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pedgito · 13 days ago

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𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 | Jackson!Joel Miller x reader

summary | Your postcards become a personal journal during patrols with Joel.

author's note | a little late, but this is my entry for @jolapeno's dear-uary! i had very little idea what i was going to do initially, but this kinda turned into its own thing. i hope the postcards are a nice addition to the fic, they were quite fun to make.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, jackson era joel, patrol partners, quiet!reader, enemies to lovers, one instance of choking, mentions of violence, angst, mean!joel, voyeurism, forced orgasm, thigh riding

word count — 7k

“It’s the fifth time I’ve came back and she’s been sleepin’,” Joel gripes a handful of feet below as you feign resting, trying to relax the sneer that threatened to cross your face, annoyed with the exhaustion that never left but loathing the man who couldn’t seem to give you a break, “or writing in that damn book, ignoring us.”

“I’ll talk—” Joel interrupts Tommy once more, with emphasis on the amount, but Tommy reels him in, squeezing down on his shoulder as you peek through one eye over the railing, scoffing under your breath, “I’ll talk to her, alright? S’awonder what a simple conversation can fix, Joel.”

His approach comes later during shift change as the night slowly melted into dawn, the sun rising on the horizon in waves of orange and purple, creating a cotton candy sky, hearing Tommy’s voice carry as he greeted people along the way before the scuff of his boots stopped behind you, you turn to peer up at him sheepishly.

“Not a good look, y’know?” Tommy says redundantly, “I’m not tryin’ to gripe you out, but Joel—”

You nod knowingly, waving him off as you toss your pencil and notebook aside, adjusting your jacket over your shoulders as you sit upright, rubbing the sleep out of tired eyes.

“You can always put me on kitchen duty, hell I’ll take—”

“No—no, I’m not moving you. You havin’ trouble sleeping in the singles?”

The apartments, the singles—it varied, depending on who you asked. A place for the younger, single survivors in Jackson. With the constant sound and rumble of life within the walls, you should feel safe, a subtle semblance of home, but sleeping alone was hard. Trapped within four walls, drowned out by the eventual silence as night fell, it left room for the nightmares.

It was easier here, surrounded by others, sounds to help keep you grounded, the fresh air despite the stale smells and faint fumes of rotting corpses. You couldn’t explain it, but it was easier. Besides, it wasn’t like you were being completely negligent—even Tommy knew that.

“I have trouble sleeping in general,” You feed him a half-truth, “I’ll keep it together, though. As long as it keeps Joel off your ass and mine, I wouldn’t be thrilled to be on the receiving end of one of Joel’s outbursts.”

“Tantrums, more like.” He jokes with a smirk, his teeth peeking out under his thick mustache. “I really don’t mind if you’re dozing off a bit, s’long as there’s others keepin’ watch. Maybe–just maybe, try and keep up the act when Joel’s coming and going.”

“Can do,” You agree with ease and Tommy smiles, pointing lazily toward your notebook.

“I’m curious, though—whatcha got goin’ on in there?”

Your brow furrows until you look over your shoulder and surmise what he’s referencing, picking up the notebook carelessly and flipping through to show him–it was a mix of random doodles and sketches, some vulgar words scribbled in by a mix of immature men who you’ve come to befriend with reluctance on the job, a detailed log of everyone’s schedule as they leave and return, random details of weather patterns, things you’ve noticed along the skyline toward the inner city, several months worth of information that Tommy nods at, thoughtful as he looks over the pages.

“Don’t let ‘em give you a hard time,” Tommy tells you, folding the cover closed.

“Yes, sir,” You say endearingly, mostly as a jest at Tommy’s expense, knowing he despised the word, making a face as he turned on his heels to leave.

“Shit makes me feel old,” He gripes, shaking his head in a mix of disdain and amusement, “stop it.”

You smile at his annoyance as you tuck your belongings away into your pack and trade your rifle off to Jesse, who seemed more than eager to take your shift with bright, well-rested eyes and a grin of his face as greeted you both.

As you expect, there is little sleep to be had as you hit your bed, tossing and turning as you fiddle with the ripped hole in your bed sheet or spend time counting the stains on your ceilings—mold spots and holes, signs of a building that was on the way out, but hanging by a thread.

Tommy wouldn’t condemn the place unless it was in shambles, finding use of just about anything if it still had enough life in it.

And you follow Tommy’s instructional plea—even if it killed you to appease Joel, who seemed just as critical if not more as he rode up on his horse every few nights.

Their shifts weren’t always regular and Joel often picked up extra patrols when someone else couldn’t, complaining entirely too much for someone who seemed like they couldn’t stand living within the sanctuary of Jackson, like he’d rather tough it out on his own.

Ellie blamed it on his inability to let himself settle—Jackson was home, his family was here, and physically he could exist, but he never seemed quite present.

You catch Ellie on a shift change as Tommy and Joel approach, trading out your jerky for her sandwich as she hurriedly tucked it away like she was going to get caught doing something she shouldn’t, snorting softly at her actions as Joel scowled, pulling at the reigns of his horse as he drew near.

The call of your name has you perking up, peering around Ellie’s head at Tommy with a less than enthusiastic look on his face, rifles held between both of the brothers grips.

“I’m askin’ for a huge favor,” Instantly you knew, posture slumping slightly as your boots sunk into the snow, “Cindy’s sick—caught the same bug that’s been goin’ around. Can you cover another shift? I’ll owe ya.”

“Seems more like you’re telling me,” You retort, stretching the beanie down over the back of your head to cover your ears, the cold biting at your skin, “—it’s fine, I’ll do it.”

“Thank—“

“But I want the weekend off.”

“Done.” Tommy agrees without problem.

The patrol box wasn’t all that bad anyways, insulated enough that you weren’t freezing your ass off, enough room for two people, it could be worse. It was better than walking the strip of the barricade, shivering until you couldn’t even feel your toes.

Wyoming winters were brutal, but it seemed like the end of the world had found a vengeance to fight back with, giving you the harshest versions of every season. A blizzard was expected within the next few weeks and those were never ideal—extra patrols, doubling watchmen, curfews. It sucked.

You find yourself sketching out the same tree line you’ve drawn a hundred times, wispy tendrils and thick trunks that wove together like a web, time drifting by with ease as the night swallowed up the day, the thick blanket of snow reducing both the noise and allowing a soft illumination as you peered off into the distance, almost mesmerized at the glowing orb that seemed to grow closer and closer.

Tommy and Joel were the last ones out, everyone else having returned back hours prior, keeping in mind that they had taken the furthest patrol out north, so it wasn’t all that surprising.

But, it doesn’t take long for you to realize that Joel and Tommy are not alone, horses trotting quickly toward the gates as a small group of raiders followed closely behind and shot of rifle rounds with no exact target, whizzing by your head as you opened the door and ran to your own rifle, sliding to the wall for cover as you quickly loaded your gun and swung it over the ledge.

It wasn’t often that you had to use it outside of training and target practice, finding that Jackson had always been relatively quiet—except for now, as the brothers tumbled to cover as shots fired from your left and right, a few of the attackers succumbed to their flurry of wounds.

You watch as one raider attacks the brothers head on, short-lived as Joel attacks him with his fists, a hand bunching into the front of the attackers shirt before he’s crushing his skull in with pure rage and strength, eventually ending up with his hands around the other man's neck while he choked on the blood that spilled from his mouth, the light in his eyes slowly fading.

There’s a straggler on the outskirts, though, blending in as he slid through the tree line and attempted to attack Joel from behind, you quickly aim down your sight through the scope of the gun, following a straight and calm line as the man approached, stepping a few feet away from Joel before the bullet slices through his head, falling to the ground in an instant.

Joel’s head whips toward you, your head peeking over the scope as you examine the body before looking over at him, seemingly stunned but the expression was subdued, quietly mouthing something to his brother who wasn’t as good at hiding his shock.

Either you had made the right choice in saving Joel’s life or he was going to twist this on you, somehow proving that you could’ve killed him with your carelessness, letting a shot ring out so close to his head.

The dread you were feeling does come to fruition as Tommy knocks on your door that weekend, your soft voice welcoming him inside as you perched against the alcove in your room, a small ledge tucked against the windowsill.

“I ain’t here to lecture you,” Tommy begins, cutting through your doubt, “feel like I’m constantly askin’ so much of you but Joel and I can agree on one thing. You’re a damn good shot.”

You scoff at that, almost a laugh.

He leaned against the wall near the small kitchen tucked into the corner of the apartment, arms crossed over his chest.

“We lost James,” from what you recalled, he was a young kind, inexperienced, reckless too, “poor kid never fuckin’ listened, got shot before he could even get his gun out.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask bluntly, looking up at him through a downturned gaze, picking at the chipped paint by your feet.

“We’re down a person. I want you to take over.”

“I thought this was a council decision. Some prestigious thing, putting people through tests before they could—“

“It’s the least of my worries. Maria’s close to her due date too, that storm is creepin’ in. We ain’t got time to waste, we’ll be doubling patrols soon. Are you in or out, kid?”

Tommy’s face screamed desperation, sunken eyes were a telltale sign of lacking sleep, stress rifling his features. He had a lot on his plate, the weight of Jackson on his shoulders, his burgeoning new family growing within a few weeks. You had a soft spot for him unfortunately and it was always your downfall.

“I’m in.”

—

“You listen to every word I say,” Joel tells you, snaking by the others loading up their saddle bags, side stepping the horse’s head as he crowds you into the small space of the stall, “Every single word, got it?”

He’s never been friendly—cordial, maybe. But, Joel wasn’t the type to ask or suggest. It was always order and demand, his harsh tone constricting the words to instill an edge that had your brows furrowing down into your lids, face scrunching up in annoyance.

You agree regardless, nodding your head as you clip the saddlebag closed.

“I need to hear it.”

“Got it,” You retort, sarcasm laced around your tongue, “Every single word. You say run, I run. Jump, I jump. Good enough?”

Joel shakes his head slightly at your tone, looking off toward the entrance of the barn at his brother who was deep into a conversation, displeased with the idea of being paired with you.

But, he was the only one Tommy trusted to train you properly, even if it meant several hours together with a good chance you both might kill each other.

With Joel, you were safe from everything else but him.

“Yeah, thas’ good.” He relents, turning on his heels before he finishes his sentence.

The weather was only just beginning to pick up, the winds whipping your loose hair over your face, pulling them from the tie you had pulling the majority of it back, hood snug over your head. You hear the distinct sound of leather rubbing against itself as Joel tightens his grips on the reins of his horse, settling beside you quietly as Tommy called off everyone’s posting.

You were assigned to the ski lodge far north, the furthest they patrolled but for good reason. It kept the raiders at bay, staking claim so far out and keeping them away, for the most part. Plus, it gave them an early jump on any of the migrating groups of infected, finding that they often moved in hoards during the colder months, picking off the stragglers that wandered in.

The trip is cold, lips dry and cracking by the time you reach the lodge, but relatively easy.

“Tie ‘em up,” Joel instructs coarsely, waiting to latch the door closed as you tie the horses up to the makeshift post in the foyer, his foot holding the door open as you step past him, shoulder brushing his elbow as his eyes track the touch silently, clicking the lock into place.

“Beds are up there,” Joel pointed toward the right corner, couches lined with sheets and pillows, “s’better to sleep down here with this weather, place don’t keep out the cold that well unless we got a fire going and even then…”

“I’ll be fine,” You assure him tensely, stripping your jacket off your shoulders and slinging it over the back of a nearby chair, pack falling slack against the floor, leaving you free to wander around.

“Sign us in,” He points vaguely in the direction of the bar, an old leather booklet resting against the wall with a pin tucked around a page, his voice carrying as you walk further away, “I’ll start up a fire.”

Joel was like a ghost, almost forgetting he was there until he’s approaching behind you, that familiar grimace on his face as he finds you scouring through the book, curiosity getting the best of you—it was harmless, but Joel thought otherwise.

“Is this gonna be an issue?” He asks, eyes widened slightly in an expectant manner, waiting for your response.

You wrestle with the urge to roll your eyes, neatly writing your names down into the book, checking quickly at your watch before you snap the book closed and shove it aside.

You move to walk around him, but his palm flattens out against your collarbone, shoving you back into place—he wasn’t letting you move without an answer.

“No,” You answer casually, pushing his hand away gently, “Are you gonna explain how any of this works?”

“We take turns,” Joel says, mirroring your early actions as he strips off his couch, the warmth of the fire already spreading throughout the room, “I’ll take first shift ‘til morning, then we swap.”

“And if we see something?”

“You wake me up,” He tells you, “otherwise, don’t.”

It was a simple but lethal instruction, a warning.

This was going to be absolute hell.

Luckily, the conversation dies out and you wander toward the small gift shop attached to the bar. It was mostly picked through besides the small plush bear sitting alone on the shelf and a revolving carousel of postcards, aged from both weather and time. You spin them around careful, mindlessly plucking a few that still seemed in good enough condition before you’re shoving them away in your bag, ignoring the creak of a chair as Joel sat with his rifle in his lap, leaned back as he stared out the long expansive window that covered the wall, just on the edge of cliff with a substantial drop.

It had a beautiful view, breathtaking, really. But, looking in his direction only made you feel more and more unsettled, taking your seat beside the fire quietly.

“Should get some sleep,” He suggest without turning his head over his shoulder, your eyes glancing in his direction, “don’t need you fallin’ asleep on patrol here.”

And normally, you could find yourself falling asleep easily given the situation. But, you were on edge, fearful, something twisting in your gut that kept you from relaxing. You’ve heard the stories about Joel, how ruthlessly he killed and maimed. A man of action rather than peace.

You pull a single postcard from your back to distract yourself, hoping that it might help lull you to sleep eventually.

And you wished it had gotten easier, but the more you were paired with Joel, the more tension it seemed to cause, always unspoken—Joel never reacted, barely skirting the idea that this was becoming a problem, the lack thereof with communication, speaking only when you absolutely needed to.

His questions were always odd, like a robot attempting to make small talk—and often, it was observations, one-off statements that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did.

But, they did.

“Sleepin’ with that knife ain’t safe.” Joel told you on a crisp, stormy night at the end of January, the tail end of it peeking out from under your pillow, one eye peeling open to look at him with disdain.

“Says the man who sleeps with a rifle on his chest.”

Joel chews at his bottom lip, looking down at the bulky weapon in his lap before he ignores your retort, focusing his gaze on the book in his grip, something he’s read through about a hundred times, attempting to give himself a different view, flipping through the pages mindlessly.

“Where’d you learn to use a gun like that?” He asks suddenly, cutting through the silence again.

Another question, one you could leave unanswered.

“We’re not put in the watchtower without gun training,” You tell him, “seems kinda self explanatory, Tommy trained me himself.”

“That kinda shootin’ isn’t taught.” Is all he replies with—almost like an accusation.

“I think you’ve forgotten that QZ kids were born with a gun in their hand.”

It was an asinine exaggeration, but still wholeheartedly the truth. You knew every part of a gun before you could even confidently tie your shoes, it was unfortunately second nature when you had a gun in your hand, similar to a knife. Your grip tightened around the handle as you closed your eyes, succumbing to sleep eventually.

You wade in and out, peeking through bleary eyes and always find Joel’s eyes on you, whether purposeful or not, he was always watching. Even as you wandered, no matter where you were—maybe it was his own strange way of hoping that it provided you comfort, that he was always watching out. But, it never made you feel safe. Not really. And, in turn, you find yourself doing the same thing.

He’s more relaxed when he’s sleeping, the familiar scowl non-existent as he snores alongside the crackling fire or roar of wind, his boots untied and loosened but never off, never too comfortable. Joel always slept with his arms crossed, sitting up or lying down, occasionally mumbling in his sleep as he whimpered, his face contorting in the only sign of emotion you see from him outside of anger and annoyance.

You scribble out your thoughts on a postcard to pass the time.

He never asks about the stack of postcards in your bag, remaining blissfully ignorant. It was an unspoken agreement, that prying wasn’t something either of you were going to make an attempt at—you could simply exist around each other, no baggage or stories to be traded.

For now, at least.

–

It was nearly four months of patrols when Tommy lays his plans out and surprisingly, Joel doesn’t seem displeased and truthfully, things had become easier with him than anyone else.

You didn’t have to put on an act for him.

He could tell when you were exhausted or irritated, giving you space with a silent pass of the sandwiches he had picked up before leaving, retreating to his own corner, though his eyes still lingered.

It had taken a few months, but you did feel that safety with him that Ellie often talked to you about—his steadfast personality, knowing that if something were to happen, he’d handle it.

But, he’s still a mystery.

“Ellie told me ‘bout that time you killed a group of raiders tryin’ to attack her,” You start the conversation bluntly, biting into the steak sandwich, “You like knives more than guns?”

Bold, he thinks. That’s fuckin’ bold.

“Guns are loud,” He replies, “Knives aren’t.”

You think back to the incident at Jackson with another set of raiders, witnessing Joel kill a man with his bare hands and think - maybe he preferred neither, if given another choice.

The prospect shouldn’t excite you or even entertain you, the brute power he holds.

But, it does.

You make a soft nose of acknowledgement as you nod your head, noticing the subtle glint in his eyes as he revisits the memory with Ellie, his face twitching at the sight of the broken glass slicing through a poor kid’s neck, right along the jugular as he choked on his own blood.

“You kill anyone?”

“A few—just…for survival.” You weren’t sure why you lied.

Joel wasn’t threatened by you in the slightest and lying wasn’t going to change that.

You’ve been lucky enough to avoid it until recently, bouncing from place to place until you landed in Jackson. It had been your home for a while now, so long that you didn’t like to think about it, staying in one place for such a long period of time.

Joel sat a few feet away in the small house nestled on the mountain, a cool breeze stretching through the open window as Spring had taken hold, flowers blooming over the edge of the windowsill where they threatened to creep in.

His feet were near your head, resting against the ledge of the window as he leaned back in his chair, tapping his knife against the wooden leg of the chair as you pretend to sleep, shifting slightly as the blanket drifted down your body, layers shedded and crumpled by your feet, leaving you in a thin top and and jeans as you turned to your stomach, moaning softly, content.

He’s been less shy about his stares, or oblivious, his gaze lingering when you would catch him in the act—but you count the second in your mind from the moment you catch him through your squinted gaze, his eyes drifting along your body curiously.

Ninety-five seconds.

It was a new record.

And you dream of him that night, it wasn't the first time.

But, this time felt different. Usually the dreams drift away the moment you wake, like a distant and distorted memory, but this one is vivid and lingering as you watch Joel, who had caught you in the midst of your wake but he'd fallen asleep shortly after.

Some fucked up and empty part of you wishes it was reality.

You end up at the same patrol a month later, the heat of summer creeping in.

You hadn’t been paired together in a couple weeks and Joel seemed lighter as he stepped beyond the threshold of the house and stripped off his pack, busying himself with a quick sweep

Wiping your hand over your forehead, skin damp and sweaty as your pack falls to the floor, you sigh, fanning yourself with your hand as Joel catches a subtle glimpse of your obvious discomfort.

“Did Tommy ever fix the water?” You ask with a slight hint of annoyance, more than willing to douse yourself in a bucket of cold water to get some relief, “Please say yes.”

Joel chuckles at that, a small sound that you would have missed had you not been paying direct attention to his response.

“Yes, a couple weeks ago,” Joel answers simply, sinking lazily into the couch, allowing himself a moment of well-earned rest after the long ride here, “go on—I’ll cover the first watch.”

It was all the encouragement you needed.

And the shower is marvelous, leveled at the perfect temperature to let the cool water wash over your skin, cleaning off the thin layer of dirt that had accumulated from Jackson to here, listening to the faint footsteps as Joel traversed the house, assuming he was setting things up in the bedroom—doors opening, floorboards creaking, the sounds were like a comfort.

Joel doesn’t talk unless he absolutely has to, more settled in the idea of just existing around you—he knew it brought you a semblance of feeling safe, but he was forcing himself to keep that distance, remaining vigilant to the eyes that constantly watched him, occasionally catching himself doing the same.

Even now, it was like a trance, his head bowed as he passed the bathroom, noticing the small crack in the door as he heard your melodic hum filter over the sound of water, singing a song that reminded him of before, his favorite.

Was it your favorite too?

He doesn’t mean to, not really, but then you’re turning your body away from the shower-head, eyes closed and head tossed back as you washed your hair, the gap in the curtain from this angle giving Joel a perfect view of your body, the pristine slope of your breasts down to your stomach, a few faint scars he followed before his eyes landed on your pelvis, the trimmed patch of hair nestled above your cunt, feeling his throat swell as he swallowed.

The faint creek of his footsteps gives him away, he knows, but you don’t react.

It wasn’t until the midnight hour rolled around, falling asleep on your shift, that Joel sneaks out of the house—sometimes he just needed the silence in nature, no birds chirping overhead, the faint distant growl from traversing hoards that didn’t carry out this far, if he closed his eyes, it was almost as if everything were normal, like he was back at his house in Austin, enjoying a moment out on his back porch.

Unfortunately, Joel was a paranoid man; your quiet footsteps catch him off guard, only feeling your presence as you arrive at his back, turning on his heels in an instant as his hand latches around your throat, tackling you against the ground with his knee digging into your stomach, your face pinched in pain as you throw weak punches at his chest, gasping for air.

He seems trance-like, eyes glossed over as you struggle to breathe, vision blurring around the edges as it begins to tunnel, you muster as much strength as you can to wheeze his name.

“J-oel. Joel, s’me.”

Your voice, broken and strained, seems to break him out of his deadlock grip on your throat, dark eyes snapping back into a soft chestnut, his face softening as much as it could while still remaining hardened, scrambling away from you without a word. Like you had attacked him.

You let out a flurry of coughs as you roll to your side, massaging your throat as your sounds come out raspy and weak, feeling slight pain as you swallow and attempt to rise to your feet, seeing Joel hesitate from your periphery for a moment, considering helping you.

“Coulda fuckin’ killed you,” Is the only thing he offers.

“Yeah,” You respond bitterly, “Almost fucking did.”

“You got a habit of sneakin’ up on people like that? The hell were you thinking?”

He rubbed a hand over his graying beard, the other hand cocked against his hip as he kept a safe distance, watching you pick the clumps of dirt and grass from your hair.

He’s angry. Angry?

Why the fuck was he angry?

“I was worried—you like to leave at night,” You explain through a strained tone, a tic in your jaw as you clench down, eyes sinking into a scowl as you challenge his expression, “the last thing I need is finding you dead and having to explain that to Tommy.”

A tense silence stretches over, a slow and powerful breath through his nose before he relents and stomps past you, leaving you in a similar position to his earlier, watching his figure trail toward the house as your head turns back toward the sky, covered in stars and picturesque.

The kind of sight you wouldn’t believe if you weren’t seeing it in person.

Joel liked simple pleasures, a moment of silence and a place to sit with himself, and you had disrupted it - the only true moment he had alone all day, to sit, to think. The guilt settles in quickly, lingering for a moment before you decide to make the walk back toward the house.

–

What you aren’t expecting to find is Joel, sifting through your bag, items sprawled out on the floor and the thick cards fitted between his calloused fingers, covered in filth as he read over the notes you had left over the past few months, internal thoughts that you wouldn’t dare let slip.

He'd broken the one unspoken rule you both had kept with each other.

Some of them were slightly more embarrassing than others, forbidden to see the light of day until now, meticulous notes about the details of his face as he slept, how you found the rhythmic sound of his breathing comforting or even more damning, how the more aggressive side of him did the exact opposite of what it should.

It excited you. Turned you on, though the cards held more flourishing details about why and how. Because even then, moments prior as his hands pressed against your throat, there was a brief moment of exhilaration, excitement.

Your breath catches in your throat as you scramble, stumbling toward him and reaching for the cards he holds easily out of reach, a hand pressing against your shoulder and squeezing tight enough to hold you back.

“You wanna explain this?” Joel asks, the type of tone that made you want to shrink.

Your mouth parts for a moment before you find your voice, brow knitting in frustration as you reach for the postcards once more, failing, “Those are private—why are you snooping?”

“You left a mess,” Joel explains away, the items of your bag spilled on the hardwood floor, chuckling as he continues, “Huh, private? Ain’t much privacy to be had when you’re writing about me.”

You can feel your heart racing, knowing if Joel moved his hand an inch further down he would feel it too.

The stack had to be at least twenty postcards thick, some innocently tame and just a means to let your thoughts and feelings flow, most of them answering questions Joel had asked you earlier in the night that you had refused to answer, giving him nothing to work with.

The ones he does recite are damning, tossing them to the floor as he flips through the stack before reading off a particularly recent one from earlier that night, his confidence slowly flagging as the words leave his mouth.

Shower. Watching me.

It felt good.

“Goes both ways,” You sneer, pushing his hand away and making one final reach for the cards as you successfully pry them from his grip, stuffing them away in your bag along with your other spilled belongings.

Joel’s expression shifts slightly, staring down at your kneeling figure as you avoid his gaze. His boots scuff against the floor as he crowds you against the wall, nowhere to run when you rise to your feet. Attempting to scare, to provoke.

Daringly, you challenge him, “I’m not the only one watching, Joel.”

His eyes narrow, searching your face for any sign of a bluff. For a brief moment, you almost expect him to deny the obvious—lie, lie, lie.

But, even he couldn’t deny the strange connection; or, affliction, that had riddled you both.

You could blame it on the close proximity built over months of isolation, often paired together over your willingness to work efficiently and without issue as time went on—Tommy was used to people butting heads, arguing, favoring one person over the other.

With you two, he could send you off for a patrol and not have to worry about things being left behind or forgotten.

You were innately quiet, even in Jackson, never wanting to ruffle anyone’s feathers or stir up trouble—that was left for the rowdy teens and few and far between drunks. Joel almost suspected you as mole for a brief time upon your arrival in Jackson, a worry soothed by Tommy over time.

But now, he doesn’t know what to think. He can’t figure you out and he’s not really sure he wants to, but you’ve got the kind of look in your eyes that calls out to Joel, silently.

He’s never met someone so controlled, knowing when to keep to themselves and when to bite back; it strings, that bite. He feels it in the way your jaw tightens, attempting to shove past him.

He glances down, noticing the knife tucked away in your left hand. A low, threatening chuckle releases from his lips as his hand grips your wrist, holding it up between your bodies.

“What’re you plannin’ to do with this? Stab me?”

“M’not against it,” You try to keep the strength in your voice, but it wavers slightly.

“I know that look,” Joel challenges, “You ain’t ever killed like this—s’too close, too personal.”

He knocks the knife away with a quick jerk of your wrist as you stumble back against the wall, praying he didn’t hear the small gasp slip from your throat as his chest presses against yours.

“So, you like watchin’ me sleep?” Joel asks in a taunting tone, “Enjoy jottin’ down all those dirty little thoughts thinkin’ I wouldn’t see ‘em?”

“They weren’t meant to be seen. They were private,” You retort, feeling the weight of his body as you exhale, lashes fluttering at his hot breath as it ghosts your face, reiterating, “Private, like my shower? Or, how about all the times I’ve caught you watching me? You know, we could go back and forth about this all night but frankly, I don’t mphh—”

Joel’s hand claps tight over your mouth, effectively silencing you as your face contorts in frustration, hands curling around his thick forearms and fingers, attempting to pry his hand away.

“Look at me,” He goads, repeating it more menacing as you fight against his hold, nodding in satisfaction when you finally relent, “Yeah—now and don’t you fuckin’ lie to me, you left that door open because you hoped I would, right? Stop tryin’ to act so innocent, girl.”

It ignites a fire in you, the demeaning monaker that transforms into enough strength to fist your hands into his shirt and shove him into the reclining chair positioned behind him, a heavy grunt releasing from his chest as you stumble over his boots and into his lap.

“Don’t call me that,” You seethe, not amiss to the immediate instinct of Joel’s to catch you, thighs bracketing his right leg as his hands squeeze your waist, keeping you upright.

Joel speaks your name, almost taunting, “S’that better? Or is that little crush your harboring hopin’ I’ll call you somethin’ a little sweeter?”

You feel the weight of his thumbs as they curl into your belt loops, body swaying with the motion as you take a seat on his lap, ass pressed against his knee and you watch as his chin gradually moves to rest against his chest, his eyeline following your movement.

“Don’t call me anything,” You retorted, his eyes flicking up under a heavy gaze.

Joel was simmering with a controlled rage, his hands squeezing at your hips as he jerked you forward suddenly, your hands grasping onto the back of the chair over his head, the friction at the seam of your denim as it rubbed against your clit, nestled between slick folds that couldn’t hide the arousal you were feeling, how the heat that radiated off of Joel made you sick with want.

“Alright,” He agrees, “then go on ‘head, get off me.”

Something tells you it is definitely a trap.

A moment later, you can feel his fingers gripping around your backside, digging into your ass as he pushes your hips backwards once before slowly guiding them forward, your sneakers scuffing against the hardwood as your lips parted, a silent breath slipping out.

“Go on—get off,” He taunts, the double-entendre making your brain go fuzzy.

“Joel,” It was a weak attempt to tell yourself and him this was a bad idea, but with the pleasure swelling in your core, it comes out more relaxed - you moan his name and Joel hears it.

“You ain’t good with words, but you can show me,” He remedies, the subtle movement as you grind against his leg, denim on denim but you’re almost positive he can feel how wet you are through the fabric, or how the shared heat was almost sweltering, “rub that pretty pussy on me.”

You have half the mind to snark at him, but think back to his eyes on you on the other side of the bathroom door, how he had admired without guilt, no truer words having left his mouth.

Guiltily, you lean against him, forearms resting where your hands were previously gripping, aiding in the quickening pace of your hips as you breathed softly into his ear, one of his hands slipping under the fabric of your shirt, palm spread wide over your back as the chair creaked with the shifting weight.

Your breath hitches, a sharp gasp as Joel’s calloused fingers rub against your spine. The friction against your clit is overwhelming, intensifying with every roll of your hips under his guise, the desperate need for release building in your core, quietly aware of the weight of Joel’s cock through his jeans, hard and neglected.

Your hand slowly moves toward the button on his jeans, ghosting over the swell of his cock before his fingers grip your wrist and return them to their original spot, “This ain’t for me,” He reminds you, “Keep goin’—show me how bad you need it.”

His words spur you toward the ledge you were teetering on, movements increasingly more wild and frantic, soft noises gradually becoming louder as his hands roam your body, the one on your back remaining as a constant while the other roams toward your front, squeezing gently at your breasts through the flimsy bralette, his thumb brushing pointedly over your nipple as you moan.

“Fuck, I’m c—close,” You warn him, blindly finding his hair with your right hand, squeezing at the strands as he grunts, head tilting back against the chair as you moan brokenly, a sob escaping your mouth.

His voice carries you through, his voice enveloping every point of your existence as your orgasm starts and crescendos, “That’s it,” He coos, “s’alright, let it out.”

You obey, weak whimpers cry into his neck as you hide away, hips grinding lazily through the aftershocks as his arms wrap around you silently, holding you steady as the sound of your ragged breath fills the room alongside the quiet chirping of nocturnal animals.

“Gonna write about this later?” Joel teases, whatever hostility he was holding earlier now non-existent, clearing his throat as you lean back, ignoring the obvious thick and permeating tension that was blanketing you both, still unaddressed.

“S’not funny,” You respond, climbing off him unsteadily before you turn your back to him and gather your belongings into a pile and shove them back inside your pack, “You weren’t supposed to see ‘em.”

“We’re partners—you think keepin’ secrets is smart?”

“It’s harmless—and what about you?” You begin, suddenly settling back into your own quiet rage, “Sneaking around, watching me? I notice shit too, Joel.”

Joel sits in quiet contemplation, his permanent scowl growing deeper as his knuckles rub at the spot where your cunt previously was, “Alright—new rule.”

Your eyebrows raise in anticipation, never really prepared for what Joel ever had to say.

“I ask questions, you answer ‘em. For every one you answer, I’ll answer one too.” Fair enough, you think, but then he continues, “It stays between us, alright? And if you want something—ask for it. No sense in bein’ shy ‘round me anymore.”

Not after that.

Baby steps, you say to yourself.

The thick air between you seems to open, like a weight off your chest.

“Alright,” You reply softly, “I can do that.”

Joel leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes intense as they lock onto yours. "So, those notes. How long you been writin' 'em?"

You smile with a newfound giddiness, though still mostly subdued, biting at your cheek to stop the spread of your grin, shaking your head as you lock down at the stack of postcards stuffed into your bag.

“Only since we got paired up,” You admit, “every other night or so. When I can’t sleep.”

Which was often.

He grunts, processing the information as you fiddle with the strap of your pack.

“Is it my turn?” Joel nods quietly, shifting back in the chair, ignoring the slowly waning bulge in his jeans that he would surely deal with later, “Well—how long have you been watching me? Or, well–why?”

“That’s two,” Joel chastises, but there was no real bite behind it, “Since you came to Jackson, figured you weren’t good—”

You know what he means—mistrusting, suspicious.

“Does it bother you—that I do? You scared of me?”

You shake your head shyly, avoiding his gaze.

It was the darkest, most sinister parts of Joel that drew you in.

“I think you’d be terrified of the things I like about you, Joel.”

Joel doesn't respond outright, but his subtle grin is enough confirmation for you. He knew exactly what you meant.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #pedro pascal #tlou fic #the last of us fic #my writing #jolapenosdearuary

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cj-the-random-artist · 2 months ago

Text

Not a comic but. Have some sketches and a silly little illustration style doodle that I speedran based on one of the sketches

I've been writing up scripts for comics and like. I do like a few of them but idk that I'm gonna have the time to commit to like. Actually making them into actual comics. So instead I decided to sit down and scribble out some doodles of QPR Au Narilamb cuz I had some free time and used it to sketch (ya know instead of like. Taking a real actual break lmfao)

Most of these sketches are based on ideas I have for the Au? For instance, three of the comics I've written but may never draw have Narinder exhibiting Peak Cat Behaviors by sitting on Lambert's desk while they're working (when I say working I mean. Doodling. Because they are struggling to make actual progress on whatever they're supposed to be working on, yk) so I've decided. That's just. Part of Narinder's characterization in this Au now?? He just likes to interrupt Lambert specifically by sitting and waiting on their desk for them to pay attention to him. Idk I just think it's funny. Anyways. I have a handful of other thoughts about Lambert and Narinder individually in the QPR Au that also landed on this page, but those are gonna be a future-me-explains-later kinda vibe.

That said. Enjoy these silly little doodles of my silly QPR Au and may at least one good thing happen for all of y'all today :D

#cotl #cult of the lamb #cult of the lamb fanart #cotl fanart #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl narilamb #narilamb #cotl au #cult of the lamb au #the yet untitled qpr narilamb au #fuck it thats the tag now. i guess i gotta go add it to my other comics at some point........ not right now tho

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the-odd-shu · 2 months ago

Text

Sky regrets trying to play wingman

A continuation of lab shenanigans.

Masterlist

Next part

Characters: Viktor, Jayce, Reader, Sky

(Pre-Jayce/Viktor/Reader) (POLYCULEEEE!)

Summary: A sketchbook goes missing, Viktor and Jayce feel soft about it and Sky is fighting for her life.

Note; this takes place during season 1, and the reader is gender neutral with they/them pronouns.

Lab Illustrator!Reader has a secret A5 sketchbook they don't use for assignments. It's a small thing, that they keep tucked beneath all of their other paperwork during the day, and take home with them every night.

It is as non-descript as sketchbooks come, with a plain, black cover and pages brimming with hundreds of sketches and stuck in sheets of paper.

But what makes it different from their professional sketchbook, you ask? And why does it need to be a secret?

Well, because it is a notebook solely dedicated to drawings and doodles of their co-workers. And neither of them know that Reader has been drawing them.

There are hundreds of stolen moments stuffed between these pages. Late night coffee breaks, where the pencil lines are thick and dark to accentuate the dimness of the lab against the stark light leaking out of the kitchenette, where backs are turned and coffee mugs steam, whilst eyes fall to half-mast from the sheer weight of the late hour.

There are a dozen or so slower, more carefully done doodles of Jayce sprawled out across the lab couch in various positions. Several cane studies, because Viktor had a habit of leaving it in more and more odd places when he has had a breakthrough, and sheer determination and spite keep him standing unaided before the whiteboard.

There are pages dedicated to Viktor reading. And pages brimming with Jayce's broad shoulders and winning smile.

There is a double page spread of Viktor stood before the chalkboard, cane in one hand, his other tucked under his chin with a piece of chalk tucked between two of his fingers, his lips pursed in thought as he tried to find a solution to the problem before him. The lines of this sketch are soft and gentle, almost dreamlike, as the image was teased out of the page.

The pages directly after it show a heavy handed pen drawing of Jayce bent over his desk, goggles over his eyes, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he welds pieces of metal together. A single, loose curl of hair having broken free of its slicked back appearance, and is now sprawled cutely down his forehead.

And that's only the beginning.

Neither of them know that Reader draws them. As far as they know, Reader can't even draw people. And Reader wants to keep it that way. Because if EITHER of them found the sketchbook, they just KNOW they would not let them live it down. Jayce would be embarrassed, no doubt asking stupid questions like, 'is my nose really like that from that angle' or 'why didn't you tell me I had soot on my cheek', which, how dare he, you'd spent hours learning how to draw him and picking out imperfections was just an insult to your skills. Whilst Viktor would make fun of your subject choices, and then make it one hundred times harder to sketch him without him getting suspicious and catching on and deliberately moving around MORE to make it seventeen times more difficult.

Out of everyone in the lab, Sky was the only other person remotely artistically inclined. She'd shown an interest in your work one afternoon, and let slip that she liked to draw in her spare time. And although she insisted her work was nothing like your professional illustrations, they were good! And you told her as such.

Unofficially, the pair of you had begun taking your lunches outside in the academy gardens together to chat and draw. She did not look it, but Sky was a mean gossip, and seemed to know everything that was going on in the science department. Such as who in the academy was currently trying to court who, or the latest experiment that blew up (literally) in a freshman's face, or that Councillor Medarda herself dabbled in painting.

The last one certainly caught your attention more than the drama on campus, which of course Sky was more than happy to provide more details for. Apparently, the Councillor's paintings were bold and striking. Depicting scenes from her childhood lands, and figures dressed in traditional Noxian-style garbs.

"Gorgeous, simply gorgeous." Sky said, tone bordering on wistful. "And large too. Councillor Medarda works on such a large scale, that some of her pieces literally command your attention the moment you step into the room. I'm sure you can talk Jayce into getting you a glimpse of some of her works. He and the Councillor have been growing close lately."

You ignored the suggestive hint to her voice, in favour of humming noncommittally and finishing up your lastest sketch of Sky perched on the wall beside you, waving her sandwich around as she talked animatedly. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn't notice she was watching, when you flipped back towards the front of your sketchbook, only for her to choke on her next bite.

“Wait!" She blurted out between sharp coughing. "Is that Viktor!?” And then suddenly your sketchbook was no longer on your lap and the apprentice of the man you were always drawing was flipping through the pages. The pages that HEAVILY featured Viktor's face.

Your cheeks burned, and lunged for the sketchbook out of sheer panic, as Sky began discovering just how MANY sketches of Viktor you've been hoarding and that he's not the ONLY ONE you've been drawing.

"Jayce too I see." She mused, more to herself than you. And then she snorted. "Why are there so many?”

“Because I get bored sometimes, and they're always just there!" You defend yourself guiltily. "It's good anatomy practice.”

Which wasn't technically a lie. The lines never came as easily as they did when you’re sketching your co-workers. So much so, that now, it had almost become instinct to know when your pencil had drawn a line wrong, even before you glanced back to the reference themselves to check. The pair of them were just so effortlessly beautiful in their own ways. It would a a crime for you <i>not</i> to draw them, and focus solely on the things you're SUPPOSED to be illustrating instead.

Sky hummed along, having paused on a page with a rapid, barely recognisable pen sketch of Jayce ducking away with a cackling laugh as a furious Viktor swung his cane at his head. Her fingers idly slid down the sketchy lines, a fondness to her expression.

"Have you shown them these?" Sky asked, "they're really good. All loose and fun. I can practically hear Jayce laughing in this one with how you captured his expression."

“Of course not!" You were quick to deny as your cheeks heated. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to show someone you’ve drawn them? Jayce will pretend to be all impressed but subconsciously begin to pick out all the things I got wrong. Like the shape of his ears. And Viktor will tell me it's 'lovely' without looking up from his textbook."

You shuddered at the very thought, already seeing Viktor's disinterested frown and Jayce's tight grimace in your mind's eye.

Sky frowned, her eyes jumping between your down turned expression and the sketchbook in her hands. “I dunno about that."

“Can I have it back now?” She shook her head and went back to flipping through the pages, the other half of her sandwich forgotten in her lap. “You know, I think Viktor would be flattered if he knew you paid so much attention to him. And Jayce would probably try to steal a couple of these and frame them for his desk.” You scoffed.

Sky's frown deepened. "Why are you having such a hard time believing they might like these?"

“Because in the end it doesn’t matter how they'd react,” you decided sharply, “because they're not going to find out. Are they, Sky?”

“You’ve even drawn Viktor's canes!”

“Sky, focus!” “I am focused- IS THAT A JAYCE HAND STUDY-?!”

"OKAY ENOUGH OF THAT FROM YOU!" You tackled her, and she went down screeching, drawing the attention of several passing students as the pair of you fell cleaningly off of the wall and landed in the flowerbeds below.

Sky did not keep her promise.

After a week or two of waiting to give the impression she'd forgotten about the whole ordeal, she sprung into action.

It was obvious now that she knew just how much Reader paid attention to their co-workers. It seemed like they were constantly sketching the boys throughout the day, a private, fond smile on their stupidly love-struck expression, as their pencil flew across the page, documenting coffee breaks and break throughs, and verbal spats. Now Sky has noticed that they did it, she couldn't stop seeing it, and it is driving her crazy. All three of them are so oblivious, and watching her superiors pine for one another whilst doing nothing to move things forward, was NOT the working environment she'd been hoping for during this internship.

So she took matters into her own hands.

When the hour was late, and the lights were dim, Jayce passed out at his desk for a quick nap, Viktor's attention on his textbooks at the chalkboard, and Reader in the kitchen cracking open a can of energy, Sky sidled over to the latter's desk. Her eyes immediately clocked the little, black sketchbook, easily overlooked amongst the other papers and opened notebooks with half complete drawings scrawled all over the place. It was a testament to how much they trusted each other in the lab, that no one questioned why she was lingering so close to a desk that was not her own.

It almost made it too easy for her to simply pluck the sketchbook out of the pile, add it to her pile of library books already balanced in one hand, all before loudly calling "good night" to the room and leaving.

Sky planned to be the first person in the next morning to plant the sketchbook, but the lab doors were unlocked when she turned up, and all three of her superiors were already in the room, looking in various states of exhaustion. Did they even go home last night?

Not to mention, half of the lab looked like a hoard of dogs had come tearing through. Come to think of it, Reader's desk was especially messy, with papers strewn everywhere and the drawers hanging on just barely- oh fuck! They had already noticed, hadn't they?

"Ah Sky, good morning." Viktor acknowledged her from where he was calmly sorting through a stack of books. Picking one up, and shaking it out before placing it onto a second stack and picking up the next. "Right on time." "Good morning," Sky greeted calmly, "what's going on here?" She motioned to the war zone that was the lab. To Jayce balanced precariously on a chair, checking a high book shelf, and the frantic shuffling sounds of Reader under their desk. They were out of view, but somehow, Sky could just envision the frenzy in their expression from the sound of their searching alone.

"Ah, well, Y/n appears to have misplaced a rather important sketchbook."

There was a yelp as a skull collided with the underside of a desk, before Reader's head popped up over the edge. "Sky! I can't find it!"

"Oh no." Sky replied, trying to ignore the burning weight of the 'it' in question, currently hiding in her backpack. "Where did you see it last?"

"They insisted it was on their desk." Jayce interjected, hopping down from his chair with a shake of his head.

"But I'm assuming it's grown legs," Sky joked, "judging by that picked over, barely standing, mess of a desk."

"This isn't funny Sky."

"No, you're right." She put down her backpack and began to help in the search. After all, not doing so would immediately out her as guilty, and she'd already come this far, why stop now. "Come on, it can't have gone far."

Of course, Viktor discovered it amongst his books and papers a couple of days later.

It was during one of those rare hours in the lab when he was alone. The hour was late, but the curtains were not yet drawn despite the darkening sky.

He frowned when his fingers brushed the unfamiliar notebook, tucked behind a stack of textbooks and scrunched up balls of notes. Pulling it out of its hiding place, his brows furrowed as his eyes tracked the state it was in. How the edges of the hardback covers were creased from numerous journeys in bags, whilst pencils marks and scuffs from countless hours of being opened and used, marred the covers.

At first, he assumed it was one of Jayce’s notebook. The material was expensive enough. Definitely of high quality. The paper itself was thick when he rubbed his finger along a page. But when he opened it, he quickly realised the pages are not lined, and were once blank before they had been filled in with hundreds of drawings.

The first few pages were illustrations of everything under the sun. Still life drawings. Animals. People. Silhouettes. Isolated body parts with detailed annotations encircling them, such as the names of muscles and tiny corrective comments like ‘fingers too long’ or ‘that muscle doesn’t stretch that far’.

Then he turned a page, and was met with himself. And then Jayce. And then more and more sketches of himself and Jayce. Sometimes together and interacting. Sometimes just existing.

The drawings were skilfully done, as all of Reader's illustrations tended to be. A little rough in the beginning, from rushed pen strokes. But then the artist seemed to understand something. A break through of sorts, and he recognised himself more and more. The sketches held his likeness. From the way he stood, to the slouch of him sitting at his desk, to the way his hand held something as simple as a stick of chalk.

They were always sketches from behind or a side profile. Never head on. And any that did depict him as facing the artist, were drawn when his attention was elsewhere; focused down at a textbook, or fixing something on the table.

It was flattering really. He looked good in the drawings. Confident, with an authoritative aura. Seemingly engrossed in every task he sat down to complete.

And Jayce, Jayce looks good in his drawings too. His sunny personality shining through in drawings where he was animatedly talking or debating with sketched Viktor. There seems to be a whole double page spread trying to figure out the shape of his slicked back hair, and then even more drawings of the gel softening throughout the day, causing strands to fall down around his ears and frame his eyes.

But what really catches Viktor's attention was the way the artist had caught their interactions. The way they have depicted Jayce's softened eyes when looking at Viktor when his attention was elsewhere. The way they caught Viktor's private little smile when Jayce got lost in a muttering spell and stopped including Viktor in the debate. It left him feeling a little raw in truth, like this person had seen something no one else had taken the time to notice before.

No wonder Reader had been so adamant about finding this sketchbook. This must have been hours upon hours of careful work.

Carefully, Viktor closed the sketchbook and sat back in his chair. It felt heavy in his hands, and he almost didn't want to put it down.

The door to the lab swung open then, and Jayce called out a greeting.

"What you got there V?"

And of course, Viktor was contractually obligated to show him. It would simply be criminal if he didn't show his partner just how well their resident illustrator managed to capture his winning smile. A much more accurate depiction of it, compared to the 'man of progress' merchandise the academy sold nowadays.

The sketchbook continued to go unfound.

Reader was growing more and more distraught.

The guilt gnawed at Sky and she confessed.

All hell broke loose.

An hour later, Skye came SPRINTING into the lab, the double doors CRASHING into the walls in her haste to get into the room.

Both Viktor and Jayce jumped in their seats in the kitchenette. Viktor barely managing to keep from spilling his sweetmilk everywhere. And Jayce almost THREW the little black sketchbook across the room, where he had been admiring its pages.

“Woah there, where’s the fire?” Jayce tried to joke, but Sky looked GENUINELY scared.

“Sorry! Sorry! I left something in here, and the owner is NOT happy with me.” Sky scrambled to explain, as she charged towards Viktor’s desk and began pulling apart stacks of paperwork. Sweat beading on her brow.

“Hey, calm down. What is it? Where did you see it last?” “It was a sketchbook. Um, uh, black, hard cover, it was practically bulging with how many pages it had stuck in it.” Sky explained, "I could've sworn I left it on Viktor's desk." Viktor’s brows jump up in realisation. His eyes dart over to the sketchbook in Jayce's hands, before leaping up to meet the man's wide, knowing eyes.

“I take it that Y/n found out you took it then.” Viktor spoke up. Sky winced. “I may have let it slip-” her voice began to backpedal, before the distant stomp of approaching footsteps made her pale. The gait the recognisable, the tempo just a touch faster than its normal pace. “DON’T THINK HIDING BEHIND VIKTOR OR JAYCE WILL SAVE YOU NOW!” A booming voice hollered from down the hallway.

Sky became frantic again. She redoubled her efforts.

Jayce very slowly lowered the sketchbook down to his lap, where the table would conceal it from view if anyone peered into the kitchenette. And Viktor just sighed as he got comfortable.

Heavy footsteps approached the laboratory door, which was then promptly kicked open, so fast that the door smacked into the opposite wall for the second time today. Y/n, brandishing a broom of all things, visibly seethed in the doorway.

“Do you know how much <i>work</i> has gone into that sketchbook?” They demanded, more furious than Viktor had ever seen them before. “How many hours I’ve spent amongst those pages.” Sky looks appropriately guilty. “I know! And I’m so sorry I lost it, I really thought I was doing you a favour!”

Reader’s lip curls up into a furious snarl, eyes narrowing. “And I thought I told you to leave it alone!” They snarled.

“But they’re just so good. I seriously don’t think you should be hiding your talent. What if the right person managed to find it, like Councillor Medarda, imagine the connections-” “And how, pray tell, is Councillor Medarda, supposed to come across my sketchbook in the laboratory of all places.” Skye’s voice lowers. “Well, she does stop by to see Jayce often enough.”

Reader sighed heavily. "Side-stepping that poor excuse, because we both know you were just trying to embarrass me-" "I was not! They're good drawings!"

“Where is it Skye? For the final time.”

They stepped menacingly into the room then, broom clutched tightly in both hands, only to pause when a single sheet of paper slipped out of their pocket and fluttered to the ground. The action clearly held significance, because Sky winced.

Meanwhile, Reader took a deep, steadying breath, before slowly, calmly leaning down to pluck the paper off of the floor. It was only for a second, but Viktor could have sworn he saw yet ANOTHER sketch of him and Jayce, which HOW? They'd been with the pair of them in the lab ALL DAY!

“Now look at me, I’m shedding paper left and right without my sketchbook to keep all my thoughts ORGANISED!” “I’m sorry! I’ll buy you a new one.”

A groan. “Skye, that is NOT the point-!”

“Okay, okay! Time out! Let us all take a breath.” Viktor interjected to which both apprentice and Illustrator startled.

Reader visibly seethed in place, whilst Sky just winced and ducked her head.

It was the former who spoke up first. “Sorry for the interruption.” They said sharply, eyes cutting over to Viktor and Jayce. To which Viktor just inclined his head, whilst Jayce very poorly concealed his guilty wince. Reader was too preoccupied with Sky however to notice as they turned back to her. “May we continue this debate outside? Preferably away from the workshops?” Skye seemed to shrink in on herself more. Eyes darting over to Viktor, then jumping up to Jayce.

“Sky!”

“Only if you promise to stop yelling.” She demanded.

Reader breathed out forcefully through their nostrils. Expression thinning out, shoulders easing, although the tightness to their jaw remained stubbornly present. “Fine.”

"Leave the broom!" Viktor called after them, to which Reader audibly groaned but let the broom in the lab before stepping out into the hall with Sky. The door clicked shut behind them.

Jayce and Viktor shared a look and held their breaths. Waiting. Listening. The conversation that inevitably started up once the door closes was fast paced, but in the promised quieter tone.

"I'm just going to-" Jayce began to say before motioning to the desks out in the main lab. Viktor shrugged, and allowed his partner to stand, sketchbook in hand, only for both of them to freeze when a loose slip of paper fell out.

"Oh no." Jayce said aloud as Viktor quickly pinned the sheet to the floor with the toe of his shoe, before it could drift away. "This is going to be adorable, isn't it?"

Viktor did not reply, as he stooping to pick it up. He turned it over, and he and Jayce collectively sighed as they discovered yet another sketch of the pair of them.

They're stood in front of the chalkboard, which seemed to be Reader's favourite place to draw them without being discovered. And it was clear from the way the pair were facing each other that they were deep in one of their debates. But what really caught the pair's attention, was the way that their drawn selves were looking at one another.

Viktor's with a small, knowing smile and a visible twinkle in his eye - which should have been an impossible thing to capture with merely a pencil. And Jayce's who was staring down at Viktor with an intensity in his eye and a playful lift of his eyebrows that spoke of challenge. They looked happy together. Feeding off one another's energy.

And it was startling that an outside perspective had managed to capture such a moment without either of them noticing.

"We don't get that absorbed in our debates, do we?" Jayce asked tightly, a soft look in his eye now as he gazed down at the sketch with reverence.

Viktor did not bother to deny it, because they both knew that they did. Here was a sketchbook stuffed with the evidence right before them.

Jayce tucked the sketch back between the pages, his expression complicated and yet oh so fond for someone who was no longer in the room with them.

Jayce and Viktor put the sketchbook back on Reader's desk, who later comes back in, visibly more subdued, and Sky nowhere in sight.

Viktor cracks a joke about them having stuffed her in a supply closet somewhere.

To which they reassure him that, "no, she had a meeting," and he would still have an apprentice turning up to work tomorrow.

Jayce looks up from his work, as does Viktor, when they make a beeline for their desk. In time to watch Reader stiffen when they see the little, black sketchbook placed neatly on top of their larger, official lab sketchbook. Then they lunge forward, snatching it up and flipping through the pages, shoulders loosening when all seems to be in order.

"You found it!"

"Viktor found it." Jauce interjected.

To which Viktor just preens and makes another joke about Sky thinking twice about getting between Reader and their belongings. He also throws in a compliment on the penmanship, just to see how Reader reacts.

To both of their surprises, Reader locks up at the compliment. “Please tell me you didn’t look though it.”

“I liked them." He said truthfully, "you certainly captured my likeness.” They groan and drop eye contact.

“Please don’t joke about it.” They plead, “it was just anatomy practice. But I completely understand if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“Uncomfortable?" Viktor parrots back, shooting Jayce a look. "Why would it make us uncomfortable?" "You might feel watched?" Reader offers.

Jayce shrugs. Viktor waves off their concern.

Jayce, "can we put some up on the pin board?" "No. None of these are remotely good enough to be hung up on display!" Reader is quick to deny.

By the end of the day, there are three new papers pinned to the pin board above Jayce's desk. One drawn by each of them in the lab. A chicken scratch drawing of Jayce, courtesy of Viktor. A carefully, but wonkily drawn Reader, courtesy of Jayce. And a recognisable and remarkably good drawing of Viktor done by Reader.

(Yes, they had a drawing competition and sat in a circle around someone's desk, simultaneously posing for and drawing each other. The boys had to do some major convincing so that Reader didn't assume they were being made fun of. And they all ended up having a great time).

Next part

#arcane #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #jayce x viktor x reader #jayce x reader #viktor x reader #jayce arcane #viktor arcane #there is NOTHING more terrifying than coming across someone nose deep in your sketchbook #even worse if it's the one you put shitty memes and crack designs into and thought would never curse the vision of another human being #I think Reader's reaction to their sketchbook going mission was completely justified and within reason #Very demure #Very mindful #Sky is gnawing at the bars of her enclosure trying to get these three to understand their feelings are in fact requited #She is beside herself that she has not been successful yet but she WILL be soon #gender neutral reader #jayce talis x gender neutral reader #viktor x gender neutral reader #viktor x y/n #viktor x you #jayce talis #jayce league of legends

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rainyfey · 2 months ago

Note

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Okarun was crying and begging for Momo to run away! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MY BONES D,: This is so well done, it really conveys fear and anguish! I congratulate you, your art is amazing :D... What other negative effects could Okarun's curse have? Thank you

Omg anon you made my day when you sent this!!! Thank you so so much for taking the time to write such lovely things 😭💕 I'm very flattered that you liked that little detail so much! I had wondered if I'd written it too messily for anyone to read XD

Anyhoo, here is a sketch page for you~

I'm more of a draw-er than a words-er, but I wanted to ramble a bit here under the cut ^^ Thanks again for the ask, I am so happy to have another reason to yap about Turbo Okarun~

While I'm glad that the manga/anime didn't spend too much time on Okarun's struggles in canon, I am having So Much Fun thinking of ways to torture this guy haha. We see him complaining that the curse hurts him in the first half of the season, but he doesn't actually seem to end up with any lasting damage! In my mind, it'd make sense for him to end up more fatigued or to suffer from random nosebleeds or other internal injuries due to the curse manipulating his body the way it does.

I also looooved the instances in episodes 5/6 when he transformed without meaning to! Very fun to see his emotions getting the better of him~

Now, if I were a fic writer, I would be so interested in exploring physical side effects in something like a sick fic. What if he detransforms and finds that he can't warm back up? Still corpse-cold like his yokai form instead of human temperature? Or, I could take a page out of NatsuYuu's book and have him come down with a cold/fever as a consequence of some of his tougher fights? Lots of good potential for angst there, for sure ^^

And lastly, what if he was on a timer the minute he transformed?? What if staying transformed and going all out began chipping away at his sanity? It's not his power, after all. Stay in Turbo Mode too long and suddenly he's a prisoner in his own mind. The curse takes over and he's just along for the ride, no longer able to control his body. >:3

Aaand that's it for now! Thank you for your support and for listening to my rambling haha. I hope you enjoyed the art/headcanons ^^

#cw: blood #just a nosebleed tho #dandadan #dandadoodles #dan da dan #turbo okarun #rainy rambles #asks answered #anon #ken takakura #my art #okarun #yokai okarun #Mind & Body AU

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moonchild9350 · 8 months ago

Text

The Beauty of Happiness

Summary: You and Hyunjin have been best friends since childhood, but you both discover those feelings have changed over the years.

Pairing: nonidol Hyunjin x fab reader

Genre: college friends to lovers (slow burn), fluff, smut-18+ MDNI

Word Count: 9.6k

Warnings: fingering, masturbation, lots of kissing, p in v penetration, creampie (wrap it up, wrap it up), oral sex (f receiving)

Notes: Thank you all! I have been working on this for a while now and thought it would fit perfect as a thank you for 200 followers! I love each and every one of y'all and appreciate each of your kind comments and reblogs. I hope y'all enjoy this fic! This is my longest one yet hehe.

Let me know what you think via comments, reblogs, or drop by my ask box :)

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, let me know! (age must be in bio or pinned to be added)

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

You met Hyunjin in elementary school, both of you being in the same class. He sat right behind you, pulling your pony tail whenever he could. You would get mad at him, turning around in your chair, giving him your best angry face, to tell him to stop. He would just smirk back at you, before shrugging his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. You would huff before turning back around in your seat to pay attention to the teacher. That was one way he would bother you.

Hyunjin loved to seek you out on the playground, saying anything he could to bother you. You usually would ignore him, turning back to your friends to gossip about the latest fashion trends. Hyunjin was frustrated at the lack of attention you would give him, annoyed that everyone paid attention to him but you. He wanted to change that, no one ignored him in his book.

You loved to draw, bringing your beloved sketch book with you to school sometimes, sitting beneath the tree in the front lawn, sketching whatever caught your eye. One day you were focusing on a sketch of a flower that was recently planted, filling in the delicate lines of the petals. Hyunjin popped up next to you, looking over your shoulder at what you were drawing.

“I didn’t know you can draw,” the boy said.

“You didn’t ask,” you replied, not looking up from your sketch. “Why do you care?”

Hyunjin was taken aback at your response. Where was the sweet girl who sat in front of him in class? Who welcomed every new kid who joined the class, no matter who they were?

Shrinking away from you, he responded, “I didn’t mean to upset you….just asked a question.”

He made to leave when you looked up from your drawing, your cheeks flushed red.

“I’m not upset at you,” you said, looking at the boy.

Hyunjin turned around, looking you right in the eyes. “I draw too. It’s my favorite thing to do.”

You were shocked at his words, not thinking that the boy who always annoyed you and sought your attention would share a hobby of yours. You looked down at your sketch book before saying, “well you can bring yours to school to sketch with me next time,” you hesitated before adding on, “if you want.”

Now it was Hyunjin’s turn to blush, before saying, “uhhh…sure…if that’s ok with you.”

You nodded yes before turning back to your sketch. You listened as Hyunjin walked away, not believing he would bring his sketch book to share with you.

However, the next day, while you were at your tree, sketching a bird this time, he plopped down next to you. You looked up startled, watching as he took his sketch book and pencil out of his bag, before opening it and looking around.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Sketching duh,” he said while side eyeing you. “You said I could bring mine and sketch with you.”

You just sat there, looking at him. You didn’t think he would actually take you up on the offer. Shaking your head, you went back to your sketch, getting lost in the page as usual. All that could be heard was the occasional scratch of the pencil on the paper or the birds chirping as they flew by. You found it actually relaxing to sketch next to Hyunjin. He didn’t bother you like he usually does, lost in his own sketch. You thought it was nice to have someone here with you.

Your sketch outings became a daily occurrence, both of you sitting in silence, sketching whatever caught your fancy that day. During breaks, you both would talk, discussing your favorite things and sharing completed sketches with each other. You slowly became friends as the weeks, months, and years went by, now meeting up at each others houses to sketch, watch tv, or go on adventures.

You realized he was your best friend, sharing secrets and dreams with him.

****************************************************

That was years ago. Now you both were in your twenties at university. You decided to go to the same university, not wanting to be too far apart from each other.

“I’ve decided I’m going to actually become an art major ,” you told him one day as you were lounging on his bed in his apartment . You had been deciding whether or not to actually go through with the major. Ultimately you decided to go through with it as it was your favorite thing to do and you wanted to display your works in a gallery one day.

Hyunjin, who was sitting at his desk, looked over at you, “you’d be a good painter y/n. I’d say go for it.”

You hummed at his answer, picking up your pencil and paper to go back to sketching.

Hyunjin looked at you a little more before turning back to the essay he was working on. He’d always support your dreams, as long as he could be by your side. He’s not sure when the switch came, his feeling turning from friendship to wanting something more with you. He never voiced this however, scared that you would turn him away and even worse cut off your friendship for good. He was content at concealing his feelings if it meant being by your side.

After a while, you began to pack up your stuff to head back to your dorm. You had a few sketches you needed to finish before the end of the week.

“I’m heading out Hyunjinnie,” you said, “ gotta put the finishing touches on a few of my sketches before class tomorrow.

Hyunjin nodded, “want me to walk you back to your dorm?”

You shook your head no, “I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know when I make it back.”

Hyunjin looked at you and nodded ok. “Alright. Good night, y/n. Make sure to get some sleep yeah?”

“Of course! Don’t worry about me,” you chuckled with a toss of your arm. Hyunjin was a total gentleman. He always made sure you got to your destinations safely, opened doors for you, and treated you so well. Your cheeks would always flush with heat whenever he did these things, making sure you were well cared for.

You gave one final wave before walking out the door, shutting it carefully behind you. You exited his apartment building, feeling the cool, crisp air hit your face, autumn rolling around the corner. You bundled yourself in your jacket a little more and walked towards your dorm. It wasn’t far, just right across the quad from Hyunjin’s apartment.

Fobbing yourself into your dorm, you made your way to your room. You set your bag down by your desk, dropping your keys on the hook you kept by the door. You picked up your shower caddy, needing a warm shower before getting to work. Turning on the hot water, you stepped in, letting the water drip down your body. Your mind couldn’t help but think of Hyunjin, a common occurrence while in the shower.

You thought he was cute and he was such a great guy. You knew he could take care of you and your heart, but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you. You drifted your hands down your body, leaving feather light touches on your hot skin, causing in contrast a shiver to run down your spine. You repeated this a couple times, imagining it was Hyunjin’s hands instead. You let out a sigh as you pinched your nipple, causing it to pebble. Caressing your breast, you let your fingers wander further down, running your fingers through your folds. You slid them through a few times before pressing them at your entrance gathering slick that was already pooling out of your pussy. Bringing your slick covered fingers to your clit, you gave gentle rubs to the bud, pressing hard every few strokes.

You wished Hyunjin was here, circling your puffy clit with his fingers, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You knew he would take care of you, make sure you reach your high in his hold. You brought yourself close to your orgasm, rubbing faster on your bundle of nerves, giving your nipple a pinch every now and then. You imagined Hyunjin’s lips on your neck, leaving sweet kisses as you came, rocking your hips along your fingers, riding out your high. Letting out one more shaky breath, you straightened up, shaking your head. These were dangerous thoughts, thoughts you knew would never come true. You finished your shower, wrapping yourself in your fluffy towel before making it back to your room.

Once inside, you checked your phone, noticing a notification from Hyunjin.

Ferret Boy 🦙 Did you make it back? (10:30pm) Hello? (10:35pm) Y/n…I’m getting worried here (11:00pm)

“Shit,” you said under your breath. You had forgotten to let Hyunjin know you made it back safely. Opening the chat box you replied:

Ferret Boy 🦙 Sorry Hyun. I made it back. Just got out of the shower. Please forgive me :)

You hit send and almost immediately got a response back.

Ferret Boy 🦙 Thank god y/n. I’ll think about it lol Don’t stay up too late angel.

You loved it when he called you angel. Blushing you responded:

Ferret Boy 🦙 Wouldn’t dream of it. Night Hyunjinnie <3

You set your phone down on your bed before drying yourself off. You picked out one of your oversized t-shirts and sleep shorts to put on. Tying your hair up in a messy bun, you made your way to your desk, where your sketches were that you were working on. Taking a seat, you picked up your phone once more, opening up your playlist before selecting your favorite music to sketch to. Setting your phone down, you picked up your pencil and started sketching, the soft notes of Bon Iver’s Holocene drifted throughout the room.

You relaxed into your task, focused on finishing up your last two pieces for the assignment. You were to sketch four pieces, the theme being things and or people you love. You decided to sketch a coffee cup filled with your favorite drink, a field of flowers Hyunjin took you to one time, your childhood cat, and last but not least Hyunjin. Once turned in, the top three students who score the highest will get to go on and present their pieces at the end of year showcase. You really wanted to be one of those who scored the highest as you heard that personal from the local galleries sometimes attended the showcase, scouting for the next big artist.

You were currently working on your favorite piece, one of Hyunjin. You were shading in some around his eyes trying to reflect the beauty and perfection you see in him everyday. Humming along to the song playing, you made your finishing touches. Setting your pencil down, you lifted the sketch up to look it over. Satisfied with your work, you set it aside with the other two completed pieces befre picking up the fourth piece.

It was a sketch of a flower, a white Lilly to be exact. You picked this flower for your assignment as it represented beauty and purity, something you thought fit Hyunjin well. The purity being your friendship, and how good natured it is, and of course beauty as Hyunjin was beyond beautiful. All four of your sketches revolved around Hyunjin, each representing a different aspect of your relationship.

Some people may think it’s a little much, to base your whole assignment off one person, but you saw no problem with it. You wanted to express how you saw your best friend for anyone that would look and hopefully Hyunjin himself will get to see them too.

You glanced at the clock, noting it was 2:30am. Sighing you finished your last sketch before standing up and stretching. Carefully picking up your four pieces, you carefully placed them in your portfolio, ready to be turned in tomorrow. You cleaned up your space a little before turning off the lights and sliding under the covers. Closing your eyes, you began to drift away, dreaming of sunny days far away with your best friend.

****************************************************

Your alarm was going off. Groaning, you reached over to your phone to press the snooze button, before snuggling deeper into your blankets. You laid there for a while before you felt yourself drifting off again. That is until your phone went off again, this time signaling you had a phone call coming through. Groaning yet again, you picked up your phone, noting the time of 6am before accepting the call.

Hyunjin’s voice echoed from the other end of the call, “Y/n, angel, wake up. Let’s go grab some breakfast before first period.”

You rubbed your face, attempting to wake up, before grumbling, “Hyun, it’s so early. Can’t we skip breakfast today?”

“Nah uh angel. You need food so you can get through your day. What time did you go to bed anyway?”

“It was almost 3am,” you responded, sitting up in bed. “I wouldn’t hate getting in a couple more hours of sleep.”

You listened to Hyunjin hum before saying, “I know y/n, but how about I buy you whatever you want. We’ll go to your favorite place.”

At that, you perked up a little. “Really?”

“Really,” Hyunjin chuckled.

“Ok, ok, you convinced me. Give me 10,” you replied.

“Perfect, I’ll meet you at your dorm ok?”

“Sounds good Hyunjinnie,” you said before hanging up.

Letting out a sigh and stretching your arms over your head, you got out of bed to get ready. Pulling on a black t-shirt, flannel, and jeans, you walked over to your mirror to do your hair and put on some eyeliner and mascara. Nodding your head at your appearance, you gathered up your books and tossed them in your bag. Slinging the bag over your shoulders, you leaned down to pick up your portfolio before walking out the door.

Hyunjin was waiting for you outside the dorm as promised, looking beautiful as always. He smiled at you when he spotted you walking down the steps.

“Morning sleepy head,” he chuckled before walking toward your destination.

“Morning,” you replied, yawning in the process.

“Did you finish everything you needed to?”

“I did. I think everything looks great. I hope it gets to go on to the showcase.”

“Of course it will angel, no doubt about it.” Hyunjin turned his head to smile at you.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his smile. Looking ahead, you saw the little cafe, your favorite one. The atmosphere was calm and not to mention their food and coffee were to die for. Hyunjin opened the door for you, you slipping through before he walked in after you. The smell of fresh brewed coffee and pastries hit your nose. You inhaled deeply, loving the scent of hope for the day.

“What do you want? Your usual?” Hyunjin asked.

“Yes please,” you responded. “I’ll get us a table while you order.”

Hyunjin nodded before walking away to the counter. You picked a table by the window, that way you could feel the warmth of the rising sun on your skin. You were browsing through your phone when Hyunjin came back, setting your coffees and pastries on the table. You reached for your iced americano and pumpkin loaf with a smile on your face, thanking Hyunjin. He nodded and grabbed his.

“So, what are your sketches about? You never did tell me.”

You took a sip of your coffee before looking Hyunjin in the eyes, the sun reflecting off the big, brown orbs.

“Not telling,” you said. “Want it to be a surprise, especially if it goes onto the showcase.”

Hyunjin pouted at you. “Aww come on angel, not even a little hint?” He pleaded.

“Nope, sorry,” you smirked back at him.

Hyunjin sighed. “Well ok, if you insist.”

You watched as he brushed his hand through his long hair. How can someone be so perfect and beautiful you thought. You ate in silence for a little, thinking of your classes for the day, not really looking forward to any of them. Well, you were looking forward to advanced art. Brushing the crumbs off your hands, you looked at the time.

“Shit, it’s already 7:30. I gotta go, don’t want to be late dropping my portfolio off.”

Hyunjin nodded, “ok, leave your trash, I’ll take care of it. Text me when you have a break, k?”

You nodded your head, gathering your bag and portfolio and walked out the door. Breathing in the crisp, morning air, you walked toward the art building, it being on the other side of campus. You didn’t mind the walk however, as it was a beautiful campus, trees and flowers everywhere.

Once arriving at the building, you opened the door, the chilly air-conditioning blowing in your face in contrast to the warm sun outside. You made your way to the classroom, plopping down in your seat. The professor walked in then, asking everyone to bring their portfolios up to the front of the class. She announced that the students chosen for the showcase would be notified by the end of the week.

You dropped yours off as directed, before sitting back down in your seat, getting out your sketch book. The rest of the class was spent drawing a still life portrait, your other favorite theme to draw…besides Hyunjin. At the close of class, you texted Hyunjin asking where he was. Your phone pinged:

Ferret Boy 🦙 I’m back at my apartment. Wanna come over

You responded yes and that you were on your way. You walked across campus to Hyunjin’s place, letting yourself in as Hyunjin had left the door unlocked for you.

“Hey angel,” Hyunjin greeted you from the couch. He had some shitty reality tv show on, the drama king himself immersed in the show. You kicked off your shoes, making your way over to the couch before plopping down next to Hyunjin with a sigh. You leaned against the pillow on the couch, draping your feet across Hyunjin’s lap.

“Why do you watch this crap?” you inquired as you watched the drama unfold on screen.

“It’s mindless. Plus the fights are entertaining.” Hyunjin replied.

“It’s entertaining because you’re mister drama king yourself,” you said laughing.

Hyunjin stuck his tongue out at you before giving you a smile, turning his head back to the tv. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through social media, as you got comfortable. You felt cozy, the tv in the background, Hyunjin’s warm body next to you. Before you knew it, your eyes began to close, feeling the effects of your late night. You dreamed of Hyunin and his gentleness, that he was yours as you were his.

****************************************************

You opened your eyes, finding yourself curled up in a ball, wrapped in a blanket. You turned your head, seeing Hyunjin sitting next to you, sketchbook in hand. You silently watched him for a while, watching his hand glide across the paper. Eventually Hyunjin noticed you were awake, looking at you still curled up in your ball.

“Welcome back,” Hyunjin chuckled.

You groaned and stretched out, feeling your joints crack with the motion. Pulling the blanket to your face, you snuggled in once more before asking, “I’m hungry, you should feed me.”

Hyunjin laughed, “of course, gotta feed angel or she’ll tear me apart.”

You nodded your head at his statement, knowing you truly were a terror when you were hungry. Hyunjin closed his sketchbook, setting it down on the table before grabbing his phone.

“What do you want to eat?” Hyunjin asked, pulling up the delivery app.

You thought for a minute before saying, “pizza!”

Hyunjin chuckled. “You and your cheese fixation.”

You shrugged your shoulders, not ashamed at all. Who doesn’t like cheese? While you both waited on the pizza, Hyunjin chatted about his art class and their current project. “We’re working on oil paintings. I’m really liking this unit. I think it’s my favorite medium to use so far.”

You listened to Hyunjin, in awe of him taking about his passion. Watching as his eyes lit up when discussing the topic of his paintings to the little uptick of his lips as he ranted about how he ran out of a paint, having to stop for the day instead of finishing the painting as planned. As Hyunjin was starting to discuss the next unit they would move onto in a few weeks, the doorbell rang, signaling the pizza was here. You jumped up, running to the door, scaring the delivery man in the process at your sudden appearance. You grabbed the pizza, thanking the man, before closing the door and making your way back to the couch.

You sat down and opened the box, grabbing a slice and taking a bite. You let out a moan at the taste, closing your eyes as you chewed.

“Is it everything you could have dreamed off?” Hyunjin teased, shaking his head at your dramatics.

You nodded your head before taking another bite. You both finished eating in silence, the pizza being too good. After Hyunjin finished his last bite, he turned to you. “Are you staying the night?”

You licked your fingers, licking the sauce off before looking at the time on your phone. Noting it was almost 11pm, you shook your head yes. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind angel. We can cuddle!” He said, giving you a smile.

You both cleaned up the mess before walking to Hyunjin’s room. You sat down on his bed, watching as he rummaged through his drawers. Straightening up, he turned to you and handed you one of his shirts. You took the clothing, making your way to his bathroom to change. You put your hair up and then walked out of the bathroom, pulling the covers back and sliding in. Hyunjin had already changed while you were in the bathroom. He turned off the light and then slid under the covers, sliding in next to you.

“Come here angel,” he said, cradling you into his chest.

You cuddled with Hyunjin all the time, this wasn’t a new occurrence. But that didn’t stop your heart from beating wildly, as you tucked your head into his chest. You eventually were at ease and started to drift off, the feeling of Hyunjin stroking your hair lulling you to sleep.

****************************************************

The next morning, you opened your eyes to the blinding sun. Your back was to Hyunjin, his arms wrapped around your waist and his head tucked into your neck. You sighed at the feeling, wishing you could wake up like this every morning. You looked at the time, and let out a low groan. You had to make your way back to your dorm, as you had class in a few hours.

You pushed back the covers, feeling Hyunjin stir behind you. You got up, finding your clothes from yesterday, and going into the bathroom. You slipped on your clothes, tossing Hyunjin’s shirt in the hamper before exiting the bathroom. Hyunjin was sitting up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Morning angel,” he said in a raspy voice. “Leaving?”

“Yeah, I have class in a few hours and I wanna go back to my dorm and shower.”

Hyunjin nodded, getting out of bed to walk you out. Right before you opened the door, he pulled you in for a hug, burying his face in your hair. You were shocked at first, but eventually wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing in his scent. You both stood there in front of his front door, silence filling the room. So much was said in that hug, neither of you wanting to pull away.

But, all good things must come to an end. Hyunjin pulled away, giving you a smile. “Text me when you get back, yeah?”

“Of course Hyun,” you replied as you put your shoes on. You opened the door, and made your way to your dorm.

****************************************************

The rest of the week passed uneventful, your days filled with class and Hyunjin. The day of the announcement of who would go onto the showcase was today, your nerves getting the better of you. You were at Hyunjin’s apartment, sitting once more on his couch.

You were a nervous wreck, your leg was bouncing up and down, a finger in your mouth as you bit at the nail. Every now and then you let out a sigh, checking the time for the hundredth time. Hyunjin watched you, observing how you appeared to become anxious as time went on, wishing he could do something about it. He reached out to you and placed his hand on your leg, giving it a squeeze.

“Hey, whatever happens, it’ll be ok.” Hyunjin sought out your eyes, finally making direct eye contact. You let out the breath you were holding, nodding your head once before turning back to your computer screen.

It was time. You pulled up the class page, eyes darting immediately to the announcement portion of the page. You held your breath as you read a brief statement from the professor, thanking everyone for their hard work and dedication. You kept reading, until the end, eyes frozen on the screen once you got to the name of the person chosen. You sat like that for a moment, eyes trained on the screen in disbelief..

“Well? Did you get it? Are you going to the showcase?” Hyunjin asked, searching your face for any hint.

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes finding his. “I did it.” You slowly said. “I’m going to the showcase.”

You both stared at each other, before a big smile spread on Hyunjin’s face. You couldn’t help but smile back, wrapping your arms around him in a big hug.

“I knew you would get it angel,” Hyunjin said, squeezing you tighter.

You buried your head in his neck, letting out the breath you had been holding. You did it. You fucking did it. You were in disbelief, still wrapping your head around the fact that you made it. Your sketches were going to be shown to thousands of people, and if you’re lucky, maybe even be displayed in the local gallery.

You pulled back, your hands still wrapped around Hyunjin. He looked down at you, eyes flickering to your lips before darting back to your eyes. You almost missed the movement, but it was there. You sat still , not knowing what to do, frozen in your spot. You removed your arms from around Hyunjin, leaning back to put distance between you two.

Clearing your throat, you asked, “Would you like to be my plus one?”

“Of course angel. You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hyunjin replied, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You looked into his eyes once more, watching as he gave you a smile. He dropped his hand from your face, his fingers brushing down your cheek in the process. You briefly closed your eyes at the feeling, before opening them and shutting your lap top.

“So what’s next?” Hyunjin asked.

“Well, I’ll be transferring my sketches onto canvas. I think I’ll stick to an acrylic medium. It’s what I know best.” You let out a sigh, “I’m going to be pretty busy this week. Th deadline to get the paintings in is in one week.”

Hyunjin nodded, “well I’m here to help if you need it…even if it’s just for company.”

“Thanks Hyun. I guess I need to make sure I have everything I need. Wanna go to the store with me?”

“Of course! Let’s go angel. We’ll get food while we’re out too.”

“Great, cause I’m starving now that that’s over.” Hyunjin chuckled at you, getting up from the couch to walk to the door. You grab your bag and followed him, both of you putting on your shoes to leave.

****************************************************

Later that night, you were back at your dorm, Hyunjin dropping you off after your store run and dinner. You took a shower, deciding to get started on your paintings after. You put on lofi in the background and got to work organizing your space. You decided to start on the coffee cup sketch, wishing you actually had a cup now. It didn’t take you long to zone in, focused on your painting, humming to the tunes playing softly in the background.

You felt at peace, the stroke of the brush on the canvas soothing you, as all of your worries and thoughts left your mind.

Reaching a stopping point, you looked up at your clock. It was already 3am. Cursing under your breath, you put your brush down, stretching out your arms. Deciding to call it a night, you cleaned your brushes, placing them back in the cup you kept on your desk. Grabbing your phone, you crawled into bed. Snuggling into the blankets, you found yourself drifting off.

The rest of the week went by quickly, your nights spent working on your paintings for the showcase. The day of honor was getting closer, along with your deadline to turn in said paintings. Hyunjin spent some evenings with you, watching you paint or doing some sketching of his own. You always made sure he couldn’t see your drawings, wanting it to be a surprise for the night of the showcase. He didn’t mind, knowing he would get to see them soon enough.

You appreciated Hyunjin’s company, as some nights you felt stressed, freaking out about the deadline and worrying about how people would react to your work. Each time you doubted yourself, Hyunjin was there to make sure to squash that doubt. Deep down you knew everything would be ok, but on the surface, every worry was brought to attention.

The night before the due date, you and Hyunjin sat in your room once more, your playlist on in the background, Hyunjin lounging on your bed. He was humming along to the song that was playing, as you put the finishing touches to your last painting. Setting your brush down, you leaned back to look at the finished product, smiling as you saw your recreation of Hyunjin on the canvas. You could never capture his beauty completely, but you damned near tried.

“Done?” Hyunjin asked, looking up at you.

“Mmhmm, I think so.” You sat back and massaged your temples, happy to be done.

Hyunjin grinned, opening up his arms beckoning you to come cuddle with him. You stood up, and slid under the blankets, snuggling into Hyunjin and letting out a sigh. You both laid there in silence, enjoying each other’s company. You listened to Hyunjin’s heart, the rhythmic sound soothing you. You didn’t realize how tired you were, your eyes starting to droop. You thought you heard Hyunjin say something, but you were on the verge of dreamland, not caring what was going on around you.

Hyunjin noticed you falling asleep, a smile on his face as he tucked you in. He settled next to you, his body facing yours. You looked so beautiful and peaceful, your features softening as you fell into a deeper sleep. He loved seeing you like this, the softness of your eyes, gently fluttering as you dreamed hopefully of nice things. He loved watching your soft lips part, your breathing slowing down with each passing moment. He loved you, everything about you, and he hoped to tell you so one day. With a smile gracing his face, he closed his eyes, hoping to dream of you.

****************************************************

The next day, you got up early, earlier than you normally would at least, so you could gather your paintings and bag. You had to turn them in today, so the professor could pass them on to the event coordinator for the showcase. You heard Hyunjin wake, sitting up in bed to watch you move around your room.

“Morning angel,” he said yawning, running a hand through his hair.

You mumbled out a morning, grabbing your clothes to put on for the day. You quickly brushed your hair into a pony tail, forgoing makeup.

“I’m leaving Hyun. Stay as long as you want, but I have to get these over to the building.”

Hyunjin nodded, laying back down on your pillows. “I’ll be here angel.”

You grabbed your bag and paintings and headed out the door. You made your way across campus, a little urgency in your step. Arriving at the building, you made your way to the classroom, dodging other students in the hallway so you wouldn’t drop anything.

Once you entered the classroom, you walked up to the professor, setting your paintings down carefully on her desk.

“Ahh thank you y/n. Congratulations on being selected. Your sketches were very good. I can see you’ve worked hard to transfer them as paintings.”

“Thank you,” you responded, a shy smile spreading on your face. “Will they be dropped off today? To the coordinators?”

“Yes, they will be. They’ll keep them safe and will hang them up in time for the showcase.”

You nodded, thanked her once again before walking back out of the classroom. You made your way back to your dorm, opting to stop and grab some coffee and snacks for you and Hyunjin.

Opening up your door, you were met with the sight of Hyunjin sprawled out on your bed, softly snoring. You chuckled, setting the coffees and snacks on your desk, opting to sit on your chair. You ate your pastry while looking through your phone, trying to keep quiet as your best friend continued to sleep.

You felt like you could breathe now, if only for a moment. Your next hurdle would be the showcase this weekend. You decided to go for a walk to help clear your mind. Grabbing your shoes, you made your way outside, breathing in the fresh air. You slowly made your way around campus, enjoying the scenery. The trees were starting to turn colors, the leaves a beautiful shades of red and orange. You smiled as squirrels dashed across the sidewalk in front of you, making their way to the next tree. The warm sun was beating down on your skin, warming you through and through. You were happy you went on this walk, your mind clearer than it had been thirty minutes ago.

Checking the time, you decided to walk back to your dorm, as Hyunjin would probably be up now. Opening your door, you saw him perched on your bed, nibbling on the food and coffee you brought back with you earlier.

“Hey, just getting back?”

“Nah, went for a walk to clear my head.”

“Ah, angel what’s wrong?”

“Just nervous about this weekend. What if nobody likes my work? What if me winning was a mistake?” You paced the floor, slowly becoming anxious again.

“Y/ninnie, everyone will love your work, I’m more than sure about that.” Hyunjin softly replied. He frowned seeing how distressed you were. “Come here angel.”

You slowly made your way to your bed, crawling over and into Hyunjin’s arms. You nuzzled your head into his chest, breathing in his scent. He slowly brushed his hands up and down your back, trying to soothe you.

You didn’t pull away, your head resting in the crook of his neck as he laid you two down to cuddle. Your lips brushed against his skin as you let out a sigh, your body slowly relaxing in his hold. You felt Hyunjin kiss the top of your head. You lifted your head up to look him in the eyes. Hyunjin gazed at you, his brown orbs soft and gentle, radiating his fondness for you.

Hyunjin brought his head down to yours, as he gently brushed his lips to yours. Your body tensed at the sudden intrusion, but as he continued to press kiss after kiss to your lips, you relaxed, returning his feather soft kisses. Hyunjin rested his forehead against yours, as you tightened your hold on him.

With a deep breath Hyunjin whispered, “I like you y/n. I have for a while. I just haven’t said anything because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I like you so so much angel.”

You laid there in silence, letting Hyunjin’s words sink in. Hyunjin liked you. He actually liked you more than a friend. Your mind was spinning at his confession. You could tell he was starting to get antsy and probably worried at your silence, as minutes passed without you saying anything.

“Hyunjinnie I like you too. I really do.” You replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin smiled, stroking your face, and hugging you closer. He slotted his lips with yours once more, breathing out a sigh of relief. Your mouths moved in tandem, neither one of you in a hurry, your hands exploring each other’s bodies. You felt Hyunjin’s hands slide under your shirt, his hands sliding up and down your side before reaching your breasts. He gave them a light squeeze, brushing his fingers softly across your nipple, a low moan leaving your lips.

Hyunjin repeated the motion, again and again, in no hurry to move on. You felt yourself getting hot, your arousal leaking into your panties. You instinctively rolled your hips against his, catching Hyunjin by surprise.

“Angel, maybe we should stop,” Hyunjin said.

You let out a sigh. You really didn’t want to, but you understood why you had to. You nodded your head in agreement, a slight pout on your face. Hyunjin pressed a kiss on your forehead before untangling himself from you and sitting up.

“So, even though I said we should stop, we probably should talk about what this is.” Hyunjin said.

“Ok, I think we should too.”

“Y/n, like I said earlier, I’ve liked you for a while. Would you believe me if I said I’ve kinda had a crush on you since elementary school?” Hyunjin chuckled.

You stared at him in shock. You couldn’t believe it. All this time your childhood liked you the same as you liked him. You guys could have been together instead of wasting all this time.

“Wow, I never would have thought Hyun. I like you too. Does this make us more than friends?” You asked hopefully.

Hyunjin looked at you, “if you’ll have me angel.”

You smiled at him, genuine happiness reaching your eyes. You sat up and pressed a quick kiss on Hyunjin’s lips. “Then I guess you’re mine.”

Hyunjin grinned at your statement. “My beautiful girl.”

You blushed at his words. You watched as he got up out of bed, reaching his hand down for you to take.

“Let’s grab some food my love.”

You nodded yes and smiled, placing your hand in his as he pulled you up. You were over the moon. Seems like your weekend was starting off swell.

**************************************************** You spent the day with Hyunjin, in which it was filled with absolute bliss. Knowing he liked you back was like a breath of fresh air. You were over the moon, giddy, and ecstatic that you could call him yours. After all you had been waiting for this moment for years. You really hoped your luck would hold out until for the showcase too.

Hyunjin walked you back to your dorm that night, promising to pick you up the next day to walk you over to the building where the showcase would be held. Once he brought you to the door, he lifted your chin with his fingers, bringing his lips to yours. You felt time slip away, focusing only on the feel of his lips on yours. You would never get tired of the feeling.

Hyunjin pulled back, “good night angel. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night Hyun. Thank you for today.”

“Of course, anything for my girl,” Hyunjin said. “Now go to bed angel, you have a big day tomorrow.”

He watched as you made your way to the door, making sure you made it inside. You truly did have a big day tomorrow and the ideas of going to bed earlier than you normally do sounded appealing. You changed into your sleep clothes and turned out the lights. Your dreams were filled with Hyunjin once more, but this time they were a little different, your relationship having progressed.

***************************************************

Today’s the day. The day of the showcase. You woke up, blinking away your dreams, before letting out a sigh and stretching your legs. You checked your phone, clearing out notifications from overnight, before getting up. You decided to take a long shower, pulling out all the stops for the day. You wanted to look in tip top shape. You used your best shampoo, the floral scent permeating the bathroom. You let out a sigh, the warm water easing the tension from your body, your anxiety picking up again. You finished up, before stepping out and wrapping your fluffiest towel around your body.

Once back in your room, you put on your playlist before attempting your hair and makeup. You hummed along to the song, applying a little highlighter. You were almost done when you heard your phone buzz. Putting your makeup brush down, you checked your phone:

Ferret Boy 🦙 Hey angel, ready for today

Sighing you turned down the music so you could think, your brain only being able to focus on one thing at a time at the moment.

Ferret Boy 🦙 I’m getting there Hyun. I’m nervous tbh.

A few moments passed before your phone pinged again.

Ferret Boy 🦙 Oh angel, I’m on my way ok?

You let out a breath. What would you do without this man.

Ferret Boy🦙 Thank you hyun♡ I’ll be waiting.

You set your phone down again, turning your playlist back on. You were almost done with your makeup, putting on the finishing touches when you heard a knock at your door. You got up to let Hyunjin in, opening the door to see him standing there with coffees in his hand.

“Hey angel, got you a little something.”

“You’re the best Hyun,” you said taking your coffee from his hand.

Hyunjin stepped into your room and closed the door. “Forgetting something aren’t you?”

You turned back to face him, a smile on your face. “Hmmm not sure, maybe so.”

Hyunjin chuckled before closing the distance between you two and wrapping his arms around your waist. He brought his head down for a kiss, gripping your waist tighter.

“Ok angel,” he said pulling back, “let me see what you’re going to wear for the showcase.”

You were taken aback by the change in topic. Shaking your head, you walked to your closet, pulling out an outfit you put together earlier in the week. You decided on some jeans and a black top, keeping it simple and neat. You started to untie your towel to change.

“Close your eyes Hyun.”

Hyunjin obliged immediately, not wanting to cross any boundaries and make you uncomfortable. You quickly changed into your outfit, letting Hyunjin know when you were done. Hyunjin opened his eyes, his gaze falling on you. You could make anything look beautiful and this was no exception.

“You look beautiful angel. So so beautiful.”

You blushed at Hyunjin’s comments, your eyes falling to the ground. “Thanks,” you mumbled.

You walked over to your desk, plugging in your hair dryer and curling wand. You slowly did your hair, making sure every strand was styled correctly, talking with Hyunjin the whole time. You were glad he was here, his company causing you to feel calmer.

“All done,” you said, turning your curling wand off and setting it down. You looked in the mirror for any stray hairs that wasn’t styled, but was satisfied with your look. “How do you I look?” You asked, standing up and giving a twirl so Hyunjin could see every aspect of your outfit.

“Absolutely stunning angel. I think it’s perfect for the showcase. Of course though you look good in anything.”

“Thanks Hyun.” You took a deep breath and let it out. “I guess this is it. I’m ready.”

Hyunjin nodded, standing up and making his way to you. He grabbed your hand and then you both walked to the door and started to make your way to the event of the hour. The whole way, Hyunjin held your hand, giving it a squeeze every now and then. You appreciated his presence, excited but nervous for him to see your work. You arrived at the building, pausing at the door.

“Well I guess I better go in,” you said, letting out a shaky breath.

“You’re going to do great angel. I’ll be there cheering you on the whole time okay? Can’t wait to see your paintings.” Hyunjin said with a smile on his face. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on your knuckles.

You smiled back before letting go of his hand and walked into the building. You made your way to your professor.

“Ah y/n! You made it! Your section is over there. You can go wait in that area. The doors should open shortly.”

You nodded, thanking her before making your way to the spot she pointed out. As you rounded the corner, you spotted your paintings, the canvases lined up next to each other, the overhead light shining on your works perfectly. You took a moment to look at them, happy with how they turned out. You could do this.

**************************************************** Shortly after, you heard the rustle of people moving about, the doors officially opened. The hall was filled with soft murmurs and laughter as people walked from exhibit to exhibit discussing the works on the wall. You took a breath in and let it out, prepared to engage with those around you.

Group after group passed by, stopping to look at your paintings, murmurs of praise floating through the room. You answered the occasional question, explaining your inspiration for the works. People smiled at you, and rained comments onto you. You could feel your face heat up at the praise, you graciously accepting their praise and comments.

You’re sure a few hours have passed, before a lady who looked important walked up to you.

“Y/n?” The lady asked.

“Yes, that’s me,” you replied, a soft smile gracing your face.

“My name is Iseul. I’m the manager of Expressions Art Gallery. I’m impressed with your work. It shows such emotion and the attention to detail is beautiful. We would love to display your paintings at our gallery. Is this something you would consider?”

Your eyes widened in shock as you held your breath. Letting it out, you smiled, “I’d be honored. Yes, I’d love to display my work with your gallery!” You were over the moon.

“Great, we will be in touch over the next few days. Congratulations once again y/n.”

You watched as she walked away, in shock at what just transpired. You were excited, to say the least, your dream coming true. You looked around, spotting Hyunjin making his way to you, a huge smile on your face.

“Hey angel. Wow, look at these,” Hyunjin murmured, his eyes glued to your paintings.

You watched his eyes wonder from one painting to the next, studying the detail you put into the work. When he came to the painting of him, he gasped, before turning to you.

“Is that me, angel?”

You nodded your head. “It is. You make me happy so I thought it fitting to paint you Hyun. All of the places and items up here revolve around our years of friendship. After all, I’ve felt happy all these years because of you.” You looked down, embarrassed at your confession, worried Hyunjin would find it weird.

“Angel, this is beautiful. I love that you included our story in your work.” Hyunjin turned to you and grabbed your hands, bringing them to his lips.

He smiled at you, kissing your hands before bringing them back down to your side. The moment felt perfect, Hyunjin approved of your paintings, he was here with you. People moved around you, their voices fading away as you focused on the man in front of you. Hyunjin gazed into your eyes before whispering “y/n.”

You were brought out of your reverie after someone accidentally bumped into you, apologizing as they moved on. You cleared your throat at the disturbance and looked once more at Hyunjin. He stayed by your side the rest of the night, standing aside when you spoke with others about your work and moving back to your side once you were done.

**************************************************** The night ended successfully, the last groups making their way to the exit. You let out a breath, ecstatic that tonight was successful. You turned to Hyunjin, “ready to go?”

“Of course angel. Wanna come back to my place?”

You nodded yes, grabbing his hand, as you walked toward the exit. Once you both were outdoors, you took in a deep breath, breathing in the fresh night air. The stars were out and the moon bright, illuminating your path back to Hyunjin’s apartment.

“Soooo, guess what Hyun?”

“Hmmm?” Hyunjin inquired.

“I met the manager with Expressions. They want to display my work at their gallery!”

“Angel that’s amazing! Congratulations! I knew it would work out,” Hyunjin replied squeezing your hand.

You were grinning from ear to ear, thinking the night couldn’t be anymore perfect. You both walked up the steps of Hyunjin’s apartment building, making your way to his place. Once inside, you plopped down on his couch, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth. Hyunjin sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, Hyunjin grabbing the remote to turn it on to the shitty reality shows he likes to watch.

You both sat in silence, feeling comfortable in each other’s embrace. The day was exhausting so to say. You started to drift off, snuggling deeper into Hyunjin. Hyunjin looked down, watching you try to fight off sleep.

“Come on angel, let’s go to bed.”

Hyunjin turned the tv off before scooping you up in his arms and bringing you to his room. He sat you down gently on his bed, walking to his dresser to pull out one of his shirts. He handed it to you, walking to the bathroom to let you get changed. You shucked off your jeans and shirt and slipped his on, before settling back into bed. Hyunjin joined you a little later, leaving on the LED lights on his ceiling to cause a soft blue glow around the room.

He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your head before pressing a kiss to your jaw. You tilted your head, allowing him more access to your neck, allowing him to press wet kisses down your neck. He found your pulse point, lightly sucking on the skin, nipping at the area every now and then. You threaded your hands through his hair, soft moans falling from your lips.

Hyunjin pulled back, looking down at you. “So beautiful angel. My beautiful girl. Can I have you?” He whispered.

You nodded your consent, giving him a smile. Hyunjin smiled back before leaning down to press his lips against yours. He kissed you soft and sweet, his lips gently moving with yours, letting out low moans, as he squeezed you tighter to him. You could feel him filling out in his shorts, your slick pouring out into your panties. You rolled your hips against his, letting out a gasp at the feeling of his hard cock brushing against your clothed core. Hyunjin took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours. You let out a breathy moan, tightening your hold on him.

Hyunjin kissed lower and lower, pressing sweet kisses on your collarbone, his hands reaching under and up your shirt, rubbing your sides. He grasped the edges of your shirt, and started to lift it up and over your head. You laid back down after being freed from your shirt, your chest on display to the man above you.

“Absolutely beautiful, a work of art,” Hyunjin murmured, bringing his hands up to grasp your breasts. He massaged the flesh before leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You moaned at the feeling, as he sucked on your nipple, before giving the other nipple the same attention.

“Love your tits angel,” Hyunjin said before making his way further down, licking and kissing down your tummy. He placed a kiss at the top of your panties, his hands reaching to pull them down. He tossed them somewhere in the room, before looking down at you, laid bare before him. He gazed lovingly at your body, mesmerized by your curves.

He proceeded to lean back down, pressing kisses down your pelvis and thighs. You squirmed at the touch of his lips, wanting them elsewhere. Hyunjin continued to worship your body and press kisses on your thighs, nipping at your skin before he pressed a chaste kiss against your clit. You gasped at the feeling, before letting out a moan as he licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit. Hyunjin latched onto your bundle of nerves, sucking the bud with his plush lips. You felt your slick leak out, the pleasure mounting as Hyunjin made out with your pussy. You rocked your hips, riding Hyunjin’s face, gripping his hair harder and harder with each passing moment. You were close, that familiar feeling of the coil in your belly ready to snap.

Hyunjin lifted his head, licking your slick from his lips. You whined at the loss of contact, watching as he pulled down his shorts, freeing his hard on. He stroked his cock, spreading his pre-cum up and down his shaft, his gaze never leaving yours. Bringing his cock down to your lips, he rubbed his cock through your folds, tapping it against your clit a few times.

“Hyun, please, need you. Make me yours please,” you whined, spreading your legs wider for him.

“I got you angel,” Hyunjin replied, pressing his tip into your entrance, before slowly sliding in. The stretch felt so good, you throwing your head back in pleasure. Hyunjin pushed and pushed until he bottomed out, a moan leaving his lips at how tight you were around him.

“Can I move angel? Can I make you mine?”

You shook your head yes, pushing your hips up to get him to move. Hyunjin smiled down at you as he dragged his cock out and pushed it back in. He rested his arms on the side of your head as he rocked his hips into you, gazing into your eyes. You tried to get him to go faster, begging for him to fuck you harder, but Hyunjin just shook his head.

“Let me make love to you angel,” Hyunjin gasped out. “Fuck I love you so much angel. My beautiful girl, all mine.”

You felt overwhelmed, the feeling of Hyunjin’s cock dragging in and out of you, in a deep but slow pace, little moans falling from your lips with each thrust. You kept eye contact with Hyunjin as he fucked you, whispering his name over and over.

Sweat dripped down Hyunjin’s face as he fucked into you, your tight pussy hugging his cock perfectly. You were made for him. He knew it all along, but these last few days confirmed the feeling. He rocked his hips at a slightly faster pace, his high approaching. He could tell you were close too, your whines getting louder. He brought a finger down to your clit, rubbing the bud to get you there. He wanted to cum with you, to drown you with his love.

You were close, Hyunjin speeding along your orgasm with the touch of his fingers on your clit. Your moans increased in pitch, the coil tightening, threatening to snap at any moment. You breathed out, again and again, your chest raising and falling with each thrust, the feeling more intense than ever before.

“Cum with me angel,” Hyunjin moaned out, his hips losing their rhythmic motion as he continued to rock into you.

With one, two, three more thrusts, Hyunjin came, his cum flooding your walls, the warmth of his cum and feeling of Hyunjin’s fingers on your clit bringing you over the edge. You felt intense ecstasy, your orgasm spreading throughout your body, the feeling more powerful than you ever felt before. You clutched onto Hyunjin, bringing him flush to your chest as he continued to rock his hips into you, riding out your highs together.

You both laid there, your breathing coming back to normal. Hyunjin lifted his head to press kisses against your face, murmuring “I love you” after each one. You sighed, more than satisfied, tightening your hold on Hyunjin.

After a while, Hyunjin detangled himself from you, slowly pulling his softened cock out of you.

“Let me clean you up angel.”

You watched as he left to grab a towel, and came to wipe you down, gently running the warm cloth up and down your body cleaning up the fluids painted across your nether region. He placed the towel on his bedside table before pulling you under the covers with him.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving your face. “Mine all mine.”

He couldn’t believe it, you were his, finally. He has you now and he wasn’t ever going to let you go. Pressing a kiss to your face, he soothed you to sleep, happy he met you all those years ago. Happy you gave a guy like him a chance. As his eyes closed, succumbing to sleep, he thanked the lucky stars that he was able to be with the girl who brings art to life and who is a work of art herself.

Taglist: @jeonginsleftcheek @jehhskz @thesilvernight0wl @armystay89

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rosemariiaa · 28 days ago

Text

~Caffeinated Crush~

𐙚- pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚-synopsis: Paige works at a bookstore, and Azzi is the girl who comes in every day but never buys anything. When a spilled coffee incident occurs, she learns Azzi is sketching her in a nearby cafe.

𐙚- this is so cuteeeee, yes i am still currently working on chapter 3 of RMH so you’ll have that soon, but for now enjoy these cuties! happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚-themes: fluff, au

𐙚- taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @juspeaks @imaginespazzi @pbaz7 @bueckersbitch @xxloveralways14 @d3arapril @lupinqs @pazzilover101 @ashortyluvsports @absolutelydreadful

enjoy!!!

I should’ve never let Nika get in my head.

My thumbs hover over the screen of my phone as I scroll through yet another endless TikTok, airpods blasting maybe the best R&B playlist handpicked by the queen. Anyway, the store is empty—of course it is. It’s barely 10 a.m., and no one is running to a bookstore this early unless they’re sixty or a morning person.

Not me, though. I’m here because Nika decided to call me lazy last week and the whole team agreed. Said all my NIL deals made me too comfortable, like I didn’t just have the Big East Scholar of the Year award, not to be cocky or anything but doesn’t that mean i’m smartest to ever exist? Exactly. But no, she just still had to run her mouth, so now I’m working this dumb part-time job at “Bound and Brew,” where the only exciting thing is the smell of cinnamon wafting in from the café next door.

Speaking of which, I mentally add a bagel to my lunch break checklist. Asiago, toasted, extra cream cheese—don’t judge me.

I glance at the clock on my phone. Still early. My chin rests in my palm as I lean on the counter, half-heartedly refreshing the store’s Instagram page. No new likes. Big surprise. God, I have practice tomorrow, and for what?

My earbuds buzz with a notification, but before I can check, the door chimes.

My eyes flicker up, and there she is. The girl with the brown, coily hair.

She’s been coming here for weeks now. Never buys anything, just walks around, poking through shelves like she’s on some personal treasure hunt. I’m pretty sure she works at the café next door—I always see her there, either taking orders or perched by the window with a book in one hand and a green matcha latte in the other. Matcha. It’s alright, I guess, but I can’t help the silent judgment. gatorade > tea.

Her eyes meet mine as she steps inside, and I clear my throat, pulling out one earbud. “Hey, what can I do for you?”

She smiles softly, the kind of smile that’s more polite than warm. “You’re fine. I don’t need help yet.”

Her voice is quiet, soft enough that it almost doesn’t match the confidence in the way she carries herself. She’s bundled in a gray puffer coat, her pink sweatpants tucked into winter boots. The UConn shirt under her jacket catches my eye.

She goes to my school? Weird. I’ve never seen her on campus.

I nod, going back to my phone, but I can’t help the way my eyes track her as she moves through the store. Her hands graze the spines of books, pausing occasionally to pick one up, read the back, then put it back in place.

She doesn’t rush. There’s something careful about the way she lingers in each aisle.

I shouldn’t be looking (staring) at her like this.I really shouldn’t, but her hair is just…nice. Thick curls that spring with life, framing her face like something out of a painting. And her skin? Smooth, glowing, the warm tone almost golden under the soft overhead lights.

Wow. I’m really gay.

I snap my attention back to my phone, pretending to scroll. My heart’s doing that annoying thing where it skips.

When I glance up again, she’s at the door. Leaving already. She didn’t pick up a book or anything again.

The door chimes softly as it closes behind her, and I’m left staring at the empty space where she just stood.

She’s really, really pretty.

And just like that, I’m shaking my head, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Get it together, Paige.

This is supposed to be a job, not some secret queer daydream.

By the time my lunch break rolls around, I’m practically counting down the seconds.

The café next door is my safe haven. Warm, cozy, and always smelling like cinnamon and espresso. It’s everything the bookstore isn’t. I step inside, stomping the snow off my sneakers, and head straight for the counter.

There’s no line, which is a small miracle, but then I see her pretty face again.

Brown curls, her same shirt, pink sweats, and those same bright eyes. She’s standing behind the counter, tying an apron around her waist.

Oh.

I knew she worked here! Scholar of the year i told you.

“Hi,” she says when she spots me. Her voice is just as soft as before, but there’s something about the way she looks at me that makes my stomach flip.

“Hey,” I reply, trying to sound casual. “Can I get an asiago bagel, toasted? Extra cream cheese.”

She nods, her hands already moving to jot down the order. “Anything to drink?”

“Just a black coffee,” I say. “Simple.”

She glances up briefly, the corner of her lips quirking like she’s amused. “Simple’s good.”

Her gaze lingers a second too long, and I feel the faintest heat creeping up my neck. There’s something about the way she’s looking at me, like she’s trying to figure me out but doesn’t want me to notice. I definitely noticed.

I glance at her name tag, needing some kind of distraction. “Azzi,” I murmur under my breath. It suits her.

She catches me looking, her cheeks tinting the slightest pink as she fiddles with the pen in her hand. “It’ll be ready in a minute,” she says quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thanks, Azzi.” Her name rolls off my tongue easier than I expect, and the way her eyes widen just a little makes it worth it.

Azzi ducks her head, pretending to check the order screen, but I can see the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. She’s shy, reserved even, but there’s something so genuine about the way she carries herself. It’s almost refreshing.

As I wait, I glance around the café, the hum of chatter and clinking mugs filling the space. A few students are hunched over laptops in the corner, and there’s an older couple sharing a slice of cake by the window. The atmosphere is cozy, intimate, like something out of a movie.

“Bagel and coffee,” Azzi calls softly, placing my order on the counter.

I step forward, and for a split second, our hands brush as I reach for the tray. Her fingers are warm, a stark contrast to the cold outside, and I swear I see her inhale sharply before quickly pulling away.

“Thanks,” I say again, trying to meet her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She hesitates, like she wants to say something else, but instead, she bites her lip and busies herself wiping down the counter.

As I turn to leave, I catch her glancing at me again, her gaze lingering on my face before quickly darting away.

I smirk to myself, holding back a chuckle. So she does notice me.

Sliding into a seat by the window, I take a sip of my coffee, my eyes drifting back to Azzi. She’s leaning against the counter now, flipping through what looks like a notebook, nah definitely a sketchbook. Her curls bounce slightly as she moves, and there’s a faint smile on her lips, like she’s lost in her own little world.

For some reason, it’s hard to look away.

I finish my bagel way too fast, but instead of leaving, I sit there for a while, pretending to check emails on my phone while sneaking glances at her. She’s busy now, taking orders and chatting with customers, but every once in a while, her eyes flicker over to me.

It’s subtle—barely noticeable—but it’s enough to make my chest tighten.

When I finally get up to leave, I make a point to walk past the counter.

“See you around, Azzi,” I say, letting her name hang in the air.

Her head snaps up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Yeah, uh—see you,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing as she fumbles with a stack of napkins.

I chuckle to myself as I step back into the cold, the warmth of the café lingering in my mind.

This job might not be so bad after all.

—

The next morning, Paige finishes practice, her muscles aching but her mind buzzing with anticipation. She now knows Azzi works morning shifts, and though she tells herself she’s just stopping by for breakfast, there’s no denying the extra pep in her step as she drags Nika along with her to the café.

As they walk in, the comforting aroma of coffee and freshly baked goods fills the air. Paige’s eyes scan the room, immediately finding Azzi at the counter, focused on a stack of receipts. Her heart skips a beat.

Paige shrugs off her hoodie, tossing it onto the back of a chair at an empty table by the window. She and Nika sit down, glancing over the breakfast menu. Paige tries to act casual, but Nika, ever observant, leans in.

“Calm yourself down and find something to get.” Nika pipes up.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, burying her face in the menu.

Just then, Azzi glances up and notices them. Her expression softens, and she waves, a shy smile spreading across her face.

Paige beams back, her cheeks tinged pink as she waves back.

“Hi,” Azzi greets, approaching their table. Her soft voice makes Paige’s heart flutter.

“Hey,” Paige responds, a little too quickly.

“What can I get you guys?” Azzi asks, pulling out her notepad.

“I’ll have eggs and a croissant,” Nika says, glancing between Paige and Azzi with a knowing smirk.

“I’ll take some pancakes,” Paige says, handing Azzi the menu.

Azzi jots down their orders and looks up. “What would you like to drink?”

“Orange juice,” Nika answers.

“And—” Paige starts, but before she can finish, she and Nika both say in unison, “Coffee, black.”

They burst into laughter, and Paige sneaks a glance at Azzi, whose dimples appear as she smiles.

“Got it,” Azzi says, gathering the menus and walking back toward the counter.

Paige’s eyes linger on her retreating figure, her gaze drifting downward until Nika snaps her fingers in front of her face.

“Yo twin, is that the girl you keep talking about in your sleep?”

Paige’s head snaps toward Nika, her eyes wide. “What? In my sleep?”

Nika leans back, smirking. “Yeah, I heard you last night saying her name over and over again. ‘Azzi, Azzi,’” she mimics, feigning a dreamy voice.

Paige’s face flushes. “Shhh! I don’t—whatever, I just say random stuff when I’m sleeping.”

“Sure, sure,” Nika says, winking. “But you keep staring at her. And she keeps looking over here.”

Paige shrugs, slipping into her usual cocky demeanor. “Well, I mean, it’s me. Can you blame her?”

Nika rolls her eyes. “Cocky ass.”

A few moments later, Azzi returns with their food. She sets Nika’s plate down first.

“Thank you,” Nika says with a grin.

As Azzi places Paige’s plate in front of her, she hands her the coffee. But before Paige can grab it, another worker bumps into Azzi from behind, sending the coffee spilling onto Paige’s shirt. Azzi stumbles forward, gasping as she falls right into Paige’s lap.

“Yo!” Paige snaps, turning to the worker. “Can’t you watch where you’re walking? You just made her fall.”

The worker mumbles an apology and scurries off as Azzi scrambles to her feet, her face burning red.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Azzi stammers, her voice shaking.

Paige brushes it off, trying to calm her down. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. But I do need a new shirt now.”

Azzi looks stricken. “I—I think I have an extra one in the back. Come with me to the bathroom?”

Paige stands, turning to Nika, who is smirking like the Cheshire Cat.

“Shut up,” Paige warns, flipping her off as she follows Azzi.

In the bathroom, Azzi motions for Paige to wait while she fetches a shirt. As soon as she leaves, Paige peels off her stained hoodie, leaving her in a sports bra and sweats. She grabs a paper towel, wets it at the sink, and wipes the remaining coffee off her stomach.

When Azzi returns, she pauses for a moment, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly hands Paige a black t-shirt.

“Sorry again,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige grins as she pulls the shirt over her head. “You’re good. Thank you.” She smooths the fabric and gives a playful twirl. “See? Good as new.”

Azzi giggles, her dimples deepening.

Paige’s expression softens. “You have a really pretty smile.”

Azzi ducks her head, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she says softly. “We should probably head back before my boss notices.”

“Lead the way, Miss Azzi,” Paige says, motioning dramatically toward the door.

As Paige returns to the table, Nika raises an eyebrow. “Everything good?” she asks, smirking.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, sitting down.

Once they finish eating, Nika and Paige pack up to leave. As they’re about to walk out, Paige glances around, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Azzi. When she doesn’t see her, she sighs and heads for the door.

Just as she steps outside, she feels a light touch on her back. Turning, she finds Azzi standing there, holding a folded piece of paper.

“Hey,” Azzi says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to say sorry again about your shirt.”

“I told you, it’s okay,” Paige says, smiling. “Things happen. And I love my new shirt.”

Azzi smiles nervously, then holds out the paper. “Okay, um, don’t think this is weird, but it kinda is? but it’s also- anyway I wanted to give you this.”

Paige takes the paper and unfolds it, her eyes widening at the detailed sketch of herself.

“Woah,” she breathes.

Azzi shifts on her feet. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. I just did it for fun.”

Paige fakes a pout. “And here I thought you did it because you liked me.”

Azzi blinks, her cheeks flaming. “Well… that too,” she admits quietly.

Paige grins, her confidence swelling. “This is so good I could literally kiss you right now.”

Azzi’s voice drops to a whisper. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Paige steps closer, her hand cupping Azzi’s cheek as she leans in. Their lips meet, soft and tentative at first, before deepening into a kiss that leaves them both breathless.

When they pull apart, snowflakes drift around them, settling in their hair. Paige grins. “So, if I asked you on a date right now, would you sketch me again?”

Azzi laughs, her dimples showing. “Maybe.”

“Pretty please?” Paige pleads, pouting dramatically.

Azzi rolls her eyes playfully. “Fine fine. Since you’re begging.”

Azzi glances over Paige’s shoulder, spotting Nika in the distance, pumping her fist in the air and yelling, “Go gays!”

“Isn’t that your friend?” Azzi asks, raising an eyebrow.

Paige groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I don’t know her.”

#pazzi #fic talk #pazzi fics #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #rosie’s works 🎧⋆｡ °⋆#rosemariiaa

325 notes · View notes

flowerxbunnie · 11 months ago

Note

Tattoo artist matt 🫦 and he’s praising the reader and telling her she’s taking it really well 🫦🫦 and she gets addicted to it and keeps coming back for more tattoos 🫦🫦🫦 and he’s like ‘wow you’re single-handedly paying my bills, this one’s on the house’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦 and she’s like ‘no, i gotta pay you.’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 i think you know where i’m going with this

ps I love you 💋

Ink

Tattoo artist!Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: needles, blood, pain, tension, no smut (yet?? 😏) but veryyyyyy suggestive at times

6.3k words

Your skin is tender and raw, a soft wince drawn from your mouth as your tattoo artist wipes the excess ink with a rough paper towel.

“So proud of this one,” Alex beams as she scoots back in her chair, the wheels rolling her towards her supply cart. She grabs a roll of plastic wrap and some tape before using her feet to roll back toward your chair. “Let’s get you all wrapped up.”

“It turned out so good, dude.” You say in awe as you hold your arm out to her.

“Did you expect any less?” She jokes, wrapping the wound snugly and taping it up before shooting you a smile. “All done. Keep the wrap on for a few hours. It’ll be a little leaky, that’s normal. Wash once a day with unscented soap… blah blah blah you know the drill. Still legally obligated to tell you.” She chuckles at the end, standing up to throw away her stained gloves. “Come up to the desk whenever you’re ready.” She says before she turns on her feet and heads to the front of the shop.

You stand up and gather your belongings feeling the adrenaline rush a new tattoo always seems to bring out of you. Your arm pulses and slightly burns, a sensation you’d become addicted to over the past couple of years. You’re not covered in ink by any means, but you’ve gotten your fair share, all done by Alex.

You love the way her shop feels more like a home than a sterile clinical office. Tapestries are hung haphazardly across the walls, strings of fairy lights sprawl across the ceilings and there’s more weird little knick-knacks strewn about than you could ever imagine counting. Your favorite is the preserved butterflies she has in shadow boxes lined down the hallway.

Once you gather your keys and bag, you take the walk to the front and admire all the sketches pinned along the walls. Alex is waiting for you with a warm smile as she tells you the total. You sit your bag down and rummage for your wallet, gathering the money along with a generous tip as always.

“You want the change back?” She asks as she counts the bills.

“Just take the fucking tip Alex.” You raise an eyebrow at her.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” she chuckles humbly, shaking her head as she sorts the cash into her vintage register.

“I know I don’t have to,” you laugh, tossing your wallet back into your bag, “I want to.”

You grab the strap of your bag and throw it across your shoulder, knocking a binder off the counter in the process. You let out a quiet curse as you bend down to pick it up, flipping it over to look at the cover.

“Oh, you should look through that!” Alex chimes in excitedly. “It’s a bunch of flash pieces that are up for grabs. They’re going quick, you should pick one out!”

“Oh nice..” you thumb through the pages, studying the intricate artwork tucked behind sheet protectors. “These are so good Alex..”

“You think?” She asks, bending down to restock her glass display cabinet with more tattoo salve.

You turn page after page, seeing traditional pieces like tigers and roses, more abstract watercolor pieces and some random goofy sketches of cartoon characters. You stop when you come across a snake separated into segments with the word ‘collarbone’ scratched underneath of it.

“This one is so detailed,” you say, running your fingers across the sheet protector. “Why’s it all broken up like that?”

Alex stands back up to her feet and looks over the page, her brows furrowing a bit as she adjusts her glasses. “Oh, it’s because it’s made to look like it’s wrapping around your collarbone. Like it’s going into your skin kinda.”

“Oh, sick,” You say excitedly, “I’ll take that one then. When can you get me in?”

“That’s not mine, girl. That’s the new guy’s design. You may have seen him here before? He transferred here like three…ish months ago?” She rambles as she sorts through a stack of paperwork.

You think back, not recalling seeing a different face in the shop. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone new. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been here and you usually get me in and out.” You pull the binder closer and admire the tiny detailing of the snake skin. “He looks pretty good.. but I don’t know if I can cheat on you.” You sigh jokingly.

“Honestly, he’s fucking amazing. His card is right there if you wanna make an appointment.” She points to a carousel of different artists’ cards. “Matt… the black card.. yep that’s it.”

You stick the matte black card in your bag and give Alex a humorous warning glare. “If he fucks my tattoo up Alex I swear to god.”

“Just make the appointment, Y/n. He’ll do good, promise. Why would I hire someone whose work I don’t trust?” She laughs and steps out from behind the counter, walking towards the door. “Now get out of my shop, I need to rest my eyes.” She laughs as she pulls the door open.

——————

You dig through your bag, pulling out hair ties, loose sticks of gum and countless receipts as you search for your favorite chapstick. “I swear I left it in here,” you think out loud, gasping as your finger slides across the corner of something sharp. You pull your hand back, sucking back a curse and see a tiny paper cut on your finger, laughing at the fact that something so small can hurt so bad. You reach back in and grab the culprit, a black sturdy rectangular card.

Fuck. It’s been 3 days.

You look over the card.

Matt Sturniolo

Appointments by text.

Come get somethin’ nice!

You pull out your phone and create a new contact, typing the 10 digit number slowly and double checking, making sure you got every single one right. You let out a sigh that you’ve been holding back, deciding to drop your worries, bite the bullet and make the appointment.

Alex won’t care, she doesn’t mind. She wants me to.

He thinks I’m a guy, funny, you think to yourself, locking your phone and sitting it on the counter.

—————

The week comes and goes, the same mundane routine dragging you through the creeping days. It’s finally Friday, meaning you’re risking the integrity of your skin on an artist you’ve never even met before, let alone vetted his work. Sure, he can draw a sketch but can he execute it just as well into your skin? The entire drive to the shop you shuffle through your playlist while your fingers absentmindedly tap against the steering wheel, mind racing with every possible outcome.

You sit in the parking lot, nerves at an all time high as you scroll through TikTok trying to numb your brain while the minutes pass. You quickly peek up to the clock on your dashboard, heaving a sigh.

5:32.

Fuck. I still have way too much time.

You groan quietly and put your phone down in your cupholder, leaning your head back against the headrest and close your eyes. Your left foot taps slowly against the footrest in your floorboard, creating a steady rhythm, pulsing along with your music that quietly hums in the speakers. You pick your head back up and grip the steering wheel with a huff, tracing your hands up and down around the warm leather.

Your eyes follow passersby as they stroll and pace down the sidewalk, essentially people watching. Your hand somehow makes its way to your mouth without realizing, your nails picking and pulling at the skin of your lips habitually. You only notice when you taste the bitter metallic flavor of blood on your tongue, silently scolding yourself as you pull down your vanity mirror.

You lick the wound and pull your sore bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly hyperaware of the shriveled, dehydrated state they’re in. Leaning across your car to reach for the glovebox, you pull it open and grab the lip oil you leave in your car for moments like this. You shut the glovebox and center yourself in the reflection of the mirror, opening the tube and applying a much too generous amount of the gloss to your lips. You smack and pucker your lips, appreciating the way they seem to come back to life, plump and slightly tinted.

You look to the side as you run your finger against the corner of your mouth, cleaning up your work. A small blackboard that sits outside the door of the shop catches your attention, propped up and smeared with chalked in words. It lists the information for an upcoming tattoo fair, has random small sketches littering the board, and lists a social media account near the bottom.

Why haven’t I ever thought of that?

You pick your phone up out of the cupholder after you slam your mirror shut, clicking the Instagram icon and typing the handle into the search bar. You click on the account, seeing that Alex’s individual account is linked at the top as well as a piercer, Darren, who you’ve met a couple of times. You scroll down through the feed, seeing copious photo collages of fresh versus healed ink and videos with music edited into the background, featuring Alex working her magic in the shop.

You scroll past a reel of Alex promoting a clean brand of tattoo healing balms, your finger coming to a still as you land on a video of a man hunched in his chair, his body leaning over as he works a tattoo gun into someone’s leg. You can’t make out much of him from the video, but he’s clad in a stone washed black t-shirt and jeans littered with ink stains. Tattoos sprawl across his left arm that pulls at the person’s skin, holding it steady as he moves the dripping needle back and forth. Though his face isn’t visible, you notice his wispy, umber brown hair that falls forward as he works. Light catches the strands and outlines each wave as they cascade over his brow bone. Scrolling down, you read the caption.

“Matt may be new but he is making himself well known in the shop! Text him to book, slots are filling up fast!”

You scroll further and find more pieces done by Matt but can’t seem to find a tagged account. Your shot nerves are soothed a bit as you examine each flawless piece of art, every one of them so perfect it’s almost like a printed photo taped to skin. You can’t deny that the man is talented. You scroll down until you reach the very first photo that mentions his name, dated three months ago just like Alex had said.

Maybe I do trust him.

You break yourself from the distraction of your phone and check the time again, quickly fixing yourself in the mirror as you realize you need to head in immediately. Your soft fingers brush down the wild flyaways in your hair in an attempt to look as put together as possible. Grabbing the handle of your bag and slinging it across your shoulder, you turn off the ignition and step out of your car, making sure to lock the doors behind you.

You feel the ground beneath your feet meeting your body in shockwaves with each step you take towards the familiar building. In the reflection of the glass you watch your figure grow closer. You let out one last deep exhale as you grip the iron handle, pulling it open and feeling the cool air shoot across your skin.

As you step in and the door falls closed behind you, you take notice that the front desk is unoccupied. Distinct chatter can be heard over the music playing in the studio just down the hall and past the foyer, deep rumbling tones that you can’t piece together. You’re familiar enough with the shop that you feel comfortable going back without a so-called escort, so you grip the handle on your shoulder and begin the walk down the dimly lit hallway.

The walls open up into the studio and the music is so loud it almost vibrates your skin. You step closer to the source of the voices, one of them being the piercer you’re familiar with. He stands talking expressively with his hands to another man who sits with his back facing you, arms behind his head as he leans back into his chair.

“Is Matt here?” You question, looking around the rest of the studio.

The men continue on with their conversation, completely unaware you’d even said anything over the racket of the rock music. Clearing your throat, you step forward, just about six feet away from them at this point and speak up once again.

“Is anyone working the desk right now?”

The piercer turns his head to face you and the man in the chair spins around, planting his feet to stop himself.

His blue eyes catch your attention first, so bright the gaze is almost difficult to keep. But you do, and so does he. He drops his hands down from the back of his head, one of his arms coming to lay on the armrest of his chair and the other stroking the stubble that peppers his chin. The tattoos across his left arm in contrast to the blank one on the right tell you that this is your guy, this is Matt.

What you don’t know is how he feels his blood pumping hot at the sight of you. He does his best to keep his eyes above your shoulders, but he can’t help letting them wander down your supple, shining skin, immediately thinking about how soft it must be. Matt sees so many women everyday, some in very compromising positions, but just the sight of you standing in front of him has made him feel weak. The way you look so innocent and bright, juxtaposing the way you’re standing in front of his sketches of skulls and anatomically correct organs being feasted on by animals.

You feel a wave of awkward silence even through the intense bass sounding through the speakers. You ask once again if anyone is working the front desk, but your voice struggles to overpower the volume. You see Matt’s cheeks pull up into a chuckle as he reaches back around to the table, fishing for his phone and clicking the volume down considerably.

You huff, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice as you repeat yourself for the fourth time. “Is anyone working the front?”

“I’m sorry honey, we don’t take walk ins.” He rasps as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “You’ll need to make an appointment.”

“I have one.” You retort, resting your weight on one of your legs.

The bearded man walks away to his piercing station, leaving the two of you in a sort of awkward staredown.

“Alex is out today, and I’m expecting a guy to be walking in any minute for my next appointment. Are you sure yours was for today?” He asks smoothly.

“You’re Matt right?”

His shoulders tense when you say his name, but he relaxes them as he nods his head. “Yeah, I’m Matt.”

“Oh, well then yeah.. I’m Y/n. Collarbone snake for 6 o’clock.” You clarify, pulling out your phone to ensure you had the date and time right.

His eyes widen and he silently scolds himself for assuming something so bold while being utterly wrong.

“Yeah, here it is.” You turn your phone to face him, stepping closer.

“I must have been tipsy when I replied or something,” he laughs and sits up in his chair, running his hands through his hair to soothe his embarrassment. “I assumed you’d be a dude for some reason.”

“No, at least not since the last time I checked.” You giggle, tossing your phone into your crowded bag.

His laugh gives you a sense of satisfaction, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he catches his breath. “Shit, that’s my bad then.” He says while pushing himself up to stand, his arms flexing under the tight sleeves of his shirt.

“No worries.” You give him a genuine smile, not wanting him to feel any more embarrassed than you can already tell he is from his flushed cheeks.

He steps forward with a long stride, his frame much larger and taller than you expected once he passes you to head to the hallway. He tries to ignore the way his pulse quickened with the way you beamed up at him moments before, walking quickly to the front desk.

You follow behind, breathing in the lingering scent his cologne leaves in his trail. Stepping in front of the counter as he grabs a stack of haphazardly sorted papers, you grab a pen from the cup in front of you.

He slides them over to you, groaning as he flips them so they’re facing your direction. “Might not be much help reading them upside down.” He chuckles. “Alright, so I’m assuming you know the drill, yeah?” He nods his head at your arms, eyes flickering over the ink.

“Mhmm..” you hum as you concentrate on crossing off and initialing boxes stating you don’t have any medical conditions hindering you from getting tattooed.

Matt watches in silence as you skim over the pages, twisting the pen between your small fingers. He places both hands on the ledge in front of him and moves ever so slightly closer, enough to watch your lashes as they brush your cheeks with each blink. If he got any closer you’d probably feel his breath hitting your skin.

You print and sign your name on the bottom of the last page, capping the pen and tossing it back into the cup. He’s stepping back as you look up at him with the papers outstretched, deciding ogling over you isn’t a very professional first impression.

“My ID is already on file.” You say as he takes the stack and turns to the side to run them through the scanner.

“Well look at you, smart girl huh?” He jokes, pressing buttons to send the papers through the machine.

You feel warmth creeping up your neck and across your cheeks as the words fall from his lips. “I mean,” you pause with a giggle, “Alex is my only artist so I know she’s got everything she needs from me.”

“And you’re cheating on her with me?” He chuckles softly as he steps out from behind the counter, turning to head back towards the studio. “Let’s get this started, shall we?” His voice is quiet, his back to you as he walks ahead.

Matt’s shirt is stretched thin across his broad shoulders, and you absentmindedly let your eyes sink down his arms, following the veins that trail from them into his hands as they swing. His walk is confident and steady, unwavering.

Part of him wishes he had let you walk ahead of him so he could selfishly glue his eyes to your legs, drinking up the way your shorts hug them perfectly. But he has to keep this professional, you’re just a customer.

He walks to his table, gripping a handle and maneuvering the headboard so that you’ll be partially sitting, partially leaning back. “Go ahead and have a seat for me.” He gestures you to the table.

You sit your bag in your lap as you adjust in the seat, a chill running through you as the cold textured leather presses against your back. Matt stands over his supply cart, looking back and forth between you and a few sheets of paper.

“I printed a few stencils but they’re all man sized..” he laughs, crumpling them up and tossing them into his trash bin. “I’m gonna have to free hand it.”

Your eyes widen as he grabs a marker off the top of the cart and pulls the lid off with his teeth, scooting his rolling chair up to your table. “Uhh.. are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Honey…” he laughs, his head falling forward before he looks up at you with a grin. “You know I sketched the design free handed, right?”

You silently curse yourself and do your best to laugh it off, but you definitely made yourself feel incredibly dumb. Somehow he switched the mood and made it feel like he was laughing with you instead of at you, though.

“Alright… first let me…” he trails off, looking around his table before replacing the marker with a fresh razor. “I know you don’t have chest hair, but I kinda have to clear the canvas regardless.” He gives you a humored smile.

He pulls his chair up, his left hand brushing your hair off of your shoulder and down your back. He grabs your tank top strap with a clenched jaw, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingers feel like jolts of electricity on your skin, like he shouldn’t be touching you, but also like you want more.

He’s a tattoo artist. Alex touches me everytime she does one of my tattoos. There’s nothing weird about it, stop making it weird.

You gulp and hope that your cheeks haven’t given away your feelings as he gets the strap out of his way and leans closer. You look forward, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with Matt as he slowly drags the razor across your skin.

“Alright there’s that.” He spins around and tosses the razor in the trash can, grabbing the marker once more. “Gonna sketch it out roughly right quick. It won’t look as detailed right now but I’ll add ‘em in later.” He mumbles as he tilts his head, bringing the marker to your collarbone.

Matt drags the marker across your skin with furrowed brows as he perfects the curvature of the snake to look like it’s wrapping around your bone. He can smell your sweet perfume permeating from your body, so close he can almost sniff out the individual notes. “You smell like candy.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. He bites down on his lip, shutting his eyes for a moment before he gets straight back to sketching, hoping you didn’t find it odd.

“Thank you!” You beam, “Funny enough it’s actually Prada Candy. I love it.”

He hums in response and finishes up his outline, rolling back to look at it from further away. “Sit up for me right quick.” He instructs and you listen. He nods his head, approving of his placement and sketch. “Let’s make sure you like it first.” He turns to the side and grabs a handheld mirror off his cart. He holds it out to you, his fingertips brushing yours as he hands it off.

“I love it! It’s the perfect size. Even just the sketch looks so good.” You grin as you study the purple ink in the mirror. You smile as you hand the mirror back to him, taking notice of the subtle curve of his lips.

“Great then. Already got the machine all set up and the ink wells filled. You ready?” He asks with raised eyebrows.

The look on his face tells you that you might have bitten off more than you can chew. “I… think I’m ready. Should I be worried?”

He sucks his teeth as he looks down with a stifled smirk. “Well… the collarbone isn’t the most pleasant place to get a needle jammed into your skin, I’ll leave it at that.”

You look to him with wide eyes. You’d never even considered how painful it might be, all of your other tattoos being on your arms and lower legs. “Matt, you’re scaring me.” You nervously laugh.

His stomach does a flip when you say his name for the second time today. He shoved the feeling down and reaches over, grabbing the tattoo gun in his right hand and turning it on briefly. The vibration sounds throughout the room and he assures it’s in good working condition before shutting it back off and looking up at you. “I think you’re a brave girl, you can take it.” He says lowly but causally as he rolls up next to the table, resting his left arm next to your shoulder.

The way Matt’s words fall from his lips like honey makes your skin feel as if it’s being licked with flames. You look down as he flips the gun on once again and dips the needle into the pitch black ink, the fluid dripping onto the table as he slowly raises it toward you.

“You’re gonna have to turn a little.” He almost whispers as he uses his left hand to guide your jaw to the side, giving him better access to your skin. “Alright, there we go.” He leans in as he brings the needle down into your skin, a sharp scratching and stinging pain making you gasp lightly. “You good?” He asks in a caring tone as he lifts the gun back up and scans your pained expression.

“Yeah, yeah.. I’m okay.” You breathe out. “Feels a lot different than arms and legs.”

You see him nod silently and lower the needle back to the surface of your skin, slowly pressing all the way down until he’s drawing the solid outline. He adjusts his left arm and places his warm hand onto your shoulder, his fingers gripping and pulling at the skin to keep it taut. He glances up at your face every now and again as he tattoos you, his view of your side profile and jawline begging him to keep looking. “You can move your head now. Got that upper outline all done.”

You turn your head to look at him, a smile pulling at your cheeks when you see he’s already looking up at you with hooded lids. He flashes you a small crooked grin before dipping his head back down and working on the rest of the outline. You squirm in your chair as the needle moves and works across your flesh, the area growing hot and tender.

You see a thin sheen of sweat forming on his arms under the heat of his overhead light, illuminating every dip and valley through the rolling veins on his hands. His wrist moves back and forth as he maneuvers the machine, his lip bitten between his teeth. Every few minutes his body must become sore because he moves his legs, adjusting in his seat before he brings his grip back to your shoulder.

He concentrates as he finishes the last of the outlining details, sitting up against the backrest of his chair and putting the gun down on his cart. “All done with the outline.” He smiles.

“Really?” You marvel excitedly. You peer down to take a look but huff once you realize you can’t bend your neck enough to get a good view.

Matt takes notice and leans over to grab the handheld mirror off his cart, except his left hand finds a spot atop your knee, sliding gingerly down your calf as he stretches toward his cart. As soon as his touch is there it’s gone. He leans back toward you and hands you the handle, smiling when you examine it in the mirror. “What do you think?”

You won’t lie to yourself, your pulse quickened when his hand brushed down your leg. Your only hope is he doesn’t notice the trail of goosebump he left behind in the absence of his touch. You struggle to find words, your mouth hanging open before you eventually find your voice. “I.. uh… l-looks really good.”

He exhales a small chuckle as he turns to switch the outlining needle for a shading needle. “Let me know if you need a break before I start this part.” He mumbles as he dips the set of needles into the well of ink.

You quickly shake your head. “Nope, get it over with.” You say flatly, closing your eyes. Shading is hit or miss, it either feels super relieving or like you’re getting shredded with a freshly sharpened cheese grater.

“That’s a good girl. All in one go, hm?” He murmurs as he scoots closer yet again.

He did not just say that. I’m thinking too much into this.

You give him a light chuckle and suck air in through your teeth once the needles meet your skin.

“Shhh.. you’re doing good. A lot better than a lot of crybaby men that have been on my table.” He coos as he drags the ink over the raw, bleeding skin.

If it wasn’t Matt you’d be much more of a mess. You’d probably be damn near in tears. But you can’t seem weak around him, so you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut as he shades and details the design. Your hands clench the air until your knuckles are white and throbbing, your body needing to release energy into anything other than the pain you’re in.

“Squeeze my arm if you need to. I don’t mind.” Matt proposes, stilling his movement and brushing his brown waves out of his eyes before looking at you expectantly.

You gulp and move your shaking hands to his bicep, wrapping your dainty fingers around the expanse of it lightly.

“C’mon, give me more than that.” He chuckles, “Just don’t squeeze hard enough that I fuck up your ink.”

You grip into his arm with more pressure, feeling his muscles expand and contract under his skin as he moves his forearm.

Thank god Darren left earlier. This looks so… personal.

When a small strained whimper slips out of your mouth he clears his throat, blinking hard as he wipes the tattoo with the paper towel in his left hand. He knows it’s because of the pain, he knows he shouldn’t enjoy the sound. But he does.

He can’t help himself as he finishes up the rest of the tattoo. He finds himself pressing the needle into your skin with more pressure than necessary, enough to draw more pretty sounds out of you and make you grip onto his arm. Enough for you to throw your head back onto the leather of the table, squirming your legs as you squeeze your eyes shut. He’d never do anything to mess up the integrity of his art, but god does he want to. He knows it’s wrong that his pants grow tighter with every move you make, every curse you let out as he pushes more and more ink into your skin. He sees this everyday, why is it affecting him like this?

The angel on his shoulder tells him to get the tattoo done, work fast and get you off his table. The devil on his other tells him to keep you here writhing and squeezing at him for as long as he can. His eyes drift across your sweaty face, your wet baby hairs sticking to your forehead. Your chest rises and falls as he digs in, taking his time to let the needle drag. His mind floods with sin, his hands desperately aching to pull the neckline of your tank top even a millimeter lower.

Your harsh squeeze to his arm snaps him out of his stream of thought, realizing he’d been keeping this on for too long, causing you unnecessary pain. Lifting the needle from your skin, he examines the finished piece for a moment. “All done.” He says flatly, pulling his arm from your grasp to set the machine down on his cart.

“Fuck… that was intense.” You breathe out, turning your head toward him.

“Mmm but you did great. Sat so well.” He praises as he grabs a bottle of cleaning solution.

You have no time to react before he’s squirting the liquid onto your collarbone, a harsh pulsing sting deep in your skin. “Oh that’s… fucking horrible.” You do your best to laugh through the sting.

He laughs along with you, nodding while he lets his eyes watch the droplets that flow down your chest and into the valley of your cleavage. He tears his eyes away and looks at his cart, scoffing when his box of paper towels proves empty. “Gotta go get some more paper towels,” he holds up the box, “be right back.”

“I won’t move a muscle.” You giggle and lean back onto the table.

He offers a quick smile before standing up, quickly turning around and walking to the utility closet across the studio. Once inside and out of view, he lets his hand wander down to the waistband of his jeans, slowly trailing lower to brush over his throbbing erection. He knows this is bad. He’s never had this kind of reaction to a client, and he can’t be crazy. He knows he’s seen you looking too.

He lets his rough fingertips push his shirt up and dip beneath his jeans and boxers, grabbing ahold of his pulsing cock with a slow, shaking breath. He pulls it up and tucks it into his waistband, knowing he can’t let you see the struggling tent in his pants when he walks back into the studio.

He quickly grabs a new sterile stack of paper towels and fills the empty box, sighing deeply before he begins the walk back to his station.

“They were up on a high shelf huh? Had to find a ladder?” You joke, poking fun at the fact he took longer than expected.

“Oh yeah. Had to call the fire department actually. Like when there’s a cat stuck in a tree.” He quips back with a laugh, sitting down and letting his chair roll closer to you.

He rubs the cleaning solution away and beams at his work. He may have taken longer than he needed, but damn if you didn’t get an insanely detailed snake piece. He grabs a package of Saniderm from his cart and peels the backing off, slowly applying it to the raw skin. “Leave this on for like two or three days, you can shower in it, sleep in it, the whole nine yards. It’ll start lifting and you’ll know it’s time to take it off.”

“Hmm.. Alex always uses plastic wrap.” You say questioningly, peering down at the clear bandage.

“That’s because she’s old.” He says matter of factly, peeling his gloves off and tossing them in the trash.

“She’s 35!” You chuckle and smack his shoulder.

“Yeah… old.” He replies as he fishes into his pocket. “Gotta get a picture of this, it turned out so sick.” He pulls his phone out and opens his camera, zooming in until he has the right angle and snapping a photo.

“Don’t post that, I bet I look busted.” You whine, sitting up and stretching your back.

“Well sweetheart, your face isn’t in the picture. But for the record, I think you look pretty good for a girl who just got a metric fuck ton of ink shoved into her collarbone with a needle.” He says as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Your breath hitches inaudibly in your throat, heat lapping at your cheeks.

I have to play it cool. He didn’t call me pretty. He’s saying I took the tattoo well, that’s all.

“Thanks, Matt.” You smile, throwing your legs off the table and letting your feet hit the floor.

“After you.” He gestures his arm out as he stands, knowing he has to take the opportunity to walk behind you this time.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and walk down the hallway, feeling his eyes bore into the back of your head the entire way.

Except his eyes bore into everything he missed out on earlier. Your toned, smooth calves and up to your plush thighs that wiggle as you walk. The curve of your ass in your shorts. The way your hips sway with each step, taunting his still half-hard member.

You reach the front desk and peek into the mirror on the wall to the left of it, admiring the fresh ink. You can’t stop ogling at it as he prints out a receipt, walking up to the register and silently watching you. You turn your head to him and mumble an “oops”, stepping back to the center of the desk and grabbing the receipt from him. “Only $120?” You exclaim, widening your eyes as you look up to him.

He gives you a light nod and a shrug, brushing his hand through his fluffy waves. “You took it like a champ. Plus, I know you’ll be back. Gotta give that recurring customer discount, right?”

You know your cheeks are fire engine red at this point as you dig for your wallet, feeling as if you’re taking too long.

Am I being crazy or is that flirting? He’s flirting, right?

You open your wallet and dig out the cash, adding a generous tip to the stack before you hand it over. “I really appreciate it, Matt.”

“Not a problem. You have my number if you need anything else.” He returns as he sorts the cash into the register. He flicks his eyes back up and meets yours, a brief, almost-too-long moment of eye contact held between you two.

You blink hard a few times before clearing your throat and nodding, stepping back from the counter. “You got it. Thanks again.”

You turn on your feet and head for the door, pushing it open while your brain spins with thoughts of your encounter.

What the fuck was that?

—————

authors note: part two??? lmk 😈😈😈

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