#im truthfully obsessed with them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nekrosdolly · 1 year ago

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gentle (18+)

hello! i was kind of stumbling through this so im worried it might not be good! like always, criticism is welcome ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

cw; dubcon due to non-verbal consent, re1 wesker, marriage/long term relationship implied, domestic fluff, tooth-rotting fluff not gonna lie, afab reader, soft dom wesker, clitoral stimulation, he's obsessed with you, praise (reader receiving), temperature difference cus he's a human icicle, creampie (x1), a bit of a breeding kink, very lovey and soft wesker

petnames (reader received); dearest, my dove, darling, dearheart, little dove, good girl, sweet thing, greedy girl

albert's gentle with you because he still has his humanity intact. sure, he's not completely sane either, but he doesn't want to drive you away. without uroboros or even the prototype virus, he's strong, and intimidating. his military training has hardened him, and he's tired of being stern and strict at both jobs.

to initiate, he'll typically come to you while you're both winding down for the night. maybe you're patting your face dry after washing it and he comes in the bathroom to hold you from behind. you set the towel aside and acknowledge his presence with a simple "hello, my love," and a small smile. your hands come up to

"hi, dearest," he murmurs, his hand coasting along your abdomen and up to settle on your sternum, pressing you back against his chest so you're flush.

"you're gorgeous," he says between kisses down your neck, his voice a little lower. despite his cold hands, he never fails to make you feel warm in your gut, the subtle purr of arousal making your blood flow south. you're blushing something fierce, making eye contact with him through the mirror. he does tower over you some. you can feel his erection against the small of your back, your own arousal heightening. the hand on his sternum moves to cup your breast, thumbing over your nipple so he can watch how your breathing changes, how your heart beats faster and your face flushes red.

he's so in love with you it almost hurts. he loves the way you press your ass back against him, grinding as an attempt to soothe the ache in your cunt. the ache that only he could ever cause, no less, in the few years you've been together. his other hand finds its way into your underwear, fingers cold but deft as he dips them between your wettened folds to gather the sticky fluid and circle your pulsing clit. you become putty in his arms, your hands practically useless at your sides. your knees turn to jelly, little whines of satisfaction leaving you.

"so, so gorgeous." he croons, the hand cupping your breast simply kneading as he rubs your clit with two cold fingers. he's a sucker for praising you, truthfully, and he loves the way you become red in the face. your face is hot, his dull blue eyes boring holes in your own. it's as though the eye contact makes him more excited, even if the look in his eyes is bone-chilling. his breath is warm against your neck, words of praise and love leaving his pale lips. he presses down a bit more firmly on your clit, his fingers moving quicker to bring you closer to your release. your moans grow louder, your legs threatening to crumble beneath you.

when you do cum, he talks you through it. your hands scramble to grab the edge of the bathroom countertop, your knees buckling under you from the force of your orgasm. your vision is starry at the peak

"i'm here, my dove. lean on me, darling. that's it. you did so well for me, didn't you? yes, you did. my wonderful girl." he murmurs, retracting his hand from your underwear as he peppers kisses to your cheek as you recover. he licks his fingers clean of your cum and strokes your hair with his clean hand, waiting for you to be able to stand again. when you're steady again you tap his arm and he lets you go.

he washes his hands and starts his own nightly routine. you perch yourself on the bathroom countertop and watch him, your head and heart muddled with love and a bit of residual pleasure. every now and then his eyes wander over to you, the subtlest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. you'll run a hand through his hair as he rubs his moisturizer in (he takes care of his skin you can't tell me otherwise), your nails gently scratching the base of his head.

"your hair is getting long." you murmur, playing with the whispy ends.

"too long, dear?" suddenly, he's a bit self-conscious. what if his hair is too long and you decide you hate it? maybe you'll decide that one day, you don't like him anymore. maybe you already have? nervous and trying to hide it, his gaze returns to his own face.

"no, not too long. you could definitely pull off longer hair if you wanted to give it a try." you let your hand drop into your lap and he nods, feeling conflicted and honestly very silly. regardless, he leans over and pecks your lips. his timidity is rare, exceedingly so for a man like him, and it only ever pops up around you. like you're the only one who can get in his head, make him squirm. he may not admit it, but you are.

"good to know. thank you, darling." he takes your hand and helps you off of the bathroom counter, that same hand slipping to the small of your back as the two of you walk to bed. you have other plans.

you make that apparent when you sit at the edge of your king-sized mattress, black sheets crinkling slightly, and look up at him. it's clear that you want something. he raises an eyebrow at you.

"what's this, dear?" he cups your jaw with one hand and strokes your hair with the other. icy eyes roam your own for an answer, but to no avail.

"you didn't get yours earlier." you push his hands away and for a moment he looks offended. his expression falters when you grab his hips and kiss his lower abdomen, just above the waistband of his boxers. he sputters, taking a step back when you reach for his boxers, his hands raising in what seems like defense..

"darling, that's not necessary." he insists, but the way you're looking at him makes his blood roar in his ears, his heart thump faster in his chest. you grab his hands instead and pull him close again. you move back on the bed and pull him with you, gentle like you're guiding him.

hesitant, he crawls on top of you.

"are you sure?" he asks, eyes roaming over you in your cute your hands cup his cheeks, your gaze warm as it roams his face. his cheeks are tinted pink, one of his hands runs over your stomach and along your waist. he hooks his thumb under your silk sleep shirt and slowly pulls it up past your chest. he glances up at you, then at your tits as he cups them. he tweaks one nipple as he ducks his head down to lap and suckle at the other.

your whines, spilling from you so easily, are his favorite noise to draw from you. a dull throb in your clit draws your attention, the familiar ache in your pussy returning with a vengeance and you attempt to clench your thighs together in hopes to mute it. you'd like to hurry, but albert hates being rushed. you know that more than anyone, that he'll take his time with you like you were a painting and absorb every detail.

you tug on his hair, adamant and desperate to get him inside of you to soothe the ache that's only worsening the longer you're without something to fill you. he pulls back upon your request

"al, darling, please." he kisses you in the gentle way he always does, the hand on your waist cupping your cheek. when he breaks away, he looks conflicted. he does want to make you happy- that's all he ever wants to do for you- but he's tempted to drag this out for as long as possible.

"alright, dear. in a moment, just be patient. i know you can." he pecks your lips again, quick and sweet and undeniably hungry. his cock is painfully hard in the thin confines of his boxers, aching to be inside you the way you need him to be.

"lift your hips, little dove." he's met with obedience and he works your pajama bottoms off, a hungry smile on his lips the moment he sees the wet spot on the gusset of your panties. his cock twitches at the sight, aches to feel those walls clench and flutter around him. he slides your panties down to your ankles, then pulls his boxers off. he hooks your legs around his waist, pulling you flush with him

"honey," you whine softly as he leans down to kiss you, simultaneously teasing your slickened cunt with the tip of his cock, a soft grunt escaping him. slowly, he presses the tip in your tight, warm entrance. you whine against his lips as he moans against yours, your weeping pussy sucking him in so nicely.

"so perfect. your cunt was made for me." he murmurs when he breaks the kiss, fully hilted inside you. with how big he is, his cock kisses the tip of your cervix and stretches you out thoroughly. you flutter around him at the praise, even more when he starts thrusting with a gentle desperation only you draw out of him. your head spins, feeling so full and yet craving more at the same time.

the heat on your cheeks matches his own. he's always been such a blushy mess when it comes to missionary, but can you blame him? the expression you make with your eyes half-lidded, lips parted in pleasure, your brows furrowed. his hands find your waist, his cold fingers gripping you tight. the velvet walls of your cunt do things to his head, makes all reasoning go out the window as he pumps his cock into you faster and faster, sacrificing all need to be gentle. though surprised at this, you love it. a similar fog fills your head and your hands move to his back, your nails digging into his skin hard when he wraps an arm around your waist, angling your hips differently.

"that's it, take it all like the good girl you are." he croons, his eyes locked on your face as he angles his hips to brush his cock against that spongy spot amongst velvet walls. you visbly light up with pleasure when he does, your nails breaking the skin of his back by mistake. you know he's only going slow to drag this out, but with the way he's bullying your cunt, you don't know how long you're going to last. each thrust fogs your mind more until you're a moaning, whimpering mess for him. you tighten around him, trying to take more despite him being balls deep already.

"such a greedy girl, my sweet thing… you're going to cum, aren't you?" you nod meekly, biting your bottom lip harder when he thumbs your clit, nearly drawing blood.

"words, dearest. use your words for me." he slows his thumb down to gentle strokes, his cold skin against yours making you hypervigilant of his touch.

"m'gonna cum- i-is that okay? can i?" you struggle to get your words out, interrupted by small gasps of your own as he pistons his cock into the spongy bundle of nerves within you.

he's smiling to himself, enjoying how eager and sweet you are, despite the circumstances. he's close himself, only disguising it until you get yours.

"go on, sweet girl, cum for me." he circles your clit faster once more, causing you to fall apart at the seams. your orgasm is intense, your hips spasming in the desperate chase for more of the white-hot ecstasy running through your blood. you feel hot at your peak, a cry of his name leaving your irritated and puffy lips, before you relax with the comedown. being the good lover he is, he coaxes you through it with soft words and gentle touches.

"that's it, pretty girl. my perfect girl. i love you."

"i love you too." you manage to say despite your hazy state, a weak smile on your pretty lips.

he wraps your legs around his waist as he cages you in with his arms on either side of your head, kissing you slowly so you're not overwhelmed. you're a mess of nothing but your own slick, his cock buried deep inside you. the lower half of his abdomen is drenched with your cum, dripping down his pelvis and thighs. your legs are unsteady and wobbly, shaking in their place.

"al," you break the kiss. the restraint he's showing is visible on his face, especially in the way he's furrowing his eyebrows, "keep going if you need to. i can take it, i promise." he nods, though worried about hurting you somehow. he likes this position much more- he's already close as is, and all he can think about is filling your womb with his kids.

he doesn't speak as he starts thrusting into you again, quick and precise yet surprisingly harsh movements into your overly sensitive cunt. and yet you're still so wet for him, your cunt weeping for more. you can hardly think, let alone tell him how good you feel.

he kisses you hard, his cum filling you up so nicely, you'll be thinking about it for days. he groans against your lips, licking into your mouth. the familiar taste of tobacco from his tongue, his seed inside you, the remnants of his colonge flooding your senses, all overwhelming you. your heart flutters. he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he recovers.

"are you okay, dearheart?" he brings a hand up to fix your shirt and kisses the corners of your lips. tired, yet content, you nod softly and kiss him again. he hums quietly and cups your cheek, his mind still a touch fuzzy. the blush from his cheeks has yet to fade, and likely won't for another hour.

one hand on your waist squeezes you and he pulls back from the kiss to pull out of you, then get off the bed. he grabs you a fresh pair of underwear and pajama pants for himself. he steps into the pants while you sit up and take the underwear from him to put on.

"you know i love you, right?" you say as the two of you lie down, his strong hands pulling you flush against his chest with your back facing him.

"i know, dove. i love you just as much." he wraps an arm around your waist, getting comfortable as the big spoon. tired, he lets his eyes flutter shut. you pull the sheets up and over the two of you, hiking them up to your waist, then follow suit in closing your eyes,

#bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#albert wesker fluff #albert wesker fanfic #albert wesker smut #albert wesker x reader #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡#resident evil i love youu #resident evil smut #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #albert wesker #afab reader

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trippinsorrows · 6 months ago

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with me + part three

authors note: hi! its me again. i had some free time and most of this chapter was completed, sans gaps and editing, so i figured why not?

thank you everyone for all of the kind words, like im still so floored just how many people like the random shit that comes from my head!!!

also, some tags don't seem to work for some reason, like when i type it, the hyperlink doesn't appear so super sorry to those impacted by that!!!

warnings: angsttttt, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

word count: 4.2k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

You were sixteen years old the first time you drank alcohol. Truly, a result of peer pressure. Alcohol never seemed as amazing as your friends tried to preach it to be, not with the amount of hair you’d held back while your friends retched their entire days consumption in toilet bowls.

Just didn’t seem all that appealing.

And then it was homecoming, and your school won the game, qualifying them for state. The whole town was in celebration, but no one was as lit as the football team. And, of course, dating the quarterback at the time and as cheer captain, your presence was damn near a requirement. High school politics and all.

So, you, Amir, and your closest friends spent the night house hopping, partying at one place for a little while before moving on to the next. And at some point, at some stop, you’d been convinced to try a beer. Honestly, it was disgusting as fuck, but a small part of you didn’t want to be the one prude of your group, so you downed it. And then another. Followed by another. Which preceded one more.

And by the end of the night, you truly were white girl wasted.

You thank God that you had good friends at the time who made sure you made it home safely, because you absolutely did black out. Amir did too, hence him not being the one responsible for your care.

When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did was dart to the bathroom where you emptied your guts. The second? Panic. You were terrified of your mother finding out that not only had you engaged in underage drinking, literally violating the damn law, but you’d gotten so wasted that you blacked out. It was incredibly stupid and highly dangerous. Your chest tightened and stomach coiled at how she would react if and when she realized what you’d done.

That was the most scared and nervous you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Well, up until now.

Because all you can focus, think, and obsess about is the fact that Joe will be in your state, in your town, in your damn apartment in a matter of hours. He’d text you in the middle of the night a screenshot of his flight information indicating an arrival time much earlier than you were hoping for.

Dread swept over as you sent him a message asking if he would stay at the same hotel he usually used when visiting, not that it got much use. He typically stayed with you during his visits. But, you offered to meet him there instead, feeling more comfortable if you were out of this setting, not in your apartment that had some type of reminder of Callie in damn near every room.

It took longer than you liked for him to respond, and his answer only served to increase your anxiety and trigger some anger.

No. I’m coming to you.

That was it, no explanation to your follow up texts which you know he read cause bastard had his read receipts on. Just radio silence.

That pissed you off even more, because why the hell was he ignoring you? Wasn’t he about to come talk to you about something anyway?

Oh.

Your stomach tightens. Not knowing what the hell he wants is driving you insane. You know why you reached out to him, but why did he seem so keen on speaking to you? It’d been nearly five years, what could have happened to trigger this sudden desire to reconnect?

And why the hell did he respond so quickly to your initial message? Truthfully, you expected no response whatever, convinced that he’d probably changed numbers after his massive increase in fame. Or, for him to at least hit you with the ‘who is this’? But, he didn’t, he called you and immediately knew who you were.

A tiny gasp leaves your mouth. That must have meant he still had your number saved, the same way you still have his in your contact list.

You….you don’t know what to make of that, don’t know what to make of it at all.

“Mommy, why am I spending the night with Aunt Mariah?”

Callie’s soft voice temporarily eases you from your panic, granted it also makes you aware of how she’s clearly unhappy about this. You know why too. Sundays are always your ‘special days,’ where you spend the entire day together doing the most random of things from baking, to playing game, to random dance parties that sometimes result in neighbors politely asking you to keep the noise down. It’s a tradition, and this is the first time since starting said tradition that it won’t be happening.

Closing up her drawer where you were just digging for some pajamas for her, you move to sit next to her on her bed. Her head is down as she plays with the stuffed animal in her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this is our day, but mommy just has some business she has to take care of.”

She keeps her head down, voice low. “Can’t you do it tomorrow?

Fuck. You hate disappointing her. “I wish, baby, but it can’t wait.” More like he won’t wait. You’re not sure what you would have proposed regarding a time to discuss, well, Callie, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the next damn day. “Hey, how about this? Why don’t you and I stay home tomorrow and have a special special day on Monday?”

At that, her head lifts, eyes sparkling with renewed excitement. “Really?”

“Yup. Mommy can take some time off, and you can miss a day of school. It won’t kill us.” You rarely ever take time off as it is, mostly because a teacher’s salary isn’t anything to write home about. You have to work your ass off to keep a roof over your and Callie’s head. But also….you’re not even sure what frame of mind you’re going to be in following this meeting with Joe, so better safe than sorry. “But only if we can watch The Lion King first.”

Clearly pleased with this compromise, she offers you her pink finger. “Deal!”

You two seal the deal with a pinky swear as you hold her into your side and sigh heavily. You wish that you two could stay like this forever. “I love you, Callie. Okay? Always remember that.”

________

“He’s what?”

You anxiously chew on the nasty ass protein bar Mariah offered you after you realized you’d barely had anything to eat today. It was a part of the latest dietary plan she was following, probably something she found from one of those weird ass dieting groups she was a member of on Facebook.

You loved Mariah, dearly, but as you two grew older, especially after having her baby boy, Micah, she’d become increasingly insecure about her body. Always the smaller, thinner, more athletic of the two, you knew that she struggled with how much weight she’d put on over the years, especially when her plan to drop the baby weight didn’t pan out. You're not sure she’s lost any of it, to be honest.

It wasn’t even a massive weight gain, and truthfully, you thought curves suited her well. But, it didn’t matter what you thought. What mattered was how she felt, which wasn’t the best, despite your best efforts to build up her confidence.

“He’s coming into town,” you finally answer, debating if you should offer her the rest of this grass in bar form. Why the hell is it so damn grainy?

“Today? He’s coming into town today?” You nod. “I’m sorry, I must have missed a couple chapters.”

“More like volumes,” you murmurs, sourly. It’s a great opportunity for you to set aside the dirt bar and explain to her everything she’d missed, from Callie’s initial inquiry to your calling him, to him sending you an itinerary for a flight arriving in roughly three hours at this point.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, careful of her volume despite Micah and Callie being occupied in the living room watching Bluey. “What are you going to do? What are you going to say to him? This is….this is bad, girl.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You lay your head against her kitchen island and force yourself to take three, big, deep breaths. “I don’t think I can do this.”

You hear her exhale. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious, Mo. I—” You lift your head and try your best not to cry. Tears won’t do anything to help the situation. “I don’t know what he wants, but it’s obvious he’s angry with me already, and I can’t imagine when I tell him about Callie that he’s gonna feel any better.”

“You think he’ll be upset?”

“Of course, he will.”

“No, not that. I mean, yeah definitely, about that. But, I mean, you know….that you kept her.” It takes a minute for you to process what she’s asking, and it’s a question you hadn’t thought about in some time.

You’d been so consumed about how upset he would probably be that you kept Callie hidden from him that you hadn’t considered the alternative. What if he was more upset she even existed in the first place?

The thought alone takes you to a dark place. Feelings of rejection and abandonment that you yourself experienced and probably haven’t fully processed. Feelings you swore with your life you’d always protect Callie from.

And always will.

“Then he’ll continue to not be a part of her life.” Your voice is sound and resolute. Mariah also recognizes that all too familiar look of determination that fills your face.

“But what will you tell her then?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” A motto, a mantra, an oath. You’ve hit hard times before and always pulled through. This will be no different. Whatever's needed to keep your daughter from the trauma you experienced, you’ll do. No matter what.

Mariah knows better than to try to reason with you right now, not that there’s a ton of that needed. As a mother herself, she fully understands the intrinsic desire and borderline need to protect your child. She just also knows that you can be stubborn, and when you put your mind to something, nothing and no one can change it.

She just wonders how that’s going to bode over with whatever is about to go down.

You finish off the conversation with thanking her again for her last minute availability. You know you could have asked your mom as well, but she would have had questions, questions you don’t have the answers for nor the desire to explain just what’s happening.

Hell, you don’t even fully know what’s happening.

As the time gets closer, you realize you need to get home and straighten up. Maybe vacuum or some shit.

“Will you call me before I go to bed?”

“Of course, I will, mama.” You push back some of her hair, hating to see her sad again. She’s wearing that pout that you just realized is similar to Joe when he scowls. Shoving that from your head, you add, “and don’t forget about our big day tomorrow.”

That seems to win you a small smile, enough to make you feel less shitty about ditching her, even if it’s completely beyond your control. “It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“You bet your butt it is, kiddo!” You bring her in for another hug, holding her close and tight. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

“I love you too, mama.”

Callie expressing her love for you is the soundtrack in your head as you drive home and even as you move around your apartment, dusting and vacuuming. You even clean the baseboard, something you’re sure you haven’t done since you first moved in when you were 22.

You even make the controversial decision to leave up the photos of Callie or both you and Callie together in the living room and don’t really do much to move aside the indicators that a child lives here. Like her toy bucket near the TV or pink kiddy cups lined up near the kitchen sink.

It doesn’t make much sense to you to hide these things when the sole reason you even reached out is to make him aware of why those things are there and who they belong to. You’ve stopped letting yourself try to figure out why he wants to speak to you or why he’s upset, realizing it was only making your anxiety ten times worse to the point where you felt like you were going to vomit.

Recognizing you have some time before he arrives, you decide to take a shower that’s much longer than necessary and will probably have you upset at yourself when you get your next water bill.

But, it’s a nice distraction. Being fresh, clean, and moisturized is always a nice pick me up. Granted, you find it almost silly as you struggle to figure out what to wear. It’s Joe. Not Beyonce. Also, your outfit should be the last thing on your mind, as you eventually settle on a graphic shirt and some shorts.

And realizing you have nothing else to do, you plop down on the sofa and wait. Wait for whatever the hell is about to happen once you open that door. Strangely enough, your anxiety seems to be settling. Granted, you wonder if that’s being replaced with denial, because you’re also starting to tell yourself that it won’t be that bad.

It may not be, but that’s not a good hill to die on. Preferred but not reliable.

Needing another distraction, you scroll aimlessly through your Instagram, liking a few posts of friends, family, and former classmates from both high school and college. It’s interesting seeing how everyone ventured down different paths, some homemakers, some business execs, and of course the aspiring musicians aka unemployed.

And then there was you, the small town teacher raising her secret love child of a WWE superstar in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

Your stomach twisting and turning tells you the anxiety is returning, but it doesn’t have as much time to heighten because the doorbell rings.

He’s here.

There’s this irritating yet quiet ringing in your ears and anchor on your chest, both of which make it harder to untangle your limbs and move off the sofa. It’s like watching yourself slowly make your way to the door, the tremble in your hand noticeable as you undo the lock and start to turn the knob.

I love you too, mama.

Callie’s sweet, reassuring voice floods into your head providing the sweet relief needed to return from dissociation and snap back to reality. Eyes shutting, you take another deep breath and carefully swing the door open.

Truth be told, you weren’t quite sure what you expected to feel upon seeing Joe again, not sure what you should feel. This was a reunion, but only in name. Nothing about him being at your doorstep was warm and inviting. That much is obvious by his stoic, unreadable facial expression, which isn’t entirely out of character. Contrary and both similar to his current heel portrayal, Joe has always been more on the quiet side, not as easy to read. More open and warm once you get to know him.

You’d found that out firsthand.

Taking in his countenance, you can’t avoid observing the rest of him. He’s somehow even bigger than the last time you saw him in person, almost taking up your doorway, rippling muscles on full display in the plain, black fitted shirt he wears. His hair is pulled back as usual, clean line up, and beard fuller than you remembered him liking it. He’s aged, obviously, but well. Very well.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you step to the side, allowing him inside. You hate how you close your eyes as you inhale his scent.

He always did smell so damn good.

The physical distractions dissipate when he’s inside, the door locked, and it’s just the two of you.

You notice almost immediately how he seems to be intent on keeping his back toward you, playing it off by taking in your apartment. Not that much, if anything, has changed. He can’t be that damn interested.

It was painfully clear that Joe was already frustrated with you just by his texts, but his anger is even more palpable in person, borderline suffocating.

Just what the hell did you do to upset him so much?

Clearing your throat and crossing your arms over, you decide that someone needs to say something because this silent shit is not working for you.

But then Joe angles his body, still not looking toward you but something else. And that’s when your anxiety starts up all over again.

You watch him, intently, as he walks over to the side table near the sofa, the one that has pictures on it.

Pictures of Callie.

He picks one up, and you’ve never been so still in your life. It’s torture, not seeing how he’s looking, unable to read his facials, clueless to what he must be thinking. He’s quiet for too long, so you decide to bite the bullet and say something.

“I—”

“Is she mine?”

Waves. Heavy, plunging waves of emotions splash at you with a ferocity that nearly floors you. His question, so simple, isn’t what you expected to leave his mouth. It’s posed so quietly, lowly, emotion evident but not enough for you to know which one. Anger? Sadness? Confusion?

It stumps you, and for a second, you try to convince yourself that he doesn’t mean what you deep down know what he means.

“What–what are you talking about?”

He curses quietly, and you hear him say your name before he asks again in a dangerously calm voice, “is she mine?”

You recognize this tone, the tone he takes when he’s trying his best to tame his temper, but there’s no guarantee that he can. And that in and of itself is not a good sign, Joe rarely ever gets mad. He’s irritatingly adept at maintaining his composure in all situations.

Except this one.

You just want to take a nap, take a break from all of this. Everything seems to be happening so fast, too fast. It wasn’t even 24 hours ago that Callie first asked about her father, and now the man is standing in front of you asking you to confirm she is his daughter. You’re so confused about everything. How could he tell so easily? You always said and thought she favored him, but did she favor him enough for him to take one look at her and know she’s his daughter?

That doesn’t even seem possible nor plausible.

You have so many questions, but there’s no need in delaying the inevitable.

Rip the Band-Aid off.

“Yes.”

It’s at that moment he finally decides to turn around, and you can see the moment it happens, the moment the floodgate of emotions rush through him like a tsunami. He’s shocked. He’s confused. He’s angry.

“How did you find out?” Putting the pieces together is a slow progress, but one that’s progressing nonetheless. He clearly came here with that question prepared and ready to launch. He knew about Callie, knew when you texted him, knew when he decided to call. Knew before he even walked in and saw a picture of her.

He just needed you to confirm as such.

That seems to be the wrong question, because anger is suddenly more prominent, both vocally and physically. “You’re seriously asking me how the fuck I found out I have a daughter?” Any attempt to control his anger is out the door, replaced with visceral emotions. “No, the real question is why the fuck you didn’t tell me I have a child?”

You’re not sure what it is, the emotionality of it all, the fact that you’re face to face with the man you’ve worked so hard over the years to get over, or even just the fact that he’s speaking to you this way. Maybe all of it. Regardless, you’re not about to just take it lying down. “First of all, watch your tone. You’re not going to talk to me any kind of way. Second of all, you are married, Joe. What was I supposed to do? Send you and your wife copies of the sonogram?”

“Don't put this on that,” he dismisses, swiftly and curtly. “Jadah has nothing to do with you telling me I'm a father. Don't you think I had a fucking right to know?”

“Of course you had a right.” He did. He does. You won’t deny him that, but it’s also not as cut and dry as he’s making it out to be. “But—”

“There’s no but, Y/N!” He cuts you off, and you have to take another deep breath. This time though, it’s not to lessen anxiety. It’s to calm your own anger that’s rising. Who the hell does he think he is to speak to you this way? Like you’re some damn child. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Are you going to actually listen to me, or are you just going to keep yelling? Cause I don’t respond to disrespect, Joe. You know this.”

He actually smiles, smiles at your words. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m disrespecting you? You keep my child from me, and I’m disrespecting you?” He scoffs and looks up at the ceiling, probably to settle himself. “Did you know when you ended things between us?"

The surprising questions just keep on rolling. “What?”

“I swear to God.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Did you know you were pregnant when you told me to leave? Is that why you did it? So I wouldn’t find out?”

This time, you’re the one scoffing, trying to rationalize how he could even think to ask you this. “Seriously, Joe? I told you why I ended things.”

“Yeah, well, you’re clearly not the most honest fucking person, so I don’t even know what to believe anymore.”

You hate the fact that his words don’t further anger you but instead sadden you. You see how he’s looking at you, with a level of disdain and disgust. It’s such an unfamiliar experience, an unwanted one. “So, I’m a liar now?” It should have come out much stronger, firmer, showing him that you’re not putting up with his bullshit. Instead, it’s a damn near whisper.

He looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, like he doesn’t get what you’re not getting about this. “What do you call what you did?”

Your head is starting to hurt. This is going exactly how you feared it would go.

Bad.

It’s all becoming too much, your voice weighed down with the emotions of it all. You feel like you’re on the verge of tears, and you hate that. You won’t let him see you cry. “We’re not….we’re not getting anywhere here, Joe. I think—”

“You should get a lawyer.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

He runs both hands over his face, the heaviness of this conversation clearly weighing on him as well. “We need to figure out some type of custody arrangement, and I don’t think us handling it with each other is a good idea—”

“Custody?” The room is starting to blur again, items moving wayward and sideways. The ringing in your ears is also returning. “What—you—you want to take her from me?” You need to sit down, your legs feeling like they’re ready to give out at any moment. Take her. He wants to take her from you. Unable to control yourself, you snap, “she doesn’t even know you!”

He matches your tone and volume precisely, clearly unwilling to back down. “Exactly, I’m her father, and she doesn’t know me because of you!”

You can barely believe the words coming out his mouth, incapable of processing that he’s actually standing here threatening to take your child from you. This has gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. “So, you think taking her away from me is the way to get to know her?”

His volume levels down a bit, and you could have sworn you saw a glimpse of sympathy. “I don’t want to take her away from you, Y/N. I just can’t trust you to not keep her away from me.”

This is disastrous. You never could you have envisioned this conversation playing out the way it is. Desperate, you move over to him, needing him to see you, to hear you, really hear you. “You’re here now, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough?”

His answer surprises you with its austerity. He’s so angry. “No, because it took almost five fucking years for you to call me in the first damn place.”

He moves away from you, obviously headed for the door. He has nothing else to say. Your head is throbbing, vision still murky, but you manage to rush past him, obstructing his leave. “Joe….wait.”

You’ve never felt so small, so desperate, so helpless in your life. It’s reminiscent of the last conversation you had with him five years prior, that same boulder on your chest, bigger now. Much bigger.

“Please.” You’re not even trying to hold in the tears anymore. That’s not even important. Not in the slightest. This is your child. “Please don’t take her away from me. She’s my baby, Joe. She—she’s never even been without me before.”

He looks at you, and you can see it now. Finally see it. Finally see past all of the hurtful threats, the dismissiveness, the refusal to hear you out. He’s not angry. He’s hurt. “And she’s never been with me.” He moves past you, but not before one last statement. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel.”

________

just curious, ya'll think joe trippin? personally, i'm team callie cause both reader and joe are wrong in one way or another but im also biased so ignore me.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

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patrophthia · 1 year ago

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theodore nott headcanons

these are just my personal characterisations of theodore nott and just me rambling about him bc i love him. please let me know some of your own head canons of him and let’s talk about it!!

this has no word counts, not beta read, just fueled by my love for theodore (be kind about it please)

let’s start of with some canon complaints ones!

from what we know theodore (physically) has dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin and was described as lanky/tall. based off of these, i think he definitely has a few girls outwardly crushing on him. like how can you not when he’s quiet and tall? honestly i get.

theodore, with his pale skin, would honestly get flustered very easily and you can tell by his ears!! HIS EARS THAT TURNS RED WHEN HE FEELS JUST SLIGHT EMBARRASSED AND ITS THE CUTEST THING EVER (im taking no arguments here) i said what i said. theo would def keep his hair longer to help mask this little quirk of his and it would work for the most part, if not for the red tips shining through his dark locks from time to time

with how tall he is, i think he’d be pretty clumsy and uncoordinated but it’s just that he has amazing luck that no one ever gets to see him fall flat on his face.

he’s smart, we know this, but i think he’d definitely be book smart rather than street smart (that’s why blaise is in the picture), he’d be pretty closed off and intimidating to anyone who wasn’t part of his friend group, def the type to glare at you if you looked at him wrong

never held hand romantically before, this man gives off straight up ‘no bitches 🤨’ vibes

always needs comforts/hugs or any kind of support but would isolate himself from anyone who tries to provide him any of that because he’s scared of being seen as vulnerable by them

so so hard to read when you first meet him, but the more you spend just literally sitting by his sides you start to able to differentiate between his hums and nods (that’s all you’ll get from him so long as he’s sober and not your boyfriend)

i personally think seventeen’s jeon wonwoo is so so fitting for theodore (or atleast the theodore i write) he has the very cold closed off ice prince thing going on but is such a cutie i love him

now for some romantic traits one

isn’t the biggest fan of PDA —that is if it’s not him initiating it, i feel theo is the type to hold your hand under your desk, or linked pinkies as you walked down the streets, he’s very subtle with his touches but he likes having you in his hands? (if that makes sense)

forehead kisses enthusiast!!!! he would leave a small little peck on your forehead whenever you’d separate for your own classes, he does it very quick —so quick that no one ever catches it and it’s just between you and him and it’s so sickeningly sweet

would have a hard time with impromptu dates, theodore is the type to go all out when it comes to date so when the slightest thing goes wrong he thinks the whole date is wrong and you’re going to break up with him (please reassure him that you aren’t)

has a pet of some sort, he’s such a loser there’s no way he doesn’t have one; convinced you to adopt a v chubby grey cat on your first anniversary, ernie is a very happy member of the family!

isn’t the biggest pet name user? i know i write theodore using princess a lot but it’s mostly to avoid using y/n. but truthfully i think theodore would mostly call you by your name, and on the rare occasions he uses a pet name it would be between baby or my love

lovveeees being called pet name though, call him sweetheart and watch him be at your beck and call

when he loves he loves hard, you can’t tell me theodore wouldn’t be obsessed with you when you’re together. when it’s in private it’s so obvious that he wants to just bask in your attention even though he never does anything (he thinks) is worthy of it, the type to pull away from a kiss with a dopey look and try but fail to hide a smile from you

you know that trope of A calling B clingy and B distance themself bc they’re upset? ITS SO THEODORE, he’s very averse to touch and maybe one day you’re just feeling a bit too upset and need comfort from him “why are you always so clingy?” slips out and everything just comes to pause.

he knows it before he even looks at you that you’re upset, the type that thinks ‘my gf is mad at me i wish i was dead’

doesn’t really know how to apologize to you but you seem pretty cool about it, you’re still going to bed with him and not banishing him to the couch, you won’t let him touch you though “something about it being too hot”

it’s the next day when you won’t even look in his direction let alone kiss him that makes him want to hire a hitman on himself, will buy you so many things as an apology it doesn’t really work

almost asked blaise for help but scratched that idea and asked for pansy’s help instead (still doesn’t really work)

at the end hired a chef and prep dinner in your shared apartment where he got onto his knees and apologize (yes he looked ridiculous, yes it was blaise’s idea, yes blaise told you the plans before hand and asked you for a photo of theodore begging for forgiveness, yes you did get one for him)

he’s possessive and wants you to himself but also knows his place, he knows when to step in and set healthy boundaries but always breaking them just to make you happy, tries to go above and beyond for you always

tried to talk more and communicate with you how he’s feeling because he does not want this relationship to end just because he doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings

such an act of service type of guy too? would run you a bath if you seemed down, learned to cook your favorite food for you despite having the money to always eat out at the best restaurant/hire a private chef to do it for you, knows your work/school schedule very well and made sure that his visits (if there were any) was well timed

big on quality time as well!!! he just likes to have your company no matter what it is you’re doing, he just likes being by your side

loves spoiling you!!! honestly it’s sick how he does it. i think theodore would be the type to buy you whatever you wanted without ever asking you if you wanted it, if the relationship gets more serious (we’re talking living together/sharing socks serious here) would hand you his v sleek black card if you were to tell him you were going out with your friends.

i could see you at one point having an argument with him about it like: “i’m your s/o theo, not your sugar baby.”

“why can’t you just be both?” this mf

—from bee: that’s all for my theodore related rambles, pls don’t be shy and send me ask about theodore so we can talk about him tgt!!!

#theodore nott x reader #theo nott fanfiction #theo nott fanfic #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott blurbs #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott humor #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott angst #theo nott fluff #theodore nott headcanons #🧳: my writing

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wttcsms · 11 months ago

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a very old atsumu draft from 2021 that im afraid won't make it out the gdocs, but i reread it and realized how silly and light it was & maybe you guys will too!!!!

atsumu miya’s guide to escaping from the friend zone, atsumu miya x f!reader

third year au, enemies to lovers, shoujo manga vibes* features romcom elements, knowing each other since childhood, he falls first AND he falls the absolute hardest, getting together, miscommunication as a means to be comedic not for poorly manufactured drama/angst, lighthearted with a happy ending, no angst 1k written, est. ~10k when completed

STEP ONE: ACTUALLY GET TO THE FRIEND ZONE FIRST

You’re in love with Atsumu Miya — you just don’t know it yet.

At least, that’s what Atsumu claims as he speaks with his mouth full, bits of rice flying out of his mouth, leaving everyone in his immediate vicinity disgusted.

“She doesn’t even know you exist, idiot.” Osamu doesn’t look amused as he pulls his bento box closer to himself, trying to avoid the hailstorm that is Atsumu’s half chewed grains of rice.

“She does!” He’s awfully indignant when he replies, looking like he’s about to make a move to slap his brother but thinks better of it. As captain of the Inarizaki Boys’ Volleyball team, he has to learn to behave lest he lose the title altogether.

“Wanting you dead isn’t the same thing as loving you,” Rintarou is quick to chime in, and the first and second years on the team snicker.

“It’s a work in progress.” Atsumu snaps, failing to mention that you loving him has been a ‘work in progress’ for the past decade and counting.

(Not like he’s, you know, obsessively keeping track. Definitely not.)

The two of you have been attending the same school since your elementary days. On the first day of class, your teacher made everyone hold hands with the person next to them, and a five year old Atsumu just so happened to be the person seated next to a five year old you.

“This person is going to be your buddy for the rest of the school year!” Your teacher exclaimed, clapping her hands together and smiling too cheerfully for so early in the morning.

Then, someone had exclaimed that boys had cooties, and every girl buddied with a boy immediately took back their hand, either on the brink of tears and dramatically turning up their nose in disgust.

Atsumu likes to claim that this is where things went wrong (never minding the fact that you had been the only girl not to drop a boy’s hand), but what really started your dislike for him (that has since spiraled into his closest friends thinking you want their captain dead) happened in middle school.

As fate would have it, you were seated in front of Atsumu for math. He had (still does) a bad habit of chewing gum as loudly and obnoxiously as possible (from your perspective, anyway; truthfully, Atsumu just lacks self-awareness). He made it hard to concentrate during lectures and tests, and midway through the year, you complained to your teacher.

(“Why do you not want to be seated close to Mr. Miya, hmm?” Your teacher smiled at you, his tone light and teasing. “Is it because of a crush?”

“Gross! No! I do not have a crush on Miya!” Your eyes were wide, and you were shaking your head. “He just gets on my nerves. He’s always stealing my pencils and smacking on gum and hiding my textbook-“

“You know, Miss [Surname], middle school boys are mean to girls they like. I’m afraid that my seating charts are always permanent, but even if they weren’t, I think I would make Mr. Miya very upset if I moved you.”

“Who cares about that? He’s so annoying. Let him bother someone else!”

“Ah, [Surname], class is only in session for a few more months. If it gets worse, then we’ll see to adjusting the seating arrangements. For now, let’s get you back to your desk and focused on these fractions.” Your math teacher doesn’t bother hiding a smile as he jokes with you. “You better be careful; he might yank your hair and think it’s a proper declaration of love.”

Your math teacher never tells you that Atsumu spent two weeks of summer break cleaning this classroom to get seated next to you.)

The complaining didn’t work, and you were still stuck in the same seat in front of Atsumu. Then, one day, while he was ignoring the teacher’s lecture and giving his attention to something more worthwhile (such as the back of your head), Atsumu noticed a spider crawling from your back and aiming upwards, towards your hair. He watched in morbid fascination as the spider made its way into your strands of hair, and he reacted quickly, not quite thinking things through.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled, forcing you to tilt back with a yelp, which then caused the entire class to turn and stare at the two of you.

The spider was nowhere to be found, at least, but your teacher had to stop his lesson, shaking his head while he walked to the classroom phone.

“Honestly, Mr. Miya, what goes on in your head?” The teacher sounded like he was holding back laughter as he dialed the principal’s office.

Meanwhile, you straightened yourself out and turned to glare at Atsumu, who could only give you a sheepish grin in return.

“Sorry,” he told you, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Ya should be thankin’ me—“

“Thanking you?” You practically yelled it out. “I should be beating you. What is your problem with me, Miya?”

And that was the moment when Atsumu Miya realized that getting you to fall in love with him might be a bit of a struggle.

But that was then, and this is how. Now, you’re both in your third year of high school. Now, Atsumu is the captain of a team that’s an absolute powerhouse. Now, Atsumu is a box blond and despite his harsh attitude, girls are still vying for his attention.

He figures it’s only a matter of time before you come to your senses and join them.

You never do, though, and now he’s stuck rethinking his master plan. His friends are no help whatsoever, and the school year is going to fly by if he’s not careful. He knows you’ve been accepted to Tokyo U, and he knows that he’s probably not heading to college — not when professional scouts are watching his games and have the power to sign him right after graduation. He’ll never have a chance to be this close to you ever again, and he has to act now.

“Work in progress, my ass.” Rin snorts. “You’ll be lucky to even be her friend at this point.”

Now, Atsumu doesn’t like to consider other people as geniuses, but he’ll settle for considering Rintarou his muse. All this time, Atsumu’s been trying to get you to love him, completely disregarding the fact that you have to like someone before that can happen.

And people like their friends. For the most part.

“Ya know what, Rin? You might actually have a point.”

“There was no point. I was making fun of you. Whatever you’re thinking about doing, here’s actual advice: don’t.” No one on the team is particularly surprised when Atsumu doesn’t take that advice.

#my gdocs is literally hell

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danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

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im so obsessed w the ddlg series🥰 can i please request azriel x reader ddlg where reader has a guy bestfriend who is ” a nice guy ” and he thinks himself a god for being respectful to women or not houding them for sex/ being outright a pig. And he’s like no one ever gives the nice guy a chance and tries to guilt/manipulate reader into leaving azriel to be with him instead. he says stuff like:

” i should have known you wanted someone like him”

” us nice guys do it all but get nothing back ”

” what do you even see in him, it’s ok you don’t have to lie i’ll be better to you. tou should date me instead”

and he just makes reader uncomfy when he tries to get close/kiss her so she tells azriel and he’s fuming and confronts the guy😍

Back Off

Azriel x reader

A/n: omg Az would go feral

Warnings: ddlg, creepy friend, violence, slight angst, then fluff

You were so excited to go out with your friends tonight. Azriel loved watching you bounce around getting ready with excitement. He had already laid your outfit out for you, now you were waiting for him to do your hair.

You stared up at Azriel from your vanity chair, “I’m ready daddy.” He moves to stand behind you, gathering your hair and brushing it out before braiding your hair. Your two girlfriends were brining their boyfriends so you talked Azriel into coming. Truthfully he would’ve gone if you just asked. He didn’t need to be told other males would be there, Azriel would go just to be near you.

What Azriel is not excited about is your “friend” Noah joining you all this evening. Truthfully, Azriel didn’t know why he was still part of the group. The male was truly unbearable and the way he treats females is abhorrent. But he hadn’t tried anything with you, Brenna, or Marcella so Azriel was fine to bite his tongue for now.

As you two walked into Rita’s Brenna and Marcella waved you over to the table. Their boyfriends Eric and Philip sitting beside them. And Noah and his latest victim at the very end.

Dinner wasn’t so bad. Noah was paying extra attention to you for some reason, but Azriel kept shutting him down. He could tell you didn’t like it from the way you gripped his hand under the table.

When dinner was over Azriel leaned over to whisper something in your ear, “Why don’t you and the girls go dance for a bit.” “Ok daddy,” you whisper back kissing his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye Azriel saw Noah’s jaw tick in frustration at the display of affection.

As the four of you go to dance Az makes light conversation with Eric and Philip. Noah seems to be too distracted by you and your friends dancing to pay attention. Azriel kept watching him intently. Noah aggressively pushed his chair back and stormed off toward the dance floor.

Azriel sent one of his shadows to watch over you. He had a bad feeling about Noah tonight. “I have question for the two of you,” Az drawls. Eric and Philip immediately turn their attention to the Shadowsinger. “Do you not like Noah around Brenna or Marcella? He’s weird toward y/n, I don’t like it.” He takes a swig of ale while the other two males nod.

“I hate the loser. Marcella has complained but he guilt trips her and she doesn’t want to be mean.” Philip said. “Brenna says the same thing. I can’t stand it.” Azriel leans back in his chair letting out a hum.

Out on the dance floor Marcella twirls you and you giggle. The three of you have been friends since you were teenagers. You’ve spent centuries forming a sister like bond that can’t be broken.

“I’m going to get another drink,” you yell over the music. The two of them nod and go back to dancing. As you stand at the bar you see Noah leave his day on the dance floor and walk over to you. You tense not wanting him to approach you. When Noah drinks he gets very touchy-feely with you.

Noah sidles up next to you, that too sure smile plastered on his face. “Hi baby,” you roll your eyes. “Don’t you have a date?” You bite back. He caresses your cheek with his knuckles and you jerk away. “Why won’t you give me a chance y/n? I’m a nice guy you know that.”

“Nice guys don’t brag about being nice.” You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “What do you even see in Azriel. He’s a freak. You know we should be together y/n, don’t you feel it?” You give Noah a disgusted look. “How dare you say that about Azriel. You know you have some fucking—“

Noah steps closer to you, pursing his lips to kiss you. Your little shadow pulls on your wrist to get you away from Noah. You’re too shocked to even speak right now. You just want Azriel to hold and comfort you. You’d never leave him. Ever!

You had to find him. Right now. The shadow wraps tighter around your wrist as you run to Azriel. When you finally spot Azriel’s wings you see the males have moved to a high top table. You run full speed into Azriel, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle.

“Woah, princess what’s wrong?” He instantly wraps his arms and wings around you for comfort. “Noah. He called you a freak and said we shouldn’t be together, and that I should be with him, then he tried to kiss me.” You rambled as you looked up at Az with silver lined eyes. “I don’t wanna leave you daddy. I didn’t want to kiss him, I didn’t like that he did that.”

Azriel’s eyes widen with anger. “I know princess, I know. I’m going to take care of it. Where is Noah?” At the sound of yelling in the middle of the dance floor Azriel lowers his wings. A circle had formed around Brenna and Marcella kicking Noah while he was on the ground. “I got that, just stay with her.” He said to Eric and Philip. Azriel kissed you on the forehead and rushed off to help your friends.

He pulled Marcella and Brenna back. They turned on him, furious that a male was touching them. They relaxed when they saw Azriel. “You two have done a fantastic job, but I’ll take it from here. Take y/n home and I’ll be right there.” They nodded and left with you.

Azriel gripped Noah by the back of his neck, pulling him off the floor. “Let’s have a little chat.” Outside, Azriel shoved Noah against the alley wall. “You are to never go near her or the others again. Do you understand me?” Noah nods vigorously. His ability to speak crippled by his fear of Azriel.

Azriel took a step back staring the shorter male down. Before he could notice, Azriel pulled his fist back slamming it into Noah’s gut. He keeled over coughing and gasping for air. Next was a right hook to his face. The cracking of his jaw echoing off the damp brick walls. “If I ever see you again I will kill you.” Azriel turned his back on the male and calmly walked away.

Thirty minutes later Azriel was home relieving Brenna and Marcella. You hugged them goodbye, thanking them for standing up for you. When the door shut Azriel scooped you into his arms and held you close to his chest.

You cling to Azriel as he took you upstairs to your bedroom. He gently places you on the bed. Pulling back he looks down at you, caressing your cheek with his scarred hand. This felt right. He felt like home. You looked up at him with bright doe eyes. “Are you ok princess?” “Yeah,” you mumble out with a small smile. “Did you…” “He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

You pulled Azriel on to the bed, curling up in his lap. “I love you daddy.” “I love you more princess.” Azriel kisses the crown of your head and lays you down. “Let’s get ready for bed, yeah.” You nod against the soft pillow as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Will you read to me?” “Of course princess.”

“And cuddles?” “I’ll cuddle you all night.”

You felt like a weight had rolled off your shoulders. Azriel had taken care of the problem and now he was going to take care of you. He is truly perfect.

As you watched him move around the room getting your sleep clothes you couldn’t help but thank the Mother for this beautiful male. Your eyes never left Azriel. Even as he undressed you and wiped your makeup off. You were entranced by him.

Crawling into bed next to you, Azriel picked up your book from the bedside table. You made yourself at home in his lap. “Now, where we’re we?” He flipped through the pages, finding the last chapter you read. “Right here daddy.”

His sweet, soft voice soothed you. After only a few pages your eyes started to droop. Azriel noticed and smirked. He reread the last page and watched as your eyes fully closed. Putting the book back, Azriel pulled the covers over the two of you. “Goodnight princess. Daddy loves you very much,” he whispers, kissing your cheek.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel angst #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel #acotar azriel

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yuzukult · 2 years ago

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crush 01 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 01 / part of the attacca series pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (for this chapter) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 7.6k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, smoking, suggestive content (but nothing follows through) a/n: !! sighs i know im back with another mechanic!au but !! hear me out, there’s racing involved okay !! i hope you guys enjoy this (and no i did not neglect my other series!! this just has been something i’ve been working on forever, so i hope you all like this :) -- and yes, i switched this from a one-shot to a series bc it was killing me how long i was holding it hostage !!

comment if you’d like to be included in the future taglist :) i’m starting fresh bc i felt bad for how long i’ve kept this lol

Nose twitching, you cross your arms over your chest with a thermos in hand, housing your favorite coffee—the Folgers’ classic roast instant coffee crystals that melt the moment it meets with boiling hot water because you can’t be bothered to wait for the coffee machine to brew the grinds. Normally, you’d be able to smell the freshness of the caffeine, but instead, you’re met with the aroma of burnt rubber on the asphalt wafting underneath your nose. Of course, you shouldn’t have expected anything else—this only ever happens at the track.

To be quite fair, you should’ve been used to all of this by now. The zooming of the cars when they make laps around the track, the whiff of the smoke that spits out of the exhaust, and the crisp clicking that the high-powered impact wrench makes when it’s changing the four tires on the cars at a pit box. And yet, every time you’re here, it feels like an entirely new experience.

Truthfully, you don’t know if you love it here. There’s always too much going on during the races; the chaos on the track, the abundance of people at the bleachers who watch attentively with their favorites in mind, the hollering and screaming, occasional fight breakouts, and the obsession with the cars themselves is too much to handle. You already have a lot going on in your day job—why are you even here?

Oh, right. Because that driver over there—the one with the chestnut color hair, beaming bright smile, and contagious laugh with that cute little beauty mark on his cheek—is your best friend. The one that you might be head over heels for since the beginning of time.

It’s a bit dramatic to introduce him like that, but it’s the only way your heart sees him. Helmet tucked underneath his arm, his loud yet saccharine guffaw fills the air as he exchanges words with one of his crew mates. You don’t know what that’s all about, but what you know is that he asked you to be here, claiming that you’re his ‘good luck charm’ of some sorts.

Whether or not that’s true, you’re still present.

Although you’ve voiced your feelings a handful of times, Lee Seokmin has made it clear: relationships aren’t his priority at the moment—his dreams are.

But, you remain by his side while wearing a blissfully oblivious mask, pretending like you don’t know about his late night escapades where he meets women at the track and takes them out for drinks before inviting them back to his hotel room. Clubs, afterparties, celebrations, tailgates—he’s encountered them through it all, but the only one he hasn’t brought back is you.

Mostly because he ‘treasures’ your relationship too much. You’re the type of person he’d take home to his mom, he says, not to a shoddy motel room right off the highway next to that gas station with the flickering vacancy sign.

And if this was someone else sharing their story, you would’ve told them to lose the guy and find someone worthwhile, someone who wouldn’t take their time for granted, and someone who would love them the way they deserved to be loved.

Unfortunately, this was you you were talking about here, and the only thing you are is delusional and clueless. (You can admit that much).

You choose to turn a blind eye when Seokmin is stumbling out of a club, shirt unbuttoned down to his chest, hooded gaze and slurring words with a girl underneath his arm with her skirt hitched nearly up to her upper thigh, breasts almost falling out of the cups of her top. Because even though he’s bringing her to his bed tonight, you hoped he’d eventually be ready to bring you to your shared forever home one day.

You want to be his everything, his endgame—so if this is what it takes to get there, you’d suffer a little.

(Sounds pathetic, you don’t need another reminder).

“You did good.” You grin, calling out to Seokmin who turns his attention to you. It seems like his smile gets wider at the sight of you walking down to where he’s stationed, wearing that sweatshirt he gave you last autumn with his car sewn in the pocket area and his name in the back.

“You probably didn’t know what you were watching,” he chuckles, handing off his helmet over to a teammate. Sometimes, you wondered if Seokmin knew their names without checking what’s sewn into their suits. “You just sit in the stands and watch me diligently. Do that thing where you furrow your brows like you’re concentrating.”

You mimic the description by scrunching up your face. “I’m not even a fan of racing, you asked me to come here.”

He pats your head affectionately. “I know. And I’m thankful for that.”

Your heart swells. It didn’t help that Seokmin was always like this, and because of that, he made it harder for you if you ever wanted to detach from him. He lures you in effortlessly, like you’re afflicted from the aftermath of a love potion but it’s all because of that charming smile that he shoots your way and not because you were shot by Cupid’s arrow itself.

Seokmin clears his throat, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his racing overalls. He looks good like this; the white compliments him and brightens his face—not that he needs it but it compliments him. “Listen… I know you seem to always have the latest scoop on people…”

“I don’t, but go on.” Totally a lie, the last dinner you had with your friends was entirely a gossip session–but that’s besides the point.

“Have you ever heard of some guy by the name of Jeon Wonwoo?”

With a slight tilt of your head, you blink blankly. It’s not familiar, mostly because you don’t know the person yourself but also since the name hasn’t been brought up at any tea spilling outing. But from the tone of Seokmin’s voice, you’re almost tempted to do your own digging. “Jeon… Wonwoo… no, can’t say that rings a bell. What’s up?”

Seokmin waves you off, clicking his tongue after. “Some street racer. Said he was gonna come in here and start racing professionally. Can you believe that?” he scoffs in disbelief. “Doin’ it illegally then suddenly you want it as a career.”

You shrug. “I mean, everyone starts off somewhere. His start might’ve not been ideal, but at least he’s trying to make things right.”

For a moment, it’s hard to read the expression on Seokmin’s face. There’s a hint of annoyance, you manage to make out, but before he lets you analyze any further, it contorts into an adoring one as he leans over to ruffle your hair. Why does he purposely continue to tug on your heartstrings like this? It makes you feel like a middle school girl crushing on a boy in her class.

Are you really this whipped?

“You’re always looking for the good in people. Sweet, but street racers are assholes. If you ever meet one,” he states warily, but there’s a playful inflection embedded in his words, “don’t trust them. They’re bad news.”

But when he says that, you can’t help but get a flashback of all the times he’s hit on girls for a one night stand… in front of you, despite knowing your feelings for him. Or those times he’s led you on, had you on your toes, thinking that you’d be the next in line for his heart, but instead you find yourself here, as an equivalent to a four leaf clover, a rabbit’s foot or even a horseshoe for his tournaments.

Street racers aren’t the only bad people.

“Hey!”

Flinching, the two of you jolt your attention to the voice, and you spot a little Lee Chan in his matching porcelain white racing overalls as Seokmin—from the biggest to smallest companies out there, brands decorated Seokmin’s, and even though Chan only had two logos on his, he looked like the mini version of your best friend.

He grins cheekily, pointing to the one out of two brands on his clothes. ‘FIC’ in a red square with writing in brown is woven instead of some cheap iron-on patch right above his heart, and you let out a little laugh. “Your logo came!”

“Looks good, Channie.”

Seokmin furrows his brows. “The fuck is a FIC?”

You wave your navy blue thermos in his face before patting Chan’s back.

“Folgers’ Instant Coffee,” you both say in unison and Seokmin only shakes his head.

“Isn’t that copyright infringement?”

The two of you shrug in unison.

To Chan, Seokmin was a mentor. He had become everything Chan aspired to be—on the racetrack, that is, and getting to be this up and close to him was a dream come true. Seokmin is barely pushing twenty-five and he’s already won so many tournaments; trophies lined up the shelves back at his childhood house, providing nothing other than proving his mother wrong when she’d used to say ‘study, driving won’t get you anywhere in life!’ All this while bringing her home an abundance of gifts because there’s nothing better than refuting your mother’s expectations by exceeding them.

“Well,” Seokmin begins, tossing the driving gloves that one of his crew mates catches. “You’re gonna need a whole lot more sponsorship offers if you wanna upgrade your car. You can’t be riding that piece of shit on our track. Ruins the asphalt.”

“He could always drive my car.”

“Nobody wants your little ass 2004 Toyota Camry on our track,” he jokes, but you can sense the expression of Chan’s face dropping in your peripheral vision. “Chan needs a real car to make it.”

Chan juts out his bottom lip. “Those street racers—they always mod their cars and they still go super fast. Can’t we figure something out? Some people make it into the big leagues from working on their cars themselves and—”

“You can’t drive on the track with a mod, it’s gotta be a stock car,” Seokmin lets out a huge, frustrated sigh. “And can we cut the crap about those idiot street racers? They’re so fucking stupid, they can’t even figure out how to get into the main track, so they substitute it by racing illegally. Stop taking tips from those assholes. Just makes you one of ‘em.”

There he goes again. What’s his deal? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your best friend’s temper has shortened, and the tips of his ears were growing red each time the topic of those street racers would come up. And who the fuck was Wonwoo?

“Hey, you alright? You seem tense.” It’s only Friday, and although competitions happen on Saturdays, Seokmin doesn’t usually get nervous. But the way his fists clenched at his side is a different look on him. “You seem off.”

“Jeon Wonwoo is racing tomorrow,” he announces grimly, and even though you don’t know what that entails, the look of surprise and concern that washes over Chan’s face alludes to what it could mean.

“But—what—huh? How? And that’s so—oh my god, you’re gonna go up against one of the best street racers in our region. Or world, even,” Chan’s mouth won’t close and his eyes are practically bulging outside of its pockets. “What are you gonna do, Seok?”

“There’s no tier in street racing,” Seokmin scoffs, arms crossing over his chest in pride. “And I’m gonna bring the best to the table, that’s what. I’m not losing to a mediocre street racer.”

Didn’t he just say there wasn’t a tier for street racing?

You’ve spent a decent amount of time with Seokmin, and what’s strange about him today is that he looks… not as confident as he sounds. The words he says exudes the certainty he has for winning, but take that away and it’s been a blanket for his insecurity.

Was Lee Seokmin actually afraid of competing tomorrow? And if he was, why was this Wonwoo guy bugging him so much? Who was he? It didn’t help that your probing isn’t getting you anywhere.

“Coming tomorrow?” Seokmin asks you, but his eyes are elsewhere. Sneaking a glance, you notice his gaze is on one of the flag girls that you recalled from a race a couple weeks back. Black hair long enough to reach her ass, nose so pointy that it peeks through the clouds, and teeth so fucking white that it could blind you, she’s already bouncing her way to you three.

“Mm, yeah,” you respond as coolly as possible. Part of you wants him to remember how calm you were whenever he was pursuing other girls when he could’ve been after you. He’d rather have a girl like that in lieu of you. A cool girl. Well, sorta. You’re just chillin’… vibin’… going with the flow… patiently waiting for–who are you kidding? Why the fuck isn’t he yours yet? “As promised. Your lucky charm.” The words look sweet on paper, but they spill through your gritted teeth.

“Great.” He pats your shoulder. “Imma hang out with Chaeri. See you tomorrow?”

“Hah,” you let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, yeah, tomorrow.”

You are, and will be forever, a hopeless romantic. Especially for Lee Seokmin.

As you watch him jog toward yet another pretty girl, Chan looks at you sympathetically. Geez, are you that pitiful? “Why do you keep waiting around for him?”

“I’m not.” Already, the mouthpiece of your thermos is at your lips.

“You should really consider going out and dating,” Chan suggests, watching as you do your best to avoid the topic by turning your head. “And I know you hate hearing it, but it’s really not worth it. I admire him as a driver, but as a boyfriend— let’s just say I don’t think Seok is going to change any time soon when it comes to his dating life. Maybe it’s better off finding another guy who would actually appreciate you coming to events like these. You don’t even like racing.”

“I… I like racing.” You don’t sound convincing, and the look on Chan’s face only confirms that he doesn’t believe you either.

You know Chan is right. Despite being younger, he’s got a lot of knowledge and words of wisdom to share – still doesn’t mean you want to listen though because you’re hard-headed and there’s a portion of you that’s a bit lovesick. There’s a dream that one day, Seokmin will realize that the person that was made for him was right beside him all along.

His best friend.

You.

But here you are, watching from the distance, him groping some chick’s ass on the side of a racetrack, ready to take her out for another day of fucking around.

Why do you insist on torturing yourself? You need to mentally smack yourself for not detaching your eyes from this very heart twisting scene.

“Fine,” you concede, shoulders dropping along with your efforts for that brief second. “Let’s go to a bar or something tonight. Pick me up? Then you can be my wingman.”

Chan’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “Great, I’m excited. We’ll find you someone with 8-pack abs, a sweet looking face, and a great personality.”

How do you tell Chan that finding someone with all the characteristics he described is pretty much impossible? For one, does he think someone with 8-pack abs and a sweet looking face could ever have a great personality? You swore the past couple guys you met on that dating site that your friends force you to hop on were exactly that—the type of attractive that had drool spilling from the corner of your lips that actually makes your head go blank until the morning after when you find yourself in their sheets and they still can’t tell you what 8 times 3 equals. How many times did you have to tell your friends that just because some of them found love online, it didn’t mean that you would too?

Nonetheless, the whole description of those men doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with a ‘great personality’ per say, but that adds onto it. If a guy can’t even do simple math or have any common sense, what good does having a nice personality do anyways?

You feel like you should give up. What the hell was Lee Chan thinking?

Puffing out a heavy sigh, you find your way through the crowd of people for that spot to lean against the wall. You’ll have to give him another list of reasons why this night cannot repeat itself, and you refuse to go on this dating venture that he wants you on. The bar he’s invited you to is packed—from the crowds that are hollering over the pool tables to the waves of people that frequent the counter, too awkward to stand elsewhere. The air was getting thick, so you opted to loiter at that spot by some old jukebox that’s probably been out of service since the year you were born.

From there, you spot Chan by the billiards table, cue sticks in hand with the cheekiest smile on his stupid face.

That’s when you spot the girl.

She’s got these cute baby blue jeans, white shirt with balloon sleeves, and cream chunky sneakers that make her even more adorable. As she shuffles over to lean over the table, she closes an eye in concentration, and with her stick, she does a quick push to hit the white ball. And she misses.

Chan releases the most melodious laugh, one saturated in nothing but elation at the sight of the girl who pouts and shoves him but the impact doesn’t do much to him. Pulling her close by her waist, he presses a gentle kiss onto the crown of her head.

Even that corny dork found love. You remember him talking about this girl he’s been dating since high school, Kyungmi, and how he’d been crushing on her since he saw her play at her soccer match. Granted, she slipped and fell onto the muddy field because she didn’t tie her shoelaces, her pants stained brown and he lent her his hoodie for her to wrap around her waist. Since then, they’ve been inseparable.

Why couldn’t you and Seokmin be like that?

Instead, he chooses to be a fucking ass.

Another weighted breath surrenders from your lungs as your shoulders slouches even further. The ice floating atop the margarita is thinning, a layer of water amassing above the alcoholic beverage. The loveseat is what it’s called; a strawberry lemonade margarita, the saccharine juices of both artificial fruit and a slice of the actual strawberry plopped in, it’s a combination of how you were starting to see love as. Seemingly naturally sweet, you eventually learn from the clumps of syrup at the bottom that it’s not as authentic as you used to think it was from the half cut berry that's saturated with liquor.

You take a sip of the watered down cocktail. So much for us, Lee Seokmin. Nose scrunching up, you’re debating if it’s from the thought of him or the tartness of the citrus.

Waiting for Seokmin was starting to become embarrassing. A hopeless romantic is a nickname you never thought you’d find yourself possessing, one that sounds good on the pages of a fairytale or on a screen of a romcom but in reality, it’s naive to be in an unrequited love. The words that leave his lips are nothing but just that—the dialogue of a screenplay meant for a melodrama and not the genuine feelings he inhabits. These types of plots were only interesting in a form of entertainment–not the realities of life.

Maybe you should fuck around. Why are you wasting time anyways? If Seokmin gets to, you should too.

Oh. Right.

After the fourth guy that tried offering to buy you a drink at the bar, you realize how despairing the dating scene is. It’s not for you—well, it’s particularly due to the fact that you’re at some hippie bar downtown; beanies on beanies on plaid and plaid and plaid… it’s not even that cold yet for autumn, what’s with these people with no variety in their closets?

But that’s not to mention that you get attached too fucking quickly.

Your high school love? What was his name again? Just kidding—of course you remember his name, you doodled it all over the pages of your notebook with hearts all around it. Kwon Soonyoung. He dyed his hair a sunflower blonde and spiked it up once he figured out how to use the machines at the gym. Fawning over him was an understatement; you were one of the girls that sat tables away at the lunchroom, chin resting on the palm of your hand with a longing sigh. How could a jock like him ever notice a simple girl like you?

And how did you fall for him in the first place?

Home room, 6:28am, just 2 minutes away from the bell. You dropped your pencil on the floor, ready to snatch it up but Soonyoung was faster. He handed it off to you, fingertips brushing against yours as he showcased that pearly white teeth of his. Then in the candied voice, he said, “yours?” followed by, “your lashes are pretty.”

You were smitten within seconds.

So, yeah. This whole fuck around thing wasn’t in the cards for you, which meant dating is a lot more of a serious topic than Seokmin sees it.

Maybe you’ll keep giving it a shot.

Then there’s this guy. Man. Gentleman? His name is Eunwoo (or something, that’s what you hear over the loud bass booming through the speakers above you… suddenly you’re wishing the jukebox worked), he’s a mechanic and he loves fixing up old cars. You propose the idea of working on your old beast and he let out a chuckle, shaking his head with a lovely smile before saying, “I don’t normally do personal favors but… only if you really want me to.” He approaches you with an interesting greeting, in verbatim, “you look like you’re here against your will. Would you kill me if I used a sleazy pick-up line to ask if I could get a shot to make it better?”

Usually, you’d say no. But… you honestly are kind of bored and how much more disappointed could you get? It already feels like the rock bottom of the dating pool anyways.

But, luckily enough, you’re proven wrong. He’s different—a good kind of different. Eunwoo shares about how didn’t go to college, deciding that opening his own shop and utilizing the experience he had during high school working underneath cars would be more beneficial than a degree in bullshit. And he doesn’t ask if you want another drink—the half drunken margarita with condensation dripping from the sides is enough to give away that you’re done with it for the night. A man with manners, great observation skills and boundaries? Wow, can someone sign you up? (You don’t know if you really mean that).

When a couple of wasted boys start yelling at each other, Eunwoo does this thing where his hand hovers over your back as he leans in just barely, respecting your space and asks, “Wanna move this over there?” with his head gesturing in a direction away from the ruckus.

Fuck. He’s… sweet.

But you can’t fucking help comparing him to Lee Seokmin.

Good or bad, you’re not entirely sure. What you do know is that Seokmin… doesn’t look at you in the same way that Eunwoo does. He’s intrigued, and the swirls of coffee cups for eyes he has is sodden with adoration. When you talk about your job, Eunwoo asks questions that range from ‘What is it that you exactly do?’ to ‘Is this your passion?’ He shows genuine interest, not even realizing that his shoulder is sore from leaning on the jukebox too long that when he shifts in his position, his arm cracks multiple times.

“Should we get outta here?” he asks, slipping the old silver Zippo lighter from his pocket as the two of you slip out of the bar. He pops a cigarette between those pretty lips, a clink sound when he flicks open the cap and the wick heats up the bud. “You’ll see that car of mine that I told ‘ya about and we can stop by that diner five minutes out.”

A 2008 Spicy Red KIA Sorento.

“For a car guy, I wasn’t really expecting… a simple KIA.”

He laughs; it’s gentle and kind, just like his eyes, and he unlocks the doors with a click of a button on the fob. “It’s a friend’s car. He wanted me to check on some stuff. Just driving it around to see if I can hear that funny rattling sound he’s talking about.”

“Hmm,” you hum in amusement, stopping in your tracks when the two of you approach his car. “Then what do you drive?”

Eunwoo turns to you with a soft chuckle. “A Toyota Prius.”

“I don’t usually get into guys’ cars that I just met,” you confess, and Eunwoo’s smile widens even further. “And you’re not the exception either. How about I give you my number instead? Maybe if I trust you enough, I’ll let you take me for a spin in that Prius.”

He rests back against his car, a soft chuckle escaping from his chest as he shakes his head. “Although I wanted to take you out for an oreo milkshake from a diner—”

“—I might need to pop a lactaid pill before that—”

Eunwoo bites his bottom lip from letting out another snicker. “—I’ll make sure to take you to it next time and that you take that anti-lactose or whatever pill. You know what makes a good diner?”

You tilt your head. “What’s that?”

“If at least one of the letters on the sign’s light goes out or flickers,” he frees the puff of smoke from his lips before tossing the filter to the ground and stomping it with the bottom of his shoe. “But I respect that. Don’t go to the homes or into cars of men you just met.”

Eunwoo unlocks his phone and clicks the green phone app before handing it to you. “I’ll text you. I got an early morning tomorrow anyway, it was probably best that you rejected my offer. After all, we would’ve talked all night.”

As cheesy as that pick up line is, it holds some truth.

Eunwoo texts you through the night—he’s funny, charming, and manages to make a simple conversation engaging. Do guys normally tell you about how they ripped their pants in front of their 4th grade classroom because they dropped their pencil during their book report read-aloud? He even got you spilling about how when you took a nap after an exam in high school, you woke yourself up from a fart and looked around to make sure no one heard that. And that’s why you never go anywhere in public after a fiber protein bar.

Then it had you thinking: why can’t Seokmin seem as interested in you as Eunwoo?

Never has he once had a conversation with you that led to the point that you were talking about the most embarrassing grade school stories. It reached to the point that you somehow looped the topic to be about the first time you’ve ever gotten so drunk, you fell asleep in front of your dorm’s vending machine! (To be fair, three of your other college friends were also knocked out in front of that very same machine).

And if you’re comparing all the boys you’ve loved before fairly, Soonyoung still ended up being your first relationship in spite of your constant inner dialogue telling you that he’d never be with you. You ended up breaking up because of college—he had gotten into his dream university that was thousands of miles away, and you couldn’t turn down the scholarship that was being offered by yours.

Seokmin is only centimeters away and still couldn’t give you the same attention that Soonyoung did in freshman year of college before you both realized it wasn’t going to work.

It’s Saturday.

Which means it’s the day.

When you spot Chan in a booth towards the front of the venue, he looks a little nervous–well, little feels like quite an understatement in that sentence. The boy is bouncing on the balls of his feet with his eyes skimming the entire arena like the very thing he’s afraid of is going to pop up at any second. He’s got on the same white racing overalls that match with the rest of Seokmin’s team with his name plastered across his back and the logos of the companies that sponsored him.

You hope that someone will wear Chan’s name one day.

There are girls that stand beside Chan in shirts with Seokmin’s numbers displayed and it leaves you wondering if he ever did anything more with them other than signing their paychecks.

“Hey,” you greet, furrowing your brows. The way Chan continuously checks his surroundings like a prey, awaiting to run away from its predator doesn’t get missed. “Where’s my sweatshirt?”

“Uh,” he stumbles with his phone in his hands, nearly dropping it on the floor before he shuffles through the shelves underneath to grab yours for you. “H-Here you go..”

You take the sweatshirt from him. “What’s up with you?”

“He’s on edge,” Chan says, fingers tapping against the table. “Well, he will be the moment he spots Wonwoo. And he could be here any minute now. I’m not sure how the fuck he’s gonna act, but he’s gonna react for sure.”

“I don’t get the whole deal with Wonwoo,” you say as you slip your arms through, pulling the sweatshirt over your head as your words get muffled in the thickness of the fabric. “He’s just some racer, right? Plus, Seok doesn’t even know how the guy drives. Why’s he so—”

As your head peeks through the neckband, you freeze when you hear that infamous name slip from Chan’s lips.

“O-Oh, hi, Wonwoo.”

“Hey, you’re… Chan, right?” he greets, hands in the front pockets of his blue jeans, a soft smile upon his face. “I saw you at that newbies tournament a couple weeks ago. You did so good, proud of you. I hope to see you with the big dogs one day.”

Hold up.

The charm, the gentle voice… those cute glasses…

He’s… Wonwoo.

The bar was infuriatingly loud that you misheard his name.

He’s not Eunwoo, and the fact that it didn’t register in your head fast enough when he kept giving you clues last night while the two of you texted until the sun rose was dumb on your part. He kept saying, “I need to get up early to drive tomorrow,” and spoke about his car incessantly like it was his passion or something. He’s fucking Wonwoo.

Well, no shit.

He’s a fucking racecar driver.

“Hey,” Wonwoo greets. He’s got on a dark washed denim jacket, and thin wire framed glasses that compliments the amiableness in his grin. There’s something about him that’s disparate to Seokmin, and you figure that it’s his affable nature drawing you in. Seokmin was a great friend, but it took a while to build that trust. Wonwoo? It only took a brief conversation for him to get your number. “Didn’t think I’d find you here. Did you sleep well?”

“Can’t say that I did,” you admit, words not matching that grin you mimic on his face. He’s so contagious when it comes to his smile. “But… I think the results of what came out of it was worth it. Did you sleep well?”

“Can’t say that I did either,” he mocks jokingly. Wonwoo’s eyes detach from yours, now averted to the image sewn into the right side of your sweatshirt. “I was going to ask what brings you here but…” he points to Seokmin’s prized possession—aka not your heart but ironically placed right above it. His car. “Seems like I know what team you’re playing for.”

“I—” you clear your throat, unsure why you’re stuttering or trying to explain yourself. You’re allowed to be here, even if you’re rooting for another driver. “I, uh, I’m here for Seokmin.”

Wonwoo raises a brow playfully. “Really? Is that so?”

Chan lets out a laugh; it seems that when Seokmin is in the room, he feels more anxious on the topic of Wonwoo. But when Wonwoo is present and Seokmin is out of the equation, the weight of the burden on his shoulders lessens. “She’s Seokmin’s lucky charm.”

“Oh, wow,” Wonwoo crosses his arms with an amused expression. “I knew it was too good to be true for you to be single. Did I make that assumption too soon? I’m sorry if I was too forward, I—”

“Oh, she’s not with Seokmin like that.”

Tempted to whack Chan on the shoulder, he’s quick with his reflexes when he realizes he must’ve struck a chord. “Hey, hey, hey, I’m just stating the facts here!” He steps away from you. “You and him aren’t official, and probably won’t be for a while or even at all. I’m just saying, if Wonwoo here is shooting his shot, maybe let him aim for you, yeah?”

You narrow your gaze at the younger male. “Lee Chan.”

Wonwoo furrows his brows in confusion. “What am I missing’ at here?”

“She’s a hopeless romantic,” Chan adds, nudging you. “Seokmin said that if she’d wait for him, he’d come to her when he’s ready.”

Wonwoo clicks his tongue. “Sounds kinda fucked up.” It is fucked up, but what is also fucked up is that Chan is exposing you. What if Wonwoo has a certain perspective of you now?

The stern tone in your voice when you call his name doesn’t feel threatening this time around, only because in his mind, he sees a new boyfriend candidate for you. Chan’s a brother you never had, a kid who wanted the best for the girl who was close enough to be his sister. He smiles, learning speedily that Wonwoo might be the first guy other than Seokmin to tug on your heartstrings.

“I mean, Seokmin might not be happy about it but he’s never been mad at you, so I doubt you’ll piss him off,” Chan grins cheekily. “So, Wonwoo. How do you know my lovely friend?”

“We met at the bar last night,” Wonwoo begins, and although the answer was for Chan, his sparkling irises are on you. So… he wasn’t put off by the whole thing? “Clicked, hopefully hit it off, she gave me her number, and we had a nice talk over text. Needless to say, we talked all night.” He chuckles, finally breaking contact with you and glances over at Chan. “Probably explains the dark circles under my eyes, but definitely worth it. Even if she’s wearing merch from my competitor.”

With a hand slipping into your own back pocket, you roll your lips. Okay. He’s endearing. Somehow, he manages to get you to forget about Seokmin for a brief moment.

Wonwoo zeroes in on you. “I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed our conversation. And I’m hoping that you’d be okay if I asked you on a date sometime… even if you have your reservations about taking it up because of him.”

Mouth slightly agape, the fear of the race dissipates from Chan. Instead, awe is replaced at the sight of you and Seokmin’s competition. Since when did you steal the heart of one of the best street racers? Even you have to mentally give yourself a pat on the shoulder for being able to swoon two desirable men. What is this? Some shitty written romance movie?

To be fair, you never really want to say yes when a guy asks you out. They’ve never given you a good reason to, especially when you had Seokmin on your mind most of the time. But for once, just this once, Wonwoo makes you forget. Somehow he fogs up your thoughts with him instead of the guy you’ve been waiting for so helplessly. It was to the point that you found yourself pathetic, even, but with Wonwoo, you don’t feel that way anymore.

He listens. And for someone who you only met for a day, he talked to you as if he’d known you for a lifetime. Wonwoo shared his deepest insecurities, his dreams, and the things and people he loved within those late hours.

It’s more than Seokmin has ever done and he’d been your best friend for a while.

“I’d… I think I’d like that.”

He sort of makes your heart skip a beat. “Great,” there was an excited bounce in his stance, “what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do?”

“I don’t know, anything but changing a tire,” you say in a second, and Wonwoo laughs at your response. He’s really good at this whole ‘make a girl fall in love with me’ thing because your face heats up in embarrassment when you realize how lame your joke was. “… I’m just kidding. But I’ll let you make the plans.”

“Sure, I’ll plan the date.” Rolling his lips, he tilts his head to the side with a narrowed stare. “But, I should ask. Do you know how to change a tire?”

You shrug. “My best friend says if that ever happened, he’s a call away.”

“And if he’s not?”

“He will,” you answer, the tone in your words firm but underlying, the foundation of it is shaky. “He promised.”

There’s uneasiness in his expression, watching as you fiddle with your fingers as if you’re the one who feels uncertain about what you said. “Alright, if he says so. But uh,” he sneaks a glimpse at the television screen that displays on the side of the track, quickly patting Chan’s shoulder before giving the two of you a slight wave. “I gotta head out. I’ll talk to ‘ya later, yea?”

And with that, he disappears along with the crowd of people who begin to flood the arena with their tickets in hand and cups of beers in the other. Wonwoo was mysterious yet an open book in unison, and despite what people say about strangers at a bar, he doesn’t feel like one.

“Shit, before I interrogate you and Seokmin beats the shit out of us—well, me, he likes you—we gotta go. They’re preppin’ and I don’t wanna miss anything. I’m supposed to be the understudy and he’ll be so pissed if I’m late.” He’s stumbling to grab his belongings, “And he’s already dumb mad that I put whole milk instead of almond in his coffee this morning.”

Although the words are ready to leave the tip of your tongue, Chan bolts out of there faster than they could spill.

Then it hits.

At the moment, it happens in the blink of an eye. The amount of anxiety that was churning through your stomach, and your heart racing at the speed of the cars on the track, you didn’t realize the mess you caught yourself in.

You agreed to go on a date with your best friend’s enemy.

But in all honesty, you didn’t think you’d be able to confront Wonwoo again and tell him that you couldn’t. He was so goddamn fucking charming, exhibiting manners that all the mothers around the world would praise him for. Anyone who would find out that you turned down a date with a guy like Wonwoo would probably give you an earful.

Then again, Seokmin might give you an earful.

Maybe you won’t tell him.

It’s one date… right?

Plus, with Wonwoo being himself, there’s no way that Seokmin could actually be that annoyed with him. He spoke to Chan in such a respectful way, treated him like a younger classmate, and even expressed how proud he was of him for getting to where he is now. Seokmin couldn’t actually hate Wonwoo on the track. Couldn’t be possible.

That is until you saw living proof right in front of you.

Seokmin is tempted; fists clamped shut at his side, you see him inhale in a deep breath that juts his chest out. His nose does a little spasm, irritated even though he attempts to hold himself back. “Go back to where you belong.”

You find yourself back in Seokmin’s pit, expecting him to do his frequent routine before he hopped into the vehicle. Instead, he’s standing right outside of his car, face to face with Jeon Wonwoo who remains calm, cool, and collected, paying no mind that Seokmin is just inches away from driving his fist into Wonwoo’s cheekbone. It’s enticing, but Seokmin knows he can’t do it in public with thousands of people watching.

“Come on, Dokyeom, I’m allowed on the track,” he’s got a smug look on his face as he speaks. “It’s not like shit’s got your name outside the stadium. You don’t own it.”

“Dokyeom?” You reiterate, head turning from Wonwoo to Seokmin. “Why’s he calling you Dokyeom?”

Seokmin doesn’t break his stare on Wonwoo. Jaw clenched, teeth gritting, he even sucks in his cheeks in the heat of the moment with his fists fully balled by his sides. The fury in his eyes were burning flames that you fear would somehow spread into reality and burn the arena down. “Wonwoo, I thought you said you’d stay out of my way.”

“I never said anything,” the other male says tranquilly, zipping up his navy blue racing overalls up to his neck. In comparison to Seokmin, Wonwoo doesn’t have as many sponsors other than for three companies that barely had any fame to their name. “All I said was that I didn’t know if I'd make it up here with the big dogs. And well, look at me. Livin’ the dream. You should be proud of me, Kyeom, not throwing a bitch fit.”

“You fucking lied.”

“Why’s it matter?” Wonwoo queries, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. “Are you nervous? I thought you didn’t get nervous. Is it ‘cause you finally found someone with the equal amount of skill here? You can’t win forever, Kyeom-ie. One of these days, you gotta be kicked off that goddamn pedestal. Not a hot look for you.”

“Alright, alright,” you interject, pushing Seokmin’s (or was it Dokyeom’s) chest back to prevent him from making the first swing. “It’s almost time to start and I’d rather have you both behind the wheel without a bruised eye.”

“The only fucking bitch leaving here with a bruised face is him,” Seokmin hisses, but his body loosens the tenseness when he feels your touch. “Get off my turf, Jeon Wonwoo. You don’t belong here.”

And just on time, his name is written in bright letters across the television screens surrounding the arena.

JEON WONWOO, RACER NUMBER FIVE.

With a cocky grin, Wonwoo crosses his arms as he glances up at his name displayed and back on Seokmin. “It looks like everyone here begs to differ. See you on the track, Kyeomie.”

With an exasperated scoff, he tosses his gloves onto the ground. Wonwoo doesn’t bat a lash or even sneak a glance at the turmoil he leaves behind, instead he waltzes his way to his crew members who don’t dress in uniform as Seokmin’s team did.

“That jackass,” he hisses. “Does he fucking understand that this place isn’t for him?”

“Why’d he call you Dokyeom?” It’s bold of you to ask a question in the middle of his tantrum, but you’ve been patient enough. “I thought your real name was Seokmin.”

The anger still pulls on his features–he used to go soft for you. “It was a nickname I had.”

“From what?”

“Don’t ask,” he says curtly. “You don’t need to know my past—all you need to be is here. You’re my lucky charm and I need you here so I can win.”

With that, he slips his helmet on, flipping down the shield to cover his face. Ever since Wonwoo’s name was brought up in conversations, Seokmin’s demeanor changes and he doesn’t feel right; he isn’t quite the same person as he used to be. There’s something about Wonwoo that irritates him, and although he incessantly states that it’s because he’s a street racer, you think there’s more than what he lets out to be.

As told, you sit in the bleachers patiently, legs pressed together anxiously with your thermos filled with your coffee in hand, watching as Seokmin climbs into the driver’s seat of his vehicle.

Like you’re supposed to.

As you’re asked to.

Just as you always do.

There’s always this part of you that wonders: Is it worth waiting for a guy like Seokmin to notice you in the way you see him? During those late nights, the ones where he doesn’t go off into the sunset with a pretty girl under his arm, he lays underneath the stars with you, and reminds you that you’re the person that he wants to settle down with. Seokmin says he sees the two of you, on the porch with your rocking chairs of your future home with a big lawn, kids running on the grass with screams and laughter, sharing nothing but love for each other.

But each time he walks away with someone who isn’t you, the wait becomes more of a struggle.

It’s worse than waiting for the results of an exam that you know you failed, that feeling of being sick to your stomach and on the verge of vomiting. Your chest aches more than a sad, angsty romcom you’d watch back in your teenage years as if you’d experience the same heartbreak as the couples on the big screen.

← you’re at the beginning | next chapter →

#wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x oc #svt fanfic #svt #seventeen #seventeen fanfic

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svmjaeyvn · 9 months ago

Text

love maze, s.jy.

chapter seven pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: tbd (series)

masterlist

add yourself to the taglist here!

genre: college!au, mutual friends, fake dating, smut.

synopsis: an unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker leads jake sim ‘dating’ his best friend’s childhood crush.

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

contents: smut, sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of best friend! yunjin, curly haired & mixed reader, uni!au, rich nepo baby!jake, enha frat boys, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, big booty reader that’s jake’s obsessed with, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending!!

a/n: hello~ i’ve never been a tumblr girly but i have went through my w*ttpad era back in 2018 so bare with me y’all. this will be a series but not that long (i hope) so pls look forward to it. warning tags will be placed before each “chapter” to specify what to expect. pls pls reblog and interact, i’d love to have feedback and see what your thoughts are. okay! yay, for now enjoy and thank you sm :D

MDNI, 18+

tap below to continue

CHAPTER SEVEN: PERILLA LEAF DEBATE

previous masterlist next

word count: 2.4k

warnings: alcohol (underaged gasp), innuendos, suggestive language, cursing, yunjin says sexism as a joke, jake smacks ni-ki upside the head but that’s basically it lol

a/n: just a cutesy little chapter full of some crumbs of fluff. i don’t really know how long im gonna make this series 😭 also finally some content of all of them together we love!!!! (channeling jungkook for heeseung and sunghoons stance here)

"I NEVER AGREED to this," Yunjin gapes, staring at the large rapids that the lake held, Heeseung attempting to convince her to go tubing. "You said it was like the lazy river things at those water parks, not a whole waterfall!"

"It's fun," He laughs, a hand lightly tugging at her arm while she shakes her head. "C'mon, you said you would. You gonna leave me alone now?" Heeseung pouts, the puppy eyes he gave Yunjin more than enough to be convincing no matter how hard she tried.

You watched from afar, a small snort erupting as you see her nod along without much hesitation. A week in the making, Heeseung and Jay had put together a three-day vacation for the group. Headed out three hours north from campus, they reserved a lot on a camping reservation. Having left so early, much to everyone's dismay, Jay had successfully leaded the two cars to arrive in the morning and find a spot to call home right beside the river which was the main attraction of said grounds.

In a fairly shady spot due to the large trees, it provided enough room away from any other campers that would arrive, a sort of privacy at the end. Truthfully, you weren't the biggest fan of sleeping on rocky ground and having no access to an actual hot shower for the next few days but you agreed with much reluctance. Jay had went as far as talking to Cho herself to ensure you and Ni-ki would have the adequate days off and buying a blow up mattress for your sake.

"10 bucks says they'll hook up by the end of the trip," Sunghoon snickers, his voice breaking your thoughts as you jump slightly out of surprise.

"Maybe not hook up," You shiver at the thought. "We're sleeping in tents, I'd hope they wouldn't especially since I'm supposed to share with her," Grimacing at the thought, you shake your head. "But definitely make out a couple times, Heeseung's obvious as hell,"

"Pretty sure Jake didn't get that memo," Sunghoon nods toward said boy, watching as he was in the midst of setting up a tent with Ni-ki's help. Glancing over, you see how he grouped yours and his things together, presumably setting up for you to share for the next few days. "I'm not worried about them. Jake has no shame though so I'll be sleeping as far away as I can from you two,"

"We're not fucking next to the kids," You defend, gesturing toward the larger tent that would house Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki while Sunghoon laughs at your dumbfounded expression. Shoving his shoulder, you shake your head at the amused look he sent your way. Sticking your tongue out at Sunghoon childishly, he returns the gesture while you make your way toward the two crouched attempting to get the tent secured in place.

"Just nail it into the dirt—"

"This is like concrete it doesn't want to go in!" Ni-ki huffs, the consistent banging of the hammer to the metal pick heard though you couldn't due to the material blocking your view. Jake notices your presence, a small smile thrown your way but you took note of his obvious annoyance. Just as he was about to move to help Ni-ki, the younger boy lets out a loud laugh. "Ah! Ha! I did it! Fucking thing took forever but it worked,"

"Ni-ki," You tsk, the boy standing up and sheepishly peering around the now perched tent with an innocent smile.

"Sorry," He mumbles out. Rolling your eyes, you wave him off while Jake stands up, dusting his hands off on his pants and rolling his neck with a wince. "Is it done?"

"That took so much longer than it should've," He says under his breath, looking around and ensuring it would stay up. "Yeah all good, thank you," Jake calls out while Ni-ki gives him a thumbs up before walking away to where Jungwon and Jay seemed to be messing with the grill.

You pursed your lips seeing how tense Jake seemed to be. He wasn't a morning person, something you've come to realize, thus spending 3 hours cramped in a car full of people so early certainly did a number on him. His patience was thin, Ni-ki not moving fast enough for him seemed to worsen it and although he wasn't outwardly going to say anything, Jake seemed rather spent.

Stepping behind him, you wrap your arms around his waist, your head leaned against his back while he seemed to melt to your touch.

"What're you doing?" Jake lets out a small laugh, one of his hands falling over your own that was along his midsection. He turns his head slightly, attempting to get a glance at you but the height difference only allowed him to see the top of your head.

“Take a break," You mumble into his back.

Jake felt his stomach flip involuntarily, the warmth of your body pushed against his did more in seconds than he liked to admit in helping him relax. Pulling away so he had room to turn, he flipped around to allow you both to face one another. His arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders after yours stayed put at his waist.

"I think this is the first time you initiated us touching," He hums, the giddy smile that made its way into his lips more than obvious. "You love me now or what?"

You roll your eyes. “I barely tolerate you, don’t get ahead of yourself Sim,” You tut, pinching at his side causing him to laugh. “I just figured to distract you before you blew up on one of the kids for being annoying. Is it working?”

Jake hums, nodding along to your words. One of his hands pushed away the hair that blew in your face, tucking it behind your ear but not moving as he gentle cupped your cheek. “Good distraction,” He mumbles, leaning closer to put a chaste peck to the tip of your nose.

Your face scrunches up, the minimal amount of blush making its way to the apples of your cheeks. You quickly turn away to ensure he wouldn’t see, unraveling yourself from his grasp and pausing short seeing how utterly disgusted Jay looked from the opposite side of the area.

“Do you really have to do that here?!”

“OKAY OKAY, I got one,” Jungwon holds out his hands, gaining the attention of the group that sat around the campfire as the contents of his cup sloshed around as he did so. “Cheating or not cheating: the perilla leaf thing that’s been trending?”

Immediately riling up the group, Heeseung and Sunghoon were quick to shout of their ambient no’s while Ni-ki and Sunoo held no problem with it. Since the sun had set and the fire ignited, your group of nine had been gathered around talking about everything and anything. Having been filled up by Jay’s grilling earlier, the causal drinking had begun and thus the conversation topics slowly began to get more heated through debate.

“No, I’m not just gonna let one of you help feed my girlfriend. Basically touching chopsticks that’s weird,” Heeseung shakes his head while Sunghoon points in agreement.

“That’s because you’re overly possessive either way hyung,” Sunoo rolls his eyes, though a small laugh left his lips as the older boy clicks his tongue.

“First it’s the perilla leaf then it’s holding hands and making out behind my back,” Sunghoon dramatically huffs out, louder than usual due to the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream while Yunjin snorts from her seat beside him.

“That’s a crazy jump from a simple dinner encounter,” She snickers while he shakes his head.

“I don’t like it,” Sunghoon says entirely close minded before hitting Jay’s shoulder who sat to his left. “What do you think?”

“I don’t necessarily have a problem with it as long as it’s like a one time thing,” He shrugs, lifting the bottle to his lips to take a swig. “Once or twice okay, and as long as it’s not just specifically between them only. I think as the boyfriend it would be my job to feed her,”

Jungwon hums in agreement to Jay’s explanation. “Yeah me too, one or twice is fine but its technically something that I should do,”

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” Ni-ki pipes in, gesturing around the group. “Especially if it were one of you, we’re all friends. It wouldn’t be something weird or out of bad intention,”

“What if it were Yunjin or I?” You suddenly ask, sitting up from your slouched position in having your feet dangle off of Jake’s legs from your seat. “Is it different if it’s one of the boys compared to us?”

Sunghoon falters, a sheepish smile taking over his lips knowing it was a convicting question. “Well—”

“Sexism!” Yunjin yells out, an accusing finger pointed toward the boy who sputtered to respond.

“No, none of you can do it,” Heeseung shakes his head. “I’m a hater to all, I know you two are girl kissers too so no! I don’t need my only girl friends stealing my girl,” He tuts while you let out a small laugh at the thought, seeing his pouty lips at the complete imaginary scenario.

“Lets ask the actual couple in the group,” Jungwon clears the air, being the main instigator of the topic as he gestures toward you and Jake who had kept quiet, merely amused by the conversation his friends debated upon. “Hyung what do you think?”

You raise a brow as you turn to Jake who sat on your right. One of his hands was comfortably placed on your shins, tracing small circles along your skin as you continued to wear shorts due to the humid air. His other dangled his beer bottle in hand, seemingly comfortable with a slight buzz.

His eyes peer over to yours, amusement lingering through the look he sent you. “She wouldn’t have to have one of you help her if that were the case,” Jake shrugs, a smile quirking at his lips at his smug words. “It’s my job to take care of my girl,”

The boys as a collective being sent into a frenzy by his response. Sunoo and Jay rolling their eyes in disgust by his attempt to seem cool and collected knowing well enough how much of a sulk he tended to be majority of the time. You couldn’t help but laugh as he winked noting your look, Yunjin loudly gagging at the sight but bursting into a fit alongside you.

“___ be honest, does he treat you that well?” Heeseung interjects, looking for your voice in the matter after Jake seemed to drop such a well versed answer.

You hum, deciding whether or not to play along in Jake’s ploy. “So far,” You tease while he merely rolls his eyes in a playful manner. “I can’t say in this particular topic since it hasn’t happened but he does ensure I’m always first when it comes to small acts,” You add on truthfully, thinking back to the amount of times over the past weeks that Jake has seemed to go above and beyond in ensuring you were comfortable and always ate before him.

It was hard to get used to at first, independent thus far and having his help was completely different. But you grew accustomed to it, figuring it was just the way he was raised which earned more brownie points than you’d like to admit. The first time he tied your shoe in a parking lot, your foot perched on his brand new jeans without a care, in particular being the main gesture that caused your heart to flutter even for a split second.

“Ah what a good boyfriend~” Ni-ki cooed, patting Jake’s arm while Sunoo lets out a small snicker. Leaning over to catch your eyes, he added his next words on with a mischievous smirk. “Let me know if he slips up noona, I’ll help you with the perilla leaf instead,”

Your eyes widen at Ni-ki’s words, knowing fully well he was joking and only intended to get under Jake’s skin but it caught you by surprise. Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon burst into a fit of laughter at sight while Yunjin, Jungwon, and Sunoo seemed to mirror your expression.

“Yah!” Jake, in a momentary daze, snaps out of his dumbfounded expression and attempts to lean over to hit Ni-ki upside the head but the younger boy moves. “You’re such a brat, annoying me all day and now this?” Tapping your legs to get off of him, you oblige to the silent command as he stands. Ni-ki was quick to leap away, already running around the row of chairs as Jake followed after him. “Don’t run away now after talking all that shit!”

“Now now, play nice kids,” Yunjin calls out, her laughter mixing in with the rest. “Just don’t fall into the lake or trip over a rock, alright?”

“I was kidding!” Ni-ki yells, voice distant as Jake continued to chase him down the dirt road, the dim lighting from the fire being the only lighting around opposed to the few lights further down from another group. “N-no, no it was a joke! I’m sorry!”

There was a loud scream that came from Ni-ki, one that echoed through the air and mixed in with his laughter before their footsteps made their way back to the group. As the two came back into light, Jake moves his chair as close as possible to yours before plopping himself down while Ni-ki trails behind, rubbing his shoulder though his amused expression never faltered.

“Next question?” The youngest boy asks, breaking the air causing Jay to let out a small snort, the conversation topic now moving on with ease.

Silently, Jake pats his legs. Draping yours over his lap once more, you shift to get comfortable, his hands finding way to your shins once again and giving it a slight squeeze. A small smile plays at your lips, sending him an air kiss to rid of the small pout he wore, one that caused Jake’s expression to melt into a grin in an instant.

“Oh! I got one!” Sunghoon suddenly claps his hands, the loud snap gaining everyone’s attention at his bright eyed expression. Looking around, he pauses for dramatic effect only to get a series of heated exchanges upon his next few words.

“Thoughts on pineapple on pizza?”

my tags!! @slutforsjy @jaklvbub @whowantshota @addictedtohobi @coolwitu @simjyunnie @kgneptun @graythecoffeebean @143ikeu @zyvlxqht @tesywesy @nxzz-skz @aishisgrey @missmischief1408 @enczen @vanvity @dreamiestay @caitysdelusions @ikkeumyluv @mysticalenchantresss @v3lv3tsin

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#enhypen #enhypen jake #jaeyun x reader #jake sim #sim jaeyun #enha x reader #jaeyun smut #jake x reader #enha #enhypen jake smut #jake enhypen

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