#beautifully broken AU
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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘
ㅤㅤjoel miller x plus size!f!reader
genre: romance, flowershop au, jackson era, minors dni
word count: 7k
summary: you own a small flower shop in Jackson, when Ellie comes to visit, your life inevitably becomes tangled with the man who cares for her; joel miller.
warnings: age gap, piv in the middle of a flower field, no one sees, praise kink, some angst because joel, oral (fem receiving)
a/n: hello everyone! it's been a while and honestly, life has been kicking me in the gut lately with everything its got.
This originally was a commission, reader had a name and I've been working at it for months but sadly the person who commissioned be backed out last second saying they weren't interested anymore meaning I'm not getting paid for this work. Again, it's on me. Admittedly I've been slow on commissions due to my living situation and work and I should've taken half the payment upfront but trusting it was a joel fic I didn't really take extra precautions.
I decided to share it anyway, and the person who commissioned me said that I could. Any kind of writing has been hard for me to do lately and I really like how this one turned out. But since now I'm not getting paid for this work I decided to take out readers name and make some changes to the overall plot that I was given.
Sadly, I can't take any more commissions at the moment before finishing the ones I have left, but I'd be grateful for any kind of support you guys can give. I need to move out this summer (if I don't, I don't have a shadow of a doubt that my aunts will tell me to leave anyway) and I've been trying to save up as much as I can. Everything just has been a lot lately and I'm feeling anxious about my decisions and lost.
Again, any kind of support is greatly appreciated even tho I know I don't deserve it at this time:
my kofi
**dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜
You unlock the door to your quaint flower shop, the antique bell that you found and Tommy fixed chiming softly in greeting. Stepping outside, you're immediately embraced by the warmth of the morning sun, its golden rays dancing playfully on your skin. The air carries the unmistakable scent of spring, a delicate blend of fresh blossoms and earthy notes that fills your lungs with every inhale.
Dressed in a flowing dress, you feel perfectly in tune with the season as you begin arranging the colorful array of flowers on display outside your shop. The fabric of your dress sways gently in the breeze, a soft symphony of movement that mirrors the graceful dance of the petals.
Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and tilt your face towards the sky, basking in the gentle caress of the sun's rays. Above you, the cerulean expanse is dotted with fluffy white clouds, their shapes shifting and morphing with each passing moment.
With practiced hands, you arrange the blooms with care, each stem finding its place in the intricate tapestry of colors and textures. The vibrant hues of the flowers contrast beautifully against the backdrop of the weathered brick walls of your shop, creating a scene that's both inviting and enchanting.
As you work, you can't help but smile at the thought of the joy these flowers will bring to those who pass by. It’s been hard adopting to a new and broken world, but ironically, you have found your passion. Something to make you eager to get up in the morning. Of course your heart still ached for those you had lost, the suffering, but working on flowers, something living and growing and adapting just like you managed to lighten the weight on your heart. Whether it's a simple bouquet to brighten someone's day or a thoughtful arrangement for a special occasion, your creations have a way of spreading happiness and light wherever they go.
With the last of the flowers arranged to perfection, you step back to admire your handiwork, a sense of pride swelling within you. With a contented sigh, you turn to head back inside, ready to greet the day with open arms and a heart full of gratitude.
That is, until, you hear a surprised gasp.
“Holy shit—”
Turning around at the sound, you're met with the sight of a familiar face. A young girl you've seen around town quite frequently. You haven’t officially met her yet, but you know her name: Ellie.
Realizing that the young girl has never visited your flower shop before, you understand the source of her surprise. With a warm smile, you approach her and greet her by name. "You're Ellie, right? Tommy's niece?"
Ellie nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright with excitement. "Yeah, that's me! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I've just never been here before. The flowers are... fucking amazing—"
She suddenly claps a hand over her mouth, looking towards you apologetically. The gesture makes you laugh.
"I'm glad you like them," you reply, feeling a sense of satisfaction at her reaction. "Feel free to take a closer look if you'd like."
Her eyes light up at the invitation, and she eagerly follows you inside the cozy flower shop. The atmosphere inside is warm and inviting, with shelves lined with potted plants and bouquets of flowers in various stages of bloom. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the space and illuminating the vibrant colors of the blooms.
As you lead Ellie further into the shop, you can't help but notice the curious glances she casts around, taking in every detail with a sense of wonder. The air is filled with the subtle fragrance of flowers, a delicate scent that lingers in the air and adds to the charm of the space.
"So, Ellie," you begin, breaking the comfortable silence as you approach a display of freshly cut flowers, "Anything you like? I’d be more than happy to gift you some."
Ellie's eyes sparkle with excitement as she looks around the shop. "Really? But there’s so many, how can I even choose?"
"Well, you're in luck," you reply, gesturing towards the colorful blooms around you. "I can just make you a bouquet of everything. Just pick out your favorites."
Ellie's gaze drifts over the display, her expression thoughtful as she considers your question. "Hmm, that's a tough one, they all look so fucking cool," she muses, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. "How about sunflowers and. . . daisies? There's just something about them that feels... I don't know, hopeful, I guess."
You nod in understanding, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Sunflowers are a wonderful choice. They symbolize warmth, happiness, and positivity. Definitely a fitting choice for someone as vibrant as you, Ellie."
She grins at the compliment, "Thanks,. So, what about you? Do you have a favorite flower?"
“That’s a tough one, but I’d had to say daffodils. They just make me feel right at home. . . even though home has become a difficult word.”
She doesn’t answer you, at least not in a way that you would expect. She nods and says,
"Let's add some daffodils to the mix too. If that’s okay.”
“If course it is. I said any flower didn’t I?”
With Ellie's choices in mind, you set to work gathering the blooms she selected, expertly arranging them into a vibrant bouquet. Your hands move with practiced precision, the gentle rustle of petals and stems filling the air as you weave the different flowers together.
Each blossom is a work of art in its own right, vibrant hues mingling together in a harmonious dance of colors and textures. Sunflowers, with their golden petals reaching towards the sky, stand tall and proud at the center of the bouquet, symbolizing warmth and happiness. Daisies, with their delicate white petals and cheerful yellow centers, add a touch of innocence and purity to the mix. And finally, the daffodils.
Beside you, Ellie watches with rapt attention, her eyes shining, "It's so pretty," she remarks, her voice filled with awe.
You smile at her words, feeling a sense of pride swell within you at the sight of her delight. "Flowers have a way of bringing joy and beauty into our lives," you reply, your voice soft with reverence. "They remind us to appreciate the simple things and to find beauty in the world around us."
Finally, the bouquet is complete, a stunning masterpiece that radiates warmth and joy. You present it to Ellie with a flourish, a sense of satisfaction washing over you at the sight of her delighted expression.
"It's perfect," Ellie exclaims, her eyes shining with excitement as she admires the bouquet in her hands. "Thank you so much. This is amazing."
"It was my pleasure," you reply, your heart swelling with happiness at her words. "I'm glad you like it. And remember, if you ever want to learn more about flowers or need some help with anything, you know where to find me."
Ellie nods eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious. "Definitely. Thanks again. This means a lot."
As Ellie turns to leave, a sudden thought seems to strike her. She pauses, her hand on the door, before turning back to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Hey," she begins, a playful smile dancing on her lips, "do you need a flower assistant? I mean, I’d be nice to work here, and you seem really cool."
"Well, Ellie," you reply with a teasing grin, "If you're serious about helping out around here, I'd be more than happy to have you on board."
Ellie's eyes widen,. "Wait, really?" she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You mean it?"
You nod, your smile genuine as you reassure her. "Of course. I could use all the help I can get, especially during busy times. And besides, it'll be fun having you around. Consider yourself officially hired as my flower assistant, Ellie."
A grin spreads across Ellie's face, her eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of working alongside you in the flower shop. "Wow, I don't even know what to say," she admits, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.
"No need to say anything," you grin. "Just don’t be late."
As Ellie nods, a sense of anticipation fills the air, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in both of your lives. With a shared sense of excitement and determination, you and Ellie set to work, ready to take on whatever challenges and adventures the future may hold for your blossoming partnership.
The next day unfolds with a golden hue, promising another beautiful day in Jackson. As you prepare for the day ahead, a sense of excitement tingles in the air knowing that you'll be mentoring Ellie, your newfound flower assistant. Ellie arrives earlier than you expected, her eyes oozing with sleep.
"Good morning, Ellie," you greet her with a warm smile, gesturing for her to come closer. "Ready for your first day?"
Ellie grins back, nodding enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I’m just not used to waking up so early."
With a chuckle, you lead her to the work table, where several potted plants await repotting. However, before diving into the day's tasks, Ellie's curiosity gets the better of her.
"How do you find all these flowers?" she asks. "I mean, with the infected and everything, it must be hard."
"I have a few spots outside of Jackson where I like to go to collect flowers. There's a field not too far from here that's brimming with all sorts of blooms."
Ellie's eyes widen and you can tell she's intrigued by the idea of venturing beyond the safety of the town's walls. "That sounds amazing," she breathes, her voice filled with wonder. "Do you go there often?"
You nod, a fond smile playing on your lips as you recall the countless trips you've taken to the flower field. "Yes, whenever I need to restock or find something special," you reply. "But I've also started growing some flowers myself. It's a work in progress, but it's been rewarding to see them bloom."
"That's so cool," she exclaims. "I'd love to see the field sometime, if you're up for it."
With a grin, you nod, "I'd be happy to take you," you reply. "But for now, let's focus on getting these plants repotted. We'll save the field trip for another day."
As if on cue, the shop door swings open, and a customer steps inside, a worn backpack slung over their shoulder. They approach the counter with a friendly smile, their eyes scanning the colorful array of blooms on display.
"Good morning," you greet them with a smile, your attention shifting to the customer. "How can I help you today?"
The customer returns your smile, reaching into their backpack to retrieve a small item wrapped in cloth. "I have something to trade," they explain, placing the item on the counter before you.
You unwrap the cloth to reveal a delicate piece of jewelry, a handmade necklace adorned with intricate beads and charms. It's a beautiful piece, clearly crafted with care and attention to detail.
Ellie watches with interest as you examine the necklace, her curiosity piqued by the exchange taking place before her eyes. "What are you trading for?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.
You glance at Ellie with a smile, impressed by her keen observation. "Well, Ellie, sometimes customers trade items in exchange for flowers," you explain, turning back to the customer. "It's a way for them to get something they need while also supporting the shop. As for how I decide what the flowers are worth, it's based on a few factors—like the rarity of the flowers, the time and effort it took to grow them, and of course, their beauty."
With a nod, you accept the necklace, carefully placing it aside before selecting a beautiful bouquet of flowers to offer in exchange. As the customer leaves the shop, their smile brighter than before, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you've made another person's day a little bit brighter.
“Ellie, I’m not sure me bargin’ into your new workplace is the best introduction,” Joel says.
“You’ll be fine,” she says, dragging Joel by the arm. “Besides, weren’t you the one grumbling about not liking me spending all my time with a stranger? What else was I fucking supposed to do?”
Joel lets out an elongated sigh. “Language.”
He can’t see it, but he knows she’s rolling her eyes at him. The tiny, rundown flower shop soon comes into view and Joel can’t help but think of all the improvements he could make: the crooked step, the splintered door, the moss growing from the bottom of the woody exterior—
This shop won’t last next winter, he thinks with furrowed brows. And even though he’s been skeptical about Ellie spending all of her time here, he’s seen the improvement in her mood. Things just haven’t been the same since their return from the hospital, he couldn’t shake the distant feeling between him and her no matter how hard he tried. It had become something even he couldn’t fix.
But then, one day, she’d come home with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he’d ever seen, with a wide smile plastered across her young face. Then she mentioned the keeper of the shop. Ever since then, his interest had been piqued.
Approaching the shop, he notices a figure outside arranging flowers, your silhouette bathed in the warm morning sun. You appear younger than he anticipated, your beauty catching him off guard. The way your dress contours your curves adds to your allure, a sight unexpected yet captivating. A gentle breeze tousles your hair as you work, momentarily leaving him speechless.
Contrasting his hesitation, you bound up to the shop with your usual cheerfulness. "Hey there!" Ellie calls out. The woman turns at her greeting, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she sets down the flowers. "Good morning!"
He hangs back, observing as Ellie effortlessly initiates a conversation with you. Your interaction flows with ease, suggesting a familiarity beyond your brief acquaintance.
While you chat, an unsettling feeling settles within him. There's an inexplicable pull towards the shop owner, despite his attempts to resist. Watching Ellie interact with you stirs a strange longing within him, leaving him more unsettled than before.
Before he can dwell on his thoughts further, Ellie snaps him out of it. "Joel, don’t be a stranger! Introduce yourself, she's the one I've been telling you about."
With a sigh, he steps forward, his approach cautious. As your eyes meet, a peculiar sense of recognition passes between you, as if you've crossed paths in another life.
"Hi," he manages to say, his voice gruff yet not devoid of warmth. "I'm Joel."
As he clasps your hand, a spark ignites between you, a connection unfurling with each passing moment.
“Joel?” you say slowly, as if tasting his name in your mouth. “Joel as in Tommy Miller’s brother?”
Your hand feels soft and delicate as it clasps his own, and he can't help but notice the subtle tremor in your fingers. It's a small detail, but it speaks volumes, hinting at a vulnerability that he hadn't expected from this beautiful stranger.
"Yeah, that's me," he responds with a nod, offering a friendly smile in return. "Tommy's my brother."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Joel. Ellie speaks very highly of you."
As you exchange pleasantries, he finds himself drawn to the warmth in your gaze, a warmth that seems to seep into his very soul. There's an openness about you, a genuineness that he finds both refreshing and disarming.
While you talk, he can't help but be captivated by the way your lips move, the gentle cadence of your voice. It's a strange sensation, this sudden fascination with a woman he's just met, but he finds himself unable to look away.
Your conversation is interrupted by Ellie's playful interruption, and he reluctantly tears his gaze away from you, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of leaving your side. But as they follow Ellie into the shop, he can't shake the feeling that meeting you has stirred something within him, something that he can't quite articulate.
Entering the shop, he can't help but notice even more things wrong– the creaky floorboards, the peeling paint, the flickering lights overhead. It's evident that the place is in dire need of renovations.
Despite the less-than-ideal surroundings, Ellie's excitement is contagious, and he finds himself getting swept up in the moment. She points out various flowers, their vibrant hues and delicate petals bringing a welcome burst of color to the dreary environment.
"These lilies are my absolute favorite," Ellie exclaims, thrusting a handful of flowers towards him with a mischievous grin.
He can't suppress a surprised sneeze as the pollen tickles his nose, and they both dissolve into laughter,and momentarily, all his concerns seem to fade away.
But just as they're catching their breath, you enter the room, your presence once again capturing his attention. There's something about you that intrigues him, a warmth and kindness that draws him in effortlessly.
A sheepish smile spreads across his face as your eyes meet. You return the smile, your gaze gentle and understanding, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though you're the only two people in the room.
“Who helped you fix the place up?” Joel asks you as Ellie runs off to change the water of the vases. “
"Tommy actually," you explain. "He's been a tremendous help, especially with all the repairs."
Joel’s brows knit together and he ignores the way your smile falters as he speaks, “Well, leave it to my brother to do a shit job. This shop won’t last next winter.”
“O–Oh. . .” you hug yourself, thumbs moving along the contours of your arms. His heart sinks in, leave it to him to make someone feel bad.
“Not to say it can’t be fixed,” he continues abruptly. “I can help you out. Wouldn’t want Ellie’s new favorite spot to get buried under the snow.”
“Really?” you gasp, smile returning. “You would do that?”
“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I just. . . I just wasn’t expecting such an offer thank you. It means the world to me.”
Suddenly Joel feels stiff from how deeply you stare at him, and then he realizes how close they are, only a breath away between their lips. He turns his head, grunting, “Don’t mention it,” a stuttered breath leaves him. “Really. Don’t.”
Your growing smile surprises him, as does your not backing away.
“You got it, Mr. Miller.”
Watching Joel work on fixing the roof of the shop, you can't help but feel a flutter of warmth stir within you. His muscles ripple with each movement, his arms bulging with strength as he lifts heavy beams and hammers nails into place. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the sunlight and creating a halo of light around him.
You find yourself mesmerized by the sight, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him. His white tank top clings to his chest, damp with sweat, and the short-sleeved flannel he wears hangs open, exposing the tank top underneath. Every movement sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks.
The sound of his grunts fills the air, low and guttural, and it sends a thrill through you that you can't quite explain. There's something primal about the way he works, a raw energy that draws you in and leaves you feeling breathless.
You watch as he reaches up to adjust a beam, his muscles flexing with the effort, and you can't help but imagine what it would feel like to run your hands over his warm, sweaty skin. The thought sends a shudder coursing through you, and you quickly look away, feeling flustered and embarrassed by the intensity of your thoughts.
But no matter how hard you try to focus on something else, your gaze keeps drifting back to Joel, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And as you watch him work, you can't help but feel a strange sense of longing stir within.
But for now, all you can do is watch and admire from afar, content to bask in the warmth of Joel's presence as he works tirelessly to repair the roof of the shop. And as you watch him, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you.
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself with determination as you clutch the bowl of freshly picked black mulberries and raspberries in your hands. With a quick glance up at Joel, who is perched precariously on the ladder, you gather your courage and make your way outside.
"Hey, Joel!" you call out, your voice tinged with nervousness as you approach the ladder. "I brought you some fruit and iced tea. Thought you could use a break."
Joel looks down at you with a grateful smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Thanks. That sounds great."
As he descends the ladder, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mingled with nervousness. With each step he takes, you steal glances at him, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him.
But it's when he reaches the bottom of the ladder and stretches upwards to take the bowl of fruit from your hands that you feel your breath catch in your throat. The movement causes his tank top to ride up slightly, revealing a sliver of his stomach, and you swallow thickly at the sight.
As Joel settles down to enjoy the fruit and iced tea, you find yourself drawn to the empty spot next to him on the porch. With a nervous glance in his direction, you take a seat beside him.
The warmth of the wooden porch beneath you contrasts with the cool breeze that sweeps through, and you can't help but feel a sense of calm settle over you as you sit beside Joel. The silence between you is comfortable, broken only by the occasional sound of birds chirping in the distance.
“Lovely day, ain’t it,” Joel takes a bite of the freshly picked black mulberries, the deep purple juice stains his lips, a stark contrast against the ruggedness of his features, and you find yourself mesmerized by the sight.
The juice glistens in the fading sunlight, tracing a vivid trail along his lips as he savors the sweetness of the fruit. Each movement of his jaw seems deliberate, each bite a study in pleasure as he indulges in the simple pleasure of the moment.
A soft breeze rustles through the trees, lifting strands of his hair and sending them dancing in the golden light. But your gaze remains fixed on his lips.
The silence and sight makes you light-headed and eager to say anything, no matter how idiotic it might be.
“Aren't you a little old to be doing this much heavy lifting?”
“Aren't you a little too young to be lookin’ at me like that?”
Your shoulders rise, blood rushing to your head as you look down. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest. Butterflies flutter madly within you, the wings tickling the insides of your stomach. You only swallow. “Your lips are stained from the mulberry.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
He takes another one, biting down with his lips, he finds your gaze. You watch a tiny drop go down his chin. The two of you are close. So incredibly close. It’s been like this since he started working on the shop. A pull that is too hard to ignore.
“Well,” he breaks the silence. “Better finish up before the sun sets.”
Joel stands and your heart breaks a little. You blink from where you’re sat, staring at him, yearning for him.
“Yeah. Wouldn’t want you trying to find your way home in the dark.”
“You know, I could’ve come here on my own. I always do.”
“I know. Just wanted to make sure you have someone lookin’ after you.”
“For someone to be known as a grump, you’re quite a softie.”
“I’m leavin’.”
“No—!”
Your fingers close around his arm, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you find yourself frozen in place, your pulse quickening as you realize just how close you are to him.
Joel's gaze meets yours, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your heart race even faster. His eyes drop to your lips, lingering there for a moment before snapping back up to meet your gaze. You notice the hints of a fading smile, “You were joking,” you say slowly, letting go of him.
“That I was, wildflower,” he doesn’t move away and neither do you. Your breath catches within your throat, the moment stretching between your two like rubber. Before you can say anything Joel’s eyes flicker to something behind you and he smiles. “I think we’re here.”
As you turn around, your heart skips a beat. The field of flowers stretches out endlessly, a sea of color and beauty that seems to go on forever. The grass has grown taller since the last time you were here, swaying gently in the breeze and creating a soft, rhythmic rustle that fills the air.
The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the landscape and setting the flowers ablaze with color. Reds and yellows, blues and purples, a riot of hues that dance and swirl in the gentle breeze.
You take a step forward, the grass crunching beneath your feet as you walk further into the field. The scent of poppies and blue hyacinths fills your nostrils, sweet and intoxicating, and you can't help but close your eyes and breathe it in.
The wind sweeps across the field, sending waves of grass rippling in its wake. The sound is soothing, a gentle whisper that seems to carry you away on a tide of tranquility.
For a moment, you forget about everything else – the worries and the doubts, the uncertainties and the fears. All that matters is the beauty of this moment, the beauty of this place, and the beauty of being here with Joel.
With a rush of emotion swirling within you, you turn to Joel, your heart pounding in your chest as you meet his gaze. He's still standing close, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.
Without thinking, without hesitating, you lean forward and press your lips to his. At first, Joel is taken aback, his body stiffening in surprise. But then, he caves, his lips moving against yours in a slow, tender rhythm.
His hands come up to cradle your face, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. You feel his tongue on your bottom lip and open up for him eagerly, the taste of him feels like electricity shooting through you. Heat pools between your legs, Your breasts tingle with the mere thought of having his hands on them, nipples aching and hard.
Joel breaks away briefly, then closes the distance again. Small hisses against your swollen lips over and over until neither of you can breathe. He hungers for it almost. And so do you. “Joel,” you whisper, eyes cloudy. “Please.”
“Is that what you want, wildflower?” he drags his nose down the side of your cheek, facial hair scratching delightfully against the sensitive skin of your neck. “For me to fuck you here? Right out in the open?” his voice trembles. “Like animals?”
“God, yes—” your insides clench. “I would want nothing more. Been thinking about you since the day I met you, your hands, your mouth, you as a whole.”
His hands drop to your ass and he gives the tender flesh a strong squeeze, “You want me?”
“I do.”
You suddenly find yourself on the ground, the grass tickling your exposed legs and arms, the skirt of your dress rolled up to your waist. Joel’s weight is a welcoming comfort on top of you, another gust of warm wind blows. With a groan, he pulls down the sweetheart neckline of your dress, exposing both your breasts. While holding one, he kisses the other, drawing the stiff nipple into his mouth. He sucks harshly, your body jolting with pleasure. The soaking mess between your legs grows.
“Joel,” you moan, back arching. “Fuck—”
He swirls the tip of his tongue around the nipple and grazes his teeth against it. Calloused fingers play with the other. Your mind is swimming in pleasure. He brings the skirt of your dress further up and traces his lips down the fabric, when you look down, you see him between your legs, his eyes darker than normal as he stares into your soul. The tips of his fingers dance along the elastic of your panties, asking for permission.
You breathe out a yes, barely audible, but he nods and tugs the fabric down. When he latches his mouth on to you, the world stops. His mouth feels divine. His tongue delves between your folds, the bridge of his nose rubbing against your clit. You shudder against him and he moans into you. The reverberations of the sound force a gasp out of you and you swear you feel him smiling.
His fingers trace patterns along your thighs, teasing and stroking as his mouth works wonders between your legs. You're on the edge, the pleasure building up with each flick of his tongue. You reach down and bury your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, guiding him where you need him the most.
Joel picks up the pace, his tongue moving faster, his fingers slipping inside of you. You can feel your body starting to tighten, the coil in your stomach about to unravel. You grip onto him tighter, your hips bucking against his mouth, and with one final flick of his tongue, you come undone.
You cry out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Joel continues to lightly lick and suck, drawing out your pleasure until you're completely spent. He makes his way back up to your lips, kissing you deeply as you both catch your breath.
“That was…” you trail off, unable to find the right words for the mind-blowing experience you just had.
“Amazin’,” Joel finishes for you.
You nod, still a little breathless. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your body against his. Joel's hands roam over your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his erection against your thigh, and you know that he needs release just as much as you do.
“Been so long since I’ve tasted somethin’ this sweet,” he rasps. “Thank you.”
You hear the blood rushing in your ears, “You’re the sweet one,” you mumble, tenderly touching the scratchy surface of his cheek. “So sweet.”
He smiles and as he kisses the curve of your palm, shuffles above you, starting to get up. A deep frown forms between your brows. “And where are you going?” you pout, wrapping your arms around him. You feel the outline of his length as he lowers himself once more, the tips of your noses brushing against one another.
“I thought you wanted to gather some flowers.”
“Not yet,” you murmur, eyes glazed. “At least, not before feeling you inside me.”
“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a whimpering breath, grinding himself against your bare cunt. “You really know how to get a man goin’.”
“Prove it.”
His eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t quite describe. His breath stutters, then, without even looking, he unbuckles himself, never breaking eye contact. Joel’s hair ruffles with the wind, yet he doesn’t even blink. The head of his cock catches against your clit, ripping a moan from your throat. He fills you with one sloppy thrust, the length of him stretching you enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your skull.
“Joel—Oh my god—”
“That’s it, good girl, takin’ my cock so well. Feels good?”
Slack-jawed, you nod. He goes deeper. “Want you to feel me for weeks, wildflower. And I want you to think of me every time you come to this god—” thrust. “—damn” thrust. “—field.”
You can only moan at his words, his hands grip your lovehandles, squeezing and pulling you closer to him every time he rocks forward. His head falls into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin, he sucks. Your body convulses, shaking against him.
Sparks ricochet through every limb of your body as you feel the heat pooling in your core. Joel moves his hand from your lower back to cup your breast, his fingers teasing and plucking at your nipple. The pleasure ricochets through your body, making you feel like you're on fire.
“Come for me, darlin’.” Joel growls into your ear, his voice rough and primal. “Come on my cock.”
His words send you over the edge, your body shaking and convulsing beneath him as he continues to thrust into you relentlessly. The world blurs around you, all your senses consumed by the feeling of Joel's body against yours.
"Joel—" you moan, your voice lost in the wind as you reach your peak.
He groans in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. After one final, deep thrust, he pulls out and spills over your stomach, his body shaking against yours. You both ride out the waves of pleasure until finally, you collapse against each other, panting and spent.
You lay in the flower field, a tangled mess of limbs and sweaty bodies. Joel's arms are still wrapped tightly around you, his face buried in your neck as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of his body.
"I've never felt anything like this before," you say quietly, almost to yourself.
Joel lifts his head to look at you, his eyes softening. "Me neither, wildflower. Me neither."
As the sun begins to set, you both lay there, entwined in each other's arms. The field has become a symbol of something more than beauty. And as long as those flowers bloom, you know your love for each other will continue to grow.
A week.
A week without hearing from him, seeing him, touching him.
A painful week.
It’s almost as if he never existed. As if the moment in your favorite field was nothing but your imagination. The only reason why you know it's real is because Ellie still comes by every day, and despite knowing it’s impossible, you still feel him deep inside. It only heightens whenever you have to travel back to the field to gather flowers for the shop.
You watch as Ellie places more daisies into a vase. She’s been her usual self, joking around, telling you about all the details of her life. It’s hard not to ask her about Joel and how he’s been.
Some nasty part of your mind whispers words of discouragement, telling you he only wanted you for your body, for your charm, and got what he wanted. Your heart clenches. It might be true. You were young after all, emotional, broken. He’d already gone through all that, killed to stay alive, for loved ones, gone through grief—why would he want to take on another’s problems as well?
“Hey, Ellie?”
She turns to you, eyes slightly wide due to the rasp of your voice, “Yeah boss?”
“Can you watch the shop for a second, I have something I need to do that I forgot about.”
You don't wait for her nod as you exit the shop. You know he’s home. He has to be.
Luckily it doesn’t take you long to reach their house, your knock is loud and swift. You know you’ve taken him by surprise by the expression when he opens the door. His mouth is slightly ajar, his brows knit together.
“What are you—”
“I came to talk,” you brush past him, heading inside. Joel lingers at the door but soon after follows you inside anyway.
He sighs, “What do you want to talk about?”
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come. "Us," you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "I need to know what happened, Joel. Why you've been avoiding me."
Joel's jaw clenches at your words, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "I ain't good for you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "You deserve better than someone like me."
You feel a surge of anger rising within you at his words, frustration bubbling up to the surface. "That's for me to decide, Joel," you say, your voice tinged with defiance. "I'm not some fragile flower that needs to be protected. I can make my own choices, and right now, I choose you."
Joel's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a mess, a broken man with too much blood on his hands. You deserve someone who can give you the world, not someone who can barely keep himself together. You’re young. You still have so much ahead of you—"
“No! That’s not what I want. I want you, you’re the only person who’s made me feel like. . . like myself. . .before. And wanted.”
Your voice begins to shake, you see the hesitation within his body, hod his hand slightly moves forward to hold you, to touch you, but he doesn’t.
“I can’t do this to you,” his hands slide into his pockets, he gestures to the door. “Get out.”
The blood freezes in your veins, your eyes grow wide, your chest constricts, “What?”
“I said to get out,” he repeats, a little louder this time. “Get out, please.”
And you do.
“You need to get your shit together.”
“Language, Ellie, dammit.”
She glares at him from across the table. It’s an early morning, earlier than he’d liked. He’s been feeling hallowed out ever since your visit. He could see the hurt in your eyes, the betrayal. He knew that he’d broken something when avoiding you, something tender and not so easily fixable.
But what was he supposed to do? You were young, he didn’t want to trap you, didn’t want you to throw the best years of your life for an old man like him.
Briefly, he squeezes his eyes shut. His head hurts. All he can think about is you, your body, how eager it was to take him, the delectable curves he couldn’t get enough of.
He misses your taste on his tongue.
“She’s miserable too, you know.”
Joel’s eye snap wide open. “Who?”
“You know who,” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but she’s definitely upset and so are you—Just fix it. Don’t be an asshole”
He let’s out a sigh, she’s right. He needs to fix this somehow. Joel stares at Ellie, her words hitting him harder than he expected. He hadn't realized just how much his actions had affected not only you but also Ellie. The weight of his own guilt settles heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the mess he's made.
"Yeah," he mutters, his voice rough with emotion. "I know."
He runs a hand through his hair, the tension in his muscles making every movement feel heavy and strained. He knows he needs to make things right, to somehow find a way to mend the rift he's created between you and him.
But how? How could he possibly make things right after everything that's happened?
"I'll talk to her," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll fix it."
Ellie nods in approval, her expression softening slightly as she looks at him. "Good," she says, her tone gentle. "Because I don't want to see either of you hurting anymore."
She was right and he knew it.
“The shop’s closed today,” Ellie says as he grabbed his jacket. “I don’t know where she is.”
But he did. He knew exactly where you would be. The place he tasted you, the place he felt your body against him.
Joel's heart sinks as he approaches the flower field and sees you sitting there, your shoulders hunched over as you hug your knees to your chest. He can hear your sobs from a distance, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air.
For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of what to do or say. But then, with a heavy sigh, he pushes aside his doubts and makes his way towards you.
As he draws closer, he can see your whole body trembling with the force of your emotions. His heart aches at the sight, knowing that he's the cause of your pain. He kneels infront of you, gently touching your wrists.
"Hey," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's me, Joel."
You startle at the sound of his voice, lifting your head to look at him with tear-streaked eyes. For a moment, there's a flicker of surprise in your gaze, followed by a wave of raw emotion.
"Joel?" you choke out, your voice thick with tears. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to find you," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't stand the thought of you hurtin’ like this."
"I thought... I thought you didn't care," You sniffle, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand.
Joel reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light and tender. "I care more than you know," he says. "I made a mistake, a big one, and I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to. . .I didn’t think I deserved someone like you."
"I missed you," you admit softly, tears still streaming down your cheeks.
Joel's heart clenches at your words, a rush of emotion flooding through him. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your face against his chest.
"I missed you too, wildflower," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "And I promise, I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."
He hears the smile in your voice.
“You already do.”
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#plus size!reader#tlou fanfic#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character fanfic
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WHAT THIS IS JUST OMG I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND LEVEL GOOD ESKA IS A WONDERFUL WRITER AND HULLOMOON IS JUST AN INCREDIBLE VOICE OMG OMG OMG THANK YOU AND THANK YOU AND THANK EVERYONE 🤍
UM @hullomoon made a podfic of this story that we found ourselves in and it's already so good??? i am in TEARS you are so incredible
#hullomoon#eskawrites#celebrity fake dating au#ronance#robin x nancy#THIS IS JUST EXTRAORDINARY#f*ing epic!#giggling and thrilled to have my heart beautifully broken by this story again
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Dp x Dc AU: Dani has a too many break-ups for Danny’s heart to handle as an older brother- So he gives her a criteria that her next boyfriend needs to fit for Danny to approve of their relationship.
Dani was really excited about her new boyfriend. He was witty, and charming, knew how to sword fight and was absolutely stunning. He loved his family, was passionate about animals and social justice causes, and he was an artist! She had a thing for green eyes, and hey, he was actually super chill about them having flexible schedules to see each other (she had vigilante shit to do that she couldn’t explain)! It’s been going on for a few months and she’s honestly ready for him to meet Danny & Jazz but...
The last time she was home it was for a broken heart and Danny was beside himself with worry over her. He made the guys recently deceased ancestors come forward to speak on his behalf and it was Mortifying- Danny was ready to throw down. And Dani had to admit, it was super sweet that her big brother cared so much. He’d happily given a shovel talk to each of her partners when she brought them home and he’d happily tried to bond with them and integrate into their lives. Danny always allowed her to make mistakes but respected her choices to only ever ask two questions when a new partner came into the picture: Do they make you happy? Do they treat you well?
This last time he made a simple request, just could they please fit this one criteria?
The thought comes to her unfortunately when she’s making out with her perfect match, her soul mate, this beautifully stabby man Damian Wayne, that she should bring up the deal breaker. Her brother gave her literally one request for her next partner, and by the ancients she didn’t want to disappoint Danny.
Pulling away from her boyfriends kiss for just a moment, Dani quickly asks “Sorry, Sorry, it’s just...Have you ever died before?”
Damian’s look of confusion and then concern grew on his normally collected face, which told her more than enough.
“Okay great!” And she leaned back in, only to realize that he’s pulled back.
“Would... Would you care to explain why you just asked me that?” Damian was doing his best to not jump to conclusions.
“Sorry, I just got in my head a bit about how you’re like, the light of my life and I want you to meet my family and then my brain wandered, before you did that thing with your teeth, to the fact that my brother kind of requested... um, well, he just asked that my next partner be, uh, don’t freak out if this sounds weird, but uh, be dead.”
“He...He wants your partner to be dead.”
“Well, Dead adjacent is perfectly normal in my family! It’s not like a whole thing! You’ve died before, so he’ll absolutely love you! And he’ll love you even more because you love me!” She smiles as brilliantly as the stars.
Damian isn’t sure for a second, but eventually asks: “Your family is ‘dead adjacent’ and you want me to meet them?” to which she happily confirms.
“Do you... Wish to know how I-” Damian begins but she cuts him off “No! Never, I would never ask that of you. He won’t ask either! He actually has a better vision for these things so it probably won’t even come up! How does next Tuesday work?”
“That should be fine, however, well...On the subject of family expectations ... Is it even possible that you might be a vigilante?” Damian’s worries melt away when his girlfriend smiles and lunges forward to kiss him.
Families could have such weird expectations, you know?
#Dcxdp#dpxdc#dp x dc#dc x dp#danny phantom#dani phantom#damian wayne#serious chaos#lmao dannys actual words were 'could you please just date someone i can relate to for once?'#dani interpreted that as meaning dead/undead#she's honestly not wrong for thinking that tho cause he's only ever tried to set her up on blind dates with other ghosts#Danny is a good big brother to her and i believe this to my dying breath#damian is so sure that shes a vigilante but has never dared to cross that line and ask#damian is like 'she can knock me on my ass she is clearly the perfect woman'
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Alright, just hear me out real quick. MechaJazz AU + EmpurataProwl AU. Now, hold onto your socks cuz I'm not done.
What if, after Jazz returns to Earth, Prowl ends up getting captured. The folks in charge of the Mecha program realize that Prowl is something different, something insanely high tech and useful, so they start to tear him apart and modify him. Prowl never gets the chance to scan Jazz's mecha because the scientists and engineers have already made him into one! His helm is removed and replaced with one that has the video relays needed to send visual feeds to the pilot. The beautifully articulate face that Jazz so admired is gone. His servos are removed, turned into weapons to better fight the quintessons and their pet monsters. The engineers tear into Prowls chassis, rerouting cables and energon lines around Prowls spark so that a pilots seat could be installed. That's where the engineers run into a problem. Prowls spark emits radiation, it's not safe for a human to be in close proximity to this glowing ball of energy for long periods of time. So what do they do? They put it in a box. They wall off Prowls spark in thick metal lined with a material designed to prevent radiation from penetrating it. Prowls EM field goes silent. Finally, when the scientists go to integrate the neural connections between Mecha and pilot, it doesn't play nice with the tac net. Prowl crashes, and keeps crashing, until the scientists are able to create a work around. By the time they've completed the work around Prowl isn't Prowl anymore. Something inside of him is broken. He doesn't remember, doesn't understand why he's in pain. He doesn't know where he is, he doesn't know what's happening around him, to him. He flickers in and out of consciousness. He can't move and he's in terrible endless pain.
Imagine Jazz's reaction to how brutally his own people mutilated Prowl. Jazz gathers up everyone he knows he can trust, and breaks into the lab Prowls being held in. Hot Rod and Blurr are causing a distraction, while Vortex and Aid kick down the door to the Lab to let Jazz in. Jazz is mortified at what he sees, staring at what's left of Prowl on the slab in front of him. Jazz bundles up his Prowler in his Mechas arms and bolts for it. The gang makes their way to Ratchets little hidey hole in hopes that he might be able to help Prowl, but there's only so much he can do. Imagine little human Jazz looking up at his Prowl and realizing that he doesn't recognize him. His Prowler doesn't recognize him! Jazz will never be able to forgive himself for bringing Prowl to Earth. He'll never get to sleep in the palm of Prowls servos ever again. He'll never be able to make Prowls stoic face break out in that cute little grin that he loves ever again.
The angst is REAL!!!
.............FUCKING HELL ANON.
.....may I suggest you also hear me out?
How about aaaall this, but with Jazz? How about after Jazz got himself transferred into Cybertronian body..he returns to Earth at some point....and gets captured? Because when he helped Prowl to eskape he basically became a traitor in the eyes of government?
Just. You kbow. Hypothetically. How about that
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Sleeping beauty!Tim au but make it angsty
Red Robin gets hit with a spell that makes him sleep and no one is able to wake him up. The wizard villain of the week disappeared after hitting Tim with it and only by the grace of God and Red Hood's speed was he caught before he tumbled off the damn roof.
The batfam think it'll be an easy fix, Bruce gets Zatanna to show up... Except...
Bruce: Why did it not work?
Zatanna: it's one of those fickle sleep spells that can only be broken by true love's kiss. Luckily, it doesn't have to be a romantic kiss or one on the lips, as long as it's from someone who truly loves Red Robin.
Bruce: So why is he not awake?
Zatanna: The fickle thing about this particular spell is that for it to break, Red Robin has to believe that the person who kissed him truly loves him.
Cue all the angst and heartbreak and self reflection as the batfam realize, after each of them tries to wake Tim, that their brother genuinely thinks they don't love him.
Eventually it's Kon who manages to wake Tim up with a gentle kiss on the forehead.
In the aftermath, Tim doesn't know how to deal with the way the batfam are looking at him like he broke their hearts or the way Bruce looks uncomfortably on the verge of tears.
Thank you so much for the ask!!—this is such a deliciously angsty concept, and I can’t get over how much it says about the Batfamily and their emotional blind spots.
It’s so painfully them, isn’t it? The Batfamily, who love so fiercely but are absolutely terrible at showing it in ways that matter. They’re all so busy with their missions, their duty, their endless fight to keep Gotham and each other safe, that they don’t stop to think about how their love is perceived. They assume it’s obvious in the way they watch each other’s backs or show up when it counts. But Tim? Tim’s spent so long in the shadows, convincing himself he’s just a cog in the machine, that he doesn’t see any of that as love.
And now they’re standing there, one by one, trying and failing to wake him up. It’s not just frustrating—it’s devastating. Because the truth they’ve all been avoiding is staring them in the face: Tim doesn’t believe they love him. And maybe, deep down, they know why. Every harsh word, every time they brushed him off because there was a bigger crisis, every moment they assumed Tim was fine because he didn’t say otherwise—it’s all coming back to haunt them now.
Jason probably storms off first, pretending it doesn’t bother him, but the guilt is eating him alive. Dick, who prides himself on being the emotional glue of the family, is visibly shaken—because how could he miss this? How could he fail Tim like this? And Bruce, oh, Bruce—he’s silent, but you can see the way his hands tremble, the way his jaw tightens. He’s spent years thinking his actions spoke louder than words, and now he’s realizing he might’ve been wrong.
And when Kon finally wakes Tim up? It’s not just a relief—it’s a wake-up call. Kon, who loves Tim so plainly and without hesitation, didn’t have to fight through layers of doubt or miscommunication. His love was clear, and Tim believed it without question. The Batfamily can’t say the same, and it hurts.
But what really gets me is the aftermath. Tim, sitting there, bewildered and uncomfortable as the Batfamily stares at him with those shattered, guilty expressions. To him, it doesn’t make sense—he’s fine, the mission’s done, so why are they acting like he’s the one who needs fixing? And when Bruce finally asks, voice quiet and cracking, “Why didn’t you believe us?” Tim doesn’t know how to answer. Because in his mind, it wasn’t a question of love—it was a question of worth.
It’s such a raw, painful exploration of the Batfamily’s dynamic. They love each other deeply, but they’re so bad at saying it, at showing it in ways that the other person can feel. And Tim? Tim’s just been waiting, quietly, for proof he didn’t think would ever come.
This is such a beautifully tragic setup, and I love how it forces them all to face what they’ve been avoiding. If you—or anyone—writes this, I would absolutely love to read it!! The emotional fallout alone would be worth its weight in tears!
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5 of my Favorite Devil's Minion/Armandaniel Fic Authors and Why (In No Particular Order)
I read (and write) an unhealthy amount of Devil's Minion/Armandaniel fic, so I thought this little list was long overdue. These are the authors I find myself returning to again and again, or who are writing some of my fave WIPs right now. 1. Author: Tei on AO3 ~ @bloodripelives here on tumblr Favorite Fic by Them: Acts of Collusion Why I'm Obsessed: Some of the best BDSM I have ever read, and some of the only believable tertiary Danlou I've seen in the fandom. The atmosphere is deeply erotic, almost cloying, and you get the sense that when Louis punishes Armand, it's a healing thing for both of them - a real shot at redemption and cleaning the slate. 2. Author: AnimalCeramics on AO3 - @animalceramics here on tumblr Favorite Fic by Them: Blanket of Night Why I'm Obsessed: Too few people write true horror between these two. This is some of the best psychological horror/suspense horror AND erotica I've ever read full stop. *SNL Guy* It has everything!
3. Author: Thunder_Puss on AO3 - @pickingbelovedoffthesofa here on tumblr Favorite Fic by Them: Lie Back and Let Me Unlock You Why I'm Obsessed: I gotta admit. Cannibal mafia human AU was a hard sell in the summary. But I was IMMEDIATELY sucked in by the BEST scummy young Daniel I have ever read, and a truly insane, vulnerable, beautifully broken Armand. Plus she SHATTERS the Overton Window like you NEVER know what's gonna happen and I love that. 4. Author: Nikocat on AO3 - @nile-the-empathy-cleric here on tumblr Favorite Fic by Them: Ego Death Why I'm Obsessed: Quite simply, this 'Armand goes to art therapy' fic is literature. It has helped me process my own trauma and think about things I experienced in new ways. The world of it is expansive, and Nile NEVER takes the easy way out narratively. 5. Author: GrayGiantess on AO3 - @graygiantess here on tumblr Favorite Fic by Them: Camboy Molloy Why I'm Obsessed: Usually when you see an escort fic in this pairing it's hot young Armand being the escort. I LOVE that it's Old Maniel, and the beautiful details of their budding romance/crackling chemistry in this fic have me consuming every new chapter like fat lines of Louis's coke. Obviously not an exhaustive list. I'll do more of these little listicles as I have time. What are some of your faves?
#devils minion#armandaniel#iwtv fanfiction#iwtv fic#iwtv fandom#interview with the vampire#iwtv#daniel molloy#the vampire armand#amc iwtv#daniel iwtv#armand iwtv#iwtv 2022
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⋆⁺❅ A Second Chance ⋆⁺❅
⋆⁺❅ Pairing - Changbin × Fem Reader
⋆⁺❅ Plot - Dating Changbin means constantly competing with his busy schedule for time together. However, it pushes you to your limit when he fails to come home on time for Christmas. As frustration builds, you start questioning where you truly stand in his priorities.
⋆⁺❅ Genre - Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Fluff
⋆⁺❅ Warnings - Pretty angsty, abandonment, Hurt to comfort, Idol au
⋆⁺❅ Word Count - 8.4K ⋆⁺❅ Screenshot Count - 4
⋆⁺❅ A/N - Episode 3 of Staymas is here! Dating a K-pop idol might seem like a dream, but what lies behind the spotlight tells a different story. This episode explores the struggles, heartbreak, and reality behind the fantasy. Hope it speaks to you all! Just slightly proofread so apologies for any mistake 🙂↕️
⋆⁺❅ SKZ Masterlist ⋆⁺❅ Staymas Masterlist
Snow fell in thick, soft flurries outside the apartment window, painting the world in a pristine white blanket. It should have felt magical...it was Christmas Eve, after all..but inside, your heart felt heavy, weighed down by a familiar ache.
It was your third Christmas with Changbin, and you had been so excited this time. For months, you’d clung to the promise he’d made -
This Christmas would be different.
He’d assured you that after the relentless tours, promotions, and schedules that had kept him away for the past eight months, he’d finally spend it by your side.
Being with someone like Changbin came with challenges, and you knew that better than anyone. He was part of 3RACHA and Stray Kids, a group that had taken the world by storm. Every sleepless night, every grueling choreography, every chart-topping success, it all made you so proud of him. But pride didn’t quiet the loneliness that echoed through your days and nights. You understood his dreams, you admired his passion, but sometimes, understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.
Still, tonight was supposed to be different. You’d convinced yourself of that. Pushing aside the nagging doubts, you poured your energy into decorating the apartment. A silver Christmas tree stood in the corner, its shimmering ornaments carefully arranged. The table was set like something out of a storybook:candles glowing softly amidst dishes you had spent the whole day preparing. Even the gifts you’d wrapped with such care sat neatly beneath the tree, waiting for him.
“Maybe tonight, it’ll finally feel like Christmas,”
you whispered to yourself as you looked around at your work. Satisfied, you sank into the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself. With a smile, you grabbed , your phone and sent him a text.
But as the hours crept by, the apartment remained eerily quiet. The candles burned low, casting shadows across the untouched dishes. The tree’s lights blinked cheerfully, mocking the emptiness that surrounded you.
You glanced at your phone again, the screen still void of any reply. The clock struck nine. Then ten. Your stomach twisted as doubt settled in. Maybe he’s on his way, you thought, desperately clinging to hope. Maybe he got caught up in traffic.
But then the phone buzzed, and for a fleeting moment, your heart soared. You scrambled to unlock it, only to feel that fragile hope shatter.
The words blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. A bitter laugh slipped past your lips.....hollow and cold. Merry Christmas? That was all? No apology. No acknowledgment of the effort you’d put into tonight. Just two sentences, as if you were an afterthought.
Your chest ached as the realization sunk in. This wasn’t new. He’d done this before-broken promises that left you waiting, hoping for a moment of connection that never came. You had told yourself things would change, that this time he meant it. But here you were again, sitting in a beautifully decorated apartment, surrounded by cold food and a tree that felt more lonely than festive.
“Why do I even bother?” you whispered into the silence, the weight of your disappointment crushing you. You wanted to scream, to cry, to demand why he couldn’t make space for you in his busy world. But all you did was sit there, staring at the flickering candles, wondering how much more your heart could take.
-----------------------------------------------------
Across town, Changbin leaned against the cold studio wall, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. The set buzzed with relentless energy...directors shouting, assistants rushing with equipment, and lights glaring harshly above him. The festive decorations, draped in fake snow and oversized ornaments, felt like a cruel parody of joy, mocking him with every twinkle.
This shoot wasn’t supposed to happen. It had been a last-minute addition, labeled “urgent” and impossible to decline. His schedule, already unforgiving, had swallowed his days whole.....grueling dance practices, back-to-back interviews, rehearsals, and midnight studio sessions. Changbin had always prided himself on his dedication, but tonight, that commitment felt more like a chain than a choice.
The set, designed to exude holiday magic, only amplified the ache in his chest. The sparkling lights and oversized Christmas trees weren’t festive to him; they were reminders of what he’d promised you and failed to deliver.
He could see you in his mind’s eye, your face lighting up when you’d told him about your Christmas plans. He remembered the way your voice had bubbled with excitement as you described the dishes you’d cook, the decorations you’d hung, and the gifts you’d wrapped just for him.
“Are you sure you’ll be home on time?” you’d asked, your eyes searching his for reassurance.
“Of course,” he’d said with a smile, ruffling your hair. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Now those words felt like a cruel lie.
When the director finally called for a break, Changbin sank into a chair, his body heavy with fatigue. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and for a fleeting moment, he hesitated. When he finally pulled it out, your message greeted him:
YN💞: Dinner’s ready!
YN💞: Everything’s set!
YN💞: I can’t wait for you to come home Binnie 🫶🥰
Your excitement leapt from the screen, twisting the guilt in his chest into something unbearable. He could picture you waiting, the table set perfectly, the apartment glowing with the warmth of your efforts. You believed in him....trusted him to keep his promise.
But what could he say? Another excuse? Another hollow apology? His fingers hovered over the screen before he shoved the phone back into his pocket, the weight of it heavier than ever.
“I’ll text her later,” he muttered to himself, though he knew it was a lie.
The hours dragged mercilessly. Retakes turned into more retakes, delays stacked upon delays, and by the time the shoot finally wrapped, it was well past midnight. His body felt like it might collapse, his mind too fogged with exhaustion to think clearly.
Sitting in the back of the van, Changbin stared at his phone, his heart heavy. He typed the message quickly, as if rushing it would dull the sting.
Binnie🫶💕: Schedule Ran Late
Binnie🫶💕: Don’t Wait Up
Binnie🫶💕: Merry Christmas Love ❤️
Hitting send, he leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. The thought of you sitting alone, surrounded by cold food and untouched decorations, tore at him, but the exhaustion pulling him under was stronger.
“Take me back to the dorm,” he told the driver quietly.
As the van sped through the city, he let his mind drift to a different version of the night - a version where he walked through the door of your apartment, pulled you into his arms, and sat down to share the meal you’d prepared with so much care. He imagined your laughter, the way your eyes would light up when he handed you the gift he’d hidden in his bag, and the warmth of your smile as you teased him for being late.
But that wasn’t reality.
Instead, he stumbled into the dorm, his legs heavy, his heart heavier. Dropping his bag by the door, he collapsed onto his bed without even changing.
In the dark, guilt whispered to him, soft but unrelenting. His last thought before exhaustion claimed him was a quiet, desperate promise:
I’ll make it up to her. I have to.
------------------------------------------------------
The apartment was silent, save for the faint crackle of candles burning low on the dining table. You sat at the edge of your seat, staring at the untouched plates of food you’d spent hours preparing. Each dish was a labor of love - Changbin’s favorites, perfected through trial and error. Tonight, you had wanted everything to be flawless.
The table was a vision of warmth and care. Gold-rimmed glasses reflected the soft glow of fairy lights strung across the room. A delicate Christmas centerpiece, sprinkled with pinecones and holly, stood proudly at the center. Everything screamed holiday magic, but it all felt hollow without him there.
You’d imagined it so differently. Changbin walking through the door, exhausted but smiling, pulling you into a hug. Dinner would be filled with laughter, stolen glances, and shared stories. Later, you’d cuddle on the couch, the sound of Christmas carols mingling with his quiet whispers as the world outside faded into irrelevance.
But that fantasy shattered the moment his message buzzed onto your screen.
Binnie🫶💕: Schedule Ran Late
Binnie🫶💕: Don’t Wait Up
Binnie🫶💕: Merry Christmas love ❤️
You’d stared at it, willing the words to change, hoping there was some mistake. But there wasn’t. He wasn’t coming home.
The carefully built walls of understanding and patience you’d maintained for months began to crack. You told yourself you shouldn’t be upset. He was busy. His life wasn’t easy. You knew this when you fell in love with him. But the excuses you repeated in your mind did nothing to stop the sting.
Midnight came with his message and went. The food, once steaming and inviting, grew cold. The candles melted down to stubs, their soft flicker dimming with time. Still, you waited, staring at the clock as if it could rewind the hours and bring him back to you.
Finally, you stood and began clearing the plates. The sound of dishes clinking in the sink echoed through the apartment, sharp and unforgiving. Your hands scrubbed the plates with a force that made your knuckles ache. Tears slipped down your cheeks, unbidden and unstoppable.
Why do I always come second?
The thought hit you like a punch to the gut. You’d spent months convincing yourself that this was what it meant to love someone like Changbin, someone whose passion and dedication burned so brightly it often eclipsed everything else. You’d told yourself his absence didn’t mean he cared any less, that it was enough to support him from the sidelines.
But tonight, it didn’t feel like enough.
After cleaning up, you shuffled into the living room. The Christmas movie you’d put on earlier played on the screen, its cheerful music and heartwarming scenes mocking the ache in your chest. You curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket tightly around your shoulders, desperate for any kind of comfort.
The festive scenes on the TV blurred as fresh tears filled your eyes. You’d chosen this movie for him...another small gesture to make tonight special. Now, it was nothing more than background noise in an apartment that felt emptier than ever.
Your gaze flicked to the table. The centerpiece sat untouched, its once-vivid greenery now muted in the dim light. The image of the meal you’d prepared, the effort you’d poured into every detail, haunted you.
“Why can’t I be enough?” you whispered into the stillness, the words trembling with pain.
You knew he worked hard. You knew he was chasing dreams that required sacrifice. But was it wrong to want him to choose you, even for one night? To make you feel like you were more than just another responsibility on his endless list?
The tears came faster now, your body shaking as you buried your face in your hands. You hated this...hated feeling so vulnerable, so small. But the loneliness that settled in your chest was suffocating, and no amount of rationalizing could ease it.
The movie played on, oblivious to your pain. Its happy endings felt like a cruel reminder of what you didn’t have tonight. The love you’d poured into your relationship seemed to hang in the air, unanswered and unreciprocated.
You stretched out on the couch, exhaustion from the day and the crying weighing heavily on you. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the TV, and the soft shadows of the fairy lights danced on the walls.
“I just wanted to spend tonight with you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of the film.
Sleep crept in slowly, pulling you under despite the heaviness in your chest. But even in sleep, there was no peace. Your dreams were fragmented, filled with fleeting images of Changbin...his warm smile, his comforting presence, the promises he’d made and broken.
And so, you lay there on the couch, bathed in the dim light of the TV, your cheeks still damp with tears, the weight of your heartbreak settling into the quiet of the night.
-----------------------------------------------------
The dorm was dark when Changbin arrived, and for once, the quiet didn’t bring him peace. His body ached with exhaustion, but it was the kind that settled in his chest, not his muscles. He dropped his bag near the door, barely making it to his bed before collapsing. His mind swirled with thoughts of you,your message, your disappointment, but sleep claimed him too quickly for guilt to take root.
Morning didn’t offer mercy. The moment he opened his eyes, the heaviness hit him like a freight train. He reached for his phone, rereading your message until the words blurred. The sharpness of your pain seeped through every syllable, making it harder to breathe. He typed and deleted replies, each one feeling more hollow than the last.
He thought about calling you but couldn’t bring himself to dial. What could he possibly say? “I’m sorry” felt inadequate. So instead, he clung to the hope that he could make it right. After practice, after the chaos, he would fix this.
When he finally stood outside your door, the weight of his hesitation nearly crushed him. In one hand, he clutched a bouquet of your favorite flowers, their petals trembling as he fidgeted with them. In the other, a bag of carefully chosen gifts - a futile attempt to bridge the gap between you. He had planned this moment in his head, rehearsing his apology a thousand times. But now, standing in front of the door, he realized he was terrified.
The guilt was suffocating, gnawing at him with every passing second. Finally, he forced himself to knock lightly, his heart pounding as the seconds stretched into what felt like hours.
When he stepped inside, the silence struck him first. It was the kind of silence that wasn’t empty but heavy, laden with unspoken words and shattered expectations. Then, he saw you. You were on the couch, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the blank TV screen. The way you sat...so stiff, so distant...made him want to shrink into nothingness.
“Hey,” he tried, his voice barely above a whisper.
You didn’t acknowledge him at first, the air between you stretching unbearably thin. Finally, you turned your head, and when your eyes met his, his heart cracked. They were tired, swollen, and red-rimmed, a clear reflection of the tears you’d shed. Tears he had caused.
“You’re late,” you said, your voice flat, stripped of any warmth.
“I know,” he started, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. The shoot ran late, and I....”
“And you what?” you cut him off sharply, your tone biting. “Decided I wasn’t worth the effort? Decided it was easier to ignore me than to try?”
He flinched, the venom in your words hitting harder than he expected. “It’s not like that,” he said, a defensive edge creeping into his voice. “You don’t understand...”
“Oh, I don’t understand?” You stood up suddenly, the force of your pain radiating in every word. “I don’t understand what it’s like to spend hours cooking your favorite meals, setting up a table, waiting by the door for you, only for you not to bother showing up? You didn’t even call, Changbin.”
“I was exhausted!” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. “Do you think I wanted to miss it? Do you think I don’t care?”
“If you cared, you would’ve been here!” you shot back, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t need flowers, or gifts, or apologies. I needed you. Just you. But you couldn’t even give me that.”
His defenses crumbled as he saw you breaking in front of him, your tears spilling over despite your efforts to hold them back. “I didn’t want to ruin everything by coming home like that,” he said weakly. “I didn’t want you to see me like....”
“You ruined it anyway!” you screamed, your voice raw. “You don’t get it, do you? Last night wasn’t just about Christmas. It was about us. About me sitting alone at a table set for two, wondering if I even matter to you anymore.”
“You matter to me more than anything,” he pleaded, stepping closer, his voice cracking. “I was thinking about you the whole time...”
“Then why weren’t you here?” you interrupted, your voice trembling with the weight of your anguish. “Why is it so easy for you to put everything else before me? Why do I have to keep convincing myself that I’m enough when your actions scream otherwise?”
He had no answer. Every excuse he had felt hollow, every apology meaningless. The flowers in his hand suddenly felt ridiculous, a cheap token compared to the love you’d given him without hesitation.
You grabbed your coat, your movements sharp and decisive.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice barely audible.
“Out,” you said, not sparing him a glance.
“Y/N, please,” he begged, reaching for your arm, but you pulled away.
“Just stop, Changbin,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “You’ve already let me down enough.”
And then you were gone, the door slamming shut behind you, leaving him in a silence so oppressive it felt like it might swallow him whole.
He stood there, frozen, his heart in his throat. The flowers slipped from his hand, landing forgotten on the floor. Slowly, he sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.
Your words echoed in his mind, relentless and unforgiving.
"Why weren’t you here?"
"You didn’t even try."
He sat there for what felt like hours, replaying every moment, every choice that had led to this. The guilt was a living thing, wrapping itself around him and squeezing until he couldn’t breathe.
He had thought he was tired last night, but now he realized exhaustion was nothing compared to the weight of losing you. And he was terrified it might already be too late to make things right.
-----------------------------------------------------
You stepped out into the streets, the cold afternoon breeze brushing against your skin. Yet, it barely registered. The chill was nothing compared to the numbness inside you. It was strange how the ache of love could seep so deeply into your bones, leaving behind only a hollow shell of what once was. They were right - Love that gives you joy can just as easily bring unbearable pain.
And today, it had broken you.
You wandered aimlessly, your feet carrying you to a nearby park. The quiet rustle of the trees and the distant laughter of children did little to soothe the storm raging in your chest. You sank onto a bench, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if to hold the pieces of your heart together.
The argument replayed in your mind like a broken record, each word sharper than the last. The sound of your voice trembling with anger, his frustration bleeding into his tone...it all echoed in your head, relentless and unyielding.
Around you, happy couples strolled hand in hand, their smiles and laughter only deepening the ache in your chest. Tears spilled freely now, streaking down your face as you let yourself feel the weight of it all.
"Should I break up with him?"
The thought was terrifying, but it lingered, stubborn and insistent. Could you keep going like this? Loving someone who made you feel so small, so invisible? The hours passed as you sat there, lost in the labyrinth of your own pain, searching for an answer that didn’t seem to exist.
When the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you finally rose from the bench. Your limbs felt heavy, your heart even more so. Heading back to your apartment...the place that once felt warm and safe...now felt like walking into a stranger’s house. The walls that once held your happiest moments now felt cold and distant.
You hesitated at the entrance, the weight of the earlier fight pressing down on you. You couldn’t bear to face him, not yet. The thought of his apologies, his explanations, his guilt-filled eyes...it was too much.
Instead, you turned on your heel and headed toward YFN’s place. Maybe talking to her would help. Maybe spilling the pain you’d been holding in would ease the tightness in your chest. You needed someone to remind you who you were, to tell you that you deserved more than this suffocating love.
------------------------------------------------------
Changbin sat alone in the apartment long after you had stormed out. The silence felt heavier than anything he'd ever experienced, pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn’t shake off. The soft glow of the Christmas lights, once warm and festive, now felt mocking, cruel reminders of a night that was supposed to be magical but ended in disaster. His eyes darted to the table you had so lovingly set the night before. The untouched food, now cold and forgotten, felt like a metaphor for your relationship...something once vibrant and full of warmth, now abandoned and left to wither.
He buried his face in his hands, guilt clawing at his insides with a ferocity that refused to let up. Each passing second without you felt like a lifetime. He reached for his phone when it buzzed, his heart leaping at the thought that maybe...just maybe..it was you. But it wasn’t. It was his manager, reminding him about tomorrow’s schedule. The triviality of it all hit him like a slap in the face. None of it mattered. Not the schedules, not the shoots, not the rehearsals. What good was it all if he couldn’t keep the one thing that made it all bearable?
He tossed the phone onto the couch, a single tear sliding down his cheek as the weight of his failures settled over him like a suffocating blanket. How had it come to this? How had he let things spiral so far out of control? He thought back to the look in your eyes before you left—the pain, the betrayal, the disappointment. It was a look he’d never forget, one that would haunt him for as long as he lived.
The next morning was no better. He woke up late, the weight of his guilt still heavy on his chest. The ache in his body was nothing compared to the torment in his heart. The walls of the practice room felt like they were closing in on him as he went through the motions, his usual energy replaced by a hollow, lifeless shell of himself.
Han was the first to notice. He always noticed.
“Hyung,” Han said softly, pulling Changbin aside. “What’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”
Changbin didn’t know how to answer. The weight of his actions, of his failure to show up for you, weighed so heavily on his heart that he could barely speak about it. But Han wasn’t letting him off that easy.
“You look like you’ve been through a storm,” Han continued, his voice softer now. “What happened?”
Han quietly motioned for Changbin to sit. Once they were both settled on the couch, the silence between them hung heavy, thick with unspoken tension. Changbin’s head was lowered, and for a moment, Han wondered if his friend would say anything at all. The weight of the silence stretched, suffocating, until finally, the dam broke.
“I didn’t go home last night,” Changbin admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. “Y/N spent all day preparing for Christmas Eve. She cooked. She made everything look perfect. And I… I stayed at the dorms. I didn’t even go back to her.”
Han’s eyebrows furrowed, his disbelief clear. “Why? Did something happen? Did she… understand?”
Changbin hesitated, his defenses creeping up even as his guilt overwhelmed him. “I was exhausted,” he began, though the words felt hollow even to him. “I had this shoot, and it ran late, and I just… I didn’t have it in me to go home and face her.”
Han leaned forward, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “So, you’re telling me you left her alone on Christmas Eve? Changbin Hyung, come on. You know better than that.”
Changbin’s voice cracked as he tried to explain, desperation bleeding into his words. “I thought it was the better option. I thought… showing up like that, completely drained, would ruin everything she worked so hard for. But now… now I realize I hurt her even more by not going at all.”
Han let out a long sigh, shaking his head slowly. “You’re right. You messed up. Big time.”
Changbin swallowed hard, his throat dry, his chest tightening with shame. “How do I fix it, Hannie?” he asked, his voice trembling as he leaned back against the practice room wall. He dropped his head into his hands, as though searching for answers in the quiet darkness behind his closed eyes.
Han watched him closely, his own heart aching for his friend. The usually composed, confident Changbin looked utterly defeated, like a man who had just realized how deeply he had wounded the one person he couldn’t bear to lose.
“Will she even take me back after all this?” Changbin whispered, his voice barely audible, yet thick with emotion. The thought of losing you completely was unbearable, and the weight of that fear pressed down on him like a storm.
Han’s gaze softened, but he didn’t let up. He leaned closer, his tone gentle but firm. “I don’t know if she’ll take you back, Hyung. I can’t promise you that. But what I do know is this: you can’t just sit here and hope she’ll forgive you. You have to try. You have to show her you want this—you have to prove it. Not with words, but with actions.”
Changbin’s shoulders sagged, Han’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut. But in the midst of the sting, there was something else: clarity. Han wasn’t offering him false reassurances or easy solutions. He was challenging him to take responsibility, to step up, to fight for what he’d almost let slip away.
“But how?” Changbin’s voice was raw, stripped of all the bravado he usually carried. “What if it’s too late? What if I’ve already ruined everything?”
Han exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. He understood that fear, that self-doubt, better than most. But he also knew it couldn’t be an excuse. “I can’t tell you exactly how to fix it,” he said honestly. “But I do know that if you love her...really love her....you’ll find a way. You’ll make sacrifices. You’ll show her, not just tell her, that you understand what you did wrong and that you’re willing to change.”
Changbin’s hands clenched into fists, his mind racing. Every word Han said felt like a spark igniting something deep within him. He thought of you....your laugh, your warmth, the way you had looked at him with so much hope and love, even as he took it for granted.
“I need to fix this,” he whispered, more to himself than to Han. “I need to make it right.”
Han nodded, a small but encouraging smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then go. Go to her. Don’t let her walk away....not without knowing how hard you’re willing to fight for her.”
Changbin’s fists tightened, his heart hammering in his chest as his mind raced. Thoughts of you flooded his consciousness...of all the promises he had made, of everything he had taken for granted. His breath hitched as the weight of his mistakes pressed down on him.
“I need to fix this,” he murmured, more to himself than to Han. “I need to make it right.”
Han nodded slowly, a faint, encouraging smile on his face. “Then go. Go to her. Be there for her. Don’t let her walk away without knowing you fought for her, that you’re willing to fight for this.”
-----------------------------------------------------
After practice, Changbin didn’t waste a single second. His mind had been spinning throughout the session, but now that the final notes had been struck and the lights had dimmed, there was no more time for hesitation. He could feel the crushing weight of his decision, but there was no turning back. The past few days had been nothing but regret, and he couldn’t bear another second without trying to make things right.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, his fingers trembling just slightly as he dialed his manager’s number.
“I need to cancel my schedule for tonight,” Changbin said, his voice sharp, cutting through the tension that had settled deep in his chest. His tone was firm, resolute...there was no room for negotiation. Tonight, this mattered more than any shoot, more than any event. He had made a promise to himself, and he was determined to keep it.
There was a brief, pregnant pause. Then the manager’s voice crackled through the line, sharp and incredulous.
“Changbin, this is important!” his manager began, clearly not ready to give in so easily.
“I’ll make it up later,” Changbin interrupted, his patience running thin. “It’s not negotiable. Cancel it.”
He could practically feel the manager’s frustration on the other end, the disbelief at his refusal to budge. But tonight, Changbin wasn’t backing down.
Another tense silence filled the space between them. Changbin’s heart pounded louder with each passing second, the minutes ticking by, taking him further from his regrets and closer to you. Finally, the manager let out a defeated sigh.
“Fine. But you owe me one,” the manager grumbled.
Changbin didn’t care about the debt. He didn’t care about anything else in that moment. He was done with the excuses, done with letting work consume every ounce of his life. You needed him, and he had ignored that for far too long. Without another word, he ended the call. The phone’s screen went dark, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a sense of clarity settled over him. No more distractions. No more excuses. There was only one thing left to do.
The car screeched to a halt outside your building, and before the driver could even fully park, Changbin was already out of the vehicle. His mind was set, his resolve unshakable. He didn’t look back as he marched toward the entrance, his fingers fumbling for his phone. He quickly sent you a message, letting you know he was on his way, though words couldn’t fully capture the urgency in his heart.
But when the message failed to send, his heart sank.
“Fuck!” he shouted into the emptiness, his frustration echoing in the silence. You had blocked him, and now there was no way to find you. Panic surged through him. He dialed your number again, his fingers trembling as the call went straight to voicemail. He tried again. And again. Desperation clawed at him with each failed attempt.
After what felt like an eternity, his phone buzzed, a fleeting hope rising in his chest. He snatched it up, praying it was you. But it wasn’t. It was a message from your friend.
He immediately got to work, knowing how much Christmas meant to you. You had talked about it so many times....the magic of the season, the small, intimate moments shared with someone you cared about. Changbin decided that if he was going to prove his commitment to you, it had to be meaningful, personal.
The whole afternoon was spent transforming the apartment. He rearranged the furniture, finished decorating the half-done Christmas tree, and hung the lights carefully, making sure the room felt warm and inviting—just like you always imagined it would. He even found the candles you loved, setting them around the apartment to create a soft, intimate glow.
But it wasn’t just the decorations that mattere....it was the food. Changbin knew you loved a particular dish, a comfort food that reminded you of your family. He’d never made it himself before, but he spent hours in the kitchen, making sure it was perfect. The pressure to get it right was overwhelming, but he didn’t care. This was for you. This was his way of showing you that he was willing to fight for your trust. Finally, after hours of frantic work, the apartment was ready. The smell of your favorite dishes filled the air, and the tree sparkled in the corner, casting a warm, inviting glow.
-------------------------------------------------------
When you stood in front of the door, your hands were sweating with anticipation, your heart pounding in your chest. The cool air felt thick around you, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Part of you didn’t want to believe the texts he had sent YFN, promising he’d change, that he was going to make things right.
You had heard all these words before....sweet nothings meant to soothe, promises made in the heat of guilt that never amounted to anything. You knew him better than anyone. His words had always been a comfort, but they had never been enough to back up the actions. You had fallen for that before.
But then, there was this sliver of hope that you couldn’t quite shake. A tiny part of you, despite all the hurt, the frustration, the disappointment...wanted to believe. You wanted to believe that he had finally realized the weight of his mistakes, that he had truly changed. You wanted to believe that he would show you, not just tell you, that he was ready to be the person you needed him to be.
Still, doubts gnawed at you. Could he really change? Was it possible for him to be different, to be there for you the way you had always hoped? Or were you just setting yourself up for more heartbreak? The questions spiraled in your mind, each one louder than the last.
And yet, despite all the fear and uncertainty, you couldn’t stop yourself. Maybe it was the last shred of hope, the desperate desire for things to be different, that made you raise your hand and knock on the door. The sound of the knock echoed in the stillness, and for a moment, you stood there, frozen, bracing yourself for whatever came next.
----------------------------------------------------
When Changbin opened the door, you stood frozen for a moment. Your hands trembled as they hovered at your sides, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. As you looked up at him, your eyes were guarded, distant, shielded behind a mask you had perfected over the past days. The hurt, the anger, everything that had been weighing you down was there, hiding just beneath the surface. But despite everything, despite how much you tried to keep him at arm’s length, he saw the vulnerability there. It was fleeting, but it was enough for him to know that you weren’t entirely closed off to him.
You stepped into the apartment, your breath catching in your throat. The moment you crossed the threshold, something felt different. The atmosphere in the room was unlike anything you had expected. The warm glow of candles flickered in the dim light, casting soft, dancing shadows on the walls. The scent of your favorite dishes, the ones that always comforted you, wafted through the air, pulling at your senses and making you feel a little lighter, despite everything. It was as if you had stepped into another world - a world where the pain, the confusion, the distance didn’t exist. For a split second, you felt suspended in time, caught between disbelief and a longing you didn’t want to acknowledge.
You stood there, frozen, taking it all in. Changbin had rearranged the apartment, changed the entire atmosphere with his efforts. It was as though he had taken the same care and dedication he poured into his music and channeled it into this moment, this space. The decorations were thoughtful, intimate...a soft, gentle reminder of the warmth he had once promised to share with you. And as you stood there, you couldn’t help but be stunned by the sight of it all. You hadn’t expected this. You didn’t know what you expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.
Changbin stood by the couch, his expression nervous, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were thinking. His heart raced as you took in the room...the lights, the decorations, everything he had done. There was a mix of hope and anxiety in his eyes, and you could feel it as he silently waited for your response.
"Changbin..." Your voice was barely a whisper, filled with disbelief, as though you couldn't quite fathom that this was real. "You did all this?"
His voice trembled slightly as he stepped closer to you. "Y/N... I'm so sorry. I messed up. I know I don’t deserve you, but I need to fix this. Please, let me show you that I’m willing to try."
The silence between you both was heavy, thick with the unspoken words, with the weight of everything that had happened in the past few days. It felt like the space itself was holding its breath, waiting for you to speak, to react.
Finally, your voice broke, raw with emotion. "You don’t even know how much it hurt when you didn’t come back that night, Changbin. I spent the entire day preparing everything, waiting for you… Christmas Eve, a day we were supposed to share. I waited for hours, and you didn’t even care enough to show up. Do you have any idea what that felt like?"
Changbin felt the sharp sting of your words, each one cutting deeper than he could have imagined. He could hear the tremor in your voice, the vulnerability in your words, and it shattered his heart. But he didn’t argue. He didn’t try to defend himself because he knew you were right. He had left you when you needed him the most. And nothing he could say would take that pain away.
"I wasn’t thinking," he admitted quietly, his voice thick with regret. "I was selfish. I thought I could push through everything....work, the shoot, the schedule....but I ignored you. I ignored us. And I hate that I hurt you like this. I’m so sorry, Y/N."
You stood there, arms tightly crossed in front of you, your gaze turned away from him, as though you couldn’t bear to look at him just yet. "I don’t know if I can forget this, Changbin. You hurt me so much. You didn’t even think about what I needed, what I was feeling. It’s like I didn’t matter."
Changbin’s chest tightened at your words. The last thing he ever wanted was for you to feel like you didn’t matter. He wanted so badly to reach out, to hold you, to tell you everything would be okay, but he knew that words alone wouldn’t be enough this time. He had to show you. He had to prove to you that he was truly sorry, that he could be better.
"I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness," he said softly, the words heavy with sincerity. "But I need you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I won’t make excuses anymore. I’ll show you how much you mean to me if you’ll let me."
You stayed silent for what felt like an eternity, and Changbin could feel his heart race. Was he too late? Had he ruined everything? Was there any way to repair the damage he had caused?
Finally, you sighed, your voice soft but uncertain. "I just... I don’t know. I’m so confused, Changbin. The loneliness, the waiting... I feel like I’ve been pushed aside. Like I didn’t matter."
"I understand," he said quietly, his voice gentle but filled with determination. "And I’m so sorry. You should never have felt that way. I should’ve been there for you. But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere. Please, let me show you how much you mean to me."
"How?" you asked, your voice trembling, barely a whisper.
Changbin could feel the weight of your question, the gravity of it, and he knew there was no going back. He had to be completely honest with you, to show you how committed he was to making things right. "I want to show you something," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I know I’ve let you down, and I can’t undo that. But tonight, I want to make it up to you. I’ve cleared my schedule for the next two days. No work, no distractions. Just you and me. I’m not going to let this slip away."
You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, any hint of him just saying what he thought you wanted to hear. But there was nothing...only the raw vulnerability in his eyes, the quiet sincerity in his voice. For a moment, he held his breath, waiting for your response.
"You don’t have to do all this, Changbin," you said softly, your voice carrying a mixture of sadness and doubt. "I’m not sure anything will change just because you... cancel your schedule."
He nodded, understanding the skepticism in your voice. "I know. But I want to show you that I can be better. That I will be better for you. I’m not asking for forgiveness right away, but just... let me prove it."
You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you turned away, and he motioned for you to follow him. As you walked into the shared room, the soft glow of Christmas lights bathed the space, casting gentle shadows across the walls. The familiar scent of something delicious filled the air, pulling at your senses. You followed him into the room, and that’s when you saw it...on the table, a beautifully set spread of food. The sight took you by surprise. There, amid the candles and the warm, inviting glow, was the comfort food you had always described as a childhood memory. The dish you always loved, the one that never failed to make you feel at home.
"I made dinner," Changbin said quietly, his voice full of nervous excitement. "I know it’s not much, but I thought it might help."
You looked at the table, taking in the sight of the food: the sweet potato noodles, the tteok guk, the roasted vegetables, and of course, the dish you always cherished. Changbin had even prepared a dessert, and you could see the care he had put into every detail. It wasn’t just the food, though. It was the fact that he had taken the time, the effort, to make this night special for you. He had given you something that mattered to him: his time, his undivided attention.
"You did all this for me?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible, a small sense of disbelief in your words.
Changbin smiled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I did. Because I want you to know that you matter. That I’m not going to make the same mistakes again."
You bit your lip, torn between the pain of the past and the small, flickering hope that maybe...just maybe...things could be different. You didn’t know how to trust him again. The hurt was still fresh, but the sincerity in his eyes made you want to try.
"I don’t know how to trust you again," you said quietly, the vulnerability in your voice making his chest tighten.
"I understand," he replied gently, his voice full of determination. "And I’m not asking you to trust me right away. But I’m here, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll prove it to you. Slowly, if I have to."
You stood there, your heart heavy with emotions you hadn’t been able to process before. Slowly, you nodded, a small, uncertain smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
"Fine," you said quietly, the words carrying more weight than you intended. "I’m giving you one last chance. Don’t disappoint me."
Changbin’s heart soared with a feeling he hadn’t dared to expect. It wasn’t perfect...far from it...but it was enough to breathe life back into his hope. That small, fragile thread of connection, once torn and frayed, was beginning to weave itself back together. There was still a long way to go, but the fact that you were here, sharing this moment, was more than he could have hoped for......
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As the evening unfolded, the two of you sat at the table, surrounded by the warmth of the flickering candles and the delicious scent of food filling the air. The silence between you was no longer heavy or awkward; it was a comfortable quiet, a space where the two of you could just be, without the weight of everything that had happened before. Changbin had worked tirelessly to clear his schedule, to create a space that would help you feel safe again. And slowly, you began to feel it, the effort, the thought, the care that he had poured into this night. It wasn’t just the meal he had prepared; it was the time, the attention, the honesty.
The food was incredible! far better than anything Changbin had anticipated. You could taste the care he had put into every dish, and something about that made the meal feel even more meaningful. The flavors were rich and comforting, each bite an affirmation of the effort he had put into making this evening about more than just an apology. It was about rebuilding, piece by piece. You couldn’t help but appreciate how much he had given of himself to make this moment special.
Changbin watched you closely, his eyes never straying far from your face. There was a nervousness there, of course...he had made so many mistakes before, and he wasn’t sure if this would be enough to fix things...but there was something else, too. A quiet determination. This wasn’t about erasing the past; it wasn’t about expecting forgiveness on the spot. It was about showing you that he was here, that he was present, and that he was willing to put in the work.
“You’ve really been thinking about this, haven’t you?” you asked after a moment, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and appreciation. Your eyes met his, and for the first time in a while, you saw something different in his gaze. Something real.
Changbin nodded, his expression softening. “Every day. I’m not just sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t important. I know I’ve hurt you, and I hate that. But I’m here now, and I promise...I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”
There was a long pause as his words settled between you. For the first time in days, you felt a small, tentative shift. It wasn’t a magical fix, and there was still so much hurt to process, but there was something undeniable in the way he was looking at you now. A sincerity that hadn’t been there before. It was a moment that didn’t erase the past but made the future feel a little less uncertain...
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Over the next two days, Changbin kept his word. He had cleared his schedule completely, no distractions, no work, no practice. Just the two of you. Every moment was spent together, whether it was quietly reading side by side, making breakfast together, or simply talking about anything and everything. As the hours passed, you felt something you hadn’t felt in weeks: peace. Slowly, bit by bit, the anger and doubt that had clung to you like a weight began to fade. It wasn’t gone entirely, but it was lighter now. You began to see that, maybe, this wasn’t the end of something broken. Maybe it was the beginning of something new.
You weren’t sure what the future would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you could feel the space between you and Changbin beginning to fill with warmth again. A warmth that hadn’t been there in weeks, maybe longer. It was subtle at first, a soft shift in the way you interacted, but it was there...gradually rebuilding itself.
On the third morning, you awoke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. You stirred from sleep, feeling the comforting warmth of Changbin’s body pressed against yours. His arms were around you, pulling you close, and his face was buried in your hair, his breath soft and steady against the back of your neck. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours, the quiet reassurance that came with his presence. For the first time in a while, the weight of the past didn’t feel quite as heavy.
“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his words muffled as he nuzzled closer to you.
A soft smile tugged at your lips as you turned your head just slightly to plant a gentle kiss on the top of his messy hair. He groaned quietly, his lips curving into a sleepy smile as he lazily shifted closer to you, as though not wanting to break the quiet, peaceful bubble you had created over the past few days.
His lips brushed against your skin as he kissed your neck, his breath warm and comforting against your skin. “Mmm, don’t leave yet,” he whispered, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep. He tightened his hold on you just a little, as though he was afraid the moment would slip away if he let go.
As you lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, something deep inside you shifted. The ache from the past few weeks was still there, still lingering, but it felt distant now. Lighter. The reassurance in his touch was something you hadn’t realized you’d been craving. This wasn’t about him being perfect. It wasn’t about fixing everything overnight. It wasn’t about erasing the past...it was about something else. It was about this moment. This peace. This effort.
Changbin had made an effort. He had cleared his schedule. He had shown up when it mattered most. And somehow, in all of that, he had made you feel like you were the priority again. It hadn’t been easy for him, and it hadn’t been easy for you either, but the fact that he had tried...had kept trying...meant something. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real.
You shifted just slightly, glancing down at him as he lazily pulled you closer, his lips still pressed against your skin. His hair was messy, his face still soft with sleep, but there was something new in his expression now. A warmth that hadn’t been there before. A softness, a vulnerability. You could feel the sincerity in his touch, in the way he made sure to be present for you, to show up every day since he had apologized.
You didn’t say anything for a moment. The air around you felt different...almost sacred. Safe. Slowly, Changbin looked up at you, his dark eyes still sleepy but now holding something deeper. Something you could trust. Something that felt real.
“Thank you for giving me a chance,” he murmured quietly, his voice hoarse from sleep, but there was an undeniable sincerity behind every word.
You smiled gently, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “It’s not about ‘thank you,’” you replied softly. “It’s about showing up. And you’ve been showing up.”
His expression softened, and a silent understanding passed between you both. It was unspoken, but it was there. You weren’t there yet. There was still a long way to go. But you were both working on it, together. Slowly, you were rebuilding something that had once seemed irreparably broken.
Changbin shifted again, kissing your cheek gently before murmuring, “I’ll keep showing up, Y/N. I promise.”
And in that moment, you realized something...perhaps you had been too afraid to admit it before, but now you understood: this was just the beginning. Not the perfect beginning, but a real one. And that was all either of you needed right now. With patience, with effort, and with time, everything else would fall into place. Together, slowly, you would make it through....
⋆⁺❅ Tags - @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @yangbbokari @theo4eve @livelovelaughmiko @silverstarburst @galaxycatdrawz @skzoologist @shua-f4lmings @iknowyouknowminho @krisstheidiot @hyunjinhoexxx @gho-ster @ezlynkisses @elmoslungcancer @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @seungseung-minmin @cuddlylonelyperson @jeonginsleftcheek @oreoqueen @freekyfangirl
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⋆⁺❅ ENDNOTE - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!
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(Open Rp) Nezha Reborn in "Lady Fox"
Long Ago After the Battles Against heavens and Journey to the west, Sun wukong and saphira are happily Together Once more after Sun wukong Woke her from her Deathly Sleep curse.. But when they comes out Nezha Challenge him for a battle..but During the battle, She Begged Nezha because She doesn't want to lose him again so nezha spared him but then the Dragon king of the eastern sea was Having none of it and Sent his Son Name "Ao Bing" to Kill sun wukong, but he was Killed by Nezha who is protecting Sun Wukong and Saphira By ripping Ao Bings spine out. Two Lovers Head out to Safety at Sakutopia but Sun wukong Knows That Saphira will be in grave Danger again and the Dragon king will put her a terrible curse again, So he told her that He must go and Fight to protect Her but Saphira begged him not to go and then He Said that he Promise to sent her gifts every day to let her know that He's alright. After he Left, Saphira was Devastated and heartbroken While the Dragon king Had Saw it and Made a Devious plan to keep Sun wukong and Saphira Separate By Making a Letter of Sun wukongs death and immortality been taken away.. Then one day, Saphira receive That letter and her heart is broken after she read that her beloved Monkey king was dead, She collapsed on the ground and crying Out of her broken heart but every day she receive gifts every day and she thought his ghost brought it.. As 30 years has passed in the celestial world and Saphira was Sent by her Father to the City called "Donghai" where She lives in Luxury and perform beautifully at the Palace of Happiness.. That night, when she sings She sees the strange person with a mask watching her out from the window. After the Performance, She was Invited to Meet with Au Guang the Dragon king of east sea, She founded it out that sun Wukong is alive.. Then That Morning, She meet with Au guang and his Son and she said,
Saphira: "You've got some nerve Invited me here after everything you put me Through, and I was Wondering. What brings me here to your Lovely Kingdom?"
Au Guang: "Ah Princess Saphira, I am aware of what I did to you and your Beloved one. So as For that Question, I have a Proposal for you to marry my son.. I was thinking that You've been Mourn your beloved Monkey King For too Long so I was thinking that It's time to be married someone else, Right Son?"
Ao Bing comes to her and looking at her up and down while Saphira made a disgust look and she said,
Saphira: "What Made you think that I will Marry Your Son After YOU sent him to kill my Love before His ass was Killed by Nezha?"
Au Guang: went stern, expression harden "My dear That was a Long time ago, Time has changed and all heh.. My dear Your Grief needs to let go I-"
Saphira began to cut off
Saphira: "Then Why did you Lie to me about Sun Wukongs death?!"
Au Gaung, Ao bing and His Minion froze as Saphira realized That Au Guang DID Lie to her about Sun wukongs Death and She knew it.
Saphira: "If Sun Wukong was dead as you Claim, then Why did I receive Gifts Every day For 30,000 years, 30 years in my Celestial realm! YOU KNEW HE'S ALIVE, WHERE IS HE!? Where's Sun wukong!?"
Saphira Shouted in Defiance..as She heard the Sound of Cane Slammed by Au Guang and She Froze, her breathing is Steady and then Au Guang Use the Enchanted red ribbon and Holds her down as she screams, Struggling to break free but then Au guang use his mechanical hand began to place saphira a Curse and he told her that This time Only he will be dead and No true loves kiss can break this time and he said that Saphira Will become a little White Fox by day and a beautiful Woman By Night..Then The black smoke went around her and Change her into a beautiful Little White Fox as His Minions laugh about it And before Au Guang Say anything, Saphira made a Hasty Escape and runs out of the Building as Au guang told his Boys to after that White Fox but Saphira was So swift as She runs to the Poverty Area where She sees alot of poor people and all, She felt heart broken and all they needed was water and all.. When she made it to the warehouse area, She accidentally Bumped into A young Motor Biker name "Li Yunxiang", in her eyes she saw Nezha in him But then one of His Buddies picked Her up by the scruff and said…
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LOVE WAGER! 02
Synopsis: The concept of love resurfaces as you both agree to center your psychology project on the premise that love is a choice. You propose an intriguing idea to Jungkook: he must exert every effort to make you fall in love with him within a month, to back up his belief.
Pairings: jungkook x fem!reader
Genre: college au. strangers to friends to lovers. angst/romantic comedy.
Warnings: mentions of divorce parents, neglectful parents, mentions of depression, banter, cussing, ex girlfriends, flashbacks, jungkook low key being super mean and discarding people’s feelings, jungkook hard-key depressed, implications of sex.
a/n: hai… this is so long overdue— exams month is coming and I had the biggest writers block fr but here’s my beloved babies. Song of the chapter— “love is embarrassing” by Olivia Rodrigo.
prev chapter! series masterlist!
Love.
Love is an intricate subject in its own right. Scientists elucidate it through the interplay of three cerebral chemicals: noradrenaline, dopamine, and phenylethylamine.
That's how Jungkook perceived love. He didn't subscribe to the notion of butterflies in the stomach or the fluttering heartbeat as justifications for love. To him, love was a scientific phenomenon, a complex emotion akin to sadness or jealousy-if he could evade such feelings, he would spare no effort.
But why did his stomach churn as if his organs were performing tiny somersaults whenever he gazed at you a tad too long? You were engrossed in the menu, pondering whether to get a burger or a slice of pizza.
Seated beautifully in your loose red Formula One shirt, Jungkook couldn't fathom how you managed to make that oversized shirt look so good.
Jungkook's eyes dropped to the ribbon in your hair, wondering why someone who was a full-on adult looked pretty, adorable even-with a red ribbon tied into a beautiful bow contrasting your skin and eyes. Your long eyelashes entranced him. He felt his stomach do something, a turn? Maybe his stomach was upset-he thought to himself.
Jungkook couldn't believe he found himself willingly sharing a table with you at the same dinner two years ago, he almost killed you at. He had moved to Emberhill U two years ago, ever since he moved out from his mom's house. Jungkook's life had gone to hell, which is exactly what his mind would tell him ever since his mom got a boyfriend. To make matters worse, he now had step-siblings.
He hated every bit of it. He wasn't jealous whatsoever.
It was the fact that his mom seemed to forget he even existed in the first place. Jungkook was hurt. He tried not to dwell or cry about it since he was a big boy-that's what he told himself now, pushing twenty-two, but still, part of his already broken heart shattered more.
How could your mom forget about her child? How could she not care about her only flesh and blood? He never told her that ever. Talking about his feelings with his mom was like talking to a brick wall that nothing could pass through. Plus, Jungkook wasn't good at communicating or talking about his feelings anyway. He found it embarrassing to lay yourself out there for someone to be able to discard you at any given moment.
Jungkook's dad wasn't any different as wellbeing too busy with work to even call him to ask his son if he was okay or how school is going. But the calls or text messages never came. Jungkook was used to it. It was his everyday. It was more shocking when he did call, but he wouldn't know what that would feel like since he never called ever since the divorce. Jungkook knew the divorce wasn't his fault whatsoever. His therapist—that his high school counselor made him go to—basically talked his ear off about how anything that happened wasn't his fault, but still, it felt like it was.
Ever since everything went down, his parents seemed to forget they had a child, who still needed them.
One advantage of his situation was the freedom to do as he pleased without his parents' interference. However, the downside was their lack of concern for his activities or just him in general. Jungkook was certain: if his parents didn't love him, who else in the world would? So, he didn't believe in love. When the two people meant to demonstrate unconditional love failed to do so, he doubted anyone else would. He would like to say that it didn't affect him and it's been years since everything, but deep down it still did.
Jungkook experiences a pang of guilt every time he looks at you. Perhaps it's the way he behaved when he first met you, the influence of the romantic comedy in your hands causing him to lash out at you.
Something about your ribbons makes him feel that you’re too innocent and naive for this world—part of him wants to shield you from its harsh realities, while another part wants to disillusion you about the cruelty of the world and the disparity between love in fairy tales and reality.
"Are you done daydreaming?" You say, interrupting his thoughts. Jungkook shakes his head, attempting to banish his thoughts before raising an eyebrow at your curious doe eyes. "I wasn't daydreaming," he states proudly, prompting a scoff from you, a grin tugging at Jungkook's lips.
"It was either daydreaming or checking me out since you were staring at me for a hot minute, but I decided otherwise since you have a girlfriend," you quip nonchalantly before calling the waiter to take your order.
"First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend, and second of all, what if I was checking you out?" Jungkook challenges. He didn’t know why he enjoyed getting on your nerves—any other person he would probably flip off and never give them the time of day, but instead, here he was with you doing the complete opposite.
"What happened to the girl from the dinner?" You question, your eyes finally meeting his brown ones. A glint of something passes over his eyes before disappearing as quickly as you saw it—so you thought maybe you had imagined it.
"Who?" Jungkook says, tilting his head to the side as he leans forward, his elbows propped on the table. "the one you mentioned to me two years ago? The one you discussed intimately," you mimic his voice. Jungkook's smile widens, amused by your jest.
"If you want to know so badly, we broke up—well, she broke up with me," Jungkook clicks his tongue, observing your expressions closely. He notices the creases of your forehead whenever you are thinking or the way you bite your lower lip to contain a smile that’s threatening to come out, each time Jungkook says something dumb.
"Oh, let me guess, she wanted love letters and sweet words whispered into her ear," you mock him, knowing he said that he didn’t need to do any of that to keep a girl. "You’re annoying, Ribbons," Jungkook shakes his head with a low soft chuckle.
You watch him pick up the menu and start scanning the items as you observe him. You notice how his jaw clenches momentarily before relaxing, his tongue poking on the inside of his cheek, making you wonder if you angered him—and if you did, maybe you should do it more often since he looked hot—
Record scratch.
Your mind was playing games with you the more you watched the raven-haired boy. The more you realized he was the epitome of the boy you imagined whenever you were reading a book, the dimples on his cheeks, the scar right above his cheekbone, and the mole underneath his bottom lip had you wanting to ask him for his whole life story.
He also looks like those cute love song playlists that had all your favorite songs in them, but you knew from the way he acts around you, it was definitely a hard no and maybe you were delusional after all. So you try hard to shove those ideas into the back of your brain as far as you could.
"I knew that you couldn’t keep a girlfriend," you shrug, prompting a gasp from him as he jokingly places a hand on his heart, as if you had just dealt him a mortal blow.
"Wow, YN doesn’t think I’m boyfriend material?" Jungkook gasps dramatically, shaking his head.
"You’re literally everything that's not boyfriend material," you throw your head back with a laugh, observing his widened eyes with amusement evident on his face. "Ouch," Jungkook scoffs dramatically.
"What makes you say I’m not boyfriend material?" he says, scanning the room for a waiter but finding none, before redirecting his attention to you.
"You don’t believe in love, that's one way to start," you point out, eliciting a hum of agreement from him. "What's that got to do with being a good boyfriend? I assure you that a good boyfriend isn’t necessarily head over heels in love," Jungkook says, as if imparting a valuable lesson, while your facial expression betrays you.
"The fuck? You literally hate everything related to love. Being a good boyfriend means doing cliche shit you hate doing so much, how could you possibly be boyfriend material?" you assert proudly, prompting an eye-roll from him.
"All that stuff is just superficial shit that everyone collectively agreed on. It’s just embarrassing how people put themselves go through all that just to make someone lik—“
"Love," you interject, earning yourself a glare from across the table.
"Like I was saying, I stand by the fact all those stupid romantic gestures are pointless. Society basically romanticized love and set up unrealistic expectations— everything just leads to heartbreak and disappointment," Jungkook continues, you watch how the hard expression on his face wavers to something more… sad, like he was talking from experience.
"Have you ever experienced love?" you inquire, not sure why since you guys weren’t even friends in the first place—the only reason you found yourself sitting with him willingly was because of psychology class.
"What?" Jungkook is caught off guard by the sudden question.
"Have you ever been in love?" you reiterate, observing his expression harden once more. "No, never, and I don’t plan to," Jungkook shrugs, going back to his usual cocky self in a blink of an eye, prompting yet another eye-roll from you, marking thirty-eighth.
You didn’t get the chance to reply since a waiter came to your table, apologizing for taking so long to get to us before taking our orders.
You and Jungkook decided on sharing a pizza, and you obviously ordered a coke, which got Jungkook joking about how he isn’t trying to make you choke again, which had the waiter shifting uncomfortably beside you both while Jungkook had an eating-shit grin on his face.
“That’s not what he meant!” You chuckled nervously, your face reddening, matching your shirt from how embarrassed you are.
“No, it’s okay, you don't have to explain,” the waiter said before excusing himself.
The moment the waiter was out of your line of vision, you turned your head to the boy who’s sucking in his lips, trying not to laugh.
“What the fuck was that?” You glared, your eyebrows scrunching. “What, you both just have a dirty mind,” Jungkook shrugged, the grin on his face making you shift in your chair.
Jungkook's aura was unlike anything you’d ever stumbled upon, and you hated it. It made you want to know more about him than you should, the way he carried himself and talked had you questioning why? He wasn’t so different from other boys you had met, besides the fact that he spoke his mind as if no one was around, not caring if he hurt your feelings or offended you. It was refreshing in some way, but it still made you want to pull your hair out.
“Alright… let’s change topics, Mr. Anti-Romantic,” you say, watching his smile widen.
“What?” You stared at him, trying to think what could possibly make him smile that much. You were sure your face would hurt if you possibly smiled that much.
“Nothing, I just find it extremely hot when you call me that, it turns me on,” Jungkook said, leaning forward.
Okay, that’s not exactly what you were imagining him saying. Your eyes widened momentarily, feeling your heartbeat rise. The smile not leaving his face had you feeling hot, as if the room temperature suddenly increased.
“Uh… so, project,” you blinked rapidly.
“Yeah, project,” Jungkook agreed, smile still on his face as he saw your cheeks flush with a reddish color.
“So, any ideas about what our project can be about?” You said, grabbing the hair tie around your wrist and using it to make a ponytail, taking the ribbons out before tying your hair.
Two small strands fell from your face, tempting Jungkook's fingers to reach out and tuck them behind your ear. He wanted to slap himself back to reality since he never in his life thought those thoughts, not even with Haneul, whom he dated for five months, setting a record. He still remembered the reason she gave him for breaking up. It was laughable.
“Jungkook, you don’t even look at me with love, and I know you said when we first met that it was only attraction, but I thought you would change over time the more we hung out,” Haneul whimpered, tears gathering around her eyes as Jungkook just stared at her, not knowing what to say. Because yes, he did tell her it was all attraction, and it’s still only attraction to this day for him.
“You don’t hold my hand or give me kisses, you don’t even give me flowers,” Haneul cried, her voice cracking with each word she said.
“I told you, I don’t do that stuff,” Jungkook said. He felt bad for her since he knew she deserved better, but he didn’t feel bad about not doing those things for her since he told her he wouldn’t and never would do them. And she agreed, so why was she crying about it now when she agreed to it five months ago?
“I know you did, but I thought you just… fuck, you haven’t even introduced me to your family,” a crack is heard from Jungkook's heart, but not for the girl in front of him crying her heart out, but for himself, because yeah, he had no family he could take a girl home to, since he had no home at all. He had a house, but it was as empty as he was.
“Haneul, I told you—“
“Yeah, that you will never do that! I get it, okay? I get it, but fuck, how can you not care? Do you not feel anything when it comes to me?” The girl wept more, which had Jungkook sighing.
“I like you, Haneul,” Jungkook replied. “I love you, Jungkook, can’t you tell…” she whispered, a choked sob leaving her lips as she looked up at the man who’s just standing in front of her like nothing.
“I’m sorry,” that's all Jungkook said… because what else could he say? It was either that or that he didn’t love her, but to not take it personally since he didn’t love anything?
So instead, he said the only thing he could muster without his voice cracking.
“Love,” Jungkook finally says, his statement catching you off guard, widening your eyes in surprise.
“Love? I thought you hated love,” you raise an eyebrow, perplexed by his sudden declaration.
“I do, but love is psychological. We can discuss how we, as humans, have the ability to choose whether we fall in love or not,” Jungkook articulates.
“That’s not how love works, Jungkook,” you retort, to which he responds with a disapproving nod. “It does, though,” Jungkook rebuts.
“It doesn’t. Love is not something we can choose and pick, it just happens,” you try to explain.
“You believe love just happens, but I disagree, respectfully,” Jungkook adds, causing you to tilt your head curiously, intrigued by his perspective. “I’ve held on for too long without being in love since I said I wouldn’t fall in love,” he concludes.
“That’s because you haven’t met anyone you actually want to try with… maybe you just haven’t met your soulmate,” you suggest, annoyance evident on Jungkook’s face the moment you mention the concept of soulmates.
“Soulmates don’t exist, ribbons,” Jungkook snickers.
“I beg to differ,” you cross your arms, adamant in your belief. “I don’t know what fantasy lovey-dovey world you live in, but soulmates are just made up,” Jungkook shrugs casually.
“Maybe you are right about the fact that you get to choose who you fall in love with since I know for a fact I would never fall in love with you,” you spitefully state.
Jungkook nods, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth that catches him off guard. Perhaps it was the fact that someone had just openly admitted they wouldn’t want to love him—reminding him of the kid he once was, desperately begging his parents to love him. But wasn’t this what he was trying to prove in the first place, that love was a choice? Then why did it hurt to hear you say those words out loud?
“Atta girl, finally got it huh,” Jungkook smirks, ignoring the pang of hurt in his chest. “Alright then, if we did do that for our project, let’s say we argued that love is a choice and it doesn’t happen. How do we prove that?” you question.
Silence fills the table as you both brainstorm ideas, trying to back up this argument.
“I got it,” you say, as if a light bulb just appeared on top of your head. Jungkook nods, encouraging you to continue.
“What if we spend a month with you doing absolutely everything to make me fall in love with you? And I mean do all that cliché, romantic shit I love that you hate so much. Since I know for a fact that I choose not to fall in love with you, we can discuss how, even if a person does everything right, you still get to choose who you love,” you explain carefully, ensuring he understands your proposal.
“It’s a good idea for the project; we could use ourselves to illustrate how we pick and choose who we love, like you said,” you try to convince him, giving him the benefit of the doubt after he convinced you of his beliefs. You knew you would never fall for him, even if he did everything you ever read in books and saw in movies.
“We can call it the Love Wager,” you finish, scanning his face as he contemplates the idea.
Jungkook’s mind races, unsure if he likes the idea or absolutely hates it. On one hand, it could earn him a good grade, given the strong rationale behind it, using yourselves as an experiment to support your argument. But on the other hand, the thought of spending a month doing everything he had vocally despised for the past five years gave him the heebie-jeebies.
“Alright then, the Love Wager operation starts,” Jungkook agrees instead, while you clap happily. “Oh my god yay, this might give me an A plus,” you celebrate, giggling as Jungkook raises an eyebrow.
“It’s a long story; I just hate psychology,” you say, to which he nods in response.
“Well, we have a month together, so start explaining why you hate it so much,” Jungkook says nonchalantly, and before you could reply, the waiter hurriedly returns to your table, apologizing for the wait, mentioning the kitchen’s struggle with the influx of orders. But you keep your eyes on the boy in front of you, who looks at the waiter, reassuring him it’s okay.
The smell of fresh, hot pizza fills your nostrils as you finally snap out of your trance, looking down at the pizza the waiter is sliding onto the table, cautioning you both that it is extremely hot. The waiter continues to place all the food you ordered on the table before leaving with a bow.
“I’m starving, oh my god,” Jungkook moans as he picks up a slice of pizza and takes a bite, ignoring the steam.
“How is that not burning your tongue, oh my…” you begin to say, but you’re interrupted as you take a bite of your own slice, immediately regretting it as you burn your tongue. “Ah, ah, ha,” you drop the pizza onto your plate, sticking your tongue out and fanning your mouth with your hand. A small laugh escapes from Jungkook as you shoot him a snarky glare.
“He literally just told you it was hot, ribbons,” Jungkook says, grabbing a napkin from the container and reaching over to wipe some sauce off your lips and face. The fanning from your hand halts as you stare at his focused face, feeling yourself heat up again, but this time it’s not your mouth—it’s your cheeks.
“Why did you just do that?” you ask before you can stop yourself, as he sits back down properly. “I’m starting my boyfriend material journey, you know, since the project?” Jungkook says casually, taking another bite of pizza, watching you in surprise as you shockingly observe him not being fazed by the burning food in his mouth, chewing happily.
“Oh… we’re starting right now?” you gesture to the table between you both, indicating ‘right now’. “Yeah, we only have one month, let’s make it worth it,” he says, diving back into his food.
God, this month was definitely going to be a roller coaster.
💌taglist— @brune77e @cherryfragrancx @inlovewithharutoo @jcnggukie @vkjmjjk @seokjinspinkslipper @jayjahni @mxrecg @suciedad-divina @peterstarkchrishiddleston @aiiselle90210 @lovingkoalaface @httpjeonlicious @thekookiedealer @somehowukook @taiwan0618 @gwsjungkookie @chxrrybangtan @seokout @junecat18 @joonsanswer @ahgasegotarmy116recs @jkmylove97 @letjungcoook7 @skzthinker @whoa-jo @ziyaexe @kooloveys @sneezedonthebeat @parkinglot-nights @btsffreader92 @jjeonjjk7 (lmk if you wanna get taken off)
#jungkook fanfic#jungkook#bts fanfic#bts jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jjk#fluff#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk smut#jungkook angst#jungkook imagine#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#jeongguk x reader#jeongguk fic#jeongguk smut#jeongguk#jeon jeongguk#bts jeongguk#bts fanfction#bts masterlist#bts fluff#bts jk#bts smut#jungkook drabble#jeon jk#jungkook x oc
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Wait... what was the swanqueen fic recs? ...and are there more (...esp if theyre smutty) 👀👀👀
oh there are more!!!
first of all i'm just going to plug myself because why not. i have 78 swan queen works up - mostly oneshots, a couple longfics, including the fic i'm currently writing, change with the seasons. a lot of my fics are older (for example my 52 weeks of swan queen series was written in 2015) and i was a teenager when i wrote them, but i still find a lot of joy in them!!
now for the rest of the recs, i'm going to organize them as best i can into a few categories. also, a lot of these recs will be a bit older as i've been away from the fandom for a while, and am only just now coming back again. this is an open question if anyone else has recommendations to add in the reblogs!!!
longfics:
satin town by @coalitiongirl is probably my all time favorite fanfic, period. everything she's written for the fandom is incredible, but this one has always stuck with me. the dynamic between emma and regina (who is in full on evil queen mode) is just DELICIOUS and i love how she worked henry into the story. an absolute must as far as i'm concerned. PLUS she has a whole NOVEL out now, so go support that if you like the fic!!!!
the secret's in the telling by @the-pyrophoric-one is another classic in the fandom, and for good reason. the characterization is so spot on, and i absolutely love the arc of this story. the chapters are suuuuuper long though so it's a time investment!!
somewhere, someone must know the ending by maleficently who is not on tumblr as far as i'm aware is a divorce au. lots of angst with a happy ending. the same author also wrote an incredible three-part series called the fatal plunge, which remains, tragically, unfinished.
you gotta play dirty by amycarey who i'm not tagging because they don't write fic anymore. there's so many fics by amycarey that i absolutely adore (temporary distractions and keep the wolves outside by living well are also up there!!) but i chose this one because it's so unique to me. it's an au in which emma and regina are in a concert band together. i was a band kid myself, specifically a clarinetist, so i was pretty geeked over this!!
all that glitters is not (olypmic) gold by @queststar is another super niche but super fun and well-written au. in this one, emma and regina are olympic speed skaters. i just love the competitive energy between the two of them and the arc as they grow closer and eventually fall for each other. the author even got elizabeth mitchell to read some of it which is just. next level.
one fine star away by @bytherosebushlaughing is another au that gets a little meta, but it's sooooo much fun. in this fic, once upon a time is a tv show that regina, emma, and the others starred in. 20 some years later, the cast is reuniting, and the reunion is being covered by none other than one henry mills. it's such a clever fic, and i absolutely love it so far!!
oneshots:
of love and loss and love again by @snowivyimconfusi oh this one. this one is so bittersweet. emma and regina, grieving the losses of their partners, find comfort in each other. and more. it's so beautifully done, and i just adore ivy's writing style!!
what you thought you had to do by hoovahhoopah is the very first fic i read after making my ao3 account and it's still one that i love!! it's part of a six part series of oneshots called ill fitting pieces, but it also stands on its own just as well. just a beautiful, classic, canon-but-make-it-better kind of fic.
a woman moves when her heart has been broken by etotheswan because who among us wasn't absolutely destroyed by the season 3 finale???? this offered a lot of swan queen based catharsis while we waited for season 4.
monster-in-law by seriousfic is just a funny, light-hearted little oneshot about mary margaret trying to stop emma and regina's wedding by reminding them that they're all sort of related. a big departure from the seriousfic work we all know and miss dearly..... but enjoyable nonetheless thanks to their talent!!
and now, the moment we've all been waiting for, smut:
top of the list is, of course, our prophet of swan queen smut @angstbotfic. the making amends series is my all time favorite, and one that i recommended to my dear friend 27, but you can't go wrong with literally anything they've written.
wicked games by @starsthatburn is so. is so. it left me basically speechless. also recommended this one to 27, and i believe this is the one referenced in the ask they sent. it's the most insanely hot BDSM fantasy. if you like domme regina, look no further.
the thing she won't admit by beattheodds if you like butt stuff, here's swan queen butt stuff. need i say more?
paint it black by wily_one24 heed the warnings, this one is pretty dark. but if that's what you're into, this is the one. it's like if 50 shades of grey was swan queen and also good.
of love and loathing by morganlegaye and its sequel, transgressions of the heart are a hatefuck lover's dream. transgressions of the heart remains unfinished, but god is it good.
fealty by standbackufools you like throne sex? you like honorifics? you like D/s dynamic? enjoy :)
thank god it's BDSM friday by carrotlucky13 this one covers soooooo many kinks. emma and regina enter into a 24/7 BDSM lifestyle. for 95k words. i don't know what else to say but WOWOWOWOW. even if you're not into every kink in here it's still hot af.
emma's little problem by juicecup it's a magic!cock story with a slight humiliation kink if you squint, but otherwise mostly vanilla sex to round out a very kinky rec list.
go give these incredible creators some love!!! and remember, nothing motivates a fic writer quite like a nice comment :)
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The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 3
Source for pic
Trouble 3
Word Count: 4959
Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;
Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.
Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.
Notes: I should have chapter 4 already finished... but it's not completed yet... I haven't written almost anything this week! I know with the hollidays it will be hectic around here, but I have a few days where the office is going to be closed, so maybe I can write a bit more! Fingers crossed! Until then, please enjoy the calmness before the storm!
Masterlist
“Morning, Bug.” Shanks fills a mug of coffee for you and sets it down on the table near your plate of bacon and eggs, beside a bouquet of wildflowers.
“Morning, Dad. Thanks for the coffee, but aren't the flowers a bit too much? It's not my birthday…” You mumble between yawns.
“They're not from me…” Shanks smirks and nods at a note that's tucked in with the silk ribbon.
Brow rising, your fingers brush the petals of a deep crimson poppy before they catch the note between them. ‘Wild and beautiful, just like you.’
What? Who?
Despite the lovely gesture, you can't shake the slightest feeling of unease, it tugs at your stomach, leaving you queasy and suspicious.
“Who's it from?” Shanks tries to hide his curiosity but falls short when he reaches over your shoulder to glimpse the note.
“I have no idea.”
“Come on! Not even the slightest hint?” You shake your head while your mind conjures up images of a slightly not-safe-for-work dream you had with a certain green-haired cop, and you blush unintentionally.
Obviously. Shanks picks it up.
“You and Zoro seemed pretty cosy when I arrived yesterday…”
“It's not from him… I think.” You deflect the implications, not wanting to read too much into it yourself. “He’s not the type for grand gestures.”
Shanks hums in agreement while placing his coffee cup in the sink. “I see what you mean.” But then he places his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at his unbearable smirk. “Though do not underestimate a man in love.”
“Dad!” You feel your ears getting hot as you get up suddenly, looking for a vase to set the flowers on.
“I’m just saying.” He shrugs.
“He’s not… we… we’re just friends! I just got back.” You fuss with the flowers until they’re all spread beautifully on the vase and then set them at the centre of the table.
Shanks pouts and stares at you through the flowers, across from you. “Friends.” He air quotes with two fingers. “I’ve been there, Bug.”
“Agh! You’re impossible, Dad.”
But he might also be right. Because if last night was any indication, you and Zoro might be crossing the ‘just friends’ barrier soon.
And, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that.
-*-
Shanks tells you to put a hold on your job hunt because he’ll be gone for about three weeks to a month for a horse show on an island in the South Blue and he’ll need you to take care of the animals and manage the farm chores.
So you spend the next week getting reacquainted with most of your father’s tasks in addition to the ones you had taken over ever since coming back.
The gifts keep coming.
Every morning there are chocolates, or flowers, or stuffed animals, little trinkets… The notes are rather simple, always evoking your beauty, but short and nondescript. You are no closer to knowing who they’re from now than you were on the first day you got them.
Shanks keeps hinting that it might be Zoro, but you doubt that very much. Besides the fact that he’s not one for romantic gestures, he would’ve said something about the gifts after six straight days.
And it’s not like you haven’t been chatting… not in person, since you’ve been busy at the farm and he’s been pulling double shifts to have the Saturday off again, but you text every day.
Short texts, to the point, much like Zoro is, but he always asks how you are and if you need anything.
And knowing he’s trying to take care of you leaves a very warm feeling in your chest. Especially because your clumsiness almost brought you to the clinic twice just this week. You have to thank whichever deity is watching over you because, even though you hurt yourself, it’s never serious enough to send you to the hospital.
“When are you leaving?” You ask Shanks while packing beverages, muffins and a cake you’ve baked for today’s chosen group activity.
“Let’s see, today’s Saturday, Beckman says his helper will arrive Monday morning to keep in charge of his farm, so sometime Monday afternoon, Bug. Why? Missing your Daddy already?”
You are.
“No! I just want to make sure you carry all of your medicine and that you have Dr. Law’s emergency contact with you, in case you need it–”
“I’m not going to drag Law all the way to the South Blue just because–”
“I called him and he said you should call anytime, so you’re going to call if you need him!”
“Fine!”
“Fine!” Shanks has got to be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met.
“Where are you going?” He hisses when you swat his hand away as he tries to steal a salty bacon muffin you’re storing in a container. Then you relent and let him have it.
“Just one, Dad! We’re going on a picnic in the park.” You say with a grin. “Nami organised it, of course. We’re going to spend the day hanging out, playing games, and socializing.”
Shanks nods, never breaking your gaze, while trying to surreptitiously steal another muffin. This time you slap his hand with the lid of the container, and he yelps. His pout is quickly replaced by a smirk. “Is Officer Zoro going?”
You’re sure your nonchalant look can’t disguise the crimson blush tainting your cheeks, but you try to pay it no mind. “Yes. And Luffy, and Usopp, Chopper, Sanji–”
“I was going to tell you to be careful, but I’m sure Officer Zoro is going to keep you safe from all harm.” Shanks taunts and you seethe, hands flying to your hips.
“What are you, Dad, ten?” He guffaws as he successfully manages to distract you and steals another muffin before sprinting away from you and the kitchen.
“Be safe, Bug! Have fun!”
Seriously. How is this man a father?
-*-
Nami swings by your house with Vivi to pick you up for the picnic. You notice Robin’s absence in the car, and both girls giggle.
“Sabo’s picking Robin up. They’ll meet us there.” Vivi answers, and your mouth hangs open.
“Are they a thing?”
“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be long.” Nami laughs as she fixes her hair in the rearview mirror while waiting for the light to turn green. “Much like you and Zoro, I think.”
You choke on your own saliva, and it takes you a good minute to regain proper breathing functions, all while Nami and Vivi erupt into cackles and giggles.
“We’re just friends!” You say after you’ve caught your breath.
“Sure, honey. We all believe that.” Vivi turns on the front seat to pat your knee in a condescending manner while you blush.
“There’s so much heat coming off you two whenever you’re close that I don’t know how you still haven’t spontaneously combusted.” Nami quips, and you purse your lips. She’s not wrong there. “I mean, you’ve always sort of clicked, but now… daaaaamn!”
You sigh and bite your lip, trying to contain a giggle from erupting. “Who else is going to meet us there?” You ask, changing the subject and Nami shakes her head, knowing all too well what you’re doing, but not pressing on the matter.
-*-
It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and the park is the perfect setting for the beginning of a wonderful midday. There are rows and rows of trees, shade galore, small cobblestone pathways for long walks, and even a small creek providing a soft lull alongside the soft giggles of children.
You and the girls are setting up rows of blankets on the grass, by the shade of the tall trees, when the group begins to arrive. You lift your head, hand sheltering your eyes from the sun, and scan the crowd. Luffy, Barto, Usopp, Kaya, and Chopper are approaching the treeline. They probably rode together.
A slight breeze dishevels your hair as your eyes linger behind, but there’s no green mane of hair in sight yet. An absent sigh leaves your lips before you spy Nami’s knowing smirk aimed your way.
She doesn’t say anything, but you blush anyway. Her unspoken words linger around you like a thick fog. You are eager to see Zoro. She knows it, you know it, hell, anyone who saw you two interact lately knows it.
But you vow to retain some semblance of dignity and pretend to fuss over the blankets and small folding chairs. You’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t even see him approach.
“Hey there, Troublemaker, making trouble?”
The smile that graces your lips is instant and unstoppable. You turn slightly and bite your lower lip when your eyes meet his. Why does every shirt he wears seem so tight against his muscles?
“Hardly! I’m just setting up chairs!” But as you deliver the words, the chair you were opening snaps shut, almost catching your fingers, and you yelp.
“You’re a menace.” His tone is both amused and resigned, almost as if he knew something of the kind would happen, was expecting it, even.
“It attacked me!” You defend yourself weakly, a giggle bubbling up in your chest because he is right. You are a menace.
Zoro ends up helping you set the chairs, and you don’t even try to stop him. Both because you’re very likely to end up either hurting yourself or breaking a chair, and because he keeps brushing his shoulders and hands with yours, and the touch is welcomed.
Robin and Sabo arrive with flushed cheeks - you can almost see Nami registering that fact for later probing - and soon after, Franky and Brook, two older men you still haven’t met but Luffy quickly introduces you to, saying they’re also part of the gang.
You see Sanji already setting up food on the blankets, and he greets you warmly. “Hi, Sanji. You rode with Mosshead?”
“Oi?” Zoro snaps, and you ignore him.
“I did, Madame, and it was the most unpleasant ride of my life. Please remind me not to do it again.”
You giggle when Zoro’s brows knit together, his hands clenched into fists. “Tch, shitty cook, next time you ride with me, it will be in my patrol car and I’ll be dragging you straight to prison.”
Sanji starts to fume, his pursed lips crumpling the cigarette dangling from his lips, and you grimace. “Hey, hey, boys, it was just a joke!”
Nami sighs as they butt heads and continue arguing. “Never mind that.” She tells you. “Any chance they get to get up close and personal, they take it. They have a weird bromance thing going on.” She raises her hands defensively in the air. “I swear, for a moment there I thought they were going to be a thing, but Sanji loves women too much and Zoro is a man with a goal-oriented mind. Even if it’s someone he set his sights on a lifetime ago.”
Your brow raises at her as she smirks that all-knowing smirk. But she leaves it at that and stands in the middle of the boys, dragging Sanji by the scruff of his dress shirt, telling him the girls are hungry, which promptly sets him back to the task of setting up the food.
“Shitty cook…” You hear Zoro mumble as he sets his hands in his pockets and kicks a blade of grass. It’s cute how flustered he gets. Then his eye sets on you and he frowns with a low grumble. “Oi, I didn’t forget you called me Mosshead.”
You set a hand on your heart, feigning repentance. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Mosshead. I forgot your title.”
“Trouble…” He lowers his tone in mock warning, and you smile, taking a step back, hands in a defensive stance.
“Lord Moss, Knight–” Your antics are cut short by a piercing yelp when Zoro jumps and tries to catch you, but somehow, you swerve away from his grasp and start to run, an unbridled laugh filling your lungs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just joking!”
“Repentance doesn’t dissolve the crime! Come here, Trouble!” He sprints, though you suspect he’s hardly even trying, and you cackle, running faster, the voices of the group fading into the distance.
“You’ll have to catch me first!” Maybe you should’ve measured your words, because as soon as he hears the challenging tone in your voice, he sprints faster, and you barely have time to breathe before his arm wraps around your waist and he swirls you in the air, making you scream and laugh before he pulls your back against his chest.
Heart pounding against your ribs, cheeks flushed from running and breath catching in your throat, you feel your legs shaking when Zoro’s warm breath tickles your neck. “Gotcha.” He whispers, and you notice he’s not even out of breath while you look like you ran a marathon.
The world dissolves into just this moment. The chirping of the birds and the rustling of the trees are nothing but background noise to the deafening pounding in your chest and the buzzing in your ears.
Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch Zoro’s eye fixed on you, a wild smirk on his lips. “What now, officer? Are you going to arrest me?”
Damn. That was supposed to come out playfully, not sultrily. Right?
“Depends.” Did his voice get huskier? “Are you going to resist arrest, Trouble?”
You feel your throat bobbing up and down at all the wild fantasies running through your mind. The way he uses that nickname manages to send shivers down your spine and heat straight into your core.
“Obviously.” You sound breathless, and it's a good thing you can blame that sorry state on the run, or you wouldn't know how to explain it.
���Figures.” He chuckles low, and you feel it rumbling in his chest. Then, with a swift movement, he turns you, bends his knees, and hoists you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Wha–”
“Let's go.” Your flush deepens as you feel his strong hand against the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “The humiliation will teach you not to call me Mosshead.”
“Come on, Zo, I said I was sorry!” You whine, and he stiffens, his pace slowing for a beat, and you feel his shoulders shake slightly. Then he resumes his pace.
“I like that.”
You stop pounding your fists against his back and raise your brow. “What? Me apologizing?”
He grunts and keeps walking, the blanket and your laughing friends nearly in sight. “That nickname. Way better than Mosshead.”
Oh! Zo! Another small blush creeps into your cheeks, but before you can reply, Nami whistles. “What you got there, Zoro?”
You hear your friends laughing and bury your face in your hands, feeling mortified. “Someone’s been naughty.” Zoro replies with a smirk and an edge of amusement in his tone.
“Seriously?” You grumble, pushing against his back to try and wiggle out of his embrace, though it’s all for naught because he has an iron grip on your legs.
“Well, either set her down so we can all eat or take her to naughty jail and punish her. Away from our sight, please.”
“Nami!” You yell, exasperated, but Zoro merely chuckles, swerving right as if changing directions.
“Naughty jail it is, then.”
“No, no!” You whimper. “I’m sorry!” Chopper stares at both of you, not sure if you’re being serious, so you try to take advantage of him and stretch your hand. “Help me, Chopper!”
He reaches his hand out before Nami swats it away. “Let them be, Chopper. They need some alone time.”
You seethe at Nami, a pout on your lips. “Traitor.”
Zoro lets out a low chuckle before settling you down at the edge of the blanket. “Learned your lesson, Troublemaker?”
You steady yourself, hands against his chest, and a permanent blush tattooed on your cheeks. “Damn you. I’m never calling you Mosshead again. You won.”
“I see you’re a fast learner.” His smirk is impossibly smug. “Zo’s fine, though.” Then he turns his back on you, opens the small cooler, and takes out a beer, cracking it open with one hand and chugging at it without another look back at you.
And, damn it, if that doesn’t mess with your heart.
-*-
“Who wants another drink?” You ask and count the raised hands before getting up, heading towards the cooler to satiate your friends’ thirst. Zoro moves his hand before you reach it, and smooths the blanket before you can trip on its raised edge.
You smile at him, but he’s not even looking at you. His eye is shut, one arm behind his neck as he leans against the tree, though you know very well he’s attentive to everything. You pass the drinks around, then return to get your own.
“Watch your head.” Zoro mumbles, and you raise your brow but don’t heed his advice and, therefore, hit a low branch of the tree, releasing a string of curses while rubbing your forehead. “When are you going to start listening to me, Trouble?”
“When you stop sounding like a smug jerk.” You mouth, annoyed at his attentiveness and at how he seems to perceive danger before you even realise it’s there. He chuckles and you retrieve your drink, returning to your seat.
After a while of relaxing in the shade, Luffy drags everyone to a frisbee game. The boys are all down to play, but the girls just sit by a bench near the open space the boys chose to throw the frisbee and tackle each other.
You sit on the back of the bench, a case of water bottles by your feet because you know the boys will be thirsty soon. Vivi sits on the grass in front of Nami’s legs, and Robin and Kaya are on the bench.
After a small chit-chat about meaningless stuff, you decide to bring up something that’s been bothering you. “So I’ve been getting a lot of gifts lately…”
Four heads whip your way, and you sigh, already expecting that reaction and the bombardment of questions that follow. So you raise your hands, and they stop to let you continue. Though you decide to focus on the game in front of you instead of the way they’re all staring at you.
You especially focus on a very athletic green-haired man who constantly gazes up to where you are before focusing back on the game.
“It’s flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals… It started last weekend, after the party at Luffy’s. They have notes, but nothing personal. No name, no nothing… I don’t know who they’re from, and I don’t even know if I should be flattered or freaked out by them.”
“How do they make you feel?” Robin asks, and you shrug, not quite knowing how to answer that question.
“The first ones made me feel good. I thought they were from– I thought I might know who they were from. But since he didn’t say anything about it, I doubt they're from him. So now they just feel weird…”
“Honey, we all know you’re talking about Zoro.” Nami says in a very condescending manner, and all the girls agree.
You sigh and bury your face in your hands. You’re so obvious it hurts.
“Fine, yes. I thought they might’ve come from him, at first. But he’s not one for romantic gestures.”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” Nami quipped back, a smirk tugging her lips as her eyes fell back on the game. Sure enough, Zoro’s eyes are back on the bench - on you, to be more specific. “I think it’s quite romantic the way he’s always checking to see if you’re safe. Keeping you away from trouble and making sure you don’t hurt yourself.”
A small blush creeps its way into your cheeks. It is quite romantic. “That’s just Zoro being Zoro. He’s a cop. He protects and serves.” You roll your eyes.
“Oh, I’m sure he would like to serve you.” Nami giggles and all the girls try to stifle their own laughs. “But you’re wrong about that. Sure, he’s always attentive to any kind of threats, but it’s different with you.”
“What do you mean?” You can’t stop the way your heart pounds maddeningly against your sternum.
“She means that Zoro doesn’t usually go out of his way to keep people from tripping on stuff or from bumping their head. And with you, he’s always extra careful.” Robin finishes with a small smile.
“Like the way he’s playing now, but keeps looking at you to see if you’re still in one piece. It’s like he’s expecting you to spontaneously combust or something.” Kaya adds with a giggle.
“It’s very endearing.” Vivi finishes, and your blush deepens, so you bury your head back into your hands, stifling a loud groan.
“But you’re still right.” Nami continues as if you’re not breaking down in front of them. “I don’t think he’s the one leaving the gifts…” She laughs suddenly. “But there’s one way to tell for sure.”
You raise your head from your hand cocoon to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Zoro is already halfway to the bench and you squeak. “Nami…”
“Hey, Zoro!” She starts with a wave of her hand. You see Zoro raise his eyebrow at her, his long strides bringing him closer to the bench.
Shit.
He’s sweaty all over. Fat droplets of perspiration drop from his temples to his perfect jawline and neck, and you gulp, feeling hot and bothered. So, it comes as no surprise that when he reaches his hand to grab a bottle between your legs, you lose your balance and fall back on the bench.
Yelping, you expect to hit the floor with a dry thud, air escaping your lungs and sharp pain blinding you. Instead, you feel a strong hand wrap around your forearm and tug hard, then your face being squished against a muscular, sweaty chest.
Zoro saved you from an ugly fall. Again.
“Seriously, Trouble? Why?” His voice is gravelly and rough, but with an edge of exasperation lacing it. “I’m starting to feel like I have to be with you 24/7 or you’re going to end up in the hospital.”
Your breath is still leaving your lips in ragged gasps because of the slight scare of facing an inevitable fall, and your face is still pressed against Zoro’s chest. You feel the girls’ gaze on both of you and Zoro seems completely unfazed by it, while saying you’re embarrassed would be the understatement of the year.
So you disentangle yourself from the predicament that is Zoro’s muscles and laugh it off, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “Ah, thank you. I got… distracted.”
“By what?” He asks while taking a sip of water.
“Well, Zoro,” Nami begins, and he shifts his focus to her, “we were discussing who could be her secret admirer, and then you showed up. Curious.”
“Secret admirer?” Zoro’s gaze falls back on you, his brow scrunched.
“Ah, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just–”
“She’s been getting gifts. Flowers, chocolates, love declarations…” Why is Nami exaggerating? Is she trying to fish for information or make Zoro jealous? “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?”
He drinks the water in three long gulps before answering, his scowl now permanently etched on his lips. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?”
You look down and bite your lower lip. You knew it wasn’t him, but maybe, secretly, there was still a little part of you that hoped he could be showering you with that kind of attention.
“Well, I just thought–” Nami begins, but she’s swiftly interrupted by Zoro, whose eyes can’t seem to leave your figure.
“When I want someone, I make it clear I’m interested. You’ll know.” He finishes drinking the water just as your eyes meet his, and the fire burning there scalds and melts. Was he telling you he’s interested? Was he saying he’s about to make a move?
With a smirk, he turns his back, grunts a gruff ‘try not to fall again, Trouble’, and gets back to the game, leaving you more confused than ever.
“Did he–” Nami starts.
“Nobody says anything. We’re going to act like nothing happened.” You mumble before getting up and chugging down an entire bottle of water yourself to try and calm your nerves.
It doesn’t work.
-*-
The frisbee game makes everyone tired - and hungry - so, after all the bellies are filled again, the crew is relaxing in the blanket, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon and the lulling sounds of the park.
Chopper, Usopp, Luffy, and Barto are enjoying a card game. Franky seems interested, but he’s only overseeing and throwing advice that only seems to make Usopp lose the game. Robin has a book in her hands and Sabo’s head on her lap, his eyes closed with a blissful smile on his lips.
You have serious doubts that she's paying attention to the book, especially since she seems to be stuck on the same page for over ten minutes, but you don’t say anything. Kaya is braiding Vivi’s hair and Nami is snapping photos of the crew, taking little candid shots with her cellphone. Brook is gracing everyone with a nice, mellow song on his violin - he's a wonderful musician - and Zoro seems to be sleeping peacefully, leaning against the tree.
Everything seems peaceful, quiet, and idyllic.
But you can’t seem to shake the feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. It’s like someone is watching you, but you can’t quite pinpoint who or where. It’s a prickling on your neck, something you’re already growing so used to that you start to think you should have this checked out by a doctor.
With a heavy sigh, you stand up, stretching your arms to justify that action. “I’ll be back soon.” You say softly to Nami, who’s closer to you and she nods. Then, you look around before taking a step. The park is one big open space - with the exception of some trees here and there - except for the dense treeline behind you.
So that’s where you’re headed.
-*-
Zoro senses you getting up and opens his eye slowly, following you with his gaze and scowling when you don’t see the tree root sticking out and stumble a little before steadying your pace.
You’re such a damn klutz.
And damn it, if he doesn’t want to be there to catch you and protect you from everything.
His heart constricts slightly at the thought, and he sighs softly. He thought absence had made him forget how he felt about you. He even had some ‘relationships’ while you were away. Wait… can he really call something that never went past three months a real relationship? He never truly bonded with those women. Never truly cared.
No one ever made him feel the way you did.
The way you do.
But time and distance did nothing but make him pine harder for you. When Nami told him casually that you were returning, he almost didn’t believe her. You didn’t even come back for any of the holidays or to say ‘hi’, let alone come back for good after experiencing life in the big city.
But you returned.
And then he thought he wouldn’t quite forgive you for having literally abandoned them. No text, no email, no letter, nothing. He would be salty, at least. Grumpy and upset, at most.
But he forgave you instantly.
One look at your dishevelled form, chasing a goddamned tire with dirt all over your clothes and face, and he was a lovestruck teenager again.
Fucking heart, what a useless organ.
All those thoughts forgotten, he simply reached out. And you reached back, almost like no time had passed between you, and you could basically continue your story where you left off.
And he was willing to try.
Though he didn’t want to rush too fast - damn Nami should just stop intruding and let you two figure things out yourselves. He’d get there. He almost kissed you already, so the feeling is mutual.
He’s got time.
Sitting up, he watches as you peek behind trees, a cautious demeanour to your posture making him raise his brow. What the hell are you doing?
“Just go to her, dumbass.”
“Shut up, Witch. Mind your own business.”
Nami sticks her tongue out at him and snaps a picture of his grouchy face before turning her phone towards you and snapping another candid shot.
“You look like a lost puppy in love. It’s cute, you know? The way you keep looking out for her.” Zoro feels his ears heat up and leans back again, trying to close his eye and return to a state of relaxation, but he can’t very well do that when you’re doing God-knows-what near the trees, looking creepily at everywhere and everything. “Just make sure you make your move soon… or maybe that secret admirer will one-up you and poof!” She makes an exploding gesture with her hand, and Zoro scowls at her.
“You’re insufferable.” He quips before getting up and dusting his jeans.
“Word of the day? How smart of you, Zoro.” She giggles when Zoro passes by her and messes up her hair with his hand, earning an indignant gasp from the orange-haired girl. “I just went to the salon, you brute!”
Zoro smirks at her reaction and starts pacing towards you, Nami’s antics behind him. Well… all except one…
‘Make sure you make your move soon…’
Perhaps he should. He doesn’t want to lose you before even having the chance to have you.
Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks
|Chapter 4|
#reader x roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#zoro roronoa x you#roronoa zoro#zoro roronoa x reader#zoro x you#you x zoro#zoro x reader#modern day au#the meet-cute#reader insert
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RULE BREAKER (M)
PAIRING: rockstar!mark lee & fem!reader
GENRE: rockstar au! band au! pwop
SUMMARY: another city, another girl, another broken rule.
WC: 3.3k
WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol & drugs, cursing, explicit sexual content, fingering, pretty tame smut ngl, spanking, choking, hair pulling
NOTE: this was just to get me back in the groove of smut writing since it's been a couple months. this is also a submission for @nctpromptmeme . this is prompt 1 of this list!
mark lee knows it’s against the rules to take a fan backstage.
it’s not the venues rules. staff members barely spare a glance when he tangles his fingers in yours and pulls you down the nearly abandoned hallways just left of the stage. he doesn’t get a second look from a wandering sound engineer when he escorts you through the jungle of metal rails supporting the stage from beneath. and no one bats an eye when he slips past security to an empty green room nearing the back of the building.
it’s not his own personal rule either. mark has done this plenty of times; choosing someone within the first few rows at his concert, playing up the eye contact, having a security guard slip them a note telling them to wait up after the concert — and it almost never fails. after the band bids goodnight, and fans filter out on the street, mark hops back on stage to greet his lucky winner.
and they’re always there, eyes aglow with excitement and shock when they realize that yes, this was real. mark lee wants them for the night. leader of pop punk band parasocial wants to meet…y/n.
the taste of your name rolls off his tongue so beautifully, so intoxicatingly, he has to repeat it a few more times once the green room door is locked and the curtains are drawn — not too loudly though.
because while it might not be the venues rules, and it certainly isn’t his own, he promised his band mates this couldn’t happen. he swore up and down they wouldn’t become those kinds of rockstars. everyone knows the type — scandal starters, excessive partiers, seen with a bottle of alcohol or tightly wrapped blunt in hand, escorting fans backstage at every show to....well, to do exactly what he was doing right now.
but mark isn't stupid, so he hides it from his bandmates; despite them breaking the rules so brazenly. jaemin stacks up scandals like spare drum sticks, jeno gets off on the attention & fame, renjun self medicates with alcohol, and haechan couldn't be labeled as anything other than a junkie. but he can't be like that, because mark is the leader. the one that has to walk a straight line — at least in public.
so when he's finally locked away in private with his lucky hit, he let's go. there's no need to be an upstanding, careful leader — he can shake off the tension, relax his shoulders, and focus on what's right in front of him.
which, at the moment, just so happened to be you.
"you're gorgeous, you know that?" a tender hand tucks stray strands of hair behind your ear, "couldn't keep my eyes off you tonight."
you can't believe mark lee is right in front of you, touching you, praising you. it's every fantasy you've had of him rolled into one. so when his hands wash over your top, fitting themselves so perfectly on your waist, you giggle and take a little step forward. his body is warm, and he smells smoky with a tinge of bourbon, but what's catching you off guard is how much prettier he is up close. eyeliner is smudged underneath his lashes, and there's blue hair dye running down the side of his neck, on par with rivulets of sweat. the metal bar through his eyebrow is real, and when he flicks his tongue out to lick at his lips, you find a matching tongue piercing.
he loves this.
the wide eyes, taking him all in. the giddiness. the oh my god mark lee is touching me; and while he might not get off on it as much as jeno, he can't help the feeling rushing straight to his cock.
after a few beats of becoming completely starstruck by him, you respond, clasping tightly onto the front of his shirt, "i mean i'm not all that special, but you...." a blush warms your cheeks, "you're out of this world."
it's a reference to one of the songs he sang tonight, so he let's out a forced chuckle and mumbles the rest of the line, "if galileo could see you, he would fall to his knees." he catches himself by surprise when he slowly sinks down onto the floor, the cold tile seeping through the rips in his jeans. his fist curls around the waistband of your skirt, eyes raking your figure. hunger clouds his eyes, but you don't care.
you want this.
he almost thinks you're backing out when you clamp a hand around his arm, but then you say something that makes his head spin on it's shoulders, "you don't have to be gentle...."
it's the desire in your eye, the same glint that matches his own, that permisses him to yank the flimsy skirt down around your ankles, nearly throwing you off balance in the process. "pretty girl wants it rough, huh?" mark pulls himself back up to his feet, one hand winding through your hair, the other knocking your thighs apart, "don't worry, i'll make you scream." his fingers open you up, just the tips of them pushing into you. already you're stretched on your tip toes, trying to run from the warming sensation below your navel. but mark catches this and gives a harsh tug on the roots of your hair, "feet down."
you're basically sinking down on his fingers when you settle on the balls of your feet, the stretch welcoming yet too intense for your body, "f-fuck." you curse.
"baby," he coos, "if you're drooling over two fingers, i don't think you'll be able to take my cock."
"i can, i promise." you mumble, face burning with embarrassment. not because you were under the rough hand of your favorite singer, not because he was teasing you about how tight you were, but because he was peering so fucking deep into your eyes, like he was searching for your soul.
"oh she promises," he mocks, pushing his fingers deeper. he can feel your walls fluttering around his digits; pulsing when they curl and brush the sweet spot he knows all too well.
you're out of breath, eyelids drooping with the weight of having to keep them open, "s-stop toying with me." you plead, nails raking the arm that's holding your body against the cinder block walls.
theres no snarky comment that follows. instead, he leans forward and captures your trembling lips with his own, and you see stars. it's exactly like you imagined it be — feverish, rough and demanding, exhausting every bit of willpower from you. his tongue swipes at your bottom lip, and his piercing clacks against your teeth, forcing a shiver down your spine. he smirks, that much you register, before bullying his tongue into your mouth, the hand between your legs matching.
too many sensations cloud your head — his hot tongue swirling around your own, forcing you to open up and taste each other, the metal ball on his tongue sticking against your teeth, and his fingers culling you into a head high. your eyes drift shut and you push your hips into his hands, all but grinding down.
mark lee might not have been a guitarist, but he sure did know how to use those hands of his. he sets back and licks his lips, letting out a shaky breath. the wet heat of you was drawing him in; he eases two fingers back inside until his knuckles pressed against your folds, and you sighed his name again. he was hard and aching now; listening to the soft pants that fell heavy as he thrust his fingers in and out. the hand that was threaded through your hair finds home on the sides of your throat, squeezing just enough to get your eyes fluttering open.
"whaddya doing sweetheart? sleeping?" he teases, his voice a drawn out purr in the quiet room, "i can't be that boring now, can i?"
when you try to shake your head no, this was far from boring, you find yourself stuck in his grip.
"maybe you want my cock instead?" marks eyes go soft, melting with the way you try to squeak out a response, "what was that?"
"p-please," you cry out hoarsely, his fingers finding that sweet spot again — but, only for the last time. just as fast as he was in you, he was pulling out.
"look at how wet you were for me," he groans, showing off your arousal that dripped from his fingers. he doesn't hesitate when he sticks them both between his lips, the most vulgar sound emanating from his throat, "you taste good as fuck."
warmth returns to your face at his remark, and it's only then that you realize your state. he was still covered head to toe in his stage outfit; metal chains and dark black alt pieces of clothing hung off his body, but you....you only had your top on. from the waist down, you were completely exposed.
mark seems to realize this too. "take this off for me?" he asks, fingering the strap of your top. "don't worry, i'll do the same." the grin you'd seen splashed across magazines and album covers lights up his face when you do as he asked. and true to his word, his shirt was on the ground in a matter of seconds - right next to yours. dark spills of ink swirl up and around his torso, nearly becoming a second shirt, but you see the muscles. the abs everyone goes crazy for, and with a tentative hand, you reach out to touch them.
"aw, don't be shy baby, i won't bite." he grabs your wrist and makes contact for you. another wave of arousal rushes down your spine when the hard lines of his stomach flex in response to your graze. "you like that, huh?" furiously nodding your head, he chuckles,
"alright, let me give you what you want," he says it like his cock wasn't nearly bursting from his pants, swiftly aching at the mere thought of sinking into you. his gaze darts from yours to the couch to the wall to the table shoved in the corner of the room. where did he want to fuck tonight... "come here," his hand tugs you away from the cinder block walls, over to the soft looking leather couch, "let me see you bend that pretty body over...." he purrs, a wide sweeping gesture to indicate that he knew exactly how he wanted you.
face down, ass up...wasn't that the saying?
and you don't mind, gleefully shimmying across the arm of the couch, cold leather nipping at your skin.
"fuck, man...look at you," you can't see him, but you bet his gaze is hungry again, soft, but visibly desperate, "you really are out of this world."
a chuckle passes your lips at the joke, and for a fleeting second you wonder if you weren't the first girl to hear the phrase. but the thought is swept clean from your mind once you hear his pants slipping on the ground, his metal pocket chains scraping the linoleum.
"stop taking your time and fuck me."
he cocks his head to the side...did he just hear that right? a harsh smack lands on your ass cheek, the throbbing, searing pain causing you to lurch forward and cry out. marks hand rubs over the spot immediately, trying to soothe the sting.
"now come on baby, i just need you to be patient with me." you mewl out an incoherent acknowledgment. "here," he grins, "is this what you want?"
a gasp is pulled from your chest at the feeling of him dragging the head of his cock between your folds. "mark please, fuck." slowly, he pushes into you. one hand guides himself, the other is lazily wrapped around your hip. but you can't even think of that right now, because he was filling you to the brim. you've never felt this type of stretch before. it was mind-numbingly delicious,"you're so big."
both of you share a shuddered breath of air when he pulls out and pushes back into you, "damn." he swats at your ass again, this time not bothering to rub his hand over the sting, "you just keep getting tighter...."
his eyes flutter close for a second, lost in the wet heat of you. he's never felt this before — the mutuality of getting off. every other time it's felt forced from the other end; the overdramatic moans were always a turn off but you... you take it like it's real. like it's truly the best cock you'd ever sat on.
mark loves that the most.
"feel good?" the question is drawn out, too focused on keeping his pace even and sharp so that you wouldn't go face first into the couch cushions. you babble out some sort of response that mark can't quiet understand, "words baby..use your words."
"so f-fucking good," you choke on a gasp, "oh god, please don't stop." each word feels like it's ripped from your throat as mark works behind you, thrusting so deep you're left on your tiptoes again.
mark lets out a dark chuckle, fingers digging into your side so he can keep leverage, "be careful what you pray for baby, the devil might hear." it's another musical reference, one that you catch immediately, but you're too cock drunk to form a coherent thought much less a sentence. he feels the way your pussy clenches at his words though, "you liked that, hm?"
you shake your head, arms stretching out in front of you to keep yourself from slipping further down the arm of the couch before a squeal is wrenched from your throat. "you're so deep!"
before he can tease you about going deeper, a loud buzzing sound goes off on the coffee table next to you. it's his phone, lit up with someones caller ID. your eyes are glazed over and blurry, too unfocused to see who the hell was interrupting this. but it didn't matter, because mark ignores it and keeps fucking into you — a little more enthusiastic than before. his fingers still dig into your waist, yet this time, they pull you back to meet his cock. essentially you were bouncing on him without having to do most of the work, "look at that ass bounce."
the buzzing finally stops, replaced with another harsh smack to your ass. you cry out in pain, quickly drowned out by a moan as mark swivels his hips so that he was hitting your sweet spot. white hot pleasure courses through your entire body, and you all but thrash against the leather. "almost there, fuck, keep going. gonna c-cum."
the words are like music to his ears. "just a little longer," mark typically had great stamina, but after the performance tonight, and the way your pussy was sucking him in right now, his willpower was melting away. he was edging himself within your walls at this very second. he needed release. "you're so fucking wet, i can't... oh fuck." his phone starts buzzing again, and this time he glances at the name flashing across the screen and groans, "be quiet okay baby? i need to take this."
furiously, mark jabs the green button on the screen of his phone, "what do you want." through gritted teeth, he keeps his pace, thrusting into your warm cunt. it's difficult, but you manage to stuff your fist in your mouth and bite down, stifling any sound that threatened to come out. hot electricity was still running through every nerve in your body, but as mark mindlessly slows to concentrate on not moaning into the phones receiver, it slowly dwindles.
"i'm..." he glances down at the way your waist curved in, the jiggle of your ass when his hips met yours, "i'm outside. why."
you can't hear who's on the other end of the line. maybe it was his manager, or another member of the band. the only thing you knew for certain was they wanted to know where the fuck he was at.
"don't you dare talk sideways to me." the warning in his voice nearly makes you moan out loud. this side of mark lee was something to marvel at. but you don't. you just push your hips backwards onto him.
a breath of air rushes past his lips, "shit." he mumbles.
"i wasn't-" he grits his teeth, "i wasn't cursing at you......because i dropped my cig on the ground, i don't know jaemin."
ah so it was na jaemin - drummer of parasocial. hot head. scandal starter. covered in more ink than you thought possible.
"okay..." mark sighs, his pace slowing, "okay, i'm coming....yeah whatever." he presses the end call button on the screen and tosses the phone on to the couch in front of you.
"baby..." he warns, now lazily fucking you, "i gotta go..."
"why?" you whine, hips pushing back against him in an attempt to get his pace started again. you so desperately wanted him to keep bullying his cock into you.
"they said the vans packed up... if i don't go now, they're gonna leave me behind." he pulls out and helps you flip over to face him, hands instinctively come up to cover your chest, "i'm sorry," he breathes.
"it's okay."
maybe you didn't get to orgasm, but mark lee between your thighs was enough of a treat. as long as he felt good, it didn't matter. so it doesn't irk you when he says, "i'm sorry this couldn't be more..i'm worn out from the show, and...." his voice trails off into a sheepish shrug, his wrist flicking towards his phone.
"i know." it wasn't your job to reassure him, but you knew what this was. what his life entailed, even if it was from an outsiders perspective.
mark sighs, settling back against the couch while he watches you hurriedly throw your clothes on. there's something different about you.
"i can walk you to your car if you want," he offered, his voice tinged with a mix of earnestness and hesitation. he knew he couldn't, not really. the risk of being seen outside the venue with a fan was far too great — jaemin learned that the hard way. but still, there was something about your presence, something that made him want to break the rules just a bit more.
you responded with a wry smile, "nah, i'm good. appreciate it though."
he returned the smile, though a hint of disappointment flickered across his features, swiftly masked by indifference. "alright then, take care."
as you turned to walk away, his gaze lingered, a mixture of longing and apprehension in his eyes. the echo of the performance still reverberated in the air, and the cacophony of the crowd faded into the background. the isolation that often accompanied the applause and adoration settled around him—a sense of detachment despite the proximity to his admirers; to you.
"hey, wait up!" his voice rings out, more desperate than he intends. you stop and turn back to him, a questioning look on your face. "here." he thrusts a piece of paper into your hand, his fingers brushing yours for a moment. in messy scrawl, a ten-digit number is scratched across the paper. he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, the stage persona melting away to reveal the vulnerability underneath. "call me when you get where you're headed."
you take the paper, feeling surprise and curiosity bloom in your chest. "sure, i will." a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips as you tuck the slip of paper into the pocket of your skirt, a secret kept close to your heart. "have a good night, rockstar."
his eyes meet yours, a silent exchange that speaks volumes. in that moment, no other words are needed to understand that this is a fleeting connection, a chapter in a story that will continue for him in different cities, with different faces. another show, another night, another girl.
another fake number.
A. NOTE: this can be read as a standalone, but it is also part of a bigger series i've yet to release. so if you like this one shot, please let me know! you can send in an ask, or comment, reblog, or like <3
TAGLIST: @peachjaem00 @mrkis @downtonbabyah @vangoes @cutiepeas @yujuvly @nuttie-nv-blog @seuomo @mrkleelvr @kazuhateez @chardonnayyyy @hyuckiegirlfriend @jwijii @meowniee @leep0ems @hibye02 @girlwholoveslpreppyattire
#nct dream smut#mark lee smut#nct mark lee x reader#mark lee x reader#nct mark lee smut#nct dream x reader#nct dream band au#nct dream fic#mark lee fic#nctpromptmemedone#nct dream mark
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Dance of the Sugarplum Prince
Nutcracker!Aemond x Clara!Reader
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: violence, character death, smut, tiddy sucking, oral (f-receiving), uncle-niece incest, unprotected sex, piv sex, breeding kink, possessive Aemond, obsessed Aemond
A/N: I may not be the first nor the last to do a nutcracker au, but I’m doin it anyways! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. All rights go to HBO and George RR Martin
The snow falls heavy and thick outside the window. You watch the snowflakes dance to the ground while your family makes a ruckus behind you. The adults Gossip amongst themselves while your brothers laugh and joke amongst themselves. You love your family, but you’ve grown tired of your overbearing aunties trying to set you up with “nice boys” they know.
You notice a figure making their way towards the front door, making your own way towards it to greet them. Right after the doorbell rings, you open the door, smiling at the woman on the other side.
“Aunt Alys,” you smile and embrace the older woman.
“Forgive me for my tardiness, but it’s nearly impossible to make one’s way through that,” she replies, indicating to the storm outside. Other family members come to greet Alys, so you move to the side and let them. She pulls a large case out from under her coat. She reveals several beautifully made dolls, winding them up and letting them dance across the carpet. Your family is in awe. While they’re distracted, Alys approaches you.
“I have a special gift for you,” Alys says. She opens her bag, gingerly pulling out a final doll. He was a beautiful man with long silver hair and black armor accentuated with gold.
“This,” you aunt explains, “is no ordinary knight. He is a prince of a faraway land.”
“Oh Alys, she’s too old for dolls!” your mother calls from across the room.
“Oh, but he’s so beautiful!” you rebut. “Couldn’t I just put on on my shelf and admire him?”
“You can put these dirty dishes in the kitchen,” your mother tells you. You sigh, setting your doll on the windowsill. Alys follows you into the kitchen.
“Perhaps you should’ve brought me a real prince. That would’ve made mother happy,” you laugh. Alys simply smiles at that.
Suddenly, a loud crash sounds from the sitting room, followed by your mother shouting “Luke!” You rush into the room. Your doll is lying on the floor at your brother’s feet.
“It was an accident!” Luke explains. “I only wanted to get a closer look!”
You rush over, picking your doll up off the ground. One of his eyes is broken. Luke apologizes profusely while you carefully extract the broken pieces. Alys approaches.
“I couldn’t find a spare eye, but this should fit,” she says, handing you a small sapphire. You slip it into his empty socket; it fits perfectly. She provides a small strip of black fabric that you use as a makeshift eyepatch.
“Thank you, Alys,” you say, giving the older woman a hug. You don’t notice the worried look she gives your doll.
BONG
BONG
BONG
Was it midnight already? You must have nodded off at some point. You look down at your prince, admiring his handsome face. Perhaps it’s the dim light, but it looks as though his mouth twitches.
You’re about to go to bed when something moves at the edge of your vision. A small man walks out from under your Christmas tree! For a moment, you think it’s your prince. However, this man has two eyes and looks older. He wears a crown that looks like it’s made of wood. He’s looking around, clearly searching for something. You stay as still as possible, hoping he doesn’t notice you. Theres a possibility you’re still dreaming, but you’re not willing to take that risk.
“Looking for someone, Daemon?” a voice calls out. Both your heads snap to the corner where it came from. Your mouth falls open. It’s your prince! But he’s alive! He approaches the man, sword drawn.
“Aemond,” Daemon greets. “It appears you’ve suffered a horrible accident. Shame. I was hoping for a fair fight.”
“And you’ll get one,” Aemond snaps. At that moment, more figures storm into view. You recognize them as your brothers’ toy soldiers.
“Alright. Two can play at that game,” Daemon raises a hand, and several mice scurry out from nowhere. You clap a hand over your mouth, trying not to scream. Daemon and Aemond draw their swords, circling one another. Daemon strikes first, but Aemond is quick to block. The mice and toys launch at each other. You’re enthralled. Though bloodless, the battle is intense.
Suddenly, Daemon strikes Aemond’s blind side. He’s sent flying to the floor, his sword clattering away. Daemon smiles viciously, standing over his nephew. He raises his sword to strike the killing blow and—
WHAM!
A giant slipper knocks him off his feet. Aemond glances at you, noting you are now missing a slipper. He grins, then springs into action. He draws a dagger, races to his uncle, and plunges the blade into his neck. Daemon never had time to regain his senses before he bleeds out, choking and clasping at his throat. The battle stops. The now leaderless mice scurry off, and the toy soldiers return to where your brothers left them originally. Aemond walks over to you. As he does, he grows until he’s the height of a normal man. You stare up at him, lips parted. He’s tall, and even more handsome as a man.
“You saved me,” he states, kneeling at your side.
“I-it was nothing,” you stammer, blushing. “I didn’t want him to…kill you.”
Aemond’s lips curl into a smirk. “Such a sweet thing you are,” he muses. He reaches out, winding a lock on your hair around his finger. “It’s not every day a man can say he was saved by someone so beautiful or kind.”
Your blush deepens. “You’re too kind,” you whisper.
“You must come back to the castle with me. My family will want to meet the girl who helped defeat my wicked uncle and his wretched mouse army,” he stands, extending a hand to you. You look around the empty sitting room, wondering what to do.
“It’s only for tonight. I promise to have you back by morning,” he assures you. You bite your lip, not noticing the way his gaze darkens. Then, you smile and take his hand. When you stand, you notice how much taller he is. you look down shyly, but he tucks a finger under your chin and tilts your face up to his. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. But then he says, “let’s be off then,” and leads you to the Christmas tree. With each step, you shrink until you can easily walk under the branches.
You spot a castle in the distance. A beautiful red fortress perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a sprawling city. The faint ringing of bells can be heard.
“It seems word of our victory has spread,” Aemond observes. “I imagine the celebration is well underway.
“Oh, but I’m not dressed!” you realize.
“Look down, little one,” Aemond replies. You do, and you gasp. Your simple nightgown had been replaced with a beautiful white dress, tied by a large red ribbon. The skirt floats in light layers down to your calves. Your feet are covered by red slippers with ribbons wrapped around your legs.
“How…?” you start to ask, the question dying on your lips when you look up and see Aemond had changed as well. He’s wearing a black and red jacket adorned with golden epaulettes, and also matching breeches and shiny black boots. His hair is loose, and the swath of ribbon covering his eye is replaced with a proper eyepatch.
“Come,” he requests, extending his hand. “We don’t want to miss out on the festivities.”
The walk to the castle is filled with merriment as the small folk throw flowers over your heads and dance and cheer. Inside the castle is even more merry as ball is in full swing. You spy the king and queen at the end of the hall, their matching silver hair catching the light.
Aemond leads you to the middle of the dance floor and leads you in a waltz. The night passes in a series of twirls and lifts, until a hush falls over the crowd.
The king leads his queen off the dais into the center of the crowd. Everyone pushes back, forming a wide berth around them as they lead a solitary waltz. You feel a large hand on the small of your back.
“Come with me,” Aemond whispers. His breath tickles your ear.
He leads you out of the room. The two of you race down the halls. You haven’t felt this exhilarated since you were a child chasing your brothers outdoors.
You’re lead into a bedroom that you presume is his. You don’t have time to take in the decor, as he grabs your face and kisses you hungrily. You kiss him back, hands tangling in his soft hair.
He deftly undoes the bow on your back. He tries to untie the laces, but he gets impatient and just tears your dress open. You gasp as your dress falls from your body.
Aemond scoops you up and lays you on the bed. He looks over you like a lion about to devour his kill.
“Have you ever been with a man before little one?”
“N-no,” you stutter, causing him to chuckle.
“Well,” he starts, “allow me to show you.”
He tears the rest of your underthings off, leaving you bare before him. Without breaking eye contact, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. Your head rolls back as he sucks on the sensitive flesh, kneading your other side.
“So beautiful,” he gasps, switching to the other tit.
“So perfect.” He trails kisses down your torso. He fingers swipe through your folds. He brings them to his lips and sucks them clean; his eyes roll back and he groans.
“I knew you’d taste sweet,” he purrs. He lowers his head to your mound and drags his tongue through your folds. You gasp and instinctually shy away, but he pins you with this hands on your hips. You can only moan as he relentlessly devours your cunt.
“M-my prince…”
“Aemond. Call me Aemond,” he breathes, sending a shiver through you. You feel your peak approaching, closer and closer. It’s just about to wash over you when he pulls away. You whine at the loss of stimulation.
“The first time I make you come, it will be on my cock,” Aemond states, once again leaning over you. He sheds his clothing with ease. He’s truly one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. His cock is long and thick, and already leaking. He strokes himself as he gets into position.
“What if it doesn’t fit?” You ask innocently.
“It will fit.” He replies. “I’ll make it fit.”
He angles his cock and enters you with one sure thrust. You gasp loudly, clinging to his shoulders.
“Gods you’re tight,” he whispers. He begins to rock in and out of you, setting a steady pace.
“So wet, and I’ve barely touched you. Such a needy little thing. Absolutely begging to be fucked.”
You babble incoherently in response. Aemond chuckles and starts playing with your pearl.
“Already cockdumb are we?”
He pinches your pearl.
“I could keep you here you know. Fuck you—breed you— day and night, until your belly swells with my child. You’d like that wouldn’t you? My perfect little princess. My broodmare. Mine.”
You’re a little frightened by his declaration, but you’re to overwhelmed by pleasure to do anything about it. You can only lay there as you climax, the pleasure melting your bones and heating your blood.
“That’s my girl. That’s my good girl,” he groans, and you feel his cock pulse followed by a sense of warmth. He keeps his cock plugged inside until he starts to soften, then he pulls out. You feel a mixture of your fluid and his seed leak out. He hold your legs open, admiring the sight. Then, he lays down, pulling you into his arms.
“You’ll want for nothing. I’ll make sure of it,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hair.
You lay against his chest, and it isn’t long before sleep claims you.
“Sweetheart, wake up!” you hear your mother call. You reluctantly open your eyes. You’re in your own bed, in your own room.
“I don’t mean to rush you, but we have some surprise guests waiting downstairs,” she pulls open the curtains, and you wince at the sudden brightness.
“Get dressed quickly! I need to get back downstairs!” she rushes out of your room, closing the door behind you.
At first, you don’t move. There was a heaviness in your chest. It had all been a dream. Of course it had been a dream. Mice soldiers, living dolls, and princes could only be the product of dreams. This is the real world, and there are guests waiting for you.
As you get dressed, you realize your prince doll is nowhere to be found. You must have left him downstairs.
Voices could be heard in the sitting room as you make your way downstairs. Unfamiliar voices. You round the corner and freeze. Sitting around the room are three very familiar faces.
“Darling, these are my half-siblings.” She leads you to the Sugarplum King. “This is Aegon,” then to the Queen, who smiles sweetly at you, “Helaena,” then finally to the most familiar of them all, “and this is Aemond.”
He takes your hand in his, planting a kiss on your knuckles. You stare up at him with wide eyes. He’s wearing an eyepatch. Over the same eye your brother broke. Was he hiding a sapphire under there?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you breathe.
“Please, the pleasure is all mine, niece,” he purrs, looking at you in a way an uncle should never look at a niece.
“What happened to your eye?” Luke asked abruptly. Jace whacks him on the shoulder, admonishing him.
“Ow!”
“It’s alright. It was an accident long ago,” Aemond replies.
“Oh, let���s not dwell on unhappy memories,” your mother says, turning to Helaena. “How is Alicent? It’s been too long since I’ve heard from her.”
The conversation carries on, but you’ve stopped paying attention. You’re not looking at him, but you feel his gaze on you. Just as intense as it had been when he made love to you in your dream.
A dream.
It had only been a dream.
Right?
#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen smut#house of the dragon aemond#aemond fanfiction#aemond smut
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Some Rebellious GO Fanfic Recs
Hey there fandom fam,
It’s been an absolute wretched couple of days. I had expected many different outcomes to Tuesday, but the decisiveness with which my country elected a convicted criminal to its highest office left me shocked and numb.
And I know we all don’t come here for politics and real life. We come here to escape. But if you’re like me, and you have this itching need to fight, to organize, to lift up the vulnerable and protect those most at risk, then it’s hard to be here and escape right now.
And that sucks.
But this is and will remain a fanwork blog, and so I offer you some solace - here are some GO fanfics that focus on fighting. On breaking a broken system and protecting humanity, no matter the cost. Because, as much as we love Aziraphale and Crowley, that’s what the original work was about. Love and connection and humanity as an act of rebellion, and we sure do need those themes right now.
So if you’re angry and in the mood for some more plot/action based fics, with a flaming sword and maybe a dash of BAMF Aziraphale, I got you.
I am going to start with my own here, because I've not found one as outrightly rebellious as this yet in my own reading.
The Last Angel by me - (E, 162K) A canon-divergent AU where Crowley and Aziraphale are never assigned to Earth, Hell wins Armageddon and Angels are all but extinct. The story follows Crowley, the Grand Inquisitor of Hell, and Aziraphale, the last Angel alive, as he is captured and brought to Hell to face his execution. But, Hell hath no fury like an Aziraphale scorned...
So, was he really captured, or does Aziraphale have a plan to seek revenge on the beings responsible for destroying everyone he ever knew? And how will the way the Grand Inquisitor makes him feel affect his plans?
Tether by @gingiekittycat - (E, 45K) - a post Season 2 story in which Aziraphale is summoned back to Earth by Crowley for reasons he doesn't understand. This one has all of the sexy goodness you come to expect from a gingikittykat work, with a heartwarming take down of Heaven's Second Coming plans.
What are you doing here by @alphacentaurinebula - (E, 68K) sexy and popular season 3 speculation fic that encompasses both the humor of the source material shockingly well while also providing a rebellious and on brand end to the conflict between Heaven and Hell. Because sides don't matter, working together matters, and this story delivers that theme beautifully.
The Beginning of the End (Again) by @addledmongoose - (M, 79K) a post Season 2 story where Crowley and Aziraphale work to convince Jesus to not go forth with the final judgment. This one stands out for its take on Aziraphale as a guardian angel, fierce, protective, and an ending where he shows his true colors and fights for everything he loves. BAMF Aziraphale in the best way.
Echo by @snae-b - (E, 52K) a story of waking up to find an invisible hand controlling your life, and fighting back to break it and create a new world for everyone.
And a current WIP that's not complete, but the last chapter left me with chills and I am SO excited to see how it will end - And I Did by @di-42 - a Season 3 speculation fic that has Aziraphale as Supreme Archangel in Heaven and Crowley as Grand Duke of Hell. The story is rich and complex, and the cast of characters (both favorites from the show and book as well as new additions) are wonderful. There are two chapters left and I can't wait to see how it all turns out!
Please add on to this list with your own works and favorite rebellious fics!
#good omens#good omens fanfiction#bellisimas fanfic roundup#good omens fanfic recs#rebellious fics#break the wheel
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Drift Kings
You and your brother Seokjin live completely separate lives, until one day when your worlds collide.
Pairing: Jimin x f! reader, Yoongi x f! reader
Genre: Drifting, street racing AU, smut
Word count: 9.5k
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Explicit sex, swearing, mentions of drugs, cigarette smoking, illegal street racing
You know from the first time you lay eyes on Park Jimin that he doesn’t belong in your world.
He’s physically blessed, that much is obvious to anyone with eyes, but he’s all wrong.
His suit is beautifully tailored, but the material’s wrong. His shoes are expensive but in that modern, stylish way that screams new money.
You doubt any of the jewelry he has on is inherited.
He catches you staring, assumes it’s because of his good looks rather than that you’re finding him lacking.
He has the audacity to give you a once over of his own, like he has the right to judge you like you judged him.
You stay perfectly still, let him look.
You’re a Kim, and you’re used to people staring at you.
His lips curl in a smile that looks closer to a sneer.
‘You should wipe that sour look off your face, princess, before the wind changes.’
You’re too surprised to snap back at him, and a moment later, he turns away, like he’s the one dismissing you.
You’re still staring at his back when Seokjin, your brother, arrives with Yoongi.
‘Were you waiting long?’ Seokjin asks politely, gesturing for you to go ahead of him into the private room he’s reserved for dinner.
‘Not long,’ you say, still thinking about the very beautiful man who’s just cut you down.
***
Seokjin, is as unmarked as he ever was, at least from what you can see whilst he’s dressed in a three-piece suit.
You’re glad.
Your brother’s always loved cars. When you were growing up, he spent every spare moment in Yoongi’s family’s auto workshop, similar to how you spent every moment in your father’s office, learning the ropes of your family business.
There was a Kim needed to take over the company, and thankfully, your family didn’t have any qualms about which Kim sibling it was.
A life in business would have killed your brother, totally unlike a life spent drag racing on Mount Samo, you think, uncomfortable with the irony.
If your parents were still alive, they’d probably have things to say about Seokjin’s lifestyle.
At least he’s always with Yoongi.
Min Yoongi.
You sneak a glance at him over your plate as you eat.
Around you and Seokjin, his normally serious face relaxes into a smile, perfect teeth flashing often, eyes crinkled at the corners.
Your brother’s closest friend, you spent most of your teenage years swinging between a desperate crush on him and a desperate need not to be perceived by his intense, penetrating gaze.
Now that you’re older, the heat of your crush has settled into a burning ember he occasionally stokes by turning up when you meet Seokjin, all dark eyes and deep voice and the odd flattering comment that has the power to set your heart aflutter.
Apart from all that though, you know enough about Min Yoongi to know he’s got the heart of a hustler, and fierce loyalty to your brother. If your brother ever went down, Yoongi would be right there with him fighting to the bitter end.
‘You look tired, sis,’ Seokjin says, dropping a dumpling onto your plate.
‘I’m just closing on a three year contract with the Moiwa group,’ you say, not denying it. You’ve been working on a lucrative partnership with the tech company for months, and you’re finally on the home stretch.
You’re not sure how much Seokjin knows about the family business, he rarely attends board meetings, like you’ve never seen him race.
Seokjin loosens his tie, wincing slightly as he does so.
‘How’s your collarbone?’ you ask.
Four weeks ago Seokjin had broken his collarbone and three ribs on Mount Samo. He hadn’t told you about it, but as you are each other’s next of kin, you’d found out anyway.
‘Healing,’ Seokjin says, making up for his brevity with a brilliant smile.
You know what they call your brother on the circuit.
Chaebol. Often said with a sneer, despite the fact that he can put together an Evolution IX blindfolded and drive it in a way that credits all the tuneups he can afford to pay for.
‘I hurt my shoulder,’ Yoongi tells you, teeth flashing in the half-smile-half-snarl that makes you feel lightheaded when it’s directed at you.
‘I’m sure you have plenty of people to take care of it for you,’ you say, straightfaced.
Yoongi blinks, and his lip curls again. ‘Don’t you want to?’
You laugh. ‘Are you trying to be cute? It doesn’t suit you, Yoongi.’
‘Stop flirting with my sister, Yoongi,’ Seokjin interjects, distracting you from Yoongi’s pout.
He turns back to you. ‘Are you free this weekend? I was planning to visit Daejeon.’
‘I’m free,’ you agree.
Your parents’ graves are in Daejeon. You and Seokjin go a couple of times a year.
Your phone rings. It’s your PA, Daeun.
‘I should go,’ you say, apologetic. ‘It’s hectic right now at work.’
‘At least finish your food,’ Seokjin urges.
‘I’ll pick up something before I get home,’ you reply.
Seokjin frowns. ‘I’ll drop food off at your place.’
You smile. ‘I’ll see you this weekend, ok? Keep my brother out of trouble, Yoongi.’
‘And you stay out of trouble too,’ you add.
Yoongi throws you another grin. ‘For you,’ he promises.
‘This weekend,’ Seokjin says.
Both men rise as you leave the room.
***
Seokjin wanted to drop by Yoongi’s workshop on your way to Daejeon, and you have to admit, it’s been a while since you’ve seen his crew.
Jung Hoseok, the angel-faced mechanic turned racer who has a smile and personality that can light up a room and drives like he’s halfway to heaven.
Jeon Jungkook, the youngest, a baby brother to all who of recent years seems to be trying his hardest to hide the facts of his pretty face and endearingly cute little shit personality, by getting tatted and pierced and wearing exclusively black.
There’s an unfamiliar person though, and as he turns to greet Seokjin upon your arrival, you realise it’s the beautiful man who sneered at you in the restaurant.
‘Y/N, this is Park Jimin,’ says Seokjin.
Park Jimin gives you a smile that makes you long to slap him.
‘We’ve met. Turns out, I wasn’t far off when I called you a princess.’
His comment makes your hackles rise.
‘I wish I could say it’s a pleasure,’ you say coolly.
‘How did you meet?’ Seokjin asks.
‘It was at the restaurant that night,’ you tell Seokjin, trying to shut down the line of questioning.
You turn to Yoongi, who’s leaning against a workbench, watching the whole exchange with a bemused look on his face.
‘I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like Y/N,’ Hoseok remarks, kindly. ‘It must be your fault, Jimin.’
You laugh. ‘I’m sure I have a lot of enemies, Hobi.’
If Seokjin’s the chaebol racer, and Yoongi’s the drifting king, you’re the ice princess of Cheongdam-dong.
You’re well aware that your family’s laissez-faire attitude to succession isn’t necessarily shared by all. You’ve grown so weary of the misogyny in your society that it barely even registers to you, now. You learned long ago to apologise for daring to carry on your family business lineage.
You completely miss the look that passes between Seokjin and Yoongi.
‘I’ll be back by nine,’ Seokjin says to Yoongi.
That gets your attention. ‘A race?’
‘We’ll look after him,’ Jungkook assures you sweetly.
You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. ‘Who’s going to look after the rest of you?’
***
Seokjin parks the car, cuts the engine.
You unbuckle your belt, and you both walk around to the trunk to get the flowers you brought.
Seokjin asks, casually, as you walk down the path to your parents’ graves, ‘How’s work going?’
‘Still busy,’ you say, shading your eyes against the brightness of the afternoon sun.
‘The deal came through,’ you tell him. ‘I spent most of last night celebrating with my team.’
‘Congratulations,’ says Seokjin. He’s had the foresight to put on sunglasses, you can’t see most of his face.
‘Thanks,’ you reply. ‘How’s the Supra coming along?’
Seokjin and Yoongi are working on tuning up a fourth generation Supra for a client from Hong Kong.
‘It’s coming along,’ Seokjin says. He smiles wryly. ‘Jungkook keeps asking if he can ‘road-test’ it.’
You laugh along with him.
‘Yoongi says he’ll let him if he can rebuild it after,’ Seokjin continues.
You know Jungkook’s talented, but he’s not as skilled as either your brother or Yoongi.
‘You can come watch the race tonight, if you want,’ Seokjin offers.
He’s never invited you before.
‘Sure,’ you say.
‘We’ll head off when we get back,’ Seokjin says.
You’ve reached the graves.
Seokjin kneels down to lay the flowers on the ground.
You wonder if it’ll ever get easier.
***
You’re sitting in a corner of Yoongi’s workshop, watching as Seokjin and his crew get ready.
The atmosphere’s crackling with anticipation, a wild energy that has adrenaline thrumming through your veins.
Seokjin and Yoongi are hunched over the popped engine hood of Yoongi’s Nissan GT-R, talking quietly.
Jungkook and Hoseok are roughhousing by the workbench. Jungkook’s dressed in black leather and motorcycle boots, a chain round his neck, and you wonder, again, when the maknae started to become such a menace.
Jimin’s sitting on the raised walkway over Yoongi’s workshop, arms on the railing, feet dangling off the edge.
He catches you looking at him, and the slow smirk that spreads over his face is, to your chagrin, equal parts infuriating and attractive.
You can’t deny it, he’s not your usual type but he’s so fucking attractive you almost can’t stand to look at him.
His blond hair is styled back, a stray lock falls across his brow as he stares at you, almost in his eyes. His full lips are curved, smile lines crinkling the corners of his eyes.
The way his jacket’s lifted, with his arms braced on the railing, shows off his flat stomach, the plain t-shirt he’s got on doing nothing to hide how cut his torso is.
Beside you, Seokjin clears his throat.
‘You can ride with me,’ he says. He glances up at Jimin as he speaks, and you wonder how long Seokjin was watching before you noticed.
***
You’ve been in Seokjin’s Honda before, but never on a race day.
The interiors are black leather, he’s modified the sound system, of course, but most striking to you is the way the engine vibrates with power, even when he’s driving the speed limit en route to Mount Samo.
Up ahead, Yoongi’s leading the convoy. You’d glimpsed the flash of his grin as he’d cut Seokjin off at an intersection a couple miles back, and the barely leashed ferality of it had made you fantasise, for the umpteenth time, about sleeping with him.
Bringing up the rear are Jungkook, Hobi and Jimin, keeping tight on Seokjin’s tail.
You look around with interest at the cars idling at the summit when Seokjin slides smoothly into a spot next to Yoongi.
Seokjin cuts the engine, and you get out.
You’d expected Seokjin to get a reaction, your brother is striking even when he’s not driving a midnight black Honda, crimson racing stripes cutting the car in half lengthways, but to your surprise, there are an equal number of eyes on you.
Yoongi’s lit a cigarette, the glow of the lit end reflected in his dark eyes as he moves over to make a space for you next to where he’s leaning.
Smoke curls around your face as he asks, polite as ever, ‘Do you mind if I smoke around you?’
‘I don’t,’ you reassure him.
Yoongi nods. ‘I usually just have the one.’
His lips curl. ‘Then another when I win.’
Seokjin says. ‘Jimin will drive you back down when he’s scouting. We’ll see you at the bottom.’
‘Scouting?’
‘For police,’ Seokjin explains.
You look at him sharply.
‘If you want, Jimin can drive you home right now,’ Seokjin offers.
It occurs to you then, just how separate yours and Seokjin’s lives are.
Yours is a world of meetings, boardrooms, euphemisms for what one really means.
And Seokjin’s is this, nighttimes and headlamps so bright they light up the city, and a physical rawness you never see.
Your brother looks chaebol but inside? He’s this.
‘I’ll stay,’ you say. ‘Good luck.’
Seokjin’s gaze lingers on you, but he doesn’t say anything else.
When Jimin arrives Seokjin takes him aside. They have a conversation you can’t hear, they’re several feet away and Hobi’s trying to show you pictures of his new puppy.
There’s a shift in the atmosphere, the deafening roar of engines, blinding lights as three new cars arrive.
One looks like it’s heading straight for your brother’s Honda.
You tense as it approaches at full speed, screeching to a halt barely a foot from the front bumper.
Seokjin raises an eyebrow, and beside him Yoongi straightens up, grinds the remnants of his cigarette to ash under his boot.
‘Who’s that, Hobi?’ you ask, as the driver gets out.
He’s tall, like your brother, good looking in a flashy way, and the way he stares at your brother as he approaches makes your skin crawl.
There’s a tattoo running up the side of his neck, next to a jagged scar.
You slip past Hoseok and go to stand next to Seokjin.
‘Hyunjin,’ Seokjin says, neutral.
Yoongi just stares back, lip curled in a sneer.
‘Seokjin,’ the man replies. ‘Ready to be driven off a mountain?’
You tense, and Hyunjin’s gaze shifts to you.
‘I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom,’ Seokjin replies, but Hyunjin barely reacts.
He’s still staring at you.
‘Who’s this?’ he asks.
‘The person who’ll make you pay if you do anything to my brother,’ you snap.
He raises an eyebrow, gaze shifting between you and Seokjin thoughtfully.
‘You must be the ice princess. I didn’t think you’d be quite this pretty. I guess Seokjin keeps you hidden away for a reason.’
‘Shut up,’ Yoongi growls, as Seokjin shifts so he’s in front of you.
You realise Jungkook and Hoseok are behind you.
Hyunjin just laughs.
‘I’ll see you at the bottom, princess. If I beat your brother can I have a kiss?’
Seokjin says, voice low and even, ‘What about winner gets the loser’s ride?’
Your eyes widen. You know how many hours Seokjin put in on his car in Yoongi’s workshop.
Hyunjin scoffs. ‘I’m going to enjoy driving your car.’
He gives you another long look, and then he’s turning on his heel.
‘Go with Jimin,’ Seokjin says, glancing at you. ‘I’ll see you down there.’
You’re hesitant. ‘Seokjin —- that guy —-‘
‘Don’t worry,’ Seokjin says. ‘I’ll beat him.’
His expression softens.
‘It’s not my first race,’ he reminds you gently.
You realise Jimin’s got his car pulled up next to you, door open, waiting.
‘Good luck,’ you say, still uncertain.
Seokjin nods, waits until you get in the car, closes the door after you.
***
Jimin drives in silence, navigating the hairpin bends that make Mount Samo a drifter’s dream with a competence that makes you wonder why he’s not racing himself.
‘Is my brother going to be all right?’ you ask, plaintive in the quiet of the car.
Jimin doesn’t answer immediately, and you’re wondering if he heard you when you catch him looking at you in the rearview mirror.
‘Your brother will be fine,’ he says finally. ‘We’ll wait for him at the finish.’
You’re thinking about the way Hyunjin sneered at Seokjin.
‘Is it always like that?’ you ask.
Jimin takes his time answering this question too.
‘Seokjin and Hyunjin have a history,’ he tells you. He turns to you briefly.
‘You should ask Seokjin about it.’
‘Have you known Seokjin long?’ you ask.
Jimin glances at you again.
‘Not long. We started working together a few months ago.’
‘Do you race?’
‘Occasionally.’
‘Are you any good?’ you ask.
Jimin changes gears, slows to a stop.
‘Never good enough for you, princess,’ he says, flicking his gaze at you.
You feel chastened. It’s fair enough, you know that you can be a snob. It’s a learned behaviour, from your years trying to prove yourself as leader of the Kim conglomerate, but Jimin wouldn’t know that, and you doubt he’d care.
‘I’m sorry,’ you say.
Jimin parks the car, turns up the music. He glances at the clock on the dash.
‘Your brother’ll be down in twenty minutes. We’ll have an extra car to drive back - which is why Hobi and Jungkook rode together on the way here.’
‘The wager,’ you say, a question.
‘The wager,’ Jimin confirms.
‘It was all planned then?’
Jimin laughs, short. ‘Hyunjin’s predictable.’
He glances in the rearview. ‘I’ve never seen anyone drift like your brother.’
You’re processing this when he says, referring to your apology, ‘It’s fine. I’ve been nothing but a dick to you since we met.’
‘Are you any good at your job?’ Jimin asks.
There’s the faintest hint of taunting in his voice. You can’t blame him in all honesty.
You decide to tell the truth.
‘I’m inexperienced but I have a good team.’
You look out the window.
‘I don’t have a problem carrying responsibility. Out of the both of us, I was the better choice. Corporate life would have killed Seokjin.’
You press a thumb to your temple, massaging the tension headache that’s threatening to come away.
The silence in the car is deafening.
You glance at Jimin.
He’s staring at you, unreadable.
‘I’ll wait outside,’ you say.
You push your door open and step out into the cool darkness of the night.
A light rain starts to fall.
Behind you, Jimin gets out of the car. A moment later he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, the fabric warm from his body heat.
All he says is, ‘They should be here soon.’
***
Your heart accelerates when the gleam of headlights cuts through the dark.
The rain’s stopped but the tarmac of the road still glistens with wet.
You can’t see who it is, blinded as you are.
The car comes to a smooth stop not six feet from where you and Jimin, and a handful of others, are waiting.
The door opens as your vision begins to adjust, and your brother steps out.
He looks around, spots you and Jimin, lifts his hand in a wave like butter wouldn’t melt.
There’s a wave of cheering, drowned out by the roar of Yoongi’s Nissan as he cruises past, stops a little way past your brother’s car.
You don’t even notice when Hyunjin and the rest of the racers arrive, caught up as you are in the overwhelming wave of relief that your brother and Yoongi are all right.
You lose Jimin in the crowd that surges forward, eyes only on your brother as Hyunjin tosses keys on the ground at his feet, disgusted.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You check it distractedly as you head for Seokjin.
It’s an unknown number.
You’re swiping to answer when you collide with what feels like a brick wall.
You’d be off your feet if an arm hadn’t curled around you to steady you.
You look up into Hyunjin’s face.
‘Where’s my kiss, princess?’ he asks. His grip around your waist feels like steel.
You lean back.
‘I don’t remember promising you one,’ you tell him, bringing your arms up against his chest, trying to put more distance between you.
He laughs, holds tighter, starts walking you backwards.
‘Get off me,’ you warn.
‘Or what?’ he asks. ‘You gonna call your brother to come save you?’
‘She’s got more than one friend here, actually,’ comes a voice from behind you.
You turn to see Jimin, hands loose by his sides, expression hard.
‘She asked you to get off her,’ Jimin points out.
Hyunjin’s hand tightens painfully around your wrist for a heart stopping moment before he scoffs and drops it.
‘Maybe next time, princess,’ he says.
He leers at you as he steps away.
‘Are you ok?’ Jimin asks, nodding to your wrist.
‘I’m fine,’ you say automatically, despite the throbbing in your wrist. You’re used to showing no weakness.
Seokjin and Yoongi have reached you.
‘What happened?’ Seokjin asks, an edge to his voice.
‘We saw that fucker head straight for you,’ Yoongi says. The feral spark’s back in his eyes, he looks like he’s spoiling for a fight.
You tug the cuffs of Jimin’s jacket down over your wrists.
‘Nothing happened,’ you say.
Seokjin doesn’t believe you, you can tell, but you don’t want to talk about it.
Finally, he says, ‘I’ll drive you—‘
‘I can drive you home,’ Jimin says. ‘It’s on my way.’
***
You sit in the passenger seat of Jimin’s car, waiting as he grabs something from the trunk.
He gets in, tosses a heat pack into your lap.
‘He grabbed you pretty hard,’ he says. ‘You can use that if you feel sore.’
You look at it for a moment.
‘Thanks.’
‘I’m sorry I lost you for a moment there in the crowd,’ Jimin says, shifting the car into gear as he pulls out onto the road.
‘I’m not a kid,’ you say.
The heat pack feels nice.
‘You’re definitely not a kid,’ Jimin agrees.
His gaze flicks over you, so quick you wonder if you imagined it.
‘You don’t even know where I live,’ you say, with a flicker of amusement.
‘I’ll drive you anywhere you want,’ Jimin replies.
For the first time, he smiles at you, lips curving, eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Where do you want to go, princess?’
***
Your back’s against the front door of your apartment, your head thrown back as Jimin presses heated kisses to your neck.
He’s beautiful, dark eyes and gleaming skin, you keep wanting to watch him but he’s kissing you so well it’s hard to keep your eyes open.
He’s got one hand under your top, smoothing circles over your skin, the other curled over your ass, squeezing your flesh.
‘Jimin,’ you breathe, your hand braced on his shoulder, fingers curling into the hair on the nape of his neck.
‘Yeah,’ he murmurs, silvery voice making you tingle. ‘Touch me, if you want.’
You slide a hand over the hardness of his torso, feeling the ridges of his abs, the tautness of him.
Skin over muscle over bone.
He’s hard all the places you’re soft.
You can’t stifle a moan as he rolls his hips against yours.
‘Where’s your room,’ he grunts, pulling a whine from your lips as he lifts his own lips from your skin.
You point, and he knits his fingers with yours, tugging you with him as he heads for your bedroom.
The door closes behind you, and in front of you, Jimin shucks his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.
His beauty stops you in your tracks.
Jimin grins. He tilts his chin at you, all golden skin and bright eyes.
‘Stop staring,’ he says, bold, ‘and take your clothes off.’
You can feel your skin heat as Jimin fixes his gaze on you, watching as you fumble with the buttons on your blouse, undo the fastening on your jeans.
You can’t meet his gaze when you’re in your bra and panties.
Jimin takes two steps forward, dropping his own jeans.
You’re still looking down, so the bottom half of him comes into view first.
The waistband of his boxer briefs, stretched over taut skin, the very obvious bulge just beneath. Thighs so muscled your own thighs tighten against each other.
He lifts your chin gently so you’ll look at him.
‘Why so shy, princess? Look how hard I am.’
He doesn’t wait for a reply, lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s surprisingly gentle.
He walks you backward onto the bed, takes a moment to look at you laid on your sheets. His hand strokes over his rigid cock once, then he’s lowering himself on top of you.
He’s gentle, but you can feel the coiled power in his muscles as he grinds himself into the softness between your legs.
‘You really are a princess,’ he murmurs into the dip between your breasts, so lightly you know he’s just teasing.
He kisses the round of your breast, tongue flicking around your areola tantalisingly until you’re soaked, your hips seeking friction against his hardness.
‘Jimin,’ you plead, maddened with arousal.
‘Don’t worry,’ he soothes. ‘I’ve got you. Panties off.’
You lift your hips to pull your panties down.
There’s a rip of foil, a barely suppressed groan from Jimin as he unrolls the condom onto himself.
He positions himself above you, slides into you like he’s been doing it his whole life, and you moan, eyes squeezing shut at the stretch of him.
‘You like that?’ he asks, silvery voice deep now, breath hot against your skin.
‘Yeah,’ you cry.
He props himself on one arm, rolls his hips against yours.
‘Fuck,’ he groans.
He picks up the pace, eyes on you, flicking between your face and how he’s making your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts.
He’s glistening with a sheen of sweat now, hair flopped over his face, damp.
‘Look at you, princess,’ he murmurs, voice dropped low, breathless. ‘Look how well you take me.’
He flattens a hand over the curve of your lower belly, thumb flicking over your clit, purposeful, firm, making the pleasure build.
Slows, lifts your hips so he can fuck you deeper.
The curve of his cock hits so good you’re crying out with each rock of his hips against yours.
You come with a gasp of his name, and Jimin drops down on you, grinding, hips working.
‘Fuck,’ he groans, deep in his chest. ‘Take it, baby.’
You wind a hand around his neck, and his lips meet yours again, tongue licking into your mouth as he fills the condom.
‘Shit,’ he groans, pulling out, knotting off the condom, tossing it carelessly.
You’re breathless still, heart hammering in your chest, but you sit up, admire how he looks sprawled out on the covers of your bed, flushed and glowing.
‘You were right, you know,’ Jimin says.
He’d been looking up at the ceiling, but now he flicks his gaze at you.
‘You’re too good for me.’
You scoff. ‘Shut up. I never said that.’
Jimin laughs. ‘I didn’t say it was going to stop me from pursuing you.’
You raise an eyebrow. ‘Pursuing me?’
‘I said what I said,’ Jimin says.
He sits up, muscles flexing, hair pushed back. He drops a kiss on your exposed shoulder, teeth flashing as he follows it up with a playful nip.
As you’re getting up, picking up your clothes, you notice a flash of gold half-out of the pocket of his jeans.
You lift it out, curious.
Jimin says nothing as you rub your thumb over the gold badge, turn it over to see his ID.
‘You’re a cop,’ you say. It’s not a question, you have the proof in your hand, but it comes out querulous anyway.
‘I’m a cop,’ Jimin replies.
You’re trying to process. ‘Does my brother know?’
‘Seokjin knows,’ Jimin says.
He gets up, starts getting dressed too.
‘It’s illegal to race on Mount Samo,’ you say.
‘I’m undercover,’ Jimin tells you. He reaches for his badge, and you let him take it out of your loose grip.
‘What are you investigating?’ you ask.
‘Currently, your ass,’ Jimin says.
You crack a reluctant smile. ‘Could have told me you were a cop before we slept together.’
‘I usually wait for a second date before I get the handcuffs out,’ Jimin shoots back.
You laugh, but your mind’s still racing, wondering why Jimin’s hanging around with your brother and Yoongi.
You’re so preoccupied with your thoughts it takes you a moment to realise Jimin’s watching you.
‘I should get to bed,’ you say, feigning a yawn. ‘I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’
Jimin asks, quietly, ‘Is there anything you want to ask me?’
You’re troubled, but you force a smile.
‘I’ll save my questions for when I’m less tired,’ you say.
Jimin’s got his jacket on, you’ve both moved out of the bedroom.
He says, ‘I’d like to see you again.’
Your smile becomes a little less forced.
‘Yeah,’ you agree.
Jimin looks like he wants to say more, but all he does is nod, flash you a smile before he leaves.
The click of the latch falling into place as he pulls the door to sounds oddly final.
***
You’re tired.
You’ve been in and out of meetings all day. On top of that there’s been a problem with the city planning committee over the new property you’ve just acquired.
It was a hard fought battle but you’d managed to pip your competitor, Jungcorp, to the post. You’re not sure why Jungcorp had fought so hard for it, it’s an abandoned tower block in an unglamorous part of the city, but the land’s invaluable to you for development.
As far as you know Jungcorp’s got no vested interests in property development.
You look up, exasperated, as there’s yet another knock on your door.
It’s past 8pm, your feet are sore and all you want to do is go home and take your bra off, if you could only just finish reading and sign off on the city planning committee’s requirements.
Plus you thought you’d sent everyone from your executive team home.
Your frown softens when you realise it’s Jimin.
You’ve been texting back and forth since you hooked up, he’s called you a few times, but you’ve been too busy to meet.
‘How’d you get in here?’ you ask, getting up to greet him.
‘I’m a cop, remember?’ Jimin says. He looks as pretty as ever, dressed all in black, silverware in his ears.
‘I have security,’ you point out.
‘Jaebeom?’ Jimin asks, feigning innocence. ‘We used to work together.
You roll your eyes.
‘I thought you wouldn’t mind me dropping by unannounced like this,’ Jimin says, ‘because I brought food.’
He brings his arms round from behind his back to reveal a bag of food that makes your stomach growl, loudly and ungracefully.
‘When did you last eat?’ Jimin asks.
‘I had a protein shake for lunch,’ you say, eyeing him as he sets out boxes of noodles. ‘They’re apparently a complete meal.’
It’s Jimin’s turn to roll his eyes.
‘Prawns or chicken?’ he asks, holding out chopsticks to you.
You reach out and grasp his hand instead.
‘I’ve missed you a little,’ you say, tugging.
Jimin lets you pull him closer. ‘Yeah? I’ve missed you a lot.’
He’s close now, head tilted to yours, face barely inches away.
‘A lot?’ you ask, staring at his lips.
‘Yeah.’ His voice is husky now, and he dips his head to yours.
You meet him more than halfway, lips already parted.
Jimin’s hand curls around the back of your head as he slants his own to kiss you deeper.
‘I lied,’ he murmurs, crowding you against the edge of your desk.
‘I didn’t just come to bring you food. I came because I knew you’d look fucking sexy in your work clothes.’
He kisses you again, hips pressed against yours, hand slipping down to cup your ass.
You slip your arm around him, sighing a little as he kisses you, lips warm and sweet.
‘Eat, before we get distracted,’ Jimin says, pulling away.
You whine, disgruntled, but he’s insistent.
The noodles are hot, tasty, satiating the hunger you’ve been suppressing all day.
‘Thanks,’ you say, as Jimin gets up to clear away the food.
You’d help, but it’s the longest break from work you’ve had all day, and now that you’ve sat down on the comfortable sofa you’re not sure you can muster the willpower to get up.
Jimin looks at you knowingly.
‘Want a ride home?’
‘I should probably get back to work,’ you say, regretfully.
Jimin says, ‘You look exhausted. Here, I’ll take you home.’
You find yourself picking up your things, letting Jimin help you on with your coat, following him to the lifts.
Jimin curls an arm around you, and you lean into him as you wait for the lift.
He smells good, but more than that, he feels good, solid, his shoulder corded with muscle under your cheek.
‘You can lean on me,’ Jimin says. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but he holds you tighter when you try to pull away.
In the car, Jimin leans over to help you fasten your belt.
‘I can do it,’ you say, but he just smiles.
‘I said you can lean on me,’ he tells you. He starts the engine, puts on soft music, a lo-fi beat.
‘Sit back, princess. I’ve got you.’
You want to tell him to stop calling you princess but you’re so comfortable and warm the words won’t leave your lips.
You blink awake to find that Jimin’s parked outside your apartment building.
‘Sorry,’ you mumble, trying to orientate yourself. ‘Did I sleep the whole way?’
‘You talk in your sleep,’ Jimin tells you.
Now you’re fully awake.
‘What did I say?’
‘I didn’t know you liked my ass that much,’ Jimin says, thoughtfully.
‘What?’
He laughs. ‘Go to bed, princess. Want me to walk you up?’
‘I’ll be all right,’ you tell him. You hesitate, hand on the door handle.
‘Thanks, Jimin.’
‘Anytime, princess.’
He waits until you’re inside the doors before he drives away.
***
Yoongi rolls himself out from under the body of the Subaru he’s working on just as Seokjin approaches.
He stares at the pictures Seokjin hands him, jaw tightening, anger sparking, hot and bright, within him.
‘Does she know?’
‘Jimin says she doesn’t seem to know,’ Seokjin says, voice low, furious.
Yoongi hands him back the pictures, lip curled in disgust.
‘I think you’d better fucking tell her,’ he says.
‘It’s not just that,’ Seokjin says. ‘I got this, too.’
Yoongi listens to the recording on Seokjin’s phone, swears.
‘Shit, that asshole’s asking to be fucked up.’
‘Call the guys,’ Seokjin says, voice hard. ‘We get her and then we show him what happens to people who fuck with us.’
***
You’re hurrying, running late. You’re meeting a client from Norway in the busiest part of the city at 7pm sharp.
You glance at your watch just as the light goes green at a multiway intersection, watch the numbers indicating how long you have to cross tick down as you walk briskly across the white stripes on the road.
There’s a thunderous roar, a wave of screams, and the throng of people crossing with you disperses rapidly as you look around to see where the noise is coming from.
The crowd’s clearing, but you stay where you are in the middle of the intersection because you recognise the midnight black Honda with the red racing stripes heading straight for you, the sleek silver Nissan keeping pace alongside it.
Your brother drives slightly past you and executes a 90 degree turn so his car’s across your path, lengthways, tyres screeching.
The acrid smell of burning rubber fills your nostrils, but you almost don’t notice it, because three other cars surround you in quick succession, boxing you in.
To your left, Yoongi, dark eyes scanning you as if to assure himself you’re unharmed.
To your right, Hobi, his face more serious than you’ve ever seen him.
Behind you, Jimin, a shadow behind his blinding headlights.
Seokjin leans across the passenger seat, pushes the door open.
‘Get in,’ he says.
***
You have questions, but Seokjin waits until you’re out of the busiest part of town, when the streets get a little wider, the lights less bright, before he starts talking.
You realise he’s taking you to his apartment.
‘What’s going on?’ you ask.
‘Hyunjin threatened you,’ Seokjin says, terse, jaw tense as he navigates the expensive neighbourhood his apartment’s in.
‘He threatened me?’ you ask, sure you’ve heard wrong.
Seokjin glances at you. ‘The land you just purchased.’
You frown. ‘The square footage we fought Jungcorp over?’
‘Jungcorp is Hyunjin’s grandfather’s company,’ Seokjin says.
The puzzle pieces click into place.
You let out a low whistle. ‘Shit. And he calls you chaebol.’
‘The company’s in trouble,’ Seokjin says, ‘and they’re being investigated for running drugs out of Jamsil.’
He slides into a space in the underground car park, cuts the engine.
‘You know Jimin’s part of the narcotics squad.’
‘He didn’t say what he was investigating,’ you reply, sliding out the door, walking with Seokjin to the private lift.
Seokjin punches in the code, activates the lift, and a moment later you’re walking into his apartment.
There are pictures scattered across the coffee table in the lounge, and for once you don’t stop to admire the view of the city.
They’re all pictures of you. Full colour, high resolution.
Pictures of you in your office, walking into your apartment, at a client dinner. Even, to your horror, one of you in your bed, asleep.
‘Who took these?’ you ask. Your voice comes out tremulous, you barely recognise it.
‘Hyunjin had them sent to me,’ Seokjin replies.
You have to sit down.
‘They want you to give up the Jamsil property and land,’ Seokjin tells you.
You’re struggling to take all this in.
‘Or what?’
Seokjin doesn’t want to give you the details of what Hyunjin threatened to do to you.
‘You should stay at mine until this settles down,’ is what he settles for.
You look up at him.
‘I can’t give up the Jamsil land, Seokjin. It’s the biggest victory I’ve had since I took over the company.’
‘No victory is worth your life,’ Seokjin points out.
Logically, you know your brother is right, but you don’t know if he knows how hard you’ve fought since you took control of the reins of the Kim conglomerate.
The times you were challenged over decisions the board would have praised you for, if you were a man.
The tears you cried in secret when your spirit was battered and bruised from pretending you were immune to the snide comments, the demeaning remarks.
You know you’re stronger than the adversity you faced but it’s never been easy.
Seokjin studies your face, a look in his eyes that makes you wonder how much your older brother really knows.
‘Yoongi’ll take you home to get your things. I’ll fix us dinner for when you get back.’
***
Yoongi never really seems to expect anything from you when you’re together.
It’s a trait that you’ve come to appreciate more and more as the years go by.
He listened to your naive prattling about your friends on the odd occasion when he picked you up after school, never commenting except to ask if you wanted ice cream.
He picked you up sometimes when you were back from college, letting you choose the music you wanted to play, handing you snacks silently, sometimes smoking out the open window.
He drives quietly now, changing gears so seamlessly you barely notice even though you’re staring at his hands.
You remember once, a couple years ago, when you’d met by chance when you were walking to the metro after a disastrous blind date.
You’d been so stung by the experience the indignation had tumbled out of you, words jumbled, as he’d pulled up alongside you and offered you a lift.
Yoongi had listened all the way to your apartment, murmuring support in the lower range of his vocal register, a reassuring rumble if not any actual words.
As soon as he’d stopped the car you’d unbuckled your belt, intending to turn to him and thank him, and instead, you’d looked at him looking at you, his hair pulled back from his forehead in a tiny ponytail, eyes dark and unreadable, and you’d leaned forward and kissed him instead.
Yoongi had grunted a little, and you would have pulled away, if he hadn’t cupped the back of your head and sought your lips with a hunger that thrilled you all the way to your bones.
Heat had pooled in your belly, down low, as he licked boldly into your mouth, slid his big hands around your hips to steady you.
You’d pulled away, breathless, more than a little aroused, and he’d quirked a brow at you.
A question.
You think that if you’d showed any uncertainty, Yoongi would have stopped, and so you didn’t.
You’d taken his hardness in your mouth with a confidence fueled by the reverent, affectionate way he said your name, had learned what he liked by the way his breathing quickened until it was laboured gasps, then a single uttered, emphatic ‘fuck’ as he spilled down your throat, hand clenched on the steering wheel.
He’d given you a feral smile, thumbed away a smear of his cum from the corner of your mouth and put his hand up your skirt like it belonged there.
You’d come crying his name, once with his tongue buried deep in your cunt and another time on his cock as he drilled you into your bed.
He’d left in the morning, a kiss on your forehead and a goodbye so sweet it’s never mattered to you that you’ve never talked about that night since.
You sometimes wonder if he still thinks of it. You’ve never asked.
You look out the window as Yoongi drives.
He reaches into the centre console, tosses a packet of chocolate fish into your lap.
‘I’m not a kid, you don’t have to bribe me with snacks,’ you grouse, but you open it anyway.
The chocolate reminds you that you haven’t eaten all day.
‘Stop being cute and I won’t buy you snacks,’ Yoongi says, reasonably.
‘I’m not cute.’
He just snorts.
‘Want one?’ you offer.
‘You look like you need them more than me,’ Yoongi says, but he accepts the fish you place in his palm.
He walks you up to your building once he’s parked, waits in the living room as you pack a bag.
Once you’re back in his car you turn to him.
‘Did you see those pictures?’
Yoongi’s jaw tightens. ‘Yes.’
‘Seokjin’s worried,’ you say.
‘He’s your big brother,’ Yoongi says, neutral. ‘He worries about you like you worry about him.’
‘I’m fine,’ you tell him.
‘I’m not,’ Yoongi says. He glances in the rearview, signals to turn. ‘I’m angry.’
You put your hand on his arm. ‘You’re always angry,’ you point out, gently.
Yoongi huffs out a breath. ‘No one comes for you, especially not some half assed wannabe racer like Hyunjin.’
You’re touched at his anger on your behalf.
Yoongi looks at you. ‘Seokjin and I will take care of it.’
‘I can’t give up the Jamsil land, Yoongi. I’ve finally clawed myself some credibility.’
‘Fuck that,’ Yoongi agrees. ‘You’re not giving up jack shit for that asshole.’
His lip curls in a half snarl. ‘We’re not giving in even if I have to chain you to me to keep you safe.’
You raise an eyebrow at him.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow back.
He stops in front of the private lift to Seokjin’s apartment.
‘I think you’d like being chained to me,’ you say, unable to resist.
The smile he gives you is a mix of rueful and cocky.
‘Of course I fucking would. I’d make you like it too.’
He unlocks the doors so you can get out, rolls down the window as you get into the lift.
‘I think about that night all the fucking time,’ he tells you, voice low.
You look up at him in surprise, but don’t have time to reply before the lift doors shut between you.
***
Seokjin sets a plate in front of you.
‘Eat,’ he urges.
You pick up your chopsticks and dig in.
‘The responsible thing to do would be to tell you to give up the land,’ he says. ‘That’s what our parents would tell you to do.’
His words set off a pang of sadness that resonates in your chest.
‘If our parents were still here I wouldn’t be running the company,’ you reply.
‘I don’t want you to give up the land. I know how hard you fought for that victory.’
Seokjin takes another bite.
‘I know how hard you’ve been fighting.’
‘Running the company was always what I wanted,’ you tell him. ‘It’s just that it was supposed to be with dad at the helm whilst I found my feet.’
It’s the first time you’ve ever come close to hinting that it hasn’t been easy.
There’s sadness in Seokjin’s eyes.
‘I can put in some time at the company. I’m a Kim, too.’
‘The company is what I want,’ you say, very gently, ‘but it’s not what you want.’
Seokjin sighs. ‘What I want is for you to be happy. I am.’
You snort. ‘You have three broken ribs and a fractured collarbone.’
Seokjin smiles. ‘And you have no injuries. Let’s keep it that way.’
You clink your glasses in a toast.
‘So, Jimin, huh?’ Seokjin asks, sly.
You blink at him but don’t say anything.
Your brother manages to smirk at you anyway.
***
You’re in the gym in your brother’s building, running through your PT routine when there’s a flicker of reflection in the floor to ceiling window you’re facing.
Jimin.
‘Seokjin said you’d be down here,’ he says.
You look up at his reflection in the glass.
‘I’ve got a meeting with my board tomorrow,’ you say. ‘They’re going to want to congratulate me on the Jamsil acquisition.’
You get up from the mat, turn around, and realise he’s as sweaty as you are.
Jimin tilts his head, blond hair falling over one eye. He’s wearing a grey hoodie, unzipped, a white t-shirt underneath that’s moulded to his torso, sweatpants, hands shoved in his pockets.
The gold pendant he wears glimmers in the low light of the gym.
There’s a faint bruise on his jaw.
Unthinking, you step forward and brush a thumb over it lightly.
‘What happened?’ you ask.
Jimin stays perfectly still as you touch him.
‘Just some bangers down by the river,’ he says, vague.
‘Hurt anywhere else?’ you ask.
‘Check me over and see,’ he says, an invitation.
He’s ready for the kiss you press on him, sliding his arms around you, hands warm on the gap between your top and leggings.
You lose yourself in his kisses, only realising he’s walked you backward when your back hits the glass.
The cool press of the window against your shoulder blades is a startling contrast to the warmth of him.
Shit, why’s he so warm?
Jimin’s more insistent than usual, you can feel his erection, already rock solid, nudging at your core even between your layers of clothing.
He grunts, fingers tugging at the zipper down the front of your top, working your breasts free, hands cupping you possessively, pinching your nipples.
You’re aware anyone could walk in but you’re struggling to care, at least whilst Jimin’s hot mouth is pressed against your skin and he’s murmuring filth to you as he touches you.
You’re the one who ends up tugging your leggings down. They’re barely at mid thigh before Jimin’s surged forward, entering you to the hilt in one stroke.
‘Shit, Jimin,’ you gasp. It’s tight like this, your legs pinned together.
‘Turn,’ Jimin commands.
He pulls out, turns you, one hand cupping your cheek so your face doesn’t hit the glass, the other pressed into the small of your back so your hips are angled perfectly for him to enter you again.
He fucks you hard, drilling you into the glass, cock gliding in and out of you at a pace that makes stars form behind your eyelids.
You’re not wet enough but the friction adds to the thrill.
Your nipples tighten harder against the cold of the window.
‘Look at you,’ Jimin groans. ‘Fuck, I’m gonna come so hard.’
His hand kneads the flesh of your ass, squeezing so hard you know he’s going to leave handprints.
He groans again, long, drawn out, into the back of your neck as he spills.
You’re stil recovering when he turns you around again, drops to his knees, pushes his head between your thighs.
He looks up at you, flushed, breathless still from fucking you, eyes dark as he licks up into your cunt.
He hooks his hands over your bared thighs, parts you with his thumbs, and laps at your clit.
‘Jimin,’ you gasp.
‘Yeah, fuck,’ he moans. He’s flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue, slow circles, fingers sliding into you, curving, pressing.
You can see his come leaking out of you, dripping down his hand as your cunt spasms around his fingers.
He keeps up the pace, fingers moving in and out of you, lips suctioning at your clit, and your fingers tighten in his hair as you come.
He moans like he loves the taste of you, licking at your arousal until your knees weaken.
You get re-dressed in a hurry, Jimin helping you with most of it, shucking off his hoodie and pulling it tight around you.
‘Come on. I’ll put you to bed.’
You’re boneless from your orgasm, weary from the stress of the last few days.
You lean on him as you head back up to Seokjin’s apartment.
Jimin waits, seated on the edge of your bed as you take a shower, pulls back the covers so you can get in.
You grasp his wrist as he gets up.
‘Where are you going?’ you ask, sleepy.
‘I’ve got more to do, princess.’
Jimin presses a kiss to your forehead.
‘It’ll be over tomorrow, ok?’
‘Yeah?’
You’re so tired you can barely keep your eyes open.
‘Yeah. Promise.’
You want to ask more but you’re asleep before he leaves your room.
***
You love the view from your office, in the nighttime but also on days like today, when the sun blazes bright, laying out the city before you.
In the distance, the silhouette of Mount Samo.
It always reminds you of Seokjin.
Seokjin had asked you to back down from the deal on the Jamsil land, just until he could ‘take care of things’, but your board meeting’s been planned for months.
The success of the acquisition was meant to be the cherry on the top of the cake, the final step in proving your worth to the company.
You’d tried, at dinner last night, to articulate to Seokjin how much you needed this, but had found yourself too close to tears for comfort.
You think maybe at the end he’d understood.
You breathe in, slow, trying to get your head in the game before you face your board.
Your PA buzzes with a reminder.
You take one last look at Mount Samo in the distance and turn.
Time to go.
The walk to the meeting room’s never felt so short.
Everyone rises when you enter.
You scan the sea of faces around the U-shaped table and are about to sit when the glass door swings open.
The murmur through the room makes you turn sharply.
Your brother, tall and broad and exquisitely coiffed, walks up to stand beside you at the head of the room.
All eyes are on you, but Seokjin doesn’t seem affected in the slightest.
He leans over, and says, simply, ‘I was wrong.’
You search his gaze, and realise how wrong you were to think Seokjin has no idea what you’re going through.
The realisation makes warmth course through you.
You compose yourself enough to say, ‘That’s why our parents left the company to me, brother.’
The laugh you share makes the tension ease in a way it hasn’t in days.
You turn back to your board.
‘Let’s begin.’
***
The meeting is a success.
Maybe you’re just flying high off the reaction to your report, but you think you’ve made a significant step towards proving your abilities.
Seokjin, beside you, loosens his tie as he starts the car.
‘Where are we going?’ you ask.
‘You’ve done your bit,’ Seokjin says, glancing in the rearview as he pulls out of the space he’s parked in.
His jaw tightens. ‘It’s time to do mine.’
***
You’ve never really been on Mount Samo in the day before, and the hairpin bends that Seokjin’s manoeuvring with ease are making you a little queasy.
Seokjin glances at you in the rearview mirror, amusement on his face.
‘I could drive this blindfolded,’ he tells you.
‘That’s not as reassuring as you think it is,’ you mutter, trying to keep your eyes straight ahead instead of gaping over the sheer drop you’re inches away from.
‘What have you got planned?’ you ask.
‘We’ve actually already carried out the plan,’ Seokjin tells you. ‘I thought you’d like to be there for the final part.’
You’re curious, thinking back to the night before, when Jimin met you in the gym and then left because he had things to take care of. You’d never heard Seokjin come back, you’d assumed that you’d been asleep and that he’d been quiet.
For the first time, you notice the dark circles under Seokjin’s eyes, marring his normally perfect complexion.
It strikes you that although you’ve been bemoaning your brother’s lack of involvement in your work life, you know very little about what he gets up to.
‘What did you do, Seokjin?’ you ask.
‘Nothing Hyunjin didn’t have coming to him,’ Seokjin replies.
He shrugs.
‘I set him up to meet again today so he could have a chance to win back the car I won from him the other day. I gave Jimin all the pictures Hyunjin sent me, the threats he sent against you.’
Seokjin’s lips thin into a hard line.
‘Hyunjin’s car’s been captured on CCTV in a notorious spot in Jamsil that the narcotics squad have been monitoring.’
You’re staring at your brother.
‘There are traces of narcotics in the trunk.’
Seokjin blinks. ‘Jimin knows I won the car, but he left with you that night so he hasn’t seen it driven by anyone other than Hyunjin.’
You see what your brother’s done.
You turn to him, realising only now, how carefully he’s been watching you this whole time.
Seokjin’s voice is carefully neutral. ‘This is the kind of thing your big brother gets up to.’
Seokjin doesn’t know about everything in your life, and you don’t know everything about his.
All you know is, he’s your brother, and you can stand up for him like he stood up for you.
You put your hand on his, where it’s loosely curled over the gear shaft.
‘Guess you’re a good big brother after all.’
Seokjin fixes his gaze on your joined hands, throat bobbing as he swallows.
‘I’m the best,’ he agrees, giving you a crooked smile.
***
When you make it to the summit, Yoongi’s already there, peering through binoculars.
‘Hey princess,’ he says, shifting over on the hood of his car to make room for you.
He hands you the binoculars, casual. ‘Check this out.’
You hold the binoculars up, and Yoongi gently pushes you in the right direction, fingers warm under your chin.
The scene’s a few hundred feet down from the summit, and for once you’re not distracted by the vertiginous drop.
There’s Hyunjin’s distinctive car flanked by a tactical team, all clad in distinctive blue and yellow jackets over bulletproof vests.
Hyunjin, hands above his head.
A flash of blonde hair you’d know anywhere.
Jimin cuffing him and guiding him to an armoured van.
Beside you, there’s the clink of a lighter as Yoongi lights a cigarette.
You lower the binoculars.
‘I guess that’s that.’
Seokjin lowers his own binoculars.
‘Guess so.’
‘Your boyfriend’s a good cop,’ Yoongi remarks.
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ you reply.
Yoongi’s dark eyes fix on you with interest, but all he does is hum, noncommittal.
It’s barely a quarter of an hour before a car pulls up to the summit, parks beside Seokjin’s.
Jimin steps out, still in his regs, a sight for sore eyes.
He looks tired, but he smiles when he sees you.
‘We’ve got him,’ he tells you.
‘We saw,’ you say.
‘I’ve got to go down to the precinct, then they’re sending me down to Gwangju.’
He hesitates. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. It could be months.’
You reach out and give him a hug.
He smells faintly of sweat and gunmetal, and you think you like it.
‘I guess you should call me when you’re next in town then,’ you tell him, close so only he can hear.
Jimin turns his head, lets his lips brush your cheek.
‘Is that an invitation, princess?’
‘Take it however you want it,’ you reply.
Jimin laughs. ‘I will.’
He gives you a look so heated your skin warms. He nods at Seokjin and Yoongi, gets back in the car.
You all watch him drive off.
Yoongi finishes his cigarette, grinds it into the dirt at his feet.
‘Dinner?’ Seokjin suggests.
‘Yeah,’ you agree.
Yoongi curls his lip at you, that familiar slow smirk that makes your heart skip a beat.
‘Wanna ride, princess?’
Seokjin rolls his eyes. ‘See you guys at the restaurant.’
You guess he really is the best brother ever.
©hamsterclaw 2023
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Less smut, more meaningful words with such eloquence, well executed plot, characterizations and world building.
A Loki (Marvel)/Reader Fic Recommendation
If you’re like me, who loves to read longer fics then this blog post is for you. This list features beautiful books I have read featuring Loki and the reader for the past 5 years. This is long overdue I have been planning to do this for a while now. I’ll do my best to share all of them in one post (might probably edit this once I remember more). One thing, I really love when an author finds a way to not use Y/N. Enjoy the list!
Completed Fics
Frostbite by Maiden_of_Asgard
Synopsis:
Iceland is nice - sure, you probably should’ve picked a time of year when the weather was a little warmer, but it isn’t too bad, and at least you’re away from your desk job, right? It’s a pretty big adventure.
You’ve always said that you wanted more adventure in your life.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
This one you’ve probably read, if not go check it out. It’s one of the best out there. I mean, need I say more?
The Proposal by BirdsofHermes
Synopsis:
An AU gender-reversal of the 2009 romantic comedy The Proposal. You work for Loki Laufeyson at Asgard International Publishing. He accidentally lets his work Visa expire and is about to be deported back to England, so he blurts out that he's marrying you. Now you have to convince an immigration inspector as well as your own family that you're in love with Loki or he gets deported for life and you face five years jail time.
Review:
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I have read this more than one can count fingers in their hands.
Broken Crown by Michelleleahhh
Synopsis:
Your betrothal to Thor was convenient - brokered as an alliance between two powerful families.
Your marriage to Loki... is unimaginable.
Review:
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Please proceed with caution and read the tags. When I read this the first time, I was new to this world but I remembered enjoying reading this piece. I just recently re-read this, and I just found some minor stuff I didn’t really enjoy. Overall the story and the plot got me hooked however, there’s just few chapters that I feel could’ve been explored more and executed better. Still, I enjoyed reading this the second time around.
Fǫruneyti by Evaldrynn
Synopsis:
A story in which a herbalist makes a decision that will drastically change her life, and in which a prince begins to realise that there might still be hope for him yet. A tale of danger, adventure, friendship - and, ultimately, love.
Review:
⭐️⭐️⭐️✨
This one I stopped reading at 70%, I have certain icks when it comes to reading and once I reach that ick jar I’m done. It was still beautifully written, got me hooked and all, loved the progress. What can I say, I love slow burns.
The Devil Inside by Ursus_minor
Synopsis:
You're a free lance artist and just running short of rent money for the month, so when your good buddy Thor offers you a one-off job at his sister's company, you take it - even though helping his little brother out with some paperwork sounds awfully tedious
I always wondered what Loki, Hela and Thor would do if they were 'mere mortals'
Review:
⭐️⭐️⭐️✨
It’s deleted but I was lucky enough to have read this way back 2020. It was one of my favorite back then, because it was hard to find a long fic where Loki is not the God of Mischief but just a mere mortal living amongst us. I honestly forgot most about this story, I only remember bits and pieces, you’re Thor’s best friend and he helped you gain money by working under Loki, like the synopsis said.
A Study In Suit by lowkeyorloki
Synopsis:
You've worked too damn hard to get into Professor Laufeyson's course, and you're not about to let your pesky attraction to him get in the way. Your Professor, however, has other plans.
Review:
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Professor Loki. That’s it.
From the Void, With Love by pilotisms
Synopsis:
Torn from time, you have to navigate the TVA with the one person who singlehandedly tried to conquer NYC. Turns out you & him have a future-past. Time is weird.
Review:
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
This is one of the best I’ve read, this is my second to The Proposal. I fucking love this you have no idea. Wished there was a longer sequel though.
Litklœði by GoldTrimmedSpectacles
Synopsis:
“And the sire promised that he would spend the rest of his days searching for the cure of the flower disease which took his friend. And he did find this cure, but not without a cost,” Frigga explained and stroked Loki’s head as the illusions vanished. “But now, when one is fraught with flowers in their chest, a völva can remove these flowers with seiðr – saving the victim’s life and removing the vines from their lungs.”
The Allmother paused and looked at your small, childish face. Her smile was kind and full, but her eyes lay empty and sad. The knowledge of yet to come lay heavy on her features.
However, be warned my child, that with the removal of lung flowers the feelings of unrequited love will be removed too. As will any remaining trace of friendship. So be careful how you give your heart, my dear. You may never know what you could lose.
Review:
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Hanahaki Disease AU? Anyone? This one is from my previous blog post. Pure feelings. Loved young loki and young reader.
In Progress or Abandoned Gems
Mea Culpa by OlympianWine
Synopsis:
Six years ago yours and Loki's relationship came to an abrupt and messy end, leaving resentment and hurt in its wake. Now you haven't heard a whisper of him in years, until he turns up at his brother's wedding, seemingly changed for the better, and you're thrust into facing both him and the memories you had buried. But a dangerous figure from Loki's past looms overhead, and Thanos is determined to hunt Loki down and make him pay for betraying him.
Review:
💔💔💔💔💔
I mean based on the synopsis who wouldn’t want to read that? Last update was last year, here’s to hoping it’ll update more or I’m gonna have to kms.
Anagapesis by OlympianWine
Synopsis:
You have a perfect life; a loving husband, a beautiful baby. But when it all comes crashing down, you must put survival ahead of sentiment and turn to a darker prince - your husband's brother. Loki is cruel and cold, and he hates you with a burning passion. Or so you think.
Review:
💔💔💔💔
Just when you think you’re falling, he makes you remember what type of person he is. I feel for Loki, but he’s just cruel man. I wish there was more so I could understand him a bit more.
Seiðmaðr by GoldTrimmedSpectacles
Synopsis:
Amidst the fallen brethren of the Vanaheimr war against Muspelheim, the dark prince of Asgard finds himself lost and riddled with amnesia. His words are barbed, his tongue is gilded and his eyes are sharp. He has no recollection of his name or family, but he soon comes to realise that perhaps it is best for the past to be shadowed by the future, and that life as a beloved commoner is better than life as a miserable prince.
Review:
💔💔💔💔💔
I’m a sucker for fantasy and a well executed world building. I love how I’m instantly transported into the world created by the author and I feel alive inside. I wish there was a way to find out what happens next. I just love this so much I wish there was more.
#loki imagine#loki fic recs#loki is alive#loki#mcu loki#loki fanfic#marvel loki#loki odinson#loki x you#loki x reader#loki laufeyson#loki series#loki friggason#nkx reads#nkx recs#nkx fic recs#nkx loki fic recs#fluff#angst#slow burn#loki x y/n
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