’t wait to get home to my girl.”

The second he was close enough, Mat wasted no time in winding his arms around your waist and tugging you close until you practically fell into his chest. He grinned down at you, so giddy and happy to just be back home with you that it took a few seconds before he noticed your silence, before he noticed the dark circles under your eyes and the glaze over your eyes like you weren’t fully focused, like you were disassociating.

“Oh baby,” he murmured, his voice softer and quieter as he raised his hand to gently cup your face, to let his thumb brush over the apple of your cheek as your body instinctively sagged against his touch.

“M’just a little tired,” you tried to wave him off, but this was Mat. This was Mat who wasn’t just your boyfriend but your best friend, the one who saw right through your bullshit and bad excuses. “I’m glad you’re home. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, his lips twitching upwards before he leaned down to place a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. “And I’m glad I’m home too, can take care of my girl like she deserves.”

You sighed. “Mat—”

“Let me take care of you, baby,” he whispered, a glint in his eyes that made your heart race in your chest. “Please.”

“Just hold me.” You hated the way your voice cracked as you spoke. “I just really missed being in your arms.��

His grip on you instantly tightened as he brought you closer, as he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you close until your cheek was pressed against his chest, the smell of his hoodie so comforting and so him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Always,” he answered as he pressed another kiss along your hairline. “How about ordering from that Thai place you like?”

“I thought you hated it,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“I like some of it,” he argued weakly but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Tonight is your choice. Tomorrow we can order something obscene I like that will make the trainers cry.”

You laughed lightly, and the sound made his grin widened. “Deal.”

“Good, now go get changed into something comfy,” Mat murmured as he pulled you away from his chest, lightly pushing you in the direction of your shared bedroom. “M’gonna put on that show you like.”

“And you won’t get offended when I ogle Damon Salvatore?” You questioned, mostly teasing as you took a few steps backwards.

Mat rolled his eyes, but still smiled as he placed his hand over his heart. “Scout’s promise, baby.” He paused for a moment. “Even if I’m much hotter than him.”

“No doubt about it, baby.”

#mat barzal #nhl #new york islanders #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal x y/n #mat barzal fic #mat barzal one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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bajablastwrites · 5 months ago

Text

A New Student!

Platonic! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Student! Reader

Summary: Congratulations! Gojo unofficially adopts you after he accidentally came upon you while you were running errands!

Author’s Note: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I completely revised it cuz this shit was all over the place (and probably still is) when I first started writing it, and I’m currently going through a depressive episode and need to feel some fulfillment in my life so here you go :)

Ok so imagine you’re out in public just minding your business, maybe running errands or something who knows. Then this tall blindfolded guy with white hair comes up to you and asks if you’d like to join his school, saying you have potential. You say no, not really interested in his offer and try to get on with your day. He starts to follow you, trying to persuade you to join his school, clearly not taking no for an answer and at some point the man is looming over you and starts wiggling his fingers in your direction, telling you that you’ll be well taken care of and you’ll be his favorite student too, you’re special after all.

Anyone with a brain cell knows that an adult calling a minor “special” or their “favorite” while saying they’ll be “well taken care of” is enough to receive a hard drive check. So like any normal person you book it and it didn’t take long for you to realize he’s running after you. You had a feeling he wasn’t actively trying to catch you— with his long legs you knew he could easily catch up to you if he really wanted to, but for some reason he didn’t. Not one to question the weird opportunity to escape for too long, you run into a crowd in the hopes that you’ll lose him, which you thought you were successful in since you didn’t see him anymore— he’s not exactly hard to miss after all.

After that ordeal you decide to go into a couple more shops and stores for a little longer just to make sure he’s actually gone and isn’t following you before you head home and call it a day. Only to find the same suspicious man in your living room the next day wearing sunglasses. He introduced himself as Satoru Gojo as he talked with your mom about the new school you can go to. He made it out as if you’re being scouted by a prestigious religious school that offered a scholarship when you go to college after graduation. So obviously your mom made you gently persuaded you to agree to going to the school, it’s not everyday you get an opportunity like this. So in the end you reluctantly agreed while your new teacher Gojo tells you to be packed by tomorrow as you walked him to the door per your mom’s instructions.

You wanted to slam the door in his face and never look at him again, but mom said no.

“I knew your mom would help me out, she’s such a nice lady!”

“How’d you even know where I lived?!”

Not only did this guy chase you around in public, but he then had the balls to show up to your house and borderline flirt with your mom, while trying to convince her to let her kid join a mysterious religious school!

To add insult to injury it worked.

“Don’t worry about details like that! I’ll be stopping by tomorrow evening. Maybe spend some time with your mom while you get your stuff transported to the school, just standard procedures ��n stuff!” He said as he stepped out into your front yard to take his leave.

You swear your brain went blank once that sentence was processed. That isn’t normal right??

“I’m no expert on standard procedure for moving into an on-campus dorm, but I’m pretty sure you taking to my mom isn’t one of them.” You blatantly stated while silently praying he’s not implying what you think he’s implying.

The man claiming to be your new teacher turned around and decided to open his mouth and worsen your already bad view on him.

“Eh? Well how else am I supposed to get to know her? I don’t mind older women, nothing wrong with enjoying vintage beauty from time to time. She looks really good for her age too, I’m sure she could use someone like me to keep her company!” He boasted while pointing at himself.

You also couldn’t help but get offended on your mom’s behalf, because why did he regally call your mom old?

“My mom’s not old and she’s in a happy loving marriage with my dad!!” You tried to keep yourself from yelling too loudly, less your mom hear you yelling at a guest you were supposed to be showing to the door. Honestly she should’ve checked on you sooner because it doesn’t take this long to walk someone to the door.

Your inner child was punching the air, how dare that man flirt with your mom! The idea that someone other than your dad wanting to fuck your mom— no; actually the idea that your parents fuck is already painful enough.

Your new teacher is saying he wants to get with your mom is hurting your soul in a new way you never thought possible.

He’s so fucking weird.

Anyways that’s how you met your teacher Gojo :)

And of course he gave you the honorary title of being his favorite student just like he said he would! You don’t get any special treatment or anything though so that’s pretty disappointing.

But back to the topic at hand. You probably came in at around the same time Yuji did and because of his friendly nature and that fact that you’re both new students you guys got on well— which Gojo was happy to see because now he’s plotting and scheming. To get with your mom

By that I mean he got bored one day and decided he wanted play matchmaker by setting you up with either Yuji or Megumi. (Mainly with Megumi cuz he’s known him the longest so he’s biased-) Depending on how well you get along with either one he’ll start to meddle in you guy’s business and try to get you guys to kiss or something idk— especially if it’s with Megumi. Again he’s very biased when it comes to Megumi. Why isn’t his adopted son rizzing you up like he’s supposed to!😡

Sometimes Gojo likes to dote on you like how a dad would to his daughter— mostly because you’re the only student besides Yuji that won’t try and deck him in the face when he goes in to hug you or something. You just let it happen and sometimes even return the hugs.

It’s honestly really easy to forget he’s supposed to be your teacher since he acts more like an older cousin or brother more than anything. But at the end of the day you and everyone else are under his care and that’s something he takes seriously even if he is pretty goofy.

Gojo thinks you’re one of the cutest things he’s seen, you just have a more rounded appearance compared to the rest of his students. He credits that to your mom’s genesis. He’s just gotta squish your face! Sometimes he forgets that you’re the same age as the rest of his students since you’ve got a very youthful appearance (a nicer way of saying you don’t look your age💀). He can’t help but just want to hug and squish you or poke at your cheeks whenever he sees you!

Was lowkey surprised that you let him do it in the first place since his students would fight tooth and nail to keep him from doing anything remotely affectionate, but decided not to mention it because of his pride and ego.

Bro definitely pinches your cheeks when he gets irritated with you and he won’t let go until you say sorry to him😭

You’ve also earned the nickname “Chibi-chan” from him and he’ll only address you as Chibi-chan from hear on out. Embarrassing his students is his favorite hobby :)

But anyways!

Ignoring that he occasionally makes passing comments about your mom and wanting to get to know her in the most unprofessional way possible. He’s not a shabby support system, if you have hobbies or like to do stuff outside of jujutsu he’s there to support you. Man’s will do anything he can to help you achieve your goals. Especially if there’s some sort of event pertaining to it. Even better if your mom is in attendance! As long as your hobbies or interest’s aren’t harmful or dangerous to you or others he’s more than happy to support you!

Like Yuji he also trained you one-on-one to learn the basics of Jujutsu or get a better grasp of your technique if you have one. He would’ve trained you with Yuji but this was when everyone thought he was dead. So he was either training you both on different days of the week or he was running back and forth between the two of you if what he was teaching you guys was the same thing.

Though you progressed faster than Yuji seeing as you still got to interact with your classmates and the second years, so you were able to train and practice with them while also being trained by gojo himself later in the day. So he would skim over or review the concept of whatever he was teaching you that day and move on to having you put it into practice while helping you improve what he’s teaching you.

But once everyone knows Yuji’s alive then he trains you two together while commenting how he’s glad doesn’t have to repeat the same lessons anymore now that everyone knows Yuji isn’t dead. It’s a lot more fun training with Yuji too. Teamwork and such— totally not a part of his plan to get you with Yuji or Megumi.

If you ever get any injuries from any missions he checks in on you and talks about paying your mom a “personal” visit, saying that he promised he’d update her on anything that happens in your life and “comfort” her whenever you get sick or injured. You still don’t know if he’s actually serious but that doesn’t stop you from expressing your disgust and having a thousand yard stare every single time.

“I’m gonna have to pay your mom a little personal visit this afternoon to update her on your current situation. I’ll make sure to comfort her too so she’s not overwhelmed hearing that her sweet baby girl is hurt!” He leaned back dramatically while putting the back of his hand against his forehead, oh the tragedy! Except we’re in the 21st century, technology has advanced so much that we practically walk around with a mini laptop in our pockets.

He can just call her!! Hell, he could send her an email or a letter from the school, and not visit her in person! Fucking weirdo.

“Die. Die. I hope you choke on your next meal and die.” You were supposed to be recovering in peace but I guess the big man upstairs had other plans. So now you’re in bed injured and seething, what a way to recover.

Gojo put his hand to his chest let out a dramatic gasp. His own student— his favorite student of all people is wishing death upon him! “Wishing death upon your favorite sensei, I’m hurt! Even after I made you my favorite student and promised your super nice mom I’d care for you like you’re my own kid!”

You knew he wanted to call your mom something other than just super nice. The cringe was immaculate and you never wanted to curl up in a hole and die more than ever.

“You’re the only first-year teacher here— and leave my mom alone!!”

Even if you know he’s not actually trying to get with your mom, it doesn’t stop you from feeling like you’ve heard the worst string of words to ever befall the ears of another human being.

You’re not alone though because the rest of your classmates also cringe or make disgusted faces when Gojo makes any kind of implications about your mom. Everyone gets to suffer what a great bonding experience! Fun!

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader platonic #gojo x reader platonic #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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