#not as good as I wanted it to be but I cleaned it up and colored in a single week while doing 20 other things | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

absurdthirst · 2 days ago

Text

The Christmas Auction {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.5k

Warnings: No Outbreak AU, no Ellie AU, Sarah Lives AU, possible age gap (never mentioned), gruff Joel, grumpiness, snarking and bickering, Christmas auction, date auction, awkwardness, chivalry, drinking, mentions of gun violence, flirting, making out, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), cum eating, sweetness, Joel is a gruff love bug.

Comments: You hate going to Miller Bros Hardware, sparring with hot, grumpy Joel Miller over every damn thing you buy for your DIY renovation project. What you don't realize is that he is just making sure you aren't getting in over your head. When you come up on stage for the Christmas Picnic Date auction to fund the park vegetable patch, Joel is conned into bidding on you. Sending you both on a date for the holidays that will change everything.

🎄🎄Merry Christmas Everyone! We wanted a sweet and sappy Christmas love story for Joel!🎄🎄

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Motherfucker.” You curse as you kneel down, flashlight in hand as you look under your sink to find a pinhole leak coming from the p-trap. Your new home - built in 1920 - is beautiful. A project for sure, but its original wood floors sold you on it. You didn’t anticipate how much of a project it would be. You’re a handy girl. Able to do minor jobs but this house has proven itself to be a challenge. You won’t give up and you’ll be damned if you hire someone to do something you can look online and find. Luckily, there’s a hardware store down the street from the house and you sigh, turning off the water after cleaning it up and once you have a bucket under the sink just in case, you grab your keys and make your way to the hardware store down the street, 'Miller Brothers'.

You walk into the store, glancing at the counter and he’s not there. “Thank God.” You murmur, hoping his brother is here, and you find the plumbing aisle. You bite your lip, trying to find what you need, and you scan the items, a frown on your face when you aren’t sure what you need. “Can I help you find something?” His voice makes your spine straighten and you turn to look at him, “nope. I’m good.” You quip, not needing another one of his pity searches for what you need.

Fuck. Joel Miller. The grumpy, handsome, surly, opinionated hardware store owner. You heard he used to own his own construction company down in Texas, but you don’t really care. You try not to care at least, because it seems like he has no great opinion of you renovating your house yourself. He frowns at you, that fucking disapproving set to his brow as glances at the section you are in. “Got a leak?”

You sigh, turning to look at him, and you hum, “nothing I can’t handle. Just need a new p-trap.” You explain and Joel clicks his tongue. “You could just foam it.” He counters and you shake your head, looking at him, “I want to replace it. It’s old.” You trail your eyes along his form, “seems to be how things are around here.”

Joel frowns, feeling insulted by the obvious insulation that he’s old. “Yeah.” He grunts, his arms folding over his chest. “Well, figure it out, I guess.” He huffs before he turns away to walk back to the front. “Let me know when you need help.”

You can watch him watch off and you turn back to the parts, biting your lip as you scan for what you need. You sigh, glancing down the aisle to where he’s restocking something and you are worried that you will have to ask him for it until you turn around and it’s there. “Aha!” You silently cheer and make your way down the aisle to make your way to the cash register.

Joel takes his time coming back to the register, slightly amused by the way you are sighing quietly as you wait. He looks at the part and lifts a brow, glancing back at you. “That all?”

You nod, opening your purse to pull out your card. “Yeah. That’s it.” You say and he punches the amount into his ancient register. “We don’t take American Express.” He says, glancing at your card, and you huff, “fine.” You reach in to grab your Visa card and he smirks, “I gotta add 3% if it’s a credit card. Fees and all that.” You roll your eyes and nod, handing him the card. “Should’ve just driven to Lowes.” You mutter when he hands you back the card and the bag with the part in. You don’t say goodbye as you leave, knowing you’ll likely have to return to the store. The big stores are about a 45 minute drive from your home and you don’t have time to be driving there for every little thing you need.

Joel watches you walk out of the door, wondering when you will figure out that you need some plumber’s glue for your DIY project. He snorts to himself and shakes his head before he walks back to the shelves he had been stocking. Maybe you’ll go to Lowe’s this time, if you do he won't be able to learn what happens.

You wake up a few days later and curse, the house is freezing. You shiver, trying to layer up as much as possible, and you go downstairs to inspect the furnace. “Fuck.” You hiss, guessing the pilot has gone out, not relighting no matter how much you curse it and you shake as you get ready to make your way back to Miller’s, knowing you need the part before you freeze to death in this damn house. You exhale in relief when your car is hot and toasty after the heating kicks in and you drive to the hardware store. You enter looking frazzled to see Joel standing behind the counter. “Back so soon?” He smirks and you scoff, “emergency visit.” You don’t explain as you walk down the aisles, trying to find what you desperately need.

You are completely vexing to him and he watches you disappear before he sighs and pushes off the counter to walk around and follow you. Prickly and abrasive since the very first time you walked into his store. He finds you on the aisle where he stocks furnace parts and he frowns. “You having problems with your heat?” He asks and you snort. “What gave it away?” You mutter sarcastically as you search the shelves. “Furnace repairs are tricky, especially if you have a gas furnace.” He lectures. “You can have a carbon monoxide leak and if you don’t have a detector, you can fucking kill your self.”

You roll your eyes, “I am freezing my ass off. I need this fixed right away and I - I can’t afford to have someone come over and fix it.” You confess, biting your lip as you stare at the parts to avoid his eyes. The house was left to you by your aunt who didn’t do anything to maintain the home. You’re not sure if you’re going to sell the house or not but you can’t afford expensive repairmen coming in to help you. “I can handle it. It’s just the pilot.” You murmur, reaching for the part you need.

“Here.” Joel knocks your hand away from the part that is not exactly the best quality and reaches over for the better part. It’s a few dollars more but it will last twice as long. “This is the one you want.” He grunts. “Better components. Buy this one and I’ll send Tommy over to put it in for you.” He offers, lifting a brow when you open your mouth to protest. “No charge.” He huffs, knowing you will argue about things all day if you could.

You huff, “I don’t need help. I’m fully capable of doing it.” You argue and Joel raises his eyebrows in disbelief. You swallow harshly and sigh, “I, uh, that would be nice. Thank you.” You murmur, taking the part from his hand.

“Don’t mention it.” He doesn’t think that this is some kind of bonding moment, so he just turns and starts towards the front counter again. “You should use your fireplace too.” He knows your house, he helped your aunt clean out a bird’s nest from the chimney a few years ago. “It heats up the living space pretty good.”

You raise your eyebrows at how he knows that and you nod, “thanks for the tip.” He nods and guides you over to the register so you can pay for the part. “I’ll be home all day. Just send Tommy when you can.” You say, knowing that the older brother wouldn’t dare come to your home. He’d probably soon face a zombie apocalypse. “Thanks.” You say after you pay and take the bag, making your way out of the warm store with a shiver, knowing you’ll put a fire on when you return home.

****

“Why don’t you go do it?” Tommy’s smirk makes Joel want to punch him as he leans against the counter. “Because I can make you do it.” Joel snorts as he looks up from the inventory sheet from the delivery. “I’ve got shit to do.” He adds. Tommy grins, leaning against the counter and watching Joel. “You know, I’ve noticed that you seem to help her out more than anyone else that comes in here.” He says. His younger brother is annoying and it seems like he’s more annoying now than ever. “Because she’s obviously in over her head.” He shoots back. “Why don’t you go fix her furnace and leave me alone?” Tommy chuckles and raises his hands in defeat, “okay, okay, I just thought maybe you were ready to get back into the saddle after Tess.” Joel frowns immediately at the mention of her name and sighs but he doesn’t say anything. Tommy hates that he still blames himself, there was nothing he could do about her infection. He had told her to go get a tetanus shot, but by the time she had gone to the doctor, she was septic.

“So, uh, you going to the fundraiser?” He asks, changing the subject. Joel groans and shakes his head. “Why?” He demands, “I’ll just donate some money. Why do I need to go to the damn thing?”

Tommy chuckles, “it’s for a good cause and Maria is the chair of the fundraiser this year. Gotta pay for that new park vegetable patch.” Tommy says and Joel scoffs, “like we are in a damn commune. Go on, get out of here.” Joel motions with his hand and Tommy chuckles as he grabs his tool box.

****

“You tried doing it before I got here?” Tommy asks and you bite your lip as you shove your hands in your jeans. “Yeah. I’m impatient and, uh, I lit the fire so I wasn’t freezing. I like to try it first before I call someone out.” You tell Tommy and you have some cash you can give him but a $200 call out like you got quoted for any job around here is way too much to pay out for.

“Well, don’t worry about it.” Tommy promises, sending you a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you go upstairs and make something hot to drink and stay by the fire so you can warm up.” He tells you. “Joel told me to make sure you were fixed up right so you stay warm this winter.”

You frown, “he did?” Tommy nods and you soften a little, wondering if the asshole who is always questioning your abilities is not as bad as you thought. “Didn’t know he had it in him.” You murmur and make your way upstairs to boil the kettle.

Tommy smirks as he watches you walk up the stairs before he pulls out his phone and sends a text. Maria had been right and tonight was going to be interesting.

You sip your tea until Tommy comes upstairs to check the thermostat and nods, "all done." You sigh in relief, "thank you so much." You reach for the cash and hand it to him but he shakes his head. "I can't accept that." He says and you hold it towards him, "please. I insist."

Tommy shakes his head, "I don't want your cash but...you can come to the fundraiser tonight. My wife is hosting and she needs more women." You frown, "more women?" Tommy nods, "yeah. It's, uh, it's a Christmas Picnic Date. We are raffling off dates with local women and she needs one more girl." He reveals and you chuckle, "sounds awkward." Tommy snorts, "don't worry. It's usually their friends and family who bid to get them out of a date with old man Jenkins." You furrow your brow when he says "you'd really be helping her out." You bite your lip, knowing you need to meet more people and also pay Tommy back for his help. "Sure. What time?" You ask and Tommy grins, giving you all the details.

****

“Why the hell do I have to be here?” Joel nods to Maria when he sees her and wishes he was at home. Maybe Sarah would call tonight. He hadn’t talked to his daughter in about a week, her finals brutal and he hadn’t wanted to distract her from studying. “Oh shut up, you old bastard.” Tommy shoves his shoulder playfully. “Liven up and have some fun.”

Joel grumbles but nods, crossing his arms as he watches Maria prepare the girls on stage. “Isn’t this a little, uh, dated?” Joel asks, unsure if men should be making bids on women. Tommy snorts, “it’s just a dinner. No one is fucking or anything…unless they want to. It’s for a good cause and the girls all agreed to it.” Tommy says and the music plays as Maria introduces the girls. You brush down your dress, walking across the small stage set up in the community center, and your eyes widen a little when you see Joel standing there with Tommy. Since when did he get involved in anything in the community? You wonder who he will try to get a date with. Maybe Helen, the pretty girl who runs the flower shop.. You had put in some effort with your dress tonight, wanting to raise as much money as possible for Maria who has been nothing but nice to you since you moved into town.

Joel shifts uncomfortably and bites his lip as he looks around the room. It’s a good turn out and everyone here seems excited. You are here, that’s surprising, since it seems like you don’t get out much. Or maybe it’s because he doesn’t get out much so he doesn’t see you.

“Everyone knows why we are here tonight, so let’s have fun and raise as much money as possible!” Maria reminds everyone before bringing the first girl to the center stage to auction off a date with her. “Oh, are you going to bid on a date with Helen?” Tommy asks beside him teasingly. “I always see her making eyes at you.” Joel huffs. “Shut up.”

You watch as Maria calls out for the first girl whose boyfriend eagerly bids on her and wins. She beams and walks off stage to kiss him. Young love. You shift from one foot to the other as another girl is auctioned off. “And now we have Helen.” Maria announces and you clap, your eyes scanning the crowd for Joel to see what he is going to do. Helen said before the event that she wants Joel to bid on her and you scoffed and asked why she’d want to go on a date with such a miserable bastard.

“You should bid.” Tommy continues to annoy Joel, making him frown even harder as the bidding starts. He can tell that Helen wants him to, seeing her glancing over at him as old man Jenkins bids on her company. He crosses his arms over his chest, and shakes his head at his brother.

No one wants old man Jenkins. He talks about the Vietnam War and how the government has been out to get him ever since. He’s a little creepy and no one has a bad story but no one wants to be the one to get one. Helen is saved when one of the firefighters, Jack, bids on her. He’s younger than Joel and has a crush on the florist. She blushes as he bids higher to earn her date and when the final bid is called, he’s beaming and she is flustered at the attention. You are up next and you inhale deeply, prepared to get the lowest bid. No one really knows you apart from you inheriting your aunt’s house. You shift from one foot to the other while Maria calls out for a bid and you silently groan when old man Jenkins is the first to make a bid. “Anyone else?” Maria asks, looking at Tommy who is standing next to Joel.

Tommy elbows Joel hard in the side, making him gasp out a loud “hey!” and Maria beams. “Joel Miller with a bid!” She calls out, making Tommy chuckle and Joel looks up in shocked confusion. “Anyone else? Anyone else want a date with this gorgeous young woman?” She asks the room and several other men quickly start bidding on you.

Your heart pounds and you watch the men bid until Mr Jenkins tops the bid and the other men falter. Your smile falls and you glance around, wanting anyone to help you out of a date with the old man.

“You aren’t going to make her put up with Jenkins, are you?” Joel had watched the bidding with a sense of relief that his own bid had been overridden and now he knows that Tommy had done it on purpose. “You’re a fucking asshole.” He hisses, but he lifts his hand. “Here.” He calls out, bidding the old man up again.

Mr Jenkins wants company and you are the last option. His hand goes up and he bids, “$800.” Your eyes widen and you choke. The most money anyone has bid by tenfold and you can’t believe you’re going on a date with the old man.

Tommy nudges Joel again and he sighs, rolling his eyes. “$1000!” He calls out, glowering at the old man and daring him to challenge his bid. His brother grins. “Sold!” Tommy shouts out, making everyone laugh.

Your eyes widen and your heart pounds, you wonder if it would’ve been better to deal with old man Jenkins instead of dealing with Joel Miller. Maria claps and you bite your lip with worry as you make your way off the stage to approach Joel. Tommy makes a swift exit and you step in front of the grumpy owner. “I, uh, thanks for doing that. I, um, I owe you. I don’t really have $1000 right now but I can pay it back to you weekly.” You say, unsure of why he even bid on you to save you.

Joel frowns at you, wondering if you would have preferred that he not bid on the date with you. “No.” He grunts. “Was gonna donate to the community thing anyway.” He shrugs. “You’re not paying me back.”

You glance around and notice everyone getting ready to head off on their dates. “Wow. Uh, that’s really generous. What do you - you can just go home if you want.” You add, unsure what he wants from you, but Maria comes over with an envelope. “Included in the date is a gift card to the steak house. Everyone got a different place for the date…you guys got the best since Joel bid so much.” Maria winks at her brother in law, “so off you go. Date time.” She claps her hands and you look at Joel who shrugs, “I could eat a steak. Hard to turn down a free dinner.” You nod, agreeing with that. You’ve been putting so much money into the house that you’ve been surviving on Ramen and what you could muster. “Sure. I can eat.” You offer him a small smile and he scratches his neck, “you wanna get your coat?” He asks since it’s freezing outside but Tommy appears with your coat and purse, “here you go. Have a good time kids.” He teases and Joel snorts, shaking his head as he shrugs on his own coat. You struggle with your purse and the coat so Joel takes it from you, holding it up so you can slide into it. “Thank you.” You murmur, uneasy at this nice side of the grumpy man. He guides you outside and you glance at your car that has literally enough gas to get home and Joel doesn’t hesitate to open the door to his truck. Your teeth chatter as you slide into the passenger seat and after he gets in, he cranks up the heat.

“Turn the vents towards you.” He instructs when he notices how cold you are. “She heats up quick.” The best thing about his old truck is how warm the cab will get. “Soon enough you’ll be as warm as your house now that the furnace is working.”

You rub your hands together as the cab warms quickly and you stop shaking. The radio plays ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ while Joel drives to the steakhouse and you are starving. You don’t say anything until he parks the truck and opens the door after cutting the engine. You already have your door open and he huffs when he rounds the truck, “can’t let anyone do anything for you.” He mutters and you narrow your eyes, “sorry. Am I supposed to expect chivalry from you?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

Joel snorts and shakes his head, reaching for the door and pushing it closed behind you before putting his hand on your back to guide you towards the cheerfully decorated steakhouse. “Forget about it.” He grumbles, mainly to himself. “Let’s just get something to eat.”

You let him guide you inside and your stomach growls at the smell of the food. “I’m starving.” You groan and Joel asks for a table for two. The waitress is a girl that went to high school with Sarah. She guides you to the table and Joel pulls the chair out for you.

He can see your surprise and it stings. He’s not that bad, is he? You thank him and once you are sat down, he settles into the chair opposite to you. “Do you want a beer?” He asks before he shrugs. “Or wine if that’s more your speed?” He knows he could use a shot and a beer, but he doubts you would approve of him ordering a double Blanton’s.

You scan the menu, “beer sounds good. And I could really use a shot.” You groan softly and Joel smiles, “you read my mind.” You lower your menu and raise your eyebrows in surprise, a smile on your face as you look at him just as the waitress comes over to take your drinks order.

“Two beers.” He orders, pointing to the draft that he prefers and hums. “And two, two fingers glasses of Blanton’s.” He knows the whiskey is pricy, but everything here is pricy and it’s a good bourbon.

The waitress nods, “sure thing, Mr. Miller.” You raise your eyebrows at his taste but the man just spent $1000 and he has a nice gift card for this dinner. “Good choice.” You tell him and he hums, scanning the menu. “Have you been here before?” You ask, curious since the waitress knows him.

“Only once.” Joel shrugs and looks back at the waitress as she walks away. “Jamie went to school with my daughter.” He tells you with a shake of his head. “Makes me feel old, but I remember the screaming karaoke sessions in my living room while they talked about boys.” He smiles at the memory and looks down at the menu again.

You chuckle, “how old is your daughter?” You ask, knowing you’ve never really had a discussion about anything other than DIY parts and you gotta admit you’re intrigued. “She’s in college. Shit. That makes me really old, huh?” He snorts and you shake your head, “wiser not older.” You reason, “and you seem to have your shit together.”

“Yeah.” He flashes a frown for just a second, guilty about being on a date with you - even if it is a charity event - settles over him for a second. “It’s been a long time since I moved to Wyoming.”

“Where are you from?” You ask and he taps his fingers on the menu, “Austin. When Sarah - her mom left us when she was two and I decided it was time for a change when Sarah nearly died. She was, uh, shot during a robbery in a gas station and she survived. I had to get her out of there and Tommy had been researchin’ and found this place. Then he met Maria and the rest is history.” He says and your eyes are wide, “wow. I’m so glad Sarah is okay. Shit. You must’ve - I can’t even imagine.” You can see now why he’s a little gruff. “I needed to move from the city. Work was killing me. My ex wanted me to keep working more to help pay the bills while working out, cooking, cleaning, making sure I looked like a damn model. It was exhausting and when my aunt died and left me the house, I left it all behind. I had to escape.” You reveal, “left everything behind and put all my money into the house.”

“It’s a good house.” He sits back and wonders what kind of idiot you had been with. “Good bones. Solid.” He watches your brows shoot up in surprise. “Your aunt had me come in about two years ago to give her an estimate on upgrading it.” He reveals. “She got sick right after that, so we didn’t get around to it.”

Your heart clenches at the fact that your aunt was alone when she died. “That’s why I want to restore it. Finish what she wants. It’s what she wrote in her letter to me she left in her will. I want to do it right and that’s why- it’s why I want to do so much by myself. I can’t afford a big renovation so it’s gotta be done bit by bit.” You sigh, “and I am trying to do it myself to save money so I can pay for materials.”

“You can’t do it all yourself, though.” Joel points out. “Some of that shit is heavy, believe me. She’s got a fucking cast iron tub in that downstairs bathroom. That bitch is easily eight hundred pounds.”

You narrow your eyes, “so you don’t think I can do it? I’m not capable?” You scoff and roll your eyes, “of course. That’s why you question me every time I buy something in your store, huh? You don’t think a woman like me can do it all?”

Joel frowns, completely caught off guard by the accusation. “No, that’s not what I- fuck, sweetheart, it would take me, Tommy and at least one other guy to muscle that fucking tub out of the bathroom.” He huffs. “And we used to build houses.” He shakes his head. “I question you because I was trying to make sure you were getting what you needed.” He hates how defensive you are and knows this was a bad idea. “Waste your money from now on, shit.”

You are taken back by his concern and you lean back, mouth agape as you stare at him. “I- you - you were trying to help me?” You ask and he nods, “that’s all I was trying to do.” You swallow harshly and look at the table cloth, feeling guilty. “I’m - shit - I’m sorry. My ex - he didn’t think I could do anything but go to Pilates and cook pasta. Didn’t think I was smart enough to do anything ‘difficult’ and it’s a hot button for me. I’m sorry Joel.” You murmur, “I can, uh, go if you want to enjoy dinner alone.”

“You want to leave me to eat by myself?” He makes a face at that and shakes his head. “No thanks.” He leans forward and interlace his fingers on the table as he looks at your embarrassed face. “I know that you don’t have a lot of experience with renos.” He chuckles. “You can always tell when you’ve worked construction and when you haven’t. So when you’d come in for stuff, I’d just- I’d make sure that it was what you needed for what you wanted to do.” He looks down at his own rough hands. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel like I thought you were incompetent.”

You lean closer, reaching out to place your hand on top of his. "I'm sorry. I didn't - I thought you were being condescending and I guess I am sensitive to being told what to do. I'm sorry, Joel." You say softly, "I'd like to start again. If you want...I'd like to have dinner with you." You pull your hand away when he doesn't respond right away.

Joel shifts in his seat, looking up at you and wondering why you would want to have dinner with him. “What kind of steak were you thinking?” He asks. “The sirloin is pretty damn good. They have a surf and turf if you like seafood.”

You hum, picking up and scanning the menu, “sirloin sounds good. I like a New York Strip too.” You murmur and he nods, “good choice. Tell me you ain’t one of those women that has it well done.” He tilts his head and you scoff, “hell no. Medium rare.” He clicks his tongue, “good girl.” Those words make you shift in your seat, seeing him in a new light now that you know he was trying to help you and not mock you.

The waitress brings the drinks and Joel thanks her, sliding your whiskey glass over to you. “Blanton’s goes down smooth.” He warns you. “But don’t drop it in your beer. That’s a sin.”

You chuckle and nod, picking up the glass, “to renovations.” You toast and he nods, lifting his glass up until he takes a sip. “That’s some good shit.” You gasp after you swallow the sip. Joel smirks, “I told you.” The look on his face has your stomach twisting and you realize that he’s more than handsome. He’s sexy. You glance down at his hands and wonder what they are capable of.

“So, you moved here because your aunt left you the place?” He asks, setting the whiskey down and picking up his beer. He wants to talk since you seem to be warming up to him. At least the glances you give him aren’t hostile. “And you want to renovate it to, what? Sell it? Keep it?”

You set your glass down, “I want to keep it. She was so happy here and it’s beautiful. It’s freezing cold but I love it. I want to stay, settle down.” You confess, “I want to relax and enjoy the fresh air.” You sigh and pick up your beer, taking a sip. “I want to make it my forever home.”

“It’s a good house.” He agrees, although he wonders if you want to start a family and raise kids there. “The sewing room she had off her bedroom, that was originally the nursery.” He tells you. “She said she changed it when she realized having kids wasn’t in the cards for her and her husband.”

You tap your fingers on the table cloth, “I was thinking about making it a library. Since I doubt kids are in my future, either. A nice library with a bench in the window to watch the world go by while I’m reading.” You smile softly at the thought, knowing the summer will be beautiful and you are excited to see the blue skies above and the flowers blooming when spring arrives.

He’s surprised by that, lifting a brow and humming. “It’s got nice natural light.” He concedes. “And if you wanted to, you could easily change the hearth into a doubled sided one.” He had always thought that would look good in a house. “The fireplace in the bedroom warms that space, but I’m sure it would nice to see the fire crackling while you are reading.”

You tilt your head, liking his idea, "maybe you do know what you're talking about after all, Miller." You tease and he snorts, "spent enough time earning my stripes." He retorts and you nod, noticing how his hands look worn and worked. Your stomach twists again and for a brief moment you wonder what his fingers would feel like on your skin. "Maybe one day. Right now I just want the place to be liveable. Bless her, she didn't maintain anything. It's been a mess to tackle but I am getting there."

“Yeah.” He winces slightly, aware of the hurdles you have in order to completely restore that old house. “Well, you know, now that you are aware that I’m not mansplaining home improvement, you can always ask me for help.” He smirks slightly, using a term Sarah had taught him. She had huffed when he was talking about the craftsman era houses after they had finished flipping their first house in Jackson and he was talking to the people who bought it at the open house.

You chuckle, "maybe you could come over sometime? Help me figure out a game plan to get it to where it needs to be?" You ask and he nods, "sure thing, sweetheart." The nickname warms you and you look at the whiskey. Surely you aren't tipsy off two sips. The waitress comes over to take your order and you order your meal first and watch Joel as he orders his steak. He's sexy. His graying hair and scruffy beard makes your stomach twist again and you pick up your glass of whiskey to have a sip.

“Rare.” He nods when she confirms it. “The mashed potatoes and gravy with onions and mushrooms.” He looks over at you. “You want some of that spinach au gratin? It’s pretty good. We could split it.”

You nod, “that sounds good.” You are starving and this is the best meal you’ve had since you moved to Jackson. The waitress adds that to the order and smiles before she walks off. “I still can’t believe you paid a thousand dollars to go on a date with me. I seriously thought you would’ve paid five hundred not to go.” You giggle as you pick up your glass and take a sip of it, loving the burn as it slides down your throat.

He chuckles. “Even if I hated you, I couldn’t let Mr. Jenkins ramble on about his gout and this weird fungus that developed under his arms.” He smirks. “Swears it’s a byproduct of Agent Orange and then will give you a rundown of his entire two months in Vietnam.”

You wrinkle your nose, "I knew he was bad but not that bad. God...I owe you. A lot." You say and Joel scoffs, shaking his head, "you're new in town. You don't need that shit." He says and you smile, "didn't know you cared that much. I like it."

Joel is a sarcastic son of a bitch, it’s gotten worse over the years. Tommy says he’s become a grumpy old bastard and he almost comes back with a sharp retort. Until he sees your smile. A shy, almost hopeful thing that makes your eyes brighten and his stomach twists in response. “You do?” He asks, almost as hopeful and he swallows nervously when you nod. “That’s- that’s good.”

His tone makes your heart flutter as his dark eyes flick over your face as if he’s reading your expression. You keep a soft smile on your face and the waitress brings some bread. You both reach for the same piece at the same time, his fingers brushing yours and you pull your hand back, “you take it.” You insist and he shakes his head, nudging the basket towards you. You smile and take the roll, nudging the basket back towards him while your fingers tingle. You have no idea what happened but you feel attracted to him.

There has been a shift in the atmosphere, a welcomed one. Even if you seem to be hesitating to talk, the silence is not tense. It’s almost anticipatory. As if both of you are waiting for some cue from the other. “Did the house heat up?” He asks. “Tommy said he got you fixed up.”

“It is warm and toasty. Thanks for sending Tommy over. I really needed the heat back in the house. I was wearing two pairs of pants and socks to try and keep warm overnight.” You confess with an embarrassed whisper.

“Why didn’t you use the fireplace?” Joel frowns, hating the thought of you freezing your ass off last night. He knows how cold it can get without heat up here. It can be deadly.

“I, uh, couldn’t find a lot of wood around town.” You confess, “and I’m not the kind of woman to be out there chopping down a tree…no matter how determined I might be.” You chuckle softly, “I was fine. I survived.”

He huffs slightly, making a mental note to have a cord of wood delivered to your house tomorrow. It’s not good to just rely on the furnace here when the temperature gets down into the negative numbers. Besides, he thinks you will enjoy a fire in the bedroom.

He huffs and you tear off a piece of bread. "The only way it would've been better is if I had someone to warm me up." You murmur without really thinking about it, popping a piece of bread into your mouth and glancing around the restaurant.

Joel grunts and picks up his beer for another drink. “Didn’t think I outbid a boyfriend.” He comments. “So I don’t think I’m stepping on someone’s foot, but you have someone in mind?” He also knows that if you were with him, he wouldn’t let you be trying to do all that remodeling by yourself. He just couldn’t.

You tilt your head, seeing him in this new light, and fuck, you like him. You are attracted to him. You tear off another piece of bread and look at him under your eyelashes, "maybe...there's this grumpy hardware store owner that I've had a change of heart about lately."

Joel’s eyes widen, nearly choking on his whiskey as he was just taking a sip. “Yeah?” He slaps his chest and swallows before he smirks slightly. “You think you like him?”

You shrug, “I’ve only just got to know him but I like what I see so far.” You smirk back after popping the piece of bread into your mouth to chew. “But I don’t think he likes me. Felt pity for me. I don’t think he feels the same way.”

He chuckles, amused by the tactic you are using. “That so?” He asks, leaning back in his chair and feeling somewhat at ease with the flirting that’s happening. It’s been a long goddamn time since he’s done that, but he can try. “Damn shame if he wasn’t interested.” He hums. “Me? See, I watch this cute little thing’s ass that comes in my store all the time.” He admits. “Half the reason I follow her around. Other half is because she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing.” He’s teasing you, so he sends you a small wink.

His words make your face heat up and you giggle, leaning closer to rest your forearms on the table. “I kinda know what I’m doing.” You defend yourself and Joel raises his eyebrows until you sigh, “sometimes…you really look at my ass? Didn’t even notice.” You confess, “but I like that. I’ve stared at your hands.” You admit, “wondered what they’d look like at work.”

“You’ve got a nice ass.” He compliments, shrugging slightly. “Depends on what kind of work you want them doing.” He tells you, knowing whatever happens is up to you. “Maybe you want me to spend the rest of the date fixing that leaky faucet you keep buying Plumber's putty for.”

You hum, "I'd like you to fix my leaky faucet but I was imagining what I think about when I'm cold in bed and trying to warm up. Your big hands touching me, warming me up and - and creating a new leak." Your cheeks are burning but you feel emboldened by the look on his face.

He smirks, knowing that you have to have at least found him attractive when you were snarking at him to think about him in your bed. “I’m pretty good at tearing things apart and putting them back together.” He admits.

You shift in your seat at the thought and you are about to retort but the waitress comes back with your food. Joel settles back in his seat and you groan at the smell of the steak. “God, I’m starving.” You confess and pick up your knife and fork.

He watches as you cut into the steak with gusto. Wondering if you just don’t cook at home much. He wouldn’t blame you, he rarely cooks for himself. It’s either a microwave meal or Maria taking pity on him. “I know I’m looking forward to this.” He chuckles. “I get tired of those Hungry Man dinners.”

You snort, knowing he would definitely be the kind of man to have a Hungry Man meal. "Ramen has been my saving grace. I love to cook but I don't have the money or time with fixing up the house." You confess and groan as you put the steak into your mouth, the flavor hitting your tongue.

Joel frowns, not happy that you have been living off of instant noodles in order to keep your house from falling down around your ears. “Maybe we could work out a trade.” He offers with a grin. “I could do some remodeling in exchange for home cooked meals?”

You nod, scooping up some mashed potatoes, “I wouldn’t mind that trade.” You smile before you take your bite and you appreciate that Joel is wanting to help despite you being rude to him when you’ve been in his store. “So you used to be in construction?” You ask and Joel begins to tell you about how he worked with Tommy back in Austin. You watch him as he speaks, large hands almost too big for the cutlery and you find yourself more attracted to him. The annoyance at him mansplaining fades and you are glued to the spot listening to him.

“So this asshole is walking all over my construction site, poking around and I ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing.” Joel tells you. “I’ve already had the coils out of the AC and the water heater stolen, so I’m ready to beat this guy with a pipe wrench.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s the fucking inspector- two hours early.” He takes a sip of his beer. “I had to kiss a lot of ass to make sure that house got signed off on after scaring the shit out of him.”

Your eyes widen and you throw your head back to laugh at his story, “oh my God. I can just imagine you trying to kiss his ass.” You giggle and Joel grins, his fingers gripping the neck of the bottle as his chest shakes with his chuckle. The waitress comes over with the check and you have to admit you’re a little disappointed until you look around and see they are closing up the restaurant.

“Damn, we stayed longer than they expected us to.” Joel lays down the gift certificate and then reaches for his wallet. He knows that the certificate wasn’t for the entire bill, since you both ordered drinks and he doesn’t want you to feel obligated to contribute.

You reach for your purse but Joel shoots you a look that tells you not to argue. “Thank you.” You offer and he winks at you as he hands the cash to the waitress, “keep the change.” “Thanks Mr. Miller.” She beams, “it was nice to see you.” She walks off and you reach out to squeeze his hand, “thank you for dinner.”

“I had a good time.” He admits with a smile. You are charming when you aren’t defensive and the smile - a genuine smile - makes you stunning to look at. “Amazed by that fact, right?”

You snort, “if you had told me this morning that I’d be on a date with Joel Miller you could’ve knocked me over with a feather.” You confess and he chuckles. You stand up and his hand hovers against your back while you get your coats from the front. He takes your coat, much to your surprise, and helps you into it. His fingers brushing your neck as he adjusts your collar. He puts his coat on and you are soon in his truck after he opened the door for you, and he’s sliding in to yank on the heat. He drives you home with Christmas music playing and you are humming along until he pulls up outside your new home. “I really enjoyed tonight.” You murmur when neither of you make a move to open the doors.

“Oh shit.” Joel frowns for a moment. “We completely forgot about your car.” He laughs at himself and sighs. “I don’t want to drive you back to get it.” He admits with a grin.

You giggle, “me neither. I completely forgot about it. I can get it tomorrow. I’ll try and get a ride from someone.” You say and Joel shakes his head, “I can give you a ride to get it.” You smile at his offer, “then you’ll be driving home to come back here in the morning unless…” You trail off and shift a little closer to him, “unless you want to stay the night and warm me up.”

“You want me to stay?” He asks softly, wanting to confirm and when you bite your lip and nod he hums in agreement. “I’ll stay.”

You smile, stomach twisting and you reach up to cup his stubbled cheek, leaning in to softly kiss him. He is stiff under your touch and you sigh, leaning back from him, but he cups the back of your neck to drag your mouth back to his.

It’s been so long since he’s kissed someone, forgotten how good it feels to have a woman’s lips slotted against his own. Groaning, he takes control, angling your head with his as he deepens the kiss in the cab of his truck.

You never imagined that you'd be kissing Joel but right now, you moan into his mouth and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer while ‘Let It Snow’ plays on the radio.

He’s always loved having his hair pulled, growling into your mouth and pulling you closer for one last lick at your lips before he breaks away. “Fuck.” He hisses. “We need to go inside. It’s too cold to fuck you in the truck.”

You reluctantly pull away, scrambling to unlock the door of his truck and he doesn’t come around to open your door because you are already rushing to the front door, cautious of the ice and snow, and you fumble to unlock it with your key, sensing Joel coming up behind you after locking his truck.

“In a hurry, sweetheart?” He’s amused and flattered. Also fucking relieved because he’s already straining at the zipper of his best pair of jeans from just that kiss. Now that he’s been allowed to acknowledge the attraction he has for you, he’s pressing against your back as you try to slip the key into the hole. “Not eager, are you?” He rasps in your ear, breath close to your skin. “Don’t know how many times I imagined fucking you in one of the aisles of my store.”

You nearly drop your keys at his confession and he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin and you almost cry in relief when you get the front door open. “You’re a pain in my ass, Miller.” You retort, shrugging off your coat as he shuts the door behind him. His eyes meet yours, his brow furrowed in worry that he’s pissed you off and he should go but you surge forward to wrap your arms around his neck, dragging you down to kiss him. “Fuck me.” You demand, needing him like you need heat.

He starts to pull his own jacket off as he kisses you again. Already addicted to the taste of you and happy that there are fewer layers between you. He drags you towards a door frame, certain it leads to the stairs and breaks away to kiss down your neck. “It’s hot in here.” He teases as he nips your skin. “Maybe you should strip.”

You giggle, loving how he is now that you’ve gotten over your silly feud. You reach for the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head along with the shirt underneath, your boots abandoned by the door, and you leave your bra on as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel more of him under your palms

Joel lets you start to strip him, but he’s not passive. His hands slide down your hips to start grabbing your ass. “Fuck.” He hisses when he feels lace instead of something sturdy and warm. “You wear this for you, or were you hoping to get lucky with old man Jenkins?” He teases as he squeezes.

You moan at his squeeze, his calloused fingers digging into your flesh, “no. It’s - I need to do laundry. Washer is broken, so down to sexy ones.” You confess and push his shirt from his shoulders so he has to let go of you.

He chuckles, the sound filthy as he flicks open the buckle of his belt. “Naaaah.” He drawls. “It just means you’re a present.” He tells you. “One for me to unwrap. It’s almost Christmas, after all.”

You giggle and watch as he pushes down his jeans after unzipping his boots. He’s sexy in a gruff way and you love it. You moan when he pushes his pants down along with his boxers and his cock springs free.

He doesn’t mind the way you eye him. Like he’s a treat, some kind of special dessert. It’s been a long time since someone’s looked at him that way, Tess, and it makes him twitch as he reaches for your panties. “Am I gonna fuck you right here against your front door?”

You shake your head, wanting him in your bed, so you take his hand and guide him to the stairs that have a step that needs to be repaired. He grabs your waist, spinning you round and he drags you close to kiss you as you try to walk backwards up the stairs.

It’s passionate and a bit playful as you giggle because of how you stumble back. He holds you tighter, keeping you from falling as you both tumble up the stairs. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He groans, sliding one hand up to cup your breast. “Don’t know how I fucking got so lucky tonight.”

You moan, pressing your lips to his and his tongue slides against yours as he hovers over you on the stairs. You feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh and you slide your hand down to squeeze him, loving how big he feels above you.

Joel has to stop himself from pressing you against the door and lifting your leg to push inside you. He wants you bad enough that he doesn’t care where, but you deserve better than that.

You finally make it to your room, kisses pressed against his lips until he pushes you down onto the bed. You can’t believe how the tables have turned but you are dripping for him. “God, Joel. Please.” You beg when he stands at the foot of the bed, reaching down to squeeze his cock in his fist. You scramble onto your knees, batting his hand away so you can take him into your mouth.

“Fuuuuuck.” He hisses, even as his eyes blow wide in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to suck his cock. “I can’t- fuck your mouth, baby.” He groans, reaching down and caressing your cheek. “You can’t do that for long.” He confesses. “Or this will be over way too soon.”

You moan around him in protest but understand, pulling off his cock and you look up at him. His hand caresses your cheek again until he pushes two fingers into your mouth. You suck on them and he groans, cock twitching until he’s pulling them from your mouth and grabbing your arms to push you back onto the bed as he kneels on the end.

“Do I need-“ Joel doesn’t have a condom, but he would stop and go get some but you cut him off. “It’s safe.” You promise breathlessly. “I’m clean.” He nods and groans at the thought of feeling you around him without a barrier. “I am too, baby.” He promises as he shuffles between your thighs and spreads them wide. He hovers over you on one arm as he notches himself at your entrance and starts to push into you slowly as he kisses you.

He stretches you but you don��t say anything as you enjoy a little pinch of pain with the pleasure. You moan into his mouth, caressing his shoulder as he settles deep inside you. “Fuck.” You pant against his lips, “you feel incredible.”

He hums, although he is feeling that way about you. You are tight and hot around his cock, like a velvet glove. “So good, baby.” He Praises softly. “You feel so fuckin’ good around me. Just like I knew you would.”

He shifts back a little and you watch him as he starts to move inside you. Your hands slide up to squeeze your tits and you love how his jaw is clenched almost like he’s already on edge. “Never thought you’d be fucking me tonight.” You confess, “but now I’m so glad you are.”

He grunts in agreement, sure that you wouldn’t even agree to the charity auction date, let alone letting him slide between your thighs. He twitches inside you and shuttles his hips forward. “Me too.” He huffs. “Wouldn’t want to have someone else fucking you.” He would be jealous as hell.

You caress his chest, loving how his heart thumps under your palm. “Could’ve been old man Jenkins.” You tease and he groans, “don’t. You want me to stay hard?” He asks and you giggle, clenching around him. He thrusts harder and you gasp, tilting your head back and moaning when his lips find your skin.

It’s intoxicating. He’s tasting your skin as he rocks into you. Pushing both of you closer to the edge every time the ridges of his cock scrape against the sensitive walls of your pussy and makes you clench around him. “Gonna cum for me baby?” He grunts out. “Yeah. You’re gonna soak me, ain’t cha?”

You cling to him as he rocks into you, nodding as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. “Yes baby. Shit. You’re gonna make me - oh Joel.” You pant as you clamp down on his cock, back arching under him as your nails bite into his skin.

He feels the moment that you start to shake apart. The way your body stiffens and your walls clamp down around him. Making him grit his teeth as he bites off a curse, thrusting harder to fuck you through it. “Fuck, baby, that’s it. Cum for me.” He groans.

Your cry is choked as you soak his cock that feels like it's in your throat. He looms above you and you love that. Your nails dragging down his back until you are squeezing his ass. "Need you to cum for me, baby." You whine, "wanna feel it." You beg, "fill me up."

“Fuck.” Even though his back is aching and he wants to slow down, he can’t. He’s too close. His hips snap forward again and again until he is pushed so deep he doesn’t know where huh begin and he ends. Growling out your name as he stiffens, cock throbbing as he paints your walls with hot ropes of his cum.

You pant as he fills you up, rocking his hips as he works himself through it, and you sigh, closing your eyes. The feud you had with him is gone and you are certain that you could fall for him. “Joel.” You murmur, caressing his back until you cup his neck, dragging him down to kiss him.

He hums against your lips, collapsing into your arms because you obviously want his weight on you. He doesn’t mind, completely relaxed and blissed out as he slowly kisses you. “That was fucking amazing.”

You hum in agreement, smiling against his lips, and you are happy to have him pressing you into the mattress while he softens inside you. “I want to do that again.” You murmur and he chuckles against your chin, “not eighteen anymore baby. Gonna need some time.” You giggle, “I mean later. Not right now.” You promise and he pulls out of you, flopping down beside you until he drags you into his side. You rest your head on his shoulder and caress his chest, “I want to see where this goes.”

“It’ll go wherever you want it to, sweetheart.” He promises. “I’m not easy to fucking get along with, but I’m loyal.” He chuckles softly. “If you can put up with my shit, you never have to worry about a goddamn thing.”

You nod, kissing his chest as you appreciate his honesty. "Hopefully we are over the worst between us. Besides, you know I can give as good as I get." Joel snorts at that and stretches his legs. "I need to clean up." You murmur, feeling his cum dripping from you and you shift away from him but he grabs you, bringing you back to the bed. "Let me clean up my mess." He smirks and your eyes widen as you spread your legs so he can see the mess he left between your thighs.

Joel has never had any problem with oral after sex, although you seem surprised when he lowers his shoulders and slides down to press between them. Settling down as he wedges himself happily in to inspect his work. “That’s a pretty sight, baby.” He smirks as he massages your inner thighs.

You moan at the dark look in his eyes as he leans closer and he slides his tongue through your folds. Your fingers run through his salt and pepper hair and you whimper when he flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit. “Fuck baby.” You whisper, watching him with fascination.

He chuckles, his dark eyes fixed on you as he starts to slowly taste the combination of your fluids. Groaning at how responsive you are and how your hips roll up to meet his mouth when he pulls back.

“Joel.” You whine and he chuckles, hot breath puffing over your wet cunt, and he slides his tongue again, quick laps that have your chest heaving. You tug on his hair and he groans into your flesh, cleaning you with sloppy swipes of his tongue into your pussy.

He loves the way you pull his hair, demanding more as he devours you. He’s still not hard, but you are moaning his name like he’s some kind of sex god, making his softened cock twitch in interest. Fingers digging into your hips to hold you in place.

You pant as he works you up with sucks and swipes of his tongue. Your free hand squeezing your own breast and you whine as he pushes you higher and higher until finally, you fall apart for him again. “Joel!” Your cry echoes in the bedroom and your thighs squeeze his head.

You press his head harshly and he loves it. Groaning into your flesh as he works you through it with slow swipes of his tongue, enjoying the way you jump and shiver.

You caress his head as you relax, lowering your thighs and you sigh in bliss, feeling warm throughout your entire body. “Come here.” You order and drag him up your body so you can kiss him. He kisses you, the taste of your fluids on his lips but you don’t care as your tongue slides against his. He pecks your lips, nudging his nose against yours as you caress his back.

He shuffles to the side, pulling you against him. “Warm enough?” He asks with a soft chuckle. You hum sleepily, curling up on his chest in a move that makes his heart thump. “I am.” You murmur softly, closing your eyes. “Stay.” You beg, making him tighten his hold on you. “I’m staying, baby.” He promises, holding you as you drift off to sleep.

Joel doesn’t sleep much. So when he wakes up, he carefully slips out of the bed and gathers up his clothes to get dressed. You are still dead to the world, sleeping peacefully and he smiles at the vision before heading downstairs to see what he needs to do.

You wake up, your body aching a little but you love it. You look over and see the spot where Joel was is empty. Your smile falls and you sigh, wondering if he skipped out on you. You get up and head into the bathroom to clean up, desperate for coffee so you make your way downstairs after wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe. That's when you see him in your kitchen, under the sink, stomach on display as he stretches to fix something. "Joel. You're here." You declare in surprise and he shifts from under the sink. "Of course. I don't sleep a lot so figured I'd let you get your sleep and I'd see what needed fixin' around here. Your sink was leaking." He says, holding the wrench, and your heart thumps. "Thank you." You didn't know a leak had started under there. "Made eggs and coffee. Only two things I can make." He says and you giggle, shifting to kneel beside him so you can lean in to softly kiss him. "Thank you." You murmur again, "for everything."

“You’re welcome.” He grunts, accepting the kiss, but uncomfortable with the praise. He’s not doing it for you to be thankful, but because you need the help and he can. “Go get you some coffee and eat.” He had noticed how little you had in your fridge and had decided later on he would go get some groceries. “Got a cord of wood being delivered in about an hour.” He tells you. “Gonna have it stacked right next to the back door, but I gotta go to the store to get some tin to put that roof back right.” He tells you before diving back under the sink. “Wanna ride with me and get your car then?”

You shift off the floor to grab yourself a cup of coffee and watch as he works on fixing your sink. His muscles flexing and you are distracted until he asks again. “Yes. That’s good. Thank you.” You say and he snorts, “stop sayin’ thanks. I wanna do it.” He promises and you nod, taking a sip of your coffee. “I have other ways I can thank you anyway.” You smirk and set your coffee down, waiting until he’s done to straddle him. “What you doin’?” He chuckles and you bend down to kiss him, making him groan into your mouth.

Joel chuckles softly, but he doesn’t stop you. Blindly setting down the wrench to grab your waist. “You ready for round two right here on the kitchen floor?” He asks when you start to kiss down his neck. “Don’t mind, but you’re gonna have to ride baby, or this floor will kill my knees.”

You grind down onto him, “fuck. I can do that.” You promise, shifting back to work on his belt. “You look so sexy fixing my sink.” You murmur and he twitches under the denim he’s wearing. “If this is what gets you going, I’ll fix anything you like, sugar.”

****

“Are you coming over to the house tonight?” Joel asks as he turns the last quarter turn of the wrench and leans back to grin. “There we go. A bathtub, newly fixed.” It still needs to be taken out and refinished, but that shit can wait until it’s warm outside. You hadn’t been able to take a bath and soak since the drain was leaking and the water heater needed replacing. Your new water heater was hooked up yesterday and Joel just finished fixing the drain so it will work properly. “Sarah’s gonna be here at six.”

You bite your lip as you look down at him, “are you sure you want me to meet her? We’ve been dating a few weeks.” You say and he nods, “trust me, baby. She will be happy her old dad has found someone who will put up with his grumpy ass.” You giggle and nod, caressing his cheek, “I’ll come over.”

“Good.” He winks at you. “She wants to drink boozy eggnog and listen to Christmas carols as we decorate the tree.” He tells you. He’s got a tree but he told you he couldn’t decorate it without Sarah. It was a tradition, and now he wants to include you in that tradition. “And eat Chinese.”

You grin, “that sounds incredible. Are you sure you want me there?” You ask, grin faltering a little and he nods, “absolutely.” Your grin returns and you lean down to kiss him. “Now, you wanna try out the tub?” You smirk and he chuckles, “insatiable.”

****

You are nervous as you walk to Joel’s front door, ringing the doorbell as you prepare to meet his daughter. She’s everything to him and you love that about him. You’ve fallen for him in the past few weeks and you are praying his daughter likes you.

“Daaaaaaad!” A woman, probably twenty-five, with gorgeous skin and frizzy ringlets of hair, lights up when she sees you. A grin curving her lips. “A beautiful woman that is waaaaaaaay out of your league just walked through the door!” She calls out, cackling as Joel huffs from the kitchen. “Be nice!”

You giggle and she pulls you into a hug, “I’m Sarah and I’ve heard so much about you. My dad isn’t much of a talker but he’s not stopped telling me about his new girlfriend.” She smirks and Joel makes his way from the kitchen. You hope she approves and she squeezes your arms, “I’m so happy he’s found someone to deal with his grumpiness.” She says and you chuckle, “it’s a challenge sometimes.”

Joel snorts and rolls his eyes. “This grumpy ass does plenty of wonderfully nice things.” He defends himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t I build you a fire every night so you can drink your wine and feel cozy?”

You grin and lean in to softly kiss him, “you’ve definitely been my hero.” You reassure him, nudging your nose against his jaw and Sarah beams, happy to see her dad so happy after Tess. “Come in. I have mulled wine ready to go and we are set to decorate the tree.” She takes your coat and you set your purse down on the side before she drags you into the living room to begin decorating.

Every year during this time, Joel watches his daughter in awe. Reflecting on the wonderful woman that she has become. The path that she has taken to get where she is. Laughing and talking with you, she is showing you all the special family Christmas decorations that he had dragged down from the attic this morning in anticipation of this moment. Now, you are added into the mix by complete chance and he couldn’t be happier.

The tree is soon decorated, Chinese food consumed and Sarah excuses herself to her room leaving you and Joel by the fire, your head resting on his shoulder. “I’m really happy you bid on me in the auction.” You murmur and he smiles, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Me too. I, uh, I love you.” He confesses and your eyes widen, a grin on your face, and you lean in to kiss him again. “I love you too.” He smiles and drags you into his lap, deciding to show you just how much he loves you.

****

“He bid how much?” Sarah exclaims, asking her uncle who grins and repeats himself, “$1000 to have a date with the woman who was, and I quote, ‘a pain in my ass’.’” Sarah giggles, “must’ve had a crush on that pain in the ass, right Dad?” She asks and Joel snorts, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you all sit around the table after dessert has been eaten over at Tommy and Maria’s house. “She caught my eye. Mainly because she couldn’t DIY for shit.” He teases and you slap his chest, “I can figure it out.” You say and Joel raises his eyebrows playfully. You scoff and he chuckles, leaning closer to press a soft kiss to your lips, “worth every damn penny.” He promises and you grin, caressing his cheek, “love you too.” Maria looks over at Tommy with a smirk. Her master plan had worked. Joel had gotten what he never knew he wanted for Christmas: you.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller hbo #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller christmas

410 notes · View notes

jakeswifeyyy · 3 days ago

Note

Jungwon smut pls:)

OK guys hear me out I can't be the only one heavy on the jungwon x making out agenda like this man is just so good at it.

Pairings:Bf! jungwon x Gf! reader.

Warnings:Making out,cunnilingus,cum eating,use of aphrodisiac chocolates,like if I forgot anything.

Bf!Jungwon,who both of you were a very shy couple,furthest point of intimacy attained was kissing,never any tongue involved,not than any was inexperienced and He did watch some porn videos for research purposes wanting to make his girl feel good.

Bf!Jungwon who heard about some aphrodisiac chocolates online and bought them not letting you know what it was as he gave it to you,because he knew both of you wanted to progress further in intimacy but both too shy,feeling bad he decided to sit down with you and tell you about it to which you happily agreed.

Bf!Jungwon,who was now staring straight into you,gaze dark with lust as you shyed away from his gaze but no he wasn't having it,beckoning you to move closer before crashing his lips onto yours ,he was always a gentleman this time manners being kicked out the door but you loved him this way.

Bf!Jungwon whom you were now sitting on his lap ,20 minutes later as the effects of the chocolate,aggressively making out,sloppy messy kisses,but neither caring just wanting to feel more of the other up,taking off his glasses,he looked so hot in that moment as he was a complete 180 degree flip of his usual self,groping your ass and tits occasionally.

Bf!Jungwon,who carried you to the bed stripping you both off of your clothing as you traced your hands all over his muscular chest,holding your hand,both your confidence boosted a hundred times more,he guided it to his clothed hard in grinding against your hand as he bit his lip moaning at the contact while you stared up at him innocently.

Bf!Jungwon who takes his time to taste every inch of your skin making sure to mark you,to remind all those boys who drooled like puppies after you,you were taken.

Bf!Jungwon who loves hearing your pretty moans as he ate you out and you bucked up into his face ,using his head as leverage to guide him,using him but he wasn't complaining,he infact loved that.

Bf!Jungwon who told you to take off his briefs,audibly gasping at his size as he smirked,he had a lengthy veiny cock and he knew it and new just how to use It.

Bf!Jungwon who has you screaming his name out for the neighbours to know,both of you not in your right minds to give a fuck at the moment,they saw you as the quiet innocent kids,how would they know.

Bf!Jungwon who starts rubbing your clit in fast circles when you tell him you're close,as he pounds into you,deep,slow strokes,grinding against you causing friction on your clit with every time he bottomed out as you shamelessly groaned your name.

Bf!Jungwon who keeps making you cum nearly 5 more times that night ,the chocolate increasing boh your sex drives to heights not known by both of you,but as they say you live and you learn.

Bf!Jungwon who goes down on you again wanting to taste your cum mixed together with his ,shamelessly lapping at your cunt,your entrance slowly leaking both your cum as he greedily gulped it all down before coming back up to kiss you because you begged for a taste too,scooping it up with 2 fingers before shoving it in your mouth,watching you suck on his fingers containing himself not to fuck you again ,make you cum for the 6th time.

Bf!Jungwon who is big on aftercare getting a wet towel and cleaning up your mess from between your legs and changing the now soaked sheets,before getting you in his t-shirt as he cleaned up and wore some sweatpants cuddling in with you as you lazily made out.

Bf!Jungwon who was shy again the next morning back to his usual self as you teased him.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #jake smut #jake sim #sunghoon #enha smut #sunghoon smut #anon ask #lee heeseung #jungwon smut #jungwon #jay smut #sunoo smut

337 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 2 days ago

Text

Jason will forever be my comfort character, forever and always

Jason knew from an early age that love was conditional. This was especially more so if you lived in Gotham, and if that was the case then love was more or less something that’s purely transactional. The moment you lose the ability to give anything to someone else, you’re more then likely left to die in an alleyway or in a far away abandoned warehouse that was rigged to blow up.

Love was a weapon utilised in every possible way then what it was meant to be used for, and so Jason didn’t grow up with a very good experience with love or what others claimed as love.

Yet he read books where love was pure, love was powerful and empowering to the people who had the chance to experience it, love was scary and brutal as it was beautiful and something everyone desires to have in their life; whether or not it was real for everyone will chase after it blindly and carelessly as though their self worth was dependent on such an emotion.

He’s read books where love could break someone so badly that they can’t get up, where love can cause more cuts and wounds than knives and other weapons could ever inflict. He’s read books where love has left people wonder their self worth and if anyone else could love them as deeply and truly as the person who had just walked out of the door.

However Jason wondered that if people did love that deeply, wouldn’t you want to stay with that person even through the toughest times of their lives? Help them pull through instead of abandoning them when they were in the most need of their life? To Jason that didn’t sound like love at all as he couldn’t help but see himself in these characters that only saw the worst in themselves, truly believing that love wasn’t for them nor ever will in how their entire lives was the biggest example of such.

However all that changed with time the moment you entered his life and for good.

Jason was on the defensive as his eyes wouldn’t leave you as all you did was simple things for him unprovoked, unwarranted, as though you wanted to do these things for him. You would care for his books as though they were irreplaceable while rearranging them in alphabetical order, clean his weaponry and armour before he could early in the morning, and even would him breakfast in the morning when you noticed that he didn’t eat nearly as much as he should to properly function.

Jason didn’t know how to feel, nor how he could repay you back in response and even when he did, you would just brush him off and tell him that you could handle it, telling him that he shouldn’t worry about doing anything for you purely because you did things for him one day.

‘I just wanted to do these things for you.’ You tell him with a smile. ‘You’re a busy man and you don’t have nearly enough time to catch up to everything and I merely wanted to help clear your schedule somewhat while you’ve got your hand full.’ You add and Jason could only stare at you.

‘You wanted to?’ He said with a raised brow. ‘Sweetheart, there’s no such thing as people doing things for others out of the kindness of their heart, everyone wants something in the end as nobody is above their own desires.’ He then crossed his arms over his chest as a look of unconvincing overcame his face at your words.

You frown at this but didn’t hold such views against him, Gotham wasn’t a city where love was genuine and not corrupt nor unhealthy to some extent, if anything your heart ached for him as you could only imagine a young Jason having to learn this cruel lesson in the worst possible way; one that left a permeant scar upon his heart that would ache painfully as a reminder that in a city of Gotham love didn’t exist unless it was for transactional or conventional purposes for even more corrupt figureheads.

‘Love shouldn’t be used to hurt people, it should be used to help people and allow them to gain the strength to let others into their heart and trusting that person to not stab them in the back, love should be used between friends, family and lovers and no one else who could corrupt an innocent emotion such as love.’ You stepped closer to him as you watched his eyes and the flickering of emotions within them as his jaw clench and he would straighten his posture as though he was trying to scare you off with his height, it wasn’t working.

‘Love should help you realise that the love you’ve been receiving is not love at all, Jason you deserve love much like everyone else, for someone will look at you and see a beautiful man with scars that tell stories that they can only hope you’ll be ready to share with one day at your own comfortability.’ You finished as you rested your hand upon his bicep, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch, as your thumb caresses a faint scar of his. It wasn’t a touch tender as anything Jason had experienced before and it both frightened and intrigued him at how much he needed this.

Had he found the love that the books he’s read in the past promised? That child in him said yes with such an eagerness, but he was still uncertain but knew that he felt safer with you than he did anyone else, and that was certainly a start in his eyes.

348 notes · View notes

quarterlifekitty · 3 days ago

Text

Desperate times

A sequel to this post and poll. Started feeling a little jigsaw-y…. Decided that I wanted to continue this post— what would it be like if their methods didn’t work? If they had to up the ante?

The top two winners of the poll won’t have to find out, because they’re getting you back! The rest? Well…

cw: dubcon/noncon, stalking, unhealthy relationships, somno, daddy kink stuff, intox, violence, baby trapping, and more stuff I don’t really know how to describe lol

❌Gaz is making a spectacle. Formulating the ultimate romantic gesture— a in a public place. He’s used your family and friends to lure you there on their invitation. Can’t you see how all of them want you to take him back? Look at him, on his knee in the middle of the botanical garden, promising to be better for you if you’ll just give him another chance. They’re all waiting on your response. Come on, luv, just give them what they want.

❌Soap is moving onto step 2, and that’s getting you drunk. Not so hard when you and your friends go to an upscale bar. He conveniently runs quite late meeting the 141 there, so to you and your friends, there’s just a handsome group of strangers sending some pretty girls free drinks. And everyone knows the girly drinks have the highest percentages. The rest of the gang will pick off your friends (payment for doing him this favor) and he’ll be ready to swoop in and take you home. Aren’t you lucky he was there? Just let him get you into bed. Ach, he really shouldn’t leave you alone in this state… best stay the night. A bit of advice? Don’t squirm when he gets to work— reminding you of the good times.

❌Ghost keeps it going strong with the scary voicemails. And they keep getting worse. The grunting, and threats, the desperation coating his voice. Not nice to keep your man waiting, birdie. They’re followed by photos. Printed out physically, slipped in your mail slot or under your door, bare. No envelope, no address or signature. All dated with black sharpie, all recent. You looking both ways, getting ready to cross the street. Changing out of your work clothes when you get home. His gloved thumb gently brushing your lip while you’re sleeping. His cum on your toothbrush. That one is dated as two weeks old. Just let him back into your life, birdie.

⭕️ Price feels his heart sing when he sees your name on the caller id. He gives the perfect, respectful response. It’s good to hear from you. Is everything alright? When he agrees to meet up with you, he doesn’t let it show how eagerly he’s been waiting for the chance. Tells you that you look good. Life must’ve been treating you well since he last saw you. He seems so genuinely pleased for you… He almost lets his calculated restraint slip when you say you’d like to give things another go. Asks if you’re sure. If he were being honest, in his eyes, things never ended. This was just a rough patch. But he’s glad you’ve come around to seeing it his way. He’ll have you moved back in by the end of the month, swollen with his kid by the end of the next. It’ll weigh you down, make it easier for him to slip the ring on.

⭕️ Honest to god, König sees the halo glow behind your crown when you meet up with him, and agree to a second chance. He promises that he’ll be better— you won’t want for anything, he’ll be so good for you. He’s acting like you’ve agreed to marry him. Maybe because in his mind, you have. That’s inevitable, seeing as he’s never going to lose you again.

❌ Nikolai starts getting a lot less… clean with your potential paramours. Gone are the bribes, the simple threats and ghosting— in are the bloody heaps of men that are just alive enough to twitch. This could all stop. Just be his good girl again, come back to your ivory tower. Papochka won’t be upset, he’ll just be glad to have you home. His patience for you is endless, but for the rest of the world? Well, do you really want to find out?

283 notes · View notes

thedensworld · 2 days ago

Text

Kiss a Friend | K. Mg

Genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Summary: Mingyu was obsessed with his ex fiancee who had left him on the altar. To get her back, he paid all your debt to help him.

It started with a kiss.

Mingyu had warned you to arrive at 7, sharp. Punctuality, he said, was non-negotiable. He despised people who couldn’t respect time. But tonight, you wanted him to hate you, to see the look of irritation flash across his usually composed face. So, you walked in at 7:50, deliberately late, wearing the plainest dress you could find in your closet. It was all part of your plan to embarrass Kim Mingyu, a small act of rebellion against the man who now held a claim over your life for the next three months.

You sighed, an inexplicable tightness in your chest. Mingyu was more than just the imposing businessman he had become; he was your childhood nemesis. To be fair, your parents had been friends long before you were born, so you and Mingyu were forced into each other’s lives. You spent your childhood squabbling over the smallest things—who was faster on their bikes or who could get highest score in Math. It was always a competition, and Mingyu always found a way to win, leaving you rolling your eyes and muttering curses under your breath. Then, he left for the States to study business and fulfill his destiny of taking over the family empire. The distance was a relief, a clean break from the constant rivalry.

Meanwhile, you had chosen a different path. You found joy in acting, even if it meant playing minor roles or being in small films. You cherished the freedom it gave you, the knowledge that you weren’t bound by family legacies or the weight of expectations. Your life was yours, simple and light—or at least it was until last month.

Mingyu returned from the States a changed man, celebrated and respected in the business world. He no longer resembled the carefree boy from the neighborhood, and communication between you dwindled to polite nods and rare encounters. Then, the invitation came: a wedding announcement for him and his fiancée of two years. You’d laughed to yourself, amused by the thought that Mingyu, the annoying kid who used to trip you on purpose, had grown up enough to commit to someone. The thought of him managing to woo a woman seemed almost comical.

But everything shattered on the day he was left standing at the altar.

The chaos that followed was unforgettable. You ran to his parents, finding his father pale and clutching his chest, too stunned to speak. The paramedics arrived moments later, rushing him to the hospital. You stayed behind, holding his mother’s trembling hand and feeling the weight of Mingyu’s world as it crumbled around him. Hyorin—his fiancée, now ex-fiancée, ex-bride; you struggled to decide what to call her—left only a short letter behind. In it, she confessed that she’d run away with another man, admitting she’d been unfaithful and choosing to leave Mingyu for good.

Days later, Mingyu appeared at your door. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his usual confident posture was nowhere to be seen.

“Help me,” he said, voice low and raw.

You blinked, unable to piece together what he meant. “Help you with what?”

“Help me get Hyorin back,” he clarified, leaning against the doorframe as if the effort of standing was too much. “I need you to be my girlfriend—just for three months.”

Your mouth dropped open. The idea was absurd. “Are you serious?”

“Hyorin is possessive. She won’t be able to stand seeing someone else with me. I know her. If she thinks I’ve moved on, she’ll come back,” he explained, desperation creeping into his tone. His eyes held yours, unyielding. “And besides, she hates you. That’ll add fuel to the fire.”

He sat comfortably on your couch, surveying your small apartment with an expression that was almost amused. It was a stark contrast to the sleek penthouse or sprawling home he had planned to share with Hyorin. You sat on the floor across from him, disbelief clouding your expression as you struggled to take his proposal seriously. Date Mingyu? It was laughable. He was too entangled in your childhood memories to ever be considered a romantic prospect, even if he had changed into a confident, sought-after businessman. Every time you looked at him, you couldn’t help but picture the mischievous boy with a grin that spelled trouble.

Yet, Mingyu was relentless. The proposal kept coming, woven into daily conversations and backed by small gestures. He pampered you in ways you didn't expect, bringing you coffee, making sure you were eating, all because he couldn’t find anyone better for this crazy plan of his.

“And besides, you’re a great actress,” he said one evening, leaning back into the cushions with a smirk.

You narrowed your eyes, recognizing the manipulative edge in his tone. “I know,” you muttered, barely containing your frustration.

Before the conversation could spiral further, the sharp ring of your doorbell echoed through the apartment, followed by a series of frantic knocks. Alarm bells went off in your mind. No. Not now.

“Hide,” you whispered urgently, pulling Mingyu up by the arm and shoving him into your room before he could protest. If the person at the door saw Mingyu, it would be a disaster you weren’t prepared to deal with.

“Open up, Y/N! I know you’re there!” a familiar voice shouted from the other side, slurring slightly. Your heart sank as you recognized it. The door barely clicked open before it was pushed with force, slamming you back a step as Boemjae stumbled into the room. The stale scent of alcohol and cigarettes clung to him, making you wrinkle your nose.

“Not today, Boemjae,” you said firmly, hoping to sound braver than you felt.

He laughed, a low, menacing sound as he stepped closer and pressed you against the wall. “Who are you to tell me what to do, bitch?” His voice was a venomous whisper, and the sharp pain of your back hitting the wall made you wince. He swaggered toward the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle, taking a swig as if he owned the place.

“Leave,” you tried again, your voice strained but steady.

Boemjae’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “No. I need my money now,” he snarled, his tone shifting from casual menace to a sharp demand.

“I don’t have it now, but I’ll send it later,” you promised, your voice barely above a whisper. Before you could brace yourself, Boemjae shoved you with enough force that you stumbled and crashed into the coffee table, pain searing through your side.

“I need it now,” he repeated, bending down to yank you up by the collar as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll. His laugh was harsh and mocking. “How are you even planning to pay me back, huh? Sleeping with random men? You can’t even land a decent acting role!”

Before you could respond, Mingyu’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “Let her go.”

The room fell into a tense silence as Boemjae turned, surprise flickering in his bloodshot eyes before he barked out a laugh. “So, this is the man you’re sleeping with? How much is he giving you? You’d better hand it over right now,” he sneered before shoving you roughly to Mingyu’s side. Relief washed over you as Mingyu caught you, holding you steady with a firm arm around your waist. The old Mingyu would have never stepped in, but this Mingyu—this confident, determined man—was different.

Mingyu’s expression hardened as he stepped forward, towering over Boemjae, his height and presence imposing. “I’m her boyfriend,” he said, voice cold and commanding. “And I want you out of this house. Now.”

Boemjae’s laugh faltered, turning uneasy as he took in Mingyu’s stance. “Boyfriend? Don’t kid yourself. I know her, and she doesn’t have a boyfriend. I’m her important person,” he said with a sneer.

Mingyu’s jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “If you were truly important, you’d know who I am,” he said, taking another step closer until Boemjae flinched. “Leave now, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Boemjae swallowed, the drunken bravado evaporating under Mingyu’s glare. He backed away, muttering curses under his breath before stumbling out the door.

The silence that followed was thick, your shallow breaths the only sound in the room. Mingyu’s eyes bore into you, sharp and intense, the anger still radiating off him in waves.

“Who was that? Why do you even know someone like him? Is he your boyfriend?” he fired off questions, his voice clipped and filled with barely contained rage.

“It’s none of your business,” you mumbled, wincing as you gripped your arm where it throbbed with pain.

Mingyu’s brows knitted together in a fierce scowl. “It is my business if you’re going to be my new girlfriend,” he declared, the conviction in his voice making your head spin. When had you ever agreed to this? Why was he speaking like you’d already signed some invisible contract?

“I never said yes,” you muttered, exhaling shakily as the adrenaline in your system began to ebb.

Mingyu’s eyes softened just a fraction, but his determination remained. “Who is he? Why does he come here?”

“I owe him money,” you admitted, your voice a strained whisper. “He shows up whenever he needs cash.”

A tense silence followed as Mingyu processed your words. “How much?” he asked, his tone commanding.

You bit your lip, irritation bubbling up at his demanding attitude. “It’s none of your business!”

“How much?” he pressed, leaning in, eyes searching yours for an answer.

You hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thirty-five billion,” you finally said, the weight of the number hanging heavily in the air.

Mingyu’s expression flickered with surprise before settling into one of resolute determination. The silence stretched between you, almost suffocating, before he spoke again, his voice calm but firm. “I’ll pay it,” he said, the finality in his tone leaving no room for argument. “But only if you agree to be my contract girlfriend for three months. That’s all the time I need to get Hyorin back.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the enormity of his proposal pressing down on you. This was more than just a game to him; it was a desperate gamble. And now, it was your move.

The last day of owning your own life felt strange, surreal even.

You sat uncomfortably in Mingyu’s office, surrounded by the scent of polished wood and subtle cologne, a stark contrast to the chaotic familiarity of your world. The sterile office setting, with its pristine glass walls and neat rows of desks, was foreign to you. You were never an office girl. You were the adventurous one, the free spirit. So when Mingyu called you in to meet his lawyer and sign the contract, you weren’t prepared. Not mentally and definitely not in the way you were dressed—in just a plain shirt and worn blue jeans. If you had known the gravity of this moment, maybe you would have chosen something more formal, something that wouldn’t make you look so out of place among the sleek suits and pencil skirts.

Mingyu, now a commanding presence as the director of his father’s company, sat across the long mahogany table. He was the picture of cool composure, suited up impeccably, his gaze sharp but carrying an odd familiarity. The lawyer spoke up, cutting through the hum of your racing thoughts.

“As you can see, Mr. Kim will give you the agreed-upon sum tomorrow, and the contract will last for three months. If you have any questions, now would be the time to ask,” the lawyer said, his voice professional but devoid of emotion.

You glanced down at the document in front of you, your fingers brushing the paper lightly as you read. Years in the entertainment industry had taught you the importance of dissecting every line in a contract, ensuring that nothing would come back to bite you.

Halfway down, your eyes widened at a clause. “I have to move in with you?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, disbelief clear in your voice.

Mingyu cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair, his expression stoic. “Yes. It’ll create the right image. The media will go wild if they find out a woman moved in with me just a month after being left at the altar. Hyorin will hear about it. She’ll be furious, maybe even desperate enough to come back.”

You frowned, your thoughts racing. “And if I don’t want to?”

A chuckle escaped Mingyu, a sound that brought a flicker of childhood memories—those endless debates, the playful bickering that now seemed like a different lifetime. “Then we’ll negotiate. But I can promise that all your needs will be met. Besides,” he paused, his eyes narrowing just a touch, “Beomjae wouldn’t be able to harass you at my place.”

The mention of Beomjae sent a chill down your spine, your discomfort deepening. You didn’t like how easily Mingyu had brought up that night in front of his lawyer. It was a memory you’d hoped to lock away and never revisit. Still, the thought of escaping Beomjae’s shadow was tempting, more than tempting.

“And just so we’re clear,” Mingyu continued, his voice dropping to a serious note, “you’re not sleeping in my bed. The house has more than enough rooms.” He said it matter-of-factly, but the unexpected implication made your cheeks burn. You felt a wave of embarrassment rush through you as if the contract itself was some guilty secret.

The lawyer pointed to another clause. Intercourse was strictly prohibited; anything more intimate than staged public displays of affection would void the agreement and terminate the contract immediately. You breathed out slowly, relief mixing with an odd nervousness. The contract laid out your new reality in stark, unyielding terms, yet there was no malice hidden in its words. Mingyu might have been many things, but he wasn’t deceitful. He wouldn’t trap you with fine print. And the money? The staggering sum of thirty-five billion won seemed almost absurd, a price you weren’t sure you deserved for playing pretend for three months.

Mingyu’s gaze softened as he spoke, almost as if he could read your mind. “This role is harder than you think, Y/N. It won’t be easy.”

You glanced up at him, a blend of challenge and resignation in your eyes, before signing your name. The final stroke of the pen echoed in your ears like a tolling bell. Tomorrow, everything would change. You weren’t just Mingyu’s childhood friend anymore.

You were now his girlfriend. His thirty-five-billion-won girlfriend.

As you stepped into the birthday party hosted by Mingyu’s uncle, Kim Jaejoong, a wave of self-consciousness swept over you. The dazzling lights reflected off shimmering gowns and sharp suits, making you feel more out of place than ever. You were dressed simply, far too simply for such an event, and each glance cast your way seemed to gnaw at your self-esteem. You gave your name at the entrance, "Kim Mingyu's plus one," and the attendant nodded, letting you through with barely a glance.

The room was filled with South Korea’s most influential figures, a crowd where power was worn as naturally as their tailored suits. You scanned the room, trying to find Mingyu's familiar silhouette among a sea of business elites. But everyone here looked alike in their uniform of suit and tie, making it more challenging than you'd expected.

Then you spotted her. Wi Hyorin.

Hyorin, the heiress of Wi Finance, one of South Korea's most prestigious financial empires. The very woman who had left Mingyu standing alone at the altar, igniting a wildfire of gossip across the business world. The alliance that their marriage would have cemented had turned into a scandal overnight, the fallout reverberating through boardrooms and society pages. But why was she here, now, at Jaejoong's event? Was she trying to rekindle something? Your chest tightened as you watched her glide gracefully across the room.

Your eyes found Mingyu. He stood tall, commanding attention in a circle of businessmen, his smile practiced and confident. But as Hyorin moved toward him, you noticed a shift in his demeanor—a flicker of recognition and tension. The past month of living with Mingyu as his so-called “gold digger” girlfriend had been surreal. Tabloid stories had painted you as an unknown actress who somehow caught the eye of the jilted billionaire. Kim Mingyu’s New Flame: The Mysterious Actress After the Altar Scandal. The stories practically wrote themselves, and you, once a spectator to such dramas, were now the unwitting star.

You took a deep breath, a rush of impulse taking hold. If Mingyu’s plan was to make Hyorin jealous to win her back, then a bold move was justified, right? No harm done if it served the goal.

You walked steadily toward him, the room seeming to shrink as your heartbeat drummed in your ears. Mingyu noticed you, his eyes lighting up with a practiced warmth as he lifted a hand to wave, playing the devoted boyfriend role perfectly.

“Meet my girlfriend, Ji Y/N. She’s an actress—”

Before he could finish, you acted. Your hand reached up, pulling him toward you as your lips met his in a sudden, daring kiss. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, the clink of champagne glasses pausing midair. You felt Mingyu’s initial shock; his body stiffened, and he pulled back, eyes wide with surprise.

The room was a frozen tableau for a heartbeat, but it was Hyorin��s voice that shattered the silence. “So, you’re dating your childhood friend now, Mingyu?” Her tone was soft, almost melodious, but it carried an edge that cut through you like a blade. The implication in her words stung more than you expected. How dare she, after abandoning him?

But before you could react, Mingyu stepped away from you, turning to Hyorin with an almost desperate urgency. His hand reached for hers, a gesture that made your stomach drop. “I didn’t kiss her back, Hyorin,” he said, his voice clear enough for anyone nearby to hear.

The world seemed to tilt, his words echoing in your mind. Your heart plummeted as the realization settled in: Kim Mingyu, the man you once called your friend—no, the man you were now pretending to be in love with—was still devoted to the woman who had humiliated him in front of the entire country. And he had just proven it, publicly.

The plan was to make Hyorin jealous enough to return to him. It was working. You’d done what you set out to do, so why did your chest ache like this? You told yourself it didn’t matter. You had no right to feel this way. This was a job, a role to play, nothing more.

You stepped back, your face a mask of practiced calm as you retreated to the quieter corner of the venue. The din of conversation swallowed the silence you left behind. You reached for a glass of wine, the cool liquid promising a momentary reprieve from the chaos in your mind.

“So, you’re Ji Y/N, the one everyone’s been talking about?” A voice interrupted the solitude you had wrapped yourself in. You turned to see an unfamiliar face—a man you had never met before. He was striking, with sharp features and an air of effortless confidence. He introduced himself as Yoon Jeonghan, a college friend of Mingyu’s. The name registered immediately; he was the CEO of Yoonique, a luxury fashion brand that had been making waves locally and internationally.

“If you’re his girlfriend, I should’ve met you by now, especially with all the news swirling around. But here we are, meeting for the first time,” Jeonghan said, his tone light but with an undercurrent that suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

You felt your heart tighten. This conversation was more layered than you were prepared for, and the probing curiosity in his eyes made you reach for your wine again. “I’m not in a position to answer that,” you muttered, the rim of the glass brushing your lips.

Jeonghan chuckled, a low sound that somehow put you at ease and on edge at the same time. He leaned against the railing beside you, his eyes shifting to the city lights that stretched beyond the venue’s grand windows. “Mingyu’s a fool sometimes. I can see that now more than ever. I’m sorry you got caught up in this mess,” he said, his voice softening, making you turn to look at him.

“He told me about his plan—to win Hyorin back. I never thought it was a good idea, but I see now that you’re his partner in this... charade?” He paused, waiting for a response that you didn’t have. Your silence was answer enough.

You sighed, the weight of the night pressing down on you. “I’ve known him since we were kids. This is the least I can do, especially for his parents. They’ve been under so much pressure since the wedding incident,” you whispered, careful not to let anyone overhear your conversation.

Jeonghan’s expression shifted, a blend of understanding and something else you couldn’t quite read. He nodded slowly, acknowledging the burden you both seemed to carry. The quiet between you was a welcome reprieve from the noise inside, where murmurs and sidelong glances threatened to pull you apart.

You sipped your wine again, eyes drifting over the dark, sprawling skyline. Out here, you didn’t have to hear the whispered gossip or feel the eyes boring into your back.

“Mingyu ditched his girlfriend for his ex-fiancée?”

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, not because it wasn’t true, but because you knew people were cruel enough to say it aloud. Even if you were okay with being in this position, it was still humiliating to be part of such a spectacle.

Jeonghan’s voice brought you back. “Are you free tomorrow? Would you be willing to meet me at my office?” He asked, his eyes catching yours in the window’s reflection, the city lights dancing in them like embers.

You turned to face him, a flicker of curiosity sparking in your chest. What could he possibly want from you? Whatever it was, the idea of visiting Yoonique’s CEO office sounded intriguing, an unexpected twist in an already complicated story.

“Sure,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. You weren’t sure where this was heading, but for the first time that night, you felt a sliver of excitement cut through the haze of doubt.

"You ran away," Mingyu said as he stepped into your room, his voice low and sharp. The door clicked shut behind him, and you glanced up to see him in a half-dressed state—his suit discarded, an expensive dress shirt clinging to his broad frame, and a loosened blue tie draped around his neck. The sight was disheveled, raw, and too close for comfort.

You sat on the edge of the bed, the script for your newest and most promising role—a second lead that could finally catapult your acting career—resting in your hands. Your eyes met his, refusing to show the tumult of emotions twisting in your chest.

“You didn’t knock,” you said, trying to maintain an even tone. It was a feeble attempt to set a boundary, one you knew he would ignore.

Mingyu’s eyes darkened as he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming the room. “As far as I remember, this is my house. And this room is technically mine.”

A retort sat on the tip of your tongue, bastard, but you swallowed it down. The weight of the day hung over you like a shroud, and rest was all you craved. You placed the script on the nightstand and sat up straighter, facing him.

“Yeah, I know. You’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m living in your place. So, technically, this is still your room. Want to sleep here tonight?” You threw out the jest, trying to shift the tension, but it landed wrong.

Mingyu’s jaw tightened, and he took another step forward, eyes blazing. “You kissed me and now you’re asking if I want to sleep with you? Is that how cheap you are, Y/N?” His voice was harsh, each word slicing through the space between you.

The accusation stung. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. “You think I kissed you for that?” Your tone cracked, disbelief laced with hurt.

“You kissed me in front of everyone and caused a scandal! You really thought that would help my plan?” His voice rose, frustration spilling over like an overflowing dam.

You met his glare, eyes narrowed. “The plan was to make Hyorin jealous, to make her want you back. Didn’t it work?” Your voice was low, trembling with controlled rage.

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, exasperation etched across his face. “Making her jealous and actually getting her back are two different things, Y/N! Your impulsive stunt just pushed her further away. It showed her that I’m willing to move on. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Your chest ached as you watched him unravel. “And whose fault is that?” you shot back. “You practically shouted to the world that you didn’t kiss me back. Right in front of her, in front of everyone. That’s how stupid you are, Kim Mingyu!”

For a moment, silence fell, crackling with unresolved tension. Mingyu’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if he hadn’t expected you to fight back. His anger morphed into something deeper, something unreadable.

Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet so swiftly that the room spun. You gasped as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin.

“So I’m stupid because I didn’t kiss you back?” he whispered, the proximity making your pulse race. Before you could respond, his fingers found the nape of your neck, and he closed the distance between you. His lips crashed into yours with an urgency that stunned you.

Your mind screamed at you to resist, but the battle was fleeting. He was too strong, or maybe, you were too willing. Maybe it was because deep down, this was what you had wished for when you kissed him earlier—this reckless, unrestrained moment. Your hands found their way to his chest, and you felt yourself giving in, kissing him back with the same intensity.

The kiss became a desperate clash, more a battle than an embrace. Mingyu's hands gripped your waist with an intensity that left you breathless, fingers digging into your skin as if trying to mark you, claim you. You gasped when he pulled back, his eyes dark with something raw and unapologetic, searching your face for any hesitation.

The only answer you gave was a tug at his shirt, buttons flying in reckless abandon as you exposed the heat of his chest. He smirked, a hint of danger playing at the corner of his lips, before he pushed you back onto the mattress, following you down with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. His body pressed into yours, all hard planes and coiled tension, a silent reminder of the power he wielded.

“Mingyu,” you breathed, the sound half plea, half challenge. He caught the way your voice faltered, and his smirk widened, leaning down to brush his mouth just below your jaw, trailing fire wherever he touched. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan, the sound vibrating against your skin and igniting a reckless thrill.

He hovered over you, his eyes boring into yours, the heat between you searing. “Tell me to stop.” he rasped, a taunt that made your pulse quicken. Before you could answer, his lips claimed yours again, hard and consuming, leaving no room for second thoughts.

Clothes slipped away in a flurry of heated motions, the cool air biting at your exposed skin for only a moment before he was there, pressing into you, suffocating and electrifying all at once. The room was filled with sharp breaths and quiet gasps as he explored, each touch setting off a chain reaction you couldn’t control.

Every move was a silent challenge, a push and pull of dominance and surrender. His teeth grazed your collarbone, earning a shiver that he answered with a dark chuckle, fingers tracing paths that left you arching into him. Your nails raked down his back, pulling a hiss from him that made something dark and thrilling coil in your chest.

The space between you became suffocating, bodies moving together in a rhythm that left no room for tenderness, only hunger. Every gasp, every whispered name, was laced with defiance and something deeper, something both of you refused to name.

"The contract..." you muttered, the reality of the situation cutting through the haze that still clung to your mind. The gravity of what just happened settled between you like an uninvited guest.

Mingyu's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He scoffed, the sound low and bitter. "Fuck, my lawyer doesn’t need to know about this," he said, half to himself and half to you, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

"So, did you sleep together?"

Jeonghan’s sharp question made you choke on the sip of tea his secretary had brought in moments earlier. You managed not to spill any as you placed the delicate cup back on the table, eyes locking with Jeonghan's. He was grinning, eyes sharp and teasing as they assessed your reaction.

"No..." he continued before you could answer, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I mean, I heard you moved in." He restated, though the pointed look in his eyes suggested he already suspected the truth.

"It was a business contract, Jeonghan," you responded evenly, though the words felt flimsy in the air. Jeonghan, who insisted you call him by his first name as though he wanted no reminder of his father’s legacy, hummed, tilting his head as if inviting you to elaborate.

"A three-month contract to get Hyorin back," you said, your voice steadying. "You probably already know this, but he wanted me to play the role of his fake girlfriend." At the end of your words, Jeonghan let out a dry chuckle, the sound mirthless.

"I can't believe he's that childish," he muttered. His gaze shifted, scrutinizing your face as if trying to read between the lines. "And what did you get out of this little arrangement?" he pressed.

You hesitated before muttering, "He paid my debt... 35 billion won."

Jeonghan’s eyes widened briefly before he masked his surprise. "That's a lot of money for three months," he said, watching you nod in agreement. "That’s life-changing."

"I plan to give it back when the contract ends," you admitted, almost shyly.

Jeonghan's brow lifted in disbelief, as though you’d just declared you were planning to burn the money. "Don't give it back. Keep it," he said, leaning forward with sudden intensity. "At least take that much from him after everything."

You let out a small, hollow laugh. "I helped him because he's my friend," you said, your voice tinged with a bitter edge. "And, as I told you yesterday... for his parents. I’ll work hard and pay my own debts."

Jeonghan went quiet, his eyes narrowed in contemplation, taking in every word as if filing them away.

"May I know what kind of situation landed you with that much debt?" he finally asked.

You bit your lip, the weight of the past pressing down like a heavy cloak. It was complicated, a story rooted in tragedy. "It wasn’t originally my debt; it was my father’s," you began, your voice tight. "He owned a production house and partnered with a young director, Lee Beomjae. The project was ambitious, with a promise of 100 billion won. Beomjae even invested his own money, but then... everything collapsed. The company went bankrupt when my father died in a car accident, and my mother... she couldn’t bear it and took her own life. The business fell apart, and no one wanted to pick up the pieces. That left me with 35 billion won I couldn't escape."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. You took another sip of tea, anything to break the tension that stretched between you and Jeonghan.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes studying you with newfound understanding. "Here’s what I think, Y/n," he said, voice soft but unwavering. "Mingyu wanted you to be his contract girlfriend, paid you a fortune, and you signed up for it. Yet, you didn’t take the money. I don’t know any friend who’d go to those lengths for someone."

He paused, his eyes narrowing as a knowing smirk spread across his lips.

"Unless..."

"You have feelings for him."

You were certain you didn't have any feelings for Mingyu. That much you knew. But whatever had happened between you and Jeonghan earlier in the office was beyond your control. The way his presence felt so imposing, so suffocating—it was like being caught in a storm you never saw coming. Jeonghan was a menace. You could tell just from the way his eyes glinted with malicious amusement, always reveling in the discomfort or pain of others. And that included his friend, Mingyu.

"Okay, let's say you don’t have feelings for him." Jeonghan's voice cut through the tension, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as if he'd already dismissed your objections.

Without warning, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. His thumb slid across the screen, and it lit up with a name that made your stomach drop—Mingyu.

What on earth was Jeonghan up to? Why was he calling Mingyu? Your heart began to pound in your chest as the phone rang, the sound impossibly loud in the stillness of the room.

The line clicked, and Mingyu's familiar voice came through, bright and casual. "Jeonghan... What’s up?"

The friendly tone was jarring to your senses. This was the voice of someone you'd never heard since you threw yourself into this mess with Mingyu. Certainly not the same voice from last night, the one that had been cold and cutting. The same man who, earlier that morning, had made his feelings crystal clear.

“I would never kiss you like I like you, Y/N. You’re a cheap woman. And even if you were the only woman in this world, I still wouldn’t kiss you like I liked you. You understand?”

The words echoed in your mind as if they were still fresh, still raw. The anger, the frustration—it didn’t hurt as much anymore. It was just a painful truth you had come to terms with: he had turned into a bastard. And that realization, as much as you tried to deny it, was freeing.

Jeonghan, however, seemed to savor every moment. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes dancing with mischief as he spoke into the phone.

“I’m with your girlfriend now,” he chirped, his voice dripping with amusement. He glanced over at you, his gaze mischievous. "I invited her over, and she came. She’s a beautiful woman."

There was a long, tense pause on the other side. No immediate reaction. You weren’t expecting one. There was no way Mingyu would get upset that you were here with Jeonghan. He had no reason to. His obsession with his ex, Hyorin, was enough to blind him to everything else.

Jeonghan’s eyes met yours again, but now there was something almost predatory in them as he leaned in closer. “I feel like I don’t deserve his money…” you had told him earlier, confessing a doubt you had never voiced before. And Jeonghan, with his wicked grin, had been quick to respond.

“I’ll help you feel like you deserve it, Y/N,” he’d promised, the words laced with an implication you were too afraid to fully understand.

The phone call continued, Jeonghan now speaking directly to you. “What do you think of my office, darling?” His voice was low, too casual. "How about that... table? Do you like my table?"

You were growing more confused by the second. What the hell was he trying to imply with these questions? Was it a game to him? Did it even matter?

But it was the next question that threw everything into chaos, sending a rush of heat to your face and tightening your chest.

“What do you think about Mingyu?” Jeonghan’s voice was calm but probing. "Do you like being his girlfriend?"

The silence from Mingyu on the other end only made everything worse. You could feel him listening, silently absorbing everything Jeonghan was about to say. The pressure was unbearable, and you found yourself biting down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the tension building inside you. You didn’t want to answer, didn’t know how to.

But you saw the glint in Jeonghan’s eyes. It was playful—too playful—and you knew that once that look took hold, there was no turning back.

“And how about being mine?” Jeonghan’s voice was a low, smooth whisper, the words hanging in the air like a threat, a challenge.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Mingyu still hadn’t said anything. The silence between the three of you was suffocating, thick with unspoken implications. You could almost hear Jeonghan’s smirk widening, could almost feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, daring you to react.

Mingyu pounded into you with an urgency that felt primal, as if his very existence depended on it. Just an hour earlier, he had stormed into the house, eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite name—desperation, jealousy, rage. You'd barely finished toweling off from your shower when he burst through the door, demanding to know why you had been with Jeonghan.

“I was with Hyorin when you called,” you said, the confusion in your voice palpable.

His jaw clenched at the mention of Hyorin. So it wasn’t just Jeonghan's presence that set him off, but the fact that he was with Hyorin?

The realization simmered between you like a storm on the verge of breaking. But then, without another word, Mingyu had closed the distance, capturing your lips in a kiss that silenced your questions and pulled your body flush against his. It was as if Hyorin had never stood between you, as if she didn’t matter at all. The intensity in his eyes told you everything: he was lost, consumed, and somewhere beneath that, afraid.

Why, then, did he hold you as if the world might end in two months?

Was Hyorin really the cause of this frantic need?

Or was there more that he hadn’t told you?

Mingyu gripped your waist and lifted you onto the dining table, the hard edge pressing into your thighs. The table Jeonghan had mentioned in passing just today, in a tone laced with mischief.

Was this what Mingyu had been stewing over? The idea of Jeonghan touching you in his office?

“You’re mine the moment you signed that contract,” he growled, the heat of his breath grazing your ear as he buried himself inside you with an urgent, unrelenting rhythm.

His hands moved up to cup your breasts, fingers curling possessively around them as his voice dropped, husky and rough. “Gotta make my 35 billion worth it, right?"

The next morning, you woke up in Mingyu's arms, the remnants of the night clinging to your skin like a whispered secret. The blaring sound of your alarm shattered the silence, signaling the beginning of a day that promised exhaustion and long hours on set in another city. You shifted slightly, feeling the ache from the bruises on your body.

“Did I do that?” Mingyu’s voice, unexpectedly soft, cut through the tension hanging in the room. His eyes were wide with concern as they traced the discolored marks along your skin.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, surprised to see him fully awake, studying you with an expression you hadn’t seen in a while. He was too caught up in his own world to notice these things — too focused on himself last night. You almost wanted to tell him that they weren’t his doing, that it was Beomjae’s cruelty imprinted on you, but you knew better. Mingyu wouldn’t care. Or would he?

“No, it’s not you,” you whispered, the lie slipping out as easily as breathing.

Mingyu sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and reached out to touch the edge of a bruise that crept up your shoulder. “Who did this to you?” His voice was strained, eyes darkening. “Isn’t it painful? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

You looked at him for a long moment, searching for a hint of sincerity behind his sudden worry. He looked almost unrecognizable, stripped of his usual indifference, as though the man you once knew was peeking through. A weary sigh left your lips as you pushed yourself up and wrapped a robe around your sore body.

“It’s none of your business, Mingyu,” you said with a practiced coldness, shielding yourself from whatever softness he was trying to show.

“It is my business. You’re my girlfriend,” he protested, his tone almost petulant, as if he truly believed his own words.

A bitter chuckle escaped you. “Are you even listening to yourself, Kim Mingyu?” The disbelief in your voice echoed through the room as you moved to the vanity, tying your hair with mechanical precision. In the mirror, you caught a glimpse of his confusion, brows furrowed and eyes clouded with something unreadable.

“Just stick to being yourself,” you added, the edge in your tone slicing through any pretense of warmth. Before he could respond, you turned away and began preparing for the long day ahead, leaving whatever half-formed thoughts he had unspoken.

You arrived at the shooting location on time, weaving through bustling crew members as they prepped for the day. Greeting everyone with polite nods and smiles, you slid seamlessly into your work. Without the support of a label or company, there was no manager trailing behind you. Every break was spent alone, sitting in your old, worn-out car, waiting for the next call.

“Everyone knows they cast her just because she’s Kim Mingyu’s girlfriend.” The whispers were never far, a constant background noise you had learned to ignore.

You pushed through the two or three scenes you had, monitoring them closely on playback to ensure your performance held up. It was in places like this where you soaked up everything you could, learning and growing, despite the limitations of playing minor roles. The space for growth was narrow, but you squeezed through whatever cracks you found.

“Hey, I’m Boo Seungkwan.” The voice was friendly, and when you looked up, the assistant director stood before you with an open, sincere expression.

You stood and bowed politely. “I’m Ji Y/N. Please take care of me.”,

Boo Seungkwan was a familiar presence on set, a talented and respected assistant director who had built a strong reputation despite his young age. You knew he wouldn’t approach you without reason, which made your heart race with a mix of anticipation and dread.

“Are you the daughter of Ji Jinkyung?” The question hit you like a cold wave.

Your breath caught for a moment. How did he know? You had spent years avoiding this truth, never mentioning your father’s name to anyone. The rise and fall of Ji Jinkyung had been a scandal splashed across headlines when JiPH declared bankruptcy, a tragedy soon followed by your mother’s death. You weren’t ashamed of your past; you were haunted by the guilt of the lives that crumbled alongside your family’s fall.

Seungkwan’s eyes softened with a mix of curiosity and sympathy. “I remember seeing you on set with him every weekend,” he said, nostalgia lacing his voice. “And I saw ‘Morning Mourn.’ You were incredible in that film.”

The memory stung, but you masked it with a practiced smile. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Driving home, Seungkwan’s words lingered like a dark cloud. If Lee Beomjae was spreading the truth about your identity, the ripple effect could be devastating. If the rumor reached the media, the production team could drop you without hesitation. Seungkwan’s heads-up was a lifeline, a warning to prepare yourself.

You parked outside and dialed Beomjae’s number, the cold metal of your phone pressed against your ear as the night air seeped into your bones. You had to confront him, to make sure he understood that spreading rumors would ruin everything—whatever thin strand of normalcy you were clinging to while trying to repay the impossible debt he held over you. You felt foolish, lost in the labyrinth of his manipulation. Was the debt even real? Or was it just another tool he used to torture you, to remind you of your powerlessness?

The vibration of an incoming message pulled you from your thoughts.

“Come to my parents’ house. There’s something they want to discuss with you.”

Mingyu’s text sat on your screen, an unexpected summons that left you staring, uncertain of what awaited you on the other side.

“I don’t remember raising you like this.” Mingyu’s father stormed out of the room, leaving behind an icy silence that wrapped around his wife, their son, and the woman who had walked out on Mingyu at the altar just two months ago. Mingyu released a heavy sigh as he sank deeper into the couch, feeling the weight of the room pressing down on him. Next to him, Hyorin sat with her head bowed, looking as fragile as porcelain, having come to his parents earlier to plead for their acceptance—an act that had summoned Mingyu here in a rush.

“Your father’s right, Mingyu. You’re crossing a line,” his mother said, her voice taut with disappointment. “When we heard you had a girlfriend, we assumed it would be someone we didn’t know. But imagine our shock when we found out it was Y/N. She’s like a daughter to us, Mingyu.”

Hyorin’s confession had unraveled everything. She had exposed Mingyu’s plan to win her back, even spilling the details to his parents. Mingyu had thought he could play for time—hold Hyorin off just long enough to make his next move. He hadn’t expected her to take matters into her own hands and throw everything into chaos.

“She agreed to it, Mother,” Mingyu defended, his voice low and strained. “She needs money—a lot of it. And she’s not the same Y/N you remember. She’s changed.”

His mother scoffed at his justification, a sound filled with disbelief and disdain. “Listen to yourself, Mingyu. Do you even hear how ridiculous you sound?” She stood up abruptly, the soft rustle of her skirt filling the silence as she followed her husband out of the room.

Mingyu’s heart sank deeper into his chest. The finality of his mother’s parting words echoed back at him as she turned at the doorway, her gaze steely and resolute. “This conversation isn’t over. I will speak to Y/N myself.”

Mingyu slumped back against the couch, the tension in his shoulders not easing even a bit. He glanced at his phone. The text he’d sent you over an hour ago remained unanswered, and now your silence gnawed at him with fresh urgency.

“I’m sorry,” Hyorin whispered, her hands trembling as she covered her face. Tears threatened to spill, and she struggled to hold them back. “I didn’t mean for it to get this big. I was desperate.”

Mingyu’s eyes softened, a sigh slipping past his lips. “No need to apologize, Hyorin. It’s done.”

“I promise I’ll do better,” she said, her voice breaking. “But please, stop this, Mingyu. Let’s go back to how things were. Let her go and come back to me.”

Mingyu drove home with a storm of thoughts churning in his mind. Frustration clenched his jaw tight, fueling his anger. You hadn't shown up when he needed you, and the disappointment gnawed at him. His parents refused to have a conversation without you; they cherished you, even after all these years apart. And Mingyu despised you for that. You were always the one they looked at with warmth, while he stood in the shadow of their expectations.

As he pushed open the door to the apartment, prepared to unleash another round of arguments with you, a familiar ritual that often ended with the two of you waking up next to each other in uneasy silence the next morning, he froze. His anger drained as he took in the sight before him. You were lying on the couch, eyes closed, face bruised and lips swollen.

“Who did this to you?” Mingyu’s voice cracked with urgency, his earlier frustration transforming into a different kind of rage. He crossed the room in three quick strides and cupped your face, startling you awake with his touch. The worry in his eyes felt foreign, almost out of place, but it was there, unmistakable.

You blinked at him, dazed and confused, mumbling something he couldn’t quite catch. But Mingyu wasn’t listening. His eyes traced the darkening bruise on your cheekbone and the split in your lip, and an irrational fury bubbled up inside him. The idea that someone had hurt you like this made his blood run hot.

“Tell me who did this to you,” he pressed, his tone leaving no room for evasion. His fingers gripped your jaw just tight enough to draw your gaze, his own eyes blazing. He didn’t know what he would do once he had a name, but he was too far gone in his anger to care.

“I fell during shooting and hurt myself,” you whispered, eyes darting away from his.

Mingyu’s shoulders slumped slightly as he exhaled, the tension simmering down just enough for him to think. Without a word, he stood and retrieved the first aid kit and a bowl of ice cubes, kneeling beside you and insisting on tending to your injuries.

“How was the meeting?” you asked, breaking the heavy silence as he dabbed an antiseptic on your lip with more gentleness than you expected.

“Is that really important right now?” he scoffed, pressing the cloth to your bruised cheek. “We need to go to the hospital.”

You shook your head, a stubborn glint in your eyes. “It’ll heal.”

Mingyu’s movements faltered when you added, “I heard Hyorin was there. Did you get back together?”

He stiffened, setting the ice aside as his eyes met yours. “How do you know?” His tone was sharp, a thread of suspicion woven through it. “Were you there?”

You nodded, wincing as the motion pulled at your sore skin. “I came by for a bit. The maid mentioned Hyorin was inside, so I stayed back. I waited for over an hour, but I realized it would take longer, so I left.”

Mingyu’s frustration returned, tinged with a different emotion this time. “With your face looking like this? Are you always this stupid, Y/N?” His voice cracked, half-worried, half-angry.

You flinched but kept your gaze steady. “So, did you take her back?”

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, the action filled with exasperation. “Is that what matters right now? You’re hurt, Y/N. I didn’t even know until I walked in the door.”

A confused look crossed your face as you whispered, “But that’s why we’re doing all of this, Mingyu. We need Hyorin back, for your sake.”

Mingyu stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in and tying knots in his chest. Your face was a mess of bruises, but there you sat, so focused on his plan, on helping him, as if your own pain didn't matter at all. The guilt gnawed at him, tearing apart the flimsy walls he’d built around himself.

Maybe what Mingyu feel about you lately is just a guilt. He just... pity you, that's it.

One month left before you’d be officially disboyfriended Mingyu. The term you coined mocked you with its bitter humor as you called Jeonghan, settling into the driver’s seat of your car. The air around you was heavy after your meeting with Hyorin. She had been surprisingly composed, delivering her message with a practiced smile: Mingyu and she were getting back together. Mingyu had even promised to escort her to the Jeon annual event this weekend, a public confirmation of their rekindled relationship.

You gritted your teeth, the irony not lost on you—did Hyorin know that for the past month, Mingyu had been tangled up with you, both in mind and body? The betrayal tasted metallic on your tongue.

Jeonghan picked up on the third ring. “So, what’s up?” His casual tone brought a semblance of calm to your frayed nerves.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for what you were about to commit to. “I’m in,” you said, voice low but firm.

There was a pause before Jeonghan chuckled, the sound both amused and intrigued. “What are you implying?” His voice took on a more serious edge, probing for clarity.

“I’ll take your offer,” you clarified, the weight of the words sinking in. “The offer to make me feel like I deserve his money.”

Jeonghan’s laughter came through, rich and approving. “That’s my girl,” he said with a hint of pride. “Alright, listen. Here’s the plan: meet me at my store in Gangnam after lunch.”

A few hours later, you stood under the warm glow of boutique lights as Jeonghan’s keen eyes assessed you. The racks around you were adorned with high-end pieces—silk, satin, tailored elegance. He moved from one option to another, fingers sliding over fabrics, before selecting a few and holding them up against your frame.

“Change into this,” he said, gesturing to a piece that was an explosion of jewel-toned fabric. You nodded and disappeared behind the velvet curtain of the fitting room. The process repeated: outfits changed, critiques delivered. A disapproving headshake here, a muttered comment there—“Not good enough,” he’d say, or a more frustrated, “We need an emergency meeting with the designers. Yoonique has to fit everyone.”

Then, you stepped out in the last dress. Jeonghan’s eyes lit up, and he gasped, genuinely taken aback. The black satin dress hugged your body like a secret, long-sleeved and sleek, with an open back that hinted at danger and a neckline that dipped tastefully. A slit ran high on your thigh, exposing just enough skin to catch anyone’s attention. It was bold yet elegant—perfect.

“That’s it,” he said, satisfaction curling his lips into a smirk. “It’s yours.” He stood and circled you slowly, eyeing the bruises that marred the expanse of your back. His smirk faded, replaced by a frown. “We’ll need to cover these. Is this from Beomjae?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.

You nodded, catching the muttered “that bastard” that escaped him. Jeonghan’s eyes met yours, a silent promise lingering there: no more bruises, not after today.

On the day of the Jeon annual event, you arrived with Jeonghan, knowing full well the storm of media attention it would draw. 'Mingyu's girlfriend seen with Jeonghan, while Mingyu arrives with the ex-fiancée who left him at the altar.' The headline alone promised chaos and scandal.

Jeonghan had made you two promises. First, he would help you with Beomjae. His legal team was already working on investigating the debt that bound you to that abusive man, ensuring you wouldn't owe a penny and that Beomjae would face justice for what he had done. Second, he would help you reclaim yourself—to feel whole and worthy, with or without Mingyu in the picture.

“Tell me, since when?” Jeonghan’s question came out of nowhere as the two of you drove back from his store that day. The question made your heart stutter.

“Since when what?” you asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Jeonghan scoffed lightly, his eyes flickering with a knowing glint. “Since when did you start liking Mingyu?”

The silence stretched, and you searched your memory, trying to pinpoint the moment. Since when? Had you even realized you still liked him? Or was it a relic of the childhood crush you’d once harbored? Memories trickled in: Mingyu as the boy who would lose every game with his friends but somehow always win when he played with you—because you let him. That’s what you remembered most clearly. The rest blurred into moments that felt as if they had always existed.

In high school, things shifted. Conversations became sparse, reserved for those rare moments when home felt stifling, and you’d climb into each other’s bedroom windows just to share the silence. Then, without warning, he had to leave. Distance stretched across miles and years, and life pushed you apart. Your father’s passing forced you to sell your phone, cutting off all contact. What once felt close turned distant, and the feelings that remained had never been addressed.

You exhaled shakily, unable to meet Jeonghan’s gaze. “I...I don’t know,” you admitted. Shame colored your voice—shame that after everything, after being discarded and treated like an afterthought, you still cared for him.

Jeonghan’s arm encircled your waist as the two of you stepped into the grand ballroom, the low hum of whispers swelling as eyes followed your entrance. The whispers said everything you were thinking. Why was Mingyu’s girlfriend with Jeonghan when Mingyu had walked in with Hyorin? The question echoed in your mind too.

Jeonghan, ever composed, treated you like royalty throughout the event. His voice dipped to a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned in. “Just follow my lead,” he instructed. If anyone knew how to navigate this social minefield, it was him.

But when you excused yourself to go to the restroom, a hand shot out from the shadows of the corridor, pulling you into a quiet corner. Your back hit the wall, and you were met with Mingyu’s fierce gaze, a tempest swirling in his eyes.

“Why are you here with Jeonghan? He’s my friend,” Mingyu hissed, voice laced with anger barely contained.

You lifted your chin, meeting his glare head-on. “Am I not allowed to be here? Is it because of my status?” The pointed question carried the sting of Hyorin’s earlier remark: ‘You’re not on Mingyu’s level, Y/N.’

Mingyu’s brows pulled together in frustration. “What? That’s not what I meant! I’m asking why you’re with Jeonghan.” His voice strained as he pressed you lightly against the wall.

You took a steadying breath, finding a surge of confidence within yourself. “Because you didn’t invite me. Jeonghan did."

“Everyone knows you’re my girlfriend!” His voice cracked, the desperation seeping through.

You scoffed, your eyes narrowing. “But you showed up with your ex, so tell me, Mingyu, what’s the difference?”

He faltered, searching for words. “I didn’t come with her. We just met here!”

“Does it even matter?” Your voice dropped, quiet and weary. The fight in you waned as reality set in.

Mingyu’s eyes blazed with anger as your words echoed between you. He took a sharp breath, fists clenching at his sides. “What’s gotten into you? Are you even hearing yourself? We’re still in contract!” he reminded you, his tone harsh and commanding.

“So what? We already broke the contract the moment you put your hands on me, Mingyu,” you shot back, holding your ground. “There’s nothing in the agreement saying other men can’t do the same.”

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened as he stepped closer, the space between you suffocating. “Did you sleep with Jeonghan?” The question came out as a growl, possessive and edged with jealousy.

You tilted your chin defiantly. “It’s not your business, Mingyu. I can do whatever I want.”

“No,” he said, voice low but brimming with fury. “You’re my girlfriend. I paid you to be my girlfriend, and you should listen to me. We’re going home.”

The statement cut through you, reminding you of the transactional nature of what was supposed to be a façade. It was true, he’d paid you to play this role, but somewhere along the way, the lines had blurred. Your heart thudded in your chest as you wondered what awaited you once you returned to his house. The memory of last night lingered—how your bodies had moved in sync, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

But tonight, the air was different, thick with tension and unspoken truths. You swallowed hard, worrying if there were still any condoms left in his house, remembering using the last one in a moment of impulsive passion. Your pulse quickened at the thought of what this confrontation could mean, unsure whether it would spiral into a battle or ignite something deeper.

Hyorin had asked you that one time, "Are you two sleeping together in our room?" Her question was layered with implications. Was she trying to confirm if you and Mingyu had crossed that line? Or was she mocking you by emphasizing our room, as if to remind you that she once had ownership over that space, even after she left him on the altar? Your mind raced with anger and confusion. The only thing you wanted to do as you sat across from her was to slap that smug smile off her face. How dare she come back after everything she'd done?

“Why?” The word slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it.

Hyorin’s smile widened, cruel and taunting. “Well, he doesn’t like anyone else in his bed, so I was wondering if you sleep there, in our room. I mean, the master bedroom. I’m sorry…” Her tone dripped with insincerity, and you knew she wasn’t sorry at all.

The memory stung as you woke up before dawn. You were back in your own room, while Mingyu lay sleeping beside you. The events of last night still echoed in your mind. After he dragged you out of the event, you had dared to ask him, almost pleading, if the two of you could sleep in his room instead.

“No. I don’t like when someone else enters my room,” he had said, his voice cold and detached.

“But you said I’m your girlfriend,” you had whispered, trying to understand where you truly stood.

Mingyu’s gaze darkened. “You’re just a girlfriend I paid for. Don’t ask for more.”

The words cut through you like a blade. You sighed and gently pulled yourself from his embrace, a hollowness settling deep inside. It was time. You couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

He had Hyorin back. The proof sat on the nightstand—his check for 35 billion won, neatly tucked under his phone. Your job was done. Everything you had endured, every humiliation and compromise, had led to this. And it wasn’t enough to let you into his real space, his heart. You knew then that Jeonghan was right; staying by Mingyu’s side would only continue to break you.

You packed your essentials silently, fighting the lump in your throat, and slipped out of the house before the sun rose. You drove aimlessly, just needing to be far away. Your apartment wasn’t safe with Beomjae still lurking; Jeonghan had warned you that it might take two more months to gather enough evidence to protect you in court. He urged patience, but today you had none left.

All this time, every sacrifice you made for Mingyu, every part of yourself you gave, it was never enough for him to let you into his true sanctuary. It was time to go, time to leave behind the pain and reclaim whatever was left of yourself.

Mingyu woke up to an emptiness that gnawed at him immediately. He reached out instinctively, expecting to feel your warmth beside him, but his hand met only cold sheets. He sat up, confusion creasing his brow as he glanced around the room. The stillness was unsettling, the house too quiet.

“Y/n?” he called out, his voice breaking the silence. He listened, hoping for the sound of your voice or even the light shuffle of your footsteps. Nothing. A wave of irritation surged through him as he threw back the covers and stood up, the cool floor beneath his feet doing nothing to temper his rising anger.

He strode through the house, checking the kitchen, the living room, even the guest room. Empty. The frustration that had simmered inside him since the event now boiled over. Why would you leave without saying anything?

As he stormed back into yout room, something on the nightstand caught his eye. The check he had written for you sat there, staring back at him like an accusation. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. The sight of it made his blood run cold and hot all at once.

It was the final insult. You hadn’t just left—you had left him with the one thing that symbolized the transactional nature of your relationship, the thing that once gave him control but now mocked him with your absence. He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles turned white. The implications of you leaving the check behind sent a spike of panic through him, laced with anger. You were rejecting everything: the arrangement, the money, him.

“Damn it, Y/n!” he roared, sweeping his arm across the nightstand. The check, his phone, and a glass of water crashed to the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the room, mirroring the turmoil inside him.

He paced back and forth, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The idea of you walking out without a word gnawed at him. You had always been the one constant in his chaotic life, the one person who, despite everything, was there. Now, the emptiness felt sharper than ever, and he realized too late how deep your absence cut.

Mingyu grabbed his phone from the floor, ignoring the cracked screen as he tried to call you. The call rang once, twice, and then went straight to voicemail. Frustration clawed at him as he dialed again, the unanswered call only fueling his desperation.

“Pick up, damn it,” he muttered under his breath. The third call met the same fate, and it was then that a sinking feeling set in. This wasn’t just you leaving for a break. This was different.

He stared at the check on the floor, now crumpled and stained with water. The reality of your departure settled heavily on his chest. You were gone, and for the first time, he felt the weight of what it meant to be truly alone.

Mingyu stormed into Jeonghan's office first thing in the morning, his eyes dark with urgency and frustration. Jeonghan, who had been informed of his sudden arrival, greeted him with a polite smile that quickly faded at the sight of Mingyu’s tense expression.

"Where’s Y/n?" Mingyu demanded, his voice sharp and accusing. Jeonghan’s smile faltered as confusion clouded his features. What did he mean?

"She’s gone, Jeonghan. And you were with her last night," Mingyu continued, his tone carrying a hint of accusation, referencing the moment you arrived at the event on Jeonghan’s arm.

Jeonghan’s brows knitted together, a flash of realization and disbelief crossing his face. "No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "You were the one who took her home. You dragged her out of the event, remember?"

Mingyu’s expression darkened, and he muttered a curse under his breath. "Shit."

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, studying the man in front of him. "What’s going on, Mingyu?" he pressed, his voice steady but probing. The room felt heavy with the weight of what was left unsaid.

Mingyu bit his lip, his eyes darting around as if searching for the right words. "It’s... complicated," he finally mumbled, his shoulders tense.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. "What could possibly be too complicated for me to understand? The contract? The debt? Spill it."

Mingyu’s eyes widened slightly. He knew? Did you tell Jeonghan everything? After a moment’s hesitation, Mingyu nodded, acknowledging Jeonghan’s knowledge. His mind raced as he tried to piece together what you might have shared.

"I wrote her a check for 35 billion won. She was in debt, so I helped her, and in return, she helped me with... well, everything. But now she’s gone," Mingyu’s voice cracked as he threw his hands up in exasperation, his frustration palpable.

Jeonghan was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a deep sigh, he said, "She didn’t take the money."

Mingyu’s heart skipped a beat, disbelief flickering across his face. Did you tell Jeonghan that as well? The thought of you leaving behind the money he had given you felt like a slap in the face.

"If she’s gone, she’s really gone, Mingyu," Jeonghan said quietly, a hint of empathy coloring his tone. "You have Hyorin back, don’t you?"

Mingyu’s eyes flashed with something close to desperation. He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it further. "This isn’t about Hyorin," he said, almost growling the words.

Jeonghan nodded slowly, a knowing look settling on his face. "I know. You're confused right now, I can tell. But maybe you need to ask yourself why it’s not about Hyorin anymore."

Mingyu paced back and forth in Jeonghan’s office, his mind racing with thoughts that tangled and frayed like a rope under too much pressure. Every moment that passed without you felt like sand slipping through an hourglass, a reminder of how close he was to losing you for good.

“Jeonghan, tell me where she went,” Mingyu’s voice cracked, a rare vulnerability shining through his usually composed demeanor. He wasn’t used to feeling so out of control, and it gnawed at him.

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, watching him with a look that was part sympathy, part indifference. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” Jeonghan said, his tone as calm as ever. “You need to figure this out for yourself, Mingyu. Chasing her without understanding why she left won’t help either of you.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenched, frustration coursing through him. “I don’t need a lecture, Jeonghan. I need answers,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “You said you knew everything, so why won’t you help me?”

Jeonghan sighed and stood up, walking over to the window where sunlight filtered in, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. “Mingyu, you’re looking for her like she’s an answer to a problem. But she’s not an answer—she’s a person who needed more than you were willing to give,” Jeonghan said, turning to face him. “And if you don’t understand that, you won’t find her in any meaningful way.”

Mingyu’s breath quickened as anger and panic warred inside him. He wanted to shout, to lash out, but deep down, he knew Jeonghan was right. You had left, and it wasn’t just because of Hyorin, or the contract, or the money—it was because he hadn’t given you what you truly needed. A place in his life that was more than just obligation or arrangement.

Mingyu paused in the doorway, half-turned back to Jeonghan, who was still watching him with an expression that mingled curiosity and challenge. The silence crackled between them, charged and tense.

“I’m doing this because she’s my friend,” Mingyu finally said, his voice strained as if he was convincing himself as much as Jeonghan. “I love Hyorin. I always have. This isn’t about feelings, it’s about doing the right thing.”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed, a wry smile curving his lips. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the window frame. “Your friend?” he echoed, the words laced with skepticism. “Mingyu, if she was just a friend, you wouldn’t be standing here, desperate and wild-eyed because she left. You wouldn’t have risked everything to keep her by your side.”

“I’m not risking anything!” Mingyu’s voice rose, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m looking for her because she needs help, not because—”

“Not because what?” Jeonghan cut in, raising an eyebrow. “Not because you’re afraid of losing her? Not because seeing her with someone else drove you crazy last night? Tell me, Mingyu, what kind of ‘friend’ does that?”

Mingyu felt the heat creep up his neck, anger and confusion tangling in his chest. He opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t find the words. Every accusation Jeonghan made landed too close to the truth, hitting on a part of him he refused to acknowledge.

“It’s not like that,” Mingyu muttered, though even to his own ears, it sounded hollow. “She’s different. She was there for me when no one else was, and now she’s gone. I owe her, Jeonghan. That’s all.”

Jeonghan stepped forward, his expression softening for a moment. “If you owe her, then give her more than just this frantic search. Be honest with yourself. If she’s just a friend, why did you let her become more? And if she’s more, why are you fighting so hard to deny it?”

Mingyu looked down, the room blurring as his thoughts spiraled. Memories of you, laughter shared in quiet moments, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him—all of it clashed with the image of Hyorin, the woman he once thought he’d spend his life with. The weight of conflicting emotions pressed down on him until he could barely breathe.

He turned away from Jeonghan without another word, storming out of the office, his mind a chaotic mess.

Jeonghan sighed as he pulled out his phone, his fingers tapping impatiently as he called you. It took five rings before you finally picked up.

"Sorry, I had a shoot," you muttered, your voice laced with exhaustion. But that wasn’t the answer Jeonghan was looking for.

"You didn’t take the money. What is wrong with you?" he shot back, frustration sharp in his tone.

There was a pause on your end, the kind of pause that said more than words ever could. Then, a quiet sigh slipped through. "How do you know?"

"Kim Mingyu stormed into my office looking for you," Jeonghan said, his voice growing more clipped. "He’s running around like a madman, and you didn’t take the money! I thought we were clear, Y/n."

But it hadn’t been clear, and Jeonghan knew that. It was never clear when it came to you and Mingyu. Silence lingered on the line, thick and telling.

You thought you’d fallen in love alone.

Jeonghan wanted to scream at you, to tell you that Mingyu loved you back. He wanted to shout that Mingyu’s ego was too big for him to admit it, that Hyorin was a convenient excuse, and that the people around him had only ever clouded his judgment. But Jeonghan wasn’t naive. He knew Mingyu better than that. Deep down, he knew Mingyu cared for you. No, it was more than that — Mingyu wanted you. He just didn’t know how to want you properly.

"It’s complicated," you muttered, the words barely above a breath.

Jeonghan pressed a hand to his forehead, fingers threading through his hair. Since when had he, of all people, failed to understand "complicated"? He'd seen it from the beginning — the way Mingyu's gaze lingered too long on you, the way your eyes softened at the sight of him. He saw it every time Mingyu made an excuse for you to stay. Complicated was an understatement.

"Okay," Jeonghan exhaled heavily, trying to stay calm. "Where are you?"

"Why should I tell you?" you countered, voice laced with weariness and defiance. "I’m just at a shoot. It’s a little far away."

Jeonghan let out a dry scoff. "Don’t play with me, Y/n. I’m not in the mood." His eyes darted to the window, the sunlight blinding but not nearly as irritating as the situation. "I need to make sure Beomjae doesn't get to you. Who’s gonna do that after you left Mingyu, huh?"

There was another pause, and this time it lasted longer. The weight of his words settled into the air, heavy and undeniable.

"Jeju," you finally admitted, voice quieter than before. "I’m in Jeju Island."

Jeonghan closed his eyes, letting the tension drain from his body. His head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling, lips curling into a faint, bitter smile.

"Of course you are," he muttered to himself, glancing out at the sky as if Jeju was close enough to see.

It was hard to control everything rationally when your heart had been battered one too many times — and it always seemed to be by the people you cared about most. Your father had left you with a crushing 35-billion-won debt. Your mother had left you behind as if you’d never existed. And now, Mingyu... You couldn’t even put into words what he had done to you, perhaps because he’d never truly been yours to begin with. He was just a friend. A friend who made you his contractual lover. How had it all come to this?

"That’s a wrap for tonight! Thank you so much for your hard work, everyone!" Boo Seungkwan's voice rang out loud and clear on set, cutting through the evening air.

He was the one who had cast you himself — handpicked you to play the lead in his film about a woman struggling with depression, seeking the meaning of life on Jeju Island. He’d told you he saw something in you, something raw and unspoken.

What a cruel twist of fate, you thought. The script no longer felt like a story you were telling. It had become your story. Every scene, every line, every emotion you were asked to portray felt like you were reliving your own pain on screen.

The crew slowly packed up, their tired voices fading as they made their way back to the rented house to rest. But you stayed behind, drawn to the shore like it had called your name. The night air was cool against your skin, and the steady lull of the waves was the only sound accompanying your thoughts.

You sat by the edge of the water, hugging your knees as you gazed at your reflection in the rippling surface. The moonlight softened the contours of your face, but it didn’t soften the hollow look in your eyes. The water moved, shimmering, shifting — it looked like it was calling you. Come closer, it seemed to say.

But you knew better. You knew that chasing that call wouldn’t solve anything. Ending it here wouldn’t leave anyone with peace — it would only leave scars. The kind of scars your mother had left behind when she vanished. She had been forgotten by most people, but for the ones who had loved her, the wounds never quite healed.

Who loves you, though?

The question struck you like a sudden gust of wind. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered, but tonight, the ache was sharper.

Has anyone ever truly loved you?

Your mind wandered to your first love.

Your first kiss.

Your first everything.

All of them had been with Kim Mingyu.

You blinked, your lips parting to whisper his name, "Kim Mingyu..." The sound of it disappeared into the breeze, unnoticed and unanswered.

It was foolish, you knew. Because at the end of it all, Mingyu didn’t love you. He loved someone else. Wi Hyorin.

Her name alone carried a weight you didn’t want to bear, but it settled on you regardless.

What’s so great about Wi Hyorin? you wondered bitterly, clenching your fists against your knees. Your heart wanted to scoff, but your mind was crueler.

She’s soft-spoken. Calm. Composed. Smart. And from a wealthy, well-respected family.

You let out a bitter laugh, hollow and sharp like glass breaking. Of course, it made sense. She was everything you weren’t.

So what about you?

Your lips pressed into a thin line. No words came to mind. Not a single one. Because what could you offer him? Debt? Baggage? A heart too bruised to believe in love anymore?

Nothing. That’s what.

The ocean breeze brushed past you, cold but oddly comforting, like a quiet reassurance that you were still here. Still alive. Still breathing. The waves rolled in and out, persistent and unyielding, never once doubting their place in the world. You envied them.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, letting the sound of the sea fill the hollow space inside you.

If only love could be as steady as the tide.

"Ji Y/n..."

The familiar voice made you freeze, your heart lurching in your chest. Slowly, you turned toward the source of the call.

Your eyes widened. Kim Mingyu.

He stood there, breathless, still in his office attire, his tie loosened and his hair slightly disheveled. His chest rose and fell with each sharp breath, as if he’d run straight from the city to find you. His gaze locked on yours, his brows drawn together in a deep, urgent frown.

"You—" you stumbled toward him, your mind scrambling for words. "How did you get here? Why are you here?"

He chuckled lightly, a dry, breathless sound. His eyes, however, were far from playful. They were intense, sharp with resolve.

"You really want me to chase you, huh?" His voice was low, almost like a whisper meant only for you.

Before you could even process his words, he moved. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, firm but gentle at the same time. His warmth seeped into you, his heartbeat thudding steadily against your ear. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, caught completely off guard by his sudden embrace.

"Mingyu, what are you—"

"I need you, Y/n." His voice was low, rough, filled with something raw and unfiltered. He leaned his head down, his breath fanning lightly against your hair. His words fell like quiet confessions against your ear, each one carrying more weight than the last. "I need you in my life."

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into his shirt as if you were afraid he might disappear.

"You’re—" you pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face. His eyes, usually so guarded, were bare now, stripped of all his usual bravado. You saw it there — the honesty, the fear, the vulnerability. The love.

Your heartbeat felt like it stopped entirely when his next words fell from his lips.

"I think I love you, Y/n," he said, his gaze unwavering, his tone steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling between you both.

You blinked, stunned into silence. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, faster and faster until it felt like it might burst.

"But..." Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. "What about Hyorin?"

Mingyu’s eyes softened. He let out a slow, measured breath, as if he’d been waiting for that question. His hand cupped the back of your head, his thumb gently tracing small circles against your hair. His forehead leaned against yours, eyes closed, his next words spoken with absolute certainty.

"Not once in the past three months did I think about anyone but you."

The weight of his words crushed every doubt you’d been holding. It wasn’t just something he’d said to convince you — it was the truth, raw and undeniable.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your chest tight with the weight of all the unspoken feelings you’d been burying for so long.

"You’re cruel," you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to hold back your tears. "You’re so, so cruel, Kim Mingyu."

"I know," he murmured, his eyes opening to meet yours, filled with guilt and something that looked too close to regret. "But I’m here now, Y/n. I’m here."

His arms tightened around you, his embrace firm and unyielding, as if he was afraid you’d disappear.

"And I’m not letting you go this time," he said softly, his voice steady but filled with an unshakable resolve.

Your breath came in shallow, uneven waves as you stared into his eyes. The weight of his words pressed down on you, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Your heart wanted to believe him, but your mind, bruised and battered by everything that had come before, hesitated.

"You say that now," you muttered, your gaze dropping to his chest where your hands rested, still clutching his shirt. "But what happens when it gets hard again, Mingyu? What happens when Hyorin looks at you like you’re her whole world, and you start to doubt this—" You swallowed hard, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. "—start to doubt me?"

He tilted his head, his eyes soft but unwavering. "I won’t."

"How can you be so sure?" Your voice cracked on the last word. "How am I supposed to believe you when it’s always been her? She was your dream, your everything. I was just—" Your voice broke entirely, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded. "I was just convenient."

"Stop," Mingyu said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. He cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him, really look at him. His eyes were darker than usual, filled with something you hadn’t seen before — clarity.

"You were never convenient," he said, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes closing as he breathed you in, like you were air after suffocating too long. "You were the only thing that ever made sense."

Your chest tightened, your breath hitching as you fought against the onslaught of emotions threatening to pull you under. "You’re just saying that because I left. People always want what they can’t have."

"No," he replied, his voice low but steady, carrying the weight of everything he’d been too blind to see before. "People always want what they’ve already lost."

Silence hung between you, thick and suffocating. The sound of waves crashing against the shore echoed in the distance, rhythmic and unending, a stark contrast to the storm brewing between you both.

"You didn’t lose me, Mingyu," you whispered, your voice small but certain. "You gave me away."

His face contorted with pain, his brows furrowing as if your words had physically struck him. His hands fell from your face, his head dropping low, his breathing sharp and shallow.

"You’re right," he muttered, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "I did."

You took a step back, needing space to breathe, needing distance before your heart betrayed you again. "So why are you here now, Mingyu? What do you want from me?"

He lifted his head, eyes wild with desperation, his gaze locking onto yours with a ferocity you’d never seen before. He stepped forward, closing the distance you’d tried to create.

"I want you," he said with such raw intensity that it left you breathless. "Not as a friend. Not as an arrangement. I want you because I’m in love with you, Y/n. And it took me losing you to realize it, but I know it now. I know it with every part of me."

Your breath hitched. The waves crashed louder in the distance, or maybe it was the thundering of your heart in your ears. You shook your head, backing away another step, but Mingyu followed.

"You’re just scared," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re scared because I hurt you. I get it. I hurt you worse than anyone else ever has, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. But I’m here now, and I’m telling you I won’t hurt you again."

"Don’t promise me things you can’t keep, Mingyu," you said, your voice trembling with exhaustion and heartbreak. "I’m so tired of hearing people say they’ll stay, only for them to walk away."

"I’m not walking away," he said, his eyes glinting with determination. His voice didn’t rise, but it carried a conviction so strong that it made you pause. He took one slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze unwavering. "If you tell me to leave, I will. But if you tell me to stay, Y/n, I’ll never leave again. I swear it."

His words hung in the air between you, delicate but unbreakable.

Your breath trembled, your body taut like a wire pulled too tight. "And if you’re lying?"

"I’m not," he answered immediately, his gaze steady and sure. "But if I ever do, you won’t have to leave me, Y/n. I’ll walk away myself, knowing I never deserved you in the first place."

Silence. Long, heavy, unbearable silence.

The waves filled it. The seagulls in the distance filled it. But you didn’t speak.

He stood there, waiting, holding himself still like he was afraid that any sudden movement might scare you away. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breath measured, but his eyes... his eyes didn’t waver once.

"I hate you," you said softly, but your voice cracked in a way that betrayed you.

Mingyu exhaled a small, almost broken laugh. "I know."

"I hate how easy it is for you to say these things now," you continued, your lips trembling, tears brimming once more. "I hate how much I want to believe you."

"Then believe me," he said, stepping closer, his hand reaching out to take yours. He held it gently, like he was holding something fragile and precious. His eyes searched yours, soft but certain. "Believe me, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you made the right choice."

You stared at him, his words sinking in, the sincerity of it wrapping around your heart like a thread you couldn’t untangle. It terrified you how much you wanted to believe him.

"Mingyu," you whispered, his name a breath, a plea, a warning all in one.

"I’m here," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. "I’m right here."

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you hated him for that too. Why did he always make you cry? Your fingers gripped his shirt, your forehead pressing against his chest as the weight of everything came crashing down.

"You better not be lying," you mumbled into his shirt, your voice muffled but not lost. "If you are, I’ll never forgive you."

Mingyu’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you in with a tenderness that shattered every wall you’d built. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

"I’m not lying," he whispered, his voice steady as the waves beyond you both. "I’m never lying to you again."

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe him.

"Cut!"

The director’s voice echoed through the set, and the entire crew let out a collective sigh of relief. Mingyu watched from the sidelines, his gaze fixed on you. His lips tugged into a small, proud smile as he saw you beam at everyone, bowing politely and thanking each crew member for their hard work. Your energy was infectious, even after a long day of filming.

"That’s a wrap, everyone!" Boo Seungkwan, the ever-lively director, announced with his trademark enthusiasm.

Mingyu stepped forward, his presence as commanding as ever in his sleek suit. Seungkwan spotted him and grinned, walking over with open arms. They exchanged a firm handshake, the weight of trust and friendship clear in the gesture.

"This movie better be a hit," Mingyu joked, his deep voice laced with playful seriousness.

Seungkwan snorted, rolling his eyes. "With your investment? It better be. I’m not about to ruin my spotless reputation."

"You should be grateful," Mingyu shot back, raising an eyebrow. "I let you use my name and my wife's name for this movie. And I even let her make a cameo appearance." His grin widened with mock arrogance, and Seungkwan waved him off like he’d heard it all before.

"Yes, yes, thank you, Mr. Investor," Seungkwan quipped, tilting his head in a sarcastic bow. "I’ll be sure to write that in the credits — 'With gracious permission from Kim Mingyu, the benevolent.' How’s that sound?"

Mingyu's laugh came from deep in his chest, sharp and rich with amusement. "Don’t forget to add 'world’s most handsome husband' in there too," he added, eyes flicking toward you as you approached.

Seungkwan's gaze followed Mingyu's line of sight, and his face lit up as he noticed you walking toward them. Your smile was bright, your strides light and confident, even as exhaustion clung to the edges of your movements.

"Amazing," Seungkwan muttered under his breath, his grin turning sly as he watched Mingyu’s entire demeanor soften.

“Thank you so much for letting me be part of this movie, Director Boo,” you greeted Seungkwan warmly. Your voice was light, your eyes crinkling with genuine gratitude.

“Trust me, I wish I could’ve had you in more scenes,” Seungkwan replied, shooting a teasing look at Mingyu. “But this man refused to let me put you in for more than two.”

Mingyu, as if on cue, jabbed at Seungkwan’s side, but Seungkwan dodged with the agility of someone who had been friends with Mingyu for far too long.

"Don’t listen to him," you said, letting out a soft, melodic laugh. Your hand rested lightly on Mingyu’s arm, grounding him in a way only you could. "I would’ve been happy with more scenes. Honestly, I would’ve loved to do more if you'd asked."

Seungkwan’s eyes widened with dramatic flair as he whipped around to face Mingyu. "See? See? Your wife doesn’t mind. She’s a professional, unlike some people I know."

Mingyu shook his head, his lips quirking into a grin that didn’t quite hide his possessiveness. "Nope. Absolutely not. I’m the one who minds," he declared, his eyes darting to you like he was staking a claim. "My wife is pregnant, and she needs to rest. No long shoots, no late nights, no unnecessary stress."

You shot him a playful glare, pinching his side just hard enough to make him flinch. “My husband is a bit noisy, isn’t he?” you said, glancing at Seungkwan like you were seeking solidarity.

Seungkwan raised both hands in surrender, his smile wide with amusement. “Don’t look at me. I’m not about to go against Mr. Handsome Husband, World’s Best Protector.” He snickered, his eyes darting between you and Mingyu. "But if it were up to me, you’d be in every scene."

Mingyu pulled you close by the waist, his hand resting protectively on your lower back, his thumb rubbing soft, absentminded circles. He leaned in, his eyes filled with that familiar mix of pride and adoration he could never seem to hide.

“It’s not up to you, Seungkwan,” he muttered, his gaze never leaving you. “We’ll be taking our leave now, Director Boo. My wife needs to rest.”

His words were simple, but the affection in his tone made your cheeks warm. You glanced at him, your eyes softening, and this time, you didn’t fight him on it.

“Take care, Director,” you said with a small bow. Seungkwan waved you off with a knowing grin, watching the two of you walk away.

“Yeah, yeah, go be all in love or whatever,” he called out, unable to hide the affection in his teasing.

As you walked side by side with Mingyu, his hand firm and steady on your back, you glanced up at him with a small smile.

“Possessive much?” you teased quietly, nudging him with your elbow.

“Protective,” he corrected, glancing down at you with that look that always made your heart stumble. His eyes softened as they lingered on you, his voice quieter now. "I’m protecting what’s mine."

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers intertwined with his, and you squeezed his hand just a little tighter.

“Okay, Mr. Handsome Husband, World’s Best Protector,” you murmured, leaning your head against his arm as the two of you walked off into the evening light.

Seungkwan sat with the entire cast during the promotional interview for his highly anticipated movie. The host was lively and charismatic, effortlessly guiding the conversation while bringing out the natural chemistry between the cast. Laughter filled the room, and the atmosphere was warm and relaxed.

“Director Boo,” the host began with a playful grin, leaning forward with curiosity. “You mentioned that this movie was inspired by your friend’s story, right? Care to spill a little tea on that?”

Laughter erupted from the cast and audience. Seungkwan’s eyes widened, and he waved his hands frantically as if to push away the implication. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he quickly composed himself.

“Ah, I don’t want anyone to misunderstand,” Seungkwan said, half-laughing, half-sighing. “It’s not like that. I drew inspiration from a lot of places — life experiences, stories I’ve heard, observations. But,” he paused, his grin turning sly, “I’ll admit, my favorite actress, Ji Y/n, agreed to make a cameo, and we did use her name and her husband’s name for the characters.”

“Oho!” the host gasped, eyes lighting up with excitement. “Using your friend’s actual names? Sounds very intentional, Director Boo!”

More laughter followed, with some of the cast members playfully nudging Seungkwan as if to expose him further.

“Look, look, look,” Seungkwan chuckled, his hands raised in surrender. “It’s not like their relationship is exactly like the one in the movie. It’s totally the opposite, I promise!” His gaze flickered to the camera, as if directly addressing the viewers. “They’re an amazing couple, honestly. The kind of couple that makes you believe in love again.”

The host’s eyes narrowed with mock suspicion, leaning forward like he’d just uncovered a scandal. “So you’re telling me that you just so happened to name the characters after them and just so happened to cast her as a cameo?”

The audience howled with laughter, and Seungkwan pressed his palms together in a mock plea for mercy. “I’m innocent, I swear! I’m just a man trying to tell a good story!”

"Glad he didn’t mention that the 35 billion won contract was actually true," you muttered, eyes glued to the television as the interview played. Your three-month-old daughter, Sera, lay in your arms, breastfeeding peacefully. Her tiny fingers occasionally curled and uncurled against your skin.

Mingyu let out a long, exasperated sigh from beside you. "I should’ve read the script myself before signing that deal," he groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. "I didn’t think Seungkwan would actually bring up the contract."

"Why? Feeling a little exposed now?" you teased, shooting him a sly grin. "Starting to see what an asshole you were back then?"

His gasp was immediate, his eyes wide with faux horror. "Language, woman!" he said dramatically, reaching over to cover baby Sera’s tiny ears. "She can hear you, you know."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back a soft laugh. Gently, you lifted Sera from your chest and placed her carefully in her crib. Her lips puckered in her sleep, and her little body shifted slightly before settling back into slumber. You watched her for a moment longer, letting that familiar warmth fill your chest.

With Sera safe and sound, you made your way back to Mingyu, plopping down beside him on the couch. Your head found a home against his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles.

“It’s true, though,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling as if reliving the memory. “Everyone thought I was gay, and somehow, my genius solution was to get a contractual girlfriend.” He shook his head at his younger self, clearly unimpressed.

"But you have to admit," you murmured, your voice low and teasing, "I was way too gorgeous to pass up, huh?"

Mingyu glanced down at you, his eyes softening with that look he reserved only for you. A slow, crooked smile spread across his face, and he let out a quiet chuckle, the deep rumble of it vibrating through his chest.

"You are," he said simply, his hand coming up to rest on top of yours. "The most gorgeous mistake I ever made… and the only one I’d make again."

His words were so sincere, so steady, that it made your heart squeeze in your chest. You tilted your head up, catching his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. It was one of those rare silences where everything was already understood.

"Smooth talker," you whispered, lips curling into a smile as you leaned up to kiss him softly.

"Only for you," he replied, his voice a little quieter now, his eyes still locked on you like you were the only person in the world.

And in moments like this — with your baby girl sleeping soundly nearby and the man who once made the worst mistake of his life now holding you like you were his greatest treasure — you believed it.

400 notes · View notes

chaosnojutsu · 1 day ago

Text

i have a belief that fashion is only fast if you let it be that way. wear those pieces until you cannot anymore. then, you can patch up your clothes when they wear and tear instead of going on a fast fashion spree. or start up-cycling the fast fashion you own/find! fabric is good for so many things beyond clothing. if nothing else, some items can be cut up and used as cleaning rags or stuffing for sewing projects. if we want fast fashion out of the thrift stores, we can take it out, and we can get creative with how we avoid sending it to landfills! secondhand fast fashion is still secondhand and a better choice than fast fashion currently being produced!

Even the thrift shops are filled with fast fashion now

#char chats #fast fashion #thrifting #sustainability

10K notes · View notes

lemon-wedges · 2 days ago

Text

Some process gifs of my paintings this year!

#the art of a lemon wedge #art process #man #i love painting #moat of my focus on these this year have just been committing to loosening up #vary my strokes and just not over working a painting?#most of that just means trying to keep as much of that first painting pass #since its has the biggest strokes and most energy when i lay it down #and also #NO ZOOMING IN #AHHHH #all this is painted with my seeing the entire piece and just working from big to medium then small #which is good cause u can keep track of details and what youve missed but it also feels like a huge mess for so long #at times its hard to see where ur even going #my favorite piece i think might be my otacon one #i didnt include him in here just cause that piece is like....3 layers?#it very much feels like those how to books that are like. circle. now draw the entire owl #BUT thats literally how i figured it out #1. base 2. simple clean 3. fine line detail #i do eventually want to do a full recording but the thing is #i just dont want to ......#ahaha #but i do #its just the idea of constantly being watched you know?#despite me wanting to share it....#anyways #TO NEXT YEAR #wonder what ill make #:D

89 notes · View notes

the-californicationist · 2 days ago

Note

Cali Cali bo-bali banana fana fo-fali me my mo mali! Cali!

I'm three Budweisers in and got an itch for alpha Price with a sudden need to breed (yay! Surprise rut!), and there's his sweet smelling omega neighbor who he's been keeping at arm's length because he's a professional dammit and has complete control of his urges, thank you very much.

Honestly, I just wanna see Mr. "I'm Married to My Job" lose it and show back up on base abashed and mated, and also ridiculously proud of his lil omega's claiming bite, because "she turned into a wildcat, lads. I couldn't stop her." *wink-wink*

Or not. I'm happy with any smutty Price fic you bestow on us, really. I'm just being weirdly specific because— alcohol = horny thots. 🍺😏🥴🫠

Drunken hugs 🫂 from Random Thot

RTG!! You are the most amazing person, and every time I see your pfp on AO3 or tumblr, I just get all gooey inside. Thank you for the ask! I wrote (and fully deleted) this fic three times because I wanted to get it right. I just pray that I could deliver. <3 <3 Hope this is what you were hoping for!!

MDNI/NSFW -- TW: damsel in distress, ABO dynamics, knotting, fuck-or-die scenarios, CNC, fluids, PIV sex, female OC

Glory, Glory

It was his last beer of the night, and he was ripping it apart. Curling, soggy shards of the torn label were stuck under his thumbnail, darkening the translucent edge and making it look dirty. They littered the sticky, lacquered bartop like ugly snow, falling in a tiny, chaotic mess. His hands were more than just dirty, the captain thought to himself as he used his wide thumb to itch at the glue-covered glass, rolling little, paper shards away from the smooth surface to reveal the amber liquid swirling within. The captain’s hands; they were covered in blood. Not innocent blood, but blood all the same. They’d never be clean again.

But, that was the job, and he was good at it. His hands were a direct reflection of his hard work. Killing evil bastards kept the world safe. Some poor sob in a factory could clean out the glue-painting machine that pasted these fuckin’ labels on all of these bloody beer bottles because of one unshakable truth: John Price was good at killing evil bastards.

Unfortunately, the killing would need to wait until after the mandated leave window closed again. His argument with Kate still grated inside of his head. He could almost hear her harsh, Yank accent in his ears.

“What do you want me to tell payroll, John? You can’t be here. You’ve got too many days. Go home. See your mom.”

“I see her plenty, Katie. Let me run that ops gig with Keller. C’mon. I’ll do overwatch,” he tried his best to weasel his way back into a bit of active duty.

“You’d be the world’s most expensive overwatch. Hell no. Here’s your ticket,” she shoved an envelope in his hands, “...and your money,” another envelope, “Go the fuck home, Captain. That’s an order.”

An order. More like a toothless threat.

But, alas, here he was, staring at a freshly shaved, buzzcut version of himself in a filthy pub mirror, undressing bottles left and right.

“Another, mate?” The barkeep pointed to his almost-empty drink, making a slight grimace at the paper graveyard that was sprinkled across his bar.

“No,” John sighed, pulling out a few notes from his wallet, “I’m off.”

“Happy Christmas,” the barkeep took the bills and didn’t bother to look up again, setting himself to sweeping the torn strips off of the surface, preparing for the next paying customer.

“You, too,” John muttered, tugging his black wool beanie over his ears before braving the classic cold, wet, and windy Liverpudlian night.

He didn’t live far. John’s mum had kept up his loft down by the docks, but it certainly didn’t feel like home. Home wasn’t real. Not anymore. As he walked along the Mersey’s edge, he peered into the black water, wondering if he’d ever truly go home again.

All of a sudden, he heard a shrill scream. Every sense that had been dulled by his lager was now as sharp as a blade and set on its edge. Again, a high-pitched shout pealed through the night air, beckoning him back to his heroism. That keening was the sound of some evil that needed stamping out, and he was hungry for it.

He sprinted through the warehouse district, chasing the noise of scuffling, ducking behind alleys and abandoned garages, looking for the source. Finally, there was a flash of red that caught his eye, so he ran towards it, his mind making sense of the scene in front of him.

Voices were jumbled and mashed up together, barely registering in his mind.

“Out here in a fuckin’ heat. Dumb bitch! C’mere.”

“She’s got a knife!”

“C’mere, you little slag. Get –”

In the middle of three huge, stinking Alphas, a tiny Omega was struggling, arm outstretched, brandishing her knife at them to keep them at bay. John came up behind the biggest one, some bald fuck with a dirty coat, and dropped him, cracking his spine in two places with well-placed fists, and breaking his jaw on his way down to the ground, leaving him groaning on the concrete.

One of his mates, a older man with thick, black eyebrows, lunged at Price, a look of indignant surprise on his face. The Omega screamed, her red coat yanked back over her face by the third man, her knife clattering to her feet. Price focused on Mister Eyebrows, dodging a lazy haymaker before popping him twice in the nose, drawing out his blood and knocking out at least two of his front teeth. Then, John grabbed him by the collar, pulling his jaw into his raised knee and listening to the satisfying splash as he fell into a murky puddle.

Finally, he set his sights on the last Alpha of the pack whose ropey arm was looped across the Omega’s neck, choking the air from her lungs. He growled at Price, his scent turning to rancid fear,

“Stay back! She’s mine, you big bastard.”

The captain had nothing to say. With a practiced ease, he side-stepped her assailant, breaking the elbow that controlled her throat, making him release her immediately. The evil bastard stumbled back, hand outstretched, bargaining for his life,

“Wait, wait. I’ll share her with you, how’s that? I’ll even let you have first go!”

A deafening howl came out of his mouth as Price’s boot heel made contact with his kneecap, forcing it to snap at a terrible angle. John’s hand shot out and grabbed the man by the hair on the crown of his head, tugging cruelly at his scalp. Without mercy, John slammed his face into a nearby bollard, and the howling stopped.

It was quiet again aside from the Omega’s trembling breaths. She had recovered the knife and was now pointing it towards John with shaking hands and wide, determined eyes.

“You alright, love?” Price asked, holding his hands up in a sign of peace, edging towards her in gentle, predictable steps.

“Y-yeah… Stay! Stay right there,” her voice was bright and clear, and he could hear her strength laced through her words. He stopped in his tracks, respecting her wishes.

“What are you doin’ all the way out here, darlin’?”

“They dragged me over here from Baltic Fleet,” she straightened up, getting her bearings, wiping the blood from a small cut in her cheek, “Fuckin’ bastards. Thank you, by the way.”

“Jus’ doin’ my job,” Price shrugged, waiting for her to lower the knife even further before he continued his approach.

“Police?” She asked, a little confused.

“Not exactly,” Price smiled, offering a hand out to her, “John Price, Captain of His Majesty’s RAF service.”

“Oh,” she studied him for a moment, and then her eyes fell to the hand, ready to bite but deciding to shake it instead.

When he touched her skin, Price felt her fever. Shocked, he tightened his grip, not meaning to startle her but too surprised by her temperature to ignore it.

“Christ, love. You’re burnin’ up.”

As quick as a flash, she yanked her hand out of his grasp and retreated back towards the wall of the warehouse behind her, scooting her way towards the corner to get out of his range, ready to bolt. She didn’t respond, but John watched as she wiped her brow, dotted with sweat and covered in concern.

“Hey,” he moved forward again protectively, “You can’t be out here alone. Not like this. At least let me walk with you. I’ll stay ten paces behind. It’s not safe.”

“I’m fine,” she said with more strength in her voice than what she was ready to produce.

“You’re not. You’re in a bloody heat. When did it start?” He watched as her knees began to tremble, and against her obvious wishes, he helped her sit on the warehouse deck, letting her keep the knife so she could feel safe.

“Yesterday…” She closed her eyes, trying to shake it off, “It’s… I’m fine. It’s never this bad.”

Now that he was close to her, Price was smothered by the scent of her body. The Omegan glands in her neck smelled like thick, wild honey, and her heat was mixing with her aroma, turning an already sweet smell into a lucious, decadent gourmand, pulling him in like quicksand.

“C’mon,” he helped her up, “Where’s your place? I’ll get you close.”

The clang of her knife made him glance up to see her eyes closed and her mouth slack. She was out, too weak to withstand the fever and the physical exertion.

Price felt his body react to her need. He was filled with rage, white and hot, at her situation. Those goddamn monsters were trying to take advantage of her in this vulnerable state. She should be home in her nest, being taken care of by her Alpha, covered in soothing oils and cool compresses, her needy little cunt stuffed full of his knot, staving off these symptoms and enduring them for her. Instead, she’d been hunted, chased, made to fight for her dignity out here in the middle of the docks. Something else inside Price’s chest curled around his anger.

Possession.

He tried to shake it off, knowing it came from being unmarked, but it had been so many years as a lone Alpha that he knew how to control it. Or, at least he thought he did.

Now, though, he found himself pulling at the neck of her coat as he held her in his arms, invading her privacy to check for a bite. He felt the shame wash over him as he covered her skin back up. He had no business searching for a mating bite. She was not his Omega, and he was not her Alpha.

After a few minutes out in the chilled wind, he made it to his apartment. Thankfully, it was late enough that his neighbors weren’t outside to witness what looked like a literal kidnapping, and he shuffled her inside without much trouble. Price lay her down on his long, leather sofa, careful to rest her head on the soft arm. He went to the kitchen to retrieve a cold rag and pressed it to her forehead, hoping to hold back the fever for as long as he could.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Wake up,” he whispered, trying to gently shed her coat and sweater, peeling her layers off to bring her temperature down to a more manageable level.

She moaned, her eyes wrenching shut even tighter, her face twisted in pain,

“My head…” She sighed, desperate for some relief.

“I know, love. C’mon,” John propped her up a bit, moving the rag so that the coldest parts would be against her skin, “What’s your name? I can find an address. Do you have your purse?”

“They… took it? I don’t… I dunno…” She muttered, obviously having a hard time stringing her thoughts together, “I don’t feel so good.”

This was not ideal. Price knew what came next. A high fever, exhaustion, fatigue, nausea, increased heart rate, and then…

“Alpha?” Her eyes were open, glassy and dark, the pupils fully blown, looking up at him with an outpouring of unfathomable need. Her scent rolled off of her in mind-altering waves, shoving Price’s carefully-built walls out of the way and sending shocks of desire straight to his heart and his fat, growing cock.

“No, baby. I’m not your Alpha. Who is he? Can you give me a name?” John asked, checking her coat pockets in a rushed panic. He was running out of time.

“Alpha, please… I need… Help me, please,” her shaking hands reached under his jacket and shirt, her knuckles rubbing against his furry belly, her strong fingers digging around for his belt buckle, getting right to the point.

Price felt the room flex around him, and he tried to breathe in air that wasn’t saturated by her vanilla spice, searching in the deepest recesses of his mind for some semblance of his self control.

“Easy, love. I can’t m–mmngh!” Her mouth slotted over his as he tried to protest, stopping his heart and his words at the same time.

She was heaven. Her smell was making his skin tingle all over his body, down his arms and up his legs, rushing to his central, sacral core. And her taste was even better. His little cinnamon roll, so sweet and warm, burning for him like a flame, hot and ready to scar him for life.

“Mngh… Love, mmm… Wait…” Price held her back, using more force than he thought he should need, surprised by her sudden power.

“John…” He met her eyes and found a particular clarity within them. She was coming out of her haze. But, it wouldn’t last. This was his final chance to keep her from doing something she would regret.

“Darlin’, I can’t. I’m not your Alpha.”

“You smell like you are,” she mewled, rubbing her wounded cheek across his engorged neck gland, spreading his scent all over herself.

“I can’t,” he moved away from her, trying to hold her in his arms for comfort rather than to bask in her expressive heat, “My work… I can’t leave you here, pretty girl.”

She sobbed out, trying to hold back from writhing against his body, doing everything she could not to make it harder for him to turn her down. Her eyes were rimmed red and pink from exhaustion, and she was staring down at her own hands, vibrating with tremors, slurring her words,

“Just lock me in the bath. I’ll run cold water. I’ll be fine…”

Something ancient and feral snarled in Price’s mind.

No.

“No,” he said, involuntarily, the voice in his head escaping from his throat.

“Please… I can’t stop myself… I want your knot, Alpha. Lock me up before I do something to you… Something you don’t want…” She could barely put two words together. Every thought was a struggle. He was losing her again.

He grabbed her and held her to his chest, clutching her like water in his palm, using all his strength to keep her with him,

“I want you, love. I want… Fuck, I need you.”

All of a sudden, the energy around their bodies stilled. That cracking, sparking electricity that bound them together was roiling just beyond John’s consciousness, ready to surge. But, he stayed perfectly still, waiting to see what she did next. She locked eyes with him and leaned in close, as if she would kiss him. But, she didn’t. She dipped her head down until she found his Alphic gland, swollen and bruised purple from him holding back his lust, nuzzling at it with the tip of her nose, rooting against him, testing his patience, checking to see if his temperament was true. Then, when he let her sniff him in his most potent spot, when she knew his soul was as pure as his scent, that he was true, she sucked his flesh between her lips, drawing his musk onto her tongue.

She’d accepted him. He reeled from it, unable to hold back a groan, his cock jerking against his zipper, thrashing to escape, flooding with hot blood and threatening to fill his knot before he’d even had a chance to taste her.

John pulled her mouth off of him and stared at her eyes again, in awe of her beauty, his mind swirling and yet perfectly sharp, begging her darkly,

“Give me your neck, Omega.”

The ritual had begun, and as she swept her hair away from her shoulder, pulling it around her back, she bent for him, arching her head down in a submissive bow, revealing her Omegan mating line. It looked like a keloid scar, the raised skin swollen and painful, like a pounding vein that ran from below her earlobe down to the top of her shoulder, full of her hormones and thick with her magic. One bite, and he would be in her thrall, pliant to her every whim, beholden to her needs until her heat had run its course.

Price had never given his bite to anyone. It had been easy to abstain. In fact, in his youth, he had a hard time understanding his mates’ commitments to their Omegas, scoffing at their lack of duty to their stations, doubting their commitment, and - moreover - doubting their loyalty. He remained a captain through and through, and he’d never made room for anyone or anything else. But, here he was, his teeth aching in his jaw, bigger and sharper than they should’ve been, his every sense heightened and taking her in like a drug, compelling him to punch through her delicate flesh and suck her nectar deep into his belly.

The feeling of her skin against his lips was enough to send a chill through his body. He was cooling from the inside out, and his body needed her heat. She was forcing a rut to take hold in him, and he could feel himself changing for her. Then, he bit down as hard as he could, breaking the thin seal of her mating line with ease, feeling the searing mixture of her oil and her blood filling his mouth and throat like a ripe plum, wet and sweet, and promising pleasure if he chose to swallow her.

He drank from her for as long as he dared, taking her in long, slurping gulps, letting her essence coat his throat, feeling the hot fluid burn inside of his chest and down into his stomach where it pooled and lingered, warming him up from the inside out.

“Alpha…” She moaned, raising her hand to cup his cheek as he sucked her life into himself, rubbing her thumb so softly over his shut eyelashes that he barely felt it.

John pulled away from her, his eyes fluttering open, her bright orange blood iridescent with her mating oil, making the red cells burn bright like a fresh-cracked yolk, gleaming, trapped between his teeth like gold. He watched it drip down her chest, staining her clothes, and he began to tear them off of her. She let him, limp and mute as he peeled her open, making her naked and pulling her into his arms.

He carried her into his bedroom, kicking open the door and busting the bolt through the strike, splintering the wood and not giving a shit about the damage. John lay her in the middle of the mattress and set to surrounding her with whatever softness he could find; his shirts, his blankets, even his scarves. Anything warm and comfortable was added to the nest, giving her as much support as he could before standing back to admire his work.

She eyed him from her recumbent throne, commanding him with her gaze. John stripped off his shirt for her, raking it up his back and over his shoulders, feeling as if he was moving his body for her and only for her. All of his motions, even his ragged breaths, were only escaping from his lungs because she wanted them to. His buckle clattered apart, and he popped open the button of his jeans, lowering the zipper in a sharp, metallic rip.

Once free, his heavy prick flagged, leaping forward and pulsating for her, proudly showing her his gleaming head. He was drooling an unrelenting stream of iridescent precome, his balls tight and full of Alphic oil, ready to coat her warm insides with his shining sex.

John climbed onto the bed, his face focused on her wet mound, admiring the plumpness of her, imagining her - in every delicious way - like a tender peach. He crawled to her, his mouth still stained neon orange from her gland, and he smeared her wet quim all over his lips and tongue. He wasn’t licking her so much as he was wearing her like warpaint, moving his nose and cheeks through her to ensure he was soaked in her heady slick, his body making wild, unbridled choices purely on instinct.

“Yes, baby, please…” Her voice went straight through him like a bullet, tightening his cockhead to an uncomfortable degree, and it jerked against the mattress in protest. Her hands were in his hair, scratching through his scalp, encouraging him to sink his tongue deep inside of her hole.

John obeyed, helpless to her desire, his mind wiping clean and being rewritten by her will. He was swimming in her scent, drenched in her slick, and gasping against her pussy, his eyes fixated on her form as it writhed above him. When she met his eyes, she bit the inside of her lip, crying out for him, rewarding him for his prostrated fealty. Then, she began to rock her hips against his jaw, fucking herself on his face, and he let her use him to her heart’s content, staying strong and sure, allowing his body to be used, objectified and glorified by it.

When she began to come, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He followed his tongue inside of her with two of his thick fingers, pressing against her walls, pushing her over the edge. She bolted upright, wrapping her thighs around his face, smothering him with her body, trapping him breathless between her legs. Her whole being trembled for him. He could feel the shimmer of her very soul, rattling and writhing with her siren-like keening. And just when he started to see spots in his vision, needing air just a little less than he needed to please her, she lay open for him, blooming outward like a flower, releasing him from a limbo he longed to return to, oozing with a stream of rainbow-tinted come, the Omegan oil within her womb escaping to advertise its promises to her mate.

Without knowing why, John found himself lapping it up from her pulsing hole like a hound, swallowing mouthful after mouthful and grunting with each pass of his broad tongue.

“John, I need... Please, put your knot inside me. I’ll be good…” She begged, tears shining at the corners of her eyes from her come-drunk bliss, her hands plucking at her nipples and trying to soothe herself down from her high.

“My pretty girl wants this knot, yeah?” John grinned devilishly, dipping his finger into her over and over and licking it clean like she was a jar of endless honey, “Wants me to breed this gorgeous cunt…”

At that comment, she spread her legs even wider for him, opening up for him like a blossom for the sun, ready to take whatever he had to give her. It was mesmerizing for John to see her like this. Everything about her was filled with intoxication and need. He was just a vessel for her pleasure, pouring himself into her to make her full again. Dizzy and drunk with adoration, he notched his girth at her entrance, struggling to fit even his cockhead within her.

“Fuck… so bloody warm…”

Her body was burning him with every millimeter he sank into her, the heat of her tight sex in such high contrast with his cool rut. It felt like he was swimming in a roiling pot of sugary caramel, clinging and cloying and sticking to every part of him, and yet it was not enough. He needed more. His hips thrust forward, savage yet steady, reaching deep inside of her like an anchor, rushing to settle himself within her darkness.

The way his Omega cried out this time was different, and it snapped him to her attention, his mind immediately sensing a new need.

“Love, tell me what you need.” He purred, his mouth kissing her lips and her neck, lapping at the now-healing wound his own fangs had made, talking to her between long licks of his tongue, “Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“You’re so big. I’ve never…” She sounded ashamed.

Price slowed to a creeping pace, focused fully on her face,

“Never had a knot before?”

She shook her head, her eyes full of worry. John wrapped her up in his arms, dragging himself out of her slowly before filling her up again as carefully as he could.

“Tha’s alright, baby. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“Feels like I’m burning alive,” she sighed, her brow furrowing with distress, “John, I need… I don’t know how…”

“Look at me, alright?” He helped her focus her eyes on his, “Don’t… Just stay with me, right here. You’re gonna come for me, and then… I’ll give you what you need.”

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice so small.

Price set himself on a path with a purpose. He used his hand to rub small, rhythmic circles beside the rigid body of her clit, coaxing her pussy to drop even more slick around him, using every ounce of willpower he had left not to let his knot slip inside of her prematurely. His thrusts were jerky and restrained, but he felt her begin to rock back and forth with his hand’s movements, bringing her closer and closer to her glowing joy.

“Good girl,” he praised her, watching her as she began to fall apart around him, “Tha’s my good little Omega. Come for your Alpha just like that. Just… mmf-fuck! Like that! Holy fuck.”

The feeling of her slick pussy clenching and twisting around his cock’s tugid body was enough to make him see stars. He felt almost sick with pleasure, his whole core lighting up like a roaring fire, spitting and aching to bury himself within her.

At the end of her crescendo, he felt himself let go of the chain, and he rutted his knot inside of her, humping himself forward ruthlessly, his body contorting itself to fit her needs. His knot sealed him within her, and although he was not yet orgasming, he was filling her with his come, the creamy flow of it spilling out of his tip, filling her hole and coating his prick from inside of its hungry little sheath.

“Your come… I can feel it inside of me. Oh, my God,” she sighed with some sort of relief, her eyes rolling inside of her head, her arms losing their strength, and her back arching towards him, lifting up as if she would float right into Heaven.

And just like that, her fever began to abate. With his knot stuffed inside of her, locking his seed within her hole, his Alphic oils could soothe her heat, bringing her back to the realm of consciousness and delivering her from her wild state.

“John,” she lay back, her hand pressed to his cheek.

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he bent forward on his elbows and kissed her mouth, chastely at first, and then languidly, exploring her taste. When he did finally pull away, she was awake and alert, sated and happy. He smiled down at her,

“Hey, pretty girl,” he whispered, wiping her hair back from her face.

“Hey,” she smiled back at him, wrapping her ankles around his back for comfort, not knowing that it was just enough to set his cock on edge again, his Alphic instinct rejoicing at the feeling of being trapped by his mate.

“You alright?” John asked, a tinge of worry at the edge of his voice.

“I am now, thanks to you,” she sighed, tucking herself in beneath him, rubbing her hands along his ribs and the soft fur of his back and arms, feeling every bit of him as if she was seeing him with her touch, “You saved me, Alpha.”

“Aye,” he nudged her jaw with his nose, asking her wordlessly to give him the vulnerable softness of her neck. She obliged, and he spoke to her between sucking kisses, “All mine. My Omega. Innit that right, baby?”

She was practically lambent beneath the scrutiny of his possession, rolling in it like a wave in the sand, captured by it and surrendering to the riptide of his unbreakable grip. She nodded, humming her ascent, her expression turning a little rueful right at the end of his kisses. The sorrowful timbre of her voice broke his heart,

“I’m grateful. But, I know this isn’t what you wanted, and I’m so sor–”

“No,” he kissed her words away, feeling his length throb inside of her, urging him to kiss her again, “No, love.”

“I won’t bite you,” she promised, her gaze still full of apology, “You won’t be stuck with me.”

“Bite me, Omega,” he bent his head and buried his face in her shoulder, giving her his gland in total surrender, “Go on. I’m yours.”

“John…” She hesitated, but he could feel her body flood her hole, excited beyond measure at the thought of binding him to her as her mated Alpha.

“Go on,” he commanded in his smoky growl, holding her tighter and bracing for the ecstasy of her teeth.

He felt her lips first, and his balls tightened, ready to fling him into a messy orgasm as soon as he felt his gland shatter in her mouth. Her Omegan teeth wouldn’t break the skin, but he knew she was strong enough to crack the shell around his swollen node. The anticipation of her bite was wrecking his mind, and he was gasping for breath by the time he felt her jaw set itself against him.

“Baby, please…” He whined in her ear, his hips thrusting in short, jerking thrusts, unable to move much with his knot still trapped up inside of her, holding his gushing come in her hole, pushing it into her womb from the sheer volume of it.

Her teeth connected, and he could hear his unbroken shell give way beneath her strength, the hormones inside of it rushing through his system like wildfire, burning through his veins and making him scream for her. At the same time, John felt his core throw him into a raw orgasm, his whole body trembling above her, wringing himself from the inside out.

“Alpha,” she sighed, licking his neck to comfort him, “My Alpha…”

“Yours, baby. All yours.”

— — — — —

The new trainees filed out of the gym, sweaty, bloody, and eager to be out of the captain’s sight. Price had run them ragged, forcing them to spar with practice weapons, pitting them against each other in a strained, exhausting competition. Ghost and Soap sat with Gaz as they eyed their commander, their eyes glued to the fresh bite mark on his neck, shocked into a silent stupor.

“I cannae believe it. Mated? To which lassie?” Soap asked, dumbfounded.

“I didn’t think he’d ever take a mate,” Gaz marvelled.

“I thought he was savin’ himself for marriage,” Ghost quipped, earning himself a scuff from Soap.

Price made his way across the mat, pulling his sweaty shirt off his back to trade it for a clean one. The red welts and nail-marks across his shoulders and down his belly made Gaz let out a low whistle. But, his commander’s glare stopped him mid-note.

“Wha’s that, Garrick?”

“Nothin’, sir. Just… admirin’ your battle scars,” Gaz smiled, wishing his two teammates would stop snickering so loudly.

“Looks like a hell’uva fight, Cap,” Ghost added, looking everywhere but into Price’s icy eyes.

“Wha’s her name?” Soap asked outright, skipping over the double entendres and going right for the point.

Their captain sighed, zipped up his gym bag, and stood in front of his three officers, glaring down at them with a look that was on the border of dead-seriousness,

“If I told you that, lads, I’d have to kill you.”

207 notes · View notes

backupstardust · 3 days ago

Text

There’s different kinds of spooks out here. A lot of them are just people. There’s some that want to communicate- “Look at this shit I went through. This was bad, right? Am I overreacting?” They just want someone to confirm that, yeah, that was messed up.

There’s some that want to show off the spooky things they’ve figured out how to do, or are bored and want to get a reaction. I’m a soprano, I have no problem doing a yelp or two to be entertaining.

Also leads to me having to reassure the neighbors that no, I’m fine out there, I was just singing during a shift again. Which I also do, even with the interesting tenants those $80 hours can still be kind of long. And some of them like listening.

There’s some that just want to be left alone, understandable. Sorry ma’am, I do still have to scrub moss off your tombstone, I’ll try to be quiet and efficient. If you make it ooze blood again I’m just gonna be here even longer cleaning THAT up too. If you get too annoying I WILL respond in kind and bust out the gas-powered weedwacker don’t tempt me.

And then there’s the living people that break in outside of visiting hours because they think it’s cool or lost a bet or they want to have sex in a cemetery. Not to brag, but again, soprano. I don’t have to be dead to do a good Bloodborne screech.

You've been hired to clean a graveyard every night for 80 bucks an hour. Its haunted. And by god you are going to make that 80 bucks an hour

7K notes · View notes

tsuutarr · 1 day ago

Text

Tavern Owner Orc x New Hire Reader

I got to participate in the lovely Ozzgin's Secret Santa Event!! This one is for @tranquilo-antique-apothecary!!

Content is about 1K words of him being down bad for you <3

Sekkrad has always liked the bustling atmosphere of taverns, rich with rambunctious laughter and delicious food. After every win or loss, Sekkrad and his comrades would settle down at their favorite tavern, almost as if it were their second home. Maybe that was why he decided to open a quaint tavern after retiring from his warrior duties.

Despite his retirement, Sekkrad has always kept himself in shape. Working out has been engraved into his body, but beyond that, it’s also because his patrons can get quite rowdy at times. Plus, it’s helpful to be athletic when you’re working as much as he is. That said…

He really could use some help.

So, he puts up a flyer seeking an employee. As expected, there are some pretty good candidates. What’s unexpected, however, is you. You’re just so cute that Sekkrad literally stopped thinking when he first saw you walk through the tavern’s doors. He’s not even sure how he got through interviewing you, but somehow he did. And, just his luck, you’re a great candidate – exactly what he’s looking for! A good personality, a solid resume, and a cute face… so of course he hires you.

But on second thought – maybe it wasn’t his best idea. You look too adorable in the tavern’s uniform (that uniform does not usually look that good). And he practically blanks out every time you’re around him. You just look so soft and huggable. Plus that smile? It’s a killer. Thankfully, he somehow manages to guide you through your tasks and answer questions with a blank face (that he is desperately trying to control).

As he’s mulling about how he’s supposed to act around you, he notices you struggling to reach up to get a bottle of bourbon on one of the shelves. Without a second thought, he reaches over you, pressing his muscular body against your softer one.

“Here,” he grunts, voice low, as sirens whir in his head over how good your body feels against his. It’s like you fit perfectly against him.

“Thank you!” you respond, smile bright. Oh, Gods. You’re going to kill him.

He nods. “If y’need anything else, let me know.”

With that said, he moves to the storage in the back. He almost slams his head into the bag of flour, but reigns himself in after remembering how expensive flour is nowadays. Instead, he picks up some more syrup for his cocktails, willing himself to behave.

Despite the turmoil your presence brings to him, he manages to get through the day with relative ease. Hiring you really was the right choice – you’re an excellent worker. Smart, quick on the uptake, easy on the eyes – you’re just the perfect hire.

As he closes shop, wiping a wine glass clean, he watches as you wipe down the last table, a feeling of fondness spreading through his chest at how much of a hard worker you are. As you finish up, he prepares a sweet cocktail for you, before motioning you over.

“Good job,” he says, passing the cocktail to you.

“Thank you!”

He nods, motioning for you to sit. “Wait there.”

“Yessir,” you respond, saluting before you sit down. You watch as he disappears into the kitchen in the back, the sweet taste of your cocktail spreading over your tongue pleasantly.

It only takes him a few moments to come back with a plate of warm food. He places it in front of you.

“Eat up,” he murmurs, crossing his arms. “You were a great help today.”

Your cheeks heat up, making Sekkrad want to scream – you’re just so stinking adorable.

“I’m glad!” you beam, making his lips twitch up into a smile involuntarily.

The way you eat his food also makes him feel warm and happy – it’s always a treat when someone enjoys his food.

“It was delicious!” you tell him once you’re done eating.

“Let me know what y’like to eat,” he says, looking pleased as you polish off his food. “I’ll make it for you next time.”

Eagerly, you tell him your favorite food, which he files away for later. He takes your empty dishes, which you try to protest, saying that you’ll clean up after yourself. He’s having none of it, though, and cleans up promptly as you finish off your cocktail.

“I’ll walk you home,” he offers while wiping his hands off on his apron. “It’s late.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose.”

Sekkrad doesn’t want to seem pushy, not when he really doesn’t want you to hate him, but he’s more concerned for your safety than anything. “You wouldn’t be imposing,” he replies, trying to make his voice softer. “I just want t’make sure my new hire’s safe.”

“Well…” you look up at him and Sekkrad has to look behind you so that he won’t combust. “...I’d appreciate it, thank you! I’ll go get my things.”

“Yeah,” he responds, watching as you go to the back to get your things. When you reappear, he straightens his back, motioning to the door. “Ready?”

“Yessir!” you say, starting your journey back to your home.

Your walk back with him is quiet and peaceful as everyone else is asleep. That, and Sekkrad has never been much of a talker, but he’s especially nervous around you. He’s not entirely sure how he’s supposed to talk to you, so he opts not to. Besides, you seem content to walk beside him quietly (and it’s just… nice to see how comfortable you look beside him). Despite his nervousness, he’s actually pretty content himself.

In fact, when you two arrive at your home, Sekkrad is almost disappointed. Still, he got you home safe and nothing was really amiss, so he can’t complain.

“Rest up,” he says, nodding at you. “I’ll see you at night.”

“I’ll be there dark and early,” you grin.

He can’t help but crack a smile at that. “Good.”

With a small laugh and a final wave, you enter your home. Sekkrad lingers until he’s fully sure you’re safe inside, before turning his heels to walk back to the tavern with light steps.

He really, really can’t wait to see you again.

#tsuuper ocs #monster boyfriend #orc oc #orc x reader #orc tavern owner #monster boy oc #Sekkrad Barai Tsuu OC #monster x reader #orc boyfriend #idk what else to tag this lol???

207 notes · View notes

yamumsyadadd · 2 days ago

Text

missing sister (2)

Part 1

there will be 1 more in this series, set in the future.

“Nena, wake up. Noah? We need to leave.” Waking up was very disorienting. This was certainly not the bed from Keira’s apartment. It was too comfy, too warm and safe.

“Alexia?”

“Yes nena. You slept here last night. You’re coming with me and Olga. She’s going to drop me off at training and then you two are going to hang out.”

Weird but okay. Begrudgingly, you got up. Taking the clothes handed to me from Olga and letting her guide me through to the bathroom. There were a lot of fancy things in there. Some smelt very nice, others did not.

The hot shower and fancy products felt good. As soon as you stepped foot in the living area, Olga and Alexia stopped talking. Both turning to smile at me and usher you to the door. The car ride was quiet until we arrived at the training ground.

“You’ll go with Olga today, I’ll talk to Keira and Lucy. We will see you later okay?” You nodded, not looking at her as she got out of the car.

“Avísame si pasa algo. Mi amor, por favor, no la dejes fuera de tu vista. Te quiero.” She kissed Olga and walked away.

Olga patted the front seat she was previously sitting in. “Mi amiga, piano. You like piano yes?”

“I do yes.”

“Perfecto! We go.” Her smile was infectious. There was something about Olga, the way she seemed to live so carefree. She was confident, within herself, her relationship with Alexia and her job.

“Claudia Habla inglés. She good.” She led us up a small alleyway between two house, finally reaching someone’s backyard. There was a fire pit in the middle, couches and chairs surrounded it. Whoever lived here was very popular.

“¡Hola Olga! ¡Como en!” The cheerful voice belonged to a blonde curly haired woman who has just as many tattoos as María.

“Hola, Claud. Esta es Noah, la chica de la que te hablé”.

“HI Noah, I’m Claudia. Olga says you like the piano?” You nodded your head, hiding slightly behind Olga, “come this way, I have an old Steinway & Sons.”

The piano was beautiful, situated in what looked to be a reading room. One wall covered in books, the other covered in paintings and photos, the main wall with big windows. It was like out of a movie.

You sat down at the piano and started to play. It felt like only a few minutes had passed before Claudia and Olga came in for lunch.

“What is that?” You pointed towards the weird cake looking thing on the table.

“Tortilla.” Olga sat down, taking a drink and giving you a look to do the same.

“It’s basically an omelette. Eggs, potatoes, oil, onion. I have tomato sauce if you want it?”

“Sure. Thanks.” It had the same texture as a normal omelette but it tasted better. It was heavier, thanks to the potatoes. Spanish food was mostly better than English, expect for the fish and chips. Nothing topped ours.

No one spoke during lunch time, or while we cleaned up.

“Have you heard from Alexia?” You asked Olga quietly. She shook her head, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You went back and sat at the piano, staying there until a very stressed Olga came in.

The conversation between Alexia, Keira and Lucy was over and we needed to leave.

“After practice we need to talk please Keira. Lucia come too.” Alexia was firm but not unkind with her voice.

From the moment Keira, Lucy and Alexia sat down, Keira was on edge, ready to defend whatever her little sister did.

“Noah is with Olga, at Claudia’s house. She has said some things, I’ve noticed some things and no doubt Lucy too.” Alexia started, she didn’t want to come off aggressive or accuse her of anything.

“What Alexia? What has Noah said?”

“You know she’s plays piano? Draws very good too. Better than Mapi, better than anyone I’ve seen. She feels as though you, and your parents do not care about her, see her-“

“that’s ridiculous! We all care about her! She’s just a dramatic teenage.”

“Keira.” Lucy saw it. She’s seen it from the beginning. Birthdays were missed in favour of Keira’s games, every time she spoke to the Walsh parents all they would talk about was Keira, never Noah. If she didn’t know Noah existed, there would be no trace. “She was going to music school in London. She’d catch the train, stay with Leah and come home. Your parents never noticed because they were never around. From an outsider, you wouldn’t know Noah existed to your parents, or really to you.”

“What the hell are you saying Lucy? I talk about her, I care about her. I took her in didn’t I? She’s here because I took her instead of letting them ship her off to a boarding school!” Keira was defensive, she didn’t want to believe what both Alexia and Lucy were saying.

“She’s given up a lot for you, because of you.” Alexia said.

“I never asked her too!”

“For fuck sake Kei. She’s a child. A child. She didn’t have a choice. You have been so consumed by your own life, your own relationships that you can’t even see it. She’s 16, yet she acts like an adult because that’s the only way people will take notice of her.”

There was only silence that followed for the next few minutes.

“I spoke to Leah, which for the record was hard because she speaks so fast and her accent is worse than yours, but I suggest you talk to her, then talk to Noah but don’t get defensive. Listen to what she has to say, really listen. Itll be hard to hear it but I think it’s needed.” Alexia stood up, squeezing Keira’s shoulder then leaving. Sending Olga a text to bring Noah home so Keira or Lucy could pick her up.

“What the hell do I do Lucy?”

“Do as capi said, talk to Leah, then listen to Noah.”

“Have you known the entire time?”

“No. I told you during the world cup what she told me, but I don’t think that was the full story.”

“I just thought she didn’t want to be there, that she was missing her friends, her life, I didn’t realise it was something more.”

Silence took over the trio, their drinks empty, minds full.

“What do I do?” Keira asked.

“Listen to her, don’t interrupt her or anything. Let her tell you how she’s been feeling and what’s been happening.”

“Is she at your apartment?”

“No she’s with Olga but I’ll message her to bring her back.”

It didn’t take long for the trio to arrive at Alexia and Olga’s apartment, you were still beaming from happiness until Lucy and Keira walked in. It was a weird feeling, having a happy day seemingly ripped through your fingers when Keira said the simple words of ‘we need to talk.’

The drive back to Keira’s was rough. Everyone was anxious, no one said a word. The futile attempt to escape to your room the second you entered was halted by Lucy’s strong arms guiding you to the couch.

“I want you to tell me everything. I will not talk, I will not make judgment or anything but I need to know Noah.” Keira said, she tried to be firm, but it came out more as a plea.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Don’t play dumb. You’re a completely different kid with Alexia and Olga, even with Leah. Why?”

“Why?” You scoffed, “can’t you figure it out yourself?”

“No because what I thought was that you were just a bad kid. I was told you were skipping school, sneaking out, doing drugs. But here, here you’re different so what gives?”

“It wasn’t sneaking out or skipping school. Technically.” Keira gave you a look so you continued, “anytime I asked to go out, ma and dad would just say ‘do whatever, we won’t be home later’, blah blah blah. It wasn’t sneaking only ever sneaking out when they had friends over and needed to keep up appearances. As for the skipping school, I was enrolled in special music and art classes at the TAFE, then I’d go to London for classes on Saturday’s.”

“And the drugs? Vapping?”

“I tried weed once. That’s all I swear. I didn’t like the feeling so I didn’t do it again. The others did but I didn’t. And yeah I’ve vaped, not since I’ve been here though.”

“Ma and dad never said anything about your music classes.“

“Yeah because they didn’t know, or care. I’m not sure but I didn’t want to find out.”

“Why didn’t you come to me? You went to Leah, even Lucy but you wouldn’t come to me. Why Noah?” Keira was getting frustrated, she was hurt and confused.

“how could I? You were here or busy with your life in Manchester. You said it yourself, you believed what they told you. Everything was always about you Keira, not me. I was always told not to both you because you were busy. Every year it got worse, missing birthdays, missing Christmas, missing art shows or recitals.”

The tears that had formed in both yours and Keira’s eyes were now free flowing. Lucy was sat in the armchair, Narla curled up at her feet. She was there purely to keep the peace, to make sure both sides were heard.

“My art is good. Really good. Olga paid me to make a drawing for Alexia, Jana has asked me to draw a photo of her and Jill in Amsterdam, so many people have paid me for commission art. I have thousands saved and I was planning on leaving as soon as I turned 18. I taught Leah how to play the piano, I’ve sold music sheets, done a Christmas concert at the London Music Hall. I get good grades, good enough that I can go to college in America if I want, but no one knows because no one cares.”

“I care.” Keira chocked back a sob, feeling a mixture of pride and guilt. Guilt for being so wrapped up in her own world that she forgot to include you in hers. “I care noodle. I’m so proud of you truly. I want to fix this. Fix it all. Please just tell me what I need to do.”

“Don’t make me go back. Not to Manchester, if I have to go back I’ll stay in London or-“

“You’re not going back, Noah.” Lucy said firmly. Yes you were Keira’s sister, but for the majority of your life, Lucy was around. So to her, you were also her sister and she felt just as bad as Keira. “You’ll either stay here with Keira, or you can stay with me. Alexia and Olga would even take you too. Maybe we need to do a custody agreement between the four of us.”

Before you had a chance to do anything, Keira launched herself into your body. Hugging you as tight as humanly possible. You’d give her the benefit of doubt, she didn’t know but it didn’t excuse anything.

The relationship between you and your parents was less than good, but it didn’t really matter to you. You had your art and your music. No one could take that away from you.

By winter break, things with Keira were better. Not perfect, but you were sisters so that was unlikely. Her plan was to go home to England for Christmas, however you didn’t want to. Alexia and Olga both agreed you’d come with them and with their help, Keira agreed.

When Olga finally gifted the hand drawn photo to Alexia, there were a lot of tears. Alexia rugby tackled you to the ground, kissing all over your face while crying happy tears. Eli thanked you as well, in a much more gentle way.

It was the first Christmas that things felt good. You weren’t around purely to keep up appearances, you didn’t have to hide away or force conversation with anyone.

Maybe Spain was where you’d find a home, and a person to share that home with.

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #fcb femení #alexia x reader #woso community #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #keira walsh x lucy bronze #keira walsh x reader #keira walsh

259 notes · View notes

gotta-winwin · 3 days ago

Text

(🎄) ... mirth and good cheer - xmas special

⭐ starring: vernon

🎄preview: vernon used to fly back to new york every christmas for one reason only: his childhood best friend. christmas used to be his and y/n’s thing, until he got seemingly too busy to ever return. now, as y/n departs to korea for the first time, she can’t help but wonder if her and vernon would ever cross paths again. vernon, unbeknownst to her, has been wondering the exact same thing. as the boys set up their christmas tree in their dorm, he does his best to ignore how hints of y/n still seemed to linger throughout the holiday air.

tw/cw: idol!vernon x nonidol!reader, childhood friends to lovers, estranged friends, slight miscommunication, fluff, slight angst, best christmas romcom vibes, features svt members, stubborn!reader, equallystubborn!vernon, use of y/n, flips between past and present day

☁️ masterlist & a/n: dropping a vernon x reader fic for our xmas special! doesn't vernon just scream childhood bestie to lover (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ merry christmas my loves!

11 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” Mingyu slapped Vernon’s hand away from the tree they were decorating. “It’s supposed to be symmetrical, not whatever you’re doing.”

Vernon had to admit he wasn’t really paying attention. Their dorm auntie, the one who came around once a week to clean up the place, had baked them gingerbread men as a Christmas gift, and the smell felt like it had seeped into the walls of their dorm. It was a nostalgic smell, one that took him back to his childhood, new york and-

“Vernon?” Mingyu waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening right now?”

He blinked, brought back from his thoughts. “Sorry, hyung. What?”

Mingyu could only let out a deep sigh, moving to place the bauble where he intended it to be. “You’re like this every Christmas. If you miss her so much, why don’t you just fly back?”

Vernon didn’t really know why he wasn’t flying back. He certainly could be, they were off work for the holidays and a plane ticket back wasn’t hard to find. He would be doing himself a favor, putting himself out of misery and finally seeing his childhood best friend. The thing was, he wasn’t really sure if Y/N wanted to see him. He shrugged. “I don’t miss her.” It was a lie and everyone in the room knew it.

CHRISTMAS DAY 2003:

Everyone who knew either of them would say they were smart kids for their age. Both only five, they whispered secrets to each other like little middle schoolers would on the playground.

“My parents say I’m going to Korea.” Vernon whispered to Y/N as they watched a christmas movie. “Forever.” Vernon always had a dramatic, theatrical side to him, even as a child.

Y/N could only frown. “Forever? Why?” She couldn’t imagine her best friend moving anywhere without her. “Am I going too?”

Vernon mirrored her frown on his own face. “I don’t know.” Sensing her sadness, he reached over and gave her a hug. “I’ll visit every year.” He promised.

“Every christmas.” Y/N insisted. She had always loved christmas above all else. “So we can watch movies again.”

Vernon agreed. “Okay. Every christmas. It’ll be like-” He paused, his young mind searching for the word. “Tradition.” He smiled at her, proud of the big word.

“Promise?” Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, reaching out with her pinky, extended. “Pinky promise me.”

Vernon grasped her pinky with his, shaking it firmly. He felt like a grown up, making one of those important business deals. “I promise.” Turning back to the screen, he let out a whine when he realized they had missed the best part. “We missed the part where the grinch screams down the mountain.” He complained. “I wanted to watch that part.”

Y/N got up, searching for the remote. “I’ll turn it back.”

Their dynamic never changed, even as they grew older. Vernon walked through life, Y/N following behind him with eyes filled with admiration, gently nudging the boy whenever he got distracted and began walking off-track. It stayed that way even with the distance, until one Christmas, Y/N woke up and Vernon had not returned.

CHRISTMAS DAY 2016:

“Mom?” Y/N called as she walked slowly down the stairs. She had returned home from university for the holidays and was confused when Vernon wasn’t at his usual spot to welcome her home. “Where’s Vernon?” He was usually back from Korea by now.

She didn’t like the look of pity her mother was giving her. “He didn’t tell you, honey? He’s been so busy with work, looks like he can’t fly back to join us for christmas this year.”

She felt her heart sink. She had been looking forward to spending time with him, even if it was just a couple of days out of the year. “Oh.” Of course, she understood. His work was important and she was sure the kpop industry couldn’t be easy. “That’s okay. I guess he must’ve been too busy to tell me.”

“What are you still doing here?” Joshua frowned at Vernon, who was lying down on his bed. “Shouldn’t you be in New York by now?” He was used to Vernon flying back to New York every christmas since they had met.

Vernon let out a huff. “Not going back this year, Josh.”

“Why not?” His friend pressed, confused. Vernon was usually so excited to go back. “Isn’t your friend going to be sad?”

“I can’t miss any more practice before our comeback. One Christmas should be fine.” Vernon explained, although his voice betrayed his disappointment. He had been looking forward to going back home, to be able to see Y/N again. He thought to himself that one christmas couldn’t hurt, right?

One Christmas missed turned into two. Then four. Then the timing felt too long and awkward and Vernon just never got the confidence to ever go back.

10 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

Korea was beautiful underneath a sheet of snow. Y/N had landed last night, having made up her mind to give living in Korea a try. Ever since graduating university and landing a job as a screenwriter, her friends and family had always urged her to try working for the Korean film scene.

She supposed she had always just avoided the country because of Vernon.

Her new job writing for some K-drama started after New Years. She thought maybe spending Christmas in a new place would bring back the mirth and good cheer the holiday used to give her, but she knew she was here for a different reason. A selfish and pathetic one. It burned her, that a part of her still wished to bump into Vernon after all these years. She knew he was doing well, SEVENTEEN was soaring through new heights and she had kept tabs on his ongoing success. It was the only way she kept going: his large internet presence sometimes made it feel like he never even left at all.

It hurt her the most that he could be doing so well without ever seeing her again.

Rounding the corner to the coffee shop, she rubbed her raw hands to regain heat. Ordering, she was relieved to find out she could still hold a conversation in Korean. It had gone rusty, the only people she ever used Korean with back home was Vernon’s dad and sister.

“Hello?” Someone from behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

She was greeted by a slightly taller, blond man, sporting black rimmed glasses and holding a cup of iced coffee. Her mind short circuiting a bit from the sudden Korean, she paused, trying to recollect her thoughts before replying. “I don’t think so?”

The man’s eyes widened in sudden recognition. “You’re the girl in the Christmas photos!” He exclaimed with wonder, pointing at her as if they were long lost friends.

She squinted, giving him another look over. “Um..” She frowned, quite sure she didn’t know this man.

“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at her, extending his hand for a handshake. “That probably came out wrong. You’re Vernon’s friend from New York, right? I’ve seen you in the pictures on his wall.”

She blanched, all of a sudden feeling very light and disoriented. “I’m sorry.” She smiled politely, still racking her brain furiously for the guy’s name. “How do you know Vernon?”

“I’m Seungkwan.” He explained, dropping her hand. “Vernon’s bandmate.”

She let out a sound of realization. “Ah~” She knew who he was. “Seungkwan. Sorry, I didn’t expect you to have blonde hair now.”

Chuckling at her shy admission, Seungkwan felt strangely sad to see the girl in Korea. “When did you come to Korea?” He asked, knowing Vernon would lose his shit if he found out they had been in the same location for a while.

“I arrived just last night.”

He left out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Okay, at least it hadn’t been very long. “You should come to our Christmas party.” He suggested, knowing Vernon would be there. “It’s being hosted at Coups hyung’s house this year, and everyone will be there.”

Y/N shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to make things weird.” She already caught on to the fact that Seungkwan knew all about her and Vernon’s falling out, or lack of one.

“You wouldn’t.” He insisted. “You must come. I’d hate to see you spend Christmas by yourself.”

It didn’t take much for Y/N to relent. She supposed a part of her had been looking for a chance to see Vernon again. “Alright. I’ll stop by and say a quick hi to everyone.”

Seungkwan’s smile was contagious as he beamed, grabbing a napkin to scribble Scoups’ address onto it and handing it to her. “It’s at 7pm on the 24th. Bring a present- something small.” He hurriedly gave her all the details as he left, mumbling about being late for a company meeting and how lovely it was to finally meet Vernon’s mystery girl.

Holding the napkin in her still freezing hand, Y/N felt utterly shipwrecked as she watched Seungkwan leave. Nine days was enough to prepare her heart to see Vernon again, right?

12 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024:

The frost in the air bit at Y/N’s face and neck as she quickly rang the doorbell to Seungcheol’s home. It was smaller than she had expected it to be, homey and comfortably situated in between two other larger houses.

“Y/N!” Seungkwan greeted her as he opened the door, tugging her in. “Oh, look at you. You must be freezing. Come in, come in.” Taking her coat from her and hanging it up, he beamed down at her. “I’m so glad you actually came.”

She bit back a smile, taking off her shoes. “I couldn’t turn down an invitation from Vernon’s friends.”

“Vernon’s in the living room with the others.” Seungkwan pointed down the hall, directing her over.

Y/N paused, loitering in the hallway between the door to the living room and the door to the kitchen. She felt strangely pulled towards the kitchen, knowing it’d be safe without the chance of a potential run-in with Vernon. Turning decisively towards the kitchen, she pretended not to hear Seungkwan’s deep sigh as he followed her in, knowing the boy was disappointed she had run away.

“It’s the girl from Vernon’s photos!” Hoshi sprung off the kitchen island to greet her, handing her a cup of mystery liquid.

She sniffed it before cringing away at the strong liquor scent. “That’s me.” She mumbled, shoulders sagging a little. “Does he really still have photos of me up?

Everyone in the kitchen nodded simultaneously. “It’s been on his wall since we were trainees.” Joshua informed her, his eyes holding a teasing glint. “Every time we move places he just puts it back up.”

Y/N didn’t really know what to do with that information. “Oh.” She replied, looking down in her cup, thinking. “I didn’t know that.”

Seungkwan let out a loud sigh once again. “You should go talk to him.”

She looked up.

“Please.” He added, his tone bordering on begging. “He’s been so grumpy. Especially during the holiday season. I got a pillow to the face for asking him a simple question yesterday.” He grumbled out, complaining about his moody roommate.

“What did you ask him?” Joshua asked, mildly curious.

Seungkwan shrugged. “Just if he was going back to New York.”

“Of course he threw a pillow at you.” Joshua rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised he didn’t just deck you, with how you were antagonizing him. You know very well he hasn’t gone back in years.”

Y/N watched the conversation silently, gagging quietly as she sipped the concoction Hoshi had handed her. She absorbed the information diligently, her eyes widening the more information she got on Vernon. Distance had turned him into a stranger - and now, well, she couldn’t really say she knew him at all. It was strange, having to admit someone she used to read like the back of her own hand was someone she now didn’t know at all.

“I’m going to the living room.” She decided, having had enough of the topic. If she kept listening to them talk about Vernon’s struggles and heartache about leaving her in New York one more minute she might find herself leaving for the night. Being in the same room with Vernon was just going to be awkward silence anyways. She knew he wasn’t brave enough to approach her. At least not tonight.

“Y/N!”

It was Mingyu and Wonwoo who greeted her from the couch, the two of them in the middle of an intense round of what looked to be Mariokart. They waved at her from their place, inviting her over to sit next to them. She was painfully aware of Vernon’s eyes staring at her from his place on the rug, fingers busy with a random puzzle that was lying out.

“Hi guys.” She smiled, sitting down, laughing when Mingyu pushed Wonwoo in an attempt to disrupt his driving.

“We didn’t know you were in Korea for Christmas!” Mingyu exclaimed. “Good thing Seungkwan bumped into you when he did and invited you over.”

She glanced at Vernon, who was doing his best to pretend like he wasn’t interested in their conversation. “Yeah. I moved here recently actually. Got a job writing for a TV show.”

Vernon’s eyes widened as he fixed his stare against the white rug.

“That’s cool.” Wonwoo smiled at Y/N, happy for her. “It’s good that you’re in Korea now.” He side eyed Vernon, frowning when he realized the boy hadn’t even spoken to Y/N. Nudging him with his foot, he gestured with his gaze. “Did you hear Vernon? Y/N got a job here.”

Vernon nodded stiffly before standing up. “I think Cheol hyung’s calling me, I’ll- I’ll go see what he wants.” And just like that he was gone, rushing out of the living room.

Wonwoo looked apologetically at Y/N. “I’m sorry about that.”

She shrugged, although her heart had cracked at the movement. “It’s okay.”

“Maybe now that you’re in Korea you guys can be friends again?” Mingyu suggested quietly, although a part of him wasn’t really certain about it. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” She mumbled, taking another sip of her drink, feeling her face flush with heat. Anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell.

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but Y/N could feel her lips start to loosen the more she sat with Mingyu and Wonwoo, the party heading later into the night.

“You know I used to hate you guys.” She admitted all of a sudden, jolting both boys out of whatever conversation they were having.

“What?” Wonwoo frowned. “Why?”

“I hated Vernon for choosing you guys over me.” She lowered her eyes to the floor, feeling ashamed. “I know it’s childish of me, but hating you guys was how I dealt with it. I couldn’t bring myself to hate Vernon for his own actions.”

Mingyu looked at her with sad eyes as he patted her on the back gently. “I get that.” He reassured her, and she looked over at Wonwoo who was nodding as well.

“Do you still hate us?” Wonwoo asked, his voice calm.

She shook her head. “No. So I guess I’m just-” She paused. “Confused now.”

She hated how pitiful their looks made her feel as she sat there, nursing her half finished drink, mind spinning. Perhaps it was time to leave her silly childhood infatuation with Vernon in the past. It seemed like he had done so already anyways.

10 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024:

Vernon felt like throwing up the moment he saw Y/N enter the party. It felt like a vision, something he had conjured up within his own mind, until the others had greeted her and shattered his vision into reality.

“Talk to her, you moron.” Seungkwan nudged him. He had retreated from the living room into the kitchen the moment Y/N had sat down with the others on the couch. It physically stung to be in the same room as her, with all the knowledge that he had failed her and their once cherished friendship.

He took another gulp of his drink instead of answering Seungkwan.

“She clearly still loves you, y’know.” The boy continued upon hearing Vernon’s silence. “Or else she wouldn’t be here. And didn’t you always tell us Y/N would follow you around like a puppy whenever you were back home as kids?”

Screw Seungkwan and his amazing, awfully selective memory.

“So?” Vernon mumbled, rolling his shoulders back and feeling himself tense. “Things change.”

“You’ve changed.”

Vernon stared at his friend, thrown off by the sudden harsh truths. “What?”

“I don’t think she’s changed at all, Vernon.” Seungkwan observed. “It’s you who’s changed and you who has to fix it.” He paused. “Or at least explain it to her. Why you don’t want to be friends anymore.”

“I do want to be friends.” He stated plainly.

Seungkwan cut his eyes at him, exasperated. “Then tell her that. Jeez, bro. You suck at this.”

“We’re swapping presents now!” Seungcheol poked his head out from behind the hallway door. “Everyone in the living room!”

Vernon grabbed his present from the counter and headed in behind Seungkwan and Joshua, turning the box in his hands as he examined the poor wrapping job he had done last night. He had bought the most generic gift he could find, knowing it was going to be a random swap with the boys. The thing he hadn’t accounted for was Y/N showing up - and now it had thrown both his present and him off the game.

“Grab a pair.” Seungcheol announced loudly to everyone in the room, as there was a mad scramble for partners.

Vernon found himself standing alone in the midst of his bandmates all already coupled up, limbs tangled together in an awkward mad dash for a partner. His eyes met the only other person with a partner and he stifled a pained cry.

“It looks like you and Y/N are exchanging gifts this year, Non.” Seungkwan shot him a large grin from his spot next to Mingyu.

He knew this had to be preplanned - fate couldn’t be this cruel, right?

“Go on.” Seungkwan poked him in the back, urging him to approach Y/N, who suddenly seemed to be very captivated by a nearby portrait of Seungcheol and Kkmua, placed on the shelf next to her. She stared at it intensely, although Vernon knew she was still hyper-aware of the fact that he was slowly walking towards her. She had that funny way of darting her eyes towards the person she was avoiding while not facing in their direction.

“Y/N.” Her name sounded so foreign yet so familiar across his tongue as he spoke.

“Vernon.”

Her voice felt like coming home.

“Here.” He placed his gift in her hands as he took hers, turning it awkwardly in his hands. “What is it?” He asked, shaking it gently.

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Telling you would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise.”

“You said that last time too.”

He watched her stiffen at his words and he immediately regretted bringing up the past. They both knew last time had been years ago.

“I guess I did.” She replied stiffly, turning his gift in her hands. “What’s yours?”

“Thought you liked your presents to be a surprise?” He recalled, remembering how she used to whine that he must wrap her presents, when the teenage him had insisted that just putting it in a bag would be fine.

“I do.” Her tone made it sound like she was just remembering that fact herself. She looked up and shot him an awkward smile. “I guess I don’t really know what to say.”

“Me either.”

He could’ve sworn he saw her face drop at his words.

They separated soon after, the uncomfortable silence taking over and suffocating them both out of the vicinity of each other. Vernon returned to his spot in the kitchen, picking at the pieces of takeout still leftover on the counter, listening to the others squabble over meaningless things.

He watched Y/N leave, feet rooted by the hallway door and mouth firmly shut closed - he didn’t trust himself to say goodbye to her - he knew that if he had, a million unsaid words would have spilled out and the night would have ended terribly for the both of them. But it was the fear that kept him still most of all, as he watched her exchange numbers with Seungkwan, hugging the others and promising to keep in touch. He stayed as still as a statue as the door shut behind her.

“You idiot.” Seungkwan turned to face him as soon as he locked the door.

“Seungkwan.” Seungcheol’s warning tone made Vernon look at him. He was sending a strong warning glance at the boy.

“What?” Seungkwan protested. “He is being stupid.”

“I think I’m going to head back.” Vernon mumbled, grabbing his coat and hurriedly throwing it on, Y/N’s gift clutched tightly under his arm as he headed for the door. “Thanks for the party, Coups hyung.” He called behind him, shutting the door behind him and welcoming in the cool, biting winter air.

He released the pent up breath that had been choking him all night and furiously wiped away the tears that had begun to form the moment he shut the door behind him.

“Idiot.” He quietly chided himself. “So stupid.”

CHRISTMAS 2018:

“Are you really never going back to New York?” Joshua prodded at his arm with an insistent jab of a finger.

Vernon hummed in response. “There’s no point. My family prefers coming to Korea for the holidays anyways. They get to visit family here and everything.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

Vernon turned his head to see Joshua sporting a shit eating grin. “You know she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Might as well be.” He shrugged, pointing at the various photos that featured her against his wall. “Look at your pathetic loving gaze at her in all of these photos. You’re not even looking at the camera in any of these.”

Vernon frowned at his comment, taking a good look at the photos and realizing Joshua was right. “Doesn’t matter what I feel, hyung. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’ll never be if you don’t go back.” Joshua suddenly got serious, as he shifted in his seat to look at Vernon better. “Is there an actual reason why you won’t go back? I know we were too busy the last two years but this year we’re free.”

Vernon stayed silent even though the answer was clear as day in his mind. He was scared, terrified even. Terrified he had hurt her by neglecting her due to his heavy schedules, that she would slam the door in his face if he tried to visit her. “I don’t want to see her hate me.” He finally spat out, cringing as he said it.

Joshua let out a tiny noise of understanding. “So you’re avoiding her. Pretending so you don’t have to deal with the consequences.”

“When you put it like that you make me sound like an asshole.”

Joshua gave him a look that bordered on pitiful. “I don’t know what to tell you, man.”

“I’d rather remember her like this, y’know?” He said, pointing at the way she smiled at him in the pictures on his wall. “Instead of-”

“She might not hate you.” Joshua reminded him quietly from next to him.

“I really, really doubt that, hyung.”

5 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS:

It wasn’t computing properly into Vernon’s head that you had just gotten him the one thing he’s been wanting all his life.

He had been ogling the Novation Launchpad Pro that was currently sitting on his work table for the last hour, not really believing what he was seeing with his own two eyes. Unwrapping it had been a heart attack in of itself, as he opened up Y/N’s present to reveal the one thing that had been sitting on the top of his childhood wish list since he could remember. Even now, as a famous artist who could afford the splurge, he had never gotten it for himself, knowing it was a luxury and a purchase he didn’t necessarily need.

“What the fuck, Y/N.” He muttered in disbelief, sliding his palm down his face as he continued to stare at the gift. It was fucking fantastic and exactly what he wanted, and it made him feel even worse about the whole situation.

She might not hate you. He recalled the words Joshua had told him one time, Christmases ago.

“Someone who hated me wouldn’t have gotten me this, right?” He said aloud to himself, reaching a timid hand out to fiddle with the launchpad controls. “How did she even know we’d be exchanging gifts anyways?” And how on earth does she know I never got myself one? In what felt like a split second decision, Vernon felt himself walking towards the door of his apartment, sliding his shoes on and grabbing his keys - only one destination in mind. He had to fix this, somehow. Because there was no fucking way she still hated him.

4 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS:

She would’ve complained that the sudden doorbell at 3am woke her up but she hadn’t really been sleeping. Y/N had been lying in bed with her eyes wide open since the moment she’d gotten home, the bag of chocolates and various snacks from Vernon left on her kitchen counter. She had stifled a laugh when she opened it - even till this day, Vernon’s go to gift was still the same. Chocolate and snacks can never fail, he had told her, defending his choice of gift. Especially when you don’t know the person too well.

She supposed that line made sense for their situation too.

“Vernon?” She squinted at the figure standing on her porch in the dark. “What are you doing here?” She rubbed her eyes, mildly wondering if she was dreaming.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared down at her. “You got me the launchpad.”

She blinked. “Yeah.”

“How’d you know?”

She stared back at him, stunned at his bluntness and the randomness of the current setting. “You never shut up about it.”

His mouth opened and closed again. She watched as he tried looking for words, his vocabulary ultimately failing him.

“Come inside.” She said quietly, noticing how the harsh winter wind blew at his thin coat. Dragging him gently inside, she shut the door behind them both, turning around awkwardly to face him. She never thought she’d ever see him in his apartment - yet he looked so perfect.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, eyes darting around her place, taking it all in. “I know it’s late.” Glancing down at her pajamas, his lips quivered in a small smile. “Cute.”

“What?” She stared at him indignantly, completely thrown off by his behaviour. “Are you drunk?” She reached out a hand to touch his face, trying to check his temperature, but he caught her hand in his before she could reach.

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.” He dropped her hand like it had burned him.

“Then what are you here for?”

She watched him moisten his lips as he stalled for time.

“I wanted to say sorry.” He finally said, his words tumbling out as if they had been held back for long enough. “I shouldn’t have cut you off like that.”

She thought she’d have a more visceral reaction to the apology she had been waiting for all this time, but she didn’t. “Why are you saying this now? It’s been nearly ten years, Vernon.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders sagged at his words and the sight of his dejected, ashamed face. “Why didn’t you come back? Or text me?” She asked him, pleading for an answer.

He finally looked up and met her eyes. “I guess I was scared. I got busy one year and didn’t go back- and I neglected our friendship. And then-” He paused, his voice breaking. “I left, and time passed and staying away felt simpler than going back. No goodbye felt better than a bad one.”

“It wouldn’t have been a bad goodbye.”

He shook his head. “You hated me.”

She looked away, remembering all the times she had cursed him for leaving her behind when she was younger. “Maybe. But never for long.” She mustered all her courage to tell him her next words. “I loved you too much to hate you for very long.”

Vernon blinked at her. “You loved me?”

She hummed in response, still not quite looking at him. They stood there, by her door, in the dim lights of her apartment.

“How did you even get my address?” She suddenly asked, forgetting he shouldn’t have known where to find her.

Vernon stayed silent, his mind still reeling from the sudden love confession. She used to love me?

“Vernon.” Y/N nudged him.

“Oh.” He finally responded, although his own voice felt like light years away as his mind continued to reel. “I asked my sister. Didn’t know you guys still talked.”

“Oh.”

“You used to love me?” He asked, incredulous, not quite believing her words. “Why?”

She laughed, and the sound wrapped around Vernon like her hugs used to. “What do you mean, why? Of course I loved you. I followed you around like a lost kid our entire childhood.”

“I loved you too, y’know.”

Her smile dropped as she paused mid-laugh. “What?”

He took a step closer to her, unsure where the sudden confidence was coming from. Vernon searched her eyes for some figment of affection, for truth, for the way she used to look at him when they were younger. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.” He finally admitted. “I definitely tried to, but your hold on me lasted through distance and time.”

“Me too.”

“What?”

“I never stopped loving you too.”

#seventeen imagines #svt #svt imagines #seventeen #svt fluff #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen christmas #svt fic #svt scenarios #svt vernon #vernon x you #vernon x reader #seventeen vernon #vernon

169 notes · View notes