#idk. forgetting more and more again. it happens this time every year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hwaflms · 11 months ago

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round & round! ★ [ l.dh ]

{💭} hyuck : i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you, but now everyone’s kissing you except me :/

[☆] pairing. haechan x reader, slight jaemin x reader ft. 00’ line, chaewon of lesserafim and sieun of stayc

[☆] genre. smut + fluff | stoner!nct, pwp bc it’s me

[☆] wc. 6.1k

[☆] warnings. explicit content (mdni), weed/marijuana use, lots of making out, slight choking, dirty talk, fingering, sexual stuff in a semi-public place, use of the word ‘slut’, very slight degradation, not very proofread, pretty tame tbh

[☆] notes. my first time writing again in like??? two years???? istg i didn’t mean to abandon this acc 😞 pls be nice i haven’t written in a while and this is not my most favourite work but i’m warming up for more stuff in da future i just wanted to post a lil self-indulgent smth abt hyuck bc bf☝️ idk how active i’ll be because of uni and other things but i missed u guys!!! any feedback is appreciated enjoy :p

even through the clouds of smoke engulfing the little living room of jeno and jaemin’s shared flat, your hooded eyes still met.

today was an important day amongst your friend group; it was chaewon’s first time smoking up with everyone. your friends weren’t really the type to pressure anyone into doing anything they weren’t sure about, but considering the astounding majority who enjoyed smoking some variation of weed, group sessions were a frequent occurrence. you either joined in or didn’t, chaewon being the latter until she decided of her own accord that she was going to try it with the people she trusted.

you sesh with jeno most often, seeing as he was the one who introduced you to weed and taught you everything you know about it. after weeks of listening to you complain about sleepless nights, jeno suggested you try smoking a joint before you go to bed, especially since it was starting to affect your attendance. (“i can’t keep attending these zoology classes without you, y/n. every time something stupid happens, i laugh and make a joke out loud because i forget you aren’t there, and now i’m pretty sure people think i’m either insane or just really fucking lonely”.)

now, smoking up has been a pretty regular occurrence, especially since jeno introduced you to a bunch of his friends and vice versa, all of you making up one big, happy group of stoners. chaewon and sieun were your friends who got along with everyone else just fine, and though they didn’t hang out with the others as much as you did, they were still welcome whenever.

presently, you are leaning back against the couch, all the way on the end, because jaemin is sprawled out alongside you, opting to rest his legs on your lap. haechan makes a joke that you don’t understand, but you laugh anyway along with everyone else, except renjun who covers up his laugh with cough.

“you can never let me have it, huh?”, hyuck scoffs, narrowing his eyes at renjun who’s mouth forms a thin line. “i know for a fact you find me funny.”

you hear that he makes a remark back at haechan but what he says doesn’t register in your head, everything sounding far away. remembering the special occasion, you turn to face chaewon and sieun, who are giggling away on the floor about something between the two of them. you don’t know what they said but you smile anyway. she clearly seemed like she was having a good trip, and so was everyone else.

swallowing nothing, you realise how dry your throat feels, and with that realisation came this undeniable desire for some form of liquid. “jen,”, you tilt your head back and call out to the boy who was already rolling another joint on the table behind you. “did you end up buying more coke?”

“check the fridge”, he mumbles without looking at you, tongue poking his cheek out of concentration as he focuses on what he was doing. with a groan, you heave jaemin’s legs off your lap, muttering a couple ‘sorry’s when he starts to complain about the change in position.

you all but float to the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and spotting the fresh cans of coke placed neatly in the overcrowded appliance. the first gulp feels like heaven against your parched throat, taking a few more while standing there.

“you gonna share or no?”, a voice startles you, turning to find haechan’s figure looming right behind you with a dopey smile on his face.

“god, we need to get you a bell or something. i never hear you coming”, you roll your eyes before grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. you’re disappointed to see that there was no ice in their freezer, but you pour the drink into the glass anyway.

“why are you pouring it into a glass?”, haechan furrows his eyebrows, looking pointedly between the glass and the literal can in your hand. “now we have to wash two glasses when we could’ve just drank it from the can.”

he’s right, of course, but you’re not gonna tell him that. instead, you pretend that you were planning on adding some lemon juice to the drink because you saw it on instagram. while you figure he doesn’t believe you, he humours you anyway and tries your little concoction, which ends up being pretty damn good.

out of all of jeno’s friends, haechan definitely stood out to you. you didn’t really understand why, you were just drawn to him, even way back before you met him, when jeno used to tell you about his friends. “loud and annoying” were the words he used to describe him, but the smile that appeared on his face anyway let you know that he was someone special to jeno. this was not to say his other friends weren’t special, you got along incredibly well with all of them, meshing right in with their group.

as of right on cue, jaemin’s voice loudly sounds out from the living room, “are you guys fucking in there or what?”.

sighing, you pick up your glass and begin to walk out of the kitchen, but not before purposely knocking haechan’s shoulder when you walk past him, hearing him snort before following you out as you exit the room. perhaps if you had lingered in the kitchen for a couple seconds longer, you would’ve heard haechan muttering something along the lines of “i wish” under his breath.

“jeez, took you long enough, can i have some of that?”, renjun drawls, lifting himself off the armchair with a smile, to which you roll your eyes but pass him your glass anyway. you sit down on the floor opposite the couch and he looks as if he is about to compliment your drink-making skills before haechan cuts him off.

“dude, chaewon and sieun look like they’re about to fall asleep, let’s do something”, he half yawns out, opting to stroll over to your spot on the floor and sinking down next to you.

“not…sleepy…”, chaewon murmurs, but her voice is muffled because her cheek is pressed against sieun’s shoulder, both of them sprawled out on the floor like it was a comfortable bed.

“sure you aren’t…”, jeno chides with a smile, getting up from the table to walk over to where all of you were situated. he twirls his newly rolled joint between his fingers, finally holding it out in his palm as if it were some magical gadget, and if you were being fully honest, you were sold. “round 2? or 3, I can’t really remember…”

some words of agreement were muttered across the room, chaewon and sieun even groggily getting up from what looked like a very comfortable napping spot. another rotation began, and you made sure to blow out your smoke directly into an unsuspecting haechan’s face when it was your turn.

“let’s play a game or something”, jaemin suggests, taking a long puff and passing it to jeno who sat beside him, and soon the room was hazy once again, the smell of weed infiltrating your nostrils.

“like what?”, chaewon coughs weakly in between her hit and renjun pats her back before he hands her your coke that you hadn’t received back after you gave it to him. so long for that.

“monopoly?”, jeno offers with a shrug and haechan lets out an obnoxious snore as a reply, making you laugh but you cover it up with a cough when you meet jeno’s playfully narrowed eyes. “okay then, big guy, what’s your incredible idea?”

haechan appears to actually think about it for a moment, looking around the room for some sort of inspiration maybe, until his eyes land on you.

“okay jaemin, get that empty wine bottle from last week, we’re playing spin the bottle”, he is grinning from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows even though all his suggestion receives is a bunch of groans and sighs.

your eyebrows are raised however, and you try not to let your reaction show too much on your face. spin the bottle? you hadn’t played that since you were maybe fourteen, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. haechan wanted to play spin the bottle? who was he hoping to kiss? or was it just a whimsical little suggestion that was more of a joke?

it didn’t fully seem like he meant it as a joke, judging by his expression as he awaited some actual responses from the group. “what are we, fourteen?”, renjun might as well have read your mind, but he soon joins you and haechan on the floor, the others following suit. jaemin presents the empty bottle and places it in the middle of the little circle you have formed, everyone seeming slightly more keen as the joint runs out.

maybe it was the thc talking, but it didn’t really seem like a bad idea to you anymore. you were all single, attractive and close enough that it wouldn’t make things weird, and most importantly, you wouldn’t mind getting more familiar with haechan’s lips.

you shocked your own self with the sudden lewd thoughts in your head about the male sitting next to you, squirming in your position slightly. he turns his head towards you like he could hear your thoughts (“shut up, y/n, he can’t hear your thoughts…right?”) and you swear his eyes soften a bit. “are you sure you wanna play?”, he asks softly, mistaking your tenseness for discomfort, but you shake your head a little too quickly for your liking.

“no, no, let’s play, it’s not like we have anything better to do, right?”, you feign indifference and after everyone else agrees, the bottle is spun for the first time by haechan.

much to renjun’s dismay, it lands on him, and it’s almost comical the way he looks at the bottle pointing at him before slowly looking up at haechan. “renjunnie, let me kiss you”, haechan whines in a high pitched tone while drawing out the “you”, puckering his lips expectantly. the next three minutes consist of renjun listing every single person he would rather kiss than haechan, and you’d have half the mind to volunteer yourself if you weren’t clutching at your sides laughing at the whole exchange, slapping at both jeno and sieun who tried and failed to dodge your waving hands.

renjun finally relents when chaewon suggests he lets him kiss his cheek instead, but haechan is no quitter so he makes sure that he plants the loudest, most wet kiss on his face before sighing in victory when he sits back down. renjun is not the most happy with this, and he tells jaemin to take his turn instead while he rushes off to the bathroom to wash his face. hyuck looks indignant, calling out behind renjun, asking if he wants another one.

taking the turn instead of renjun, jaemin spins the bottle harshly, and it spins and spins and spins for what seemed like an eternity. your eyes are so focused on the way the bottle looks as it spins that you don’t even notice that it has stopped, until jeno nudges you with his shoulder. it’s neck is pointed directly at you, and you finally look up from your trance at jaemin, who wears an undeniable smirk on his face.

while you didn’t exactly see him that way, there was absolutely no denying that jaemin was a very attractive man, and he was no different presently, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up as he propped himself up with his arms, looking at you expectantly.

you don’t want to look at haechan right now, because you can see out of the corner of your eye that his face is looking straight forward, not at you or jaemin, just forward. you wonder what is going through his head, but your thoughts are cut short when jaemin scoots closer to you in the circle.

“are you okay with this?”

and when you think about, you are. “yeah, i mean it’s just a game”, you reply, not wanting to ruin the fun or raise any suspicions, to which jaemin agrees and inclines his head towards you.

he kisses you, more fully than you were expecting, but you had no complaints really as you kissed him back, titling your head in the opposite direction to slip your lips over his. you wonder if your lips were as dry as they felt, and in the back of your mind it registers that your friends are watching you kiss your other friend because they hoot and giggle, but you can’t really bring yourself to care.

jaemin’s lips taste sweet and he smells sweet, his touch soft as he brings a hand up to your cheek, gently holding it while he continues kissing you. it probably wasn’t as long as it felt, but jaemin finally pulls away, the remnants of his sweet chapstick lingering on your lips. you are aware of how hot your face feels when you pull away and return to your spot, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“dude, what chapstick do you use?”, you ask after clearing your throat, and jaemin rummages in his pant pocket for a moment before whipping out a cute pink tube, holding it out in front of him. “strawberry dream, baby”, he winks, reapplying it on his lips. “never go anywhere without it.”

renjun returns after god knows how long, stating that he had to re-do his skin care routine because haechan had completely thrown off his skin’s ph balance, and is saddened to hear that he missed witnessing you and jaemin.

the game continues in a steadfast manner for the next couple of rounds thanks to haechan insisting we play one more round, though it doesn’t exactly go in the manner you were hoping for. the group is practically in tears after watching jeno and jaemin share an awkward kiss, chaewon arguing that they can’t claim “no homo” because it was the most homo thing she’d seen in a while, and that was saying a lot because she was, in fact, gay.

you have now kissed sieun, jaemin once again and an especially endearing renjun, who’s cheeks and tips of his ears are painted a bright red after you plant a full peck on his waiting lips. haechan grumbles something about renjun not having kissed anyone besides his mom to explain his reaction, but jeno is quick to cut renjun off before another argument ensues.

“i don’t know about you guys, but i think that’s enough exchanging of saliva for one day”, he all but sighs, lying down on the floor dramatically. while you do agree, you’re disheartened, because not once has the bottle landed on you when spun by haechan, or the other way around. it feels like the universe is fucking with you, because really how many times can you spin a bottle between a group of seven people and not have it land on the one person you want to kiss even once.

haechan looks like he wants to say something, but appears to decide against it in the end, stretching and standing up. it is then mutually agreed by everyone that it was time to watch a movie.

“super bad?”, jaemin proposes, and even though most people had already watched the movie, no one argues against it and jeno starts setting up the movie on their big screen tv.

settling into the couch, you glance over at haechan and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling a tad bit disappointed. this whole spin the bottle thing makes you wonder about all the other times where you could have had an opportunity to make a move on the brown-haired boy.

you’d gone on long drives together, gone partying, even drank with just each other a couple of times. the closest the two of you had ever come to crossing that line was while you where dancing at a party and his arms were looped around your waist from behind, slowly swaying to the beat. you’d danced with him tons of times before that but you recall thinking the air was a little different than normal, more heated, but you also recall mistaking renjun for your professor, so you didn’t trust yourself. the moment came and went, and neither of you ever had the balls to address it, and now it had been way too long since to bring it up.

“this seat taken?”, haechan snaps you out of your bitter thoughts, jerking his head towards the spot on the couch next to you. you clear your throat and shake your head, scooting over slightly so he could sink down next to you. “what’s up, y/n, you look a little…not present. you still high?”

it’s funny because your mind certainly wasn’t present, it was in the gutter, but you choose to blame the weed. “yeah, i’m still high”, you answered truthfully, and so was he, his red, hooded eyes a dead giveaway.

“okay, perfect, i wanted to show you this stupid tiktok i saw”, he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket and leaning closer to you to show you some video of a cat, or maybe a dog, you weren’t paying attention. he laughs at whatever the animal did, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does so, and you observe him instead of watching. when he doesn’t hear you laugh, he peeks over at you but you’re quick to turn your head back to his phone, letting out a very late giggle at the video.

if he did catch you, he doesn’t mention it, continuing to scroll and show you more videos. jeno finally gets the movie set up and turns off the lights, taking up the final seat left on the couch. the movie begins, and everyone falls into a comfortable silence bar hyuck, who makes the occasional comment that earns him a snort from you each time.

at some point during the movie, haechan stretches his arms out behind him, placing his arm on the head of the couch directly behind you. glancing at him quickly, you can’t tell whether the action was purposeful or not, because if it was, he was doing a very good job of looking nonchalant. you try your best to ignore it, but his hand is resting directly above your shoulder, inches away from touching you- but it never does.

you had never noticed what nice hands haechan had before. long and slender, nails clipped short and clean, his middle, ring and index finger adorned with various silver rings. you note that he wears three rings on his left hand, but none on his right. his right hand sits on top of one of his thighs, two of his fingers drumming against it following some rhythm going on in his head. his fingers are long, and the only thing you can think about is just how nice they would feel inside��

no, no, no, stop it, since when are you this horny?

you realise stressing out about how horny you are all of a sudden is just going to lead to a bad trip and you don’t want that, and you want to clear your head. even though you’re feeling a different kind of thirsty, you figure a distraction for a couple minutes would be helpful, so you excuse yourself to go get some water, jumping up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. unbeknownst to you, haechan’s watchful eyes follow your figure as you exit the room.

finally away and in the kitchen, you fill up a glass and lean over the sink, closing your eyes to collect yourself. you can finish the movie without driving yourself crazy over haechan, right? tonight is no different than any other hangout and you don’t want to weird haechan out with your unnecessary staring and poorly concealed thirsting. you just need to stop thinking about his stupid hands, his stupid thighs, his stupid hair and his stupid kissable lips. “kissable? lock in, y/n, lock in…”

“who are you talking to?”

you wince but don’t turn around, eyes screwed shut tightly. you’ve been gone for a couple minutes and you don’t know when he left the room, but you put down the glass and turn to face him.

“what’s got you so jumpy?”, he questions, leaning against the counter. his arms are folded and his gaze is piercing, face tilted slightly to the left as he observes you. this is the second time he’s startled you in the kitchen today and also happens to be the very reason you’ve been so jumpy.

“nothing, i just…god, you need to starting announcing your entry into a room, dude…”

he furrows his eyebrows but lets out a chuckle anyway, slowly sauntering over to where you stood. eyes never leaving yours, he now stands directly in front of you, caging you in between the sink and his body. the closer proximity and dim lighting isn’t helping your case in the slightest, feeling all hot and bothered as if there was a sudden change in temperature. “what’s happening? you’re usually never like this, we’ve smoked up together so many times. are you having a bad trip?”

you understand why he might think that, what with your jerky movements, dazed staring and just overall disconnected demeanour. while you were wound up a little tighter than usual, you weren’t having a bad trip, your mind was just very slightly preoccupied. “no, hyuck, i’m fine, i just…needed some water”, it’s a half-lie you tell, choosing to not tell him the full truth for the sake of your own pride.

“you just seem…off”, he seems to pick his words carefully, eyes roaming over the expanse of your face. “no, i just…”, you trail off to try and find the words to explain this situation away, but he’s just looking at you so intensely. it’s so silent in the room and the air feels all too still, and you swear you’re trying to speak coherently but haechan switches his weight to his other leg, wetting his lips with his tongue while he awaits an answer and you just freeze. “i…”

“‘i’ what? see? you’re doing it again”, he starts, running a hand through his hair, and the muted light that leaks in through the window illuminates only one half of his face, but you can see him so clearly that even the way his pretty eyelashes brush against his cheek when he blinks doesn’t go unnoticed by you. you’re subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. “you have this look in your eye. like you wanna…”

“…what?”

everything is still and unmoving, until your eyes zero in on haechan’s hand as he raises it, slowly bringing it to graze his fingers over your cheek. his touch leaves a burning hot trail on your skin and using his thumb, he releases your bottom lip from under your teeth, hand lingering cautiously for a fleeting moment before he drops it.

“like what, haechan?”, you repeat yourself, urging him to just say whatever it is he has to say, getting tired of this back and forth. you could sell a kidney just to see what was going on in his mind right now, because he looks torn between speaking his mind and just staying silent.

“like you want to kiss me.”

a few beats of complete and utter silence pass, not even hearing the dull sound of the television in the living room anymore over the thudding of your heart in your ears. haechan takes a small and tentative step towards your frozen figure, gripping the counter you’re using to lean against with his right hand, effectively trapping you in your place. now you really are a deer caught in headlights, because he’s spoken what you’ve been thinking about for the past couple hours into existence and he is absolutely correct.

“am i wrong, pretty?”

judging by your sharp intake of breath and open-mouthed expression, you’d have to be a fool to think otherwise. he looks as if he’s waiting for you to answer him regardless, giving you a chance to get out of this, but your voice is no longer functioning, and it takes all the strength in your body to shake your head ‘no’.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, tongue peeking out to lick his lips again. “i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you”, his voice is strained as he admits this, quiet and careful like he’s holding back while his eyes are trained on yours like he’s daring you to break eye contact. you don’t. “but then everyone else was kissing you but me.”

normally you would giggle at his little frown, but all you can muster up is a whisper of his name, finally breaking his all-consuming eye contact in favour of looking at his lips again. you don’t know who moves first, but the next thing you know is your lips are pressed together in a fierce kiss, your hands tangled in his soft, brown locks while he grip your waist and pull you into him.

he kisses you like a man starved and you do the same with equal fervour, not even being able to process that your little daydream is coming true. his hand comes up to caress your cheek, soon moving down your neck after stroking your face softly, using it to tilt your head for you. the position of his hand is very purposeful because his thumb presses into your throat ever so slightly, but his grip is still tight enough that you couldn’t break the kiss (not that you wanted to, anyway). the other hand snakes around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, pressing his hips into yours.

you’re positively drunk off the feeling of haechan’s lips molding over yours and you think you might just ascend when he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. body on fire, you mewl against his lips, swirling your own tongue around his while he slowly but surely bucks his hips into yours.

no wards are spoken while your hands thread through his hair, pulling on it and letting out a sound of surprise into his mouth when his hand trails down to your ass and grips it harshly. he finally releases you from the searing kiss, but he doesn’t let you catch your breath, instead spinning you around in his hold so that his front presses tightly into your back, hands slipping around your waist from behind. this feels like a déjà vu kind of moment because you are reminded of the time when you both were dancing in this exact position, except this time you were getting exactly what you wanted.

“you know how bad i wanted this?”, his voice echoes your thoughts and breaks the silence, hands running up and down your front in a teasing manner. lifting your shirt up slightly, he trails his fingers over the exposed skin of your torso and the action makes you squirm in his hold a little, and much to your surprise, he groans lewdly against your ear. “fuck, i’ve been thinking of this for so long. kissing you, having my hands all over you…”

you get the sense he’s talking more to himself than you, but you revel in it nonetheless. his hand grips your jaw and squishes your cheeks together so your lips form a pout, forcing it to the side where he plants one, two, three kisses to your puckered mouth. his other hand slips further up your shirt where he brazenly cups your boob through your bra, fondling one of them while his tongue peeks out to flick at your bottom lip.

you’re putty in his arms, all gasps and squirms and whispered ‘haechan’s. “what, baby?”, he mumbles into your cheek, the hand gripping your jaw letting go in order to slink down to your hip where it lingers for a moment. “what do you want?”

your lack of answer doesn’t bode well with him, earning you a tight squeeze to your hip as a kind of warning. “need you to touch me”, you whisper out defeatedly, and you feel haechan laugh mockingly against your face.

“yeah? need me to touch you?”, he mimics your voice while tutting, letting his hand slip further down to where you needed him the most, but not letting you have it just yet. “think you can be a good girl and keep quiet for me? we don’t need everyone outside hearing what a little slut you’re being in here.”

everyone outside. the fact that you were just a room away from all your friends who were sat watching a fun little movie together had completely slipped your mind, but if you were being honest, you couldn’t find it in you to give a shit. everything about your current disposition was so dirty. one hand under your shirt, the other about two seconds away from fingering you right in the middle of your friends’ kitchen, while said friends were sat outside, unaware of the goings-on under their own roof.

though you didn’t think actually getting caught in this position would be the most pleasant experience, the idea of it dampened your panties and caused you to whine out loud, tilting your head back against haechan’s shoulder. you receive an immediate hand clamped over your mouth in return, haechan tutting in your ear condescendingly. “looks like the little slut can’t follow a simple request.”

even though he reprimands you, his hands begin fumbling with the button of your jeans anyway, undoing it and pulling the zipper down. one hand comes up to wrap around your front and rests on your shoulder, holding you in place, and the other he sticks down your pants and cups your heat but makes no effort to move, chuckling when you try to move yourself against it. his crotch ruts against the swell of your ass and for you, any friction is better than no friction at the moment. with one hand gipping the arm around your shoulder, you slip the other behind you to palm at his hard cock over his pants, making him let out a sound of approval.

“please, hyuck”, you shake your face free of his hand and turn to look him in the eye, and he grips your throat and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

he seems to accept your plea, finally moving his hand against you and you breathe a sigh of relief, lost in the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit over your wet underwear. he’s quick to slip his hand inside your panties, cold fingers pressed directly on to your bare pussy, spreading your wetness all over you. when he ultimately slips a finger into your tight, waiting core, you moan but it’s cut short when he slaps his hand over your mouth again. “keep. quiet.”

if someone were to walk in, the two of you would be a sight to see. you writhing in his tight hold while his hand is stuffed in your pants, two fingers pistoning in and out of you at a fast pace as his forehead is pressed against the side of your face, releasing short breaths. you look positively fucked out, and you’re both in a state of complete bliss as you grind against each other in a timely rhythm.

“my pretty girl. if i had known you wanted this too, i would’ve just grabbed you and kissed you like i wanted, in front of everyone.”

his voice is honey-like and sultry, and his fingers are nothing short of heavenly. they pump in and out of you, and he still manages to use his thumb to toy with your clit in this position, leaving you breathless and on the edge. “can’t believe jaemin and renjun got to kiss you before me.”

you’re so wet that your cunt makes downright sinful noises as he fingers you and you’re hoping that it isn’t really as loud as it seems. “you’re so wet, angel. so this is what had you all jumpy today”, he laughs like he’s stating the obvious, and you’d have half the mind to feel shy if his ministrations didn’t feel so fucking good right now.

you’re aware that you’re close and so is he because you’re clenching around his fingers, so he quickens his pace both inside you and against your clit. “you gonna cum for me, baby? right here, in the middle of kitchen, while everyone’s outside?”, he purrs against your face and you grip the part of his arm that isn’t shoved in your pants, digging your nails into his skin in a way that’s sure to leave a mark. his words make you feel dirty in the best way, not even knowing you could feel this turned on.

he peppers kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking here and there, and through the pale moonlight bleeding into the room from the window, the red blemishes that begin to bloom on your skin are visible to hyuck, and he seems pleased with his artwork. “that’s it, sweetheart, let go for me.”

your moans are muffled against his palm when you finally come, the orgasm ripping through you so strongly that you go limp in his hands, legs almost buckling at the sensation. with the added boost of the weed you smoked earlier, your orgasm is immense, feeling it pulse through your body until it’s too much, whining and wriggling in haechan’s firm hold. he holds you still and helps you ride out your high, whispering utterances of “that’s right, baby” and “my good girl” into your ear while you throw your head back and try to regulate your breathing.

in a moment, his hand slips out of your pants, turning you back around so you’re now facing him, grinning down at you from ear to ear as if you both hadn’t just defiled jaemin and jeno’s kitchen. “you feeling okay?”, he mumbles, tucking your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t soaked, pressing a number of kisses all over your face as you nod and giggled, trying to evade his attack. he lets you go just to wash his hands, and it’s when he dries his wet hands on the material of his pants that you notice his raging boner, immediately feeling bad.

“wait hyuck, let me–��

as if he’s reading your mind once again, he shakes his head and takes both of your hands into his, wrapping them around his own waist while pulling you into him. “we can save that for another time, pretty”, he insists, his expression turning shy when he realises the implications behind his words. “that is, i-if you want another time, of course–“

it’s your turn to cut him off this time, but you do so by leaning up and connecting your lips again, bring a hand up to stroke his cheek. “of course i want another time, hyuck. i want this. i want you.”

your assurances do good to bring a smile to his pretty face, taking ahold of the hand on his cheek and pressing his lips to your skin gently, lovingly. “so, so, perfect.”

taking note of the prolonged amount of time the two of you had been gone, you skulk back into the living, but this time, hand in hand.

the scene you’re greeted with is a surprising one, because you find every single one of your friends to be sound asleep, much to your amusement and hyuck’s dismay. “so you’re telling me i could’ve been hearing you moan the whole time and none of these idiots would have even known?”, he is appalled, a hand coming up to rub at his face out of frustration. “i did all that for nothing?”

“i wouldn’t say for nothing”, you reveal, biting your lip and smiling up at the boy shyly. “i might have woken them up.”

“oh yeah, well now you’re going to”, and with that, he’s dragging you back to the kitchen while you giggle, nearly tripping over your own feet before he all but scoops you up in his arms, muttering to himself about having left something in the kitchen that needed urgent fetching.

2K notes · View notes

racew1nn3rs · 9 months ago

Text

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘪. (𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦) 🍊

⤷ summary: saudi arabian and australian grands prix happen! y/n starts making vlogs for the races and it reveals more about her and a certain driver's feelings than she hoped, not that she notices. poor oscar's stuck in the middle of it all but he's trying his best!

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liked by f1, landonorris, and 55,007 others

tagged landonorris and oscarpiastri

mclaren saudi arabia, you were beautiful even if the results weren't! ready for what's to come

12,567 comments

user1 admin not using a single nice photo of the drivers 😭

user2 admin be honest is this your revenge era

mclaren well, yes!

user3 HELP MEEEE

user4 the way lando looks at her 😭

user5 this is a place of business

user6 oscar looks petrified 💀

mclaren dw guys we're still training him!

oscarpiastri wtf why would u say it like that, i'm not a dog

mclaren full-time team mascot, part time driver

user7 admin drop the insta your so pretty 😭😭

user8 no literally, content of her WHERE

mclaren ynusername 🤲🏼

user9 LETS FUCKING GO

user10 HER DISSING HER OWN TEAM 💀 THEY'RE GONNA FIRE YOU GIRL

mclaren they don't pay me to LIE

user11 CRAZYY

user12 LANDO IS NEVER GETTING A GOOD PIC EVER AGAIN 😭

mclaren what can i say, i am no mans peace 🥱

user13 icon

landonorris reporting you to hr

mclaren for what

landonorris idk harrassment or something

mclaren ok keyboard warrior, lets calm down 💀

user14 KEYBOARD WARRIOR HELEPSJSM

user15 i vote admin just takes over and we don't even get driver pictures

user16 real and true

user17 i fear we may have lost the plot

user18 thoughts on today's results

mclaren i'm trying to be positive in general but man

user19 LMAOOOOO

user20 ik the pr department is shaking in their boots after every post notif

mclaren probably! but unfortunately for everyone, i am going to keep doing whatever i want

user21 no more lando beef, mclaren admin?

mclaren i forget but i never forgive. i forgot why we were fighting but i stay hating bitches 🥱

landonorris literally WHAT DID I DO

mclaren IDK BUT IK U PISSED ME OFF 🫵

oscarpiastri diabolical photo choice

oscarpiastri i look like a little kid on picture day

mclaren so basically your everyday look

oscarpiastri yk what you are making this work environment very hostile

mclaren i can make it more hostile if you want 🤨

oscarpiastri nevermind!!!

maxfewtrell most flattering lando picture i've seen in years

mclaren that's saying something isn't it 🤩

user22 i went to haterville and they all knew you admin

mclaren they actually just elected me mayor there!!! 💪🏻

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liked by bsfusername, landonorris, and 17,800 others

ynusername if my admin duties don't kill me, i promise my caffeine addiction will! (:

3,422 comments

user23 be honest, how many coffees have you had today

ynusername 3!

user24 oh that's not that bad

ynusername +5

user24 JESUS CHRSUT

bsfusername at this point i think meth would be healthier

ynusername honestly yeah

ynusername thanks for the suggestion!!

user25 nooo admin don't do meth ur so sexy aha

ynusername that just made me want to do meth more

landonorris so what i'm hearing is buying you an espresso machine would get me in your good graces 😇

user26 oh brother here he goes

ynusername you must be deaf then

landonorris 😔 2 espresso machines?

ynusername i don't want ur dirty espresso machines 🙄

oscarpiastri now what car is that 🫵

ynusername SHHHHH

oscarpiastri TRAITOR

bsf2username when your not busy being super sexy on a race track, can we go thrifting and get sweetgreen and overpriced coffee 🙏🏼🙏🏼

ynusername this could've been an email, get this out of my comments 💀

ynusername but yeah obviously

user27 admin vlogs when 😔

ynusername SOON!!! very very soon

user28 mother feeding us once again

ynusername brb, adding single mom who works two jobs, loves her kids, and never stops to my resume

danielricciardo coffee recipe where?

ynusername in your dms now ‼️

danielricciardo is this flirting

ynusername no if i was flirting i would've told you to ask me in person, i'm just being charitable

landonorris can i get the coffee recipe too then 🤲🏼

ynusername wdy want next, my mugs? keep on walking charity case

user29 CHARITY CASE IS CRAZYDFHAJ

user30 she's so effortlessly funny and mean i love her

user31 i feel like this is so unprofessional /:

ynusername babe professional where, you are on??? my personal?? account???

user32 maybe she's born with it, maybe it's the fact that she's consumed enough caffeine to tranquelize a horse

user33 oh please the horse would be dead

ynusername call an ambulance, BUT NOT FOR ME ‼️💪🏻🗣️

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ynusername posted to story!

(caption: melbourne vlog out now on youtube, go watch!!)

15,221 replies

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would you like to watch? yes or no

now loading...

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"This thing better be working," could be heard slightly muffled in between vague shuffling sounds. After a second or two of incoherent noise, the camera footage finally came on. Y/N smiled at herself in the camera as the recording light blinked to life, and raised her hand victoriously. She grabbed the smile microphone in front of her and laughed, "It looks like everything is working. Thank God, I wouldn't have known how to fix it otherwise."

"Alright everybody, welcome to the first race weekend vlog hosted by me! Your favorite McLaren admin and social manager. It took me forever to figure out how I wanted to go about this, but now I think I settled on a format that will work," She explained as she walked around the small, clean kitchen that was within frame of the camera. She pulled a glass jar out of her cabinets and left it on the counter before pulling a jug of cold brew and a cartridge of milk out of her fridge.

"It is currently 7:30 A.M on March 29th, and I have a flight to Melbourne in 3 hours. I'm already packed and ready for this weekend, but I wanted to get an introduction filmed and I wanted to take a shower before I left." Y/N paused for a moment as she poured the coffee into her mason jar until she seemed satisfied and began to add some milk. "I am totally exhausted so this is probably cup one of like," she laughed, "I don't know seven probably. And this is a pretty big jar I won't lie."

"The race weekend doesn't technically start until Friday, so I'll be getting there a bit early, but I wanted to film some content before the race weekend gets really hectic, so McLaren is sending me a little bit earlier. I'm excited though! I love the heat, even if I live in London the antithesis of Australian weather," she taste-tested her coffee and hummed in delight.

"God I really never miss with this stuff," she said contently. "Anyway, it's a bit of an early start today, but I'll have plenty of time to sleep on the fight. I mean can you believe that London to Melbourne is a nearly 22 hours," she scoffed. "I vote that we start making all of the races in one place so I don't have to feel jet lag more painful than the force of 1,000 suns every other weekend. Not that I'm complaining," she chuckled awkwardly, "I love my job McLaren please don't fire me."

Abruptly an orange tabby cat came into the frame of the camera, causing Y/N to abruptly grab her glass jar in the hopes of avoiding a mess. She gasped, but laughed as the cat scampered off as quickly as it had come. She shook her head fondly.

"That, ladies and gentleman, was Cali! My cat. She's literally my baby, and I love her more than anything else on this earth. However, she does have an affinity for hitting things off of counters and breaking them. She also hates men and nearly all other animals, so she's basically the world's biggest hazard to society. She's a good girl, I love her." Y/N explained between sips of coffee as she stared wistfully past the the frame of the camera, where it could be assumed Cali had gone.

Abruptly an alarm went off and Y/N threw her head back with a groan.

"That means I have to get in the shower and get ready so I can leave on time," she said, before taking a few more sips of coffee. "I'm going to go do that, and the next time you'll hear my beautiful voice will be at the Melbourne Airport! Cue the travel montage!"

An assortment of clips follow. Y/N is seen dragging her luggage through Heathrow Airport. Y/N is seen ordering another coffee at the airport, finishing the coffee, and ordering another before her flight. Y/N is seen responding to emails from her airplane seat, editing video footage, and responding to instragram and twitter comments. Footage is shown outside the plane window of a cloudy, blue sky and a time lapse is shown as the sky grows beautiful shades of pink and red before becoming a starry-night sky. Y/N is seen cozy in a throw blanket and a travel pillow, presumably asleep with headphones on. Y/N is shown pulling her luggage through the airport once again, with a brand new coffee cup in hand. She smiles, taking a sip before she is seen settled down in a seat in the bustling airport.

"Twenty-two or so hours later and I have finally landed in Melbourne. I'm waiting for my Uber to get here so I can finally be taken to my hotel to drop my stuff off. I have a meeting with the McLaren drivers in two hours, but luckily I slept really well on the plane. I don't know how else I would be able to deal with Lando Norris. I'm going to finish this coffee in order to maximize my tolerance for the next few hours, but I suspect I'll be getting a new coffee before I reach that meeting. My addiction truly knows no bounds," she laughs, trying to ignore the people vaguely shown within frame that are staring at her speaking to a camera.

The camera cuts abruptly and the waiting screen from SpongeBob flashes on the screen, including the narrator's voice reading "2 hours later."

Y/N is shown once again in new clothes, a new coffee cup in hand, and luggage replaced by a small canvas bag. Her comfortable plane clothes have been swapped out for jean shorts and a plain white tank-top. Her hair is clipped back out of her face, and she is adorned with simple gold jewelry and light makeup.

Y/N smiles at the camera as she walks, bustling and talking heard around her, before whispering into the small microphone, "I have arrived at the McLaren garage. It is now time to meet with Lord Lando and workplace mascot Oscar Piastri," the titles slip off her tongue sarcastically and she doesn't bother suppressing an eye-roll.

In the next clip, Oscar and Lando are seen seated on either side of her as they sit in what seems like a board-room. Lando leans over and whispers something that the camera doesn't pick up and Oscar laughs while Y/N grimaces and reaches forward to readjust the camera. When the camera comes back on, Lando and Oscar are seated together on the left of Y/N as she faces on angle toward both them and the camera.

"Don't just sit there and look pretty, say hello to the camera boys," Y/N says and Oscar cackles at the disgruntled look on Lando's face.

"Is that your way of calling me pretty Y/N," Lando chokes out between laughs, and Y/N scoffs with an eye-roll.

"I was actually talking about Oscar, but whatever floats your little papaya boat Norris," Y/N deadpans and Oscar doubles over from the force of his laughter at the pout on Lando's face.

"That's not nice at all, I hope you know that. I think I am sitting here very prettily, thank you very much," Lando says, leaning into the girl next to him to speak into her microphone.

Y/N draws the microphone back, swatting him away, "Yes, yes quite prettily," Y/N mocks in a British accent.

Oscar, still trying to recover, joins in, "Pretty little Lando Norris," and Y/N laughs jovially, reaching across Lando as if the boy weren't there to high-five the Austrialian driver.

"Bullies, the lot of you," Lando mumbles and Y/N brushes off his comment without response before finally facing the camera.

"Anyway, welcome to the first McLaren race weekend vlog. I'm Y/N L/N, the best media manager in the whole god damn world, and this is Lando Norris, the biggest pain in my ass, and Oscar Piastri, the second biggest pain in my ass. How are you feeling about Melbourne boys?" Y/N questions, transitioning smoothly much to the British driver's chagrin.

"Feeling proud to be the second biggest pain in the ass and not the first. Probably the only time i've been glad to get second actually," Oscar comments and Y/N laughs as Lando shakes his head in disappointment.

"But in all seriousness it is good to be home, this is easily my favorite race of the year seeing as it's my home race and i'm looking forward to, hopefully, good results from our team," Oscar supplies and Y/N nods along to his words.

"Yes, Australia, we are in you and we are happy about it," both boys choked out a laugh at the manager's sexual innuendo and Oscar quickly covered his mouth with his hand so as not to react too much. "What about you Lando what are you feeling," Y/N questioned, leaning the small microphone to the boy.

"Feeling like that was a stupid joke. And also like I am going to be getting P1 this weekend. I can feel it in my bones."

"Leave my jokes alone Lando, you're not being paid to be a critic," she scoffed, "and if I recall, you said the same thing in Saudi Arabia not that long ago. What's changed now?"

Lando rolled his eyes, "What's changed is that we're in Australia now and I'm feeling much more confident."

"Well thank god for that," Y/N supplied unhelpfully as Oscar laughed.

"Now, what we really came here for, it's time to film a video for this channel, it's going to be a fan Q and A, I picked the questions. By the time this vlog is up, the QnA should've already been posted. So feel free to stop watching this and to go watch that or whatever," Y/N commented. "After that we're going to film a TikTok challenge," both and Lando and Oscar grimaced, but Y/N ignored their dismay at the idea of fiming yet another TikTok, so cue the montage! Filming time!" Y/N exclaimed and the screen transitioned to a new series of clips.

In the first clip Oscar and Lando were sitting in two chairs while Y/N sat across from them with a set of notecards.

"Lando, this question from user "ln4mania" asks, "Are you and admin actually friends? Or is the online beef real? The people demand answers!" Y/N reads off with a laugh.

"Do you hear that, the people demand answers Lando! Don't keep them waiting!" Oscar and Y/N laugh as Lando shakes his head and tucks his face into his hands.

"There is no beef, guys. Me and admin, or rather me and Y/N are just fine. We hadn't even actually met when that happened," Lando supplied between laughs. Y/N looked at the camera and rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, faux-disagreeing with the boy.

She ignored the simmering pit of disappointment in her stomach. She did in fact have a problem with entitled little Lando Norris who still gave her side-eyed looks and judgmental stares whenever he saw her. If that wasn't humiliating enough, Oscar had clearly noticed it too, which just gave Y/N the feeling that she wasn't being taken seriously at all now that Oscar understood Lando's lack of respect for Y/N. However that didn't matter in the current moment. All that mattered was making this video.

The next clip showed Lando and Oscar sitting at a table with bowls of water in front of them and towels strewn across a chair just within frame of the camera. Y/N stood behind them, hands rested in their hair as she reacted to the prompts being read by someone, an unnamed media intern, off-camera.

"Who is harder to make videos with?" The intern asked and Y/N huffed out a laugh as she let her hands fully grasp Lando's curls and push him into the water quickly. He sputtered, trying to blink the water out of his eyes as Y/N laughed at the wet-puppy dog look he was sporting.

Y/N tried to shake the ridiculous desire to let her hands run through the soft curls underneath her finger tips. Curse Lando and whatever stupidly good, rich-person hair routine he used that made him smell good and look good, and... whatever.

Lando, blinking water out of his eyes, was now undoubtedly certain that being damn-near waterboarded was worth it if it meant that Y/N would laugh like that again. He knew Oscar would harass him again later for being "down-bad" or something along those lines- as he had done every time he caught the man staring-, but as he caught a glimpse of Y/N's bright smile and shaking shoulders, he found he didn't really care.

The next clip showed Oscar, Lando, Y/N, and a laughing media intern as they all dried off- somehow all having become wet through the course of filming. Y/N dried herself off quickly, taking a sip of her newly refilled coffee, not seeing the way that only the camera and Oscar saw Lando stared at her until the driver was nudged back into focus on drying himself off.

A title-card once again came on the screen with white words on a photo collage of Australian grand-prix candids that Y/N had taken, reading "Race montage? More likely than you'd think."

Footage was shown of the free practice sessions. Oscar and Lando getting in and out of their cars. Engineers along the pit wall going over data. The team speaking incoherently, going over the game plan for Sunday's race. Oscar and Lando greeting fans, signing merch, and posing for photos. Y/N smiling and waving at a cheering crowd of people before staring at the camera incredulously with a small caption reading: "Omg she's famous your honor". More clips showed Lando laughing as Oscar tossed grapes and Lando moved to catch them with his mouth. Lando nearly choking as Y/N cackled in the background. Multiple clips showing Y/N with a fresh coffee, and another... and another, as Oscar's face in the background grew with concern. Zak Brown explaining to Y/N the dangers of caffeine overdose, and the need for moderation. Y/N explaining to Zak Brown that without coffee she would simply collapse and die, which the camera showed did nothing to ease her concern. Y/N getting caps signed by the drivers for fans and walking away with intricate friendship bracelets decorating her wrists.

And finally footage of the race. The engineers in the garage. The pit-crew changing tires. The cars racing past as Y/N watched attentively. Footage of the crowd as they cheered when the cars whizzed past. Smiling faces of fans. Y/N's cheers as Oscar and Lando passed. The smiling faces of McLaren employees as Lando and Oscar crossed the checkered flag in P6 and P8 respectively.

Y/N accepting hugs from both drivers, ignoring the burning sensation in her stomach as Lando wrapped his arms around her with a smile and a laugh. Y/N calling Lando smelly and telling him to go wash off if he wants to hug her next time, and him rolling his eyes at her fondly before making a face at the camera. The podium celebration is shown and Y/N smiles as the anthem plays, even though it's not for her own team.

The final clip is shown of Y/N in her hotel room, comfortable in sweats as she sits on the unmade bed.

"Not bad results this week guys! P6 for Lando and P8 for Oscar, which are good points for the team. I'm happy on my end, I think we got some good content filmed, and I am now ready to go to sleep so I can get home to Cali and my own bed quicker. I hope you enjoyed this video, and if you didn't don't tell me because I don't care!" Y/N jokes with a smile.

"Hopefully I will see you all at the next race, if not the race after that! Bye papaya fans, and be sure to follow us on instagram and all of the other social platforms!" Y/N exclaimed, gesturing to the list of the social media handles that appeared on her right hand side.

And with that, the camera cut to black.

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liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 29,145 others

ynusername afraid to report that i fought jetlag and lost 😔 i did sleep for 25 hours straight after melbourne and i had no clue where i was when i woke up! shout out cali for waking me up 🙏🏼 best friend frl

9,547 comments

bsfusername i'm going to try not to be offended by that caption (love you bb cali) but FUCK YOU CAUSE I BOUGHT YOUR ASS BREAKFAST

ynusername my bad! s/o to that bomb ass omlette 🤩

bsfusername never doing shit for you again

user34 that vlog was god tier, how long did that take

ynusername it took 7 hours of editing and years off my life, thanks so much for asking 🥳

maxverstappen1 thanks again for those podium photos! you have a gift for photography 💪🏻

ynusername don't mention it! 👍🏼

ynusername (no seriously, mclaren might behead me)

mclaren beheading is so last year. firing squad. 🗣️

user35 not y/n threatening herself 💀

oscarpiastri suprised your body didn't naturally wake up for coffee

ynusername it did! just 25 hours later

user36 your poor cat was literally starving for a whole day? youre a horrible owner

ynusername let me introduce you to god's greatest creation: the automatic feeder!!! i'm sure they can mail one to whatever fucking rock you live under!

user37 PERIODDDD

user38 me personally? i'd never log on again

user39 she needs a personal channel 🙏🏼🙏🏼 i'd subscribe

user40 her cat is so cute 😭😭😭 gimme that

ynusername 🫵 STAY BACK HEATHEN, NO ONE TOUCHES CALI AND LIVES

user40 my bad fam 🧍🏻‍♀️

user41 i want someone to love me as much as she loves that mean ass cat

landonorris don't you have a job to be doing 💀💀 she slept through a full work day

user42 lando always on her ass and for whattttt

user43 obsessed obsessed obsessed

ynusername i had the day off! but not the guy who was streaming video games coming for me 🥱 talking bout get a job

user44 lando and y/n beefing on insta again? we're so back

user45 at this point instagram comment beef isn't enough, they need to duel or some shit

user46 the caffeine addiction almost got her guys

ynusername i wish it would, then i wouldn't have to work with lando's annoying ass

landonorris I CAN SEE YOUR COMMENTS???

ynusername THAT'S THE POINT

user47 honestly just give her a gun atp, these men test her too damn much

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user48 NURSE 🫵 SHE'S RIGHT HERE

user49 no fr, like let's get back to bed grandma

user50 OP, are you concussed?

user51 no actually cause didn't y/n just say she wanted to khs working with him 💀💀

pastryboy81 that sign can't stop me, because i can't read!

user53 OK I ACTUALLY SEE THE VISION

user54 ARE YOUR EYES CLOSED???!1!1

user55 i fear i totally get it 😔

user56 it's giving enemies to lovers, secret relationship type vibe lowkkkk

user57 no deadass like he hugged her reallll tight

user58 she also hugged oscar 😭😭?? and he has a whole gf

user59 the way she shoved him off and told him he reeked not 5 seconds after 💀 delusion is a disease yall

user60 someone call the f1 gossip pages cause 😗

user61 more like someone call the ward cause somethings real off with yall 🤨

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sorry that this update took forever, i had surgery and recovery has been rougher than i expected! hope you enjoy!!

please leave your thoughts in the comments and feel free to drop a request for your fav in my asks <3

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨��

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne @urfavsgf @sadsierra2 @96jnie @sltwins @poppyflower-22 @alliumiae @livelovesports @liberty-barnes @the-holy-trinity-l @iliwyss @awritingtree @redpool @elliotts1one @velentine @chaoticmessneutralplease @5sospenguinqueen @charizznorizz @2pagenumb @mxdi0 @cwiphswmwasohmm @tremendousstarlighttragedy @lnspipedrm @itseightbeats @tinycoffeeroom @woozarts @personwhoisther @a-beaverhausen @love-simon @annabellelee @ravisinghs-wife @chezmardybum @greantii @weekendlusting @monserelates @sapphiccloud @halleest @deamus-liv @gigigreens @morenofilm @laneyspaulding19 @lanireadss @dear-fifi @moldyshorts1997 @oliviarodrigostan13 @eugene-emt-roe @ilivbullyingjeongin @im-a-ghost666

#f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula 1 #f1 #f1 smut #f1 x you #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 smau #lando norris smau #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #racew1nn3rs #racew1nn3rs: fake it till you make it

3K notes · View notes

macfrog · 3 months ago

Text

epilogue sex on fire

once more for old time's sake, hm?

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: guess who's getting married - and you're all invited.

warnings: age gap, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, daddy kink, praise kink, a weird bus metaphor. idk where it came from. but it works. enjoy!

word count: 6.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

It passes in the blink of an eye.

Letting go of your mom’s hand at the school gates; forgetting when you next reached for it. Dancing around a laptop with an acceptance email from your first-choice college onscreen. Walking into a new job with a broken heart; walking out whole again.

All in the blink of an eye.

Joel says it too, as he scrolls through floorplans.

“…Used to be Tommy’s room, way back when,” he swipes to the next screenshot, “I thought it’d look good if we – we took down this wall, and – you see?”

You nod, twisting the hem of your T-shirt around your finger, and curl a little closer into his chest.

He still smells like the fresh coconut bodywash he stole from your bag. The sweet scent that he lathered up and let spill down your tummy, foamy bubbles slipping over your hips.

Under the rainfall shower, he massaged all the pain away. The sweet ache of three hours spent rolling around the bed of your bridal suite, letting him hold you and kiss you and fill you in ways only he has ever done.

You can still feel the heat of him between your legs. You miss him there.

“I see,” you whisper, tucking in beneath his chin.

Joel kisses your head. “You okay? You’re quiet, baby.”

“Just listening,” you reply, and he locks his phone.

“Maybe that’s enough Maple talk for the night, hm? We oughta be relaxing, getting ready for tomorrow.”

“No,” you turn in his grasp, “I wanna see what you’re doing with it. I think it’ll look good, Joel. Did you get the home report yet?”

He slides his phone onto the nightstand and wraps his arms around you. “Not yet. Soon as the work’s done.”

“It’ll look brand new. Totally different.”

“Mhm,” he smiles, “Sure will.”

You lay down on his chest, trimmed hair tickling your cheek. His heartbeat is familiar against your ear. It still skips a beat, even four years in. Still quickens anytime your hand falls over it.

“Are you ready to let go of the place?”

Joel takes a deep breath. “I guess I have to be,” he says, though the words tremble in his throat. It’s not often you catch him feeling uncertain. “Mom’s gone, Tommy said he don’t want it. Unless we pack up ‘n move outta the city, place would just sit there – empty.”

“Hm. Too many memories to let it go to waste.”

“Well, they ain’t all good ones,” he admits, drawing circles on your shoulder.

You thought, that afternoon in your bedroom, that he’d shown you his whole hand. Thought you knew every suit, every card he held. All the things that made Joel who he was – perfectly polished.

The cars, the property, the jet. The company – Jesus, there ain’t a thing he seemed more natural at, than running a multimillion-dollar business. He made it look so goddamn easy.

It used to drive you insane – how together he was. The cracks you could barely see, he’d glued them so perfectly. The ease with which he could hold himself in one hand, and hold you in the other. Just take it all on his shoulders like it weighed nothing.

For every card of yours that was turned, though, Joel revealed another of his.

Maple hadn’t always been the postcard it so looked. White walls, red mailbox. Flowerbeds and slamming doors; two boys’ bikes and one empty dining chair. He told you things with a flash in his eye – and you were never sure whether it was the fire of fury or the salt of sadness.

Joel isn’t so seamless after all. He’s a mosaic of everything that has ever happened to him. Joy and pain, everything in between. A shattered collection of shards, shimmering in the sunlight.

He’s beautiful. For all the brokenness, all the stitched skin – he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He makes you feel beautiful, too.

“Well,” you say, “Maple raised you, so – I love it.”

He looks down at you like you’re brand new. Like it’s the first time he’s ever laid eyes on you.

Running his business looks natural, sure – but loving you comes as easily to Joel as breathing.

“Alright, pretty girl,” he says. “Bedtime.”

You groan into his chest, nose flat against the threads of silver. “Don’t wanna go to bed, Daddy,” you mumble.

He cups your head. “You’re nervous, huh?”

You nod between his pecs, and Joel laughs.

All this time, all the moments of doubt you’ve squashed with the toe of your shoe – and they still manage to creep back in. The corners of your vision still blur, the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. The scars have long closed, but the skin still remembers.

“You know I’m gonna be there, right?” he says. “The whole time. I’m kind of the one you’re marrying.”

“Oh,” you tilt your head, “So that’s who you are.”

He lifts his hands, mirrors your stupid smirk. “Pleased to meet you.”

“What if we don’t see each other? I mean – before…”

“We will,” he promises. “I’ll getcha at the bottom of the stairs.”

“’s gonna be a pretty hectic day, Joel. We might not have time –”

His chin lifts. His lips part, the way they do when he’s about to chew up your panicked gibbering. He takes a breath and, straight as the line of his brow, repeats himself.

“I will get you at the bottom of the stairs. Okay?”

Your frown melts. Okay, you mouth, and he pinches your nose.

“I love you. Now, sleep.”

He flicks the light off.

Four years. Four years passed in the blink of an eye.

Twelve hours after your leaving party, you were strolling through Lavender Oaks, hand in hand. Nothing to hide anymore, no one to convince – not even yourself. You loved him then, whether you really believed it or not. Whether you had the courage to look it straight in the face, or not.

You had loved him for a while, really. It was the last card you had to deal. And Joel knew, long before you’d admitted it to yourself. He’s always been the patient one, hasn’t he?

That night, then, deep in the belly of last summer. Some leafy, twinkling rooftop garden of a restaurant that you can’t even remember the name of, because all you remember is him. Loose collar, long day. Drinks menu in one hand, the other cradling yours.

He was tired, and you knew it. He’d hardly stopped since seven a.m., working all through lunch and straight to eight – but he’d promised you dinner that week. It was already Thursday, and he had a conference or a company retreat or whatever it was that weekend.

You can’t remember. All you remember is his face, the second you said –

When are you going to ask me to marry you?

Joel faltered for all of three seconds – though if he’d had a mouthful of wine, he’d probably have choked on it.

Tomorrow, he said. Yesterday. Now. Marry me.

You laughed. I’m serious. I want you to ask me.

Really? His smirk faded into something more earnest. He looked like a boy, the way his eyebrows lifted and his lip trembled. A boy who believed in magic. The candlelight flickered across his face, suddenly wide awake and glowing with life. Would you say yes?

Mhm. And I wouldn’t break it off two days later, neither.

Lucky me, he mused. He paused, then added, You know we don’t have to, right? I’m happy, baby. I’m happier than I ever thought… his voice wavered and he gulped, I’d be happy the rest of my life, the way we are.

Joel, you lifted his knuckles to your lips, I want to be your wife. I want you to be my husband. Just – just ask me. I’ll say yes.

He beamed back at you like some lovestruck fool. You suppose he was; suppose he had been since the moment he first saw you. A goner as soon as he opened that office door, as soon as he felt the way your hand fit so perfectly in his.

I love you, he said – for what felt like the millionth time. Somehow, he made it mean more each time.

I know, you replied, leaning over the table to kiss him. I love you, too.

In the blink of an eye, your life changed from lonely blue mornings to bright golden dawns. From two boxes of stuff and a Swiss cheese plant, to an entire office with your name on the door.

You collected stripe after stripe, took leap after stride; chased every promotion, every chance, every speck of something over the horizon. Life got busy, you worked your ass off – but for the first time ever, you felt like you were becoming something. Becoming someone.

Joel sat up through all your late nights at the kitchen table. He poured coffee after coffee, carried you to bed when you couldn’t stare at the laptop any longer. He carefully consoled and aptly controlled every stress-induced breakdown you ever had.

He bought you a peace lily to keep your monstera company. He held your hand at every work event you had. He promised you could do it, and slowly, surely, you realized he was right.

So when you told him you were ready – and only then – Joel traded that little gumball ring for a new one.

A real one.

It happened in Paris. He took you back to that same glitzy restaurant – the delicate wine and rich steak, the chandeliers and renaissance ceilings. He echoed every word of French you spoke in a little Austin accent; played footsie under the table and flirted like it was your first date.

He was nervous. Indestructible as he seems, he still has his tells. He played with your hands the whole night, asked if you were okay every second sip of his drink.

Yeah, you said, I’m good. You?

Yep. Yeah. Good.

Your hands are shaking.

He smirked. I’m on a date with a real pretty girl.

He could barely wait for the elevator to reach the suite. He kept closing in on you, pressing words into your neck and playing with the straps of your dress. I love you, I love you, I love you, he said, gripping your waist.

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Everything sparkling – the champagne, the stars, the thousand and one candles he had lining the balcony. Everything golden – the tower, the ring, the feeling flooding through your chest. And in a shaking voice, on a shaking knee, with shaking hands you had to cup as he spoke, he asked you.

Easiest yes ever.

He’s already asleep. Head tipped back, snoring to the ceiling. He looks so cute that it makes you giggle.

“’night, baby,” you lull, and cuddle into his chest.

Joel’s alarm splits the morning at seven.

He reaches over to silence it, groans into his palm, and rubs his eyes open. “Mornin’, angel,” he sighs – same as always. The same two words that kick off damn near every single day since you got together.

“Morning,” you reply, and hug him tighter.

You watch as he comes to life. Stirring beneath you, heart fluttering against yours, skin still warm and sleepy. You’ve been awake for the last hour just watching him – fingers trailing the valleys of his collarbones, nose nuzzling into the rugged hinge of his jaw.

Sometimes you wonder if it’ll ever fade – the rush you feel when you see him. The way the world tinges pink, mutes for a moment or two – and Joel is the only thing in any of your senses.

He lifts his arms in a loud stretch, biceps popping. He sucks in a deep breath. “We should do something today.”

You scoff. “Like what?”

His lips turn. I dunno. “Make some lifelong vows, maybe.”

“Sounds boring,” you huff, pushing yourself up. You roll from his grasp and pad over to the bathroom. “Why don’t we grab lunch instead?”

“Boring?” Joel scoffs. He follows you to the sink and curves around you in a bear hug. “Spent over a hundred grand on this thing, Ms. Miller. You telling me we wasted our money?”

His hands sneak under the material of your tee, lifting it over your bare hips. There’s a weight building against the small of your back – another thing that kicks off nearly every single day. It sits heavy, twitching when you reach for your toothbrush and your ass ruts against him.

Joel hisses. “Goddamn, darlin’,” he grabs your hips and steadies you, “Easy on me, now.”

“I’m not the one groping.” You spin in his arms, toothbrush between your molars.

“Can’t help it –” he kisses your neck, “– when you look –” the other side, “– so sweet –” he lowers with a tiny groan, “– ‘n you taste –” he places a long, damp kiss to your tummy, “– even better.”

You squirm in his grasp. “Joel, we don’t have time for –”

“Sure we do,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue to your slit. ��It’s us they’re waitin’ for.”

You drop your brush into the sink with a gasp. “Tommy’s gonna be here any second.

His eyes flash up to yours. “Who?”

He scoops your ass and pulls your thighs over his shoulder. Deft with it, a body he knows as well as his own by this point. A body he loves even more.

You open up for him like he never left. Still warm and wet from last night, still coming down from each high he took you to. Sometimes it feels like this is all you do. Sometimes, you wonder if there’s ever a time you feel more you, than when you’re wrapped around some part of him.

Joel’s voice reverberates through your body. He groans as he licks, nips and sucks between your legs, slowly easing you off the counter and onto his mouth.

You reach for his hair. The salt and pepper streaks, the bedhead only you ever get to see before he’s washed and groomed into that perfect shape of himself. A carefully carved shape, ruggedly handsome but intentional.

He’s more relaxed this way. Your way. Before the world seeps into him, before the suit and tie and hundred-dollar cologne. When only his sun has seen him, stirred him, swept her fingers across his broad chest and whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

Heat is pooling in your stomach, flooding through your veins. It’s cracking open your chest, drawing breath from your lungs. You grip the edge of the counter, back arching, hips rutting against Joel’s tongue – and you come.

He doesn’t miss a beat. Doesn’t miss a drop. He laps every second of it up, every pulse of your cunt, slowing only when you crumple against the mirror and sigh.

Your fingers swirl around his hair. Your body feels heavy with pleasure. The shock is still looping around your bones.

Joel kisses the inside of your thigh and stands, crossing his arms at your spine.

“I love you,” you hum, licking yourself from his lips.

He smiles. A dreamy, golden thing. Still just him and the sun. “Love you, too.”

This morning, of all mornings, might be cutting it fine. They’ve already started setting up downstairs. Twenty tables, one hundred and fifty chairs, one thousand roses, forty bottles of champagne, three grand behind the bar.

The last thing you need on the day of all days is for the bride and groom to be late.

Still. He’s rock solid and right there, throbbing against your tummy.

You slip your hand around him and squeeze, massaging his tip with your thumb.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He feigns offense. “Baby, we don’t have time,” he says, eyes on his cock as you guide him south.

“Shut up,” you breathe, “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Ain’t saying no to that,” he replies, and his hips meet yours.

You groan in harmony, wrapping closer together. Joel finds a quick pace, body snapping into yours, holding you strong and steady in his arms.

“Jesus,” he pants, “Three times last night wasn’t enough for you, huh?”

“F-feels like it wasn’t enough for you, either.”

He laughs. “Forever wouldn’t be long enough in this little cunt, sweet girl. She’s too good to me. Loves her daddy, don’t she?”

You follow his gaze down, where his thick cock drags between your legs. Soaked with you, slick and shining with each thrust of his hips. Deeper and deeper, touching a part of you only he’s ever been able to reach. Pulling noises from your throat only he has ever been able to pull.

Joel rolls his forehead against yours and lifts your eyes to his, a messy kiss to your lips. “Like it when you watch,” he whispers. “You see how pretty she looks?”

“Mhm,” you hook an arm around his neck, “Feel so pretty, Daddy.”

“My beautiful girl.” His lips close around yours again, tongue hot and heady in your mouth. His pace stammers when you moan against him. He curses, hips jolting.

He’s close. All too close.

He won’t come before you. Not before he’s drawn another from your body, felt every pulse of your pussy around him. Not before he’s watched you fall apart; felt you collapse into his arms with it.

He slips out, kissing your temple to shush your petulant whine. “’s okay,” he folds your legs to your chest, “I gotcha. I’m here.”

Over his shoulder, the sun lights your reflection in the shower glass. His toned back, the swells of muscle across his shoulder. Hiding the shape of you from the morning – his moaning mess of a girl, gripping onto him and screaming into his chest.

She sobs his name and you taste it on your tongue. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Each one louder than the last, each one sorer.

The window is cracked open. Anyone might be walking under it.

And you like it, don’t you?

The chance that someone might hear. Might know exactly what Joel’s in here doing to you. Ruining you for anyone else, like he’s done a million times over.

It’s as though he lulls you into it. Like waves, starting in the pit of your belly and rolling outward. Heavier and deeper and sweeter, until your orgasm crashes over you in bursts of warmth.

Your arm tightens around Joel’s neck, brows knitting when you reach your peak. You keep your eyes locked on his, and he mirrors your expression.

“Oh, good girl, honey,” he rasps, pausing when his own high overcomes him. He twitches, little bursts of heat in your cunt before flooding the entire thing. He holds your hips flush against his until his cock stills and breath fills his lungs.

He pulls you against his chest and sits you back on the counter. If there’s one thing better than being fucked by him, it’s the comedown. The aftercare. The kissing, the fixing you back into shape.

Your pussy flutters around him. Your ear against his chest, you feel your heart beating in time with his.

Joel cups your head and dots kisses down to your shoulder. He makes to pull out, and you fuss.

“Stay,” you whimper, tugging on his arm.

He smiles. “Oh, baby, wish I could,” he squeezes your waist, “but I heard Tommy knockin’ on the door five minutes ago.”

He strolls back into the bedroom, massaging a knot out of his shoulder.

You sit, stunned, leaking all over the counter, before rushing through at his heels. “Asshole!” you hiss.

He chuckles as he pulls a hoodie over his head. “Couldn’t leave my lady unsatisfied, could I?”

You throw yourself into a pair of his pajama bottoms. “I think she’d have been fine with it, given your fucking brother is right outside.”

He swings the door wide open. You curl around one of his arms.

Tommy leans against the opposite wall, picking at his nails. He straightens, scratches his beard, and smacks his lips.

“Told you you’d sleep in, brother.”

Joel’s chin lifts. He nods, amused. “You did tell me that, yeah.”

You want to slap him for how cocky he definitely feels. His little brother is none the wiser.

The denim-donned Miller steps over the threshold and reaches for you, a bristly kiss to your cheek. “Mornin’, sweetheart. How you feelin’?”

“Good,” you lie.

“Nervous,” Joel corrects, cocking an eyebrow.

Tommy laughs. “Talk to Maria. She’ll calm you right down. She felt the exact same on our day.”

Their day. Almost ten years ago, back when you and Joel were strangers – and he and Tommy were as good as.

Credit to him, he put up with the pestering from both sides – that is, you and his mom – for six months, at the start of your relationship. Slowly – painfully slowly – he began to entertain the conversation. Never gonna happens turned into if it ever did happens.

He learned to unlock his jaw, to make eye contact with his mom when she talked about Tommy. He asked questions he hadn’t asked in years. He learned where he and his wife lived, what they named their son.

He learned that they’d had a spring wedding. He learned that Tommy’s best man was his drinking buddy. He fell quiet, and his mom knew to change the subject. On the drive home, he held your hand a little tighter than usual.

Six months which, in the end, felt less like convincing him – and more reassuring him. Yes, Tommy might ignore all of his calls. Maybe Maria might answer, and tell him in a hushed voice that now’s not really a great time, Joel.

Maybe his brother might pick up the phone himself, tell him to go straight to hell.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t hardly recognize his big brother’s voice, at first. There was a pause a few breaths too long right after Joel reintroduced himself – long enough that you thought you might’ve kicked him all the way back to square one. And then –

Well, shit, brother. How the hell have you been?

You spent your first anniversary in Jackson. You took Joel’s mom up there every year after. The brothers fit back together like they’d never been apart, like they’d never forgotten the shape of each other’s hug, the cut of the other’s good humor.

Tommy took you in like you’d been part of Joel even before either of them knew your name.

Your fiancé pulls you into a hug. He kisses your head and asks his brother to grab the elevator.

Tommy salutes as he turns down the hallway. “See you later, little sis.”

Joel holds your face and taps your nose. His lips twist in half a smile, half frown. “You gonna be okay?”

“Sure,” you sniffle. The sting of tears brims your waterline already and you blink them away. You’re hiding from him.

“I’m right downstairs if you need me,” he says, spotting you clear as day. “Just call.”

“Not supposed to see you before the ceremony.”

“Yeah,” Joel winces, “don’t think we’re supposed to have sex, either, but we broke that rule a long time ago, pretty girl.”

His hands are so big around yours. So steady, pulse loud only from your morning tryst – if at all. He plays with your fingers, straightens the ring on your third.

A sharp bell sounds. Tommy whistles for his brother. Your chest aches.

“Few more hours,” Joel says. “Few more hours and then we got the rest of forever, just you ‘n me.”

He wanders down to the elevator, turning inside. He leans against the back wall and crosses his arms. His eyes meet yours, lips curl in that trademark smirk of his, and the doors close.

The stairs are cold and breezy. The manor doors have been wide open all morning, guests filtering through, allowing the cool to cluster in each corner of the house.

It’s been a busy morning. Par for the course, so you hear. No bride gets through her wedding prep unscathed.

You’ve spent four ass-numbing hours dutifully planted in your chair, your nephew in your arms as something of a comfort blanket, eating fresh fruit and drinking cold champagne and promising not to touch your makeup after the artist is done with it.

Maria uses the light from the window opposite the top of the stairs to finish buttoning your dress. She balances on the second step, peering up at your trembling figure.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” she says.

“In the blink of an eye?” You scoff, but she nods.

“I’m serious. You won’t even feel it, and it’ll be over. You’ll be lying in bed tonight telling Joel, Maria was right.”

You clasp your fingers around your bouquet. “I’m sure he’ll love that.”

“He could stand to hear it more often.”

You giggle.

A pair of warm hands sweeps down your shoulders, turning you by the elbows. Her dress is a deep olive, spilling over her arms in waves of shining satin.

“Mom,” you breathe, leaning into her.

She smiles, pinching your cheek. “This is it,” she says simply, like it is as simple as tying your shoelaces. “Deep breaths.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of…” Your eyes scan the summery wallpaper behind her. It offers no answers. “…What if we’re not ready?”

She glowers. “Oh, yeah. Good point. I’m sure the man who flew you to Paris after two weeks is not ready to marry you. We should send everybody home.”

“It’s just a big deal,” you continue, “Lots of people downstairs.”

“No, there’s not. There’s not,” she cuts your protest, voice sharp, “There’s only one person in that room, and it’s him. And you’ve done scarier than this, right?”

Your head wobbles in weakened agreement.

She links her arm through yours. “I remember,” she leads you downstairs, “a little girl with shaking knees, boarding a bus to camp for the summer. I remember her teary face, her tiny hand waving goodbye from the back window. Ain’t this just the same?”

Your bridesmaids slip past, hoisting their silky dresses above their ankles as they tackle the winding staircase.

“Alright, well,” you sniff, “I was eleven when I went to camp, so. Significant difference.”

“I disagree,” she says. “It’s a scary thing to do when you’re eleven, and maybe getting married is a scary thing to do when you’re thirty. But you got on that bus because you wanted to, and you’re doing this because you want it, too. It’s simple, sweetheart.”

She pauses a step below. Her hands drop from yours. Her eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spoil her makeup.

“Sometimes,” she whispers, “we mistake fear for excitement. Butterflies can feel an awful lot like nerves. Sometimes, something scary can take a similar shape to something wonderful. And you never know the difference until you step on that bus.”

She takes another step down and you reach for her hands – the same way you reached for them at the school gates, twenty years ago.

“Mom –” you squeak, twisting your fingers around hers.

She kisses your knuckles. “You are going to live the happiest life with him, I just know it. You’re going to take such good care of each other.”

She skips off around the bend in the stairs, shawl flurrying. At the bottom, she crosses paths with someone, squeezes their sleeve with affection.

He sways into view slowly, carefully, like he’s trying not to spook. Hands in his pockets, suit sleek and smart. Beard trimmed as close as you’d allow, hair fixed as neat as he’d allow.

He cleans up good. He always has. If it weren’t for the handrail, you might faint into his arms.

When he speaks, his voice is light, warm, soft on your skin. Wraps around you and draws you in, safe and sound. Calls you home.

“There’s my girl.”

And you walk to him.

“Hi,” you say, voice soft, heels clicking.

Joel watches every step. His eyes loop up and down your figure, scanning from the swishing hem of your dress to the twinkle in your eyes. He’s somewhere between the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face, and shattering into tears.

“Oh, darlin’,” he sighs as you twirl into his arms, “You are so beautiful.”

You straighten the flower in his pocket. “You’re pretty beautiful, too.”

You fall together, bodies magnetized. Joel’s chin lifts and your lips connect in a tender kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands travelling north along the figure-hugging material of your dress.

“Good choice,” he mumbles into your mouth.

“Mhm,” you reply, a joyful lilt to it. “Knew it was a winner.”

You stand for a moment, swaying together. Your arms crossed around his neck, his snug around your waist. Breathing one another in, steadying each other. Souls finding the other again.

Some last-minute guests scurry through the doors over his shoulder. Their footsteps echo through the hall as they find their seats. Joel holds you all the tighter.

“You ready for this?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah. More than I’ve ever been, my whole life.”

“We can still call it off,” he smirks, “Take off on the honeymoon, never talk to any of these assholes again.”

He laughs when you do, relief blooming on his face.

“No, Joel,” you say. Your voice feels clearer, stronger with your body against his. “I love you. I love you so much, and I…I wanna get on the bus.”

His brows pinch. He tilts his head, scoops your jaw. “You…Wh–? What, baby?”

You nod to yourself, staring at his tie. “I wanna get on the bus,” you repeat, voice barely there.

He blinks down at you. His thumb strokes your cheek. He makes to reply – some dumbfounded quip, probably – when a voice splits you apart.

“Psst! You two!”

Your mom ducks her head out into the entrance hall. She clicks her fingers. “They need you up front, Miller.”

He nods and turns back to you, bending to look you in the eye. “Catch your breath,” he says. “Just a little while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you decide. “I’m ready.”

“Alright. Then let’s get on this goddamned bus, whatever the hell that means.”

The celebration is alive with a string melody, the tinkling of glasses, and bursts of sweet laughter.

Your cheeks ache from all the smiling. Your throat is dry from all the talking. And you don’t care. You could do this for the rest of your life, if Joel would let you.

Turns out getting married is pretty fun – once you’ve done it, that is. When all that’s left is to swing between tables, chat until you run out of breath, dance until your feet hurt. Eat until you feel sick, drink until your head dizzies, weep in the bathroom with your friends then reapply your makeup and repeat.

It’s a year-long effort with only a day’s payout – but as far as days go, it’s not half bad.

In the same grand hall you said I do in three hours ago – soaring windows with drapes strung to the heavens, pale flowers arranged on every table, chandeliers glistening overhead – you search for the one missing piece.

“Have you seen my husband?”

Drew scoffs as he approaches your spinning figure. Beer in one hand, his daughter in the other. He shakes his head, laughing.

“You ain’t used to saying that yet, are you?”

“Nope,” you pinch his daughter’s hands, “and I hope I never am.”

She squeals with laughter, kicking her legs under swirls of chiffon. She throws herself out of her father’s arms into yours and you catch her, perching her on your hip.

“Good for you, kid,” Drew says. “You deserve it. You both do.”

You smile and peer down at the toddler tugging on your diamond necklace. “Your uncle Joel bought me this,” you babble in her ear. “If it breaks, you’re one sorry individual.”

She giggles all the louder.

“Last I saw him,” Drew tilts his bottle towards the patio doors, “he was out on the terrace.”

Your eyes flit to the twinkling, dusky sky. “Alone?”

He shrugs. “Guess so.”

You pass his daughter back, fixing the bow on her dress. “I’ll find him. Thanks, Drew.”

The breeze breathes between the doors as you walk over. It’s a chilled night, but the fresh air is a welcome breather from the busy dancefloor.

Veiled by the sheer curtains, his figure relaxes against the balcony, staring out at the rolling lawn. He exhales a thick, scattered cloud of white to the sky. His head turns at the sound of your heels on the patio.

“Nice view, huh?”

Joel hums. His voice is clotted with tobacco. “Sure is, Mrs. Miller. Fine choice of venue.”

“Teamwork,” you reply, and pat your fingers against his palm in a weak high five. You cross your wrists over his shoulder and stare out at the mountains in the distance. “Out here all by yourself?”

“Just needed a moment. Take it all in.” He tilts the cigar in his hand. “Make use of my wedding gift from my best man.”

There’s a blanket of chill slowly settling over the valley. It hugs a little too tight around your bare arms. You shiver, nestling closer to Joel, and he straightens.

“Here, baby,” he says, shrugging his jacket off. He drapes it over your shoulders and rubs them warm. He plucks the cigar from its ashtray, offering it silently.

You scoff. “I’m not gonna like it.”

“I know,” Joel replies, “but we’re celebrating.”

The stick is heavier than you expected, dry and hard between your fingers. The cap is sliced, dampened by Joel’s lips.

He watches your mouth, smiling when you inhale. “Not too much,” he clasps your wrist lightly, “Only a little.”

It’s rancid, if you’re honest. Clogs your lungs with what feels like unbreathable heat, a sickly-sweet flavor that crinkles your nose. The smoke punches from your lungs in a broken cough. And once they’re clear – you lift the cigar for more.

“Alright,” Joel says, taking it back after a couple more puffs. “That’s enough, Kennedy. Like it?”

“Not bad,” you croak, stealing a swig of his champagne. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

“No, ma’am.”

You lean into him, elbows on the railing, following his outstretched hand as he points out each mountain peak.

He talks about the years he and Tommy spent camping, the long fishing trips with his dad. Regales in excruciating detail the time he pitched his tent right by a cluster of poison ivy, and woke up covered in bloody, blotchy blisters.

He talks about all of it easier than he has in years. As though the dust has settled over the memories, the good and the bad, and all that’s left is to look. No more shifting things around in his mind, trying to find where it all fits. Everything is exactly where it needs to be.

After a while, he kisses your head. “Hey,” he says. “Congratulations.”

You lift your head. “You, too…?”

“You got married today.”

“Did I? Shit, I didn’t mean to.”

He flicks his eyebrows. “That something you saw yourself doing, five years ago?”

No. Not at all. But then my boss held my waist to his in a dive bar, and – you know the rest.

“Hm,” you flatten your lips, “No, but then – you’re not something I saw myself doing, five years ago.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Stay classy, pretty girl.”

You giggle. “I’d do anything, long as it’s with you. Mess around on the first date, fly to Paris on the second. Meet your mom, like, three weeks in.”

“You are not countin’ that lunch with James from accounting as our first date,” he protests. “That shitshow was not our first date.”

“You paid for my meal and you fucked me in the bathroom. Date.”

“No,” he points a telling finger in your direction, “No. If we have kids one day, they’re going to ask. We gotta get our story straight. Our first date was Paris. I took you to Paris.”

“Whatever you say, old man.” You bunch your shoulders, snuggling deeper into his jacket. “Deep down, you know the truth.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

He searches the skyline, plucking up courage when the last of the setting sun catches his eye. “Well,” he sounds nervous, “I thought I could give you your gift.”

You fiddle with your necklace. “I thought you already did.”

Joel shakes his head. He takes your wrists and lifts your hands. “Close your eyes.”

“If you drop a living thing into my hands, Miller,” you screw your eyes shut, “Divorce.”

“Uhuh,” he mutters.

He holds your hands in one of his. There’s the ruffling of linen, a faint jingling, a roaring cheer from inside.

There’s the cold kiss of metal in the cushion of your palm – tiny, featherlight – followed by a coiling, and something jagged.

You hold in a laugh, breathing nervously. “I’m scared,” you whisper, and Joel kisses the hinge of your wrist.

“You trust me?” he asks.

“I trust you.”

“Then, open.”

Your eyes flutter, and there he is. Still standing before you, still smiling. Still holding your hands. He nods down, and you look.

In your palms lies a small brass key. On the end of the chain, a single silver maple leaf tag. It winks back at you, moonlight reflected in its grooves.

You lift the key. It’s worn by time, metal nicked and imperfect. Brass a little tarnished. The leaf sways in your clutch.

“Maple?” you ask, and Joel nods. Your eyes begin to well.

“I know we’re happy in the city,” he says, “and I know it’s just some little paint-chipped house. It’s probably still got school reports ‘n shitty comics up in the attic. I just – God, I can’t shake it, baby.”

You look up at him, a question in your teary gaze.

“A little birdie once taught me,” he steps closer, “that it’s okay to lose things. To let ‘em go. I didn’t believe her at the time. I was scared. Scared to lose her, scared she might find something better. I reckon she was pretty scared, too, but – even when I thought I lost her, she came back.

“She said this thing about making new memories. Better memories. And I just can’t shake it.”

The words catch on your tongue on their way out. You’re only just now realizing how different life was before. Before him, before this. How empty and cold it felt, how little you noticed before the sun peered through the clouds and said something in a drawl laced with love and humor.

How quickly you ran into its warm, open arms.

Joel goes on. “The guys are making a real good job of it. They said there’s plenty potential, and you know it has that huge yard. Now, if you don’t want it, say the word and it’s gone. Out of our hands. But,” his voice breaks, “if you do, then – it’s yours, darlin’. It’s been yours since the moment you walked through the door.”

And, well – hasn’t everything?

The job was yours the very second you tiptoed into his office. He told you so himself. The job, the desk, the free trip to Europe. You walked into his life and flipped everything on its head, without even knowing it.

You worked for him for three years before anything ever happened. Three whole years of elbow nudges and fleeting glances and one too many questions about whoever the other was dating. Joel figures he loved you all that time. You figure you loved him, too.

You changed everything for him. From that first glance, the first meeting of your hands, nothing was ever the same. All of it, from the spare cabinet in his bathroom to the third finger on his left hand – it was all just waiting for you to make it your own.

Hasn’t Joel’s heart belonged to you since you first laid eyes on each other?

You turn the key between your fingers. The answer rolls along the tip of your tongue. The longer you stay quiet, the more nervous you know he’s feeling.

Your eyes meet his – and you smile.

“I want a porch swing.”

Joel chuckles. “Done.”

“And we host Thanksgiving every year.”

“Every year?” He almost grimaces.

You’re staring each other down. It’s as much a game as it is a genuine request, like most of what you do. Just as much teasing as sincere.

You nod. “Every. Year.”

“Okay,” he relents. “Anything else?”

Your eyes drift off behind him. Inside one of the windows, Drew and Rachel twirl their little girl in time with a familiar guitar melody. She throws her head back in a fit of laughter and they pick her up, spinning her around.

Joel glances over his shoulder. He breathes a laugh. “I’ll give you that tonight if you really want it.”

You lean into his chest and kiss his jaw. “I just want you.”

“You got me,” he says. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

The rest of the band kicks in. The raspy lead singer, the perky drum beat. The dancefloor fills some, hands thrown to the ceiling, glasses spilling over.

You bite down on a smile, eyes flitting to Joel’s.

He twists his shoe into the patio, nudging into your side. He extends his arm and you link yours through, following his lead inside. “Good song,” he mutters.

“Hm,” you agree. “Little before my time.”

#bye bye lovebirds! i miss you already!#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #fic: sex on fire

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herofics · 7 months ago

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No Longer Mine

A/N: So, basically this is about Gojo’s s/o “dying” and he eventually moves on with his life and then it turns out his s/o wasn’t dead after all. It’s basically all angst tbh. There's probably gonna be more parts to this eventually but idk...

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there when you needed him most, and now you were gone. You were burnt beyond recognition. If he didn’t know it was your body on the floor, he wouldn’t have even known there had been a human there once. There were still traces of your cursed energy around, even if they were faint. You must have tried to resist whoever had done this. Of course you would have, you wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. He made Shoko check the DNA results a dozen times, but it was always the same result. It had been your body that was found in the house you shared with him. You were gone, and so was your shared home. Burned to the ground by god knows who, with you inside it.

Gojo didn’t really accept you being gone for a long time. He was so numb, and your death almost killed him. All those lonely nights with just him and a bottle of strong liquor, talking to you. Talking to an empty room, while downing so much liquor that it would have put a normal person in the hospital. He talked about how angry he was, angry towards himself for not having caught whoever had taken you from him, angry at you for leaving him, angry at the world for all of it. One night, you started talking back to him. You told him how it wasn’t his fault and that you loved him. That’s when he knew he was in trouble. The dead don’t speak, they don’t converse with anyone, that’s not how the world works.

That was about a year after you died. He stopped drinking and your ghost started fading away. Your voice got more distant and the image of you got muddier. He didn’t want to lose you again. He didn’t want to forget, but somehow remembering was worse. Even though it was muddy, he could still see your smile. Oh, how he loved that smile.

Eventually, he found someone new. He fell in love again, but you never left him completely. The memories he shared with you were still dear to him, even if they were painful. He visited your grave every year on the anniversary of your death. He left flowers on your grave and while he wasn’t a religious man, he prayed that wherever you were, you had found peace.

Four years later, you reappeared. You were found unconscious on some side street in Tokyo and taken to the hospital. After you woke up, the first call you made was to Gojo.

“Hi, I’m sorry I missed dinner last night. I’m in the hospital, but I don’t know what happened”

“Whoever you are, this isn’t funny” a cold voice answered back.

“What do you mean Toru? It’s me, it’s (Name)”

“Don’t call this number again” Gojo said and hung up.

You were confused to say the least. You’d missed dinner, sure, but there was no way he would act that coldly towards you just because of that. Then you noticed the date on your hospital band. It was four years more than it should’ve been. That must have been a mistake, right? You started to panic, your heart rate was getting erratic and you were having trouble breathing. A nurse came in, trying to calm you down.

“What’s the date today? Please, what is it?” you asked frantically.

“It’s 17th of August 2016”

“2016?!” you gasped.

Who could be so cruel as to make a call like that to him? Sure, he had made many enemies in his life, but most of them were dead and wouldn’t be the type to pull such an egregious prank on him anyway. It couldn’t be you, it couldn’t possibly be you. He had confirmed your death himself. More importantly, Shoko had confirmed it, multiple times. It had been your cursed energy, your DNA. There was no doubt about it.

“Who was that?” his fiancée asked as he had put down the phone.

“Just a wrong number” Gojo muttered.

“You seem a bit rattled, are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, it was nothing” Gojo said, brushing off his fiancée.

The call kept bothering him. Gojo couldn’t sleep that night and just laid in bed, awake, while his lover laid beside him, sleeping like a log. The thought of you being alive kept him awake all night. Could it really be possible? Had Shoko been wrong? Had he been wrong? He couldn’t get that little voice out of his head. That little nagging voice in the back of his head, telling him he needed to go to that hospital, he needed to make sure. Early the next morning, he made his way to the hospital.

You had been given some sedatives, because of how badly you had panicked when you found out what year it was. You’d been gone for four years, and you didn’t remember a single thing about it. When you woke up, you were groggy, and you weren’t really feeling great. You were still in shock about the missing four years.

“You were dead” a familiar voice said from the end of your bed.

“Toru?” you asked, blinking a bit to focus your vision better.

“You were dead” he repeated, but this time his voice wavered.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned.

“There was a body, in the rubble of our burned down house…”

“What…?” you whispered.

Gojo was still standing by the end of your bed. You were really there, clear as day. He was afraid that if he touched you, this would all turn out to be some kind of illusion. Still, he couldn’t help himself as he moved closer to you and reached his hand out to touch your cheek. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was too afraid, so he just held his hand next to your face, scared that you would disappear at any moment.

“Toru?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes. “What happened?”

“You died (Name)... or at least we thought you did. It’s been four years since then” Gojo wasn’t sure if he should tell you about his engagement, but he wanted to be honest with you, like you’d been with each other before. “I moved on. I had to, losing you almost killed me”

Gojo’s hand fell back to his side and he hung his head. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He was just so confused.

It was heartbreaking to hear the pain in his voice, but you still felt angry. Even though you rationally knew it had been years for him, for you that missed dinner was yesterday. For you, he had found someone else overnight. Your love for him was just as strong as it had ever been, but he clearly didn’t feel the same anymore.

“I don’t have any memory of the past four years. Did you know that? To me, I last saw you yesterday, and now you’re saying you found someone else?”

“I-”

“You don’t need to explain. I get it, but I would have waited. I wouldn’t have given up on you” you said tearfully, looking away from him.

“I did look for you (Name). Your death almost killed me, Ava saved me after I hit rock bottom”

“That’s her name? Ava?” you asked, the sadness evident in your voice.

“Yes… we’re engaged"

"Oh”

It felt like someone punched you in the stomach. You felt sick, empty. He was engaged? The love of your life had moved on with someone else. He’d left you behind, a long time ago, apparently.

“I think you should leave” you sniffled, wiping the tears from your cheeks, trying to appear strong. Even though you felt everything but.

“I don’t-” Gojo started, but stopped himself. You probably didn’t want to know. “Of course, whatever you want” he sighed and turned to leave.

As Gojo left the room, he gave you one more glance. You looked broken, and he was certain it was his fault. Why hadn’t he kept looking? Why had he given up on you? No matter what anyone had told you, you would have kept going. You wouldn’t have given up until you found him. So why did he?

The second Gojo left the room and closed the door, you broke down. You were sobbing, burying your face into a pillow to stop anyone from hearing your cries. The person you loved since you were kids at Jujutsu High, the one you’d given your heart, soul and body to, had left you behind. You had nothing to go back to. You’d been robbed of four years of your life, and now it felt like your future was gone too. It all just felt like a massive lie, like someone was having fun at your expense. Your old life was gone.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic

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wonjuii · 2 months ago

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Hi, I do think exposing is childish but... I want to warn people. Ever since, like around 2024, august? I was invited to a groupchat, filled with people who posts on tumblr! some were ppl i didnt know about. And.. there is marie. I thought marie was a sweet person at first, didnt talk to her since i didnt know her that much. ever since the month grew, there's a chaos drama about dodo. (i am not bringing it up that much but it will be some information direct to that chaos)

it was around... october? I dont know but lets forget that! past 3 days, marie was being too dramatic, calling me and @awwriri sensitive. (just to tell you that, I can reclaim the slurs since i took an irl test but idk if its a thing since the doctor said "it was to check if i have autism" but it was positive i guess!) It was during the lil-liaa chaos. I didnt want to say the r slur to her but i ended up saying it since there were alot of things happening. As you can tell, i asked permission to say the slur, I was worried if i am really meant to say the slur in the gc. (please anyone dont get uncomfortable!) all of the sudden, she called me insensitive..? I didn't know asking permission is considered impolite or insensitve.. we all had a small talk with marie. everything went a little okay (I assumed.) there are evidences of our small talk.

I apologised... many times. MANY TIMES. "don't be sorry" i will have to be sorry because you bashed on me and riri bc of the slur now the whole server bc of dodo?? U can't be that serious. I also mentioned that everyone deserve to be forgiven! guess marie cant accept that. I thought riri was the owner of the gc, of course i had to ask her permission but no. she wasnt the owner. i was dumb enough to not check who's really the admin of the gc. When we had a small conversation about slurs, she mentioned she cant reclaim the N WORD bc others used it?... Although she used it when she just said it TWICE. (ITS NOT A RACISM SLUR, SHES AFRICAN)

i was just trying to make a conversation, setting up a new type of topic since i got really annoyed and uncomfortable, talking about slurs. But, she continued, wouldnt even stop ending the conversation about it. I even try to convince her to bring riri back to the gc since we all wanted to see how she is.

.... okay. do u like.. hate riri or something? The fact she argued with riri, MAYBE ALMOST EVERY WEEK. MAYBE EVERY DAY. its just disgusting how shes treating the others like shes the oldest of the gc. (she tried to boss me, telling me not to say the slurs bc im insensitve) just so you know, vivi educated me more about slurs so i am not going to say it. (thank you vivi)

The text may not be necessary, but can't you tell how bad she is? if your assuming its bc her education system or shes young, i was 13, i rarely got into fights. (like twice a year.) most likely, she's to cause tons of fights. my screenshots:

(Please press to read, it might be hard for you to see!)

This is a dodo situation. you may not know why dodo didn't explain why she didn't say anything or mention her reason about ignoring to chei. here it is.

basically, she was moody (mood swings i think) I understood dodo, i have frustration issues so i get really annoyed like almost everyday. just to clarify, were not bashing on chei, this is just to show evidence about marie and things she said! more evidence when she started being rude to me... (i didnt clip that part but others may have seen it, she said something like "no, i dont want to ❤️" something like that)

shes basically thinking we dont care...

(im at the corner at the top, replying to her.) You can tell i apologised to her like many times. shes basically saying dodo doesnt deserve to defend herself because shes a bully..? do you realize what ur doing. its childish.

evidence from dodo about marie talking about dodo in her post!

i cant. this is just annoying me so bad. why is she only asking me to block her ??? im so confused. (AGAIN, please press these evidences to read!)

wow.. i just dont get whats her problem with dodo, me and riri atp?..

sigh. marie tsk tsk.. i just cant believe this. i assumed she was going to expose me but i guess not?.... also another information.. me and vini were just trying to calm her down but she started bashing on her too.

Thank you to anyone to might be reading this. Again, exposing seems childish but its the best way to do it. its for others to be warned, incase! tags : @y-unrei @n-americano @i-mmaculatus @sugarish

@miujo @i-kyujin @aestradairio @awwriri @atsubie

@aeraras @rkivefr @daddldee @p-oisn @kissunoo

@florescita @fairytopea @purinkiss @hourlyhoon

@lvioung @obdosant @tzulipss @j-eongs @yeritos

@yonkiibums @hcvenue @bitchey @babyvoxgirlie

@swhore @bloomqi @kiyeuo @chaeryeos @y-vna

@y-urios @aestradairio @aesverse

god all of that tags is MAD!!!

#ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ #nikist-4-stan #exposed.#saarah yapping :33 #wonjuii　✿╭︵#ador1ngsaarah　✿ ۫#exposed!!#mariegotexposed.

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teddiesworldd · 11 months ago

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could you do a pt2 of the zombie outbreak with ghost, maybe the zombie outbreak ends and they get used to being a normal couple? idk

after the world ends (p2)

this is part two of my ghost apocalypse au, you can read part one here!

a/n: thank you so much for all the love on part 1 and for this request which inspired part 2! i hope it's what you imagined <3 (1k words)

pairing: simon ghost riley x reader

tags/warnings: apocalypse au, fluffy, some descriptions similar to ptsd, starting a family, the ending they deserved ;')

day 154 of the apocalypse, 5 months after the first outbreak, 2 months after the second.

time creeped on slowly as the days melted into weeks, and then months. you’d become quite accustomed to life behind the fence, picking up various skills to make yourself useful in camp. the others had taught you everything you needed to know. you could now fish, hunt, cook - survival was something that came so naturally now, it was like your life before never happened. like it had always been this way. on your trips out of camp with soap, you had noticed shoots of grass and leaves sprouted up through the concrete over time and covered your city in an overwhelming green haze.

other than the odd trip outside the safety of the fence, your days were calm and laid back. you often spent them laying out by the river with simon, watching the water flow past in the warm spring air. more recently though, you’d looked after the german shepherd you had found with soap in the city, which you had lovingly named riley after your love. there was always plenty to do - things needed fixing up, whether that be the equipment or each other.

in the evenings, you no longer watched soap and ghost talking from your tent - you sat alongside them at the campfire, simon’s large hand holding yours. you shared stories of your lives before the outbreak, dreaming of what you’d do when the world turned the right way around again - if that would ever happen. and when your conversations died down, simon led you to his bed and you spent the night with your head on his chest, listening to his faint heartbeat to drown out the sounds of the infected who got too close to the fence.

it wasn’t all smooth sailing; some of the others in camp had fallen sick and the nearest pharmacy was completely stripped by other groups, leaving nothing to treat your own wounded campmates. illness spread like wildfire here and all you could do was nurse their wounds and cook hot meals to lift their spirits and provide warmth. a few lost their lives to disease or to the zombies, but most fought on, struggling through the days.

you’ll never forget the moment when you heard about the cure.

head resting on simon’s shoulder, swaying gently to the faint crackle of the radio. his hands gently gripping to your waist, holding you close like he never wanted to let you go. it was a routine that you both had for a few weeks now, after your first night together in the tent. rocking gently to the music as the sun glowed shades of pink and orange in the late evening. "my girl, i'll marry you when this is over." he'd tell you every time you held each other like this. simon had never felt so enamoured with someone in his whole life. he couldn't wait for the day you shared his last name. it was what kept him going through all this - the thought of living a normal life with you on the other side. soap sat nearby, cleaning up whatever he’d found during the day, cheesing over the action figures he found in the house he raided, watching as you and simon fell utterly in love with each other.

the music cut off and the announcer said that a cure had been developed to treat the infected. and suddenly you remembered everything that you had left behind 5 months ago.

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

four years later, you sat out on the porch of your home with a cold drink, watching simon play with your daughter in the backyard. he proposed to you as soon as you heard the radio broadcast and you married shortly after normality returned, falling pregnant and buying a house together. it never really got any easier - cuts turned into scars and memories of your days in camp turned sour, plaguing your dreams. often you’d wake up in a cold sweat, fear running through you like you were still there. but simon never failed to bring you back to earth again, stroking your hair and shushing you to sleep again. soap visited often, riley always jumping up at him madly as he stumbled through the front door. your daughter had grown accustomed to calling him “uncle johnny”, which he loved and it made him well up the first time he heard her say it.

nothing would really be the same again - you had lost most of your friends and family, and the world never quite got back to the way it was before.

but in a way, that was okay. because so much good came from it.

“mommy, look!” you daughter giggled madly from the bottom of the garden. you snapped out of your thoughts, eyes landing on your 4-year-old daughter who was halfway up the tree at the bottom of the lawn.

“i- i did try to tell ‘er not to,” simon sighed, walking up to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “but you know what she’s like... little adventurer.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. it definitely wasn’t the first time she’d gone up there - she climbed up it like she’d done it a thousand times before.

“reminds me of someone i know.” simon said, looking down at you in your chair, nothing but love in his eyes. he kissed you sweetly, reminding you of the first time your lips touched that night in your tent.

“i’ll start making dinner, yeah?” he finished, hand gently squeezing your arm before heading into the kitchen. you really did get so lucky the day you crossed paths in the woodland.

“can someone help me down?!” your daughter shouted, riley barking up at her playfully as she clinged tightly to the branches.

“yeah, honey, i’m coming” you replied, placing down your drink and heading down the garden.

˚✧. thank you for reading!

˚✧.please reblog to support me <3

˚✧. dividers by @ saradika-graphics and @ si-eunnis

✎ masterlist

💌 send a request

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #johnny soap mactavish #teddiesworldd

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lovebugism · 2 years ago

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can I request steeb taking care of shy!reader who is upset after a bullying incident in school? I figured she would be a year younger (like robin’s grade) because I don’t think anyone would touch her if king steve was around. I feel like he’s be so soft with her but also reeling at the thought that someone hurt his girl!

thanks for ur request anon! idk if i can count this as a blrub because it's nearly 3k words but alas pls enjoy! tw for blood (knee scrapes) and j*son c*rver

You come to Family Video with a scrape on your left knee.

It’s not the weirdest thing in the world — you ride a worn-down bike that’s probably older than you are. Steve’s been begging you to get a new one for as long as he’s known you, outright offering to pay for the damn thing as long as he’s sure it’ll get you to him without getting hurt in the process.

You reject him every time. “It gets me where I need to go,” you always shrug. “What more could I want from it?”

And he wants so badly to be angry at the beauty you manage to find in mediocrity. But he can’t be, really. It’s why you fell in love with him in the first place, isn’t it? Why you took the heartbroken boy in your arms on Halloween night in 1984 and convinced him he wasn’t bullshit despite what he told you. He’d be an idiot to be mad at how kind you are.

But when you walk into Family Video, halfway limping with blood dripping down your knee, he knows it’s different.

Something more than a toppled bike hurt you.

“Oh, god, babe,” he winces from where he stands at the counter with Robin. “What happened?”

“I fell,” you shrug as he races over to you.

“You fell?” Robin scoffs. “Knock me out with a feather.” You know she’s joking, but it’s a little too monotone, and you’re a little too sensitive. Something in her words hurts more than your throbbing knee.

Steve, who knows you like the back of his hand, understands exactly what your diverted gaze means. When you look down to the floor, he shoots Robin a firm glare.

What? she mouths, obviously confused at the sudden silence.

“Can you get the first aid kit from the back? I think there might be some gauze in there,” he asks, deciding to change the conversation entirely. He wraps an arm around your waist and walks slowly with you to the counter. He meets your grimace with a soft smile. “I’ll clean it, wrap it up, and you’ll be good as new.”

You don’t give him anything in response. Not even a pity smile.

He sits you on the counter with the open first-aid kit beside you. Robin flips the store sign to closed. It’s barely five o’clock. She starts tidying up the store to go home, anyway.

Steve wipes up the warm blood with a napkin and cleans the scrape with an alcohol wipe. You hiss at the feeling — it’s like a hundred tiny bee stings. From where he sits just below you on a worn swivel chair behind the counter, he leans in to press a kiss just above the cut.

Without all the blood, it looks a lot less gnarly than before.

“See? It’s not so bad,” the boy smiles as he unravels some gauze. “I’ll patch it up, baby you for the rest of the night, and you’ll forget it ever hurt by morning.”

Again, you don’t even smile. You just purse your lips to the side and nod.

Steve’s heart stings, but he doesn’t take anything by it. He wraps the bandage down and over your knee in an even rhythm. He tries not to be so direct when he asks: “How’d this happen, anyway, huh? Did Ol’ Sliver finally give up on you?”

You shake your head, eyes on the gauze instead of the boy. The white cloth splotches with pink from where your wound still weeps. “No,” you answer quietly. “Just fell.”

“Just fell, huh?” he repeats quietly. A few caramel-colored strands fall over his forehead as he peers up at you with his chin tilted towards his chest. He tries his best to smile. “You’re givin’ me the sad eyes, babe. I feel like it was more than just a fall.”

“It was stupid…”

He scoffs. “Never.”

“A car drove by me,” you confess, only half-lying. You try to look down at him, but your gaze wavers along with your courage. “And the music was kinda loud, and it… It startled me a little.”

You don’t tell him that Jason Carver intentionally swerved on the wrong side of the road to scare you — or that he yelled mean things through the rolled-down passenger window before speeding off again. It’s easier to keep it to yourself. You don’t want it to become a whole thing.

Steve’s brows furrow as he tucks the end of the bandage to keep it from unraveling. “Were they going too fast?”

“I don’t know. Kind of.”

“It wasn’t those football assholes, was it? I swear to god, they need their license revoked.”

“No,” you answer, quick to soothe his rising anger. “It was— It wasn’t anyone. I just got scared, and I swerved off the road, okay?”

Even in your mousy voice, it sounds like you’re being stern with him. And you’re never stern with him.

“Well, that’s okay,” Steve assures with a shrug. “We all get scared. It’s better than you getting hit, I guess.”

“I guess,” you echo with a huff, a teasing smile on your lips.

Steve grins back, happy to see you less pained. He smacks a gentle kiss to your wrapped-up knee. “Go get in the car, okay? I’ll clean up here, put your bike in the trunk, and we can go home.”

You go shy as you peer at him from beneath your lashes. “Your home?” you clarify, secretly hoping he’ll say yes.

His answer isn’t surprising. “Of course, my home. You practically live there, anyway.”

You smile and brush a soft kiss to the scruff of his jaw, murmuring a quiet thank you there before leaving. You’re not limping nearly as badly as you had been before.

Robin waits for the door to ding shut before blurting: “I think it was Jason.”

Steve stills with the first-aid kit in his hands. He squints at her from where she stands between the horror and X-rated horror aisles.

“What?”

“I think that’s who might’ve run her off the road.”

“…Why?”

“He gives her a hard time sometimes, I don’t know,” she explains vaguely and with a sigh. “Normally, it’s stupid. Like, honestly, I just think he’s super shit at flirting. Maybe he was just trying to scare her and… got a little carried away…”

Anger burns red hot in Steve’s chest. It blooms just behind his ribcage like a flower with fire for petals.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks through gritted teeth, trying not to sound too angry. It’s not like Robin was the one who hurt you, after all — just some douchebag who wouldn’t have laid a hand on you if he knew who your boyfriend was.

Steve’s knuckles go white as his grip tightens on the plastic box.

“Because I thought it was harmless!” Robin agonizes as she rushes to meet him. Her deep ocean eyes swim with worry, frightened that he might be angry at her. “Seriously. Most of the time, it sounds like he’s just being mean to get into her pants. And, like, I don’t know if that’s how he landed Chrissy back in the day or what, but he’s obviously got no clue what kind of girl he’s flirting with because…”

She trails off at Steve’s hardened umber gaze.

Robin groans and leans over the counter, reaching for the boy’s wrist. “Please don’t be mad at me, Stevie. My heart can take that. I’ll be sick for days—”

“I’m not mad at you, Rob,” the boy promises. He sighs. “I just gotta… go beat up a kid now.”

—————

You’re too focused on the stars and the feeling of Steve’s warm hand on your thigh to notice he’s taking the wrong route home.

The car slows way sooner than you expected. When you come back down from the clouds, you find that you’re in a near-empty lot. The car jolts softly when Steve puts it in park.

“What are we doing?” you turn to him with furrowed brows.

Steve unclicks his seatbelt. “I’ll be right back.”

You look past him, at the large building lit up by amber streetlamps and the green door with a light in its window. Every so often, someone will whip by it wearing a white jersey. Your heart sinks.

“Why are we at school?” you asked, scrunched-faced in a mixture of anger and worry. You don’t know how he knows what happened to you, only that he does know.

“I need to take care of something here. It’s okay—”

“Don’t go in there,” you plead. “Please. Let’s just go home—”

“I’ll be right back,” he repeats. He leans over the console to kiss your cheek. You don’t lean into it like you usually do.

“Steve—”

The car door shuts and cuts off the rest of your pleas.

Steve has an easy time getting into the gym. The backdoor is propped open with a small wooden block like it always is. The coaches welcome him in like usual. They beam as the old team captain waltzes into the newly painted gym like he owns the place.

“Harrington!” the burly man calls over the sounds of squeaking shoes and bouncing basketballs. “Come to turn in an application, finally? I’ve only been asking you to be co-coach since you graduated.”

Steve smiles coolly. “No. Not yet… I, uh— I actually needed to talk to one of your players.”

The man shoots him a look.

“Jason Carver.”

“Oh,” the man chuckles, a deep belly laugh. “You only wanna pull my star player out of practice, huh?”

“It’ll take, like, two seconds. Tops.”

A momentary stare-off ensues. Steve knows the answer he’s going to get. Everyone at this damn school has got a soft spot for him. Perks of being Hawkins High royalty, he figures.

“Two,” the coach says in the place of any real answer.

He takes the green whistle from his neck and blows into it. The shrill sound echoes through the gym. Like trained dogs, the boys on the court still.

“Carver!” the man shouts, almost too loudly. Steve winces from beside him. “Get over here!”

Jason passes the ball off and jogs to meet them without question. When Steve says he’s got something to tell him, the blonde-haired boy smiles like it’s a privilege. Red-faced and out of breath, he trails behind Steve as they walk out into the hallway.

“Don’t tell me you’re coming to be assistant coach,” the boy says with an audible smile. “Coach Blair has only been talking about it for a year—”

When the double doors shut behind him, Steve whips around and shoves the boy into the lockers. They clang beneath his sudden weight and echo down the empty corridor. Jason’s smug face contorts into shock. “—What the hell?”

He tries to regain his footing, but Steve only shoves him backward again. His hands twist in the neck of his jersey.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Jason shouts.

Steve’s stern features never waver. He leans in close, eyes trained on the boy like a predator to prey. “Leave my girl alone,” he threatens lowly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know who your girl is—”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” Steve spits in response. The lockers bang once more when he shoves the boy backward again. “Should break your leg for what you did to her. What would the star player do then, huh?”

Jason’s wide eyes flit between the both of Steve’s. He racks his brain for what he might’ve done so wrong and who he might’ve done it to. He gapes at the realization — “Bambi? Bambi’s your girlfriend?”

“Oh, that’s what you call her?” Steve muses in a monotone, feigning interest. “How cute.”

“I didn’t know, man. I swear. If I knew, I never would’ve—”

“I don’t care. And stop pleading, alright? It’s embarrassing.”

Jason goes quiet. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Steve’s hand loosens on his jersey. His ice-cold gaze never wavers.

“I don’t wanna know what you did to her. I don’t wanna know why you’re doing it, either — if you think she’s pretty, or if she’s easy-pickings for assholes like you — I don’t care.” He presses the boy further into the lockers, their noses inches apart. “But if I hear you’re messing with her, talking about her to your friends— if you so much as look in her direction again, I promise you won’t like what I do to you.”

Jason’s jaw clenches. He juts out his chin in a feeble attempt to make himself taller. “Yeah?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

“That’s real rich coming from someone who couldn’t even beat up Jonathan Byers.”

“I’ve learned a lot since then,” the older boy promises, weirdly composed. “Feel free to find out if you don’t believe me.”

The boy stays quiet.

Steve shoves him backward when he lets go of him. He gives him a final glare and one last warning before walking back toward the gym. “And plant your feet when you’re on the court, alright? It’d be a real shame if you broke an ankle.”

—————

The drive to his house is silent.

It usually is. Most of the time, you’re too zoned into the music or making shapes in the clouds to talk. But now it’s because you’re angry. Steve would be an idiot not to notice. He can feel it radiating off of you like steam.

He reaches for the console and turns the air-con up.

“Are you hot?” he asks in a feeble attempt to break the quiet.

With your arms crossed and your gaze out the window, you deadpan: “I’m mad.”

“I feel like that’s sorta the same thing,” Steve jokes with a weak, lopsided smile.

“I didn’t want you to do that,” you choke through a tight throat. “You’re just gonna make it worse.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have gotten so bad if you would’ve just told me.”

You turn to him with eyes glassy from unshed tears. A stoplight bathes the both of you in shades of neon scarlet. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d do something about it,” you spit.

“So you’d rather let some asshole run you off the road, huh? Is that it?”

He doesn’t mean to be so harsh. He’s just upset, and the adrenaline’s making him antsy.

Steve learned a long time ago not to be so forward with you. Even if he’s just joking around, even if he’s mad and saying shit he doesn’t mean — you’re not built for that. You’re made of something softer: marshmallow fluff and crocheted yarn and flower petals. It’s why you let Jason Carver pick on you for so long without saying a word about it.

“It’s not like that,” you argue quietly, blinking back tears as you turn away from him again.

Steve sighs. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean— I’m just upset, okay? I didn’t mean to yell.”

“I know…”

“I just wish you would tell me these things, you know?”

His hand is warm on the skin of your thigh as he smooths his palm over it. Your eyes flit to your leg and then to him. You nod. “I know. I just…” Your features crumple when you trail off.

Steve squeezes your thigh in reassurance. “You just what?”

“I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle myself,” you confess quietly. “Everyone thinks I’m so weak. I didn’t want you to think that, too.”

“I don’t think you’re weak,” Steve scoffs out a laugh, like he almost can’t believe you’d even think something like that.

Your brows furrow. “No?”

“No. Not even a little bit. But as your boyfriend— ‘cause I am your boyfriend, right?”

You meet his teasing gaze with a half-hearted scowl. You’ve only been dating for a year and a half. You nod to humor him.

“Exactly. So, as your boyfriend, it’s my job to help you through the hard shit, you know? Just because you can get through it on your own doesn’t mean you have to.”

Your chest swells. You try not to smile too wide, but it’s hard not to. You’ve never had someone who wanted to protect you before. It’s as strange as it is gratifying.

“Okay,” you concede with a nod.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat with a giggle.

Steve leans over the console, moving slowly like his lips are made of magnets that drift to yours. Through the overwhelming urge to kiss you, he jokes: “Is it— and I’m just checking here— is it okay?”

You shake your head and lean to meet him halfway. “You’re such a dork.”

Your lips barely brush before a loud honk echoes behind you. You jolt apart from him, not noticing that the light had turned green until then.

Steve sighs and mourns your unkissed lips. His engine roars softly as he presses on the gas.

He’d noticed. He saw the light change about twenty seconds ago — how the bright crimson changed into a softer shade of lime that bathed you in its neon hues. He just loved the way you looked in green.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x shy!reader #stranger things fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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miaoua3 · 6 months ago

Note

The WAY I RAN TO THIS AFTER I SAW your post about open request.

So here I go [ okay not not write if not comfortable] Mingyu "bestfriend/girlfriend going FERAL over mingyu tones abs calvin kelvin. She ruts in heat and ask mingyu if she could cum on his abs pls 😭😭

Can add some more plot accordingly I would love that. Thanks, I love love love to read your blogs!!

heya! of course i can, just one minor worry i have about this request.

you said “rut in heat” and idk if it’s my inner 13 year old who is thinking this, but it makes me wonder if you want me to write this as an omega verse?😭 if so, i have to disappoint- i do not like things like that (except the like bonded soulmate aspect of it ig but the sex details are just too much for me😭) so i will just write this as…normal verse?😭 idk anyway i hope that’s okay with you and that you aren’t too disappointed by it if it was what you asked for.

anyway, hope you enjoy this regardless!

Help Me Out, Buddy

Pairing: mingyu x f!reader

Genre: smut (MDNI), f!masturbation, oral (f! receiving), grinding, down bad reader, down bad mingy, friends to….something more?

Description: mingyu does a photoshoot for calvin klein. shirtless. it makes you salivate. and do more than salivate. so of course mingyu had to walk in on you doing the said thing.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

so here’s the thing-you were aware just how hot and sexy and indescribably perfect your best friend was. and sure, you may or may not have a crush on him, but you were sure you would never act on it or do anything stupid.

until.

a few weeks before it happened, you remember mingyu mentioning about some photoshoot or something, but did he really expect you to remember it? that man had photoshoots every two days, and so naturally of course you would forget him mentioning yet another one to you.

that is, until you saw the results.

mingyu. shirtless. a lot. and having his abs zoomed into.

and his abs. may god help you for you were about to sin for what you were about to do.

seeing how he was moving in the video, how his abs were flexing while he was raising his arms- and then the zoom in on his abs and crotch? it was enough to make you feel your panties dampen.

as you were rewatching the video again and again, you unconsciously started to slowly move your hips in a circular motion against your mattress, until you full on started to grind onto the duvet beneath you.

so here’s another thing- masturbating to the thought of your best friend is generally wrong. even more so when your best friend is someone like kim mingyu.

but after giving it all but 5 seconds of thought, you found yourself saying “fuck it” before reaching down to pull your shorts and panties down, before laying down on your bed, your fingers immediately finding your clit.

as you were watching the video for the nth time, you find your imagination running absolutely wild- mingyu between your legs, lapping on your juices, mingyu above you, fucking you so hard that you forget your name, mingyu beneath you, your knees on both side of his hips, sitting on his hard but still clothed cock while he’s fingering you, his long fingers hitting all the right spots until you squirt all over his abs.

so, here’s yet another thing.

mingyu has the keys to your apartment.

and he loves to unexpectedly drop by.

which seems to be happening right now- as you were now full on fingering yourself, your fingers trying to reach that sweet spot of your while moaning like crazy, your other hand completely abandoning your phone where the video was still playing, instead opting to cover your face in embarrassment due to moaning the name of your best friend.

which just walked through the door of your room, dropping the bag full of groceries down on the floor, his eyes glued to your heat where your fingers were playing with yourself.

the sound of bag dropping to the floor made you immediately snap your head to that direction, immediately trying to find the blanket to cover up yourself with, all while trying to sit up.

angrily (but more so embarrassingly), you yell at him “were you never taught to knock before entering a room!? what the hell!”, but mingyu just continues to stare at you with opened mouth and wide eyes.

feeling your face burn under his gaze, you cover your mouth with tour hand and look away, trying to find an excuse to explain what he just witnessed. it wouldn’t be as bad if you weren’t moaning his name just as he walked in through the door.

you hear him slowly approaching the bed, before he drops down to his knees on the floor in front of you, his huge and warm hands going to grab the edge of the blanket wrapped around your lower half.

you instinctively grab it too, pulling it closer to your body.

that is, before you look down at his eyes.

almost entire black, pupils blown with desire, desperately looking up at you before he speaks.

“please, let me have just one taste-just one taste and i-i- just one taste, please let me taste you, please, please-“.

and who were you to ever deny kim mingyu anything?

pulling him by the collar of his shirt, you pull him up before you smash your lips in one single hasty and messy kiss, before breaking it apart to pull down the blanket.

mingyu, ever the eager individual, doesn’t even have the time to process your kiss before he is dropping back down between your legs, kind of harshly grabbing your thighs to pull them on his shirt, making you fall down completely on your bad.

and then his lips are on you.

he’s sucking on your clit harshly and enthusiastically, before his tongue makes the switch to your hole, poking and prodding at it, sticking it in before swirling it around, before doing it all again.

to say that this got you moaning his name again is a total understatement.

but because you were already close to your high due to you playing with yourself, you felt your high creeping up on you faster than you would’ve wanted.

that’s why you find yourself grabbing him by his hair and harshly pulling him up, his mouth dropping while something between a moan and a gasp escapes his mouth.

and, i mean, you did promise him one taste, right?

you pull him for another quick kiss before you say against his lips “i want to cum all over your abs, lay down.”

mingyu, eager to just have you on him, does as you say, but not before taking off his shirt.

climbing over him, you find yourself in the position you were just imagining yourself in, the sight making you feel a little bit of your wetness slide down your inner thigh.

just as you reach to take his pants off, you suddenly remember something.

you have no condoms on you.

seeing the change in your face, mingyu asks you kind of breathlessly as well as worried “what is it? what’s wrong?”.

kind of pissed at yourself for not being able to predict future, you answer him “i don’t have any condoms here…so we won’t be able to…yknow…” you mumble the last part.

he immediately shoots back, not wanting to stop this any time soon, condoms be damned “we don’t have to have sex, yknow, there’s other things we can do that will still feel just as good as sex would”.

curiously, you ask him “like what?”

not answering you with any words, mingyu proceeds to unbutton his jeans before pulling them as well as his boxers down just enough for his cock to be freed.

and his cock? god, it had you salivating at the mere thought of having it inside of you. big, thick and veiny, it was resting against his stomach, almost reaching his belly button.

the sight of his cock resting against the tan skin of his abs, goosebumps raising on them either due to cold or something else, was enough to make you want to drop to your knees and have yourself choke on his dick.

breaking you out of your daydream, mingyu takes hold of your hips and move them a little bit backwards. confused, you look at him questionably.

looking at his dark eyes, his face serious, he answers “rub your pussy on my dick”.

heart jumping at the depth of his voice, you immediately lower yourself slowly down until his dick slides between your pussy lips.

the first contact makes you both gasp, your head being thrown back while his nails dig into the skin of your hips.

slowly, you start rolling your hips, his dick sliding up and down between the lips, his tip catching on your clit each time you slide down his cock.

his moans hit your ears, making you want to roll your hips even faster, just to make more of those beautiful sounds spill out of his mouth.

mingyu looks like he doesn’t know where to look at, jumping from your face to your hips suffocating his dick between his abs and your pussy. he finds himself suddenly babbling nonsense, just spilling out of him “fuck, you’re so wet, is enough to make me cum-jesus, if you roll your hips like that one time i really will be cumming in record time, stop it-“ he pauses halfway through to moan that important info.

but you seem to ignore his warnings, rolling your hips even faster, his thick cock sliding between your pussy lips, so wet and slippery that you have to press yourself down extra hard to feel the pressure against your clit.

and because of your earlier escapades, you feel your orgasm hit you so hard, it had you falling forward onto him.

seeing that he’s almost there too, you continue to move your hips at an animalistic pace, overstimulating your clit with the amount of pressure you’re putting on it.

and then mingyu is throwing his head back, a long and beautiful moan coming from the depth of his chest, his nails clawing at the skin of your hips so hard that you were sure it will leave scars for a few days.

the overstimulation, his beautiful face as he was cumming, as well as the constant pressure to your bundle of pleasure.

all of it paired together was enough for you to reach a new level of satisfaction.

because in one moment, you are watching mingyu’s beautiful face in pleasure as he reached his high.

and in the next, you feel a weird tingling sensation in your core.

right as you squirt all over your best friend’s abs, abdomen and dick.

mingyu watches in surprise as you soak his lower half and sheets, your face set in such a beautiful frown he gets the urge to watch it every day if possible.

as you both breathe rapidly, trying to regain your breaths, you just look each other in the eyes, your hands still resting on his chest while his slowly rub your hips.

yeah, friendship ruined, for sure.

(and you couldn’t be more thankful for it.)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

that’s it! hope you enjoyed it!🫶

#seventeen #svt #svt x reader #fypシ #tumblr fyp #fypage #mingyu x you #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu #mingyu

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mydarlingclaudia · 6 months ago

Text

this is life

note : divider is from @/the-aesthetics-shop. ermm never written Chris before idk how good this is and ik it's ooc and this is way short. this wasn't in my wip game thing because I started this like 4 hours ago but I love him very much so uh here I feel scared. is it obvious I don't know how to do a good description.

wc : 1.2k

tags : @lottiies

desc : like a lover should. fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst (not really tho), established relationship, any Chris but at the end it's post re8!Chris, fem!reader, not proofread.

Chris knows the sounds of explosions and gunfire more than he knows anything else. He knows the feeling of blood-soaked clothes and heavy bulletproof vests weighing down on his chest as if they’re meant to be worn everyday. He’ll never forget the weight of a gun in his hand, won’t forget how to curl his fingers around a knife and hold it outwards, waiting for whatever is going to lunge at him from the darkness.

But Chris knows the sound of your voice, too. Knows the feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips, how your weight feels lying on top of him late at night. He loves how your hand squeezes his, how your arms wrap around his neck to hold him closer.

His apartment became yours once you stepped into his life. Your makeup is scattered across the counter in his bathroom, your clothes are in his closet, your soaps are in his shower, the smell of his cigarettes quickly mixed with the smell of your perfume. Chris loves it, really. It didn’t happen overnight, Chris wasn’t around all that much, but you always waited and showed up whenever you wanted to, he gave you a spare key for a reason.

He thinks you care about him more than you should, that you shouldn't worry about him so much and that you don't need to give him a massage every time he comes home along with an actual meal instead of whatever food was being rationed out to him on his latest mission. But you do, every single time. Chris wishes you would sleep and not stay up texting him when he tells you he's on his way home, he won't admit that seeing your endless row of texts filling his screen with news of what he's missed over the past few days never fails to make him smile.

You've always known that what Chris does is dangerous, you don't know that he fights monsters straight out of sci-fi movies, but what matters to you is that he comes home in one piece. Truth is, you love him, and he lets you. Chris isn't always the easiest to love and care for, you know there are things he doesn't tell you, but the way he holds you in the morning while he's still asleep is something else entirely.

The time that you did learn about everything he did was after the Edonia and China mess.

You thought he left you, what else were you supposed to think when he went completely radio silent for almost a year? No one seemed to know where he was, you hadn't gotten any news that he was dead, so he had to still be alive, right? You still took care of his apartment, making sure no one broke in, you were hardly back at your own place the whole time he was away, you were just hoping that a few things would be moved around the apartment whenever you came to check on it, just a hint that he was back home and hadn't told you yet.

But he went to your home the night he came back, was there to catch you when you broke down and cried about all the horrible things you thought had happened to him. At least he showered before he came to you. He sounded like a broken record, apologizing over and over again while you just clutched onto his shirt with your head buried in his shoulder.

It took you maybe an hour to calm down, he had the decency to wait for you to stop hiccuping through your tears before he explained himself. You've got every right to be mad at him, and he knows you are, but he's sure you'll nag him some other time when you're not holding onto him like a lifeline.

You probably don't even believe what he's telling you about bioweapons, you don't even know what the fuck that word really means, but it's his job to get rid of them, play exterminator. You just sat there on your bed with a confused expression the whole time, leaning on his shoulder while you sniffled softly. They're monsters, that's how he described them, like something you see in nightmares.

"So... what, like... Godzilla, or something? That's what they are?" You asked him, eyebrows still knitted together. Chris just looked at you, not really sure how to tell you that the undead weren't even in the same category as some of the things he's fought over the years.

"Yeah, kinda." He didn't need to explain further, you were too tired to comprehend the horrors mankind could make. So he let you sleep, kept you in his arms the whole night. He'd wait until tomorrow to tell you he had to keep doing this until the day he died, but he promised to not keep you waiting the next time he leaves.

—

Chris decides that years later, when you're in the kitchen, sitting across from him at the table burping a baby over your shoulder, not his, not yours, that he can't lose you. He almost lost Jill, did lose Piers and Ethan, along with countless other teammates along the line. But now he's got Ethan's baby in his house, he told you more things about his job now, he told you what happened to Ethan and that Rose would be in his care for a little bit, you had only smiled at him.

He should've married you by now. God, what kind of man was he? Dating the woman of his dreams for over a decade and never even trying to propose? He doesn't know why you let him get away with that. You've long since moved in with him, all your things were practically in his apartment by the time he asked if you just wanted to stay and not leave, took absolutely nothing to convince you.

And looking at you with Rose in your arms finally makes him realize as he's pushing fifty that he should have settled with you sooner. Maybe you just never asked because of his job, maybe you were fine with how things were.

"Did you... ever want kids?" He mumbled, avoiding your gaze and instead staring into his coffee cup. You have to think for a second, still rocking the baby in your arms back and forth.

"One would've been nice." You answer him. Shit, now he feels like he's ruined everything.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I'm happy we waited." Chris looked up at you, not expecting to be greeted with the smile on your face. You stand up to put Rose into her highchair so you can go get your toast from the toaster, Chris follows you after a few seconds.

"Don't know how you put up with me," His hands find their way to your waist, pressing his chest to your back and resting his head against yours. His hands are still rough from years in battle, he doesn't think he'll ever really be able to relax, but you still love to dote on him whenever you can, it makes him feel like he's meant to be here with you.

"Well, you're quite handsome." Chris smiles and presses a kiss to the side of your head, there have been mornings like this hundreds of times, he can only hope for more in the future.

"You're too good to me."

"Lucky you,"

"I know." He's got the day off, he should go buy you a ring, make things more permanent than they already are.

#chris redfield x reader #chris redfield #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

Text

leveling the playing field X

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: hi all!! i have some slightly annoying news (I'm so sorry) but i think i have to close my taglist for this fic and for other coryo stuff (which i am working on bc I've seen the requests!!) bc its gone up almost 150 people and i can only tag 50 people per post and it is SO much work to tag everyone individually even after i paste them in and i don't want to have to reblog it 2 or 3 times to tag everyone :(. I'm so sorry like i said ik its annoying but if you'd like to be the first to know ab new parts and you're not already in my taglist, feel free to turn on my post notifs!! that way you'll also see everything else including my asks ab the fic where i answer more questions and we talk theories and all that fun stuff :)

next part

Coriolanus was having a hard time adjusting to the life of a peacekeeper, but he was getting there. He sent off that letter for you almost as soon as he arrived, but was yet to receive a response so that seemed like an answer enough. He had to forget you, especially if he wasn't going back to the Capitol anytime soon.

He was homesick, to say the very least. Both of his bunkmates were out, likely working, but he didn't care much to know exactly where. He was just relieved to have a moment to himself to wallow in his self-pity, chest constricting tighter and tighter with every breath.

A door slammed shut down the hall, followed quickly by his own door opening- at which he held his breath. He had to get it together.

"Is this bunk taken?" Someone asks, a voice not belonging to either of his bunkmates, but he recognizes it nonetheless.

He shot up straight, taking in the appearance of the boy in front of him. "Sejanus!" He had never been happier to see his classmate, hopping out of his top bunk to quickly give him a hug.

"This is a surprisingly warm welcome for someone who almost got you killed." Sejanus chuckled, hugging him back.

Coryo laughs slightly, pulling away and grabbing his shoulders. "Oh, no. Quite the opposite. What are you doing here?"

"About the same as you." He shrugs, sliding his things under the bed below Coryo's. "They were going to expel me, but my dad paid them for my grad certificate and let them send me here. They got a new gym on the condition that they let us both graduate."

Coryo should be relieved, but a graduation certificate doesn't matter much if he's stuck here for the next twenty years. "And Y/N/N?" He asks.

"Y/N?" Sejanus asks, lifting his head back in confusion. "What about her?"

"Did she graduate too?"

"I... I don't know, I didn't know she was in trouble. We were told she was sick."

Coriolanus's stomach drops. That's a story he'd certainly heard before, and he didn't like at all how that ended. He swallows, nodding a little bit as he looks at the floor. "So you didn't see her at all?"

"No... Not since the last time I saw you." Sejanus states. It had been a few weeks now. "But, her mother came to our door a week or so ago, real early in the morning. Ma shooed me away but I heard them talking, it seemed like she didn't know where Y/N was either. She was looking for her, wondering if any of us had seen her."

Again, this is what Coryo had seen before with what happened to Clemensia. Her parents weren't allowed to see her at all while she was in the hospital. "I think she's dead." He admits.

"What? What makes you say that?" His friend gasps.

"I... I heard her screaming when I left our meeting with Highbottom." Coriolanus explains. "At first it was normal Y/N screaming, you know, but then it got worse and worse until it just... stopped." He hoped Sejanus would change his story, that he would remember seeing you at school or on the streets or at one of your parent's obnoxious parties, having a good time, and being yourself. That maybe he had just forgotten, but the look on Sejanus's face tells him that didn't happen.

It was Sejanus's turn to look down now, giving a solemn nod. "I mean, no." He laughs suddenly, shaking his head. "They wouldn't kill her on campus- if you could hear it, she's not dead. They wouldn't kill her just like that, right?" He says, trying to convince himself of that truth. "Surely she's just sick. Maybe grounded, or something."

"Yeah, yeah. Probably..." Coriolanus concedes, hoping that somehow Sejanus was right.

Simultaneously, you were adjusting beautifully to life in District Twelve. You got in the habit of borrowing Lucy Gray and Barb Azure's clothes, and they let you sleep on the floor between their beds. For the first time in your life, you were free. No one knew you, no one had a single expectation of you besides Tam Amber appreciating your help with the goats and occasionally going to the market with Lucy Gray and Maude Ivory to get food. It was refreshing, to say the very least. Everyday you felt yourself unwinding more and more.

"Do you play any instruments, Y/N?" Maude Ivory asks you, skipping to catch up to you as you hike down a trail out to the lake with the rest of the covey.

"I do, actually." You nod at her, a small smile on your face. "Try three."

"Three!" She claps excitedly. "What do you play? You'll have to perform with us! Do they have different instruments where you're from?"

"Not really." You giggle, putting your hands in the pockets of your bright red skirt. "I play the piano, and the violin, which is just like Clerk Carmine's fiddle, but much more boring, and a harp, if you've ever heard of that."

"You play the fiddle?" The young girl smiles.

"Not like he does." You smile at the boy as he walks ahead of you, not paying any attention.

"I'm sure you're just as well." Lucy Gray interjects, bumping her shoulder with yours as she walks next to you. "Maude Ivory, you should hear her projection. I'm yet to hear her sing, but boy, can she yell."

"I can't sing." You laugh, shaking your head. "Back home you don't sing unless you're training for the opera, and you have to start that around the same time you learn to walk. My parents would rather me learn the piano."

"Then why am I the one yellin' at all our shows? You should step up." Maude Ivory giggles, and you just shake your head, ruffling her hair.

"I definitely couldn't do it nearly as well as you." You insist. "Besides, I have stage fright." You joke, mostly to get her off your back.

She laughs as she fixes her hair, running to catch up with the kids in front of her.

"She just adores you." Lucy Gray smiles. "It's nice to have a new face around."

You smile, watching Maude Ivory collect flowers from the side of the road. "She reminds me of my brother. They're about the same age."

"Right, you lent me his guitar." Lucy Gray says, a particular sadness in her tone tipping you off that she believes you should be upset about leaving him. You miss him, sure, but he's better off now with you gone. Besides, he couldn't be any worse than you. Your parents have always doted over him, and there's no doubt in your mind that now that you are gone, it's multiplied.

"Yes. That's him." You reply, accompanying a moment of silence between the two of you.

"Do you miss him?"

"Sure." You nod, kicking a small stone down the path in front of you. "But he's better off without me there. That brings me enough peace to sleep at night."

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." You smile at her, grateful for the change of topic.

"What happened to Coriolanus?" For the first time in weeks, you feel a pinch of discontent in your gut at her question.

"I don't know." You lie, shrugging your shoulders. You don't even know why you felt the urge to lie at all, you knew he was here somewhere but you hadn't seen him once. Out of sight, out of mind is what you have been trying to convince yourself. "He's alive, I'm sure. Peacekeeping in one of the districts probably."

"Oh, I was hoping you would know more."

"It would be nice." You agree. "But he's not exactly in my good graces at the moment."

"It feels so out of character for him to betray you like that, doesn't it?" Lucy Gray asks.

You laugh, shaking your head. "It was unusual. That's what I thought, anyway." You sigh, giving a slight shrug. "I haven't told anyone, but we had... I don't know, a moment, a few weeks ago. During the games. Just a couple of days later and he's throwing me under the bus like I meant nothing to him. We've been friends for years- I thought everything was about to change for the better, and then..."

"That's cruel." She says disapprovingly. "I bet he's sorry now that you're gone with the wind. He's regretting it. I promise you that much."

You smile slightly at the thought, allowing yourself to entertain it, if only for a moment. "He better be."

"Is that for me? Oh, c'mon y'all, you know that I gave up drinkin' when I was twelve..." Lucy Gray says, taking a sip out of the clear liquor bottle someone in the audience handed to her. "Oh, It's to clear my pipes, just to clear my pipes." She clarifies, tossing the bottle back into the audience.

Coriolanus watches leaning against the side wall of The Hob. He's happy to see that Lucy Gray is back to doing what she loved, and she made it home alive and well. He's also more than pleased to finally get off the barracks for something other than work. "Now, who's ready for a song, huh?" She smiles, looking down off the stage to her right. "Okay, comin' right up. First, I'd like to introduce to the stage with a big welcome, a grand ole friend of mine, The lovely Sage!" She says, giggling at her rhyme as another girl climbs up on stage, giving Maude Ivory and Lucy Gray a quick hug each.

Coriolanus looks away as the crowd cheers, scanning the crowd for Sejanus who had just excused himself to grab a drink a couple minutes ago. He's wondering where his roommate could have disappeared to when Lucy Gray's friend starts speaking.

"Well hello, everyone, so lovely to meet you all! I have never felt so welcome anywhere." His head snaps back to the stage. He'd know that Capitol accent anywhere, even as you pause to allow any cheers to quiet down. "I mean that." You grin, hands clutched to your chest. "And that feels so good, considering Lucy Gray all but forced me up here." You laugh, draping an arm over her shoulder, letting her take back over. How could this be real? Coryo is tempted to rub his eyes or pinch himself to make sure he's even awake. He was so sure you were dead, but despite the different name and completely different clothes, he was positive it was you. The pang in his chest made that obvious, along with the wave of surrealism that suddenly surrounded him so all he could see was you.

"Now, my beautiful girl Sage here will be taking over for our friend on the fiddle, we'll give the band a quick break, and we're gonna have a bit of a change of pace while she's lending us her talents." Lucy Gray says, and Coriolanus watches as you take the beat-up violin from the young boy gratefully. He knew you played, but he hadn't heard it for years. You looked so calm, something he wasn't sure he had seen in public since you were young. He can't pull his eyes from your figure as it graces the stage with your presence, lighting up the room even if it was only for him.

A small smile grows on his face as you start to play, several whistles echoing through the room before Lucy Gray even joins in with her singing. He wants to scream, to cheer and clap and yell and tell everyone in this dark, rundown building that this 'Sage' was his. Inarguably and undoubtedly his. Coryo's pride is only curtailed when he recognizes the song; it was the ballad Lucy Gray played in her interview on your brother's guitar.

The sophistication your violin playing brought to the piece almost made it sadder and infinitely more haunting. It's beautiful. Now with your classical touch, the song sets a pit of guilt in his stomach. That somehow, even without you singing, it's now a ballad from you to him.

"Just let me remind you what I am to you..."

He makes eye contact with Lucy Gray as he shifts his gaze away from you. She pauses for only a moment, hands still moving rhythmically over the strings of her guitar. She smiles and nods at him, jaw slightly agape as she glances back at you to see if you noticed him. When it's clear you haven't, she gets back on track with the words within only a moment.

"'Cause I am the one who looks out when you're leaping. I am the one who knows how you were brave..." Your lips turn up in a small smile as she sings, eyes still shut while you focus. Even though he's sure you're thinking of him, it doesn't bring him much consolation. Well, at least you were thinking of him. He would take it.

The song ends as quickly as it starts, and despite the slower tone, the audience is still excited. More so as the band returns to the stage and you return the violin to Clerk Carmine before turning back around to give a bow. You wave out to the audience, reveling in the whistles and praise before reaching out for an extended hand, accepting it as its owner helps you down. "That was stunnin', where'd you learn to play like that? I've never heard anything quite like it." The man asks, still holding your hand out in between you.

"Oh, thank you. I've been playing my whole life." You grin as the music picks up again.

"Can you dance like you can play?" He asks, lifting your arm to spin you.

"I can certainly try." You laugh, going along with it as he pulls you into a more open space of the crowd, and to Coriolanus, it seems like you're taunting him. You're dancing like you don't have a care in the world, dressed in a skirt that looked like it was made out of a red bed sheet cut up and stitched back together in half-hazard squares, and what looked like one of your t-shirts cut up into a tank top that exposes most of your stomach and back. Appallingly too, a smile present on your face that he had dreamt of seeing again one day but was certain he never would. The only problem is that you're dancing with someone else. Not that he was much of a dancer, but he could try if he had known that's what you wanted.

He's planning his method of attack. He can't leave without speaking to you, because he doesn't even know if you'll be back here the next time he gets a day off. Though, based on your appearance and newfound carelessness, it's likely.

His urge is just to kiss you, but the only thing holding him back is that it could set you off. If you hadn't heard his apology from miles away, would you still be angry at him? But actions speak louder than words. He knows that physicality works with you, and it was hard to deny that he hadn't dreamt of how soft your lips felt on his for weeks. One time was just simply not enough for Coryo.

Coriolanus scowls as the man you're dancing with spins you again, making you laugh as he drapes an arm around your waist.

Maybe he should get Sejanus, see if he's seen you yet.

Another spin, and a hand sliding lower down your bare back as the man pulls you closer, his fingers landing on the waistband of your skirt. When was the last time that scumbag had so much as washed his hands? Coryo wonders to himself, rage boiling up under his skin.

Kiss her. Definitely kiss her.

But if the song choice was any indicator, you definitely weren't pleased with him. It couldn't be, though, because how would you know he would be in attendance? Coryo finds his feet carrying him through the crowd, pushing past a dozen carelessly drunk people in his effort to get to you before he's even thought it all through.

Your brow furrows as a body forces itself between you and your dancing partner. "Hey! What are you-" You cut yourself off, hypnotized by the cold blue eyes staring down at you.

That's my girl. Even though you're angry, Coriolanus is grateful to be the object of your gaze once more.

"'Scuse me, man, do you mind?" The man says, making an effort to push Coryo away. He turns, and before you can intervene he's swinging his fist right at the other guy's face, finding its target in a fraction of a second.

He stumbles back, grabbing his face as it immediately drips blood from his nose onto the floor. There are gasps in the crowd as it disperses around you.

"Hey, settle down, settle down now." You hear Lucy Gray call out amidst the music playing in the background while you grab the back of Coryo's shirt, pulling him back before he continues to beat up your dancing partner.

"Coriolanus, what are you doing here?" You shout over the music. He shakes out his fist, turning back to you now and grabbing your face, pulling you closer to kiss you instead of dignifying you with a response. His actions would certainly speak louder.

You want to be angry, but that falters as you feel his lips on yours again, his hands planted firmly on either side of your waist as he holds onto you so tight you weren't sure breathing was an option- even if you could. You followed him here, of course you wanted to see him, but how could he betray you so easily and expect forgiveness in a kiss?

It takes you longer than it probably should to build up the courage to place your hands on his chest, shoving him back. "What is wrong with you?" You spit, looking him up and down in the blue uniform signified of a peacekeeper off duty.

"What's wrong with me?" He asks, looking around and gauging how many people were even taking notice. "What do you mean, Y/N/N, I wanted to-" Clearly you hadn't heard his silent apology, or it just wasn't enough.

"Hey!" You hiss, jumping at him and attempting to cover his mouth at the use of your nickname, and he quickly swats away your hand. "Let's go. Outside, now." You shove him back by his chest, pointing towards the exit.

You look up at Lucy Gray on stage, still singing as she watches you nervously. You give her a nod and a small reassuring smile before linking arms with Coryo and guiding him toward the door. Just like old times.

taglist: @keziahcore, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @gloryekaterina, @andrewgarfieldsbitch, @queenofspades6, @pepperonipastas, @ladybug0095, @lunamothwrites, @sbrewer21, @mus-tbe-a-weasley, @splxtscreen, @unclecrunkle, @karmaswitch, @coconut-dreamz, @nekee-lilac02, @ooooglymoooogly, @riddlerloveb0t, @lovedbalances, @notyourwildestdream, @snowlandson-top, @too-lit-for-fanfic, @utopiakys, @deafeningballoonnacho, @roosterschanelslut, @chmpgneprblem, @cosmoetik, @lauravanderbooben20, @dry0campa, @luclue, @lokidala, @urvampgfsworld, @carolanns-world @nan-nie, @shakespearseclipse, @iovemoonyy, @notyoursweetheart-honey, @xyzstar, @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland, @queenofshinigamis, @elodiebeau, @soulessjourney

i've closed my taglist for coryo now!! sorry to everyone who wanted to be added, but unfortunately there was significantly more demand than i expected and i sadly just cant tag everyone. BUT! if you still want notifications when i post for this fic, please turn on my post notifs!!

#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games #thg fanfic #thg fanfiction #thg series #coryo snow

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systemadministratorclu · 1 year ago

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Y'all, I just HAD to share this, because holy shit.

A little background first:

I run the drive-thru cash register window at a fast food joint. One of the shittiest jobs there is because some of the rudest/stupidest people on the planet come through the drive-thru, and one must have near superhuman patience to deal with it. That said, there are customers who come regularly and are not hard to deal with at all. And then there are some-very few and far between-that restore your faith in humanity a little every time they come.

This is about one such customer.

This guy comes every day at about the same time with his grandson (6 years old when this started, recently turned 7) and gets the exact same thing every time. To the point where now either I see their car or I hear the guy say his name (whichever happens first) and I'm already ringing them up. Because of this, the kid now thinks I have weirdly specific psychic powers, and has said he prefers coming to the place when I'm there. He's also decided I'm the best employee this place has. The granddad talks to me like I'm a human, they're always smiling and happy to see me (which means a lot in this line of work, let me tell you) and even on my shittiest days, they've managed to make me smile. I genuinely look forward to seeing these people every day.

Recently, grandson was hella excited to tell me he had a birthday coming up. Reminded me every day "my birthday's coming!" as most 6yo kids do.

Maybe I was feeling a little holiday spirit or something, but one day after work, I went to the Dollar Tree near the restaurant. I picked out a kid's birthday card and a Christmas card. I wrote a message in the Christmas one about what I just explained above, thanking them for bringing some joy to my days, because y'know what? People need to hear that shit. Especially in today's world. And I wanted them to know how much this meant to me. I wrote a little joke in the birthday card about not forgetting the day. Then I looked in my wallet, saw I had a $10 and a $1, and stuck the $10 in the birthday card. Addressed the birthday card to the kid and the Christmas one to kid and grandpa. I give the cards to them on their normal drive-thru visit. They are of course surprised (kid starts yelling "thank you" even though he hasn't gotten to open it yet) but thankful. Then the line moves on.

Fast forward to today.

I see the car come in but I don't start ringing the order up, because it's WAY early for them. I give my usual greeting, then I hear a woman's voice, so I think it's someone in the same kind of car. But when she asks "is this Hal?" I then realize it's the kid's mother, whom he has told all about me and who has come through with him before.

I say yes, and she tells me she's not here to order anything, just to see me, since kid and granddad are sick. I tell her to come on to the window, she does, and hands me a card and a nicely wrapped gift. I asked her to tell them hi for me, she said she would and then the line moved.

I got off on lunch break and opened card and gift.

I was not prepared. At all.

This is the gift...

...the card (no writing on the front).....

.....and the typed note inside the card that actually brought tears to my eyes.

......I'm still not over this. I will be thinking about how this went on for OVER HALF A FUCKING YEAR and I had no idea.

This is the kind of stuff that makes this shitty job worth it. People like this....We need more of in this world. I'm going to hold onto that note so when I feel like shit or I don't matter, I can look at it and know there's a kid out there who I am so important to that he got his dad to write a whole-ass letter, to some random stranger he only knows through his son, inviting me to their fucking house. I'm tearing up again as I write this, just thinking about it.

If that doesn't say "you matter", idk what does.

(And yes, I will go at some point, because how can I not? I'm not gonna dash this kid's hopes and make myself look like an enormous asshole. This is the RL version of being handed a toy phone and told it's ringing)

#I'm crying and so are you.#ooc

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ksascriptt · 10 days ago

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Too Much To Ask - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Aaron Hotchner x Wife!Bau!Reader

Warnings: Angst, a flashback, crying, mourning, mid writing, lots of mentions of death, Aaron deserves better, but so did you.

Summary: Part Two to Suck it and See. It’s been nine days since you died, how does Aaron deal with that? The fact that you are truly dead has sunken in further and it’s not coming out.

Notes: Chapter 2! Idk why the header quality is so low. Anyway, I was kinda half asleep for most of the time writing this so lowkey don’t expect greatness 😭 DREADING how sad chapter 3 will be. Also I definitely didn’t proofread this uhm

Tag(s): @ssaaaronmontgomery

Word Count: 1,661

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Present Day

21 February

A certain numbness he had learned to recognize had taken over his body. The nine days that had passed felt like an eternity, and each one left Aaron with a new spew of emotions and memories that wrecked him over and over again. He could hardly stomach the sound of your name anymore, the pictures of you on the mantle — it made him feel sick. Every reminder of what he failed to do made him coil in on himself in the hopes he could disappear.

The recollection of every single memory he held of you was a mental photo album, trying to cling to every detail about you. Who would know of the tiny things that made you who you were if you were never there to tell them? It would be as though you never existed. But now it was a stark reminder of the information he held that he couldn’t ever let go of. What was he supposed to do when he smelled a perfume that was similar to yours, or saw records for a band you would rave about? How could he move on from knowing so much about you that he knew your middle school best friends full name and your childhood stuffed animal? There wasn’t a storage unit to shove them, no shelf for those details to collect dust on like the real photo albums you’d kept in the closet.

Aaron had shed more tears in the past three weeks than his whole life before that. And somehow, through that, he had to be a father. He had to be a parent while he tried not to forget your voice. He had to care for Jack while he picked out the suit he would wear at your funeral tomorrow. Nothing could have prepared him for that five years ago, because he never thought it could happen to you. And somehow, he felt a little stupid for that. How could it not have happened to you, in your like of work?

It was dark, somewhere close to four in the morning. He had hardly slept, if at all, busy staring at the emptiness of his bed in the moonlight cast through the window. It hadn’t been made or changed since you’d awoken the morning you died. Aaron hadn’t slept enough to mess it up, but there were always a few more tear stains on your pillowcase than you left. He had touched so few of your things since that day, since the day you left your home to meet death itself. The top dresser drawer was still open, you always forgot to shut that one. The lid of your perfume still sat on your bedside table, even though the bottle was in the bathroom. Because when he was tired, grieved, desperate enough, he could almost think you were still home. But you weren’t. Maybe it was Aaron’s false hope of hearing you getting ready just one more time.

He had yet to return to work, there hadn’t hardly been any cases worth hearing of — not when the only file he could think of was yours. The five other departments working the case somehow gave him enough sanity to stay away from the office. Truthfully, he couldn’t bring himself to come up with a profile or even track down the group that you’d surrendered to. If only he knew that you did it for him.

Aaron sat on the chair in the corner of your shared room — the chair you’d loved so much that he’d been convinced to move it into the bedroom. Now sitting in it felt wrong without you giggling in his ear, saying something about how comfy it was before you sat on his lap to pepper his face with gentle kisses between laughs as he pinched your side for it. The soft fabric made his throat ache as he clutched your sweater that had been absentmindedly tossed on the arm, as though maybe flesh and a beating heart would replace the empty blue sleeves.

Dark eyes turned watery and red at the memory, because that’s all you were now — a memory. There would never be another night spent together, another day with Jack at the park, not even another argument. God, he’d have done anything for just another few moments.

The night had consisted of a lot of arguments, disagreements that nobody could get the breath to calmly dissect. You were afraid, of course, but you were sure of what had to happen. Aaron had begged, pleaded, and yelled for you to just go into witness protection instead of handing your life over to some cultist group of sociopaths. You told him, “Everybody has to do things that don’t seem right.”. You’d decided that this was just one of those things. You’d let Jack sleep in the bed with you and Aaron, snuggled between the two of you as Aaron held you both. Both of you had woken up early, letting Jack sleep as you spoke in the kitchen.

“Honey, please, I can’t- you can’t do this. We still need you,” he tried, choked up and eyes more pleading than they’d ever been. How could he convince you to live just a little longer? Did your lack of fighting back the knowledge of your death say something? Was that what you wanted?

“You don’t get it, it’s… it’s what has to happen, okay? You know I love you and Jack so much,” you replied, eye bags prominent and telling of the fear and exhaustion that enveloped you. But he couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t let him save you, why you didn’t try to save yourself just a little more. At some point, Aaron’s arms supported you more than your own body, his entire being nearly engulfing you. He wished maybe you’d somehow merge together, anything to make sure you would wake up again.

And when he realized that an hour after that conversation that your body had gone cold on the sidewalk, he felt a little nauseous. The man who’d put the bullet through your temple was dead now, but his employer had alerted the team of your whereabouts — he couldn’t bring himself to see you. Tomorrow would be the first time in ten days that he would get to see you in the flesh, even if that flesh was chilled and pale where you lay in an open casket. It never seemed right that a reunion wouldn’t have both people breathing, though.

His mind was racing, incapable of staying focused on one thought regarding you for more than a few minutes. The biggest question he really held was that of why you had been so okay to die, willing, even. With a pinching migraine he’d been unable to rid himself of, Aaron finally let a stray tear slide down his cheek as his eyesight crashed upon the picture of you, him, and Jack together cooking dinner. It was one you’d looked at a thousand times before getting it printed and framed, and now rarely could he gaze at it without a sinking feeling in his chest.

Even with a mental to-do list in his mind, Aaron couldn’t bring himself to move. Tonight the house would be full once more with the Wake, people gathered that all reminded him of you. Rossi and JJ were coming early, noon or so, to help set up (the demand for him to let them help made him smile for the first time since they were alerted you were gone). There was a neatly pressed black suit on the bed, and it seemed simple, he always laid his suits out when he was getting dressed – but the reason for having to wear that suit tonight, and another tomorrow? It was an aching in his throat he found himself unable to press down.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

It was seven pm, and the house was more crowded than in his worst nightmares. But he found solace in some of the people that came to mourn. Jack rarely left his side, and the team was always there to bail them out of any uncomfortable conversations. The worst conversation that he couldn’t be bailed out, though, was his meeting with your parents. A somber looking woman with a smile kinder than he knew how to handle and a man who couldn’t break the steady stream of tears flowing into a neatly trimmed beard. This was Aaron’s second time meeting your parents (the first was at your wedding), neither them or you two had the time to fly across the country anymore to meet. It wasn’t right, parents should be met over dinner or at holidays, not the night before their child’s funeral where they reminisced in every reflection from the world of you.

A gentle hug had been issued to both of them, Aaron’s heart faltering at the details from you he saw in both of them. Your mothers nose, your fathers eyes, but neither of them could ever bring quite the same joy into his life. Words that could hardly be spoken above a whisper were exchanged before Jack ran back over, excited to meet his grandparents once more — there’d been video calls and letters, but only a few visits. His mind was a powerhouse of emotions right now, standing in the kitchen where he could almost swear you were holding him, humming a gentle tune while you soothed him. It was as though you really were still saying, “It’s okay, Aaron, tomorrow is a new day.” But he knew you weren’t, because why else would every friend and family member see your wedding ring on a chain around his neck?

Tomorrow was in fact a new day, but he didn’t want it to arrive. Seeing your body in a casket surrounded by flowers until you were lowered into the ground wasn’t the new day he was looking for, because it would solidify the fact that you were gone forever.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

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