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joelalorian · 7 months ago

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Five: My Whole World Came Alive

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling and pining for each other, and finally some progress. Tommy keeps it real. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad. Emily is modeled after my sister and JB is based on my dad, who used to try setting me up with his younger work buddies when I was in my 20s :)

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you all for reading! Comments and reblogs make me weep with gratefulness.

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Chapter Four | Main Masterlist

Sitting in Phil’s Icehouse with juicy burgers and drinks – you insisted Joel try a mimosa – conversation flowed between the two of you. Joel found his lips twitching into a smile at nearly every word that came out of your mouth. He was fascinated with the stories you shared of your college years, and he listened, completely enraptured, to your plans for the future. Every bit of your lunch together felt like a date. He wondered if you felt the same, yet he couldn’t find the courage to ask outright.

“Yeah, so, I have a meeting at Sarah’s school this week for a possible position. Remember that interview I mentioned a few weeks back? It went really well and now they want me to meet with the teacher who’s retiring and the principal,” you explained, sipping at your mimosa. “I’m pretty excited.”

Joel’s eyes lit up. He’d forgotten that you were looking at a position at Sarah’s school. “Wow, that’s great, darlin’. This would be for a science teacher position, right?”

“Yep. Middle grade science.” The beaming smile you flashed him nearly blinded Joel. “Wanna know the best part? If I get this job, I’ll have the same hours as Sarah, give or take a bit, so I can continue with the school drop-off and pickup for you. She might have to stay later with me somedays, but it’ll still work.”

Nodding, Joel’s mind was flashing lightyears forward, picturing you calling his house home and taking Sarah to school with you, coming home to have dinner together, watching TV in the evenings. Heart thudding in his chest at just the thought of you living together, Joel shook himself. He had to slow his mind down, put the brakes on those kinds of thoughts until after you were actually dating him, at least.

“You could be Sarah’s science teacher in a few years, huh?” Joel asked, focusing once again on listening to you instead of drifting off into daydreams.

“Could be, yeah,” you laughed. “I imagine she’d be my favorite student.”

He beamed at that. Conversation shifted to other things and soon your meals were finished.

“We should do this again,” you said, glassy eyes meeting his across the table, lips curved in a gentle smile. “I really enjoyed spending time with you, Joel.”

Fighting the urge to grab your hand and entangle your fingers, Joel smiled back. “Yeah, me too.” He wanted to kick himself for not saying more, for not asking you out for a real date. He just couldn’t find his words.

How was it that you made him so nervous?

Joel spent the next week in some kind of weird liminal space between a dream and reality, between agonizing confusion and utter happiness. Lunch with you on Sunday felt like a date – he asked you with the intention of it being a date, even if you didn’t know that yet. He spent the week thinking about that lunch, how you teased each other, laughed, shared stories of your past. How your gazes locked for longer than necessary, touches lingered, the smiles never fell from your faces.

It was wonderful, yet nothing was said of what it all meant – which was his fault, probably. Hence the roller coaster of feelings throughout the week.

He could tell you felt it, too. Doing as Tommy suggested, he started paying close attention to how you acted around him, how you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. It was all starting to come together. He could finally see what Tommy was talking about.

You liked him. You really liked him, Joel Miller, overworked single father.

It was a wonderful feeling, knowing that someone liked him. It’d been way too long since he felt that way, that spark of hope for something more.

For the first time in a long time, he slept well the night before and woke early, eager to face the day and see you before heading off to work. He was already out front, filling a birdfeeder Sarah asked for, when you arrived.

“Good mornin’, darlin’,” he greeted, pulling the car door open for you once you parked in the driveway. His heart skipped a beat at the way you smiled up at him, taking his hand to help you out of the car. Your touch electric on his roughened palm.

“Hiya, Joel.” Your voice washed over him, warm as honey and twice as sweet. “Whatcha doing out here?’

Gesturing to the red barn-style feeder Sarah picked, he finished filling it with the wild bird seed the clerk insisted birds loved. “Just fillin’ our new birdfeeder.”

“Oh, what a cute feeder!” You admired the intricate features as it hung from the post Joel installed. “Sarah has been talking nonstop about birds this week. Hopefully we’ll see some good ones.”

“Hope so,” Joel hummed in return. “Don’t know much about birds personally, but I’m sure Sarah’ll teach me.” Your smile brightened at his sheepish grin.

“I have a bird guide I could give her to help identify all the different types that visit the feeder.” Your face lit up with excitement. “I even have binoculars from when I took an ornithology class in undergrad. I’ll bring them when I pick up Sarah this afternoon.”

“Orna what now?” Joel questioned. He had no idea what kind of class you were talking about, but he loved how smart you were.

“Ornithology,” you repeated, drawing out each syllable with a soft giggle. “It’s the study of birds. It was a really cool class. We had field trips around campus once a week to go bird watching. I got pretty good at naming the different species that we saw, but it’s been a while.”

In awe of you, Joel’s eyes crinkled with the strength of his grin. “Would you, uh, maybe want to go on an adventure with us tomorrow?” he asked, stumbling a bit over his words, a nervous energy welling up in his gut as he once again sort of asked you out. “We could go for a hike in the county park, and you could teach us about birds.”

You gazed at him, lips pursed in thought, for long enough that Joel began to fidget, brimming with recurring doubt. Did he misinterpret the signs after all? He wouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t any good at this stuff anymore. You responded before he could spiral back into the land of self-doubt. “That sounds great, Joel. I’d love to.”

A visceral relief washed through him. “It’s a date then,” he said, his voice deep and rough while his dark chocolate eyes locked with yours. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as your eyebrows rose in surprise. Too quickly, doubt clouded your pretty eyes, and you laughed it off like he was teasing you. Joel sighed. He would be more direct next time. He’d get the hang of asking a woman on a date again someday. Hopefully.

“We’ll have to go early, is that okay? Birds are more active in the early morning hours,” you explained, heading for the door to find Sarah.

“That’s fine. We’ll make a day of it, grab lunch somewhere when we’re done.” Joel followed you into the house, already plotting out conversations in his head on how to properly ask you on a date.

The rest of the day went by in a blur for Joel and before he knew it, the job was finished, and it was only mid-afternoon when he arrived home. You pulled into the driveway with Sarah shortly after him and he came down from taking a shower to find the pair of you on the living room floor playing a racing video game.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah exclaimed as he kissed the top of her head and took a seat on the couch. It didn’t take long before Sarah asked him to play as well and the three of you were taking turns racing against each other, laughing when one of you crashed.

There were moments, when your gaze would connect with Joel’s and he’d swear you shared the same thought – this was how it could be if you were together, a family.

“Do you want to stay for pizza? Tommy and your dad are coming over,” Joel asked when Sarah’s attention focused elsewhere.

“We have an early morning ahead of us, Miller. Don’t be up late partying with the guys,” you replied with a smile that reached your twinkling eyes. “I’ll stay for a bit, but then I need to go dig out the old binoculars and get my beauty sleep.”

“You’re already beautiful,” he murmured, watching your eyes widen as you smile demurely.

“You say the sweetest things, Joel.” Your voice held a teasing tone that drove Joel nuts. How was he ever going to convince you that he was serious?

Shortly thereafter, Tommy arrived, pizza and beer in hand. “Come on, Millers! I come bearing gifts. JB here yet?”

“I’m right here, ya troglodyte,” your dad called from the front yard, stepping up the porch steps as Tommy whirled around.

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“A troglodyte. Learned it from Spud and thought it fitting since you don’t close doors behind you.” He winked at you as he teased the younger Miller brother. Placing a kiss on your cheek, he added, “Hey Spud, haven’t seen you in a bit. Must be working too hard. Miller! You workin’ my daughter too hard?”

Joel spluttered. He was too busy gazing at you to pay much attention to JB and feared he got busted. “I hardly think so,” he grumbled, fighting the blush he knew rose to his cheeks.

“Ah, in the same ol’ grumpy mood, I see. Maybe this’ll help.” Your dad placed a 12-pack of Joel’s favorite beer on the coffee table before taking a seat in the recliner he always chose at Joel’s place.

The five of you sat around the living room, eating pizza with beer for the men and sodas for you and Sarah. The conversation revolved mainly around construction work, and you ended up taking your leave before the sun dipped below the horizon. Your dad followed not long after, eager to relax in his own well-worn recliner.

“Alright, nugget. It’s time for bed. We have an early morning tomorrow,” Joel said, swinging the young girl over his shoulder much to her delight. “Say goodnight to Uncle Tommy.”

“G’night Uncle Tommy,” Sarah squealed as Joel tickled her sides.

“G’night nugget.”

Always a good kid, Sarah went right to bed after brushing her teeth, but not before pestering Joel about why they had to get up early on a Saturday. Pressing a loving kiss to her forehead, Joel tucked her in. “We’re going on a surprise adventure. Now, to sleep with you.”

Returning to the living room, Tommy handed him another beer as the brothers watched Sportscenter. “Have you made any progress yet?” Tommy asked.

Matching dark eyes met as Joel shrugged. He knew his brother was talking about you. “Some, I guess. Told ya I took her to lunch on Sunday and that felt a lot like a date. I asked her to go on a hike with me and Sarah tomorrow. I told her it was a date after she agreed, but she thought I was jokin’.” He paused, taking a long pull from the bottle of beer. “Then, this afternoon, I told her she was beautiful and again she thought I was teasing.”

Swirling the bottle of beer in his hand, Tommy shook his head and chuckled. “She’s givin’ you a run for your money, brother. Good on her.”

“Good on her,” Joel mocked, but his tone quickly turned to pleading. “I need more advice. Surely you got something up your sleeve for women like her.”

“Nah, brother. The only way to get someone like her is to be yourself and keep chipping away. It’s clear she has as much self-doubt as you do, so it’ll take her time to believe you’re for real.” Tommy eyed his brother a moment as he mulled over the situation. “Though, I will say this. You need to start bein’ direct – come right out and ask her on a date, for fuck’s sake. Enough hinting at shit. It’s clearly gettin’ you nowhere.”

You arrived on the Millers’ doorstep bright and early the next morning, two travel mugs of coffee and a container of chocolate milk in hand. A pair of binoculars and Sibley’s Guide to Birds were tucked away in the bag you wore over your shoulder.

“Wakey, wakey, Millers! The early bird gets the worm!”

Joel and Sarah were perched at the breakfast bar when you let yourself in, both looking half awake and less than enthusiastic about being up so early on a Saturday.

“Too damn cheerful for this early,” Joel grumbled half-heartedly. His pitiful smile looked more like a grimace, yet you found it adorable. It made you ache to run your fingers through his hair until you drew a real smile from his lips.

“Don’t gimme that. This was your idea, Joel Miller!” you sassed in return, patting his broad shoulders. “Let’s go!”

Herding cats, that was the perfect analogy to describe the next fifteen minutes as you tried to get the Millers moving and into Joel’s truck. Just when you’d get one heading for the door, the other would disappear. Finally, you managed to wrangle them both into the truck and you were well on your way to the preserve. The ride didn’t take long, Sarah peppering you with questions about birds she found in your guidebook as Joel drove. By the time Joel pulled into a parking spot at the entrance to the trails, everyone was wide awake and ready to hike.

The morning was crisp and refreshing as you zipped up your jacket and looked around. You’d never been to this preserve before and wanted to find a trail map, but the mini-Miller was too anxious to wait for that.

“I can hear the birds chirping already, Daddy! Come on!” Sarah exclaimed, charging toward the first trail excitedly.

Joel beamed as Sarah took off, turning to you before following her. “Ready?” He reached out a hand, palm up and fingers splayed, inviting you to grasp it.

Your eyes trailed from his outstretched hand to his heavy gaze, uncertain of what to make of the signals Joel gave off. The feelings you harbored for the man grew stronger each day, yet you couldn’t quite get a read on whether he shared even a fraction of those feelings. Somedays, you thought he did. Yet others, you figured he thought you had a crush on him and found amusing. Your heart sunk on those days, causing the doubt to linger every time he did something to make you think otherwise.

The moment carried on too long, you realized, as Joel’s warm eyes began to shutter, the tender smile starting to slip. Bolstering your nerves, you plunged ahead and grasped his large hand in yours, tangling your fingers with his thicker ones. His hand was warm, skin roughened from years of working with his hands, and it felt wonderful against your smoother skin.

Heat flashed up your chest and neck as Joel led you down the trail to catch up with Sarah. A broad smile never left your lips as you walked.

“I meant it, you know,” Joel’s deep, gruff voice rumbled from deep in his chest and you glanced up to meet his gaze. “What I said yesterday, about this being a date. If that’s something you’re interested in.”

Heart thumping wildly, your mouth opened and closed a few times before you found your words. “Are you sure? I mean, yes. Yes, I’m interested.” You winced at how flustered you sounded, tripping over your words. And, worse yet, why was your voice so squeaky?

“Never been surer in my life,” Joel confirmed, his gaze searing your skin as he watched you, taking in every minute change in expression. His hand squeezed yours gently, steadying the butterflies in your stomach.

“I would really like that,” you replied breathlessly, relieved to finally have confirmation that the moments between you and Joel weren’t all in your head. You were on Cloud 9 until reality smacked you in the face. “But what about my dad?”

Sarah popped around a copse of live oaks, startling you both from. “Come on, you slow pokes! The birdies aren’t gonna wait all day for us to find them!” Not trusting you both to follow her on your own, the little girl latched on to your hand and pulled you along the trail. “You need to help me find the birds,” Sarah reminded you.

Joel’s hand still clasped in yours, you dragged him behind you, grinning over your shoulder at him. “I’m liking this date already, Joel.”

He beamed back at you. The three of you walked in silence for a bit, listening to the sounds of nature around you. When you spotted a bird blind, you handed Sarah the binoculars and the guidebook, challenging her to identify as many birds as she could from that spot. Joel stood next to you, watching Sarah enjoy the activity.

“Let’s see where this goes first before we worry about your dad,” he murmured. “I’d like to take you on a few dates first, okay?”

It made sense and you nodded, pleased at the way things were working out. Your hand remained in Joel’s throughout the birding adventure and though Sarah never mentioned it, her smile grew wide at the sight.

tbc

p.s. we should start building up to the good stuff in the next chapter.

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

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mrworldwideshoulders · 1 year ago

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i choose you || reader x knj

When your best friend abandons you at a wedding with a bunch of strangers and the guy she’s trying to set you up with is just not that into you, you decide to have some fun instead of sulking in the corner, which earns you the attention - and the affection - of a stranger named Kim Namjoon.

✓ Pairing: reader x Namjoon (very briefly feat. Jin) ✓ WC: 4.5k ✓ Rating: rated T / PG-13 ✓ Genre: mostly fluff, smidgen of angst, strangers to lovers-ish, love at first sight-ish ✓ Warnings: alcohol consumption, foul language, minho slander (he’s choi minho, he can handle it), seokjin is drunk, loud, and in love, bad descriptions of making out, dimple descriptions, reader is a hoe for namjoon’s forearms, namjoon is a big awkward cutie ✓ a/n: hehehe it's another wedding fic sorry lolololol. this is the prequel to where love finds us and the way you look tonight, if ya wanna check those out afterwards. i meant to have this out last month but oh well, here it is in july :) i like this one a lot because it's a lil bit goofy and i hope you enjoy it too! as always beta’d and bannered by teh amazing april (@onmypillow-onmytable)! thx! ly - robyn ✓ P.S. I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars (lol), they just inspire me.

part of the 24k magic collection (masterlist)

“Remind me again why I’m here?” you complain as your best friend, Ji-eun, pulls you by the arm into the reception hall. “When you asked me if I wanted to do something this weekend, crashing someone’s wedding reception was not what I had in mind.”

“It’s not crashing if you’re invited,” shrugs Ji-eun. “I was invited. And then I invited you. Ergo, you were invited.”

“That is absolutely not how weddings work. Who invited you, anyway? I don’t recognize anyone here.”

“The bride?” says Ji-eun, as if it should be obvious. “We’re co-workers, or something. She invited everyone from our department.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “I’m totally underdressed.” You eye all of the women around you dressed in semi-formal gowns and you elbow Ji-eun in the ribs. “Why didn’t you tell me there was a dress code?” The strapless cocktail dress you thought was such a good idea earlier suddenly seems like the worst decision you ever made, and you didn’t even bring a sweater to save face either, all because the only instruction Ji-eun could bother to give you when she texted this morning was “wear a dress” and “something with lots of cleavage.” Ji-eun, you’ve decided, is bound and determined to drag you into trouble at every opportunity. It’s a wonder you’re both still alive – and not cellmates in jail – with all of the questionable situations she’s been pulling you into since middle school.

“You look hot,” she says. “Don’t even worry about it. You’ll blend right in.”

“Did you just say ‘hot’ and ‘blend in’ in the same sentence?”

“Ugh, you’re so self-conscious. You are hot. I think it’s time you embraced that.” She pouts at the look on your face. “Come on, y/n,” she wheedles. “Minho will be here, and I’ve been wanting to introduce you guys for ages. He’s such a great guy. Did I mention he’s hot? And dying to meet you? Please let me play matchmaker. Then later when you’re happily married to the love of your life, you can say it was all thanks to your best friend in the entire world who loves you enough to set you up with her hot guy friends.”

“Yeah, well, the position of ‘best friend in the entire world’ might be opening up sometime soon if you keep setting me up with these duds.”

“You’re so mean!” she whines. “I told you the last one was just a misunderstanding.”

“He ditched and left me with the check, Eun. It was not a misunderstanding. It was a calculated move.” The guy even had the audacity to call you later that night to see if you wanted to go out again, claiming “bathroom trouble” as the reason for sticking you with the check. As if you were dumb or desperate enough to fall for that – especially since he’d conveniently been hit by “bathroom trouble” once he was mostly done eating, not to mention your waitress had been kind enough to let you know that she’d seen him slipping out through a side door – apparently completely fine.

“Stop complaining. Come on. Sparks are going to fly between you two, I just know it.” She resumes tugging on your arm and you reluctantly allow her to pull you along as she weaves through the crowd, finally stopping you in front of a man who must be the fabled Minho. “Oppa!” coos Ji-eun. “This is y/n. You remember, don’t you?” She shoots him a knowing look.

“Ah, Ji-eun!” he greets her. “I remember. The one you were telling me about, right?” Minho glances at you. “Eun, she’s gorgeous. Where have you been keeping her?” He takes your hand and plants a kiss on it. “Choi Minho.”

“Y/n,” you reply, somewhat taken aback at his outward display of affection. “I’ve heard a lot about you, so it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Have fun, you two,” teases Ji-eun in a sing-song voice. “I’m off to snag myself a drink or a handsome groomsman, whichever one comes first.”

“She’s really something else, isn’t she?” you say, looking to break the awkward silence that falls once Ji-eun is gone. “So how do you two know each other? I don’t think she said.”

“University,” says Minho. “We were in the same major. Same year, too, but she insists on calling me oppa.” He shakes his head and chuckles. Minho says it like it’s something that bothers him, but it clearly doesn’t, or else he would have corrected her before now.

“Oh, I guess you were a business major, too.” You nod. “Explains why we never ran into each other. I barely saw her the whole time, and we were roommates.”

“We went to the same university?” Minho seems surprised. “I never would have guessed. What major were you in?” Something about the incredulous look on his face rubs you the wrong way.

“Uh, yeah. We did.” You narrow your eyes. “I was a graphic design major.”

“Graphic design. Wow.” Minho inhales sharply through his teeth. “How’s that going for you? I hear it’s pretty competitive. You know, if you’re ever looking to change fields I’m sure I could find something for you at my company. A favor for a friend of a friend, yeah?

“Oh, um,” you say, “I…have a job. And I kind of like it, so I’m not really planning on moving any time soon.”

“Well, you let me know if you ever change your mind.” He winks and touches your bare arm. “Any friend of Eun’s is a friend of mine. And I’m sure we could take much better care of you than wherever you’re working now.” Minho’s eyes wander from your face down to your chest and then somewhere over your shoulder, where something – or someone – else seems to catch his eye.

“Uh…thanks,” you say, unsure how else to respond, feeling a little uncomfortable. You wish you had a drink to settle your nerves and a sweater to cover your chest. Why did Ji-eun have to leave? you curse internally. She knows I’m not good at this. “So,” you say brightly, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction. “What does your company do?”

“We’re in transportation, mostly,” he says, his eyes still somewhere behind you, “but we’ve got our fingers in a lot of pies.”

A few more minutes of conversation with him pass, and it’s already obvious that you and Minho don’t exactly have a lot in common – nor does it seem that you’re really his type, because he keeps glancing at a pretty bridesmaid in a lavender dress somewhere behind you. You’re beginning to wonder what exactly Ji-eun expected the two of you to talk about, because the two of you are polar opposites, and not in the endearing, meet cute, opposites attract sort of way, in the way that even if you did decide to date you’d probably end up butting heads over anything and everything. You steal a covert glance the next time Minho’s eyes wander away from your face and over your shoulder. The bridesmaid is chatting animatedly with what looks like another bridesmaid, cutting glances every so often in your direction – or Minho’s direction, more like. You sigh internally and try to hide your frown. Of course. Minho looks like he could be an idol or an actor; it only makes sense that he wouldn’t be interested in you. He probably only even agreed to meet you as a favor to Ji-eun. Well, if he’s not even going to pretend he’s interested – then why should you? “Minho?” you say sweetly. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Don’t miss me too much while you’re gone.” He grins.

“I’ll, uh, do my best.” You find your way over to the bar and watch as Minho approaches the bridesmaid he was making eyes at, any thoughts of you surely already forgotten. You shake your head and sip your wine. He’s probably better suited for her than he is for you. You blow out a long breath and order a glass of white wine from the bartender. Why does it have to be like this? Every guy, every date, every time you even attempt to put yourself out there – it just never works. Sure, part of it is probably your fault for having unrealistic standards. And part of you doesn’t even really want a relationship, not after watching your parents tear each other to pieces every time they set foot in the same room together. It’s not like it’s always been your dream to fall in love and get married, either. The only thing you’ve ever wanted for yourself is to be happy. If that’s with a man in your life – then so be it. Everyone always says that you’ll know when the right one comes along, but you’re starting to think that has about as much likelihood of happening as you becoming president.

You throw back half of your wine in one gulp. Ah, should I just leave? you wonder to yourself, scanning the room for Ji-eun. There’s no point in me staying if Minho isn’t interested and nobody else is either. What else am I here for other than that? You debate slipping out the front door, flagging down a taxi, and going home, but eventually decide against it, feeling a twinge of guilt at the idea of abandoning Ji-eun at this wedding by herself – even if she did technically do the same thing to you. Really starting to question who’s putting the most effort into this friendship, you gripe internally.

You finish the rest of your wine and request another from the bartender. What am I doing? you think suddenly, the first glass of wine beginning to hit you as you start on the second. Am I really just standing here drowning my troubles at a wedding, of all places? This is so dumb. You scan the room. The dance floor is crowded, with people moving back and forth, dancing, reveling in the moment, the music pounding all around. Instead of lingering by the bar, feeling pitiful and alone…the realization dawns on you that you should be out there, having fun. Or, at the very least, keeping your mind occupied enough to forget the disappointment of yet another man having no interest in you.

“Dance like no one’s watching, right?” you say to yourself, downing the rest of your second glass of wine and hopefully, washing away the nerves that normally plague you, the fear of being perceived when it comes to doing anything in social situations. As the wine hits you, you begin to feel pleasantly warm and tipsy, and you move toward the crowd, the lights bouncing off the lacquered wood floor. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you close your eyes and feel yourself start to move with the beat of the music. You don’t even know the happy couple, but you silently thank them for hiring such a good DJ.

Minutes pass, though it feels much longer, with you tossing your hair, moving your hips and head back and forth to the beat of the music, forgetting about the fact that your best friend is a terrible matchmaker, and the fact that it feels like she’s genuinely trying to set you up for failure, making you question everything about yourself, forgetting about the fact that you couldn’t even hold a man’s attention for longer than ten minutes, even in a stupidly revealing cocktail dress that your friend made you wear under false pretenses. And in those moments, it’s just you, and the music, remembering that you are pretty, and one guy’s stupid opinion of you doesn’t matter. Love will come, or it won’t, and you’re determined to be happy with your life either way.

The strappy heels you’re wearing prove to be your downfall, and you eventually decide to extricate yourself from the throng of wedding guests, limping back over to the bar. Your cheeks are flushed, and you’re exhausted, but there’s a sense of exhilaration pumping through you, feeling somewhat revitalized by making yourself do something you wouldn’t normally do on your own. You steady yourself against the bar, standing on one foot while you rest the other, and request another glass of wine from the bartender.

“Looks like you were enjoying yourself out there.” A low voice materializes next to you. Your head swivels in the direction of the voice to find a man standing just feet away from you, holding a bottle of beer and watching you with interest. He’s much taller than you, but not intimidating, with an approachable air about him, and warm brown eyes that remind you of autumn. A dark blazer is slung over one shoulder, leaving him in a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the folded cuffs tugging at his muscular forearms. His friendly smile accentuates the dimple in his cheek.

“Oh!” you say, cheeks flushing. You put your other foot back on the ground in surprise. “Yeah. I guess. I don’t normally do that kind of thing, but my friend dragged me here because she wanted me to meet this guy, but they both disappeared, and then I was just standing here all alone feeling sorry for myself.” You lift one shoulder in a shrug. ”I don’t even really know anyone here, but I figured I might as well make the best of it and have some fun.”

“Looks like we’re in the same boat,” he says with a chuckle. ”I sort of got dragged here too.”

“Well, from one wedding crasher to another, let me introduce myself.” You hold out a hand jokingly for him to shake. “I’m y/n.”

“Y/n,” he repeats, taking your hand. “Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Namjoon.”

"There, now we both know at least one other person." You smile, taking a sip from the glass of wine that the bartender has just set in front of you.

“So this guy your friend wanted you to meet,” he says. “You didn’t like him?”

"No?" You make a face. “I mean, he was all right, I guess, but I don't think we had very much in common. Besides, he was making googly eyes at some bridesmaid the whole time I was talking to him." A rueful sigh huffs through your lips. "I’ve got to stop listening to Ji-eun. She means well, but one thing she doesn’t have is a talent for matchmaking.”

“Sorry to hear that," says Namjoon. "About the guy.”

“It’s okay. At least we didn’t waste too much of each other's time.” You smile. “Anyway, why aren’t you out there? Isn’t everyone supposed to be dancing? It’s a party, after all.”

“Oh, no.” He chuckles. His laugh feels affable and warm, just like his smile. “I’m a terrible dancer. It's better that I don’t. I’d probably end up breaking something, or someone. I’m just here for the atmosphere.” He sets his bottle down on the bar top. “Besides, I was having more fun watching you.” His brown eyes twinkle.

Your heart flutters in your chest and you find yourself trying to hold back a laugh.

“Not buying it?” he says teasingly. You shake your head, still smiling. “Sorry. I’ve never been very good at this. Whatever this is.”

“I’ll give you a point for trying.”

“Ah, good. That means I didn’t fail completely, right?”

“Right. Something like that.” You laugh. “So who dragged you here? Are your friends equally as annoying as mine?”

"My friend, Seokjin, who's been bugging me to get out for weeks. He claims to know the groom or something. No, wait, it was the best man…or maybe it was the best man’s friend? I’m actually not sure.” He scans the crowded dance floor and points. “Him, right there, with the shoulders.” You follow his line of vision over to a tall, broad-shouldered man, flailing his arms and virtually towering over his dance partner, who, come to think of it, looks a lot like…Ji-eun? "He might actually be more dangerous on the dance floor than me.”

“Funny,” you say. “That's my best friend he's dancing with.”

“Really?” Namjoon looks at you, then back at them. “Wow. I guess it’s only right that our annoying best friends found their way to each other.”

“No offense to your friend, but I don’t think it’ll last very long. Ji-eun’s not known for committing long-term. She’s a walking contradiction. Convinced she’ll be the one to introduce me to my one and only, yet has no interest in finding one of her own.”

“As luck would have it, neither is Jin. They’re a perfect match.”

You raise your glass. “In that case, may the Seokjins and the Ji-euns of the world always find their way to each other.”

He clinks his bottle with your cup. “Hear, hear.”

Namjoon is easy to talk to, and he's especially interested in your job illustrating book covers for a publishing house. "It's nothing special." You wave your hands. “It’s a really small company. And I’ve only been doing it for about a year, so I’m not very good at it yet.”

"Are you kidding?” he says, awestruck. “I’ve never met anyone who does that. And you must be good, or you wouldn’t be doing it professionally.”

“Well, it pays the bills,” you say, dipping your head modestly, “and it gives me plenty of free time to work on my own art.”

“Really?“ Namjoon looks intrigued. “What medium do you prefer?”

“I’m a painter. Mostly. But I like to experiment with a little bit of everything.”

“Wow. She designs book covers. She paints. And now I’m wondering where you’ve been all my life.” A tinge of pink colors his cheeks. “Uh…I just meant…” He rubs at his neck self-consciously. “Anyway.”

He’s awfully cute when he’s flustered.

The conversation takes a slight turn, and you find yourself listening with interest as he tells you about his work as a grad student, his dissertation on the intersection of art and philosophy, his plans for the future after he finishes his doctorate. Tenure, professorhood, the papers he wants to write. The art he'd like to buy if he had the money. If it were anyone else, you know you'd be starting to zone out by now, but there's something about Namjoon's low, even voice that draws you in and keeps you paying attention. Like a documentary narrator, or a radio host.

"You're staring at me," he says, his tone light and teasing.

You were listening so intently that you didn't even realize what you were doing. "Was I?" You turn away slightly, hoping to hide the blooming patches of pink on your cheeks. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Namjoon's eyes crinkle into a smile. "It's all I can do to get the freshmen in my courses to look at anything other than their screens, so trust me, I don't mind it at all. I'm just glad you don't think I'm boring."

"Boring?" you say, surprised. "Are there people out there who think you're boring?"

"Oh, definitely. You'd be surprised. Jin, for one. He swears up and down that he doesn't think so, but a few minutes in and his eyes are already starting to glaze over. You, on the other hand…well, I've been monologuing for ages, but you've just been standing there with that mesmerized look on your face the whole time."

"Mesmerized?" You chuckle. "I don't know about that."

"No, it's true," he insists. "Admit it. I fascinate you."

"And?” you ask. “What about it?”

“What do you say we get out of here?” he says, barely blinking an eye. The corner of his mouth quirks. “This party’s almost over anyway. We can continue this conversation somewhere we can actually hear ourselves think.”

You hesitate. You barely know this guy. But he likes you – you can tell. He’s the first guy in a long time to express genuine interest in you or your job or your personal life in general. It doesn’t hurt that he’s easy to look at, either, with his striking brown eyes and easy, dimpled smile. There’s just something about the way he looks at you that makes your palms tingle and you heart feel like it’s about to explode. And what is it about rolled up sleeves and exposed forearms that just drives you absolutely insane? Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or the letdown from Ji-eun’s unsuccessful attempt to set you up with Minho – but you have to see where this goes. “Okay,” you say finally. “Where should we go?”

He’s about to speak when Seokjin and Ji-eun stumble up, arm in arm. “Namjoon-ah! My best friend!” Seokjin exclaims drunkenly. He throws his long arms over Namjoon’s shoulders from behind, pink-cheeked and grinning. “I think I’m in love.”

“Oh, really?” Namjoon eyes his friend with a dry expression. “Who is she, then?”

He looks at Ji-eun blankly, then back at Namjoon. "Ah, well, her name isn't important. What matters is…I'm in love." Seokjin pokes a long finger into Namjoon’s cheek. “And I’m going to marry her.”

“Oppa!” squeals Ji-eun, pulling him back toward her. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. I’ll bet.” Namjoon’s gaze cuts in your direction. “Sorry. Normally he’s better at holding his liquor than this,” he whispers. “I should really get him home before he gets any louder – and gets us uninvited from future events.”

“Same here,” you say apologetically. “If we can manage to split them apart again.” Seokjin and Ji-eun are once again furiously making out, hands in places you’re not even sure you’re supposed to be looking.

“They’ll have to come up for air sometime. I think we might have a chance then. You grab yours and I’ll grab mine?”

“Deal.” The second Ji-eun pulls away from Seokjin to take a breath, you take her firmly by the arm and pull her toward the door of the reception hall, ignoring her protesting about being separated from the love of her life, while Namjoon tugs Seokjin along behind you. There’s a line of people outside already waiting for taxis, given that you’re in the middle of the city, so you join the queue behind another couple, still trying to prevent Ji-eun and Seokjin from devouring each other whole on the sidewalk.

“Nicely done,” says Namjoon, the dimple in his cheek reappearing alongside his grin, while he maintains a firm grip on Seokjin's arm. “I take it you have experience with this?”

“Only every Saturday night since university.” You chuckle. “Between the two of us I’m definitely the responsible one.”

“Eonni!” whines Ji-eun. “Don’t tell him that! He’ll think you’re boring!”

You plant an elbow firmly into the side of her ribs, sending her into silence.

"That's okay." His smile doesn't waver. "I'm a little bit boring myself, so what's one boring person to another?"

Boring? you think. You're not boring at all. You’re passionate about what you love. You’re the first man to look at me that way: like I’m the most interesting person in the world to you, when really it’s the other way around. You’re sweet. You’re adorably awkward. You’re bad at flirting – but something about you draws me in anyway. And I know we’ve only just met…but I want to know everything about you. What makes you happy, what inspires you, what intrigues you…I want to spend hours listening to you tell me all about it.

The crowd waiting for cabs disperses until it's just you and Namjoon. "I guess this is it, then,” he says as a taxi finally pulls to a stop in front of you. “We should do this again sometime. Minus the drunk people, of course. Not that I don’t enjoy dragging a hundred and thirty pounds of dead weight around with me, but it does put a damper on things, doesn’t it?”

“Yah, you bastard! I’m not that heavy!” Seokjin bellows, as he's struggling to stay upright, his words still slurring together.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’d like that. Maybe we can actually finish that conversation we were having before we got interrupted.” You nudge Ji-eun, who seems determined to make herself as unwieldy as possible, not so gently into the cab, sending her tumbling into the backseat, and turn back to him. “By the way…I really appreciate it. You talking to me. It made me forget how totally out of place I was.”

“Ah, it was nothing.” He ducks his head sheepishly. “As a fellow wedding crasher, I’m happy to have helped. Thanks for putting up with me rambling all night.”

“Please.” You smile, waving your hand. “Nothing to put up with. I had a good time.”

“Well…good night, y/n.” Namjoon closes the car door after you. “Get home safe. Until next time?”

“Until next time.” You look up at him. “Good night, Namjoon.” You sit back in your seat, allowing the flutter of excitement that’s been slowly building in your stomach to take flight. This guy…he likes you. He really likes you. You’re going to see him again. And for the first time, in a long time, if not ever…you’re excited. Really excited. Your hand goes to your mouth, barely concealing the grin that’s forming on your lips.

As your taxi pulls away from the curb, a hand suddenly appears in the half-open window, causing it to jerk to a stop. Namjoon appears next to the car, shaking his hand ruefully and wincing. "Damn, that hurts. Guess that'll teach me, won't it?" He leans down, bringing his face closer to yours. "Sorry about that. You were just about to disappear when it dawned on me that I forgot to ask you for your number, and I knew I had to do something before I lost you."

“Oh! My number.” Your heart flutters again. “Yeah, you’re going to need that, aren’t you?”

Namjoon watches as you tap your number into his phone. “Good thing I remembered when I did. That could have been a disaster.”

“A disaster, huh?” you ask, handing his phone back to him.

“Catastrophic.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “How else would we have found out if we were meant to be if we didn’t go on an actual first date?” He gazes down at you with a teasing grin. “Anyway – I’ll call you?”

“Soon, I hope.” You smile. “I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long.” Namjoon’s eyes meet with yours momentarily before he turns away, letting out an awkward chuckle. “Well…good night, y/n. I mean it this time. Really.”

“Good night,” you say, stifling a giggle. “Get home safe.”

The taxi finally pulls away from the curb, and you can’t help looking out the window after him as he walks back toward Seokjin. He’s handsome, even from behind. Ji-eun flops against you, and you shift her to a more comfortable position against your shoulder. “I knew dragging you along was a good idea. Did I call it, or what?” she mumbles proudly. “You know, I saw the way you were looking at that guy just now.” She pokes teasingly at your arm, eyes half-closed. “Like you wanted to dive right in and take up residence in his dimples. And sparks like a fireworks show. It’s so obvious! You are smitten.” Ji-eun sing-songs the last part.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, pressing your lips together to hide your smile. Ji-eun might not have introduced you to the love of your life – but it’s the first time in a while that you’ve felt this way about anyone – and you suppose you do have to thank her for that.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts #bts series #bts x reader #bts au #bts fluff #reader x namjoon #reader x rm #reader x kim namjoon #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon #mrworldwideshoulders #namjoon x reader

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minnie--verse · 3 months ago

Text

Pen Pals — A Park Sunghoon Fic

!!PART 1!!

Summary: you, Ren, are a college student, taking what you would be a normal composition class—until you’re assigned a penpal with the professors’s later class. What happens when you fall for someone you know.. but don’t know.

pairing: Sunghoon x f!reader(Ren)

genre: strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: possible angst/comfort, slow burn.

general warnings: College student!mc, slow burn, love square(between two ppl), swearing, possible adult content in future chapters.

word count: ~3.4k

chapter content: mentions of food, first meets, college lectures, and a silly bff:)

author's note: i reaaaallly suck about posting huh… oh well ig. I’m gonna be real quick about uploading this one while I have the mindset for it…

Please enjoy this little corner of my mind<3

!!this is NOT proof read!!

thx for reading!

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The tiny desk attached to your squeaky seat was pissing you off, the bright, fluorescent lights humming only amplifying the annoyance wracking in your mind. The clock on the wall ticks slowly, reminding you that it’s only 8:05 AM. The professor’s voice drones on about the thesis statements, but your mind is foggy, still walking up from the late night before. Your eyes feel heavy, and you can’t help but wonder why you signed up for an 8:00 AM class in the first place.

Ren, you tell yourself, this is necessary. You know you need to have some sort of English class to graduate, but right now the idea of analyzing other student’s essays feels like an impossible task. You glance around the room, noticing the other students, some furiously taking notes, others looking just as tired as you are. The professor, oblivious to the collective lack of enthusiasm, scribbles something on a whiteboard.

“...and that’s why I thought it would be interesting for us to connect with another group,” the professor says, his voice pulling you back into the present. You blink, trying to focus as he continues. “This semester, you will be writing to someone anonymously in my other composition class. Each penpal would be random, and will take up 25% of your final grade for exchanging letters throughout the semester.”

Great. Just what you needed. Another thing to add to your already overflowing list of homework assignments and to-dos. You can't help but frown, a sense of dread washing over you. The idea of writing to a stranger, even anonymously, feels like an unnecessary burden. Why can this be an optional assignment? Or better yet, why can't you just… sleep through this part?

”Remember,” the professor’s voice cuts through your thoughts, “this is a chance to really connect with someone. Think of it as an opportunity to engage in meaningful dialogue with someone you may not have chosen to speak to normally.”

Meaningful dialogue… sounds like something you’re not going to get from this. Instead, you imagine a semester of cringing every time you have to sit down and write a letter, trying to think of something—anything—worth saying to someone you don't even know.

The professor continues explaining the details, but you’ve already tuned out. You’re thinking about how you’re going to manage to write these letters on top of everything else. How you’re going to have to come up with things to say to someone you don’t even know. It all feels like too much. You sigh softly, leaning back in your chair, and stare at the blank notebook in front of you, wishing you were anywhere else but here.

”To get you started,” The professor says with a smile that you find entirely too cheerful for a Monday morning, “I’ve prepared a prompt for your first letter. It’s a suggestion to help break the ice, so don’t feel like you have to follow it exactly. But it might give you a good starting point.”

The screen at the front of the lecture hall illuminates and it reads.

“Write about a time that recently made you feel alive, a small moment in time, or something more significant--just be honest. It will help break the ice.”

You let out a quiet sigh. It’s not the worst prompt ever, but it still feels like a forced effort to bond over something personal with someone who’s just as much a stranger as the person sitting next to you on the campus bus.

You sit there, staring at a blank piece of paper in front of you. Around you, the other students were starting to write, some scribbling furiously, and some, like you, were hesitating. The professor has settled into his desk, giving everyone time to get started on their first letter.

You change around, half-hoping that the right words would just come to you if you sit there long enough. But the longer you wait, the more you feel like you’re just stalling. With a small sigh, you pick up your pen and start writing. Trying not to think too hard about it.

Dear You,

I’m not sure how to begin this, but I guess I’ll start with the prompt we were given. Something that made me feel truly alive recently… Honestly, nothing truly jumps out of me, but I guess there was one moment a few weeks ago.

I was walking through the park near campus, and it was one of those perfect days where the weather is just right--warm sun, cool breeze, you know? I found this spot under the tree on the east side of the park near the water fountain and sat down with a book, planning to read for a while. But instead of diving into the story, I just… sat there. I let the sun spots through the leaves soak into my skin, watched the trees rustle, and for a few minutes, I didn’t think about anything at all.

It was like everything slowed down, and for the first time in a while, I felt completely present. I could hear the faint laughter of kids playing in the distance, the soft rustle of the wind through the trees and the steady rhythm of my own breathing.

It wasn't some grand epiphany or anything but in that moment, I felt alive--like really alive. I don't know how else to describe it.

Anyway, that's my something I suppose. I guess I’m curious to hear what yours is. Looking forward to hearing from you.

Talk to you later--From Sunny.

You stop writing and look down at what you’ve just put on paper. It feels kind of personal to be sharing with a stranger, but then again, maybe that was the point of the prompt. You close the letter, fold it up and write your alias on the outside of the envelope, handing it to the professor as you leave class.

When you walk out into the lecture hall, you feel a mix of relief and nervousness. The first letter is done, but now you have to wait and see what kind of person you’ll be writing to for the rest of the semester. Just don't overthink it, everything will be fine, and maybe you’ll even make a friend out of it.

As you leave the lecture hall, your mind is still lingering on the letter you just wrote. The words feel like they’ve taken something out of you, as if sharing something tha small, peaceful moment tinder the tree was more intimate than you intended. You shake your head, trying to brush it off, but the thought keeps nagging at you.

Why did you write that? You could have picked something less personal, something that wouldn’t make you feel so exposed. Now, someone out there--some random student that you’ve never met before in your life--knows this quiet little detail about your mind and memories. You sigh, trying to push the thoughts away as you head out of the building.

Your feet carry you automatically in the firstion of the park, the one you mentioned in the letter. You don't really plan on going there, but the memory of that quiet afternoon had drawn you in. You watch your feelings move over the pavement, avoiding cracks and stepping over fallen leaves, completely absorbed in your own thoughts.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad? You think. Maybe this pen pal thing will actually be a good way to connect with someone in a way that’s different from all the shallow interaction you’re used to. Or maybe you’re just kidding yourself, trying to make the best of something that’s bound to be awkward.

Lost in your musing, you don't notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. Your shoulder crashes into something solid, jolting you out of your mind. You stumble a step, startled, and look up to see who--or what--you’ve run into.

“Ah, sorry--” you start to say, but your voice falters as you look up and see who you’ve bumped into.

He’s tall, with dark hair that falls just above his eyes, and he’s looking down at you with an expression that’s somewhere between indifferent and tired. He doesn't say anything, just stares at you like he’s waiting for you to explain, but also like he doesn’t really care enough to demand one.

You freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do. The words you were about to say evaporate in your throat, leaving you with nothing but the realization that you’ve just ran face first into someone who probably isn’t thrilled about it.

“Sorry, again,” you mumble out, feeling small under his intense expression. You nod your head at him and step around him, eager to escape his awkward encounter, but his gaze keeps you rooted to the spot for a second longer.

He gives you a tight lipped smile, one corner upturning with an unreadable expression. For a split second, you think he’s going to say something, but instead he gives you an imperceptible nod and steps aside, allowing you to pass. His eyes linger on you for a moment before he continues on his way, not looking back.

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and quickly continue down the bath, your heart beating a little faster than before. As you walk away, you can't help but glance over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of him disappearing into the crowd.

Shaking your head, you try to refocus on your original destination, but your thoughts keep circling back to the brief encounter. Who was he? And why did it feel like he looked right through you like glass, even in that split-second exchange?

As you reach the park, the familiar sights and sounds start to calm your nerves, but the memory of the bump still lingers at the edges of your mind, intertwining with your thoughts of the letter you just wrote. You find the tree, the one you wrote about, and sit down beneath it, just as you did that day.

— — — — — — — — —— — — — — — —

The guy walks through the campus with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he weaves through the crowd. The earlier encounter with that girl still lingers in his mind, a faint annoyance prickling at the back of his thoughts. He didn’t even catch her name, but there was something about the way she looked at him—wide-eyed and apologetic—that stuck with him more than he’d care to admit.

He steps into the Composition class, his usual indifferent expression masking the mild annoyance he feels about being here. The class is a requirement, not something he chose willingly. He would rather be anywhere else, but he knows he doesn’t have much of a choice if he wants to keep up his GPA.

As the professor begins to speak, his attention drifts. He’s always found this class tedious—too much focus on sharing and connecting with people he has no interest in getting to know. He just wants to get through the semester and move on. But when the professor starts explaining the new assignment, his ears perk up, and a frown creases his forehead.

“Each of you will be assigned an anonymous pen pal from my earlier class,” the professor says, scanning the room with a smile that he finds a bit too enthusiastic. “You’ll be exchanging letters for the rest of the semester, starting with a response to a prompt that’s already been given.”

He bites back a groan. The last thing he needs is to waste time writing letters to some random stranger. He can already imagine the kind of forced, overly sincere nonsense this assignment is going to generate. But there’s no point in complaining—it’s not like he has a choice.

“Here,” the professor’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and he looks up, realizing he’s being handed an envelope. “This is your pen pal assignment. You’ll be exchanging letters with a student from my earlier class.”

He nods curtly and takes the envelope, noticing the name on it: Sunny. The ink is a soft purple ink, and the font is small, cursive, and neat—definitely a girl. He sighs inwardly, already anticipating some overly cheerful or sentimental nonsense about love making people feel alive. But, 25% of his grade is a big chunk. So he unfolds the letter and begins to read it.

The words inside aren’t exactly what he expected. There’s something honest and straightforward about the way she describes her moment in the park. It’s simple, unpretentious, and somehow resonates with him more than he cared to admit. He pauses, almost feeling what she was describing, even if he’s reluctant to acknowledge it.

He taps his pen against the desk, considering how to respond. He doesn’t want to write something superficial, but he also doesn’t want to spill his guts to a stranger. After a few moments of deliberation, he starts writing.

Dear Sunny,

Your letter caught me off guard. I honestly was expecting to read something about falling in love and whoever they were to make you feel like you were alive, but your little moment of clarity in the park reminded me of something similar.

It was late—past midnight, I think—and the city was dead, completely silent. It was like that silence when the snow had blanketed everything, kind of muffling the unusual sounds. I was walking though campus to my apartment after spending the evening at work, and took a detour through a small side street.

It was snowing pretty heavily, but even with the large snowflakes falling it felt like everything paused. The streetlights were orangey in contrast to the weather, and it was completely still. No one was out, and I guess for a second it felt like the entire city belonged to me.

I stopped walking and just stood there by the café on 6th, letting snow accumulate on my shoulders and soaking my backpack while my cheeks pricked with pain form being outside too long. It felt like I was kind of waiting for something to happen I guess but nothing came.

So I suppose what I’m saying is that understand your little blip in time. The moments where things are quiet, or seemingly amplified, and then posing some kind of clarity. Maybe I’m talking nonsense but if I read your words right then maybe the professor knew we’d understand one another.

or maybe I’m just an idiot.

We’ll see.

Talk to you soon. -- Snow.

He rereads the letter once before folding it and sealing it back in the envelope. His handwriting is a little rough, but it’s legible. He writes his chosen anonymous name on the front, feeling a slight pang of curiosity about this “Sunny” person and why they wrote what they did. He pushes the thought aside, deciding it doesn’t really matter.

As he hands the envelope to the professor at the end of class, He can’t help but wonder what he’ll get in response. But that thought is quickly buried as he leaves the classroom, his mind already moving on to the next thing on his list for the day.

— — — — — — — — —— — — — — — —

You tossed your bag onto the floor as you step inside your apartment, the comforting smell of whatever takeout your roommate ordered hitting you thes moment you walk in. Callie is already lounging on the couch, legs draped over the armrest, with her phone in hand. She glances up as you enter, eyes gently lighting up as she greets you with a smile before a small laugh escapes her.

“Beloved—how was class?” She says, noting the unenthusiastic face you’re wearing, “Judging by your face, I’d say today was interesting?”

You snort, kicking off your shoes and collapsing onto the couch next to her, “Interesting is definitely a way to put it. Annoying is another. My professor wants my comp class to write pen pals.”

Callie arches a brow, “Pen pals? What are we back in elementary school? Should we pass notes under the desk with glitter pen too?”

”That’s my thoughts, exactly,” You retort, grabbing a piece of bread from her takeout and munching on it without thought, “It’s a semester long assignment worth 25% of my grade. We have to write them anonymously to his other comp class. It kind of just feels like busy work and an excuse to make people come to class.”

Callie grins, rolling over to face you, “So, did you pour your heart out in some tragic ode to life’s fleeting moments? Or did you just draw your buddy a stick figure and call it a day?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands, “Neither,” you sigh, “more like I enlightened myself about how little I want to be writing anonymous letters to strangers. I wrote about that day in the park. The one where I was supposed to be reading but ended up zoning out for hours under that tree?”

You peek through your fingers to see Callie looking at you with a mixture of laughter and thoughtfulness, “Ah, the day you turned into a sun worshiping lizard… sounds absolutely riveting.” Callie laughed.

”Yeah well, reptile or not, it was peaceful.” You say, finishing the bread in your hand before settling into the couch, “Anyway—I wrote about that and I guess it wasn’t the worst think I could’ve shared. At least I was honest and stuck with the prompt we were given.”

Callie’s head tilted at her upside down smile of amusement and confusion overtook her, “If you were honest you would have admitted to the sunburn you got after falling asleep.”

You roll your eyes again, but there’s a smile tugging at your mouth, “I didn’t fall asleep, I was just meditating.. with my eyes closed.”

”Sure, sure,” she says waving you off, “So you dazzled your little buddy with your deep existential musings. What else happened?”

You think back to the letter, to the way you had tried to describe that feeling of being completely in the moment. Then, your mind drifts to the encounter in the park, the way you’d bumped into that guy with the dark hair and unreadable expression. The memory makes your cheeks warm, though you’re not sure why.

“Well, I wrote the letter in class, handed it in, and then headed to the park to see if I could relive the moment I wrote about,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual. “But on my way there, I accidentally bumped into some guy. Tall, dark hair, brooding vibes—the whole package.”

Callie’s eyes light up with interest. “Brooding vibes, huh? Sounds like your type.”

You shoot her a look. “My type? Since when do I have a type?”

“Since always,” she says with a grin. “You know you’re drawn to the mysterious, emotionally unavailable types.”

You groan, half in exasperation, half in embarrassment. “He wasn’t even that interesting. He just stared at me like I was some kind of freak, and then he walked away. End of story.”

Callie laughs, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Sounds like you made quite the impression. Maybe he’s secretly pining for you now, writing tragic poetry about the girl who bumped into him in the park.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, though the thought would be cute if fate truly worked like that. “He probably forgot about me the second I walked away.”

Callie shrugs, still smiling. “Or maybe he’s out there somewhere, wondering who the mysterious girl was, who bumped into him and then vanished into campus. You never know, Ren. Life’s full of surprises.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“That’s why you love me,” Callie says with a dramatic hair flip. “Now, go get changed. We’re watching that show tonight, and I’m not letting you back out of it.”

You sigh dramatically, but you can’t deny that the idea of curling up on the couch with Callie and a bad movie sounds like the perfect way to unwind. “Fine, fine. But only if you promise not to get mad when I talk through the whole thing.”

“No promises,” Callie says, grinning wickedly. “But I’ll try.”

As you head to your room to change, you can’t help but replay the day’s events in your mind—the letter, the guy in the park, and Callie’s teasing words. Life is full of surprises, she said, and maybe she’s right. Maybe this pen pal thing will turn out to be more interesting than you thought.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

ending note —

*I am so so so so excited for this one chat.*

Sorry i’m in and out of writing, sometimes the lack of prompts make it hard to keep writing. I also started school for cosmetology and I work so finding time to write is hard. I will post this one more regularly!

I love you all and think you for reading my little corner of tumblr<3

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon fic #park sunghoon fic #college au #college au sunghoon #enhypen college au #enha #enha fic #enha sunghoon #enha sunghoon fic

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highwayorgantrade · 2 years ago

Text

I Can't

Pairing: fem!reader x John Price

Request: "hey whore can i pls have a fic where price saves the reader's ass and then professes his love but like in a captain price im a hard ass way thx stinker butt” by @quizzyisdone

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injury, cursing, brief mentions of torture, Price being a dick.

Author’s Note:

quizzy I could've seen this coming a mile away, but wait! am I now attracted to him? reader's code name is echo.

Being in the hospital was embarrassing.

Well, it was embarrassing for you. You weren’t the type to mess up that badly. For days, the only people who spoke to you were nurses, doctors, and the occasional psychiatrist. It was frustrating, listening to your company whisper about you, and it only added to the frustration of allowing yourself to get hurt, and even worse: get saved.

“Isn’t that Echo? I thought she wasn’t able to get caught.”

“Looks like I’ve caught you.” You felt your heart stop when cool metal pressed into the back of your head. Ice ran through your veins, and your hands froze on the sniper rifle that was positioned in front of you.

You had every advantage point, your high-caliber scope could catch even the most minute details from the cliff. Your mission was simple, and it was one you had done a thousand times before: Protect Task Force 141.

“Go ahead, kill me.” You finally responded, indignantly. In reality, you just wanted the fear that struck your heart to leave. Whoever it was, you knew they wouldn’t let you go. You wanted this situation to be over, as soon as possible. Your communication device crackled to life, and Captain Price’s voice came in, causing your anxiety to worsen. Please, Price, don’t say anything confidential.

“Echo, status?”

Instinctively, your hand reached toward the walkie, and you were met with a shocking crack across the back of your head. White spots blinded your vision, and a buzz settled in your ears, loud enough so you could barely hear John’s voice again.

“Echo, please confirm status.” He instructed, sounding a bit more aggravated, like you had gotten distracted by the flowers, and not by an enemy holding you at the wrong end of a gun.

“Tell him you are fine.” The voice behind you spoke, and you felt blood begin to drip its way down your face and neck.

“Are you going to hit me again?” You taunted weakly, but stiffened when you felt a boot on your back. “Fine.”

You held the side of the walkie, and waited.

“Price, this is Echo.” You took a deep breath. “Price, I’ve been made, don’t say anything-.” You didn’t even hear the butt of the gun meeting the back of your head, all you felt was a ripping pain, and a burning anger before your vision was overwhelmed by darkness.

“Privates Andrés and McDonough, do you get paid to gossip?” John’s harsh voice cut through the silence, and pulled you back to reality. The men didn’t even respond, all you could hear were their boots quickly walking away from your room. Finally, he appeared in the doorway of your room, crowding the frame. A scowl was apparent on his face, and he barely looked at you before casting his eyes to the wall behind you.

“You look upset.” You noted, and to be honest, you were a little annoyed he was mad at you.

“Upset doesn’t cover it. You were completely unfocused.” He hissed, and anger ate at your throat.

“I’m alive. Everybody’s alive. The mission was successful. Do any of these sentences sound incorrect to you?” You knew you shouldn’t be like this, that you should be grateful he found you. His fist clenched, and he finally took you in.

“I’m so glad that the bare minimum is enough for you, Echo.” The strained venom in his voice was obvious. “Do you know? Do you know what you looked like when we found you?”

“I had decided to take a nap, so I didn’t have time to look in the mirror.”

At this, Price stiffened, and you knew you hit some kind of nerve. In lieu of responding, he walked over to the door of your room, and shut it quietly. His back stayed turned to you, and you prepared yourself for him to yell at you for your insubordination.

“You looked like you were already dead.” Price whispered, barely audibly, and your heart softened. “You were pale, and the way they put you in that car was like they were carrying a body.” He turned back to you, but his gaze was cast at the floor. “Gaz had to check for your pulse, I couldn’t… I didn’t want to. Do you know how many men I killed getting to you?” John’s voice cracked, and he sat down on the bed next to you.

“I still don’t understand why you’re so mad at me. If it was such a hassle, why even bother? Why did you even come here to visit me? Nobody’s talked to me in days!” Bitterness poisoned your voice, and you gripped your sheets, a brand new headache introducing itself.

“Because they feel bad! We all feel bad!” He barked, standing up again. “Echo, I can’t-.” He cut himself off, running a hand over his facial hair.

“You can’t? You can’t what?” You pushed. “You keep saying ‘I can’t, I couldn’t,’ what can’t you do?” You matched his volume as defiance reared its ugly head.

“I can’t think about what it would be like without you!” John yelled, slamming his fist against the counter, causing you to jump. “If you had died, who would take your place? Who would sit in your seat at the bar? Who would get your bed?” John didn’t allow you to respond before he continued. “Echo, if you had died, it would be like there’s a puzzle piece missing! How dare you ask me why I saved you, why do you think!”

He paced while he rambled, staring at you desperately, begging you to come to your own conclusions. “I’m looking at you in this bed, I saw the way you flinched, and every single person that made you like this, I want their blood on my hands.” A coldness creeped into his eyes, and you had finally decided: enough was enough. You needed to know exactly what he was trying to say, because so far, it has fallen on deaf ears.

“Price, just say it.” His shoulders dropped, and you saw his lips twitch as he tried to form the words.

“I couldn’t live with myself if you never knew how I feel about you. How I see you.” He spoke slowly, like his words would break you. “You are… The single bright spot I have. Your jokes over comms, the way you smile when we meet after a complete mission. When you try to mimic my accent, everything you do, every word you speak, it’s painful knowing you’re not mine.”

Price’s long-winded confession rendered you speechless. You thought back to every time you noticed his gaze lingering on you longer than the rest of the Task Force, but the way he acted toward you gave no indication of his feelings.

Of course, that’s not to say that you haven’t thought of him that way - you’ve wasted a lot of time fumbling over your words around him, taking longer to answer questions because you just got too distracted by his voice, or the way he always made direct eye contact with you. You remember the nights where you would stay awake for hours, overthinking your interactions with him for that day. Or that one time he adjusted your hips for you when you were practicing in the field.

“Please.” He took your hand in his. “Please just tell me to leave, and I will never talk about it again. Everything will go back to normal.”

Your chest tightened when you thought about the implications. Would you have to keep your relationship a secret? What would happen if it wasn’t a secret? No matter the question, the only answer in the back of your mind was that you didn’t care.

“Don’t leave.” You found your voice, and it cut through the hanging silence. “Please stay.” Price stared at you, searching for any sign of hesitation or regret, and when he couldn’t find any, he cupped your jaw with his hand, thumb tracing over the edge of a bandage, and he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

“If you ever endanger yourself like that again, there will be severe consequences.” He whispered against your skin, and you smiled, all previous anger and frustration long gone.

“John,” He pulled away from you at his name, and he sat back next you. “Do we keep this a secret?” Your voice was small, and Price’s ensuing laugh made it seem even smaller.

“Task Force knows.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I might’ve complained a lot, and Soap caught on first.”

“And Soap has issues keeping his mouth shut.” You confirmed, rolling your eyes.

“Correct. How much longer do you have to be in here for?” He looked around at the hospital room, like he was just noticing all the machines and the sounds.

“A few more days, but at least the coffee isn’t terrible.” You shrugged, resigned to your fate. John groaned, and he pursed his lips, considering the situation.

“Alright.” He sighed when he stood up again. “Coffee date it is, then."

#john price #captain price #john price x reader

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thankshermin · 7 months ago

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About Beast!Dazai and His Strategies Backfiring

It backfired so bad he ended up offing himself so I have to talk about it a little. I might be a little biased because I've been crying to Beast for like two years now and I can't be consoled.

Look... Beast!Dazai makes me want to cry hysterically, just like most things about Beast, but one thing especially strikes.

Literally, NO ONE liked him and that was not what he wanted, at all he was not cool with this but there was nothing he could do about it.

He did every little shitty thing purely out of his selfish wishes– he wanted to be loved, particularly by Oda. So he thought he could do whatever he wanted because he knew he had/has people who cared/cares about him in the other universes. He was paying special attention to Oda because they couldn’t be both alive and well and friends in any other universe. He thought that the other bonds he had with other people would just happen someday and that it was a package deal.

But he did NOT put any effort into that. Therefore, no one likes him. In fact, I'd say lots of characters dislike Beast!Dazai strongly.

(and I can't even blame them because Dazai was an asshole for the whole light novel,,, if you want people to care about you YOU have to show them that, Dazai, I'm sorry no one taught you that you are so tragically unaware of everything it makes me sad)

Still... he didn’t want it to turn that way. The thing I'd like to see more people mentioning is the fact that Beast!Dazai is a very emotionally driven character. He might be the Boss of the Mafia but that doesn't automatically mean he can't be highly emotional. He acted the way he did because he tried to pursue something he wanted, not because it was necessary for the Port Mafia.

...Says the Boss himself.

While the mafia is obviously powerful as hell in Beast, it is still sad because... well, still no one likes the boss so what is even the point of being the leader. (I’m aware Mori is also not loved among most of the characters but it’s not his turn yet so just ignore him.)

And I’m always telling people this but what makes me like (canon) Dazai’s character is the fact that he is constantly trying. He is not the best person out there but hey he is improving, okay? And that’s what matters to me. I love it when characters show development, whether it’s towards the good or bad side.

What draws the line between Canon and Beast Dazai’s is that Canon!Dazai has people who care about his well-being (I'm not arguing about this with anybody but just in case if you want examples; Atsushi, Kunikida, the whole ADA actually, Chuuya, Ango, even Mori and i can still go on) and that he is learning from his mistake whileBeast!Dazai had never tried to change and just did whatever he wanted and now, surprise surprise, no one likes him.

TL;DR: I feel so bad for Beast!Dazai I wish he didn’t constantly harm those around him and instead made some friends. His small conversation at the bar with Oda speaks volumes.

He was so happy that his eyes were glowing because he finally found someone he thought would be the #1 best friend in the world (yeah how did that feel when you got a gun pointed at you, Dazai? Turns out you don't automatically become friends with the person who has a valid reason to hate you.)

Anyway thx for reading my rambling I have to go back to study biology for now.

#bsd #bsd manga #bsd beast #bungou stray dogs #beast dazai #bsd analysis #bsd meta

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loquaciousferret · 2 years ago

Text

The Moon and Me

Summary: The team-up between you and tough-guy Joel Miller is causing a rift with his brother and partner, Tommy. Given the choice between losing you to keep the peace or choosing you once and for all, there’s only one decision Joel is going to make.

Pairing: Joel Miller X Female Reader

Content Warnings: Angst!! mentions of death, alcohol, age-gap!!, SMUT 18+ mdni, kind of somno. Maybe more. Read at own risk.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Not written in so long but I’ve been in Pedro Pascal thots for days now and can’t finish my Din Djarin fic so instead I wrote this. Not proof-read in any way.

Not canon timeline or events. Probably not even canon Joel character, just need to satisfy my thots.

NSFW under the cut do not press keep reading if you are a minor pls thx!

“What have you turned into? Huh?” He spat. “Playing house with some little thing half your age.”

“That’s enough. Don’t bring her into this.” Joel responded gruffly, a warning in his tone.

“No, really,” Tommy persisted. “What’s it all about, anyway, Joel? Burying your sorrows in some 25 year olds pussy? It isn’t gonna turn back time.”

“Stop. Don’t you dare talk about her like that.” Joel didn’t raise his voice, calm but forceful.

“I have to. This is all about her. You’ve gone all soft over that girl and she’s probably only here with you because her daddy got himself killed and she needs a replacem-“

“I said, enough.” He practically yelled this time, anger and venom in his tone in response to his brother’s words. “Get out.” He spat.

Angry footsteps approached the door where you had been listening and you slipped down the hall to avoid being seen. You got to the kitchen and opened and closed the back door loudly in front of you, feigning that you had just returned and making enough noise to be sure to alert the men to your presence.

As you turned round you just caught the back of Tommy’s head and the front door slamming.

You breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone, leaving you and Joel alone, but tensed up again at the thought of how Joel might act around you now. Would his brothers words be playing on his mind? Things could change quickly in this world if there was any erosion of the trust that you had been carefully constructing between the two of you.

A door opened and Joel came towards you, you smiled, desperately trying to act natural and avoid any hint that you might have heard his and Tommy’s exchange.

“How has your day been?” You asked cheerfully.

He huffed with his typical response. “Well, I’m alive, so.”

You pursed your lips, but smiled again, turning his words into something positive. “So, good, then.”

He scoffed, and you noted that he still hadn’t met your eye throughout the short exchange.

“What did you get?” He asked, bringing your mind back to the reality of the situation.

“Oh.” You fumbled, reaching over and grabbing the pack you had come back with. “Um, it wasn’t too bad actually. Got the basics and a little more.”

He gave no verbal response but nodded approvingly. He finished what he was doing- topping up a glass of whiskey, and left the room, tending to the front door, locking every bolt and chain.

“What about Tommy?” You asked, even though you knew the answer “Is he here?”

“No.” Joel replied sharply, “He won’t be coming back tonight.”

His tone made it clear there was to be no more questions about the matter.

This was serious. A possible rift this large between the two brothers and you knew only your presence was to blame.

“You hungry?” You called out to him as he turned the corner away from you.

“Yes.” He responded briefly.

You had been clutching the edge of the counter with all your force and only realised now when you looked down and your knuckles were white from the pressure. You cursed under your breath, and got to working on some kind of dinner with the supplies you had managed to get this morning. Some canned foods that you managed to heat and present in a way that resembled a meal. You made a plate for Joel and a small one for yourself, your appetite depleted with anxiety.

You grabbed the plates and made your way out of the kitchen before turning and gathering the whiskey under your arm for good measure.

Entering what was set up as the living room area, you eyed Joel. He didn’t return the attention, pretending to be busy fiddling with a pocket knife. You set the food in front of him and he grunted in recognition (his idea of giving thanks) and you sat in a chair opposite.

You ate in silence. Usually you chose to fill these gaps and talk at him rather than with him, but you didn’t trust yourself to act natural and hide what you knew about his and Tommy’s confrontation.

“Was good.” He nodded as he finished eating and pushed the plate away from himself. He took the last sip of his whiskey and you offered him the bottle automatically, which he took, still not once having met your eye.

“I was gonna try wash my clothes, tonight.” You said.

He didn’t take the statement as an offer, filling his glass with no response.

“I can do yours, too.” You clarified.

“Don’t have any spares.” He responded gruffly. He was a man of few words at the best of times but 6 words throughout an entire meal was unusual even for him.

“Just your shirt, then.” You said.

He conceded with a nod.

You pushed your plate towards him, less than half eaten. Your stomach churning with uncertainty to the point you couldn’t choke it down.

“You should be eating more.” He said, but took the food anyway.

You watched him intently as he cleared the plate before reaching to take it back along with his previous empty one. You left the room, both failing to acknowledge each other any further.

You got to the kitchen and left the plates in the sink. The water didn’t run in there, but him and Tommy had been working at fixing it.

Tommy. You thought hard again about their conversation and what might have triggered it. What slight had Joel committed that Tommy chose to blame you for. You couldn’t put your finger on a good explanation.

You kept yourself busy for the rest of the day in your room to avoid Joel. Counting, sorting, tidying the small number of possessions you had, then starting again to fill the time. When it got dark out, you started to get ready for bed, stripping off your clothes and putting on some spare socks and underwear and a large oversized shirt. The water did run in the bathroom and you imagined you could wash them somewhat in the bathtub. When you left your room, Joel’s shirt hung on the handrail for the stairs, waiting for you.

You picked it up and walked to the bathroom, as you reached for the door handle it swung open in front of you and you bumped into Joel’s bare chest.

“Oh.” You said, “I’m sorry. Didn’t know you were in here.”

For a split second you got to analyse his body, his broad shoulders and chest, littered with scars that stood out white against tanned skin.

“Gonna let me out?” He said, snapping your gaze towards him, where you found him staring right ahead, dodging your face completely.

You side stepped and he passed you without another word, leaving you with just a hint of the scent of him. Musk, salt, whiskey.

You kneeled in front of the bathtub and ran the tap, the water was clear and clean but nowhere near hot. It would probably work, though. You reached for the rare bar of soap that rested on the edge of the bath, deeming its use a worthwhile sacrifice for the feeling of clean clothes.

You dipped all of yours into the water in a pile, saturating them before removing them one by one, scrubbing the fabric together with a small amount of soap and rinsing. Repeat. Your mind wandered, with the mundane task barely taking up any thinking power.

You imagined how it feel to be close to him. How warm would his chest be if you were pressed up against it. What he would taste like if you were to kiss his skin.

You shook your head and frowned at yourself. It was no use thinking that way. You knew on that one fact that Tommy definitely had the wrong idea. There was no level of intimacy between you and Joel. There never would be. He was right about the fact of you being half his age, a fact you were definitely both astutely aware of. It had to be enough for Joel not to ever think about you in that way. But it didn’t stop you from thinking about him.

Before you knew it his shirt was in your hands, and your face pressed into the fabric. His scent was comforting, despite being mixed with sweat, dirt, and blood. You inhaled it nonetheless. You imagined how your scents would smell mixed together in some kind of moment of intimacy or passion.

For fuck’s sake. Get it together. You tell yourself, and plunged his shirt into the water.

When the washing was complete you drained the tub, the water grey with filth, and began to wring out each item carefully as much as you could. Hopefully they would dry overnight so you both could dress again in the morning.

You draped his damp blue shirt to dry, where he had left it on the rail for you, and retreated into your room in silence.

As you lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you, you could ever so slightly glimpse the moon and stars watching over you through a small crack in the boarded up window.

The next few days passed slowly. The tension from Joel didn’t let up once. You co-existed in the space whilst barely acknowledging one another. There was no sign of Tommy’s return.

On the third night, as you and Joel ate another meal in painful silence, your thoughts bubbled to the surface and despite your better judgment, your words of confession spilled out before you could stop them.

“I heard you.” You blurted. “You and Tommy. The other day. I know why he’s gone.”

For the first time in days, he met your eyes, shooting you a look you couldn’t decipher the meaning of.

“That’s none of your concern.” He spoke almost through gritted teeth.

“Well, it is, actually. It was about me. It directly concerns me.” You were usually slow to challenge him but the guilt and anxiety of the past few days had turned into some kind of twisted courage.

“You’ve been acting differently ever since.” You accused. “So I know part of you must believe what he said, or at least you have a suspicion he’s right.”

He scowled.

“Just admit it.” You challenged again.

He downed the last few sips of his whiskey and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. He tilted his head to one side.

“I don’t particularly care why you’re here. He could be right. Why would it matter?”

His admission practically knocked the air out of your lungs. You were angry. His words were cruel, even though you know he didn’t mean them to be. He was always matter of fact, always suspicious. You should have known that that would apply to you as well.

You scoff almost in derision, humiliated and almost offended at the accusation that you could just be using him.

“Look, I get it.” He continues. “We all have to do what we must in this world. I’m not saying I blame you.”

If his words were meant to console you, they did the opposite.

“How dare you.” You responded.

He raised an eyebrow. You had never spoken to him like this, even when he deserved it fairly often. You weren’t a hothead and you usually didn’t let his rudeness get under your skin, you were forgiving and sensitive and you knew his front was all about self-protection, letting him get away with most of what should be considered unacceptable.

“You really think I’m here because I need you?” You spat, almost disgusted at the accusation. “I’m here because I choose to be. I’m here because I lo-” You stuttered and you knew he noticed, his eyes twitching. “Because I like you. I like your company. Despite how unpleasant you insist on being most of the time. On a good day you are funny. You can almost be kind, and caring- in your own way. But don’t for one second think I’m using you for my own protection. There was a time before you and there could easily be a time after you.”

His eyes widened at your outburst. He was practically smirking and it enraged you even further.

“You’re only in this situation, having these doubts and suspicions because of your own insistence on not talking about the past. You refuse to let yourself know me. If you knew my story you wouldn’t believe Tommy, or doubt my intentions, for even a second.”

He still didn’t respond, just watching you carefully as you got more and more flustered.

“For the record, I lost my father long before this mess started. I’ve been taking care of myself since the beginning and before that. I was 16. He was a cop. He was killed in the line of duty. Before any virus, anything. And I looked after myself from then on. He was a good cop. He was brave and intelligent and he taught me never to rely on anyone else. And I don’t. Least of all you.”

His lack of response kept your emotions heightened.

“You are so arrogant. And so self-important. I don’t need you. I chose you. You think everyone is driven by selfishness and a need to survive. Well I’m not. I choose to still find happiness, joy, laughter, music. That’s what makes us human, if you remember what that means. You and Tommy and anyone else who thinks I’m soft- well, I just don’t care. If everything you do is just driven by self-preservation then how are you any better than those monsters that we are hiding from. You would be a shell of a person if every choice you made was from a need to survive. But you would know all about that.”

Your words came out more hurtful than you had imagined but you meant every one of them. What was the point of struggling through this just to survive. You were here to live. To remember the past and find whatever scraps of it you could to rebuild something worth living for in the world you now inhabited.

His face was blank, betraying no emotion at your words.

“But I’m not going to come between you and Tommy. I know where I’m not wanted.” You spoke calmly now. “And I get it, blood is thicker than water. I won’t be the reason you lose your family. I know how that feels. And I’ll be fine. I was fine before I met you. I will be again.”

You raised from your seat and walked out of the room, speaking your final words without turning to face him. “I’ll be gone by the morning.”

You climbed the stairs and hot tears spilled from your eyes. At least they hadn’t started while you were yelling at him. That would have really undermined your point.

You slammed your door in frustration and looked around the room you had called home for the last 6 months here with Joel. You thought back to when you first met, bartering in the commune. You offering whiskey and him cigarettes. You remembered how it felt when his hand grazed yours the first time you traded with each other, his warm calloused skin and the way you practically squirmed under his intense gaze. You never would have thought then that you would become somewhat of a team. That you would grow to care for him and to-

You interrupted your own train of thought to consider what you had almost said to him in the heat of the moment. That you had grown to love him.

Part of you wasn’t sure it was true. You were only 20 when the outbreak happened, you had barely dated, barely slept with other people, never developed feelings that you thought might be love.

But you had decided that had to be what you felt towards Joel. A sense of home in wherever he was. The last thought on your mind before falling asleep and the first when you woke up. Knowing you would go hungry so he could be full, thirsty so that he might be satiated. Hurt so that he might be safe.

The tears spilled again, uncontrollable. You had picked the worst possible person to fall for, in the worst possible circumstances.

You gathered what few things you had into your pack and lay down, exhausted. Peeling off your clothes that were stuck to your flushed and tired body, discarding them on the floor and crawling into bed in your underwear. The sheets were cool and provided relief.

You tossed and turned, the house remained silent. You never heard Joel come to bed and guessed he was downstairs finishing the last of his whiskey that you had managed to save for him.

You thought about what you would have to do in the morning. You had to go far from here, somewhere you would never have to come across him again. You couldn’t stay within any proximity that would allow the potential for chance meetings. It would hurt too much to be so close but so far from the man you wanted.

You didn’t know how long you had surrendered to sleep for when you were awoken by the creaking of the floorboards on the landing outside your door and the scratch of your door as it opened. Confused by half-sleep and emotions you were still in your own world until weight on the mattress disturbed you and, next, warm hands on your neck.

“Joel?” You whispered in a groan. You were still confused and unsure, stuck in a space between dream and reality, the only clarity provided to your senses was his distinct scent as you breathed in.

He was rolling you from your side onto your back, one strong hand still on your neck and the other on your waist. As you woke up properly you were startled.

“Joel? Wha-“ Your protests were met by him shushing you.

He had never been in your room before, not even when you were awake. And you had never been in his space. Whilst the rest of the house was shared, you were both very private in your separate bedroom sanctuaries.

“Joel-“ You tried again but were interrupted by words this time.

“Can’t you just be quiet?” He said, but there was no annoyance in his tone. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he only sounded nervous. “You’ve said your piece tonight. It’s my turn now.”

As your eyes adjusted to the light you took him in, the shadows on his beard, his forehead. He looked as handsome as ever, and where his strong hands touched you, fire radiated.

“What you said about blood. About family. You’re wrong. You’re my family now. I do choose you. Choose you every day. Would neve- Could never choose anyone else.” His words were barely more than a whisper, and you almost couldn’t believe your ears. Tough, hard, cold Joel muttering words of pure adoration.

“I don’t underst-“ Your words were cut off with a gasp as he began to run his hands up and down your body.

“You’re not leavin’ tomorrow.” He breathed, his lips tickling the crook of your neck where he was leaning his head. “Won’t let you.”

You let out almost a laugh at the insinuation. Could it be true? That he wanted you as much as you wanted him? That he would really be willing to keep you practically against your will, just out of a desperate need to be with you?

“What you said, got me realisin’ what a fool I’ve been. Not havin’ the balls to show you what you mean to me. To prove myself to you. ‘n I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You were barely convinced it was reality, these confessions just too shocking to register as true.

You were only convinced by the feeling of his lips on yours, the taste of whiskey and tobacco strong but not unpleasant. Everything about him was exactly what you had imagined, strong but gentle, forceful but cautious.

“I’ve been a fool, baby. Really I have. Never should have let you think you were anything less than the most amazing, beautiful thing that, hell, I don’t know what I’ve ever done right to deserve.” His words were punctuated with kisses, on your lips, neck, and onto your sternum.

You suddenly realised how naked you were compared to him, just your bra and underwear to cover yourself and you became self-conscious, lifting your arms to his chest to push him off slightly. The action made him tense up and you witnessed an expression of fear or embarrassment in his eyes, maybe he thought he had the wrong idea.

You silenced his worry by once again connecting your mouths in a kiss, and you’re not sure what gave you the confidence to reach down and toy with his belt, struggling with the buckle to undo it. It was then you took notice of the erection in his jeans. It almost made your jaw drop, palming it gently and finding it’s size. It was big. Definitely bigger than anything you had had in the past.

His mouth twitched into his signature smirk, breaking the kiss to taunt “You like what you see, baby?”

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks, which he must have seen or felt somehow as he chuckled. He leaned back, his own hands unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans with ease. He pulled them down and his boxers, his hard cock springing out, already leaking from its tip.

You took it into your hand and stroked gently, and he sighed in relief.

“Your hands- so small- so warm. ” He stuttered, his hands wandering once again, this time round your back where he unclipped your bra and pulled it from your body.

“God-“ He muttered, before taking a handful of your breast, kneading it gently and continuing to breathe deeply as you quickened the pace of your hand around his hard cock.

You were pliant and submissive beneath him as his hands roamed your body, he grabbed both your hands with one of his and pinned them above your head before starting to touch your inner thighs with the other.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked, anxiety returning when you thought about your relationship up to this point. You couldn’t think of a time he’d ever indicated he was attracted to you, and a terrible thought was trying to convince you he was only doing this as a way to comfort you or convince you to stay.

“Am I sure?” He responded, incredulous. “I’ve wanted this since the first day I laid eyes on you baby. Never thought in a million years you’d want the same.”

He whispered the words into your skin, his beard tickling you as his mouth moved.

His free hand drifted from your inner thigh to your clothed sex, palming it gently. You squeezed your legs together involuntarily and became aware of how wet you already were. He did too, smirking again as he hooked a finger under the fabric and felt your slick entrance. He slipped one finger in immediately and you gasped, hips keening up towards his touch, your body unable to resist the overwhelming arousal and desire. It had been so long since someone else touched you like this. The fact that it was him, now, was unbelievable. He curled his fingers slowly, eliciting moans from you that must have seemed almost exaggerated.

“You like that, baby?”

You whined in response as he continued, his pace slow, teasing.

“Please,” You whined, no shame and no attempt to hide just how much you were already at his mercy.

He complied, releasing the grip he still maintained on your hands above your head and removing the other from inside you, using both hands to pull down your underwear, leaving you both exposed. He was still wearing his shirt, and you reached up, clumsily attempting to undo each button, simultaneously pulling him towards you for another desperate kiss.

“Wanted this for so long-“ You confessed in a whine as he touched you again, this time circling your clit gently.

“Yeah?” He responded.

“Please Joel-“ Your words were almost begging.

Sooner than you could finish speaking your thoughts, he was guiding his dick towards your entrance, nudging it gently before pushing all the way in. You both gasped simultaneously at the sensation, a perfect fit, stretching you so pleasurably.

You continued without the need for words, the room filled with the sounds of skin, the squeak of the bed, and the passionate, satisfied, desperate moans of two people who did not know how much they both needed each other until they finally took the chance.

His thrusts which had started off slow and gentle had been consistently gathering in pace and force, his hands unable to settle, roaming every inch of your body as if he was mapping you out under his touch. He squeezed your breasts, your hips, your thighs, whilst your hands explored his wide back, shoulders, chest.

You thought your pleasure couldn’t be enhanced any more until he reached one hand down to play with your clit, his thrusts still relentless. Your moans became a string of unintelligible pleading, his name rolling of your tongue like a desperate prayer.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Say my name baby, god- fuck.”

You thought it was impossible but his thrusts increased in force, and as they did so you felt a knot of heat gathering as an orgasm approached.

“Joel- ah- fuck- I” You couldn’t get a warning out before you came hard, clenching and writhing under him. His pace still didn’t let up, he didn’t stop playing with your sensitive clit, and his volume increased, grunts and moans of elation as you tightened and contracted around him repeatedly.

“Yeah baby, cum on my cock baby. Too good- fuck.” His thrusts grew sloppy as he reached his own climax, “I’m gonna cum.” He groaned.

He pulled out and a few strokes of his fist later, white hot spurts littered your upper thighs and stomach.

He collapsed next to you briefly, pressing wet kisses to your neck and collarbones, his cock twitching, sensitive from the first sex he has had in months.

When he stood, you were still so overwhelmed from your own orgasm that you failed to open your eyes to investigate his movements. As quickly as he had left, he returned, and you felt the cool wet edge of a towel cleaning you off. He tossed it on the floor before resuming his position next to you.

You opened your eyes and took in what you could of his face in the dark. You reached up and wiped sweat from his brow, pressing a kiss to his throat. In a swift motion he grabbed both your arms and turned you to face him fully.

“You still leaving in the morning?” He asked gruffly.

“Not a chance.” You whispered.

That night you slept with the light of the moon and the man you loved, watching you, protecting you.

#Joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #tlou smut #the last of us smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic

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maimingaffairs · 1 year ago

Note

can you do something that’s like aftermath of the darkling’s death and how it affects the reader and like what would happen to her?? does not have to be happy thx

it’s not happy (no surprise, surely. i’m sorely against happy needing) but also hehe i love u for this. thank you for feeding my addiction to misery and wallowing.

warnings: mentions of death, thoughts of unaliving yourself IF YOU SQUINT

word count: 888

Right Where You Left Me (aleksander morozova x fem!reader)

Sometimes, you could still hear him breathe at your side. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest underneath your cheek. You could still smell him.

The moments between fully waking and fully sleeping were the most blissfully painful for you. Those were the moments where you could fully immerse yourself in the memory of your husband. He was still alive there, in that sliver of time.

Waking was a cold, lonely endeavor. Waking meant you realized you were not laying upon his chest, you were laying on a cold bed in a cell underneath the palace. Waking meant you smelled nothing but dust and decay. Waking meant you didn’t hear his soft breaths, instead you hear nothing but your own mixed with the ear-splitting silence of your new home.

Grief didn’t even begin to cover a fraction of what you felt. Sadness wasn’t strong enough to describe your melancholia. The all-consuming, soul-crushing weight of Aleksander Morozova’s loss sat heavy upon your chest and sucked the air right of your lungs. Over, and over again, never ending, never able to be soothed.

A part of you wished that you could’ve been there in his dying moments, but the other part of you was glad you didn’t have to see life escape his eyes. Instead you’d been tucked away safely at the sanctuary, far away from the violence. You didn’t want that, not initially, at least. But he insisted, the wise bastard insisted that you stay far away from harm��s reach. Oh, and he promised, he swore upon his life that he’d return to you.

It was the only promise he didn’t keep for you.

Only a day short of a week had passed since he left. You were left alone at the sanctuary, and he told you it would be better than you getting hurt. On the evening of the sixth day of his absence, heavy footsteps clamored down the hallway. Doors were slammed open and rooms were rummaged through. Though you knew what was coming, you wanted so desperately to believe that all was well.

When the door to your bedroom flew open, the first face you saw was Alina Starkov’s. Next to her were two soldiers and a boy with blonde hair. Nikolai Lantsov, you guessed. You straightened yourself up in the chair that you were perched in and you set aside the book you weren’t ever really ever reading.

“Aleksander Morozova is dead.”

You were sure Alina had said it, but you couldn’t recall as clearly as you would have liked.

The feeling that shrouded your stomach was comparable to that of being deathly ill and you felt bile rise in the back of your throat. Your breathing had picked up rapidly and the world around you began to distort and twist as if you were peering up from underwater.

“Then kill me as well.” You remember whispering, your hands curling into your palms, nails digging violently into your soft palms.

You were not Grisha, there was not a fight that you could put up that wouldn’t be easily ended by Alina alone.

She did not kill you. Instead you were shackled and brought to Os Alta on a horse accompanied by a stocky soldier who had been a bit too rough. You weren’t sure if you wished to be dead or not, only that you wished to be by Aleksander’s side. Whatever that entailed.

Once you had arrived at Os Alta, you were told you’d stand trial for treason, for siding with the Darkling. But as the days dragged on in the cells underneath the beautiful palace above you, you began to question whether or not anyone still remembered you were there.

The silence had begun to drive you mad, and you started hearing your husband call for you. Speak to you. You started to feel him holding you, touching you. They were bittersweet delusions of a mind so shattered by loss.

All you ever wanted to do was sleep.

Your sleep was dreamless usually, and it was the only time that you could escape that bottomless pit that resided in your chest, consuming everything that might come close to it. But those brief moments when you lingered in your sleep yet tiptoed towards your awakening were the sweetest and kindest ones. Aleksander was alive in that state of half consciousness and he was always there. Always at your side. Always within reach. And oh, did you reach for him. Every time you thought you’d grasped him for good, you found yourself pushed into consciousness once more, and the sweetness melted into despair once again.

You loved him. He was your husband, how could you not? You mourned him, you grieved him, you cried his name every single day. You cursed him for breaking his promise to you, you condemned him for leaving you behind to live in a world without him. You’d berate him in your head for letting you become lonely, for allowing himself to falter just enough to let Alina win.

With toe curling cries and teeth chattering wails, you’d beg the silent void around you each night to let you sleep for good. To let you see him again, really see him again.

Not just glimpses made of dreams and wishes.

But you were granted no such relief.

#grishaverse #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova x you #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #the darkling imagine #the darkling #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagine

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sssammich · 8 months ago

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collateral pt5

author's note: this part finishes this arc of the story. i'll post again until the next arc is finished. no eta on that, unfortunately. but outline has been written out so there's an end to this lol

this part is rated M for sexual content.

ao3 link (opens to part 5)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

alright thx yall xo

---

Kara stood right next to Andrea as she eyed both hotel doors.

“It seems we’re neighbors,” Andrea offered.

She glanced at the woman beside her. “Why do I get the feeling you knew that already?”

Andrea only shrugged, seemingly unaffected. “That’s why my hair’s so pretty. It’s full of secrets.”

Kara’s jaw dropped, not sure how to process the unexpected joke. “Did you just…quote Mean Girls to me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that that movie was only for peasants.”

“Peasa—I have a Pulitzer!”

The other woman smirked and stepped forward, their face suddenly closer than Kara anticipated. “Oh, so now you accept that you have a Pulitzer.”

“I always accepted–! It was the nickname. It’s don’t like the nick—”

Yet before she could finish speaking, Andrea’s lips found their way on hers.

Kara’s first thought should have been to stop Andrea. To pull back, To immediately put a stop to whatever this was. Instead, her first thought was the softness and suppleness of Andrea’s lips as she kissed back. Her second thought was that Andrea tasted a little bit of alcohol and faintly of the cigarette she’d had earlier. Her third and most fleeting thought was how she hoped her own lips weren’t chapped—

“Whoa, wait…” she said, finally pulling back just as she placed some distance between them. Andrea carded her fingers through her hair and watched patiently as Kara tried to gather her wits about her, all of which were slipping through her fingers like water. “I don’t understand. You know I’m in love with someone else.”

“I’m aware.”

“So why would you…”

“Haven’t you ever heard that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Look, Kara,” Andrea started. It was weird to hear her name come out of Andrea’s mouth, but now that she had, Kara realized that it was the first time Andrea had said her name all night. “The way I see it is that if you want to get over Lena, you have to let her go. And what I’m offering can help with that, if you’re open to it. I just think that if you’re interested, an arrangement could be made that’s equally beneficial to the both of us.”

She furrowed her brows. “What’s in it for you?”

“Well, Pulitzer, if you’re not terrible, then an orgasm or two.”

Kara stepped up and placed a hand on Andrea. “Please, be serious.”

Andrea watched her, a moment passing between them. Kara tried not to squirm, her eyes focused on Andrea’s blue-green eyes roaming her face. Then, Andrea brought thumb up and tried to wipe something off around her mouth, Kara belatedly realizing it was probably the other woman’s lipstick. “It’s exactly as I said. This doesn’t have to mean more than what it is. You and I can have fun tonight and be back to normal in the morning. The walk of shame for you isn’t even that long.”

Finally, Andrea stepped back, taking out her keycard from her purse and tapping it against her door until they both heard the small chime of the door unlocking. The other woman pushed the door open into a darkened room before she shifted to face Kara, leaning against the door and looking directly in Kara’s eyes.

“You have until the door slams shut to make a decision.”

Kara watched as Andrea slowly walked into her room, pushing the door as far back as possible and walked away leaving the decision in Kara’s hands.

She didn’t know Andrea, didn’t know if the woman was genuine. But as she quickly rifled through their time together during the evening, she couldn’t deny that she had a fun time with the other woman. Whatever her reason was for helping Kara worked, because Kara came out of that wedding alive.

And, if she was being very honest, Kara couldn’t deny that Andrea was a very attractive woman.

Kara caught a glimpse of warm light filling the room, but the door was just about to slam in her face when—

The tip of her shoe wedged itself between the door and the jamb. She shut her eyes, wondering if she was really going to do this, before taking a deep breath. All she’d done tonight was think and overthink, her mind running rampant and her heart struggling to catch up. Whether there was more or less to Andrea’s offer, she’d run out of time to determine. And, at this point, she didn’t care anymore.

With a push, the door swung open and she rushed to where Andrea was standing by the edge of the bed, taking her earrings off.

Just as Andrea was about to make some comment—no doubt some testing quip of some sort, Kara surged forward and kissed her. She took Andrea’s face in her hands and held her there—a touch to ground her as she closed her eyes and kissed a woman who held no place in her heart.

Their kisses turned frantic, her hands relinquishing their hold of Andrea’s face as they roamed down Andrea’s shoulders and to the zipper on the back of her dress. Andrea, for her part, was all too eager to run her own hands all over Kara’s body, her hands lingering and squeezing her biceps. Kara would have teased her about focusing on her arms if she hadn’t been so distracted with the fine figure beneath her after she tugged at Andrea’s dress. She then pushed Andrea down on her now exposed back, brown hair fanning in contrast with the white comforter.

“This means nothing,” she insisted, even as she unzipped her own dress from the side and let it crumple on the ground. Andrea pushed herself up on her elbows and fully slid back to get to the center of the bed, her dress pooling by her ankles, kicking them out of the way until she was left in her matching red underwear.

“You’re not even my type, Pulitzer.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t kick a girl while she’s down?” she asked with an arch of her brow, a teasing grin on her face.

Andrea shrugged and unclasped her strapless bra and let it fall to the side. “Surprise, I lied.”

Kara unclasped her bra and threw it somewhere behind her before she crawled between Andrea’s legs, excitement growing as she glanced down at Andrea’s red lace panties. It made sense, Kara mused, that this woman would match and accessorize accordingly. She almost wanted to make a joke of it, but when she saw the darkened patch at the center of the lace, her mind blanked a little.

Instead, carefully, she slid her hands starting from Andrea’s hips and slowly up those smooth long legs until her thumbs teased the inside of her “Anybody ever tell you that you have a bad habit of lying.”

“And you have a bad habit of stalling. So, if you don’t mind,” Andrea said, waving her hand for Kara to continue. She shook her head, amusement and arousal prickling her skin as she shoved all thoughts of Lena and the wedding and the grief of all the love she could not give freely out of the way for something that could tether her to this moment.

She dropped her head and kissed Andrea fully in the mouth, further encouraged by Andrea wrapping her legs around Kara’s middle. Kara then shifted to bring her body down, until their naked fronts touched, their nipples pressing into one another. She enjoyed the way Andrea’s nails scratched at the base of her neck and her shoulders in response to their bodies reacting to one another.

Entangled with each other, she rocked them back and forth as they kissed and nipped for control. Their rhythm was fast, hungry, unable to stay in any one place. Kara was more than fine with that, because they weren’t anything to each other but a means to an end. She groaned when Andrea managed to push her head to the side so she could suck purple a sensitive spot on Kara’s neck.

She caressed Andrea’s body as she slid down, her mouth traveling from the crook of Andrea’s neck and onto her chest until she was faced with Andrea’s tits in full display. She hoisted herself on her elbows as she palmed both of them, giving them a teasing squeeze before her mouth descended on a nipple. Andrea moaned underneath her and tightened her legs around Kara’s body.

Encouraged, Kara continued to play and tease Andrea with her tongue while a free hand made its way down to Andrea’s center, her knuckle rubbing against the lace fabric, worsening the wet patch as she pushed in to tease.

“You’re this turned on already?” she asked, pulling up slightly and looking up to see Andrea’s eyes remain closed.

Andrea huffed, her hand making its way to Kara’s hair. “Not for long if you don’t keep going.”

She rolled her eyes but nonetheless returned to her task at hand. Andrea seemed content with Kara’s decision to continue because her hand held Kara’s head in place. Kara pushed the lace fabric to the side and let her fingers finally touch Andrea’s wetness, the heat of her core affecting Kara as she slid her fingers back and forth between Andrea’s sensitive inner lips.

“Fuuuck—yeah keep doing that.”

Dutifully, she followed Andrea’s voice as she directed Kara to play her body to her specifications. Of course, Kara was more than happy to comply, her own underwear growing a wet patch at how gratifying it was to satisfy someone.

She pushed back up to kiss Andrea, her brain hazy with the feel of this woman beneath her just as her fingers pushed into Andrea’s depths. Meanwhile, Andrea’s fingers dug into her back, small delicious bites of those beautiful red nails against her skin.

Soon, Andrea was moving her hips in rhythm to Kara pumping her fingers in and out, her forearm straining slightly from the angle, but not wanting to disappoint the woman in front of her.

“Yes, yes—” Andrea groaned. “Almost…”

Kara brought their lips together once more, her tongue seeking entrance in Andrea’s mouth even as the other woman struggled to kiss back as she neared the precipice of her orgasm. Kara stayed quiet during the whole ordeal, though her eyes were laser-focused on Andrea’s features when shadows of their movements danced on her skin, sweat forcing her hair to stick on the edges of her face.

Finally, Andrea pulled Kara into a searing kiss just as she tightened her arms around Kara’s shoulders, her ankles crossed behind Kara’s back. Kara let her body move with the climaxing current that was Andrea as the woman underneath her came all around her fingers.

They held each other for a moment, their heavy pants slowing to loud exhales, until Andrea completely dropped her limbs to her side. The heat of their entangled bodies suddenly disappeared, Kara suddenly feeling all cold.

Silently, she watched in wonder and curiosity until Andrea opened her eyes and gave her a pleasant smile. “Not bad, Pulitzer,” she offered, her voice coming out rough. Kara found it hot, if she was being honest.

She laughed, despite herself, her body and mind feeling weightless at this particular moment. She carefully pulled her fingers out, wiggling them before touching the wetness from her fingers on Andrea’s breast. She was rewarded with a squeak escaping from Andrea’s mouth and an earned slap on the shoulder. “I can do better, if you’re so unhappy with my performance,” she reasoned as she bracketed her arms around Andrea’s frame.

Andrea placed an arm under her head and stared at Kara above her. She nodded exaggeratedly even as she pulled Kara down with her free hand. “Very unhappy. Try again.”

Kara still didn’t know what was going to happen after tonight. Maybe nothing, maybe something. But Andrea was here with her, and not the figment and fantasy of a life she wished she had. So she would take what she could get. And she would give the woman in front of her another orgasm.

So, as she tilted her head down until their lips touched and she pushed her thumb on Andrea’s clit, Kara tried again.

#samfic: collateral #superrojas #samfic #fanfiction #sc is still part of this overall fic but definitely not in this part so #posting superrojas in my supercorp sunday? it's more likely than you think

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wheresmymilliondollarman · 10 months ago

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omg….HELLO EVERYONE 🌟🎀🦋🩷

yes, it’s been a long while since i’ve been here and i wanted to let everyone who still somehow follows has that i am alive and well 🫶

i truthfully dont have some wild explanation as to why i havent been here, the trust is i took a break then i lost my login info </3 & then it made me lose motivation to write unfortunately BUT THEN i barely found out recently i saved it on my computer at some point and then i got my email and logged back in woohoo !!

been awhile since i’ve written, but i want to get back into it again bc i miss my book bfs ngl </3 thank u to all these wonderful new followers like OMG 500+ ???? that’s SOO insane to me thank u sm!!!!! (tbh i cringe at sum of the stuff i wrote so the fact u guys like it means sm)

tbh guys.. im probably gonna clean slate my wip FOR NOW bc i need to go back and edit and get inspo again and i’m not sure when stuff will get done i fear😞 but i promise to finish the last part to the aaron series first ! i’m so sorry i left u guys on a cliff hanger i became what i hate the most😣 but thx sm for the support and hopefully i can get back into my groove soon, i may jus post some drabbles to get me started we’ll see && i will be looking thru my requests rn :D

#𝐳𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 2 years ago

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Who Let Us Have A Group Chat?

Pairings: Blood Moon/DJ Music Man, Harvest Moon/Glamrock Bonnie, Eclipse/OC (well, not anymore)

Word Count: 1,160 Words

Summary: More backups, teenager discussions, and disabilities.

Warnings: Cursing, Sick (mentioned), Drinking (mentioned only), Caps, Injury (mentioned), Neglect Mention, Abuse Mention, let me know if I should add anything else.

Notes: Sirius is good Eclipse. Charon is Good Eclipse’s Moon. Altair is Good Eclipse’s Sun.

Chapter 11: Why Are There Teenagers?

4:14am Who Took My Hat?

Moon: Why in the fuck did I just find three of your backups on my patrol? @Eclipse

Eclipse: ...wat?

Moon: Well, I've named oldest one Equinox. Lunar was awake and Bolide was visiting so they named the other two.

Eclipse: ...wat?

Lunar: I named the youngest! His name is Meridian!

Eclipse: ...wat?

Bolide: The middle one I named, his name is Solstice.

Eclipse: ...wat?

Moon: Three backups. They seem pretty harmless. Kinda adorable. Equinox finished the patrol with me.

Bolide: Solstice wanted to sleep, he was really tired.

Lunar: I forced Meridian in a bath. Your three new children are dirty as hell from being in the sewers.

Eclipse: .........

Moon: Okay, you're like half-alive, KC is probably asleep. We'll keep them for now, go back to sleep.

Eclipse: mmmk

7:45am Who Took My Hat?

Eclipse: God, it wasn't a fever dream.

Moon: You're sick again?

Eclipse: Mhm, sick.

Moon: You okay?

Eclipse: I feel like hell. Can't breathe very well but they already broke the fever again.

Moon: You get sick way too often.

Eclipse: You're telling me, the one who gets sick too often. I hate this.

Moon: Good to know. We'll keep the triplets for a few days while you get better.

Eclipse: thx

Solar Flare: Father is quite sick. He's thrown up seven times now and couldn't get a full night's sleep even before your messages at 4am.

Moon: Poor fuck.

Lunar: I'm very pleased to say I've never gotten sick.

Eclipse: This is why I hate you sometimes.

Eclipse: You fucking healthy bastard.

Eclipse: And your perfect immune system.

Eclipse: Meanwhile I suffer because mine sucks.

Lunar: At least you're not eternally equivalent to a 14 year old.

Eclipse: I'm equivalent to an 18yo don't come at me with that shit, I'm barely legal.

Lunar: At least you're legal.

Moon: Wait, wait, wait, hold on. You two are kids?

Lunar: Yes.

Eclipse: Yes? In a way?

Moon: Me and Sun are both coded as twenty five!

Kill Code: I'm still the oldest, I'm 34.

Sun: Damn, you had Eclipse at 16. Rip

Moon: Just hold the fuck up, how many of you are minors!?

Sirius: 17

Brown Dwarf: Fifteen.

Supermassive: 16

Moon: We're just chilling with five minors!?

Blood Moon: Ha, we're older than you Eclipse! We're 21!

Harvest Moon: At least I'm legal to drink, I think I need to after learning that Eclipse is our little brother.

Sun: You literally would be legal for it anyway. It's not like someone's going to go up to a murderous robot and ask them for their ID or internally coded age.

Eclipse: You make a good point and I've proven this.

Kill Code: Why are you drinking underage!?

Eclipse: I was at a fancy party!

Kill Code: Why do you go to so many fancy places!?

Eclipse: Because I can.

Sun: 👀

Eclipse: Get those eyes away, I'm only 18!

Sun: You bastard, you have perfect excuses because of your code age.

Eclipse: Exactly. I want to be away from someone, 'I'm not legal'. I want to be near someone or do adult things 'I'm a legal adult'. It's not like anyone is going to challenge that because they don't know my actual age.

Sun: Smart little fucker.

Blood Moon: You haven't seen him walk into glass doors, have you?

Sun: No, but now I can imagine it and I can't stop laughing.

Moon: Can confirm, Sun sounds like a hyena.

Eclipse: I hate all of you.

Sun: To be fair, like Brownie, I wouldn't be able to see it but I can imagine the sound just THUNK OW

Moon: What?

Sun: Oh shit.

Moon: No, you explain yourself now!

Sun: Um...Moon, I'm half blind.

Moon: You're what?

Sun: I've always been like this, how have you not noticed?

Moon: I don't know! You're blind!?

Sun: Only half blind. I'm fully blind in the dark though. I can only really see in the daycare, the lights are that bright for a reason. I have a hard time seeing anywhere else. I thought you knew this.

Moon: Obviously not, Sunny, you have to tell me these things! I'm oblivious as fuck, Sun, you have to tell me or I won't realize it!

Sun: I thought you knew!

Moon: Is this why you hit into things or stay in place when the lights go out?

Sun: I plead the fifth.

Moon: You can't plead the fifth on a disability, Sunrise!

Sun: Moon, I didn't want to scare you! I thought it was better not to mention it since I thought you knew and disregarded it!

Moon: I would never disregard something like this!

Brown Dwarf: Blind besties?

Sun: Yes, Brownie, blind besties.

Sirius: Can I also be a blind bestie? My left eye is screwed up now.

Lunar: God, what did you do now?

Sirius: So I was fixing something with Chary looking after the daycare

Sirius: And I was working with my wrench close to my face

Sirius: And a kid came and jumped on what I was working on and it fell on me

Sirius: I shattered my left eye with my wrench. Just the outer layer but it hurts to be uncovered now.

Sun: Temporarily blind bestie.

Brown Dwarf: Rip Sirius, lost his left eye being a good mechanic.

Sirius: I have replacements, but we have it covered for now so I can help Charon with the daycare.

Eclipse: Do I have to steal you and fix it since Charon is disregarding your injuries again? We aren't having a repeat of the broken arm incident again.

Kill Code: Elbow joint? What? Again?

Eclipse: Siri got his arm stuck in the compactor trying to save one of his favorite bunny plushies that his bastard Monty threw in there and it crushed his arm. Charon was so busy with Altair he ignored it for a week before Sirius jumped dimensions and I noticed his arm and fixed it.

Kill Code: Is the child's bunny okay? Is he okay?

Sirius: No, Millie got crushed but I'm okay now. Clipse fixed me. But fine, I'll visit for the eye, I'll bring the replacement with me.

Eclipse: You better!

Sirius: Yes, Dr. Eclipse.

Eclipse: The fuck? I'm not the healer, Lunar's the mage.

Kill Code: I'm so lost.

Lunar: Dungeons and dragons. Me, Clipsey, Siri, Puppet, and a couple others are in a DnD group. I'm the mage but I don't have healing spells. Eclipse, our rogue, has every single healing spell.

Moon: Makes sense.

Eclipse: I am not your local doctor! I'm the sickest fucker here!

Moon: You're right, you're sick. Sirius, I'll replace your eye, then you can go visit Eclipse if you want to see him still.

Sirius: Thanks, just gotta sneak away before Char notices. I think Al should boot his performance programming soon anyway so I can sneak out then, since he's always distracted whenever the performance programming takes over.

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domini-porter · 6 months ago

Note

Hi, I genuinely just want to pop in to say that I’m very excited to begin reading your series The Age of Wickedness!

I loved what you did with CMYK, and I was waiting because I’m currently working my way through FAR too many stories.

So I didn’t honestly come to ask a question as much as I came to say thanks for your work & I, too, am a certified Drake hater. I wanted to scream to someone else who shares the love for Rizzles and hate for Drake. It is a very specific overlap in the Venn diagram of active fandoms here. 😂

But while I’m here, I do love getting a glimpse into writers’ processes, and I’m curious to know if you had a passion for this particular era, or if you had a particular idea for Rizzles and you felt this would be the greatest way to realize it?

Thanks for keeping the fandom alive & stay hating 🥂

Oh hi hi thank you!

First: wop wop wop wop wop Dot fuck ‘em up (very thrilled to start the Intersectional Haters Society with you)

As for the AoW time period—it’s kind of a confluence of things! It all started with a mental image of Maura wearing a bustle while doing taxidermy, and kind of developed from there. But I’m a biiiiiiiig Edith Wharton fan (there are lots of little references to her works throughout, including the series name), a less-big Henry James fan, and so on.

Then you gotta add the influence of my best friend/sounding board/biggest fan, who LOVES this time period more than any other, as well as fringe religions, social movements, etc, and has declared himself my research assistant (thx jda).

Then you gotta add my unstoppable love for trivia and my immovable need to be both correct and authoritative, now with the entirety of human knowledge available on the same device I type my stories into, which means not only am I able to reference the correct building and location for the specific year (1885, in this case), but the architect, the financiers, the floor plan. The internet will probably turn out to have been a mistake, but it also tells me the dates of home games played by the Boston Beaneaters during the 1886 season, so.

And then? When I got into it, and started researching in earnest? Turns out every-fucking-thing of note that happened in this time period happened in Boston. Okay, not everything. But a lot of things! Incidental things! Things I discovered during research! Like how general anesthesia was developed at Massachusetts General Hospital, a facility designed by one Mr. Bulfinch, father of legendary myth-collector Charles Bulfinch (who compiled the first, and still most famous, book of myths and legends). Neat, right? Now add in that I only discovered this when researching that hospital’s Ether Dome, after spending a couple hundred pages heavily incorporating Greek myth as a motif (and namdropping Bulfinch’s Mythology specifically). I dunno, it thrilled me, at least? And there’s tons of that kind of serendipitous detail woven in, which hopefully isn’t a chore, because it soothes and delights me to share cool facts.

Then you’ve got the other stuff that makes it a compelling setting—it’s during the Industrial Revolution but before a lot of medical and scientific discoveries (horrifying fact! surgical gloves weren’t developed until 1892!). Huge developments were underway socially and culturally, with massive immigration and the emergence of organized social services, especially in ultra-progressive Boston. Things move slowly without internal combustion and optical cables, and everything requires significantly more effort (travel, communication, etc). This is so fun because it both forces creative problem-solving and really forces the universe of the story to slow down to allow for more character development and world-building and honestly, a sense of wonder and mystery (not that you can’t have a slow world in the modern era, but due to the ubiquity of technology it feels more difficult—there often must be a reason this modern setting is de-emphasizing technology, etc, instead of just not including cell phones; plus the massive advantage of hindsight for historical fiction).

Okay, WHEW. I could clearly talk about this stuff for another 600 pages, but I gotta go get stoned and hang out with my cats, as is tradition. Thank you again for asking! And even more for caring about The Beef, which is still at the front of my mind (Drake’s gonna drop something else, is my theory, to bait Dot, and oh jeez am I ever hype for how Kendrick scorches the earth)(also the whole West Coast scene hates Drake now, which is THRILLING)

#rizzles #fanfiction #writing stuff #ask #paragonofparadoxes #update: the beef is squashed but I have a theory about that too

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defectivevillain · 2 years ago

Text

struck by your lightning, chii

reader’s pronouns: he/him

here’s chapter one [you’ll want to read this first, otherwise this part won’t make much sense]

as i mentioned in part one, this is a chat fic and the formatting was mostly made for ao3. it’s a lil wonky here, so here’s the ao3 version if you’d prefer to read that :)

a lil recap of last chapter: you're assigned to work the red carpet at a national awards gala. there, you interview tons of celebrities, including kaminari! kaminari is super nice & you leave the event feeling exhausted, relieved, and satisfied all at once. you return home to take a light nap, only to wake up to a notification from your phone. it seems kaminari is texting you...? that's weird.

Direct Message

You: SKJNFIOE LK>BFGJSL B>GEJRHKR BLWUIFKGJ ER

Kaminari Denki: u good?

You: TOTALLY COMPLETELY FINE

Kaminari Denki: OKAY, GOOD ?

You: YEP…

You: 😶

Kaminari Denki: 😶 😶

You: sorry i didn’t believe you

You: i have to be careful with messages from unknown numbers…

You: well, you get it, i’m sure.

Kaminari Denki: ya i get it

You: also, i have something to say to you

Kaminari Denki: wassup

You: waffles are better fck u

Kaminari Denki: ur so wrong.

You: I AM ABSOTLEUYL NOT

Kaminari Denki: LMFAO YOU ABSOTLEUYL ARE

You: FUCK U

Kaminari Denki: 😘

You: hold on. hold onnnnnn.

You: how’d u get this number ??

You: pls don’t tell me my number is leaked

Kaminari Denki: nahhh it’s not leaked

____

You have to breathe a sigh of relief at that. It’s not like you’re an important public figure or anything, but the thought of anyone having access to your phone number sends shivers down your spine. You already get enough spam calls.

____

Kaminari Denki: i got ur number cuz…

Kaminari Denki: idol perks

You: you just asked my coworker, didn’t you

Kaminari Denki: yup

You: sigh…

Kaminari Denki: they told me that if i hurt you

Kaminari Denki: they’d murder me

You: gsjfdkheng3oaejk….

You: just give me a moment to scream

Kaminari Denki: …

You: ok im bck

Kaminari Denki: LOL dude ur good dw abt it 😭

Kaminari Denki: i thought it was kinda cute actually

You: unfortunately, they were dead fucking serious… they could kill a bitch

You: i wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve already killed someone, actually…

Kaminari Denki: well that’s comforting

You: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: also, congrats on the award !

Kaminari Denki: thx

Kaminari Denki: does this mean you’ll listen to my music now?

You: maybe

Kaminari Denki: hmph :/

You: why?

Kaminari Denki: why what?

You: idk. why do you care? it’s not like my listening will give you any money

Kaminari Denki: …

Kaminari Denki: cause ur cute and i like you?

You: what

Kaminari Denki: wha

You: what

Kaminari Denki: wha

You:

Kaminari Denki: welp i’m just gonna go then 🏃🏃🏃

You: no waittt

You: sorry, you just surprised me

Kaminari Denki: no one’s ever said that to you before?

You: well, i mean, yeah, but…

Kaminari Denki: who. when. where. why.

You: plssss

You: what album should i start on then

Kaminari Denki: lightning

You: oki

Kaminari Denki: tell me how u like it after ;0

You: okiii

You: alr i’m gonna go to bed

Kaminari Denki: gn (´｡• ω •｡`)

____

Kaminari: it’s been a week are you alive

____

You grimace at the notification displayed on your lock screen. Admittedly, you hadn’t meant to ignore him- time just slipped away from you. Guilt stews in your chest all the same.

____

You: no i’m definitely not

Kaminari: sooo what’d ya think

You: oh SHIT that’s what i forgot to do

You: im so sorryyyyy the agency has been running me ragged 🙏

Kaminari: don’t apologize for doing ur job,, lol

Kaminari: what are they having you do?

You: whaleeee

You: before, i was more of a local reporter

You: but since the awards, i’ve actually been interviewing other celebrities and stuff

Kaminari: oh

You: it’s weird, tbh

Kaminari: ya a lot of music folks are pretty weird

You: says you

Kaminari: oi! i’m not weird 😡

You: im jk lolll

Kaminari: you know for a reporter you have awful grammar

You: well fck u2 then

Kaminari: :P

You: people keep recognizing me now,,, it’s weird

You: like literally a girl came up to me yesterday and was like “you interviewed kaminari!!”

Kaminari: oh shit lol

You: right?

You: other than that, i’ve been good

You: hbu? you’ve probably been busy

Kaminari: nah, not that much. just writing new music.

You: oh cool

You: speaking of music

You: i really liked your album

Kaminari: rly? u listened to it?

You: ofc i did!!!! it was cool

Kaminari Denki: what was ur fave song :P

You: probably shockwave!

You: it was very heartfelt

Kaminari: yeah… i wrote that one in the midst of a breakup

You: awe :(

You: at least it made a great song, haha

Kaminari Denki: yeah, that’s a good way to think about it actually

You: 😌

Kaminari Denki: so what other music do you listen to, then?

Kaminari Denki: besides mine, obviously

You: i listen to sero’s music sometimes

Kaminari Denki: skljehgeiroljhngejlrkshg

You: have you heard of him?

Kaminari Denki: …

Kaminari Denki: yes

You:

Kaminari Denki:

You:

You: r u good?

You: u got rly weird all of a sudden

Kaminari Denki: one sec, i need to kill a bitch

You: wut

____

Direct Message

Kaminari: SERO I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU

Sero Brain Cells: I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN TO RIP YOUR POSTER

Sero Brain Cells: IT WAS AN ACCIDENTTTTTT

Kaminari: what

Sero Brain Cells: what

Kaminari: what poster.

Sero Brain Cells: ohshit💀

Kaminari: sero. what poster.

Sero Brain Cells: ur limited edition one….? ha…… ha……

Kaminari: wow i am literally going to kill you twice

Sero Brain Cells: NO PLS SPARE ME

Kaminari: and to think that wasn’t even what i was going to talk to you about

Kaminari: damn

Kaminari: ok. focus, kaminari.

Sero Brain Cells: i swear i’ll make it up to you bro

Kaminari: you will?

Sero Brain Cells: yes just ask for a favor. any favor and i’ll do it

Kaminari: perfect. stop making music forever.

Sero Brain Cells: okay

Kaminari: nice

Sero Brain Cells: great

Kaminari: perfect

Sero Brain Cells: wait WHAT THE FUCK

Kaminari: u heard me hoe

Sero Brain Cells: wtf crawled up ur ass dude

Kaminari: i asked my friend what kind of music he listens to and he said yours

Sero Brain Cells: holy shit ur talking to that reporter?

Kaminari: HOW IN THE HELL

Kaminari: LITERALLY HOW DID YOU KNOW

Sero Brain Cells: lmfaooo

Sero Brain Cells: kami, i know all of ur other friends. bc they’re also my friends.

Kaminari: sighhhhh

Sero Brain Cells: anyway. he listens to my music?

Kaminari: -_-

Sero Brain Cells: that’s cool tbh

Kaminari: -_-

Sero Brain Cells: give him my number, will u?

Kaminari: i despise you

Kaminari: why are we friends

Sero Brain Cells: because i’m sexy and hot and funny?

Kaminari:

Sero: <3 ?

Kaminari: … <3

Sero Brain Cells: and bc i make good music? ;)

Kaminari is offline.

Sero Brain Cells: damn 💀

____

Direct Message

You: u good, dude…? it's been a few days…

Kaminari Denki: definitely… dude.

You: don’t kill sero, pls? I like his music :$

Kaminari Denki: oof

You: i’m messing with you

You: although i do actually like his music a lot

Kaminari Denki: staHp

You: but i like ur music more ;)

Kaminari Denki: DSNJKGLJSNJGFKSGJLS

____

Direct Message

Kaminari Denki: oh!! also!!! i completely forgot- u left ur placard on the red carpet the other day

You: oh FUCKKKKKK MEEEEE

Kaminari Denki: i mean if you insist

You:

Kaminari Denki:

You:

Kaminari Denki: [placard.jpg]

[placard.jpg]: A picture of the ever-familiar placard that you had at the red carpet. The back is filled with your rampant scribblings and notes. It’s hardly legible once you really look at it. Upon closer investigation, there’s a note in glittery gold ink at the bottom with a cute doodle of a Pikachu. Evidently, that was Kaminari’s doing.

You: AKSJHGSDJSHJKHJS THANK YOU FOR SAVING IT

You: omfg that would’ve been so bad if someone else had gotten ahold of it…

Kaminari Denki: yeah some of these notes are hilarious, dude

Kaminari Denki: “Don’t ask Ground Zero anything. Ever.”

You: NOOOOOO you weren’t supposed to see that

Kaminari Denki: “Don’t ask Shoto about his father,” is a rly good one actually

You: oh goddddd pls spare me

Kaminari Denki: dude it’s okay calm down

Kaminari Denki: do u want it back

You: yeah ig

You: wouldn’t want to leak industry secrets 🙄

You: since u have it… can u just mail it to me

Kaminari Denki: don’t have ur address

You: well i’ll just give it to you then, dude

Kaminari Denki: i don’t have postal

You: wut 😶

____

Direct Message

Kaminari: DUDE HELP MEEEEE

Kaminari: SOS SOS SO FUCKING S

Sero Brain Cells: what’d u do this time

Kaminari: so yk how the cuteass reporter dropped his placard and i picked it up

Sero Brain Cells: u did??? dawg ur whipped 💀

Kaminari: THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT

Kaminari: but anyway i texted him abt it today and he said i could just mail it to him

Kaminari: but!! i was hoping to see him again and obv i didn’t want that to happen

Sero Brain Cells: and????

Kaminari: and… [textconvo.screenshot]

Sero Brain Cells: oh i know you did nottttt

Kaminari: I PANICKED AND SAID I DIDN’T HAVE POSTAL

Sero Brain Cells: yeah,,,, i can see that…..

Kaminari: I'M SO DONE

Sero Brain Cells: dude no ur not

Kaminari: wut

Sero Brain Cells: this is ur chance!!!!!! u can get him to hang out w u by offering to give him the placard thingy

Kaminari: have i ever told u that ur a genius

Sero Brain Cells: not enough, evidently

Kaminari: WELL UR A GENIUS

Kaminari is offline.

Sero Brain Cells: well, ty

____

Direct Message

Kaminari Denki: oi i have an idea

You: what’s up

Kaminari Denki: abt the placard

You: yes?

Kaminari Denki: ur agency’s near that one cafe right

You: espressobeanz? yes

Kaminari Denki: i can meet u there tmrw

You: um what

Kaminari Denki: ?

You:

Kaminari Denki:

You: wait what

Kaminari Denki: what?

You: idk, just… don’t you have more important things to do

Kaminari Denki: not rly

You: ok…

Kaminari Denki: plus i wanna hang out :(

You: ohhhh oki

You: wait holup holdup

You: the cafe is kinda public… r u gonna be ok

Kaminari Denki: why wouldn’t i be

You: idk don’t you get mobbed in public whenever people recognize you

Kaminari Denki: i mean yeah but it’s fine

You: u sure?

Kaminari Denki: yep!

You: okiii sounds like a plan then

Kaminari Denki: cool

You: i get off work at 3pm so let’s just meet then?

Kaminari Denki: 👍

____

Direct Message

Kaminari: omfg sero ur forgiven for ripping my poster

Sero Brain Cells: HOORAY

Kaminari: im meeting w him tomorrow Ψ(`_´ # )↝

Sero Brain Cells: niiiiice!!

Kaminari: i'm so scared

Sero Brain Cells: what why

Kaminari: i'm scaredddd

Sero Brain Cells: okay okay don’t freak out

Sero Brain Cells: have you picked out an outfit?

Kaminari: nope

Sero Brain Cells: okay so here’s what we’ll do. I’ll meet u at ur place tn and i’ll help u pick out something to wear

Kaminari: and i’ll order food

Sero Brain Cells: YES NOW U GET IT

____

You throw your phone on the couch and bury your head in your hands. Your heart is racing at the thought of seeing Kaminari again. You have to pause and take a deep breath to calm yourself down. Thankfully, you have the rest of today to spend freaking about and picking out ten different outfits that you’ll never wear.

As for right now, though… It’s time to distract yourself. You pull up a Youtube video and resolutely pretend not to think about your date tomorrow.

____

chapter 3

____

thx for reading <33333

tagging: @tejas-kris and @felmierr :0

#defectivevillain #kaminari x reader #kaminari x male reader #bnha x reader #bnha x male reader #male reader #masc reader #yuh yuh #transmasc reader #ig #I mean I'm transmasc so #yeah that counts

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