#sac masterlists

[joeloverture]

morning cardio | dbf!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | updates blog pairing: dbf!neighbor!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] your neighbor and dad's longtime buddy catches you sneaking back home after an underwhelming hook-up. you want more — he provides. warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!neighbor!joel, age gap (23/50), reader has a bad relationship with her father, reader's father is overly strict, reader hooks up with an oc, dirty talk, soft!dom joel, degradation, praise, thigh riding, 1 spank, titty slapping, daddy kink, exhibitionism but nobody sees, almost caught, heavy petting, misogyny for sexiness that joel doesn't actually believe in since he's a sweetheart [no use of y/n] word count: 3.7k a/n: watch me almost exclusively post dbf joel. watch me. also, mind the tags, they've changed slightly since i posted the teaser. this was supposed to be a series. this is no longer the case bc i'm indecisive. sorry.

Mistake number one: your eyes are crusted shut with the mascara you’d forgotten to wipe off.

Mistake number two: the bed you wake up in is not your own.

Mistake number three: sleeping with your neighbor.

Rubbing your mascara-sealed eyes, you blink yourself into consciousness and instantly regret it. There’s a moment of stillness, time stretching as you take in the room underneath the swelling orange sunlight. The window is cracked just enough to give you a glimpse at the world outside — birds chirping, sprinklers spritzing, cars crunching gravel as they pull out of the driveway. Surrounding the narrow, rumpled bed is a graveyard of orphaned socks. A box fan whirrs in the corner. The room had felt much cleaner past midnight when it was only the yellowed street lamp outside shining through the window. Then you spot the digital clock on the cluttered bedside table reads 6:10, ten minutes later than you’d wanted to be awake for, and time returns to its regular pace.

Your heart kicks awake in your chest, veins going cold. You kick the sheets off of your sweaty body, roll out of bed, and stumble two steps before planting your feet on the carpet below. Even that isn’t enough to stir your hookup. Dylan Andrews.

It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Both of you were home for spring break. Both of you had flirted at the block party with each other. He was only decent-looking and mediocre with his hands, but you needed a break from spending another night in your childhood bedroom. What better way to do it than with a dick appointment?

Again. It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Sneaking out underneath the nose of your strict, tough-as-nails dad was the easy part. Sneaking back in? Less easy. And to make matters worse, you were already ten minutes behind.

Shit.

You tiptoe across the room, naked as the day you were born, and stuff your underappreciated lingerie into your backpack. Without even putting your panties or bra on, you hop into your shorts and wrestle with your hoodie. By the time you’re out of Dylan’s room, it’s 6:12.

The difference between your dad and Dylan’s mom? She doesn’t give a shit what side of town Dylan wakes up on or how much alcohol is sloshing around in his system as long as he’s safe. You’re not the first girl to do the walk of shame out of Ms. Andrews' generic McMansion house, and you’re far from the last.

She’s downstairs in front of the coffee maker, still wearing her pajamas and doing a Dollar General crossword when you slip past her kitchen unnoticed. The door clangs shut behind you, and you figure she must see you walking down the cul-de-sac.

Your dad always leaves for work at 6:45 after a freezing cold shower and a steaming cup of black coffee for balance. You can only hope his shower ran a little late and that he isn’t at the dining room table already. Cramming two steps into one, you continue with your beeline down the awakening street.

You’re followed home by the mailboxes and flower beds, the pebbles you kick with every step. You’re almost to the property line, prepared to make a mad dash to your front door when you hear the faint call of your name. You skid to a stop, and turn to face the source: the craftsman-style house next door.

And there he is – Joel Miller, sitting on one of the cushioned chairs of his front porch in nothing but his sleep shorts and a t-shirt, legs spread as wide as the chair can accommodate. There’s a smug, knowing look on his face, one that says I’ve caught you. See how you can get out of this.

It’s been a long time since you’ve been face to face with Joel — Mr. Miller. You’d think you’d see him more often, with him being your dad’s buddy and your neighbor, but it’s been since summer. You’re sure he must be having the time of his life by joining your just got laid parade.

“You’re up awful early,” he calls, beckoning you up the driveway with a come-hither movement of his fingers. Leaving your dignity at the curb, you pad up the yard to his porch, climbing one of the stairs to lean against the gutter that feeds into his shrubbery. Pollen and moss is scattered across the wooden deck, surrounding a package that he hasn’t bothered to pick up yet. His guitar is off to the side, propped up against the doorway of the house. You wonder if he’d been playing when he’d seen you walking by.

Joel’s covered for you before, briefly and sparingly. Taken the fall for the half-empty bottle of fireball in your dresser even though he’d never go within ten feet of that shit, blamed it on himself for accidentally leaving it behind after fixing a wheel that had jumped off track for you. Even though your dad had chewed him out for drinking on the job, he’d still managed to sneak it back to you with the wise words of hiding it in a sock next time. You’d been two months past your twenty-first when that had happened, and maybe Joel had pitied you after realizing how authoritarian his friend was.

You aren’t as sure if he’ll pity you now.

“Needed some fresh air,” you defend lamely, hands hanging limp by your sides.

“Needed some cock?” he corrects, and his bluntness makes you choke. He seems relaxed for the words that just came out of his mouth, fingers drumming on his impossibly large thighs, a playful smirk resting on his lips.

You sputter, “No! Jesus, what the hell–”

“I got eyes, hun. Saw you leave that Andrews kid’s place. Clearly he didn’t stick it to ya that good if you’re still walkin’ steady,” he comments. His head tilts.

“Joel,” you hiss, eyes flitting to your dad’s house next door. He seems to read your mind, his smirk widening.

“Wonder what your pops would think. Bet I have a pretty good idea. His little angel, sneakin’ around and whorin’ herself out.” He clicks his tongue at you. “A damn shame.”

Heat spools low in your stomach and down to your unsatisfied center. You wish you’d worn darker colored shorts instead of the flimsy gray things you have on. There’s no barrier of your panties to stop yourself from leaking all over them, and with the way Joel’s looking at you, eyes dark and sly, you’re wishing there was.

“Can’t even imagine what you’re gettin’ up to at that college ‘a yours. Bet you had five guys inside of ya all at once, and I sure ain’t talkin’ about burgers, hun.” He lounges back in his chair, watching you.

You feel yourself gush. Heat burns in your thighs, and they rub together on instinct, seeking to extinguish that brimming ache between your legs. You bunch your hands in the fabric of your sweatshirt and can’t stop yourself from squirming underneath his gaze. It’s not like you’ve never thought about this, this with him of all people when you’re underneath your covers and your hand finds the warm junction between your thighs. Always unattainable. Always just out of reach.

You whisper again, “Joel,” but this time, it comes out as more of a moan. Humiliation warms your cheeks and chest, forming a different kind of pit in your stomach.

“Hmmmm?” Joel hums at you with a raised brow. He’s casual, indifferent, almost. But then his eyes flicker up and down, stopping at the wet patch smeared across the front of your shorts, the way your thighs press tight, tensing before letting go. “Ah. A little slut shamin’ gets you all riled up, hun?” That tears a whimper from you. He does that stupid come hither motion again, and like a lost dog, you listen. Standing in front of him, you feel completely, utterly exposed.

He adjusts himself in his chair, and you swallow the building lump in your throat when you see his bulge hardening. It sends another zap of heat to your core, and then another, more surprised one when his hand goes up to grab at your tit. Your breath catches as he thumbs one of your hardened nipples. A triumphant noise echoes out of him. “Braless, too?” His other hand goes down to your shorts, playing with the waistband. “Prancin’ around in these short, skimpy things, too. Practically giving the whole neighborhood a free peep show.”

His hand slides lower. Lower. Pans over to the crease of your thigh and then his thumb is planting over your clit, rubbing only once before he pulls away. “Messy pussy. Bet you stained the guys sheets.”

You’re quiet, staring at him, his wicked fucking expression, those hands that look like sin itself. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Ah. Poor baby. All this effort and you didn’t even get to come.” He just looks at you. Unmoving. Not doing a single damn thing to get you there.

“Please, Joel,” you whisper, embarrassed by the gritty need already embedded into your voice when he’s hardly even touched you.

And he’s still wearing that wolfish look, that tainted-with-intention gleam in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what you do want when he asks, “What? What do you want?” He licks his lips, a fleeting moment.

You look over your shoulder, at the rising street. Anyone could have their windows cracked. Anyone could hear you confess on this porch. Still, you murmur, “I… I want you to make me come, Joel.” Your voice shivers a little bit along with the stroke of wind that wisps against the backs of your thighs.

His brows raise together, now. His head tips forward. “What was that? A little louder. You know, my ears really ain’t the sharpest these days…”

Fucking bastard.

“I want,” you say again, fighting to stop your voice from wavering, to keep it not too loud but not too quiet. “you to make me come.”

Joel sucks on his teeth for a second. “Ohhh. Now I don’t think that’s really fair, hun.” He gives you a mockingly sad look.

“Why?” you ask, and you know you sound as whiny as a petulant child. But he’d been correct earlier. You put in all of this effort, sneaking out for a thrilling night that had turned into something more like two sweaty bodies moving together and only one of them feeling good from it. You want to feel good. You’re tired of looking at the right and the wrong. Joel’s sitting in front of you, his thumb still smelling like your arousal; that’s what’s right.

“You’re out here breakin’ all the rules. Shouldn’t be rewarding you for that, sweetheart. Besides, it’s a little fucked up, dontcha think? Makin’ you come all over me while your pops, my buddy, is none the wiser gettin’ ready for work next door?” His vulgarity only weakens you even more, pussy clenching and begging to be filled. You’re about to protest again when he cuts in, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help ya out.”

Your heart pedals in your chest, eager and wanting. But Joel, instead of getting up and elbowing you inside like you expect, stays right where he is. He pats one of his splayed thighs, the grin on his face only widening. Your face contorts. Joel hears your question before you ask.

“What? Never humped someone’s leg before? With how much of a bitch in heat you’re actin’ right now, I’m surprised.” You can feel the shock on your face plain as day. Joel jerks his head down to his thigh, egging you on. “Better hurry up if you want my help, sweetheart. Pretty sure your dad’s about to get goin’, and I sure don’t have all day, either.”

The rapidly shrinking part of yourself that isn’t consumed with desire tells you to take a step back. That anyone, God forbid, even the Adlers across the street could witness this. Talk about a free peep show.

You think of the alternative: sneaking back into your house with a hope and a prayer that your dad won’t find you, backpack over your shoulder and shoes on, as you climb the stairs back to your bedroom. Open up your Joel-advised dresser drawer of things your dad says you shouldn’t have and pull out your vibrator. Do the same old hassle of a routine, desperately trying to make yourself come. Reach an unfulfilling peak.

Or… take what Joel’s offering you. Risks and all.

You take a tentative step forward, glaring at Joel when he chuckles because of your hesitance, and plop yourself down on his thigh. The pressure against your clit immediately pulls a whimper from you. His big hands fix themselves on your hips, holding tight, but not too tight as to hold you captive against him. There’s still the faint existence of the Joel you’ve always known, considerate and sweet and all southern gentleman, that exists behind the guise of his dominance. 

You nestle your head into the crook of his neck, breathing heavy against him as you get a slow start to grinding your hips on his thigh. Although your movements are tentative, uncertain in nature, your head is already going fuzzy.

“Bet you’re only this wet cause that boy already put a new load in your dishwasher.” You scoff at him in disbelief — both at how much more wet it gets you, and how foul his words are. He chooses then to jerk you forward by the hips. You cry out as your pussy drags along the thick expanse of his thigh, clit catching on the bunched up fabric of your rumpled shorts.

“Zip it, you fuckin’ hussy. Ain’t a damn soul in this neighborhood that wants to wake up to you sobbin’ while gettin’ off on this thigh.” One of his hands drifts back to squeeze at the flesh of your ass. You hear the spank before you feel it, a sting that echoes and sticks right between your legs. He’s effortlessly strung a barbed wire of humiliation around your body. The lack of power makes your thighs clamp down around his, and you can’t tell if you crave more of it or despise it.

Unable to decide which, you loudly, exaggeratedly moan into his ear, still rocking down on his lap. It resounds through the neighborhood, the springboard roofs ricocheting you coquettish noises down the street and through the flowerbeds. A spooked crow lifts off of the power lines behind you, and you hear it squawk as its wings beat and carry it away.

Joel cocks his head at you, brow raised. “So it’s not just your legs that have a problem stayin’ shut. It’s your nasty mouth, too.” His hands migrate up your sides to your tits, which jostle with every flighty movement across his thigh. Before you know what he’s doing, he tweezes at your nipples in a way that makes you melt into him, forehead falling flat against his neck. And then he lands a hard smack across your chest, pleasure with a bite. Your hips jolt. “Behave for daddy before I make you walk next door draggin’ a snail trail behind ya.”

You know he doesn’t mean your real dad. A new rush of heat settles in your stomach, tightening your cunt from an ache to an insatiable thrumming that only Joel can solve. “Fuck,” you almost shout, but end up muffling into his skin with an open-mouthed kiss. He sighs, adjusting under you. The change in angle on your clit makes you whimper, especially when you feel his hardened length smushed against the outside of your thigh.

Your hand goes down to grip it, to participate in the push and pull, the cat and mouse, but he shakes his head, pulling it out of the way. He holds you by the small of your back, urging you to keep rubbing on him. “You’re lucky I’m even givin’ you my thigh,” he spits. “Ain’t gonna let you play chutes and ladders tryna make me come when I know damn well where that hand was last night.”

“Daddy,” you pout at him, lower lip jutting out.

He only shakes his head. “Don’t start.”

Whining in agitation, you manage to school yourself into behaving like he’d told you to. Every grind of your hips welcomes pleasure, beckons it, activates the porch light inside of you that invites it inside. You go limp against Joel as he guides you back and forth, and even limper when he tightens the muscle underneath your soaking core. Your hands anchor themselves on his broad shoulders, nails carving into his skin through the flimsy material of his shirt. He hisses underneath you, a break in his seemingly titanium resolve. You feel yourself getting closer, heat wreathing around your stomach, cunt clenching.

In your house, the foyer light flickers on.

Your hips stall over Joel’s as you see your dad’s backlit silhouette moving around in the foyer. Likely sliding on his shoes, patting his pockets for his wallet and his work phone…. You have two minutes at best.

Joel’s eyes follow your distracted line of vision. His amused chuckle warms the back of your neck. “Oughta hurry up if you don’t wanna get caught. Your old man would be in for a rude awakening, headin’ to work and finding his precious little girl fuckin’ my leg like a whore,” he murmurs.

He bounces his leg underneath you, and you bite back the needy cry that threatens to slip out. It feels so good, too good for you to think about anything other than the haze of arousal and pleasure that hovers over your head like a perpetual fog. You return to grinding down on him, hips pumping with a greater, renewed speed. “Attagirl,” Joel croons at you, and the hand at the small of your back presses harder, pushing you up and down his thigh.

Short, strained breaths of yours meet the morning air, eyes pinned on the rectangular window. It’s a golden-washed reminder of how wrong this is. Your dad would blow a gasket, see red, breathe fire at you if he knew exactly what was happening just a few feet away from his front yard.

But you forget all about that when Joel’s calloused fingers cup your chin, nudging you to look at him. His eyes are all pupil, darkened with something like starvation, something like want. “Don’t look at him. Look at me,” he coaxes, and he bounces his thigh again.

You’re close, you can feel it. He can feel it, too, in the way that your thighs fasten around his, your cunt rocking on him as your fervor makes the whole front porch shake and shudder. Tossing your hips back and forth, you wanted it, but now? Now you need it. Your stomach tightens, your legs shivering below you as your cunt gushes all over both of your shorts. “That’s it, baby, come on me like you were beggin’ to. ‘S alright, nice and easy for daddy, mhm?” He tenses his thigh one final time, and you lurch over that edge. “Gooood girl,” he hums as your cunt flutters against his leg. “You’re a daredevil, aren’t you?” he asks, jerking his head toward your house.

You figure you must be, after what you just did.

You’d planned on staying there, riding it out and trembling against his warm chest. But the garage cranks open. You jolt off of Joel’s lap, damn near teleporting across the porch with how fast you move. Joel smirks at you, crossing his unfucked leg over his freshly fucked one, where you’d rubbed your cum all over his skin until it’d glistened. The sight warms your stomach all over again, but it doesn’t last – nerves spasm in your ribcage as your dad ducks out into the driveway.

You fumble with your shorts, pulling them down and crossing your hands in front of the obvious stain on the gray fabric. Your dad squints across the yard, cupping a hand over his eyes. “Miller?” He calls your name shortly after, and you straighten. “You’re up early, kiddo.”

You open your mouth, on the precipice of a lie that you know won’t be good. It’ll come out unsteady, dishonest, and uneven. 

Joel points at the package at the foot of his doorstep. “My toolbox got sent to yours,” he explains. “Damn postal. ‘Bout as good as the Boston Post Road these days. But your kid’s got me covered. Raised her right.”

For the second time, Joel Miller covers for you. You have no idea where this leaves you, standing under your dad’s scrutinizing gaze. With your cum cooling and sticking to your folds the same way it’s cooling and sticking to his leg, Joel knows your secret. And he’s keeping it.

Your dad only gives a shallow nod, looking between the two of you. “Well,” he hooks a hand back at his truck. “I gotta head off to work.” He shifts on his feet, this time pointing to you. “And you head back inside, kiddo. Too early for you to be up and movin’.” Of course it is.

You stare at the ground, the pollen and stray leaves below your feet. Finally, you settle on a nod. Shallow and halfhearted, much like his. Your dad, satisfied, retreats back into the garage. You hear the truck engine come to life.

“You heard the man,” Joel says. You tighten your fists, moving to step away, but the way Joel’s eyes glimmer has you loitering. He lowers his voice. “See you soon, daredevil.”

That damned nickname. “How do you know I’ll be back?” you retort under your breath.

He shrugs. “I’m sure there’ll be more… ‘packages’.”

You blame the heat in your body on the rising sun, sweat clinging to the back of your neck as you plod off through the front yard. There’s only one thought in your head as your dad pulls out and you close the garage. Mr. Miller can’t happen again.

Mistake number four: thinking you’re telling the truth.

[kithtaehyung]

u suck !! (m) (3tan special) | myg

3tanoween special: u suck !! pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball |  stay |  sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: jimin’s cul-de-sac is filled to the brim with autumn leaves, trick-or-treaters, and halloween spirits. but the scariest part of the night? yoongi himself. and the way he looks downright sinful in his costume. note: BOO!! :))) happy halloween and i love you all so so much. if you haven't read three tangerines or the rest of the series yet, i highly recommend diving into that first! this would make a whole lot more sense lol note 2: this is gonna be heavily unedited bc i literally started it on tues🥹 and consider this a pocket universe/side story for now until i mention anything otherwise :)) warnings: [explicit warnings under the cut] language, house party, alcohol/drug mentions, vampires are present but there’s a different type of sucking going on HEYO!!, tight spaces, yoongiiiiii🥺🥺🥺, one (1) uncomfy hug, jimin is a warning, yoongi is a bigger warning, kissing is a staple warning atp, yoongi in black leather and chains ahahahahah, tension, angst bc it’s me🤪, you have to be quiet :)), but it’s so hard :))), yoongi hands🥴, so many doll mentions, cus this reader is a barbie!!!, this yoongi is out of control and i’m not stopping him 🤷, ermmmmmm yoongi’s voice🧍‍♀️this is all i can say🧍‍♀️, ...VMIN??? drop date: oct. 28th, 2023, 12:17am est  word count: 11.5k🫣

explicit warnings: choking, head/hair tugging, min yoongi king of consent wbk, fingering, breath play, oral (m rec), ass play, chains lmfaooo, tears, face fucking, back shots, cum swallowing, breast play, protective sex, …public sex🫣, nasty dirty talk, he’s rude and we love it and he knows that we love it😩

—

—

“Oh, did you get the cookies?” 

“Yeah, they’re already in the back,” you huff out as you rush around the car. After getting in and catching your purse strap on your very pink heel, you explain while slipping it free, “And don’t worry, I made un-iced ones for you.” 

Your brother sighs in relief, as if you’ve never done that for him before. “Thank god.” As he backs out of the driveway, he gives your costume another glance. “That damn movie. I feel like I’m gonna see three hundred of y’all tonight.” 

“Barbie was great and you know it.” 

“Whatever. Aren’t you gonna be cold later?” 

“I got this.” 

Steering the wheel, he sighs, “Okay.. You’re gonna regret that.” 

“Yeah, probably.” 

Fixing your tee and smoothing out your skirt, you make a mental note that he didn’t comment the usual things about your costume this time. Whether it’s because you grilled him about the Dalo incident or not, you’re pleasantly surprised. 

The only thing he complained about was that couldn’t dress how he wanted in peace. 

“You still could’ve been Ken, you know,” you think out loud. “All you had to do was throw fur over that jersey.” 

“Nah, the coat I got is expensive as fuck.” 

“So is the jersey?”

“I have two of these.”

“…I will never understand you.”

The drive to Jimin’s isn’t too far, and the streets are already occupied with people in various characters. When you pass by a Ghostface costume with pink heels and a sign that says ‘This Barbie has a knife!,’ both you and your brother give it an approving laugh. 

If the atmosphere in the neighborhood was buzzing, it’s Jimin’s cul-de-sac that bursts with the biggest Halloween charm. 

Every yard around the semi-circle is chock full of decorations, from the ghoulish to the whimsical. Orange and purple lights scale whole houses, trees are covered in ghosts, and inflatable spiders and kittens rest on every surface you can see. Glee spreads throughout the whole setting as trick-or-treaters of all ages stop along the sidewalks, gawking at the views and running up to doors to procure sweets. 

It’s magical. 

But you can’t enjoy it at the moment because your brother has to park way down the main street. Which means you’re subjected to his teasing as you make the trek in enormous heels. 

Ugh. 

At least he’s carrying everything. 

“Damn, look at that house,” you point, adjusting your purse and almost teetering over.  

“That’s a shit ton of cobwebs.” 

“The lights are so nice, though.” 

“Uh huh.” 

After forever, you finally get to Jimin’s house, going through the open garage and already greeting the yells and hugs upon arrival. Some people are dressed up and some are in their regular clothes, but everyone seems chipper. 

And it’s even louder inside the house. All of you have to practically yell to hear each other. 

“Hey! You made it!” 

Damn, Jimin looks good as a vampire. 

As your brother says hi, you try super hard to not stare at his silver hair, avoiding his bare chest under that ruffled white shirt entirely. “Hey, Chim! You’re all decked out, holy shit.” 

“Ah, thank you! We both are. The lady at the Halloween place gave us a discount.”

“For what?” 

“Uhh, being cute? What else?” 

Adorable. If he went with Taehyung to get costumes, you wonder how extravagant your best friend looks. 

When you laugh, Jimin stops to look at you with his jaw dropped. “Wow, look at you, Barbie!” Turning to your brother, he teases, “You let this happen?” 

“I will throw you against the wall right now, fang boy,” he responds with no hesitation, which pulls a high cackle.

“No fighting tonight, please,” you drone, smiling while giving the handsome vampire a side hug. “Everything looks so good!” 

“Yeah? Spent all day decorating.” 

“Well, it shows.” Noting how Jimin always has great cologne, you take the trays from your brother while asking, “Where do you want these?” 

“Ah, in the kitchen! Here,” he offers, sliding them onto his puffy sleeves. “Follow me. You can see what we have.” 

His cloak brushes both your legs as you’re led into the big area, and your eyes feast on the assortment of themed desserts and drinks. 

Whoa. There’s even a bubbling pot of red punch? Jimin really has gone all out this year. 

Maybe Tae has something to do with this uptick in ambition. 

“Yoongi! You, too?” 

Huh? Him, too? 

“Yeah, it’s fucking hot.” 

Hot? What could possibly be—

Oh. 

Fucking.

Hell. 

It’s your fault for assuming it was Tae that Jimin went to the store with. It’s your fault for not even entertaining the possibility that Yoongi would dress up. 

And it’s all your fault for not being able to process what’s happening because even your own brother teases you when you cannot form words. 

You can’t help it. There’s literally no way. 

Because seeing this man up close, decked out head to toe in shiny black leather and hair properly tousled as if he just had wicked sex? 

How the fuck are you supposed to react! 

“I think you broke a wire in there somewhere,” Jimin comments through puffs of giggles, finally snapping you out of your inappropriately timed trance. “Ah, there she is!” 

Recover. Holy shit, you gotta recover.

“I just—” You gesture to the demon with your hands. “I didn’t think you’d ever dress up.” 

And Yoongi has the audacity to respond with, 

“Why?” 

“I mean. I thought you were..” Flailing for anything, you blurt, “I dunno, boring?” 

Amusement shoots out of both your brother and Jimin, carving a sickly upward curve into Yoongi’s face. When he looks away to poke his cheek, you know something’s coming.

But when he glances back and drags his eyes from your feet to your awaiting face, you're completely unprepared when he drawls, 

“And you dressed basic for what?” 

Disbelief slams your jaw straight into the ground, your little audience bent back with laughs so loud that some people around your group glance over. 

Oh, you wanna launch yourself at him so fucking bad. Wipe that stupid, smug taunt off his face. 

But there are other ways to come out victorious. And you can’t exactly do anything with your sibling so close. 

“Alright. Okay,” you hum, nodding and thinking of a thousand ways to incite revenge in private. “I’ll remember that.” 

“Won’t help you, doll.” 

Shit, did he really just call you that out loud?

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it he’s just saying that in the open because you’re a Barbie. “Whatever, Neo.” 

Yoongi quickly smiles in confusion. “Neo? I’m a vampire!” 

“Oh, yeah, cus you suck.” 

Your brother and Jimin are full on titillated now. While one blows out air, the other plants a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder while creasing over from glee. 

And you spot your friends arriving, which turns into perfect timing for you to slowly retreat with a middle finger and a lip bite. “Bye, suckas!” 

Your brother can only shake his head before turning to grab a cup, and you barely—just barely—catch the fiendish spark in Yoongi’s eyes as he bites his grin right back. 

You can’t believe you got through that whole interaction so smoothly. 

Because every time you’ve caught peeks of Yoongi since then, your body’s reaction is downright visceral. Borderline feral.

And it reaches its peak when you get a text from the devil himself.  

Yoongi [10:02pm]: Fuck 

Shit, you can’t do this. 

If you start texting now, too? There’s no way you’re gonna be able to resist him. 

But the two drinks in your system are very smooth talkers, and you’re convinced immediately. 

You [10:02pm]: what🥺 

“Let’s go!” Yuri yells, dragging you along. 

“Where’re we going?” 

“Garage. Table’s about to be open.” 

From the backyard, it takes a minute for you all to weave through the people inside to get to the designated card game area. So you don’t get to read Yoongi’s text until you’re waiting for a table to clear. 

Yoongi [10:04pm]: You know exactly what 

You [10:04pm]: 🤪🖕

Yoongi [10:04pm]: I better not find you alone 

Fuck, you want that. Frankly, there’s literally nothing you want more right now. 

It’s been way too long since you’ve seen each other, and even more since you’ve gotten to do anything that leaves you breathless. 

So being this deprived and witnessing him in that costume? Yoongi’s the vampire but you’re the one that wants to suck the soul out of him. 

You [10:07pm]: maybe i want that 

It’s official. You can’t hold back your replies tonight even if you try. 

Between drinking and a haze of thoughts solely connected to him, you find yourself getting more and more needy. 

Yoongi [10:07pm]: You don’t 

You [10:08pm]: but shyyy 

You [10:08pm]: whyyy* 

This is bad. 

Why can’t he be super annoying instead—

Yoongi [10:10pm]: 🤷‍♂️ 

Well. 

You [10:10pm]: 😐 

Yoongi [10:10pm]: Lmaooo 

Taehyung chuckles next to you, and you immediately lock your phone while giving him a slight nudge. “Shut up…” 

“I will once you stop sexting.” 

“We are not!” 

“Uh huh. And I’m not wearing a suit.” 

Scoffing, you give him a once-over, wondering why everyone except for Yoongi decided to forego a goddamn shirt today. “What are you supposed to even be?” 

“A model.” 

He’s full of shit. “You just wanted to wear this outfit, huh.” 

“Yup.” 

Small huffs leave you both as you wait just a bit longer, and you let the night air and music lift your spirits until you get another text. 

Yoongi [10:13pm]: You look great, doll 

Why does he have to say all the right things?

You truly don’t know how you ended up here. To be able to receive compliments like this from him of all people? It’s a wonder this whole thing isn’t just one big dream. 

Fueled by the excitement and comfort only October can bring, you lean into this conversation and type a genuine reply. 

You [10:13pm]: so do you baby 

You [10:13pm]: i better not find you alone either 

Wait. 

Have you ever been that bold? 

Seems like tonight is making you a bit scary, too. 

Yoongi [10:14pm]: 👀 

And rude. 

You [10:14pm]: 😛😛😛

“Get off your phone, babe! Enjoy the night!” 

“Sorry, sorry,” you whisper, belatedly dropping your device in your purse and following everyone to scraping chairs and rustling clothes. 

The air feels even chillier at the table, and you’re thankful for the warm metal seat this time when your bare skin makes contact. Peering out of the garage, you can see that the night is still active as ever with more and more people walking around. 

Maybe poker and cool autumn weather will quell the heat swirling in your core. 

Nope. 

Even your card game can’t distract you from what happened. You still have the whole thing running through your mind, replaying Yoongi’s expressions and feeling more and more want build between your legs. 

Under a skirt that's completely the wrong length for how it feels outside.

But you try your best to focus on having fun with all of them, especially since Dom and Tae keep eyeing each other and smirking at you whenever you try to ask what’s up. 

“You know what’s up.” 

“Dom!” 

“Don’t act like we can’t see it.” 

Hiding your smile with a cup, you break, “What!” 

“Babe, you are thinking hard about something,” Dominique points out as she swishes her long white locks—a perfect Storm on your left. As she lays out cards, another comment flies out, “And I don’t like that smile you got going on.” 

“Yeah, what’s that all about!” Yuri joins in, and you pout at her high pigtails while she stares at her hand, chucking her cards in the center. 

Then Reia folds, too, her pretty nails extending the sleeves of her ninja getup so well. “Probably thinking about her boyfriend.” 

“He’s not my—”

Four pairs of eyes instantly give you a look to just give it up already, and you flounder as they all tease you in various ways. 

“Is he coming?” 

“Yeah, are we finally gonna meet him?”

“Yeah, babe,” Tae repeats, resting his smug cheek on a palm. “Are we gonna meet him?” 

Glaring, you respond to the pair of cards in your hand. “Not yet,” you answer honestly. “Call.” 

It’s you against Taehyung, and Dom flips another card in the center. 

“Hold on,” he stops. Turning to you, he bets, “If I win, we get a name.” 

What? 

Gawking, you try to send him every single signal in the universe telling him to take that back. The chills you get compound with the dropping temperatures, and you suddenly can’t move your fingers.

Even Dom is shocked trying to play fair. “Hey, we don’t have to force them.” 

But Yuri and Reia are already all for it, siding with Tae and getting excited for the face-off. 

Shit, shit, shit. Your cards are good, but you never fucking know with your opponent. Someone even more mysterious than Min Yoongi. 

Fuck it. “Fine,” you blurt, watching Tae’s eyes fully enlarge in surprise. 

Oh, shit, did he not expect you to call his bluff? 

Fuck, what if his hand is better! 

Sweating while frozen all over, you wait for Dom to flip the final card. 

Damn, damn, damn. You can just make up a name, right? You can just brush it off with a pseud and call it a night. 

But you know they’d be able to tell you’re lying. So you have to win this, you have to win…

That last card may have just saved your ass.

You and Taehyung give each other a look, and you can’t tell if he wants to beat you or is sad that he thinks he did. Either way, he looks stricken.

“Straight,” he claims, laying down his cards while Yuri and Reia cheer. 

And you breathe, checking your hand one more time before regarding him again. 

With a flourish, you reveal your cards with a boisterous, “Full house, bitches!” 

Loud groans mix with Dom’s close-call hiss of an exhale, and all the slaps on the table get the attention of everyone in the garage. 

And outside of it. 

While you’re raking in everyone’s chips, you glance over to see Jimin and Yoongi looking in from the sidewalk, some of their friends also wondering what the hell happened. 

At this, you get so shy that you don’t even acknowledge them, instead turning right back to the table and sitting down with your winnings. 

When Dom gives you a look, she asks, “You good?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you stumble, rubbing the cold from your arms. “Let’s keep going.” 

After another shuffle and deal of cards, you finally gain the courage to look out into the driveway. 

Only to see them talking amongst their group again. 

This is agonizing. 

Why the fuck did Yoongi have to dress up? It’s doing things to your insides that you never would’ve guessed, and watching him be all casual while looking like sin incarnate isn’t helping. 

Maybe it’s the way his hair is still so ruffled, or the way his shoulders stand so broad—which never fails to destroy you.

Or maybe it’s the way some people give him the biggest heart eyes and others rope him into pictures, knowing that you’re the one that he just texted. 

Your next hand is quick to be tossed on the table, which gives you a chance to glance again. 

Of course, the thought that some people here are probably ones Yoongi’s been with before awakens darker parts of you. 

Like that girl that just caressed his arm. 

But they aren’t as powerful as before, because you’ve been reassured a thousand times over. 

He’s not like that anymore. 

But as he’s pulled in for a picture with some other Barbie’s, you’re promptly reminded that he’s still not outwardly taken, either. 

Which coaxes another, sadder side of you to come out of hiding, casting a shadow over a fun Halloween night. 

How much longer can you take being the one in the dark? 

Screw waiting to find Yoongi alone.

You’d rather be standing together. 

Activities bustle about the house while the neighborhood is very much still alive.

Some kids do brave Jimin’s scary yard and, thanks to his foresight, anyone who’s near the open doorway simply tells them to grab as much candy as they want from huge plastic cauldrons—while hiding any drinkware they might be holding. 

The only reason you know any of this is because you found yourself near his front door with your friends, and two tiny witches walk up to the porch with full buckets. 

You and Tae are the ones to greet them, with him beaming a hi and you following up with a question,  

“What’s your favorite candy?”

“Chocolate!”

“I like gummi bears.”

Ah, that might be a no-go for the second one.

Leaning forward, you rummage through one of the plastic bins. “Ooh, I know we have plenty of chocolate, but.. I don’t know if we have gummi bears out here. Tae, can you check inside?”

“Yeah! One sec.”

As he leaves, you keep searching while Reia asks them another question,

“Can we know what spells you ladies are learning?” 

One of them doesn’t respond, but the other in a frilly dress fires out an answer, 

“I’m learning how to turn boys into cats!” 

Excellent. Wide-eyed, you wholeheartedly support their decision. “That’s the best spell to learn. Can I see?” 

“Yeah!” 

Just as timing has it, Taehyung is far gone. 

But a wonderful replacement shows up in Jimin and Yoongi as they're spotted walking across the yard, and you quickly call them over. It seems they’re joined at the hip tonight. 

“What’s up!”

“Come here real quick!”

When they oblige, you check with the parents on the sidewalk and see if you’re taking too long. 

When they give you a thumbs-up, you turn back to the kids, “Alright, let’s see it!”

“Okay!”

Yoongi gives you a look, and you grin. “She’s learning a new spell.” 

As soon as the girl waves her wand, she shouts, “Turn into a cat!” 

Straightforward. Succinct. Admirable.

Jimin immediately lets out a gasp and holds paw hands in front of his face, which makes the little witch giggle like hell. 

But what Yoongi does makes everyone react, and your jaw unhinges while something wildly potent rushes through your stomach. 

The man puts fingers on his head in the shape of cat ears—something you didn’t even know he knew how to do—and in the plainest voice, lets out a low, 

“Meow.” 

Oh. God.

Not only does Jimin burst at the seams, but you, your friends, the little girl, and her quiet companion all start laughing. 

And Yoongi’s wide grin at the child almost brings tears to your eyes. 

“That’s not a cat!” she corrects while smiling, and he’s immediately affronted. 

“Yes, huh!” 

“No!” 

“Look! I have ears!” 

“No! You sound like a human!” 

“You need to keep practicing that spell then!” 

Delighted, the little girls burst into laughter again. 

Who is this man? You feel like you know more about him than you ever hoped to, and yet… Yoongi’s still a mystery. 

One beautiful, scary, amazing mystery that you will never get tired of discovering piece by piece. 

When your thoughts dissipate, you notice that he’s now aiming expectant eyes your way, and your heart beats extra extra loud. 

But quickly, you understand. Raising your arms above your head, you do the same ear-shape with your fingers, beaming when he looks satisfied and feeling full when the little ones try it, too. 

“We’re all cats now!” you exclaim, and they shout in agreement before running down the sidewalk to continue their adventure. 

You have no idea what just happened. Zero clue. 

But what you do know? 

You’re not letting that go. There’s no way Yoongi’s escaping that interaction and you’re gonna hang it over his silly old head forever. 

“I didn’t find gummi bears but we have fruit snacks—oh, they left?”

Swiveling, you regard Tae with shock. “Wait, you really looked that whole time?”

“Ah.. Yeah. Felt bad cus, umm. All the gummies in there are definitely not for kids.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” Chuckling, you give the other two boys a grateful look. “I think they left pretty happy anyway.” 

There’s one other thing you know for sure. 

Seeing how Yoongi can be with children? 

Any sanity you had left to give has been absolutely, positively vanquished.

Jimin’s whole cul-de-sac seems to always throw parties that people love to stay at. 

An hour later, it’s still packed around the semi-circle of houses, and even you are delightfully buzzed and joining in some of the action. 

But even though the alcohol is helping, you are still freezing. 

Of course, there’s no way you’re letting your brother get another told-you-so in his bucket, so you endure the cold as you watch him and Shiv challenge Yoongi and Jungkook in beer pong. 

To no one’s surprise, the youngest one has also chosen to not wear anything under his white suit. With clattering teeth, you refuse to believe he’s not shivering under that thing, too.

“Y’all took so long to win that one,” your brother shit talks early. “You ready?” 

Kook’s brows pinch as he whines. “I thought he was good at this!” 

“I am!” 

As Yoongi fires off excuses to an unconvinced Jeon, you and a couple people laugh at their spat. But it’s when he claims that he’s just rusty that your sibling interjects, 

“Oh, bullshit, Yoong’s lying! I do all the work when we duo!” 

Ah. There they go. Eyes and mouths adorably creased to hell, “The fuck you don’t!” 

“Oh, yeah? You don’t do shit!” 

“Me? What the fuck happened last time!” 

Gosh, there’s a lot of bodies walking through the backyard right now. You have to shift around as they pass your area, and what the fuck did someone brush your ass? 

You jut your head sideways to see if anyone looks guilty, but the whole crowd just keeps moving. 

Well. It wasn’t a blatant slap or anything. You definitely would’ve thrown hands if that was the case. 

Their argument comes back into focus as you shiver. 

“When?”

“At Hobi’s?”

“Okay, wait, that doesn’t count.” 

“It does—!” 

Your brother’s unannounced shot drills into the cup right in front of Yoongi’s crotch, and everyone around the table stops on a dime. 

“Can we play now?” he asks, tilting his head. “It won’t take long.” 

Shiv adjusts the red cap on his head, and it’s hilarious seeing him so serious in a full pokemon trainer costume. Especially when he shrugs at your opponents while they pin him with annoyance. 

If you weren’t freezing, you would’ve laughed a little more. Your arms are fully caging you in at this point, and it’s hard to even rub your legs together. 

More people walk through the area, and you have to shuffle backwards again to make room as they pass by. 

“You look so good, Barbie!” one of the girls praises, and you compliment her matching aesthetic just as genuinely.

Your brother was right yet again. 

There are plenty of pink and white outfits walking around. 

Unfortunately, this combo that you decided on pulls eyes the whole night, all of which you are choosing to ignore. 

There’s only one person you dressed up for today. Everyone else can take a damn hike. 

Maybe this is why you’ve gravitated towards your brother and his friends instead of wandering more. Taehyung and the girls went back to playing cards, but you wanted to watch this game despite going solo. 

Oh, well. There’s a whole group of you watching and you’re getting a little warmth from body heat now. 

“Course it won’t take long.” Yoongi rubs a wrist, and you puff out air when he gives Shiv flack. “Not with him on your team.” 

“Hey!” 

The game commences, and everyone’s missing cups by the slightest mistakes. But one by one, they get set aside as shots finally start falling for Shiv and your brother, and pretty soon they’re down to the last one while Yoongi and Jungkook have a bunch. 

Frankly, you don’t exactly remember how it all went down. Because all you can think about is how attractive Yoongi looks when he competes.

And watching him dip soaking fingers in water cups isn’t helping your mental in the slightest.

Fucking hell, you didn’t think this through. The price of finally getting to be around him? You can’t do much else except watch.  

And your self-control has never been tested so egregiously in your life. 

“Any last words?” your brother asks, his partner rolling an airy ball in his fingers. 

And Yoongi takes a deliberate sip of his liquor before responding with a drone, “Yeah, hurry up.” 

Smiling, you feel pity for the vampire. Because he’s about to lose whether Shiv makes this or not—which he in fact sinks with no issue. 

Your brother only shrugs as people yell around the table, and you taunt Yoongi with your eyes as he turns to poke his cheek, fishing out the shot with long fingers. 

Still a goddamn menace. 

“I thought you were good at basketball,” Jungkook complains in a huff, roping his attention. 

“I am.” 

“So do something!” 

“Am I holding a basketball?” 

Jeon groans, but Yoongi quickly eyes Shiv with all the confidence in the world as he switches his attitude with a resigned, 

“Fine.” 

And he makes a quick dagger shot, too. 

All of you react as mister basketball holds lazy arms out, and your sibling calms the crowd down with swipes. “Fluke! Nah, hey, that was a fluke!” 

“Don’t listen to him.” 

“Okay then, do it again, bitch.” Immediately, your brother hits a fast one into the same last cup, and people erupt again while Yoongi and Jungkook regard the solo with dread. 

Your laugh seems to reach both their ears, because they both look at you with different faces, 

“Whose side are you on!” 

“You got something to say?” 

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” you clarify with a smile. “You all suck.” 

While Yoongi cocks a brow, your sibling calls you out with a knowing laugh, “You wanna shoot for them?” 

“No, I’ll make it.” 

He chortles again, and you get the strangest look from his best friend—someone that doesn’t know you’ve had plenty of experience doing this with your brother when you were both bored at home. 

Is that pride? Curiosity? An intriguing mix of both? 

Whatever it is, you feel wings flutter about your stomach and fight to keep your emotions internalized.

“Just lose already,” your sibling taunts. “Then we can do that thing Jimin’s talking so much shit about.” 

“The haunted house?” 

“Yeah, that.” 

After both guys fail to make a comeback, you watch your brother and Shiv gloat as much as they possibly can. 

And you’re about to move forward when another group of people blocks your way, damn near tripping as you step back. 

While you’re waiting, a guy spots you and throws his arms up in recognition. “Hey! What’s up, how’ve you been!” 

Huh. 

Who is this man? Are you supposed to know him? 

“Hi!” you call back, deciding to stay polite more than anything else. 

Truly, you kinda feel bad because you have no idea who this is oh he’s going in for a hug. Okay. Strange but that’s whatever okay whoa it’s a full hug. Ah, he’s really squeezing you. Alright. Interesting. 

As he lets go, you try to make small talk and ask how he’s doing. Because you feel terrible for not… remembering him...

He’s already walking away. 

And you feel the most uncomfortable you’ve felt in months. 

Umm.

What the fuck was that? Did he know you or not? 

…Did he just want a hug to feel your tits?

Motherfucker.

Your eyes find Yoongi as soon as you feel an ick, now exceedingly cold both inside and out. All this time, you’ve avoided all the stares and only smiled while politely leaving others behind. 

So to feel that disrespected just because you were considerate makes you want to hurl.  

But when Yoongi moves to strip off his coat, you freeze for another reason. 

Because he’s watching that dude leave. 

Looking pissed. 

Something deep inside of you rumbles to life, and you can’t explain what it feels like wait what’s he doing now? Why’s he walking right towards you why is he—

He’s not—

What is he doing?

He’s not gonna—not in—not in front of everyone, right? Not in front of your brother, right? 

Right?

…This is bold as fuck. 

Your denial is so substantial that you don’t even move when he gets close, handing you incredibly warm material and looking murderous in a black tee and pants. 

“Here,” he offers, voice hardened gravel. “Put it on, doll.” 

Damn. No subtlety this time?

You don’t even wanna know what your brother could possibly look like right now. All you feel are several eyes watching your every move, including some that aren’t particularly friendly. 

But you whisper out a quiet thank you before he shakes his head. 

“I should’ve done this sooner.”

“You didn’t know.” 

“Doesn’t matter.”

When you take one look at his expression, you drop any other sentences you were gonna say. 

Yoongi is actually furious.  

Your stomach churns up a flurry of emotions as he turns, nodding to your brother that’s looking over with Shiv. 

Ah, fuck. Did all of them see that, too? 

They don’t need to do anything drastic. You’re fine if just.. feeling a little violated. 

Okay maybe you’d look the other way if they avenged you.  

“Y’all good over there?”

“Yeah.” 

Oh. Your brother didn’t see a thing. 

That’s probably best for everyone involved. 

“Let’s go then!” he yells, finishing his drink while Shiv puts all the cups back in place.

And Yoongi stays next to you, not caring if people give him looks. “Come on,” he mutters. “Just stay with us.” 

“Okay.” 

No other words are spoken as you walk out the backyard. 

But when Jimin pops up with Taehyung and your friends, Yoongi pulls him aside while you ask how the poker games went. 

The usual comments spring up immediately. Yuri complains about Taehyung being too good, and Dom and Reia quickly tell her she needs to work on her face. 

Laughing the edge off, you see your brother checking his phone. 

And just like the shadowed expression Jimin now has on his face, the hand your sibling smoothes over his head doesn’t seem like a good sign.

The haunted house was amazing, and it was a wonder you got through it in your shoes. 

But you need a break after all that screaming. And you already spent a lot of time saying goodbye to your friends before they left. 

So instead of joining Taehyung and his group in conversation, you keep to your own thoughts, sipping on punch while watching balloons cross kitchen tiles. 

Ironically, you need anything to get through the loneliness. 

Even more people latched onto Yoongi earlier. Which you should’ve seen coming after his whole ensemble was revealed. 

But he had to keep them entertained because he isn’t taken. Not officially; not to them. There couldn’t be hints of him being cuffed, especially when your brother could see him at any moment. 

Did you feel jealous? Upset? 

To your pleasant surprise, not really. 

Because unlike New Years, there’s been more history between the both of you that can never be repeated anywhere else. Ties that have woven between your bones and connections that you have no plans to sever. 

You cherish them. And you’d like to think that he does, too. 

All the flirting just sucked to see up close, though. 

A sudden tap on your shoulder makes you jump. 

“Fuck, sorry. You okay?”

As you see your brother and not another stranger, relief floods your system. And you hate how jumpy you are. 

So you lie a bit. “Yeah, why?” 

Hmm. He looks… out of sorts. You’re halfway into questioning the bend in his brows when he quickly asks, 

“You good to go home with your friends?” 

Wait, huh? That’s new. “Oh. They left but Tae’s here. You okay?” 

“Something came up at work so I’m heading back.” 

“The fuck? On Halloween?” 

He shakes his head before running a hand over his chin. “Yeah, I dunno. But if you don’t wanna leave just have him bring you back.” 

Damn. He’s not even concerned about you staying? What the hell is going on? 

And thinking about things… do you wanna stay anyway?

Looking out into the house, you do a quick sweep before deciding that you’re gonna tough this night out. Taehyung’s still here, and you can hang with his circle. 

You’re staying. Wishing for the best, you let him go. “K. Hope it’s all good.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. I just have to clean up someon's mess.” Your sibling squeezes your shoulder in a final goodbye before stepping away. Pointing to the ground, he warns, “No one better try shit with you.” 

“Go,” you usher with finality. “Text me when you’re home.” 

“K.”  

He heads out, and you’re left with your cup that you forgot you even had. 

Staring into it, you somewhat wish you heard a familiar laugh in your ears. Throwing yourself back to that New Years night when Yoongi hung back in the kitchen just to talk. 

Maybe he’s still preoccupied. Even after you gave him back his coat, ignoring his look of confusion.

After another half hour of feeling alone, with no vampire man in sight, you admit you're a little defeated. 

Maybe you should have left, too. 

Your purse buzzes, and you slowly fish out your phone while not looking at anything in particular.

But when you focus on your screen, your heart squeezes in double time. 

Yoongi [12:43am]: Where are you?

Feeling a mix of emotions—relief, confusion, anything in between—you text back. 

You [12:43am]: kitchen. but i was about to leave..

Yoongi [12:44am]: Don’t

Yoongi [12:44am]: Gimme a sec 

This is it. 

This is why you stayed. 

Because one thing Yoongi has always proven to you is that he will make time. Whether it takes him a day, three months, or two hours. 

Yoongi [12:50am]: Come up, doll

And you will wait forever. 

However long it takes.

You [12:51am]: ok

It’s a short trip up the stairs from near the kitchen, and you wonder what’s gonna greet you when you get to the second level.

Are people up there? Is he just telling you to come so he could be near you? Or is this a clandestine meeting where he steals you from the night like the fiend he’s dressed as? 

All of these thoughts wander about your head like specters. 

But as soon as you reach the top, all you see is Yoongi, glancing up from his phone before stowing it in a coat pocket. 

So unfair.

In the obnoxiously red and orange lighting, he looks even more devastating, standing like he’s been haunting your dreams for years. 

And you hate how small your voice is when you greet him with a measly, “Hi..” 

Very much unlike yours, Yoongi’s energy is loud. Powerful. He takes his time, consuming you with his gaze and making you feel so, so shy in heels that are somehow still on. 

“Come here.” 

“You sure?” 

He hesitates. 

And with a heavy heart, you wonder if he has the same question. 

But he walks toward you instead, and you feel vulnerable. Nervous. 

What’s he doing? What are either of you doing?

There’s a lot of people here still, and it’s not like they don’t know you. And they clearly know Yoongi quite fucking well.

God. You hate this uncertain, murky feeling. Because it could be solved so simply, so quickly. 

But nothing in life is ever quite that easy for you, nor for him. So the paranoia lingers and lingers. 

However. 

When this man leads you away from the stairs, your fear spins into thrill, your nervousness taking on a new meaning. 

“Yoongi…?” 

With a shuffle of leather, you’re positioned right in a corner, breath catching because holy shit anyone could come up at any moment. 

Why is Yoongi not nearly as concerned as you feel? Is he not jittery with nerves? 

Judging by his lowered lids and unbothered line of lips, no, he is not. 

As he looks around, warmth from his coat slowly swallows you on both sides. His hair cascades forward; his breath can be heard in the space between.

And you really do feel like he steals you away—from the night, the party, the world.

“Now what,” you whisper in pure nervousness. “Gonna bite me? Drink me? Suck me… Dry…”

His lips ghost along your neck, and you grant him all the access you have when he murmurs, 

“Is that what you want?”

Your check for understanding is a sigh, “Want…hmm?”

“Me to suck you dry.”

You know what he means. And you’re already fighting for air as your exhale shakes. “Yes,” you admit. “Lemme do it, too.” 

His dark hum rumbles your core. “Uh uh,” he rejects, one arm separating you from the rest of the room. “Only good girls can do that.”

That’s unfair. Fuck, that is really unfair.

You pant before gripping his coat in your fingers. “I’ll be good.” 

“You’ll be what?” he asks, licking a small stripe along your throat and making you flinch. 

“Fuck.” Your breath is harsh now. Very, very harsh. “A good girl.”

“Good.” 

You feel the slightest nick of teeth as he lunges into your neck, and you have to clamp your lips shut to keep from mewling out loud. 

Holy fuck, you’re already so wet.

There’s no way Yoongi can suck you dry at this point. Certainly not with the limited amount of time you have.

And the motherfucker knows it, his laugh pulsating down your spine. “So sensitive.”

“Yoongi—”

Again, he attacks, sucking hard once before running his tongue along the sting. 

Thoroughly overwhelmed, you dissolve into mush. Your legs buckle under the pleasure, sparks of desire firing along your limbs as your ankles work double to keep you upright. “Baby...”

“You taste so fucking good.” 

More. You need more and you need it now. “I wanna—”

Without warning, his lips finally find yours, arms fully encasing you in leather as he slams both hands on the wall. 

“Yoo—”

And your heart leaps into the kiss while your fingers zip right to his face, tugging him in until your noses smush. 

For someone with a million concerns before, you’re devouring him without any shits given and it’s magnetic. Electric. Magic. Sparks zip down your skin, pebbling your nipples and sending your toes in curls. 

Hints of whisky and smoke pepper your tongue, and you know your breath proved similar if just a bit more reserved.

But you can tell something’s off.

He’s holding back.

Why? Why are his hands still firmly on the wall? Why is he keeping his distance even though you’re standing right here?

If you’ve been fiending to touch him the whole night, he had to be feeling the same way.

So what’s with the sudden hesitation?

Your body thrums with need, yearning for those large palms to roam and venture across every inch. Aching for him to erase that stupid hug from earlier in a way only he can. 

“Baby,” you whisper. “Please.” 

“Please what.” 

“I need you.” 

“I’m right here.” 

“No, I”—you grip one of his wrists—“Please touch me.” 

“In here?” He pauses, pinning you with concern. “You sure?” 

Swallowing, you take in the music and conversations downstairs, hearing laughs and other exclamations. 

Were they always that loud?

“I’m doing this for your own good, doll.” 

Heart stuttering hard, you question, “Why?” 

Yoongi only lets out a huff. “Cus…” Leaned in fully, his hot breath fans your face, all of his dark syllables drenching you in hellfire, 

“If I touch you, I’m not gonna stop.” 

“Fuck,” you rush out, breathing so hard your chest billows out. “I want that.”

“You don’t.”

Fuck yes, you do. You aren’t letting another chance pass by. You’re feasting on him whether it’s for two seconds or one thousand, and he’s gonna do the same to you. 

Because as much as he’s holding back, you can tell he wants nothing but to tear you apart. A monster in the red lights strung around the game room.

And you’ll let him.

Consequences be damned. 

“I do,” you finally admit with a whoosh. “I don’t give a shit right now, Yoongi, just do it—”

Any other words are snatched from your mouth as you’re pinned against the wall, your reward in the form of rough skin and thick leather sliding all along your sides. 

Immediately, the coil in your belly rumbles to life, tightening click by thrilling click as you tug him in even closer.

Between kisses, you grit out how stupidly attractive he looks, and his chuckles are so dark that you feel them shake your core.

“Thought I was boring.”

Another groan into his mouth. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Say sorry then.”

It’s your turn to giggle, “And if I don’t?”

Fingers ghost along your throat before they squeeze in warning. “Try it.”

Attempting a whine, you press your shoulders back into the wall, fingers still clinging to his dark shirt. “I kinda… I kinda want to.” 

“I know you do.” He shoves one of your legs away with a strong thigh, pushing his weight forward and accusing, “Wanna be a brat so bad, huh.”

Desire is doing wonders for your confidence. You’re not gone, but you’re influenced enough to let your thoughts flow. 

All you needed was the last hit of this man’s magnetism. “Wanna be a lot of things for you..” 

Amusement rumbles out like thunder. “Like what.”

Giggling, you admit, “I didn’t dress like this for nothing.”

“I know.” He kisses you in a way that has you swooning. “I could get used to this.” 

“This wouldn’t get old?” 

“Fuck no.” His hands move straight to your ass. “Not if it’s you.”

Confused, you pout in a whine. “You said it was basic.”

“It is.” He goes right for your neck for another feast. “And it’s fuckin’ hot.” 

He then nips your skin in earnest, tugging his name out of your throat and causing you to claw into his hair.

“That guy just wanted to feel me,” you suddenly sigh, hating how you’re still thinking about it even now. 

“I know.” Yoongi stops before watching your eyes. With a finger on your chin, he checks, “You okay?”

“Just make me forget it.”

He keeps his gaze on you for a moment more, forehead pressing against yours before he vows, “You will. He won’t.” 

And your lips are fully captured before you can respond. 

You missed this. You missed this so fucking bad and you’re pretty sure you’re saying everything out loud but you don’t mind. Yoongi deserves to hear it and you are gonna live this out to the fullest.

If he doesn’t hear you, he certainly feels you. In the way you rake at his hair, tug at his chest, sling your arms around his beautiful neck.

But your frantic actions are stopped when he growls,

“Fuck, you shouldn’t’ve come up here.” 

“Wait, why—”

“Cus now I’m—Fuck it, come on.”

Before your mind catches up, your body is being rushed into the nearest door: a guest room that’s surprisingly not occupied. 

“Yoongi, what—” 

He holds a finger on his lips before peeking through the door, and he shuts it with a click when he seems convinced. 

And you’re even more alone with the demon of your dreams—now shrouded in bright white from the string lights in this space.

You have no choice but to submit to his hands, stomach flipping as he seizes your lips with newfound energy. When you respond in kind, he backs you up until your legs hit the guest bed, setting off another alarm in your fizzing brain.

“Baby, you sure?”

“I won’t do much.” Yoongi lowers you down, steadying himself on an elbow. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes.” His gaze is steady on yours. “Nervous, though.” 

Because it’s true. Even if your brother isn’t in the house, there’s a high possibility one of his friends walks through that door. One of Yoongi’s friends, even. 

“We don’t have to, doll.” 

And if you’re honest… 

The thrill of it is enticing.

“We can.” 

“I got us,” he assures with a kiss, now grinning like mad. “Lemme live this out just once.” 

A bit shy, you bite your lip to combat your nerves. And the million butterflies raging in your ribcage. “And what would that be.” 

“Not telling.” 

Of course. “You suck.” 

Puffs of mirth leave his mouth before he consumes you, and you feel unbelievably scandalous and loving every second. 

Because you saw Yoongi leave the door unlocked. There’s no recovering if someone opens it without you both hearing them, because the closet is opposite from the bed. You will absolutely not get there in time. 

Be it the holiday itself, or the fact that Yoongi’s positively enjoying himself, you feel more enthralled by the danger than you’ve ever been. 

And the fluttering in your chest triples when he lifts your tee. “Baby—!”

“Chill, love,” he laughs, a glint in his eye as he kisses your bra. “Never done this before?” 

“No, but—fuck.” 

Your soft moan stems from him slipping your bra down, licking at your chest and groaning at your scent. 

“God, you’re so perfect.” 

Fervently disagreeing, you reply so lightly, “Not at all.” 

“You are.” Another kiss to your lips before he moves down to your throat, squeezing one of your breasts with purpose. His weight feels heavenly on your torso, which you label the most ironic given how sinful he looks. “Couldn’t fucking wait to get you alone.” 

Fucking hell, do you feel the same. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d even get the chance. As you arch into his chest, your bare skin heats under his mountain of dark clothes. “Wanted to be with you all night…” 

“Same.” The next kiss proves deep, and he slides a hand under your head to claim as much of you as he can. His lips leave yours with a pop before he grips you with conviction. “Fuck, you should’ve been.” 

Oh. 

You know why he’s holding you so hard. 

And it touches the deepest, softest parts of your soul. 

Gently holding his taut wrist, you whisper, “It’s okay, baby.” 

His eyes stay closed, blocking you from hearing anything that he could be thinking. 

But it’s your turn to lift his chin with a finger, and you reassure him with everything you have, 

“Nothing happened. Don’t worry, okay?” 

Yoongi still doesn’t answer, which makes you sad. One dude shouldn’t ruin both of your moods hours after the fact. He can eat shit and Yoongi deserves to be the one enjoying a perfect night. 

So you vow to make that reality. 

“Besides,” you continue, waiting until he finally looks at you. When he does, you slyly smooth both hands over your breasts, pushing them together right in front of his face. “These are yours, right?”

Like a switch abruptly flipped, Yoongi’s whole demeanor changes on a dime. 

Hungry eyes rake over your chest before he plants a kiss on your fingers before anything else. “What else is mine.” 

Your cunt quakes at the question, making you drag one of his hands down to the side of your ass. “This,” you whisper, biting back glee as he grabs right at it. 

His mouth hovers over yours now, voice so low it sounds more like distant thunder, “What else, doll.” 

And whatever made you so bold washes away in an instant. Because you know what you wanna say but it’s the hardest one to let fly. 

Of course, Yoongi knows this. It’s the only reason he’s being so cheeky about it now. “That it?” he asks with a lilt. “You sure?” 

Gnawing your lip, you shake your head, garnering more and more courage to tell him one last answer. 

“Don’t be shy,” he orders through a wicked grin. “Tell me.” 

Just say it. All you have to do is whip it out of your mouth and you can get on with it—

A bunch of voices start getting louder and louder from outside the door, and Yoongi reacts before you can process what to do. 

Tee shoved back on and skirt rumpled to hell, you’re quickly rushed to the closet, thankful that Jimin’s house is fucking enormous and gives every bedroom double-doored enclosures for clothes. 

Conversation gets even closer. Someone is definitely coming in holy shit shit shit. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you settle on a sidewall, and the fact that there’s enough room for you to stand sideways is enough to distract your harrowing thoughts. 

But Yoongi shuts the doors with practiced ease, dousing the space in darkness with only small strips of light to illuminate. 

So fucking unfair. 

Just him peeking through the crack in the doors makes you suffer, chains dangling from his chest and the mischievous glint in his eyes giving you pain. 

Why does his side profile have to be so perfect? Why is this bad boy adjacent version of him enough to send you into orbit? 

Suddenly, two voices burst into the room. 

And you recognize both of them. 

“—like you said, right?” 

“I know, but…” 

It’s Tae. 

And Jimin. 

“Then hey,” you hear your friend say with hope. “It’s okay.” 

The coincidence of those words in that room does not get past you. 

“You really think so?” 

There’s a bit of silence before Taehyung responds, but you suddenly get distracted by someone much, much closer. 

Because Yoongi’s slowly roaming a finger along the hem of your skirt, hooking it in and slowly tugging you forward what the fuck!

When your wide eyes meet his, you can tell he’s thoroughly enjoying this. And you have to clamp your mouth shut when he casually starts feeling over your shirt.  

What the fuck is he doing! 

This man is going to be the end of you. 

“So yes. Let’s go back down, yeah?” 

“Okay… Just give me a moment.” 

Delirium. You’re approaching delirium as Yoongi now watches you suffer, and you buckle when he travels under your tee—up, and up, and impishly ducking his thumb under your bra. 

And you almost can’t deal with the feeling. 

Because your senses are upped to the highest setting, body on full alert and having to keep quiet when at his mercy. 

You feel legitimately wild, mad, drunk off Yoongi’s presence alone. There are literally people on the other side of thin wood and he’s driving you up every closet wall in the house. 

Out of your mind, you aim for his neck when you launch your own silent ambush. 

And it’s his turn to suffer when you grab at his chains, because you tug him enough to get access to his neck as soon as you hear your friend again. 

“Even this room looks nice and it's unused. Seriously, you did a good job.” 

“Most of it was your idea.” 

“Me? I only suggested it because I knew you could do it.” 

Yoongi’s breath puffs over your shoulder, and he buries his head in your tee while you lick and suck him with a vengeance. His hands grapple your hips, taking no time in circling back over your ass. 

“Thanks. Okay, I’m ready.” 

“Finally. It was getting boring in here.” 

A laugh tinkers out before Jimin hums in confusion. 

“Weird. Thought I told people to not touch this bed.” 

“You just sat on it.” 

“I didn’t sit on that side.” 

Taehyung responds right as you grope Yoongi’s crotch, and his body locks so hard you flinch at his grip.  

“It’s probably nothing. The bed’s still made.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

Mercifully, the guest door opens again before shutting, and you’re left in the weighty silence and faint bass of music coming from downstairs. 

Adrenaline still at its peak. 

“You’re gonna pay for that.” 

“Says you,” you pant, mewling when his lips latch onto your neck for the umpteenth time. “What do we do now?” 

After another suck, Yoongi lifts his head. “With what?” 

“This,” you clarify, gesturing to the closet space. “We have to leave, right?” 

“Do you want to?” 

You pause. 

If you leave now, you can sneak out of the room and no one will ever know you spent seven minutes in heaven with Min Yoongi. 

But if you stay… 

“Not really,” you whisper in admittance. “You?”

“Fuck no.” 

Your giggles end up in his mouth when he claims you, and you grab at his chains in earnest, tugging him closer before raking impatient fingers through his ruffled locks. 

And you’re already fine with this situation. Making out with this man in a closet? Who would’ve thought you would have this opportunity in the history of ever? 

So when you feel wandering fingers between your legs, your reaction comes out a high mewl. “Wait—What are you—”

“Careful, doll,” Yoongi quells. “Gotta keep that mouth shut, yeah?” 

You nod before realizing he probably can’t see, so you whisper an affirmative before slamming your lips shut. 

Because one touch of his fingers on your covered slit has you already losing it. 

A manicured hand slaps over your mouth as you widen your legs, gripping his coat with the other as he surrounds you mentally and physically. All you can think about is the way he’s calmly shifting your panties, expertly sliding over your cunt and chuckling right in your ear. 

“You’ve been this wet this whole time?” 

Gasping, you hum out a yes, and Yoongi laughs the scariest you've ever heard him,

“Nah, we’re fucking in here.” 

Holy fuck, what? 

“Baby,” you plead in his ear, wanting him in every way possible but knowing you don’t have a condom. “We can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“We don’t have—”

“Yeah, we do.” When he senses your confusion, he peeks out the closet door before... leaving. 

What the fuck! What is he doing why is he going for a casual stroll with a boner right now? 

Oh, he’s back already. But you’re still holding your heart with a goddamn fist. 

When Yoongi holds one up, he laughs. “I actually didn’t know if he had some up here, by the way.” 

“Sure you didn’t.” 

He smirks before pocketing the package, grabbing your face and kissing all the lingering fright from your features. His tongue slides all along yours before he sucks, and his teeth drag over your plush when he lets go. “You down?” 

Drunk off his continuously great make-out sessions, you slur out, “Hmm?” 

“We don’t have to.” 

Your smile is automatic. Knowing Yoongi’s still asking even though he was dead set on it makes giving him the go-ahead even easier. 

But you both hear another smatter of activity in the game room outside. And it seems like people are starting to use the pool table. 

Fuck. 

Do you really go for it? 

You’re gonna have to be silent as the grave if you do, because this will be the most sordid position you can be found in. 

…Fuck it. Screw it. It’s Halloween and you’re dancing with the devil. 

“Yes we do,” you scoff. “But if you break my heels we’re gonna fight.” 

His quiet bout of laughs makes you melt, and his fingers feel positively intoxicating when they find your cunt again. 

Your shoulders hit the wall with a soft bump as you arch, back to sewing your mouth closed and smushing your head in his clothes. His name slips out on your breaths, and his growls make you quiver with more and more impatience, 

“So fucking wet.” 

Fuck. 

“Gonna take this dick so well.” 

Nope. You can’t wait anymore. You don’t care who the fuck is out there, you’re folding and folding fast. 

“Please, baby,” you pant. “I need you. Now.” 

Yoongi obliges immediately, spinning you around and pinning your front against the wall. 

Well, you think he’s on the same page. 

Until he clamps a hand over your mouth before fingering you from behind holy fuck you might come any moment now. 

Your hands slide into fists on the wall as you moan in his fingers, shoving your ass back to glean as much delicious friction as you can. 

“There you go,” Yoongi praises. “Just like that.” 

You’re gonna come. You’re already gonna come and he’s hitting every fucking spot to speed up the process. It’s almost unbelievable how quickly he can launch you off the edge, but you suspect this time has something to do with the thrill of your whole situation. 

You feel bad. 

And it feels fantastic. 

“Babe,” you whisper, turning your head. “I’m already close.” 

When you clasp a hand around his wrist, he finally finally finally grants you into heaven’s gates. You feel him let up, and you wait with tiny shakes as he rips the condom pack open with ease. The clink of his belt tickles your ears just right, and you quickly think about other dark things. 

After a moment and more clothes shuffling, you feel his hands slide along your hiked up skirt before gripping your ass, never failing to worship your body and making you feel fucking pretty. 

When he leans forward, his warm shirt and chilly chains on your bare skin alone push you even further. “Hands over that mouth, doll,” he rasps in your ear. “Can’t be loud for me this time.” 

“Mmhmm.”

“Good girl.” 

As soon as you do what you’re told, you regret not pressing down harder. 

Because Yoongi plunges into you so smoothly that your moan almost flows right out of your fingers. 

Holy shit you really were that wet. But he's still so big. So, so big, and filling you too well fuck are you being too loud because it feels so fucking—

“Thought you were just gonna dip without saying bye?”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi did not wait until he was inside of you to say that.

“Think you’d just show up looking cute and talk some shit, huh.”

Damn it. He did. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s a demon and you have nowhere to run now. 

Delightfully frightened, you shake your head in denial. Repeatedly and full of terror.

“Show me up then.”

He stops all his movements, and you’re left to your own devices. Stranded on his dick with only the wall and your heels to support you.

Oh, he’s a killer. 

And he’s all yours.

Thrusting back, you start slow, groaning into your hand at how large he is. It’s a wonder you can even move, and your jaw unhinges when you feel his dick hit a certain spot just right.

Again, and again, you fuck him as deep as you can take, slamming your ass into his pelvis and finding pride in the divots he’s sinking into your cheeks.

Yoongi’s still unhelpful, but you can tell he’s breaking. His grip is getting harder, his minuscule groans lower and more forced. Even the tiniest curse makes you preen, and you throw a look over your shoulder to hear him better.

Which is the worst best thing to do. 

“Fuck, doll.”

With quickness, he rams himself into you, a sweaty hand clasping right over yours just as you yelp.

“We aren’t finished with that,” he promises through gritted teeth, and he takes over before you can process what that means. 

And his pace is relentless, pumping into you so well that every thrust catapults you across space and time. 

You’re outright panting now, feeling him deep in your guts and the strong lines of his forearm pressed into your chest. 

“Breathe in for me.”

And you do, feeling his hand close around your throat while fingers lodge themselves inside your mouth. 

Fuck! 

Your eyes roll so far back you can probably see him if you had light, and you’re mercifully let go before you need to gasp for oxygen. 

“Again.”

When you obey, Yoongi chokes you again, and you’re finding it euphoric as he clasps your column even harder. Every time he does, you clench around his cock, and a warm feeling washes over you every time he lets go. 

“How’s that feel, baby girl,” he asks, humming in approval when you drag a reply out,

“So good.” 

“Good.” He kisses your sweaty cheek before easily admitting, “I like it, too.”

Stilling, you turn as far as you can to regard him, asking in the tiniest voice, “You do?”

He darts his eyes to your lips before nodding. “You can try it next time.”

You smile, not knowing why you feel shy in this position of all things. But maybe you’re just happy that he said that. Because he didn’t need to admit something so intimate in the moment. 

“We’ll do whatever you want,” you vow in a murmur, closing your eyes when he captures your lips.

After sliding a tender hand down your cheek, he whispers, “Turn around.”

You immediately do, untwisting your back and relieving the tension in your neck. When you slowly move to face Yoongi again, he steadies you the whole way. 

And as soon as you’re settled, he kisses you so hard you fall back against the wall again. 

Hands come up to shove your tee upward and unhook your bra, and he gropes at your chest before ducking to take a nipple in his hot mouth.

Surging with pulses, you bury your face to muffle your moans, squeezing your eyes shut from pure ecstasy.

How the fuck are you doing this? With him? If you travelled back in time to tell yourself that this was gonna happen at a party someday, you would’ve been told to piss off. 

“Love these tits,” Yoongi grits. “Fuck.”

“I didn’t wanna wear a bra.”

He immediately chuckles. Darkness and sin brushing your chest. “I would’ve left.” 

You hum in mirth, knowing exactly what he means by that. As much as you wanted to tease him, you know that decision would’ve immediately gotten him in trouble. 

And definitely other people, too.

But the more he keeps licking and sucking, the more you feel it coming. Release. The inferno. It’s on the horizon and you’re just awaiting the crash of relentless deluge.

“There you go,” he rumbles. “You gonna come?”

You pant out before nodding, every muscle thrumming like hell. 

And he orders low in your ear, yanking your orgasm right out of your very center,

“Then come for me, doll.”

Your body wracks with jolts, stabs of lightning hitting every limb and locking them at hard angles. A rush of pleasure surges through, filling the closet with a heady scent that makes Yoongi groan pride into your neck.

“Uh huh,” he praises. “Still wanna talk shit?”

And you do. Tears leak from your eyes as you nod, orgasm riding farther than ever, waves unending and your mental shore nowhere in sight. 

“Course you do.” Yoongi claims your mouth. “Fuckin’ love it.”

Still, you feel pulled, lost to the universe that’s him and him alone, and you want to reciprocate the same pleasure that he’s providing. 

“Baby, I’m still—”

“Fuck—”

You don’t know what comes over your brain, or your body, or whatever else runs on autopilot. But you use the rest of your strength to shove him back, pushing him until he hits the other wall of the closet.

“D—”

You rush out a question before lowering yourself, “Did you come?”

“No, but—”

“Take it off.”

Stunned, Yoongi rushed to unsheath the wrapper, rubbing himself before you take control. 

Nothing will stop you at this point. Anyone could come in and you’d still be pleasuring Yoongi until he breaks. 

Because you want this. He’s earned this. 

Your knees hit the ground right as you take him in your mouth, tasting the strange mix of salt and latex but knowing it won’t be for long. 

This is what you’ve been wanting to do since he gave you his goddamn coat, and your imagination has been so vastly outdone by reality that you feel like none of it’s truly happening. 

When you flick your eyes upward, you get another thing you’ve been yearning for. 

Yoongi is fighting for his life. 

You can barely see that his eyes are squeezed tight, and you catch a tiny glimpse of his mouth agape before he bites it shut. When you suck in hard, his whole body flinches, and for the first time that night, he’s the one with a hand over his mouth. 

And you feel so fucking elated that you welcome the hot strings of cum painting your mouth, groaning around him and giggling when his essence slips right down your throat. 

He’s promising dark and wonderful things above your head, and you feel him grip your chin as soon as you pop off of his dick.

“Open that mouth.”

You show him, hoping he can tell in the dim light that there’s no drop left on your tongue.

“Goddamn.”

You’re tugged up before your mouth is smothered by his, and you teeter on your heels for balance as he whips you back against a solid surface.

It looks like he wants to say something. 

But nothing comes out as he clenches a fist next to your head. 

As you both calm, only your breaths fill the closet, your scents of passion clinging onto coats and jackets, all of which you could’ve worn in place of the one he gave you. 

But Yoongi did something so bold tonight that it was only natural for you to want to take the same risk. 

As he kisses you slow, you respond in kind, rolling your lips with his and enjoying coming down from this high with him every time. 

Shouts and yells from the game outside pierce into the closet, but both of you exist in your own little world. With you tracing the lines of his shirt and him gently straightening your clothes. 

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“For what, doll,” he asks in return. 

“Making me yours.” When you slightly pull on his jacket, you hope he gets what you mean. “Even if no one else knows.” 

His tiny peck on your cheek is genuine and, if you aren’t mistaken, a little prideful. “They’re going to, doll,” he vows into your skin. “I told you, you're gonna get tired of me.” 

"Lies," you sigh in peace. “So I get Halloween pictures with you next time, too?” 

Yoongi freezes, standing straight before fishing out his phone. 

And you fuss up a quiet storm before he lets you fix yourself, smiling at his camera as he squishes his sweaty, satisfied as fuck face right next to yours. 

If anyone ever comes across those pictures on his phone, you will never ever tell them the context. They'll never know why your makeup looks like that, or why his hair is even more haphazard, or why you both look way too happy to be in a closet.

Even if they frightened you to death. 

Some time later—and after a stressful time sneaking out with a smug Yoongi in tow—you find yourself downstairs and heading out the door with Taehyung. 

After he asks where you were, you simply tell him the truth: you were with Yoongi. And end it at that. 

With one look at your neck, he hums in amusement.

And you immediately slap a hand over it in shock, embarrassed to hell when he laughs.

But you let Tae tease you all the way home, knowing that you also caught a small glimpse of his life with Jimin. Not that you’ll tell him that until months from now. 

When your phone buzzes, you immediately check what awaits you. 

And you dissolve into mush yet again.

Yoongi [2:45am]: Text me when you’re home 

You [2:45am]: but im not going to your place :((  

What is home, if not where you feel the most at peace? Where you feel like you can be yourself and not worry about sneaking around? Where you know someone will protect you and be that person you can go to without any questions asked? 

Yoongi [2:47am]: Next Halloween you will be 

It’s definitely with Yoongi. 

Right now, you know your home is with him. 

Smiling, you type another text, full of contentment and looking towards the day all of this can be lived the way you both want. 

You [2:47am]: turn into a cat 

Yoongi [2:47am]: 😒

Taehyung looks at you when you laugh, and his grin grows when he can tell you’re genuinely happy. 

And when Yoongi actually sends you a selfie matching the ear gesture he did earlier, you feel the endearing prick of hot tears in your eyes. 

Yoongi [2:49am]: 1 Attachment 

He has a distinct matching mark on his neck.

And you are one thousand percent sure he took the picture knowing it's visible.

Yoongi [2:50am]: Meow :)

Happy Halloween indeed. 

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end :)

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a/n: thank you all for reading! i know this is super super late to post but i wanted it to be decent for y'all before letting it free. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated.

a/n 2: to any men reading this series, let me tell you.. that hug situation happened to me and some people i know and it suuuucks :(( ladies - and guys, anyone really - if you've had that happen to you i am sending you the biggest genuine hugs and a 3tan yoongi to make it better. and if it hasn't happened to you, then good.

++feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[toxicanonymity]

night walks (original)

2k | pothead neighbor!Joel x f!reader

joel miller masterlist | night walks masterlist

He shrugs and leans in.  You don't lean away.  He takes your chin in his hand and your mouth opens for him, emptying your lungs before you can tell your body no.  He gets less than an inch from your lips and exhales into your mouth as you inhale deeply, accepting his breath. 

Summary: Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed but has other intentions.

content warnings: I8+ nsfw, drugs, dubcon, unsafe PIV sex, dirty talk, light imprisonment, creepy pothead joel, age gap (unspecified), possible dosing, no outbreak, Joel is untrustworthy.

(a/n): felt like writing some sex and taking a new Joel for a spin.

You're living in your Aunt's basement in a conservative suburban neighborhood while you work a dead-end job.  You keep to yourself and don't know anyone in the neighborhood. You take a walk late at night.  Not uncommon for you.  Normally, no one is out, so you light up a joint as you round the corner into a dark cul-de-sac. 

"That smells good," a gruff, disembodied voice says.

You startle and look around.  "It's cool, I'm cool " he says, and your eyes land on him in the shadows.  It's Joel Miller sitting out on the porch in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. "Sorry I scared you.  I'm no snitch," he adds.  "Have a good night." 

He comes out almost every night from then on and starts to make small talk.  One night he comes down from the porch in PJ pants and a tight t-shirt, stretched by his biceps, and asks if he can walk a lap with you.  You're like, whatever.  This is when you start to notice how hot he is, having barely seen him in the shadows. The PJ pants are a little too flattering on his ass and you can also see the ample size of his package. His beard glistens with bits of gray and silver.

In the darkest corner of the neighborhood one night, he says "hey" and his hand brushes the back of your hip. You turn and look into his eyes and his face darkens. He wets his lips and your heart races. He asks, "Mind if I hit that?"

You pass it to him and there's a spark when your fingers touch.  The intimacy of his mouth on your joint makes you blush.  His brow furrows as he takes a drag and maintains eye contact.  Something in his gaze gives you butterflies between the legs.

He shares bits and pieces about himself. Sounds like he's having some kind of a midlife crisis. His wife cheated. He's moved into the basement and made a man cave.   He starts crossing your mind during the day.  What's his deal, why is he talking to you? Are you friends now?  You're not sure if he's lonely or a creep.

One night, he sheepishly approaches you about buying some weed.  He wants you to bring it to his man cave so you can show him the stuff and remind him how to roll a joint and all. 

-

He lets you in the side door. When he holds the door open, you get a whiff of his sweat.  He's listening to Pink Floyd.  His tight shirt is blotched in perspiration and his muscles are pumped up.  

He asks, "Mind if I finish this set?"  

"Sure." 

It's burning up inside and you're in joggers and a hoodie. You sit down on the couch and try not to watch. You look around the room at his TV, the bar.  Your eyes drift to the bench where he's on his back, his shirt riding up exposing his happy trail, his package pressing up into his joggers.  

"Don't be shy. You can watch," he says without looking over. 

He's definitely a creep.  He counts down from 5 then racks the bar and sits up.  He looks you up and down.  You put your thin metal case on a tray that's sitting on the ottoman in front of you.  

He goes and locks the door where you came in - the bolt and the slider.

"Drink?" He asks, and walks behind the bar.  "Gotta tell me what you want or you get an IPA." 

"I'm good."

He brings you an IPA.  

He uses his shirt to wipe his brow.  He sits down right next to you, with plenty of other space on the couch,  and stretches his arm out behind you.  He catches you glancing toward the locked door. 

"Too late now, pumpkin." He adjusts himself.  "Come on, loosen up." He hands you the beer and you take a sip.  

"Good girl."  He looks you up and down again. 

-

You put the beer down on the tray and lean forward, elbows  on your knees.  "Alright, so. . ." 

His massive hand rubs your back slowly and it feels a little too good for comfort.  You try to ignore it.  

You open the weed case and get out the baggie and rolling papers. "You're gonna take-"

"Yeah, I know how to do it,”  he smirks. He tucks some cash in your case – a little too much – and closes it.  

Then he pulls out his own case from under the couch.  He puts the weed you gave him in there and pulls out his own stash.  You open your mouth but aren't sure what to say. 

"You gotta hit this. Really, try it," he says.   

You watch him roll the most perfect joint in the world.  

You call him out.  "Why'd you act like such a noob?" 

"How else was I gonna get you in here, hm?”  

Your cheeks burn. 

“Now we're all set to do what we want." A self-satisfied smile creeps across his face. "I won't tell, you won't tell. . . "  He winks at you and his eyes sparkle.

You tense. "I won't tell what?"

He brazenly eye-fucks you.  "What are you gonna say, you came over to sell me weed? C’mon.” 

He strokes your hair.  You're a little sick to your stomach.  You get another whiff of his sweat and curse your body for responding favorably.  

"Where's your wife?"

"Hell if I know," he shrugs.  His hungry eyes don't leave you alone.  

"Damn, you're hot," he blurts out.  It's exactly what you were trying not to think about him, but shit, he is.  

-

He puts the joint in his mouth and lights up, then his arm returns behind you.  His thumb  strokes the nape of your neck and you don't move away.  Not to be intimidated, you turn slightly toward him.  He inhales, holds in the breath, then offers you the joint.  

You hold up your hand and refuse the joint.

He shrugs and leans in.  You don't lean away.  He takes your chin in his hand and your mouth opens for him, emptying your lungs,  before you can tell your body no.  He gets less than an inch from your lips and exhales into your mouth as you inhale deeply, accepting his breath. 

"Atta girl," he says, followed by a small cough into his fist.  

You exhale the smoke slowly, then take a deep breath of clean air and exhale again.  

His large, veiny hand rubs your thigh and you sit in silence for a moment.

He says, "Good shit, right?" 

It's amazing.  "Did you just dose me?" 

He laughs. "Shotgunnin's a hell of a way to dose someone. Nah it's just about findin' the right strain, pumpkin" 

Whatever it is - the weed, the beer, his sweat, his body, the glimmer in his eyes. . . Whatever it is has you hot all over and tingling between the legs. You fidget with the zipper of your hoodie.

He puts his hand over yours and tugs the zipper, his hand dangerously close to your tits. "Let's take that off," he says. You take it off, leaving a tank top and no bra, and fold it up at the arm of the couch.  Part of you is unsure why you're settling in.  The lower part of you knows exactly why.  

His thick knuckles stroke the tattoo on your shoulder

His voice is a low rumble, through nearly-gritted teeth when he says, "found myself a bad girl."

He takes another puff, then sets the joint on an ashtray.   He holds in the breath, takes your cheeks in his hands, his sad eyes searching your face hornily. You empty your lungs again.  He seals his mouth with yours, sending a rush of blood to your loins. You accept the breath, sucking it out of his mouth, then close your mouth and turn away to exhale as your nipples harden.  His face stays and hovers close to yours. 

-

When you finish exhaling, you turn back and meet his gaze.  His eyelids are heavy with lust. He looks at your lips, cradles the back of your head, and smashes his mouth into yours.  His mustache tickles. His tongue invades your mouth and makes you throb. You back up a little and his body pushes yours down on your back, your head landing softly on your hoodie.  His legs wedge between yours.  

His clothed arousal presses right between your legs and his large hand maps your body as he buries his face in your neck.  "Lets see how bad you can be," he growls into your ear before taking a gentle bite of your neck, then sucking hard.  His hard-on swells even larger and harder against you and your hips automatically roll into him.  Your legs wrap loosely around him all on their own.  God, he's big.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but you’re dripping wet.  It’s like a magnetic, masculine energy is radiating out of his pores, penetrating you.  Locked in a basement with this total creep and you’re dizzy with desire.  

He slides his arm under your neck and kisses you forcefully as he gropes your breasts and grinds into you. Then he shoves his hand down into your pants where you aren't wearing underwear.  His thick fingers part your folds and glide against your slick.  You hate yourself for it, but you've never been more turned on, and it shows. 

When he feels how wet you are, he says “I’ll be damned.  You want it that bad.” 

He tugs down your joggers urgently, backing up on his knees to pull them and your shoes all the way off.  Then he frees his cock and strokes himself, wetting his lips. Chest rising and falling as he eyes your naked cunt.  Fuck, he has a nice cock.

He hovers over you again and one of your legs wraps loosely around him.  Your back arches in anticipation.  Your clit throbs.  He breathes heavily and his cock prods your entrance.  You moan softly.  He teases you with the tip.  Your body aches to be filled.  

“All yours, baby, every inch.”  His low voice obliterates anything that was left of your will to resist. 

He pushes his swollen tip inside, and the stretch pushes a moan out of you.

“Yeah, go on.  Take this cock.” He pushes further.  

He grunts, "God, you're tight. C'mon now, you can do it.”  Your hips tilt to receive more of him and he plunges the rest of his length into you with a loud grunt and shudder.  His neck vein bulges and his eyes close. You gasp as he fills you up and you twitch around him.  

“Yeah,” he pants, rocking into your clit while he's all the way inside. “Attagirl.”  You already feel something building deep within you.

He retreats then plunges into you again with a grunt.  The vein on his neck bulges more and his biceps flex as he hovers over you, fucking you slowly, then faster.  “Yeah, that’s my bad girl.”  Fuck, he feels good.  Tension coils rapidly in your core.  

He wraps a strong arm around you, lifts you up against him, and his cock stays inside you as he sits back on the couch so you’re in his lap straddling him.  He expertly works your clit and his massive hands on your asscheeks move you on his cock as his hips move under you.  

“God damn, you’re hot,” he says again as you roll your hips into him.  “Yeah, ride this cock,” he says, thrusting up into you as his massive hands rove your body.  He forcefully pulls down your tank top and sucks your tit, moaning into it.  Your thighs tremble.  

“Yeah, c’mon,” he says. “Come on this cock.”  

The next time he bottoms out, your clit grinding into his pubic bone, softened by his hair — you do.  Pleasure blooms from your clit, pulsing, washing over you, and your walls clench around him, wringing a guttural groan from his lungs. 

His cock pulses enormously and your whole body jerks into him as your climax continues.  He thrusts a few more times. Slow but emphatic, pulling you down on his cock as his balls empty inside you.  You stay on top of him as your climax wanes.  

-

Shit, that was dumb, you realize.  But it felt really fucking good.  

“Reckon I won’t need to lock ya in next time, huh?” he asks, stroking your hair.  You swerve his hand, get dressed, and leave. 

But the next night, you still find yourself walking by his house.  

“Any time you wanna come,” he says.  “You’re welcome."

Short Deleted Scene

-

Thank you for reading!!! your interaction is always appreciated too! 💐 this is a one shot but I'm having thots so you never know, LMK if you like him. I can kinda see him as a breeder, maybe.

Continuation by popular demand: night walks 2

[hellishjoel]

pretty little thing

4.9k /  dbf!joel/brat tamer!joel x f!reader

← masterlist

Summary:  After Joel misses two of your secret hookup dates, you send him a picture to show him just what he’s missing… while you're in Joel’s bed and he’s across the street at your dad’s house. 

Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, smut, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, Joel in his 40’s), sending/receiving nudes, dbf!joel, brat tamer!joel, a lil choking, oral (f receiving), fingering, pet names, praise, denial/edging followed by overstimulation, temperature play (kind of?), reader’s dad being a cockblock (TWICE)

A/N: based on this lovely request! I love dbf!joel, I’ll never get enough.  Masterlist

You had to take the perfect picture, one to show him what he was missing. You had to take one at just the right angle to show off your tits and the curve of your ass, the dark green lace material leaving little to the imagination.  Finally, you sent off the picture with a rush of adrenaline, biting on your nail as you smirked.  “Gonna have to start without you xx” And you weren’t lying.  Your hand moved down the smooth skin of your stomach, eyes fluttering closed as you let out a heavy breath feeling how wet you were growing. Breaking his rules felt like a flood of excitement.  It didn’t take him more than a minute for your text to go from Delivered, to Seen at 9:02 PM, to the little … messaging dots.  “Are you in my fucking bed?” He wrote back.

You have been so careful these past few months. You had followed his rules. 

1. Time Limit: If you were sneaking out of your dad’s house to meet up with Joel, you couldn’t stay the night. 

This usually meant you running barefoot across the road from Joel’s house before the sun peeked over the hill of your cul-de-sac and back through your cracked open window with time to spare. Joel wasn’t really a “sleep over, I’ll make you coffee and breakfast in the morning” type of guy. You snuck over, did your dirty deeds, and always left him wanting more by the time you slipped out of his dark gray sheets. Not so much more that he was begging you to stay, but just enough for him to invite you back over.

2. Exposure: Don’t awkwardly avoid each other in public. 

Joel, being your dad’s closest buddy, meant he was often over at your house for a number of reasons. Your dad had a boat down on the lake, so the two liked to fish. Your dad also owned a few nice motorcycles and always lent one to Joel so they could ride together during the summer. Sometimes, Joel would just come over because he was bored. With Sarah away at school, his entertainment was down to whatever beer he had in his fridge and the worn-in spot on his La-Z-Boy recliner catching a Rangers game. It was crucial not to avoid each other, or else it would just look out of the ordinary. Like something was going on between the two of you.

3. Paparazzi: No photos. 

It’s as basic as it sounds. No taking photos of each other during your hidden moments away from the rest of the world. That meant no snapping pictures of Joel while you were out at dinner a few towns away, no videos of him railing you (no matter how many times you begged him), and definitely no nudes. 

He had a bunch of other rules he had initiated over time, ones he made after you had broken an unknown boundary. 

“It’s better for us this way, darlin’.  Don’t want no one findin’ out ‘bout us.” 

It had been well over a week since Joel invited you over last. And you were actually going insane. You both kept a standing reservation for the other on Friday nights. Fridays were at the request of Joel. After a long week of work, all he wanted to do was to come home, have a shower, and fall into bed with you. 

You’d tell your dad you were going out with friends, and if your dad tried to hang out with Joel, he would say he was FaceTiming with Sarah that evening. 

However, that plan harshly backfired when your dad insisted he wanted to hang out with his friends on Friday nights, too. 

“Come on, Joel, call Sarah tomorrow. We’re going out to the bar for a drink!”

You loved your dad, but he was a fucking cockblock. 

“We’ll meet tomorrow night, baby girl. Can’t say no to your daddy when he just wants some company.” 

His text message to you Friday night left little comfort to the aching between your legs, a whine leaving you in annoyance when you hid away in your bedroom, having to help yourself for the night. 

Apparently, Joel missed the memo that he was supposed to join your dad for one of the Rangers’ night games that following Saturday. 

“Come on, Joely, it’s the Rangers against the fuckin’ Padres!”

Your dad did have a certain distaste for the Padres, a distaste he thought he would share with Joel over beer with chips and dip in the den. 

Now, you were angry. So sexually frustrated that you could punch a hole through the damn drywall. You had to watch Joel come over to your house, wearing the dark green flannel that was labeled yours on Friday nights, with his freshly trimmed beard scruff that he probably trimmed just for you the night before. 

His eyes read slightly apologetic when he glanced in your direction upon entering the house, but your revenge plans were already drawn out. 

“Daddy, I’m going out.” You said as you leaned down to kiss his cheek and grab your keys from the dish. 

“Two nights in a row, kiddo?” He asked, his eyes not straying from the TV, munching on a chip as he watched the wind up of a pitch. 

A simple “mhm” left your lips as you started to exit the den. Joel’s curious gaze slyly followed your exit, glancing over you slowly. “Well, that’s 23 for ya. That will be your Sarah soon. Going out every night, makin’ trouble.” Your dad laughed as he told Joel, but you could see there was no smile on his face as he let out a forced little grumble.

With little curiosity from your occupied father, you went out the front door and hastily moved across the street to Joel’s house. It tasted like rain in the air, the dark clouds looming overhead confirming it. 

You used the hidden key, your key, from under a plant at the back door and let yourself in, shimmying into the darkness that veiled the inside of his home.  

You didn’t need to turn on a light, the home had become a blueprint in your head from all of your late-night rendezvous. Besides, a light on might signal the attention of your dad or Joel from across the street. 

Your breath was tight in your chest, you were so excited. It wasn’t often that you had the upper hand with Joel, but if your plan worked like you hoped it would, he would be the one begging for you. 

You shimmied out of your top and pants, revealing a dark green lingerie set. His favorite color. You pulled back his comforter and got into the familiar dark gray sheets, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment at his smell that soaked the material. You missed him, you missed his attention. Focus. 

You took a deep breath and pulled his sheets back, your phone in hand as you lifted it above your silhouette with the flash on. You smirked as you looked at your beautiful body through the camera’s lens, admiring each curve and dimple. He loved every inch of you, he told you so himself. 

You had to take the perfect picture, to show him what he was missing. You had to take one at just the right angle to show off your tits and the curve of your ass, the dark green lace material leaving little to the imagination. 

Finally, you sent off the picture with a rush of adrenaline, biting on your nail as you smirked. 

“Gonna have to start without you xx”

And you weren’t lying. 

Your hand moved down the smooth skin of your stomach, eyes fluttering closed as you let out a heavy breath feeling how wet you were growing. Breaking Joel’s rules felt like a flood of excitement. 

It didn’t take him more than a minute for your text to go from Delivered to Seen at 9:02 PM  to the little … messaging dots. 

“Are you in my fucking bed?” He wrote back. 

He sounded angry, the dark gray sheets caressing you suddenly felt territorial. You were in his house without permission, breaking cardinal rule number 3. What if he didn’t want to see you again? Those rules were there for a reason, it’s what kept this little relationship going for so long. What if breaking the rules meant breaking off things? How many strikes did you get? You never truly asked. Did he even give you any strikes!?

Your heart thumped as your phone buzzed again, staggering to grab it and flip it over to see another text from him. 

“New rule. Don’t touch yourself without me there. I’m leaving now.” 

Your lips parted at the sight, a sly and excited smirk gracing your lips as you let out a fawning sigh. You were happy to know it was okay to break a rule as long as he was into it. Typical man thing, but duly noted. 

You decided to watch him leave your house from the corner of his bedroom window. He left in a hurry, his flannel clutched in his hand as he angrily paced himself across the street. Droplets from the sky left darkened dots on his short sleeve t-shirt, his pace kicking up for more than one reason to get inside his house. 

Hearing him set foot in the house made your legs flutter tighter together. You concealed yourself with his comforter, just your head popping out as you eagerly awaited for his body to peer through the doorway. You almost didn’t know what to do. Being in his house unannounced felt like you should hide. 

He didn’t immediately come upstairs, he was taking his time. What was he doing? 

Finally, you heard his thunderous boots hit the stairs, trudging their way to his bedroom. You purse your lips eagerly, one of your hands under the sheets slipping into your lacey green panties again. 

Joel pushed open his bedroom door, your face dropping at the sight. You had never seen him so angry looking. His eyes narrowed on you in that stone-cold way that made your lips part. Oh, look, his half-age situationship was holed up in his bed, begging to be fucked. 

You needed to muster up some words and fast. 

“Joel, I-”

“What.. the HELL do you think you’re doin’ in here?” He barked so loud that your eyes went wide, and you held the comforter over your body as a shield now. Any nerve you had running over here like this was fucking gone. 

Was his text only a ploy so he could make sure you were here so he could yell at you? 

Your lips parted when you realized what was taking him so long downstairs. He was lowering the fucking thermostat. A shiver shuddered up your spine, grasping the comforter closer to be tucked under your chin. 

You whimpered again, but this time more loudly, your desperate eyes meeting his stoic face. His fist was still clutching his flannel, his knuckles white, and the material surely crumpled up. 

“I asked what the hell you were doin’ over here, fuckin’ answer me.” Joel’s words were growled and low, a sorry spot in your stomach forming where your body’s heat drained. You had never seen this side of him before. With one foul move of his arm, he ripped back the comforter to reveal your half-naked body.

The cold rushed over you once more, leaving you whimpering as you pulled your hand out from where you were previously feeling up your slick. You needed to coax him out of his mood.

“I just wanted to see you, baby. Needed you yesterday… still need you tonight.” Despite the chill, you laid back in his sheets and accentuated your body, your hands smoothing over yourself. One hand cupped your breasts, fingernail gently tugging on your bralette strap while your other hand guided over the curve of your hip and played with the thin lace of your thong. 

He couldn’t help but let his gaze slip, taking a deep breath in through his nose while his eyes fell lower to the curve of your breasts amplified by the bralette. You were his pretty little thing, always have been, always will be. How could he resist you laying in his bed like this, all prepped and primed for him? Wearing his favorite color…

It didn’t take him long to decide, he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

Joel’s hand reached out first, his rough fingertips delicately brushing up the skin on your thigh, instantly causing goosebumps in their path.

“What did you say to my dad that he let you leave the watch party early?” You asked curiously, your eyes fluttering up to his amber ones. Another soft lightning strike hit in the distance and highlighted his taut jawline. 

He hesitated before answering, a sly smile slowly growing on his pretty lips. He grunted and rolled his eyes before answering. 

“Told ‘em I couldn't watch the shit show the Rangers were puttin’ on. Wanted to come home.” 

You giggled a bit as your hand reached up to tug at his belt a bit. 

“Emphasis on come home.” You teased, your heart fluttering thinking of how he showed up for you. 

Over time, Joel had developed this stupid hold over you, and when you didn’t get his attention, you could turn into a bit of a brat. Listen, once you have Joel Miller’s cock inside you, it changes your life. Going without it feels like a sick detox. 

“You wore this little thing for me, huh?” His southern drawl was enough to make your stomach churn in excitement, letting out a shaky breath as your head nodded against his pillows.

His pointer finger hooked into the material of your thong, your long eyelashes batting up to him. 

He was going too slow for your pace. You were about to speak up about it, but he interrupted your thoughts. 

“You were touching yourself.”

Your lips parted, and your lusted-over eyes began to focus again on his face. Suddenly, it got frigid again. 

“What?”

“When I pulled the covers back, your hands were in your panties. You were touching yourself.” The statement made your lungs tight. 

“I told you not to touch yourself without me here, you didn’t fuckin’ listen.” His words were spat with punishment, a loud whine leaving you as he pulled his hand from you. 

“Joel, please, I wasn’t-” “You really lyin’ to me right now?” His voice boomed, guilt soaking over you. 

“The new rule was established long after I touched myself, Joel.” Your tone was all sass, eyes glaring up at him for not giving you what you wanted. 

He let out a quiet little scoff and looked over you with a half-smirk. 

“Is that so?” His eyes were daggers. 

“Yep. When you ditched me last night, and I was left all alone, I..” Your voice trailed off, lips parting as you suddenly felt shy about getting off in private. At least, telling him off about it. 

“And you what?” His voice gritted, his head cocking up as he looked you up and down. 

You took a big inhale through your nose, sitting up as your body scrambled to get on your knees on the mattress. 

“And I fingered myself until I came. Since you weren’t there to take care of me, I did it myself.” You snapped, your arms crossing in front of you, shuddering a bit with the cold. Your nipples were taut peaks under the green bralette now. 

He slowly nodded, assessing what to do with you behind his eyes, weighing his options. 

“Is that so?” 

Your lips parted as you glanced down, his bulge resting heavily against his thigh. Ugh! Why wasn’t he putting it to use? You were right there!

You supposed he decided enough was enough, and Joel was ready to play. 

Your skin was doubling in goosebumps, whimpering as his warm hands nearly felt like they were searing you as he pulled you in by your waist, leaning down to connect your lips in a dirty haste. 

A happy moan was released from the depth of your throat, arms instantly locking around his neck and tugging his hair at the nape of his neck to keep him close. You could feel him shuffling with the kiss, smirking against him as you felt him kick his boots off blindly. 

“Joel, baby, it’s too cold.” You whispered to him as your lips moved to sponge kisses up his bearded jawline, a new patch of silver and white hairs adorning his lower cheek that you paid special attention to. 

He pulled away for a moment and got a better look at your face. “You really want me to go downstairs right now and change-” 

“No.” You quickly said, with a slight smile as you pulled him back in. 

He settled on the bed, clothes on and all. You were about to fall between his legs, but he was already positioning you where he wanted. 

He was sitting up now with his back against the headboard, an empty space between his legs where he encouraged you to sit. You moved in with a small smile, your back to his front with his jean-clad thighs around your hips. His hands began to explore you, his lips attaching to your neck as your head fell back onto his shoulder, eyes blissfully falling closed. His calloused hands felt over what he pleased, cupping your chest as he bit into your neck before moving down to your wet panties. 

You had been aching for hours, days even for this man’s touch. 

A stray moan left your lips, head still lulling around on his shoulder. You felt his arms constrict around you, arms pinned at your sides, and when you tried to move them, his only grew tighter. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, his digits slipping into the front of the material as he slowly moved his fingers up and down your slick. 

You yearned to hold him, kiss him, do anything to keep yourself distracted from his neurotically slow pace. 

“Joel-” you said in a short-tempered warning tone. 

Suddenly, his free hand was on your throat, your eyes clenching closed as he held you in one spot, fingers slowly circling your now throbbing clit. 

“You got started without me, figure’ you’d want all this attention.” His low voice growled into your ear, a futile whimper leaving your lips. 

“If you’re gonna act like a brat, not gonna give’ya what ya want.” An exhausted sigh left your lips, head slacking back against his shoulder again as his hold on your throat loosened.

It was painful the way he tortured you. His ankles had locked yours to be spread wide, your trembling legs giving away your impending orgasm. 

You were damn near lapping like an overworked dog in the sun every time he got you close and stopped all movements, tears threatening to spill at the frustration. 

He had been circling your engorged clit for who knows how long now. Your head had fallen limp on his shoulder and bicep, your back was either strictly straight with electricity or slumped against him with Joel practically holding up your weight. 

“J-Joel, I can’t keep taking this, please,” you whimpered. You looked like a wreck. Your mascara made your eyes teary, smudged black on your waterline, and your mouth was dry from all your broken moans and gasps. 

Your desperation didn’t change his mind. He was a stone wall right now. This was maybe the third time he denied your orgasm. You lost count. Your body no longer had the strength to hold itself up. And no matter how hot your body got each time you came close to an orgasm, the cold chill rushed back in just as he pulled away. 

“Gonna have to keep takin’ it, naughty girl. Broke more rules than I can count on both hands tonight alone.” You let out a disgruntled sigh, feeling his boner nudging against your back. 

A soft smirk graced your lips as you took what strength you could muster, your heels digging into the mattress as you grinded back against him. Your lips parted at the feeling of him poking into your ass, purposely moaning his name against the shell of his ear. 

The action only worsened your punishment, his fingers moving at a lightning-fast pace suddenly.

“F-Fuck! Joel!” A clap of thunder concealed your cries, harsh rain pitter-pattering against Joel’s window. You wiggled in his hold, breathing heavily as you begged him to let you cum.

“Please! Please! Please, Joel! Please!” One of your hands gripped his large thigh for stability, your nervous system a wreck as you tried to muscle through another one of his denials. Your heart raced, just at your peak and ready to pop, nails clenching into his jeans as he went to an all-halting stop once more. 

This time, he let your body go and moved out from behind you, your body in shambles as you fell into his pillows. You felt numb, yet so short-circuited. Your brain could barely hold a thought besides what he made you say after every denial. 

“I will not disobey the rules.” Joel’s voice scolded, whimpers leaving your lips as they parted, but you couldn’t work out the words for a moment. 

“I will not..” He started to lead you, your trembling thighs begging for more attention.

“..disobey the rules.” You mustered up, eyes fluttering open to meet him. 

This may seem like torture to anyone who didn’t know the full context, but Joel was quick to console you into bliss after each denial. 

“So good for me baby girl, come here.” He mumbled quietly as he cupped your cheek and turned you to look up at him,  stars in your eyes as he kissed your forehead, nose, and pouted lips. 

You hummed happily, your lazy hand slinking up to hold his hand that was on your cheek. 

“I learned my lesson.” You whispered, throat swollen from crying and begging all night. 

“Yeah, did you?” He asked almost mockingly. 

You nodded tiredly against the pillows, thighs still twitching at the thought of cumming. 

“You wanna cum tonight, baby? Think you deserve it after acting like a brat all night?” Joel muttered, his hands gently throwing his dark green flannel over your top half to keep you safe from the cold. 

You nodded eagerly and took the peace offering, snuggling his warm flannel around your body. It smelled like him and a little like the rain outside. 

Your eyes glanced at the comforter across the room. Better not to ask. 

“How do you wanna come tonight, darlin’?” Joel muttered, his warm hand cupping your outer thigh and gently shaking it to watch your ass jiggle. It made you feel your warm, sticky arousal still soaking your pussy. 

“Mm, want your warm tongue, Joel. Keep me warm.” You moaned softly, turning your head to see a slight smirk gracing his lips. 

“Alright angel, perk up now.” Joel directed as you moved onto your knees and bent over in front of him, your head laying to the side as your ass was up and spread for him. 

The cool air breezed over your panties, biting down on your lip as you felt him pull the material down and stretch around your thighs. His greedy hands gripped your ass, your cheeks flushing as he admired you from behind. 

“Like what ya see, old man?” You hummed teasingly, rutting your hips back until his firm hands stopped you in place. 

“Watch it.” His tone was warning you, squeezing at the flesh. 

You eagerly waited, your jaw dropping as you felt his warm lips kiss down your wet slick. 

“Oh-, Oh, Joel..” You moaned quietly, your hands at either side of your head gently gripping the sheets. 

His mustache and trimmed beard hairs tickled your upper thighs, your eyes fluttering closed as his warm tongue flattened against your core. 

Such a greedy fucking man, licking up all the slick he caused since he came home. You were just a feast for him now, getting all your juices worked up and on display for him. The thought made your stomach churn. You were already so close to coming, he didn’t even plunge a finger into you yet. 

It’s alright, you thought, because as long as he kept giving your clit attention and you could cum, it was a win in your book. 

A shaky whimper spilled into his bed sheets as his fingers gripped more into your juicy ass, spreading you open as he worked slow figure-eights around your clit. It was like a gentle massage to your throbbing core. He was practically milking you. 

What made you even wetter was hearing him moan against your pussy, the vibrations throwing your body forward. You would have fallen away from him if his hands weren’t gripping your hips so tight. 

Oh god, it was a lot now. You were so tender, so aching, now he was showering you with affection and it was too much. 

“I- Woah, Joel, wait-” You gasped as your back arched, and you threw your head back, hair going everywhere as Joel began to feast your orgasm from you. 

His tongue didn’t stop, lapping and licking with generous speed. 

“Too-too much, I- fuckkk,” you whined as you began to pant, eyes widening as you felt his mouth pull off you.

“You said I could cum.” You breathily pointed out at his absence, about to turn your head around and complain until you felt two of his meaty fingers slowly push into your fluttering pink walls. 

“Love watching your cunt get filled up, baby.” His words were purring, rolling off his sick tongue and pooling right into the base of your stomach. It left you whimpering. 

You could feel him fill you up to his knuckles, your eyes reeling back into your head as your head laid defeatedly in his mattress. 

His lips resumed their place around your clit, suckling just enough that you could feel his teeth grazing your sensitive nub. 

It was so much, too much, sooo good. 

Your breathing grew labored, your stomach clenching every time his tongue massaged your pussy in just the right way. He had you right where he wanted you. You were worried he would stop again, just like he did the time before, and the time before that, and the time before that. 

“Please-” You whimpered tiredly into the sheets, mumbling into the material.  “Please don’t leave me.” 

You could feel his cheeks quirk up in a smile on your skin. “Not goin’ anywhere kitten, you know I love how you taste.” His words made you gasp, grinding your hips back into his face. Joel was going to let you cum. 

The squelching noises of your pussy being fucked by his fingers filled the room, his tongue relentless on you now. You were a whimpering, moaning mess. You could feel your slick trickling down your thigh, a loud moan bellowing out of you as you felt Joel lick up the trail before returning to your cunt. 

Finally, you were giving way. Your hips were shaking in his hold, his name coming out in pants as his facial hair tickled you into an unexpected orgasm. You were surprised he finally let you cum even though he had promised you would, your body grilling into the mattress at the pressure points of your body. 

“Yes- yesyesyes- Oh! Fuck-” You breathed out, your face crinkling as your long-awaited orgasm thrilled your body. At last, you came. You felt like you could breathe again, think again. Why wasn’t he-

Your tired head looked back at him, watching as he didn’t back off long after your orgasm had come and gone.

“Joel- Joelll-” Your voice went out in half-ass warning since it was a moan. He wasn’t letting up. 

“No- Fuck Joel, no, please, I can’t!” Your voice was high-pitched and raw, letting out a long, drawn-out cry of his name as he overstimulated your throbbing clit. 

“Yes you can, baby, know you can.” His voice was drenched in sex, dirty old fuck. 

You heard a tear, one of your hands having ripped the sheets and making them shred in your hand. You didn’t care, neither did Joel. 

His fingers massaged at your walls, curling and searching for that spot that was just right. But you didn’t need it anymore, you could have been done. But Joel never did anything you expected. 

The noises of your wet cunt filled the room, along with moans of your name from Joel. He finger fucked you so good you thought you might squirt on his tongue. You were restless, your body moving all around as much as he would allow as you tried to find comfort. It was pointless. 

His tongue continued to lap and lick at your swollen clit, feeling it desperately tingle from all the attention. You craved Joel’s touch for over a week, but it was suddenly too much once you finally had it. 

Your body was hot despite the cold he conspired against you, your shaky hand reaching back, clutching the hair at the top of his head and fisting it as you kept him against your core. It was so good it hurt, it hurt so much it was good. And since he was already back there, he might as well make you cum again. 

The tension was unbearable,  your clit begging for a break. But Joel just kept going and going, and suddenly, you were cumming again. Your brain went blank, the orgasm making you numb as you slumped in his hold. It was sweet, overwhelming, but still sweet. He always made you feel good like this, heavenly. Like you were the only woman on Earth he ever spoiled like this. 

He cleaned you good, even teasing your clit with random licks that made your body jolt. 

You panted tiredly, sweat in every crevice of your body. Your tired eyes only focused on the sheets you shredded, twirling the piece around your finger. 

“Joel..” You whispered breathily, your soft eyes looking slowly back at him. Your walls were still fluttering around the intrusion of his fingers, watching as he slowly reeled them back. Now you felt empty. He spread the two digits apart, watching in a sweet fascination the way your slick clung to his fingers. He was sick in the head the way he put them in his mouth and licked them clean. 

He looked effortless as he laid down beside you, pulling two whole orgasms and three almost orgasms from you.

“I hate you.” You murmured as your head nuzzled against his shoulder, feeling his arm swing up to let you into his side as his strong arms reeled your limp body into his. 

“Y’owe me a new pair of sheets.” His voice also sounded tired, but it was laced with teasing. He reached behind you for his flannel and threw it over your upper half again, a comfort after the storm. 

“Needed new sheets anyway. I’ll help you find a better set tomorrow.” You hummed as your tired arm came up to lay on his chest, drawing shapes over his shirt as his hand gently stroked the hair away from your sweaty forehead. 

“Let’s see how well you can walk tomorrow. Then we’ll talk.” He sneered, a shy grin on your lips.

“Deal.” —————- Taglist: @jrrmint @gracieispunk @macfrog @strang3lov3 @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please reply on this post.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Too Close for Comfort 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, a grumpy man, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find a place to stay for the semester but your landlord is less than hospitable.

Characters: Joel Miller

Note: I said I'd get to Joel and I'm sorry to neglect everyone else lol.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The suburban sprawl awes you as you steer down the gentle curving avenues, taking in the trimmed hedges and the short picket fences. The neighbourhood is a stark contrast to the grim backstreets where you grew up. As you turn into the bright cul de sac, you can't help but wonder if you put the wrong address into the app.

The automated voice declares you've reached your destination just as you drive past the house from the posting. You hiss as you confirm the metal numbers mounted on the brick are the very same. You swerve into the nearest lot and reverse, forgetting to look as you do.

A loud honk has you slamming on the brakes as a large truck flashes its lights in your rearview. You give a sheepish wave and cringe, waiting for them to pull in. You sink down as you notice the bulky Chevy roll expertly into the lot  in front of the very house that distracted you.

You hold in a groan and back up, straightening the wheel and parking along the curb. A man drops heavily to his feet from the pick-up, slamming the door behind him. You wince and grip the steering wheel nervously. That must be the man you emailed.

Great first impression...

You open your car door to get out only to be trapped by your seat belt. You quickly click the button to release yourself and climb out of the car. You step up on the curb as the man scowls towards his front door, tramping up the cement walk between neatly groomed grass.

"Um, excuse me, Joel?" You call after him, "are you Joel Miller?"

He stops before the bottom step of the porch and pushes his head back with a growl. He turns to face you, agitation creased above his brows. You try to smile but your lips only tremble.

"Um, sorry to bother, I'm the one who messaged you. Er, about the room. You know, uh, online?" You wave your phone at him and his eyes dully focus on the gesture.

He crosses his arms. You shift your weight on your feet, not daring to break the threshold of his lawn. Right, you don't think this is going to work out. You should've known it was too good to be true.

"I'm sorry--"

"I'm Joel," he interrupts, "you're my one o'clock," he checks his watch, a brown leather band strapped around his thick tanned wrist, "you're early."

"I... yes, I am. I hate being late--"

"Doesn't matter," he dismisses tersely and twists on his heel.

He climbs the front steps of the two-storey house as you watch helplessly. His broad shoulders stretch the thin cotton of his tee shirt as he rolls his shoulders and keys in the code to the front door. You slump your shoulders, hooking your fingers in your pockets as you make to turn back.

"You wanna see the room?" He calls to you before you can retreat.

"Oh, uh, sure," you hop in place and quickly scurry up the wall, "er, that would be great."

You clatter up the steps, tripping over the last one. He stands by the door, staring at you dully as he holds it open for you. You show your teeth appeasingly as you approach.

"Take your shoes off," he points you inside.

You step onto the mat and bend to untie your sneakers. He enters after you with a sigh. You quickly sidle out of his way as he nearly bumps into you. You slide your shoes aside and stand as he thumbs off his boots.

"It's above the garage," he points to the east wall. That is east, right?

"Sure, uh, cool," you follow him past the staircase.

He leads you to a door just before the kitchen and opens it again. It occurs to you then, maybe too late, that he's a complete stranger and you've walked carelessly into his house. You look at him, trying to hide the flicker of doubt. It doesn't help that he doesn't smile. Actually, you're not sure if that would be any better. 

You go ahead of him and climb the stairs behind the door. You enter the room, fully furnished and relatively cozy. You're impressed. It's not much but enough to make do.

“Built in the bathroom,” he explains as he does to another doorway, “only half bath, you'll have to use downstairs for a shower. Kitchenette,” he goes to the counter mounted into the wall, “microwave, hot plate sink, guess you could get an electric kettle.”

You nod as you look around. It's not bad; a bed, a chair and footstool, a table against the wall with two wooden stools. Of all the places you've viewed, it's decent and it's close enough to school 

“I could… is that an offer?” You prompt.

“You got a job?” He asks.

“Sure, I work on campus between classes, and I have a grant,” you explain, “probably won't be here too much, just need somewhere to sleep.”

“Mm,” he rubs his chin, a hoarse bristle of brown and gray along his jaw. “Deposit?”

“Right, um, yeah, I got it. I could Venmo? Or paypal?”

“Cash,” he insists.

“Oh, uh, I don't have it on me,” you fumble with your phone, “but I can show you my balance.”

“Bring it tomorrow and the room is yours.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Get the money in my hand and it's a deal,” he offers his hand, “you seem clean. You're a student. Better than the guy who tried to steal my silverware.”

“Uh, I won't do that,” you shake his hand and chuckle nervously.

“Mmm,” he growls and lets you go. “As long as you're quiet, I don't care what you do.”

“Oh, yeah,” you cover your mouth and lower your voice, “I'll do my best.”

He is unshakable. You're not the most charming character but you're harmless, most people realise that pretty quickly. You turn and continue to look around. 

You go to the window and pull the cord of the blinds. Only one side raises and you yank it again. You give an oop as you angle it and try to let it down. It's only making it worse.

He huffs and crosses the room. You back up and he snatches the cord, rolling it up easily. You mumble an apology and look out, peering down at the driveway.

“It's really nice,” you say, “you said you put it the bathroom yourself?”

“Built the whole room,” he grumbles as he backs up, scratching the back of his, “something to do…”

“Right,” you smile, impressed by his handiwork. “Well, I can get the money. When should I come back?”

“Ten,” he says, “and don't be early. Don't need you interrupting my coffee.”

“Yes, sir,” you confirm, “ten…” you set an alarm on your phone and add it to your calendar, “I'll be here.”

You peek up at him as he watches you with narrowed eyes. His expression is enough to see you off. You're going to scram before he rescinds his offer.

🏘️

The next day, you head out to deliver the deposit. You take a little longer than you expected at the bank. You didn't consider that taking out a large amount would raise alarm bells. 

With that sorted, you set off for your new home. This time, you park without issue, the Chevy truck unmoving in the driveway. You skip up the walk and take the steps two at a time. Your toe hits the top stair and you fly forward, colliding with the door.

You stand straight and laugh at yourself, reaching to knock on the door.

“Don't,” a disembodied voice warns.

You frown and look around. Your eyes catch the almost indiscernible lens above the doorbell. Oh, fancy.

The door swings open and Joel greets you over a gray blue mug. You stare at him awkwardly and teeter on your feet. Oh, yeah. You are here for a reason.

“Got it all here,” you proclaim as you loosen the drawstring on your purse, “counted it twice.”

He accepts it as he drinks from his mug, slurping down the last of the dregs. He clears his throat as he lowers the cup, “mm, great.”

“So, uh, not to be pushy,” you let your bag hang from your elbow, “when would I be able to… move in?”

His brown eyes bore into your very soul, “well… I guess whenever you need…”

“Great, because um, to be honest, it's really expensive to live on campus and my roommates are… messy,” you hesitate as you realise you're rambling, “not that that matters to you.”

“Just think of me like your landlord,” he grits, “don't bother me unless it's an emergency.”

“Got it,” you nod, “sorry, I'm excited. Oh, and I was wondering, am I allowed outside? Well, I don't mean, like, okay, is there a backyard?”

He nods stiffly. 

“Am I… can I uh, use it?”

He stares then shrugs, “I guess. Two rules, stay out of my room and stay out of the garage. You got your room, you'll have access to the common space within limits.”

“Uh huh, makes sense,” you hold out the envelope and he takes it. “Well, thanks, I really appreciate it. You know, it must be a good investment, a little apartment…” you clamp your lips and cringe, “okay, sorry, I'm going.”

He doesn't respond. As you turn, the door snaps shut and you nearly trip again. It'll be a bit tense but it's better than scraping the bottom of the barrel to pay rent and dealing with Kaya's late night antics. 

🏘️

You email Joel shortly after your last encounter. Restless, you're eager to be out of your overpriced and overcrowded dorm. You have most of your things ready to go. A single knapsack and a long duffle. 

He agrees to the day before the first. You're not the sort to complain. It's better than the alternative. Short of the grumpy overseer, you really found the perfect place.

When you arrive, Joel's truck isn't there. You try ringing the bell but don't get an answer. You didn't expect any different. You sit on the top step and wait, admiring the facade of the neighbouring houses and the autumnal russets littered across their yards.

You’re not early. Not that early. You thought he’d be around or maybe give you some direction on how to get inside. Technically, this is your home too now. You signed the electronic lease.

When he drives up, you stand, swaying as you try not to seem too jumpy. He sits in his truck, taking his time as he lingers inside. When he gets out, he is in no hurry. You smile as he approaches and chew your lower lip.

His graying hair looks fluffy and soft despite his demeanour. He wears a tee shirt under a canvas shirt.

“Hi, er, Joel, sir,” you greet, “I… think I got the right day.”

“Was getting a key cut,” he slips his hand into his back pocket, “the keypad can be finicky. This one’s for the back. Just in case.”

“Thanks,” you chirp as you accept the key, “that’s awesome.”

His dark eyes challenge your enthusiasm as they flick up.

“Sure,” he agrees flatly.

“I’ll get my bags,” you announce as you back up, giving him room to step past you.

He rumbles but doesn’t give a real response. You hop off the step, landing clumsily, and follow the path down to the sidewalk. You pop your trunk and pull out your duffle and knapsack. As you go to shut the trunk, you feel a tug on the handle of the duffle bag and you hold back a yipe as a rough hand brushes the side of yours.

Joel doesn’t say a word as you let him take the bag. He turns and stalks back up the lawn. You can’t tell if he’s being helpful or he just wants to lock you away so you're out of his way. You hurry after him, keys jingling loudly.

Your foot hits the step and you nearly stumble again. You catch yourself with a stomp on the next step and he pauses at the front door to glance back at you. You offer another meek smile. He opens the door, waiting on you as you steady yourself.

“Sorry.”

“Slow down, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You give a nervous chuckle. He’s not laughing. You gulp and hook your knapsack on your shoulder before you continue inside. He might not be the nicest but at least you can be assured he can fix anything you break. Not that you’re intending on that… hopefully.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {6}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: For once things run smoother than planned as you introduce Charles and Lando to your mother. Warnings: 18+ only, light angst, fluff WC: 2.2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

The tiny village of Wickford had been your sanctuary since you first moved there at ten years old. Your mother had thought the sleepy little town would be good for you after the news of your parentage became public knowledge and the place you loved most was suddenly suffocating. She thought some time away from the karting world would be best.

Arriving back in the town that never seemed to change eased the ache in your chest that had been there since Max opened his mouth. It wasn’t gone completely and you weren’t sure it ever would. Of all the things he could have said, he knew that would hurt the most because you loved your mum above all else. She was your biggest supporter even if she couldn’t come to the races.

The Range Rover Lando had hired after landing in Southend should have been inconspicuous but when the majority of the town drove a Vauxhall it caught the attention of the teenagers lingering on High Street. You only hoped the windows were tinted enough to keep your arrival private for a little longer - but it was only a matter of time before word got out. It always did.

The drive had been quiet as you sat in the back seat with Charles, resting your head on his shoulder after the tears had run dry. The only time you spoke was to give directions to the small two bedroom bungalow on the quiet cul de sac that had remained your home at heart even after moving to Monaco. 

No amount of money offered could get your mother to move, you had tried. You had offered to buy her sprawling estates that had names instead of street numbers, you had offered her luxury apartments, you would have offered the world - but she was happy in the home she had worked hard to buy, and had worked harder to keep over your head when times were tough.  

“It’s cute,” Lando said with a smile as he pulled into the driveway. 

The agapanthus plants that lined the garden were budding with big heads of flowers and it was overgrowing onto the driveway, brushing the sides of the SUV. Trimming the plants was always your chore as a teenager during summer break and you hated it, complaining the entire time about how unfair life was. It didn’t seem so bad now.

The weathered front door opened before the car even came to a stop and you felt lighter the moment you saw your mum step out, a welcoming smile on her face. The engine had barely turned off and you were out of the car, expertly dodging the pavers that never sat level and into her open arms. 

Flour dusted her clothes, a damp tea towel hanging on her shoulder and the mouthwatering smell of fresh baking clung to her as you hugged her tight.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked as she pulled back and held you at an arm's length to see your face. “You haven’t hugged me that hard since you moved out.”

Her eyes darted to Lando and Charles as they climbed out of the car and you could see the question in her eyes. “Not them,” you said as you shook your head. “I hope it’s alright if they stay with me? We can get a hotel if not.”

“Nonsense, we can make space,” she reassured you with a squeeze before you felt a hand on the small of your back. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Don’t let her fool you, she knows exactly who you are and probably all your stats too,” you said over your shoulder. 

“I’m allowed to keep an eye on your competition, honey.”

“I’m Charles, and it’s lovely to finally meet you,” he said as he offered his hand.

“Please, any friend of my daughter gets a hug. You too, Lando,” she laughed as she opened her arms for them. “You must be special, she never brings anyone to meet me,” she whispered loudly.

“Mum…”

“What? It’s true. The last person you brought here was Max. Oh, speaking of, he called wanting to know if you were here.” Before you could open your mouth she held a hand up. “I figured if you didn’t tell him where you were it was because you didn’t want him to know.”

“Thank you,” you sighed with relief, unconsciously leaning into Lando’s side. 

“You can tell me what’s going on over a nice cuppa tea and a muf- shit, my muffins.” She was quick to turn and dart back in the house, leaving Charles and Lando quietly laughing beside you. Since you weren’t going to be getting a hotel, Lando grabbed the suitcase from the back of the SUV before heading inside the modest home.

“So you didn’t get your cooking skills from her,” Charles teased as he inhaled the sweet scent of berry muffins filling the entrance hall. 

“Depends if she burned them or not,” you said, only half joking. 

“Woah, it’s little Spitz!” Lando stopped in front of the wall that was covered in portraits from being a baby through to winning F2. “Where’s the rest?”

“Jos is always at the races,” you murmured, “and he has a restraining order.”

Charles’ eyebrows lifted at the news and he understood even more why you disliked seeing him at each one supporting Max.

“Apparently trying to get the child support owed is classed as harassment,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “We really put the fun in dysfunctional family.”

Lando snorted but once he started laughing he couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry, it’s really not funny.”

You had seen him laugh enough in interviews to know it’s what he did when he felt awkward and didn’t know what to say. “Did you want to put our luggage in our room? It’s there, second door on the right.”

He gratefully took the escape you gave him and wheeled the suitcase down the hall as Charles continued his way along slowly, taking his time to see how you had aged over the years. “Oh my god, this has to be my favourite,” he said pointing to a particularly bad photo. “Why don’t you style your hair like this anymore?”

“Ha-ha, not all of our mothers can be hairdressers. You must be the only one on the grid that hasn’t had one bad hair style,” you huffed playfully before pointing to the photo of your first karting race. “This is mine.”

Charles stepped closer to see the wide smile you had with your helmet tucked under your arms and your two front teeth missing. You had kept the coins the tooth fairy left you in a savings jar so that you could pay for the fuel for the race. At one point you could remember considering pulling out another tooth that wasn’t wiggly just so you could afford a replacement part.  

“You’ve come a long way, amour,” Charles said proudly as he pulled you under his arm and kissed your temple.

“Charles,” your mum called as she stuck her head into the hall as held out a jar of jam. “Could you be a dear and open this for me, please?”

Slipping from your side he went to help your mum while you went to check in on Lando. He hadn’t made any progress at unpacking when you found him standing in front of your closet, his fingers tracing the pencil marks on the door jamb. 

“I can’t ever remember you being this short,” he said as you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your cheek in the dip between his shoulder blades. “Your presence always seemed bigger, I was so intimidated by it.”

You chuckled a little at his admission. “I couldn’t let anyone see how petrified I really was. Mum called it my brave face. I guess she couldn’t really say bitch face at that age.”

Turning in your arms, Lando cupped your face and tipped it back to meet your eyes. “I like brave face better.” Rising on your toes, you closed the distance between your lips and kissed him softly. 

“Lunch is re-” Your mother came to a halt in the doorway but neither of you made an attempt to hide what she had obviously seen. “Sweetheart, can we have a word?”

You chewed your lip as you nodded and stepped out of the room to see Charles was in the hall behind her but he slipped into the bedroom to give you a sense of privacy while still being close enough to step in if needed. 

It was impossible to get a read on your mother’s face as she opened the linen closet in the hall, effectively blocking them from sight, and she started piling blankets into her arms. 

“Honey, I’m not one to tell you how to live your life but I saw the pictures of you and Charles together, and the little moment you had in the hall. So please tell me you’re not planning on breaking his heart? He looks absolutely besotted with you.”

You smiled at the thought and shook your head before looking at her with a nervousness you had never had when telling her the truth. “I’m not planning on breaking either of their hearts,” you said after swallowing the wave of nausea that rose with your trepidation. She had been the first person you told when you had your first kiss, she had been the one you called when you got your first period. There had never been secrets between the two of you and you didn’t want to start now. “I love them, mum.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you can’t string them both along-”

“No, mum, I love them both.” You stared at her as she blinked slowly once, then twice. On the third blink her eyes widened and she nearly dropped the blankets she held. “It also helps that they love each other too.”

You gave her a moment to process her thoughts but when you counted to ten and she still hadn’t said anything the sickening churning in your gut nearly sent you running for the bathroom. “Mum?” She looked at the blankets and silently placed them back on the shelf. “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, mum, I didn’t plan to but they make me unbelievably happy.”

“I’m not disappointed, just surprised,” your mum said softly as she closed the linen cupboard and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “I want you to be happy, honey, that’s all any parent wants for their child…I guess it saves me making up the rollout bed.”

You choked out a laugh, grateful that she could accept the news and crack a joke at the same time. “I can stop feeling sick now.”

“As long as you’re not pregnant. You are being careful, right?”

“Yes, thank you for your concern,” you muttered sarcastically. “I really don’t want to talk about this again.”

“You skipped the talk last time,” she reminded you and you remembered feeling the need to escape.

“For good reason too! You tried to tell me your ‘sexual experiences’ but as far as I am concerned you had sex once to make me and that’s it.” 

Her laugh filled the hallway and she clutched her chest. “Oh, darling, you have no idea.”

“I do not need to hear anything else.” You stuck your fingers in your ears as you retreated to your bedroom but her laugh still taunted you when you closed the door behind you. Leaning against the cold wood you met your boyfriends’ amused faces where they sat on the bed and pretended to shiver in disgust. “Gross.”

Lando was the first to rise and he placed his hand above your head as he leaned in with a grin. “That went well.”

“Surprisingly,” you admitted with a giggle of relief. “Though Max set the bar of expectation really low.”

Charles wrapped his arms around Lando’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder with a smile that you returned. “I missed this smile,” he commented quietly as he reached out to trace your lips. “When I see it, I know everything is right in the world.”

“Well, not everything,” Lando stated, earning a pinch to his nipple from Charles. “What? It’s true. We are going to face Max in nine days, that's a fact.”

You sighed at the best case scenario, because you could be called to Milton Keynes at any point before then too. “Then how about we make a deal and not mention it? Let me bury my head in the sand for as long as I can.”

“Deal,” Charles agreed before you both stared at Lando, waiting for his answer. 

“Fine, deal, but I want it noted that this was peer pressured.”

“So sassy,” you said as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him flush against your body. “Now seal it with a kiss.”

Click here for part seven.

[thatsdemko]

love thy neighbor - t.wolff

masterlist

pairings: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of ideas not intended for minors + next door neighbor trope + NO age gap!(for the sake of the fic both reader and Toto are relatively close in age)

a/n: been working on this one for a hot minute! hope you enjoy xx

you never hated your neighbor. to be fair, to hate someone you have to know their name and all you know is he has a extravagant life style to afford vintage Mercedes Benz cars and have shelves full of trophies. call yourself a snooper, but the man across the way was never good at hiding his life from your window.

his lifestyle was far different than anyone in the cul de sac you live in. half of them being retired home owners, plus you two. middle aged adults with paychecks able to afford the expense of a home in Monaco.

you don’t question why he has so many trophies, and you’ll never have the time, but it doesn’t stop your morning coffee imagination at the dinning room table. you have the perfect view inside a part of his space.

yes, whoever created these two houses must’ve been complete creeps or family, because nobody ever has windows that are directly into another persons house. but you never questioned it, you just closed the blinds at night or whenever his light was on too early in the morning for you.

today was a morning he was dressed to the nines. a blazer, white dress shirt(typical fashion of his), and dress pants. he lays two ties out and you watch him decide which one to wear. you feel awfully embarrassed when his eyes catch yours, but he sends a slight wave, and you hold up a finger indicating which option was best.

you can’t hear it, but all you see is him laugh and it makes you wonder what it sounds like. is it husky? more from the belly? is it contagious?

you need sleep, these thoughts about your neighbor are certainly overpowering any senses that coffee can’t seem to help.

—

he’s gone most weekends. his vintage Mercedes sits in the driveway, top on in case of a rainstorm, but his lights in the house are off. he’s got endless amounts of packages piling up outside his doorstep that would have you eager to rip them open if they were yours.

a long day of grocery shopping and dinner at your parents in town took a lot out of you. you shove your key into the lock of your door, hearing the rumble of the infamous neighbors Mercedes speed around the cul de sac until he pulls into his driveway and cuts the engine.

your door is half open, you’re halfway in it, but it’s like you’re watching something out of a movie scene. the way he gets out of the car is like in slow motion. his rolled up white dress shirt sleeves have creases across the arms. his brief case sits on the top of his car as he slams the door shut behind him rudely awakening your little stare.

a blush forms to your cheeks as you quickly slam your door behind you once you’ve shoved yourself inside. your back rests against the door, heart beating against your chest it’s almost as loud as the knock that comes next.

you jolt away from the door, moving yourself onto your tippy toes you see him. he’s holding one of your bags of groceries you left at the door step, he’s got one hand clutching his brief case, the other gripping the plastic bag full of embarrassing items (ie: tampons and other toiletries).

if you could hate one person right now, it’s you. how could you let yourself get so immersed in him that you literally dropped what you were doing and stared like a little girl in a candy shop?

you swallow the little pride left in you and slowly open the door up a bit. you get a peek at the lines across his face, most likely due from stress, and the way his brown eyes find you. you can feel the thudding of your heart against its cavity.

“I believe you dropped these.” he extends the bag outward towards where you stand, you’re sandwiched in the little space you gave yourself. you extend your hand out, skin briefly touching before you pull away.

“I’m Toto, I don’t think we’ve properly met. and you are?”

his accent. it’s so unfamiliar to your ears. you never would’ve expected his voice to be as deep but light as it was. it was smooth like butter on toast to your ears, it made the hairs on your arm stand up, your back straighten.

“y/n.”

a sparkle shines in his eyes. it’s one you notice once you’ve said your name. he repeats it softly back to you in a question, like it’s not what he was expecting, and he likes it. he always pictured you with a unique name, or maybe one that was a bit basic, but yours fits you perfectly.

“well I better get going. it’s nice to meet you.” he waves you off before he slips into his own house and both of your doors slam in sync.

now that he had a name, there was no stopping your imagination.

—

mornings were the same. they always were.

freshly brewed coffee in front of you, as you watch Toto dance around his kitchen balance a smoothie, a laptop, and a muffin. the man was always busy once the sun shined through his blinds. you wonder if he ever truly gets sleep.

like usual, your mind shifts to him. does he drink coffee in the morning? how many of those white dress shirts does he own? what does his house smell like? does he make a good smoothie?

these questions, once again, couldn’t be drowned with a cup of caffeine, but when he glances over his shoulder and flashes you a wave, the questions silent themselves.

he’s handsome.

you knew this, your heart knew this, your mind knew this, and certainly your body knew this. the hum between your legs was never going to stop when he looked your way.

you lift your coffee cup into the air before taking a sip from the hot contents. it soothes your brains rambles down and puts the energy you need right back into you. the work day was just beginning, and Toto was just heading out the door.

what a shame, you wished he could’ve stayed. oh the things he missed when he’s gone.

—

the evenings are a bit lonely when the sun goes away and the stars crawl in, you watch the rest of Monaco get ready for lavish celebrations while you stick to a movie and a snack.

he’s just arrived home. you hear the rumble of his car in your quiet cul de sac. he kills the engine and before you know it there’s a knock at your front door. it’s rare, you never get visitors, unless for the elder neighbors begging to help you with your garden, but even then they knew to never knock and just help themselves. so this knock was awfully unusual.

unlocking the door to see Toto was a surprise. he stands there, brief case in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, with a goofy grin.

“I don’t really drink wine, did you want this?” he asks, extending the expensive bottle of red outward towards you. he’d noticed in your bag of toiletries the bottle of cheap red wine, and when he’d been gifted the rather expensive one from George for his birthday, he knew someone who might enjoy it more.

“you didn’t poison this, did you?” you take the bottle, and push open your door further to invite him inside.

“it was a gift from work, he would know better to not poison me.” he steps inside your house and allows you to close the door behind him. he gets a good look inside your place, the endless amount of candles, minimal paintings hung on the walls, and your infamous kitchen. the one he’s stolen many glances across at.

“and who is this he we should be blaming if we die?”

“George Russell.”

you chuckle at the name, “he sounds very posh.”

you quickly pull out two wine glasses while he begins to undo the cork; once opened, he pours the liquid into the glasses for the both of you.

“with the money he gets, darling he makes posh look silly.”

you feel the butterflies rumble around your stomach, a blush creep across your cheeks as you take the glass from his hands, skin once again touching for the briefest moment.

“and how much is he making exactly?” you ask leading him to your deck where two Adirondack chairs are placed looking out at the sky. you don’t tend to come out here often, as the chairs were a gift from a friend, but the stars were shining just bright enough to enjoy.

“six million euros.”

you spit out the wine in your mouth, luckily it landed back into the glass, but it wasn’t a very classy move to make. not around the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d moved in. this was the most he’d ever spoke to you, and at this rate, he might not again.

“he could buy Monaco.”

“I could buy Monaco.” he corrects you with a mischievous smile that makes your heart pick up, and your stomach do a back flip. he looks good like that.

“alright what are you mr. Forbes?”

he laughs. it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. it answers your own question, the laugh sounds like it comes from his heart and his belly. it’s a genuine emotion.

“well I have been on Forbes, but is money really a concern to you?”

you shake your head violently at the question. you lean closer to the edge of your seat, legs crossed to try and tune out the hum in between your thighs, “no, never.”

“but I must say, you have to make a lot to afford those vintage Mercedes Benz’s that you drive.” you add to your statement. watching him nod, he takes a look up at the stars, it gives you a chance to take in his side profile. the stress creases across his forehead, the smile lines around his mouth, the dimple in his cheek. every part of him is jaw dropping.

“you don’t come out here very often, why’s that?” he turns to you, it’s his turn to take in your beauty as you stare up into the stars. they were much brighter away from the city, you always liked that the most.

“I didn’t notice you watched me that closely.” you joke, a smile forming to your lips that reaches your eyes. he’s never seen you smile much, you’re usually grumpy in the morning or lost into your thoughts while drinking your morning coffee. he enjoys this much more than the toiletry run in where you both were a bit on the edge of anxiety.

“I’m not home very often. I try to get out when I can, and you should too. I grill, I know how much you enjoy looking at me.” he says, and hesitantly places a hand against yours. his palm is warm, but nothing like clammy, just the kind that heats up your skin in the middle of winter. the skin to skin contact ignites the flame in you to burn like a warning signal, one that he notices. this man did many things to your brain.

“I’ve never seen you in anything but this shirt.” you remove your hand from underneath his and reach over across your chair to the plastic buttons holding the dress shirt together.

your fingers carefully undo the second button, the top one had already been undone since he doesn’t like to wear it that neat anyway. you can feel his breath hitch, his heart beat is pounding against your knuckles that gently glide against his skin.

“do you wear this all the time?” you pull away, resting back against the chair and watch him fix himself.

“it’s work attire.” he finally breathes. you both can hear him exhale all the pent up emotions. he turns to you, fingers reaching towards your collarbone where the charm of your necklace sits. it’s his turn for payback.

“and who bought you this lovely charm?”

“my mother.” it comes out a bit snippy. his knuckles against your collarbone slip away and for a moment you curse yourself for being so hostile to such an inviting man. one you’ve wanted for so long to get to know.

“who taught you how to talk to your neighbors like that?”

“my father. he was an ass.”

he barks out a laugh taking the last sip of his wine. you don’t want this to be over, and you’re thankful it’s not when he offers to pour refills for you both.

you watch him walk inside your house leaving you alone with the beautiful stars of the sky and your tempting thoughts. having him this close wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t any good. you’d want him as much as he was making the efforts to show, and the buzz in between your legs was loud enough for him to hear. he wanted you too. but what would this do for your friendship? truthfully, nothing. Toto Wolff wasn’t a friend, just a neighbor who sometimes gets your mail instead of his. you could live looking across the window knowing he fucked you senseless.

what drama this cul de sac would have, and it seems they haven’t experienced this much since you two came around and played ding dong fuck every other night.

I guess you both took loving thy neighbor a little too seriously, but you’re sure Jesus wouldn’t mind the kind of love you were making.

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa

want to be apart of my taglist? let me know here!

[forever-rogue]

Hello, hello lovely 💜 congrats on your new milestone!! I saw those new stills from Pedro back in that 90s commercial and imagined a young Joel 🥺 So could I request something with young!Joel x reader who has a huge crush on him? Unrequited love i think its called? Cause she thinks theres no way he could feel the same. But maybe he offers her his jacket when she's cold and it's all fluffy and cute 👉👈

AN | Please, this was such a cute little concept 🥰 

Pairing | Pre-Breakout!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel Miller. 

You sighed wistfully even at the mere mention of his name. The women in your bookclub loved gushing about the handsome, hardworking, single-father at the end of the cul-de-sac. You never joined in - oh no, you weren’t reducing yourself to that just yet - but you listened intently to what they had to say. 

Sure, he’d caught your eye when you first moved into the neighborhood a few months ago, but you hadn’t exchanged more than a few words here and there. The last time was when the two of you had been leaving for work at the same time and you somehow managed to make a comment about the weather. The weather. What were you, fifty? Either way, he was sweet in response and still gave you saccharine smiles whenever he saw you. He had a lovely smile, all toothy and eye-crinkling and dimple displaying. 

Stop. You needed to pull yourself together before you got too lost in your little fantasies and spilled your secret in front of everyone. The secret that maybe you were a little in lust with him, even though you barely knew him. A girl could dream, right?

“What about you?” the question snapped you out of your thoughts as you turned to look in confusion at the woman, Emilia, to your right. You opened and closed your mouth a few times in confusion before she laughed softly, “what do you think about Joel?”

“Joel…” you repeated, throat dry and mind racing with embarrassment. Had you somehow managed to voice your thoughts out loud?

“Asking him for some help with the neighborhood barbecue next weekend?” oh. Relief flooded your veins as you offered her a tight lipped smile, “he’s quite handy. He’s a contractor, you know.”

“I didn’t know that,” well, that wasn’t an image you didn’t need in your mind. It didn’t help your daydream fantasies to think about all hot and sweaty and - yeah. You wrung your hands for a moment before nodding, “that sounds like a lovely idea. The more help the merrier, right?”

“Right you are,” Matilda, the head of the bookclub and resident one-woman welcoming committee agreed, “you don’t mind going over soon and asking him, right?”

“Oh, I-I c-” no, no, no. This wasn’t what you had in mind at all.

“Thank you so much, you’re such a sweetheart,” apparently you didn’t have a choice in the matter, “I’m sure he can’t say no to a sweet thing like you.”

“I really…”

“He likes apple pie,” another one of the ladies winked. Oh. Oh. Apparently this was a double ended errand - they would get the help and set you up at the same time, “just as a side note.”

“Of course,” you were screaming on the inside, wanting to run away, “I’d love to.”

“Perfect!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I can do this,” great. Now you’d resorted to talking to yourself out loud openly. It was the stress. It had to be. You swallowed thick, pacing up and down Joel’s driveway as you contemplated going to his front door to ask him for help. You’d never forgive the rest of the book club ladies for this, “it’s just a quick, simple question. Get it together.”

“You wanna come in?” you hadn’t even heard the front door open but when you whipped around, you saw Joel Miller leaning against the doorframe, watching you expectantly. Your heart fell into your stomach as you looked at him in shock, opening and closing your mouth a few times, “or were you planning on walking up and down the driveway for a while? In which case, don't let me interrupt.”

“Oh! H-hi,” your feet slowly shuffled in his direction as you held up your hand in a meek little wave, “ummm…I-I can go. Is this weird? It’s weird, isn’t it? I’ll just-”

“Hang on there for a moment,” he reached towards you and wrapped a hand around your forearm, gently tugging you closer to him, “relax. It’s okay - you’re okay.”

“I…” you looked up at him and met those big, brown eyes, looking at him in surprise. His lips twitched up in amusement, “okay.”

"Okay?"

“Okay,” and there was that winning smile that you’d been on the receiving end of many times. You relaxed slightly and quickly vowed to stop making a fool out of yourself any further, “hi.”

“Hi,” he repeated and you laughed nervously. Yeah, no, this wasn’t the business at all. Luckily Joel didn’t seem to mind at all, “is there something I can help you with? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah - yes,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “the ladies of the book club would like to kindly ask if you would be able to assist with the barbecuing for the neighborhood block party next week.”

“They did, did they?” he asked as you nodded shyly, “and they asked you to come and ask me?"

“They sure did,” you tried to read his expression to see if he considered this a bad thing or a good thing. You were currently plotting some form of revenge because you were currently dying on the inside, “umm…sorry?”

“What are you sorry for, sweetheart?” oh. You liked the way the moniker fell from his lips. He made it all too easy. The wonder of what his lips would feel like momentarily crossed your mind. Get it together.

“I don’t know,” you confessed nervously, “I just…this is not how I pictured this going in my head.”

“How did you picture it going?” 

“Smoother than this,” you confessed softly, “I was kind of just hoping to ask you, maybe flirt a little, and call it a day.”

Fuck. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud at all. Your mouth was absolutely not cooperating with your mind. Joel’s smile only grew as you tried to hide your face in your hands. He put a quick stop to that and pulled your hands away so he could see your face. 

“Don’t hide,” he whispered and pulled your hands away, “let me see that pretty face.”

“Joel-”

“I’d love to,” he added before you could say anything further, “I’d love to help. You just let me know what you need and when you need it, and I will be happy to help the lovely ladies of the book club.”

“Thank you,” the smile on your face was enough to let him know that he had said the right thing, “that’s really sweet of you Joel. The ladies will be beside themselves.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt,” he shot you a wink and your knees felt weak.

“You’re like the neighborhood dilf,” oh yeah. You were never going to allow yourself to speak again. That might have been the most embarrassing moment of your life, “I…oops?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughed softly and that was enough to jostle you into a small fit of giggles too, “it’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Well,” you wrung your hands nervously, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “thank you again. I’ll umm, I’ll see you around?”

“I hope so,” he agreed, giving you a very interested and hungry once over, “see you soon, sweetheart.”

“See you soon, Joel.”

-─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You smoothed down the front of your dress, pausing momentarily to question if you should go back inside and change. You felt so exposed wearing this pretty little sundress but it was also hot as hades and the idea of jeans and a t-shirt made you cringe. 

This would have to do, and you were sure you could probably get away with an Irish exit at some point. 

Everyone was starting to come out and socialize, tables lined up and filled with snacks, treats, and other baked goods. There was even a small lemonade stand at the end of the block, commandeered by several eager kids. You enjoyed the sense of community and enjoyed the smell of the barbecue even more. The man at helm was even more of a delicious sight.

He was wearing a fitted white t-shirt and jeans that hugged him in all the right places. He was definitely too good looking…no wonder he was the resident dilf. None of the other men came close. The man in question must have felt your gaze on him, despite all the other people and noise around, because he looked up and immediately found you. You looked like a deer caught in headlights as his face lit up with a megawatt smile. 

Before you could make a fool out of yourself again, like the last time you’d seen, you turned around and made your way over to the lemonade stand. Perhaps a small gaggle of children could serve as a good distraction. It was worth a shot anyway…

But it turns out that in the end, it didn’t really matter. As soon as you got to the little stand, you felt a warm body right next to you. You looked up and found Joel Miller grinning at you. Without missing a beat, he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you slightly into his side. 

“Two of your finest lemonades please,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a generous tip that he put in their money bucket as the kids poured two solo cups of lemonade. You each took one but he still refused to let go of you.

He guided you over to one of the tables that had been set up, while you tried to navigate your internal freakout. How was he being so casual about this? How?”

“You look really nice - beautiful,” he let go of your waist but held on to your hand as he helped you to sit on the top of the table so you were almost eye to eye. His hand smoothed down your side, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of your dress. Pleasant shivers ran down your spine, “I like this dress.”

“T-thanks,” you managed to choke out as you tried not to make a comment about how it was great for easy access as well, “I haven’t worn it in a while and I figured it was a good time.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed in content as he got up and sat next to you, his thigh pressing against yours, “it’s nice that you came. Everyone really likes you.”

“Everyone?” you snorted in amusement as he nodded, leaning into his side without even thinking about it, “I don’t know about that. But I figured I’m part of the neighborhood and it would be nice to meet everyone. I baked some pie - apple pie.”

“I love apple pie…”

“I know,” you looked at him tentatively, nervously, “the bookclub ladies told me. That’s why I made it.”

“For me?” his eyes were even more beautiful up close, different shades of honey and chocolate that you wanted to commit to memory. You hesitated for just a moment before nodding shyly, “that’s really sweet. No one’s done something like that for me for a long time.”

“It’s nothing much,” you shrugged, trying to ignore the pitter patter of your heart and the butterflies in your tummy, “but I hope you like it. If you do, I’d be happy to make you some any time.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” he picked up his lemonade and playfully clinked it against yours. You both took a drink before almost gagging on it; it was nothing more than sugar with a hint of lemon, “well then…at least they tried. Maybe next time will be better.”

“I feel a little bad for thinking this terrible since kids made it…but this is terrible,” a bit of laughter flowed between the two of you as he set your cups down, “hopefully you won’t be saying that about my pie.”

“I don’t think that’s even in the realm of possibilities,” he insisted in a way that suggested he was talking about a lot more than pie. You really liked this man already, and part of you was already excited about the possibility of spending more time with him and getting to know him better. You must have had a daydream look in your eyes because Joel brushed his knuckles along your jaw, causing you to snap out of it, “what are you thinkin’ about?”

“Honestly?” you whispered and he nodded, “I’m thinking about you kissing me.”

His momentary silence caused you to panic and wished you’d either lied or never been born. But before you could panic entirely, he smiled in and leaned a little bit, leaving almost no space in between your bodies, “I can do that. If you’d like.”

“Yes,” you squeaked, a mixture of nerves and excitement bubbling inside, “I’d like that.”

And then he kissed you. 

Luckily that was only the first time of many.

[atinylittlepain]

Born in the USA - Part One of Hungry Hearts

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

warnings | 18+ cursing, eventual smut, young joel is a goddamn menace

a/n | hellooooo, folks, and welcome to the first installation of my Hungry Hearts series! i'm so stoked to share this one with y'all, as always let me know what you think!

...................................

The radio DJ called for record-breaking heat simmering the streets of Austin this week, and he certainly delivered. Too hot to think, too hot work, too hot to do much of anything until the sun starts to melt down in the late afternoons. She swears that she can feel the rubber soles of her sneakers sticking to the sidewalk with each step, the heat pressing humid hands to the back of her neck, sweat pooling in all the soft dips of her body. And it’s not like she wants to be out here in the first place. In fact, she would much rather be sitting in front of the box fan in her room right now, calculating how many days, hours, and minutes until she’ll be leaving again for school. It can’t come soon enough.

Nothing much has changed around her neighborhood since she was home in December for her holiday break. Same houses with the sleepy looking windows and basketball hoops in the driveways, same families with the nosey wives and oblivious husbands, same kids getting older and taller and more socially awkward. And the same empty lot at the end of the cul-de-sac that had been turned into patchy baseball field when she was in the first grade.

“Outfield, bring it in a little for this next one!”

“Fuck you, Miller! You’re gonna be eating those words!”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that, kid. Show us what you got, why don’t you?” And that’s the same too, unfortunately.

“That’s a strike, wouldn’t you say, Tommy?”

“Sure looked like a strike to me, Joel.” All a bit juvenile, though she would expect nothing less from the Miller brothers. They’re in fine form this afternoon, she thinks, and it seems that all the other girls home from college think the same thing as well, hanging off the chain-link fence and tittering to each other about every ball Joel fields or every fifteen-year-old Tommy stamps out on first. Joel’s idea, no doubt, his eighteen-year-old brother always too happy to hang onto his shirttails and terrorize the pubescent neighborhood kids.

And for his part, Joel seems to know he’s garnered a small audience, just a touch too much flare when the teams switch out and he steps up to bat. He’s dressed in an obscenely short pair of cut-offs, frayed hems grazing along the tan, corded muscles of his thighs. Hi-tops and tube socks, and what once could have been called a shirt, now cropped and unbuttoned so it doesn’t do much but blow in the breeze and expose the lean tautness of his torso. Stance wide, leaning down low in his hips, he winds up the bat right behind his head and lets it rip entirely too hard on the lob he was pitched by that poor fifteen-year-old, sending the ball soaring right over the fence. She has to scoff when the girls she’s standing next to actually clap for him while he drinks it up as he takes a leisurely jog around the plates before jumping down on home with both his feet. And yeah, she thinks, not much has changed, at all.

“Will! Mom wants you home for dinner, let’s go!” Her baby brother, who has decided he is definitely not a baby anymore, does not like her shouting at him one bit, entirely ignoring her with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head from where he’s standing covering first base. Someone else, however, is more than happy to take notice of her.

“Is that? Oh shit! Cherry!” Long and drawn out, Cherryyyyyyyy, with a low whistle at the end. She hasn’t been called that since the last time she saw him, which was last summer in about this same position. Though if there’s one thing she’s gotten good at, it’s ignoring Joel Miller.

“Will, let’s go please!”

“Oh c’mon, Cherry! Why don’t you come over here and show these kids how it’s done? From what I remember you always had a mean little swing.” That gets most of the kids on the field laughing as Joel and Tommy snicker to each other in the makeshift dug out, more of a dirt ditch with a sheet of metal over top of it than anything else.

“Will, I’m not asking, I’m telling. Now.” Maybe she looks like a bitch stomping out onto the field to grab her brother by the arm. She doesn’t care. She’s hot and has sweat dripping in places that sweat should never drip and is coming dangerously close to throttling Joel in front of his little fan club if he doesn’t shut his smug mouth real soon. 

“Stop, you’re embarrassing me.” Will doesn’t budge from first when she hooks her hand around his bicep, brooding at her from beneath his bowl cut.

“Do you think I want to be taking you home? Just do me a favor and stop trying to act all tough in front of your little friends so I can go home and get mom off my ass.” 

“Hey, Cherry, he’s already got one mom. He doesn’t need you nagging him too!” Joel’s dig drums up another round of laughs from the whole field, and suddenly she’s reconsidering that whole throttling thing. Fine, she thinks, she can do nagging, just wait and see how good she can do nagging. She shifts her tactic, grabbing her brother by the back of his neck instead and starting to haul him along beside her, not giving him time to do anything but trip over his feet in a stilted shuffle to keep up. And of course, it is at that moment that Joel gets the whole crowd of kids started in a chorus of boos. 

“Damn, Cherry, when did you become such a tight-ass?” Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the girls still standing along the fence shooting her daggers, maybe it’s just a little bit of all of it that makes her stop dead in her tracks when Joel says that. But before she really knows what she’s doing, she has let go of her brother to march right over to home plate. Seeming a bit surprised that she did, Joel scrambles out of the dug out still too smug for her taste when he comes chest to chest with her. 

“Well are you going to give me a bat or what?” His smirk slips into a full grin at that, and for a moment she remembers how pretty she always thought he was. Strong jaw, dark eyes, and that shock of thick, brown hair of his. Such a shame that he’s an enormous tool, really. 

“I tell you what, Cherry, what time does your mom want Will home every night?” She knows that look he has in his eyes, all squinted up with his mouth screwed to one side. Always a sucker for a challenge, and she’s all too happy to play along.

“Seven o’clock, why?” He leans in a little closer, ducking his head down like he has the most delicious secret to tell her. She can see the sweat beading and pooling in the hollow of his throat he’s so close.

“Seven o’clock, alright, Cherry. If you can hit a homerun, I will personally see to it that Will is home at seven o’clock on the dot every night for the rest of the summer. How’s that sound?” She tilts her head, hands on her hips like she’s giving it a good think before finally answering him.

“Does he really hang out with you every night?” Joel snorts, his smile going slanted at her.

“Well, someone’s got to keep the kid entertained since you got all boring, miss college.”

“Fine, give me a bat.” That gets her a big grin from him as he backpedals to the dug out to grab a bat for her.

“Let’s switch out who’s fielding. I wanna be on short stop for this hit.” Of course he does. But she thinks to herself that that’s just fine, she’s going to give him a hit to remember. 

Tommy was always the nicer of the pair, and as he walks out of the dugout to cover first, he offers her a smile and a shrug as if to apologize for his brother’s dramatics. She always liked Tommy better, even as kids.

She hasn’t done this in a long time. Not since before puberty, probably. She used to play every summer with the Millers and all the other neighborhood kids in this exact lot, and it starts to come back to her as she toes the rubber of her sneakers against home plate. Her palms twist up on the bat, hips shimmying down and back a little to get into the stance, trying her best to focus on the pitcher and not the drawling heckling going on between second and third. He’s doing a warbling rendition of that old Four Seasons song, and she’s pretty sure that the name in the lyrics is Sherry, not Cherry. But he has made it fit with his own demented drone, crooning as he sways a little side to side.

Cherryyyyy, Cherry, baby, Cherryyyyy, can you come out tonight

Youuuuu better ask your mama, Cherry baby

Deep breath in, deep breath out, she has her eyes focused on the ball leaving the soft cradle of the pitcher’s fingers. Like riding a bike, really, the quick swing in her hips and the satisfying crack of the ball hitting the middle of her bat, and, oh. Oh. 

“Motherfucker!” It’s not like she meant to, but it’s also not like she’s mad that she did. It was a nice hit, strong and straight, right between second and third. And, well, straight into Joel’s groin. 

“What are you doing? Get up, man!” Tommy is all but shrieking at his brother. Joel, however, is still crumpled on the ground and groaning, his hands clenched between his thighs from what she can tell with her quick glances as she jogs from first to second. But she quickly realizes that it’s not just his hands clutched between his legs, but the ball too. And, well, it doesn’t look like he’ll be getting up anytime soon to field that one. 

“If you could have him home more around ten till that’d be great, thanks.” If he hears her talking over his curled up body, he makes no show of it, still groaning and writhing around in the dirt with his eyes scrunched shut. She steps over him and continues a much more leisurely pace through third and home. 

“Will, let’s go.” Her brother, slack-jawed with his eyes practically popping out of his head, finally listens to her, falling into step alongside her as she can’t help a smirk sliding over her lips. She has to roll her eyes when several of the girls rush out onto the field to fawn over Joel who still seems to be incapacitated and on his knees. 

“I can’t believe you just did that.” She tries not to laugh at Will’s exclamation, bumping his shoulder with her own as they start to head home.

“He’ll live.”

…

Sure, he’s always had a competitive streak, he’s not about to deny that. But that competitive streak may, emphasis on may, have gotten a little out of hand now that it’s his baby girl that’s in the competition and not him. Sarah has a talk with him before every game about it. About not yelling at the umpire, about not constantly asking her if she’s staying hydrated in the dugout, and, what she calls the most important point, about not trying to heckle the other team. And everytime, Joel promises her that, yes, he’s going to keep his cool and stay on the bleachers like every other normal and sane parent. And he tries, he really does. But, well, try is the operative word.

“Alright, babygirl, just like we practiced. Keep your eye on the ball and let your hips lead.” It’s the middle of June, the sun bright and beating down hard on the local ball fields where Joel spends most of his weekends cheering Sarah on in her softball matches. He is not sitting on the bleachers like every other normal and sane parent. He is hovering at the side of the dug-out with his head stuck out just enough that the umpire won’t yell at him to get back while he coaches Sarah on her swing. Sarah, however, does not seem particularly grateful for his pointers, glaring at him from beneath her helmet as she steps up to the plate.

“Strike!” Swing and a miss. Joel has to remind himself that no, it is not appropriate to swear at a little league softball game, settling instead for a quick clap of his hands.

“That’s alright, baby, that’s alright. Shake it off, baby, focus.” 

“Dad, please.” She says it with a dejected tap of her bat against the plate, the universal sign for back off, now. And sure, he thinks, he can back off, a few feet back toward the bleachers so his girl can focus on her swing, sure. 

“Strike two!” 

“Goddamnit.” He says it quietly enough that he’s pretty sure no one else hears it before stepping back closer to the plate, because obviously Sarah needs a little help here.

“C’mon, baby, you got this. Shake it off. Don’t choke up on the bat like that, baby, nice and easy.” 

“Strike three, you’re–”

“Hey, that wasn’t a strike!” Sarah is going to be so mad at him on the drive home, but he’s too busy stepping over to the umpire to yell at him to be worried about that right now. 

“Sir, please go sit down on the bleachers.”

“That pitch was way to the right, I saw it, that wasn’t a strike.” 

“Dad, it’s fine, I’m out. Just go sit down, please.” Sarah has already taken her helmet off, nudging her bat into the toe of his boot like, hello, you’re embarrassing me here. But Joel knows what he saw, and what he saw was a way to the right pitch that most certainly was not a strike. 

“Baby, you are not out, okay? Put your helmet back on.” 

“Sir, your daughter is out, now please go sit–”

“Just give her one more shot, man. C’mon.”

“Hey! Three strikes and you’re out, buddy.” It’s a woman’s voice, coming from somewhere behind him, a parent from the other team most likely, though he doesn’t turn around to see who it is, still staring down the umpire.

“That wasn’t a strike!” He tosses the exclamation over his shoulder, but the woman doesn’t seem ready to back down either.

“Are you saying my daughter doesn’t know how to pitch?” Alright, lady, if you want in on the action, be his guest. He turns around slowly, ready to deliver some sort of clever reply that he hasn’t quite worked out in his mind when–

“Oh shit. Cherry?”

“Wow, I haven’t been called that in nearly two decades.” So it is her. And of course it’s her. He’d recognize her anywhere, even seventeen years later. Still that little jut of her hip when she’s pissed, still that little crook of her chin like a challenge, even seventeen years later.

“So you’re still a competitive bastard then?” Yeah, and still that too, seventeen years later.

“I– you– that wasn’t a strike.”

“Oh, yes it was.”

“It was not.”

“My daughter doesn’t pitch balls on two strikes, okay? That was a strike.” With that, she leans to the side to talk to Sarah standing behind him.

“My condolences to you for having to deal with him, kid.”

“Thanks, you’re catching him on a good day, actually.”

“Hey.” He whips around to scold Sarah, but she’s still focused on Cherry.

“How do you know my dad?”

“Oh, me and him go way back. Don’t we, Joel?” He finds himself opening and closing his mouth a few times, looking between Sarah and a woman he thought he would never see again, though before he can get a reply out, the umpire mercifully cuts off their little reunion.

“Folks, there is still an active game going on here. Sir, your daughter is out, so if you could all please get off of home plate so we can keep this game going that’d be great.” Sarah has to tug him back to her team’s dugout, promptly pushing him over and onto the bleachers while he continues to stare at Cherry like she might disappear. She has walked back to the bleachers for her daughter’s team, though she stands on the sideline with her hands on her hips now. 

“You’re all good, Els. Just keep them coming, babe.” His attention draws over to the pitcher to whom Cherry is talking to because, right, she’s Cherry’s daughter. Cherry has a daughter, holy shit. Well, so does he. He has to laugh to himself, a little shake to his head.

A lot can certainly happen in seventeen years.

…

The thing that she hadn’t considered in agreeing to Joel Miller’s little deal was that it would still mean seeing a good amount of Joel Miller. Seven o’clock every night to be exact. Actually, ten till, so he did listen, at least. And of course he’s all smiles and charm, and of course her mother invites him in for dinner every night, and of course he says yes, and of course she has to sit across from him, kicking away his foot every time it encroaches on her space.

“So, Joel, are you still over at Thatcher’s full time?” She tries not to scoff at her mother’s question, the subtle turn of her nose and the slight tinge of judgment quirking up the end of her words. Her mother and her penchant for pedigree, something that the Miller family definitively does not have. If it bothers him, however, Joel doesn’t show it, smiling and thumbing the corner of his mouth as he finishes chewing.

“Yes, ma’am, seven days a week.”

“And does that pay well, son?” Ah yes, the one-two tag team of her mother and father both jumping in now, her father doing that thing where he pretends not to know, his eyebrows falling in mock curiosity. When, really, she’s nearly certain he has already calculated in his head exactly how much Joel makes in a week, month, and year busting his ass in that mechanic shop.

“Well, sir, I’ve got no complaints. Roof over my head and food on my table. And, uh, the tips are pretty good.” That one flies right over both her parents’ heads, but he says it looking directly at her, his eyes crinkling up with a smile that only tugs one corner of his mouth, sleaze and smarm. She is well aware of the tips he pulls in from all the bored little housewives and their daughters, something that always seems to be the topic of conversation on the loungers at the community pool. 

If he’s trying to get a rise out of her right now, she’s going to make sure he fails at it, giving him a tight-lipped smile and kicking his shin hard under the table where his foot has started to nudge against hers again. Joel lets out a hard cough, the table shaking a bit when his knee jumps up in reaction.

“Alright, son?”

“Yessir, I think all this heat is finally getting to me is all. I better head on home, but thank y’all for the meal, it’s very kind of you.” Her mother frets and fusses over him, insisting he take a tupperware of meatloaf and salad home and telling him to bring Tommy along next time. Great, she thinks, frick and frack both coming for dinner will be double the fun. Though she’s quickly distracted from that thought when her father lets out a long sigh from the head of the table. 

“Such a shame that young man is working like that. It’s a waste of potential, honestly.” 

“Oh, honey, don’t.”

“I’m serious, Carol. He was always a smart kid, probably could have gone to college, but instead he’s working in that car shop with seemingly no drive for anything more for himself. I just can’t believe Deedee and Hank are letting him carry on like that.” She knows this spiel well. Next her father will angle his chair toward Will and level his finger at him and–

“Will, you know what I was doing when I was Joel’s age?” Will huffs and rolls his eyes, slumping back in his chair like this is the hundredth time he has heard this, probably because it is.

“Getting ready for law school, dad.”

“I was getting ready for– yes, son, that’s right. And now look at me. Beautiful home, beautiful family, and a good job. Do you know what Joel Miller is going to have to show for himself at my age if he keeps going the way he is now?” 

“A whole lot of nothing, dad.”

“A whole lot of– yes, son, that’s right. At this rate, he’s probably still going to be living in that shoebox apartment above Thatcher’s when he’s forty.” 

“Can I be excused please?” She tries to hold back the contempt snapping through her words, already getting out of her seat before her mother can ask her what’s wrong. For as much as Joel Miller gets on her nerves, she hates this more, this faux pity her father so easily slips into, turning him into a lesson. And not a very good one at that, because while Joel may not be in college or raking in money, he at least seems happy, and she thinks that’s more than her father can say. She knows it’s more than she can say, staring up at the ceiling in her bedroom, this time trying to calculate the minutes until she gets to go back to school. She only makes it through tallying up the rest of June though before something tapping on her window distracts her.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Hey, Cherry.” He’s lucky her room is on the first floor, or else she would have already shut her window. Though she can’t really do that when he’s standing right there in her mother’s shrubs with a wide grin that glints in the hazy dusk. 

“What do you want, Joel?”

“Mikey Donahue is having a party at his house. You wanna come? Have a little fun?”

“Uh, no, thanks.” She goes to shut her window again, but Joel holds it in place, not letting it budge no matter how hard she pushes down on it.

“Oh, c’mon. You used to be fun, what happened to that girl, huh?”

“I grew up, which seems to be more than you can say.”

“Oh, how you wound me, Cherry baby.”

“When are you going to stop calling me that? Nobody else calls me that these days except for you.”

“When you do something funnier than snorting cherry cola out of your nose.” At this point, she has given up on trying to close the window, resting her palms along the sill to lean out so she can whisper yell right into his entirely too smug face.

“I was nine, Joel. And it was your fault for making me laugh that hard.” 

“So you admit that I make you laugh?”

“You’re impossible.”

“That wasn’t a no, Cher.” All she can do is huff at him and his relentless grin, taking a moment to look him over. A little more dressed than usual, still in those cut-offs of his, but with an actual flannel shirt on top, sleeves rucked up to his elbows and with a few more buttons undone than what had been during dinner, slipping open even more when he leans down with his hands spread wide on the sill.

“Come on, it’s summer, and I know you’re not having any fun up in Chicago–”

“I have plenty of fun in Chicago.” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead when she interrupts him so quick, the snap of her words telling him just how untrue that statement actually is.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say. Just do an old friend a favor, Cherry, and come out with me tonight, huh? Really, it’s the least you can do after you almost busted my balls.”

“I was doing a public good by lessening the chances of little Joel Millers running around here in the future.” He lets out a long laugh at that, tossing his head back, the long line of his neck bobbing with the sound.

“Touché, but fine, if you don’t wanna come I guess I could always go knock on Lisa-Anne’s window. She got home last week.” He knows exactly what he’s doing by saying that, already pushing off the window and starting to walk away. Fine, she thinks, he can go have fun with stupid fucking Lisa-Anne from down the block. It’ll probably make her whole summer considering that she’s had a crush on him since his front teeth came in in the second grade. 

“Joel, wait!” He stops dead in his tracks, one foot still stuck in the shrubs outside her window as he turns around, his lips pursed to stave off what she’s sure would be a shit-eating grin. She’s already swinging one leg out of her window, trying to do so with as much grace as she can, though she still stumbles a bit in the shrubs,grabbing onto Joel’s arm to steady herself before quickly letting go with a huff.

“Just for a little while, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Cherry baby.” 

…

He’s not sure what the appropriate thing to do is in this situation. Not really any rules of etiquette for seeing a woman you didn’t think you’d ever see again, seventeen years later, and with a kid no less. All he knows is that he can’t let her drive off without saying something, so even as Sarah is calling his name like a question, he’s walking through the ballfield parking lot toward where she’s helping her daughter pack her bags into the trunk of their minivan.

“Uh, hey.” Great start, man, Jesus Christ. She turns around and smiles, smiles, and suddenly it’s summer of ‘86 all over again.

“Woah, old man, back off a little.” And suddenly it is most definitely not summer of ‘86, her kid stepping between the two of them and giving him a look that could kill. 

“Ellie, manners please. Why don’t you wait in the car?” 

“But, mom–”

“No buts, it’s fine, alright? I’ll just be a minute.” Her daughter, Ellie, huffs, giving him one more squinted look before she shuffles over to the side of the car, getting in with a hard slam of her door.

“So, mom, huh?” She tilts her head at him, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans and her shoulders shrugging up.

“It looks that way. And dad?” She jerks her chin over his shoulder and he turns around to see Sarah standing by their car with one hand held over her eyes for shade as she squints at them. She’s never going to let him live this down.

“Looks that way, yeah. Are you– I didn’t– you’re back in town?” He’s trying to subtly look for a ring on her left hand, though her knuckles are still tucked into her jean pockets, and he’s pretty sure squinting at her pelvis is not a good way to make an impression in this unexpected reunion. 

“Yeah, we moved back at the start of June.”

“And when you say we, that’s– that’s you and–”

“Just Ellie and I, yep.” He has to try really hard not to smile at that, dragging a palm down his scruff to keep it at bay. 

“So you never left, huh?” 

“Uh, no, nope. Hopped a few neighborhoods over though. I don’t know if you heard, but the old block got torn down.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was, they put in a bunch of condos over it.” 

“Well I guess the times really have changed.” He should probably say something else, should probably get back to Sarah, but he can’t stop looking at her, and it seems like she can’t stop looking at him. Both of them studying all the places that time and life has settled. Her hair is shorter, he likes it, though he probably should keep that to himself. Before he can say anything, however, the blare of a car horn startles them both out of each other’s gaze. 

“Mom, let’s go.” Ellie has stuck her head out of the driver side window, the source of their interruption, already tucking back inside the car with another groan. Cherry just shakes her head.

“That’s my cue. I guess we’ll see each other around then, since our daughters are playing in the same league and all.” It still gives him pause, our daughters, and he has to clear his throat before responding. 

“I guess so, reckon we’re gonna give the umps a summer to remember.” She laughs, and he remembers that sound, still the same. He didn’t think he’d ever get to hear it again, but now he’s glad that he does. 

“For the record, that was a strike.”

“Whatever you say, Cherry.”

“Can’t believe you’re still calling me that.”

“Can’t believe you never did anything funnier than snorting cherry coke out of your nose.” All he gets from her at that is another shake of her head before she turns around to get in her car. Luckily, she doesn’t see the way he runs right into the open trunk of someone else’s car because of the way he’s slowly shuffling backward to get one more look at those jeans of hers from behind. He only realizes that he’s smiling like a fool when he gets into the car and Sarah shoots him a look from the passenger seat.

“Okay, you’re acting weird. Who was that?”

“Just a very old friend.”

........................................

tags for the moots and folks i think are interested - lmk if you want added or dropped : @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight

[makeyoumine69]

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤

— PAIRING: 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

— SUMMARY: 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 - 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞?

— WARNINGS: 𝐕𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐣𝐨𝐛, 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬.

— WORDS: 2.8k

— A/N: I know this song is so hyped rn, but it's really so perfect for Patrick: the vibe, the lyrics, the melody. Also, I want to drop here a link of my favorite American Psycho edit with this song. Thanks to all who read my fics and support me! I love you all and I hope you like it!😘

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST], [SERIES MASTERLIST], [support] 💗

The sound of flowing water echoed against the walls of Patrick’s stylish bathroom–this time you were taking a morning routine shower together. 

With careful gentle touches, Bateman was cleaning every inch of your body, paying special attention to all your beautiful curves as he couldn’t get enough of them, petting and squeezing them again and again.

“P-Patirck…” You whimpered from how his large palms were playing with your boobs.

“Do ya like the smell of this soap?” he asked, rubbing a pink foam into your skin. “I think it suits you, such a sweet scent… Just like you, Cupcake.”

Snuggling into you from behind, you gasped as you felt his hard cock between your folds. Panting, Patrick continued to worship your shaking frame, his hips brushed against yours making a slight friction that made you close your eyes. 

“It smells amazing… Thank you, Daddy… You care so much about me.” You murmured in the most natural way you could sound.

“Mhhm,” humming into your ear, he attacked your neck, leaving notable hickeys behind. “I know, sweetheart.”

Aroused as hell, Patrick tugged on your earlobe, nibbling it a bit, and then, he turned you around to face him, pressing you against the wall.

Looking at him from below, you bit your lip in anticipation of his next steps but his body language spoke for itself; the way his fully erected dick twitched whenever he watched the water streams flowing over your blushing pussy–was fair enough for you to knew what would come next.

“Cupcake,” he gasped languidly, planting his hands on your shoulders. “I wanna feel your mouth.”

Gasping, you let him pull you in a passionate kiss before you got down on your knees, leaving a trail of small hickeys over his abs and pubis. Timidly, you made a few kitten licks along his huge dick, cupping his tense sac as you took his blushing tip into your mouth.

“A-ahh, fuck…” he breathed out, towering over you with his hands pressed against the wall behind. “My obedient girl…”

“Mm-hmm, D-Daddy.” You muffled, feeling his cock sliding in and out, as he pushed himself further into your mouth.

“How it feels, baby?”

“It… m-mmmm, it feels… M-mm, amazing. A-awh!” You yelped around his hard flesh when he suddenly thrusted into your throat, yanking on your hair and setting up the pace so his tip was ramming you from the inside and there was nothing gentle about it.

Drooling like a waterfall, you were about to gag from the way he was drilling your mouth–you even had to cling to his muscular hips, signalling him to stop.

“What? Already tired, slut?” He asked, slapping your lips with his stony cock as he was watching you from above.

Barely breathing, you looked up at him to reply: “It’s just too much for me, so far…” Patrick let out a devilish chuckle, gripping your chin and forcing you to open your mouth again. “You desperately need more practice, Cupcake. As a wonderful Daddy, I can’t leave it without my attention.”

With that said, he pressed your face against his groin, making you suckle his heavy balls while he was slowly stroking his cock. Groaning, Bateman rolled his hips, pinning you against the wall with his weight as he fixed you by the back of your head, jerking himself off faster by the second.

“Ah, fuck… Suck me out, like a good girl you’re.” 

“Mm-mh, Daddy,” you whimpered, lapping at his tense sac and cupping his ass for support. “Y-you… Mm-hm, you taste so delicious.”

“Of course, I do,” smirking, he suddenly paused, leaning down to grasp your neck, squeezing it a bit, coaxing you to look at him. “And I do like it when you say such things.”

With one simple motion, he forced you to stand up, pressing you against his massive body and giving your cheek a long hot lick.

“A-ah, Patrick…” 

“What do ya want, (Y/N)?”

“Everything you’re gonna give me, Daddy…” You gasped, feeling dizzy from the tension in your lower body.

Satisfied with your words, Patrick kissed your lips with no rush, tasting himself on them, and that only turned him on even more. Panting, he let go of your neck only to cup your needy pussy and rub his thumb against your blushing clit. 

“A-aww, p-please…” You trembled so badly under his touch, feeling nothing but an unbearable need for him to be inside you. 

“Look at you–so desperate for my cock,” he suckled a red mark on your neck, while his long fingers were brushing over your folds before they slipped into your cunt with no resistance. “You want to be fucked like a dumb nasty whore?” With a sharp breath, you knew–there was no way to turn back, if you started this game you had to pretend till the last moment. “Do whatever you want with me, Daddy…”

Trapped between his muscular arms, you closed your eyes from a heady feeling–the warm steam around you was making the current situation even worse as you were literally losing your mind. Especially when he turned you around, stimulating your little tip along with fingering your throbbing pussy.

“O-ohh… God!” You moaned loudly as your hands were frantically gliding around the wall before Patrick gripped them with his big one and restricted them above your head.

“It’s just Patrick, sweetheart.” He groaned into your ear, speeding up his ministrations and covering you with his brawny frame.

“A-awww, I’m… I’m about to c-cum, a-ah…”

“So do it, Cupcake,” he tightened his grip on your wrists to keep you in one place as he was twisting and curling his digits inside you, hitting your most sensitive spot. “This is what ya were begging for?”

You didn’t respond as your mouth froze in a muffled wail from the way your inner channel spasmed around his long fingers; it was nearly painful as Patrick didn’t stop even for a second, fucking you through your orgasm, drinking in all the pitiful sounds you were making.

“You’re such a perfect fuckdoll…” his voice sounded mostly like a feral snarl. “Do ya still want my cock, slutty brat?”

Being pressed against the wall, you were shaking from reaching your high, barely standing on your feet but despite all of these–you spread your legs wider for him and murmured: “Yes, D-Daddy… Ruin me, use my… Use my pussy…”

Thank God, he couldn’t see your face right now cause you felt yourself utterly embarrassed. It was so degrading, so miserable–this thought was killing you from the inside. And yet it felt so delicious–being pressed against his perfect body, marked here and there by him, inhaling the fresh scent of his skin… Even when he shoved his fingers into your mouth to clean them up–you took them with pure pleasure. This is madness–you quickly admitted to yourself before you sensed his swollen tip, poking at your wet entrance.

“My sweet Cupcake,” Bateman bit the nape of your neck, licking it after and slowly sheathing himself inside your cunt. “A-ah… When you told me you’ll never fall for me, did you expect yourself to be trapped beneath me, moaning and trembling like a fucking whore? Tell me, baby… I want to know!”

And then he lost it as he rocked into you with a ragged deep thrust, coaxing your inner walls to squeeze around him tightly and all the air stuck in your lungs; you were biting your lips almost hard enough to draw blood each time his beefy cock was brushing against your cervix.

Consumed by these insane sensations, you only whimpered: “N-no! I didn’t… A-ahh…” 

“No?” Patrick rejoined in a raspy voice, rocking his hips into yours even harsher–you felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “Try to think again…”

It was so much easier to say it than to do it, cause your mind was at its limits and you couldn’t really think about anything but his thick dick, sliding perfectly inside you. And Patrick perfectly knew it, wrapping his hands around your waist as he looked down to where your bodies were connected, squeezing your ass from time to time.

In order to avoid answering his question you mirrored his typical behaviour and skipped the conversation, moaning loudly as you moved your hips towards his. “Awww-Daddy…So deep! A-ahh it’s so deep!”

“A-ah, your true nature has finally revealed…” he grunted, giving your butt some vigorous slaps, pounding into you in a merciless pace. “Your innocent appearance-ahh, is just a mask… With what you’re trying to hide a pure filth inside of you, but you failed… Am I right, huh? My slutty nasty liar?”

All these dirty words were only encouraging you to whimper louder, arching your back, so he could fuck you even harder. “Pat…Patrick, please…fill me with your seed…A-aahh.”

“Mmmhm, you think you deserve it?”

“P-please Daddy!” you turned your head to meet his eyes, impaling yourself onto his huge shaft. “I want your cream s-so badly, a-aaaww…”

Trembling, you squeaked with how his large palms cupped your breasts, squeezing them greedily, while his sneaky fingers were pinching your so hard nipples 

“Cupcake, I need you to touch yourself,” his demanding hoarse voice made your knees buckle, as you felt yourself like a malleable dough. “C’mon, touch yourself like Daddy taught you…”

With your eyes rolled to the back of your head, you submitted to his will, rubbing circular movements into your oversensitive clit, while your other hand was desperately clawing at his muscular bicep. Soon, all the surrounding sounds stopped existing for you as your vision turned white–you were shaking erratically in his arms, and you couldn't even hear yourself moaning wildly, so he even had to shush you with his mouth.

“Ahh-Fuck! What an insatiable little whore,” Patrick growled, thrusting into you slovenly but passionately. “Can’t believe you were hiding this from me that long…”

Patrick was going to say something else, but all the words turned out to be a loud feral groan as he was spilling his warm cum into your throbbing cunt, squeezing your ass painfully.

“P-Patrick… It h-hursts!”

“Aah...Baby, shush!” 

He suddenly pressed your face against the wall hard, almost splitting your lower lip. Shocked, you had to hold your breath as you were trying your best to stay still, allowing him to cream your insides as long as he wanted to. Grunting, Patrick was keeping you securely in his arms like a feral beast who caught his most desirable prey, marking your shoulders and neck with his sharp teeth wherever he could.

Only after a few minutes, Bateman released you from his deadly grip as he was about to get out of the shower, leaving you completely ruined and bitten in most places. Although you didn’t bleed, your skin was notable bruised, and it felt pretty awful, but that helped you to regain consciousness.

“Are you gonna live here or what?”

Sobbing, you spun around to see him standing with a towel near the shower’s door. Brushing your tears away, you moved towards him and soon; you found yourself trapped in his arms again, but now he was much gentler with you, wrapping a white towel around your body and drying you off. 

This sick contrast of his behaviour turned you into a light-headed mess—you could still feel his cum smeared between your legs.

Silently, Patrick lead you to the sink, so now you could see yourself in the mirror. The image you just saw forced you to shut your eyes from embarrassment as you couldn't look at your own reflection–not after the things you had done a few minutes ago.

“You look gorgeous, Cupcake,” he crooned in a sweet tone, removing the towel. “Especially with my marks all around your soft skin.”

Chuckling, Patrick smirked to himself in the mirror before he pecked your shoulder, encircling his big palms around your sore boobs. 

Did you hate yourself at that moment? Well, probably yes. But this bastard was right—you definitely couldn't control your attraction to him, and he was using it masterfully, enjoying every weak point he could find.

“(Y/N), do you remember that you have to leave soon?”

“Mmm, yes,” you let out a small cough to clean your throat. “Of course, I do.”

“Good girl.” He stated, taking a bottle of expensive body lotion.

And then, you felt his possessive touch again as he was massaging every part of your shivering frame. All this time, you didn’t dare to open your eyes, but you were sure–he must have looked so smugly because he knew how badly he was affecting you, corrupting every little piece of your soul. 

Later, when his powerful hands slipped down between your legs, you suddenly flinched, moaning from being so painfully oversensitive: “Daddy…”

“What is it, baby?”

“Mmm, I’m so touchy right now...” You confessed, covering his palm with your own.

Amused, Bateman only pulled you closer, proceeding on his way to your pussy and whispering: “Next time, I’m definitely gonna eat you out.” With your eyes opened wide, you realised–this was a perfect moment to tell him that there would be no “next time” anymore, just like you planned to do after that accident in the club. But when you were about to talk, you felt his fingers rubbing against your wet folds and that was the last thing you needed in the current situation. Maybe this devil could really read your mind–you considered, throwing your head back from his unexpected but blissful assault. Patrick immediately noticed your reaction, wrapping your neck and brining you closer to him, so he could lock his mouth with yours, sucking your lips one by one. But once Bateman touched your lower one, you hissed in pain and he broke away from you, looking anxious.

“Did I actually hurt you, Cupcake?”

“N-no, I just accidentally bit my lip.” You didn’t know why you lay, but you almost believed yourself. 

“I see,” he mumbled aloof, stepping aside from you. “Dry your hair and get dressed”.

He sounded strange, like he suddenly remembered something very important or something…terrible? Puzzled, you turned around to watch him leaving the bathroom, feeling like something snapped inside your mind, but you couldn’t get what was that exactly.

With a sharp breath, you leaned on the sink, trying to get yourself together. “Just do what he said and get out of here”–you kept repeating it to yourself, washing your face with cold water. It took you some time to prepare yourself to go outside, when you heard a phone call behind the bathroom’s door. Carefully, you went into the living room, but you still couldn’t hear Patrick’s voice, only some slight reverberations echoed from his bedroom.

“Patrick, I’m gonna leave now.” You declared in a loud voice, feeling yourself a bit confused.

“I will see you later, (Y/N).” That was all he said as Bateman didn’t even come to send you off. 

He must have been so busy with his job–you assumed, sighing sadly as you moved towards the exit; your heart was beating suspiciously fast when you noiselessly closed the door of his apartment.

Too deeply wrapped in your thoughts, you didn’t notice that you made it to the beautifully decorated hall–it looked as rich as the entire building, nothing new. Once you were getting closer to the concierge’s table you noticed a good-looking woman with blonde hair. 

“Who are you looking for?” An old concierge asked her, opening his big log book.

“I came to Patrick Bateman.”

That voice. That fucking voice made you froze near the exit as your brain was overclocked, trying to remember where you could hear it before. And almost right away, you found the answer in the back of your mind; was it even possible to forget such things? Courtney, that was her name–you shrank as if the electric shock has hit you, feeling your lungs burning with fire.

A pure anger was consuming you by the second, so you decided to leave this place as soon as possible when you heard Courtney’s voice behind your back:

“Excuse me! Do you have a lighter?”

Gulping, you looked back to reply: “No, sorry. I don’t smoke…”

To your surprise, you saw sorrow reflecting in her blue eyes as she pulled out the cigarette, giving you a barely notable smile. “Well. Thank you anyway…”

And then, she moved away towards the elevators, leaving you completely lost as you didn’t even know whether you want to cry or to yield. 

Curse the day, when you accepted Patrick’s offer to have lunch and this damn deal you made with him… How on the Earth?  Did you think Bateman would really help you without wanting anything in return? Feeling the upcoming hysteria, you pressed a hand to your forehead to calm down yourself just a little.

“Miss, is everything all right?” Sudden concierge’s voice made you almost jump in place.

“N-no… Everything’s not all right,” you muttered, leading to the door. “Have a good day.”

As soon as you got outside, you felt raindrops falling onto your face, bringing all the fresh memories of recent events in Patrick’s bathroom. If only you could hide from him, just like you were hiding now from the rain, standing under the awning of the next building–“if only”.

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[toxicanonymity]

Uhhhh nightwalks Joel and reader getting high off their asses and then fucking

harder - 420 special, can read alone.

2.8k | Joel x f!Reader | night walks masterlist

IMG: dark profile shot of Joel that says, "lift heavy, talk dirty, smoke weed" and "night walks" in the bottom left.

He slowly rubs your thigh and says, “It's ok, pumpkin. Shouldn’ta had the windows open. Got hot workin' out.” He gets up and closes the windows, pulls the shades down, and double-locks the door. He dims the lights, too.  It’s still pretty hot inside.  You unzip your hoodie, and he wets his lips as you take it off. 

Ty 420 Anon, yard-spying bj anon, @missannwinchester, @xdaddysprincessxx , and everyone for all the great Qs, comments, and ideas. 👖

WARNINGS: 18+ Non-outbreak, AU pothead neighbor Joel, reader smokes, unspecified age gap, drinking, fingering, oral, unsafe vaginal sex (PIV), light choking, hard drug use, bad ideas. Mild dubcon bc drugs? (she has the intent before the drugs)

-

You start taking your night walks again.  You keep seeing your creepy neighbor Joel out in the wild anyway, and your efforts not to fuck him have been not only futile but increasingly weak. You’re walking your first lap around the neighborhood and a car pulls up to Joel's house.  A young woman gets out of the car.  She goes around back to his man cave where the door must be open because it sounds like he’s lifting weights.   Your stomach drops and your heart races.  Who is she? His estranged wife–if he even has one, you've never seen her–can’t be your age, can she?  Then again, if he can pull you . . . are you just one of many? 

Despite your best efforts, it doesn’t leave your mind.  When you come back around the neighborhood, your curiosity gets the best of you and you quietly prowl into the back of his yard.  His lights are on, so you can see clearly and it makes your insides turn.  In the window to the right, Joel is in the middle of sitting down.  He rubs his nose and eases back into the sofa with his hands behind his head, elbows out.  A look of pleasure spreads across his face. and he says “oh yeah.”   In the window to the left, she’s kneeling on the ground in front of him.  The gap between the windows spares you the explicit details.  Joel looks down, watching her and licking his lips and man, he looks hot.  Yeah, it actually turns you on.  

His eyes drift to the window and you quietly slink away before he sees you.  You walk around the block one more time and light up a joint, hoping to push away your traitorous gut reaction to this development.  You have all these thoughts like I should’ve given in.  . . .I should’ve come when he invited me. . . He finally gave up on me. . .  You know these thoughts make no sense.  They make you feel dirty.  He’s so skeezy and vile.  He’s been preying on you.  That’s what you want?

-

As you approach his cul de sac for the third time, she’s driving away.  That was so fast, you have to wonder if he paid her.  

“Evenin’, pumpkin.”  His voice startles you from the treeline.  He’s standing where you were. 

You don’t say anything.  You take a hit of your joint.  

“Yeah I bet you had a pretty good view from here,” he says.  

Your heart races and your face gets hot. 

You respond, “Have a good time?”

“Oh yeah, always a good time.  You wanna try it?” 

You scoff but almost, briefly entertain the idea. “I’m good.  How much does a blow job cost these days anyway?” You instantly regret the question.  Probably sounded resentful.  

“Depends how much you’re buyin’.” 

“What?”

“Ahh, blow job,” he says.  You're embarrassed by how loud he says it.  He slowly walks closer to the street – closer to you –  then stops when he’s a couple of feet away. He crosses his arms and his biceps bulges under his tight t-shirt.  “Blow job. . . that’s what you thought?  Well damn. I’m flattered, pumpkin. All jealous of my dealer spendin’ time with me.” As usual, you hate it when he’s right.  

“That’s what you call ‘contactless pick-up’?”

“That ain’t the weed girl.”

He walks around you slowly, like you’re a steak he’s about to carve up, then he puts his hand on the back of your neck and lowers his voice.

“That’s Michelle Pfieffer, baby.  Not Mary Jane.”  He looks at your joint and you hand it to him.  He's totally lost you.  "Never seen Scarface?"  He takes a hit, inhales, and holds. His broad chest swells with his lungs. Then he strokes your temple and squints at you, like he’s reading you, as he brings his mouth less than a centimeter from yours and exhales.  You breathe him in so cleanly, so greedily, barely any of it escapes into the air around you.  You hold, then turn your head to release the smoke.  It was too much, too soon, but you couldn’t turn him away. After successfully resisting a glance for several minutes, your eyes fall to the ample bulge in his PJs, sending a warm rush to your core. 

He smirks and strokes the nape of your neck.  You don’t say anything. You just stand there marveling at how genuinely hot he is.  Beautiful, even.  Shit, you’re really high. 

“C’mon,” he says and rotates around so he’s next to you, slightly behind you.  He squeezes your neck, and his forearm is resting between your shoulder blades when he starts walking you towards his basement.  You barely resist at all.  “Real bad girl shit, you’re gonna love it.” 

-

By the time you’re halfway to the door, his hand is no longer on your neck.  It’s drifted down to give your ass a brief squeeze, and for the first time since finding out his real intentions, you’re walking into his basement quite willingly. 

He nods to the couch.   “What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever.” You move a throw pillow out of your way and sit down. 

On the ottoman in front of the couch, there’s a mirrored tray with a credit card, loosely rolled $100 bill, and white powder residue.  She was doing a line, not sucking his cock. Now you’re even more embarrassed.  

Joel comes around the sofa and gives you an IPA.  

He sits down right next to you, manspreading with his hand on his inner thigh and his other thigh flush with yours.  He slowly rubs your leg and says, “It's okay, pumpkin. I shouldn’ta had the windows open. Got hot workin' out.”

He gets up and closes the windows, pulls the shades down, and double-locks the door. He dims the lights, too.  It’s still pretty hot inside.  As he slowly crosses the room, he wets his lips and watches you unzip your hoodie  You fold it up and set it in your lap.

"You gotta try this shit." He gets out his drug box. 

You hesitate and decline. 

“Girl as bad as you, never done hard drugs?” 

“Tried it, didn't like it.  It was gross.” 

“Bet it was cut with somethin’ gross.  This is good shit. maybe later though.  Hmm?"  He turns to face you, strokes your inner thigh, and studies your face.  

"Yeah I'm already high as fuck" you admit. 

He laughs.  “High as fuck . . . that makes two of us, pumpkin.”  You can see it in his eyes, too. He extends his beer to cheers yours.  

"Got all stressed out seein' me with another chick?"  

You take a long sip and observe the tent in his pants, resenting that he's right as usual.  He takes a long sip too then puts it down.  He leans in close, puts his mouth against your ear. "You don't have to say it," he whispers as he takes your beer out of your hand and your sweatshirt out of your lap, setting them on the table without fully leaving your space.  His cold hand slides between your legs, lightly trailing up your inner thigh over your thin joggers. Then he adds, "I can feel it."   

You’re already turning to face him.  Your legs open, making room for him.  “Yeah, that’s right” he says. 

You lean back, he gets between your legs, and his hands prowl up toward your shoulders, caging you to the couch.  He presses the hard silhouette of his cock into your inseam.  Then his mouth latches onto yours and your chest swells into him, your nipples hardening against his tight undershirt.  He makes room then his hand slides up under your undershirt – no bra – taking the shirt with it.  You help him pull it over your head.  Then he cups a breast and palms your hard nipple and your back arches.  You’re throbbing for him. 

“too hot for these,” he says, hooking fingers into your joggers. He begins to pull them down, then pauses when they’re at your knees.  He spreads you open with both thumbs and plants his mouth for a taste.  He licks and moans “Mmm’ into your cunt, then plunges his tongue inside, making your hips lift into his face.   

He comes up for air and says, "god damn you're hot," palming himself over his pants. He finishes pulling your joggers off.  "Hotter every fuckin time." He returns to grinding into you and sucks your neck. Holy fuck, he's hard.  So hard.  Your mouth falls open with a soft moan.  

"Yeah, you feel that? C’mon, let's get wild, baby."  He grinds into you a couple more times, says “yeah,” then sits back on his heels and gets the coke baggie. He picks up a small key ring from the coffee table.  Joel opens the bag and dips a key into it, getting the smallest little mountain of white powder on the end of the key, then he puts the baggie down on the tray.  

"C'mere a sec. It's just a little," he says.  You sit up while he makes a vertical fist and puts the smallest hill of white powder on the flat web between his thumb and forefinger.  It doesn't look like much, so you play along, closing a nostril and bringing your nose to his fist. You inhale and he says "attagirl," then with the same hand, he grabs your jaw and pulls your mouth into his for an aggressive kiss.  The back of your throat is dripping nasally, but you're tingling all over as his tongue invades your mouth with his hand holding your jaw.  Then that hand loosens and slides down to your throat and he pushes you back down on the couch, your head landing on the throw pillow. 

"Don't worry, pumpkin.  All yours tonight, every inch,” he says, stroking himself through his pants. That sends a bolt of desire right through you.  His hand slides down your chest  over your stomach to your dripping pussy and he says "you taste real fuckin good, you know that?" as he fingers you.  Then he licks his thick digits clean.  

He pulls down his waistband, frees himself from his PJ pants, then changes his mind and takes them off entirely.  He lays his hips onto yours, his stiff cock resting on  your mound and you tilt your hips in search of friction.   God, you need him so bad.  His face returns to your neck and you claw at his t-shirt.  He takes it off and admires you with red, half-lidded eyes while he's still sitting upright.  

"God you look so fuckin hot. . . “  He runs his hand lightly over your stomach, between your breasts, and back. You badly want him inside you. 

He takes the baggie and dips the key in it again. “Gotta do it, ‘fore I get you all sweaty.”   Then the cold metal on your cleavage makes your nipples harden and he inhales deeply.  He carefully draws a thin line along your cleavage, all the way up to your clavicle, then admires his work.  

"Baby you're the hottest thing ‘ever been in this room," he says and your heart swells a little, to your embarrassment. 

You watch him in a trance, wanting him back against your buzzing body.  He picks up and tightens the rolled up bill.  He strokes his naked cock with his other hand then lets it fall between your legs.  Your hips tilt, and his tip meets your entrance, nudging at your tight, wet hole while he braces himself on the couch.  Your legs open a little wider for him.  Your body is drunk with need.  Then he brings his head to your chest, the bill to his nose, and snorts the whole line, up to the bottom of your throat, and in the same swift motion, he plunges his stiff length into you with a groan, and you moan at the stretch of his girth.  

He tilts his head back and sniffles, staying inside you as he does it.   Jesus, who knew a cock could be so hard, or feel so good.  He retreats half way then pushes all the way into you again, bottoming out with a shudder. 

“God damn, baby,” he says, then begins to move his hips fluidly.  He feels so unequivocally good, you can’t even pretend he doesn’t.  No part of you can.  In a fucked up way, you feel like you’re exactly where you want to be in life, on the couch of this creep’s basement.   He grunts as he buries his rock-hard length inside you and sucks at your neck.  His cock fills you up just right, just the right amount of stretch, and the way he moves his hips, he’s rubbing you just right, too.  All you want is more of it.  

“Harder,” you hear yourself say.  

“What now?” he smirks with a hint of disbelief. 

“Harder, Joel.” He heard you the first time, he just wanted to hear it again. “Fuck me harder.”  Your hips lift into his and you wrap your legs all the way around him.  He rolls into you smoothly again, nodding, and you feel it building in your core.  You watch him in anticipation - his glistening biceps.  His absurd triceps.  His strong torso.  Something animalistic comes across his face. 

“Fuck yeah,”  he breathes.  

He slams into you with a grunt, and you moan.  You don’t bother trying not to.  Not tonight.  He hooks his arms under your shoulders for leverage and pounds into you again and again, to the hilt each time, grunting, breathing heavily.  You gasp.  He’s hitting that spot just right and he knows it.  You’re close to coming.  His messy hair bounces as he rails you.  

“Thought you’d never ask, baby,” he says.  

He moves one of his arms under your knee, putting that leg on his shoulder, and keeps railing you. It feels like your whole torso is being filled by him. You groan loudly, overwhelmed by him all up in your guts.   It’s like he’s been holding out on you – he was already so good and this is just ridiculous.  

“Fuckin’ love this pussy,” he pants, looking at you like a work of art as he fucks you.  Your back arches and you writhe under him, so close to the edge.  He somehow pushes even further.  

“And you love this cock, don’t ya?” You nod, tears prickling your eyes.  Sweat falls off his chest onto yours as he pummels you.  

“Fuck yeah,” he growls.  

“Yeah,” you pant, practically a whisper. You could do this all night.  

He slams into you hard again, tripping you over the edge, and you repeat “Yeah,” louder, which turns into a moan as you squirm under him through your waves of pleasure and your body jerks.  

“I know, baby,” he says. “Attagirl, yeah, come on this cock.” You continue to contract, and manage to stammer, “Oh God, don’t stop.” 

As your climax wanes, he hooks both his arms under yours again and says “c’mere,” as his hips  roll into you more gracefully again.  He kisses you, and moans into your mouth as he fucks you, and you quickly feel it building again.  You moan and he says, “hell yeah.” 

He pulls out and your gut reaction is”no,” before he can even help you into straddling him.  “Well hot damn,” he says and sits back for you to ride him. 

You push yourself up by your elbows, then begin to climb into his lap.  

“All yours, baby.  Ride it.”  

You can’t sink onto him fast enough.  You both grunt as your bodies are joined.  You roll your hips into him and his large hands move you on his cock.  He takes a nipple into his mouth and your head falls back.  You still can’t get over how hard he is.  You could do this all night, you think.  

But it isn’t long before his breath changes and you know he’s gonna come.  Yeah, you know he’s about to come, and yet, you can’t bear to tear yourself off his cock. He pulls you down flush against him with a groan and holds you there.  His head falls back. His hips lift, and he pulses enormously inside you, sending you for your second time.  You whine “Oh, God,” as you clench around him.  And he moans,  lifting his hips into you with each rope.  Then you cut his moan off with your lips on his, and he groans into your mouth.  

You sit on his lap with his cock still inside as you catch your breaths.  Eventually, he gives your ass a squeeze and says, “God I’m thirsty.” 

You agree, and get off him.  He hands you your beer and you take a long swig.  

“I’m spent, pumpkin.  Got too fuckin’ high.  You tired?” 

Yeah, you are.  

“Alright, let’s take a nap and do that again,” he says. 

 And you stay. 

-

A/N: I'm curious if anyone recognizes this situation, because it's based on a movie/scene that inspired the neighbor & drugs premise of night walks to begin with. I know where we're picking up from here thanks to @missannwinchester 👖 and still have many night walks ideas on the board from y'all, brewing and welcome.

-

TAGS

NW: @tehweeana@lokanda@blackvelveteen1339@cutesyscreenname@ele-meno-p lmk if i missed you

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime  @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda

[saintslewis]

“𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑”

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

˖ ࣪⭑ - pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc

˖ ࣪⭑ - summary: first date with the world’s newest married couple!

˖ ࣪⭑ - warnings: cursing, brand names, outfits descriptions, smau, typos.

˖ ࣪⭑ - saint’s team radio: aaannnnndddd we’re back! have quite a few wips so that took my time mainly lol. i truly love these two and i hope you guys do too 🥹. like i said, maybe i should make a schedule for this. hope you enjoy and let me know if you wanna be tagged 🤭.

pls do like, reblog and comment!

Tell me your thoughts guys!!!

masterlist

previous chapter

-

"what the fuck did we just do?" Nadia blurted out as she held the small but extremely expensive red bag in her shaking hand, her other hand over her mouth as she stared at it.

The man in question closed the car door to the backseats, making sure the two other shopping bags were secure. Climbing into the car, he looked at the frightened woman and desperately tried to hide his smile as she took small breaths. Eventually calming down with him typing on his phone, she reached into the deep red bag that read 'Cartier' and carefully took out the delicately wrapped boxes that held their respective wedding rings.

Walking into the luxurious store was a mission in itself as the newly married 'couple' had to pretend for the first time. With Lewis assuring her that it was usually empty during that specific time of day, Nadia tried to keep her cool together by entering the store she would only window shop from. Immediately when entering the private entrance, she could already feel the difference in the atmosphere, the quiet music through the hallways became a bit too overwhelming for her. What Nadia couldn't do was to understand what life she would be living from here on out, each step dragging the next as she watched the Harrods' security guards stand firm in their positions, guarding the gold elevator. Keeping within close proximity of each other, their arms would brush against each others from time to time and everytime she would glance at Lewis, he looked so unphased it was scary. It looked like he's been doing this for years.

As the two turned the corner and the jewellery store came into view, Nadia looked around at the other stores forming what seemed like a cul de sac within the store. The red and gold exterior of Cartier caught her eye and she and the man she was with gathered the workers and the customers attention. Giving a subtle nod and smile to both security guards standing on guard at the entrance, they opened the large Oakwood doors and a strong scent captivated her.

"Could I hold your hand?" Lewis asked quietly, holding his hand out for the younger woman to surprisingly grab onto in lightning speed. "My hands are really sweaty right now, I'm sorry." Nadia stressed. With their fingers intertwined and Lewis' cold rings managing to cool down her hand, he led into the shop where a sales associate was waiting patiently, gasping when she saw Lewis without his sunglasses and a woman standing next to him. Displaying a selling smile, the sales associate fixed her blazer and signaled to the security guards to close the doors.

"Mr Hamilton, what a pleasure to have you join us this afternoon. Greetings to the both of you. My name is Kim and I will be helping you today." Kim had said with a professional voice, leading them to her work desk near a counter showcasing diamonds and emeralds. "What brings you in today?" She asked, sitting on her desk chair and clearly directing the question towards Lewis. Before saying his words, Lewis knew that nothing he could say would be out these doors as the employees sign NDAs almost every week.

"Well, my wife couldn't find her ring at all for the past two weeks and rather decided to get a new one." He explained as he pulled out the chair for Nadia to sit before he did. The pure shock on the sales associate's face was borderline comedic, her jaw nearly dropping to the floor. "O-oh! Well, we definitely have a lovely range of wedding rings that would be suitable for the both of you, seeing as you guys are such a beautiful couple." Kim said with a shaky laugh, reaching to give them a look book for their purchase.

"I'll give you guys a couple of minutes to decide." And with that, the ever so young sales associate stood up from her assigned desk and left Nadia and Lewis to make their decision. Releasing a sigh she had kept in her from the moment they walked through the door, she looked at Lewis who just picked up the catalog and flipped through the pages.

"How are you so calm right now? My hands can't stop sweating, what the fuck." Nadia whisper-yelled, trying not to wipe her hands on anything near her whilst breathing through her nose. "I'm just used to this but it would've been nice if she wasn't so nervous." He shrugged his shoulders, leaning comfortably into the seat and his eyes scanning into the catalog. "Do you want to leave? Because we can. I really don't want you to be uncomfortable." Lewis suggested, placing his hand on her shoulder, somehow making her face him. Studying his face, she looked into his eyes as the sincerity poured out. He was worried, the fear literally showing through her but as she shifted her eyes to Kim who looked like she was coming over, a switch flipped in her.

Quickly grabbing the open catalog from the table, Nadia scanned the pages and landed on a ring that screamed at her with its luxury and simplicity. "Oh this is just stunning." She grinned, pointing at the picture of the ring. To say Lewis was surprised was an understatement but he could see what she was doing and it was smart. "It really is. Is this the one you want?" He asked, leaning close to her and noticed she didn't even move. Oh, she was really selling this.

"It's perfect." Nadia smiled so much so that her eyes closed.

-

"Wait so what do I say? Like happy 2 years or something?" Nadia asked, turning her body in the car seat to face Lewis. The two hadn't even put the rings on yet but they already were planning what to post on instagram.

"No clue. Did you choose what to post? Tia is bugging me about that." He said, sighing out for the umpteenth time that afternoon. Snapping her eyes at the man, he caught the look she sent him then clarified that she was his main pr manager. "I think I'll go with the flow when I choose the pictures." Awkwardly enough, Lewis and Nadia exchanged phone numbers and had to share a few photos with each other to have something to post for the world.

"You know, your dad mentioned that we should tell our friends before we tell the world." She said, slumping her head back into the surprisingly soft headrest. "Yeah. Uh my friends are in town so we could probably do something with them and announce it there." Lewis said, scratching at his hair out of nerves. He never was someone who got nervous often but this entire situation kept playing on his mind.

"Alright then. Home time?" He suggested, watching her nod before he even finished his sentence. He soon drove off with her address already on the car display, watching her as she admired the streets of London. They both knew this was going to be a long journey but it was worth helping each other out as their friendship began to bloom.

"Lewis?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you actually do for work? I feel like we've been talking about my job so much that I haven't taken the chance to know what you do. Y'know, besides shopping at Cartier so much that the workers recognise you." She asked, facing the car window and looking out as they passed through Central London. "Well um, I work in Formula One and it's been my..thing for the past 30 years." He revealed as he stopped at the red light, people from outside most definitely couldn't see inside the car even they tried.

"30? Oh my god, they had you working at 2?!" For this, Nadia sat up and looked at Lewis in astonishment, making him burst out laughing. "How old do you think I am?" He could barely get the question before giggling once again. "I thought you were at least 32. How are you older than 32?" Fully facing him now, Nadia couldn't believe what she was hearing because in her eyes, his features were very youthful (similar to hers but she didn't want to brag). "I'm 38, January 7th." Lewis said, giving her a closed smile.

Racking everything that she just learned about him, it all came back to her. Most Fridays when her students (whoever had History that time) would request to watch anything F1 related whilst she focused on something else or when the name 'Hamilton' was constantly thrown around between the last few minutes of classes almost every week. Even the 4 years she's been teaching at the same school, they would make a big deal every July before schools closed for the race in Silverstone and constantly cheer on the same British driver, Hamilton. Her new last name.

"Are you good? you went quiet on me for a second." Lewis glanced at Nadia as she had a slight pout on her face as she looked straight ahead, clearly her concentration face. "Just realised that most of my students adore you, borderline obsessed with you." She muttered but he heard her loud and clear. "And I don't know shit about you except that you drive super fast cars on weekends." She began clicking her nails as a way to distract her from her busy mind. "Okay, how about we go on a fake date after we tell the world about our marriage to get to know one another so we can understand our new lives now. Is that okay with you?" Lewis suggested and truly, Nadia's heart swelled a little.

"Can I dress up or will I be judged for that?"

"Anything you want."

The next day.

"Wait. I'm confused. Your PR lady wants to have a meeting with me when? After we launch? Because I'm gonna be really busy with my students tomorrow." Nadia was extremely stressed and rightfully so. After everything happened yesterday, it was time to worry about the logistics of this 'relationship.'

"Tia said she's around London now so maybe you two could meet at a café somewhere in case you're not uncomfortable with her being at your place but she preferred to do it before everything gets crazy." Lewis spoke over the phone. Nadia kept quiet for a few moments as she skimmed over a few facts about Lewis on her laptop. "Wait, you were knighted?" She asked, seeing the photo of Lewis with the badge she recognise as the one that knights usually get. "Are you looking me up right now?" The laugh threatened to come out as he slowed down on the treadmill. "What? I wouldn't." Nadia closed the laptop with speed as if he could see what she was doing.

"Uh huh... anyways, should I forward her number to you or should I make the call?" Lewis pretended as if the biggest smile didn't paint his face at that very moment. "Just send it to me and I'll probs invite her over. We'll talk later then." The two said their goodbyes and went back to whatever it was they were doing.

Placing her phone down next to her on the couch, she sat in silence as it all dawned on her. The man she is legally married to is one of the world's most famous athletes with millions and millions of supporters. Spending almost the whole morning researching anything she needed to know, her chest wanted to close in as she looked at everything from stats from his long ass F1 career to his businesses and social life and they didn't call him the busiest driver for nothing. Lewis never seemed like the type of person to relax and chill from the number of things he does in a day. From Fashion weeks to visiting labs for one of his many projects, it was going to be tough to adjust to his lifestyle whilst still being a full time high school teacher but she was willing to do so, to help a friend.

-

"Again, I'm so sorry for this sudden ambush on you. You're so lovely." Tia apologised once again, making Nadia hold her hand as she shook her head.

The dandelions that Tia brought over were sitting pretty in an empty vase on the living room table, making the room smell so fresh. Tia was definitely a few years younger than Nadia, shown by her enthusiastic energy as soon as she stepped into the apartment.

"So to just get to the gist of it all, you're entering the world of fame without knowing what exactly goes into it. You're gonna need a team, security intel, a refurbished social media look, probably a new bank account and a new address." Tia said, pulling out a notebook from her tote bag. "For now, I'll be your pr manager along with Lewis'. Please just know that this fake marriage idea was a collective decision by the rest of our team because of the scandals that have just been coming our way. I hope I'm not scaring you?"

"Girl, I'm scared as shit right now. What do you mean new address?" Nadia vocalised as her right leg bounced repeatedly. "So in order to make this believable, you'll have to move in with him and we've proposed that you say that you've been secretly married for 2 years. I know that you're going to meet with his friends soon and y'know that date? It has to be tonight because I know you have work tomorrow." Tia flipped her silk press over her shoulder as she placed her hands on the now closed notebook.

Nadia's jaw wanted to drop to the floor but she tried to seem calm as her eyes darted anywhere from Tia.

"So you and I can get ready for this date like we can go shopping, hair and nails then in the evening, he picks you up. How does that sound?" Tia smiled, already packing up her bag.

"Uh-"

"Perfect! Let's go."

-

"Breathe in and out, Nads. In and out." She quietly told herself as she paced up and down her room, the uncomfortable ysl heels clacked against the floor. Constantly checking if the little black dress wasn’t showing anything that didn’t need to shown.

The Cartier box sat perfectly on her dresser, staring at her and waiting to be opened. Eventually gaining the courage to open it, she gently picked up the ring and slid it onto her ring finger, feeling its weight slightly. Lifting her hand to the lamp, she watched as the diamond glistened, matching the charms and rhinestones on her fresh nails.

Even music couldn’t help her calm down as she anxiously waited for Lewis to say that he’s outside, palms becoming clammy at the thought of going on a ‘date’ with someone as famous as Lewis. The research she did on him was one similar to someone entering a fandom as she tried to remember basic information about her husband.

Walking over to her full length mirror, she scanned over her outfit once more and did quick breathing exercises to calm her down. She did a quick smile and walked out of her room, not forgetting her trusty fluffy slides in case she got tired of her heels.

Whilst taking a few pictures, the knock on her door startled her. Rushing to open up, she carried her new purse and touched her hair a little bit as she reached for the door handle.

The smell of roses mixed with the scent of Lewis’ cologne greeted first as the big bouquet of flowers blocked his face.

“Oh wow…” Nadia muttered as she reached to take the sunset orange roses out of his tattooed arms. Securely holding the bouquet, she looked up to observe the man and his look nearly took her breath away. The soft pastel colours of his sweater vest were matching quite well with the lilac slacks he had on, going casual with the air force ones and not to mention the jewellery that somehow emphasised the cozy yet fashionable style he was going for. It genuinely looked like he was going on a date and so did Nadia. His braids were tied back into a low ponytail and his diamond earrings sparkled quite nicely, the wedding ring he bought himself making an appearance as he lifted his hand to scratch his neck a little.

“Well good evening, Mrs.” Lewis greeted with the slyest smile on his face once he realised that Nadia was indeed checking him out. “Don’t give me that smile, Mr.” She rolled her eyes before turning around and placing the flowers in the kitchen. Seeing as she had everything she needed on her, she walked right back to the front door where he was patiently waiting for her. “Let me hold these for you.” He offered, opening his large hands to take her purse and slippers.

“You sure?”

“We’ve got quite a few flights of stairs to get through. Also, where are your neighbours? It seems like such a quiet building.” Lewis asked, curious as he looked at the closed doors they passed in the hallways towards the stairs.

“It’s mainly small families or students who just always mind their business and close themselves in by this time. It only really get noisy during sports weekends and spontaneous fights.” Nadia said, telling him a bit more about her odd neighbours as they eventually reached the same G wagon she saw yesterday.

He could listen to her talk about literally anything for hours, he told himself as he opened the car door for her, placing her stuff next to her. “Just so you know, there’s going to be some media where we’re headed, thanks to Tia so we just walk quickly whilst waving a little then we enter. Is that okay?” He asked, leaning against the open car door and his right arm caged her in a little. As much as she was distracted by how he was looking at her whilst standing like that, she nodded, somehow losing the voice that was there literally there a few minutes before.

-

“I have to compete with Nicki Minaj?!” She whisper-yelled as she leaned closer to him in the private booth that faced the rest of the restaurant. Already, the two had caused quite a stir as soon as they exited the car with the paparazzi rapidly throwing questions at each of them, barely giving them a chance to smile and wave as they planned. The security (both Lewis’ and the restaurants) helped them in and to the customers surprise, they entered in with confidence. Them holding hands really sold for everyone, the two waving to fans using their left hands before being escorted to the private booth.

“Well no you don’t have to anymore. It was just a…thing a few years ago.” Lewis said, taking a sip of his drink before leaning back against his chair. “But still! Like your fans literally know you with well known women so what are they even going to do with me?” Rightfully so, Nadia was stressed. This was a big commitment and already she was regretting it.

“I have a feeling that they will love you. As long as you aren’t a complete weirdo then they’ll most likely accept you. Well that’s what someone on Twitter said after hearing about a supposed fling I had with someone.” He assured. He seemed so calm about this and it freaked her out.

“Supposed?”

“Yup. Plus I’m now married to you so everything will swept up under a rug, y’know? Remove any bullshit rumours going on.” He said, sipping his drink once again.

“Again, how are you so calm about this, bruv? Feel like i’m sweating bullets here.” She breathed out, slightly fanning herself even though there was air conditioning in their booth.

“Is that who I am now? Bruv?” He asked, giggling as he looked at her amusingly.

“That is definitely your contact name. Oh! You have to meet my kids, that’s where I get it from.” Nadia spoke, taking a fry from her plate, the food the waiter brought over a while ago.

“Year 8?”

“Nope. Only Year 11 and 12. It was part of the ‘promotion’ but I only studied further to teach Year 8 so right now I’m winging it with my kids and it seems to be going pretty good. They’re excelling.” Nadia chatted, proudly talking about her students.

“You were meant to be a teacher, I swear. The glint in your eyes was so adorable when you spoke about them.” Lewis smiled, also eating his meal.

“Okay, don’t make me blush old man.” She scoffed with a little chuckle making Lewis laugh fully.

“Anyways, where am I gonna live? Tia was very adamant about me moving out to make it look super real.” Nadia changed the subject so quickly, as if it was lightning.

“My main residence is in Monaco but because of what I do, I tend to travel for two months at a time so I’ve got a few houses in another countries. So you can choose where you want to live really. Personally though, I can tell you love your job so this will be a bit tough for you but I get where she’s coming from.” Lewis informed, eating his pesto as if he didn’t just shake up her life a little.

“Oh. I’m gonna have to speak to my higher ups about this. Obvie, I won’t tell them the whole thing but can you give me a week to figure it out? Because it’s also salary that’s no longer gonna be there once I start travelling with you.” Nadia brought up, pinching her leg as thoughts raced through her mind.

“Sure, take as much time as you need because I get that this is a lot. I have a house near Wembley, that’s where I’ve been staying since I arrived so that’s my proposal to you.” He informed, watching her slowly eat her food.

“Well, there wasn’t a proposal to begin with, pookie bear.” Nadia joked, biting down on the fork as she giggled.

“That nickname, Nads.” Lewis giggled at her joke, knowing that she was going to be a joy to be around.

-

nadiahamilton

liked by randomstudent, tia.henderson and 538 others

nadiahamilton 2 years down, a lifetime to go 🤍

tagged: lewishamilton

view limited comments

randomstudent MISS???? HELLOO???

user oh history is gonna be FUN tmr

lewishamilton my love 💗

nadiahamilton mwah!! 😚

user ma’am you’re joking????? WHAT

nella_rose yo, i leave for a bit and you’re married??? congrats babe omg 😭

user yo miss, what is a 8x world champion doing in your post?

nadiahamilton being my husband :)

randomuser whatever you manifested, GIVE IT

fanpage HE’S MARRIED

15 minutes ago

lewishamilton

liked by charles_leclerc, badgalriri and 10,828,929 others

lewishamilton forever and then some with you 🤍

tagged: nadiahamilton

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user NO FUCKING WAY

user well that’s one way to hard launch!

charles_leclerc 😧

lewishamilton 🤣

fencer congratulations on two years brother! 🩷

lewishamilton thank you bro 🫂

nadiahamilton it’s bruv to you 🤨

lewishamilton happy 2 years with my bruv 🫡

nadiahamilton much better 😚

user SHE’S HOT AND FUNNY???? WE’RE SO DOOMED

user and she’s not famous like at all

gigihadid where’s this beautiful woman you’ve been hiding????

nadiahamilton hello Gigi 🤭

gigihadid oh we’re so grabbing lunch soon

user wait so no one knew of her?? not even the drivers ???😭

landonorris MOM?

nadiahamilton hi son?

danielricciardo you don’t just hard launch on us on a random Sunday 😭

lewishamilton oh well, meet my wife! :)

user he really said no more rumours lol

user OMG THATS MY TEACHER HELLO?!

user WHAT

user YEAH THATS MY HISTORY TEACHER

mercedesamgf1 Mrs Mercedes? 🥹

mercedesamgf1 boss man says hi and congratulations! 🥳

fanpage noooo you can’t be married ☹️

user girl get a GRIP

badgalriri oh she’s SEXY

lewishamilton ri, pls don’t steal my wife

nadiahamilton TOO LATE

user the next media day is going to have a BLAST when he shows up 😭

10 minutes ago

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @folkloresthings @tispys-blog @userlando @lorarri @thisismeracing @thatsdemko @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @youre-sooooo-funny @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting

(if your acc is blank, that means that tumblr didn’t allow me to tag you/show your account)

dividers by: @cafekitsune

nadia’s fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

all pic creds go to pinterest and insta!

[polishedtaylor]

Dance With You Tonight - Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Authors note: Hii besties, sorry this took a while to get out! I will try to get a more consistent writing schedule. Spring semester started last week so I am trying to get a hang of that . Once again thank you to @punkshort for having faith in me and helping me organize this!! Anyways without further ado, enjoy!!

Series Masterlist Previous chapter

Synopsis: You were training and studying to become a professional ballet dancer, until fate had other plans. Leaving you crushed and headed into a new career path. Becoming a dance teacher, a way of keeping dance in your life. Still in the process of healing, you meet Joel Miller. A single dad working as a contractor, trying to make his little girl happy by signing her up for dance lessons. Guarded when you first meet him, he teaches you to love a way you haven't before. 

Chapter summary: you keep running into Joel outside of the dance studio and can’t seem to get away from each other. 

Chapter warnings: Some allusions to trauma and anxiety. Tommy being a forgetful uncle. Joel being a worried mess. Light swearing. Drinking, tipsiness, MDNI (18+), Slow (ish) burn, two pining idiots. No use of Y/N.

Chapter 2 - Falling Behind (Word count: around 2.5k)

“Please keep practicing those pirouettes, I expect you all to have them perfected by next week!” you say as your students begin walking out of the studio to pack up their things.  Parents were outside waiting and ushering their kids out the door. Finally you were all finished for the day, your last class being with an older group of kids. You walk up to the flight of stairs to your office, but bump into Sarah. She was sitting on the steps near the exit door with her dance bag at her feet. Her class had ended almost two hours ago, so you were a bit concerned as to why she was still at the studio. 

“Sarah, sweetie, what are you still doing here?” you questioned. She shrugged. “My uncle Tommy was supposed to pick me up…and my dad is caught up with a big project at work,” she explains. You sigh and tell her to get up and grab her things. Quickly you take her up to your office so you can grab your car keys and duffel bag. 

Then you both walked to your car, with Sarah sitting in the passenger seat. After asking where she lived, you placed the keys in the ignition and began driving. 

Time passed by, and you found yourself driving into a cul de sac neighborhood. Sarah then pointed out where her house was, a quaint home that looked well taken care of. You notice a pickup truck in the driveway. Someone must be home now. 

You park your car and unbuckle your seatbelt. You then walk with Sarah into the house, to see a very distressed Joel. 

Joel was pacing in the living room, with his phone up to his ear. “Damnit Tommy answer the phone…” he muttered. Quickly Joel turned around as he heard the door open. He certainly wasn't expecting to see walk inside his home with his daughter. You looked at Joel, fresh from work made your heart flutter. His t-shirt is a bit dirty, the fabric of the sleeves hugging perfectly on his biceps. A streak of sweat on his forehead from the Texan sun.  Snap out of it, his daughter was right next to you. 

“Dad? I’m home” Sarah said. “Uncle Tommy never showed up to pick me up from my lesson.” He had a sigh of relief and rubbed his forehead. “Sarah, baby I’m sorry. I had no idea your uncle would do this,” he groaned. “I just got home from work to see that you weren’t in the kitchen doin’ your homework.” Sarah immediately set her things down in the doorway and shrugged. “It's okay dad, really. She was nice enough to drive me here.“ she said as she looked in your direction. You give Sarah a comforting smile in return. “He’ll just have to make it up to me,” she said sincerely. Joel chuckled, knowing that would consist of his brother taking her to the mall. He then told her to head upstairs to her room so he could talk with you. 

“I really ‘preciate you drivin’ Sarah all the way over here, given you probably have plans. I swear this is not a common occurrence. My brother was probably caught up in somethin’ stupid.” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat down on the couch. 

You give him a sympathetic look and cross your arms.  “It's all good, really. I'm just glad I was able to help.” Joel gave you a small smile, “You want coffee or a glass of water?”. you stammer and shake your head. “Thanks for the offer, but I should get home.” he nods, “‘Course… let me at least walk you back to your car.” he said. You couldn't argue with that.  

You sat back down in the driver's seat, the car door still swung open. “I've been meanin’ to call you too….for uh figuring out a payment for classes?” his voice wavers a bit, was he nervous? You nod “Of course, we can do it over a cup of coffee. There’s a nice café a couple blocks from the studio.” you say with a smile. He nods and gives you a bright smile. That damn intoxicating smile. You then wave, shut the door , and drive away. 

The weekend came sooner than expected. You were sitting at a dimly lit bar across the city, meeting up with your old friend Hailey for your weekly debrief. “So you gave him your number AND made a date to meet for coffee?” Hailey said with a suggestive tone. You roll your eyes and take a sip from your wine glass. “Yes but I give my number to all the parents! And this is definitely not a date. I'm just trying to help, Joel is really in a bind,” you say defensively. Light bar music was playing and sounds of people chatting filled the room. Hailey nods and lets out a sarcastic “Suuuure. Look, you know I’m just looking out for you. Your last relationship was how many months ago? If you'll even consider that one,” she said as she sipped on the straw of her drink. Joel really was handsome. Like really good looking, and you had confessed this to yourself weeks ago. But he was the father of one of your students, a line you never really thought about crossing. 

“I'm just not ready for that…especially with everything that happened….” you took a deep breath and Hailey frowned, reaching her hand over to yours to give it a supportive squeeze. She then looked to the side and waved at the bartender for another round. You readjusted yourself in the booth and straightened your shoulders, plastering on a smile to ask Hailey if she can change the subject.

Another hour had passed and you were snacking on the bar peanuts and giggling, the mood much lighter than it was earlier. The best thing about your friend Hailey is that she never left Texas, either. You’d known her practically since you were both in diapers. Even attending your first ballet class with her all those years ago. You even still had an old picture of the two of you, giving the biggest smile for your mom who took the photo. Backstage at your first recital. Still full of hope and dreams.

A little more tipsy than you’d like to be, you were resting your chin in your hand, trying to give your full attention to Hailey's story about how she ran into her ex’s new girlfriend at the supermarket the other day. “And did you see Nicki’s instagram post about getting engaged? Makes me really want to give up on love.” she grumbles and you shrug and play with the straw wrapper. Then all of the sudden you see a familiar, broad frame enter your peripheral view. 

You immediately notice it was Joel, along with a group of men. You silently curse to yourself, trying not to draw any attention. You were definitely not the most sober. He lets out a laugh and pats the back of another, someone a bit younger but sort of resembles him. Must be the famous Uncle Tommy who forgot to pick up Sarah the past week. Everything seemed to be forgiven between him and Joel. 

Eventually Joel turned his back around to grab his beer and you caught his eye. It was an odd sight for him. It was you, in a bar. He'd never seen you in such a laid back and casual setting, especially with a beer in your hand. Always in your dance attire for when you taught your students. 

Joel then excused himself from the other men and started walking to the booth you and Hailey were sitting at. Next thing you know, he stood above the two of you. You give him a smile and introduce Joel to Hailey. They shake hands and a devilish grin appears on her face. You knew that look all too well. “Awww wow the famous Joel!“ She slurs and a small blush creeps on your cheeks. Hailey then checks her phone and fakes a phone call.  Looks like I have to take this…! I’ll leave you two be.” she said as she scooted out of the chair. You take a deep breath as she walks toward the bathroom.

“She seems like a good time.” he jokes with a grin. You nod and sit up straight. “Oh trust me, she is. I know because I’ve known her for so long.” you say with a smile. Joel nods, clears his throat and takes a swig of his bear. You couldn’t help your eyes linger toward his fingers. The way his hand gripped the neck of the beer bottle. “The other day, I still can't thank you enough for taking care of Sarah,” he said. You shrugged and put your hand on your chest. “Joel again it's not a big deal, really. I was happy to do it.” He nods, “Still made a bad impression on ya. How ‘bout I buy you another drink, on me? Well, on Tommy because he got you into that mess.” he teased as he pointed to his brother, Tommy who’s eyes were focused on the dart board. “I shouldn't…it's getting late even for me.” you say apologetically. You then get up, and grab your purse. Joel unknowingly takes your wrist gently which sends shivers down your spine. “Please, it's the least I can do.” he said with a genuine look.  Another drink wouldn't hurt, right?   

You both sit at the bar, a good distance from Joel’s friends. Joel ordered another round for the two of you. There was a buzz that came from your phone. Your fingers tapped the screen. It shows a text from Hailey that read: “Ur welcome ;))” You knew that by now, she was now long gone from the bar. 

You had planned to meet Joel at the coffee shop on the following Wednesday. No matter what you did or thought, the butterflies in your stomach would not go away. You have been seeing the man more than you intended.    

Sitting down at the table, coffee already in hand while your fingers anxiously tapped on the glass mug. Your laptop was slightly open, preparing to sort out financials. You couldn’t let Hailey's words get to your head. 

Moments pass and you see Joel walking up to the door through the glass window. The bell on the door chimes and he immediately spots you and gives a smile and a wave. You wave back, he then gets in the short line to order the coffee. You couldn’t tell, but Joel was about to take any opportunity to get to know you better, even if it was for his daughter. 

The barista calls out for his name and he takes the mug, and begins to walk over to the table you’re sitting at.  

“Hey.” he smirks and sits down across from you and you smile and say hello as you tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. You both were doomed. “How are ya?” Joel asks, trying to make conversation. “Good, It’s one of my easier teaching days.” you say softly. “How about yourself?” you managed to squeak out. Why did Joel always make you feel this way? You barely knew the guy.  He shrugs and takes a deep breath, “Well, the contractin’ company is pretty busy right ‘bout now.. So I'll be honest, a bit exhausted. ” he chuckles and you smile. Then the two of you get to work with figuring out a good payment plan that was reasonable. Showing him the excel sheet you had set up on your laptop screen and making progress. 

You watch him as he slowly sips on his coffee. Then his deep brown eyes caught yours. “Good cup of joe. Don”t think I’ve ever heard of this place before.”  he licks his lips and places the cup back down on the table. “Probably the best place in Austin if you ask me. I probably come here at least 5 times a week.” you giggle and he laughs with you. Getting carried away and focusing back and sending him all the information he needs via email to keep up with the payments. 

“ I can’t thank you enough, Sarah can never stop talkin’ bout how she loves your class. Says you’re the kindest person. When I see the smile on her face after I pick her up I know this is all worth it.” he says as he looks at you. You smile, it was happy for you to hear. “I try my best to support my students any way I can. Sarah seems to have a natural talent. You should be proud.” You say and lightly touch his arm. He smiles at the contact, “Trust me, I am.” then nods.  

You both end up getting carried away in conversation, about the both of you. Joel likes that after you talk about something frustrating you scrunch your nose. Joel talks about how Sarah just wanted to try ballet to see if she would like it, and it’s working out just fine..After hearing you so passionately talking about your students, Joel couldn’t help but say, “If ya dont mind me askin’, what got you into teachin’ dance?”  You freeze for a moment and sigh. Joel notices the switch in your mood. “Well, it’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. My mom really encouraged my dream to pursue a career in dance ever since I was seven. She was the first one to really see my talent.” you say with a small smile. “Now I want to be that encouragement for my students.” Joel smiled at that answer and cleared his throat. “And Sarah mentioned you studied at a ballet school in Boston? Pretty damn impressive.” he said. You nod slightly and give him the fakest smile ever. You then turn your head to look out the window that was next to the both of you. 

Joel sensed he struck a nerve, and there was a part of you that was closed off. Especially talking about talking about your own experience with Ballet. He was determined to know what made you like that eventually.  

A few seconds passed and the waitress put the bill on the table. You grab it before Joel can and smile. “It's the least I can do since you bought me a drink last weekend!” you say as you grab your card out of your wallet. Joel huffs and holds his hands up in defeat and smirks. “Whatever you say, Ma’am.” he replies, like a true gentleman. Your legs went weak, you both knew you were in it now. 

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Teasing the hell out of Charles Brandon or Henry Cavill to the point they make the reader pay😘❤️

I picked Charles Brandon because The Tudors was a whole thing for me, like I fell in love with the entire cast but also with Henry’s delicious ass. I remember the first time I saw it onscreen and just about passed out. Hims got cakes! And Charles had redeeming qualities so it was sort of easy to forgive him for being a dick. Anyways, here’s a shameless piece of smut!!

Title: Doing Something Unholy

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Charles Brandon x Reader

Fandom: The Tudors 

Summary: This is a prompt fill for @thereisa8ella who wanted some teasing of Charles Brandon and then him taking over. Enjoy!

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving), fingerfucking (f receiving), cock worship, orgasm denial (m receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, ball handling, choking, creampie

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist 

You awake to sunlight streaming in through the open curtains, a heavy weight across your middle, and soft snores rumbling in your ear. The musky odor of sex still lingers in the air and its heady scent goes right to your core. Shifting to your other side, you come face to face with a still-sleeping Charles Brandon.

This man was a god, how else could he be explained? That chiseled jaw, sinister smile, eyes like the ocean…and that’s just his perfect face. Below the neck, he was just as exquisite. Abdominals like sculpted marble, legs like strong tree trunks, and a cock like a third arm. Yes, he deserves to be worshipped. But you deserve your fun too.

You press on Charles’ shoulder to get him to lie on his back, waiting until his snores return. You shift down the bedding so it just comes to his thighs and marvel at this man’s body once again. You inch closer to him, throwing a leg over his chest so your face hovers over his groin. 

You lean down and kiss his hips, snaking your tongue out to taste his freckles. Using your tongue, you draw a line down his Adonis belt to where it meets his cock. You place sweet kisses along the shaft and that stirs the Duke of Suffolk. He only moves his hips slightly and groans at first, but as you take him into your mouth, he fully awakes.

“What a beautiful view, who knew the sun rose at the same time as the moon?” He punctuates his sentence with a solid grip on both your asscheeks.

Letting his hardening cock slip from your mouth, you wiggle your hips in his face. He gets the hint soon enough, his deft fingers finding your folds and getting to work. You suck him down again and his digits slip inside. Your moans guide his ministrations, his grunts and thrusts highlighting that you have him right where you want him.

You ride Charles’ fingers until you feel the familiar break in your resolve, walls fluttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. You pause in your worship of Charles’ cock but with some incentive of his hand pushing on the back of your head, you get back to work. It’s then when you get the idea to edge him, something you’ve never done with him. First time for everything, right?

You take him to the hilt, your rose brushing his hairy sac, inhaling his musk. You swallow around him in your throat while playing with his balls, all while starting to ride his fingers again. You roll his balls between your fingers, moaning around his girth to elicit vibrations. When you feel the telltale ripple in the shaft, you pull off and squeeze his base. His orgasm is effectively ruined, and he can barely move as you cum again around his fingers.

You: 2. Charles: 0. 

You’re coming down from your high as Charles is landing a sharp slap to your swollen and sensitive clit. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” You don’t have time to catch yourself as he throws you across the bed and slots himself between your thighs. Charles places his hands under each knee and pushes your legs into your chest, opening you fully for his enjoyment. He’s hard enough to enter you in one swift motion, your slippery folds welcoming him into their tight heat. “Trying to tease me, were you, love?”

“I don’t…know what…you mean,” Your words are cut off by deep and sure thrusts, your inner walls thoroughly stimulated.

“Where did my good girl go? Who is this temptress who denies me her warmth?” His pupils dilated, and he looks like a feral beast, wanting to claim his prize.

“Still…here,” You moan, failing to convince him of your innocence.

“No, she’s not here,” He wraps a hand around your neck and leans down to whisper into your ear, “You’re doing so well taking my cock, but I want to try something new. And you, my little spunk dump, are gonna take it.” He leans up and kisses the tip of your nose before tightening his grip on your neck and pounding into you until your combined grunts and wet slaps of skin are all there is to hear.

He holds your gaze, even when your eyes start to lose focus. He lets go of your neck as his hips stutter in their rhythm. You gasp for air as another orgasm rocks through you. Charles follows soon after, painting your walls with his heavy spend. He collapses on your chest without pulling out, your panting breaths the only sound in the room.

He leans back to look at you, utterly spent and exhausted. He pulls himself out of you slowly, watching his load leak out of you. He slaps the head of his dick against your sore clit a few times, earning him a satisfying whimper from your lips. He runs a hand between the valley of your breasts and leans up to kiss you and nuzzle your nose.

“Am I still your good girl?” You plead, not fully wanting to forget you got the upper hand on Charles.

“Hmmmm,” He draws it out, making it seem like he is thinking hard on the matter before chucking at your pout, “Of course you are! You will be my good girl forever, don’t you worry that pretty little head.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” You breathed, feeling satisfied and happy with how you spent your morning.

A/N: First time writing for Charles Brandon, he is fun to tease! Hope you enjoyed it!

**Tag List**

@enchantedbytomandhenry 

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz! 😁

[intplayboy]

WITCH'S REFUGE - ROYAL SOLDIERS! BTS OT7 X WITCH! READER [ PART 1 ]

if you wish to be part of the tag list, complete the form.

summary: in an era where the royal family denounces all magic, as one of the few remaining witches, you hide your powers. though you try to lead a normal life, only the seven accepting men make you feel truly understood. yet, what destiny awaits when you must reveal your true identity?

genre: supernatural/magic au | medieval-modern fusion fantasy au | F2L (more like idiots to lovers, honestly) | moderate? angst | action | romance | fluff | hint of crack

pairing: royal soldiers bts ot7 x female witch reader (high royal commander!kim namjoon, high royal soldier!kim namjoon, high royal soldier!min yoongi, royal assassin!jung hoseok, royal assassin!park jimin, elite warrior!kim taehyung, elite warrior!jeon jungkook)

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, death, slight mentions of SA, disgusting misogyny, witchcraft, slight gore, and swearing.

permanent tag list: @taolucha, @exfolitae, @namjoonswaifu, @rinkud, @queenlouie18, @btsgangleader @m0v3m3ntsblog, @nicholedobre-blog, @bjoriis, @princess-sunshyn, @han-aaaaa, @ejspencer14, @skyys-universe, @thvslvt, @dustyinkpages, @savagemickey03, @aynbookworm, @loveforred, @jwonz, @ghostlyworld, @wagtte, @louisaqueen, @meepsters-world, @carolina-thiell, @svnbangtansworld, @deepestfacedevil

(the tags that are strikethrough could not be tagged)

word count: 19,398

drabble masterpost | masterlist | character boards | prologue | part 1 | part 2 [finale] | alternate ending

Present day...

In the narrow, cobblestone-laden alleyways of the bustling city, the rhythmic echo of boots pounding against the ground resonates. "Stop, right there!" A man, accompanied by a cadre of others, bellows, their pursuit propelled by an intensity matched only by the pulsing rhythm of your heart. The reminiscence of childhood escapades emerges, an unexpected thrill as you find yourself once more in the precarious position of the pursued, the very spirit of adventure coursing through your veins.

The impetus for this impromptu race stems from the audacious act of liberating an artifact from the clutches of a pledgemart—an establishment known for its shrewd dealings. Your attempt to negotiate a fair price met with obstinacy from the working men within, who sought to exploit you. Frustration simmered, and in a feigned surrender, you declared your departure. Unbeknownst to them, the pilfered artifact nestled discreetly within your sleeve.

As you strolled away with feigned nonchalance, a sudden shout marked their discovery of the missing item. The chase unfolded with a symphony of footsteps and frantic exclamations, your nimble form weaving through the labyrinthine alleyways, adeptly evading both pursuers and obstacles. Yet, as the village streets blurred around you, the relentless pursuit eventually cornered you in a dimly lit cul-de-sac.

"If I didn't know better, I'd reckon you for the famed Mystrogue that's been the talk of our beloved city—renowned seeker and pilferer, and quite proficient at it, if I may add. But I beg to differ, considering you're but a young lass, and such feats would seem nigh impossible for someone of your ilk," one of the men quipped, suspicion and amusement intertwining in his words.

Breathless, you retort, "Your presumptions matter not. I suggest you release me if you value your well-being."

Laughter erupts among the men, a cacophony of disbelief reverberating through the alley. Unfazed, you tighten your grip on the concealed artifact, bracing yourself for the impending confrontation.

As the men lunge forward with an unexpected assault, your nimble reflexes engage. Swiftly eluding the initial blow, you counter with a series of well-aimed strikes, showcasing your prowess in hand-to-hand combat. The alley transforms into a makeshift battleground—a dance between evasion and retaliation.

Despite your impressive display, the sheer numbers eventually overwhelm you. A firm grip seizes you from behind, restraining your movements. The leader, a grizzled man with a scarred visage, steps forward, his voice dripping with menace. "For your audacious theft, girl, we'll have no choice but to sever your thieving hands. A fitting punishment for those who dare defy the order of this city."

The threat hangs in the air, heavy and ominous. A sense of desperation creeps in as you struggle against your captors, but their hold remains unyielding. The narrow alley now feels like a prison, the walls closing in as the leader pronounces your dire fate.

"You're naught but a common thief, and this city won't abide such defiance. Ready yourself for the consequences of your actions," he declares, his words resonating with finality.

As the blade descends towards your restrained hands, a commanding voice resonates through the alley. "Enough!"

The men freeze, turning to the source of the interruption. The figure emerging from the shadows is none other than Namjoon, his presence demanding attention. His eyes bore into the leader, a silent warning. Soon, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jin appear alongside Namjoon in this narrow alleyway bathed in the sunny glow of mid-morning.

Your brow furrows slightly. Where are the other three? You wondered.

Namjoon's gaze remains locked with the defiant leader of the men. "Release her, and you may yet escape unscathed."

The men exchange glances, their hesitation evident, but their pride and greed prevail. With a signal from their leader, they tighten their grip on you, defiance etched on their faces.

"We don't answer to the likes of you," the leader spits, a malevolent grin stretching across his face. "She stole from us, and we'll be the ones to dispense justice."

Namjoon's hand twitches, signaling the others to prepare for what seems inevitable. The air grows thick with tension as the two factions face off, each refusing to yield.

Meanwhile, your mind races, desperately seeking an escape from this perilous situation. The cold steel of the blade hovers menacingly close to your hands, restrained and vulnerable. The men surrounding you exchange menacing glances, relishing the impending punishment they intend to deliver.

Suddenly, Hoseok steps forward. His eyes, sharp and calculating, survey the alley with a hint of disdain. "Do you truly believe you can challenge us, you fools? Do you even know who we are?"

The men scoff, dismissing Hoseok's words as mere bravado. The atmosphere crackles with anticipation as the standoff reaches its climax.

Namjoon's patience wears thin. "Last chance. Release her, or face the consequences."

The men hesitate, realizing the gravity of the situation. Yet, the leader, fueled by arrogance, signals for the attack. But Namjoon and the others remain still and calm, for the anticipated assault never comes. Perplexed, the leader turns around to be met with Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin holding their respective blade weapons at the necks of the erstwhile captors.

"As you were saying," Taehyung muses, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Now, before I was rudely interrupted, you shall desist from troubling this young woman. Do you understand?" Namjoon's eyes darken, fixing upon all four men.

"How dare—" The leader begins to retort defiantly, but Yoongi's swift and undetected actions interrupt him with a sword blade against his neck.

"You wish to defy the orders of the royal family's protectors?" Yoongi intones with a menacing glare.

The man gulps and shakes his head, his bravado replaced by a flicker of fear. "N-no, of course not."

He shifts his gaze back to Namjoon. "Pray accept my humble apologies, my lords. I was unaware this woman was in association with you."

Namjoon approaches, his expression unwavering. "Leave. Consider yourselves fortunate that you still draw breath. Speak not a word of this woman or this encounter, lest you wish dire consequences."

The men, recognizing the futility of further resistance, slink away, leaving behind the echoes of their defeated pride.

With Jimin and Jungkook the ones closest to you, Jimin turns to you, concern etching his features. "Are you hurt, Y/N?"

Your hands throbbed from the ordeal, but you managed a nod of assurance. "I'm fine. Thanks to all of you."

"Then what's this, beneath your shoulder?" Jungkook's brow arches in suspicion, pointing at a bloody cut on your upper arm, presumably from the knife one of the men used on you during the brief skirmish.

You chuckle sheepishly. "Oh, it's nothing... I insist..."

"It's not nothing if you're bleeding, Y/N," Jimin insists. "Come, let's find a place where we can tend to that wound."

With your arm gently supported by Jimin, the group maneuvers through the winding alleyways. The village hums with life around you as the bright hues of the sunlight filter through the labyrinthine streets.

Namjoon's voice resonates, breaking the silence enveloping the group. "This isn't the first instance we've found ourselves intervening on your behalf, Y/N."

A glance of gratitude is cast toward him. "I appreciate your assistance, truly. How did you come upon me, may I inquire?"

Hoseok chuckles. "Perchance because we followed the trail of trouble that seemed to linger on our path leading to you, whether it be your penchant for adventure or your knack for stumbling upon turmoil."

You playfully roll your eyes. "Har har, very humorous, Hoseok."

As the group emerges onto a broader thoroughfare, Taehyung points toward a discreet apothecary nestled between two grander establishments. "That should be a suitable place to address your wound."

The bell above the apothecary's door chimes as you enter, greeted by the scent of various herbs and medicinal potions. The shopkeeper, a wizened figure with spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, looks up from his work. "How may I assist you?"

"We need something to clean and dress this wound," Jimin explains, revealing the extent of the injury.

The apothecary, noticing the wounded state, gestures for you to sit at a small wooden table. "Please, have a seat, young miss. I'll prepare a salve for that cut."

As you settle, Seokjin says. "No, but in all earnestness, Y/N. This has occurred far too frequently. Why do you consistently find yourself embroiled in such trivial affairs? If you find yourself in need of aid or finances, you are well aware that you can turn to us, are you not?"

Your gaze averts. "Well, there is a valid reason for this particular escapade."

Taehyung who is leaning against a nearby shelf, adopting an air of nonchalance. "So, what was the object of this daring escapade, anyway?"

You hesitate for a moment, retrieving the invaluable artifact, revealing it to be a delicate piece of parchment. But this seemingly, "ordinary paper" is none other than a secondary copy of the Kingdom's map, stretching far beyond the borders of your realm into neighboring lands and forbidden mountains rumored to be teeming with magical creatures. The mere existence of such beings has become the stuff of myth since the banishment of magic and its practitioners. How this hidden treasure found its way into the hands of the pledgemarts remains a mystery.

"So, are you insinuating that you risked life and limb for this antiquated map?" Jungkook's brow arched skeptically as he surveyed the document in your hands.

"And pray tell, what makes it so significant, Y/N, that you'd stake your well-being for it?" Jin's tone was dry, though lacking any true malice.

With a measured exhale, you prepared to justify your actions, "It's not merely an old map, if you must know, Jungkook. Do you wonder why it fetched such a high price? Because the original resides within the palace, accessible only to the royal family. Its value lies not only in its rarity but in the history it encapsulates, a history tied to these lands and the events of ages past."

"And what need have you for such a rare relic?" Namjoon inquires, his gaze piercing.

Your gaze shifted momentarily in contemplation before fixing back on him, voice lowered, "May we discuss this elsewhere, please?"

Namjoon nodded, and amidst exchanged glances among your friends, the apothecary completed the mending of your wound, securing a bandage. "Take heed, and tread carefully. Mishaps have a way of finding those who seek them," he advised, sliding a jar of salve towards you. "This should aid in the healing, young miss. Apply it generously."

"Thank you," you murmur gratefully, accepting the remedies.

Jimin, ever the considerate one, inquires about payment, but the apothecary waves it off with a dismissive gesture. "Consider it a token of gratitude for safeguarding our city. The Royal Protectors are always welcome here."

As your group emerges back into the sunlight, Namjoon's gaze settles upon you with a mix of concern and admonishment. "Y/N, you must grasp the consequences of your actions. We cannot always be there to extricate you from every predicament."

"I understand, Namjoon. Truly, I do," you respond earnestly, the weight of your choices settling upon your shoulders.

Hoseok interjects, his tone lightening the mood with a touch of levity. "Nevertheless, trouble seems to have a knack for finding you, or perhaps it's the other way around."

You shoot him a playful glare, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Is that your professional opinion, Doctor Hoseok?"

Taehyung, ever the embodiment of carefree spirit, suggests a reprieve. "Shall we indulge in some refreshments? It seems an opportune moment for respite."

"An excellent suggestion. Let us adjourn to my humble abode; I have procured a new selection of teas and treats to share," you offer with a smile.

Jungkook, always quick with a jest, couldn't resist a tease. "New, you say? One must wonder if you've liberated these goods as well..."

You narrow your gaze at him, playfully threatening pursuit as he dodges away. "Come back here, you scamp!"

"Not this time. I used my own funds!" You protest.

"Ah, you say 'this time'? It implies a previous act of pilfering," he counters, evading your lighthearted chase.

"Did not!" You argue.

"Did too." He laughs.

The older six of your group watched fondly as you engaged in playful banter. Despite the drastic difference in social status—your commoner background juxtaposed with their high royal standing—the dynamics of your group remained unchanged. Grateful for the enduring camaraderie, you all continued to revel in the playful interactions that had characterized your friendship.

Back at your cottage, you promptly prepared tea, unveiling your new collection bought with hard-earned money, refuting Jungkook's absurd accusation.

As the fragrant steam rises from the teapot, Hoseok leans forward, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "Now that we're away from prying ears, Y/N, do tell us why you risked life and limb for that ancient map?"

A weighty sigh escapes your lips; this day, you knew, would inevitably arrive. For the better part of six auroas, you've meticulously laid the groundwork for the moment when you'd disclose your clandestine plans. However, the apprehension gnaws at you, as you grapple with the delicate task of revealing your intentions without causing undue distress to your closest companions.

You understand the impracticality of divulging the whole truth, the veritable reason behind your meticulous planning and subsequent departure from the kingdom. Since the prohibition of magic and the persecution of its wielders, you've been forced to exist in the shadows, concealing your abilities beneath the guise of a commoner.

Your sorcery, a gift passed down through generations, necessitates discretion, especially given the escalating civil unrest in the villages. The imminent arrival of the royal military elite for inquisitions looms over your head like a guillotine. Your nascent mastery of magic is fragile, and an encounter with the inquisitors could shatter the fragile control you've gained.

Recollections of your mother's tales, of covens of witches secluded in the northern realms, lingered in your mind. Legends spoke of their veiled existence, untouched by the meddling hands of humans for lumiras. Your intent was not only a self-indulgent quest for heritage and mastery of your magic but also a calculated move to shield your companions from the impending storm. The military elite, unrelenting in their pursuit, would not hesitate to accuse your friends of collusion, painting them as conspirators in your occult escapades.

"I have intentions of departing the kingdom," you proclaimed, your words resolute, yet tinged with a palpable sorrow. The die was cast, and there could be no retracing of steps.

The room held its breath in suspended animation. Seven pairs of eyes, frozen in astonishment, betrayed the collective disbelief at your revelation. A dissonant shatter punctuated the silence, and your gaze snapped to the fallen tea cup near Jimin, the first to react to your momentous disclosure.

"Oh no! Are you unharmed, Jimin? Allow me to clean this up for you." Hastily procuring a cloth and a dustpan, you endeavored to remedy the scattered shards.

"No, don't, Y/N. You might injure yourself," Jimin implored, breaking through the haze of shock.

A nervous smile adorned your countenance. "It is quite alright, Jimin. I—" A sudden pang interrupted your words, a small cut on your index finger oozing droplets of crimson.

Jimin, ever the caring soul, intervenes, "Y/N, let me tend to your wound."

Yet, it is not Jimin's hands that cradle yours; it is Yoongi's firm grip that takes hold. "Why subject yourself to needless harm when assistance is readily available?" he admonishes, attending to your minor injury with practiced efficiency.

Jin interjects, "Now, kindly resume elucidating the rationale behind this momentous decision of yours."

Resuming your seat at the table, a sigh escapes your lips, laden with the weight of impending revelation. "The kingdom has been steeped in turmoil since the prohibition of magic. I find myself no longer desirous of confining my existence within these walls."

Your utterance reverberates in the hallowed silence, and the gravity of your decision begins to unfurl. However, the disclosure is only partially accurate; the depths of your motivation remain veiled, a necessary smoke screen to shield your dear friends from the harsh reality of your supernatural lineage.

"And how long has this plan been festering in the recesses of your mind?" Jimin questioned, concern etched upon his face.

Shame colors you as you avert your gaze. "Several auroas, I believe."

"Several auroas?! And you saw fit to withhold such momentous plans from us?" Jimin's incredulity is mirrored on the faces of the others, a collective expression of dismay.

"I assure you, my departure is not imminent," you assert in an attempt to assuage their apprehension. "I am still in the contemplative stage."

"In the contemplative stage?" Jimin echoes with palpable frustration. "Pray, how is it that you arrived at such a life-altering decision without deigning to inform us?"

The room simmers with a tension borne of unspoken emotions and uncharted territories. The burden of deception weighs heavily on your shoulders, but the alternative—laying bare the intricate web of magical intrigue and peril—seems too great a cost to impose upon your friends.

Attempting to quell the rising tension, Hoseok intervenes. "Let us temper our emotions. Y/N may have more to expound upon. Is that not so?"

Nodding hesitantly, you affirm, "Indeed, I do. My desire extends beyond the simplicity of a commoner's life within these walls. I yearn to explore, to contribute in ways that transcend the mundane. To achieve this, I must venture beyond our borders."

Jimin's incredulous gaze narrows. "Embarking on such a perilous expedition is no trifling matter. Why, then, did you not summon us to accompany you?"

"Because precisely that — it is perilous. I harbor no desire to subject you to the dangers beyond our borders. It would be unjust to sacrifice your cherished positions for the uncertainties that lie ahead," you explain, your eyes pleading for their understanding.

Jin wears a sorrowful expression. "You underestimate the strength of our bonds, Y/N. To think we would prioritize our positions over your well-being wounds me deeply."

The room falls into a somber silence, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging heavily.

Jimin leans back, "While your intentions may be noble, it remains a considerable deviation from our collective path. Decisions of such magnitude necessitate collective contemplation."

Taehyung, who has been pensively silent, finally speaks, "But what of the dangers you might face alone? Surely, we could lend our strength, provide a united front against the perils that await beyond our borders."

Your heart swells with gratitude for their concern, yet the specter of potential consequences restrains you. "I appreciate your offer, Taehyung, but the dangers I face are mine to endure. To embroil you in these uncertainties is a burden I cannot bear."

Hoseok suggests, "Before definitive decisions are made, let us collectively explore the details of your plan. Knowledge dispels fear, and perhaps together, we can devise a strategy that mitigates the dangers you envision."

"Perhaps we can delve into that matter at a later time. As I mentioned earlier, I don't intend to depart any time soon," you declare.

A hushed silence ensues before you continue, your eyes flitting between each concerned face. "However, there's something else I must impart—a reminder of sorts. I am to return to Valoris once more, and I shall be absent for two duskars." Your words captured by their ears, inciting incredulity once more, eliciting groans and sighs from the group.

(Duskar: a combination of "Dusk" and "Star," Duskar represents both day and night. It acknowledges the importance of celestial transitions and the balance between light and darkness.)

"Pray, tell me you jest, Y/N," Jin articulates with a mixture of incredulity and exasperation, his demeanor embodying the very essence of patience tried. "What compels you to return there yet again?"

"You know well the reason. There is a family in dire need of aid. They teeter on the brink of survival—had I not stumbled upon them, who knows what fate would have befallen them," you protest, a pout forming on your lips.

"Y/N, whilst your benevolence knows no bounds—a trait most admirable, I must urge caution. One cannot ascertain if their plight is as dire as you perceive it to be," Jin responds.

"Do you not find it rather suspicious that after years of barrenness, a family suddenly emerges in such desolate environs?" He counters.

Your eyes sweep over the assembly, prompting a sheepish smile from you as you rub your neck. "I understand it may seem peculiar, but circumstances unravel in curious ways. And I've pledged to aid them, I cannot turn my back on that commitment."

Taehyung, his brow furrowed, interjects, "Y/N, it's been a while since you started assisting this family. May I inquire about the nature of their situation? How did you chance upon them in such desolate surroundings?"

A nostalgic smile graces your lips as you recount the serendipitous encounter. "Whilst exploring the outskirts of Valoris, I happened upon a decrepit cottage. Within its dilapidated walls dwelled a family—a mother, a father, and a young girl. Their existence was a struggle against the elements, barely sustaining themselves. It tugged at my heart, and I couldn't stand idly by."

Jungkook, leaning on his hand, adds, "As Jin has pointed out—not to dispute your compassion, Y/N, but these are challenging times. We must be cautious of unforeseen consequences."

You nod appreciatively at Jungkook's counsel. "I acknowledge the risks, Jungkook. Yet, my conscience compels me to aid those in need."

Namjoon, tilting his head in amusement, chimes in, "Then you wouldn't mind if one of us accompanies you on this mission of mercy?"

"No—! I mean, they're not fond of strangers," you hastily reason.

Namjoon raised his brow skeptically. "They welcomed you warmly, it seems."

"I'm but a small woman; they assumed I posed no threat. Yet, it still required effort to convince them of my harmlessness to them. I just don't want to frighten them off, and if they learn that I've divulged their existence to you all, they'll be afraid," you explain.

Jimin, dryly, responds, "That doesn't ease our concerns, Y/N."

"Listen—" you begin, exhaling softly. "As you rightly pointed out, I have undertaken this task for some time now. I am well-versed in such matters. Trust me, I shall be fine. I give you my word."

The room remains enveloped in contemplative silence before Yoongi, who had been quietly observing, finally speaks up. "If you're so resolute, Y/N, why not let one of us accompany you? It'd ease our minds, and we could lend a hand if need be."

You consider his suggestion, realizing the merit in his words. "I appreciate the concern, but I fear introducing others might disturb the delicate balance I've established with the family. They're wary, and I don't wish to jeopardize the trust I've built."

Seokjin, arms crossed, raises an eyebrow. "Trust, Y/N? How can you trust a family you just stumbled upon in the desolation of Valoris?"

A solemn expression crosses your face as you respond, "Trust is earned, Jin. And over time, they've come to trust me. I've proven my sincerity through actions, not just words."

Jin sighs in reluctant understanding, "Very well, Y/N. But you must promise to exercise caution. Valoris is not a place to be taken lightly."

Your gaze meets each of theirs, a vow implicit in your eyes. "I promise, Jin. I'll tread carefully, and I'll be back before you know it."

With a collective exhale, the tension in the room eases slightly, though an undercurrent of concern lingers. Your friends exchanging glances that spoke volumes of their internal debates. It was clear they harbored reservations, yet your determination seemed to quell the immediate protests.

Namjoon, assuming the role of the tacit leader amongst your circle, spoke with a measured tone, “Like Jin has said, we implore you to remain vigilant and communicate with us at the first sign of distress."

"Your safety is paramount, not just to us, but to those you seek to aid. An unforeseen mishap would not only imperil you but potentially them as well," Jimin adds, the weight of his gaze impressing upon you the gravity of his words.

You nod, the warmth of their concern enveloping you like a comforting embrace. "I am truly blessed to have such steadfast companions. I shall endeavor to proceed with the utmost caution and keep you apprised of my whereabouts and well-being."

A sudden burst of joviality erupts as Hoseok, with a spirited clap of his hands, attempts to dispel the tension. "By the way, whilst we're gathered, might we engage in discourse concerning the choice of furnishings that adorn your abode in recent days?"

The unexpected comment elicits snickers and playful smiles, particularly from the younger three among your seven male friends. Your countenance scrunches as you defend your taste, "Hey—what's amiss with it? I find that it imparts character to my humble abode."

"Oh, character she says..." Taehyung playfully rolls his eyes, accompanying his expression with a hearty snicker.

"Yes," you protest with a spirited defense. "There is merit in uniqueness."

"Is there, though?" Jungkook chimes in with a teasing smirk.

You playfully brandish your teaspoon at Jungkook. "Do not reckon I've forgotten the earlier banter."

Jungkook raises his hands in mock surrender, "Merely suggesting that Hoseok may have a point."

You huff, "I believe the issue lies not in my embellishments, but rather in the judgment of you four."

Abruptly, you turn your gaze to Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi. "What's your stance on my domicile embellishments? Do you deem them peculiar?"

Namjoon and Jin avert their gazes expeditiously. "Not peculiar, per se, but room for improvement, mayhaps."

Your mouth agape in incredulity, you shift your eyes to Yoongi, who, in nonchalance, utters, "I would counsel against seeking my perspective."

"You gentlemen are unkind; my choice of furnishings are perfectly adequate." You cross your arms with a defeated pout.

Amidst the snickers and amusement of the others, Yoongi breaks the sounds of teasing with unexpected words, "I find your choice of furnishings quite acceptable. They mirror the essence of your beautiful personality, a sentiment often overlooked. It reflects your warm perspective on the external world despite the adversities it has thrust upon you."

A moment of frozen silence follows Yoongi's unexpected words. His usual reserve, both in language and demeanor, makes such an expression of sentiment all the more noteworthy. Your eyes shimmer with appreciation, acknowledging his unusual display of affection.

"Oh, thank you, Yoongi. I had faith in your understanding." Moved by gratitude, you rise from your seat, traversing the table to where Yoongi sits, offering him an embrace.

The others observe this scene with amusement, witnessing Yoongi's stoic countenance in the face of your affectionate display. Yet, beneath the facade, there's an undeniable enjoyment that the astute onlookers can discern.

A twinge of envy courses through the younger trio. "Had it been one of us embracing you, you'd have protested vehemently," Jimin declares, crossing his arms with a playful smirk.

Taehyung joins in, grinning, "Shall we test this theory with our own embraces?"

"Do not test my patience." Yoongi warns, maintaining his composure even as you continue to hug him with unwavering enthusiasm.

"Oh, tread carefully, Y/N; you may inadvertently become the thief of our affections, and then we'll be seven lovers no more," Jin jests, playing along.

"Rest assured, my dear friends," you assure with a laugh, relinquishing Yoongi from your hold and retaking your seat opposite him. "I harbor no intentions of dismantling your polyamorous entanglements. Your relationships with one another are almost as precious to me as my individual friendships with each of you."

"Yet," you muse, "I cannot deny a flicker of envy."

Curiosity dances in Jin's eyes as he tilts his head. "For what reason, may I ask?"

"You all share a love so profound, a bond so unbreakable. I, on the contrary, find myself lacking in that department. I often ponder when the fates shall decree it my turn to discover someone who will cherish me as deeply as you all cherish one another."

Hoseok smiles, his gaze gentle. "Do not lose hope, dear Y/N. In due time, you shall encounter someone worthy of your affection, and they of yours."

"Thank you, Hobi," you respond gratefully. "Until then, I shall cherish the love and friendship we share."

As you approach the outskirts of Valoris, the quaint cottage comes into view, nestled amidst a thicket of gnarled trees and overgrown foliage. The air is thick with the scent of earth and wildflowers, a serene tranquility enveloping the surroundings. With each step, anticipation swells within you, mingled with a sense of familiarity and warmth at the thought of reuniting with the family you've come to know.

Pushing open the creaking gate, you make your way down the winding path, the crunch of gravel beneath your boots a comforting rhythm. The cottage stands before you, its timeworn facade bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the worn wooden porch.

With a soft knock, you announce your arrival, the sound echoing through the quietude of the evening. Moments pass before the door creaks open, revealing the figure of the mother, Esmae is her name, her weary eyes brightening at the sight of you.

"Y/N, you've returned," she murmurs, a smile dancing upon her lips as she steps aside, bidding you entry into the cozy embrace of their abode.

Within, the hearth crackles cheerfully, casting a soft radiance upon the modest surroundings. Jakub, the father, sits by the fire, his calloused hands cradling a steaming cup of tea, while a young girl occupies herself with a worn-out doll in the corner, her laughter a melody that fills the room.

"Yes, and I've brought provisions," you announce, brandishing a basket brimming with necessities.

"Y/N, it's a pleasure to see you once more. Thank you kindly for returning," Jakub greets, his voice laced with warmth as he gestures for you to join them.

The little one, Talia, clutching her tattered companion, peeks out from behind her father's chair, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Y/N, you've come back," she exclaims, a glimmer of delight piercing through the solemnity of their surroundings.

"I made a promise, did I not?" you respond, lowering yourself to meet the child's gaze. "And who might this be?" you inquire, motioning to the doll.

The girl beamed, holding the doll up for inspection. "This is Bonnie. She's my friend."

You couldn't help but smile at the simplicity of the bond between the girl and her tattered companion. "Bonnie is a lovely name for a lovely friend," you remarked.

Seated around the hearth, you regale the family with tales of your adventures since your last visit, their rapt attention hanging on your every word. Particularly Talia, who captivates you with her innocent musings and boundless curiosity.

She listens eagerly as you recount stories from distant lands, dreams that stretch beyond the confines of Valoris. Her eyes shimmer with wonder, momentarily eclipsing the harsh realities of their existence.

Over the past two days, you seamlessly integrate into their daily rhythm. The modest cottage, though weathered by time, brims with love and mirth.

At the first morning, you join the family in their chores, and tending to the modest garden that sustains them. Come afternoon, you explore the surrounding countryside together, wandering along meandering paths and discovering hidden glens, nature's beauty a constant wellspring of marvel and solace.

As night descends, you gather once more around the hearth, the flames casting dancing shadows upon the walls as you share stories and dreams beneath the canopy of stars.

With each passing moment, you find yourself further entwined in the fabric of their lives. Jin's cautionary words linger in the recesses of your mind, yet the genuine warmth of Esmae, Jakub, and Talia dispels any lingering doubts. The simplicity of their existence, juxtaposed against the enigmatic backdrop of Valoris, weaves a tapestry of contrasts that ensnares your soul.

As the sun paints the sky in hues of rose and gold on the second morning, you find yourself engaged in makeshift breakfast preparations with Esmae.

The aroma of a humble yet heartfelt meal permeates the air. "Thank you, Y/N, for bringing brightness into our humble dwelling," Esmae expresses, her eyes shimmering with a blend of gratitude and weariness.

"It's the least I can do," you reply, flipping a slice of bread on the makeshift griddle. "You've welcomed me into your fold, and I am grateful for the chance to be of service."

Throughout the ensuing hours, you assist Jakub in fortifying the cottage, bolstering its timeworn structure against the relentless march of time. Each nail driven into place feels like a vow, a pledge to shore up the foundation upon which this family's aspirations rest.

Later in the day, Talia extends an invitation to explore the outskirts of Valoris. "Mother, father, may Y/N accompany us as we frolic amidst the woods?" she asks with innocent exuberance.

"I see no reason why not," Esmae smiles down at Talia.

"Please, Y/N, ensure her safety," Jakub instructs you, to which you readily assent.

With her tiny hand clasped in yours, you embark on an adventure, uncovering hidden nooks and crannies as Talia regales you with tales of imaginary exploits. You play along, transforming mundane rocks into treasures and the rustling leaves into whispers of ancient lore.

Suddenly struck by inspiration, you yearn to reveal to Talia the enchanting wonders of the world, the magic that lies beyond the confines of Valoris. "Would you care to witness something truly enchanting?" you propose.

"Enchanting? Like magic?" Talia's eyes sparkle with anticipation.

You nod, a smile playing upon your lips. "Precisely so. But we must exercise discretion—recall what I've mentioned earlier."

She nods eagerly, awaiting the magical spectacle you promise. "What sort of enchantment do you possess, Y/N?"

Surveying your surroundings, your gaze alights upon a bedraggled bush of withering white flowers amidst the barren landscape. Therein lies your canvas for displaying your magical prowess.

"Come, follow me right here. You see these withering flowers," you point, and Talia gazes at them with curiosity. "What about it?"

"Watch—" With a flourish, you draw a deep breath and extend your hands over the bush, a glowing aura of dark blue magical energy emanating from the palms of your hands. You perform a cupping motion, turning your palms up and pushing your hands upward.

Through these motions, you coax the wilting flowers to life, their petals unfurling and blossoming into resplendent bloom under your arcane influence.

At the magical transformation, Talia's eyes brighten in amazement. "Wow! That was amazing!"

"Does that mean you're a witch, Miss Y/N?" she curiously wonders aloud.

You chuckle softly, nodding with pride. "Indeed, it does."

"Now, would you like a flower of your own?" you ask.

She nods with enthusiasm. "Yes, please!"

With a graceful gesture, you pluck a flower from the bush, cradling it delicately between your thumb and forefinger. Once again, you motion cast your magic, hand hovering over the white flower. "Here, I've enchanted the flower only for you, so that it may never wither away and may serve as a token of protection for you as long as you wear it."

With a radiant smile, you tuck the flower behind her ear, eliciting a giggle of delight from the child. "Thank you, miss Y/N!"

"Of course, little one." You smiled. "Now, let us return to the cottage; your parents must be awaiting our return. The dusk is upon us."

As the final night of your sojourn unfolded, the glow of the hearth waned, casting a flickering dance upon the walls of the cottage. Jakub, his countenance tinged with gravity, began to speak, "Y/N, Valoris has a knack for ensnaring those who dwell within its confines. Your benevolence, however, has been a guiding light, yet we must impress upon you the importance of discretion. Valoris harbors a history shrouded in shadows. Our family has found refuge here, shielded from prying eyes. The consequences would be dire if our existence were laid bare."

Meeting his gaze, an unspoken understanding passed between you. "I hold in high regard the sanctity of your privacy, Jakub. Your secret remains safe with me."

Esmae, her eyes reflecting a blend of relief and trepidation, nodded in gratitude. "Y/N, you've ushered a glimmer of hope into our lives. We are forever indebted to you."

In humility, you shook your head, but a moment of pause followed. Just as you had disclosed your plans to Jin, Jungkook, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Namjoon, you felt compelled to share it with Esmae and Jakub, as well.

Ensuring Talia lay in peaceful slumber, you returned your attention to the couple. "There is something I must share with you both."

Regret tinged your words as you confessed, "I harbor intentions of departing this kingdom, venturing beyond our borders."

To your surprise, instead of immediate reservations similar to your seven companions, their countenances displayed understanding and acceptance. "We understand," they echoed in unison.

"Pentaraegis is becoming increasingly perilous for you," Esmae sighed. "Though we reside on the outskirts, we are aware of the unrest brewing in the capital villages, and the royal family's eagerness to deploy their elite military unit for impending inquisitions. They merely await the faintest pretext to dispatch them."

A solemn nod conveyed your acknowledgment. "However, my departure is not imminent. I do not plan on it being permanent; Though, I am uncertain of the duration I will be absent..."

Jakub's calloused hand gently alighted upon your shoulder, halting your words. "Do not worry, Y/N. We understand, truly."

His kind eyes shifted to Esmae, who offered a content nod, and then returned to you. "You have bestowed upon us more than words can convey. In times of adversity, remember our home is always open to you."

Moved by their sincerity, you managed a teary smile. "It has been an honor to be acquainted with your family. I shall carry the tales of Valoris with me, returning whenever the opportunity arises."

As the conversation lingered in the twilight hours, Jakub's demeanor softened further. "Y/N, you carry a uniqueness that transcends the bounds of this realm. Your departure, whenever it may be, is a testament to your adventurous spirit. May the winds of fate guide you, and may the memories here remain etched in your heart."

On the following morning your preparations to depart drew the family to the entrance of their quaint cottage. Talia clutched your hand, her eyes reflecting unspoken sentiments. "Will you return, Y/N?" she inquired, her voice carrying a delicate vulnerability that tugged at your heart.

Bending at the knee to level with her, you replied, "I promise, Talia. I'll return whenever I can."

Standing, you exchanged glances with Esmae and Jakub. "Thank you for allowing me to form such bonds with you."

With a gentle upturn of their lips, they responded, "No, thank you, for your persistent kindness, Y/N."

Before your departure, Esmae presented a gift, aware of your loss and the absence of tangible memories of your parents. "I may not stand in your mother's stead, nor can I supplant her memory, but as one mother to another, accept this handmade garment. May it bring warmth on chilly nights."

With eyes filled with emotion, you received the blue cloth garment with delicate care. "It may not be perfection, but—" Esmae began, only to be interrupted by your heartfelt interjection. "It is absolute perfection."

"Thank you," you uttered, your vision blurred by tears of joy, as you enveloped her in an embrace, met with equal fervor. In a whisper, she conveyed her parting wish. "May your travels be marked by safety."

As you retraced your steps through the makeshift cobblestone pathway of Valoris, a profound sense of fulfillment and connection accompanied you. The bonds formed over those two duskars surpassed mere acts of kindness; they transcended the boundaries of secrecy and solitude.

As you approached the entrance of the capital village, a congregation of your companions awaited your return, their countenances a medley of curiosity and concern. A mirthful grin adorned your lips as you beheld their gathering.

Taehyung, with alacrity, snapped his head up upon noticing your approach. "Y/N—! Our princess has graced us with her presence!" His stride towards you mirrored that of a child rushing into the embrace of a long-lost parent.

A melodious giggle escaped your lips as you welcomed his theatrics, allowing him to enfold you in a lavish hug, twirling you about as his arms encircled you.

"Greetings, Taehyung." Laughter lingered as he gently set you down.

The others promptly joined the reunion, hastening toward you. Jimin was the first by your side. "You cannot fathom how preoccupied my mind was with your well-being, though your absence was but brief."

You chuckled, "You need not have worried, Jimin. I have returned unharmed."

He playfully rolled his eyes. "Indeed, we are indebted to the heavens for that."

"I suspect Jimin may suffer from separation anxiety during your impromptu sojourns," Jungkook jestingly interjected.

Jimin feigned a frowning glare. "That is an unfounded accusation!"

Jin, joining the playful banter, added with a smile, "If memory serves me right, Jimin, you were so consumed with worry over Y/N that you sought solace on her couch, claiming it to be the 'closest' you could feel to her in her absence."

A warm blush tinged Jimin's cheeks at the revelation of his clandestine actions during your absence. You shared a laugh over the unexpected disclosure. "Pay no mind to them, Y/N. They simply fail to value you as much as I do."

Taehyung scoffs in mock offense. "Absurd! We cherish Y/N as deeply as you do."

"Indeed, for instance—" Jungkook declared, seizing you suddenly and hoisting you onto his shoulder. You emitted a squeal in response to the abrupt maneuver. With effortless strength and athleticism, he sprinted away.

"Hey—!" Jimin and Taehyung exclaimed in unison, wearing matching pouts.

"Jungkook—! Exercise caution with her!" Jin admonished, giving chase along with the others, his worry akin to a parent scolding their wayward progeny.

As the impromptu race unfolded, the quaint charm of the capital village painted a picturesque scene. Cobblestone streets served as the stage for your lively pursuit, resonating with laughter and jests that danced through the air.

Jungkook's agile strides effortlessly carried you along, his grasp firm yet gentle. The verdant surroundings blurred as he skillfully navigated the thoroughfare, the sun casting a warm, golden hue upon your spirited procession.

"Jungkook, you impetuous scoundrel! Release our friend this instant!" Jin's voice rang out, a mix of concern and amusement evident in his tone.

Jungkook's laughter echoed as he expertly weaved through the labyrinthine alleys. Before long, you all found yourselves in a bustling market square, where stalls overflowed with an assortment of wares. The townsfolk watched with bemusement, their daily routines momentarily interrupted by the eccentricity of your reunion.

Jin, panting slightly as he caught up, spoke between breaths, "You rascal certainly know how to stir up a commotion."

"Well, pardon the commotion, good sir," Jungkook quipped, his grin mischievous as ever. "We merely seek to enliven these dreary streets."

Hoseok, now catching up, adds with a smile. "Ah, the mirth of our reunion! It rivals the finest tales spun by bards in the village square!"

Hoseok, catching up, joined in with a smile. "Ah, the joy of our reunion! It rivals the most captivating tales spun by village bards!"

As the excitement settled, you all found respite in a charming courtyard adorned with vibrant flora and aged benches. Seated amidst this tranquil setting, Jin playfully chided Jungkook, his words tinged with affectionate reproach. "A lively reunion indeed, my dear Jungkook, but let us not forget propriety.”

Jungkook bowed in jest. "My apologies, Jin. The fervor of the moment overcame me."

Amidst the bustle, a quaint tavern caught our eye, its warm glow and enticing aroma beckoning like a siren's song. With enthusiasm, Hoseok proposed a venture into this inviting establishment, a suggestion met with unanimous agreement.

The rustic charm of the tavern enveloped you all, as the eight of you settled at a sturdy wooden table. Jin, ever the gentleman, pulled out your seat with gallant courtesy, earning a nod of gratitude as you took your place.

"Welcome, how may I serve you all?" inquired the server as she approached your table.

Jin turned to the server with a courteous smile. "For our party, might we partake in your specialty, the main dish of the emberis? And as we are humbly celebrating our friend's return," he gestured towards you, "perhaps a pint of cider for the lady, and only for her." A playful wink accompanied his words, causing your face to drop in shock.

(Emberis symbolizes the sparks of activity and intensity within a week. It reflects the dynamic nature of each seven-day period.)

Your expression falters in surprise. "Jin—such extravagance is unwarranted. I've only been away for two duskars. And what about the rest of you? Surely you have as much right to partake in libations."

Hoseok shakes his head with a smile, interjecting, "You forget, dear Y/N, that we are sworn to protect. Though off duty now, we must remain vigilant, especially in the company of our lady."

You concede with a playful huff. "If you all insist..." Then, a sudden realization strikes you. "But what of the expense? It could prove quite burdensome."

Jin places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his smile gentle. "Do not fret, Y/N. We shall cover the cost. To us, the price is naught compared to the joyous occasion we share together."

At last, the server returns, presenting your cider beside you and placing a plate of food before the party of eight. "Thank you," Jin acknowledges with a slight bow.

"So, Y/N—how fared your time with the kin in Valoris?" Jin inquires as he serves himself a portion.

"It was truly sentimental," you begin, recounting simple yet bonding activities with Esmae, Jakub, and Talia. You omitted the part where you demonstrated your magical abilities to Talia but conveyed that your stay was a joyous time well spent.

"That's heartening to hear, Y/N," Namjoon remarked. "It appears you forged a beautiful bond with this small family."

A small, appreciative smile graced your face. "Indeed, and I'm grateful. They've taught me the beauty of simplicity, despite my yearning for more spontaneous and adventurous pursuits."

"I'm pleased they treated you well," Jimin added, smiling.

"Yes, and I must—" Before you can continue, a morsel of food is swiftly deposited into your mouth. Your eyes widen slightly in response to the unexpected gesture, darting from the hand that fed you to the composed countenance of Yoongi.

"You mustn't neglect sustenance," Yoongi stated matter-of-factly, his actions eliciting laughter from the others gathered around the table.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Valoris, young Talia stumbles upon a small note near her makeshift bed, left there in secret by you. With curiosity piqued, she unfolds the paper, reading your handwriting: "To my dear Talia, in my absence, should you find yourself missing me, I've left something to remind you of our bond. Guard it closely and share our secret with no one. Return to the spot where I bestowed upon you your special flower. There, you'll witness a wondrous sight that will always be there."

With excitement dancing in her eyes, Talia tucks the note away and hurries on her tiny feet to the place where you displayed your magical abilities. And there, she discovers a marvel. What was once a barren expanse now blooms with vibrant wildflowers. She gasps in wonder, her wide eyes drinking in the enchanting scene.

Back in the capital village, surrounded by your seven male companions. In all candor, your spirits, elevated beyond the ordinary by the liberal consumption of fermented libations, have led you to a state of inebriation. This amusing spectacle, much to the delight and mild concern of your companions, finds you atop a tavern table, engaging in a spirited dance amidst the company of four gentlemen seated below.

"By the heavens, Y/N, have a care!" Jin exclaims, his voice a harmonious blend of amusement and apprehension. "You'll topple over if you're not mindful."

You wave off his concern with a drunken grin, swaying precariously on the table. "Nonsense, Jin! I'm as steady as a ship in harbor." The tavern's patrons find themselves captivated, drawn to the infectious mirth of your spontaneous performance.

Namjoon, with a bemused shake of his head, counters, "You seem more akin to a ship ensnared by the fury of a storm, if I may be so bold."

Hoseok leaned in, a smile playing on his lips. "It seems our dear Y/N has become the centerpiece of the duskar's entertainment."

Jimin, unable to contain his laughter, adds, "Who could have anticipated such a delightful twist to our celebration?"

Yoongi, the embodiment of composure, observes with a raised brow. "Well, I must confess, this is not the typical mid-duskar I envisioned."

Taehyung, playing along with the revelry, clapped his hands, urging you on. "Encore, Y/N! Let the spirit of festivity direct your movements!"

Jin, with a broad grin, concurs, "Indeed, she has wholeheartedly surrendered to the spirits of the occasion."

Your laughter cascades through the tavern as you daringly attempt a spin, nearly losing your footing. Jungkook extends a hand to steady you, a grin adorning his features. "Careful now, Y/N. A tumble at this juncture would certainly stir quite the commotion."

Yet, their words of caution fall on deaf ears, your heart and soul enraptured by the euphoria of the moment. Intoxicated by both companionship and cider, your impromptu dance continues, filling the midday air with laughter and cheer.

Jungkook, turning his attention back to his six lovers, a smirk playing on his lips at your antics, suggests, "Perchance we ought to ensure she partakes of some sustenance, alongside copious amounts of water to mitigate the effects of her indulgence."

Jimin, catching the sentiment with a nod and a smile, adds. "Indeed, for her diminutive stature seems overly susceptible to the intoxicating effects."

"Yet one cannot deny the entertainment derived from the spectacle," Taehyung remarks with a nonchalant shrug.

A pause ensues before Hoseok ventures, "Pardon my interruption, but may I pose a query?"

"What is it, my love?" Jin responds.

"It has just occurred to me, have we neglected to inform Y/N about the masquerade ball set to occur in two duskars hence? Or has that detail escaped our collective remembrance?"

(duskar represents both day and night. It acknowledges the importance of celestial transitions and the balance between light and darkness.)

A series of awkward exchanges followed, confirming Hoseok's suspicion—that indeed, the event had slipped their minds. A collective sigh of mild frustration escaped him.

Jungkook playfully admonishes Jimin with a swat. "I was under the impression you had already informed her!"

Jimin, momentarily taken aback, retorts with a pout, "Indeed not! The responsibility was Taehyung's, as he was the most vocally enthusiastic about her attendance."

Taehyung, caught off guard, protests, "I beg your pardon! Namjoon advised it was premature for such disclosures, fearing it might dismay her."

All eyes then pivot to Namjoon, who, caught in the crossfire, adopts a stance of mock surrender. "Well—that was a concern of emberises past. I had assumed the matter would have been addressed by now."

Amidst this exchange, Yoongi, whose observance often goes unnoticed, glances towards the table, only to find your absence—and the departure of the four gentlemen as well. His protective instincts trigger, eyes slightly widening, for that could only mean one thing, and it's not a favorable one.

While the others continued their debate, oblivious to your absence, Yoongi attempted to interject. "Gentlemen..."

"Gentlemen..." His efforts to capture their attention were drowned out by the cacophony of their discussion.

Driven by a growing sense of urgency, Yoongi's patience waned, and he raised his voice, "Gentlemen! If you would but notice, our lady is conspicuously absent, and conveniently, so are the four gentlemen!"

The sudden revelation forces the boisterous banter to a halt as the six other men turn their attention to the now vacant table where you once danced. Panic seizes their expressions.

"Where is she?" Jin's voice betrays a mix of concern and urgency.

"She was right there a moment ago!" Hoseok scans the surroundings, his eyes widening with realization.

Jungkook, still attempting to locate you, mumbles, "This is why we shouldn't have let her drink so much."

Jimin looks around frantically, "She can't have gone far. Let's split up and find her."

The seven men scatter in different directions, anxiety clutching at them like an invisible vice. They interrogate patrons and innkeepers, desperately seeking clues about your whereabouts.

Meanwhile, you find yourself in a secluded alley, guided by four gentlemen who lured you away from the revelry. The initial thrill of the impromptu dance fades into confusion as you grapple to comprehend the situation.

"Where are you leading me?" you inquire, a blend of curiosity and unease in your voice.

The lead gentleman, adorned in a fine waistcoat and top hat, smirks. "To a realm where merriment and revelry know no bounds, my dear. A concealed treasure for the privileged few."

The others exchange sly glances, and a sinking feeling settles in as the desolate alley grows more ominous.

Back with your companions, the search intensifies. Jungkook's voice pierces through the tension. "Over here! I found something."

The group converges on Jungkook, who points to a discarded ribbon, a familiar one that once adorned your hair. Anxiety deepens as the realization of potential harm sets in.

"We must find her," Namjoon declares with determination. "Split up and scour every nook and cranny. She can't be far."

The group disperses once more, urgency and concern now replacing the initial joyous atmosphere.

In the hidden gem the gentlemen led you to, a dimly lit haven unfolds with plush furnishings and an air of opulence. The four men encircle you, their intentions growing increasingly apparent.

"Welcome to the Fable Flame," the lead gentleman declares, his smirk widening. "A sanctuary for those seeking pleasures beyond the ordinary."

Your eyes widen with realization, fear and defiance flickering in your gaze. "I did not choose this. Release me!"

The other three men exchange predatory glances, and your attempts to retreat prove futile within the confines of the room.

Back in the bustling capital village, the seven men comb through the streets, their worry escalating. Yoongi, with determination etched on his face, spots a torn piece of fabric on a nearby fence—an unmistakable fragment of your dress.

His heart races as he follows the trail, the search taking a dark turn, the situation growing more dire.

Within the dimly lit chamber, the four men forcefully press you against an ornate bed. The lead gentleman, a sinister smirk etched on his face, handles you with a roughness that sends shivers down your spine. "Resist as you may, my dear, but soon, you'll find solace in surrender."

"P-Please, no—" Your plea barely escapes your lips, swallowed by the heavy air of despair.

Driven by urgency, your companions scour the area fervently, the tattered fabric guiding them to a dilapidated structure.

Yoongi, a resolute figure at the forefront, senses impending danger. "This way," he murmurs, his voice a whisper against the backdrop of doom.

Cautiously, the group ventures into the building, senses alert to the ominous silence. Each creak of the floorboards, each rustle of fabric, echoes with foreboding. As they navigate labyrinthine corridors, a distant door groans open, revealing a chamber steeped in darkness.

Pushing the door ajar, Yoongi's eyes widen—a macabre tableau unfolds within. You, pinned like a sacrificial lamb, beneath the sinister gaze of the lead gentleman and his cohorts. Tension crackles in the air, thick with the scent of fear and defiance.

A moment of silence ensues as the captors take stock of the intruders. The lead gentleman's smirk widens, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Ah, latecomers to the party. How quaint."

Yoongi's gaze hardens, his resolve unyielding. "Release her. Now."

The lead gentleman's grip tightens on your chin, his touch invasive and possessive. "And why would I do that? She's rather enjoying herself, wouldn't you agree?"

Your glassy eyes, wide with terror. "I beg of you, help me..."

Yoongi, accompanied by Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook, refrained from uttering a single word. An unbridled rage burned within them, propelling them forward into an imminent clash with the three assailants.

Simultaneously, as the skirmish erupted, the chief antagonist, maintaining his grip on you, surveyed the unfolding brawl with malevolent intent. His eyes gleamed with malice, and then, shifting his gaze toward you, he declared, "Do you reckon you can elude me with ease? I beg to differ."

With a sudden flourish, he extracted a gleaming blade from his boot, discreetly seizing you by the hair and hauling you off the bed, dragging you into the center of the room. "That's enough!"

Seizing the moment, he pressed the knife against your neck, eliciting a collective pause from your seven companions and the three adversaries. "Any further trouble, and I'll slit her throat without a second thought."

Jungkook moved to intervene, but Namjoon swiftly halted him. "Hold."

"But Namjoon—" Jungkook protested, only to be silenced by a raised hand, signifying a steadfast refusal.

"Listen to him," the captor jeered, grinning spitefully.

"Release her, and there will be no further altercation," Namjoon asserted.

The captor chuckled darkly. "Can't a man enjoy himself a bit first? You lot are men, too, aren't you? Surely, you understand the value of personal pleasures."

"There's a disparity between being merely a man and a true gentleman. The former lacks honor, much like yourself. As gentlemen, we comprehend the significance of consent, a virtue conspicuously absent in your demeanor," Hoseok retorted with a seething tone.

The captor's eyes narrowed at Hoseok's words before abruptly turning his attention back to you. "Come now, my dear, prove to these 'gentlemen' that you welcomed this."

Your silence seemed to irritate him further. The blade traced a perilous path from your neck downward, nearing the delicate contours of your breasts.

Yet, before he could proceed further, a cry of pain erupted as he fell to the ground, a double-ended knife embedded in his shoulder. Your gaze shifted to Jimin, his hand still outstretched from the throw, his eyes ablaze with fury.

Turning toward the remaining captors, Jimin questioned, "Who among you wishes to follow suit?"

Fear flickered across the faces of the trio, their heads shaking vehemently. "Leave, or I'll kill you myself," Jimin commanded, prompting the men to hastily flee.

Empowered by the turn of events, you found strength in your legs, hastening towards your seven guardians. Jimin extended his arms, enveloping you protectively. His nose nestled atop your head, a palpable sigh of relief escaping him.

Yoongi advanced towards the wounded miscreant with a demeanor that brooked no argument. "Should you ever lay a hand on a woman in such a manner again, I shall personally hunt you down and dismantle you limb from limb. Understand?" 

The captor nodded fervently, his attempts to suppress his whimpers of pain were futile, as his quivering lip gave away his torment.

Without a flicker of emotion, Yoongi then seized the hilt of the double-ended blade, a cruel reminder of the violence just passed.

With a swift, unyielding yank, he liberated the weapon from flesh, crimson torrents cascading from the gaping wound, staining his hands and the ground beneath him. His face remained a mask of impassive justice, marred only by the flecks of blood that adorned his features like macabre war paint.

Posthaste, Yoongi returned to where you stood, with a gentleness that belied the stern resolve of his previous actions, he divested himself of his royal soldier's coat and placed it upon your shoulders, a protective mantle to shield you from the unusual chill of atmosphere and the ordeal you had endured.

He then turned to Jimin, extending the reclaimed weapon with a nod, "Let us return home." Yoongi declared, his tone now softened.

Back at your humble abode, your companions gallantly escorted you home, forming a protective cocoon around you even upon crossing the threshold. Jimin's strong arms encircled you, a fortress of reassurance.

Not a single word needed to be uttered, for the unspoken understanding prevailed amongst your close-knit group. Jungkook, swift and decisive, took the lead, his movements within your sanctuary as natural as if he were navigating his own domain, seeking flint and steel to kindle a warming blaze in the hearth.

Hoseok hastened to your kitchen, concocting a soothing blend of chamomile and peppermint for a rejuvenating tea. Jin, his hands deftly moving in the manner of an experienced caretaker, joined Hoseok in preparing a basin of cool water, a washcloth, and a small bar of soap, ready to tenderly cleanse away the remnants of the late afternoon’s turmoil. Following suit, Yoongi ventured into the kitchen, presumably to whip up a modest repast that would serve to counteract the intoxicating remnants coursing through you.

As for Taehyung, he proceeded into your bedroom, searching for fresh attire and, albeit awkwardly, extracting your more intimate garments. Their intent on ministering to your well-being, they choreographed their efforts with finesse.

Jimin and Namjoon, however, maintained their steadfast vigil by your side, their protective presence lingering even in the absence of immediate peril. Presently, Taehyung emerged from the sanctity of your bedchamber, announcing with a gentle timbre, “I have your attire prepared for you, Y/N.”

Gazing up at him, a weariness from spirits evident in your eyes, you expressed gratitude, "Thank you, Tae."

Acknowledging your thanks with a nod and a smile, he beckoned, “Come along, now.”

Jimin effortlessly lifted you in his arms, carrying you with bridal grace towards the sanctuary of your bedchamber, with Jin trailing close behind, the basin and its accouterments in hand.

“Before we proceed to clothe you anew, let us first tend to cleansing, shall we?” Jin suggested, his tone one of gentle insistence.

Your response was a weary nod, an assent given as Jimin tenderly deposited you upon your bed. Jin, with delicate precision, moved a portion of your clothing aside to begin the cleansing process. Yet, in an unforeseen twist, you impulsively divested yourself of the garment entirely, sending a ripple of astonishment through Jimin, Taehyung, and Jin, their eyes widening in unison.

Jimin and Taehyung, in a chivalrous retreat, averted their gaze, while Jin, startled, lifted his eyes heavenward, engendering a collective symphony of awkward coughs. A warm flush brushed their cheeks as they realized you had inadvertently exposed yourself. Perhaps, in the closeness of your bond, you had grown accustomed to their presence, regardless of your activities or location.

Namjoon entered the room at that moment, intending to convey updates. However, his eyes widened as he grasped the awkward tableau before him. "Oh—!" Hastily, he turned away, a mirrored action of respect.

Your reaction time, slowed by alcohol, eventually processed their collective retreat. "Why? Is there something amiss with my appearance?" you queried with a subtle pout, oblivious to your own actions.

Jin cleared his throat, attempting to dispel the awkwardness. “N-no! Far from it...” He continued his ministrations without letting his gaze stray to more intimate areas.

Your gaze lifted abruptly, questioning Jin directly, "Am I not beautiful?"

Without premeditation, Jin met your gaze, sincerity softening his features. “No, you are the most enchanting woman my eyes have beheld. No other can compare."

"He speaks true," Taehyung and Jimin murmured in agreement.

Interrupting the moment, Namjoon interjected, “Indeed—apologies for my intrusion. I merely wished to inform you that Jungkook has kindled the fire, Hoseok has concocted the tea, and Yoongi is nearly done preparing a modest yet nourishing repast for you. Freshen up at your pace; we'll be waiting outside."

Namjoon directed a pointed gaze at Jimin and Taehyung, a silent command hanging in the air. “I said, we shall all convene outside. Shall we, gentlemen?” Namjoon emphasized, his message finally registering with the duo.

“Awh, do we truly have to—” Taehyung began to whine, cut short by Namjoon seizing him by the collar and dragging him outside, while Jimin followed without protest. And with a closing door, a semblance of privacy returned.

In the wake of those moments, Jin gracefully exited your chamber, allowing you the privacy to don your fresh attire. The burly gentleman then reentered the kitchen, deftly disposing of the soiled water, and briefly refreshing the washcloth before reinstating the small basin and soap to their rightful places.

Just then, Jin catches a redolence wafting from the viands that Yoongi is diligently culminating, adroitly depositing the contents into an intricately carved wooden bowl. "Oooh, that aroma is quite delightful..."

"Is that pottage you've concocted, Yoongi dear?" Jin inquires, casting a discerning glance as Yoongi continues to ladle the savory mixture into the receptacle, to which Yoongi grunts affirmatively in response.

"How did you acquire the meat for it?" Jin asks, a tad taken aback by the presence of poultry within.

"Leftovers from her pots," Yoongi tersely responds, prompting Jin to nod in comprehension with a soft 'ah' escaping his lips.

Subsequently, the gathering reconvened in the living room, ensconced by the warmth of your fireplace. Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin repose upon the floor adjacent to the central coffee table, while Hoseok and Namjoon grace the solitary sofa chairs flanking the table. Jin settled on one end of the three-seater couch, and Yoongi adorns the tray on the table, featuring the potation prepared by Hoseok and the delectable pottage.

Moments later, you emerged from your quarters, resplendent in the attire previously selected by Taehyung. Jungkook, ever the gallant escort, offered his arm, guiding you towards the couch where the tea and Yoongi's culinary creation awaited.

Observing the tray's contents, your eyes traverse the assembly—Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook, Hoseok, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. "Thank you for attending to my well-being."

Warm smiles were exchanged. "Anything for you," they chorused.

Leaning forward, Jin extended an offer, "Would you care for some pottage? You needn't consume it all, but it might aid your recovery, along with the tea."

"Absolutely, I could never decline sustenance crafted by Lord Yoongi," you chuckled, injecting a touch of levity into the atmosphere despite the recent perilous events.

Jin commences assisting you, offering spoonfuls of pottage and elevating the teacup to your lips with finesse. Meanwhile, the others lounge, engaged in casual conversations as if the now early evening were ordinary.

You lapse into momentary silence, contemplative of recent occurrences. Without premeditation, you articulate your ruminations aloud. "We must put an end to such establishments. None should endure such cruelty."

A collective pause ensued, truth be told, they anticipate such sentiments from you, cognizant of your altruistic nature despite enduring adversity. Jin, wearing a serene smile, interjected, "We shall address that in due course. For now, our primary concern is your well-being."

As Jin brought the spoon to your lips, you swallowed the contents, falling momentarily silent before another thought found its voice. "I just remembered something I forgot to inquire about."

All eyes turned toward you. "What is it, Y/N?"

After a momentary hesitation, you muster the courage to voice your inquiry. "Um... I happened upon a handbill in the capital village mentioning a masquerade ball scheduled in two duskars… I am intrigued and wondered if you all are aware of it."

A measure of astonishment registers on their visages, realizing they had intended to extend an invitation emberises ago but had inadvertently overlooked it, fearing you might eschew the prospect. Now, with your inquiry, a sense of relief washes over them, empowering them to broach the subject.

Hoseok's eyes illuminate with enthusiasm. "That sounds like an excellent proposition!"

"Truly?" You sheepishly smiled, Hoseok nodding enthusiastically. However, your countenance shifted, "Yet, I lack an appropriate gown for such an occasion."

Jin dismisses the concern with a wave of his hand. "Nonsense, Y/N. Have you forgotten the company you keep?" A trace of playful arrogance graces his countenance. "I shall summon the finest tailors to craft a gown that befits your beauty."

"Would you truly do that, Jinnie?" you asked, your eyes alight with gratitude.

"Of course!" he affirmed, as Jimin added, "And fear not, Y/N. Your beauty transcends attire; you shall outshine every woman present at the ball."

"Thank you, Jimin," you murmured shyly. "So, would you all be willing to accompany me?"

Collective nods affirm your query, prompting a grateful smile from you. "I am filled with anticipation! It shall be my first ball. Thank you!"

Fatigue abruptly descends upon you, manifesting in a yawn. The attentive septet takes notice, Jin, seated beside you, gently placing the bowl and spoon aside. "Are you weary?"

You nod in acknowledgment. Hoseok rises. "I shall stow away the dishes."

Jin inquires, "Would you prefer to retire to your chamber for repose, Y/N?" You wearily shake your head. "No, I would rather remain here. Sleep among you all, if that's acceptable."

Jin smiles warmly. "More than acceptable. Come, recline upon me." He nudges you gently, prompting you to rest your head upon his lap, your feet propped upon the couch.

Unseen by you, Jungkook promptly fetched a blanket, draping it over you with care. You adjust yourself for comfort. "Apologies, I realize it is still early evening—"

"It understandable. The exertions from your journey on foot from Valoris earlier this morn, coupled with the spirited dancing at the tavern until the, shall we say, 'mishap' we encountered, surely have wearied you," Taehyung interjects with a chuckle.

"Rest, Y/N. You are deserving of it," Namjoon advises.

Before long, you succumbed to slumber, a serene quietude enveloped the chamber, broken only by the gentle cadence of your breathing, a testament to the peaceful slumber you had found.

"So, are we to dismiss Yoongi's earlier allusion to Y/N as 'our lady'?" Taehyung pondered aloud, his posture relaxed, hands clasped behind his head in a gesture of casual reflection.

The inquiry lingered, casting a shared exchange of glances among the septet, each harboring individual musings on the matter. Yoongi, a man of sparse words, appeared unperturbed by the collective gaze. Yet, a faint amusement flickered across his visage, betraying his stoic exterior.

A playful smirk danced upon Jungkook's lips. "Indeed, we all took note. Might this signify an evolving affection for our esteemed Y/N, dear Yoongi?"

A momentary tension draped the room, only to be dispelled by Yoongi's scoff. "Absurdity. I merely acknowledged her rightful standing among us."

Jungkook's brows arched mischievously. "'Rightful standing,' you say? Be cautious, Yoongi, your words reveal more than you may intend."

"It seems to me," Namjoon interjected with a sly grin, "that we've all discerned a certain... tenderness in Yoongi's address. A sentiment perhaps deeper than he admits."

Jimin, unable to resist joining the banter, shared his insight with a cunning smile. "It is a rare occasion indeed for Yoongi to bestow such a title upon anyone. It does carry a significance, does it not?"

Attempting to steer the conversation away from the burgeoning speculation, Yoongi retorted, "Your interpretations far exceed the bounds of reason. Let us rather concentrate on her welfare and the impending masquerade."

Taehyung leaned in, his expression one of impish delight. "Yet, 'our lady' carries a resonance, does it not? A phrase befitting someone of special regard, not merely a companion."

Jungkook rejoined the conversation with a gleam of mischief, "Mayhap Yoongi's affections have indeed been kindled by our fair Y/N."

Jimin added with a grin, "Well, she is quite captivating. Who wouldn't be enchanted by her?" His gaze then tenderly fell upon you, a warmth evident in his eyes.

This display of affection did not escape the notice of the others. Despite the complex web of their polyamory relationship, no shadow of envy or malcontent marred their feelings towards each other's evident fondness for you, a phenomenon that baffled them yet remained unquestioned.

Hoseok voiced his reflections, his gaze affectionate as he watched you. "Indeed... Our companionship with her, spanning from the innocence of childhood to the cusp of adulthood, has always been a wellspring of mutual care and affection."

Jin, with a gentle demeanor, softly brushed away the errant strands of hair veiling your face, tucking them behind your ear with a tenderness that spoke volumes. "If only she comprehended the depth of her significance to us,” he whispered, more to himself than to the others.

Namjoon, less obvious but still captivated, stared at you. "I believe she perceives it, on some level... she must."

"And I am certain she reciprocates the sentiment," he added.

Two duskars had elapsed, and at last, the eve of the grand ball had arrived. Jin, true to his word, had summoned one of the most esteemed tailors in the kingdom to create a gown for you, meticulously taking your measurements and ensuring the attire aligned with your desires. A bespoke mask was also crafted, intended to complement the elegance of your gown for the impending masquerade.

Admittedly, the experience of being measured was a novel one, with an array of hands adjusting and clothing pins perilously close to your skin. Despite the initial discomfort, the attention bestowed upon you instilled a sense of importance, marking your initiation into the realm of pampering. Jin and, unsurprisingly, Hoseok collaborated to orchestrate a comprehensive makeover. In the fleeting hours leading up to the ball, skilled artisans in makeup and hairdressing dedicated themselves to enhancing your allure. Finally, adorned in your custom gown, the transformation was complete.

The transformation was, without a shadow of a doubt, breathtaking. Though you remained unaware of the extent of your beauty, the moment of reveal was imminent. Descending the staircase of Jin's opulent abode, where preparations for the masquerade had been made, you were about to present yourself to the collective gaze of Jungkook, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi. They awaited at the foot of the stairs, each garbed in suits of exquisite craftsmanship, their attire reflecting their noble status within the kingdom yet tailored for this special occasion.

The moment your presence graced the final steps, their faces mirrored an awe that rendered them momentarily speechless.

Dressed in a dark blue ball gown, its sleeves adorned with delicate lace and gems that sparkled like stars, you became the focal point of their admiration. The atmosphere hung thick with admiration as your eyes met theirs, and a subtle nervousness crept in, amplified by their prolonged silence. "Is something amiss?" you nervously inquired.

"Do I not appear well in this attire?" you added.

"No!" they exclaimed in unison, their initial shock breaking into a cacophony of reassurances.

Taehyung cleared his throat awkwardly. "Certainly not, Lady Y/N. You're resplendent."

"Arguably the most stunning vision to grace our lives," Jungkook gently interjected.

You looked away, bashfully dismissing their compliments. "Oh, you're all merely attempting to flatter me. I can't possibly—"

"No flattery intended, Y/N," Jin interjected. "You truly are beautiful."

"In any attire, you radiate beauty, but tonight, it's truly exceptional," Jimin stumbled over his words, his gaze unwavering. Enchanted by your presence, all seven pairs of eyes remained fixated on you.

Namjoon took a decisive step forward, capturing your attention as he extended his hand, a silent request for your company. "Shall we make our way to the ball? A full night awaits us."

With a smile, you acquiesced, "We shall."

The grand ballroom, adorned in lavish splendor, embraced the seven of you as you entered. The melodic strains of a waltz commenced, enticing you into the dance with Namjoon. His authoritative yet gentle demeanor guided your steps, immersing you in the graceful whirl of the ballroom. Amidst the elegant rotations, conversation flowed effortlessly like a gentle stream.

"Your gown exudes the regal elegance of a bygone era," Namjoon remarked, his charming smile captivating your gaze.

"You're too gracious," you replied, returning his smile. "It seems I owe you all my deepest gratitude for this enchanting evening."

Namjoon's laughter resonated through the dance, "The pleasure is ours, fair Y/N. Your radiance illuminates this soirée."

As the waltz concluded, Hoseok approached, eager to share a dance. His movements exuded buoyancy, mirroring his exuberant spirit. "May I say, you're a vision, Y/N. A testament to tonight's splendors."

Chuckling, you responded, "I owe this transformation to the skilled hands of many, including yours and Jin’s, Hoseok."

His grin widened. "A collaborative effort to enhance the innate beauty you possess, my lady."

Following suit was Jungkook, his dance exuding youthful vitality. "You resemble a character from a fairy tale, Y/N. A modern-day Cinderella."

"Such flattering comparisons," you chuckled, "but this fairy tale boasts seven charming princes."

Jungkook's laughter echoed. "I am honored to be counted among them, fair maiden."

As the dance with Jungkook concluded, Taehyung approached with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I must confess, Y/N, your beauty leaves us speechless. A rare occurrence, I assure you."

You grinned. "I suppose I should consider it a triumph, then."

Taehyung twirled you in an elaborate spin. "Indeed. A triumph of grace and beauty."

Yoongi then led the subsequent dance with effortless elegance. "You've added an enchanting touch to this gathering, Y/N. A night that shall be etched in memory."

"I am honored to be part of such a memorable occasion," you replied, matching his graceful movements.

Jimin, the final dance partner, led with a flair for the dramatic, whisking you into an energetic dance. "You've captivated us all, Y/N. A true siren amidst this sea of revelry."

Blushing, you playfully retorted, "You exaggerate, Jimin. The enchantment is mutual, I assure you."

A brief breathy chuckle escaped Jimin's lips as he gently swayed you to the music, letting a comfortable silence envelop both of you for a moment. Then, his eyes met yours, a hint of solemnity in his gaze. "Y/N, there's something I wish to express."

You hummed softly, directing your attention to him. "What is it, Jimin?"

He held your gaze, his expression earnest. "I wish to offer my gratitude."

Perplexed, you tilted your head slightly. "Gratitude? For what?"

"At that lake, in our youth, when we casted our wishes," he explained, a fond smile playing on his lips.

You chuckled softly, recalling the memory. "You mean the 'magical' lake escapade?"

Jimin nodded, his smile widening. "Indeed. Your wish, amidst our materialistic desires, was simple yet profound. It shaped our journey in ways we hadn't realized until now."

"You hesitated to voice it initially, but I'm glad you found the courage to do so because it's likely the reason I find myself content where I am now. And it's because we're all together... And I like to think you played a significant role in making that happen. That's why I want to express my gratitude."

You smiled at his sentiment, gently releasing your hand from his to tenderly cup his cheek. "There's no need to thank me, Jimin. It wasn't solely my doing, but the collective effort of all of us. It's a great blessing that our friendship has endured through the years until now. And I hope fervently that it continues indefinitely, just as I wished."

Jimin leaned into your touch. "Well, considering how the wishes of myself and the other gentlemen seem to have come to fruition, I have no doubt yours will remain steadfast."

Returning to your dance position, you closed the distance between you and Jimin, resting your head against his shoulder as you swayed to the music. "Thank you, Jimin. And thank you for remaining my friend despite the disparity in our social standings."

"Nonsense. Our social status shouldn't dictate our friendship nor divide us," he insisted.

As the night progressed, the ballroom was filled with laughter, music, and the rustle of elegant gowns, enveloping the atmosphere. Eventually, you excused yourself to refresh, your throat parched from the laughter and conversation. Approaching the refreshment table, your hand hovered over a glass when a smooth yet unfamiliar voice interrupted.

"Such beauty should never be left unattended, even in a room filled with admirers," the stranger remarked, his tone laden with compliments as his eyes appraised you.

You offered a polite smile, unsure of his intentions. "Thank you, sir. The evening has been most enjoyable," you replied, trying to maintain the courteous yet distant demeanor taught to you for such encounters.

"But surely, it could be improved with the right company," he persisted, stepping closer in a manner that reduced the distance between you. His words were designed to charm, yet they began to weave a web of discomfort around you.

"The company I keep is of my choosing, and it has been most delightful thus far," you countered, your tone firm yet polite, hoping to convey your lack of interest in prolonging this interaction.

Undeterred, the stranger continued, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Alan, and I must say, your beauty has captivated my every sense."

You nodded in acknowledgment. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Alan. I am Y/N."

He extended a gloved hand, adorned with rings that caught the light. "Might I have the honor of this dance, dear Lady? The night is young, and a moment with you is a treasure."

Politely declining, you explained, "I appreciate the offer, sir, but I must return to the festivities."

Undeterred, he insisted, "Just one dance, my lady. I promise it will be a memory to cherish."

Reluctantly, you acquiesced, allowing yourself to be led back onto the dance floor. As the music enveloped you, the stranger's conversation veered toward increasingly personal topics. His compliments escalated, each word designed to captivate and charm. Sir Alan skillfully prolonged the conversation, feeling uncomfortable, you attempted to gracefully disengage, only to find yourself guided toward the secluded gardens, away from prying eyes.

Amidst the moonlit flora, the stranger's intentions became clearer. "Lady Y/N, a night like this deserves to be savored in private. Away from the prying eyes of the crowd, don't you think?"

Your stomach twisted with unease as you struggled to maintain composure. "I am grateful for your company, sir, but I must return to my friends."

A grin adorned his face, concealing a more sinister motive. "Why hasten, my lady? The night is yet youthful, and so are we. Let us venture further into the gardens together, free from the shackles of society."

A sense of alarm tingled at the edges of your consciousness. Politely but firmly, you asserted, "I appreciate your company, but I must insist on returning to the ballroom. My absence may arouse suspicion, and I would not wish to cause any distress."

Undeterred, the stranger persisted, "Why subject yourself to the mundane when an adventure beckons? A stroll amidst the moonlit gardens, a dance beneath the stars—does that not sound infinitely more alluring?"

Struggling against the mounting unease, you firmly declared, "I appreciate the offer, but I must decline. My place is with my companions."

His demeanor shifted, revealing a more assertive side. "My lady, do not be hasty in dismissing the potential for a night of unparalleled delight. Embrace the possibilities, for in the gardens, secrets unfold, and desires are realized."

A chill ran down your spine as his words hung in the air. Determined to extricate yourself from this unsettling encounter, you mustered the strength to firmly assert, "I thank you for the dance, Sir, but I must return to the ballroom."

As you turned to leave, the stranger's grip tightened, his tone taking on a darker hue. "Lady Y/N, the night is full of mysteries, and in the gardens, secrets are shared. Would you not yearn for a tale untold, a moment unrestrained?"

Alarmed, you managed to free yourself from his grasp, hastily retreating back to the ballroom. The warmth and familiarity of the dance floor welcomed you, a stark contrast to the disconcerting encounter in the moonlit gardens.

Unbeknownst to you, the night held further surprises, and the echoes of that encounter lingered, casting a shadow over the revelry. Stepping back into the ballroom, the familiar countenances of Jin, Jungkook, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Yoongi greeted you. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to concern, noting your brief absence.

Namjoon, ever astute, observed your return. "Lady Y/N, you have returned! How fared your brief respite?"

Smiling, you replied, "It was an intriguing interlude, to say the least. Sir Alan proves to be quite the charismatic conversationalist."

Jin raised an eyebrow, his noble bearing intact. "Sir Alan, you say? I trust his charm did not overstep its bounds."

You assured them, "Nothing of the sort, Jin. Merely persistent, but I managed to gracefully extricate myself.”

The assembly of gentlemen before you shared a look amongst themselves, a silent pact forming to address any untoward advances. "He has not brought harm to you in any way, has he?" the collective concern in their voices was palpable.

You shook your head, mustering a small smile. “Thankfully, no. I am unharmed.”

Hoseok interjected, seeking to dispel any lingering unease within you. “Well, it gladdens me to hear of your well-being. Now, might we turn our attention to Jungkook's lamentable inability to engage in the simplest of social exchanges without resorting to awkwardness?""

Jungkook, mortified at being the subject of jest, protested in a tone laden with embarrassment. "Must you fault me for my reticence in the company of others beyond our intimate circle?" His words, though tinged with self-deprecation, only served to endear him further to the group, inciting a chorus of snickers and teasing smiles.

As the night waned, the gentlemen gathered around, exchanging words of encouragement, reminiscing about childhood memories, and relishing each other’s company.

As the final notes of the music wafted through the air and the ballroom began to empty, you found yourself waiting outside the grand entrance staircase alone, while Namjoon and Jin went to fetch the quadravicar, Jungkook and Taehyung piled plates with leftovers despite Jin’s reprimands, and Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok excused themselves to the bathroom.

It was then, amidst the solitude, that you felt a gentle tap, a discreet summons that turned you to face the ever-persistent Sir Alan. His approach was measured, his gaze alight with an unmistakable admiration.

"Lady Y/N, the evening's end could not pass without me bestowing upon you the accolades your magnificent aura so rightly deserves. Might I have the honor of accompanying you to your quadravicar?" he proposed, his bow imbued with a blend of earnestness and anticipation.

While gratitude tinged your response, caution tempered your words. "Your offer is received with gratitude, Sir Alan, however, my companions have already made provisions for my departure."

His gaze briefly flitted about, seeking, perhaps, confirmation of your words before returning to meet your own. "But as I observe, your companions seem momentarily absent. Pray, allow me the privilege of extending my company a while longer.”

His sudden grasp upon your wrist, though not forceful, was unexpected, prompting a startled response from you. "Sir Alan—"

Before you could articulate your refusal, a familiar presence interposed itself between you and potential impropriety. "And to what destination do you presume to escort my lady?" Hoseok's voice, firm and unyielding, forced Sir Alan's hand to release its hold.

Taken aback, Sir Alan stammered, his composure momentarily faltering in the face of Hoseok's authoritative stance. "O-Oh! Lord Hoseok, I—"

Yet, it was not Hoseok alone who stood in defense; Yoongi and Jimin too had materialized, forming a united front. Jimin, his tone laden with an earnest gravity, pressed for an answer. "We would be most obliged if you would enlighten us, Sir Alan. Your persistence is unwelcome, and it is evident that she has declined your company."

Sir Alan, sensing the gravity of the situation and the unyielded gaze of your companions, chose his words with a care previously unexercised. "Gentlemen, my intentions were naught but to offer the lady a courteous companionship in the absence of her party.”

Hoseok, unwavering, retorted, "Courtesy does not involve disregarding a lady's wishes. Lady Y/N has made her intentions clear, and your company is not desired. Now, I suggest you depart before matters escalate."

Sir Alan chuckles, trying to defend himself. “It seems, however, that my actions were misjudged, and for that, I tender my sincerest apologies."

It was then, amidst the burgeoning tension, that Namjoon and Jin returned, their timely arrival adding to the formidable presence of your companions. With the quadravicar ready and your friends united in their defense, Sir Alan's intentions, however benign he claimed, were deemed unsuitable.

Namjoon, with a diplomatic grace, addressed Sir Alan, "Your intentions, while perhaps noble in your eyes, have trespassed the boundaries of decorum. We thank you for your interest, but Lady Y/N is well accounted for."

Sir Alan, sensing the seriousness of the situation, released a conciliatory sigh. "Apologies, Lady Y/N, Lords Hoseok, Jimin, Yoongi, Jin and Namjoon. I meant no harm. If my presence is unwanted, I shall take my leave." With that, he withdrew, leaving you in the comforting circle of your friends.

The tension that had momentarily clouded the evening dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind a sense of unity and protectiveness among you and your companions. Hoseok, breaking the silence, offered a light-hearted quip to restore the evening's jovial atmosphere. "Well, I dare say we've navigated that encounter with the poise of seasoned diplomats. Shall we consider it an adventure to regale in future gatherings?"

Laughter, light and unburdened, filled the air, reaffirming the bonds that tethered your spirits together. Jimin, with a smirk playing on his lips, added, "Indeed, it appears our little assembly can handle more than just casual soirees and diplomatic parleys. We're quite the formidable cohort when the occasion demands."

With spirits buoyed and hearts alight, you made your passage to the quadravicar. The episode with Sir Alan had not tainted the evening's festivity; rather, it had underscored the profound depth of allegiance and affection that defined your relationship with your companions.

Jungkook and Taehyung, the mischievous duo, were the last to clamber into the quadravicar, burdened with an assortment of laden boxes. All eyes turned to them, bemused by their conspicuous cargo.

Jin's gaze flickered between the boxes and the pair before he seized their ears with a swift pinch. "You scoundrels! Did I not explicitly instruct you against overindulgence? Have you no shame?"

The two offenders, wearing expressions of mock innocence, pout in response to Jin's reproach. "But Jin, the offerings were too delectable to resist! Surely even you would have succumbed to temptation!"

"And need I remind you, it was Taehyung's idea in the first place!" Jungkook interjected, attempting to wriggle free from Jin's grasp.

"Outrageous! Yes, I proposed the notion, but didn't you conveniently omitted the fact that you were the one weary of our customary fare back home?" Taehyung defended himself, a hint of indignation in his tone.

"Excuse me?!" Jin exclaimed, aghast. "Ingrates, the pair of you!"

As the quadravicar ambled away from the venue, the celestial canopy above seemed to sparkle with added brilliance, mirroring the mirth that filled the quadravicar as it resounded with laughter and good-natured banter.

"Say, Y/N," Jimin's voice breaks through the jovial atmosphere, his gaze warm and imploring, “would you mind if we all spent the night at your abode? It's been an age since we had a slumber party like in our youth," Jimin chimed in, his eyes sparkling with youthful enthusiasm.

"Of course, you are all welcome under my roof," you replied warmly.

And so, as the quadravicar grinds to a halt outside your humble abode, the final act of the evening unfolds. Stepping out into the crisp night air, the echoes of laughter linger like a sweet refrain, a testament to the enduring bonds that unite your circle of friends.

Entering your quaint abode, the warmth enveloped you like a comforting embrace. You busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing for the morning's repast, ensuring that all would be ready when dawn broke.

Meanwhile, your companions, weary from the night's revelry, began their preparations for slumber. Each found a spot to lay their heads, the weariness of the day gradually giving way to the embrace of sleep. Blankets are unfurled, pillows fluffed, and whispered conversations drift lazily through the air.

As the hour grows late and the weariness of the duskar begins to take its toll, your companions one by one succumb to the embrace of sleep. Soon, the room is filled with the soft symphony of gentle snores, a harmonious testament to the peace that reigns within.

Yet, as the night wears on and the world outside slumbers, you find yourself restless, your mind abuzz with thoughts of the duskar's events. Unable to quiet your thoughts, you rise from your bed and slip silently into the kitchen, intent on preparing a pot of tea to greet the dawn.

The soft clink of china and the faint rustle of linens filled the quietude as you busied yourself in the kitchen, ensuring that everything would be in order for the forthcoming day. Lost in thought, you scarcely noticed the passage of time until a sudden rap at the front door shattered the stillness, jolting you from your reverie.

With a furrowed brow, you approached the door, curiosity mingling with a hint of trepidation as you peered through the peephole, then cautiously opening your door ajar. "Who goes there?" you called out, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night.

"Miss Y/N..." comes a timid yet recognizable voice, causing you to lower your gaze, finally laying eyes on the familiar figure standing outside your threshold.

Your eyes widen in recognition as you realize it's the young Thalia from the outskirts of Valoris. "Thalia! Heavens, what brings you here at such a late hour?"

"More importantly, how did you come here unaccompanied?" you query with urgency.

"I cannot rightly say, Miss. It's as though my feet had a will of their own, leading me to your abode," Thalia responds, her tearful gaze meeting yours, giving you pause as you sense all is not well.

You swing the door open wider, dropping to one knee to meet her eye level. "What’s the matter, little one?"

"It's my mother and father— they're in trouble," Thalia blurts out between hiccups.

Your brows furrow with concern and confusion. "Explain, Thalia. What do you mean they’re in trouble?”

The little girl breaks into fresh tears. “It's all my doing-!”

Thalia recounts the events leading to her arrival at your doorstep. She had been playing near the glade where you performed your magic of the wildflowers, when she caught sight of the approaching guards. Instinctively, she hid, but it seemed her presence had already drawn their attention to the area.

Your face softened into one of sadness and concern for Thalia; you knew precisely why those scavenger guards were now scouring the vicinity. The wildflowers in bloom, coaxed forth by your supernatural abilities, undoubtedly aroused deep suspicion—wildflowers in the waning days of autumn were anything but ordinary... Unless magic was at play.

Indeed, those scavenger guards weren't after this small family; they were after you, the witch, although none of them knew it. In all honesty, it wasn't Thalia's fault; the blame lay squarely with you.

You had brought this calamity upon them, and now you had to make it right. It was unjust that they should suffer for your actions. Foolish of you; you should have known that wildflowers at this time of year would raise eyebrows. Yet, what gnawed at your mind was the presence of scavenger guards in that area to begin with. The royal family typically cared little for the outlying dwellings of the kingdom.

But regardless, that was immaterial now. What mattered was helping Thalia and her parents, whatever the cost. You met Thalia's gaze once more. "It’s okay Thalia. Come, we must hasten to your parents."

Together, you and Thalia set forth into the night, the weight of responsibility heavy upon your shoulders.

As you traverse the moonlit streets, Thalia explains, "It was as if they sensed something amiss," her voice quivering with anxiety. "They spoke of reporting their findings to higher authorities, and I knew then that trouble loomed."

Your heart sinks at her words. You had hoped to keep your abilities concealed, to avoid drawing unwanted attention from the authorities. Yet, here you are, thrust into a situation where secrecy is no longer an option.

As you near the outskirts of Valoris, a sense of foreboding settles over you. The air is thick with tension, and the distant sounds of commotion send a shiver down your spine. Thalia clutches your hand tightly, her eyes wide with fear. Finally, you reach the outskirts, where Thalia's family resides in a modest cottage nestled amidst the trees.

"We must tread carefully," you murmur, casting a wary glance around.

Together, you both drew closer to the source of the disturbance. The scene that greets you is one of chaos and despair. Thalia's parents stand outside their home, surrounded by a group of menacing guards clad in scavenger attire. Their expressions are grim, and you can sense the fear radiating from them.

"We are not the ones you seek, and there are no wielders of magic among us!" Jakub protests, shielding his wife with his own frame. Esmae peers cautiously from behind Jakub, her eyes darting warily over the group of scavengers.

"Then, mayhaps a demonstration would be in order to test the veracity of your claim?" a scavenger guard sneers, a sinister grin stretching across his face. He gestures to one of his comrades, who produces a gleaming metal implement, sharpened to a deadly point.

The guard brandishes the weapon, its surface glinting ominously. "This, my friends, is pure iron. For ages, we've used such tools to unearth those who would dare to consort with the dark arts," he declares, advancing menacingly towards the couple. "And if your words hold true, you'd have no objections to a simple test with the lady beside you, hmm?"

Without hesitation, you step forward, Thalia at your side. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" you demand, your voice a steady beacon amidst the swirling tempest within.

The leader of the guards fixes you with a steely gaze. "By orders of the Crown, we're here to investigate reports of illicit sorcery in this vicinity," he explains, his tone brooking no dissent.

You swallow hard, the weight of their accusation heavy upon you. Yet, you refuse to be cowed by fear. "And what evidence have you to support such allegations?" you challenge, your voice ringing with defiance.

"We've received credible witness of a sorcery skulking about these parts," he retorts. "Wildflowers blooming in the dead of winter near your dwelling—a curious coincidence, don't you think?"

You scoff at the notion. "The presence of wildflowers proves nothing. How does it incriminate any of us?"

"Are you jesting, miss?" He lets out a derisive chuckle. "Wildflowers during the inaugurate of winter—a clear sign of unnatural meddling."

You glare back, your resolve unyielding. "Your ignorance is matched only by your arrogance."

His gaze shifts to Thalia, who trembles behind you. "I remember you, child," he says, his eyes boring into hers.

You instinctively draw Thalia closer, shielding her from his invasive scrutiny. "Leave her be. She's but a child, innocent in all this."

The situation echoes with eerie familiarity, a haunting reminder of events long past. Memories of a darker time flood your mind, your fists clenching involuntarily at your sides. Yet, before the past can fully consume you, a sudden movement jolts you back to the present.

The scavenger guards seize Thalia, wrenching her from your protective embrace. Her cry of protest pierces the air, a stark reminder of the innocence threatened by their accusations. "No—!"

"This child, seen near the enchanted glade, her presence far too convenient. It lends credence to the suspicion that she and the rest of you harbor secrets—perhaps even the girl herself," the leader asserts, his grip on Thalia tightening as he brandishes the iron implement.

As Thalia struggles against his grasp, her tearful pleas tug at your heartstrings. "Mama, Papa—!"

The guards' harsh grip restrains both Jakub and Esmae, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and desperation. You too find yourself held back, unnoticed amidst the chaos unfolding before you. Anguish wells within you as Thalia's cries echo in the air, the weight of injustice bearing down upon you like a suffocating shroud.

In the face of such injustice, you refuse to remain passive. With a surge of determination, you confront the leader of the guards, your voice ringing with conviction. "Release her this instant. You have no right to subject her to such cruelty!”

The leader meets your gaze, his expression unyielding. "She is a potential threat, as are all who consort with forbidden arts. Our duty is to safeguard the realm from such dangers."

You shake your head, incredulous at his callous disregard for innocence. "You mistake innocence for guilt, blinded by your own paranoia. That girl is no sorceress, nor are any of us."

The guard's grip tightens on Thalia's arm, a grim determination etched upon his features. “We shall see.” Witnessing Thalia’s distress, a surge of emotion welled within you, a turbulent mix of fear and sorrow igniting flashes behind your eyes.

“Mother!” you wail, your eyes welling up with tears as you approach, desperate to render aid, though the gravity of the situation seems beyond your young capabilities.

With a weakening hand, she touched your cheek. “You are strong, my love. The power within you, it will guide you. Embrace it, and remember, I will always be a part of you.” Her voice wavered but held an underlying strength.

"No—!" you cry out, a surge of strength welling up within you. With a sudden burst of power, a telekinetic wave emanates from you, propelling the men restraining you, Jakub and Esmae backward, caught off guard by your unexpected display of magic.

Turning your attention to the man still clutching Thalia, you demand, "Release the girl, and perhaps I shall spare you."

Though a flicker of fear dances in his eyes, the man's pride wins out as he presses the sharp iron weapon against Thalia's delicate neck, causing you to falter momentarily. "Take another step, and this child's life is forfeit…”

Your jaw tightens as you lock gazes with him, taking in the tears glistening in Thalia's eyes. "You would spill innocent blood for what? Recognition? Power?"

"Think yourself righteous, do you?" You challenged, goading him further. His response was swift and violent, the blade biting into Thalia's flesh, drawing forth a crimson stain.

With a pained whimper, Thalia's cry pierces the air, prompting you to act swiftly. "I said, release her!" In a moment of desperation, another telekinetic force, resembling a transparent blade, hurtles toward the man, slicing through flesh and bone with a sickening squelch. Blood sprays in a gruesome arc as his head is violently wrenched from his shoulders.

The scene freezes in horror as the man's severed head tumbles to the ground, blood gushing from the stump of his neck. His lifeless body collapses in a heap, limbs twitching involuntarily. Thalia, freed from his grasp, rushes into her parents' embrace with a relieved cry, their arms wrapping around her protectively amidst the carnage.

Yet, as the realization of your actions sinks in, a sense of dread washes over you. You have taken a life—a man with ties to the royal family. Panic grips you as you comprehend the magnitude of your deed; you are now a fugitive, hunted by those in power.

A gentle hand upon your shoulder shattered the silence, drawing you from your reverie. "You must flee," Jakub's voice, steady and resolute, cut through the turmoil of your thoughts.

"J-Jakub—" Your words stumbled forth, eyes wide with uncertainty. "This is my doing, my fault."

With a reassuring touch, Jakub met your gaze. "No, child, you acted to protect us, to shield us from harm," he reassured you, though his expression betrayed a deeper concern. "Yet now, you are imperiled. Once these men awaken, they will summon the might of the royal court to hunt you down."

"Jakub speaks the truth," Esmae interjected, her voice tinged with urgency. "As a witch revealed, you are no longer safe within these walls. You must flee, and swiftly."

"But what of you?" Worry creased your brow as you considered their fate.

"Fret not for us," Esmae replied, her tone firm yet gentle. "We possess little to bind us here, and Jakub has devised a plan for just such an eventuality. It is time for you to enact your own escape, to leave Pentaraegis behind."

You nod, the urgency of the situation dawning upon you. "I have the map," you confirm, prompting Esmae to continue. "Then make haste. The dawn approaches, and time grows short."

As you prepare to depart, a pang of sorrow grips your heart, and you turn to embrace Jakub, Esmae, and Thalia. "I am grateful, and deeply sorry," you murmur.

Jakub offered a reassuring smile. "There is no need for apologies, child. It is time you prioritized your own well-being."

"How will I find you?” you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"If the fates be kind," Esmae replies with a chuckle, "our paths shall cross once more."

With a final embrace, you bid them farewell, tears glistening in your eyes as you turn and hasten back to the capital village.

Now returned to the capital village, you dash through its narrow streets with head bowed, the first light of dawn peeking over the horizon, a reminder that time is now of the essence. Navigating with practiced ease, you finally reach your modest home, your pulse racing with anticipation and anxiety.

Upon entering, the door slams shut behind you with an unintended force, startling your seven companions from their slumber. Yet, you pay it no heed, urgency propelling you to your chamber to pack essentials for your impending flight from the kingdom walls, now that the royal court will soon be in pursuit.

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin, sprawled out on the floor under a blanket before the fireplace, are the first to awaken, their expressions a mix of surprise and confusion at the abrupt noise. Taehyung and Jimin, nestled on the living room couch, soon follow suit, while Jungkook and Yoongi, curled up in adjacent chairs, groggily come to attention.

"What in blazes..." Jungkook mutters, his voice thick with sleep.

Taehyung stretches with a groan and a yawn. "Goodness, what hour is it?"

"An early one, evidently," Jimin mumbles, still half-asleep as the group begins to stir.

After gathering meager provisions, you hasten to the kitchen, your mind consumed with urgency, disregarding your companions' awakening.

Jungkook's weary eyes catch your passage from room to kitchen. "Y/N, what a sight to behold, you being the first to rise."

Jin perks up. "What's this? Y/N up before us? Could it be you're preparing breakfast, dear Y/N?" He jests, still half-asleep.

Your friends' banter falls on deaf ears as you continue your frenzied movements around the kitchen. However, their curiosity is piqued when you suddenly retrieve something from beneath the couch—a worn map you had secreted away days earlier, signaling to them that something is amiss.

"Hey, what's the rush?" Jin questions, rising from his seat as you dart past him.

"And at such an ungodly hour," Yoongi grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

You pay their inquiries no heed, unfurling the map upon the table with trembling hands, your focus unwavering, you mutter to yourself, searching for your intended destination. Jin and Jungkook approach, Jin seizing your shoulders.

"Y/N, talk to us," Jin implores, his grip gentle yet firm. "What's going on?"

Your gaze meets Jin's, momentarily clouded with distraction before refocusing. "I must depart the kingdom at once."

Jin's hands fell from your shoulders like startled birds taking flight, the air thick with tension as you made your startling revelation. Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung sprang up from their seats, while Yoongi's eyes snapped open, his expression a blend of disbelief and concern.

"I...I'm sorry," you stumbled over the words, the weight of their collective gaze pressing down on you. "But it's imperative."

Hoseok advanced, his voice tinged with incredulity and urgency. "This is abrupt, Y/N. Just days ago, you spoke of leaving, but now, you're insisting on immediate departure? What on earth is happening?"

Regret tugged at your conscience as you attempted to dismiss Hoseok's query, reaching to roll up the map. But before you could stow it away, a firm grip seized your wrist, arresting your movements. Jungkook's voice sliced through the air, unexpectedly grave. "No, you cannot simply brush us aside, Y/N. We are your closest confidants, and your actions are deeply concerning. Please, elucidate."

With a hesitant glance at Jungkook's earnest countenance, you relented, turning back to face your companions. "I have committed...an unspeakable act. The royal court will pursue me for it, and I cannot afford to linger."

Jin's voice was measured as he pressed for clarity. "What have you done?"

A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed hard. "I… I intervened in a skirmish involving the small family in Valoris and scavengers' guards. They were ambushed, and I had to step in."

Namjoon's voice, steady yet tinged with worry, drew closer as he took a step forward. "And how did you intervene?"

"It was a dire moment," you confessed, a shiver rippling down your spine. "A man threatened the life of the young girl, and I had no choice but to stop him... permanently."

A heavy silence hung in the air as you continued, the gravity of your admission sinking in. "I took a life... And now, I must flee."

With a determined tug and eyes brimming with unshed tears, you freed your wrist from Jungkook's grasp, packing away the map. Jimin's voice pierced the silence, his concern palpable in his tone. "But where will you go?"

A bittersweet smile played at the corners of your lips as you met Jimin's gaze. "I cannot disclose it. I fear if I do, you will follow, and I cannot bear to see you imperiled on my behalf. Please, trust me when I say it is for the best."

"Best for whom, precisely?" Jungkook's voice cut through, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"For all of you!" you exclaimed, your voice quivering with emotion. "If you accompany me, you will be endangered as well."

Jin exhaled heavily, disbelief etched on his features. "Surely there must be another solution, Y/N. We cannot fathom your departure."

Jimin's frustration bubbled over, his voice rising slightly. "Is it truly beyond comprehension that we harbor deep care for you? We have stood by your side for years, and now, you expect us to let you face this alone?"

Meeting his gaze, you feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I can't involve any of you."

"But we're already involved," Namjoon interjects, his voice calm but resolute. "We refuse to let you face it unaccompanied."

"But this is different," you argue, your voice pleading. "I can't risk your safety and positions for my sake."

"Damn it Y/N, why must you be so obstinate?" Taehyung burst forth, his frustration evident. "You incessantly speak of our standings within the royal court. Have you not comprehended a word Jimin has uttered? You are cherished amongst us, and we would go to great lengths for you. Why must you continually bring up such arguments? It vexes me beyond measure."

"Because-! Look at me, look at all of you—" Your voice wavers as you pause, sweeping your gaze across your seven companions. "It's not just your positions I'm concerned about, but your lives. I am but a common lady, and all of you... you all have futures, bright and promising, with or without me."

Hoseok's typically sunny demeanor darkens, a glint of frustration in his eyes. "Mind your words, Y/N."

You whirl toward him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "Am I mistaken?! You have each other! I cannot impose upon you to forsake such opulence and happiness because of my errors. It would be unjust."

"No, what's unfair is you leaving!" Yoongi's voice slices through the tension, catching you off guard.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I'm trying to protect you!"

"You're tearing us apart!" Hoseok's voice rings out, laden with anguish.

"Consider your actions, Y/N," Taehyung advances towards you, his voice tinged with urgency.

"No— you must all think. Reason with yourselves, what do you believe the royal court will decree when they discover their most esteemed and valiant soldiers, their staunch defenders, have turned their backs on them for the sake of a mere commoner like myself—especially one guilty of such a grievous offense! Let me tell you, they shall come for you all, branding you criminals for aiding me or simply for being my friends! Thus, I am performing a service by departing and severing all ties with you!"

"I can't bear to watch you make such a reckless decision!" Taehyung’s voice cracked with emotion.

"You are being selfish, Y/N!" Jungkook's words pierce through the chaos.

"Selfish? Look at yourselves! You are blinded by your loyalty!" you retort, your voice shaking with emotion. "I am doing what is best for all of us!"

Namjoon steps forward, his expression a mixture of determination and concern. "But what about what we want? We want you safe, Y/N. We want you here with us."

"And I want the same for you!" you cried out, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision. "But I can't risk your lives for mine. I will not."

"But we're not cowards, Y/N!" Jungkook's voice resonated with indignation. "We've fought battles together, faced adversity. Do you truly think we'd abandon you now?"

"You misunderstand," you whispered, anguish lacing your words. "This isn't cowardice, it's prudence. I cannot drag you into this turmoil."

"Turmoil or not, we stand with you," Jin asserts, his voice unwavering.

"But at what cost?" you whispered, tears now freely streaming down your cheeks. "I can't bear to see you suffer for my mistakes."

"Your mistakes are our mistakes," Hoseok interjects, his voice tinged with sorrow. "We share in your burdens, Y/N. That is what friendship entails."

You shook your head, their loyalty almost unbearable. "But you have futures, dreams. I can't be the anchor that weighs you down."

"Anchor or not, we refuse to let you drown," Namjoon stated firmly, his gaze unwavering. "You're a part of us, Y/N. We won't abandon you."

"Yet by staying, you risk everything," you argued, desperation seeping into your voice. "Your reputations, your safety—all for a mere commoner like me."

"We're not swayed by titles or status," Hoseok declared, determination echoing in his voice. "We stand by those we love, societal constraints be damned."

Taehyung scoffed, frustration evident. "You spoke as though we're pawns in your game. But we're comrades, bound by loyalty and friendship."

"And yet, you would cast us aside like worn-out garments," Jin added, his voice tinged with hurt.

A flicker of anguish danced in your eyes as you surveyed your friends, the weight of your decision heavy upon your shoulders. "I'm not casting you aside. I'm trying to protect you."

"By abandoning us?!" Jimin's voice cracked, pleading for understanding.

"By preventing you from sharing my fate," you countered, your voice trembling with emotion.

"But we are willing to face whatever comes our way," Jin interjected.

"And what about us?" Taehyung's voice wavered, searching for solace.

"You'll continue without me," you whispered, resignation heavy in your words.

"Without our friend? Our confidante?" Yoongi's voice was disbelieving.

"You're more than a friend," Taehyung's gazes at you. "You're family."

In the midst of the turmoil, Jimin clenches his fists at his sides, anguish wrapped in his cry. "I can't lose you, Y/N!"

Frozen, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, his sob broke through your defenses. In that instant, arguments melted away, replaced by the ache of love and loss.

Without a word, Jimin rushed forward, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His tears mingled with yours, a silent testament to the depth of your bond. Amidst the chaos and uncertainty, you found solace in the arms of your dearest friend.

Silence descended, heavy with tension, as Jin stepped forward, joining the embrace. "We may not understand your reasons," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion, "but we'll stand by you, no matter what."

"And family stands together, no matter the odds," Hoseok added, his tone resolute.

"But what if standing together only leads to ruin?" you countered, your voice choked with emotion.

"Then we shall face that ruin together," Namjoon affirms.

A/N: heyy <3333, you've finally reached the end. i apologize for its unnecessary length. this part aimed to spotlight the friendship between Y/N (you, the reader) and the boys, from childhood (as in the intro) to adulthood. and wanted to included minor intimate scenes to lay the groundwork for the slow-burn trope and scenes leading up to Y/N's departure from the kingdom. i hope you enjoyed it and can follow the plot thus far. have a good night/day wherever you are! <3333

part 2 will be coming soon!!

drabble masterpost | masterlist | character boards | prologue | part 1 | part 2 [finale] | alternate ending

[lovebugism]

for the blurb sleepover thing, i am asking for a crumb of stancy x reader smut 🥺

✶ ┄ LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME !

summary: your lives weren't supposed to turn out like this. but you're so very glad that they did. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader / nancy wheeler word count: 3.2k warnings: threesome, ffm, oral (f!receiving) smut 18+ mdni a/n: you asked for a crumb and in return a bring you a little over three thousand words and some of my favorite smut i've ever written <3 thanks for request anon!

( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )

Nancy thought her entire life had been planned out before she was ever born. That her fate was doomed from the beginning and she was destined to end up like her mother — her mother’s mother, her mother’s mother’s mother. 

It was too easy to picture a life with white picket fences and too big houses and ten-carat diamonds that didn’t mean shit.

It’s all just a shit show of wealth. None of it’s love. None of it’s real.

And even though she can see it all right in front of her, so tangible she can almost touch it, it doesn’t mean she wants to. Or that she’s ever wanted to. And rather than stare at herself in the mirror and see a life she’s been cursed with, she stares directly at the sun and decides to date the weirdo of Hawkins when she turns sixteen.

Jonathan Byers was rugged and strange and not all there sometimes, but he was kind. And he loved her. More than anything, though, he was a distraction from the plain vanilla lifestyle of the cul de sac. He showed her that there was more to life than pearls and pretty dresses and country-club-coded boyfriends.

For the first time, she saw herself as someone else. Not the goody-two-shoes, straight-A student from the wealthy part of town, but a person who could be so much more than all that. And, for a long time, she thought her happiest moments were spent with the freak from the wrong side of the tracks. They were. Until they… weren’t.

Nancy turns twenty and something shifts. She comes to the sudden realization that she was only happy because she felt like she was rebelling against some great, big, imaginary thing and it pummels her in the face with a closed fist.

She thought they loved each other in spite of how different they were, but the entire time it was because of how different they were. It was something short of a fetish, an acute fascination in each other, because both of them understood that they weren’t supposed to be dating a person on the farthest side of the social spectrum. 

Jonathan was never supposed to end up with a pretty girl who grew up in a pretty house with prettier money. Nancy wasn’t meant to settle down with a guy from the bad part of town who worked two jobs to stay afloat and had no real aspirations in life because he was never really able to do anything in the first place. 

But he did. She did. And it worked. 

Then the dust settled and the fog cleared, and she realized none of that was real either.

Feelings were misplaced. Obsession ebbed to neutrality. Dumb teenagers grew up.

It all faded until the only thing left was a couple of kids who spent so much of their life running in the opposite direction because it felt good to rebel. When there was no authority to raise their middle finger to, there was no love left to give. There was no love at all. A mutual adoration for one another wasn’t enough to keep each other afloat.

And rather than drown in spite of it all, they swim even though it hurts. 

Jonathan ends up on the opposite side of the country, still awkward and trying to take shape on the west coast. He keeps reveling in his boyhood with weed and arcades and pretty girls. Nancy stays close to home and tries like hell to grow up. She goes to college and moves out of the suburbs to a string of half-rundown apartments on the far side of town.

Not because it felt good to do the opposite of what her mom had done. 

Not because there were a couple of odds she felt the need to defy. 

But because it was what she wanted to do. 

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t doing something for someone else, and she started to slowly blossom, like a wilting plant that just needed a little extra love.

She gets a lot of that these days, more love than she thought she could ever be deserving of. Because now she has Steve. She has you. And if he’s the rippling waves in the tides of her heart, you’re the moon that guides them.

You keep her steady when shit gets rocky, when she starts to get scared that she’s falling back into old ways. When she’s scared of how much she loves Steve because he’s the carbon copy of the man everyone’s expected her to love and when she’s feeling bad for what she did to Jonathan and it’s got her all scared of herself.

She’s got you to keep her anchored. You tell her that she’s not her past. That she’s still growing all the time and that she’s blossomed into something so beautiful that you’re grateful you get to see it firsthand. “You’re your own person, Nance,” you remind her. “You love us. We love you. So… Fuck everything else.”

Nancy trusts you and she's not exactly sure if she’s ever trusted anyone before. She’s only ever given pieces of herself away before now, but it’s different with you. You look at her in a way that makes her feel naked, like you can see all of her without really trying, and it feels good to have someone who knows her without her having to say very much.

You sit cross-legged on her bed, absentmindedly nodding your head to the music playing from her small television across the room — a static, technicolored picture that croons “hot dog, jumping frog, Albuquerque.” 

She smiles at you from across the checkerboard that sits between you. You’re so cute, she doesn’t even care that you’ve taken two of her red pieces in one go.

She lets you talk about everything you’ve got on your chest and right now, it’s Eddie Munson — an ex of your’s you saw on a coffee run earlier that morning. You tell her how much you’d loved him when you were a teenager, how you wanted to get married and follow him across the world when he made it big with his band. 

But he hasn’t yet made it out of Indiana and you’ve settled down with somebody else. Somebodies.

“I remember him,” Nancy lilts with a soft smile, ocean blue eyes concentrated on the board as she calculates her next move. “He was… interesting.”

“He was a total freak, but he was the nicest guy I’d ever met. He was, like, super into rock music and the color black and creepy shit — everything super metal, you know? But he was also really sweet… Like sunshine, kinda. Like Steve,” you reminisce distantly.

“Of course, we picked the nicest one, huh?” she teases you, herself. “Steve is like… good.” 

“Like prom king wrapped up in sunshine,” you nod.

“Great bod, too.”

“And stupid handsome… Stamina like a super soldier or somethin’.”

Nancy breathes out a laugh, a sad scoff. 

Steve’s been busy with work these days. Trying to make it big at his mom’s real estate firm has been taking up most of his time. She’s glad she’s got you to keep her company, to hold her and to hold you when the days are cold and the nights are colder. But she’s noticed the lack of his presence, both of you have. 

He left and pieces of the two of you went with him.

“I miss him,” she admits softly.

“Me too…”

She bites the inside of her cheek when a smile threatens to tug at her mouth. Her lashes touch the bottoms of her bushy brows as her eyes flit to yours, scrunching her nose as she jokes: “We probably shouldn’t tell him, though.”

“Of course not,” you scoff playfully. “Don’t want him to get too cocky.”

As much shit as you both of you like to talk about Steve, behind his back and to his face, all in the name of good fun — you love when he’s cocky. When he’s inside you, fucking up into you with all the strength of a madman, he’s King Steve all over again. Because he’s got something to prove. 

With his cock nestled deep inside of Nancy and his tongue shoved inside of you, the only thing he wants to do is make the two of you feel good. And he does. Catastrophically so. When he’s brought both of you to mind-numbing climaxes full of wild moans and shaking limbs, you feel him smirk against your skin while he presses wet kisses to your trembling thighs.

It makes him proud of himself, all smug and boastful. And you and Nancy let him have his fun. You figure that he deserves it after making you feel such an unearthly sort of pleasure.

Out of the two of you, Nancy’s orgasms are most violent. They always have been to a certain extent, but more so with you and Steve. It starts as a low ripple in her lower belly that pops into a full boil. Her muscle tense something fierce, she twists herself into knots and rides her pleasure like a bucking bull on Steve’s cock or your face. 

They feel a bit like riptides. They pull her under and drown her, force her to ride each rough wave through rough wave. She digs her manicured nails into Steve’s freckled back or your sweat-slicked shoulders or her own pale thighs while the both of you dismantle her piece by little piece.

You’re more like the wings of a butterfly. Built from the same cloth as her, you still have a simmering anxiety beneath your skin, scared of ever enjoying a good thing, lest it gets ripped away. Rather than fight it like Nancy, you embrace it head on. You let it run over you like hot water, revel in the way it prickles your skin, and then thank them for making you feel so good. 

You never had to, though. Thank them. They made you feel good because they liked it just as much as you did, but you felt the need to express your gratitude for it anyway. Just grateful for them and the moment and all the ways you get to share yourself with them.

Steve makes Nancy come with his tongue nestled inside her pulsating cunt and giant hands palming her ass. You kneel just beside him, pressing kisses to the outsides of her thigh, as you pull the hood of her clit taut with your free hand for him. The boy suckles at her swollen button and she cries through it all, hips bucking like she’s trying to run away from how good it feels. 

You stay soft; kiss up her thigh and her belly, her tits and neck and jaw. Too innocent for all the filth around you.

She makes you feel good next, even though her legs still feel a bit like jelly. The two of you lie on your sides on the pillows, facing one another, kissing each other breathless. You’ve got one hand beneath Nancy’s head and the other folded behind you, entwined in the strands of Steve’s wild hair. He lays behind you, slicked body pressed intently against your own, while he sprinkles wet kisses to every part of you he can reach.

Nancy touches your pussy with methodical grazes. She runs her pointer finger through the hot slick gathering between your lips and Steve holds you open for her as she dips a finger into the fluttering hole of your opening, adding another right along with it.

“Nance,” you moan sweetly, light as air. Your hips rock slowly against her hand, not nearly as rough as her’s had against Steve’s face. You’re much softer than her. More patient. Your clit presses against her smooth palm and you shiver between the two of them “Shit. Right there.” 

The girl revels in your sweet pleas and how your warm walls pulsate around her fingers — the wings of a butterfly indeed. You change color in front of her, from a blotchy red thing to a bright burst of rainbows. You let Steve hold you when you come, let him pet you while the aftershocks of your orgasm make you shake.

Nancy brings her come-soaked fingers to her mouth and admires the taste of you and the way you look pressed against him. You, made of vivid and sparkling colors, and Steve, made of gold and velvet and expensive silk.

Truth be told, she likes to watch the two of you fuck the most.

There’s something about seeing Steve on top of you — tanned skinned and fuzzy chest and tremendous strength. His broad shoulders and slick back tense and ripple while he fucks you in brutal, powerful, diligent strokes.

You’re far more delicate in comparison. 

Your moans are light, touches lighter, as you let him fuck you so ruthlessly. Even spread open like this, wet pussy on display for the both of them, you still manage to look so sweet, so innocent.

“Can you lift your hips for me, sweetheart?” he coos, your thigh gripped in one hand while he puts a pillow beneath you with the other. And you, obedient you, abide him. He slips the cushion under you and hits new depths within your fluttering pussy. “Aw, fuck yeah, baby— that’s my girl.”

Nancy’s lying right next to you, on her back, with her fingertips swirling around her clit. Her heavy, glazed-over eyes flit between your fucked out face, Steve’s scrunched features, and where his glistening cock pierces you over and over and over again. 

“Grab the headboard, baby,” he tells you, not the most wholehearted of his otherwise glaring demands, but more so advice — the number of times he’s driven his hips too hard against you and all but smacked you into the headboard is uncountable at this point. He punctuates his order with the hearty smack of your ass. The palm of his hand collides with your rounded, slick skin and you keen. 

You heed his advice as he hooks your knee up and around his waist. He bends over you to sink his tongue into your obedient mouth. Nancy does the same with her fingers, pushing her fingers inside of her gaping cunt, curling them within her like she imagines Steve’s doing inside your mouth just now.

He eases his cock out of you — inch by thick, soaking wet inc — before plunging right back into you. His hips clap against your own and you squeal inside his mouth, grasping the wooden headboard with enough force to crack the damn thing.

Nancy’s bedsprings creak with every one of his barbaric thrusts. It’s almost as pornographic as the wet sounds between your legs, the wet clicks of his cock pounding so aggressively into you. 

Each snap of his hips drives you further and further up the bed and you try to match them, hips bucking against his own in attempts to bring him further into you, to swallow every inch of him.

Nancy does the same with her fingers, imagining it’s your hand or Steve’s cock, as she fucks herself with her eyes locked on where his dick disappears inside of you.

C’mon, Steve, fuck all the way into her, she scolds him silently. Hit the furthest part of her. Make her fucking scream—

“C’mon, Nance,” Steve mutters suddenly, gaze heavy and full of fire when he looks over at her. He plants his knees and picks up the pace, fucking you like a fucking maniac. “Make her come.”

He might as well be superman the way he pistons in and out of you, with both speed and diligence that manages not to feel too fast or too mindless. Sometimes you think he is — superman. It feels like he is sometimes. Whether he’s fucking you within an inch of your life or saving you from a spider in the bathroom.

Nancy smiles lazily over at him, happily removing her soaked fingers from her pussy and putting them on yours. 

“Yes, sir,” she answers playfully, having no idea what it does to him. Or maybe she does. Maybe that’s exactly why she said it, to laugh softly to herself when it makes his hips stutter.

The girl slithers closer to you, pressing her naked body flush against the side of yours. She kisses the sweat off of your jaw while her fingers settle beside the place where Steve drills into you. He punches into your pussy again and again and again and she circles your clit with the pads of her fingers with a similar mercilessness.

“Feels good, huh?” she asks you, lips like silk against your cheek.

“Yes,” you answer in a moan before a whine climbs through your tightening through. “’S so good, Nance. So fucking good.”

Steve tosses his head back when his own moans escape the depths of his chest. “Fuck,” he drawls, revealing the chiseled columns of his neck and the sweat dripping down his hairy chest. “You’re so perfect, baby. Both of you. So fucking good for me.”

Nancy smiles to herself, spreading her middle and pointer finger around the puffy lips of your cunt and Steve’s cock, before bringing them up again to pinch your sensitive clit.

You cry. You arch. You writhe.

“Fuck,” you sob, one hand clutching Nancy’s wrist and the other gripping Steve’s tensed bicep as you come something fierce.

Nancy can only imagine the way you convulse around him, choke the absolute shit out of his cock with your tightening walls, because Steve’s done for after that. His rhythm stutters all at once and he whines a low and pathetic whine, going rigid as he presses his hips against yours. 

He spills all of himself into your pulsating cunt with a drawled out and nearly feral grunt.

He collapses into your arms and you accept him wholeheartedly, letting him hold you as your hands wrap around his sweat-slicked back. Nancy shows no such patience as she pokes him in the ribs to urge him off of you.

“Move,” she orders suddenly. “Move—”

“Alright,” Steve chuckles at her urgency. He’s not too happy to leave the warmth of you, but he’s in no place to deny Nancy. His hand skates down his torso to cup his softening dick when he pulls out of you, falling onto his side next to you. “Jeez.”

Nancy slithers between your legs. She cups her slender fingers just under your thighs and forces your knees back, spreading you and putting you on display all over again. Your cunt is still gaping from Steve’s cock, still sensitive, still hungry.

You’re far too exhausted to say anything. You just flash her a curious look with pinched brows as you stare down at her through a heaving chest. But Steve gets the hint without a word. He holds his weight on his forearm and uses his free hand to help Nancy, pulling one leg up to spread you further for her, for him.

“Just wanna taste you,” she lilts with a too innocent smile, using one hand to reach between your legs and gathering the honey that drips from your opening — a glistening mixture of your and Steve’s climax. “Wanna taste both of you.”