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fckmebarnes · 28 days ago

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wet dreams

boyfriend!bucky x f!reader

18+ men and minors dni! smut — p in v. fingering (r). you’re riding bucky’s arm. multiple orgasms. oral (r). bucky jerks himself off while eating you out.

a/n — iykyk <3 very very old repost. so lucky i had a fic for this cause i have been thinking of riding his arms so bad.

you were enamored by bucky arms. and i mean absolutely whipped. the way they looked in a red henley, about to burst at the seams. how they looked when he was shirtless — his metal on full display, and especially how they looked wrapped around your hips as he held you down and ate you out for hours. you couldn’t tell him that though, he’d only make fun of you for it.

like he was doing right now.

“you okay, doll?” he waved his hand in front of your face getting you to stop focusing on his muscle, and to his gaze. his lips are up in a smirk as he instantly makes the connection. bucky was too smart for you, you knew that much.

“uh, yeah i’m okay.” you make a fake cough as you spoke, peeling your gaze from him and focused on cutting the tomatoes for your dinner. but he knew you weren’t just doing okay.

“you know,” he trailed off, coming around the counter and behind you, his arms placed on your hips where they belonged. his chin rested on your shoulder, his longer brown strands of hair tickling your cheek and nose pointed towards your neck as he spoke softly. “i can tell when you’re lying, baby.” his hot breath hit your skin and you shuddered, a shiver running down your spine and right to your cunt.

you faltered as you cut the tomato, and he caught that, he always did. he could read you body like an open book, the way you fidgeted when you were nervous, when you were distracted by something you mindlessly did the task at hand. and he knew right in this moment, you were thinking of only the way his hard cock pressed up against your lower back.

“bucky..” you breathed out as his hands went to hold yours, taking the knife away and setting it down. his lips tenderly kissed your neck, sucking softly as his hands went right back to your waist. his left hand trailed down the front of your pelvis, right to your clothed core.

your head fell back on his shoulder, the cologne he had put on earlier mixed with a hint faint smell of mint still lingering on him and enveloping you in just him. your senses heightened as his hand dipped below your waistband, cupping your cunt. he purred against your neck, smiling.

“so wet for me, doll. this all for me?” his tone deepened the more turned on he got as his metal fingers ran through your folds. you made the mistake of looking down and watching as his muscles flexed as he moved his fingers causing you to clench around nothing. of course he caught that.

“what’s got ya so wet, hm?” you shook your head, he already knew the answer so why did he want you to say it out loud. he tsked. his middle finger toying with your clit in soft, small circles. “you don’t wanna tell me?”

“n-no.” you’re breath was shaking from the way his fingers played with your clit, your thighs flexing on and off. he hummed in your ear, biting your earlobe before pulling away all together. you whined softly, looking behind you as he rested up against the back of the counter.

“baby..” he smirked softly, crossing his arms and making the muscle look bigger.

“guess you won’t cum, doll.” you frowned, turning around and walking up to him, your fingers tracing over the muscle of his arms softly. a sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed by you as you saw goosebumps raise on his skins

“was thinking about your arms, how good they look when you’re playing with my pussy,” you spoke softly, fingers going down to his fingers. “the way your muscles flex as your gripping onto my hips, thighs, keeping me down as you eat me out..” he let out a groan as you picked his hand up, holding his two fingers and patting your lips as you put them in your mouth and sucked on them softly. the cool twang of metal hit your tongue, the ones you could feel in your pussy still from the night before.

“shit, baby.” his other hand went right to your hip, pulling you as close as he could so you could feel the outline of his cock pressed against your clothed cunt. you moaned softly feeling it against you, drool falling down the sides of your mouth from gagging on his fingers as he fucked your mouth, taking them out and slapping your cheek lightly, getting spit over your skin

his hands went to your waist and turned you around, hoisting you up on the counter and spreading your legs so he slot perfectly in between him.

“right where i belong, don’t ya think?” his hands trailed down your thighs and squeezed them softly, watching as his muscles flexed and you could help the moan that left your lips as you watched him.

your hands linked around the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair as he debated on his next move. obviously he couldn’t wait any longer, the noises you were making as he just grazed his fingertips across your skin. he pulled you to the edge of the counter, enough to take your pants and panties off and discarding them somewhere. he shed his pants and boxers, and you licked your lips as you saw his red the tip of his cock was. it stood straight up, pre-cum leaking down the side of his shaft.

you let out a whine as he dropped to his feet, throwing your legs over his shoulders and his hands keeping your thighs separated. he came level with your cunt, licking his lips as he leaned in and his tongue met your dripping folds. you let out a moan, your hands going to his short dark hair and tugging on it gently.

he hummed against you, his nose brushed your clit as he continued to lick your cunt, tip of his tongue teasing your entrance.

“d-don’t tease.. please..” he smirked against your cunt, nudging your clit harder and started to thrust his tongue in and out of you, groans leaving his lips as he fucked you with his mouth. bucky’s tongue was sinful, he shouldn’t be allowed to eat pussy this good but he was, and he ate it like a starved man.

as he fucked you skillfully with his tongue, his left hand left your knee and went to his cock, and started to jerk himself off, smearing his pre cum up and down the length of his shaft. only a real man would jerk himself off while eating pussy. and you knew it was his favorite pastime.

“cant tell ya how fuckin’ divine you taste.” as you rolled your hips the best you could on his tongue, he sped up his hand movements on his cock as he licked your cunt and sucked on your clit. your hands tugged on his hair, watching as his fingers gripped your thigh surely to leave marks and his muscles flexing as you knew he was close.

“s-so close, bucky p-please-“ you let out a choked moan as he sucked harshly on your clit making your eyes roll back and your back arched, moaning his name. your orgasm washed over you as you heard him moan against you, his hand quickening his pace on his cock as he came to the sound and taste of you cumming on his tongue.

he pulled back, licking his lips as he looked up at you, a glint in his eyes telling you he was far from done with you yet. he stood up and gripped the back of your thighs, moaning softly as the shaft of his cock pressed against your wet cunt, carrying you back to the bedroom and tossing you down. he looked down at you hungrily, your legs spread open for him as he discarded his shirt.

he then lays down on the bed, half sitting up against the pillows and the other half stretched across the bed. you looked over at him as he stuck his pointer finger up and beckoned you over.

you crawled over to him, his right arm laying against the sheets. you blushed as he pointed to his arm. “c’mere, take a seat.” you he spoke you saw his blue eyes darken, licking his bottom lip. you didn’t have to be told twice when you shuffled towards his arm, thighs on either side and slowly sat down until his soft skin was against your cunt.

he flexed his arm, making you moan with pleasure as it rubbed against your clit, his muscles hitting the right spot as his other hand landed on your waist, moving your hips against his arm.

“ride my arm like you ride my cock, doll . can you do that for me?” you nodded, feeling his arm become wetter as you rubbed your cunt on his skin, his eyes never leaving your pussy rubbing his muscle. his arm flexed up so his hand was on your lower back, and that made you moan softly, feeling the corded muscles create a perfect spot for you to rub your clit over and over until you moan out his name.

“go on, cum for me, sweetheart.” you did as you were told, not that you needed him to anyways as you came on his arm. your breathing was heavy as your nails dug into his bicep, creating small crescent moons on his delicate skin.

he flipped you over easily, pinning you under him as he caged you in, his arms on either side of your head and your cum trailing down his arm and onto his hand. you couldn’t focus as he thrusted into you, not giving you any warning.

“shit, so fuckin’ wet. can slip so easily in this sweet cunt, hm?” you whined as he pulled his hips back before slamming back into you, your legs around his waist and the heels of your feet digging against the flesh of his ass to push his hips deeper inside you.

“deeper? fuck, nasty lil thing? gettin’ off on my arm like a slut, wantin’ my cock deeper in your cunt. shit..” he grunted out, dipping his head into your neck, biting the skin harshly making you moan out. he couldn’t think of anything else except how tight your pussy was — how it continued to suck him in deeper and deeper, and the only thing he could feel was you.

“bucky! fuck!” your hands tugged on his hair, making him groan against you. he set a brutal pace as his hand reached down to toy with your throbbing clit, clenching around him which drew out a loud moan from his lips.

“can i get another one out of you? doesn’t matter, give it to me anyways.” you couldn’t help but clench around him as he spoke, knowing your cunt was sensitive already as his cock dragged along your walls but you were eager to cum again, cum around his cock.

“come on, babydoll. give it to me, cum ‘round my cock.” he spoke lowly in your ear as you moved your hips slightly upwards, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot and his fingers circling your clit made your fingers drag down his back and leave fresh red lines as you came.

“atta baby, there ya go.. fuck.. gunna fill my sweet pussy up so fuckin’ full. you want it?” he pulled back as his eyes met yours and you nodded through your orgasm wanting nothing more than to have him fill you up.

as you clenched around him after your orgasm, he couldn’t hold it back. his forehead dropped to your shoulders as he pressed his hips flush against yours, making his cock go deep, filling you up. he came with a loud moan, biting down on your skin.

“fuck.. bucky..” he smiled against your skin as he lazily pressed kisses over your sweaty skin, nudging your jaw with his nose until his lips met yours.

“so perfect for me, ya know that?” you smiled softly as you both relaxed and melted into each other.

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caffeinewitchcraft · 4 months ago

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Granny's Sugar Cookies

Summary: Working in Hero Force’s mail room is the equivalent of being a poison taster for monarchs – it wasn’t a matter of if a disgruntled citizen was going to send Hero Force a bomb, but when.

Based off this prompt (X)

--------.

Travis, your supervisor, makes you take Disposal Training every two weeks to keep your skills fresh for the inevitable day something does show up in the mail.

“You’re lucky,” Travis says with his wide arms folded over his chest. He still wears the mail uniform from the 90’s with the pale blue, short-sleeved button down and the darker blue pinstripes. The Hero Force mask covering half of his face is in the new “regulation black” that every Hero Force personnel has to put on at the start of every shift. You hear Travis complain that they won’t let him wear the old brown one a lot. “But luck won’t ever take you further than training, kid.”

You aren’t a kid. In fact, Travis could almost be your kid. Your pension isn’t supposed to start for another three years, so that’s how long you need this job to last. There are rumors that Travis is trying to get you to quit before then as a way to prevent you from collecting retirement benefits from Hero Force. Save the company some money. You don’t think that’s true. You think that the extra training every second week is actually Travis’ way of being kind – you get to sit in the air-conditioned office for two hours and watch the same videos with your feet propped up.

Still, it is unusual that you haven’t opened anything criminal yet. Lots of people cautioned you against taking the job. Your neighbors, friends, your husband…even your eldest -who also works for Hero Force and who suggested it to you in the first place. They said it was the equivalent of being a poison taster for monarchs – it wasn’t a matter of if a disgruntled citizen was going to send Hero Force a bomb, but when.

“I don’t think it happens as often as people think,” you’d told your husband and child when the offer letter came. What you didn’t say was we don’t have a choice. You’d laughed and petted the coffee table. “Now maybe we can think about getting this old thing refinished, hm?”

Three years isn’t a long time anymore, not with a good 63 of them already under your belt. When the financial advisor ran the numbers and grimly told you how long you’d need to stay in the workforce, you’d been relieved. You’re fortunate that being a baker for most of your life has kept you reasonably fit and that you’re used to being on your feet.

Still, eight hours is a long time for anyone to be staring at bland white envelopes and brown boxes wrapped with yellow tape, so you’re thinking longingly of the bath you know your husband will have drawn for you at home when the blast doors slam down over the exit, trapping you and three of your coworkers in the sorting room.

You blink at the heavy metal plate that nearly took your (seemingly ever-growing) nose right off your face. The WARNING light hanging above the door is lit, casting the room in a striking red glow.

“You scanned that here?” Ring asks. He’s over at the sorting table, standing over the new hire’s shoulder. He gapes down at the screen held between her hands. It shows an x-ray of the box sitting innocuously on the sorting table. “Boxes with that dimension are supposed to be scanned in the disposal room!”

“It’s my last package,” the new hire says. You have to strain to hear her voice despite only being a dozen feet away. She’s already been given a nickname – Mouse. Fear makes her even quieter than before. “I-I thought—It’s to Strongwoman. Who would even think sending her a bomb would work? She got hit by a bus last week and the bus lost.”

“You know we don’t sort based on recipient,” Hawk says, pinching the bridge of her nose under her mask. She’s the veteran in the room, gaining her nickname from being the longest surviving member of the mail room after Travis and for having the highest number of successful disposals in history. Hawk eyed. “Your scan just told the defense system there’s a bomb in a vulnerable part of headquarters. We’ll be trapped here until they can get Demolition out to disarm it.”

“Or until it goes off,” Ring offers helpfully. Ring stands for ring the alarm, something he’s always doing. “Which it probably will before Demolition flies over from freakin’ California.”

Mouse hiccups. Her hands tremble on the scanner. “I-I’m sorry. Maybe it’s not…it could be something else?”

Ring and Hawk look at each other over her head. Ring tilts his head to the scanner. Hawk’s lips thin.

Translation: Unlikely.

“Maybe,” Hawk says. She puts a comforting hand on Mouse’s shoulder. “The only way to tell for sure is to open it.”

“Which protocol says we shouldn’t do,” Ring says.

You rub your nose. You don’t have to go to the bathroom this second, but you know your body. Protocol is not to carry a phone in the sorting room, so none of you have a way to you’re your husband and let him know you’ll be late. “How long do you think it will take for a disposal team to arrive? Supposing there’s one besides Demolition.”

Three heads whip towards you. There’s a range of emotions there, from surprise to dismay to dread.

“Oh no,” Mouse whispers, “I’ve killed Granny too.”

“If you survive, no one will ever forgive you,” Ring says.

Mouse’s eyes well with tears. “R-really?”

“Even Neon loves her muffins—"

Hawk hits him over the head hard enough his mask slips down over his eyes. While he curses and sets it to rights, she says, “Sorry, Granny. We’ll probably be waiting a while.”

You tug at your cardigan and shuffle over. The box is too big to be scanned in the sorting room – about the size of a case of flour you used to get delivered to the shop. The three of them make room for you on their side of the table. You squint at the screen. “What type of bomb is it?”

“Not like any I’ve seen before,” Hawk says. She takes the scanner from Mouse and angles it towards you. The box is shown in green and black lines. Inside is a cube of white and some curly bits. There are strange shadows across each shape, as if there are layers and layers of something over the top. “You?”

You raise your eyebrows. You thought it was common knowledge. “Well, I’ve never seen one before outside of training.”

Mouse starts. “Never seen—”

“Granny is lucky,” Ring says. He pats her on the shoulder like Hawk had. It’s nowhere near as comforting. “You’re just unlucky enough to have canceled that out.”

You pull out your glasses. You’re supposed to get the mask with your prescription over the eyes to prevent anyone from recognizing your personal eyewear. You think the prescription masks are itchy, however, so you regularly sneak them in your cardigan pocket. The scanner remains incomprehensible to you, even with them on. “It doesn’t look anything like it does in training.” You frown as the curls begin to look like ribbon the longer you stare at them. “Are you sure this is a bomb?”

“The defense system triggered on it,” Hawk says.

You wave your hand. These new AI systems are wrong all the time. You recently saw a news article about how the facial recognition software at the Hero Academy failed to pick out a top journalist, allowing him complete access to the campus. “They wouldn’t have us here sorting if the system were infallible.”

A strange look crosses Hawk’s face. “That’s one perspective.”

“It’s a state-of-the-art system,” Ring tells Mouse in a low tone. You imagine he thinks you can’t hear him or the faint laughter in his voice. “It’s not wrong.”

That grates. You may be new to the sorting room, but you aren’t wrong to question the systems. You point. “It could be cookies. See these disks here? Sugar cookies, I used to make a recipe just as thick. They’ve been very popular to send to Strongwoman lately; she must like them. And that’s the ribbon tying the box closed.”

“No,” Ring says. “No, it’s not cookies, Granny.”

Your spine stiffens. “I think it is.”

“Granny,” Hawk says tentatively. “Do you…often think things like these are cookies?”

“People do send the heroes a lot of baked goods,” you say. “It’s the best way to show gratitude!”

Mouse’s jaw drops. In a normal voice, she says, “You’ve been sending bombs onto heroes thinking they’re cookies?”

“Because they are,” you say.

“Oh my god,” Ring says. “Granny has seen a bomb, she just hasn’t recognized one before. Oh my god.”

You’re too old to stamp your feet. Instead, you narrow your eyes at Ring like you did when your eldest drew on the walls. “I have not. I open each package—”

“You open them?!”

“Protocol—"

“-and they’re always just cookies,” you say. You snag the package before any of them can move. “I’ll prove it to you!”

There’s a bit of a scuffle. Mouse doesn’t move out of the way of Ring’s lunge in time, and they both topple onto the table. Hawk tries to yank the package away from you, shouting something or other about better to be cautious or Granny stop! But you’re stronger than they think. They may call you Granny, but you’re only 63! Do they think you need a cane to walk?

You rip open the tape. Mouse screams. Ring whimpers. Hawk closes her eyes tight. You shake out the contents of the box.

A pink pastry plops out of the package and onto the scanning table. The three of them are frozen, eyes darting over the pretty ribbon curled into a bow holding it closed. With an indignant huff, you use a letter opener to cut the ribbon and flip back the lid.

Sugar cookies in six sloppy rows and stacked four deep sit inside.

“See?” you say triumphantly. “Sugar cookies!”

Hawk’s brow is furrowed. “That’s not—that can’t be—”

The bomb doors slide down and the WARNING light switches off. The system beeps three times and then falls silent. The quiet that fills the room sounds like victory.

“…so I can go home now?” Mouse asks.

“Yes,” you say smugly. You know it’s bad manners, but all the excitement has dropped your blood sugar. You snag a cookie and bite into it. “We all can.”

Ring and Hawk stay behind, staring from the box to each other and back again as you go home.

----.

You have two days off, and then Travis is off the day you come back so it takes three days for someone to tell you it was a bomb in that box.

That someone is Foresight, the leader of Hero Force.

He looks out of place in the sorting room, smiling and standing by the door as you shuffle from cart to cart to collect your jobs for the day. Travis is there with his arms folded and his eyes narrowed on Foresight.

“We call your class of power S-class,” Foresight explains. “The ability to change reality with a thought – it’s only been observed in a handful of super-powered individuals.”

“I don’t care what power she has,” Travis says. “You aren’t poaching Granny.”

“I would also like to stay in the mail room,” you say.

Foresight opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. He looks bemused as he says, “Alright then. We do need to quantify your power. Does Thursday work for you?”

“Yes,” Travis answers for you. “We’ll be there.”

Your ears perk up. Maybe it will be a long meeting. Maybe you’ll have a chance to sit down. “Thursday it is then. I’ll bring some snacks for everyone.”

----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to support me and see stories like this one before anyone else, please consider checking out my Patreon(X)!

Next week's story is already posted and is a follow up to this story (X) about Nadezh and Gannon

#my writing #second person #superheroes #my superheroes #granny never opened the wrong shipment #she always knows exactly what she ordered

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goldenroutledge · 5 months ago

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i must be dreaming

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

prompt: ❛ you’re lucky that you’re cute. ❜

a/n: for my wonderful moot @yearneir, thank you so much for the request! i had so much fun writing this <3

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

“Knock, knock!” Two knocks sound through the door of Lando’s hotel room, followed by the familiar cheerfulness of Alma, the hotel’s concierge. “Delivery for Mr. Norris!”

Lando’s muscles ache with a soreness that weighs him down into the softness of the duvet, having sprawled out face first onto the bed the second he got back from another long day of testing. The winter months are always the shortest, often flying by more quickly than the season does.

His mind is tired as well, struggling a bit extra to get back into the swing of things after months away from being in the car. He doesn’t recall ordering any room service but if he did, he’s more out of it than he previously thought.

With a sigh of reluctance, he drags his feet towards the door of the stylish hotel suite. His vision is blurry as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and instinctively checks the time on his phone that reads 8:03pm. Definitely way too early to sleep for the night, but a power nap has never hurt him before.

Sure enough, Alma is waiting on the other side of the door with a bright smile and a silver platter in hand. “Good evening, Mr. Norris. I was instructed to bring this to your room along with this letter.”

He takes a deep breath, as if the surprise delivery will make more sense when he gets some more oxygen flowing to his brain. “Oh, thank you. Who’s it from?”

Alma smiles coyly but won’t reveal too much. “I can’t say, but your answer is in the envelope. Can I get you anything else while I’m here, sir?”

“Just Lando is fine.” He politely corrects. “I’m okay, thank you though.”

“Have a nice evening.” Alma disappears down the hallway, leaving Lando to his letter and mysterious silver platter. He’s seen enough movies to know that there’s usually someone’s head under these. His first name is written neatly on the envelope and what catches his eye is the red heart stamped into the wax seal.

He remembers the date, February 14th, and blushes at the thought of you. The both of you had been corresponding on the phone like usual, of course confirming that you had received the bouquet of flowers, chocolates, and a few pieces from your favorite designer that Lando made sure to have delivered to your home, with a promise that he’d be able to properly wine and dine you in a week’s time. He carefully lifts the seal, a childlike grin spreading across his face at the sight of your neat handwriting.

My dearest Lando,

It pains me to be apart from you, but the distance will let our hearts grow fonder. I hope you enjoy the present I’ve prepared for you.

Yours truly,

Y/n.

P.S. Call me when you get this. XOXO.

His hopes are high for whatever’s underneath the silver dome, perhaps some comfort food like a classic Roast dinner that reminds him of home, just like his Mum makes.

Lando lifts the silver to find not a warm meal, but cold and slimy rolls of sushi making the shape of a heart, dipping cups of wasabi and soy sauce resting in the center.

“What the hell?!” He yelps, visibly startled by the sight. “She knows I hate this stuff.” He’s scrolling to the favorite contacts in his call log, instinctively clicking your name.

When you answer on the second ring smiling like the Cheshire Cat, Lando knows he’s been set up.

“Is this your way of breaking up with me? Sending a plate of fish to my hotel room on Valentine’s Day?” Your laugh pierces through the phone, and he’s still dumbfounded as to how you managed to pull a prank on him all the way from Monaco. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing, I just wanted you to know that I’m soy into you. Happy Valentine’s Day, babe!”

“Aw, very clever. I hope you know that I’m gonna get you back for this. What fruit was it that you are mildly allergic to again? Starfruit, was it? I’m sending 50 starfruit arrangements to our house as we speak.”

“With all the risks you take at work, I’m amazed that sushi of all things has become your greatest fear. How is that?”

Lando scoffs, “I am not scared of sushi.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Sorry love, the proof is out there. But I wanted you to know that I love you anyway.”

“I love you too.” He grumbles, but there’s no bite behind his words. Lando finally takes a better look at you, but doesn’t recognize the wall in the background. He doesn’t recognize the wall behind you from your house, that is. He looks around his suite, now puzzled as to how your background matches the exact color of the hotel walls. Interesting. “Wait, where are you? You’re not at home are you?”

“I’m in a place that people temporarily call home?” You offer with a mysterious edge to your words and he subtly catches on. You can see the gears turning for him, the realization visible on his face when he moves toward the door once again.

“Wait a second… Are you HERE?! At my hotel?” His incredulous tone translates from the speaker on your phone to reverberating in your ears, behind his hotel room door that you’re standing in front of.

The door swings open and you’re reunited with those sparkling cerulean eyes you know so well. He takes a pause, glancing back and forth between his screen and you, now within arms reach. Wasting time would be a foolish thing to do. Without a care he drops his phone in exchange for cradling your face in his hands before smashing his lips onto yours. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his frame, relishing in how warm he feels against you.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He breathes out, as if his life depends on saying it.

“Surprise! I missed you too, clearly. I’ve been wanting to try my sushi prank for a while now and this gave me the perfect opportunity. Had to get you riled up with something you hate so you’d be extra happy to see me.”

“Not necessary.” Lando murmurs against you, peppering kisses to your lips. “I don’t need anything extra, you know that. It did serve as a nice surprise, though. Definitely better than the sushi.”

You giggle as he shudders at the thought. “Forgive me?”

“You’re forgiven,” Lando sighs, unable to resist your pleading eyes and the warm notes of amber in your perfume that captivate him, “but I hope you know that if anyone else did this to me, and I mean anyone else on this planet, I would not speak a word to them for the rest of my life. However, for you, I can make an exception. You’re lucky that you’re cute.”

You kiss him sweetly, holding hints of satisfaction behind your smile at how well your plan has been executed. “Don’t worry, I plan to make it up to you. It is Valentine’s Day, after all.”

“Just when I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, how did I get so lucky?”

You pinch his cheek teasingly. “You do look exhausted still, are you sure you’re not dreaming of me?”

Lando catches your wrist and presses a kiss to the skin, content with knowing that he’ll dream of you tonight and wake up beside you tomorrow. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

💌: thanks for reading, comments & reblogs are always appreciated!

psst… my requests are open :) be my valentine blurb event 💌

taglist: @marjorieswrld (add yourself here!)

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hoshifighting · 9 months ago

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omg omg knf i’m low-key feeling like a genius.

bb do you know that trend on tiktok where the bridesmaids give the husband naughty polaroids of the bride throughout the celebration I NEED HUSBAND!SVT REACTIONS TO THIS (u being the bride ofc)

also i’m saying need but if this is smth you don’t want to do feel free to ignore. ily mwah 💋

husband!seventeen reacting to your bridesmaids's giving them naughty polaroids of yours — tik tok trend

seungcheol’s in the middle of chatting with the groomsmen when he gets the envelope. he opens it, glancing down, and immediately freezes. his eyes widen as he realizes what he’s looking at. “you guys can’t just do this to me!” he tries to play it off, but he can’t help but sneak a peek at the photo again.

jeonghan's expression doesn’t change. he just stares at the photo, then looks up at your bridesmaids with a knowing smirk. he slips the picture into his jacket like it’s no big deal, but the second he catches your eye across the room, his smirk turns into a full-on grin. oh, he’s definitely going to tease you about this. “just wait, babe,” he mouths silently, making sure you know he’s got something planned.

joshua’s too polite to expect anything out of the ordinary, so when the envelope is handed to him, he opens it without a second thought. his eyes widen immediately, and his cheeks flush a deep red. “oh my god,” he whispers, quickly closing the envelope and tucking it away, glancing around nervously to see if anyone else saw it. he’s mortified, but there’s a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. he looks over at you, shaking his head in disbelief.

junhui the second his eyes land on the photo, his brows shoot up, and his mouth falls open. “oh… wow,” he mumbles, trying to hold back the grin creeping up his face. he looks around to make sure no one else can see, quickly stuffing the photo into his suit pocket, but his eyes keep darting back to u. he gives you a playful smirk across the room, biting his lip slightly.

hoshi opens the envelope, sees the photo, and immediately lets out a loud “oh my god!” his eyes go wide, and he’s laughing, blushing like crazy. “seriously? right now?” he says, grinning ear to ear, but he’s clearly flustered. he tries to play it cool, but u can see the blush creeping up his neck.

wonwoo doesn’t say a word—just slips the photo into his jacket, giving the bridesmaids a quiet nod. but there’s a glint in his eyes when he looks over at you. he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching you adjusting his glasses, hoping that the dream of them hide his red cheeks.

woozi doesn’t know what’s coming when he takes the envelope, and when he opens it, his reaction is instant. his eyes widen, and his face turns bright red. “what the—” he quickly snaps the photo shut. he’s completely flustered, but he’s also low-key impressed. tries to act like it didn’t faze him, but the blush won’t go away. “you’re lucky it’s our wedding day, or you’d be in serious trouble.”

minghao’s expression barely changes, but you can see the slight quirk of his eyebrow. he glances at the photo, then at your bridesmaids with a knowing smirk. “you girls really think you’re slick, hm?” he says quietly, folding the photo and tucking it into his suit jacket. later, he’ll pull you aside, his voice low and teasing. “you’ve got some nerve doing this at our wedding, but I’m not mad about it.”

mingyu’s curious from the start, wondering what kind of wedding surprise your bridesmaids could’ve cooked up. when he sees the photo, his jaw drops. “no way…” he mutters, blinking like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. he blushes instantly, but his eyes keep drifting back to the photo.

seokmin’s the type to open the envelope with the biggest smile, thinking it’s something cute. but when he sees the photo, his eyes go wide, and he lets out a loud, “holy shit!” before clamping his hand over his mouth. his face turns bright red, and he quickly stuffs the photo back in the envelope.

seungkwan’s expecting a cute, heartfelt note or maybe some kind of sweet wedding surprise, so when he opens the envelope and sees the photo, he gasps. “oh my god, no way,” he mutters under his breath, his face instantly flushing red. he glances around nervously, quickly hiding the photo, but his heart’s racing. “you really had to do this today of all days?”

vernon pauses. his eyes widen slightly, and he lets out a quiet, surprised laugh. “wow… okay,” he mutters, nodding to himself like he’s impressed. he slips the photo back into the envelope, tucking it into his pocket with a smirk.

chan’s face turns beet red as he sees the photo, and he almost drops it. “what the—?! are you serious?” he sputters, eyes wide in shock. then he quickly glances over at you, trying to gauge your reaction. he chuckles nervously, clearly flustered but loving the chaos.

2K notes · View notes

inseobts · 1 month ago

Note

So I see 👀👀 requests are open! I really really love your writing and would like to request a scenario with Sabo. The fem!reader would be like some kind of investigator for hire and would do any job if the price is right, from finding out if your spouse is cheating to infiltrating a royal court to give you top secret info and Sabo is trying to get her to join the Revolutionary Army every time they come across eachother (which is a lot because spying on the bourgeoisie is a lucrative job 😏😏)

Blondie and Detective

sabo x fem!reader

a/n: this came out really really long but I kept getting ideas, so I hope you'll enjoy it aw

words count: 8.5k

tags: espionage, revolution vs profit, enemies to lovers vibes, tension, slow burn, action, banter-heavy

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

Rain taps on the rooftop like impatient fingers. A thick fog creeps over the city, a rich people’s kingdom, where gold means everything and truth means nothing.

You’re crouched on the roof of a fancy estate, watching the ballroom through your scope. Music floats up through open windows. Nobles dance below, laughing like they’ve never known fear. You’re not here for the music or the wine. You’re here for the letter.

Your client said the Duke is hiding something, military plans, maybe trade secrets. Doesn’t matter. You get paid to find things, not judge them.

You adjust the lens, zoom in on a stiff-looking man in a red jacket. Messenger. Sweaty hands. Nervous eyes. You watch as he slips a sealed envelope to a servant girl, who disappears through a side door.

“Gotcha” you whisper.

You slide down the gutter pipe, quiet as a cat. Through a second-story balcony, in and out like smoke. You’re halfway to the hallway when— “You’re getting sloppy.”

You freeze. That voice.

You turn, slow, annoyed.

There he is. Blond curls, black coat, arms crossed, goggles pushed up like he owns the place. He always shows up like this, out of nowhere, with that smug little smile like he knows something you don’t.

“Blondie...” you say flatly.

“Miss me?” he says.

You stare “You’re in my way.”

He glances behind you at the ballroom “You’re after the letter?”

“I was,” you snap “Until someone decided to start chatting in the middle of my job.”

“Someone just saved you from getting shot,” he says casually “Third window to the left. Look.”

You do. And yeah... there’s a guy with a crossbow, watching the hallway like a hawk. You mutter a curse under your breath.

“Fine,” you say “Thanks.”

Sabo grins “You’re welcome.”

He steps closer. Too close. You don’t move.

“So,” he says, “same question as always. Ready to stop chasing paychecks and join the Revolution?”

You raise an eyebrow “Same answer as always. No.”

“You could do more with your skills.”

“I am doing more. I’m doing everything. For the right price.”

He laughs “You really don’t care who hires you?”

“As long as the money’s good and the target’s worse than me? No.”

“That’s a short list.”

“Lucky for me, the world’s full of bad people.”

You sidestep him, heading toward the hallway. You don’t look back. You already know he’s following.

“You could work with me” he says.

“You’re not my type.”

“I meant on the job.”

“So did I.”

You peek around the corner. Two guards. One hallway. No problem.

“You know,” Sabo says quietly behind you, “we’d make a good team.”

You glance at him over your shoulder “You talk too much.”

“And you like it.”

You roll your eyes “Don’t push your luck, Blondie.”

He smirks “Lead the way, detective.”

You move. Fast. Quiet. Focused.

He follows. Loud in a way that’s not about sound, just there, filling the space with heat and chaos and questions you don’t want to ask.

Not yet.

Maybe later.

You’re halfway through a lukewarm cup of black coffee when the bell over the café door jingles.

You don’t look up at first. This job’s too easy to expect trouble. Rich guy thinks his assistant is stealing silverware. Real dramatic stuff. You’re here to follow the assistant and confirm if he’s a thief or just has a twitchy pocket.

You glance at the small mirror propped on your table. You freeze.

Of course.

Sabo slides into the seat across from you like it’s his usual spot. Black coat. Blond curls. That same casual look, like he just woke up in a castle and decided to crash your life again.

You squint at him “No way.”

“Hi to you, too.” he says, resting his chin on his hand like this is a date.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“This café has really good scones,” he says, then lowers his voice “And there’s something important going on.”

You stare “Important? This isn’t a revolutionary hotspot. It’s a bakery. My target is stealing forks.”

“There’s more to it than that” he says, calm. Too calm.

You narrow your eyes “You’re telling me this boring little fork-theft job is somehow connected to the Revolutionary Army?”

“I’m saying it might be.”

You fold your arms “That’s not an answer.”

He shrugs “I don’t give out answers for free anymore.”

You snort “Since when do you hold information hostage?”

“Since I realized it’s the only way to get you to work with me.”

You lean back in your chair, staring at him “So what—you want me to partner up again?”

He smiles “Just for this one. Could be fun.”

“Last time I nearly got a knife in the leg.”

“You didn’t, though.”

“Because I handled it.”

He lifts his coffee cup “Exactly. Imagine how easy this would be if we teamed up from the start.”

You shake your head “Nope. Not biting.”

“Even if it’s bigger than it looks?” he asks, voice lower now, just serious enough to make your gut tighten.

You hate that you’re curious.

You try to ignore the itch in your brain “If you’re so sure it’s something big, why not handle it alone?”

“I could,” he says, eyes locked with yours “But I don’t want to.”

That throws you off for a second. You look away, annoyed at your own pause.

He sips his drink like he hasn’t just dropped that weird little truth bomb.

“Still no,” you mutter “You don’t get to dangle mystery crap in front of me and expect me to follow like a puppy.”

“No puppy I’ve ever met carries poison darts in her coat” he says, grinning.

You smile in spite of yourself. Just a little.

Then you stand “Good luck with your important fork mission, Blondie. I’ll be watching from my own shadow.”

He stays seated, smiling up at you “I’ll be around if you change your mind.”

You turn and walk away, but you feel his eyes on your back all the way out the door.

You hate that he makes things interesting.

You hate it even more that a part of you wants to go back and ask what the hell is really going on.

You’re bored.

That’s the most dangerous thing in your line of work. Not bullets. Not knives. Not corrupt guards with itchy trigger fingers.

Boredom.

It makes your mind wander. Makes you look too long at the gold-plated chandeliers. At the delicate snacks on silver trays. At the man across from you trying way too hard to impress you.

And it makes you think of him.

You haven’t seen him in months. Not since that stupid fork job. At first, it was nice. Peaceful, even. No smug smile sneaking up behind you. No lectures about changing the world. No offers to join the Revolution.

But noow it’s weird.

You almost miss him. Not that you’d say it out loud. Or even admit it to yourself for more than a second. But the question keeps floating through your brain:

Why hasn’t he shown up?

And why are you thinking about him in the middle of a mission?

You blink and focus. You’re at a royal gala. Dressed like someone who belongs here. Elegant, expensive, bored out of your mind. Your target is a noble—round, rich, red-nosed, and currently getting suspiciously cozy with a foreign diplomat. You’re supposed to keep an eye on him, maybe follow him when he leaves.

Easy. Too easy.

Which is probably why your brain is being stupid.

“—and I said, if I wanted a real ship, I’d buy one, not borrow from the Marines” says the man in front of you, laughing at his own joke. You don’t remember his name. You never bothered to learn it.

He leans closer “You’ve been quiet. Thinking about me?”

You look at him like he’s a mosquito “No.”

He grins anyway “Come now, beautiful. A woman like you shouldn’t be sitting here alone.”

You’re about to lie or stab him with your butter knife, but then—

“Mind if I steal this beautiful woman for a dance?”

That voice.

Your heart stumbles. You look up.

He’s there. Blond, charming, annoyingly handsome in a formal coat that fits him too well. Goggles gone. Hair slicked back just enough.

He’s holding out his hand, smile calm but eyes watching you. Carefully. Like he’s not sure you’ll take it.

You don’t say anything. You just rise from your chair, take his hand, and walk away like the other guy doesn’t even exist. You don’t look back.

“Wow,” Sabo murmurs as you reach the dance floor “Didn’t think you’d actually shove him like that.”

“I didn’t shove,” you mutter “I guided.”

He laughs “Gently guided him into the furniture.”

“You’re late.”

“For the dance?”

“For everything.”

He twirls you, smooth, confident. Then pulls you close again. Too close. You suddenly realize how warm he is. How steady. How his hand fits perfectly at your back, guiding you toward.

“Let’s dance next to your target” he says quietly, like it’s a secret between only you two.

You don’t even ask how he knows. You just let him lead.

You move through the crowd together, twirling and gliding right into the perfect position. Your target is just over Sabo’s shoulder now.

Only when you’re in place do you realize how close your faces are. How his breath brushes your cheek when he speaks.

“I’m sorry” he says.

You blink “What?”

“I should’ve said something. Disappearing for that long, it wasn’t the plan.”

You snort “Why are you apologizing? It’s not like we work together. Or like we’re friends. Or something like that.”

He raises an eyebrow “Something like that, huh?”

You hate how your face warms.

You don’t answer. You look over his shoulder again, watching your target raise a drink and whisper something into a diplomat’s ear.

But part of your mind is still stuck on the weight of his hand on your waist. And the fact that he did come back.

You move across the ballroom floor like you belong there, like you care about this dance. But your heart is nowhere near your target anymore.

It’s stuck somewhere between the weight of his hand on your waist and the word he just said.

“Sorry.”

You glance up “You already said that.”

“I meant it.” His voice is quieter now “I’ve got… news.”

You raise an eyebrow “Let me guess. You’ll only tell me if I say yes to joining the Revolution.”

He smiles a little “I usually would.”

You sigh, already annoyed, then you freeze.

Because this time… He speaks.

“I remembered everything.”

You blink “What?”

“My past. My childhood. It came back.” He swallows, and for once, he’s not looking at you like he has the upper hand “I remembered my brothers. And I found one of them.”

Your mouth opens. No sound comes out.

“I met Luffy again,” Sabo says, voice soft but full “After all those years.”

Luffy.

You’ve heard that name before. That’s the kid... no, the pirate, who’s shaking the world right now.

Your brain struggles to keep up “Wait. You have a brother who’s… that Luffy?”

“I had two brothers,” he says, and there’s something heavy in his voice now “One of them… Ace… died.”

You feel the shift in him. In the room. Like all the noise and music fades into nothing.

“I never remembered him until now,” he continues “And when I did… I found out about his Devil Fruit. What was left of him. And I—”

He hesitates, just for a second. Then “I fought for it. And I won.”

You stare at him. Not just at the words but the way he says them. Like they’re not secrets. Like he wants you to know.

Like you’re someone who deserves to know.

Which is ridiculous.

You don’t ask about his past. You don’t share yours. That’s the deal. That’s how this works.

But he’s looking at you like you’re close. And that’s too much.

You stop dancing. Right there in the middle of the floor.

He blinks “What—?”

You take a step back, breaking the space between you. It suddenly feels hot. Too loud. Too much.

But then you see his face, open, confused, a little hurt.

Damn it.

You grab his wrist “Come with me.”

He lets you pull him without asking questions. You weave through the crowd, out the side door, into the cool, quiet air of the garden balcony.

He finally speaks “What about your target?”

You turn, facing him “I don’t care.”

His eyebrows lift “You… don’t?”

“Not right now,” you say, crossing your arms “Keep talking.”

He looks surprised. Really surprised. Then he smiles. Not his usual smirk. Something softer.

“You actually want to know?”

“Maybe,” you mutter “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He laughs once “Alright, detective. Where should I start?”

You shrug, trying to ignore how fast your heart is beating “Wherever you left off.”

The balcony is quiet. The soft sound of the party behind you fades into the background. You lean against the railing, arms crossed, as Sabo stands in front of you, looking for once like a man who doesn’t have it all under control.

He tells you everything.

Not just the facts, but the feelings, too. About losing his memories. About waking up with holes in his mind. About the strange weight in his chest when he saw Luffy again. About the funeral he missed, the brother he remembered too late. About the fire fruit. The tournament. The fight. The win.

You don’t interrupt. You just… listen.

And when he’s done, there’s silence between you. He watches you, waiting. You tilt your head slightly.

“Okay, Blondie,” you say slowly, your voice calm, almost teasing “I know about Ace. From the news. The whole world does.”

His eyebrows shoot up “First thing, my name isn’t Blondie but it’s Sabo. And then… you know?”

You nod skipping past the name thing he said “I mean… big fire guy. Big execution. Big mess. Sad ending. Even someone like me couldn’t miss it.” You pause. Then smirk “So now you got fire powers?”

He blinks “I—yeah, I do.”

“Prove it.” You lean in slightly “Show me.”

His eyes widen “Here?”

“Why not? There's no one else.”

Sabo stares at you for a second, like he’s trying to decide if you’re serious. You are.

He sighs once, smiles, then lifts his hand.

One finger rises. His gloved hand stills in the air. And then a flame sparks to life at the tip of his index finger.

Not just a spark. It burns. Bright. Alive. Orange and gold, like a piece of the sun. It dances, hot and proud, like it knows who it used to belong to.

You lean closer, eyes narrowing “Huh.”

“Huh?” he repeats, still holding the flame.

You smile “Didn’t think you were actually telling the truth.”

He gives a short laugh “I just spilled my entire life story to you.”

“I know. That was weird.”

He lowers his hand slowly, and the flame fades out. You feel the warmth linger on your skin, even though it’s gone.

“I thought you’d walk away” he says, watching you carefully.

“I almost did.”

“And now?”

You shrug “Now I’m just wondering what else you’ve been hiding.”

That gets a grin out of him “You’re not scared?”

“Of a little fire?” You smirk “Please. I’ve dealt with worse.”

He steps a little closer. Not touching you, just there “You’re something else.”

You look up at him “You’re just figuring that out now?”

The air out here is cooler, but your skin is still warm from the flame Sabo showed you. The fire’s gone, but he’s still close. Still looking at you like he’s seeing something real. Something he missed.

You’re not used to being seen like that.

He leans against the railing now, just beside you. The silence hangs between you, comfortable but heavy. Until he says,

“So… what about your target now?”

Your brain blanks for a second. You blink.

“…Target?”

You actually forgot. You. Forgot.

You straighten up a little, suddenly aware again “Shit—right. The guy. Cheating husband. Rich. Smells like fish. Probably still inside with his mistress.”

Sabo laughs quietly “You forgot?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, then pause. You look at him, narrowing your eyes “Wait a second.”

He tilts his head “What?”

“Blondie… why are you even here?” You gesture toward the ballroom “This wasn’t some world-changing event. Just a man cheating on his wife. I already figured it out. Mission solved. But what about your mission?”

He looks at you. And then, slowly, carefully, he says “You were my mission.”

Your heart trips over itself.

“W-what?” you stutter, and the sound of your own voice makes your face heat. You never stutter.

Sabo just smiles. Too pleased “That’s new.”

You frown “Shut up. What do you mean I was your mission?”

“I mean,” he says, leaning a little closer, “I was looking for you. That’s why I came.”

You blink at him again, confused “…To recruit me again?”

He shakes his head “No. I just wanted to talk. To explain. I didn’t like disappearing like that. Not without saying anything.”

You’re quiet. You weren’t expecting this. Not from him. Not tonight.

“So… you found me… just to say sorry?”

“Well,” he says, grinning now, “and maybe to see that look on your face when I said you were my mission.”

You roll your eyes, but it doesn’t hide the way your heart’s still racing “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe,” he says softly, “but I came back, didn’t I?”

You look at him. You hate how warm that makes you feel.

“Yeah,” you say, barely above a whisper “You did.”

“I just need a photo of him with his mistress,” you say as you push away from the railing “That’s all. Then I get paid.”

You shoot him a dry look “If you’re not busy, blondie… want to tag along?”

He grins “Lead the way, detective.”

You both head back inside. The music is still loud, the lights still too soft, the perfume in the air still expensive. You glide through the crowd, quiet, calm, focused. He walks behind you, hands in his pockets, like this is a stroll in the park.

You find the hallway the target mentioned earlier. Follow the plush carpet, past too many locked doors, until you reach a side room with long glass doors leading out to a small private balcony.

Perfect.

You sit on the floor in the shadowed corner just outside its small balcony, dress tucked around your legs. He sits beside you without asking.

You keep your eyes locked on the room inside. Your camera is ready. The lights are dimmed. No one’s here yet. But you know they’ll come.

Sabo… doesn’t watch the door.

He watches you.

You feel it after a while. His gaze. Quiet. Steady. Soft.

And then “You’re really beautiful tonight.”

It’s so quiet, you almost don’t catch it. You turn your head “What?”

His eyes go wide. Like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Like the words slipped out and betrayed him.

“I mean...” he clears his throat, looking away, “you got all dressed up for a small mission. Just a cheating man. That’s a lot of effort.”

You smirk, letting him twist “Missions are all boring recently.”

He looks back at you. Eyes narrowing like he just heard something important.

“Missions are boring… recently, huh?” he repeats slowly “So what changed recently?”

You roll your eyes “Don’t start.”

He leans in, grin wide now “Wait. Wait. Don’t tell me.” He taps his chin “Could it be that without me, you got bored?”

You scoff “Keep dreaming, Blondie.”

“So I was your entertainment?”

“You were an annoyance.”

“A charming one.”

You bite back a smile “Debatable.”

But it’s too late. He’s grinning like a fool, clearly enjoying himself. And the worst part is that you don’t even hate it.

Not even a little.

Sabo is in the middle of his next line, probably something ridiculous like “I bet you missed me so much you cried yourself to sleep” when your hand shoots up.

“Shhh!” you hiss.

He blinks “What?”

You tilt your chin toward the room inside.

The door opens.

There he is. Your target. Same smug walk, same too-shiny shoes. And hanging on his arm his mistress, laughing at something he said. They head toward the balcony.

Your balcony.

“Shit,” you whisper “They’re coming out here—”

You grab Sabo’s wrist and pull.

Fast.

You barely have a second to think. Just behind you, near the edge of the balcony, there’s a thick curtain tied to a decorative pillar. It’s more for style than privacy, but it’s big enough. Barely.

You slip behind it, dragging him with you. The heavy fabric closes in around you both. It’s dark. Cramped. His back hits the cold stone wall. You stop moving.

You’re close... Too close.

You’re pressed chest to chest, your leg between his. One of his arms is braced against the wall behind you, the other lightly around your waist. It’s the only way to not fall over.

Your breath hitches. His does too.

Neither of you speaks.

The couple is right there. Just on the other side. You hear their laughter, the low sound of a kiss. You should be paying attention. You should be lifting your camera, snapping the photo.

But your body is frozen. All your focus is on the heat of him, his hand, the closeness, his heartbeat that you can actually feel.

And then his hand moves. Slowly. Carefully.

He brushes your hair away from your cheek. His fingers are light, like he’s afraid to push too hard. They trail along your skin, and then he tucks the loose strand gently behind your ear.

You look up. His eyes are already on yours.

There’s no teasing in them now. No smirk. Just quiet. Warmth. Something deeper.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words vanish.

Outside, your target laughs again. The mistress pulls him inside. The moment is over.

You stay still a second longer. Neither of you speaks.

Then, very softly, Sabo says, “We’re going to have to talk about that later.”

And all you can manage is a whispered, “Shut up.”

You finally lift your camera. Your hands are steady, like always, even if your heart still isn’t.

The cheating man is kissing his mistress again, pressed up against the glass inside the room. They think they’re alone.

Perfect.

Three shots. Clear enough to ruin a marriage.

You lower the camera, your voice low “Got it. Time to go.”

Sabo doesn’t say a word, just follows you again like a shadow.

You grab the edge of the balcony, throw one leg over, and jump down like you’ve done a thousand times.

Except you forgot you’re wearing heels.

Your ankle bends awkwardly and pain shoots up your leg as your foot hits the ground. You hiss, stumbling slightly.

“Fucking heels...” you mutter, already yanking them off. One in each hand, and then you throw them down the alley without a second thought.

Behind you, Sabo lands light as a feather.

He watches the scene. Your bare feet. Your scowl. The heels lying sad and broken in the dark.

Then, his voice “Jump on my back.”

You glance at him “What?”

He shrugs casually “I’ll carry you. Don’t want you walking barefoot.”

You blink “You serious?”

He gives you that soft little half-smile “Completely.”

You snort “Nah. I’m good… but thanks for the offer, Blondie.”

And with that, you turn around and walk ahead. Not looking back. Definitely not letting him see the way your face is burning.

Behind you, he watches every step. And he’s smiling.

Not because you turned him down. But because you didn’t hesitate to throw away those fancy shoes. Because you didn’t care about being graceful or anything. Because you didn’t mind walking barefoot in a dirty alley if it meant freedom.

Because you’re real. And damn... he really, really likes that.

The alley behind you is gone now. Just stone paths and quiet shadows.

You’re walking through a garden, the party mansion behind. The only light coming from the stars above and the soft glow of lanterns hidden among the trees.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

You want to say goodbye. You always do after a job. Clean cut, no mess, no feelings. But your steps slow. You don’t want to walk away just yet. Not this time.

You stop near a small fountain. The sound of water trickling fills the silence between you.

You cross your arms, not facing him “So… I was your mission, mh?”

Sabo stands beside you, close but not touching.

You glance at him “Well… mission completed. You’re free to leave.”

He tilts his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips “So are you.”

You breathe in slowly.

“But here we are,” he adds softly “Still.”

You stare at the fountain “Still.”

The word hangs there like fog.

You swallow and finally look at him “You could’ve gone without telling me anything. But you didn’t. You came back. Why?”

“I told you,” he says, voice lower now “I wanted to explain. I didn’t like disappearing like that. You deserved more than that.”

You shake your head slowly “I don’t need people to explain themselves to me. I’m not—”

“Yeah,” he cuts in gently “But maybe I wanted to explain. Because I missed you.”

The words stop you.

You stare at him.

He says it so simply. Like it’s just a fact. Like saying it might rain tomorrow. Like I missed you isn’t a damn earthquake in your chest.

You try to scoff. Try to play it off “That’s very dramatic, Blondie.”

He chuckles “I learned from the best.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move away. You don’t leave.

You’re still standing beside him. Under the stars. Just… there.

And he is too.

...Still.

The silence stretches. The fountain bubbles softly. Somewhere far off, the music from the party fades into the trees.

You glance at him. He’s looking at the stars now, like they might give him something to say.

You speak first “So, what now?”

He shrugs “I don’t know. I didn’t really plan past this.”

You snort “Bad planning for a Revolutionary, don’t you think?”

He smiles “I figured I’d improvise. Depends on what you do next.”

You don’t answer. Your eyes fall to the path in front of you. The wind moves through the leaves, cool against your skin.

You hate this.

The quiet. The part of you that doesn’t want to walk away.

You cross your arms, trying to sound casual “Well, if you missed me that much, maybe next time you disappear, leave a note. ‘Gone off to recover lost memories and beat up powerful enemies, back soon’. Something like that.”

He laughs “You’d burn the note.”

You smile despite yourself “Probably.”

Then the quiet slips back in. He turns toward you again. You feel it before you see it. His eyes on you. That look you’re starting to know too well. Like he sees something in you you’re not ready to admit is there.

And yet…

“I kept thinking,” he says quietly, “how many jobs you’ve taken since I left. How many stupid people you had to spy on, how many lies you had to fake-smile through. I wondered if you ever thought about me.”

You open your mouth. Then close it.

He doesn’t push. Just keeps watching you with that calm, steady warmth.

You scoff lightly, more to break the moment than because anything’s funny “Don’t flatter yourself. I was too busy following cheating husbands and hiding in bushes.”

But your voice is soft. Not sharp. Not convincing.

He leans slightly closer. Not touching. Just near “So… not even a little?”

You meet his gaze. You want to lie. You always lie. That’s your job.

But instead you say “Maybe once.”

A pause “Or twice.”

Another pause “Something like that.”

He smiles “Good. Because I thought about you more than that.”

Your chest tightens and you quickly look away “You should go before I punch you for saying things like that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” he murmurs.

You both laugh quietly.

Still not touching. Still not fully confessing.

But the air between you hums with something neither of you wants to name... Not yet.

And so you stand there a little longer. Under the stars. In the garden... Still.

You feel the weight of his words still in your chest. You have to shake it off. Do something, say something, or you’ll start thinking too much. Feeling too much.

So, you clear your throat and nudge his arm with your elbow “Hey… got any more fire tricks? Something cool. Or funny?”

Sabo blinks. Then a smirk tugs at his lips “You want a show?”

You roll your eyes “Don’t make it weird. Just entertain me, Blondie.”

He chuckles, stepping back a little “Alright, alright. Watch this.”

He lifts one hand. With a little flick of his wrist, a small flame spins into life at the tip of his finger, then flickers out and reappears in the other hand, like a magician’s coin. Then he makes a little fire butterfly, letting it flap its glowing wings before it floats up and fades into sparks.

You stare. Eyes wide. Mouth parted just slightly. Like a kid at their first festival.

You step closer, enchanted “And it doesn’t burn you?”

Without thinking, you reach out, your fingers heading straight for the flame still flickering in his palm.

“Wait—!”

He quickly closes his hand, putting the fire out in an instant. But it’s too late. You brushed against the edge of it.

He grabs your hand fast, holding it tight in both of his.

His brows furrow “Did it burn you?” he asks, voice sharp with worry “Let me see.”

You blink at your hand... your hand, which is now in his hands, and for a second you completely forget what you were even doing.

His touch is warm, gentle. He’s checking your fingers, your palm, his thumb brushing softly over your skin. Too carefully. Too tender.

You finally come back to your senses. Your heart stumbles in your chest.

You yank your hand away like it’s him that’s burning “I’m fine. Jeez.”

He blinks, stunned “I just—”

“I should go,” you say, voice too fast. Too high “Client’s waiting. Gotta report. You know, job stuff.”

He opens his mouth, probably to ask something, maybe to stop you. But then he just closes it again. His eyes follow you as you take a few quick steps back, avoiding his gaze, his hand, everything.

He doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t chase.

Because he’s still there, stunned…

…realizing how fast his heart is beating, looking at his hands who were just holding yours.

You’ve been pacing the hallway for ten minutes now. Not because the job is hard... hell, you’ve done harder with a broken rib and a broken heel. But because you know he’ll show up.

He always does.

You’re even dressed for it. A sleek outfit, long coat, subtle daggers tucked under your sleeves. Not that he notices things like that.

Except he does. And that’s the problem.

You sigh, adjusting your collar. You’re here to spy on a nobleman, catch him trading information to pirates. But all your attention is pointed toward the nearest door like some lovesick idiot.

Which you are not.

“You really should stop standing in front of open doors.” comes the voice you’ve been trying not to expect.

You spin around, already scowling “Blondie.”

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, smug grin in place “Miss me?”

You scoff “Like I miss being shot at.”

He straightens and walks toward you, looking way too casual for someone who just broke into a mansion “So... how many missions have you almost ruined since I last saw you?”

“I don’t ruin missions,” you snap “I finish them. Unlike some people.”

“Oh right, because hiding in a curtain last time was definitely the plan.”

“That was your fault! If you hadn’t distracted me with your stupid compliments.”

“You’re really bringing that up?”

“Yes! Because it’s your fault!”

He smirks “If I remember correctly, you were the one blushing.”

You point a sharp, gloved finger at him “That was heatstroke.”

He raises a brow “At night?”

You flinch. Damn. Walked right into that one. But you don’t answer. You storm past him toward the second hallway where your target is supposed to appear. He follows, like always, humming under his breath.

“Seriously,” you say, trying to focus “Why are you even here? This isn’t a Revolutionary job.”

“You’re here.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It’s the only one that matters.”

You stop walking “You’re impossible.”

He grins “And you’re blushing again.”

You shove past him without another word.

Somehow, you still manage to finish the mission. You get your intel, threaten a butler, blackmail a merchant, and grab your proof. As you head out, Sabo falls into step beside you like this is routine. Like you always leave places like this together.

“Hey.” he says suddenly, and your stomach drops because of his tone, like he’s about to say something real. Something important.

You don’t like that.

“My brother’s in town. Wanna come meet him?”

You blink “Luffy?”

He nods, too casual.

You cross your arms “I don’t do dinner with strangers.”

“He’s not a stranger. He’s Luffy.”

“That’s literally the definition of a stranger to me.”

But he takes your hand.

Your brain short-circuits.

“What are you doing?” you snap, looking down at your entwined fingers.

“Holding your hand. You seem like the type to run.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

“You’re not pulling away...” he says, almost amused.

“…I’m tired.” you lie.

“You’re not even trying anymore.” he says with a laugh, already pulling you toward the docks.

You don’t pull away. Not even once.

The Thousand Sunny is louder than expected. Lanterns swing gently from ropes. Someone’s playing music. Someone else is screaming about meat. The Straw Hat crew is mid-party and you don’t even want to ask why.

Luffy’s the first one to spot you. He runs over barefoot, grinning so hard it almost hurts to look at him.

“Oi, Sabo!!” he shouts “Who’s she?”

You already step slightly behind Sabo, not used to this kind of attention. Not used to people looking at you like you matter.

Sabo rests a hand on your back again. Gentle. Warm.

“This is Detective Y/N,” he says proudly “Soon to be a Revolutionary.”

Your jaw drops “Oi! Blondie! How many times do I have to say no?!”

Before he can reply, Luffy tilts his head, blinking at the both of you “So is this your girlfriend?”

You and Sabo both freeze like someone just tossed a grenade between you.

“What?!” you shout, face burning “NO!”

“LUFFY!” Sabo snaps, just as red.

Luffy shrugs “You were holding hands and stuff.”

“We—! I—!” You throw your hands in the air “That was not—”

“Don’t act like you didn’t want to come.” Sabo hisses.

“You invited me!”

“You didn’t say no!”

“You didn’t let me!”

Zoro, watching from the side, mutters to Sanji, “How long you think before they kiss or kill each other?”

Sanji smirks “I’m betting both.”

You cross your arms and glare at Sabo, still blushing. He rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly looking away, but the edge of a smile is tugging at his lips.

Neither of you corrects Luffy.

Neither of you denies it again.

And your hand still feels warm where his was.

You clear your throat, trying to reset your brain “So,” you say, turning to Luffy as casually as possible “You’ve known Blondie since he was little, right?”

Sabo shoots you a look “No. Don’t even—”

You ignore him “Got any embarrassing stories?”

Luffy lights up like a lantern “OH YEAH! There was this one time, he—”

“Nope!” Sabo says quickly, cutting him off with the speed of someone panicking. He grabs your wrist gently... always gently... and pulls you a step back “We actually came just to say hi.”

You blink “We did?”

“We’re leaving now, I planned something.” he says firmly, already starting to walk.

You don’t fight it, but you are confused “Why? What do you have planned?”

Before he can answer, Luffy shouts after you, mouth full of meat, “Are you two going on a date?!”

You freeze.

Sabo stops mid-step.

Sanji drops a tray.

You’re standing there, Sabo still holding your wrist, and you feel your heart slam in your chest.

Sabo turns slowly, managing a calm expression “No.”

You, on the other hand, are red again “Obviously not!”

“Sure looks like it,” Luffy says, grinning wide “You guys were holding hands again.”

“HIS FAULT... FOR BALANCE.” you shout, instantly regretting how defensive you sound.

Sabo mutters under his breath, “Not very balanced now, are we.”

You elbow him. He smirks.

Robin chuckles behind her book “Young love is so… chaotic.”

You cover your face “We’re not—”

But Sabo’s hand slides down your wrist and links your fingers with his.

You glance at him, startled.

He doesn’t look at you, just tugs you toward the edge of the ship “Come on, Detective. I do have something planned.”

You don’t say anything for a second. You just stare at your joined hands.

Then, quietly, you mutter, “It better not be a date.”

He finally looks at you with that maddening half-smile “What if it is?”

You hate that your heart skips. You really hate that you don’t have a snappy comeback this time.

He walks beside you in silence, hand still in yours.

You should pull away... You really should.

But the warmth of his grip is like something you didn’t know you missed. And the way his thumb brushes against your knuckles as you cross into town makes you forget, moment by moment, that you’re supposed to be good at keeping people out.

You frown “This doesn’t look like a hideout.”

“It’s not.” he says, almost too casually.

You glance around, brows furrowing. You're not far from the city square now, where lamplight spills soft gold. Music plays in the distance, a quiet violin, and the smell of grilled food drifts from the open-air restaurants lining the plaza.

He leads you toward one of them. A quiet place tucked between ivy-covered walls, glowing with soft lanterns. It’s... cozy. Intimate.

You stop in your tracks.

“Do you have a mission here?” you ask, suspicious “You needed me for something?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes “…No.”

You blink “Then why?”

“I wanted to take you out.”

Your breath catches.

He finally looks at you, and his cheeks are dusted with red. And suddenly, you’re blushing. Hard.

Your heart kicks against your ribs like it’s trying to claw its way out “I’m...” You glance down at yourself, then back at him “I’m not dressed for this. I didn’t even shower after the mission, I—I smell right now, probably.”

His eyes widen. Not at your panic, but because you’re not saying no.

You’re... making excuses.

His lips twitch, almost smiling, but there’s something soft under it too. Hopeful. Careful. “If you feel uncomfortable, we can come back another time.”

You hesitate.

You could take that way out. He’d let you go. But you don’t want to run. Not tonight.

So instead, you tighten your fingers around his. Not much. Just enough to tell him you’re still here. And then you meet his eyes.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” you say, voice quieter than usual “Somewhere less... fancy. Should we?”

He looks stunned for a second. Then a smile softens his whole face.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing your hand back “We should.”

You’re walking side by side through the old part of town, the kind of place with cobbled streets and small lanterns flickering in shop windows. There's no mission, no lie to keep up, no identity to steal—just you, him, and this weird silence that’s more peaceful than awkward.

You chew slowly on a skewer from a food stall, the oil still warm on your lips. Sabo is next to you, carrying a second portion he insisted you try.

He walks close enough that your shoulder brushes his every few steps. You don’t move away.

And just when the warmth in your chest starts to feel dangerous, when you're thinking maybe the food's not the only thing softening you, he speaks.

"By the way… earlier."

You glance sideways at him “What about earlier?”

His gaze is ahead, not on you. His voice is careful, but not cold.

“I just… I wanted to say…”

You stop chewing. The pause is long.

He exhales like he's regretting even bringing it up, then blurts “You actually smell good right now.”

You freeze mid-step. Did he just...

“I mean...” he fumbles, ears turning so red it's almost funny, “...not like I was trying to notice that. Or, I mean... I did notice it. Not in a weird way, just...”

You stare at him. He won’t look at you.

“And you're beautiful,” he says, a little quieter, like the words hurt to say out loud “No matter what you wear.”

Your heart slams against your ribs so hard it echoes in your ears. You don’t breathe for a second.

Beautiful.

You blink once. Twice. Your voice is caught somewhere in your throat.

He's still not looking at you. Maybe he thinks if he doesn’t see your face, it won’t sting so much when you laugh it off. But you don't laugh.

You take a small breath and then you say, softly, “I’m sorry, Sabo.”

His head jerks toward you. Eyes wide.

It's the name. You never use it. He notices instantly.

You take a slow step closer to him.

“I’m not good at this...” you say again, quieter now. Like a confession.

Your hand lifts almost on instinct, your fingers brushing against his cheek before your palm rests fully there. The contact is warm, real. His skin is soft, just like you thought it’d be.

He doesn’t move.

Your other hand rises to his face too, like gravity’s pulling you in. His breath catches. His lips part but he doesn’t speak.

And before he can try you lean in.

Your lips touch his.

Just once.

Soft.

Quick.

A heartbeat and it’s over.

But when you pull back, your hands are still holding his face. And his eyes are locked on you like you just flipped his entire world upside down.

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t speak.

You’re about to say something stupid. Or apologize. Or maybe run away, like you always do. But then his fingers slowly lift.

They rise like he’s in a trance, brushing lightly over his own lips where you just kissed him. Like he’s trying to prove to himself that it actually happened. That you actually did that.

You watch him, unsure what to say, unsure if you've gone too far or not far enough. But you don’t move. You wait.

His eyes meet yours again, still wide, still stunned, but there’s something fragile and flickering and new now.

You see it before he can even say a word.

Hope.

He whispers your name like it means something sacred. And you feel your heart stutter again. But this time, you don’t run.

You let the silence stretch. Let the night fold around you. Let yourself breathe in the moment like it might disappear.

You kissed him. And you want to do it again.

Sabo’s still staring at you like you just knocked the wind out of him.

Then, all at once, a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. Something soft, but surprised. A little breathless.

And then he speaks, his voice lower than before, unguarded.

“…Oh.”

You arch a brow “Oh?”

“You said you’re not good at this but you’re actually damn good,” he says, like it’s just occurred to him “You make me nervous.”

You blink. And then you laugh.

It slips out before you can stop it, a quiet breath of a sound, half smile and half disbelief. You shake your head, grinning like he just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“Nervous?” you repeat, tilting your head “You?”

He shrugs helplessly, like he’s trying to pretend this isn’t a big deal while looking very much like a man whose heart is hanging off a wire “Yeah.”

You watch him for a beat, heart still beating way too fast for comfort. Then you nudge his arm lightly with yours.

“So, Blondie…” you murmur, a little smirk tugging your lips now “What do we do from now on? How does this work?”

He exhales slowly, looking at you sideways “Depends. Are you going to disappear again the second I blink?”

You scoff “You’re the one who vanished for months.”

He doesn’t argue.

You go on “I still won’t accept your offer, you know. I’m staying a detective. Better pay, more drama, less running around screaming about justice or whatever.”

That makes him laugh, and god it’s nice hearing him laugh like that, light, real, warm. Like this version of him exists only for you.

He leans his shoulder into yours a little “I don’t even care anymore.”

You glance at him “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, eating the last bite of his skewer “You’re always working with me anyway. We just keep bumping into each other mid-job. Revolution or not, we’re already a team.”

That earns another smile from you, though you roll your eyes “Ugh, don’t say it like that.”

He grins wider.

And then, softer “Say it again?”

You blink “Say what?”

“My name.”

You pause.

You know exactly what he’s asking for.

Your lips curve slowly. You fake a thoughtful expression, tapping your chin “…Blondie?”

He pouts. Full-on, eyes-narrowed, almost-childish pout.

You laugh again, a little too fond, a little too fast.

“Okay, okay—” you cave, pushing his arm gently.

You lean a little closer, voice playful but real.

“Flame Emperor Sabo.”

That makes his whole expression shift, his eyes widening a bit, like that title coming from your mouth short-circuits his brain. You say it like it’s not just a title, not just a name the world gave him. You say it like you know exactly who he is beneath it, and you still say it anyway.

He’s silent for a beat too long, lips parting like he forgot how to breathe.

You blink “Now stop acting like a baby.”

His mouth quirks into a smirk again, but there’s a faint blush under his eyes that he absolutely cannot hide.

“You’re dangerous” he mutters.

“Me?”

He nods, licking his bottom lip absently “Yeah. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing clever comes out. So you close it again.

He grins.

And the stars above keep burning. Just like the slow, steady fire growing between you.

The mission is simple. In theory.

Infiltrate a noble’s estate. Steal a sealed document before it gets shipped to the World Government. No casualties, no noise, no slipping up.

Simple.

Except nothing is simple when he’s with you.

Sabo walks beside you through the bustling garden party, dressed in dark formal wear that somehow makes him look more like royalty than a rebel. His hair is slicked back tonight, but one stubborn curl keeps falling in front of his eyes. You hate how much you keep noticing it.

“I told you we should’ve entered from the east wing...” you whisper through your teeth, smiling like a polite guest while your eyes scan the crowd.

He leans close, smirking “And I told you the west entrance had the least guards. What’s your plan, detective, run in heels again and scream ‘I told you so’ if we get caught?”

You don’t look at him but you can feel the smirk.

“I swear,” you hiss, “if this mission goes wrong, I’m blaming your giant ego and that dumb little curl on your forehead.”

He chuckles low “You like that dumb little curl. You looked at it twenty times already.”

You turn your head fast “You counted?”

He leans even closer, lips almost brushing your ear “You’re blushing.”

“I will punch you.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

And there it is again, that tension. That crackling space between you that’s always been charged, but now it’s like standing next to a fire and pretending you’re not melting.

Your heart beats a little faster as you both slip away from the crowd toward the private halls.

Inside, it’s quieter. Just soft footsteps and faint music echoing from the ballroom.

You’re meant to stay focused. There’s a vault. A document. A ticking clock.

But Sabo walks behind you with his hand ghosting near your back, and it’s suddenly hard to remember the full plan.

“You’ve been quiet” he says softly.

“I’m trying to think.”

“Mm. Dangerous.”

You stop walking. Turn around.

He nearly bumps into you, he’s that close. His breath catches.

You narrow your eyes “We’re in the middle of a mission, Flame Emperor. Don’t start.”

He lifts both hands like he’s innocent “I’m not doing anything. You’re the one who stopped.”

“I stopped because you were breathing down my neck.”

“You know what? I still can’t believe you kissed me first.”

You scowl “You want me to regret that?”

He smiles, cocky and soft all at once “Do you?”

You stare at him.

He stares back.

The moment hangs.

Heavy.

Then your gaze flickers to his mouth.

His does the same.

And like magnet to spark, you crash forward and kiss him.

Again.

Your hands grab the collar of his coat. His arm instantly slips around your waist, pulling you in, mouth hot and insistent. You kiss like it’s an argument neither of you want to win, messy, fast, like you’re both annoyed at how much you want this.

And damn it, you do.

You bite his lip lightly and he groans into your mouth, deep and low. His fingers tighten at your hip. One of your legs slides between his and you’re just about to press him up against the wall when...

“Focus,” he pants, breaking away just enough to whisper against your lips “Document. Vault. Revolution. Remember?”

You blink “…Right.”

You both take a deep breath.

He adjusts his cravat like kissing you hasn’t just fried his brain. You smooth your dress, refusing to look flustered.

“I hate how good you are at kissing” you mutter.

“I love how bad you are at staying focused” he grins.

You glare.

He winks.

And just like that, the tension resets, but it lingers in every step. Every glance. Every time your hands brush, or you lean a little too close to whisper, or he rests a palm low on your back to guide you around a corner like a gentleman with very impure thoughts.

But neither of you mess up.

The vault? Opened.

The document? Secured.

The guards? Unaware.

You slip out the west gate under cover of darkness, walking side by side through the city like two shadows.

Job done. Hearts racing.

And even though you don’t say it out loud, you both know you’re not just partners anymore.

You’re a storm.

And this is only the beginning.

427 notes · View notes

millers-girl · 3 months ago

Text

where it hurts

chapter 4 of willow & whiskey

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: an injury, an apology, and a lesson in survival bring you and Joel closer – and reminds you what's at stake.

warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, death

word count: 6.5k

series masterlist

Somewhere in western Pennsylvania, Joel stopped the truck at a gas station. You were running out of gas, meaning he’d have to get lucky and siphon fuel from other cars – if there were any who still had some left.

As he worked, with Ellie keeping him company, you remained in the passenger seat of the stationary truck, feet up on the dash, head buried in The Two Towers.

Save for Ellie and Joel’s conversation, the world outside was quiet. Only the occasional chirp of a bird or the distant rustling of leaves interrupted your silence.

With the windows down, you heard Ellie ask, "So, how does it work?"

Joel, kneeling on the ground with a tube in hand, answered, "It's a siphon. It's when liquid – travels against gravity – because pressure – umm – "

Ellie was already on the verge of giggling. "You don't know," she accused.

"I know it works."

You smirked behind the book, flipping to the next page nonchalantly as you cleared up, "It creates a vacuum in the tube so liquid draws up from the car and gravity pushes it down into the red container Joel's holding.”

Ellie hummed, nodding along before quickly growing bored with the conversation altogether. She stalked toward the tree line.

"No wandering," you and Joel said at the same time, both your heads snapping to lock eyes with each other. You swallowed, looking away first.

"Okay," Ellie said, leaning against the back door of the car and pulling a book out of her pack. "This is both your faults then." She flipped to a random page. "It doesn't matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery." She laughed to herself while you got out of the car. "No Pun Intended, Volume Too by Will Livingston. Volume Too. Look. You get it?"

"Jesus," Joel mumbled, shaking his head.

Feeling the stiffness in your muscles from sitting too long, you shut your book and got out of the car, stretching your arms above your head before walking over to Joel.

"Need any help?" You asked, leaning against the car he was siphoning gas from.

You weren’t really sure how to approach your conversations with him anymore. The tension had been uncomfortable between you since Bill’s town. He’d crossed a line and hadn’t apologized––not really––but he had given you that book, the one now resting on the hood of the car, as some sort of peace offering.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. Still, the silence between you both stretched too often, the weight of what was said heavy.

Joel shook his head at your offer, sucking on the end of the tube until gas started pouring out into the red container. His eyes flicked up to yours as he did it, and you bit your lip, fighting the instinct to mutter something inappropriate. Okay, you pick – you want the comment about sucking something while making eye contact with me, or about being on your knees in front of me?

Before, you might've said it, testing the waters, seeing him fluster. Now, you weren’t sure if that door was still open. The space between you felt fragile, like one wrong move would shatter it entirely.

As if sensing the strain, Ellie continued with her jokes until Joel gave her a reaction. "I stayed up all night, wondering where the sun went – “

"No," Joel begged.

Triumphant, Ellie finished anyway. "Then it dawned on me."

You chuckled as Joel turned to Ellie with exasperation. "Feel free to wait in the truck."

"Ugh, okay," Ellie groaned, conceding. "But, just know – you can't escape Will Livingston. He'll be back... there's nothing you can do to stop him."

She climbed into the truck, and you started to follow until Joel’s voice stopped you, surprising both you and him. "What part of the book you on?" he asked, quieter than you expected.

You turned back, brows furrowed. This was how he wanted to break the tension?

"What? It can't be worse than that joke book."

“It’s not,” you confirmed, though your voice still carried a hint of strain. You tried to keep it lighter. “It’s just…”

"Just what?"

You hesitated, then let it go. If he wasn’t ready to talk about things, you wouldn’t push it.

"Why is it so slow?" You huffed, flipping the book in your hands. "No, seriously. I mean, I flew through the first one. Now, it's taking forever to get through Frodo and Sam's journey to Mordor."

Joel rolled his eyes. "Patience is a virtue. You gotta get through the boring stuff to appreciate the good stuff."

You scoffed. "And why is there no action? The first book was full of it, and now – “

"Not everything in life is fast-paced," Joel said, his voice softer now. "Some things take time. You gotta peel back the layers – doesn't make ‘em any less worth it."

Your breathing hitched, eyes locked onto his. As a chronic overthinker, you couldn’t decide if he was saying that with a double meaning or just as a throwaway comment? Surely, the former. Surely, he was talking about himself – trying to apologize without apologizing again – saying he had a lot of walls up, layers that needed peeling back. And that you were doing it, slowly but surely. And it would be worth it.

You couldn’t tell – but it gave you a little hope.

And that was why you ripped the band-aid off, cocked your head to the side, and joked, "Are you trying to give me life advice? Or get in my pants?"

Joel choked on his water, coughing into his fist. "What?"

"Some things in life are worth the effort," you echoed his words, lowering your voice to mimic him. "Like what, Joel? Are you teasing?"

"I could've meant anything when I said that," Joel retorted, attempting to regain his composure.

You crossed your arms, smirking. "But you didn't."

"You're real forward, you know that?" he deflected.

“And you're avoiding the question."

Before you could press further, Joel turned back to look at Ellie in the backseat of the truck. "We should get movin’. It's getting late, and we got a long drive ahead."

You sighed, disappointment flickering across your face. For the first time in days, a conversation between you two had felt easy. And just like that, it was over.

Clearing your throat, you muttered, “Right – got a schedule to keep.”

Joel could hear the shift in your voice, so he cleared his throat too, picking your book off the hood of the car to hand it to you. "Keep readin’. You're almost to the good part."

You took it from him, fingers grazing his. He pulled away quickly, but the warmth lingered.

Climbing into the truck, you stretched your feet up onto the dash. When Joel began to drive again, he tapped your leg once. When you ignored it, he reached over and grasped your ankle, gently pulling it down.

You frowned, making him say, "S’dangerous. What if we crash and the airbags go off? You could get injured."

You rolled your eyes, cheeks flushing. "You have so little faith in your driving skills, old man." Still, you kept your feet off the dash.

When Joel had turned onto the highway and you shifted your eyes down to your book, Ellie’s head popped up in the space between you two.

"I got something," she announced, holding a cassette tape out. "This make you all nostalgic?" She turned to Joel with a grin.

Joel took the tape from her, glancing at it before stating, "This is actually before my time. It's a winner, though,” He popped the tape into the slot. A moment later, the car filled with music, the static-crackled notes settling over the three of you.

"Got something else," Ellie announced. You could hear her flipping through pages in the back. "It's, uh... light on the reading, but it's got some interesting pictures."

You turned back, eyebrows raised, just in time to see her holding up a porn magazine. Joel caught it in the rear-view mirror at the same time, his entire body stiffening.

Your reaction was immediate. Laughter burst from your chest, bubbling up uncontrollably until tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Joel meanwhile, remained panicked, yet firmly put on his ‘parent voice.’

"Oh. No, no, no. Put that back. That's not for kids. Ellie."

His eyes darted between the road, you, and the rear-view mirror. Wiping a tear away, you simply giggled, “It’s sex ed.”

“It’s not,” Joel countered, exasperated.

"How would he even walk around with that thing?" Ellie gaped at the photo in front of her.

"Please get rid of it," Joel begged, visibly mortified.

Ellie sighed dramatically. "Hold your horses. I wanna see what all the fuss is about."

Joel turned to you, desperation laced in his voice. "Can you…?”

You huffed, facing forward but holding your hand out for Ellie to hand the magazine over. "Why are all these pages stuck together?" Ellie asked, before shoving the magazine into your grasp.

You barely had a second to process the words before you recoiled, dropping the magazine like it had burst into flames.

"Ew, Ellie! What the fuck?!" you yelped, wiping your hand on the nearest fabric available – unfortunately, Joel’s jacket.

Joel turned to you with a disgusted look on his face and you both glanced at Ellie. "I'm just fuckin' with ya," she cackled, tossing the magazine out the window. “Bye-bye, dude.”

Joel made dinner that night, warming canned pasta over a small flame. Ellie scarfed it down.

"Slow down," Joel tried.

"This is slow," she mumbled, mouth full of food. "What am I even eating?"

"That is twenty-year-old Chef Boyardee ravioli."

"That guy was good," Ellie complimented.

"I actually agree," Joel said, making you softly smile. Even if your relationship with him was somewhat strained, you still liked seeing him get along with Ellie.

Your eyes shifted to the girl in question, whose mood suddenly changed. She’d gone quiet, stirring her food idly. "What's on your mind, love?"

"How long are we staying out here?" she asked.

You turned to Joel. "I figure I sleep tonight... and drive tomorrow all day, all night, get us to Wyoming by next mornin'."

"Why don't you teach me how to drive tomorrow?" you suggested. "We can split the driving."

Joel gave you a flat look. "You don't know how to drive?"

"Must've missed driving lessons in the middle of the world ending."

“Alright, smartass,” he muttered.

Ellie pulled her jacket tighter around her. "Can we start a fire? I'm freezing."

"Now, why am I gonna tell you no?" Joel asked. His tone caught your attention because it was the first time he'd used it with Ellie. It wasn't bad; he just sounded like a dad scolding his kid.

"Because Infected will see the smoke," Ellie droned, as if she already knew the answer.

Joel shook his head. "No, Fungus ain’t that smart. This is too remote for Infected, anyway."

"People?" Ellie asked, Joel nodded, jaw tight. "So what are they gonna do? Rob us?"

"Oh, they'll have way more in mind than that."

The way he said it made your stomach twist. Ellie stiffened slightly, and without thinking, you nudged Joel in the side. He shot you a look, rubbing his ribs.

You knew that comment would stick with Ellie.

Later that night, you felt Ellie shift beside you in the sleeping bag, restless. "Joel."

"What?"

"Can I ask you a serious question?"

"Yeah."

"Why did the scarecrow get an award?"

Joel waited a moment. "Because he was outstanding in his field."

Ellie's laughter filled the air around them. "You dick! Did you read this?"

"No." He turned back around. "Now go to sleep."

She then nudged you, whispering, "Hey... those people Joel mentioned... there's no way anyone knows we're here, right? No one's gonna find us?"

You ran your fingers through her hair, voice soft. "No one's gonna find us."

She sighed, curling deeper into the shared warmth. "Okay."

You should have fallen asleep easily after that, but something gnawed at your gut. Hours passed, and when you blinked awake, a shadowed figure stood a few feet away.

Your breath hitch, heart hammering – until you saw the familiar shape of his shoulders, the familiar line of his stance.

Joel.

He was standing watch.

Because of Ellie's comment.

You exhaled, tension unraveling from your limbs. Carefully, you slipped out of the sleeping bag, grabbed an extra blanket from the car, and made your way over to him.

“Busted,” you softly teased, grin wide as you plopped down against a tree nearby, draping the blanket over yourself. “How long you been up?”

He huffed quietly, making his way over to sit next to you under the blanket. “Never fell asleep.”

“You’re turning into a softie,” you accused. He didn’t deny it. “You want to get some sleep? I can take over.”

He shook his head. “Naw, I’m good.”

You silently nodded, but didn’t move, and Joel seemed to understand what that meant. This was you extending an olive branch, giving him the time and space to apologize for what he’d said back at Bill’s town, how he’d treated you.

A long pause stretched between you before he finally cleared his throat. “Listen, I uh… Back at Bill’s… I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

And, even though you’d given him the space to fill the silence with an apology, you suddenly found yourself unable to meet his eyes. “Which part?” You quietly asked, pulling at the weeds by your feet and staring ahead at the fire.

“All of it.”

Another silence. As far as apologies went, it was pretty shit – even Joel knew.

He forced himself to continue, as uncomfortable as it clearly made him. “I was pissed… Not at you, but I took it out on you anyway. Wasn’t right of me.”

You swallowed, finding the strength to meet his eyes. “Did you mean it?”

He frowned. “What?”

“That my grief is useless,” you said simply, watching his reaction. “That I’m not doing anything with it.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, silently berating himself for speaking such cruel words to you in the first place. “I didn’t mean it like that… I used to think… I used to think grief was somethin’ you had to carry, hold on to, or it meant you didn’t care.” He swallowed, eyes flickering toward Ellie’s sleeping form before coming back to you. “I was wrong.”

The admission hung between you two, heavier than anything else he’d said.

Your gaze softened. “I’m trying,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “I just don’t know what to do with all of it – I mean, I don’t – Nate would’ve – ” You cut yourself off quickly, realizing you’d let his name slip.

Joel studied you, watching how you froze for a second. And then, in a quiet movement, he reached out. It wasn’t much – the briefest of touches, the backs of his fingers grazing your wrist where your hand rested against your knee. But it was enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

His touch lingered, hesitant. Testing.

You could feel the calluses on his fingers, the warmth of his skin.

Your throat tightened, but he didn’t pull away. “I got no right tellin’ you what you should and shouldn’t do with your feelings,” he said, voice low, rough. “But I… I don’t want you carryin’ it alone. S’not fair.”

Your chest ached at that. Slowly, carefully, you turned your hand over, letting your fingers brush against his.

His breath hitched, just barely.

Before you could overthink it, you blurted, “Nate took care of Ellie and I in the QZ. He used to be a guard, but even so, we barely made ends meet… He used to get into these underground boxing fights to get some extra ration cards so we could eat. I told him it was dumb; we’d get them another way, but… he was stubborn.” You chuckled quietly. “I miss that about him.

“He wouldn’t let me go to those fights – said it wasn’t safe… And, one night he went, and he didn’t come back. And all the other guards got rid of his ID, the stuff in his locker, his uniform… like he never existed. They never spoke about him again… I filled in the blanks myself.”

After a beat of silence, Joel spoke up. “Nate,” he tried the name out on his tongue.

“Nathan,” you corrected, with a hint of a smile. “I was the only one he ever let call him that.” After a moment, you concluded. “Nathan. That’s the name behind my grief.”

Joel met your eyes, feeling his words escaping past his lips before he could try to wrangle them in. “Sarah,” he said in a voice softer than you’d ever heard it, speaking her name for the first time in a long time. “That’s the name behind mine.”

He didn’t say anything more; he wasn’t ready to. And that was alright by you.

For the first time, you let yourself lean into the proceeding quiet between you, into the way his presence steadied something in you.

And when his fingers finally curled around yours––warm, steady, solid––you let him.

The next day, Joel was slurping coffee like a man starved for it. And only you knew why. Because, with every sip he took, you felt the same bone-deep exhaustion he did. You’d stayed up all night too. Not because he asked you to, not because he let you take watch. Just because you kept him company, watching the dark stretch of road with him, listening to the quiet hum of the night.

Now, in the daylight, the atmosphere was much lighter. In the car, you kept glancing at Joel, a soft smile ghosting your lips. The weight was finally off your shoulders – you felt relief.

Hours passed with only light conversation and a Hank Williams cassette to fill the silence, until Ellie asked, “What’s his name?”

"Whose name, love?" you asked, looking up from your book.

"Joel's brother."

"Tommy," Joel answered.

"Younger or older?"

"Younger," you answered for him without thinking, your eyes flicking up to meet Joel’s. You tilted your head to the side. "Come on. You so give off older brother energy."

"Why isn't he with you?"

Joel exhaled through his nose, shifting in his seat. "Tommy's what we used to call a 'joiner.' Dreams of becomin' a hero. So he enlisted in the Army right outta high school. A few months later, they ship him off to Desert Storm. Point is, bein' in the Army didn't make him feel much like a hero. Cut to 12 years later, outbreak happens. He convinces me to join a group makin' their way up to Boston, which I did... mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive.

"It's where we met Tess. And that whole crew, we, uh... Well, for what it was, it worked. And then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks him into joinin' the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was 18. Wants to save the world. Pipe dream. Him, Fireflies, all of 'em... delusional. 'Course last I heard, he quit the Fireflies, too. So now he's on his own out there, and... I gotta go get him."

After a beat of silence, Ellie asked what you were thinking. "If you don't think there's hope for the world, why bother going on? I mean, you gotta try, right?"

"You haven't seen the world, so you don't know. You keep goin' for family. That's about it."

"I'm not family," Ellie said quietly.

"No... you're cargo. And I made a promise to Tess. And she was like family."

You rolled your eyes at that comment. You knew he didn’t mean it, not really. You could see it, even if he couldn’t. He was starting to look at Ellie differently, starting to protect her like something precious. She wasn’t cargo – he just didn’t know it yet.

So, instead of snapping at him, you turned to Ellie, grabbing hold of her hand and squeezing. “You’re my family. That’s all that matters.”

You said it simply, with no resentment or sarcasm towards Joel. Ellie looked at you, eyes flickering with love and gratitude before she squeezed back.

An hour later, she was fast asleep in the back, making soft snoring sounds that were music to your ears. And, in the front, Joel was keenly aware of you curled up in a ball on your side of the seat.

"Look, what I said – "

You were already shaking your head. “I think one apology is enough for today,” you said considerately. “Besides, it’s not like you mean it.”

His brows furrowed. “What are you talkin’ about?”

You merely shrugged. “You don’t stay up on lookout all night for someone who’s just ‘cargo.’”

And, to that, he didn’t have a comeback.

You didn’t need to look at him to know he was chewing on your words, turning them over in that head of his.

The quiet stretched until he hit a road bump – a pileup of cars blocking off the rest of the highway.

You finally glanced up from your book, frowning. “Where are we?”

“Kansas City.” Joel sighed, eyes glued to the road. “Can you hand me the map, darlin’?”

You froze for half a second before handing him the map.

Darlin’.

It was the first time he’d ever called you that. It made you feel warm; your fingers tingled, like they wanted to reach out and take his –

“Screw it,” Joel cut off your thoughts. “We can jog around this tunnel, take the next ramp, and we’re back on the road. Minute tops.”

You swallowed, pushing whatever that was down, and turned to wake Ellie, knowing she’d want to see the city, even if it was just a glimpse.

What was meant to be “a minute tops” ended up being much longer. Joel got turned around, and you were no help with the map.

“I don’t know where we are,” you sighed in defeat.

Joel glanced at the map in your lap. “Don’t look at the state map. Turn it over to the inset.”

“Ellie’s better at this,” you argued before handing the map to the teenager in the back, hoping she could make sense of it.

“This is my second day in a fucking car, man,” she defended.

As they bickered, and Joel kept driving north––eyes constantly shifting between Ellie, the map, and the road––you felt it before you saw him.

A shift in the air. A sickly dread curled in your stomach, cold and sharp.

Your eyes remained glued to the figure stumbling onto the road.

“Joel,” you tugged at his sleeve, pulse spiking. “Joel!”

He looked up just in time to see the man clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers, staggering towards the car.

“Hey!” he cried, voice raw with pain. “Please help!”

Your stomach twisted.

Without taking his eyes off the man, Joel said, “Seatbelts. Now.”

You were already halfway through the motion, hands shaking slightly. You knew what was coming next.

“Aren’t we gonna help him? Ellie asked, voice lined with uncertainty.

“No,” you and Joel said in unison.

Your grip tightened on the dashboard as Joel slammed his foot on the gas.

The man barely had time to dive out of the way before something crashed onto the windshield from above, shattering glass in a spiderweb of cracks. Your heart lurched as the tires then hit a spike strip, the car jerking violently as they deflated.

A second figure appeared from around the corner.

Joel cursed under his breath, yanking the wheel hard. You barely had time to brace before the car crashed straight through a storefront window.

The impact sent shockwaves through your body; the air felt knocked out of you.

When the car stopped, Joel immediately turned to you. “Are you okay?” You nodded, swallowing hard. Your hands trembled, reaching for his arm as he turned back to Ellie. “You’re not hurt? Nothin’?”

“I don’t think so,” Ellie answered, just before gunshots rang through the air, aiming at the car. It made all three of you flinch, ducking down before quickly undoing your belts and exiting the car in a crouch.

Joel crouched between you and Ellie, rifle in hand as more gunshots rang through the air. The smell of gunpowder and dust clogged your nostrils, mixing with the metallic tang of your fight or flight response on your tongue.

“Hey,” Joel said, voice low but firm, grabbing your and Ellie’s attention. “You see that hole?” He was referring to one on the adjacent wall, leading through to another room. “Can you squeeze through?” He asked you, knowing Ellie would fit.

Your breath hitched. “What?” You squeaked. “I’m not leaving you.” Your fingers dug into your pack, pulling out your gun as if that alone would prove your point.

Joel barely spared it a glance. “When I say go, you two crawl to that wall and squeeze through. You don’t come out until I say, okay?”

You sighed in frustration as Ellie nodded along, head shifting nervously toward the sound of bullets. “They’re not gonna hit you, love,” you promised, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Now, can you do as Joel says?”

Joel turned to you, ready to argue, but you shook your head, pushing closer to him. “I’m not leaving you. Now, are we gonna protect Ellie and get out of this, or you wanna keep arguing?”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Instead, he turned to Ellie. “You stay down. You stay low. You stay quiet.”

Ellie nodded, clearly still nervous. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Joel echoed. He turned to you, eyes lingering like he was memorizing your face. Then, a sharp nod. “Go!”

You didn’t wait to see Ellie get to the hole – you had faith in her abilities. Instead, you and Joel both rose from behind the truck bed, guns aimed at the hostiles, and began firing.

Later, you retreated behind a toppled shelf, breath coming in short gasps as you reloaded. Only one hostile left.

When Joel took him down, you both waited a moment. Silence.

Then, when it was seemingly safe and Joel was fixing the jam in his gun, another body came hurtling through the back exit of the store, crashing into yours and sending you sprawled onto the cold concrete.

Your head smacked against the ground, and for a moment, everything blurred – the world narrowing into muffled noise and a high-pitched ringing.

Through your haze, you saw Joel pinned beneath the attacker, and your pulse roared to life. You scrambled to your feet, but before you could act, the sharp crack of a gunshot split the air.

Ellie stood a few feet away, arms locked, hands gripping a gun.

The man collapsed on top of Joel.

Joel shoved the body off of him, coughing and wheezing to catch his breath. You crouched down beside him, helping him sit up.

The man, now on his back, pressed a trembling and to his spine, pulling it away to see blood. His expression shifted from pain to shock to fear.

He looked up and met Ellie’s eyes past the barrel of her gun. “No, no, no. It’s okay,” he said, voice shaking. “It’s over. We’re not fighting anymore… I’ll go home and tell everyone you’re good.” A sob tore through him. “I don’t know what to do.”

You glanced down at Joel, sharing a silent, weighted look, before helping him up. His fingers curled around your forearm, grounding himself – or maybe grounding you.

“My legs don’t work,” the man wheezed. “My mom isn’t far, if you could get me to her… We could trade with you guys.”

A lump formed in your throat. The desperation in his voice clawed at something deep inside you, something you tried not to acknowledge. He was just a kid. Just a scared kid.

Beside you, Joel exhaled sharply, eyes flicking over you.

“We could be friends,” the man begged. “I didn’t know. I’m Bryan – I’m Bryan. What’s your name? Are you guys sisters?” His gaze darted between you and Ellie.

Your breath stuttered. You turned away, unable to look at him, unable to look at Ellie as tears brimmed your waterline.

From beside you, Joel’s voice came low, firm. “Get back behind the wall.”

Ellie hesitated, eyes shifting to you. You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking. A hand covered your mouth, holding in any sound that threatened to slip free.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry – I’m sorry. Please, please – we could just talk. Please, please. No, no no! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Over his shouts, Joel turned to you, voice barely audible. “You too, baby.”

You flinched. He wanted you to go too. To look away.

You bit your bottom lip, wiping away the tears as your grip on his jacket sleeve tightened. “I’m not leaving you,” you whispered.

It wasn’t fair to let him carry this alone. It seemed like he always did. And he always would if you let him.

Joel held your gaze, reading into everything you weren’t saying. He exhaled, nodding once.

The man sobbed, calling for his mother.

You pressed your forehead against Joel’s shoulder, eyes squeezing shut. His warmth seeped through his jacket, grounding you in the chaos and reality of the moment.

Joel raised his gun. The shot echoed in the small space, final and unforgiving.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, he turned to you, thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. His touch was fleeting, like he wasn’t sure if he should do it.

Then, he called out to Ellie, who cleared up the doorway for you two to enter the room she was currently in.

She caught you staring at her––not just you, Joel too––and shrugged off the looks.

“I’m okay,” she said quickly, grabbing her pack off the floor. “I’m good.” She cleared her throat. “What now?”

While you observed her, Joel answered. “We go up. Hopefully, we can spot a clear route out.”

You reached for Ellie, a steady hand on her shoulder. She leaned into it for just a second before pulling away.

With one last glance at the wall, behind which the man’s lifeless body now laid, you followed Joel out.

And didn’t look back.

“Are we okay in here?” Ellie asked as the three of you holed up in some abandoned bar. The windows were boarded up with wooden planks and old, yellowed newspapers, their edges curling with age. Dust hung in the air, catching the slivers of light that managed to slip through the cracks.

“For now,” Joel answered before shaking his head. “But they’ll be comin’ through here soon enough.”

The shootout in the store had turned the entire resistance group in Pittsburgh against you. That explained why you hadn’t seen any FEDRA officers or a QZ – just a lawless city now teeming with people hunting you down.

Ellie had spotted a skyscraper a few blocks away. The plan was to wait until the patrols moved further out before making a break for it.

For now, you all settled in as best you could. Joel took a seat at the bar, his posture heavy with exhaustion, while you and Ellie slid to the floor, leaning against the barricaded windows. The wood was rough against your back, but it was better than nothing.

You winced as soon as your head rested against the panes, a sharp sting radiating from your scalp.

“You okay?” Ellie asked as you reached a tentative hand to your scalp and pulled it back to see your fingers sticky with blood.

As soon as Joel saw, he was kneeling in front of you, brows furrowed deep as he assessed the wound.

“I’ll be fine,” you murmured, trying to brush off the concern. “Just a cut on my scalp. It’ll stop bleeding if I put some pressure on it.”

Joel didn’t say anything, just got up and disappeared behind the bar, rummaging through whatever he could find. When he returned, he pressed a makeshift rag––as clean as he could find––firmly against the back of your head. His other hand was gently against your forehead, counterbalancing the force.

Even as he took such good care of you, he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You frowned. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Thing is… I didn’t hear that guy comin’... and if I did, you wouldn’t be bleedin’ and Ellie – “ He looked over at her, his expression pinched with guilt. “You wouldn’t have had to… you shouldn’t have had to… you know.”

Your stomach twisted as you followed his gaze. Ellie sat stiff, her fingers anxiously picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. You reached up, gently pulling Joel’s hand away so you could shift your focus to Ellie. Running a soothing hand through her hair, you spoke for him.

“I think what Joel means is… you’re only fourteen, love. You shouldn’t know what it means to have to make that decision.”

Joel swallowed hard and nodded. “It was my fault. You shouldn’t’ve had to… and I’m sorry.”

Ellie’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into fists as she furiously wiped at her eyes. It wasn’t enough. You reached out and pulled her into your arms, pressing a soft kiss to her head as she clung to you. Her shoulders trembled against you, silent tears soaking into your shirt.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, your hand moving up and down her back in slow, steady strokes. “You’re okay now. You’re safe. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

You wished you could undo it. Wished you could take back her shot, take away the weight of what she had to do. But, the truth was, you couldn’t shield her from everything. You could only teach her how to survive it.

You met Joel’s gaze over the top of Ellie’s head, your voice quiet but firm. “Can I have her gun?”

He silently reached into the back of his jeans, pulling out the gun and handing it over to you. You unloaded the magazine and emptied the chamber before offering it to Ellie.

“Show me your grip,” you said gently.

Ellie adjusted her hold, her fingers wrapping around the handle.

The way she held it had Joel nearly scoffing. “Now, who taught you that?”

“FEDRA school.”

“Figures.” He reached over to correct her grip. “There you go. Now, look it.”

He went to snatch the gun from her, but Ellie tightened her grip, holding firm. Joel shook the gun lightly, testing her hold, but she didn’t let go. It made her giggle, and you found yourself smiling, storing away the rare lighthearted moment like a mental picture.

“Okay?” Joel asked, making Ellie beam and nod.

He loaded the gun and glanced your way––you nodded in silent agreement––before offering it back to Ellie, grip first.

“It’s only for emergencies,” you told her, watching as she started to tuck it into the waistband of her pants like Joel did.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel cut in, shaking his head. “You put it in your pack. You’ll shoot your damn ass off.”

Ellie snorted. You laughed. The sound felt foreign but welcomed nonetheless in the middle of your current predicament.

When it was time to move, and Ellie went to tuck the gun into her bag, you helped Joel pull the barricades from the door. As you lifted one of the heavier planks, you let your fingers brush over his, squeezing gently in silent thanks.

He met your gaze. “We’ll get through this,” he promised.

You nodded, believing him. “I know.”

With Ellie between you, the three of you slipped out into the daylight, heading for the skyscraper. .

Climbing up thirty-three flights of stairs was brutal, even for you and Ellie. It hit Joel harder, making him feel his age by the time you reached your destination. As soon as you hit the landing, he dropped onto the floor with a groan.

Ellie nudged his boot. “Come on. Get up, you lazy ass.”

Joel scoffed. “Lazy ass?” He pushed himself up with a dramatic grunt. “Fifty-six years old, you little shit.”

You and Ellie giggled, setting up your makeshift beds. In no time, you had them set up – piles of cushions lined up, Ellie’s the furthest from the door, Joel’s the closest, and yours in between.

“I could sleep for five years,” Ellie yawned, sprawling out onto the cushions as her eyes fluttered shut. “Good night.”

“Yeah, good night,” Joel grumbled from your other side, settling into his bed.

Having used your hoodie for a pillow, you stared up at Joel, meeting his gaze with big, expectant eyes. He took one look and sighed, shrugging his jacket off and tossing it over you. You grinned and pulled it close.

When he laid on his side, facing you, you frowned and pulled his cushions closer to yours. “What’re you doin’?” He whispered, watching you tug your makeshift pillow between you two, wordlessly offering him the other end.

After a beat, he shuffled closer, resting his head on the hoodie. You pulled up the extra fabric of his jacket, covering him as well. Then, you settled again, eyes shutting as your breathing began to even out.

He could feel it on his neck, and he wasn’t sure how much sleep he’d get if continued – it was all he could think about.

“Joel,” Ellie whispered, cutting through the silence of the night. He hummed, acknowledging her. “Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?”

Joel lifted his head up off your hoodie to look at her. “What?”

He glanced down to see a smile forming at your lips, though your eyes remained shut.

“Yeah,” Ellie continued quietly before snickering. “It runs in your jeans.”

He pressed his head back down to your hoodie, mumbling, “Jesus,” into it before he began laughing quietly, joining Ellie. “That is so goddamn stupid.”

Ellie giggled again from your other side. “You laughed, motherfucker.”

“I didn’t laugh,” he denied.

“Yes, you did.”

You peeked an eye open. “You did,” you mumbled with a smile of your own, finding yourself shuffling closer to him.

“Jesus, I’m losin’ it,” he muttered, barely audible.

“Big time,” you mumbled practically against his chest at this point.

And for the first time in a long time, you slept soundly. Until Ellie’s voice cut through the silence once more, tensely calling out to you and Joel.

Your eyes snapped open, body tensing at her tone. You immediately sat up, your movement waking Joel, whose body was pressed against yours in sleep.

You barely had a second to process before you saw it – Ellie, hands up, a gun pointed at her head.

Your eyes moved up the hand holding the gun and settled upon a familiar face.

“Henry?”

taglist: @orcasoul @lizlil@littleshadow17 @joeldjarin @mrsyixingunicorn10 @luvwanda @escaping-reality8 @hoddystark @mmkkzz @victoriaholland @xodilfluvr @mystickittytaco @21tao

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agentstarkid · 4 months ago

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WRAPPED IN YOU ✦ LN4

✦ DEBRIEF: Wrapped in his embrace, you realize there’s nowhere else you'd rather be.

✦ CHECKERED FLAG: 783 words

✦ TRACK LIMITS: afab!reader, period cramps, no use of y/n, lando's hands and pecs (out-of-breath-spongebob.jpeg) — english is not my first language!

✦ MAY'S RADIO: wanted to prove to myself that i can write drabbles/blurbs (i had to physically restrain myself from continuing writing) :))) also, i'm on the second day. send help.

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The dull ache in your stomach had been building all day, a relentless, twisting discomfort that no amount of painkillers, tea, or soft blankets seemed to soothe. Curled up on the couch, you huffed in frustration, shifting for the hundredth time to find a position that didn’t make you want to groan. Just as you were about to resign yourself to your misery, Lando strolled into the room, hair damp from a shower, looking far too fresh and carefree for how awful you felt.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw you, bundled up in layers, clutching a heating pad to your stomach with a scowl. “Uh-oh,” he said, his voice dipping into something teasing but cautious, like he wasn’t sure if joking was a safe move. “Code red?”

You peeked up at him, eyes narrowing. “Code ‘I hate everything and might cry if you breathe wrong.’”

Lando immediately changed tactics, softening as he walked over and crouched beside you. “Alright, love, what do you need? Chocolate? A back rub? Someone to fight your uterus for you?”

Despite yourself, you let out a quiet laugh. “Just warmth. But my heating pad sucks, and I’m miserable.”

Lando tilted his head, considering you for a second before a knowing grin tugged at his lips. Without a word, he reached for your hand and pressed it firmly against his bare chest, right over his pecs, his skin radiating comforting warmth. You blinked, momentarily distracted by how solid he felt beneath your palm. “See?” he murmured, voice a little smug but gentle. “Walking, talking heater. And I come with cuddling perks.” he said, pulling you gently into his arms as he settled onto the couch.

That was all the convincing you needed.

Lando barely blinked when you grabbed his hand, direct it under your—his—hoodie, and pressed it against your lower stomach, shifting closer until you were practically on top of him. He was warm—so wonderfully, unfairly warm—and you sighed in relief as the heat seeped into your skin.

“Babe,” He watched you with an amused smirk, his free hand stroking lazily down your back. “So, what I’m hearing is... I’m basically an upgrade from your heating pad?”

You nuzzled into his neck, eyes fluttering shut. “Mhm. Except you don’t turn off after twenty minutes.”

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against you, “Well, you do turn me on, though,” he murmured, voice teasing. You rolled your eyes and pinched his side in response. “Oi!” he yelps, making you giggle. His laugh softened as he readjusted, his palm molding perfectly over your stomach (his ridiculously big hand, sweet Jesus), thumb tracing gentle strokes against your skin. “Lucky for you, I’m more than happy to be on hot water bottle duty all night.”

You sighed in contentment, sinking into his warmth as his hand remained steady against your stomach, radiating the perfect heat. His other arm curled around your back, his hand settled on your ass as he pulled you even closer. Your leg tangled with his, and you nestled your cheek against his collarbone, completely enveloped in his comforting embrace.

“Comfy now?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re the best.”

Lando grinned, letting his fingers trace light patterns over your side. “I know.” His voice was cocky, but the way he held you—gentle, protective—made it clear he’d actually sit here all night if you asked him to.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The room was quiet except for the occasional shift of blankets and the soft sound of Lando’s breathing. His warmth did wonders, easing the cramps more than anything else had all day, and for the first time, you felt yourself relaxing instead of bracing for another wave of discomfort.

After a few minutes, Lando spoke again, voice softer this time. “You want me to grab you anything? More tea? A snack?”

You shook your head against him. “No. Just you.”

His chest rised with a quiet chuckle. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere then.”

He adjusted slightly, using his free hand to tug the blanket higher around you both before settling in again. His warmth was steady, his touch never wavering as he kept his palm firmly in place, as if he knew the second he moved, the relief will go with it.

“I should start charging for this,” he mused after a moment. “Boyfriend and human heating pad? That’s like... double the effort.”

You huffed a sleepy laugh, burrowing further into his chest. “Nah, you love it.”

Lando’s thumb brushed over your skin, a slow, rhythmic motion that’s almost hypnotic. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your temple. “I really do.”

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moonlightdreamzz · 5 months ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY — YANG JUNGWON. ♡

goodnight and go

SUMMARY. It's your man's birthday, and you've pulled out all the stops to make sure it's the best one yet.

GENRE. Superrrrrr fluffy + Smut

THEMES. A continuation of Goodnight n Go. Established!Relationship, Idol!Jungwon x Reader, A day full of surprises!! Jungwon has had a very rough and tiring year. Be prepared to feel the feels.

WARNINGS. Mentions of alcohol, everyone gets drunk eventually, drunk birthday $ e x.

FEAT. All members of Enha + TXT members.

AUTHORS NOTE. Happy early birthday to my baby, Yang Jungwon. I forever love you. You deserve the world <333

“Roses are red, violets are blue…” you sing out loud, your eyes focused intently on the crisp white sheet of paper in front of you. Your pen taps rhythmically against the edge of the desk as you will something—anything—poetic to flow from your lips.

Your voice, unfortunately, isn’t half as good as Jay’s. He proves this by letting out a long, dramatic sigh from where he’s sitting across from you, glaring at you with pure disappointment.

“…Your rhymes are bad, and I don’t know what to do,” Jay cuts in, his eyebrows furrowing as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You pause mid-tap and look up at him, feigning offense. “Excuse me, Mr. Park Shakespeare. Where’s your masterpiece, huh?”

Jay smirks, holding up his phone like it’s a trophy. “Already sent. A voice memo. I serenaded him like the angel I am.”

You groan, throwing your head back in defeat before glaring at the nearly blank card on your desk. “Not all of us are blessed with vocal cords made of gold, Jay. Some of us have to work with this.” You wave the pen in his direction.

“Then work faster,” Jay shoots back, leaning back in his chair. “His first party starts in three hours, and that sad excuse for a card won’t write itself.”

“You’re talking about me, but don’t you have a cake to go pickup right about…” you look at the non existent watch on your left arm for dramatic effect before continuing, “now?”

His hands quickly reach behind him to grab the pillow that he was leaning on—your favorite pillow may you add, chucking it at you playfully before standing up. He brushes the invisible dirt off his pants on his journey to slide his shoes on that rested in front of your door.

“You know, I come here to not feel like I’m with Jungwon, but then you act just like him.”

“Well they don’t call us bestfriends to lovers for no reason, now do they?” You snicker, stealthily grabbing your pillow that he threw and returning the favor. It bounces off his back

Jay turns around, catching the pillow mid-bounce before glaring at you. “You’re lucky it’s his birthday tomorrow, or I’d—”

“You’d what? Throw another pillow? Oh no, Jay, not the cushions!” you tease, laughing as he shakes his head in mock annoyance.

He slips his shoes on and pulls out his phone, muttering something about being surrounded by children before glancing back at you. “Alright, I’m off. Try not to stress too much, okay? The card looks fine. And don’t let Jungwon’s puppy eyes make you spiral into thinking you need to write him an epic poem or something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off with a grin. “Don’t forget the cake! And text me when you get there!”

Jay points at you as he opens the door. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you salute as the door closes behind him.

The apartment falls quiet again, and you glance at the clock. Just a little over two hours until the clock strikes midnight and you get to surprise Jungwon with the start of what would hopefully be his best birthday yet.

You pick up the card again, running your fingers over the envelope. The words you’d written earlier suddenly feel inadequate. Jay was right—Jungwon would be happy with just spending time together. But he meant too much to you to settle for “just.”

You tuck the card back into your bag, grab the gift, and head into your bedroom to check on the other surprises you had planned for tomorrow. As you smooth out the edges of the decorations and double-check the little details, a text pops up on your phone.

Jay: Cake secured. Looks too good to be real. Don’t screw this up, Shakespeare.

You snort, typing back a quick response.

You: Just focus on getting it here in one piece. I’ve got everything else under control.

As you smooth out the wrapping paper on the little box, your thoughts drift to the last few months—how everything shifted the night you and Jungwon built gingerbread houses together. It was supposed to be a simple holiday tradition, but somehow, by the end of the night, there’d been flour in his hair, icing on your cheeks, and a kiss so soft it felt like a dream.

Now, months later, the tension that used to linger between you both had melted away. There were no more stolen glances, no more unspoken confessions. Just him, loving you in ways you never even thought to ask for, and you, loving him back with everything you had.

You glance at the clock again. 9:57 PM. Two hours until midnight, and for the first time, you get to be the one to make Jungwon feel special on his birthday.

Jay’s words echo in your head. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. But what Jay didn’t know—what no one really understood—was just how much Jungwon had you wrapped around his.

The way he always manages to make you feel safe, no matter what chaos life throws your way. His love shines so clearly in how attentive he is, always noticing when you’re stressed or tired, even before you do. The quiet way he folds your blanket when you leave it on the couch. The way he checks in on you, not with grand gestures but with little questions like, Did you eat? Are you warm enough?

And then there’s his unique way of thinking that keeps you on your toes. The way his eyes light up when he gets passionate about something, how he always challenges you to see the world in new ways. He’s thoughtful and curious, always asking questions that make you stop and think.

But it’s his passion that really leaves you breathless—the fire he hides beneath that calm exterior. He loves with an intensity that catches you off guard sometimes. Like how he randomly grabs your hand in public, tugging you closer with that confident grin, or the way his kisses always seem just a little more passionate than the last.

And the way he looks at you… it’s like you’re the only person in the world.

Jay would say you’re being dramatic. Maybe you are. But it’s hard not to be when it comes to Jungwon.

The sound of your phone buzzing pulls you from your thoughts. You grab it and see his name on the screen.

Jungwon: Are you still with Jay?

You smile, typing back quickly.

You: Nope, he left. It’s just me now.

Jungwon: Good. I don’t like sharing you with him for too long.

You laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. It’s such a Jungwon thing to say—playful but with just enough honesty that you can feel the weight behind it.

You: Possessive much?

Jungwon: Only with you.

Biting your lip, you set the phone down, unable to stop smiling. You’re about to spend his birthday with him in a way you never imagined just a year ago. Back then, he was your best friend, and now… now, he’s the person you can’t picture life without.

As you gather the last few decorations, you make a mental note to thank past you for saying yes to that first kiss.

Midnight couldn’t come fast enough.

You park outside the HYBE building, your fingers gripping the steering wheel as you try to calm the nervous energy bubbling inside you. The whole ride over, you couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot, but how could you not? You’re the worst at keeping surprises, and Jungwon—being as perceptive as he is—has probably already picked up on the fact that you’re up to something.

You check your phone one last time, scanning through messages from his members and the other idols crammed into your apartment right now.

Jay: He better cry. I’m not doing this again.

Sunghoon: Make sure you stall him if we’re still lighting candles when you get here.

Taehyun: Don’t let him figure it out, or I’m telling everyone how bad you are at holding your liquor.

You roll your eyes with a laugh, texting back a quick thumbs-up before stepping out of the car. Jungwon’s already waiting for you by the doors, bundled in a long coat and scarf.

His face lights up the second he sees you, his smile soft and familiar as he jogs over to the car. “Hey,” he says, sliding into the passenger seat, his tone warm and teasing. “You’re early. That’s new.”

“Wow, hello to you too,” you say, pretending to be offended. But your grin gives you away.

Jungwon leans back in his seat, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “What’s with the smile?”

“What smile?” you deflect, starting the car and pulling out onto the road.

“The one that says you’re hiding something,” he replies easily, cutting straight to the point.

Your heart skips, and you quickly look out the window to avoid his gaze. “I’m just happy to see you, birthday boy.”

“Uh-huh,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. But he doesn’t press further, instead resting his arm on the center console so his hand is close to yours.

The drive feels both too long and too short. Every passing minute makes your excitement grow, but you’re also painfully aware of how close you are to giving yourself away. When you finally pull into your apartment complex, you cut the engine and glance over at him.

“Okay, close your eyes,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungwon raises a brow. “What?”

“Just do it!” you laugh, reaching over to cover his eyes with your hands.

He chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. “You’re so bad at this, you know that?”

“Shut up and trust me,” you say, stepping out of the car and walking around to his side.

He keeps his eyes closed like you asked, though you can tell he’s holding back a smile. You guide him up the stairs to your apartment, your hands lightly on his shoulders to steer him.

When you finally reach the door, you take a deep breath, barely able to contain your excitement. You push it open, leading him inside before dropping your hands.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Open your eyes.”

Jungwon blinks a few times, adjusting to the dim light. His jaw drops the second he takes in the room.

His members are the first thing he notices, all grinning at him like they’ve won the lottery. “Happy birthday!” they yell in unison, their voices echoing through the room.

But it doesn’t stop there. He sees Taehyun, Soobin, and a few other friends from other groups, all cheering and laughing as he stands frozen in the doorway. The walls are decorated with baby pictures and birthday banners, and the table is covered in gifts, letters, and a cake that’s lit with candles.

Jungwon turns to you, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “What is this?”

“It’s for you,” you say, biting your lip nervously. “Surprise.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his eyes darting from the decorations to the faces of everyone who showed up. Then his gaze lands on you, softening as he shakes his head with a laugh.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, his voice filled with warmth.

“And you’re welcome,” Jay calls from across the room, already holding up a tray of shots. “Now, come on, birthday boy, we’ve got a lot of embarrassing toasts to make.”

“And don’t forget shot o clock!” Jake yells seemingly from the darkness.”

Jungwon glances around the room, his heart swelling as he takes in the scene again. His members are goofing off, Taehyun is teasing Sunghoon about something, and Jay is still holding court over the shots table like he owns it. But through all the noise and laughter, his gaze keeps drifting back to you.

You’re standing by the table, quietly fixing a balloon that got knocked out of place. You’re not even looking at him, but there’s something about the way you carry yourself—so sure, so thoughtful, so you—that has him rooted to the spot.

The past year flashes in his mind. It’s been the best year of his life, no question. He got you, the girl he’d quietly loved for so long, the one who knew him better than anyone else. And somehow, despite his flaws, you’d loved him back with an intensity he never thought he deserved.

But it hasn’t been easy.

Being leader means there’s never really an “off” switch. He’s constantly juggling responsibilities, navigating the needs of his members, the demands of the company, and the weight of expectations from the fans. It’s a role he takes seriously—it’s who he is—but it’s also exhausting.

The late nights spent writing and recording. The endless meetings and rehearsals. The pressure to be a pillar of strength when his members need him, even when he feels like he’s crumbling inside.

Some days, he barely has time to breathe.

And yet, through all the chaos, there’s you.

You, who seem to know exactly when he needs to hear your voice. You, who show up at just the right time, armed with his favorite snack or a silly joke to lighten his mood. You, who love him not because he’s Jungwon of ENHYPEN, but because he’s Jungwon, the boy who eats his cereal too slowly and hums when he’s concentrating.

Standing here now, with you and everyone he cares about in the same room, he feels seen in a way he hasn’t in a long time. Not as a leader. Not as an idol. But as a person.

And God, does it mean everything.

His chest tightens as the realization hits him: this—you—is his safe place. The one thing that’s kept him grounded through it all.

“Hey,” you call softly, pulling him from his thoughts. You’ve noticed him staring, and your brow furrows in that adorable way it does when you’re worried about him. “You okay?”

He nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he says, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m more than okay.”

“Alright, everybody!” you call, clapping your hands together and stepping behind the makeshift bar you set up on your kitchen counter. “It’s officially shock o’clock! Who’s ready to turn Jungwon into a real 21-year-old tonight?”

A loud cheer erupts from the room, and Jungwon groans, his head falling into his hands as he sits on the couch. “Why do I feel like this is going to haunt me tomorrow?” he mutters, though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Because it will!” Sunghoon yells, already reaching for one of the brightly colored shot glasses you laid out.

You grin and pick up the bottle of Ciroc, the cool glass catching the light as you wave it in the air. “Y’all, I’ve been waiting all week to make this boy take his first real shot,” you say, pouring a generous amount into a shaker. “So, as your certified bartender for the night, let’s kick this off the right way!”

Jay leans against the counter, giving you a skeptical look. “You know you’re not certified, right?”

“Certified by vibes, Jay. Vibes,” you reply, adding a splash of fruit juice to the mix before giving the shaker an overly dramatic shake.

The room is alive with laughter and music as you pour the first round of shots, the bright liquid glinting in the light. One by one, everyone grabs a glass—Taehyun’s eyes light up as he claims the lime green one, while Sunoo and Jake argue over who gets the pink one.

Finally, you grab a shot glass for yourself and hold it up, nodding toward Jungwon. “Okay, birthday boy, this one’s for you. No backing out now.”

He stands reluctantly, his expression a mix of amusement and mild horror. “You really won’t let me sit this one out, huh?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, your grin mischievous. “You deserve to let loose for once. So, here’s the deal: tonight, you’re not leader Jungwon. You’re just Jungwon. And we’re going to celebrate like crazy because, for once, you’re not allowed to be responsible.”

The room cheers in agreement, and Jungwon lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fine. One shot.”

“One?” Sunghoon says, pretending to be offended. “Nah, it’s shock o’clock all night, my guy.”

Jungwon takes the glass from your hand, his fingers brushing yours. He looks at you, a quiet fondness in his eyes that makes your heart skip. “You really planned all this for me?”

You nod, your voice softening. “Of course I did. You deserve to have fun, Won. Just… let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

His lips curve into a small, genuine smile, and he raises the glass. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The room counts down—“Three, two, one!”—and everyone throws back their shots, the air immediately filling with the sound of gasps, laughter, and groans.

Jungwon coughs slightly, his eyes wide as he sets the glass down. “What was that?”

“Freedom,” you reply with a wink, already pouring the next round.

1:00AM

As the night goes on, you make it your mission to keep the energy alive. You mix drinks with questionable accuracy, cheer the loudest during impromptu dance battles, and even drag Jungwon into a game of flip cup that ends with him laughing so hard he can barely stand.

And for the first time in a long time, you see him completely let go.

His laughter fills the room, his shoulders relax, and there’s a lightness to him that makes your heart swell. He’s not worried about schedules or responsibilities. He’s just Jungwon, a 21-year-old boy surrounded by people who love him.

The room is a swirling mess of laughter and slurred words, the empty Ciroc bottle now serving as the centerpiece for an increasingly wild game of Truth or Dare. Jay and Jake are collapsed on the couch, practically crying with laughter over some inside joke, while Sunoo is doubled over after losing a dare that involved chugging a questionable mix of soda and melted ice cream.

You, still feeling a pleasant buzz but mostly sober, keep a watchful eye on Jungwon, who’s slouched on the floor with flushed cheeks and a lazy grin. He’s definitely the drunkest, though his giggles and the way he clings to your arm are undeniably cute.

“You okay, birthday boy?” you whisper, leaning down so only he can hear.

He nods, blinking up at you with half-lidded eyes. “I’m great,” he mumbles. Then, with a goofy smile, he adds, “You’re so pretty. Have I told you that yet?”

Your heart squeezes, but you shake your head with a laugh. “Not in the last five minutes.”

“Hey! No whispering!” Sunghoon shouts, pointing dramatically at the two of you. “It’s your turn, Jungwon!”

Jungwon sits up straighter, wobbling a little as he tries to focus. “Fine! Truth.”

“Oh, we’re not going easy on you,” Taehyun says, his sharp gaze playful as he leans forward. “Alright, truth: who’s your celebrity crush?”

The room bursts into a chorus of “Oooohs,” and Jungwon scrunches his nose, clearly trying to think through the haze of alcohol. “That’s easy,” he slurs, pointing at you without hesitation. “Y/N’s my crush. And my girlfriend. And she’s way better than any celebrity.”

Your face heats up as everyone howls with laughter and cheers.

“Dude, we meant besides her,” Jay says, shaking his head, though he’s clearly amused.

“Well, that’s my answer,” Jungwon says stubbornly, crossing his arms like a pouty kid.

Your heart swells, and you squeeze his hand gently. “You’re so cute,” you whisper, but he doesn’t hear you over Sunoo daring Taehyun to serenade Sunghoon.

The game continues, the dares growing more ridiculous and the truths more revealing. Jake gets dared to text his old high school crush, while Sunghoon reluctantly admits he once fell off stage during a rehearsal and blamed it on a tech issue.

When it’s Jungwon’s turn again, Taehyun smirks. “Alright, leader-nim. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” Jungwon says, his words slightly slurred but still clear enough to understand.

“Tell us the sweetest thing Y/N’s ever done for you,” Taehyun challenges, a knowing grin on his face.

Jungwon’s expression softens instantly, his gaze locking onto yours. For a moment, it’s like the rest of the room fades away.

“Everything she does is sweet,” he says quietly, his voice warm and sincere. “But… I think the sweetest thing is just how much she cares. Like tonight.” He gestures around the room, his eyes glossy but full of emotion. “She didn’t have to do all this, but she did. She always does. She makes me feel like… like I’m not just the leader. Like I’m not just some idol.”

The room falls silent, everyone staring at Jungwon in awe.

“She makes me feel loved,” he finishes, his words stumbling a little but hitting straight to your heart. “And I love her for that. I love her so much.”

Your breath catches, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. You lean down, cupping his face in your hands as you whisper, “I love you too, Jungwon.”

The spell is broken when Sunghoon shouts, “Oh my God, you two are disgusting!”

Jungwon sticks his tongue out at him, and you laugh, brushing his hair back from his face. “Alright, that’s enough truth or dare for him,” you say, helping him up. “I think the birthday boy needs some water.”

The room erupts in protests, but you ignore them, guiding Jungwon toward the kitchen. As he leans heavily against you, he mumbles, “I meant it, you know. I really love you.”

“I know, baby,” you say softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “And I really love you too.”

Back in the living room, the chaos is still going strong. Jay is attempting to freestyle a birthday rap with Sunoo beatboxing (poorly), while Taehyun cheers them on from the couch. Jungwon, now armed with a glass of water you forced him to drink, flops back onto the floor beside you, watching the scene from the kitchenwith a lazy grin.

“Hey,” he slurs suddenly, turning to you with squinted eyes, “why aren’t you drunk?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean? I am drunk!”

Jungwon snorts, leaning closer as if to inspect you. “You’re a liar,” he says, poking your cheek. “I’ve seen you drunk, and it’s not this. You get all giggly and… and you can’t even walk straight.”

“I can’t walk straight now!” you argue, laughing as you shove his shoulder.

He shakes his head dramatically, pointing a wobbly finger at you. “Nope. Not buying it. You got me drunk—got all of us drunk—but you’re over here being all… responsible and sober. Not fair.”

“I’m not being responsible!” you protest, standing up with an exaggerated stumble for effect. “See? Totally buzzed.”

Jungwon raises an unimpressed eyebrow, then grins mischievously. “Prove it.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes. “Prove what?”

“Take a shot,” he challenges, reaching for the Ciroc bottle. “Take three, actually. Match me.”

“Oh, I’m matching you?” you ask, your voice laced with playful defiance. “Bet.”

The group catches wind of the exchange and immediately starts chanting, “SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!” like a rowdy audience at a college party.

“Don’t do it, Y/N!” Sunoo warns dramatically. “He’s trying to corrupt you!”

“I don’t need his help!” you shoot back, snatching the bottle from Jungwon’s hand. “Let’s go!”

You pour the first shot and down it without hesitation, the burn making your face scrunch up as everyone cheers. Jungwon watches you with wide, amused eyes, clearly impressed.

“Another,” he says, leaning closer, his grin turning sly. “C’mon, baby, keep up.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you warn, pouring a second shot and throwing it back just as quickly.

The crowd erupts again, but your focus stays locked on Jungwon, who’s leaning in even closer now. His warm, alcohol-flushed face is just inches from yours, and his hand brushes your thigh as he steadies himself.

“You’re really doing it,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Please,” you tease, pouring the third shot. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

But as you lift the glass to your lips, Jungwon’s hand catches yours, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Wait,” he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Lemme help you.”

Before you can ask what he means, he tips the glass toward your mouth himself, his gaze never leaving yours. You let him, the shot burning your throat as his free hand slides up your back to your neck, pulling you closer.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear.

Your breath hitches, the mix of alcohol and his touch sending a rush of heat through you. “You’re drunk,” you whisper back, though your voice wavers.

“Yeah,” he admits, his lips now grazing your jaw. “Drunk in love with you.”

The room around you fades into the background noise of laughter and cheers as Jungwon’s kisses trail down to your neck. His hands find your waist, pulling you onto his lap, and you feel his breath against your skin, warm and intoxicating.

“You’re matching me now,” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. “But I think you need one more shot.”

“I’ll take it,” you say, your own boldness surprising you. “If you take it with me.”

Jungwon grins, his lips brushing yours. “Deal.”

You pour two more shots, the tension between you thick enough to drown out everything else. As you clink glasses and down them together, his hands tighten around your waist, and you know this night is far from over.

2:25AM

The party was in full swing now, the bass from Young Nudy’s Peaches and Eggplants rattling the walls of your apartment. The music, the drinks, the flashing LED lights you set up earlier—all of it had turned your cozy little space into a full-blown club.

Your careful planning was paying off, too. A pile of pillows and blankets was stacked in the corner for when the inevitable “too drunk to drive” moment arrived, which you knew was only a matter of time. You’d even stocked up on water bottles and ibuprofen for the morning-after chaos.

But for now, the only thing on your mind was Jungwon.

“Y/N, let him breathe for a second!” Sunghoon hollered from across the room, a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“Like you’re not going to be wrapped up with someone in 10 minutes,” you fired back, throwing a playful glare in his direction.

Jungwon, who was securely stationed behind you, laughed against your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady as you swayed to the beat. The warmth of his touch burned through the fabric of your dress, and every time you shifted your weight, you felt him tighten his hold on you like he was trying to memorize the moment.

“You’re too good at this,” he mumbled into your ear, his voice low and slightly slurred.

“At what?” you asked, tossing a cheeky smile over your shoulder.

“Everything,” he replied without hesitation, his eyes gleaming under the party lights. “Planning this, dancing like this… driving me insane like this.”

“Good,” you teased, leaning back against his chest.

“Good?” he repeated, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re lucky there’s a room full of people here right now.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, but before you could respond, Sunoo appeared beside you, holding up a bottle of tequila like it was a trophy. “Dance floor shots! Let’s go!”

The crowd cheered, and you found a small plastic cup being shoved into your hand. Jungwon reluctantly released his grip on you as Sunoo poured, but his other hand stayed at your waist, possessively.

“Cheers to Jungwon!” Sunoo yelled, lifting his own cup in the air.

“To Jungwon!” everyone echoed, and you both tossed back your drinks.

As the burn hit your throat, you turned back to Jungwon, who was already watching you with that mischievous grin you loved so much. The alcohol had fully hit you now, making the edges of your vision blur and your inhibitions dissolve into the music.

“Let’s dance,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him back into the middle of the room.

This time, there was no hesitation. Jungwon’s hands found your waist again, guiding you as you moved in sync to the beat. You let yourself go completely, swaying and grinding against him as the music pulsed around you.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered against your neck, his breath warm and heavy.

“You love it,” you shot back, your voice dripping with confidence.

“I do,” he admitted, his hands sliding down your sides. “But I don’t think I can wait much longer, baby.”

Your heart raced as his lips brushed against your ear again, his voice dropping even lower. “Tell me everyone’s got a place to sleep tonight, because I need you all to myself.”

You turned in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips brushed his. “I planned for everything,” you whispered, your voice soft but sultry.

“Good,” he murmured, closing the gap between you.

The world around you faded as his lips captured yours, his hands pulling you flush against him. The cheers and hollers from your friends became distant background noise as you got lost in the moment.

But Jungwon didn’t stop there. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and full of unspoken promises. “Let’s get to that bed, Y/N,” he whispered.

You didn’t need to be told twice. With a knowing smile, you grabbed his hand and started leading him toward the bedroom, the rest of the party disappearing behind you.

As soon as the door to your bedroom clicked shut behind you, Jungwon was on you, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. His hands framed your face before sliding down to your waist, pulling you close as he backed you up toward the bed.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” you teased between kisses, your words a little breathless from the intensity.

“It’s my birthday,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. “I get to do whatever I want, right?”

You didn’t argue.

The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you let him guide you down onto the soft mattress. He followed without hesitation, hovering over you as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jawline, and then down to your neck. The weight of his body against yours was grounding, but the way his hands explored every inch of you sent your heart racing.

“Jungwon…” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair as he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. “Wait,” you say, your voice breathy and slurred with the alcohol still coursing through your system. He groans, clearly not happy about the interruption. “I have to give you your first gift before you get your… last gift of the night.” You bite your lip, a teasing glint in your eye.

Jungwon chuckles softly, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re killing me here, Y/N.”

You giggle, taking a step back and swaying slightly as you try to steady yourself. “Patience, birthday boy.”

Still buzzing with excitement, you clear your throat dramatically and start singing Happy Birthday—off-key, loud, and completely unhinged. Jungwon bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach as he doubles over. “Oh my God, you’re so drunk,” he teases between laughs, his eyes crinkling in the way that makes your heart flutter.

“Shut up! This is serious,” you reply, wagging a finger at him. You finish the song with a theatrical bow, nearly tripping in the process, and he catches you with ease.

“You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but his smile is so soft, so full of love, that it makes your cheeks burn.

“Okay, okay, focus,” you say, stumbling over to your dresser. You pull out a small red Cartier box and turn to face him, holding it up like it’s the Holy Grail. His eyes widen immediately.

“Y/N… what did you do?”

You smile shyly, stepping closer and opening the box to reveal a sleek, gold Cartier bracelet. “Happy birthday, Jungwon. You deserve this—and so much more.”

His jaw drops as he stares at the bracelet, speechless. “This is… Y/N, this is too much.”

“Shh,” you cut him off, clasping the bracelet onto his wrist with unsteady hands. “You’re worth every penny.”

As soon as the bracelet is secure, you pull out your next gift: a silver chain with your name on it. “So you can take me everywhere,” you say with a giggle, draping it around his neck. His fingers brush over the pendant, and for a moment, you think he might cry.

“Y/N…”

“Wait, there’s one more,” you interrupt, suddenly serious. You grab a folded piece of paper from your nightstand—the letter you’d been agonizing over all day. “This one… this one’s really important.”

Jungwon looks at you with wide, curious eyes as he takes the paper from your hand. He sits down on the edge of the bed, carefully unfolding it. His expression softens as he begins to read, and you feel your heart racing in your chest.

Jungwon,

Where do I even start? There are a million things I could say about you, but I’ll try to keep this from turning into a novel.

This past year with you has been the best year of my life. I never thought I’d find someone who could see me the way you do—who could make me feel so safe, so wanted, so loved. But then you came along, and you’ve shown me over and over again what love really looks like.

You work so hard every day, and I see how much you carry on your shoulders. You give your heart to everyone—your members, your fans, your family—and you rarely stop to take care of yourself. But that’s where I come in, okay? I want to be the person who makes it easier for you to breathe. I want to be your home, your peace, your everything—because that’s what you are to me.

I know you don’t always feel like you deserve the good things in life, but you do, Jungwon. You deserve everything. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if you’ll let me.

Thank you for being you. For loving me. For letting me love you.

Happy birthday, my love.

Forever yours,

Y/N

By the time he finishes, his hands are trembling slightly, and he looks up at you with glossy eyes.

“You really did all of this for me?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion.

“Of course I did,” you reply softly, sitting beside him. “You deserve to feel loved and celebrated, Jungwon. You’ve given so much of yourself to everyone else. This year… I wanted to give something back to you.”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks. “I don’t even know what to say,” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Don’t say anything,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him deeply. “Just let me love you tonight.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy but filled with so much emotion that it almost overwhelmed you. “Y/N,” he said softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I don’t even know how to say this right, but… thank you.”

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat.

“For all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the party still raging on the other side of the door. “For tonight. For… for being you. You didn’t have to go this hard, but you did. You always do.”

You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze. “You deserve it,” you said simply, reaching up to cup his cheek.

His lips curved into a small smile as he leaned into your touch. “You make me feel like I deserve it,” he admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. “And that’s crazy to me. I never thought I’d get to feel this way about someone. I never thought someone would care about me like this.”

“Jungwon…”

“No, let me say this,” he interrupted gently, his thumb tracing small circles on your hip. “I suck at talking about my feelings, but I need you to know this. The past year has been insane—like, absolutely insane. I’ve been exhausted, overwhelmed, questioning if I can even keep up sometimes… but you? You make it all worth it. Every single hard day, every single doubt—it doesn’t matter because I have you.”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes as you listened to him pour his heart out. “Won…”

“And tonight?” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s only been my birthday for, what, three hours? And it’s already one of the best nights of my life. All because of you.”

You didn’t have words to respond, so you didn’t try. Instead, you pulled him down into a deep, slow kiss, pouring all your love into it.

When he pulled back, his expression had shifted slightly, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “You’re amazing, Y/N,” he said, his lips brushing against yours. “Can I show you how amazing you are? Please?”

You barely had time to process his words before his hands were slipping under the hem of your dress, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was somehow even more intense than the last.

“That’s what you want for your birthday?” Your eyes flutter as you feel his warm fingertips navigating themselves home, each tap driving you more insane and impatient.

“That’s what I want for my birthday.”

You want to let him have what he wants so bad, because you know after everything you did for him to tonight, he was going to fuck you until you couldn’t hear, see, or do anything other than cum and cry. But it’s his birthday. And he was too grateful and sweet to ask for your mouth—but you know deep down, his length is aching for the feeling of your warm, salivated mouth, going up and down on his length. He loves to see you on your knees, talking him in like the good girl you are, swallowing everything he has, all for you.

Your right hand sneaks around his throat seductively, making him swallow intensely. He loves when you show him who he belongs to, you can hear it in his erratic breathing, and see it in his eyes that shut tight the second he felt your hand. You press your lips to his once more, sensually grazing your tongue against bus own. “That’s so sweet, baby.” You peck, before leaving a trace of your lips from his lips, to his jaw, to his ear. “And I’m going to let you have what you want. But first,”

His breath hitches as your hand tightens around his throat, his eyes darkening with a mix of lust and submission. He loves this—loves when you take control, when you remind him who he belongs to. His cock twitches against your thigh, already hard and aching for your touch. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body trembles slightly under your grip.

"Please," he whispers, his voice rough and desperate. "I need you."

You smirk, pulling back just enough to see the hunger in his eyes. "You need me, huh?" you tease, your voice low and sultry. "What do you need, baby? Tell me."

He groans, his hips bucking involuntarily. "I need your mouth," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need to feel your lips around me, your tongue—fuck, Y/N, please."

You release your grip on his throat, trailing your fingers down his chest until you reach the waistband of his pants. You can feel the heat of his cock through the fabric, and you take your time, teasing him as you slowly undo the button and pull down the zipper. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps as you finally free his length, his cock springing free, thick and throbbing.

"Look at you," you murmur, wrapping your fingers around his shaft and giving him a slow, deliberate stroke. "So hard for me already. You really do need me, don't you?"

He nods, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as he tries to keep himself from thrusting into your hand. "Yes," he breathes. "I need you so bad."

You lean in, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock before you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head. He moans, his hips jerking as you take him deeper, your lips sliding down his length until he hits the back of your throat. You relax, letting him push even further, your nose pressing against his pelvis as you take all of him.

"Fuck," he groans, his hands tangling in your hair as you begin to move, your mouth working him with a rhythm that has him seeing stars. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, the taste of him driving you wild as you suck and lick, your tongue teasing the sensitive underside of his cock.

His moans grow louder, more desperate, and you know he's close. You pull back, letting his cock slip from your mouth with a wet pop, and look up at him with a wicked grin. "Not yet," you say, your voice dripping with mischief. "I want to make you beg for it."

He whimpers, his cock twitching as you stroke him slowly, your thumb brushing over the tip and spreading the precum that's gathered there. "Please," he begs, his voice breaking. "Please, Y/N, I need to cum. I need to feel you."

You smile, leaning in to take him into your mouth once more, your hand working the base of his cock as you suck him hard and fast. His hips buck, his fingers tightening in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth, his moans growing louder and more frantic. You can feel him pulsing, his cock swelling as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

"Y/N," he gasps, his voice strained. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

You hum around his cock, the vibrations sending him over the edge as he explodes in your mouth, his cum flooding your throat as you swallow every last drop. He moans your name, his body trembling as he rides out the waves of pleasure, his cock twitching as you continue to suck him through his orgasm.

The two of you sit there for a moment; you pressing soft kisses to his length while he takes deep breaths in attempt to get himself together. It’s amusing to see how riled up he already is, and he hasn’t even been inside you yet.

A seductive chuckle from Jungwon breaks your brief pause. “You love me, don’t you.” He slurs, still in disbelief of how amazing that just felt.

Your head leans to the left, your eyes filled with fake innocence as your cheek rests gently on his thigh. “You know I love you, baby.”

His head lifts, and his eyes—those eyes that always have a way of making you melt—are burning into you, speaking a thousand words without uttering a single one. The unspoken message is clear: You’re his, and he’s utterly obsessed with you. Every part of you, inside and out, and he always will be. You’re stuck with him

His gaze confirms what his tone already warned you—you weren’t in control anymore, and you wouldn’t be for the rest of the night. His eyes summon you to slowly rise from his thigh, crawling up his body, your eyes refusing to leave his.

9:00AM

The sun filters softly through the curtains as you stir awake, tangled in a mess of sheets and limbs. Jungwon is pressed against you, his arm draped lazily over your waist, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes steadily. His bare skin is warm against yours, and the memories of last night flicker through your mind like a reel of fireworks.

You smile to yourself, brushing a strand of hair from his face as you press a kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, baby,” you whisper. He doesn’t stir, just buries his face further into your neck, muttering something incoherent in his sleep.

Not wanting to disturb him, you carefully slide out of bed, grabbing his phone to FaceTime his parents. They answer on the second ring, their faces lighting up with joy.

“Y/N!” his mom greets warmly, her voice soft but full of excitement. “Where’s the birthday boy?”

You tilt the camera toward Jungwon, who’s still sprawled out in bed, looking utterly peaceful. “Still knocked out,” you chuckle. “But I wanted you to see him on his big day.”

His parents laugh, their love for him evident even through the screen. “Thank you for taking care of him,” his dad says sincerely.

“Of course,” you reply. “He’s my favorite person.”

After a short conversation, you promise to call them back later when Jungwon’s awake and hang up. You tiptoe out of the room, pulling on one of Jungwon’s oversized shirts and heading into the living room.

The sight waiting for you is nothing short of hilarious. Your apartment looks like the aftermath of a wild sleepover. Pillows and blankets are scattered everywhere, with guests passed out in various states of disarray. Sunoo is curled up on the couch with Taehyun, both of them snoring softly. Heeseung is somehow asleep in the kitchen, his head resting on the table, while Jake and Jay are sprawled out on the floor, their arms flung over each other like they’d just survived a battle.

You stifle a laugh, feeling a swell of pride for pulling off such a perfect night. Even though your apartment looks like a tornado hit it, it was all worth it.

You start picking up stray cups and plates, humming softly to yourself. As you’re gathering a pile of empty bottles, you feel a familiar warmth and weight of someone’s gaze on you.

Turning toward the hallway, you find Jungwon leaning against the wall, his hair messy, his bare chest illuminated by the soft morning light. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his signature bedroom look, and his lips curve into a sleepy, playful smile.

“You’re not seriously trying to clean up by yourself, are you?” he murmurs, his voice still rough from sleep.

You grin at him, setting down the bottles. “Someone has to, and everyone else is… well, indisposed.”

He pushes off the wall and walks toward you, his gaze softening with every step. When he reaches you, his hands slide around your waist, pulling you close. “Come back to bed,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. “We’ll clean everything up later. Together. But right now, I just want you.”

You bite your lip, looking up at him. “You sure? The place is a mess.”

“I don’t care,” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “Last night was perfect. You’re perfect. Let me spend my birthday morning with you, not cleaning up after everyone else.”

Your heart melts at his words, and you let him guide you back toward the bedroom. He pulls you under the covers, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close.

“Happy birthday, Jungwon,” you whisper again, your voice soft.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Best birthday ever, baby. And it’s only just started.”

And in that moment, with him holding you like you’re the only thing that matters, you know he means it.

711 notes · View notes

sierrale8ne · 5 months ago

Text

nsfw // big freak shit alert! jealous!p, bratty!venus, strap sucking, strap-on sex, spitting, degradation, ass play, toxic!p comes out to play a lil bit, time jump (summer 2025, all-star break)

🏷️ @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @xxloveralways14 @pboogerswbb @tndaqlifwy @wbbgetsmewetter @ohbueckers @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @lupinqs @makethemhoesmad @cherryswisherz @bueckersbitch

The feeling of a vacation never really got old for Venus and Paige. The worked nearly year round. Especially this year, it’s been a year since Paige has gotten a break seeing as the end of her college season transitioned seamlessly into her professional season.

As for Venus, she was lucky that the Patriots were, if not the worst, one of the worst teams in the NFL. Meaning that all the media work she was needed for ended in December. But with Paige getting drafted to Dallas, and the Cowboys coincidentally having a vacancy in her position, the second Venus touched down in Dallas meant she was back to work.

So you could assume this break, even if short, was much much needed.

Their cruise vacation had become a bit of a tradition. Once every summer, they found themselves on their adult only cruise indulging in a five days of drinking, relaxation, and sex. How could one forget about the sex.

It was always a great time, but now? Venus would rather be anywhere but this damn ship.

They went down to the deck together, music and a few cocktails enveloping the two in their own little world. Then Paige wanted another drink, so she left for the bar, insisting that Venus sit pretty for her until she got back.

What the tattooed girl didn’t expect was for Paige to be enveloped in conversation with another woman at the bar

It’s all Paige’s fault. Her pro contract came with more deals, more money, and more eyes. More eyes from women who couldn’t seem to get enough of the blonde. The fact that she looked as sexy as possible in her light washed jorts and sleeveless graphic shirt, the blonde of her hair flowing in the caribbean breeze, didn’t fucking help.

She saw red. The way the woman smiled in her face and bit her lip, every few minutes reaching over to touch her girlfriend’s arm. The way she laughed at every little thing Paige said, which was even more aggravating because the blonde was not that fucking funny—

“You come by yourself?”

The voice echos in Venus’s ear, making her turn around slightly to see who’s speaking to her. The older woman is tall, nowhere near as tall as Paige, but tall enough that her head tilts up to see her. Her hair was dark and short and shaggy, just barely falling over her shoulders.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, are you by yourself?” The woman repeats, leaning downward to project into her ear.

Venus knew better. She knew that if Paige were to turn around, even just for a second, and get a glimpse of her and this woman, she might actually blow a vein. Which made it all the more exciting.

“More like left alone.” Venus responds, very tentatively pushing back her hair over her shoulder. The trail of jewelry cuffed on her ear being put on display.

The woman looks almost astonished. “And who would leave your pretty self all alone?”

That woman in question sat at the bar. Still, waiting for what felt like years for her dirty shirley and Venus’s lemon drop. Her feet were propped up against the ledge of the stool, feet bouncing as she heard the blonde beside her speak flirtatiously to her.

Paige thought she was doing great at keeping the flirting to a minimum. She moved her arm back every few seconds and made sure to break her eye contact before the woman got the wrong idea.

It was when she took a quick peak— just over her shoulder, to make sure her girlfriend was safe where she left her— that she saw it. Venus’s hand on another woman’s shoulder.

She couldn’t fight the smirk on her face, no chance her girlfriend was blatantly flirting with someone else right in front of her.

Normally, while looking at her girlfriend, she would be nearly falling to her knees. Venus was laced in sex appeal, and the outfit she wore right now only enhanced it. The set was black lace, the lack of fabric intentional due to the Caribbean summer heat. The material was thick enough to keep everything held in place, but thin enough to give Paige and whoever else they’d come across a show of every curve and valley of Venus’s body.

But now? She was livid, watching her smile and toss her head back with laughter. How she kept leaning in to whisper in the woman’s ear. Every move was purposeful, like she knew that Paige was watching. Which she was.

Her eyes dart to the bartender, who was passing off that lemon drop she ordered. An idea flashed across Paige’s face as she grasped the plastic cup in her hand.

“You like lemon drops?”

Yeah, two could play at that game.

It was obvious that Paige was now trying to piss her off, that she was lengthening whatever stupid fucking conversation she was having to get on every one of her nerves. Venus was always one step ahead of her, however.

She thought Paige had lost her mind. That there had to be some otherworldly force responsible for her actions, because Paige buying someone else a drink in front of her own eyes was diabolical. Unthinkable even.

So when the woman, who she had now known as Maia, reached for her hand and asked her to dance, she took one glance at her girlfriend and when she saw Paige hand her drink to another woman, she said yes.

Venus dragged Maia across the dance floor, purposefully finding a spot right in front of the bar where, if turned around, Paige would see with her own two eyes what she was up to.

It was a brilliant idea in her own head, one that would serve as the most perfect payback.

Lover/Friend by KAYTRANADA echoes through the speakers, string and strobe lights decorating the deck. Venus is determined. She presses her ass against her, slowly moving to the music.

She loses herself in the music pretty quickly, hips swaying and eyes closing. Maia attempts to keep up, and all Venus can think about is how badly this should be her and Paige right now. How it should be the blonde behind her, gripping her hips and whispering in her ear about how badly she wanted to take her back to their room.

It’s partially the reason why she starts acting out, grinding her hips in a way that makes Maia let out a low whistle into her ear.

They dance through the rest of the song while the woman grips Venus’s waist, the action makes her head shoot up, smile quickly growing when she felt Paige’s eyes on her.

They were a piercing shade of blue, stuck to every inch of her body. Venus’s job was complete. She gave the blonde a smirk, before looking away, grabbing Maia’s hands from her hips to turn around.

“How about you get me a drink?” She teases, tongue darting over her bottom lip. Her eyes ever so enticing and rimmed with black.

“Yeah?” Maia asks with a bite of her lip. It takes every bone in her body to not cringe at it. “What do you want?”

“Vodka cranberry.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She’s walking off to the bar within a matter of seconds, leaving Venus alone to dance to another song. The atmosphere was booming, enough for her to forget that her girlfriend had almost blown a blood vessel with how pissed she had grown. Venus’s phone buzzes in her purse, and she reaches in to grab it almost immediately.

Paige worked fast, because within a matter second she felt arms around her waist, nails digging into her hips with an anger that could only belong to her girlfriend.

And then she felt it.

The feeling of Paige behind her, her front pressed dangerously close to her back, and the strap that was very obviously felt underneath her jeans. Venus nearly scoffs, surprised that she didn’t notice it earlier in the evening.

“We’re leaving.” Paige mumbled into her ear, like the statement is final.

Venus hates that, of course, because she’s her own person. A certain irritation rises within her which blends terribly with the growing arousal between her legs. “But I’m having so much fun. I thought you were too.” She pouts teasingly.

“Venus.” Paige draws her hands back, slighting pushing her girlfriend forward with a hand to the small of her back. “I’m going to our room. You got five minutes to get up there, or i’m fucking you up.”

It took Venus seven minutes.

Which was an absolute no go.

Paige was on her the second the door swung open, gripping her hips and pushing her onto the bed as she avoided meeting their lips. In her mind, Venus didn’t deserve a damn kiss. Not after tonight.

She tugged of her shirt with a vigor, a rip tearing its way through the very center to reveal her bare chest. It wasn’t a surprise that she went braless, If anything Paige should’ve expected it from her.

Venus shot up, her face visibly reddening in a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “Paige!”

“Shut up.” The blonde grunts, reaching for one of the many hair ties on her wrist to pull back her hair. “Ion wanna hear shit from you, just shut up.”

Surprisingly, Venus listened, the tiniest huff escaping her lips. Paige shot her a look before shaking her head. It was hard to decipher what that was about. Maybe she was still heated, or it was the image of her dancing on another woman, or maybe it was that even through it all, Paige thought she was the sexiest woman in the world.

Probably the latter.

Paige was almost immediately reaching under her skirt for her panties, kissing her teeth at just how soaked they were.

“You wanna tell me who you’re this wet for?”

“I thought I was supposed to shut up.”

Paige nods, almost as if Venus got her on that one thing. Her hand pressing closer to the woman’s wet cunt, feeling up her clit through the material of the lace. Venus sucks in a sharp gasp, trying to keep quiet as instructed but also push at that button on Paige’s nerves just a bit more.

Her fingers travel slowly, dipping under her underwear and running through her folds. Paige is barely tactful about it, she doesn’t care about getting Venus off and that’s obvious by the look in her eye. She just wants to make a point. To prove that it’s always going to be her.

“P—ah!” Venus yelps when Paige’s finally pushing them in, rough and fast. Her fingers curl almost instantly, the squelch of her cunt echoing off the walls. She was dripping like a faucet, arousal trailing down Paige’s long fingers.

But it only lasts so long, because Paige pulls them back out. Looking intently at the glisten of her fingers.

“Maia would’ve fucked me by now.” Venus shrugs, effectively putting the nail the coffin.

Paige freezes and a smirk travels to her lips. “You said what?” She asks with dark eyes.

“You heard me.”

That alone is enough for Paige to bring her clean hand to her shorts, licking the other clean before unbuttoning them. “On your knees, V. C’mon.” She instructs.

Venus does as told. Her ass slips down the edge of their bed, she sinks to her knees before her.

She thinks about how good Paige looks like this, jeans undone and boxers on display. Her hair in a messy bun, the pink of her lips, the column of her neck.

She stares at the center of Paige’s boxers, right where the pink of the silicone dildo sits comfortably. Venus grips at the waistband of the jeans, tugging them down her tanned legs, the muscle of her thighs flexing as she steps out of the clothing.

“Get it nice and wet, ma.” Paige bites her lip. Her girlfriend looked like a slut, in every aspect of the word. Venus’s eyes blown wide, slightly watery. Her pierced nipples on display, the blondes’s name sitting nicely above her collarbone in a small cursive.

She grips the strap in her hand, her spit shooting out over the tip. The action nearly makes Paige forget she’s supposed to be mad at her.

Venus’s lips press against the side of it, tongue lolling out of her mouth and back and forth against the shaft. When she finally does take the strap in her mouth, the moan that Paige gives her is almost pleasureful enough.

The silicone stretches Venus’s mouth wide, almost too wide. All seven inches slide down her throat, muffled gags drowning out Paige’s groans. The blonde swore she could feel it, feel the warmth of her tongue and the sucking of her mouth.

“So messy, baby.” Paige hums, “gag on it, jus’ like that.” Her large hand sinks into Venus’s braids, the other cupping her chin to angle her the way she pleased. Then she starts moving her hips.

Angry sex isn’t common between the two, which is odd considering the fact that they argue over the dumbest things every single day. But in Paige’s mind, even if she technically started it, Venus took it too far. So far that Paige wanted nothing more than to fuck her stupid. To make her jaw ache from how rough she would fuck her face, make her legs feel like jelly, make tears fall from her eyes and down her cheeks and apologies spew from her lips while Paige fucked her until she tapped out.

So, the athlete held Venus still while she drew her hips back and forth. Saliva pooled at the corners of her mouth as she attempted to breathe, Paige still kept going.

The tip of the strap hit the back of her throat, making Venus dig her nails into Paige’s thighs.

“Aww you can’t take it? Huh?” She tugs Venus’s hair harder, forcing her head back further to push more of her strap into her mouth. Paige can’t even remember the last time she had her like this— on her knees and breaking apart every ounce of faux dominance into submission. “Y’know I hate bein’ mean to you, baby. But I gotta make sure you learn, yeah?”

Venus pushes at her abdomen in search for air, but Paige pushes it away. Her nose nestled against her girlfriend’s pelvis, nearly every inch of her forced into Venus’s mouth.

Paige finally lets her go, feeling just a tad bit bad about nearly suffocating her girlfriend like that. “Fuck— P.” She murmurs between ragged breaths, a cough or two escaping her chest.

“You gonna be good for me?” Paige asks, bringing Venus to her feet by the arm.

No. Say no.

“Yes, baby.” She breathes, mascara flaking under her eyes. “Promise.”

“Good.” Paige mumbles. It takes everything in her to hold out crashing her lips on hers, especially when they’re all wet and plump, but she’s holds on. “Bend over this bed, I been wantin’ you since I saw this fucking skirt.”

Venus turns around, the material of her skirt still clinging to her hips. She bends over the edge, immediately going on her toes as she arches her back in the way the blonde likes.

“Look at that perfect ass.” Paige says in almost disbelief, “all mine and you wanna grind it on some other bitch.” She sends a harsh slap to it watching the fat giggle in response.

“Paige, fu—ck, please. Fuck me, please.” Venus moans. She wants to push back, to fuck herself on her girlfriends cock like a slut and get what she so badly wanted— not so much deserved, seeing as that was why Paige was so mad at her in the first place.

The athlete grips her ass in her hands, putting Venus’s cunt on display, the wetness the drips through her folds, past her clit, and onto the edge of the bed. “Yeahhhhh, keep begging. Lemme hear it.”

“Please, P.”

“Again.”

“‘M sorry, baby. Please plea—”

Her pleading it cut off by the distracting nature of Paige’s thumb against her ass. The way she circled it and darted from the arousal of her pussy back to her puckered asshole. She was enthralled by it, allowing her spit to fall onto it.

“Nah don’t stop for me. Tell me what you need. Whatchu need so damn bad that you wanted to piss me off like that, ma?” Her voice is cold, deep and raspy in a way that she hasn’t heard in forever.

“Need you inside. Please please, Paige I—fuck please?” Venus begs, silently hoping it’s enough for her to do something other than tease her until she almost cried.

Paige shakes her head from behind, griping the wet strap by the base. She pushes the pink silicone inside fast, the mix of saliva and arousal making the fight nonexistent.

Venus takes it all with ease, a loud pornographic moan escaping her. “Fuck! M’ my God, P.” She cries, fingers immediately gripping at the sheets.

“She just takes it all, huh?” Her thumb followed, breaking inside, all while continuing the motion of her hips. “Fucking slut, you’re a fucking slut, y’know that, V? Actin’ up like I haven’t been fucking you every damn day we’ve been here.”

It was like with each passing second the blonde was getting even more heated, the memory of her girlfriend with another woman turning her almost animalistic.

Venus is falling apart too, every inch hitting her g-spot over and over and over as Paige had learned how to ages ago. And each time she seemed to just get better at it. “Baby! You’re— fuckin’ deep. So deep, shit.”

Her arms stretched in front of her fisting the sheets when Paige bunches up her skirt, pounding into Venus at a speed that could only be attributed to her athleticism and stamina.

Paige looked down to see how she completely covered the silicone in her arousal, the sound of Venus’s ass against her thighs, loud and heavy.

“Had her thinkin’ she would ever get to see you like this. You fuckin’ crazy?” Her statements are almost drowned out by the moans of her girlfriend.

“I’m-I’m cumming, gonna cum! P, please.” Venus whines, reaching back to grip at the hem of Paige’s shirt. “Wanna cum, oh my God!”

“Hold that shit, V. I don’t care.”

Paige is quick to throw her hand off, drawing her hips back and forth, pounding Venus’s fucking life away. She tugs up her shirt, the lust clouding her better judgment that would tell her to throw her shirt off and instead she just tucks it under her chin. She curls her thumb deeper, matching that movement with the thrusts of her strap.

“I’m sorry, I promise!”

“Yeah, I know you’re sorry now, but you weren’t sorry earlier, huh? Tryna give my pussy away, it’s like that?” Paige’s breath is heavy, a mixture of the sex and the alcohol that rushes through her veins. “Shit, this pussy, baby.”

With that, the blonde was pulling out and flipping her over. Venus’s legs fell open almost instantly, a testimony to how fucking badly she needed her again. She was greedy, desperately so. Paige was right, she’d turned her out every single day they’ve been on the cruise but for whatever reason, she wanted more right now.

Her arms wrapped around Paige’s neck as she slid back in, hovering over her.

“You better fucking kiss me.” Venus moans softly, her eyes rolling at the new position.

Paige’s long fingers circled around Venus’s throat, adding to her pleasure as she slightly picked up the pace of her hips. "Take all this shit, you deserve all this dick, mama. Swear." She egged her on as she powerfully fucked her into the bed.

“I can’t!”

“Yeah you can, can take all of it, baby.” She coos, “you think she could’ve fucked you better than me?”

Venus’s eyes snap open, she reaches for anything in her grasp, deciding that the collar of Paige’s shirt would keep her grounded. “No, no, baby.”

“She would’ve made you cum as hard as I’m about to? Ion think so, ma.”

After what felt like decades, Paige finally kissed her with passion, her tongue inside Venus’s mouth as she squeezed at her neck causing her to cum almost on the spot. The kiss silenced the sounds of her cries. Venus scratched at her back through that damned t-shirt.

Her cum coating the pink silicone in a milky white, sticky against not only her own thighs but Paige’s as well.

"Fucking shit." Paige hissed out. "V, fuck." She warned, almost weary. Beads of sweat adorned her forehead, and it was like the second Venus’s high washed over she was forgetting about the source of the argument in the first place.

The athlete’s chest heaved up and down and her mouth was left wide open while she breathed heavily and hotly into Venus’s ear.

“P—”

“—You fucking piss me off, man.” Paige groans flopping down against Venus’s chest. The tattooed girl chuckled, a low and tired one that vibrates again Paige’s head. “Dancing on her is crazy.”

“You gave that blonde headed bitch my drink! Hell, you started it.” Venus heaves, “don’t be mad ‘cause you can’t finish what you started.”

“Shut up!” Paige kisses at her chest, greeting the faded marks from the other nights they’ve been on the cruise. “I fucked you till you cried, I think I finished it.”

“You shut u—”

Venus is cut off with a kiss, a soft one though, much different than the manner Paige just fucked her with. Paige sucks on her tongue drawing all of Venus’s moans into her own mouth. “I love you, okay? And I’m sorry for starting shit. Happy?”

“I guess.”

“Say it back then.”

“I love you too. Dickhead.”

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