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joelscruff · 3 months

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imperfect for you (joel miller x f!reader)

masterlist | a/n written for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! i got joel + nose kisses with this lovely moodboard and actually managed to write something!!! believe it or not this started out as a drabble lmao. i hope you like it jana - sorry it's a bit late, and congrats again on your milestone 🤍 summary: you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby. warnings: age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles word count: 5.5k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

"When's the last time you slept?"

He doesn't bother to grace you with an answer, hands clenched on the steering wheel as you barrel down the vacant stretch of highway back to Lincoln. He's been ignoring you for the past fifteen minutes now, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. But he looks pale, almost sickly, the whites of his knuckles stark against the sudden greenish hue of his skin. The last thing you need is for him to pass out and for the two of you to crash into a damn ditch.

"I'm just saying," you continue with an exasperated sigh, "I could drive the rest of the way, we're almost there."

No reply. You roll your eyes and cross your arms indignantly in the passenger seat, returning his icy demeanor. He's in one of his moods again, the ones only Tess really knows how to handle, but you'd volunteered to try your hand at a supply run in her stead which means she's not here to mediate. You should've known some issue would arise, stubborn Joel inventing problems in typical Joel fashion.

"You could've tried to last at least one more hour pretending to like me," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't say anything.

Almost a year of working with them now, and you still don't understand him. You're not sure you ever will. Tess, she's much easier to understand, much more open to being understood. She'd seen your potential and taken you under her wing, brought you in to help, taught you everything you needed to know about smuggling. And Joel... well, he's a different story.

"You know, Tess thinks I have promise," you continue anyway, expression crumpling into a scowl, "She thinks I can do this. I don't get why you don't."

No answer.

"And don't say it's 'cause I'm a kid, because I'm not. I'm twenty three now, I'm past the point of being called a fucking kid. The shit I've seen in that QZ-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head, "I'm not a kid."

His lack of response is beginning to hurt deeper than you'd really like to admit. You glance over at him again; he's still staring straight ahead, still ignoring your presence. It makes unwanted tears prick in your eyes, nose stinging a little as you peer down at your lap and fold your hands together.

You'd been excited for this supply run, probably against your better judgement. You'd wanted to show him how much you know and understand, how hard you've been working, how you're up to the task. Hoped maybe he'd give you a smile - rare, but not impossible - and tell you that you did good, that he sees potential in you too.

You care what he thinks, almost more than what Tess thinks. And you know why, can sense it deep in the pit of your stomach and in the way your heart stutters when he looks at you, but you're clearly living in a fantasy world if you think he's ever gonna get past whatever this stigma is that he has against your age. She's too young, Tess. She'll get hurt, Tess. She shouldn't be doin' this, Tess. You've heard it all, muffled through closed doors in a dark and damp hallway.

He doesn't want you, and you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. If he's not willing to change his stance, view you as anything other than an inconvenience...maybe Tess will have to find somebody else to help out.

"I know what I'm doing," you mumble, a tear dribbling down your left cheek, "I just wanna help."

You spare him one more look, fruitlessly hoping that maybe he'll feel bad now that he's made you cry - a childish thought, considering you're trying to make a case for being mature, but you can't help it. You know he's capable of being gentle, of being kind. You've experienced it with him before, quiet moments between the two of you in his apartment while waiting for Tess to return, making small talk, him peering at you with a softness in those brown eyes that have since made frequent appearances in your dreams. Moments where you swear you felt wanted under that gaze, but it must've been in your head, because you certainly don't feel wanted right now.

He doesn't look well, you have to admit. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, getting paler by the second, turning an unnatural grey color akin to some of the hair on his head. His eyes are glassy, dark bags settled beneath them that you've noticed getting worse and worse over the past few weeks. You shoot a glance at his hands again and are surprised to see that he's loosened his grip, that his fingers seem to be trembling against the rubber.

"Joel," you say, raising your voice a bit, "Joel, are you okay?"

His lack of response no longer angers you - it worries you. Carefully, you reach over and slowly wrap your hand around his right wrist, eyes trained on his face. At your touch, he finally turns to look at you, almost like he's only just noticed you're even there.

"You say somethin'?" he asks, voice raspy, a bit slurred.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, "I think you should stop the car."

He looks at you curiously, dazedly. It's the expression of a man who's running on two, maybe three hours of sleep in the last few days. You choose your next words carefully, eyes flickering back and forth toward his face and the road that he's suddenly no longer watching.

"Let's slow down a bit," you murmur, thumb stroking gently along his skin - he's warm, warmer than normal - "I'm gonna drive the rest of the way, okay?"

You expect some pushback, an attempt at an argument, but the tiredness is setting in quickly. Without any hesitation he eases his foot off the gas and you hurriedly reach your own leg over into his space to push down on the brake. He doesn't seem to notice the way your bare leg brushes his jeans, the crease in your knee bending over the warmth of his thigh.

"There we go," you say softly, bringing the car to a slow stop. He's still looking at you, eyes unfocused as you carefully lean over a little more to unbuckle his seatbelt. You try to ignore how good he smells, how big he is compared to you, putting all your attention on getting him out of the front seat. You unlock his door and then unbuckle your own belt, hurrying out of the car to his side.

"M'okay," he mumbles as soon as you open his door. You start to help him out, and you think he's becoming a little more aware of the situation now, allowing you to pull him to his feet as you tug open the back door. "What's happenin'?"

"You're just tired," you tell him softly, "It's okay, you can sleep in the back, I'll drive."

"Bill n' Frank's," he says as you lead him the right way, pushing him a little and helping him place his knee down on the seat, "Y'know where it is? You remember?"

"I do," you tell him confidently, your hand coming down to press flat against his back - he's so solid, heat radiating against your palm, "Only twenty minutes away now, I got it. You just sleep."

He doesn't argue; in fact, he makes your job easier by crawling onto the seat and settling down with a low groan, rolling onto his back and breathing deeply. You can't help but let a small smile cross your features, watching as one of his hands comes up to rest atop his belly, the other dangling onto the floor. His eyelashes flutter a little, lips parting, and you're about to shut the door when he speaks again.

"I know you jus' wanna help, baby."

You stand there for a moment just staring at him, confusion racing through your thoughts. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as the last word repeats like a mantra in your head, steady and slow as Joel drifts off. It's only when the door is shut and you're in the front seat that you're able to put some meaning to the words, eyes wide as you stare at the faded lines on the road.

I know what I'm doing, you'd said, I just wanna help.

You leave him in the car when you get to Bill and Frank's, typing in the gate code with a backward glance at his loose form in the backseat. They must see him on one of the security monitors, because as soon as the doors open you spot them sprinting out of the house toward you, a scanner gripped in Bill's hand. Typical.

"He's okay," you tell them as soon as you're out of the car, instantly alleviating their stress, "He's just exhausted, I think he needs to sleep for a little while."

"Understatement of the century," Frank replies with a relieved laugh, eyeing the backseat, "Think we can get him in the house?"

"Just leave him in the car," Bill says with a wave of his hand, already turning to head back towards the house with the scanner hanging out of his pocket, "He'll be fine."

Your gaze meets Frank's and he rolls his eyes, "Come on, baby, let's get him upstairs." Your brows go up at the pet name, the same word that had fallen from Joel's lips only twenty minutes ago, but then Bill is shuffling back over with an annoyed look on his face and you quickly realize he's not talking to you.

Getting Joel out of the car proves to be a lot more difficult than getting him in. You try a gentle approach at first, brushing his arm and stroking his skin with your thumb again like you'd done earlier. You can feel Frank's eyes on you as you squeeze Joel's bicep, his wrist, his thigh, and you pretend you don't see the look that passes between him and Bill as you step out to let them take a turn.

Bill goes for a much more aggressive approach, shaking Joel's shoulders wildly and practically yanking him out of the car. Understandably, Joel wakes with a gasp and kicks his legs out, hand reaching for his pistol as he frantically tries to escape Bill's grasp. Before he can grab it though, he's suddenly falling forward, knees buckling as he faceplants onto the pavement beside the car.

Well, that certainly wakes him up. His hands press into the gravel and his head shoots up, blood trickling down his nose as he peers up at the three of you, stunned.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill," Frank groans.

"That was not my fault."

Ignoring them, you kneel down and gently touch Joel's shoulder, a concerned look on your face as you eye the splattered blood on the ground, "Fuck, are you okay?"

"What in the hell is goin' on?" he groans, turning to look at you, "Did Bill just break my fuckin' nose?"

"Don't be dramatic," Bill barks, spinning on the spot and heading into the house, "Shoulda just left you in the car."

Joel starts scrambling after him, rising up and standing on wobbly legs, hand reaching for his pistol once again. You and Frank grab him before he can do anything, both of you taking an arm and holding him back.

"Joel, you're exhausted," you tell him quickly, utilizing all your strength, "You just need to lay down. Please."

He turns his face to look at you and something flutters in your chest when you catch the way his eyes soften, the anger in his expression fading as he acknowledges your presence. You can vaguely make out Frank watching the two of you in your periphery, but you try your best to ignore it, instead opting to give Joel a reassuring smile.

"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"

You're grateful that Frank leaves you alone with Joel to tend to his nose. You've only met him a handful of times, but each time he'd somehow been able to clock the way you interact with Joel, the way you look at him. The last time you'd been here he'd subtly pulled you aside to give you a few words of wisdom.

"You do realize he's extremely unavailable, right?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about."

He'd smiled, tapped his nose and given you a knowing look, "And I don't just mean because of Tess. That man is emotionally constipated, kiddo. He's an island." He'd laughed then at your confused expression, shaking his head, "Just be careful, s'all I'm saying."

You'd gone to walk away, forget the conversation even happened, when he'd softly called after you:

"And I'm pretty sure Tess would hang your head on her wall."

You think of those words now as you stand in front of Joel in the small bathroom off the landing, lip between your teeth as you eye the cut on his nose. It isn't broken, thank fuck, but you can see some dirt and gravel in there that you need to clean out.

"It's not broken," you tell him softly. He's sitting on the edge of the bath tub, peering up at you with a much more alert expression. The fall definitely woke him up, not to mention the choice words he and Bill had thrown at each other as you and Frank helped him up the stairs. He's still exhausted though, and he needs to rest.

"I know it's not," he grumbles, "Just wanted to give Bill a piece of my mind for once."

You laugh softly as you reach for the damp cloth beside you, bringing it up to carefully pat it against the gash on the bridge of his nose. You can feel his eyes on you, watching and assessing as you do your best to wipe the area clean.

"I can do that myself," he murmurs.

"I just wanna help," you say quietly, and your eyes fall to his in a knowing glance. He doesn't seem to remember though, just nods and lets you carry on.

It's rare for you to be this alone with him. And by that, you mean this far from Tess. You're painfully aware that it would be impossible for her to walk in at any moment, to see the way you're standing over him, touching him. Frank's words from last time echo in your head but you're not quite sure you believe them; would she really be that angry if she knew how you felt about Joel? It's not like he'd return it, right? The man is twenty years your senior and, as Frank said, extremely unavailable. Not to mention Tess and Joel's relationship has been a point of confusion to you for a year now, still unsure exactly what they are to each other - would she really care?

You reach for the antiseptic - one of the many perks of having an injury in a supply house - and carefully dab some onto the cloth. Your hand trembles a bit as you reach up to carefully hold Joel's chin, your thumb getting lost in his greying beard.

"You haven't shaved in a while," you breathe, your eyes meeting his, and you wonder if you've already crossed a line by even noticing.

He doesn't seem to mind though, sighing deeply, "I haven't slept in a while, so let's hurry this up," he eyes the cloth, "Don't gotta warn me, just do it."

His words bring you back to the present, and you slowly ease the cloth down onto his cut. He hisses a bit, a normal reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to clean and then you're already reaching for a bandage, reluctantly letting go of his chin.

"I was worried about you, before. In the car," you tell him softly, unpeeling the adhesive, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

His eyes fall to the floor, "I just don't sleep good. Never have."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shrugs, gives you a humorless laugh, "Handful o' pills and a couple sips o' whiskey usually does the trick."

It makes sense, then, why these past few weeks he's seemed worse. It's been longer than usual since your last supply run and the three of you had started running out of vital supplies over a week ago now, not only for buyers but for yourselves. Joel had written whiskey near the top of the latter list, along with hydromorphone which he'd underlined several times.

"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," you murmur, applying the bandage carefully, "I could've driven the whole way."

"Could've, should've," he dismisses you with a grunt, "Doesn't matter now, does it? We got here, that's what counts."

You linger a little longer than you should on the bandage, thumb falling to gently trace the crease of his nose as you assess your work. It might scar, but it feels pointless to voice this - he already has so many, scattered across his face and neck like confetti. It hurts a little, knowing he's been through so much, seeing the evidence written all over him.

"My mom had this superstition," you tell him softly, a smile playing at your lips as you trace one of the scars under his eye, soft and delicate, "Whenever I got hurt, skinned my knee or busted my elbow playing, she'd bandage me up and then kiss it. She said a kiss would seal her love in there, keep me safe and protected. And if it scarred, that meant it worked."

He blinks at you, expression faltering a bit, "That's...that's a nice thought."

You shake your head, "It's silly, and not true. But... but I still do it anyway, even though she's gone. Just in case," you bite your lip, "I mean, who doesn't wanna feel a little more safe? A little more protected?"

Your gazes lock, and neither of you seem to move, caught in the stillness of the moment and the way your thumb is still stroking his face. You know you have limited time, maybe a few seconds before he breaks it, so without much thought at all you lean down and lightly press your lips to the bandage, eyes closed.

He inhales sharply, a sound that triggers butterflies in your tummy as you hold your mouth against his nose, soft and sweet. It's the closest you've ever been to him, even if you're kissing gauze and not skin - you can still feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the way he freezes below you. A squeaking sound pierces the silence, his hand squeezing the edge of the bath tub tightly. It startles you, your eyes blinking open as you pull back to look at him.

His cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids heavy as he peers up at you with slow blinks.

"You're tired," you breathe, unable to stop your hand from flitting to his hair, pushing a little behind his ear, "Let's get you to bed."

The Joel Miller in Bill and Frank's guest room is not the Joel Miller you thought you knew.

This Joel is loose, pliant. He lets you lead him into the bedroom with a hand on his back, lets you carefully turn him on the spot to reach up and undo the buttons on his flannel. Frank had told you on your way up to make sure Joel didn't get blood on the sheets, so you're only following orders, only doing what you were told.

"Sorry," you murmur softly, fingers shaking every so often as they toy with the buttons, sticky with his blood. Joel doesn't seem to notice though, retreating more and more into the sleepy state he'd been in earlier.

Once his flannel is off you assess his t-shirt and jeans, and you're not sure how to feel about the fact that they didn't get dirty in the fall. On the other hand, though, you're not sure you'd have been brave enough to take them off. Instead you help him toward the bed, pull back the sheets and carefully push him ahead.

"There you go," you whisper, helping him under the covers and pulling the blankets back over him. The sun is streaming through the window, casting the golden light of early evening across the bed, and while it's quite beautiful you shut the curtains anyway, knowing he'll sleep better in darkness. When you turn back around, he's already fallen asleep, lips parted, face peaceful. A different man.

You don't linger, even though you want to.

It's around ten o'clock when you decide to check on him again. You'd watched a movie with Bill and Frank, feeling more than a little unwelcome as Bill tossed you a few dirty looks every so often, though Frank repeatedly told you to ignore him. Now they're in bed downstairs while you pad from your own room across the hall to Joel's, turning the knob carefully. The hinges squeak a little as you open it and you wince.

"Who's there?" you hear Joel grumble from the bed. So much for just taking a peek.

"Me, just me." You push the door wider and walk inside, eyebrows going up when Joel turns on the bedside lamp. He seems a little more rested, although you know he still needs a full night's sleep. "I sent a message to Tess through the radio to let her know we're not coming back tonight - well, Frank did. Picked a song called Tomorrow or something like that."

"Hope it was the Johnny Mathis version," he mumbles, and you watch as he brings his hands up to rub across his face. He accidentally dismantles the bandage and you step forward without really thinking, hurrying to his side and reaching down to fix it.

His hand comes up to grab yours and you freeze in place.

"I can do it," he says, giving you a curt look and then releasing your hand to adjust the gauze himself.

Well, you suppose lax and sleepy Joel couldn't stick around forever. You stand awkwardly by the side of the bed, toying with the edge of the blanket as he rubs his eyes and sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard. He looks so much older in this light; you can see the little flecks of grey in his beard and hair that have been starting to get more noticeable lately, the crows feet, the wrinkles.

He's so handsome.

He turns to look at you with a frown, as if he's only just realizing what you said, "We can go back tonight, I'm fine."

"You're not and you know it. Besides, it's already past ten and now I'm tired, I won't be able to drive."

"I can drive."

"Joel," you surprise yourself by sitting down on the edge of the bed, narrowing your brow as you give him a serious look, "You can't drive. You almost fucking killed us both."

"No I-"

"Yes you did," your tone is firm, suddenly angry - are you angry? - "If I hadn't been talking to you, if I hadn't noticed something was wrong, you would've driven us off the damn road."

He goes quiet at that, frown deepening, the lines on his face more prominent in the low lamplight. You sigh, eyes falling to rest on where your hand is settled on the bed, only inches from his. Part of you wants to reach out and touch, feel the warmth of his skin, the rough of his palm - the other part decides to do something even more stupid.

"You called me baby."

It's out of your mouth before you've even really acknowledged it, and once the words have tumbled out you know there's no taking them back. Your gaze snaps back up to his, slightly surprised to see that he doesn't seem very shocked by your admission.

He clears his throat a little, averting his gaze and shuffling a bit under the covers, "Did I?"

"...Yeah."

You think maybe he'll say something else - anything else - but he doesn't. God, it really is like pulling teeth with him; he's so fucking beautiful but so impossible, never being able to expand on something unless prompted, never being able to answer a single question without jerking you around first. How the fuck has Tess managed to deal with it for so long?

The thought of Tess sends a wave of guilt through your body, Frank's words echoing in your head, but you shove it down.

"What made you... I mean why..." your voice is soft, apprehensive and shy in the quiet of the bedroom, "why'd you call me baby?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Don't ask me that."

The mood has shifted, your sudden anger ebbing and his annoyance fading into something else, something on the brink of being real. He's avoiding your eyes, peering at the window with the curtains drawn and tapping his fingers anxiously against the mattress, so close to your hand. He's nervous; you're making him nervous.

You stay silent, hoping he'll speak again, hoping maybe just this one time he'll tell you what he's thinking.

"I don't know why."

The words are barely a whisper, almost like he's telling you a secret, and he leaves them hanging in the air briefly before amending - "Well," he sighs and finally looks at you, an emotion you can't place crossing his features, "that's not true. But... I didn't mean - fuck, I was passin' out, for Christ's sake, I didn't realize-"

He cuts himself off again, raising his hand up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly forgetting the bandage. He winces when he comes in contact with the gauze, "Can I take this off? It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

"Let me do it," you say quietly, inching forward on the bed and reaching for his face. He flinches when you go to touch him, and your hand freezes mid-air.

"Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head like he's shaking off a sensation, a chill, "Go ahead."

With careful - and slightly trembling - fingers, you remove the bandage from his nose. It looks much better than before, no fresh blood in sight, and you suppose it's okay for him to keep it uncovered for the night. Without really thinking about it you gently thumb the side of his nose just shy of the cut, the tips of your other fingers brushing against his cheek.

"It's not too bad," you murmur, and before you know it you're suddenly cupping his jaw, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your gaze falls to his lips, your thoughts going a mile a minute.

You realize you're close enough that you could kiss him, if you really wanted to. If he really wanted to. All it would take is one small movement, one little push from the both of you, one leap of faith...

And then he whispers your name, almost a warning, and it's like his thoughts are mirroring yours - like he can see exactly what you're picturing, wishing for. Your eyes meet his and you feel a flutter in your stomach when you see the way he's looking at you, a quiet hunger hidden in the deep brown.

You decide to test the waters. You lean in and softly press another kiss to his nose, this time without the gauze in the way. Just like you'd thought, his skin is hot under your lips, soft but scarred, and his smell - god, he smells so masculine and safe, invading your senses as your lips trail downwards to press a small kiss to his cupid's bow, then another to the corner of his mouth. It's sharp, prickly from his scruff, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest - in fact, you kind of like the dull pain, the way it grounds you, keeps you in the moment.

"Baby," he whispers, and a soft little whine falls from your lips without meaning to as your lips move to ghost across his mouth, going for another kiss - a real kiss.

He pulls away before you get there, but then his hand comes up to touch your face, big and wide. He holds you like you're precious, small. His baby.

"S'not right," he whispers, though his thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, "S'not okay for me to want you like that."

You close your eyes at his touch, breathing deeply, "But you do."

"Yeah, I do," you hear him murmur, "You know I do."

"For how long?"

He doesn't respond right away, just continues to stroke your cheek, hold what feels like all of you in his warm palm. You tilt your head a bit to the side, eyes fluttering open to look at him again. You catch the way his lips turn up a little at the movement.

"Too damn long," he sighs, "But that don't... that's not..." he brings his other hand up to cup the other side of your face, holding you still as he peers at you in earnest, brow furrowed, "Point is, we shouldn't... you shouldn't be out here alone with me. Tess knows how I-" he cuts himself off again, and you can see now how difficult it is for him to communicate like this, to be open and honest, "I told her it wasn't a good idea."

"Why?"

He laughs lightly, thumbs circling the apples of your cheeks, "'Cause look where we ended up." He swallows, eyes falling to your lips, "Look where you are right now, baby. Look where my damn hands are for cryin' out loud."

"Keep calling me baby," you breathe, a desperation in your voice that betrays your emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as the weight of this conversation comes crashing down around you. He wants you - he's always wanted you. His words to Tess about not wanting to put you in danger, wanting you to stay away, those soft looks you've shared in his apartment, the small talk, all of it - it's because he wants you.

"We can't do this," he murmurs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, eyes closing, "I can't do this, you're so- you're too-" he groans, fingers digging into your hair, "You're so young, baby."

"I don't care," you whine, butting your head forward to chase his lips, suddenly yearning to be kissed and held and protected by him, be wrapped in his embrace.

But he pulls away, removing his hands from your face and shuffling back a bit on the bed, away from you. Your hand drops but you reach out pathetically for him anyway, moving closer, attempting to pull the covers back. His hands capture yours and he squeezes them firmly, shaking his head.

"You need to go back to your room," he tells you, and his tone has changed from soft to serious, "It's late and I'm... well, you know I'm fuckin' exhausted. And you've had a long day." He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he's silently begging for you not to put him in this situation, "Let's just call it a night, okay?"

"But-" you start, tears shining in your eyes.

"Please," he breathes, "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

You do not want to get up from his bed. But you do.

You do not want to leave his room. But you do.

You do not want to lie awake in your own bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how his hands felt on your face, the way his eyes searched yours, the way his skin felt under your lips.

But you do.

You lie there for hours, thumbs twiddling against your belly, tears trickling down your cheeks every so often. All you can hear in your mind over and over again is the word Baby, punctuated by that soft groan he'd made, the way his thumbs had stroked your cheeks, how large and warm and safe he'd seemed in that bed.

All you want to do is be in that bed with him.

So it's no surprise when, as the sun is beginning to rise and that warm golden light starts to stream through your window, you crawl out from under your blankets and cross the hall one more time.

"We shouldn't" he murmurs when you climb into bed with him, when you tuck yourself into his side and bury your face in his shoulder, but his hands are already in your hair, fingers stroking along the back of your head.

Your bodies mold together like they've always been meant to fit that way, your legs tangled with his, arms trapped under big biceps and hairy forearms, breasts flush with his suddenly bare chest.

"I wanna be your baby," you whisper.

The nose you'd kissed brushes slowly up and down the side of your face, and he doesn't hesitate this time. He reaches up to turn your head, presses his lips against yours and lets you melt into him. Lets you trail your hand downward to unbutton his jeans in the silence of the early morning.

"You already are."

#joel miller x reader #*#1500 kisses challenge

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letorip · 13 days

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kiss with a fist [iii]

"your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same"

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pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you can't help but feel like maybe you and tara are more than frenemies, and it culminates in a night where you finally share some truths with each other.

warnings: a somewhat traumatic dream sequence lmao, mentions of sex, kissing (almost), curse words, blood

word count: 5.8k

A/N: hope y'all like this one because i definitely liked writing it. definitely a whole lot more kissing than fisting.... wait a minute....

it's 5 am, my ass is grass. anyways, part 4 relatively soon because woo wee theres still so much to explore in this story i legitimately cant believe my idiot self said it'd be done in 2 parts originally

===+++===

"(Y/n)," a voice calls to you, sing-song and sweet as your eyes fade to darkness. It's a gentle woman's whisper, but it manages to hit you like a truck, pulling you down from wherever you came from, and plopping you wherever you've arrived. Or, rather, wherever you've always been. "(Y/n), look, darlin'."

A gust of wind gently strokes over the plane of your cheek, and when you open your eyes, all you can see is rye. On one end, it reaches out towards a sharp cliff, overlooking a lake, with nothing but rocks and the water below. On the other, it runs far up the plains of land in front of you, stopping in front of the white house you know all too well, with its rickety porch and broken tire swing.

You take a few steps forward, as if ready to run right inside, and then before you know it, you're running. Like the world is about to end, like the house is burning down, like you'll never see the place ever again. Foot after foot, you dash towards it, hearing Alisha's piano flit through the front window for the first time in years, and the smell of a pie right along with it. "(Y/n)!" the voice calls again. "Dinner time, kid!"—

But your foot catches on a root, just like it did in your memory, and in an instant, you've fallen down into the rye, with a painful thud, right on your face. You let out a grunt, feeling the dirt on your new, white shirt. The one your mother never let you wear when you were playing outside.

And when you right yourself again, sitting up out of the field, the house isn't any closer than it was before. It sits, perfectly far away, only all that stuff is gone now, and the house looks about as dark as it did the day of Mitchie's funeral.

"(Y/n)!" an excited voice calls from behind you. "Wanna play tag?"

"(Y/n)'s too old for that, Mitchie," another voice chides, and you whip around like Calvin would actually be there to chide him like that. Like he used to. But he isn't. All you can see is the rye. It stands in thick stalks, reaching up to your knees in lush groupings, tall and abundant, strong and growing.

Another voice. "Read me a story?" It's soft and it's a little girl's and it's far away, and you get to your feet and spin in a circle, waiting for her to appear. It seemed to reverberate through your ears, washing through the pathways of your brain before seeping into your heart. It fills it up, and before you know it, you can feel yourself hastily searching for her.

"'Randa?" you called into the open field. "Miranda? You there?" but she continues on like she didn't hear you.

"Would you read me a story? Please?"

"I will Miranda, but where are you?" you called back, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the barrel of the hot sun.

"I'm gone, (Y/n). You're supposed to be gone too," she says back, with a sweet giggle. "Why aren't you gone with us?"

"I—" you stammer, whipping your head around the field in search of your siblings. "I don't—"

"Do you really think that's fair, (Y/n)?" Calvin asks.

"Why aren't you here, (Y/n)?" Miranda asks again, this time her voice wavering like she was about to cry. "Why aren't you in the rye with us?" Your hands came up to your head, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and block out the noises, but they seemed to reverberate into your skull.

"Mitchie was your fault, you know," Peter chides. "We would've never let that—"

"—Why did you get to stay, (Y/n)?" Came Tomas' voice. "We're supposed to be cursed, and you're supposed to be cursed too." He was always the quiet one, but now his voice had a sharp edge to it. One of jealousy. One of anger.

"Why didn't you catch me?" Mitchie asked. "If you just would've caught me..."

"Come play piano with me, I'll teach you," said Alisha, in her light, airy laugh.

"Why did it get to be you?" snarled Calvin. "And why are you getting closer to Tara? You want to curse her, too?"

"Stop—" you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

"Wanna play hopscotch?" said Mitchie.

"Do you miss us, (Y/n)?" Alisha said, in between tears.

"Yes, of course— I—" you tried, but now the voices were filling up your head, threatening to spill over and knocking you to the ground. You curled up into a ball as your brain filled up. Words piling up on top of words, piling up on top of words, about to split you open. "STOP!" you yelled.

And everything went silent. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself still in the field, but your siblings' voices had gone entirely. Now it was just you, in the field, alone with the rustling of the wind and the rye, as it grazed gently against your legs. You hadn't remembered standing up, but you were now.

In a flash, you could see a shape, running through the rye in a line that was very visible from where you were. You recognised the dark hair, and the yellow jacket he always wore. With the realisation came the looming dread, and you realised with very little time left what this exactly was a memory of.

You took off running, faster than you had to the house, faster than you had ever run, and faster than you had run then, chasing after him as he took off towards the cliff-end of your rye field. "Mitchie!" you yelled, trying to be louder than the buzzing cicadas, but it seemed the moment you yelled, the cicadas got even louder. He was too short to see over the stalks, but you could see him go, running in odd shapes as he got nearer and nearer to the cliffs edge.

"Catch me if you can, (Y/n)!" he called back with a gleeful laugh.

"(Y/n), grab your brother," called your mother. She didn't seem too worried, and she hadn't been, then. No one had been, until it was too late.

"Mitchie! Stop!" you cried out, feeling tears already beginning to fall down your cheeks. "Mitchie!" you tried again.

"Come on, you've gotta be faster than that if you're gonna be it!” Mitchie called back. "Catch me! Get me! C'mon! I'm gonna make it hard for you to win, Duck."

"MITCHIE! PLEASE!" you screamed, but all he did was giggle. “STOP! DON’T GO!” But the moment you reached the end of the rye, he was gone over the edge, just he had been when you were 13, and there was an arm shaking you awake.

===+++===

"Oh my god, you're about the least peaceful sleeper I've literally ever seen," Tara laughed, grinning at you from over her textbook. She had it pulled into her lap from her side of the table and titled against the table edge, and spread out in front of you were her papers galore, with notes scribbled all over them in preparation for her upcoming exam.

Mindy sat next to her, playing a stupid game on her phone, while Ethan was also studying in his own textbook. He had stopped trying to avoid you as much, as had Chad. You and Tara "dating" seemed to offend them less and less the longer it went on.

"Uh," you mumbled, still feeling a little bit disoriented from the dream. It was like a dose of adrenaline had been shot directly into your heart, and you struggled to adjust to the calm, peaceful library that actually was around you. "Shut up," you grumbled, but not like you were actually upset by her teasing.

Tara watched you with her eyebrows raised. "You look tired."

You sat up in your chair, running a hand through your hair. There was a small layer of sweat on your forehead. "Aren't you never supposed to say that to someone? Pretty sure that's how you get someone at the bar to throw their drink in your face."

"It is," Ethan nodded. "I made that mistake once. I was trying to be sweet."

"Good thing I'm not seducing you, then," Tara shrugged. "You've seen me puke everywhere. Pretty sure that ruined my chances right-out, and yet you love me anyways."

You grinned, leaning back to stretch out your arms. It was meant to be a gentle teasing from Tara, but you had only gotten better and better at deflecting the longer you were around her. "You'd be surprised, actually. That was super pretty. That was the prettiest you've ever been." Mindy snorted next to Tara.

Tara glared at you, unappreciatively. "And you're pretty when you do not speak."

"I'm pretty all the time, Tara," you mockingly shook your head. "And you think I'm joking. Find yourself a girl who looks nice covered in sweat, with her hair going everywhere, and puking in the toilet. That's my girlfriend."

"You're such a dick," Tara scoffed, but you could tell part of her was stifling a laugh. It was funny to her too, and you both had laughed at it together for days, afterwards.

If anything, it had gotten easier and easier, to act like the both of you were actually dating. You weren't too sure why, maybe Tara had become less annoying, or you had become less annoyed by her, but you had definitely at least become a better actor. That's what it was, after all. "Oh, also," she continued.

"Yeah?"

"Someone tried to call your phone, while you were sleeping. I think it was your dad."

You frowned. "You didn't pick up, right?"

"No," Tara said, shaking her head. Then she paused. She dropped her voice to speak just to you, guarding the conversation from Mindy and Ethan. "Do you and him not get along?"

You shrugged. "Eh. He was probably just checking in. We have a fine relationship." It wasn't true but it was an easy lie, that rolled off the tongue like nothing. He had already called twice, that day, and you knew why.

"Seriously, though," she said with a frown, looking up from her book. "You look fucking horrifying—"

"—Thanks," you said, flatly.

"—I mean, even more than normal, it's crazy—"

"—Thanks," you repeated.

"—Have you not been sleeping, or something?"

You shrugged. "I mean, I'm an architecture major, and it's midterms... so not really."

"Hm."

"What?" you asked, propping your head up on your arm. "What's the 'hm' for?"

She shrugged, trying to turn back to her textbook. "Hm, nothing."

You furrowed your eyebrows down at her. "Well, obviously the 'hm' was something, Tara." Mindy shot you a look again.

"Or it was just a hm."

“Would you two shush,” she said to you, rolling her eyes. “You bicker like an old married couple.” But you both ignored her.

"It's never just a 'hm.'"

"I say hm all the time. It's literally just a hm."

"No, it means you've got something to say but don't want to say it."

She frowned at the accusation but was obviously even more displeased that you were correct. "I was gonna suggest we go to the OBK party tonight, but maybe you should just go home and sleep. I was trying to be nice.”

You shrugged. "I won't be doing either, actually." Tonight was not the night for parties. You were somewhat grateful, that you had a legitimate excuse to busy your time, or else you would've spent even longer thinking about the dream. "I have to do homework. My final is due tomorrow."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you. "Wait, but I thought classes ended today."

You shook your head. "Nope. I've still got some stuff do."

"Oh," Tara frowned.

"Not all of us can have easy majors," you teased, trying to lighten the mood away from what was clearly concern.

"Hey! You chose the stupid thing," Tara shot back. "Not my fault I chose something fun." She stood up, gathering her things into a neat stack. The time was nearing for her midterm exam, and you stood up with her, grabbing her textbook to be helpful.

"Thanks," she said, then she wandered over and held out her hand. You grabbed it in yours, lacing your fingers together, just like you had practiced together.

The library was a tall building on the far side of campus from where you lived. It was a trek and a half to get there, which is partially why you had been a little annoyed, when Tara said she needed to go there. It ended up being the perfect place to fall asleep in, with the quiet signs and only a few murmurs now and again, and though it had been a less than peaceful dream, it was more than you had been getting for the past few days.

"I don't see why you can't just go without me," you shrugged, adjusting her book in your hands. "Just tell Sam I'll meet you there. Besides, Chad and Mindy are going to the same party, right?"

"Yeah, but I what if they realise you're not actually there and mention it to Sam, or something? And, I'd have to go there alone, since Chad and Mindy are going early."

"They are?"

"Yeah. Helping with set up. Mindy literally just mentioned that. Shows how much you listen to her.” She shook her head in a mocking disappointment in you.

“I was asleep, jerk.”

“I know,” she said, grinning.

You looked down to her, where she walked next to you, gently swinging your joint hands back and forth. "It's not a far walk to OBK. You could probably make it there in five minutes. It's well-lit, and—"

Tara frowned, shaking her head adamantly. "Not alone. Not without you, no way. Sam would want to see you at the door to pick me up. She'd probably hate the idea of it."

"Fair enough," you shrugged. "Find a movie at home tonight, then. Relax, or something. I'd kill to be done with this stupid project."

"What are you even making?" Tara groaned, breaking your hands to shove hers into her pockets. Actually, it was your jacket, and therefore technically your pockets too, but she had taken a liking to it, after your date. You had been less than pleased, when she asked to borrow it, considering how much the jacket meant to you, but she insisted it was assisting her to keep up the act. You figured you could part with it, at least for a little while.

"Architecture," you said with a thick layer of sarcasm. Tara rolled her eyes at you. She nudged you, and you couldn't help but laugh as her elbow pointed into your side.

"Oh, you think you're funny, huh?"

"I'm hilarious."

"You wish..." she scoffed, shaking her head.

It was a beautiful day in autumn, and the weather was soon to leave the sigh of brown leaves and rainy days and move into whispery winds and icy pavement. You didn't mind winter, but you didn't like the chills, even though it was undoubtedly what gave summer's warmth a certain sweetness. Still, nothing burned like the cold.

You walked her all the way to the door of the exam hall, stopping out front to hand her the textbook you had been carrying. You went to speak, but the moment you tried to open your mouth, your phone started ringing. You grabbed it from your pocket, sighing and declining the call, while Tara stared at you.

"Is that your dad, again?"

"No," you said. "Telemarketer."

"Right..." she said, frowning. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am I?" you challenged. You were, it was true.

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

“I just don’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m asking why, (Y/n).”

"Why don't you leave it alone?" you shot, in frustration. You could see Tara's eyes narrow at your tone, and you felt a bit bad. There was the occasional reflex still, to bite each other's heads off. You weren't sure what it was about her, but something about Tara Carpenter always seemed to rile you up inside, and do the same for her with you.

"Sorry," you said, looking down at your shoes. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be an asshole," Tara glared.

"Right... I'm... sorry."

Tara sighed. "I guess I'll see you next week?" She asked.

You nodded. "There'll be plenty of time after this, I just need to get this thing done."

"Okay," she nodded, failing to hide her excitement. Tara seemed to really love parties, the more and more she went to, and you were somewhat glad you could help her find something she enjoyed. It was nice to see, not that you'd ever say that to her. Doing that would absolutely result in her teasing you again, or something even more annoying.

"Good luck on your test," you said.

"Good luck on your project, babe," she said, drawing the name out.

“Now who’s hilarious,” you said with an eye roll. Tara winked at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Me.”

===+++===

It seemed you were having no good luck on it whatsoever, actually. Laid out in front of you was all of your materials, in a messy pile of cut-out pieces and foam boards that were there, sure, but not likely to just jump together and put itself together on its own.

The clock had already ticked away to 12:33 in the morning, and your design was barely finalised to where you could get to work and finish quickly. All of the other students had left at a much more reasonable hour, and it left you standing at your table alone, quietly working to classical music in the empty modelling lab.

At this rate, you could be here for another two or three hours, and the project was due at eight. You were sluggish, slowly working through the plans you had set out days ago and working through the kinks.

Every few minutes, when you stopped for even a second, the dream seemed to rush back to the forefront of your brain. Your mother had been the one to call, that evening while you were eating a poor excuse of a dinner, and you had declined that call just like you had declined all the rest.

You were hunched over your work, probably unhealthily so, with your face buried in your iPad, hastily throwing out sketches of the various shapes. You were settling on a design that would have to do, heading for the woodcutter, when you heard a noise.

It resembled a door shutting, and you froze right where you were. "Greg?" you called out. There was no one else in the building except for you and Greg, at his usual security post, and you waited with bated breath for him to return your call.

But there was no response, and all you could hear was the sounds of classical music gently floating in the background. Usually, it set you at ease while you worked through whatever you were doing in the lab, but now all it did was raise your heart rate to match the increasing tempo. It was completely dark, except for the overhead light above you, which illuminated the table you were working at and a few of the stainless steel cabinets that held tools and supplies.

Then, off to the side, you heard a rolling. An odd, wooden rolling, slowly drifting towards you. On the ground was a pencil, gently pushed towards you, playfully rolling as if perfectly in front of your toes. You hopped to your feet. "Hello?" you called, squinting in the dim light, in case anyone else was there. "Is anyone there?" you called out again. "Greg?"

Now you could really feel the thumping of your heart. The modelling lab had always been creepy late at night, but this was a new level of unease. It was as if someone was watching you, playing with their food, and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "Is someone there?" you said to the rest of the room.

"Hey!" said a voice, and you jumped what felt like five feet into the air.

"Fuck!" you shouted, spinning around and seeing Tara behind you. She jumped at your reaction, raising her hands up. In one of them was a tray with two coffees on it. “You scared me!”

"Woah, woah, are you okay?" she asked, face etched with concern. She walked towards you slowly, and you put your hands on the edge of the table, trying to calm yourself.

"Don't just sneak up on me like that, dude," you glared at her.

"I literally didn't, I fucking announced myself, loud as can be," Tara said, rolling her eyes at you. Then, it melded into concern. "How long have you been here?" she asked, looking around the place and its emptiness.

"Since I left you at your test," you shrugged. "How'd it go by the way?" Tara's eyebrows furrowed, ignoring your question instead for one of her own.

"Did you at least eat dinner, or something?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"Good."

“Yeah…,” you trailed off, turning back to your work. “How did you know where I was?"

“I asked Chad. He’s still a little snippy with me about, well, thinking we're together. Tried to tell me that if anyone would know, it would be me, and I said, yeah, that’s true, but it’s only been three months, now.”

“Well,” you said, gesturing around to the lab. “This is the modelling lab.” You were a bit of a nerd about the whole place, showing it off like it was your cool superhero lair.

“I know,” Tara mocked. “I saw it on the giant sign above the front door.”

“Ha ha. Does Sam know that you’re here?” You asked, grabbing your pen and resuming your work while you continued to talk to Tara. She plopped herself down on the edge of the table, letting her feet swing.

She looked a bit sheepish at the question. “Uh… no.”

“You know she’ll kill me like she did that one time, if you’re not home when she wakes up,” you frowned, wandering over to the supplies and grabbing out a box cutter to help trim the pieces you needed.

Tara nodded. “I know. But I snuck out, so I’ll sneak back in.”

You turned back around to reply, maybe say something stupid, but you had to stop yourself from laughing, when you saw her legs hanging off the counter and not reaching the ground.

“What?” Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and returning to the table. “…Dwarf.”

“Hey!” she said, smacking you on the arm. “I brought you coffee, don’t make me take it back.”

“That’s true,” you frowned, weighing your options. “Guess I can’t make fun of you; you brought me caffeine.”

“That’s more like it."

You worked in silence for a few minutes, feeling Tara watch your every movement. It was harder to work, under her scrutiny, but you were grateful that she was there. It wasn’t lonely in there, any more. A few months ago, you would’ve hated her guts for sitting around while you attempted to work. But not with Tara anymore. Not on that day.

“This might be an all-nighter,” you warned, sending her a small smile as you sliced a piece of foam in half and went to work to attach it to your board.

“Fine with me,” Tara shrugged. She just continued to watch you, in a calm silence. “Actually, I have beef with you,” she hummed.

You laughed, looking up while you secured the base with glue. “Why’s that, Tara?”

“You got that song, stuck in my head.”

“Which one?” You asked.

“The one you sang for me. I found it online.”

“Which one?” you teased, smiling again. Your face was tired and the smile certainly didn’t help, but you couldn’t help the newfound peace washing over you again. You had completely forgotten the weird happening from earlier.

“You know, don’t play dumb.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I really don’t know.”

“You literally do,” Tara scoffed.

“Sing a little bit. Refresh my memory.”

“Nuh uh,” she said, crossing her arms. “This is a trap.”

“It isn’t,” you insisted, sticking your pinky out to her. “Swear.”

She wrapped it in her own, rolling her eyes. She definitely knew it was, but she obliged anyway. “If you need a friend, don’t look to a strangerrr. You know in the end,” her voice broke on the low note like yours did, and you laughed while heat rose to her cheeks. “I’ll always be thereeee.”

“And when you’re in doubt,” you sang back to her, in between laughs. “And when you’re in dangerrr.” You both were tone deaf and the rendition was awful, but the mood in the lab was getting lighter and lighter the longer you were together.

“Take a look all around,” Tara sang, coming back in. “And I’ll be there.”

It was impossible not to laugh at how bad it was on both sides, and you grinned at her toothily, before turning back to your work. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome, idiot,” she teased, nudging you in the side again.

===+++===

You went back to working on your model, finishing the first floor in about an hour. You and Tara occasionally talked now and again, but mostly she just watched you while you worked. “Why are you doing this all tonight?” she asked.

“Uh…” you stuttered. “I didn’t have time the past couple weeks…cause of… well, you.”

She shot up to her feet, mouth dropping open. “Why the hell didn’t you say no to me?! I didn’t know you had all this to do.”

You shrugged. “I never mentioned it. Plus, you were having fun. I’m glad someone was enjoying themselves.”

“Oh…” she said, and it sounded small.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“…Nothing."

“It’s fine, Tar. Seriously.” She blinked at you.

“Tar?” she asked, looking amused.

You looked up from your work, feeling the change in the atmosphere. “What?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just never used the nickname for me, before.”

“Yeah, I guess not. Is it weird?”

“Well… no. I kind of like it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding a little. “My mom was the one who gave me the nickname Tar. Haven’t spoken to her in a little while, though.”

“Do you still miss her?” you asked, glueing your second story onto the base successfully.

“Sometimes…” she trailed off, staring out at the pitch black night through the window that hung over your workspace. "She calls me once in a while."

"Do you answer?" you asked.

"No," she admitted. "It's usually about Woodsboro. I gave up on her a few months ago, but she still calls sometimes about the town."

"You never talk about it..." you comment, trailing off with a hand on the back of your neck. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." You leaned back against the table with a curiosity, watching her face move as she struggled to answer.

"Well... it's cause I don't want to that I don't talk about it. You know how people say that shit about manifesting happiness?" you nodded, knowing what she was talking about. "Well, I keep saying I'm fine, and I'm moving on, but it just keeps following me everywhere. It's like this chronic cough I can't shake. This constant thing. No matter how much I run, it's always there. People don't see me as anything but one of the survivors."

You swallowed, feeling her words hit you. "I know what you mean." Tara's eyes snapped down to yours, but when you didn't volunteer more information, she sighed.

You frowned, turning yourself back to your work and hunching over, so she wouldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks. “I, uh… I listened to that song you said you liked, too.”

“You did?” she asked, lighting up at the mention of it.

“Yeah… added it to my playlist… so…”

“So…” Tara laughed, amused by your awkwardness. It was somehow less awkward when you hated each other. The fact you could tolerate each other now was unusual but not unpleasant, and you still found yourself grappling with how pretty Tara’s eyes looked in lamplight. "If I get a nickname, you absolutely have to have one too."

You scoffed. "That's not at all what that means."

"You had to have had one at some point."

"No, I haven't had one," you said.

"Liar!" Tara said with a giggle, pointing at you with her finger. "You're so bad at lying it's remarkable. Now spill. What is it?"

"I'm not lying!" you insisted, but now you were laughing and it was even less convincing.

"C'mon, promise I won't say it in public— unless it's really bad."

You stared at her for a moment, when she clasped her hands together in a begging plea.

"Please?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Pleaseeee?"

"Fine," you sighed. "My family, they used to call me Duck."

"Duck?" She asked, leaning back to look at you as if the nickname would re-contextualise your entire appearance. "Where'd that come from?"

"It's dumb. I used to wear this yellow raincoat when it was storming outside and these orange booties, so my little brother Mitchie saw me, when he was like five or six, and said I was a Duck. And so I was Duck."

She smiled at you, genuinely pleased with the explanation. "That's adorable. Where is Mitchie, tonight?"

You opened your mouth but shut it. Then, you opened it again. "Probably watching cartoons, or something. Back in Nebraska." (A/N: my ass genuinely did not know that was a U.S. state until right now)

You couldn't tell her that today was the day he had died, several years ago. That a year or two before that had happened, Calvin had gone, and a few months before that, Tomas and Alisha had passed too. That Peter had gotten sick, or that Miranda had gone missing before any of that mess had happened. That you were the only one left.

It was a bad lie, and probably one you would regret later, but it was one you ushered past, and Tara didn't seem to pick up on. From one cursed person to another, you figured it was probably best that you keep your own curse to yourself. It's part of what had made you hate Tara so much at first. She walked around knowing her days were likely numbered, so carefree and careless. And then there was you, you who was so careful in order to keep living.

But you couldn't resent her for that. It had melted away with seeing the Tara underneath. The real, beautiful Tara underneath.

"Duck is good, though. I'll bring it out when I want to embarrass you," Tara smiled, inching closer on the table.

"Yeah?" you grinned back at her, standing up to gently tap against the glue. It was set, and your model was finally finished at 4:42 in the morning. Tara leaned close, watching the glue with her own eyes, cheek almost up against yours in curiosity.

You finished the thing, looking over at her and her large, warm brown eyes, staring at the model you had made with so much curiosity and genuine interest. Tara hadn't lifted a finger to help, but you couldn't help but feel like it was partially hers.

You went to pull back but found your face turning towards hers, looking at each other for a long moment. Your eyes lingered on the slope of her nose, down to the curvature of her soft lips, turned up in the corners like Tara always did when she smiled. They looked so soft, and before you knew what was happening, you could feel Tara's hands coming up to the sides of your face, thumbs gently stroking against the skin there.

You couldn't breathe, feeling the warmth of the pads of her fingers on your face and the faint brush of her breath upon your nose. "Tara," you whispered. The pull was magnetic, and just as you were about to say to hell with it all, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, and you both leapt apart from each other.

You wandered a few feet away, trying to seem busy while she answered it. You could feel Tara watching you while she spoke on the phone, so you did your best to hide the blush that was certainly spread wide across your cheeks.

This was the very girl you had spent the past several months hating. You suddenly felt dizzy, like the world would slip out from under your feet. Tara, the very same annoying girl who had pestered with you and bickered with you. The one who had so much more to her that what you had ever thought possible. The one who drew you in. The one in search of a hook up, for which you were only the decoy. You cleared your throat, whipping around when you heard Tara say "What?!"

"What's wrong?" you asked. "What's going on?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at you like she was about to cry. "They're questioning Sam again. They think Ghostface is back."

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN anyways my ass is going to bed now. also i do not recommend anyone lie to someone they're interested in about who they are, ESPECIALLY an attempted murder victim

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n

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penelopepine · 1 month

Text

Mother Knows Best!

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader x John "Soap" MacTavish

Summary: Soap's mom trying to set Ghoap up with Reader! She loves Reader and she's going to make her a part of her family! Content: fluff Word Count: 1012

You had started working in Mrs. MacTavish's bakery a few months ago. She was a kind older woman who had welcomed you with open arms when you first started. Her two daughters were just as kind as well.

They had come in one day, just checking in on their mom, and the rest was history after that. The three of you quickly became thick as thieves. After spending so much time with Mrs. MacTavish’s family they honestly felt like your own now; the only member you have yet to meet was her son, John.

If only you had known what Mrs. MacTavish had planned for when you did. She brought you into her family, and what better way to make that official than by having you date her son. The son who was already in a long term committed relationship with his lieutenant. That was just a two for one deal for you in her eyes.

The day Johnny came into the shop it had been a surprise for everyone. He hadn’t told anyone that he was arriving home early. When he first stepped into the bakery he was expecting to see his mum, but instead saw you working behind the counter. He remembers her mentioning getting a new worker at the shop.

“Hello, lass! You must be the one who has captured my mum’s heart! Anyone who can do that might as well be family; feel free to call me Johnny.” He introduced himself to you with a wink. “Speaking of my mum, is she in right now?”

You're shocked for a second upon a stranger coming in and introducing himself to you. Regaining your composure though you quickly introduce yourself to himself as well; excited to finally be meeting the son you’ve heard so much about. “Oh, yes! She’s back in the office right now, and I’ve heard my fair share of stories about you as well.”

“All good things I hope. Would hate it if she gave a bad first impression.”

“Don’t you worry I’ve only heard the best!” You two bantered with one another before Johnny steps away and makes his way towards the office.

He knocks on the door, and waits until he hears his mum’s muffled voice come from the other side, “Come in!”

Without waiting for another second he throws the door open, and there sitting at the small desk is his mum. Standing in the doorway he basks in the surprised and excited shrieks when she realizes that it's him.

"Oh, Johnny! Come in come in! Let me see you." She calls him further in as she stands up herself with open arms. She holds him tight when she finally gets her arms around him. Johnny knows she's probably feeling a bit overwhelmed right now, and lets her hold him as long as she needs. "I've missed you so much!"

"It's good to see you again mum." He whispers into her hair, "I've missed you too."

She pulls away and her eyes have a glossy sheen to him as she urges him to sit down in one of the chairs alongside her. Once there she asks him about Simon, and tells him what's been happening while he's been away.

They continue to talk and catch up with one another before his mum asks him about you, "So … what do you think of her? She's cute isn't she!"

Johnny couldn't deny that you were rather pretty; if he wasn't currently in a relationship he would have been all over you. He didn't know why his mum was asking him that though. "Yeah, she's cute. Why? Are you planning on playing matchmaker again? Which one of your friend's sons are you thinking about for her?"

"Actually I think you should ask her out; I think she'd be good for you."

"Mum! You know I'm with Simon!" Johnny's voice rising with anger at the thought of his mum wanting him to leave his partner.

"She'd be good for him too!" She quickly reassured him, “I can see it now. The three of you living life to the fullest with one another.”

Johnny feels absolutely shell shocked right now; unsure of how to really respond even, "Wait? You want me and Simon to date her?"

"Exactly!" She exclaims, "She'd be perfect for the two of you!"

"Mum-"

She interrupts before he can continue though, "Just talk to her! If you don't like her like that, or if you and Simon don't want that kind of relationship then I won't mention it again. I promise!"

"Fine, fine I'll talk to her," He agrees, "only because she's working for you though, and I need to make sure she's not a troublemaker."

"Of course! You should do that now then." She stands up and ushers him out of the office, and shuts the door behind him. Johnny is left standing there mouth agape as he stares at the office door.

After coming to terms with what just happened he turns and makes his way back to the front of the bakery. He didn't go to talk to you with any romantic intentions, but it seems his mum really does know him too well. Not that he’s going to complain about it right now; not when it seems there honestly could be something romantic here.

He ends up staying for the rest of your shift talking and helping you with the customers, and afterwards he finds himself calling Simon. Telling him all about the bonnie lass that really is perfect for them. All he needs to do is meet her to find out for himself to see that it’s true.

If after that Simon ends up in town as well as coming to the bakery who can really say why. It's also a coincidence that the three of you are seen out at a pub together just a couple days later.

Mrs. MacTavish is very pleased with herself when you, Johnny, and Simon are then coming to her and informing her that you are now a part of their lovely relationship.

Taglist: @zarsghost

#x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #fem reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghoap x you #ghost x reader x soap #fluff

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mascdestr0yer · 5 months

Note

can you do a friends to lovers Paige x reader

Private, but not a secret

Warnings: some fluff, and the reader (you duh) being oblivious. It's a little cringe, but you'll live

Paige bueckers x fem!reader

Synopsis: You and Paige have been friends since the seventh grade, now you're both seniors at Hopkins highschool, as graduation nears Paige still hasn't told you what offer she's accepted yet. But you haven't either, the conversation never comes up until now. finding out you both are going to UCONN was exciting, but what you both didn't know, it would actually push you away.

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST ML💕

You're waiting for Paige outside of her classroom, of course she's the last one out. She finally walked out with that stupid grin of hers,"we still going to the mall after school?" She asked, as we walked towards the cafeteria, dapping a few people up when they passed by. Intertwining our fingers, continuing to push through the crowd of students.

"I don't know, I might-"You started, she sucked her teeth, letting go of your hand. "Paige,"

"be honest, do you even like hanging out with me anymore?" She questioned me, still keeping her gaze straight ahead. You looked up at her, quickly fixing your gaze straight ahead.

"why would you even ask that?" You were a little confused on why she became so upset. Trying to touch her hand to comfort her but she snatched it away.

"every time I ask you to hang out, you say yes. Then when the time comes, you start to make up some lame excuses." Paige obviously irritated, runs her fingers through her hair. "You told me that you couldn't make it to my game because of family issues, then you post on your story you at the beach with your Friends." Her voice laced with jealousy, sitting down in the cafeteria. You sat down across from her, fidgeting with your fingers.

"Star's boyfriend cheated on her, we had to comfort her." You mumbled, slightly embarrassed by the way she called you out. Paige scoffed in response, rolling her eyes in the process.

"then why did you lie? There was no point, you had a valid reason not to come, so why lie to me." She interrogated, resting her arms on the table in between you both.

"can we drop it?" You pleaded, clearly wanting nothing to do with the situation as it was petty and unnecessary. Paige on the other hand, wanted to keep questioning you. She knew the "argument"was stupid, but she continued to poke at it with a stick.

"answer the question." She "demanded" (she's letting out her inner alpha), looking directly in your eyes.

"I don't know, thought you would be mad at me because I couldn't come to your game, so I thought maybe if I made the situation sound more intense you wouldn't get mad."

"I'm more angry at the fact that you lied to me," she grumbled, picking at her nails, not daring to look you in the eyes anymore.

"can you forgive me?" You asked, poking her cheek gently. She grips your wrist to stop you from poking her again, her grip getting tighter making it hurt.

"only if you come to the mall with me," she smirked, making her grip tighter and more painful.

I winced in pain, "okay okay, just let go!" She quickly dropped her hands with a slight smirk. "Paige that's not funny, I will beat your ass."i scolded her, flicking her neck.

"oww, that's not fair you have acrylics." She complained, whining ever so slightly.

"so?"

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

It's been about a week since then, you and Paige are sitting on the floor of her room. You do her hair while she yaps away. "UCONN is a really good school and my mom is proud of me ow-" she begins complaining about you pulling too tight and you not doing it right, you literally do her hair every time.

"hush little girl, or else I'll leave you like this." You warned her, with a comb in your hand.

She nods quickly, sitting back down in between your thighs, her back against your chest since she was taller than you. "I mainly chose UCONN because it's good for basketball and I know you're going, which is a bonus."

"I never told you where I'm going, how do you know that..." Your voice trailed off, a little scared or confused, both.

"how do I know that? I saw the UCONN merchandise in your trunk and your dad told me." She explains, drawing shapes on your thighs with her fingertip.

"when was this?" Tilting your head to the side as you braided the girl's hair, wanting to know more about the situation.

"I don't know, a little UCONN's acceptance letters came out. I asked what school you're going to, thinking it was UCLA, but I was clearly wrong."

"UCONN gave me a full ride, so I chose it. I didn't expect you to copy me and follow me to school too."

"you know you love it," she teased, sitting up when you stopped touching her hair signaling you were finished.

"Love is an overstatement," you began standing up, walking out of Paige's room.

"you finish my hair and leave me alone," she sighed, being dramatic once again. She begins following you downstairs, she watched you slip your black Crocs on and walked out the front door. Like the creep she is, she watches you through the window to see what you're doing. She watches you grab something out of the backseat of your car and walk back inside.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

When You and Paige entered college, you guys tried, I mean tried to make time for each other, classes, basketball (Paige), and your studies. If Paige were to describe her friendship with you the first year of college, it would be called a disaster. You both just needed to adjust to college and your new schedules, wrong. Paige was always so busy she really pushed you away, basketball was important to her and you were proud of her.

The less time the two of you spent together, the more you both faded away from each other. Well, until junior year, you were the girl's volleyball team media girl(inspired)for two years, meaning you went to home games and away games, meetings, their practice, and etc.

When one of the sports directors heard about the women's basketball team lacking in the media department she had a meeting with you almost immediately.

"Listen, you've been doing an extraordinary job and I have a great offer for you," Ms. Adams leans in slightly, her arms resting on her desk.

"if it's about the wbb team, I would love to, but I don't know if julie is ready nor capable to run the volleyball team without me,"

"I've already talked to her, she said it's okay,"

"I mean, if you say so,"

"excellent, Geno !" She calls for someone, a mature man walks in, clipboard in hand. "Y/n this is Coach Geno for the wbb, Geno this y/n your new media girl."

We both shake hands, "he's here to introduce you to the team, the people you be with for the next two years."

You followed Coach Geno to the basketball gym, where the girls were "practicing", "alright, huddle up !" They quickly walked over to both of you, as you try to adjust your camera, you could feel someone staring into your soul, you looked up and saw her.

"This is y/n, she will be the head of this teams media department."

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

After a few practices, the team is starting to really grow on you. I was sitting down on the bleachers in the gym, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"yes," you answered monotoned, not bothering to look up from your laptop.

"can we talk?" A familiar voice asks, I looked up seeing a certain blonde.

"yeah, we can talk later, I need to finish-"

"no, I want to talk now, come on."she cut you off, you rolled your eyes as you sat your laptop down and followed her outside. The taller girl hugs you immediately, burying her face in your neck, you hesitated and eventually hugged her back.

"I'm sorry, for pushing you away," she pulled away wiping her tears, now you were even more confused, why was she crying.

"what- it's not your fault, you were busy with basketball and classes,"

"no, you don't understand, I wasn't busy, I was scared,"

"scared ? Scared of what ?"

"this," she grabs your face, kissing you. Your heart was racing, you could feel your face burning up, you kissed her back.

When the two of you pulled away she looked directly into your eyes, "you don't know how long I've been waiting to do that,"she smirked, holding your waist pulling you closer.

"how long?"

"since the seventh grade, I mean wasn't it obvious? It was really obvious during high school, how did you not notice?"

"I don't know, I thought we were just good friends,"

"you're an idiot," she chuckled, caressing the side of your face.

"I'm the idiot? You went two years without talking to me because of some stupid crush,"

Her face drops, "that's low." You laughed at her expression.

"you're just mad you have no game,"

"shut up." She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

BONUS:

Paige and KK were live on Instagram in your dorm room, KK's phone was set up on your vanity, there was about 13k people watching. KK was showing them her singing skills. Paige messing with your make up and smelling your expensive perfumes (no bath and body here😛).

"this one smells good, smell it." She puts the pink high heel shaped perfume in KK's face.

"ouuuu, it does." She grabs the perfume out of Paige's hands, smelling it.

"two hundred dollars?" Paige asked in shock, as she read the price of the perfume off her phone.

» User.1: who's dorm are they in ?

» User.2: it's so cutesy in there

» User.3: it's my room, duh

» User.4: why is Paige in another girl room🙄

» User.5: KK keeps re-smelling the perfume😭

» User.6 who's perfume is that

"It's Paige's girlfriend," KK answered chat. Paige side eyed her,she snatched the perfume out of KK's hands. "No, not her girlfriend romantically, our friend that so happens to be a girl."

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #fem!reader #fluff #lesbian #drabble #friends to lovers #anon ask #angst #angst with a happy ending

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whitefeathers · 3 months

Note

perv!butcher who gets handsy with you but of course he can, hes the leader!

mdni. DARK CONTENT WARNING, READ MY PINNED POST BEFORE CONTINUING. cw: manipulation, dubiously consensual/non con touching but reader is into it, abuse of power. Choking, somnophilia. Daddy kink. Massive daddy issues and butcher is a father figure to u in this, heavy on the taboo and age diff. <3 im down to make a part 2 to this if ppl are interested too ! w/c: 1.2k

Butcher isn't a nice man. He's ruthless, does what he wants, whenever he wants - he's definitely got some sort of conscience in there, but it's drowned out by the primary emotion that drives him. Lust. It's usually for blood, but this time, it's for you.

A pretty young thing, definitely not dumb but definitely inexperienced. Sometimes you don't know when to shut your mouth, too excitable and bubbly, too full of energy. You mean well, you do. But when Butcher already has a headache, your begging to take temp V is driving him mad.

"I'll be okay, it won't hurt me, I could just have cool powers like you, and it'll be all over the next day! It could really help, we don't know what I'd be able to do and it could be something helpful!"

You're sat next to Butcher on the deflated couch in the pawn shop basement, only the pair of you there. You're sat with your legs crossed facing him, gesturing with your words, while Butcher is sat with his legs spread wide, pinching the bridge of his nose, facing directly ahead at the TV. He sighs, turning his head to look at you.

"Fucccck no. You ain't havin' any, end of story. Give 'ers a bit of peace and quiet, will ya? Me 'ead is banging, yer yapping isn't helping."

"I'm not yapping, I'm trying to help..." You murmur, dejected. You turn to face away from Butcher, frustrated and feeling like he doesn't trust you. He watches as the dull light from the TV illuminates your face, trying so hard to look calm and collected. Butcher sees right through you. He knows you need his approval like air.

Butcher sighs again. He's a horrible, fucked up man. He's about thirty years your senior. Fuck it, he'll blame the V for how he's acting if anyone pulls him up on it. If anyone dares. He's the leader, he can do what he likes.

"Look, c'mere. Ya wanna help? Sit,"

"Sit...?" You meet his eyes, eyebrows furrowed. Butcher is unwavering, and he looks scary. His eye contact is intense, and you choose to look down at his chain and his sweater instead.

"Yeah. Sit. Didn't stutter, did I? C'mere," your gaze follows his hand (so large that it's practically a paw) as he pats his strong upper thigh. Your head and your heart race, and you stay still.

"Isn't that... um... inappropriate?" You've always seen him as a mentor, a leader, a father figure. Of course you've had some thoughts, but you've shoved them down deep enough to silence them. He's practically your dad - and old enough to be, too. This is wrong.

Like a dam breaking, all those thoughts suddenly surface. Flickers of Butcher's strong, veiny hands, his rough lips, his even rougher voice calling you a good girl. Fuck, this is bad.

"Surely is. Stop ya whinin' though and give me what I want, yeah?"

You shakily stand up, nodding. You always want to make him proud, and deep down you know you want this - whatever this is. It could be anything from a cuddle to a punch in the gut. Butcher is a live wire.

You settle yourself in his lap, hovering by putting most of your weight on your white-socked feet still planted on the ground. Up this close, Butcher is all you can smell. Heady, masculine, intense. Like testosterone, sweat, and leather. You know it should gross you out but it doesn't.

Butcher's large arm manhandling you so your back is to his chest makes you gasp. He's overpowering and rough, too strong for his own good, too arrogant and self-serving. His hand wraps around to suddenly grip your throat, feeling your pulse but not choking you. Just holding. Your heart jumps into your throat. He might actually just kill you right here.

"You're nervous. Scared I'm gonna hurt ya, sweetheart? Scared I'm gonna make ya cry?" Your eyes flutter closed, and you nod, terrified. He's whispering into your ear, a dark growl. You can feel his warm breath against your neck, smelling like cigarette smoke and mint. His other arm is around your waist, keeping you close to him. Making it so you can't get away.

"Not gonna hurt ya. You want this too," Butcher takes a deep inhale, nostils flaring and eyes fluttering shut. The V has given him an increased sense of smell, and with your legs slightly spread, he can smell exactly what you've been desperate to hide.

"Yeah, you want this too. Can smell ya dripping. This little cunt want daddy, yeah?" Butcher laughs cruelly when his words make your breath stutter and a new gush of wetness to soak your panties, intensifying the smell of pussy that is driving him mad. He takes another deep inhale, and you try to shut your legs, only for Butcher to force them back open with a heavy palm, slapping the soft jiggle of your thigh through your cargos. Mean.

"No, no. No, no, baby, nuh uh. Nope. Don't fuck me about. You're on my team, and you're mine. You want a daddy? I'll be your daddy," you shake your head no, and Butcher coos.

"No? Don't want a daddy?"

"Don' want any daddy, want you," you whisper. "'S always been you."

He groans and adjusts you in his lap so you're even closer to him, and his lips are on your neck by his fingers, just resting. You can feel him now, hard against your ass. Fuck, either he's carrying a gun in his pants, or he's huge.

"Thaaat's right. Always been me. Picked ya up off the street, ya own dad ain't know how to treat ya. I do though. Know what brats like you need," his hand on your throat tightens, cutting off the circulation to your head and making you go dizzy. His lips move up, his tongue softly licking that spot where your neck meets your jaw.

"Need an older man to look after you. Need a good stuffin' to stop you gettin' all gobby. You've been giving me such a headache, princess. Gonna fuck that mouth outta ya. Just gotta have you passed out for it, yeah?"

You struggle to breathe, panicking. Passed out? Why? Your eyes start to flutter closed and Butcher's voice starts to echo in your head, feeling both a million miles away and right inside the pulse of your clit at the same time.

"Stupid lil cunt for daddy. Ya won't be able to take me when you're awake, so I just gotta force it while you're out... sleep now, sweetheart. Shhh." he coos as your vision goes spotty, and you go limp in his lap. Once he's sure you're out cold, he lays you down on the couch, and gets to work using you just how he's always wanted.

He's a deeply fucked up man, but it's not his fault you make such a perfect daddy's girl.

#billy butcher x reader smut #cherry does... butcher #billy butcher smut

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singmyaubade · 1 year

Text

No Longer Yours

James Potter x Female!Reader

IB: In The Cold November Rain by @sweetsweetjellybean (Make sure to check it out, it’s incredible and one of the best I’ve ever read !)

A/N: First, I apologize for my time writing this; it just had to be perfect! I am so grateful that you all love my story enough to give it so much love and support and practically beg for a part 3; thank you so much. I had no idea how to start and continue this, so please be kind. I really hope you guys enjoy this part, and I hope it's everything you dreamed of <3

Summary: James had disregarded you for multiple years, but when you have an epiphany in your final year, how does it feel to taste his own medicine?

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

"Shh.. don't wake her up!" You heard Lily whisper in your half-asleep state as the sun peeked at you through the blinds.

"It's Marlene's big oger feet," Mary snorted.

"Hey! My feet are not the size of oger feet," Marlene replied, sticking out her tongue.

"Shh!" Lily warned.

You heard the shuffling of paper and steps as you opened your eyes to see your best friends hanging up decorations, a smile appearing on your face immediately.

"Oh, bollocks," Lily sighed, face-palming, "Happy birthday!" She yelled, half annoyed but half happy there was a smile on your face. She embraced you as you sat upright in bed, glad to see your friend's dedication to your birthday.

The rest of them told you a happy birthday, embracing you in a tight hug.

"Wow, I can't believe you actually got Marlene up this early," You said, opening another card they gave you.

"Well, it took a chicken drumstick," Dorcas replied.

"Otherwise, I would've been grouchy, and Y/n would have had a horrible birthday, so really I did it for her," Marlene said as Mary rolled her eyes.

"I wonder what the Marauders have planned, especially James," Lily muttered.

Every year for your birthday, James would give you a grand birthday party and tons of presents. He usually would sneak into your dorm room and surprise you with cannons and the other Marauders, but of course, this year was different.

And coincidentally, your birthday was the same day as the start of winter break, which always meant you had to pack on your birthday.

And every birthday, you had to go over to James's house for your birthday dinner with your families.

Which you were not looking forward to this year.

"Oh shit, sorry, Y/n, I know you don't want to speak about him," Lily apologized.

"It's alright; I'm sure I'll be reminded of him today many times," You replied, getting out of bed, "I can't believe I don't get to spend my birthday at Hogwarts," You said, grabbing clothes from your closet, setting them next to the trunk.

"It does suck, but you can at least be excited about your birthday dinner," Lily replied, closing her trunk.

"Hopefully, it goes well without James hinting to our parents that I hate him and don't want anything to do with him," You angrily said, shoving your clothes in your trunk.

"Do you really hate him, though?" Mary asked, "I mean, you were best friends with him all these years, and now, you utterly hate him,"

"That was before I realized he was cruel and truly considered me anything but something that he couldn't get rid of," You said, "But enough about James, are we still meeting together after Christmas?"

"Of course, your house, Y/n?" Dorcas asked.

You nodded, "But we can't steal my parent's booze again; I'm pretty sure the elves are scared of Marlene,"

"I didn't mean to scare them with my clown impression; it was just too good," Marlene smirked.

"Yeah yeah, for sure," You said, laughing before packing the rest of your clothes.

Suddenly, your parent's owl flew in from the window, delivering you a letter. You opened the envelope and straightened the folded-up letter, which stated:

Dear beloved Y/n,

Your father and I are experiencing a torturous delay from France; we have fought with the conductor multiple times and even considered apparating or the floo. Unfortunately, because of the horrible mangling rabbit, I TOLD your father not to eat, he has been throwing up all evening, and we can't apparate, and the nearest floo is eight hours away. You will stay with the Potters tonight and tomorrow night because too many wards might injure you in the house that the elves can't disable, but we hope to return before then. We want you to have the most incredible birthday and love you so much; we are incredibly sorry to miss it. Please forgive us.

Sincerely,

Your proud parents.

"What does the letter say?" Lily asked, glancing at you the folding her socks.

"My parents are stuck in a delay and can't make it to my birthday dinner in time, or even tomorrow," You shrugged.

"I am so sorry, Y/n," Lily said, embracing you.

You hugged her back. "It's okay; at least I have the Potters.

"Are you sure you will be okay?" Dorcas asked.

"Yeah, you can stay with me if you want," Mary offered.

"No, it's fine." You sighed, "They will be hurt if I skipped the opportunity to continue the tradition, and my mom would wring my head off if I didn't go," You joked.

"Okay, well, let us know," Lily smiled.

The whole part of you was sincerely upset; you didn't want your parents to not be there for your birthday. Even worse, you weren't on good terms with James, which only made for an awkward dinner with his family.

But you understood and knew your parents would make it up to you, and you know how guilty they felt; you just missed them.

You chose to keep your mind off it and keep packing until it was time to go to the train.

"When does this bloody train come?" Marlene shivered, "I'm fucking freezing,"

"I told you to bring your jumper," Mary sighed.

"I didn't think I really needed it," Marlene replied, gritting her teeth.

"I knew you would be cold," You said, giving her one of your extra jumpers.

"You know, Y/n, I'll kick Potter's bloody ass for you; just remember that," Marlene suggested, causing you to laugh.

"Speaking of the devil," Dorcas muttered under her breath.

You turned around to see James looking straight into your eyes. You had to admit that James had never been so intimidating. His eyes looked as if they had darkened, and he looked as if you were his Slytherin competitor in Quidditch.

"Are you ready?" He asked, his voice sounding deeper.

He didn't even say Happy Birthday.

"I'm gonna sit with them," You blankly stated, not an ounce of kindness in your voice.

"It's better if we sit together," James demanded, "Otherwise, we won't be able to find each other in the crowd when the train stops," He explained to you slowly as if you were a child, which only pissed you off.

"Are you fucking mishearing me, or are you just delusional?" You asked, "I said I'm gonna sit with my friends and not assholes. I don't even consider an acquaintance." You sneered, your voice sounding so harsh that it shocked your friends, "Please do me a favor and leave me the fuck alone."

"Are you really gonna be an uptight bitch?" James asked, a cocky smile on his face, "I mean, Jesus, I like it better when your mouth is shut or perhaps filled." Some of you knew that James was just being an asshole because he was hurt, which is what he always did, even when he was a kid, but the only thing about it was that he only did it to you.

That only angered you more before you slapped him for his rude comment, "Don't you fucking dare speak to me like that."

"Or what?" He stepped closer

"Okay, guys!" Lily stepped in, "We will approach you five minutes before the train stops, and you guys will walk together in peace, hopefully," Lily dragged you away as you glared at James.

"I can't believe you actually slapped him," Marlene said, following after you guys, "I mean, after what he said, I would've punched him so hard in the di-"

Mary cut her off, "Jokes aside, are you okay, Y/n? I mean, I have never seen James so mean and awful towards you or anyone for that matter,"

You sighed, "Yeah, I'm fine, I just don't get why he is so mean to me when he was the one who broke my trust in the first place,"

"What did he do?" Marlene asked.

The rest of the group looked at Marlene as if she had killed a unicorn. Nobody had really asked what James had done but considering your resentment towards him, it must’ve been unforgiving.

You hesitated, “He just didn’t say some nice things about me.” You answered, hoping to move on.

“Like what kind of things?” Marlene pried.

You could tell she was just curious, but you were so humiliated by what James had said that you didn’t even want to tell your closest friends.

Dorcas elbowed Marlene, causing her to hiss in pain before she said, “It isn’t our business if you don’t want to tell us, Y/n.”

“Yeah,” Lily agreed, “Maybe it’s better it is between you and James.”

The rest of the group agreed including Marlene who was hunched over in pain and verbally cursing Dorcas for the hard elbow.

You muttered a “thanks” before heading onto the train. You sat by the window, staring outside to the foggy mountains.

You didn’t want to admit it but you did miss James and how much he cared for your birthday. Sometimes it seemed like it was his birthday with how high he held your birthday.

You didn’t understand why he couldn’t just try to even figure out what he had done or fight for your forgiveness, he just chose to be angry at you.

You didn't even want to think about him. Why does your whole life revolve around him?

"Anything from the trolley dearies?" The Trolley Witch asked.

"Chocolate frogs," Marlene said.

"Jumbling Jellies," Lily answered.

"I'll take Fizzing Wheezies," You said, paying her 10 galleons for you all.

"Y/n, you don't ha-" Lily was about to say before Marlene shushed her.

Lily glared as Marlene spoke, "Bless your heart, Y/n," She smiled as you laughed.

As Marlene started devouring her chocolate frog, you couldn't help but remember how you and James would share Fizzing Wheezies every time on your birthday on the train.

Practically tradition.

You wondered if he thought the same. If he was relishing in the memories.

Your thinking was halted when Dorcas set a hand on your thigh as you smiled, laying your head on her shoulder. You closed your eyes, trying to prepare for the day ahead.

"Y/n," Someone lightly shook you by your shoulder as you looked to see Lily. She was waking all of the girls up as the train stopped.

You yawned, getting up to grab your luggage. James was right that there would be traffic, so you had to rush off, saying your goodbyes to your best friends.

"Promise to write?" Lily asked, looking near tears.

"Lils, it's only a week," You snorted as she gave you a stern look.

"A week I won't get to see you," She hugged you tighter as you smiled and returned it.

"See you before Christmas?" She asked.

You rubbed her shoulder, "See you before Christmas."

"Promise me you won't forgive Potter," Marlene sighed, causing you to laugh.

"Do you have no faith in her at all?" Mary asked next to Marlene.

"Do you have no faith in her at all?" Marlene mocked, causing Mary to glare.

"Okay, okay!" You laughed at the both of them, "Only if you promise you both will stop bickering," You hugged them both.

They glared at each other as Dorcas spoke, "Forgetting someone?"

You grinned, "Never," You hugged her, kissing her on the cheek.

You were waiting for her to say, "Give him hell?" You asked as she laughed.

"I think you know what to do," She encouraged before you exited, waving goodbye to all of them.

Even though it was only a week, you still hated being away from your best friends. They were like your third family besides your actual and the Potters.

You saw the back of Sirius's head as you approached him, considering he lived with the Potters.

He turned around before you could tap him, picking you up, "Happy birthday Y/n!" He said, kissing your cheek as you yelped.

"Okay, thank you, Sirius, put me down!" You giggled.

He put you down as you smoothed your clothing, "So where's Potter?' You asked.

He smirked, "Only last name? Ice cold Y/n." You didn't respond, so he assumed you were waiting for an answer, "He went to the toilets,"

You hummed, silently tapping your foot on the pavement, only hearing the ruckus around you both.

"Excited for your birthday dinner?" He asked, partly ready for the drama.

"Very," You sarcastically said.

"Hey, Mom and Dad aren't too bad," He said.

"We both know Euphemia and Fleamont aren't the Potters I despise," You muttered.

"Well, for your sake, I'll make him behave," He sent a charming smile your way.

"What would I do without you, Black?" You rolled your eyes.

"Probably be miserable," He answered, causing you to laugh.

"What are we laughing about?" James said, not even a smidge of excitement in his tone.

Your usual mad facade slipped back in as you grabbed your luggage and started heading toward the car. You could hear Sirius laughing behind you.

You saw Euphemia and Fleamont waiting by the car like they had usually done since Sixth year since James told them to stop coming inside because of his newfound "popularity."

Your face lit up immediately, excited to see two of your favorite people worldwide.

You embraced Euphemia, giving the tightest hug you could and giving Fleamont a kiss on the cheek while they asked about your studies. You could see James rolling his eyes both audibly and physically.

"Okay, Mother, I don't think Y/n likes all the questions," James said, leaning his head on the window while his father drove.

Sirius was in between the two of you, snoring asleep. Considering the train ride, you didn't even know why he was tired.

"I don't mind at all," You said, smiling as James glared at you.

You knew that Euphemia could feel the tension between you and James, but she ignored it, "So Y/n, I have made you something extraordinary." Euphemia said.

"And that is?" You asked, knowing she wouldn't tell you.

"I guess you will have to find out tonight during dinner." She sweetly said, winking at you.

You smiled to yourself, relieved your birthday wouldn't be that bad.

You entered the house that you had been over to so many times, admiring it fully.

"James will show you your room," Euphemia said, rubbing your back as you smiled, trying not to show your discomfort about James.

James didn't even wait for you before heading up the steps. Thankfully, he carried your luggage because he knew Euphemia would berate him.

"It's in there," He lazily said, not even opening the door before walking downstairs.

Jerk.

You grunted, lifting your heavy suitcase inside the room.

You admired the room, which looked like it was made for you. It was warm and tremendous for a guest room. It had all of your favorite colors and smells.

It was perfect.

You decided to nap before dinner, considering you had no one to talk to, and you were partly tired after the drive anyway. You knew an elf would get you when it was time.

"Ms." A frail voice said as your eyes fluttered open to see Dot, the Potter's elf that had been there since you had first moved in.

"Oh, hello, Dot," You spoke lightly, yawning.

"Ms. Potter tells Dot to inform you it's time for dinner," Her small voice said.

"Thank you, Dot, I appreciate it," You thanked before the elf nodded her head and apparated out.

You stretched, wearing a semi-formal dress, one of your favorites.

You headed down the stairs as you smelt the food radiating from the dining room. It was all of your favorites; it was pretty extraordinary. Ms. Potter was always the type to blow you off of your feet, regardless.

Your face lit up, "This is stunning, Ms. Potter," You looked at the glowing lights.

Euphemia smiled, "I'm glad you love it,"

You sat next to James with Sirius next to him. His face had certainly softened, but he was clenching his jaw when you sat beside him.

"Now," Euphemia started, "I know we usually do gifts after dinner, but we all had such beautiful surprises for you that we couldn't wait."

Euphemia started first, giving you one of your favorite movies since you were a kid, except the movie wasn't available anywhere.

You rose excitedly, embracing her, "How did you get this?" You asked, smiling at the CDs.

"A friend of mine is good friends with the director, and he happened to have one last copy," She answered as you excitingly hugged her before returning to your seat.

"Thank you, Ms. Potter," You looked at Euphemia, "I love it,"

She nodded before Fleamont gave you his gift. It was a beautiful crystal from Bejing.

You thanked him for the beautiful gem before Sirius offered you his gift. He gave you a perfume that smelled of fire whisky but wasn't actually fire whisky.

Part of you wanted to know how he did it, but you decided to save it for later as you thanked him, kissing him on the cheek as he cheered.

Last was James, who picked up the gift from under the table. He had looked you in the eyes, not a set of resentment in them at all.

Your breath hitched as he gave you a stuffed animal your grandfather gave you when you were nine. You had cried for a week because you had lost it and teared up when anyone mentioned it.

He gave it to you as it looked brand new and was cleaner than when you had it when you were nine.

When you pressed on the heart, it always said "I love you" in your grandfather's voice and even had your name on the collar.

You teared up, "How did you find it?"

He stuttered, "I-I found it in the treehouse in the corner,"

"I thought the treehouse was infested with Clockonuts," You said.

He laughed, "Well, I risked my life to get it back,"

Every sense of anger you had felt had disappeared; he had done something that was so out of his actions lately that it made you miss him.

"Thank you," You genuinely said.

He gave you a simple nod before you began eating. Conversations started after, talking about school.

"So, any boys, Y/n?" Euphemia asked as James dropped his fork on his plate, making a huge sound that caused you to look at him.

You cleared your throat, "Well, I am trying not to focus on that right now,"

"Except for Carrows," James muttered.

"Who's Carrows?" Euphemia asked, genuinely curious.

You took a bite of your carrot, "Um, well," You swallowed, "He's just a friend I have."

"I don't sit on my friend's laps," James scoffed, causing you to glare at him.

"Well, I don't call my friends sluts," You spat.

"James Fleamont Potter, what did you call her?" Euphemia added.

James ignored her, "Well, when your best friend is acting like one just because you don't fancy her, I think she deserves it,"

Mate-" Sirius chimed in, but you were faster.

"When have I ever fancied you?" You asked, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of that knowledge.

"Y/n, you were practically obsessed with me," He ridiculed, "I couldn't get away from you, and the only time I could was when I dated Lily; it was the best months of my life," His face looked shocked after he said the last words.

You couldn't tell if he meant it, but it hurt you badly. All those years of friendship were fake; he couldn't tolerate you.

"That's enough!" Euphemia said; even Sirius was silent.

A tear ran down your cheek, "I'm actually not feeling well; I'm gonna go to bed." You said, placing your napkin on the plate in front of you.

You heard Euphemia berating James as you ran up to your room. In some ways, you didn't understand why James did everything he did if he hated you so much.

Why did he give you that gift? Why did he always call you and get mad when you didn't want to be his friend? Did you ever mean anything to James Potter?

And if you did, why did he have to ruin your birthday?

A/N: If you hated this, I apologize.

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3K notes · View notes

killergee · 2 months

Note

Hi, hi! First thing first, im in love with your hoshina x designer weapon reader! It's really warm my heart!! (I LOVE IT TO THE CORE HEHBFJSHDHC😭🫶🫶🫶 BLESS U)

Can i request you (this is kinda awkward) i want to see Highschool AU! For Hoshina x Reader. Kendo player! Hoshina x Archer! Reader👉👈 i would love to see them bantering each other (of if it's not Highschool AU! You can use the close range user! Bf x long range user! Gf thing!)

Thank you!

Ahhh my first request, how exciting! Sorry for posting so late. So many things have been happening lately. Also had to do some research and ended up watching tsurune LOL.

Here's a bunch of little stories of your life as Archer! Reader x Kendo! Hoshina.

Part 2 (one shot)

Synopsis: The club captains of the kendo and the kyudo (archery) club don't seem to get along. Or rather, that's how the club members see it.

---------------------------

"Oi, what do ya think you're doing? The kendo club's got this gym booked for today."

Toppled on top of each, the members of the kendo club huddled nervously outside the door to their gym. They could only take small peaks and glances from their place as they were all too scared to step foot inside.

All except one.

The Captain of the Kendo team, Hoshina, was the only one who dared to enter the gym. Standing tall with his arms crossed, he gave you a menacing glare.

Rising from your kneeling position, you exhaled a tired breath and put your training bow down. "Oh, sorry, I didn't see your name on the registrar, so I presumed the gym was empty and booked it." Despite the courteous words, your apology dripped of insincerity and a smidge of condescension. "Had you actually done your job correctly, this could've been avoided."

The members of your own club shifted awkwardly. Exchanging knowing glances, they braced themselves to watch their Captain go at it once again with the rival club Captain.

Hoshina lets out a scoff as he rolled his eyes at your attitude. He ignored your comment and continued on with his interrogration. "What are ya even doing here, ya can't shoot in here. Why aren't you in the kyudo hall?"

"It's under repair, and kyudo isn't only about shooting. I gotta teach the newbies the correct form before they can even touch a bow." You stated before offering a fake smile. "Why don't you go build your stamina with some laps? It's not good to slack on basic fitness."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you? When's the last time ya used your legs?"

After a brief moment, Hoshina flashed his own small smile, although there was nothing friendly behind it. He leaned down until his face was a mere couple inches from yours. He knew you hated the height difference. That you hated the fact that there was something he had over you. Going by the tiniest twitch in your perfectly crafted smile, he knew he was right.

"Hey, give me the room, and I'll play nice and let you watch us practice. Maybe then you'll learn something of actual worth." He suggested, feeling a deep satisfaction at the slight clench of your fist.

"I don't understand the need to swing a big sword. Overcompensating for something?"

"Ah, and I suppose hitting a massive target from far away is much more impressive."

"Oh my, if you think a target that's only thirty-six centimeters is massive, then I'm definitely worried for you."

"Are dick jokes the only jokes you can make? Are you a child?"

"Sorry, did I hit too close to home?"

A vein popped on his cheek. He could never really get a handle on your snake-like tongue.

Everyone felt the heavy tension and chill in the air. The first years had trouble believing that the two people squabbling like children were their beloved Captains.

You were known for your kindness and elegance. But you knew when to be soft and when to push harder. Where you went, people's eyes would follow whether consciously or not. You were the most talented kyudo archer the school has ever seen and an equally good captain.

Hoshina was among the top strongest kendo player in the division. Diligent. Attentive. Trustworthy. His laidback attitude attracted a lot of people, but when his serious nature slipped through during matches—that's when it was impossible to take your eyes off of him.

You two rarely crossed paths, but when you did, it was a blood bath. You two brought out the worst in each other. Or maybe you simply brought out each other's competitive streak.

All the members of their respective club could only pray for the day the two of you stop bickering.

---------------------------------

"I heard you guys passed the preliminaries," you said as you sat and watched him practice. It was late into the evening, and only the two of you were still in school. You had locked up the kyudo hall but saw how the lights were still on in the kendo dojo. Curiosity got the best of you, and you went to see who was still practicing.

"Congrats," you said quietly, barely audible to anyone around you.

"Oh, sorry, what was that? Awww, are ya congratulatin' me? I'm so honoured, oh, glorious captain." He jested back, pausing his activities against the training dummy. He stopped because he's had enough practice and shouldn't overexert himself. He definitely didn't stop because he wouldn't hear you against the sound of the strikes.

"Whatever, your opponents were shit anyways. It would've been harder for you to lose."

He lets out a low whistle at your words.

"Way to ruin the moment." He said, beginning to take off his armor. Placing his wooden sword at the stand, he peeled off his gloves.

Then, realization hit Hoshina, and he froze. The corner of his lip curled into a dangerous smirk as he turned to look at you.

"Wait, does that mean ya watched me compete?"

You flushed a pretty shade of pink and looked away from his amused eyes.

"Well, we're hosting the tournament this year, and I happened to pass by the dojo, so I just took a look."

"Right..." He chuckled. "Your preliminaries are tomorrow, right?"

You nod your head as you get up from your spot. The way you stretched your arms above your head reminded him of a cat.

"Yup, and we're gonna show you guys why we're number one in the division, unlike you guys who are only what again? Right, second."

"Hope you miss." He grunted in response. Though, despite the gruff words, Hoshina found that there wasn't actually any bite to his remarks nowadays. His once heated bitter words are now nothing more than poorly disguised teases.

At hearing your chuckle, he looked up at you, and his breath catches in his throat.

"Me? Miss?"

The look in your eyes was hypnotizing.

"Never."

---------------------------------------------------

Why others seemed to admire you was beyond Hoshina's understanding. You were immature, vain, cocky, rude, and knew exactly which buttons to push to annoy him. If people saw the side of you he got to see, they would run for the hills.

Walking from the main school building to the dojo, he heard the faint but recognizable sound of the kyudo bow releasing an arrow.

Ah, that's right. You should be playing right now.

He stopped in his place as he looked to the direction of the sound. He had to pass the kyudo hall anyway to get to the dojo, is what he told himself before he changed course to take the longer route to the dojo.

There was a crowd gathered around the hall by the time he made it there. Not wanting to be seen, he kept to the edges of the crowd but still in a good enough spot that he had a good view of the archers.

Hoshina thinks to himself that he'll only stay to watch your first shot as he watched you ceremoniously kneel with your bow and arrow.

However, he found himself stuck in his place as he watched your elegant and meticulous gestures. Like a moth to a flame, he couldn't tear his eyes away from your figure as you drew your bow. He didn't know much about kyudo, but he couldn't help but think that your draw was beautiful.

Everything about you screamed confidence and assurance. With the twang of the bow string, the arrow released and hit dead centre of the target.

Like always.

By the time he realized he's stayed longer than he should've, you had fired 5 shots. Not a single arrow missed the target.

The cocky smile that bloomed on your face as you lowered the bow and admired your work made his heart race.

Huh... so that's why so many people are head over heels for you.

He left before your team could celebrate the victory.

---------------------------------------------------

As the season continued, you two made it a habit to stay later than usual when practicing. Whoever would finish first would go to the other and watch or tell them to pack it up.

As captains in your last year, both of you needed to win your tournaments.

"Don't ya ever get tired? Or are the rumours true and you're actually a robot?" Hoshina said with his head resting on his bag as he sat and watched you.

"Only partly, actually," you quipped back before drawing another arrow. "One more shot."

"And how many times have ya said that?" He asked looking at your target filled with dozens of arrows. Unlike what he was used to seeing, a third of your shots were off target.

"Can't afford to miss. "

"Ya need to go home."

"No"

Hoshina rolled his eyes at your stubborness. "You think this is going to help ya? You're just burnin' yourself out."

Although you lowered your bow at that, your focus does not move away from your target. "We were one point away from not advancing to finals. I need to be perfect. My team is depending on me. I can't afford to drag my team down or disappoint them."

At one point in time, he'd have paid someone to bring you down a peg. Now, however, his heart twisted at seeing you doubting yourself.

"Listen, I know the pressure better than anyone else. This tournament is important to me too. But ya just need to have faith in the skills that you've built up over these years. You've earned the title of best kyudo player for a reason." He sat up straighter when you finally turned to look at him. Rubbing the back of his neck, he continued, "also, have faith in your team. They've worked hard and don't want to disappoint you either. Don't forget you're in a team, afterall."

You stared at him for a moment before giggling. Your giggle turned into a full-blown laugh at his pout.

"Now why's that so funny?"

"No, no," you managed to say as you try to collect your composure. "I just never imagined getting a pep talk from my arch nemesis."

A smile replaced Hoshina's pout. "I'm your arch nemesis?"

"Aren't I yours?" You jested back as you began putting away your equipment.

Were you? Arch nemesis wouldn't be the words he'd use to describe you. He didn't quite like the idea of you only being a rival to him.

His on the other hand. Now, that didn't sound too bad.

With your back turned to him, he called out to you, making you turn to him.

"Here."

You caught whatever he threw at you before it could hit you. Sitting in your palm was a key chain with a cat shaped charm, and beside it, an omamori charm with the embroidery "victory."

"Hasn't really been working on me, so you might as well try it," he said, looking rather bashful.

You let out another laugh at his actions. "Can't be owing you, here's mine," you said amused, removing the charm that hung on your bag and tossing it to him.

"It might give you my luck, but I doubt it'll be able to give you my amazing skills. So don't put too much pressure on it."

The charm was of a heart with an arrow through it and a wooden good-luck charm with the engraving "grind them to dust."

"How fitting," hoshina said outloud as he held the charm in his palm.

"Oh yea," you chuckled. "The statement is quite aggressive, but I thought it was funny"

"Hmmm? Oh yea, that too." Before you could even think twice about his statement, he closed his palm around the charm and gave you a determined look.

"Let's win this."

You couldn't help but smile. "That goes without saying."

---------------------------------------------------

Bonus:

"Hey, isn't that Hoshina's charm?" One of your club members asked curiously as they stretched on the ground. Although the rest of the members pretended they weren't listening in, they were dying to know why you had it. They were able to spot it right away when they saw it on your school bag. It was the charm that Hoshina kept on his bag for all the years they've known him. They also couldn't forget how the Kendo members were forced to stay after school to search for the charm when he lost it.

"Yeah," you responded matter of factly as you stood and watched them.

"Why? I thought you two hated each other?"

"Now, who ever told you that?" You responded slyly.

Their mouths hung open at your statement. Were you gaslighting them? Or were you just pretending you didn't pick a fight with Hoshina every chance you got.

"Oi, y/n hurry up. I'm hungry"

At the voice, they all snapped their heads to look at the owner of the charm himself. Leaning against the doorframe, he was in his school uniform with his bag tucked under his arm.

"Yea, yea, coming old man, don't be so pushy," you said, making your way towards him. When he turned to head out, the members saw your unforgettable charm hanging from his bag.

"You buying lunch this time or is it my turn?" They heard you say as the both of you walked by the window of the gym.

"Don't remember. Let's just say it's my turn. " Hoshina responded with what they think was a smile.

"What the fuck just happened."

#soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #y/n #self insert #kaiju no.8 fanfic #kaijuu 8 gou

260 notes · View notes

cr-komi · 9 months

Text

"I Need to Know"

Summary: After a daunting sex experience, you're left with the idea that you're bad at sex, but is that really true? Or should you go to someone else to see if they can be honest with you about the truth?

Pairing: Kim Namjoon X Reader (F)

Genre: Smut, fluff (just a little bit at the very end)

Word Count: 6,200+

Warnings: Swearing, angst, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this, please!), multiple orgasms

Author's Note: I'm back! It was super fun writing the last story so I'm doing it again :) I hope you all enjoy this one just as much as the last. Again, it's not really proofread per say? More like I just skimmed through it to quickly check for mistakes. Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Wait, what did he tell you?"

Your best friend, Sana, had been resting lazily on the arm of the couch, quietly listening as you recollected the events of last night: going to a bar, meeting a guy who, unfortunately, was a total walking red flag, although due to your state of intoxication you were too blind to notice, getting into a car with him and going back to his apartment, and totally fucking up by having sex with him.

To your dismay, your memory had been completely clear, up until the moment you slept with him.

"He told me I was a bad lay." You mumbled, head hanging low.

"Jesus, what an asshole," she retorted, maneuvering herself so that she was facing you, insead of the wall she was previously eye-to-eye with, "why do you think he would say something like that?"

"Well, I know why, actually." You responded, eyes still averted towards the plush rug beneath you, "because the morning after we...you know...did it, he asked me if I wanted to be in a relationship, and I said...well, I said no."

Your words echoed in the stillness of the living room, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

You hesitated, unsure of how to continue. The shame of your confession still lingered heavily in the air, a painful reminder of your poor judgment.

"Okay," Sana said quietly, trying to gauge the severity of the situation. "So he asked you if you wanted to like...date, and you said you rejected him. Then what happened?"

"Well...he got all mad at me. Saying shit like, 'Oh, I only got with you as a joke,' and 'You're nothing more than just a cocksleeve,' then he told me I sucked at sex and kicked me out."

"Don't worry, Y/N, you probably just bruised his ego and that's how he responded. It's nothing to be upset or embarrassed over."

You looked up at her, your eyes welling with tears. "I know, but I can't get those words out of my head. I mean, does he really think I'm bad at sex? Granted, it's not like I'm an expert or anything like that but--"

Sana reached out and gently squeezed your hand. "Sweetie, you're not bad at sex, trust me. He was just...mad but you'll both get over it. Don't let one asshole ruin your self-image."

"I'm trying, but it's kind of hard, you know? Everytime I try to have sex with a guy it lasts two minutes so they can use me to get themselves off, and then they move on to someone else. I just wish I could find someone who would be honest with me about this whole situation, someone who--"

Suddenly, a light switch went off in your head. You did know someone who could truly tell you if you were bad at sex or not. It may not be ideal, but you can only hope he'll say yes.

"I just...I just thought of something." You whispered, a hint of excitement and nervousness in your voice, "I know someone who can help me out. Someone who could... validate my skills in bed."

"Who is it?" Sana asked, equally intrigued and cautious.

You shot up from your seat on the floor, your phone falling out of your lap in the process, causing a loud crash to erupt the silence that had settled between the two of you.

Sana flinched at the sound, but continued her feat to get an answer out of you, "Well? Who the fuck do you know that can help you out?"

"Uh, it's uh...it's a little weird," you stammered, gently grabbing your phone from off the floor and checking for damages, although none were visible. You didn't want to go through with this, but deep down you knew it was the only option you had.

"Come on, Y/N, spill the beans!" Sana prodded, her voice filled with curiosity.

You hesitated for a moment, your face flushed with embarrassment, "I...I can't I promise I will tell you everything later but can you...will you..."

Sana laughed, "You want me to leave?"

"No, it's not that I want you to, it's just--"

Sana slowly got up from her spot on the couch, “Say no more, Y/N, I know you'll give me all of the juicy details later."

Sana smiled and gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, giving you the space to collect your thoughts.

You took a deep breath and gathered your courage, "Okay. I want you to know that this is... unconventional, but I know it's the only way I can get an honest answer."

"Don't worry, girl, I trust you. Have fun though, and be safe!"

You laughed quietly, "I will."

With a smile on her face, she blew you a kiss before picking up her shoes and gracefully departing. As she closed the door gently, you could hear a soft 'click' resonating in the air.

With a resounding sigh, you ran your hands through your hair, calming your shaking nerves by reminding yourself that you'll get through this. You can't change what happened, but you can take control of what happens next.

With a hint of uncertainty, you muttered to yourself, "Alright, here we go."

You started scrolling through your contacts, nodding as your fingers finally landed on the desired number. Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly pressed the dial button, initiating the call.

After a few rings, he finally picked up.

"Hey, Y/N, I haven't heard from you in a while." His voice was raspy, almost tired in a way, and you wanted nothing more than to simply hang up the phone and live your life with the fact that you're probably bad at sex, but you pushed through.

"Yeah, I know. How are you?" You tried as hard as you could to seem as calm as possible, willing yourself to steady your nervous breathing.

He laughed into the phone, "I'm good, tired, I guess, but that's how things usually are."

You forced a laugh, "Yeah, you're right! Th-that is how things go, that's e-exactly how I'm feeling right now. Life after college isn't easy but I-I'm getting through it and I--" You winced, realizing that you had been prattling on for the past minute about things he probably doesn't care about, "S-sorry, I'm rambling."

You could hear him smile through the phone, "That's okay." He paused for a moment, seemingly thinking about something before continuing, "So, what's up? Did you need something? Or did you just want to check in?"

"Oh, no! I definitely have something to ask you. It's just...kind of hard to say over the phone, can you come over?"

It was dead silent over the line, and you just wanted to crumble into a million pieces. You were so embarrassed. Why did you think this would work? Why did you even think he would say yes to--

"Sure. I'll be over in an hour."

Suddenly, the line went dead, and your mind went numb. Was this really happening? Would he really say yes to this like you hoped he would?

Probably not, but a girl can dream.

Your heart began racing as you realized how close you came to humiliating yourself with your idea. But now, you had a chance to prove yourself and get some real answers.

"I guess I need to get ready." You mumbled, checking the time before scrambling to the shower, ready to shave off every hair on your entire body.

---

The steam enveloped you, a warm cocoon of mist that promised transformation. You stood beneath the cascading water, letting it wash away the remnants of the moments spent waiting for when you could finally see him.

Your fingers combed through your hair, lathering the strands with jasmine-scented shampoo; the fragrance was your favorite, lingering on you like a whispered secret.

"Focus," you murmured to yourself, rinsing the suds from your hair, watching them swirl into the drain. "It's just hanging out, not a life-changing event." But your heart’s fluttering betrayed your casual words.

You reached for the razor, gliding it along your skin with practiced precision, erasing the stubble in smooth strokes. Each movement was methodical, an effort to distract your mind from wandering towards him — his smile, his intellect, his unexpected kindnesses.

"Stop it," you chided yourself, but your lips curved upwards despite the reprimand. "You're just going to jinx it."

After turning off the water, you stepped out onto the plush bath mat, reaching for the towel in an attempt to begin and patting your skin dry. The mirror was fogged over, a ghostly canvas before you. With a sweep of your hand across its surface, your reflection peered back, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability etched onto your features.

"Okay, Y/N, you can do this. Moisturize, makeup, and then--" Suddenly, a loud bang at the door caused you to jump out of your skin.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and for a moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was simply your imagination playing tricks on you. But the sound echoed in your ears, undeniable and frightening.

"Who could that be?" You thought, pulse quickening. Fear gripped your chest as you flung the towel around your body, clutching it tightly to your still-damp skin.

"Coming!" You called out, voice wavering slightly. You hurried to the door, your bare feet slapping against the cold tiles, leaving wet footprints in your wake. Every step fueled by a sense of urgency, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

As you reached the door, you swung it open, revealing the last person you expected to be standing there, despite your phone call from earlier.

Namjoon.

He blinked rapidly, clearly not expecting you to answer the door in such a state.

"Namjoon... What are you doing here? You're early," you stammered, taken aback by his unexpected arrival.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, glancing down at his feet before looking back up at you. "I wanted to come earlier. I just... I don't know, I felt like I needed to see you sooner."

His gaze lingered on you, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of droplets of water cascading down your body, tracing rivulets over your collarbones and along your arms. It was clear that he hadn't anticipated this turn of events, and his obvious distraction only added to the electric charge in the air between the two of you.

"Are you okay?" You asked, your voice a mixture of concern and embarrassment. You couldn't help but feel exposed under his intense gaze, even with the towel wrapped securely around you.

"Uh, yeah," he said again, finally dragging his eyes back up to yours. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you or anything."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you looked at him, trying to discern his true intentions for coming early. Was it simply impatience that had driven him to your doorstep, or was there something deeper at play?

"Can you give me a moment to get dressed?" you asked softly, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Then we can talk."

"Of course," Namjoon replied, stepping back from the doorway. "Take your time."

"No, no," you continued, slightly stuttering, you can come in, I just need a minute. You can make yourself comfortable on the couch or something if you'd like."

Namjoon nodded, noticing the tremble in your voice. He stepped inside, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he crossed the room and sat down on the couch. You closed the door behind him and retreated to your bedroom, quickly pulling on a Brandy Melville tank-top and shorts set.

You didn't put on a bra or underwear underneath...just in case.

You emerged a few minutes later, your hair still damp and looking slightly disheveled. Namjoon was still sitting on the couch, his posture relaxed but alert.

"So," he began as you took a seat across from him. "What did you want to ask me?"

Oh, fuck. Here goes nothing.

"Well...I-I was out the other night," you began, voice trembling with nerves, "and, well, me and this guy, well we...I mean he...I mean we met a-at the bar."

Namjoon nodded, listening intently, never taking his eyes off of you.

"So, we went back to his apartment and...well...we, you know, did it."

Namjoon chuckled, feigning innocence, "I think you may have to spell it out for me, Y/N."

"We had sex." You deadpanned, hands shaking slightly, "a-and when I woke up in the morning, I'll spare you the details, but...he told me...h-he told me I-I was a bad...a bad lay."

You could see the disgust and hurt flash across Namjoon's face at the mention of this guy's insensitivity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at you intently.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. No one deserves to hear something like that, especially not you."

"Well...thank you but, I didn't just ask you here for your sympathy."

Namjoon's eyebrows raised in curiosity, "Oh? Well then why did you?"

"Because I..."

Just do it Y/N, it's now or never.

"Because you...?" He continued, trying to make you finish your sentence.

"Because I want your opinion."

You averted your gaze towards the ground, too nervous to gauge his reaction.

"My...opinion?" He echoed, clearly confused.

"I want to know if I'm really bad at sex or not. So...I asked you over because I know you'd be honest with me."

"Y/N, what are you asking me to do?"

"I'm asking you to fuck me...?"

You mumbled the last part, almost embarrassed to have spoken it aloud. Namjoon stared at you for a moment, shocked, before finally speaking, "Is this a joke?"

You hesitated, not sure if this was the right move, but you knew you had to be honest with yourself. With a deep breath, you looked up at Namjoon, meeting his eyes with determination.

"No, it's not a joke," you said firmly. "I want to know, from someone I trust, if I'm really bad at sex or not."

"I-I don't know, Y/N. I mean, seriously? We haven't seen each other in over a year and now you're suddenly asking me to fuck you?" He rose from his place on the couch suddenly pacing back and forth in front of you.

"I know it's sudden but...please if you'd just listen--"

"Y/N, stop. This wouldn't work out. Ever. I'm your brother's best friend."

"But Namjoon, is that--"

"I-I have to go," He interrupted, making a beeline towards the door in an attempt to escape the situation, but you couldn't just let him walk away like this.

Frustrated, you rushed towards him, grabbing him as quickly as possible before he could leave.

He paused, refusing to look at you and instead averting his gaze to the hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Please, Namjoon, just hear me out," you pleaded, your voice a desperate whisper. "I know this is sudden, but I need some closure. I need to know if--"

In an unexpected turn of events, you found yourself taken aback as Namjoon suddenly gripped your shoulders, forcefully slamming you against the door behind you.

The intensity of his tightening grip on your shoulders sent an electric jolt through your body, and you felt your heart rate quicken as you looked up into his eyes. They were filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"You have to understand something, Y/N," He whispered, leaning in so close to your face that you could feel his hot breath fanning against your cheeks, "There's nothing in this world that I want more than to just fuck you senseless, right here, right now, but I need to know how serious you are."

You looked into his eyes, two twin pools of darkness that seemed to be clouded over with lust, "S-serious?" You stammered, "I-I am serious, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes pierced into yours, leaving no room for escape from this bold new territory, "Are you sure that this is what you want? You're not afraid of any sort of consequence that might follow?"

"No," you responded, steadying your voice in an attempt to sound confident, "I'm not afraid, Namjoon, I want this. Please."

He looked down for a moment, and you could tell he was battling his inner conscience, deciding on whether he should really fuck his best friend's sister or not.

He released his grip on your shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair, clearly still conflicted.

You could see the desperation and need in his eyes, trying to muster up the courage to do the very thing he knew he shouldn't be doing.

I mean, was this really the right thing to do? What if in the end--

"Fuck it."

He closed the distance between you two, his lips crushing down onto yours in a passionate and hungry kiss. He was taking control of the situation, and he knew exactly what he wanted.

Your hands shot up to his face, your fingers entwining with his hair as you pulled him closer. His hands began to grip your waist, pulling you even closer to his body as he ground his hips into yours.

Your body trembled with anticipation as Namjoon began to trail kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. You felt his breath on the sensitive skin of your throat, sending shivers down your spine.

As his mouth returned to your lips, you could taste the remnants of his hunger and desire. The tension between you seemed to melt away, as you felt your body respond to his every touch. The wetness between your legs grew with every moment that passed, as you pulled him closer to you.

"Namjoon," you breathed out, your voice a whisper that seemed to hang in the air between you. His hands embraced your waist, pulling you even closer, his body flush against your own. You felt his erection against your thigh, a powerful reminder of how much he wanted you right now.

You moaned softly, arching your back in response to the sensation, and Namjoon responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue darting into your mouth to tangle with yours. His hands roamed over your body, cupping your ass and pulling you even closer to him.

Slowly, he began to guide you towards your bedroom, stumbling through the hallway as you went, your legs feeling weak from the desire that was pooling in your lower half. You hit the bed with a soft thud, Namjoon quickly following you down. He hovered over you, his eyes filled with a hunger that you knew you could easily satisfy.

"Are you sure about this, Y/N?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. You were ready, and you knew it.

He wasted no time in removing your top, exposing your pert breasts to his gaze. His eyes widened as he took you in, his breath catching in his throat.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he whispered, his fingers brushing over your nipple, causing it to harden even more.

You moaned loudly, writhing in pleasure as Namjoon began to suck on your right nipple, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His left hand slowly trailed up your stomach, over your chest, and cupped your other breast, squeezing it gently before rolling the nipple between his fingers. He kissed and nipped at the tender flesh, causing you to gasp.

You felt a sudden rush of heat spread throughout your body as he swirled his tongue around the tip, you've never felt anything like this before—his touch is electric, his kisses like tiny explosions on your skin.

You bit your lower lip, trying to contain the moans threatening to escape. You can feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and it only serves to fuel your desire.

"Namjoon," you breathe, voice hoarse, "Please."

He smirked against your skin, "Tell me what you want, baby."

“Wanna feel your mouth on me.”

He pulled away from your nipple, trailing kisses down your stomach while his fingers traced down your side, up your thigh, until he reached the waistband of your pants.

“Take them off, Y/N," he whispered, his voice a raspy plea.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you reached down and slid off your shorts, revealing your pussy to him. He groaned, clearly impressed as he took it all in.

“No underwear, huh? I guess you knew this would happen.”

You nodded, “Uh huh– oh, fuck!”

He leaned down and licked your outer lips, causing you to gasp and arch your back in pleasure. You moaned in delight as you felt Namjoon's warm, wet mouth close around your clit, his tongue dancing over your sensitive nub.

Your hips bucked up off the bed involuntarily, seeking more contact as he began to lap at you, sucking softly. The sensation is exquisite, the feeling of his tongue on your sensitive folds sending shivers down your spine.

You gasp as he deepens the pleasure tenfold, his hands gripping your thighs tightly to keep you in place. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, your head thrown back with a soft whimper.

"Fuck," you pant, your voice barely above a whisper, "that feels so good."

You can feel his hot breath on your pussy, his fingers teasing your entrance as he continues to work your clit with his mouth.

You writhe underneath him, moaning loudly as his tongue flicks over and around your clit, driving you wild. Each time he licks you, you shudder, your body tensing in anticipation of the next stroke. You close your eyes, unable to contain your ecstasy, the pleasure coursing through your veins.

You're lost in the sensation, ignoring everything but how amazing his mouth feels on you. The bed squeaks softly as you rock your hips, meeting each of his movements with your own.

His scent surrounds you, musky and arousing, igniting a fire inside you that burns hotter with every passing moment. His hands squeeze your thighs harder, teases you with his tongue, relentless in his ministrations.

You can feel the heat building inside of you, climaxing ever closer. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you near the edge, throat working to swallow back the moans that threaten to escape, but Namjoon stops you.

"I want to hear you, Y/N."

His words unleash a torrent of emotion in you, and you let out a loud moan as you begin to lose control. Your hands grip his hair, pulling him tighter against your sex as your hips buck wildly.

"I can't hold on," you gasp, your voice barely recognizable.

Namjoon smiles against you, and his fingers begin to move in time with his tongue, probing at your entrance, and you cry out, hips rocking off the bed.

You're close, so close, and you want release more than anything.

With a sudden surge of motion, he adds another finger, pushing it deep inside of you, stretching your walls. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he begins to thrust his hand, filling you up.

Your breath catches in your throat, you arch your back, fingers digging into his shoulders.

The combination of his fingers and tongue on your sensitive flesh is too much to bear, sending you spiraling over the edge. "Namjoon," you whispers, voice thick with desire, "I'm coming--"

Your body tenses, orgasm hitting you like a freight train. A moan rips from your throat as you come hard, hips jerking off the bed.

Your walls grip at his fingers, and your nails dig into his shoulders. You quiver and shake, your whole body shuddering from the force of your release.

"You taste so fucking good, Y/N."

When you finally calm down, you feel the warm stickiness between your legs, the taste of him on your tongue.

Your eyes flutter open to see him smiling at you, his face flushed with pleasure. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, and you flinch from oversensitivity.

You slowly lift yourself up after coming down from your high, meeting Namjoon's eyes, clouded with desire and want.

You lean forward, reaching for his obvious erection, palming him through his pants.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groans, his voice ragged.

"Take them off," you murmur seductively, your voice dripping with lust. Your eyes never leave his as he unzips the fly of his jeans, slowly pulling them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection. It's hard and thick, and you can't help but stare at it, your heart pounding in your chest in anticipation.

Your hands shake slightly as you reach out, wrapping your fingers around the base of his shaft, feeling how hot and hard he is. You stroke him slowly, watching his reactions, the way his eyes flutter shut and his lips part slightly. You can see the desire in his eyes, and you know that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You lean in close, brushing your lips against the head of his cock, teasing him with the promise of what's to come. He lets out a low groan as you trail soft kisses down his length

His shaft, before finally taking him deep into your mouth. You suck on him gently, using your tongue to tease and play with his sensitive head. Namjoon groans, his hands threading through your hair as you pleasure him, your lips slowly moving up and down his shaft.

His hips buck, trying to thrust into your mouth, and you let him, gagging slightly but continuing to take him deeper and deeper until his entire length is inside of you. You moan around him, enjoying the taste and feel of him, the warmth and the power you have over him.

"H-holy shit, Y/N. Fuck that feels so--fuck."

You pull back, sucking hard on the head one last time before releasing him. You look up at Namjoon, who is looking down at you with an expression of pure desire.

His hands find their way into your hair, tangling in the silken locks as he struggles to maintain control. He moans your name, encouraging you to continue, his eyes closing tightly as he loses himself in the sensation. The sound of slurping and smacking fill the air as you bob your head up and down, your mouth working him almost mechanically.

He can feel the bed dipping slightly with every thrust of your head, your bodies moving in sync. The scent of arousal fills the room, and Namjoon knows he's close to the edge. He begins to pant, his breath coming faster as he nears his climax.

Sighing he grabs your hair tighter, pulling you off his dick and forcing you to look up at him, "Enough, I don't want to come before I'm inside of you."

Namjoon lets go of your makeshift ponytail, and reluctantly, you pull away, sitting on your haunches before him, waiting to see what he does next.

He roughly tugs his jeans the rest of the way down his legs, and you fiddle with the hem of his shirt, silently pleading with him to remove it so that he can be bare in front of you.

He obliges, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His rippling muscles and toned abs are revealed, sending a shiver down your spine.

Namjoon's sculpted body was, in his words, "a testament to the hours of dedication he committed to both his physical and mental well-being." His broad shoulders tapered downward into a lean, chiseled torso that showcased his defined pectoral muscles. The light caught the edges of his rippling abs, seemingly amplifying their strength. His arms, strong and toned, were equally impressive - a result of countless hours spent lifting weights and perfecting his form.

You stare at him in awe and reach out, wanting to feel his body against yours. You pull him down onto the bed, your hands exploring every inch of him as you kiss him passionately. His hands run through your hair, gently pulling it back as he takes your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

His body presses against you, your breasts flattening against his chest as he deepens the kiss. You can feel his cock, hard and pulsating, pushing against your thigh.

Your hands explore his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. He lifts himself up, breaking the kiss, and you feel his weight shift as he positions himself between your legs.

He stares at you for a moment with questioning eyes, "Ready?"

You nod eagerly, breath hitched in anticipation. Namjoon slowly pushes himself inside you, your walls tightening around him as he fills you completely. You gasp, arching your back as your body adjusts to his girth.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his eyes locked on yours.

He begins to move, thrusting slowly at first, but gaining momentum as he finds your rhythm. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

"Shit, Namjoon!" You cry out, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain as he hits just the right spot. His movements become more urgent, and you can feel his cock hitting your G-spot with each thrust.

"F-fuck Y/N. You’re so tight babe." He growls, his hips pounding into you.

You whimper, your body trembling from the sensation of his dick filling you up and stretching you out.

You're so close, so close to coming undo--

Suddenly, Namjoon pulls out of you, and you whine at the empty feeling, looking up at him with pleading eyes, "Namjoon, what are you--"

"Turn around," He interrupts, grabbing your hips, "ass up."

You blush at his words, but your arousal only deepens as he helps you turn around, and he positions himself behind you.

He rubs the head of his dick against your entrance, teasing you and making you crave him even more. You moan softly, reaching down to guide him inside you.

With a swift, powerful thrust, Namjoon slams into you, filling you completely as the bed creaks beneath the two of you. You cry out, your hands flying to your mouth to stifle the sound, but your voice gives out and you let out a yelp.

Your heart races as Namjoon's hips slam into you, feeling the thick length of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each hard thrust.

You moan loudly, a hand clutching onto the sheets underneath you and the other running through your hair.

The headboard hits the wall with a loud thud as Namjoon forces himself deeper inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Your body trembles under the onslaught of sensations - the feeling of being here, the pleasure spreading through you, the sound of your skin slapping together.

"Damn, you have such a nice ass," Namjoon pants, his breaths coming in short gasps as he smacks the supple skin before running his hand back over the spot he marked to soothe it.

You whimper in response, it only serves to intensify the experience for you, the sting combining with the delight of being taken so roughly.

You thrust your hips back towards Namjoon, meeting his movements with equal force, his cock leaking pre-cum onto the floor.

"And these tits," He growls, leaning forward to cup your left breast, rolling the nipple through his fingers, causing you to moan loudly without restraint, body trembling with anticipation.

Namjoon growls low in his throat, his free hand finding its way to your puffy clit, rubbing it gently as he thrusts into you.

"Oh god, Namjoon!" It's almost too much for you to handle - the dual sensations are driving you wild.

You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, but you don't want it to end yet, not when Namjoon is treating you like this.

With a groan, Namjoon pulls out almost completely, only to slam back in with more force than before. Your fingers dig into the mattress beneath you, breath hitching as your walls tighten around him, "Fuck, Namjoon, I'm so close!"

"Yeah? You gonna come again, baby?"

"Yes, Namjoon, please!"

Namjoon smiles wickedly, increasing his pace as he feels your desire growing. He grabs the back of your hips, pulling you harder against him as he thrusts deeper inside you. His thrusts are rough and unrelenting, his hips pounding into you with each powerful impact.

You can feel the dampness between your legs, the juice from your arousal seeping down your thighs and onto the bed. The sound of your breaths and his grunts fill the room as the tension builds. Your nails dig into the mattress, leaving small indentations as you cling to the fabric for dear life.

His hands roam over your body, caressing your skin and heightening your sensitivity. He tweaks your nipples, causing you to cry out with pleasure and pain. His fingers explore your inner thighs, trailing along your sensitive skin, making you tremble with desire.

"Oh, shit," Namjoon groans, his eyes rolling back into his head as he feels his own orgasm beginning to build.

With a final burst of energy, you push back against him, meeting his every thrust as he pounds into you, his cock rubbing against your G-spot with each strong movement.

"Fuck, Namjoon!" You cry out, your body trembling uncontrollably as you feel your climax beginning to take hold.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm so close," Namjoon growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he fights to hold back his orgasm.

Your walls tighten around him once more, pulling him deeper inside you as you scream out in pleasure, your body writhing beneath him as you feel the waves of your release crash over you. Your walls tighten and release around Namjoon's pulsating cock, causing him to groan in pleasure.

His own release is becoming too much to hold back, and with a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you as he lets out a loud groan. Your name on his lips as he cries out in pleasure, "Holy shit, Y/N!"

His hips stutter, body trembling as his orgasm overtakes him. You can feel his warm, fluid spilling inside of you, filling you completely. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever experienced before - it's intense, it's overwhelming, and you love every second of it.

He holds you tightly against him, his breath hot against the back of your neck, as he slowly starts to regain his composure. His heart is pounding against your back erratically.

You slowly open your eyes and look back at him, a content smile gracing your lips. "That was incredible, Namjoon," you breathe, your voice soft and sultry.

He kisses your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth as he moves down your shoulder. "I think I agree," he murmurs, his voice already starting to calm down.

You both lay panting, your bodies entwined, the sweat glistening on your skin, the scent of passion filling the room. He pulls out of you, his cock wet and sticky from your connection. He pulls his hips away from you and collapses next to you on the bed, both of you trying to regain your breath.

The seconds pass into minutes, and you both lay there in content silence, your bodies entwined, the remnants of your encounter still lingering between you.

Namjoon's fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, his touch gentle and soothing. He leans in close to your ear, whispering, "Let me clean you up."

"Mmm, okay," you reply, your voice still thick with lust.

He gets off the bed and grabs a warm cloth from the bathroom, bringing it back to you.

Slowly, he turns you over, and you lay on your back, your legs spread wide, his body hovering above you. He takes the cloth and smiles, gently dabbing at your sensitive folds, cleaning away the remnants of your sexual encounter.

You moan softly, your body still quivering from the intensity of your orgasms. His touch is soothing, yet it sends shivers of desire through you. He continues to clean you, his fingers exploring your delicate folds as he does so.

Once he's finished, he places the cloth on the nightstand and lies down beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close.

His fingers trace the curve of your hip, massaging gently as you both lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow of what the two of you have just done.

The room is filled with the sound of your heartbeats, in sync and pounding in rhythm with each other. You feel safe and secure in Namjoon's arms, and you turn to face him, a gentle look etched into your features, "So, what did you think...?"

He softly strokes your hair, "About what?"

"Well...am I a bad lay...?" You mumble the last part and he smiles, cupping your cheek in his hand.

"No, absolutely not. You were...perfect. He was probably just upset that you rejected him and that's how he reacted."

You snuggle closer, feeling his heartbeat syncing with yours,"I'm glad you're here with me," you whisper.

Namjoon nods, "Me too."

You smile, feeling his warmth enveloping you.

The tentative silence is broken by Namjoon's voice as he speaks, "Do you want me to stay the night?"

You think for a moment, "Yes, please."

"I'll be right back," he says as he gets off the bed, returning a moment later with a clean sheet and blanket. He carefully covers the two of you with the cozy layers, your bodies pressed closely together.

"Sleep well, Y/N." He whispers.

"Sleep well."

As the night progresses, you both drift off to sleep, the dim light from the moonlight streaming through the window casting soft shadows on the wall. The scent of sex lingers in the air, a heady reminder of the passion that had just passed between the two of you. You are lulled into a peaceful slumber, your hearts beating in harmony with each other's rhythm.

635 notes · View notes

kanmom51 · 2 months

Note

Okay so I had to put my thoughts down in words

I just don’t know how to feel about what Jimin said in the bts of Muse, other than sad.

I guess I should start by saying I’d been dreading him saying something along the lines of that since I heard Who, as to why he made it. The MV bts came and went and then bam, we get a mini production diary, with saying he’s looking for love and is alone. Exactly how I thought he would explain it.

I hoped I’d be wrong but alas, he more than confirmed he is single. I suppose it’s not surprising, but all of our collective hope or support seems in vein now.

I’m still going to watch the travel show but I feel sad about it tbh. They make such a cute pair.

I'm really sorry that you feel that way love.

Especially knowing that you are just not taking what JM said the right way.

In any case babe, whatever you might believe about their relationship, that shouldn't take from you supporting them for being the most adorable human beings possible.

I won't go too much into the BTB. I do think you need to watch it multiple times, try to pay attention to JM's body language too. But I will say that I do think that your reaction here is unwarranted, in the sense that JM IS NOT saying he's single or that he is looking for love or that he is alone.

Let's start with the fact that JM was going for the gender neutral lyrics to start with, but that changed, probably because it sounded better with the "she" instead of the "you".

So, yeah, JM originally wasn't looking for a she, but a you. Funny how if this was an autobiographical song that would have mattered, right? Oh, wait a second. It isn't.

The song is not about JM, not about his real life, not about his actual experiences down to the T.

Not this song, nor Muse the album, even though the other songs were written by him.

Not an autobiography. Unlike Face.

JM says it here and he said it in his album exchange with RM!!

See, it looks like you are doing exactly what JM wanted fans to do. And that is get the wrong idea!!

Did you miss this perhaps?

Yeah, you probably missed JM saying this.

Btw, when JM talks about his diary, I really don't believe he means a personal diary where he writes his wants and needs and experiences, lol. He's talking about that diary where he writes his ideas for the album, his ideas for the songs, where he wrote his lyrics to the songs for Face (we got that diary with Face) and for Muse. And JM, he's a shy boy, Idk if you are aware of that. This young man who oozes confidence on stage is so very shy and the experience of having to explain to John Billion the idea he wants for the song and it coming to life left him a little self conscious, shy.

This isn't about the song telling the story of his life. This is about having to explain an idea for a song, his vision, it actually being something that he isn't going through.

Ok, moving on.

Again, JM explaining the vibe he is going for with the song.

And again his shyness.

He continues to say that he poured all his emotions into this so he's embarrassed.

Not because these emotions are his as in this is what he feels right now longing for love, but because he feels embarrassed to explain his emotions about the song, the emotions he's looking for in the song.

I suggest that if you are having an issue with understanding how this song is not JM, not his life, maybe go rewatch the album exchange with RM.

youtube

And read my post on it as well.

These feeling JM is trying to encompass in Muse (and Who) are part of the universal language of love, a language he is using in Muse to convey his message, which is not literal.

And specifically when he talks about Who, it's about that feeling of excitement in his work that he's looking for. Those are the feelings he's talking about. Not the lyrics about the "she" (who was supposed to be a "you"). Not the lyrics that are written in the universal language of love. No. It's about the feelings about his work. The feelings about the message he is trying to convey. Which has NOTHING to do with his love life!!!

But again, he's telling us about those feelings through a language we all understand. So that longing he has for that feeling with his work is brought to life as a longing for a someone to love.

This!!

It's a story he wants to tell!!!

And the whole "everyone's living alone" sentence that you are probably clinging to, cause obviously...

a. He could be talking about the fact that at some point of every person's life, they are living alone, as without a partner, a loved one, and as such it's a relatable feeling.

b. It's not like people that are in relationships don't feel alone at times. Even JM, who was in a committed relationship with JK when going through the struggles and feelings he had and poured into Face, into Alone felt that way. I bet you JK was feeling alone or lonely during the time JM was working on Face and Muse. During those lives in Feb 2023. And yet, he was in a committed relationship with the person he loved.

c. He's trying to tell a story, and he's trying to convey his longing for that feeling with regards to his work, and being lonely is how he's explaining it, the way he's conveying it to us. Hence the "everyone's living alone"... meaning - that is something everyone will understand, meaning, hoping he picked the right idea, the right way to convey his message as the 6th song for Muse!!!

THAT IS ART!!!

And JM created art. Not "this is a song based on my own experience" art, which he did with Face, but "this is a story I want to tell that will help you understand my feelings about my work" art.

And he knew.

He knew people will make the wrong assumptions.

Just like you are right now.

Side note, and before I go, Idk if you have noticed this, but Muse, promoting the album, talking about the album, is so much easier for JM to do than Face. With Face all we got was that it's personal, that he was struggling, but not much more than that. JM was pretty much staying quiet, and even when he did talk he was saying much of nothingness. While with Muse he's talking, he's opening up, he's explaining. You know why? Because it's not about his life!!

Just saying.

#Jimin #JM #JM Muse #JM Who

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mysticheathenn · 4 months

Text

What Are The Lies You Tell Yourself?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is about the many things you tell yourself to keep yourself small, stay in toxic relationships, make yourself feel bad, etc. Maybe even words of kindness to help dispel those lies.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

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Next Reading: Patreon (unless spirit says otherwise)

Pile l:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: 4 Swords (reversed), 2 of Swords, Awakening, 9 of Wands, 7 of Swords (reversed)

Pile l you have two different messages so I will start off with the first message of those who like to self-sabotage their lives. You like to feed yourself the narrative that you are too busy and everything is hard because you are afraid of failure. You are afraid of the things that can come from actually doing the many things that you say you want and will do. This might be success, failure, or fear of losing those around you because you aren't sure if leveling up will cause a rift or if people will start asking for money but either way, you refuse to look at yourself with complete honesty and accountability when it comes to achieving your goals because you are always feeding yourself lies as to why you can't do them out of fear of the unknown and it's time you stop lying to yourself. This doesn't even have to be a fear of failure or success, etc this could just be you feeding into your imposter syndrome or for some of you feeding into your Lana Del Rey era where you fear if you aren't sad, stressed, or anxious you won't be loved, be a funny person anymore, whatever the reasoning is. You have to give yourself a chance to fly or else you will never know what you are truly capable of or even know if you can really fly.

The 2nd message is for those who identify with hyper-independence. You refuse to acknowledge the fact that the reason you do everything yourself is because you fear having the few people around you let you down like others have. So you continue to feed this narrative of "I like to do things myself." "I'm the only one who can do things right around here." While some of it may be true...you really deep down fear people letting you down again. You are prolonging the inevitable of letting people show you who they really are. Let others around you help you so you can have a break now and then, stop always trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. If someone messes up or doesn't come through...so be it. You can't control everything in your life...you are going to have to release some of that control and go with the flow and allow things to come and go no matter how lonely or horrible the feeling may feel. Better will come when you stop trying to control everything.

Extra Messages: Tea Trea Oracle Deck: June, Slowly but surely getting ahead, dissatisfaction with life, An exciting life, waiting for news/ package/ or letter, Do not back down from the opposition show strength and fortitude, solid foundation success with effort, feeling tied down or frustrated.

Pile ll:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: 7 of Cups, The Star, Page of Cups, 8 of Swords, Queen of Pentacles.

Similar to how pile l has two messages so does this pile. The first message I would like to ask is who hurt you? Who hurt you enough to where it made you believe that you can't be loved, shouldn't be loved, nor seek love. You continuously keep yourself in a small corner...my own little corner from the Cinderella movie featuring Brandi is playing in my head (Link to Song). Long story short you feel small when you are around others like you have to change who you are in order to be and feel loved but when you are alone you are exactly who you want to be if not exactly who you want to be at least you have an idea or a sense that who you are currently is not who you want to be and it's sad love. I want to hug you and let you know that you should be around others who see you, for you. You are not hard to love and you deserve the best and purest love there is. Stop feeding into the narrative of others as your own, because it's not.

The second message is similar to the first message and a little bit of the first message of pile l. You like to tell yourself reasons why you don't deserve nice things or feed into the mindset that you will never amount to financial abundance. I feel some of this mindset has to deal with childhood/adolescent trauma others of you this may have developed because you kept feeling like every time you got a leg up life would knock you down a peg as to tell you, you aren't meant to have good things when in reality life was trying to redirect you or point you in a direction of something better. You were meant to shine and have many options of abundance in your life. This message is for a few of you but this also has to deal with your looks. You possibly feel that your looks are not up to par and that everyone you meet is always better looking than you. You may also have a fear that if you ever did decide to date that the person you are with would leave you for someone better looking or "better" in general.

Extra Messages: Tea Trea Oracle Deck: A path with money is waiting for you to find it, Getting together with friends, Take care or there will be a loss of material wealth, Opportunity of windfall, Stepping into a new experience, Work/success/achievement, Affairs with your family.

Pile lll:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: 5 of Wands, Justice, 6 of Cups, 10 of Wands

This doesn't feel like a lie per se that you tell yourself like the other piles but more so of the delusion you feed yourself. This feels more of a victim mentality mixed in with entitlement and before you say nope not me....*David Beckham's voice* Be Honest. How do you feel when you aren't getting your way or dealing with small inconveniences. Be Honest. If the answer is you complain about life not being fair and you go into victim mentality mode that everything always happens to you and not for you or you just feel for whatever delusional reason that life must always cater to you without any kind of effort is....quite bold...I will applaud you for that love. You have the confidence of a mediocre white man, haha. I love to see it. This per se again isn't all that bad but it kind of is as it stems from your childhood of you parents always handing you gold stars for just existing or putting in "at least they did it" energy. You like to believe that you are doing hard work or you are doing a lot when really you self-sabotage or you do one little thing and expect life or others to bend towards your will because you "tried". This message doesn't even feel like a message to help guide you but more so to act as a mirror because it has been a while since you have been completely honest with yourself and your behavior. Some of you might be sick of yourselves and need this while others of you don't smell your own shit.

Extra Messages: None. You don't really need extra messages as your reading was all the message that you needed for a shift and clarity on how things are. Stop lying to yourself. Look in the mirror and ask if you really love what you see? If you really love the kind of person you are? If you really love how you move in your life towards things you want.

Pile lV:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: The Tower, The Empress, The Sun, Queen of Cups

Three major arcana cards and one minor arcana say a lot about you, pile lV. At first because of the type of reading this is I thought maybe you might be afraid or lying to yourself about becoming successful or experiencing happiness but as I drew clarifiers for your pile it started to come together that you are not being authentic to who you are in your feminine energy. What I mean is that you are people-pleasing way too much to the point where when you want to say no, you say yes instead. This pile gives me the vibes that when a guy approaches you, you are on your "best lady-like behavior when politely declining the guy." Even when he keeps persisting and etc you refuse to act out of character and say listen my guy back the fuck up and fuck off. Take a hint. You can be in your feminine energy and still maintain boundaries, and say what you want to say without coming off as "hard, rough around the edges, etc. There was a YouTube short the other day that was from the Clock app where someone was making fun while also having a point when it comes to people pleasers. "Oh, you're such a people pleaser...how many people have you pleased?" So many people have stitched it not being able to answer this question because who have you pleased? Do you consider yourself a dog pleasing its owner for treats, shelter, and so forth. For some of you, this all stems from childhood because maybe you grew up in a transactional household where your parents or family didn't do anything for you without expecting something in return, or even romantic and friendships have done this. It's okay to say no from time to time. It's okay to not be this prime and prissy-like persona. Again you can be loving and kind while still painting boundaries and saying no to things you don't want to do.

Extra Messages: None like pile lll, you don't really need any extra messages as your message has everything that you need to hear.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

Next Reading: Patreon (Unless spirit says otherwise)

#spirituality #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a card #tarot cards #pac tarot #pick a pile #pac reading #pick an image #pick a picture #pick a photo #witchblr

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