#and don’t say “what no you’re a good person” because i’m not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sceletaflores · 2 days ago

Text

well, all right i’m bad, but then you’re no prize either…

pair: joel miller x fem!reader

wc: 8.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no ellie, general violence (only referenced), age gap (56/26), swearing, so many spacers lmao, not quite friends to lovers and not quite enemies to lovers but a weird other thing, kinda mean!joel for a good sec, dressing wounds, joel miller TUMMY, loss of virginity (reader is a virgin but she's not completely oblivious and weirdly infantile about it lmao), fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex whoops, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, porn with a tiny plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: well, i finally caved y’all. baby’s first tlou fic! this literally took me forever to write and even longer to post cause i was so terrified LMAO so please give me some grace if it’s shit and he’s ooc and timelines are a little fuzzy cause i barely know what i’m doing. thank you chickens love you mwah mwah mwah. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

joel found a lodge house…

You don’t know what you did to make Joel Miller hate you so much.

He's never outright said it, but you know it’s there—in every sharp glance, every clipped word, every deliberate avoidance.

Besides, his silence is worse than anything he could say. A quiet condemnation that settles in your chest like stone.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care what he thinks, but the truth is harder to swallow.

You do care—more than you want to admit. His approval, his respect, hell, even a sliver of kindness from him feels like an impossible prize you’ll never win.

And you hate yourself for wanting it. For needing it.

It's not just the weight of his disdain that eats at you, it's the not knowing why. God, do you wish you could ask him why.

What did you do to make him look at you like you’re some necessary evil he has to tolerate. Why does he hold some unspoken grudge that's manifested itself into something you couldn't dream of ever comprehending.

But the thought of confronting Joel feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a void that might swallow you whole.

So instead, you do what you've always done. You keep your distance, try to match his indifference with your own, and tell yourself it’s better this way.

You were young when the outbreak hit, six years old.

You’re sure that’s part of it. That that’s how Joel sees you, as some bumbling, naive child who’s more of a hassle than anything else.

Another mouth to feed, another back to watch, baggage.

You've been with him for almost seven months now, traveling side by side when you may have well been miles apart. Trekking through abandoned cities, overgrown highways, and every godforsaken patch of wilderness in between.

In the beginning, you did everything you could to prove him wrong.

You pushed yourself past your limits, hunted, scavenged, fought, kept up. You did everything that needed to be done without hesitation.

All to show that you were more than what he made you out to be. It never seemed to matter much.

After you lost your parents in the early days of the outbreak, it was just you and your sister. She taught you everything you know, taught you how to survive.

It's because of her that you know how to shoot a rifle, how to skin a rabbit, how to start a fire with nothing but sticks and dried moss, how to snap bones and locate which vital arteries bleed out the quickest.

It's because of her that you've been able to hone some sick skill in the maiming of clickers.

A skill you never thought you'd need to use on her.

You were supposed to be safe in the QZ. You weren't supposed to be fifteen years old, aiming a gun at the one person you had left.

Your own flesh and blood wasn't supposed to be the very first in a long list of red tallies under your belt.

It’s been years and you’ve still never forgotten that day. December 19th, 2012, the date burned into your brain like someone took a branding iron to the tissue.

You can’t count the amount of times you’ve been ripped from your sleep drenched in a cold sweat with the tail end of a scream tearing at the skin of your throat.

The image of what was left of your sister, slumped on the ground lifeless as her blood painted the wall behind her flashing behind your closed eyelids. The sound of her last labored breath ringing in your ears louder than any shotgun blast.

You ran that same night, with the weight of her death on your shoulders.

Your entire world spinning out around you as you clawed through barbed wire fencing, not caring where you were going or what would happen to you—just needing to escape.

There was nothing left for you to do after that but survive. And that’s what you did, for years, scraping by in a world that had already chewed you up and spit you out a mangled mess.

You learned how to be ruthless because of it.

How to harden yourself against the loss, the pain, the brutality. But there were cracks, too. Cracks you hid well, buried deep beneath layers of stubbornness and distance.

The endless days blurred into each other. Empty houses, hollow streets. A life reduced to scavenging, hiding, and the occasional, fleeting moment of human connection that inevitably ended in loss.

And then you found yourself with Joel.

You hadn’t exactly found him, though. More like crashed into his orbit by accident.

A few desperate days spent scavenging through the ruins of a small town, a chance encounter that left you both wary and unwilling to turn your backs.

But, inexplicably, you somehow became part of his traveling routine.

He wasn’t like any of the others you’d met before. At first, you thought he might be different. A man who seemed broken, but different nonetheless.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you began to see the truth. Joel Miller wasn’t concerned with you. He didn’t need you. And, more than that, he didn’t want you around.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

It’s a bitter kind of irony. You’ve survived all this time completely on your own, fought tooth and nail to stay alive, but with him, you might just crumble.

Joel found a lodge house. It's a small, weathered place tucked away in the dense trees of the wood surrounding it.

He only deemed it suitable after an extensive perimeter check and a thorough sweep of the interior.

It's not much—just another run-down place in the middle of nowhere—but for the first time in what feels like forever, it’s a roof over your head for the night.

The walls are sturdy, though the windows are cracked and half of the floorboards creak like they're about to give out at any moment.

You explored the second floor alone, creeping through the desolate rooms and taking in all that was left behind.

Old family photographs covered in thick layers of dust, worn clothes riddled with holes still hung in the few closets you stumble across.

The oddest of all was an old jewelry box tucked away in a dresser draw, tarnished silver dull and muddy.

The sound of familiar footsteps comes from somewhere behind you. The door creaks open slowly.

Joel. Of course.

He clears his throat, the sound abrasive in the quiet of the house.

“Fire’s low,” he says, voice rough from its lack of use today.

You don’t turn around, not yet. You take the box in your gloved hand, running your fingers across the intricate design of the lid, touch trailing over winding vines and small roses.

“Okay,” you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “I’ll grab some more wood later.”

Another beat of silence. Then, “It’s gettin’ cold out, I’ll go.”

Your fingers pause their ministrations, moving to flip the lid open. Empty.

“Suit yourself,” you reply after a moment, your tone just as neutral as his.

Joel doesn’t leave right away. You hear the floorboards groan beneath his weight, his presence lingering in the doorway.

You wonder what he’s waiting for, or if he’s waiting at all.

Finally, he speaks. “Don’t touch anything.”

With that he turns and leaves the room, you wait until you can’t hear his footsteps trailing down the stairs anymore to let out the scoff festering in your chest.

You snap the jewelry lid shut with a little more force than necessary. “Asshole.”

Joel's been gone for a while now. Longer than it takes to chop a few logs for firewood.

You came down from the upstairs a few minutes after hearing the tell-tale sound of the heavy door opening and closing. The main room is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the dwindling fire.

You're perched on an old armchair near the entrance, peering out the dirty window that has the best view of the treeline as you nervously pick the skin around your nails.

You tell yourself not to worry. He’s probably fine, he’s been doing this a lot longer than you. And if Joel is anything, it’s annoyingly competent.

Still, a nagging doubt itches at the back of your mind. It's been at least half an hour, maybe more.

You’re just about to grab your own pack and go looking for him when the front door creaks open.

Joel stumbles inside, the frigid evening air rushing in behind him before he slams the door shut. At first glance, he looks fine—no more haggard than usual.

But then you notice the way he favors his left side, the way his free hand is pressed against his ribs, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his torn undershirt.

You’re on your feet in an instant.

“Fuck,” you say, voice sharper than you expected. “What the hell happened?”

“Raiders.” Is the only explanation you get as he tries to brush past you like it’s nothing. The stiff way he moves and the tightens of his jaw betray him. “S’just a scratch.”

“Bullshit,” you snap, stepping in front of him and blocking his path to the fire. “Sit. Now.”

He gives you a look, one of those deep, withering glares you’ve seen him use to intimidate countless others into submission. But you stand your ground, chin raised and jaw set–defiant.

His stubbornness finally meeting its match in your own.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, he drops onto the couch. “Happy now?”

"Not until you let me take care of that." You motion toward his side, where the blood is still spreading.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, lolling his head back to rest more heavily on the couch.

“Sure you are,” you snap, crossing the room to rifle through your bag. “And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”

"Said I’m fine," he bites through gritted teeth, but you’re already moving, heading back to him with the first aid kit from your pack.

"You want to bleed out on this ugly-ass couch? Be my guest," you shoot back, dropping to your knees in front of him. "Otherwise, shut up and let me help."

Joel surprisingly doesn’t argue any further, just sighs heavily and reluctantly sinks further into the couch cushions.

You push the front of his jacket open to slide it off his shoulders as gently as you can, peeling back the layer of his flannel next.

The smell of blood hits you immediately.

The gash is about five inches long, trailing the span of his ribcage. It’s deep—but not fatal—just an angry red and oozing blood.

Definitely not the simple 'scratch' he made it out to be.

Your stomach churns at the sight, but you push it down. No time for that.

“Jesus, Joel,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for the alcohol in your kit. “You really know how to underplay a situation, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those dark, calculating eyes of his. Always watching, always assessing.

It’s unnerving, but you focus on the task at hand, grabbing a clean cloth and soaking it with alcohol.

“This is gonna hurt,” you warn, though there’s a part of you that doesn’t mind the idea of causing him a little discomfort.

A petty, vindictive part that still stings from all the scorn he’s thrown your way.

“Just get it over with,” Joel grits out, his voice low and gravelly.

You don’t give him any more warnings as you wipe the soaked cloth over the wound. He flinches, a harsh curse slipping through clenched teeth, but he doesn’t pull away.

You work as quickly as you can, wiping away the blood and dirt with steady hands, your movements as gentle as possible given the situation.

You let out an annoyed huff when the torn fabric of his shirt gets in the way of your hands for a second time.

You lean back on your heels, glancing up at Joel. “You need to take your shirt off.”

Joel raises a brow at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That really necessary?”

“Yes, it’s necessary, Joel,” you huff, already losing patience. “Unless you want me to sit here and cut around every thread of this ratty thing while you bleed out, then by all means—”

He sighs heavily, cutting you off as he shifts forward and grabs the hem of his shirt. He tugs at the fabric, grunting in pain each time it strains his ribs.

You roll your eyes at how slow he’s moving, and your patience—already worn thin by the day's events—snaps.

“Jesus Christ, let me help,” you huff, reaching forward and grabbing the fabric.

Joel jerks back slightly, his hand shooting up to stop yours mid-motion. “I got it,” he growls, a sharp edge in his voice.

You glare at him, your hand still caught in his grip. His palm is calloused, his hold firm enough to make your pulse jump unexpectedly.

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, locked in a silent standoff.

Then he releases your hand and pulls the shirt over his head himself, wincing as the movement pulls at his side.

You wait with your arms crossed, trying to ignore the awkward flutter of nerves in your stomach as the fabric peels away to reveal his chest.

Joel’s broad, solid frame isn’t new to you. You’ve seen him shirtless before—brief glimpses when bathing in rivers or changing in run down houses between stops.

But this time feels different, more intimate somehow.

You’re staring, and you know it.

The firelight cast shadows over his skin, illuminating old scars, faint lines of muscle, the barely there jut of his stomach over the hem of his jeans.

You had been getting more game kills recently, two hunters are always better than one.

Joel clears his throat, dragging your focus back to the present. “You gonna gawk all night, or can we move this along?”

You snap out of it, scowling to cover your embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You finish cleaning the gash and grab the small needle and thread lying next to you.

“This’ll hurt worse than the alcohol,” you say, threading the needle easily.

Joel snorts, a rare sound. “Figures.”

The needle pierces his skin, and this time, you catch the smallest hitch in his breath. He doesn’t make a sound, but his jaw tightens, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.

His hands grip the edge of the couch hard enough that his knuckles turn white with it, but he doesn’t tell you to stop or slow down.

He’s too damn proud for that.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his leg as you position yourself to work from a better angle. You feel his eyes on you, that intense, scrutinizing stare that makes your skin prickle.

“You’ve done this before,” Joel says after a moment, his tone less sharp than before. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.

You shrug, keeping your hands steady. “Of course I have.”

“Who taught you?”

The question catches you off guard, Joel’s never shown much interest in what your life was before you met him. You glance up briefly, catching his gaze. There’s no malice there, no judgment—just curiosity.

You swallow hard, dragging your eyes back to stitches, half way done now. “My sister.”

You don’t elaborate and Joel doesn’t push.

Maybe it’s the sudden tightness in your tone or the look you know must be clouding your face that keeps him quiet.

You finish off the stitching, tearing the thin strand of thread with your hands before you’re leaning away again.

“Good as new,” you say, dabbing some more alcohol on your own hands to disinfect. “Try not to tear these open anytime soon.”

Joel leans back, strong arms spread across the back of the couch, his face unreadable as he peers down at the fresh stitching on his side.

“Could’ve done it myself,” he mutters, but the edge in his voice is gone, replaced with something softer, almost resigned.

You roll your eyes with a scoff, not even trying to hide your irritation as you rise from the floor. “Sure you could’ve, right before you passed out. You’re welcome by the way.”

You gather your supplies and turn to head back to your bag, but Joel’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“You’re always like this, y’know,” he says, and the words carry that same gravelly drawl, but there’s something new there—something heavier.

You pause, your hands tightening around the kit in your grasp. “Like what?”

“Pushy. Stubborn,” he replies, his tone cutting, though it lacks the usual venom. “Like you’ve got somethin’ to prove all the damn time.”

You whip around, your patience officially gone. “You think I’m stubborn?” you shoot back, your voice rising. “Coming from the guy who would rather bleed out on a fucking couch than admit he needs help?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, and his hands flex against the couch cushions, but you don’t stop. Not now. Not after months of this.

“I’ve been busting my ass since day one to prove that I’m not dead weight to you. I’ve fought for us, for you. And for what? Just to get more of your bullshit attitude?”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” Joel snaps, pushing himself upright despite the obvious strain it puts on his freshly stitched wound. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

“Because you won’t let me!” you fire back, stepping closer, your voice rising. “All you do is look at me like I’m some burden you can’t wait to get rid of.”

Joel’s glare sharpens, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.

You really can’t stop yourself now that you started, all the anger and frustration reaching a fever pitch hot enough to burst the tight lid you’ve kept on your emotions.

“If I’m such a hassle, why didn’t you just leave me back there, huh? Why didn’t you just walk away like I know you wanted to?”

Joel’s breathing is heavier now, his broad chest rising and falling as his dark eyes bore into yours.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, he stands, and the sheer size of him forces you to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your glare fixed on his face.

“You think I wanted this, kid?” he growls, his voice low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. ��You think I wanted to be responsible for someone else? To have someone else’s fuckin’ life on me?”

“Don’t call me kid,” you spit, shoving a finger into his chest, ignoring the way his jaw ticks at the contact. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

He scoffs, casting his eyes to the ceiling disbelievingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” you growl, fists clenching at your side. “If you hate me that much, why the hell are you still here? Why didn’t you tell me to fuck off the second you met me?”

“Because I couldn’t!” Joel snaps, booming voice filling the small space.

The confession slips out like it pains him. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, he looks like he might break something.

You’ve never been scared of Joel, even though you’ve seen first hand just how scary he can be.

Now, as he looms in front of you, eyes blazing and jaw working furiously beneath his skin, it’s the closest to scared you’ve felt.

“I’ve seen you out there,” he continues, tone low and dark. “You’ve got a fuckin’ death wish. You’re too damn stubborn to just stop, and I’m not gonna let you go so you can run off and get yourself fuckin’ killed.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, his words hitting far too close to home.

“I’m just trying to survive, Joel,” you snap, your voice shaking. “That’s what we do, isn’t it? Survive.”

“Survive,” Joel repeats bitterly, his gaze burning into yours. “That what you call it? Throwin’ yourself into every goddamn fight, gettin’ stabbed and shot right fuckin’ in front of me and expecting me to brush that shit off?”

You let out a humorless laugh, nodding your head exasperatedly. “Yes, yes I do expect you to just brush it off, because that’s what you always do.”

“Well I can’t,” he grates out, taking a step closer. “I can’t ‘cause despite whatever it is that you may think about me, I don’t hate you. I care about you too damn much and that's my goddamn problem.”

That shuts you up, your mouth snapping closed with a sharp click of your teeth as you stare at him, shocked.

Joel holds your gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. “That what you wanted to hear?”

It’s in that moment that the fire finally fizzles out, the dull hiss of it the only sound left in the room.

You’re quiet for a beat, stunned into silence. The heat of his anger, his frustration, it radiates off him, and you realize suddenly that this isn’t just about you.

It never was.

“Then show me,” you challenge softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that you don’t hate me.”

Joel’s eyes darken, his head cocking to the side as he searches your face for a sign. You don’t say anything, you only square your shoulders and raise your chin, your eyes just as hard as his own.

“I want you to prove it.”

The tension snaps like a rubber band stretched too far.

You shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—happen. Not like this. Not after everything that’s been said.

But when Joel’s lips crash against yours, hot and desperate and urgent, it makes everything blur into nothing.

It’s not gentle, not soft—this is anger and longing and frustration all wrapped into one. It’s messy, frantic, like a fight that’s been brewing for too long.

He grips your arm, pulling you closer, almost too roughly, but it feels like it’s everything you’ve both been avoiding.

His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, grounding you as his lips press harder against yours, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into this single moment.

You respond just as fiercely, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as you kiss him back with all the pent-up emotion that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

The coarse hair of his beard scrapes against the skin of your chin deliciously, the scent of blood and firewood filling your senses as his arm wraps around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer.

Close enough that you can feel the wild beat of his heart booming against your chest.

You pull away for a second, breathless, both of you looking at each other, your eyes wide and pupils blown.

“Goddamn it,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with frustration and something else you can’t place. He presses his forehead to yours, the deep brown of his eyes dark than before. “What the hell are we doing?”

You don’t have an answer. You’re not sure if you even want one.

You reach for him again, arms looping around his neck to drag his mouth back to yours.

This kiss is nothing like the first, it isn’t a clash of frustration–it’s filthier, rawer. A near feral thing, all teeth and tongue, a surge of hunger and need that borders on violence.

Joel groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make you gasp.

He takes advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to slide against yours with wet, messy desperation, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you.

The taste of him—salt and iron and something distinctly Joel—makes your head spin.

Your fingers knot into the chocolaty curls at the nape of his neck, surprisingly soft to the touch. His own hands roam the soft curves of your body, rough and insistent, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most.

“Joel—” His name spills from your lips like a plea, and he answers with a deep, guttural noise that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His tongue follows the path of his teeth, soothing the bites with lazy, deliberate strokes that make your knees weak.

You’re moving before you even realize it. Joel dragging you across the room and down onto the couch with him, using the strength he’s built up after all these years to manhandle you until your thighs are spread wide on either side of his lap.

“Joel,” you gasp again, rearing back enough to break the kiss. “Your stitches–”

He cuts you off with a sharp nip to the sensitive spot behind your ear, tearing a high whine from your throat. “Can hardly feel ‘em.”

You make a displeased sound, but it’s undermined by the way you tilt your head to give his wandering lips more room. His hands find a home on your hips, one slipping beneath your shirt to press against the soft skin of your stomach.

His fingers splay wide across your skin, his palm callused and rough. His pinky just barely brushes the underside of your breast, and you’re suddenly rearing back.

“Wait,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

Joel’s hands immediately loosen their grip on your hips, his brows knitting together in concern. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I just...I need to tell you something.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to speak.

You take a beat, chewing at the skin of your bottom lip nervously.

“I’ve never...” You pause, swallowing hard as your cheeks heat up. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, I’ve never been with anyone like this.”

Joel pulls back slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. For a moment, you think he might pull away completely, but then he exhales a long, slow breath.

“Christ,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re tellin’ me this now?”

“I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen,” you snap back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “It’s not like I had the luxury of a high school sweetheart to pop my cherry out here.”

Joel’s gaze softens at your tone, and he reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You glance away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare. “I just...I wanted you to know. But I want this, Joel. I want you.”

His thumb stills against your cheek, and he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he considers your words.

“I don’t...” He pauses, the most hesitant you’ve ever heard him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been around you, round eyes shining with something so raw and so earnest it makes your heart ache in your chest.

“You won’t,” you insist, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I trust you.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to argue. But then he nods, his shoulders relaxing as he cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch again.

“At least let me do this right,” he murmurs, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “Not here. Not on some goddamn couch.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. “What?”

“Upstairs,” he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the side of your neck. “There’s a bed up there. It ain’t much, but it’s better than this.”

You can’t do anything but nod, your pulse racing beneath your skin fast enough to combat the cold night air seeping through the walls.

“Okay,” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Upstairs.”

Joel stands, gently pulling you to feet and taking your hand in his. He leads you upstairs, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The small bedroom is dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a broken blind.

The bed isn’t much—an old mattress on a worn frame, covered with a patched-up blanket—but it doesn’t matter.

Joel shuts the door behind you, the sound of the latch clicking into place sending a shiver down your spine.

“Last chance,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You say the word, and we stop. No questions asked.”

Your throat tightens at the sincerity in his tone, the way he’s giving you an out even though you can see the strain in every line of his body, the way his hands flex at his sides like he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.

But you don’t hesitate.

You step closer, placing your hands on his bare chest. You bite back a smile at the goosebumps that break out all along his skin at your touch.

“Jesus, Miller,” you mumble teasingly, nails lightly scratching through the salt and pepper hair scattered along his chest. “How long are you gonna drag this out before you get it through your thick skull that I want to fuck you?”

"Christ." Joel huffs, shaking his head as the corners of his lips turn up in a small grin. “Like I fuckin’ said,” he starts, big hands kneading the meat of your hips. “Pushy.”

Joel walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp.

He follows you immediately, crawling over you, his body covering yours, his weight a comforting pressure. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear.”

His fingers are everywhere, unbuttoning your shirt with a practiced ease that has your pulse racing. His lips follow the path of his hands, each touch a branding mark, each kiss leaving you wanting more.

“Pretty girl,” he mutters softly, pressing a kiss right between the valley of your breasts.

You feel his cock stirring against your stomach, and it makes the ache between your legs flare to life, the weight of it, the hardness of it, driving you crazy with need.

You want him so badly you can barely think straight, but when his lips graze over your collarbone, you can’t stop the quiet whine that escapes your throat.

Joel growls in response, a sound that resonates deep in his chest, and you know then that he’s as far gone as you are. His hands slide down to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs with urgency.

As your skin is exposed to the cool air, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“You’re fuckin' perfect,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire.

Joel's hands find your thighs, parting them with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath catch in your throat. He positions himself between your legs, his body weight pressing you into the mattress, his chest rising and falling with the same frantic rhythm as yours.

The anticipation is almost unbearable as his fingers trace the line of your panties, the fabric damp with want.

“Jesus, she’s drippin’ for me already,” he mutters, voice rough, as he slides the material to the side, his thumb brushing over the sensitive swell of your clit.

Your body jerks at the contact, a desperate sound escaping your lips, but Joel doesn’t relent.

“You touch yourself down here, baby?” he asks, working tortuously slow circles over your clit.

"Please," you beg, your hands grasping at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

He looks up at you, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that makes your stomach tighten. “Asked you a question, honey.”

You whine, high and loud in your throat as your thighs clench desperately around his wrist. “Yes, I touch myself.”

Joel’s lips curl into a satisfied grin, sliding his thick index finger through the messy wetness to slip inside your clenching hole, making you gasp. Your hands grasp at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

“Good girl,” he breathes, eyes darkening at the broken moan that bursts from your lips. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”

Your brain feels hazy as you search for the answer, pleasure clouding your mind slow and sweet as molasses. “A–a few nights ago.”

Joel hums idly, slipping a second finger alongside the first. The stretch has you whining, his fingers a lot more to take than your own.

Your hands come up to claw at his shoulders, relishing in the way his broad muscle ripples and shifts beneath your greedy palms.

“Joel,” you whine, hips canting down against his hand impatiently.

He just shushes you softly, free hand brushing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thigh. “I know, honey,” he mutters, the pace fingers speeding up. “But I gotta get her nice and ready if you wanna take my cock.”

The gush of your pussy around his fingers is loud in the stillness of the room, a filthy wet noise that burns your ears each time he plunges them into your aching hole.

“I am ready.” Your breath hitches as your body begins to tremble beneath him. “Please, Joel—fuck—please, I need—”

“Need what?” His voice is thick with dark amusement, but there's a hunger in his eyes that has your stomach twisting. “Tell me, baby. What do you need?”

“I need you,” you rasp, your nails digging little crescent moons into his skin, your body pleading for release. “I need you inside me.”

Your hands grab at his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips in a feverish kiss.

The pressure of his body on yours, the way his hard cock grinds against your trembling thigh, drives you to the brink of madness.

Your hands trail down his chest, past the waistband of his jeans, finally reaching the bulge straining against the fabric.

Joel groans when you rub him through his pants, feeling his cock twitch in response. He pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice thick with lust. “You want my cock in this pretty pussy? Want me to show you how good it feels to be fucked?”

“God, yes,” you answer, desperation lacing your tone as your hand moves to unbuckle his jeans. “Want it so bad.”

He lets you push his pants down just enough to free his cock, and you gasp, your eyes drawn to the way his length stands, thick and hard, just waiting for you. The tip flushed an angry red, drooling pre-come onto the scratchy sheets.

Joel pulls his fingers from you, using his hands spreading your legs wider, positioning himself between them with such careful precision that you can barely stand it.

The head of his cock drags through the mess between your legs, slipping all the way down till it catches on your soaked entrance.

Joel pauses, looking down at you, waiting for your signal, but the only answer you give is a pleading whimper, your hands pulling at his shoulders, urging him to move.

His mouth captures yours once again as he slowly slides into you, the stretch of his cock filling you steadily, making you gasp into his mouth.

The slow burn of him carving a place for himself inside of you is almost too much, your body trembling as you adjust to the feeling of him.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters against your lips. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

As he sinks deeper into you, his thick cock finally buried to the hilt inside of you, the feeling is overwhelming. You gasp, nails digging into his back as the pain slowly shifts into pleasure.

Joel groans into your mouth, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you as he rocks gently against you.

The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he's savoring every inch of you. Your body quivers beneath him, every inch of your skin tingling with sensation. You clutch at him, your legs tightening around his waist, needing more, wanting more.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it, baby."

You screw your eyes shut tightly, trying to steady yourself as he thrusts deeper, harder. The angle shifts just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

Every stroke feels like it’s hitting the deepest part of you, sparking heat in places you never knew could burn so hot.

"Fuck," you gasp, the sensation too overwhelming, too much in the best way. "Joel... please..."

"Please what, sweetheart?" He pulls back slightly, teasing you with a slow roll of his hips before driving back in with a grunt.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him to move faster, harder. "Don’t stop," you breathe, your voice trembling. "I need you to fuck me, Joel. Faster. Harder. Please."

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Joel finally picks up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.

Your back arches off the bed, chest pressing flush to his as your body coils tighter and tighter, already so close to the edge.

Joel reaches up to take your wrist in his, dragging your hand down to press flat against your lower stomach.

“Feel that?” he asks breathlessly, the speed of his hips knocking the dingy bed frame into the wall with every thrust. “You feel how deep I am?”

His own hand blankets yours, pushing down so you can feel the way his cock punches up against your palm on the next thrust.

Your pussy clenches desperately around him at the feeling, your slick lips dropping open on a loud moan.

You can barely hold on. The heat in your stomach tightens, coiling painfully as your free hand scrambles to find purchase on his skin. "I can't—I'm gonna—"

He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he drives deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice dark and commanding. "Let me feel it."

With a strangled cry, you finally release, your body clenching around him, every nerve igniting in a white-hot explosion of pleasure.

You’re lost in it, your world spinning, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of Joel’s body pounding into yours, the way his cock brushes against that sweet spot behind your clit enough to make sparks go off behind your eyelids.

Joel pulls out of your velvety warmth, hand coming up to fist his dripping length until he’s bowing over you tightly and coming with a deep groan of your name.

His release paints your stomach with milky strands of white, rope after rope of warm come claiming you in a way no one has before.

He finally collapses against you with one last shuddering breath, both of you breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling together in the quiet aftermath.

For a few moments, neither of you speaks, the only sounds are the soft creak of the bed and the quiet hum of your racing hearts.

Joel rests his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the tension begin to slip away, the weight of everything that’s happened between you both settling into something new—something different, but still there.

Your hand slips down the sweaty expanse of your stomach, your fingers swiping through the sticky mess of his release curiously.

“Christ, quit that,” Joel groans, tearing his eyes away from the sight to press his forehead against your shoulder.

“Why?” you hum, brow raised in amusement as you drop your hand back to the mattress. “Can you even get it up again?”

Joel pinches your side hard enough to make you squeal, your body flinching away from him as a surprised laugh bubbles from your chest.

“Watch it,” he warns, though there’s no bite to his tone. You only laugh in response.

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other as crickets chirp from outside the window.

Then Joel clears his throat, fingers idly tracing different shapes on the skin of your hip as he gathers the courage to speak.

A circle, a square, a diamond, a circle, a heart, a heart, a heart.

“I’m…” he starts, trailing off softly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a real fuckin’ prick, and you didn’t deserve it. You never did.”

You turn your own gaze to his chest, hand coming up so you can trail your fingers along the jagged scar decorating his shoulder. Your touch featherlight over the rough patch of skin.

All the anger seeps from your body, a heavy weight gone until you feel so light you could float off the mattress and into the cold night air.

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly, so soft you think it gets lost in the quiet darkness of the room. “I understand now.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both just lay there, tangled in each other, not worrying about the world outside, about the chaos that waits.

Just you, him, and the soft glow of moonlight.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: should i add joel to my taglist...i do kinda want to write more for him in the future but i'm not sure yet...lmk chickens <3 bee tee dubs sorry the ending absolutely sucks i could not for the life of me figure out how to end this LMAO

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euthymiya · 12 hours ago

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part one ; office mate! gojo ; company heir! gojo ; female intern! reader ; fluff ; pre getting together

Satoru is good at getting things he wants. It’s not because he’s spoiled (although he’s that, too) but rather, it’s because he’s persistent. Annoyingly so. Persistent in that way where he doesn’t necessarily earn what he wants, but scores it just because the other party is tired enough to cave for the sake of some peace.

Case example: you.

You sit across from him as he happily sips on his excessively expensive coffee from all the extra syrups.

“How can you have that much sugar?” You cringe.

He raises an amused brow as he hums, “Because I don’t choose to be miserable. You should try it sometime.”

Glaring, you roll your eyes before taking a sip of your own coffee. Satoru is at least nice and chivalrous enough to pay for your coffee—although, knowing what you do now, it’s not exactly as though he can’t afford it. You’re pretty sure being the heir to the company you intern for means he’s loaded in enough money that a simple iced coffee isn’t too much of a dent in his pockets.

You give him an unimpressed frown before getting to the heart of the matter. “Why didn’t you tell me your dad owns the company?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” you hiss, “I’ve been passive aggressively calling you a lazy asshole for two months!”

“Do you change your mind about that?” He asks infuriatingly calmly.

“No,” you admit. You take a long look at him before nodding in confirmation as you repeat, “No, I don’t.”

He pouts a little at that, still cute and aggravating at the same time. “Hey,” he says, only a little wounded and a whole lot excessively dramatic. You can tell he didn’t get a lot of attention growing up with the way he pulls theatrics. Something about the psychology of unmet emotional needs as a child from your one semester of psych in college comes back. “You don’t have to say it so condescendingly.”

“Well, you are lazy,” you point out. He shrugs because…well, it’s a fair point. “But now I know why.”

“So what, if you knew my old man was our big boss, you’d be nicer to me? Is that it?”

You crinkle your nose and give him a look of disbelief. “No,” you say—it’s almost amused. The first ounce of humor you’ve shown around him at all. “But I wouldn’t have wasted my energy caring that you’re a deadweight in the office.”

“Ouch,” he pouts, “I bought the coffee machine on our floor!”

“It’s getting rather faulty,” you hum, “You should consider investing in another one for us.”

Satoru likes that about you. You’re interesting. Interesting not because you’re exceptionally smart or all that impressive—not that you’re bad by any means. Being accepted as an intern here must mean your resume has a degree of prestige to it, but you’re just like any other person in the building. Except, instead of shrugging off his bratty, obnoxious self, you seem to care a great deal about what he does.

It greatly amuses him enough that you’ve sparked his interest.

“You’re fun,” he chuckles, “I like you. You’re not boring.”

“Just what every woman wants to hear,” you bat your lashes, sarcastically giving him a dreamy sigh, “Not boring. How charming of you.”

He grins wider, and something in your heart does a little bit of a clench. It’s so…pretty. Everything about him is pretty. The clean, pristine button down with perfectly ironed pants. The soft, messy hair that somehow adds to his expensive look rather than take away. Those bright, piercing blue eyes that feel like you’re lost in infinity when you look into them.

He’s pretty. Pretty annoying, too—but pretty all the same.

“I’m working on it,” he murmurs.

“What? Your manners?” You snort.

“My charm,” he corrects.

“We might be here for quite some time then,” you tease. You don’t know what it is. Falling into a bantering back and forth with him is so easy—so amusing and, if you’re honest, a tiny bit exciting.

Maybe a background of wealth and fortune makes a man appealing like that. Or maybe he’s just likable. You’re not sure yet.

“You’re saying you’ll be here waiting for me to get there?” He raises a brow, winking as he adds, “So maybe you’re charmed after all.”

“That’s a stretch,” you pretend to scoff. Nevermind the hardly hidden smile on your face—that means nothing. “I just want to watch you fail, that’s all.”

“And if I succeed?” He challenges, looking at you expectantly.

You roll your eyes, deciding to indulge him in whatever petty games he has going on. “In what, being charming?”

“Yes,” he nods, “What if I succeed in being an irresistible dreamboat of an office neighbor?”

“I doubt that’ll happen,” you bite your lip in an attempt to fight back a large, dimpled grin. It’s funny, you think—just up until a few hours ago, all he ever managed to do was pull your lips into a scowl. Now, it feels like it’s impossible not to stretch them into a smile. “But, if it does, I suppose I’ll eat my own words.”

“No,” Satoru shakes his head, lips curled into a serious, unsatisfied frown, “No that simply won’t do. I need better than that.”

“Okay,” you finally laugh. It’s radiant. It comes from your belly and vibrates through your chest. He’s somehow good at it—just one coffee grab during your lunch break, and he’s already managed to earn the sound of your joy so easily. Something about that tickles a weird, unfamiliar spot under your ribcage. “Lay out your terms.”

“You have to be my girlfriend if I manage to make your eyes turn into hearts over my handsomely unbeatable appeal.”

It’s cheeky, his grin. Wide, confident, and still boyishly hopeful. You start to wonder why you ever disliked such an easy to fall for smile.

“That’s pretty bold,” you note.

“I’m bold about the things I want.” You pretend that those words don’t make your heart do a helpless flutter.

“Okay,” you nod, agreeing as you take a final sip of your coffee and hand him the empty cup, “I’ll agree to these unlikely terms. You can start by bringing me another coffee.”

“You got it, boss,” he salutes before doing a giddy little jog to the counter and ordering you another coffee. It’s cute. It has your heart in a scarily fast chokehold.

Somewhere in the heat of the moment, as you watch him fumble over his wallet and almost drop his card while he goes to pay, you think he may have already won the terms to this ridiculous agreement.

But you won’t tell him that, you think. Just to drag out the eager, hopeful look in his eyes that dart over at you and shoot you a sly wink.

—————��—————

here is part two as promised for @enyathedrakaina bc they sent me cat pics

#writing tag #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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luveline · 2 days ago

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𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

six | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you.

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Why aren’t you hitting me?” James asks.

The safety mat under your feet does little to assuage your fears. James Potter is perhaps the last person on earth you’d expect to hurt you, and yet you can’t shake the image of him deflecting your punch and sending you reeling.

With his lovely curls slicked away from his face, his nice mouth, the curve of it where he’s smiling encouragingly, you don’t really want to hit him.

“I can’t,” you say.

“Yes, you can. One day you might have to, and I need to know you can do it without breaking your own hand.” The no nonsense tone he’d tended to sport when you first met barely three weeks ago is seemingly gone, replaced by a friendly, almost cavalier tone. Like this is fun. “It won’t hurt you much, I swear. And you should get your revenge. I hit you pretty hard.”

“You didn’t hit me,” you say. “The door did.”

“It was my fault.” He smiles, readjusting his stance with feet planted firmly against the mat.

“James…”

“Just hit me,” he says.

You tense your fist around your thumb and hit him square in the chest. It’s not a punch by any means, a weak landing of your knuckles that doesn’t move him. Still, you’re surprised with yourself, checking his face for a sign that you’d done any damage.

“There are so many people who’d love to punch me,” he laughs, nodding to your hand, “you can do better than that, if only to do what they couldn’t.”

“I don’t want to hit you, James.”

“I know, you have to. Come on, it’s easier than you think. You bring your first back to your shoulder and you move into it, okay? Use your weight to do the work. You’ll never hurt anyone if you don’t.”

“I’d rather not, though.”

“I know that, too, but you might need to. God forbid you be in a situation where I’m not there to protect you,” —here he does something strange with his eyebrows you’ve yet to encounter, sending a straight shot of butterflies through you, their wings fluttering in the soft part of your throat— “but you don’t have to be defenceless if I’m not. Give me a good swing and I’ll make sure Marlene has that pear ice cream at dinner tonight.”

“Marlene would make it if I asked,” you say unsurely.

“But if you hit me, I’ll ask for you.”

“You can be very manipulative.”

“Sometimes. Alright, hit me. Or I’ll tackle you again. You didn’t like that last time.”

Obviously you hadn’t enjoyed being tackled, because James hadn’t hurt you, he’d simply overpowered you. In one sense, it had been panicky to realise you were at someone’s mercy. James had grabbed you simply behind the back with your chests pressed together and hooked his calf behind your legs, taking them from under you, and following you to the ground. You didn’t like it because he didn’t hurt you, he’d pressed his weight into yours with an arm tight across your chest, just under your throat, and you could smell his hair. Smell almond or jojoba or– or something warm.

It isn’t that you have feelings for James. You don’t know him well enough. But having someone like James pressing down on you was impossible to ignore, consciously and subliminally.

You really don’t want to do this, drawing your arm back, tightening your first two fingers. James’ eyes widen, his lips falling open as you hit him hard enough to bruise a half inch from his heart. He stumbles and you follow, before flinching back hard, tucking shameful arms to your chest.

“Sorry!” you burst. “Fuck, sorry! I thought you were ready!”

“I was ready.” James grins widely. “Awesome. Do that again, yeah? Let’s have one on the cheek this time.”

“I am not punching you in the face.”

“You could always aim somewhere softer. The point is to incapacitate me. Hitting me in the chest won’t do that.” He rubs a hand into his shirt, the dark compression material barely moving. “You might have bruised me, though. I’m a good teacher.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say.

James deliberates. He tips his head back, showing you the rather nice point of his chin and his neck. A beauty mark sits nestled atop his Adam's apple.

“Alright. Sorry. No more hitting. Maybe we’ll give the offensive a break for a while and go back to defence again in a few days?” he suggests.

You relax.

You’re wearing clothes you’re not used to, a compression shirt like James’, a pair of dark trousers of a similar material with loose ends. Sirius had done some online shopping with you, not worrying as your elbows brushed. He pointed at things and you’d given weak yesses or resolute nos. The total had climbed and climbed, and Sirius had taken your choking for self-preservation. “Not to worry,” he’d said, grinning, “the royal coffers will pay for this lot.”

It doesn’t feel real. Endless money with no limit nor reason. He’d opened Curry’s swiftly after and asked you what laptop you wanted for uni. He’d attempted to goad you into two.

It’s alien. All of it, even James across from you where he’s sitting now to put his trainers back on. He doesn’t feel anymore real than the day you met, this handsome, tall boy tasked with keeping you safe. You’ve never been someone’s number one priority.

“Come and put your shoes on, lovely.”

You’re not sure how to cope with that, either. He and Sirius both seem quick to coddle when you’re distracted, and you’re distracted often. You shrug away your thoughts, relaxing your tight shoulders as you cross the empty gym to sit next to him. Your trainers are new, too, a sporty pair that cost more money than your last three pairs combined.

“It’s nice to have new things,” you confess, “but odd.”

“Yeah?”

“I… I’ve been wearing the same pair of converse for two years. I had one pair of proper shoes, and one bag. One purse. And I didn’t mind it, just… just, it makes you feel sick sometimes when you want stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

If James is surprised at your sudden admission, he doesn’t show it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of in wanting things,” he says, hands braced on his knees, “but I can guess why you might’ve felt like that. We try not to think about the things we want because that can make not having it worse.”

What couldn’t you have? you think, searching his expression for a hint.

“I’m glad it’s nice,” he furthers, tapping his heel against yours. “They look good. Are they comfortable?”

“They feel like I’m wearing socks half the time.”

James nods appreciatively. “Well, get them on. We’ll nip into the pharmacist before we go home, do you have your sunglasses?”

“It’s too grey outside for sunglasses, we look ridiculous.”

“You look like the front page of every newspaper. Ever. In the entire western world. Here, put your hoodie on.”

You and James leave the gym with a wave to the women at the front desk and begin down the street. James hates the city obviously, wrinkling his nose at the grey cobbled streets and all of its sooty puddles. He walks from place to place rigid as a tentpole, swerving in front of you the second that someone looks at you too long. You wonder if this is what having a boyfriend is like. James is constantly making sure you’re safe, that you’re on the right side of the pavement, that you’re warm and fed and smiling. But you don’t suppose a boyfriend gets paid to spend time with you, nor do they spend nights on the lumpy sofa in the living room when they’re too tired to drive home at the end of a long shift.

You think without wanting to of James climbing into bed with you, a split second of his warm arm over your back, and shake it away as he pulls you into the pharmacy.

“Can you look at something else?” you ask, turning to him as you pull off your silly sunglasses.

James raises his eyebrows. “Whatever for?”

“I need stuff.”

“I know you need stuff. You asked me if we could come here. Which, by the way, you don’t need to do. You’re supposed to boss me around.”

You look over a shelf of shampoos and deodorants and begin reading their labels. James took you shopping the day after you got back, but you’d been stuck in your old ways and what you didn’t skimp on, you forgot. You eye a large bottle of shampoo that brags deep moisture for your hair type and take it from the shelf, then the matching conditioner, and then its hair mask. Your shoulders curl forward, worried James will think you greedy or sad or something in between, but he just says, “Pass them here, Princess.”

“It’s fine, I can–”

“I’ll have them. I’ll go get a basket.”

He scoops everything into big hands and walks back to the pharmacy’s entrance.

It’s a big pharmacy, modern, with white walls and bright fluorescent lights behind shelves. You catch yourself in a mirror next to a stand of cosmetics and wince. You look odd in these sporty clothes. Your nose is shiny.

You wipe your face with your sleeve and stare at the cosmetics with no clue what to get. Should’ve asked Sirius to come. Or better yet, someone who regularly wears makeup. Only thing is, you don’t really know anybody who does.

“You don’t have to rush,” James says, joining you at the makeup section, such a long walk from the shampoos. “Did you sprint down here?”

You’d speed-walked past the sexual health aisle actually, but James doesn’t need to be privy to that information. “You don’t want to be here all day.”

“I want to be exactly where you are. If that’s looking at lip gloss, then so be it.”

You smile, a little shy, a little rueful, and turn your attention back to the lip glosses in question. There’s browns and pinks, blush-rose red and moodier cherries. “I don’t…”

“That one,” James says, poking a barrel with confidence, “would suit you. And this one, too. You’ll look lovely.”

You don’t know what to say. The colours he’s chosen get added to your basket without comment, after you’ve wrestled it out of his unwilling hands. You spend a few minutes spready tester shades of concealer against the back of your hand, where James again recommends the one that matches your skin tone best. He leans behind you, and he does his job, sweeping the aisles and giving the shop a long up and down every once in a while, but for the most part he acts like he’s there to be there.

You get to the bit of the pharmacy you’d come for initially, the shorter but well-stocked supplement and vitamin aisle. Realistically, you aren’t going to take ten different vitamins a day, and with Marlene’s cooking it isn’t as though you need them, but there are things you’ve always craved. Biotin and collagen, for healthier hair and nails. Multi-nutrient sachets for every day, the good stuff, and so expensive your eyes initially skip over them.

Your hand hesitates in front of a box and James makes a warm humming noise.

“They look promising.”

“I’ve never had them before.”

“I have a killer magnesium deficiency,” James says. “I usually take the magnesium and zinc, but that throws my copper out of whack.”

You can’t tell if he’s messing with you. You smile at him, not quite stickily but getting there, your cheeks appled with it. “Not your copper.”

“It’s not funny, Princess. It makes me want to sleep all day.”

“Not funny,” you agree, grabbing the box of sachets and placing them atop the new electric toothbrush you’d fancied. You feel gluttonous and weird with it, because you don’t suppose you really need one, but James had only said That’s a nice colour.

“James,” you say, meandering with him toward the tills, “you didn’t need anything, did you?”

He grins at you like you’ve said something different. “I have everything I need, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

His eyes seem lighter, then. Amber flecks in the browned honey of his irises. “Promise.”

He tries to get you to visit the perfume counter, but the basket is getting heavy and you’ve spent enough as it is. Not even a tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth of what you have now at your disposal, but so much more than you ever would’ve before.

The lady at the till eyes James behind you. She beams when James opens his wallet and passes you the card you were given by Sirius for expenses, and laughs when you refuse to take it. “I have mine,” you say, “this is all for me, I can pay.”

“Technically it’s your upkeep,” James argues.

“James.” You pass the cashier your card as James frowns.

“I wish my boyfriend offered so quickly,” the cashier says.

You go hot all over, but before you can tell her James isn’t your boyfriend, he’s laughing and taking the handles of your heavy pink carrier, pulling it toward him as the cashier sorts your receipt. “I shouldn’t have tried, really.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” She hands you your receipt. “You should to let him pay, chick, especially if he’s offering.”

“Maybe next time,” you appease.

You’re still flushed when you and James break outside again, the cold a blessed relief. James lets your pink bag rest in the crook of his arm, while the other hovers behind you, looking around the street unhurried. “Anywhere else you want to go, chick?” he asks.

You laugh. “She was nice.”

“Very motherly.”

“I want to go home, I think. Did you need anything else?”

“I do all my shopping when I’m not working.”

“When aren’t you working?” you ask genuinely. “You spend more than half the day at my flat, and when you leave– if you leave, it’s night time.” You give him a sideways glance. “I have nothing else to do today.”

James contemplates this. “I– I’ve been meaning to get Sirius a gift. It’s his birthday next week, did you know?”

“No! When?”

“The third.”

“What does he like?”

James beckons toward a neon signed music shop. “He loves music. Music and the macabre, you know, like, horror movies. And he reads, despite what he might have you believe.”

You fall into step. “Alright. You’ll have to tell me what to buy.”

Again, he gives you a look like you’ve said something different, like you’ve said something lovely.

“I can do that,” James says. “I won’t steer you wrong.”

—

Later that evening, after another tentative hour in the car with James’ patient coaching, you return home to shower. It’s luxurious and strenuous simultaneously. The new hair mask is fragrant and silky between your fingers, leaving the bathroom thick with its smell, the warm air clouding the windows. You hurry between the bathroom and your bedroom in a bath sheet and pretend you don’t notice James’ head tipping in your direction.

“Everything alright?” he calls to your bedroom door.

You spy on him through the gap. “I’m fine. Sorry I took so long.”

“Remus has asked if he can come early and have dinner with us.”

“He doesn’t need to ask!” you call, closing the door soundly.

It will be nice to have Remus for dinner. He doesn’t have to tell you what fork to use here, you only have one kind, but he explains the heritage or main flavours of each dish and doesn’t make you feel embarrassed when you don’t know the Genovian Marlene uses. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised Genovia had a language, a hodge podge, Remus says, of Italian and French. And Remus has a steady voice that feels evidence of his more humble background —he’s like you, you’ve found out, working class and humbly brought up. He attended their boarding school on a scholarship of academic prowess, and served as a prefect for all seven years.

“How exhausting,” you’d said.

“With those two? You wouldn’t believe it.”

His disdain was feigned, mostly. It’s why you’re excited to have him for dinner. When the boys are together, they end up telling you stories about their hijinks at school, and you get to peek into the window of their lives, see their fondness for one another in praises and shoulder squeezes and their ridiculous nicknames.

You haven’t managed to ask about them yet. They slip out every once in a while, and in multiple variations. Moony, Moons, Moon and Pads, Pad, Padfoot. Remus’ you’ve deduced from a story they told, how Remus could be oh so moody when he wasn’t very well, like a wolf, a werewolf. Isn’t that clever for a gang of twelve year olds? Lupin, the wolf boy. You have a feeling it didn’t start out as a particularly kind nickname, but it morphed into a loving moniker later on. Sirius’ nickname, however, you’ve no chance at working out. Padfoot?

And Prongs? You assume James had a nasty run in with a fork.

You dress in soft, new clothes. Prongs, you think, doesn’t suit him at all. The James you know is only ever prickly when you’re at risk. He doesn’t flinch when you panic, never hardens. He has a soft hand for your back whenever you need a pat.

Your socks slide on the living room tiles as you make your way in. James is clicking away on his phone, a dark business phone with many, many buttons. It’s dwarfed by his hand. He swears under his breath.

“Everything okay?” you ask softly.

James looks up and his gaze snags on you, his head tilted to his phone and his eyes steadfast where they look you over. “Fine. Nice shower?”

You’re rich now. Every shower is nice, the boiler turned to a high six, hot water neverending.

“It was good. Where’s Sirius?”

“I’m actually not sure.”

“Isn’t that your job?”

“No. And if it were I wouldn’t know anyways.” He turns back to his phone. “He’s a slippery one, Pads,” he murmurs, “I couldn’t really keep track of him if I tried.”

You feel as though you’ve caught him at a bad time. Restless, you turn away from him and head for your small kitchen, unsurprised to find Marlene still cooking and the continued remodelling of your kitchen. Old countertops find themselves housing new oiled cutting boards. Your grody cooker seems small beneath a HexClad Dutch oven, where oil bubbles and spits lightly, dough cuts set on a baking sheet beside it.

“Hi, Marlene. What are you making?” you ask curiously.

She grins at you from over her shoulder. “Apple cider doughnuts. I’ve made cinnamon sugar, do you mind it?”

“What’s the thermometer?” you ask.

She laughs at you lightly. She’s used to you dodging questions. “Just making sure I don’t set your house alight. At home I can do this by eye, but it’s finicky with your oven. She’s temperamental.”

“Sorry.”

Marlene waves a hand. “You want to try?”

“I’ll just be in your way.”

“No, you won’t. Frying doughnuts is fun, here. I’ve put each of them on a bit of greaseproof paper. They slide right off.”

Marlene doesn’t usually take no for an answer. She’s not bossy, but decisive. You’re hesitant at first of the boiling oil and the greaseproof paper doesn’t cooperate when you try it, but eventually you’ve freed a crispy bit of paper from the dough, watching patiently as Marlene turns the doughnuts. She tells you about the dark colour you’re searching for, “I’ve put apples in the dough, see, so they’ll come to a brilliant dark colour without burning. We’ll have them with ice cream or whatever you like.”

”James told you I wanted it?” you ask shyly.

“James didn’t mention you at all, he just begged a bit for it. He can be quite pathetic when he needs to be.”

“I resent that!” James calls.

Sirius and Remus arrive in their usual pair, Remus tall and light to Sirius’ tighter darkness. Remus wears glasses today, black thin frames perched atop a scar on his nose. Sirius is being himself, poking at them and reminding Remus that just because he is an insufferable swat doesn’t mean he has to look like one.

“You’re worse than insufferable,” Remus says. When he sees you, he brightens. “Ah, Princess. James hasn’t injured you, that’s brilliant.”

“And you clearly haven’t killed him in a motor vehicular disaster,” Sirius says cheerfully. “Praise be.”

“We’re both fine,” you say.

“Were you worried about us?” James asks.

“I wasn’t worried about you, James,” Remus says with a smirk.

You eat as you have every day for the week since you’ve been home: around the coffee table, five plates and drinks rearing to get knocked over and ruin it all. Your knees press into Remus’ on the left and Marlene’s on the right. James sits across from you now that Frank’s shown up for his night shift, digging in with vigour, beaming around his fork as Sirius gives him a good nudge. So many people in your crammed flat. It doesn’t seem real. Half the time, they’re just here to keep you company.

Paid to keep me company, you think, biting your tongue as you do. This isn’t… real.

Something taps you under the table. James’ hand, you find, long fingers pressing soft into your kneecap. You quickly lift your head again to find him frowning at you mildly. Okay? he mouths.

“Bit my tongue,” you say.

“Ouch,” Remus says.

James pokes his lip with his tongue. “Be careful,” he says eventually.

You ignore whatever it is he’s not saying and pick at your food instead. For dinner, Marlene has made a traditional Genovian pasta dish heavy with red pesto and steak. It isn’t what you’re expecting, used to the paler whites and greens of the last week's worth of dinner. James couldn’t be enjoying it more, and Sirius has pledged his undying love to Marlene three or four times since you sat down.

“Jesus, I barely miss Genovia when you cook like this,” he says. “I will happily serve my country.”

“Unlike before, when you were here unhappily,” Remus teased.

Sirius looks you dead in the eye. “Princess, I would follow you anywhere. Marlene is an added bonus.”

“I– I really wish you guys wouldn’t call me that.”

Sirius looks gently chastened. “Sorry, sorry. It’s muscle memory at this point. If I called Princess Julianna by anything but her title, she would’ve had me drawn and quartered in the royal courtyards, is all.”

“And the rest,” James snorts.

“I try not to address her at all,” Remus says to himself.

Everyone laughs. You join in a second later, wondering about your unknown cousin. “She was rather spoiled, wasn’t she?” you ask.

“You’d think she’d tone it down some. Her royal status is rather tenuous, you know.”

James gives Sirius a look. Careful, it says.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Well, she’s a royal by marriage, not blood. We explained that, didn’t we?”

James had said it was complicated. You’d been too startled about your own royal status to inspect it any further. “She’s not a Renaldi?” you ask.

As it’s explained, your uncle (uncle! who is indeed royal by blood, and the eldest son) forwent the throne when it became clear he wouldn’t be allowed to marry a divorced lover otherwise (reminiscent of certain British scandals). Said divorced lover already had a daughter, a young Julianna. And so your uncle remained a prince but not a king, and Julianna became a princess, to the ire of half the country.

Traditions have changed in time, but Julianna still lacks Renaldi blood.

“It drives her mad,” James says. He’s leaning back against the armchair now, dinner finished, a big glass of apple cider in his hands.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say. “Sorry, I sound horrible, just. She wasn’t super friendly.”

“It would’ve been better for everyone if she was,” Sirius says.

You wait for him to continue. Marlene prompts him, “You think so?”

“Well, yes, I suppose. Anything is better than a country ruled by Baron Riddle. Evil, loathsome man. He thinks that nobody knows he’s had a nose job, you know.”

“Who’s Baron Riddle?” you ask.

A hush falls around the table. You look down at your plate, eyes on the red shine of pesto and olive oil where it’s grown cold on your plate. A hunk of soft bread is discarded beside it. You poke at it with your nail until crumbs flake away, lips parted, not sure what to say. “Is he–?”

“He’s a bad man, Y/N,” Sirius says. His voice has turned soft but not thin. “He’s prejudiced and cruel. If nobody of Renaldi blood takes the throne when your grandmother steps down, he’ll rule Genovia. And he’ll run it into the ground.”

James isn’t looking at you when you drag your head up. He downs the last of his cider and stands up, murmuring about clearing the table as he carries his and Sirius’ plate to the kitchen.

“I didn’t know,” you say. Well, you’d known someone would ascend to the throne if you didn’t. But you didn’t know about Riddle. A guilty heat builds in your throat. “I had no idea.”

“James asked us not to tell you,” Remus says pointedly.

“She has a right to know,” Sirius says. They glare at each other, but the heat in Sirius’ voice doesn’t rescind. “What? She does. She’s a grown up.”

You shake your head. “Thank you, um, for telling me. I’ll just take these out, should I?” You gesture to the plates and stand up quickly. You can’t escape the feeling that Sirius is very angry with you, and you don’t want to face it, so you escape the room instead.

James’ shoulders are tense in the kitchen. He scrapes his plate clean into the food recycling bin, offering his hand without looking for your own.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Of course.”

Silence blossoms like an achy bruise.

“James–”

“Thank you for having me for dinner, but I really should be going now. I promised my mum an overdue call.”

He’s angry.

You cringe away from him. “Okay. Yeah, no problem.”

“Okay. Stay safe while I’m gone, yes? Remember your panic button.”

Your hand inches up to the opposite wrist, where your tennis bracelet of sapphires sits tightly. You’d forgotten all about the panic button embedded in disguise under one of the gemstones.

He smiles at you briefly, and in a minute or two he’s gone. Sirius goes out after him, leaving you and Remus and Marlene to the heap of dishes, a bad taste lingering on your tongue that has nothing to do with dinner.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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mywritersmind · 10 hours ago

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UNCONVENTIONAL - LN4

summary : In which trying to make it home for thanksgiving fails and a cute british driver feels bad.

listen up : no warnings just cuteness! happy thanksgiving to all my americans <33 im thankful for YOU🫵 lando norris x american!driver!reader

word count : 1968

⋆༺

I groan out loud, dropping my phone onto the jet’s seat. “We’re stuck.” Lando sits up from his position across two seats, and frowns.

“Shit.” I look outside of the planes window, seeing the snow and fighting back tears. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not even december! Snow should not be here!” I wipe my eyes. I know Lando feels bad and I'm not making the situation worse by crying. But I’m having a hard time today because I'm supposed to be with my family.

Lando offered me and some other drivers a ride to Qatar for the next grand prix. Thanksgiving happened to fall the day before media day so I thought I could stop by my parents house and leave that night.

I never particularly loved Thanksgiving, but now that i’m traveling so much because of work, I've learned how much I truly can miss my loved ones.

Lando bites his lip as I sit back down and pull the blanket over me. The pilot informed us that we won’t be getting in the air for a few hours which means we have to go straight to the track instead of seeing my family.

I take a breath, “It’s okay. I appreciate you trying.” I hate crying in front of the guys, even if he is my friend. I hate it because it just plays into the whole emotional woman thing, and even though Lando is one of my best friends, right now I can’t help it.

Lando sits across from me, nudging his foot against mine, “How about we have thanksgiving here?” My head shoots in his direction as he puts on a small smile, “I don’t know a lot about it and I know I'm not your family… but I can try to be a substitute.”

I swallow, wiping my eyes again before I cross my my arms, “How would we even do that?”

I did not expect Lando to take my words as a competition. Still, thirty minutes later I'm sat with a full course meal spread out on the tiny table in between seats. There’s no huge turkey or array of pies, instead we have chicken wraps and fries. We have chips, popcorn, pesto pasta, orange chicken, a bagel, salad, and bread. A bottle of champagne sits next to me as Lando sits down.

His smile is wide as he looks down at the spread, “Good enough?”

“How did you…” I shake my head, laughing, “Yeah it’s good enough! Lando, this is really sweet.”

“It’s my first thanksgiving, I had to make it delicious, even if it is all airport food.” He shrugs and starts pulling things onto his plate. My legs are crossed on the comfortable seat and as I watch him pick his meal, I smile.

I bite into the chicken wrap that’s actually delicious. Lando taps on his phone before music starts playing over the speakers.

I smile at him as he chews, “So… what do Americans usually do on thanksgiving?”

I shrug and sip some champagne, “Eat, gossip, be thankful?”

“Okay! Let’s gossip then. Sounds easy enough.” Hes ridiculously committed to the bit and I adore him for it, “Did you know Franco’s signed with RB?” I start coughing, practically choking on my food.

“What!?” I scream.

Lando’s laughing now, “No I don’t actually know, I just couldn’t think of anything else.” I kick him under the table as he gasps.

“That’s evil! I got so excited.” I’m laughing with him now, our food picked apart and a mess in front of us. “What are you thankful for?”

He thinks for a moment, a curl falling into his face that makes my stomach flip a little. “Mmm… My family and friends.”

“That’s too generic. It’s thanksgiving- get deep, Norris.” He gives me a slight smirk before nodding.

“I’m thankful that the championship talk is over. I’m thankful for Chicken wraps.” He holds his up, proudly as I roll my eyes. “And I'm thankful for you.”

I’m a tad bit shocked, “For me?” I expect him to say something stupid or flirty, but he’s dead serious.

“You’re a really good person. I like being around you and for that, I'm grateful.” He raises his glass and I hit it with mine, “Now go on, brag about me.”

I roll my eyes, back to smiling humorously, “I’m thankful that I'm not alone right now.” His eyes don’t stray away from mine, “And I’m thankful for snow. Even if it’s pissing me off, it’s very pretty.”

We both look out the window in sync, the snow still falling. The runway is fully white, matching the trees and wing of the plane.

When I look back at Lando, he’s already looking at me. His face is relaxed, his freckles prominent and curls perfect. “Do you want to go?” I say suddenly as his expression turns confused.

“We can’t yet, we still have like two hours.”

A smile tugs at my lips, “I mean outside.”

He looks hesitant, “It’s freezing.”

I stand and grab my suitcase, unzipping it and pulling out my puffer jacket at record speed, “Did I mention every thanksgiving, something really random but really fun happens?” It’s true, for some reason this holiday brings out funny stories. “You’re not scared of some snow, are you Norris?” I step closer, narrowing my eyes.

He stands, grabbing his own jacket, “I’m just saying, don’t come complaining when you’re freezing and wet.”

“Me!?” I scoff, zipping up my jacket, “You’re the one who needs four layers for a sunny day.”

⋆༺

LANDO

I’m freezing my ass off but I would rather become a human icicle than tear my eyes away from her smile. She’s giggling and running into the snow, twirling around as snowflakes fall into her hair.

“Don’t slip, Y/n!” I yell after her as she turns around, the biggest smile on her face.

Her hand goes to wipe the hair that’s being blown in her face, snow falling around her, “Come catch me, Norris.”

I roll my eyes and hurry over to her as she laughs and dances around. I can’t help but laugh with her, it’s fucking contagious.

She sticks her tongue out, leaning her head back to catch snowflakes. Y/n is so perfectly caught in the haze of the snow and light peaking through the clouds that she looks like an angel.

She pokes my cheek and holds onto my jacket as if she’s about to fall. “Your nose is red.”

“You should get a job in detective work if the whole driving thing doesn’t work out…” She scoffs loudly and punches me in the arm.

Unfortunately, she’s stronger than she looks and because the ground is icy, we’re both falling seconds later.

She lands on top of me, laughing so hard that she’s crying, “Fuck! Are you okay!?”

“Like you care!” I sit up, holding her tightly still.

She laughs and plops down next to me, laying her head back and arms out. “Oh no-”

“Angel time, Norris!” She screams at me.

“I’m going to become snow!”

She doesn’t respond, just stretches her arms and legs out and waves them back and forth to make the snow part below her.

Something about her is my weakness and I honestly can’t complain when she looks so happy. I join her, my hair getting soaked and her laughs making me smile.

I make my angel in peace as snow floats down from the sky, landing on my face. I hear the rustle of her jacket as she turns her head to me, “Thank you.”

I smile softly, examining her face and the snowflakes that melt as soon as they touch her skin. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry that I'm not your family.”

She lets out a breath, “You’re my found family. That’s close enough.” her words make my heart beat faster, “Even if you are British and your first thanksgiving was on a grounded plane.”

“I wouldn’t wish it any other way. Although, next year we should try for a more friendsgiving approach. Maybe with the whole grid?” Her smile grows as she looks up at the sky.

“I'm very down for that.” As i’m mentally tracing her side profile in her mind, a voice and light comes very loud.

“You two!” I realize we’re in trouble instantly and stand up as fast as I can, slipping all over the place as the voice gets louder and the flashlight shines directly towards us.

Y/n is trying to get up with me but she’s laughing and slipping so it’s significantly harder. I grab her hand and we make a run for it, up the stairs and into the warm cabin. The door shuts behind us and I lean my head against the wall, sighing in relief of not being caught making snow angels.

Y/n is breathing heavily across from me, a smile permanent on her face as she looks at me. Her hair is wet and I'm sure mine is the same. I can’t feel my hands and I couldn’t care less.

“You look like a popsicle!” Y/n takes her hands and wraps them over mine, getting close enough that I can feel her breath on my skin.

I’d like to pretend that what happened next was a symptom of my cold state, but I’ve never been a good liar.

As soon as she looks up at me, her eyes big and glassy, I lean down and kiss her. Her lips are warm despite her cold hands gripping my own and as soon as she pulls back, I swear.

“Fuck. I’m sorry-” I didn’t even ask! God, I'm an asshole and now I'm completely stuck. Would I die if I ran outside and hid in the woods?

But she doesn’t look mad. She looks… pleased? Her hand slips out of my reach and moves to the side of my neck, “Don’t be.”

And then she kisses me. I think I blackout because I have no clue how long we’ve been kissing but I do know that I'm now completely defrosted and warm.

“You okay?” I whisper as Y/n pulls away.

She nods, “Thanks for kissing me.”

I laugh, “You’re very welcome. Thanks for kissing me back.”

She smiles again backs up a bit, fiddling with her rings, “So… was that just a thanksgiving thing or a way to warm up or…?”

I’m smiling big now, moving my hands under her jacket as she squirms because of the temperature, “I’ve been waiting for that to happen so if you limit me to once a year, i’ll be pretty sad.”

She nods, biting back a smile, “Good to know!” She slips away from me and pulls off her jacket, sitting in a seat and pulling her blanket around her shoulders.

I slowly walk so I’m in front of her again. She’s smiling at the floor, motioning me to come sit, “There’s one more thanksgiving tradition I do every year.”

She pulls out her ipad and scoots closer to me, I feel like i’m dreaming. “And that is…?”

She clears her throat, still avoiding eye contact.

“The Thanksgiving episode of Gossip Girl!” She starts rattling on about the backstories and starts the episode but i’m still stuck on her face and how her eyes won’t meet mine.

“Y/n…” I say it softly, bringing my hand to her chin and turning her face to look at me. She’s blushing. I don’t think I've ever seen her blush.

“Mhm?” She sounds like a mouse.

I brush her wet hair out of her face and press a soft kiss against her cheek, “I really like thanksgiving.” She just smiles and nestles into my side, my arm around her.

She lets me have some of the blanket and whispers, “I really do too.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris fluff

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dollishsz · 13 hours ago

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BATBOYS GENERAL HCS DURING DATING ── .✦

a/n: my posts are barely getting engagement so it would be nice to reblog + like + cmmt tysm! Also

I’m so tired because I don’t know what I want to do with myself when like writing because I don’t have much ideas yk, (I do have a lottt of ideas just don’t want to like spam and idk how to like execute it correctly so ya) but I’m so grateful I’m back!

(Tags: batboys general hcs + fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Compliments: Dick will compliment you constantly, but they’re the slightly extra kind. “You look like you just walked off the cover of a magazine… Or like you’re about to rob a bank with your style, and I’m here for it.”

Date Nights: Dick is a hopeless romantic mixed a romantic flirty person. He'll plan elaborate date nights that are almost too perfect. You're having a candlelit dinner on a rooftop... until a mosquito swoops by, and you both spend 20 minutes trying to catch it.

Awkwardly Adorable: Dick tries so hard to be smooth, but when it’s just the two of you, he ends up tripping over his words, saying things like “I love you… like… in a non-creepy way… I mean, I know that sounds creepy but—“, “you know dick, you could’ve just told me you loved me no need for all that extra yapping.”

Sharing Food: He can’t resist sharing his food with you but will dramatically defend his fries. “No, you can't have any. This is the last one. You’ll be fine. It’s called 'the sacrifice of love.'”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Grumpy But Cute: Jason might be brooding and grumpy on the outside, but once he gets comfortable with you, he’s a sucker for giving you the best hugs. They’re just not as soft as you expect, because, well, he’s Red Hood and that’s not very 'soft' in his book.

Love Language: He definitely has a love language of throwing sarcastic remarks at you to show affection. “I’m just saying, you look so good, I might actually let you live longer than five minutes without me.”

Meme Sharing: Jason will share the funniest memes with you, and he will laugh harder than anyone else when you send him a reaction meme. You two could spend hours going through meme after meme while ignoring his patrol responsibilities.

Late Night Conversations: He’s always the first to text at 3 am just to say, “I’m not okay. Also, I think I might’ve made pasta in the Batcave, but it’s 80% burnt and half of the 20% is missing on the ground in other words, it’s fully burnt. You in?”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Puns & Dad Jokes: Tim is the king of puns. You might be mid-sentence talking about something serious, and he’ll sneak in, “Well, that’s egg-sactly what I was thinking.”

Organizing Everything: Tim will have a notebook just for your relationship. He organizes things like "future plans," "annoying habits to change," and “how we can both pretend to be normal in public.”

Overthinking: Tim might send you long, thoughtful texts about nothing and everything, then panic and delete them. Later, you get a short text that says, “Hey, I like you. It’s cool. Let’s go save Gotham.”

Netflix & Research: On date nights, Tim is all about watching a documentary on some obscure topic. You wanted to watch a rom-com? Nope. Tim says, “Let’s learn about the history of ancient pizza ovens.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Fiercely Protective: Damian will go full boss mode in a relationship. If someone even looks at you wrong, he’s ready to challenge them to a duel. You’ve never seen someone challenge a guy at the coffee shop to a sword fight over a latte until you met him.

Literally Shakespeare: He has this bizarre habit of reciting random Shakespeare quotes when trying to express his feelings. “My love for you is like a tempest, crashing and relentless. Also, I think you forgot to add sugar in my coffee.”

Jealousy: He’ll get jealous of even the smallest things. That random guy who offered to help you with your grocery bags? Damian’s glaring at them from across the parking lot, preparing his “You’re not worthy” speech.

Tenderness: Don’t be fooled by his brooding exterior. Damian will get you flowers (in his own way) — like a very dramatic single red rose that he purchased with the least amount of emotion possible, but you know he spent an hour picking the perfect one.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Grumpy But Loyal: Bruce is that partner who takes a long time to warm up to things, but once he’s in, he’s in 100%. He’ll still be grumpy, though. If you show up in a bat-themed shirt, you’ll get a raised eyebrow and a grunt that could probably level an entire building.

Affectionate In His Own Way: Bruce will bring you your favorite coffee without asking because he’s been paying attention to your usual order for the past six months. But if you say anything about it, he’ll act like he’s annoyed. “I’m Batman. I don’t do things for people.”

Overprotective: He’ll put the Batcomputer between the two of you if he’s feeling protective, even if it’s completely unnecessary. Someone bumps into you? Bruce is already three steps ahead, tracking their life history and figuring out their deepest secrets, just in case.

Romantic, But Quiet About It: Bruce can’t show his love through words, but the way he gives you his jacket when it’s cold speaks volumes. Of course, he acts like it was an accident. “I didn’t want you to catch a cold, that’s all. I’m not a softy, don’t read into it.”

GENERAL TRAITS FOUND IN THEM ── .✦

Matching Outfits: They’ll all pretend like they’re too cool for matching outfits, but one day they’ll catch themselves accidentally twinning with you, and neither of you can ever act normal again.

In Public: They’ll all act like they don’t care if you hold their hand in public, but if anyone tries to grab your hand instead, they’ll give them a glare that could freeze a person in place.

Batman’s Turtleneck: Every Batboy secretly loves when Bruce wears his iconic black turtleneck and glasses. They all think Bruce looks like a mysterious intellectual, and they might just start commenting on it to mess with him. Bruce is too focused on Gotham to care.

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punkpandapatrixk · 3 days ago

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Full Moons in Aries & Taurus ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

Heyaa~ I’m so sorry that I’ve been super tardy about the Moon PAC readings. A lot was going on XD And suddenly, we’ve even gone through the next FM in Taurus, so I decided to cover the aenergies of both FMs into this one reading :D

Full Hunter’s Moon in Aries was on 17 Oct; the theme revolved around taking charge of the trajectory of our future expansions! Whatever you dream of right now, if you’re clear that the desires aren’t coming from your Ego, they’re a vision bigger than the mundane that’s been sent you by the Higher Forces! :D Keep the faith and believe in miracles for the Universe is taking care of its manifestation~\`★_★`/

Full Beaver’s Moon in Taurus was on 15 Nov; the aenergy pushed us further into having full confidence in that trajectory of ours being so fun, abundant, and filled with meaningful events! <3 This FM in particular was conjunct Uranus (sudden revolutionary changes); and having Pluto re-enter Aquarius on the 19th, for Lightworkers and Starseeds, this is literally the time you’re being prepared to welcome your Grand Mission.

This sacred period leading up to 2025 is boiling cooking and baking bold dreams for exciting (possibly shattering) world-changing events what will be rolling out in succession in the next 3 years. If you’re reading this, there’s simply no way your future isn’t exciting—so prepare your heart and mind \^o^/

Know that your persistent visions and interests aren’t random. Mayhap…your ancestors whispered that dream in you precisely because it is your calling~ ;P

gnosis: The Fourth Turning Explained in Under 10 Minutes: Does History Repeat? by No Protocol

deck-bottom: XVII The Star Rx, Red Alchemist (John Dee), Priestess of Opulence

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Pile 1 – Walking A Peaceful Path of Your Magnificent Creation

transmission – 5 of Wands Rx

By nature, you are someone who embodies a supernatural ability to sense negativity. You may identify as an empath; someone may have told you that you’re too sensitive or too negative; it could also be that you tend to find yourself easily dragged into negative thought patterns and chaos, even if they’re created by other people around you—or the news!

Your keen sensitivity essentially isn’t a flaw to begin with; it may pose some challenges, but it is for sure not a weakness. You are by nature sensitive to negativity exactly because you’re a positive and peaceful person, and in that awareness lies your true spiritual power that could change the world. You just ought to learn how to navigate this superpower to outsmart the strange Human societies XD

I’m hearing: Use humour and witty banters to get your point across when dealing with veeeeery negative Human beings. They say there is medicine in comedy, but there is even more potent medicine in irony LMAO

translation – Page of Wands

Entering this Aquarius Pluto era, the awakened ones are truly headed towards an awesome future! After all, haven’t you been so devoted to your own personal transformations? Haven’t you been serious enough in your endeavour to transcend above petty conflicts and toxic nudges? Your Spirit Guides are acknowledging your dedication to becoming a good, peaceful and pleasant human being.

So, whatever you’re hearing on the news, if it’s of a negatively-polarised consciousness, that’s for other people dealing with that particular kind of karma to experience. It is not for you. Every miserable person you hear or watch on the news—even some people from your distant past, possibly—they’re the ones who have chosen to still entertain that particular frequency of malady, to spiritually ascend at their own pace.

You? You don’t need to get enmeshed in this spiral of sorrow still enveloping parts of this world. You’ve survived your fair share.

transmigration – 6 of Wands Rx

You’ve established a solid ground for how you can best interact with this Reality. It is your very own unique way of dealing with the streams of chaos crisscrossing the whole world. Sometimes, people who haven’t done the inner work you’ve done for yourself may not understand why you think or say what you say. They could sometimes think you’re callous or uncaring, and on the surface level, it may seem like that if the person you’re dealing with isn’t insightful or intelligent enough.

You’re giving me Tupac, but also Dave Chapelle & Ricky Gervais aenergy. The last two obviously care about many things that are wrong in the world, but they use humour to convey messages that actually reflect the stupidity of human societies back at them, all for them to… Well, reflect deeply upon their own lack of courage to become better Humans that can be relied upon to create better societies, I guess~

Ultimately, these full moons’ aenergies are supporting your daydreams and visions of a more peaceful, higher-quality Future that you’ve been seeing a lot in your daydreams. This reading feels more like a confirmation of the fact that your Future is aligning with your current Reality pretty fast hahah <3

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Silver Astronomer (Galileo Galilei) & Priestess of Luck

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Pile 2 – Harvest, Sweetness, You’re Going Places

transmission – Page of Swords Rx

You have weathered—and survived—a great many storms. If only people knew how much it cost you just to get where you are now. You’re a strong one; you’ve probably heard this but it’s really true when your Spirit Guides say: Most people would’ve died a long time ago if they had to face the challenges you’ve triumphed over thus far! Your determination to survive will not betray you! So many good things, easy things, are yours already <3

This is the Pile that will live a very delicious Life. You’re probably already seeing the signs but if one way or another you’re still struggling right now, best believe it’s just the last remnants of your old BS—belief system XD The old programming gives out in cycles, babe~ You’re doing perfectly alright! Pluto in Aquarius is ensuring your wish fulfilment, and it will all play out more amazingly than you could’ve ever imagined <3

Strength, persistence, protection, change and transitions, reaping good karma. These are all major keywords for you until at least Spring 2025. Your kindness, sweetness, generosity, all returning 3000-fold for the rest of your LYFE~

translation – 8 of Wands Rx

‘ENJOY~<3’ is the loudest thing your Spirit Guides are saying to you right now. In a strange manner of speaking, they’re also saying you can totally disconnect for a while and not look for their guidance for every single little thing you’re considering doing in this mortal world. I sense they’re saying this because you’ve pretty much been quite reliant on their guidance, probably a little too much? XD Meaning, sometimes you didn’t trust your own gut instinct enough to come to a decision.

Which is understandable given you were surviving and struggling so much with so little guidance from your immediate surrounding! That said, they’re simply saying that you can rest and not think of any ‘guidance’ for now and everything will still turn out perfectly nicely! Bad luck or weird uncalled for unfortunate events will not afflict you no more because you’ve practically jumped timelines <3 Most of us tuning into this reading have, dear~

So, be safe in the knowing that you’re practically living in a delicious paradise of a Reality. Things can only get better from here v^o^v

transmigration – Page of Cups

Ah! You have a true soulmate—a romantic soulmate—waiting for you somewhere in this world! Babe, you’re going places! You’re going to meet your Divine Soul Mate or Twin Flame or anything else of that nature! :D Oh, this is so exciting! I’m getting a strong heart-connection between you and your Destined One, like there’s these staggering electrical charges that are pulling you two ever closer together <3<3<3

After all of the pain you’ve suffered, all the betrayal you’ve survived, you’d be so glad to have met this Destined One who’s literally the sweetest and kindest Soul, who’s even more sweet and kind to YOU~

This person may appear to be ‘different’ from you at first glance, but after getting to know each other, you’ll see that your Souls are quite literally made of the same star materials ^-^ You will be speaking the same soul language whereby communication feels so effortless. Ah, how nice :D

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Red Historian (John Dee) & Priestess of Intuition

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Pile 3 – Simple, Clean, Eternally Abundant

transmission – 7 of Cups Rx

‘Ask and you shall receive.’ To manifest wonderful things in this world, first you gotta WANT them. You see, these new-age spiritual teachings that tell you that ‘wanting is bad’ or ‘being in a state of wanting keeps your desires elusive’… is… at best theoretical. In practice, to manifest anything at all you gotta start by desiring it, right? Otherwise, how the fuck do you even attract it in the first place? smh

Ask, and the Universe delivers the answer, guidance, hint and you will be shown the way to align yourself with your Highest Intended Good! <3 That’s how it generally is! Whatever you deem unideal in the world, you must come to a disagreement with it first before you can manifest a change in your immediate Reality. Once asked, sometimes, people find it difficult to believe that the change they wish for can actually come around…

Well, silence the fearmongering monkey and just WANT it nevertheless. You don’t even need to believe it if you still can’t. You just gotta WANT it delusionally! :D

translation – IV The Emperor

Lookie here! You Emperor of all the elements of manifestation! <3 You’ve got the power in you, OK? If this is your main pile, surely you know by this point that you’re a master manifestor? Maybe you’ve heard other people tell you this as well. And well, if up until recently you’ve been struggling with a sense of lack or restriction, that was all just part of your character development. The Universe wanted you to experience juuust for a while how it felt to not have anything—to struggle with even the most basic of needs.

Without such experiences, who knows—you could’ve grown up tone deaf just like many of UK’s overly privileged politicians! Nobody would like you at all tsk tsk… XXD

So you see, you’re done. Fucking done. Pluto in Aquarius, conjunct Uranus, my god, if this is your main pile, get ready for a world-changing shift in your physical Reality pretty soon. With The Emperor being a Major Arcana, you’re being whirled into your Destination! It’s going to be sooo much more fun in the next arc of your Story! Congrats and well done and for fuck’s saké , ENJOY~!

transmigration – VII The Chariot

Another Major Arcana for you, which is rare on this blog LMAO The Chariot here is giving a strong message of upliftment for your career—or whatever you might consider as ‘career’. It could be your Life’s Mission, but it could also be a stepping stone what will lead you closer to your actual Grand Mission in this lifetime. Some of you reading this, if for some reason you’re still unsure about what your true Life’s Purpose or Mission is all about…

You could try to consult your 4H-10H axis and see what it has to say about your Legacy. Then, combine that info with what your North Node has to say about the range of pursuits attainable for you in this incarnation. But, whatever you do at this point, I think you can’t possibly miss your Destiny XD It’s coming to fish you out of the Reality you’re currently in hahah

All in all, quite everything you’re going to experience from this point onwards is going to be easy, simple, straightforward, and you’re going to be effortlessly abundant until the end of your Life. No more worries, hun~

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Silver Physician (John Dee) & Priestess of Integrity

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lovelyjj · 1 day ago

Text

❌

Rudy was the love of your life. Yeah he was famous but you didn’t care, you loved him for him. Rudy was an angel. He was one of the kindest people you’ve ever known. You would be lost without him. You didn’t know what good thing you did in a past life to deserve him, but you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

The two of you lived together. It was a nice apartment that felt like home. You were sitting on the couch waiting for Rudy to come home from work. Eventually Rudy did come home from work and he greeted you with a kiss and a hug.

“I had a long day baby, feels so good to come home to you. Just wanna make love to you and show you how much you mean to me,” Rudy sighed.

Rudy led you to the bedroom and started stripping. You sat on the bed with anticipation. Rudy revealed his toned abs and you were practically drooling. “You’re so hot, I can’t believe your mine,” you complemented.

“Arms up,” Rudy ordered. You lifted your arms and Rudy took off your shirt. Next he took off your pants leaving both of you in your underwear.

Rudy took a moment to admire you. You were gorgeous in his eyes. “You’re so beautiful my love,” Rudy said. “Thank you.” Rudy leaned in for a kiss and you fell back against the pillows as Rudy hovered over you. Your lips met in a heated kiss. You were laying down with Rudy on top of you. You both kissed passionately. Rudy’s tongue entered your mouth and swirled around your own tongue.

Rudy kissed down your neck and littered your chest in hickeys. “I love you so much,” Rudy confessed as he lined himself up at your entrance. He kissed you as he entered you. Rudy was big so the stretch was deliciously filling. “Can I move?” You nodded your head.

Rudy thrusted in and out with much force. He kept hitting a certain spot inside you that made you see stars. “You feel so good,” Rudy panted as your walls hugged him tightly, sucking him in. He fucked you with a fast pace but he was savoring every moment.

You let out a loud moan and Rudy encouraged you to be loud. “Fuck JJ,” you moaned.

Rudy paused. “Did you just-?” Rudy questioned.

“Um,” you didn’t know what to say. You were caught up in the moment and your mind was hazy and you slipped up. You were mentally kicking yourself for being so stupid and dumb.

Rudy pulled out and threw on some sweatpants. You sat there mortified. Rudy’s mind was reeling. He didn’t know what to think. He was hurt because the one person who is supposed to love him unconditionally mistook him for his character. Ouch. He loved you because you loved him for him now he wasn’t so sure.

“Rudy, I don’t know what came over me I’m so so sorry,” you pleaded.

“What the fuck Y/N?” Rudy yelled.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh you didn’t mean it, okay sure.” Rudy felt like you betrayed him. He was angry and disappointed. The whole world loves him as JJ but you were supposed to be different. He was shocked and conflicted. After everything you two have been through he never thought this would happen, ever.

“I know I fucked up and that’s on me but I never meant to hurt you,” you urged.

Rudy put his hands in his hair and pulled. “I just thought out of all people you would understand that I’m Rudy.”

“I know you are, I messed up I know but let me make it up to you, I’ll do anything.”

“Right now I just need to think,” Rudy breathed.

“Okay yeah of course.”

Rudy was upset, he felt like his own girlfriend didn’t know who he was. Maybe that’s dramatic but it’s how he felt. He goes to work plays a character all day and then he goes home to be himself and then his partner says his characters name during sex. It was hurtful.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Rudy speaks.

“Rudy please,” you begged.

But before you knew it he was out the door leaving you alone and regretful. You felt awful. You didn’t know how you were gonna fix this but you knew you needed to.

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 day ago

Note

hi !! i was thinking about logical by olivia rodrigo when she sings "said i was too young i was too soft, can't take a joke can't get you off" and it got me thinking of rupert campbell black x younger!reader getting into a huge argument about something and he says that to her in the heat of the moment and then maybe they end up having make up sex idk

thank you <33

February Sky.

The highs are so high, but the lows are so low.

rupert campbell black x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. age gap. angst. so much use of the word darling. this might be a tiny bit toxic, but...

word count - 2.3k

authors note - title taken from logical by olivia rodrigo (which fits him so well, by the way). thank you for this request, erica!! it works so beautifully. I tried not to make it too toxic, but I think rupert is a tiny bit toxic, regardless. oops. and yet we love him anyway.

masterlist. inbox.

“What’s the matter?”

You’re curled up in the armchair by the fire, cup of tea warming the palms of your hands as the flames warm your toes. You’re still wearing your ballgown, hair still pretty in its updo and makeup still perfectly done.

“Darling,” you hear come from the kitchen, where he’s no doubt pouring himself a whiskey.

You stay quiet, taking a sip from your mug and sitting in your frustration.

Rupert appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame and taking in the sight of you. The first thing he observes is how cosy you look. The second thing he observes is how annoyed you look.

“Darling,” he repeats, walking over to kneel in front of you. “What’s the matter? Did you not have a good time?”

You’ve gotten very good at picking your battles with Rupert. Sometimes, you let go of whatever’s bothering you to save yourself the aggravation of an argument. Other days, much like today, you just can’t seem to keep a lid on your anger.

“I was having a good time until you made me feel stupid in front of everyone.”

“W-what? What are you talking about?”

You look down at him, his wide eyes staring up at you with genuine confusion painted across them.

“When I told that story about the horses, at the dinner table. I saw that look you gave Bas. It was like you were laughing at me, not with me.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel stupid. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Do I? You did the same thing a few weeks ago at Lizzie’s. You so easily undermine me when I’m speaking with a look or a laugh. That’s all it takes, and you don’t even realise.”

“Darling, I’m just joking with my friends. I’m not sure why you’re taking this so personally. It’s a non issue that you’re making into an issue.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Well I could argue that it’s not fair that you’re telling me that I make you feel stupid. That’s an accusation that’s not fair.”

He gets up, moving to stand by the fire with his glass in his hand.

“I feel like you’re just dismissing me,” you say quietly, squeezing the mug tighter in your hands.

“Because you’re acting like a child.”

“You’re treating me like a child,” you retort quickly, sitting up straighter in your chair.

“Look, darling. Maybe this is just our gap in life experience rearing its head. You’ve got a lot to learn, and sometimes it shows.”

“You know, our age gap only becomes a problem when you make it a problem. You want a sweet, young girlfriend until she acts her age, and then it’s an issue.”

“Because you can be so mature, and then all of a sudden you’re throwing a tantrum like a child,” he fumes, placing his glass down on the mantelpiece and folding his arms over his chest. “You’re young and you’re soft, I’m not oblivious to that. But sometimes you can’t take a joke - or sometimes you miss the joke completely. It’s not my fault if you twist that into me making you feel stupid.”

You put your mug down onto the side table, willing yourself not to get upset. You stand up so you’re no longer below him, still keeping a distance between the two of you. Breathing in deeply, you exhale shakily in an attempt to keep yourself and your composure together.

“You’re acting like my age is something that came up later, Rupert - and that’s not true at all. You knew how old I was when we met. You knew I was significantly younger than you.”

“Yes, I did. Maybe I just wasn’t aware of how often it would come up as a point when we argued.”

He leans against the fireplace wall, sharp features illuminated by the light of the flames. All that can be heard are the sounds of wood crackling and two sets of lungs heaving for breath.

“You’re making me feel like I’m insane,” you burst suddenly, sick of biting your tongue. “You’re acting as if everything is all my fault. When will you take some responsibility, Rupert? When will you hold your hands up and say ‘do you know what - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it’, hmm? Why do I always have to apologise?”

“Darling-”

“No, I’m sick of it. One minute, you’re telling me our age gap doesn’t matter because we’re in love and I’m mature and intelligent and everything you need - and the next minute you’re treating me like some sort of virginal lamb that doesn’t know the difference between left and right. Make up your mind, because you’re making me dizzy.”

“If you’re so sick of it, why are we doing this? If you are so sick of it, you know where the door is, darling. I’m not forcing you to stay here.”

That’s all it takes for the tears to start falling, hot and heavy down your cheeks. Your sadness seems to be uncontrollable, stemming from your chest and humming through your veins. You’re surprised you’re not turning blue, a perfect personification of sorrow.

You stand your ground and cry in place, refusing to move to him for comfort. Eventually, he breaks first, unable to watch you sob any longer.

“My darling,” he soothes, striding across the space to wrap his arms around you. “My sweet girl.”

His nicknames only make you cry harder, burying your face in his crisp white dress shirt and undoubtedly getting makeup all over it. He doesn’t care, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other wraps around your waist to pull you closer.

“That was really mean,” you blubber into his chest. “Do you actually want me to leave?”

“No,” he reassures, rocking you in his arms gently. “No, darling. No. God, that’s the last thing I want. Honest.”

“Why did you say it then?”

Your voice is muffled, face still pressed against him. He smells so familiar and masculine and Rupert that it only makes you cry more.

“I… I don’t know,” he confesses, squeezing you tighter. “I shouldn’t have. You know me, I- I say things I don’t mean when I’m angry.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Your fingers are gripping the back of his shirt, holding on for dear life.

“I know, darling. I know.”

You sniffle as you pull back slightly to look up at him, surprised to see his eyes teary and glistening.

“Do you love me, Rupert? Because, because- if you… if you really wanted me to leave… you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, cradling your face in his hands. “Of course I love you. The fact you even have to ask breaks my heart. I don’t want to you leave - I love having you here. And god forbid, if something bad did happen between us… we both know we wouldn’t stick around and pretend that this is something it’s not.”

Part of you knows that he’s good at this - saying exactly what you want and need to hear. The rest of you is stupidly relieved, letting his words wash over you like a balm on a scrape.

“I didn’t like it when you laughed at me tonight. One, because it made me feel stupid, and two… because I don’t want people to doubt us. You know what they’re all like. They see the tiniest crack and dig their fingers into it until it’s a gaping wound that they can all gossip about.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” he murmurs as he sweeps his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. “I shouldn’t give them any ammunition. I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t realise it would upset you so much. There was no malicious intent on my part, I swear - it was just a joke between friends. You know Bas adores you.”

“I know,” you half chuckle. “He tells me every single time he sees me.”

“Exactly,” Rupert grins, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But no one adores you the way I do. I can promise you that.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head against his chest. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, meaning you can feel his warm skin against your cheek, comforting and familiar.

“Rupert?”

He hums, encouraging you to continue.

“Will you stop bringing up my age when we argue? I don’t ever mention that you’re older than me, but you’re so quick to call me young or inexperienced or a baby.”

“Yes, darling. I’m sorry that it seems like a focal point for us - it’s not, I swear.”

“You kissed me.”

“Hmm?”

“You kissed me, that day in the garden. Not the other way around. You made the move first. I’m not some innocent girl chasing after you because I’m naive and too young to know any better.”

“I know that. I kissed you because I thought you were the most magnificent girl I’d ever met. I still do.”

He tightens his arms around you, gently rocking you like a child again.

“I don’t want to argue anymore,” you mumble, sighing deeply.

“Neither do I, darling. We’re finished with the arguing now. Promise.”

Rupert takes half a step back, to give him a better look at you. You still look beautiful, even if you do have mascara running down your cheeks and lipstick smudged across your face.

“I love you,” he murmurs as he leans in to kiss you.

“I love you too,” you manage to mutter against his lips, kissing him back as hard as you can.

He kisses you carefully, methodically, as if he’s worried he’ll spook you and you’ll take off running. He’s keeping you close, hands gripping your hips to plaster your body to his. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging the dark locks with a little too much force, which he doesn’t seem to mind.

Rupert walks you both towards the fire, lips never parting from yours. His hand finds the back of your dress, pulling down the zip in one smooth movement. It falls to your feet, kicked to the side in disregard. He sits down in the armchair and pulls you with him so you’re straddling his lap, legs on either side of his hips and arms thrown around his neck.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, fingers tracing patterns up and down your bare back.

You press kisses into his neck and down his chest, the hair there tickling your face as you do it. Your hips have slowly started to move against his, both of you out of breath as the stakes get higher and higher.

He undoes the zip on his trousers, smirking when you whimper at his knuckles brushing your wet core. He pulls them down just enough to free himself, not worried about getting completely undressed.

“I want these off,” he instructs, pulling at the waistband of your underwear. “Now, darling.”

You wiggle them down your legs, kicking them off one foot in the direction of your dress. You’re fully naked in his lap, while he’s still wearing his shirt unbuttoned with his trousers halfway down his thighs. You both look debauched, more scandalous than you could ever imagine. You wish for a moment that you had a mirror, desperate to watch the way you need each other.

You take matters into your own hands and line him up, sinking down slowly so you can savour the stretch. It burns just right, the slight ache a welcome intrusion.

“Shit, darling. That’s it. Good girl.”

Tangling your fingers into the back of his hair, you start to wind your hips up and down - gently at first, and then with more vigour. Rupert lets his head loll back into the chair, exposing that gorgeously tanned neck of his. You nip at it with your teeth, grinning when he groans all low and slow.

He cups your tits, squeezing and pinching as he begins to buck his hips to meet yours. You’re determined to do all the work yourself, but he can read your body language like a book, whether you like it or not. He knows you’re getting tired, but will point blank refuse to admit it.

One of his hands slinks between you to rub firm circles onto your clit, both of you moaning when you clench down around him. He can tell you’re almost there, just needing the tiniest push to throw you over the edge.

“There we go, good girl. My good girl. All mine.”

That’s all you need, back arching and legs shaking as you reach your climax. Yours triggers Rupert’s, the most delicious groan leaving his mouth as he comes. He looks like a Greek God, all chiseled and glistening in the firelight.

Burying your head into the crook of his neck, you breathe him and try to calm your pounding heart. You can feel his heart battering against his chest where it’s pressed against yours, bodies tangled together in the armchair.

The two of you catch your breath for a while, revelling in the warmth of the fire and the company of the other. Eventually, Rupert carries you upstairs, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear and stroking your hair as he does it.

I was wrong, earlier, you think as he tucks you into bed and immediately climbs in next to you, plastering himself to your back. No one could love me like Rupert does.

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, even if I sound like a broken record…

reblogs are gold dust to writers!! reblog the fics you read and enjoy, and your favourite writers will keep writing them for you!! it really is that simple!! <3

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jenoslutie · 1 day ago

Text

bad idea, right? l l.dh

❥ Synopsis: You swear you've moved on, you swear you're happy in your relationship. But why is Donghyuck still on your mind? and why are you in his bed again

❥ Genre: Ex FWB!Donghyuck, Bf!Jeno, angst, smut, ??? with benefits au, she is toxic.

❥ Warnings: disloyalty, blackmailing, suggestive but no actual smut, just a whole lot of shitty behaviour from mc, even more implications to recording during sex jeno x reader, haechan x reader. not a happy ending.

❥ Word count: 3.8K

❥ a/n: hellooo angels <3 so uh, this is part 2 of is it casual!!! i KNOW this is not what u guys wanted but i fear this is how the story went!!! as always, feedback is much appreciated :P !! also THANK U TO @be-my-sunrise and @hanniesbrat for letting me yap to you guys about this odd ass fic LMAO

You hated the fact your boyfriend was roommates with the man that ruined you. You hated walking into your boyfriend’s apartment and seeing his face there, staring back at you as if nothing ever happened. You hated having sex with your boyfriend knowing he could come home at any time and hear you. You hated the fact that he still thought that your boyfriend was your friend and treated him like one.

Jeno, your boyfriend, has been nothing but the best to you. He comforted you through all the late nights you wanted to spend crying, he held you through every moment you spent crying over that fucker until you realized how much you really like him. No man has ever treated you the way Jeno has. No love has ever compared to the love Jeno has given you and you wouldn't trade it for the word.

“Jeno, I really don’t want to see him, can you just come over instead?”

That’s how alot of your nights went,

baby <3: donghyuck told me i need to move out baby <3: he fucking sucks baby <3: he said i need to break up with u or leave because he can't stand seeing u around

you: what the actual fuck you: i'm so sorry you: he actually sucks so bad you: you’re welcome to move in with me in the meantime you: or however long u want you: i'm so sorry for dragging u into this mess jen you: seriously

baby <3: it’s not your fault baby baby <3: we’re in this together.

“You packing up your shit or what, loverboy?” Donghyuck smirked, leaning against Jeno’s door frame.

“Use your eyes, Donghyuck.” Jeno scoffed, not sparing him a glance. He continued to pack his stuff into his boxes.

“Oh, don’t forget to pack your girlfriend’s clothes! In Fact, I might have some in my room too, you want me to bring them to you?”

“Fuck off, Donghyuck.”

One thing you know for sure is Donghyuck fucking sucks. If he didn’t make that clear the first time around. You’d say you wish the worst upon him. However, some nights, you get deep in your thoughts and thoughts about your relationship with Donghyuck and you miss it. But one thing never changed, you always had Jeno by your side, every time, without fail.

“Jeno, what if I never met you?”

“Where’s this coming from?” He chuckled, pulling you in closer and kissing your head for reassurance. “I’m sure i’d find you one way or another, you're my person”

It was little things like this that made you fall for him. You truly believe Jeno was the one for you. No one treated you half as good as he did.

“I never want to leave you, angel. You’re mine forever” You smiled, cuddling closer to Jeno, you smiled to yourself when his scent hit you. He smelled heavenly, like he always did, the same comfort and warmth that drew you into him in the first place making you desire him even more today.

unknown: hey unknown: i'm sure you know who this is unknown: we need to talk unknown: don’t tell jeno.

Your heart sank. Donghyuck? It can’t be.

you: who is this?

unknown: [attachment: 1 video] unknown: remember me?

Your jaw dropped, clicking on the video to see you bent over the sink in a bathroom you could never forget, ever. Your hair a mess, you're deliriously calling yourself ‘his forever’. You fucking hated that he had anything to black mail you with such as this. You hated yourself for giving him that type of power.

you: donghyuck. you: we have nothing to say to each other you: dont try to contact me again

unknown: you’d be fine with me sending this to your boyfriend though, right?

Immediately, you called him. He was sick in the head and only got more and more out of hand.

“Donghyuck, you’re not fucking funny” you spat, venom laced in every word

“Funny? Babe, who said I was trying to be funny?” He chuckled “I’m serious, did you forget your little boyfriend lives right next door?”

You heard him knock on the wall, screaming out your boyfriend’s name. “Jeno!”

“Shut the fuck up!” A faint voice in the back.

“Fuck off, Donghyuck.” And with that you hung up, falling back onto your bed with a sigh.

“Jeno stop! They’ll hear us” You giggled, lightly pushing Jeno’s head away from his spot in between your legs. He’d been trying to get you worked up through your clothes the whole time youve been over at his apartment. This was the last week of him living here before he officially moves in with you and you both were ecstatic. Last week you’d have to see his face, last week you’d have to be in constant fear that he’ll overhear you and Jeno having sex and last week you’d have to even think about him.

“We’re alone, baby” he pinned your arms down with one hand. “Let me eat you out baby, promise you’ll be good?” You gave in, nodding at the promise of Jenos mouth on you.

“I’ll be good.”

Jeno was talented with his tongue. His technique was unlike any other. He knew how to have you arching into his touch, begging for more, cumming within seconds. You’d describe him as a walking sex god. His way of having you craving more was unmatched. And you don’t think you’ve ever had anyone quite like that before. Not even Donghyuck.

“Stop thinking about that fucker” Your boyfriend frowned, he could read you like a book and you genuinely dont know how he does it “He doesnt matter right now, it’s just you and me baby”

‘I love you, Jeno”

“I love you more than you can imagine, baby”

He kissed you hard, taking your mind off anything you’d been thinking of before. All you could think of Jeno’s mouth on yours, kissing you with everything he had. Within a moment, Jeno had you undressed, laying under him in all your naked glory. Smiling your love drunk smile at him. Jeno trailed kisses down your body, all the way down to your pussy.

“Jeno?” you called out, looking down at him with big, innocent eyes.

“Yes, baby?” he smiled at you sweetly, starting to trail his tongue along your slit, “Pretty, pretty pussy” he mumbled under his breath.

“Please fuck me already, I cant wait anymore. I need you in me” You pleaded, knowing your boyfriend would do anything but deny you anything.

“God, I love you. Anything for you baby” He took no time before hovering over you again, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. “My angel, all mine.”

“She’s yours?” A voice suddenly interrupted you, a voice that was all too familiar. Jeno’s body hurriedly covered yours, protecting you from the eyes of the intruder.

“Donghyuck, get the fuck out” Jeno spat.

“No, If i remember correctly, she’s mine”

“I was never yours,” You countered, pulling Jeno onto you closer.

“Oh yeah? You want me to show you the video? As far as i know, your little boyfriend here still hasn’t seen it”

You felt Jeno freeze, “What video?” Jeno asked you, looking at you with nothing but confusion in his eyes.

Donghyuck kissed his teeth, “Oh, guess I shouldn't have brought that up right now. right, Y/N?”

“Donghyuck, just get the fuck out.”

Jeno pulled away from you as soon as Donghyuck left.

“What video?” He repeated, looking into your eyes with the same hurt that you once looked into his with. “Donghyuck recorded a video of us the last time we fucked, it was at his parents house on christmas, remember? Well, basically in the video he made me say I’m his forever. And he wont stop blackmailing me with it”

Jeno sighed. “He's blackmailing you?”

“Yeah, look.” you reached for your phone to find the messages Donghyuck had sent you the other day. You looked away from Jeno, feeling ashamed from the whole situation. Donghyuck apparently lived to humiliate you, never letting you catch a break from his antics.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” He hugged you, pulling your naked body against his own. “You could’ve told me sooner, I could’ve dealt with him myself” Tears were threatening to slip from your eyes, feeling overwhelmed by Jeno’s loving words and Donghyuck’s bullshit.

“But i couldn’t, Jeno” Full on sobbing now, you let the tears fall freely down your cheeks. “I was too scared, he’s insane Jeno” Jeno just hummed, rubbing your back reassuringly.

“You’re not mad?” You asked

“It’s not fair of me to be mad, this happened before we were dating, it’s not fair for me to hold that against you.” He smiled, pulling away to look at your red, puffy, tear stained face. “My baby. Not his, I promise I’ll get us out of here as soon as i can”

donghyuck: i heard u and ur little bf were on a break donghyuck: i think i have some ways to make your break worthwhile babe

you: i'm not your babe. donghyuck. you: plus, you’re the reason we’re on break in the first place. you: dont contact me again, please.

donghyuck: you know you miss me y/n. donghyuck: don’t you miss the way i made you go crazy? donghyuck: remember the time in my car? after i caught you kissing that fucking loser chenle? donghyuck: you were on me like you needed me to breathe. you can’t even deny it. donghyuck: now open the door baby, i’m outside.

You were quick to open the front door, seeing Donghyuck standing infront of you with that stupid fucking smirk on his face. He knew that was your weakness. He knew he was your weakness.

“Miss me?” You hated his cocky tone. You hated that you actually opened the door for him. You hated that you actually did miss him. He let out a chuckle at your silence, he knew how to read you like none other. Not even Jeno.

“C’mon, let me in. You know you want to” You hated yourself for actually stepping aside and allowing him into your house, into your safe space. Memories of the endless nights you spent crying over him in the safety of your own house all blurry.

“H-Hyuck..”

“Oh? We’re back to Hyuck now?”

“Is it bad that I want you to kiss me right now?” Your words were hushed but loud enough for him.

“Yeah?” You nodded, looking down at your feet, too scared to look at him. “Why don’t you beg for it? Since you like to do that a whole lot hmm?” He smiled when he heard you whimper, inching closer to you slowly until he was close enough to wrap his arms around you.

“Are you gonna beg or are you gonna make me wait longer?” Immediately, a sob left your lips “Hyuck, please kiss me. I missed your lips on mine so much”

And without another word, his lips were pressing onto yours with the same intensity you craved, the same intensity that once drew you into him. You swear you almost fell for him again when he cups your face, tilting your head up and deepening the kiss. He began walking, lips still on yours forcing you to walk backwards blindly until suddenly you were falling back onto your couch where he followed suit.

You pulled away, admiring the honey skinned man above you with a small smile. “I missed this” A soft smile mirrored the one adorning your face.

“I missed you like crazy, no other girl compared to you”

“Why’d it take you so long to realize?” He paused, staring at you blankly.

“Just– took me a minute..” with a sigh, he leaned down and kissed you again, trailing his hands under your shirt. Grazing your warm skin with his cold hands, sending chills through your body.

“You gonna let me fuck you? Remind you how I'm so much better than your little boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh? Last time I checked you were smitten over that guy”

You hated where this conversation was going so you tried your best to change the topic, “You’re the one about to fuck me right now no?”

“Shut u–” He was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing.

Jeno.

Jeno has given you space for almost a month now. Only sending you messages to check in on you occasionally. All to which you replied positively, ensuring him that you’ll be ready to get back with him soon. In reality though, you were nowhere near getting back with Jeno. You spent nearly every night of the past month in Donghyuck’s bed, either cuddled into him or you under him. Something about the way Donghyuck made you feel was unmatched and you’ll never get sick of saying that.

You stepped into Donghyuck’s kitchen early in the morning, seeing him in just a pair of grey sweatpants with his back turned towards you. It didn’t take long for the waft of the pancakes he’d been cooking up to reach you.

You gawked, “You’re making breakfast?” He turned to you, an unimpressed look on his face (though you could see him fighting a smile.) “Does that surprise you?” and you fought the urge to affirm that it does truly surprise you to see him doing something nice for you.

Instead, you hummed, “No, not really.” With a small smile on your lips, you walked up to Donghyuck who had switched his attention back to the pancakes he had cooking on the stove, wrapping your arms around his bare torso. His skin was soft and warm under your touch.

“Good morning, angel” He hummed, placing a hand over yours. The two of you swayed in a comfortable silence. This is how times with Donghyuck usually went, quiet and calm until he was suddenly kissing up on you, feeling up on you or begging to be inside you.

“You wanna sit and wait at the table for me?” You chirped a “sure” and detached from him, making your way over to the dining table, sitting down on your favourite chair.

baby <3: good morning angel baby <3: can i see you today? baby <3: i miss you, wanna hear your voice so bad :(

you: of course you can :) you: actually, let me just call you right now. you can still come over later tho :P

It didn't take long for an incoming call from Jeno to come through.

“Good morning angel” You could hear his smile through the phone. A smile creeping up on your own face just from picturing the beautiful smile adorning his face. “Good morning, handsome” He chuckled, “You sleep well?”

“You could say that..” You trailed off, thinking of the way you were cuddled into Hyuck last night, the warmth of his body keeping your own body warm. You slept better than you have in a while.

“I miss sleeping with you” Jeno admits, the pout in his voice too obvious. You frowned, feeling the guilt take over you.

“You can stay the night tonight if you want” You lowered your voice, hoping Hyuck wouldn’t hear all the way in the kitchen.

“Oh, no, I still want to give you space! I think i’d be impeding a little if I were to stay the night”

“I don't think so, you’re welcome to stay”

You heard him sigh in relief, “Okay then, I’ll come by in a bit.”

“See you soon, angel.”

You bid your farewells and that's when you noticed Hyuck walking into the room. “Who was that?” He questioned, setting the two plates of pancakes down. You broke eye contact with him, focusing your attention onto the pancakes in front of you.

“I asked you something, you know?”

“It was Jeno.”

He hummed, wordlessly digging into his own plate of pancakes. You felt so guilty. This isn’t where you belonged. You belong next to Jeno, in his arms, under him, near him. You belong with Jeno. Someone who treats you like a proper human. But you found yourself running back to Donghyuck and you hated it. Worst part of it all? Donghyuck didn’t even know you and Jeno aren’t officially broken up. You’d been too scared to tell him, too scared of the possibility of losing Donghyuck in your life. So you’d decide it’s best if he doesn’t know your relationship with Jeno. It’s not even like it matters, right?

“What the actual fuck” Jeno gawked, looking down on his phone screen. He’d originally planned for today to be a rest day after the hell of a day he had at work yesterday but his peace was disrupted when suddenly he got a text from his ex roommate.

donghyuck: hey jeno donghyuck: its me donghyuck donghyuck: i know you might hate me right now but you might wanna see this. donghyuck: [attachment: 1 video] donghyuck: before you come for me, i had no clue you guys weren’t officially broken up at the time of this donghyuck: im sorry jeno.

Attached was a video of a girl, naked body on all fours as the person behind the camera (presumingly Donghyuck) pounded into her from behind. The problem? The problem was the girl had the same hair as you, the same body, the same everything as you. Even that little tattoo on your shoulder that read “delicate” in a beautiful cursive font that Jeno had helped pick out. Everything was you.

jeno: donghyuck. jeno: thanks for this… i genuinely can't believe it.

Within a heartbeat, Jeno was pulling up your contact.

baby <3: hi angel baby <3: can i come over? i left my hoodie at ur house and i need it

you: sureeee thing! you: let me know when ur abt to reach <3

Jeno, furious, hurriedly grabbed his keys and got in his car. He thought after what you’d been through, you’d know how it feels to get your heartbroken like this. He’d expected you of all people to be better than this but no, you had to be the absolute worst of them all. He thought maybe you of all people would keep his heart safe but no, you clearly gave no fucks about him or his heart.

He managed to calm down by the time he got to your apartment. Breathing in and out before ringing the doorbell.

“Hi Jen!” You chirped, allowing him in. You were wearing an oversized shirt that exposed your newly tattooed shoulder. The same tattoo that was visible in the video. Jeno’s heart sank the more he looked at you. The girl he once gave his heart, his love, his everything to, is the one who he’s currently dreading speaking to. In other words, he hates you right now. Hate was one word he would’ve never imagined using with you.

“You okay, love?” you frowned, wrapping your arms around him tightly, pulling him close into you. He hated the innocent look on your face as you peered up into his own. He had a soulless look in his eyes. “I’m fine,” He forced a tight lipped smile, peeling your arms off him. “I’m gonna– uh, grab my clothes.”

You watched as he walked into your room and went straight for your closet, rummaging through to find his hoodie.

“Jeno” You started, walking into the room behind him. “What’s wrong? Talk to me baby,”

Jeno sneered, turning around to look at you with narrowed eyes. “What's wrong Y/N?” His voice raised, he wasn't yelling but it was clear that he was upset. “What’s wrong is while I gave you space to figure out your shit with Donghyuck, you went out and were fucking him. While continuing to lead me on. Isn’t that wrong, Y/N? Don’t you think I deserve any loyalty? Any love in return? While I sat here, impatiently waiting for you to come back to me, you were taking advantage of it and fucking the reason we were on break. Don’t you remember how we met in the first place? All those nights I spent being a shoulder for you to cry on, being there for you every step of the way. Don’t you think I deserve anything?” The hurt in his eyes was more than evident. You looked dumbfounded, eyes wide in shock as you stood frozen.

“Jeno–” You cut yourself off, at a loss for words. Sighing in defeat, you gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I felt so incredibly guilty everytime, but something in me just couldn't stop. I hate myself for doing it and you deserve to hate me for it too but I’m so sorry.”

“I loved you, Y/N. How do you think it feels when your girlfriend’s ex fling– or whatever he was, texts you randomly, telling you that your girlfriend had been fucking him the whole time you’d been on break? It’s not a great feeling, I’ll tell you that. Oh, and having to see a video of it? Even worse. I’m sorry Y/N but I don’t deserve this. I gave you my everything and you couldn’t even spare me an ounce of loyalty.”

“Jeno, a-are you leaving me?” He felt like laughing in your face, do you seriously think he’ll stay after this?

“Genuinely, do you think I’d wanna stay after the fact, Y/N? Honestly, I want nothing to do with you anymore. Consider us done.” He gave you that same, tight lipped smile, gathered his belongings and walked out your bedroom door.

“Jeno!” You called out, he stopped in his steps, turning to look at you one last time “I’m so sorry, I love you.” Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

“No, you really don't. Goodbye Y/N, don’t contact me again, please, for my sake.” And with that, he walked out your door, leaving you broken and in tears. You had no one to blame but yourself. If you hadn’t let Donghyuck in that day, you would have saved yourself from this mess, you would've still have Jeno in your life and you wouldn't be here, crying in your doorway.

Filled with rage, you dialled Donghyuck’s number, he picked up on the second ring.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He spat, you could tell he was angry. “You had me thinking this whole time, you’d broken up but in reality, you were leading on poor Jeno and still fucking me? How do you think that makes either of us feel? I know I did something wrong the first time around but this time? You fucked up, Y/N.”

“Hyuck liste–”

“Don’t call me, Y/N.”

With that, he hung up. Your heart dropped, you felt as if you’d lost it all in the span of under an hour. All that you cared about in life had been ripped out of your hands with no one to blame but yourself. You hated what you’d done, hated what you’d done to these two poor men. Neither of them deserved it, especially Jeno and you had no way of going back in time and fixing it.

#nct smut #jeno smut #nct dream smut #haechan smut #donghyuck smut #nct 127 smut

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torgerandsuzanne · 14 hours ago

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Just finished listening to Toto on the Armchair Expert with Dax Shepard. Such a great fun interview. Toto really opens up on a variety of topics. Some highlights:

His childhood: He talks about growing up, his dad being ill, how that affected him and his mom not being present. His mom who is 79 and “not doing well”, told him “I wasn’t a good mother.” He says he told her “I forgive you because I know how hard it was to be at home and see the suffering” 😢

Anxiety about failure: He says that in the years past he was always fearing failure. “Everything could end tomorrow. The racing, the winning, the money—gone. My wife leaves me for the hairdresser.” 😂 (Dax says it’s the personal trainer Susie would have left him for not the hairdresser 🤣) But he says a couple of years ago, he let go of that fear “I realized that I have an amazing relationship with my kids. I have the best wife I can Imagine. I’ve done what I wanted to do. That’s why I have peace if I were dying today” ❤️

Susie’s call during the interview: Toto says his phone is always on silent unless Susie or the kids call. In that case he has a ringtone override. His phone rang during the interview. It was Susie. Dax was yelling “I love you”. Toto passed him the phone and Dax told her “If my wife dies and Toto dies, I am sprinting to you” 😂

The love and respect for Susie: He said if she wanted to grow her career in motorsport he would give up his role as a team principal “She’s such a good manager and entrepreneur. She could do so much more. And I’m saying to her, if you were to have a career in motorsport and you were conflicted with me, I would step out of an executive role” ❤️

She doesn’t like his mirror poses “We have fun at home. When you’re in front of a mirror and you’re doing some stupid posing. Yeah she says that’s really turning me off” 😂

The “model cliche“ discussion with Dax: Toto and Dax talk about the cliche of being with a model. “If a girl stares at her own pictures on the computer, that’s a warning sign for me” 😂 One of his friends got together with a younger lady who then dumped him, Susie told the guy “what did you expect” 🤣

He’s not into fashion: “I’m the most boring fashion guy”

Free diving with George done wrong: He went free diving with George while Netflix crew was there to film. But he ended up bursting his eardrum, and the whole thing fell apart 😅

His go-to drink is vodka, nothing else: 😂 “I don’t drink wine. I don’t drink beer because of gluten. It doesn’t do me well. If I’m drinking alcohol, then it’s full blast vodka. You don’t drink huge amounts and after 20 minutes you’re already having fun. The liquid is not huge and you’re not mixing. So I don’t feel sick. I don’t feel bad the next day. No hangover”

He never got into drugs: He shares a story about trying a “water pipe” with friends when he was 16. Afterward, he went to the subway station and realized he didn’t have his shoes on 😂. But he says he stayed away from the heavier stuff because, “I was always mentally fragile, and I was scared it would leave me in a dark place.”

Lewis gave him his motorcycle as a gift ❤️: He shared a story about Lewis coming over to have dinner with him and Susie in Monaco. He told them to come down, that he needed to show them something and then he told Toto “You’ve done so many great things, and together we’ve accomplished so much. I’ve never given you a gift before so I want you to have this, the #1 bike out of 44 edition series.” (he gave him a MV Agusta Lewis Hamilton edition)

#toto wolff #susie wolff #f1 #dax shepard #lewis hamilton

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mawofthemagnetar · 3 days ago

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Also available below the cut, for those who prefer to read it on Tumblr.

Keralis lined up the crossbow, closing one eye to narrow his aim.

Joe, his back to a tree, folded his arms and tried not to move too much. The apple on his head was already wobbling crazily, and if it fell off again Keralis would win this round by default.

“Hold still,” Keralis said, sticking his tongue out as he lined up the shot. From the slit in his back, a few tendrils the width of a finger slithered out, snapping at the air to help him focus.

He pulled the trigger-

The arrow smashed into the tree a good two inches above the apple, and Joe took the apple off his head as Keralis loaded a fresh arrow.

“You missed.” Joe said helpfully.

“I know I missed!” Keralis muttered, “This crossbow is all wrong.”

There was a pause, as he reloaded and Joe put the apple back on his head.

And Joe hummed.

“Y’know,” He said, “Last night, I was talking to Cleo.”

“Sweetface,” Keralis grunted, as he lined up his shot again, “That is completely redundant. Last night I had some food and went to bed. We know.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Joe sighed, “But I was…I guess I was just thinking, right?”

Keralis nodded, the crossbow bobbing up and down.

“And? What were we sinking about, hmmm?”

Joe hummed.

“You ever heard that poem? The measure of a man?”

“...No.” Keralis said, “Enlighten me?”

And he fired.

The arrow did not hit the apple. Instead, it smashed right into the middle of Joe’s forehead, and Joe winced and rolled his eyes up to look at it, sighing mightily.

“You missed.”

“I get three shots!” Keralis protested.

“Keralis, I’m on half a heart. I thought we said no enchanted crossbows.”

“It’s not! It- oh, maybe it is. Who enchanted this?” Keralis scowled, “I didn’t want an enchanted crossbow! I’m sorry, Joe.”

He stomped over to the nearby chest, dropping it in, and pulling out a fresh one. He examined it and, after an approving nod from Joe, he strolled back to the firing line and loaded another arrow.

“Anyway. You were saying? The measure of a man?” Keralis asked, as the arrow clicked into place.

“Yeah, the measure of a man. It’s a poem I read a long time ago. Don’t know who it’s by. It’s sort of…you know, how do we measure what a good man is? And, like, obviously that’s incredibly reductive, because not everyone’s a ‘man’, but-”

Keralis lowered the crossbow.

“But?”

“But let’s say ‘man’ in the, like, the poetic sense. Right?”

Keralis shrugged.

“Joe, neither of us is “a man” in any sense.” He said, “I’m not even human, you’re…you… So are you sure we have a say in this?”

Joe shrugged.

“It’s worth the discussion. And besides, if we redefine ‘man’ to be a poemy ‘person’, then…whatever. Anyway, take your shot. I want to have my turn.” Joe gestured, and Keralis shrugged.

He lined up again, and fired.

This arrow hit Joe in the neck, and he burst into code, instantly respawning in the bed beside the tree.

“You were saying?” Keralis said, handing Joe the crossbow and walking over to the tree, picking up the apple and putting it on his head.

“I was saying, right. So we’ll go with “man” in the poetic sense, to refer to a person. Right? So, in the poem, you can’t measure a man by his treasure or his creed. You measure by what he gives and how he helps those in need. But…I feel it’s missing something.”

Joe loaded the crossbow with an arrow, and approached the firing line.

Keralis snorted.

“So what? You sink we find a way to measure a man? They invented that, Joe. A metre stick and a scale.”

Joe snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re very clever.”

“Spank you, sweetface!”

“And not even slightly smug.”

Keralis giggled, and Joe rolled his eyes fondly.

“Anyway. I more meant, you know. Character?”

Joe lined up his shot, and fired.

Keralis grunted as the arrow struck him in the stomach, and foul ichor started to leak from the wound. He sighed, everting a thin black tendril from his slit, and wrapped it around the arrow, ripping it out with a gush of more foul…stuff. The tendril snapped the arrow in half, and tossed it away with an errant flick. The wound continued to bleed, and Keralis frowned.

“You missed. Five hearts.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway. Thoughts?”

Keralis hummed as Joe loaded another arrow.

“I sink a man is a man by what he does,” Keralis hummed, “A man is a man because he says he will do a thing, and then he goes and does it.”

“But that can’t be it, either,” Joe said, as the arrow clicked into place, “Because, like. A guy can say, ‘oh I’m gonna go run a world eater over the spawn village’ and go do it, and then, well, then he’s a terrible person.”

Keralis nodded.

“So maybe not deeds? But with that example, how can it not be deeds? Doesn’t a man doing a bad thing tell you a lot about him, too?”

Joe fired, and this arrow struck Keralis in the shoulder, prompting another gush of black ichor and a hiss of pain.

“One heart. And you missed.” Keralis muttered, the apple wobbling crazily on his head.

“Sorry.” Joe said, as Keralis again pulled the arrow out and snapped it.

“Don’t apologize. It’s the game.” Keralis shrugged.

Joe shrugged, and loaded another arrow, letting it click into place.

“So we can, to a point, measure a man by his deeds.” Joe said, “Because… like, you can also force people to do bad things. So to a point. But thoughts lead to words lead to deeds. Right? But that’s not everything. We’re missing part of it.”

“Sure?” Keralis shrugged, as Joe lined up another shot.

“I dunno. Thoughts?”

“Well. Thoughts, I suppose?” Keralis offered, still leaking toxic black goo on the ground from his wounds, “If a man says he will do a thing and does another. If he goes and tells lies, then he’s not a good man. So we can judge him by his truths too?”

“Yeah, but…hang on. Hold that thought.”

Joe fired again, and this arrow hit Keralis square in the eye, prompting a hiss of pain and an instant respawn.

The apple fell straight down, bouncing off the grass and rolling away, and Joe sighed.

Keralis walked over to him, making grabby hands, and Joe handed the crossbow over and picked up the apple, putting it on his head.

“We can’t measure a man on his thoughts,” Joe said, “‘Cause, like, I don’t know about you, but I get CRAZY intrusive thoughts, all the damn time-”

Keralis stopped loading his crossbow and nodded frantically.

“Yeah! Yeah yeah yeah. Like, if you measured me on the thoughts that pop into my head, I’d be such a bad person. I want to eat people’s faces sometimes! But I never do. Even if they look tasty, I never would. Because…that’s…evil?” Keralis said, loading the arrow with a click.

“Yeah, or like, you’re on top of a high build with Doc and the voice in your head just blurts out “push him off” and you’re like, hey, where did that come from?” Joe said, as Keralis lined his shot up.

“So not thoughts,” Keralis said, aiming carefully, “And deeds, maybe. But… I dunno, Joe. I was always a bad philosopher.”

“Yeah, well, we all are, in the end.” Joe said, as Keralis fired.

The arrow slammed into Joe’s heart, and he grunted, taking seven hearts of damage in an instant. Keralis winced.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Joe grunted, as a gush of red blood poured out of the wound, “I agreed to this.”

Keralis frowned, and lowered the crossbow. Behind the tree, he could see other Hermit’s builds, and more importantly, Jevin scurrying around doing…something. He was being chased by Cub, so clearly it was important.

Keralis’ frown deepened, and he gestured between himself and Joe.

“You agreed. I agreed. But I don’t think anyone else agreed. Do you wanna-?”

“Put up a wall? Yeah, I was just thinking that,” Joe said, chugging a health potion and then rummaging in his inventory for a few stacks of blocks.

A few minutes of fussing later (In which Joe attempted to build a plain cobblestone wall, Keralis had an apoplectic fit, and redecorated it into a clean white modern wall with delicate minimalist wall-lamps and soft banners) they had a barrier put up behind the tree, and Joe took his place against it.

He put the apple back on his head, and folded his arms.

“See, now, THAT,” Joe said, “You agreed, and I agreed, and we’re doing this. But, like, Jevin didn’t. So-”

“Can’t have Jevin get hit. He’s not playing William Tell,” Keralis agreed, loading another arrow.

“So what does that mean, for our measure of a man?” Joe hummed, as Keralis lined up another shot.

“It means…we care? I guess?” Keralis said, lining up some more, “I am not good at this, Joe.”

“Well, I guess. But like…Hmm.”

Keralis fired, and the arrow slammed into Joe’s shoulder, prompting a hiss of pain.

“Eight hearts left,” Joe gasped, and Keralis nodded.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Joe hummed, as Keralis loaded up the crossbow with another click.

“I sink,” Keralis said, “that the measure of a man is how he treats others.”

Joe nodded, and the apple wobbled crazily.

“See, now we’re on to something. You can only measure a man by the actions you can see. The world in someone’s head is, y’know, completely invisible to you. But like…”

“But what a man does, is what he thinks for himself,” Keralis said, “So when I think, “I should eat a face”, but then I DON’T, it’s because I know I never will and I shouldn’t.”

“Exactly. And you do that, because…”

“Because I care,” Keralis said, “I do it because I don’t wanna hurt people. Besides, uh…”

Joe burst out laughing, hard enough to knock the crossbow bolt loose. A splash of blood hit the ground along with it, and he giggled a bit more..

“Keralis, once again, we both agreed to this. Besides, this minigame needed testing.”

“So do the philosophy debates come free with the game?” Keralis asked, and Joe laughed again.

“William Tell’s Philosophy Class. Yeah, I think it does.” Joe snickered, and Keralis lined up again.

Keralis closed his eye and stuck his tongue out, lining up his shot on the apple with care.

“So I think, to sum up,” Joe said, “You look to deeds to inform knowledge of thoughts. And you look to see how a man treats every person he meets, to see what lurks in the depths of his heart. And that, I guess, is how you take the measure of a man?”

Keralis fired.

The arrow flew, perfectly straight, and smashed clean into the apple. It split in half, each piece hitting the grass on either side of Joe, and the arrow embedded itself an inch deep into the tree.

“Bullseye!” Keralis cheered.

#magnetar writes #Hermitfic #Keralis #Joe Hills #Hermitcraft fanfic #Hermitcraft fic #Eldritch horror keralis

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luvismenu · 2 days ago

Text

09 — miss your touch ✎ ,, index

nsfw warnings: kissing.

note: she's not pregnant you guys dw 😭

wc: 3.4k

a week.

it's been a week since you've seen jungkook.

there were a few texts from him, asking if you were okay, but nothing beyond that. you answered with short replies; a yes or a no. sometimes, you asked how he was, and he'd say he's okay. but there’s a clear shift now, an invisible line drawn between you two.

a line you’d already crossed once but now seem to be retreating behind. back to where you started; strangers who just happened to share something.

you might’ve overreacted.

the thought stings, but yeah, maybe you did. he wasn’t even that late. you believe him when he said he had to deal with something. that something being a female, it’s not like he hid it. still, for reasons you can’t explain, just thinking about it makes you roll your eyes.

but he came straight to you after that.

and you know jungkook doesn’t lie. at least, that’s what you’ve learned about him in these two months.

two months.

it’s been two months, and yet here you are, acting as if he’s yours.

he isn’t.

and that’s good. you don’t want a relationship. you never did. relationships are nothing but unnecessary stress or drama. or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

you can’t let jungkook fall into the “relationship” category. but calling him your casual fuck buddy feels off, because you’re both closer than that now. thinking of him as just a friend, though... that feels wrong. unnatural, even.

it’s so complicated.

it shouldn’t be. but it is.

sometimes, it feels like he doesn’t care. you wish he’d show more emotions, something more than his usual calm, nonchalant demeanor.

it feels like you’re the only one overthinking this while he’s just... fine. unaffected.

why do i feel like a wreck? is it just me? you wonder.

you don't wanna miss his touch.

you don't wanna miss him.

but you miss him more than you want to admit.

and now, you don’t even know how to approach him. things feel so awkward. you’re not sure how to cross that line you’ve suddenly drawn.

a week without seeing him feels like forever. especially when, for the past two months, he’s been part of your every day. whether it was texts or calls, he was there.

which is why you’re here. at the business expo everyone’s been working so hard for.

you don’t know much about it, just the bare minimum yoongi mentioned. apparently, other majors can attend as long as they say they’re interested in learning something.

as if. you would never attend something like this.

but for him? for jungkook?

you’re here anyway.

jungkook feels like a wreck.

he misses you.

a lot.

but at the same time, he thinks he needed that break. from everything. a week isn’t much, but it gave him enough space to clear his head.

iseul tried to contact him again. he blocked her number.

then she tried to approach him in person. he blocked her out of his life too.

he knows she’s probably furious, and maybe even hurt, but he couldn’t let her keep dragging him into the same cycle. not anymore.

“jungkook, i’m sorry, honey, i didn’t mean to snap at you that day—” she said, her voice was soft, almost pleading.

but he cut her off, firm and final, his words heavy but deliberate.

“i think it’s for the best if we move on now.”

he couldn’t believe those words came out of his mouth, but for once, he didn’t regret them. saying it felt like a weight had been lifted, one he’d been carrying far too long.

it wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

now, though?

all he can think about is you.

you told him you were fine now. the conversations between you two since then have been brief, surface level, and awkward. it feels like a wall has been built, and though neither of you acknowledges it, it’s there.

jungkook wishes you’d talk to him soon, break through whatever tension is lingering.

when you told him to leave that day, he froze for a moment. it stung, but he understood. if you needed space, he’d give it to you. the last thing he wanted was to make things harder for you when you were already unwell.

but he feels awful.

all he did was add to your stress, and now the guilt is eating at him. he’s ready to do anything—absolutely anything—to make things right with you, to hear you say you forgive him.

yet, it feels strange.

why does he feel this way about you?

whatever this is between you, it was supposed to be no strings attached. that was the deal. you both made it clear from the beginning. but somewhere along the line, things shifted. you’re not just a hookup to him anymore. you’re so much more than that, though he’s not sure how to define it.

he wonders if he should set boundaries, remind himself of what this arrangement is supposed to be. but it’s hard—impossible, even. every time you’re together, he’s drawn to you. it’s like you’ve got this pull on him, and he doesn’t even want to resist it.

he doesn’t wanna miss your touch.

and right now?

right now, he just misses you. everything about you.

“jungkook, is that you?” a voice cuts through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. jungkook turns, searching for the source of the familiar voice.

“ah, it is you!”

his lips twitch into a smile when he spots the person approaching him.

“jin hyung,” he says, a little surprised to see him.

jin strides up to him, pulling him into a firm hug and patting his back.

“took you long enough to show up,” jungkook says as they pull apart, raising a brow.

jin lets out a dramatic sigh. “had to deal with things, you know how it is,” he says, waving a hand before flashing a grin. “but hey, i’m here now, aren’t i?”

“yeah, you are,” jungkook replies, shaking his head lightly, though the smile on his face betrays the faint scolding in his tone.

“oh, come on,” jin says, feigning offense. “is that it? is that all the welcome i get? give me a proper one! i am one of the guests tonight, after all.”

his grin grows wider, and jungkook can’t help but chuckle at his hyung’s playful energy.

where is jungkook?

you're in the auditorium, surrounded by bustling booths, neatly arranged tables, and groups of students passionately discussing their projects. you didn’t realize business majors went all out for an expo like this.

you feel like yelling his name at the top of your lungs. you've been walking around, searching through a sea of unfamiliar faces, but you can’t find him anywhere.

“uh, hey,” you say, tapping a guy’s shoulder, interrupting his conversation.

woah, this guy has really broad shoulders.

he turns around, and you’re momentarily taken aback. the man is tall, dressed in a suit that looks like it was tailored for him, glasses framing his handsome face, and hair styled perfectly.

“yes?” he asks, polite but slightly curious.

you hesitate, then decide to go for it. “do you know where i can find jungkook? i mean, jeon jungkook? he’s supposed to be here somewhere,” you say, unsure if he even knows who jungkook is. but you’re desperate now.

his lips curl into a small smile. “why, of course. i was just speaking with him a few minutes ago. he excused himself to use the restroom, so he should be back shortly.”

“thank you,” you reply quickly, already preparing to make your way toward the direction of the restrooms. maybe, just maybe, you’ll bump into him as he’s walking back.

“are you one of his friends?” the man asks suddenly, stopping you from taking a step forward.

you glance at him, unsure how to respond. “uh... yes, kinda. sure,” you say awkwardly. you catch the faint arch of his brow, as if your answer only piqued his curiosity more.

why didn’t i just say yes? you mentally scold yourself, feeling ridiculous.

clearing your throat, you quickly excuse yourself.

"excuse me,” you mumble before turning and walking away, hoping the restroom isn’t far and jungkook will finally appear.

you walk through the rows of booths, still scanning the area for any sign of jungkook. the loud chatter of students and the hum of discussions fill the air, but all you can focus on is the thought of finding him.

as you near the restrooms, you catch a glimpse of a familiar figure standing by the entrance, hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture relaxed yet somehow tense.

it’s him.

your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes you. he looks as good as ever, effortlessly drawing your eyes to him. he’s wearing a sharp black suit that fits him perfectly, making him look every bit as important as you’re sure he is. he must be a key figure in this expo, you think.

all you know is that he’s supposed to give some kind of presentation. that’s it. nothing more. you didn’t bother to find out the details because, honestly, none of it matters to you.

all you want right now is to see him.

you walk towards him, taking slow steps, unsure how to act. you haven't seen him in what feels like forever, and all that awkward tension you’ve been trying to ignore creeps back up.

when he notices you, his eyes widen for just a second before a small smile breaks across his face. it’s a smile you haven’t seen in a while.

“hey,” he greets you.

you nod, trying to keep your cool despite the rush of emotions. “hi,” you say, feeling your heart race. you look at him, searching his face for any clue about how he’s been, but you can't tell much.

“i didn’t think you’d show up,” he admits, his gaze flickering over you. “thought you were gonna skip it.”

“just wanted to see what this is all about.” you say, trying to sound casual

he chuckles softly, his eyesglancing down. “didn’t expect you to be interested in this stuff.”

“well, i’m not,” you say, feeling the need to explain yourself. “but i wanted to see you. jungkook.”

there’s a brief moment of silence as his expression shifts, and you can’t tell if he’s surprised or if he’s just been waiting for you to say something. his eyes meet yours, and there’s an intensity there that makes you second guess every word you just said.

“i’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he says quietly, stepping a little closer. “i know things have been... off. and honestly—”

loud chatter in the background interrupts him, making both of you exchange a quick glance before he speaks up again.

“follow me.”

you follow him without thinking. the sound of people fading away as you walk through the crowd. he leads you to what feels like an empty lecture hall, making sure to lock the door behind you. you stand there, waiting for him to speak, the quiet now heavy between you two.

“i know things have been different recently,” he starts again, his voice soft. “and i honestly don’t know why...” he sighs. “but i want to apologize for that day. i’m really sorry.”

you swallow, trying to steady yourself. “i forgive you,” you say, your voice steady, but there's still an uncertainty in your chest.

“really?” he looks at you, his gaze searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“yeah,” you nod, “i was just sick and i guess i overreacted a little, i’m sorry for that.”

he shakes his head quickly. “you didn’t. you didn’t overreact.”

a quiet but heavy silence fills the space between you both.

“so, uh, cool event,” you say, trying to break the tension.

“don’t act like you care,” jungkook smiles, the familiar smirk finally making its way onto his face.

you smile too, shrugging lightly. “yeah, i don’t.”

there’s another brief silence. you’re not sure what to say next, the awkwardness still lingering in the air. what if he’s going to end things? what if he’s had enough? what if.

“jungkook, i—”

his lips are on yours before you can even finish your sentence. the kiss catches you off guard, but his arms wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you in, and any hesitation melts away. his warmth seeps into you, grounding you in the moment as his lips move against yours with a desperate sort of tenderness.

you don’t pull back. instead, you let yourself fall into it, let him guide you. the kiss deepens, and with it, the questions and uncertainties that had been weighing you down dissolve, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of him. here, now, with you.

when you finally pull back, your chest heaves as you gasp for air. your mind is racing, your heart pounding in your chest. you don’t know how to respond. a part of you wants to spill everything; how much you’ve missed him, how unbearable the distance has been, how empty you’ve felt without his touch. but the words catch in your throat, like they're stuck somewhere.

“i’m sorry, i…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. his hands don’t leave your waist, holding you close as if afraid you might slip away. “i missed you.”

those three words hit harder than you expect, stirring something deep inside you. warmth spreads through your chest, a quiet comfort you didn’t realize you’d been craving.

it’s simple, almost too simple, but it feels like it’s enough. like it’s the answer to everything that’s been weighing on your heart; the confusion, the space, the silence between you two. suddenly, none of it matters.

“you missed me?” you ask softly, your voice trembling just slightly. it’s as if you need to hear him say it again, to be sure you’re not imagining it.

he nods, his eyes locked on yours. his voice is gentle. “yeah, i did.”

you stare at each other for a moment, the air between you thick with many unspoken feelings. then, without thinking, you lean in, closing the distance as your lips find his. your arms wrapping around his neck as if pulling him closer could erase all the time you spent apart. he responds immediately, his lips pressing against yours with equal fervor, like he’s been waiting for this.

your right leg slides up instinctively, brushing against his hip, and he understands your silent request. his hands move to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he lifts you effortlessly. your legs wrap around his waist, and his strong hands shift to cup your ass, holding you securely against him. the closeness sends a rush of heat through you, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

the kiss deepens, his tongue teasing against your lips until you part them, granting him access. his tongue brushes against yours, slow and deliberate, sending a wave of warmth straight to your core. you hum softly into the kiss, the sound vibrating between you, and his grip on you tightens.

he places you on the nearby desk, his lips never leaving yours. his hands grip your waist, keeping you steady. your fingers slide down to his chest, gently gripping his shirt as if holding on for balance. he pulls back for a brief moment, giving you both a chance to catch your breath.

without hesitation, he shrugs off his blazer, carelessly tossing it to the floor. the sound of it hitting the ground barely registers as his hands return to you, cupping your face with a tenderness that contrasts the heat between you. his lips find yours again, urgent yet soft, and you let him take control, your hands moving to cup his face too.

your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and you can feel his soft bulge pressing against you. the sensation is enough to make your breath hitch, and you instinctively tilt your hips toward him, craving more of the pressure.

he pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, “you drive me crazy.”

oh fuck.

“what—” you start to ask, but the sound of knocking interrupts you.

both of your heads snap toward the door, your bodies tense.

“jungkook!? you in there?” a familiar voice calls out, loud and clear.

jungkook immediately recognizes it and clears his throat, trying to steady his voice. “yes! jin hyung, i’m here.”

“i’m about to give my speech, so you better be there asap!” jin’s voice is full of its usual dramatic flair. “i came all the way here for this moment, and i don’t want you to miss my glory.”

you hear his footsteps retreating, his words lingering in the air.

jungkook exhales, his head leaning slightly forward until it rests against your forehead. his hands remain on your waist, his touch warm, grounding you in a moment that feels anything but steady. he mumbles under his breath, almost as if he’s scolding himself. “of all the times…”

your heart races, and your mind spins in circles. what does he mean by you drive him crazy? the weight of those words presses down on you, heavy and confusing.

“jungkook,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “i think you should go.”

he lifts his head to look at you, his brows furrowing slightly. the regret in his eyes is unmistakable.

maybe i shouldn’t have said that. he thinks as he takes a small step back, creating a gap between you that suddenly feels too wide.

“are you going to stay?” he asks cautiously, his voice softer now.

you open your mouth to answer but hesitate. you don’t know what to say. this was never part of your plan. all you wanted was to see him, to tell him you were sorry too. but now, standing here with him, everything feels so much more complicated.

“___,” he says your name gently, snapping you out of your daze. your gaze meets his, and he blinks at you, his expression searching.

“i know things have changed between us, and—”

“what do you mean? we’re fine, though,” you cut him off quickly, the words spilling out as if saying them will make them true.

he lets out a heavy sigh, “are we?”

the question catches you off guard. your frown deepens as uncertainty settles in your chest.

are we?

your silence answers for you, and he notices. he always notices.

“it’s okay,” he says softly, almost like he’s trying to soothe you. “i don’t know how to deal with it either.” he pauses, his voice quieter. “i don’t know what we are right now.”

what are we?

the words echo in your mind, and you hate how much they hurt. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you never wanted it to turn into this mess.

“i think…” you start, and his eyes are on you immediately, waiting, hoping you’ll say something that will make this all easier.

“...i should go.”

you don’t miss the way his shoulders drop just slightly, the smallest sign of defeat. you hesitate for a moment before sliding off the desk, your movements stiff and uncertain.

you gulp, forcing yourself to meet his gaze one last time. “good luck with your presentation,” you say softly. you linger for a second, watching him, hoping he’ll say something to stop you. but all he does is nod, his response quiet and unreadable.

with a deep breath, you turn around and walk toward the door. every step feels heavier than the last.

behind you, jungkook exhales a long, weary sigh, running a hand through his hair.

did i mess it up? he wonders, his chest tightening with something he doesn’t know how to name.

a/n: um haha.... jin with glasses yay!! 🏃🏻‍♀️

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @hoseokteardrop

📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @internetrando64 @jkvias @134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097

#jeon jungkook #jungkook x y/n #fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #jjk x y/n

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