#she's been there with them all these years but it wasn't HER | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 2 days ago

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"This is me trying"

Prologue.

ok yall!! so i'm in a bit of writers block for IBDL and the older AU after tumblr deleted the chpaters I spent days writing. Butttt I did come up with this, reader is still neglected bc she can never be happy, but it's a darker Mafia Au. This also sucks bc it also got deleted but i really wanted to post something and get feeback on this concept. This is the prologue! Hope yall enjoy! Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments make my day and encourage me to write more. Send in aks!!

TW: BRIEF SA, IF IT TRIGGERS YOU, DONT READ!

The Wayne Manor was a sprawling gothic monstrosity perched on the edge of the Gotham skyline, a dark and looming silhouette against the backdrop of a city that never truly slept. It was a place where secrets festered, where power and control were everything, and where the lives of the people within its walls revolved around wealth, influence, and fear. For the people who lived in it, this was home. For you? It was a prison.The Wayne family was Gotham's most powerful mafia family, maybe even in all of North America, an empire built on crime, manipulation, and ruthless control. At the top of it all was Bruce Wayne, the cold and calculating godfather. Your actual father. Beneath him, each of his children had their role to play. But you, his biological daughter, were no more than a ghost within the house. You were a byproduct of a two-night stand with a whore, as your family called her, that had long since faded into shadows, and your presence was barely tolerated by the very people who were supposed to be your family.

At least, that’s how it felt after nearly a decade of living here.

You had arrived at Wayne Manor when you were just seven years old, dragged from the wreckage of your mother’s overdose by a man who was nothing more than a stranger. Bruce Wayne—cold, distant, and unforgiving. A man who ruled over the city with an iron fist and a heart as cold as the marble floors beneath your feet. He wasn’t your father, he never had been. He had simply become the man who was tasked with your care, but that wasn’t much of a care at all. Bruce’s love had always been reserved for the empire he had built, not you. You were merely another complication in his already fractured world. He told you that your mother had left you, that you were his responsibility now, and that you needed to prove you were worthy of the Wayne name. A name that, for the longest time, had been nothing but an empty echo in your mind.

Your mother was your hero, a military hero who realized how fucked up America was and retired. She, like most veterans, got hooked on drugs but that didn't mean she loved you any less. When she died, she took your happiest parts with her.

“Prove you deserve the last name Wayne,” Bruce had said when you were first brought into the manor, his eyes hard, his tone colder than the mansion’s marble floors. He’d looked at you like you were nothing but another part of the vast empire he controlled, a problem to be solved, a name to be earned.

And that’s what you did. You worked. You tried to prove yourself, to be a part of this family—this business. But it didn’t matter. You were invisible to them, a shadow in the background of the Wayne Empire. A ghost that haunted the halls of a mansion that never felt like home.

The moment he had taken you in, he’d told you to keep your head down. "Wayne’s don’t cry. Wayne’s don’t show weakness," he had said, his tone dead and devoid of any warmth. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spoken to you unless it was to reprimand or scold you for something minor. You learned quickly that to Bruce, you didn’t exist.

He was the head of the Wayne Mafia and Wayne enterprise, the mastermind who controlled everything from the shadows. He was feared, respected, and never showed weakness. He wasn't your father. He was your boss, distant, cold, and authoritarian. To him, you were nothing. He barely acknowledged you unless you were needed for some mafia-related task, which was almost never. You were neglected in the deepest way possible, emotionally invisible, yet physically present only when it was required.

You learned early on that any attempt to gain his affection was futile. He was too busy running his empire, and any sign of weakness—like wanting to be close to him—was met with disdain. His affection was reserved for his empire and all his other children.

At 15, you had spent eight years in the mansion without a single ounce of affection from him. You were a tool to him, nothing more. And yet, despite his coldness, you still wanted to earn his approval. You knew it was futile, but there was still something inside you that clung to the hope that one day, maybe, he’d look at you like he did the others. You became top of your class, played volleyball, did cheer, ballet, theatre, became student council president, won every award under the sun hoping he’d notice, that one day he’d show up at your award ceremony and bring your siblings. They’d all be grinning at you proudly, they’d make sure everyone knew you were part of the family, they’d let you sit with them at dinner and let you tell them about your most recent tennis match. But that was always a fantasy.

And maybe that was what broke you the most: knowing that he would never see you as a true part of the family.

Earning the Wayne name felt like a distant dream, like something only the others could ever attain. Bruce made it clear when you arrived at Wayne Manor was that you didn’t belong here yet. His blood ran cold when he looked at you, as though you were a mistake he’d have to clean up. There was no room for kindness, no words of comfort. Just a cold gaze, and then the hollow command to stay out of his way.

As you grew older, the cruelty only deepened, and it wasn’t just Bruce.

When Dick Grayson entered the scene, you were still just a child, struggling to make sense of your place in the mansion. He was everything Bruce wasn’t, charming, always smiling, and the golden boy of the family. The way he spoke to you, with that practiced air of kindness, made your skin crawl.

But the smile he wore to the rest of the world was never the one he gave you. The moment the doors closed behind you two, that smile would disappear, replaced with a smirk that spoke volumes. His jokes about you, his casual jabs, it was like nothing you did would ever be good enough. He was always pushing you, always finding ways to make you feel small.

“You know, if you weren’t so weak, Bruce might actually notice you,” Dick would say as he walked by, his eyes flicking over you like you were nothing more than a nuisance. "But don’t worry. Maybe you’ll prove yourself one day. Maybe.”

His words, though they came with a laugh, always carried the sharp edge of cruelty.

The eldest of the children, the perfect golden boy, the one who could do no wrong in Bruce’s eyes. Dick was no different than the rest. As a leader of a section of the family’s operations, he was a busy man. He had his own goals and ambitions, and when it came to you, he cruel.

To Dick, you were a lost cause, someone who wasn't worth the effort, the butt of the joke. While he didn't mock you as often as Damian or Jason, he certainly didn’t love you, he didn't even like you. He was more likely to ignore you entirely, but if you caught him in a bad mood.........He never tried to be a big brother, and in moments when you needed comfort, he’d either brush you off or simply laugh at you and make you feel worse.

Damian—Bruce’s biological son. Your little brother who seemed to have it all. The heir to the throne, groomed for greatness, your father's love. It wasn’t hard to see the resentment and hatred in his eyes whenever you crossed paths. At 13, Damian was already a lethal force, training under the most dangerous men in the world. But what you hated most about him was that, despite the bitterness, he always seemed to find ways to put you down.

your younger half-brother, was the perfect assassin in training, and he hated you. He hated how you existed in his space, how you took up time and energy that could have been spent on his training. To him, you were a nuisance, a shadow in his way. He didn't care about family bonds or affection. You were just the member of the household that didn’t belong.

Damian's cold demeanor was the product of years of indoctrination into the Wayne family’s brutal world. He was protective of the family, of Bruce’s approval, so any sign of weakness or attachment from you only made him more disgusted. He’d learned to use violence as a way to control people, but when it came to you, he was especially harsh, never lifting a finger to defend you, but constantly mocking, hurting, and ridiculing you, making you feel small and insignificant.

Damian never missed a chance to make cruel remarks about you, as though any attempt at closeness with you would be seen as weakness.

"You're nothing more than a distraction," Damian would sneer as he walked past you, his green eyes glowing with disdain. "Father is wasting time on you. You’ll never be one of us."

His words sliced through you like a blade, and it only made the ache of rejection burn deeper.

Tim was the one who ignored you the most. He had a sharp intellect, a mind for strategy, and an indifference to almost everyone around him, including you. You had tried to talk to him once, hoping for some sort of connection, you were around the same age after all, but he just stared through you as though you weren’t there.

When he did speak, it was never pleasant.

"Could you be quieter for once?" he snapped one evening, his gaze never leaving his laptop screen. "Some of us are trying to work."

It was a pattern, one that left you feeling invisible, like you didn’t even exist in his world. On rare occasions, when he was in a particularly bad mood, he’d throw a cutting remark your way, something meant to remind you that you were just a nuisance in his eyes.

"You think you’re important just because you’re here?" Tim would sneer. "Get over yourself. You’ll never be more than a side character."

The family’s strategist, and tech genius, was the quietest of the bunch. Tim was obsessed with perfection, everything had to be meticulously planned. When it came to you, he was condescending. He believed you were too naïve, too soft for the harsh world they lived in. It was clear that he didn’t consider you part of the family in a meaningful way. To him, you were just another piece in the game, and you were never treated like an equal.

Tim would lecture you about what you should be doing, constantly putting you down in subtle ways that made you question your worth.

Jason was the worst of all, next to Damian of course. Where the others merely ignored you or made snide comments, Jason was outright cruel. He made it clear that he didn’t want you here from the moment you arrived. He’d watch you with a sneer on his face, like you were something he had to tolerate rather than a part of the family.

“Do you ever stop being pathetic?” Jason growled one night, cornering you in the hallway. He was older than you—by eight years—and his presence was always overwhelming, his anger like a shadow that clung to him wherever he went. “You’re nothing but a waste of space. Bruce should’ve left you on the streets where you belong.”

You could never forget that night. The venom in his words, the way he towered over you with that sick, twisted smile that barely concealed the disgust he felt for you—it stayed with you, festering in your mind.

Your older brother, was once a wild and rebellious soul, but after his brutal experience with the Joker, he became even more distant. He had built walls around himself, and those walls excluded you. To him, you were nothing more than a symbol of the dysfunction that ran through the Wayne family. He didn’t care about you, he resented you for simply existing.

Whenever he interacted with you, it was laced with sarcasm and cruelty. He would always mock you in front of the others, tearing down your self-esteem at every opportunity. Your attempts to reach out to him were met with disgust, and sometimes even attacks. If you tried to talk to him about anything personal, he’d brush you off with an eye roll or sarcastic comment.

He was a silent witness to your pain, and he didn't care to acknowledge it.

The girls—Steph, Cass, and Barbara—were no better.

Stephanie would occasionally feign interest in you, only to turn it into a mocking session. "You really think Bruce cares about you?" she’d ask with a smirk. "He just likes having more bodies around to do his bidding. And you? You’re nothing but a backup plan, a mistake."

Cass, though quieter, was no less cruel. She had a way of looking at you as if you were beneath her, like you didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air. Her silence was more suffocating than any words could be.

Barbara, though, was the most calculating. She used her intelligence to manipulate, twisting everything into a game of control. She’d often mock you in front of the others, making it feel like you were a joke.

“Do you really think you’ll ever be anything but Bruce’s charity case?” she asked one day, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You’ll never be one of us. Don’t kid yourself.”

They were mean in every sense of the word, they made fun of your looks, your weight, your height, they gave you insecurities you never would’ve thought of.

Alfred, the Wayne family’s butler, was perhaps the only one who ever showed any genuine care, but even that was limited. Alfred's soft-spoken nature meant he was there for you, but he was more like a caretaker than a father figure. He was more interested in making sure you were fed, safe, and well taken care of, but he never pushed against Bruce or the others to make sure you were emotionally okay. Alfred was loyal to the family and followed Bruce’s commands, no matter how cruel they were.

And then there was Duke.

Duke, the one who never even seemed to acknowledge your existence. He was polite—always saying "hello" when he passed by, but that was the extent of it. He didn’t hate you. He didn’t love you. He just… ignored you. It was almost worse than anything the others did. At least when they made fun of you, you existed to them.

But Duke? He acted as if you weren’t even in the room.

In the end, you were just a shadow in Wayne Manor. There was no love here, no family. Just a constant, searing reminder that you didn’t belong.

You were nothing. You were nobody.

But you’d change that. You had to. You had to prove yourself worthy of the Wayne name. Even if it meant enduring their cruelty.

Because deep down, you knew that in a family built on power and fear, only the strongest survived.

And maybe, just maybe, you could become something more.

At Gotham Academy, you were untouchable.

There was no other way to put it. You were awkward and lonely in middle school but that changed as soon as you hit puberty in high school. Suddenly you were the girl everyone wanted to be or be with. Effortless grace and charm, the kind of girl who seemed to have it all together. You were the captain of the cheer team, the student body president, the girl who could throw a party, lead a project, and still ace every test. The guys chased after you with varying levels of persistence, but none of them knew who you really were. They didn’t know you were a Wayne.

They didn’t know you were just a forgotten child in the massive, shadowed halls of Wayne Manor.

At school, you were alive. Teachers fawned over you, praising your work ethic, your achievements, and your positive attitude. "Your essays are brilliant," Mrs. Summers would say, always raising her eyebrow in surprise when she saw your name at the top of the page. "You never fail to impress, your parents must be proud." You smiled, the words coming easily, just as they always did. The praise felt good, almost like an escape from the emptiness that waited for you when you returned to Wayne Manor.

But the truth was, you were dying for something real, something that made you feel seen at home.

When school let out, you gathered your things, avoiding the usual parade of admirers by slipping through the back doors of the school to your waiting car. Today, there was no stopping the swarm of boys who followed you from class to class. Josh from the football team had been practically suffocating you all day with his relentless compliments, while Lucas, the track star, was constantly finding excuses to "study" with you. Both of them seemed to think your "no" was just another challenge. But despite their attention, you were still the one who didn’t belong.

Because once you left Gotham Academy, once you stepped into Wayne Manor, you were nobody.

Bruce never cared to acknowledge your presence, let alone make you feel like part of the family. He was always wrapped up in his business empire or his “other life,” never bothering to check in on you. The closest thing you had to a father was Alfred, the ever-loyal butler, who was the only one who seemed to care about you. But even his affection was distant, a courtesy reserved for a child who didn’t quite fit.

Damian, Tim, Stephanie, and Duke all attended Gotham Prep, the elite school for Gotham’s privileged. Bruce had never bothered enrolling you there, and you wondered, sometimes, if it was because you weren’t good enough, weren’t worth the effort.

And yet, despite their indifference, you longed to be seen by them. Maybe if you earned their respect, earned Bruce’s approval, they would start noticing you.

But it was always the same: emptiness.

The one place you could truly escape to was Grace's house. Grace was your best friend, your sister in every way that mattered. She was the one who saw the real you, the one who didn’t care about your last name or your family’s wealth. She was the only one who knew you were the unwanted daughter of Gothams most infamous mobster. She accepted you as you were: a girl who was as talented as she was misunderstood.

At Grace’s house, you felt alive. It was a normal, cozy home, filled with laughter and love, the kind of place that had never been offered to you at Wayne Manor. Her parents treated you like their own daughter, and her two older brothers—Isaac and Nathan—had taken to protecting you like you were their little sister. Her youngest brother, James annoyed you as much as he did Grace and somehow, you loved him for it. It was nice being a big sister to someone who was actually normal and didn't try to kill you all the time.

Grace’s oldest brother, Daniel, was another story, he treated you like a sister even though you've had a crush on him since you were 10.

You flirted with him constantly. It wasn’t anything serious, but Daniel had a way of making your heart race in a way that the boys at Gotham Academy never could. He was a older than you, maybe 21, with a confident charm that made him irresistible. Tall, blonde, jacked, he was the perfect All-American boy. You knew he wasn’t ever going to see you as anything more that a little sister but that didn’t stop you from trying. Every time he walked into the room, your heart did a little skip, and you couldn’t help but turn into a blushing mess. Grace teased you endlessly for it. Daniel was your first ever crush and that feeling would never really go away, no matter how much you saw him or how sisterly he treated you.

Most nights, you stayed over at Grace's. It became a regular tradition—weekends spent in her house, sprawled out on her couch for movie marathons, stealing her clothes, gossiping about school, and stealing snacks from her kitchen. You loved it there. You could forget about Wayne Manor, forget about the neglect and the loneliness, and just be a normal teenager. You came over for Thanksgiving, your birthday, and for Christmas they even had a stocking with your name on it.

One night, after a particularly grueling practice, Grace invited you to another sleepover at her house. As usual, you packed a bag with the essentials, pajamas, a change of clothes, and your phone, just in case. You already had most things at her house, you practically lived with her at this point. The moment you arrived, Grace’s dad, Thomas, greeted you with a warm hug, his hearty laugh filling the room. “Here comes trouble!” he said, ruffling your hair in that easy-going way he did every time you showed up.

You felt the pang of longing for a real family, but you pushed it away, embracing the warmth of the moment. You wanted to be part of this family, a normal family.

Grace’s siblings were equally welcoming. Nathan tossed you a snack and winked. “You ready to get your ass kicked at Mario Kart again?” he teased, knowing full well that you were unbeatable.

James groaned "I knew I smelled another loser walk in" You gasped dramatically and put him into a headlock, ruffling his hair till he apologized.

As the night went on, and you all sat around Grace’s kitchen table, laughing and joking, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life at Wayne Manor, and the family that barely looked at you, was a shadow that still loomed over your heart.

But then, as if to prove that life couldn’t just be simple for you, the front door of Grace’s house swung open, and your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at it, your stomach dropping as you saw the name.

Alfred.

You knew what it meant. You couldn't sleep over tonight. Bruce was having people over and you had to be there in case the guests asked about you. Another night where you'd sit at the table in the maids kitchen, listening to your family get along without you. Pretending that Bruce’s absence didn’t eat away at you, didn't make you feel less than. You ignored his message. You didn't want to go home, really the guests never even knew Bruce had a biological daughter, they wouldn't ask about you. This was just Alfred's way of trying to make the family bond with you.

It was always the same. Bruce only ever reached out when he needed you for something, when his empire demanded your presence. But never for the reason you truly needed. Not for affection. Not for love.

You stood up abruptly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the laughter and warmth of Grace’s home. You didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to go back to the place that always made you feel so… alone. But you had to. You had no choice. You already ignored Alfred's text long enough, you missed dinner so you had to get home or else Bruce might actually kill you, if he even noticed you weren't there.

No matter how far you ran, how many awards you won, or how many boys followed you around at school, the question remained: when would you finally be seen by the ones who mattered most?

That night, your prayers were answered, your bravery caught the entire family's attention just when you had gotten okay with their negligence, began to enjoy doing whatever you wanted from the shadows.

The rain was fucking relentless.

It hammered down from the heavens, soaking you to the bone as you walked through the backstreets of Gotham. The kind of rain that made you feel like you were being baptized in cold, dirty water. You pulled the hood of your jacket up, not that it did a damn thing to keep you dry. The city’s grimy streets were slick with water, reflecting the neon lights like a damn funhouse mirror. You kept your head down, trying to ignore the chill creeping through your clothes.

Grace’s house had been a brief escape from the cold, suffocating grip of Wayne Manor. For a few hours, you’d felt like a person again. Like someone who could actually live, instead of just existing as a piece of forgotten furniture in the mansion. But that was before Alfred had texted. Before you saw his name flash across your screen, making your stomach twist in a knot.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, shoving the phone back into your pocket. Not today. Not now. You needed more time before you went back to that suffocating place. But you knew it wasn’t a choice. Bruce would be pissed, and when Bruce Wayne was pissed? Everyone knew about it.

Still, you had to push forward. It was Gotham, after all. A rainstorm in this city could mean anything from a mugging to a full-on shootout. Every step felt heavier as you neared the looming silhouette of Wayne Manor. The mansion stood there like some kind of ancient titan, always watching, always waiting, and never giving a damn about who you were.

The door creaked open, and you slipped inside, trying to make as little noise as possible. Maybe you’d get lucky and Bruce would be too busy with whatever the hell was going on to notice you sneaking in.

Fat chance.

The foyer was dark, and the mansion smelled like dust and expensive wood polish. You should have felt comforted by the familiarity, but instead, all you could feel was that gnawing sense of isolation. The Manor had always felt like a prison to you, and not the kind you could escape with a couple of well-timed sprints or clever words. This was a cage built with stone and glass, and you were stuck inside it.

You started down the hallway, the faint sound of voices growing louder as you passed the dining room.

And then you stopped. Something in the air changed. The hairs on your neck stood up. You were too close to the dining hall, and the moment you looked in through the door, your breath hitched in your chest.

There, at the long grand dining table, sat your family—or, well, what was left of them. Every one of them was slumped forward, tied to their chairs with ropes, blood trickling from their ears, noses, and mouths. The first thing you noticed was that no one was moving. No one was breathing. They all looked... dead.

Bruce. Damian. Jason. Dick. Tim. Cass. Duke. Steph. Barbra, even Alfred was slumped over in the corner where he usually kept watch. All of them.

Your stomach dropped to your feet as you backed away slowly. This was not happening.

“No fucking way,” you breathed out, stepping back, trying to backpedal before anyone heard you. But your mind was already working overtime. Who did this? Why?

The answer came quickly. It didn’t take much to put two and two together. The guests, it had to be them. The rich assholes who had “business” with Bruce. Except now, you were figuring out that the business they were conducting didn’t involve any stock markets or deals. It was murder.

And then the realization hit: whoever these people were, they weren’t here for some petty robbery. They’d been in the house long enough to take down the entire family without a sound.

Fuck.

Your mind went blank. For a second, you thought you were dreaming. But no, this was real. And this was not happening.

You were about to turn on your heel and haul ass out of there, but that’s when you heard it. Footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Two of them, moving fast, and definitely not the quiet kind. The air around you felt thicker. The kind of thick that made your skin crawl.

You darted to the side, taking cover behind a marble pillar. From the sound of it, someone was coming this way. Your heart pounded in your chest as you held your breath, praying to God they didn’t notice you.

You needed to leave. Now. Run. Go.

But just as you turned, desperate to bolt before anyone saw you, you froze.

Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, and moving fast.

There was no time to think, you stayed hidden watching them walk around the room. They were wearing crisp black suits, and all three looked like they shopped in the"Big and tall" section. There was no way you could fight off all three, yeah you had some muscle but nothing like Jason or even Tim. Even Bruce would break a sweat facing these guys. They seemed to be checking Bruce's pockets right now, looking for something.

While they were distracted, you took deep breathes, trying to calm down. Who the fuck were these people? How did they manage to trick the infamous Wayne Family? What did they want? How could you get out of this and save your family?

Did you even want to save your family?

You shook the thought away quickly; of course you wanted to save them, they were cruel and horrible but who were you to decide their fate without trying to help them? Who made you judge, jury, and executioner?

Then you saw it, Bruce's emergency button, hidden on the wall. Only noticeable to someone who's wandered these halls for years. You almost fell to your knees in relief as you sneakily crawled over to it and pressed it.

Help was on the way and the intruders didn't know you were here! You smiled feeling pure relief at your quick thinking.

How's that for useless huh Damian? You wanted to taunt him as you looked at his unconsious form. He was so much better this way, they all were. They were silent.

Then, you heard it, the loud blaring of alarms and sirens. "Emergency." "Emergency." Alfred's voice rang through the whole manor and the sirens alerted the men that you were in the dining room.

You groaned, eyes burning with tears, "Who's the fucking dumbass that made the silent alarm LOUD?"

The men came rushing into the dining room yet it seemed to be your lucky-unlucky day. Only one of them had a gun.

Time seemed to slow as he aimed it at Bruce's soon to be lifeless head. You don't know what came over you as you tackled Bruce's unconscious body out of the bullets way.

You regretted it as soon as you did it, your vision went white with pain as the bullet hit you shoulder.

You pushed through the pain and grabbed a butter knife as one of the unarmed men approached you. You punched and ducked but the pain slowed you down. He hit you hard right in the ribs, so you did him one better and gouged his right eye out with your butter knife. Those boxing classes really did do some good, no wonder your mom insisted on them.

More shots rang out and it was out of pure adreneline that you were able to pull almost each and every member of your family under the table. Damian was the only one left and as you stood to pull him down too, you saw the armed man pull the trigger of his gun. He was going to kill your baby brother, he was aiming at the 14 year old's head. No matter how cruel or vicious Damian was, he's still a child, still your little brother.

You couldn't let him die. Maybe that's why you threw your self on top of his body, protecting him from the two bullets aimed at him.

Fuck.

This hurt. No wonder people hated being shot. This hurt more than cheer warm ups, did you think you were bulletproof?

You decided that you would just allow the next person to be shot. The man's footsteps were coming closer and you were getting more light headed from the pain. You turned to Jason's unconscious body and punched him. "Wake up you fucking loser! I can't fight this guy."

Obviously, Jason didn't wake up, why did you even think anyone in this family would ever try and help you?

As you shook him and panicked even more, you noticed something shining in Bruce's pocket. So much for "No weapons at the dinner table."

A sleek black gun, any other day you would've marveled at the custom design on it and focused on the monograming, but right now all that mattered was getting it before you bled out and the man killed you. You crawled and those five steps felt like eternity and when you finally grabbed the gun out of Bruce's armani suit pocket, the scary man was standing above you with a cruel grin.

Your heart dropped as he knelt next to you and stroked your hair, "Hey, pretty." He breathed out as he knelt next to you, his hands wandering around your body and up your skirt. Bile rose to your mouth and your heart dropped. No. This isn't happening. "If I had know Bruce had such a pretty thing, I would've been come here. You're certainly the looker compared to your sisters." He said as he began smelling your hair.

You don't know how it happened, but suddenly he was laying on the floor with blood coming out his throat. You looked between your hand holding the gun and his now lifeless body in horror. The last thing you heard before passing out was a flurry of boots and gunshots and a man that sounded like your father yelling for a doctor. The last thing you saw was a tall boy lifting you up, his eyes as blue as the sky, and you genuinely believed you died and went to heaven.

The room was cold, sterile, a sharp contrast to the emotional storm raging inside you. The pain in your shoulder and stomach was nothing compared to the weight on your chest, the realization that no matter what, you couldn’t escape this life anymore. You had made your choice, whether you liked it or not.

You woke to the soft beeping of machines and the scent of antiseptic in the air, your vision still blurry. It didn’t take long for the footsteps to reach you—slow, deliberate. The door creaked open, and one by one, they walked in.

Dick entered first, his expression calm but unreadable. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and instead of his usual mocking smile, there was something more restrained about him now. The newfound respect he had for you was obvious, but there was a subtle weight behind it. He didn’t say much, just gave you a nod.

“You’re still breathing, that's good,” he said softly, his voice low, a simple acknowledgment. “We all owe you for that. For what you did.” The words weren’t a compliment, they were recognition, quiet and heavy. The respect was there, but so was the unspoken truth: You were one of them now.

You expected to feel happier. You imagined this day so many times before, you prayed for it, so why were you sick to your stomach now that it's happened? Why didn't you want it anymore and why hadn't you realized it till now?

Damian was next, stepping in with his usual, stoic expression. His eyes flicked over you briefly, but there was no anger in his gaze, only a quiet understanding, maybe even admiration, hidden beneath the surface. He didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“Your actions saved all of us,” he said, voice flat. “You’ve earned your place here. Just don’t forget it.” His words weren’t harsh, but there was no room for doubt. You had proved yourself. And that meant something far more permanent than any spoken affirmation could express.

Ungrateful brat. You took a bullet for him and he couldn't even thank you. God, you hated him. You were starting to wish you weren't a good person and let them all die. The inheritance would've been insane.

Jason followed suit, and though his rough edges remained, there was a faint softness in his expression as he looked at you.

“Damn, princess,” he muttered, his eyes scanning you with quiet intensity. “You really pulled through. You did what most of us couldn’t.” His gaze softened for just a moment, and then he leaned against the doorframe. “Didn't realize I had such a badass as a little sister. The knife move, the way you ducked and punched? Sick."

Jason, of all people, was praising you. Treating you like his sister rather than dirt at the bottom of his shoe. The nickname, princess, he once used to ridicule you, was said with a quiet revrance; like he actually thought you were a princess now. You couldn't help but feel good, this was all you wanted all these years. And in that moment, you would get shot again without hesitation if it meant you would get that everyday.

Tim entered next, and though his face was stoic, his eyes betrayed the flicker of respect, maybe even admiration. “We all saw it,” he said, his voice steady, but tinged with something quieter. “What you did… It wasn’t just about surviving. It was about protecting us. You earned the right to stand beside us. We all thank you.”

Well, it's not great but at least someone is appreciative. None of them would've done the same for you.

Cass entered, silent as always, but the look she gave you spoke volumes. She didn’t need to say anything—her eyes, sharp and understanding, told you that she saw your sacrifice, saw what you had done for them. She gave you a slight nod, acknowledging your place among them.

Then Duke and Stephanie stepped in.

Duke’s eyes were calm, but you could see the flicker of something more behind his gaze. The weight of what had happened didn’t escape him. His voice was steady as he spoke.

“You did what we couldn’t,” he said, his tone quiet but unshakable. “You kept us alive. All of us. And that means something. You’ve earned your place in this family.” His eyes softened, just the slightest bit. “Just don’t forget... that this family doesn’t leave anyone behind. Not anymore.”

And then there was Stephanie. Her usual energy was gone, replaced with something more somber. She didn’t crack a joke or make a snide remark. Her eyes scanned you with something like respect, but more than that, a quiet understanding that you’d been forced to prove yourself in ways none of them had ever been asked you to.

“Guess you really are one of us now,” she said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, but it wasn’t lighthearted. It was tired. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad you’re still here.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she pulled herself together quickly. “You’ve got our backs. We’ve got yours.”

Barbra stood next to her in agreement, looking hesitant to say something. She was the only one who noticed how much you resented them even though you were desperate for their love and approval.

What. The. Fuck.

No way this is happening. This is not real. Who knew saving someone's life could have them do a complete 180. Stephanie said she had your back. Duke acknowledged your existence. Jason didn't make you cry. Damian didn't attempt to kill or maim you. It's like the sky turned pink.

Finally, Bruce.

He stepped into the room, his presence overwhelming. The familiar weight of his gaze was on you immediately, but today there was something different—something almost proud in the way he looked at you, as if he finally saw you as more than just a forgotten name in the Wayne family history.

He was quiet for a moment, his hands folded in front of him. And then he spoke, his voice steady, unyielding, but carrying an undertone of something that almost felt like respect. “You did more than survive. You saved our lives. Every single one of us.” His eyes didn’t leave you. “You’re part of this family now. You’ve earned it. You earned the name Wayne.”

The words hit you harder than anything else. Part of the family.

It was like a weight dropping onto your chest—something heavy, something that couldn’t be easily brushed away. There was no turning back. You were one of them now, and that scared you, you hadn’t anticipated that.

Bruce’s eyes softened, just slightly, but his voice remained firm. “From this moment forward, you have a curfew. Midnight. You may have earned your place here, but you’ll follow the rules, just like the rest of us.”

You didn’t say anything. How could you? His words settled into your chest like stone, the finality of them carving out any space for protest. There was no choice in the matter. You were in this life now, whether you wanted to be or not. Midnight was late for a curfew anyway, Grace had to be home by 9.

“We all owe you our lives,” Bruce continued, but there was no gratitude in his tone, only a recognition of the debt. “But that doesn’t mean you’re exempt from the responsibilities we carry. Understand?”

You nodded once, slowly, the words caught in your throat. You wanted to speak, wanted to scream, to tell him that you weren’t sure you could do this, that you didn’t know if you were ready to live this life—the life of a Wayne, the life of this family.

What did a mafia family even do? Did you run around being Bruce's useless henchman, or did you have to go around trying to kill people? Could they be more specific about the pros and cons?

But nothing came out. There was nothing you could say that would change anything now.

Jason gave you a crooked grin,“Guess you’ve got to start following the rules now, huh? Welcome to the real family business.”

Tim’s gaze lingered for a moment, his eyes unreadable. “We’re all in this together,” he said quietly. “Whether you like it or not.”

Damian’s face softened, but only slightly. “I expect you to keep up,” he added, before turning to leave. “No slacking. We all carry our weight in this family.”

Cass’s presence remained, her silent approval almost suffocating in its quiet intensity.

Duke gave you one last nod before he turned, the weight of his gaze a reminder that you couldn’t slip out of this, no matter how much you might want to. He wasn’t angry—just silently resolute in his understanding. “You’re one of us now. That means something.”

And Stephanie? Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, before she gave you a small, tired smile. “We’re with you. All the way.”

Bruce? He gave you one last look, his eyes still holding that rare spark of approval—but it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t warm. It was measured, like a general overseeing a soldier. You were part of the mission now.

“We’ll train,” he said, his voice unwavering. “We’ll teach you everything you need to know. But it’s clear you’ve already proven yourself.”

You lay back against the pillows, the silence that followed hanging heavy in the air.

This is so weird. Why are they all being nice? How do you react to it? How do you interact with them? Is it genuine gratitude for saving their lives or is it a cruel joke to make you feel like you're important.

As they left, one by one, you stayed there, immobilized by the weight of it all. You’d earned your place here. But what did that mean now? What did it mean to be part of this family? You weren’t sure you even wanted it. But it was too late to turn back now.

OK YALL HERES THE PROLOGUE!! LMK WHAT YALL THINK AND HOW I SHOULD/ IF I SHOULD CONTINUE THIS FIC!!! HOPE YALL ENJOYED!! SEND IN ASKS! SORRY IF IT SUCKS LEAVE ME ALONE!!

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velvetvexations · 2 days ago

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the way people talk about other trans people and our cis allies on here is just so horrendous

when i initially saw this discourse, i took the side of transgender radical feminists, because i have always been very critical of accusations against transfems. i have several transfem loved ones and i have been dedicated for years to making sure i unlearn transmisogynistic biases and am safe for my loved ones

i looked into these popular transfeminist blogs, specifically the ones ran by transfems, because i wanted to hear their stories. i was very taken aback by what felt to me like hatred and resentment towards transmascs. and i saw this type of stuff on the blogs of transgender radical feminists who AREN'T transfem, too

and i saw even more people talking about how awful cis people are, how cis people can never truly be our allies, how we need to separate ourselves from cis people

and i talked about this with one of my transfem friends. i talked to her about how i've found tumblr discourse and it feels like there is a portion of transfems online that hate transmascs. and i talked to her about it because i wanted to make sure i wasn't being transmisogynistic and having a knee-jerk reaction

and she told me that she doesn't hate transmascs. she told me that the things that were being said about transmascs WERE mean and hateful and cruel. she was very saddened, because these people on tumblr were sowing seeds of resentment between transfems and transmascs. she agreed that, while transfems face a unique subset of oppression in transmisogyny, transmascs also face a unique subset of oppression

all my other transfem loved ones also agreed. they said that no, i was not having a knee-jerk reaction, these were just genuinely cruel things to say about transmascs

i believe in anti-transmasculinity/transandrophobia/transmisandry/whatever you want to call it, because my transfem loved ones and i have diacussed it and they listened to me about my own oppression and agreed that there are unique ways in which we are all oppressed

i am not my transfem loved ones' greatest enemy. our cis loved ones are not our greatest enemies. transphobic cis people are our greatest enemies

i am the one who goes shopping with my transfem friends to find skirts that fit them. i am the one who teaches my transfem girlfriend about different types of bras. i am the one trying to help my transfem friend from america move to my country. my transfem friends are the ones who help me figure out mens' fashion and how to make my clothes fit me in a masculine way. our cis friends are the ones who treat us like people. not like freaks, or monsters, but like people.

transfems aren't my enemy. cis people aren't my enemy. transphobia and transmisogyny is my enemy

i can't understand why people don't love and appreciate our cis allies. after spending years being mocked and assaulted and abused by cis people for being trans, it's a breath of fresh air to see cis allies

like, with how popular it is to be transphobic nowadays, for a cis person to actively be our ally, they would have to be consciously monitoring their biases and actively doing their own research. they are ACTIVELY and CONSCIOUSLY making the CHOICE to stand with us. i love our cis allies so deeply

and i love my transfem sisters and nonbinary siblings, too. i have far more in common with transfems and nonbinary people than anyone else, even if i am a transmasc and transitioning in a different direction.

tumblr 'transfeminism' isn't helping my transfem loved ones. it isn't aiding them in any material way. letting them call me a theyfab does NOTHING to help them or to improve their lives. and THAT is why i hate this tumblr discourse. because these privileged pieces of shit are using the guise of transfeminism to be cruel to others, instead of materially helping other transfems like my loved ones

All very true anon. Thank you for sending in. <3

#transmisogyny #transandrophobia #exorsexsim #discourse #cw slurs

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vigilante-3073 · 3 days ago

Text

Honey & Lemon

Draco Malfoy x Female Hufflepuff Reader

Summary: Draco Malfoy has always longed to be loved and accepted. As he falls in love with Y/N, a studious young Hufflepuff, he starts to wonder if his happy ending may be closer than he could've expected.

TW: Lovesick Draco, kissing, hand holding, jokes.

Draco Malfoy met Y/N L/N when he was in his third year at Hogwarts. If he had to be completely honest, he didn't know that she existed before she stood in front of him after their Potions class that day.

Y/N had always been a good student but she had a lot of trouble with Potions. Y/N had gone to Professor Snape for help and he sent her to Draco for some tutoring. Draco was at the top of the class and Y/N could learn a lot from him.

"Hello," Y/N said softly, holding her books close to her chest as she stood in front of his lab table.

Draco glanced at Blaise before looking up at the Hufflepuff girl, "Can I help you?" He asked, not bothering to hide his disinterest.

"I've been having some difficulty in this class and Professor Snape recommended that I speak to you about possibly receiving some assistance," She said.

Draco straightened in his seat at the mention of the Professor, "What's your name?" Draco questioned.

"Y/N L/N," She replied.

"Alright, Y/N, bring your supplies to the library after dinner tonight. I'll meet you there," Draco said.

She smiled, "Thank you," Y/N said quickly before making her way out of the classroom.

Draco watched her leave, the smell of her perfume lingering even after she had disappeared out the door. The scent was light and warm with notes of vanilla and citrus.

"You're tutoring Hufflepuffs now, Malfoy?" Blaise questioned with a smirk.

"Shut up," Draco snapped, gathering his supplies.

Draco and Y/N met in the twice a week and she eventually began to get the hang of some potions. She still struggled, but she was much better off than she had been.

Y/N wanted to learn and it frustrated her that she wasn't picking it up like everything else. Draco almost found it humorous, seeing such a sickly sweet person be anything other than delightfully pleasant.

As their potions class approached its final days, Draco found himself disappointed. He had grown quite fond of Y/N during their time together and he wasn't ready to see it end.

They sat in the classroom for their final tutoring session, brewing the last potion that he would assist her with. Y/N was focused on her textbook, following the directions carefully and adding each ingredient to the bubbling cauldron.

She dropped the final item into the liquid, taking a breath as she stirred the potion. A victorious smile appeared on her face as the liquid changed to the desired color, a bright and beautiful green.

"I did it," She said, looking to Draco.

He watched her with a soft smile, "It's like you don't even need me anymore," He teased.

"Of course I need you, silly. I wouldn't have known how to prepare half the ingredients otherwise," Y/N said, sitting down in the chair beside him.

"You would've figured it out. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for," Draco said.

"Thank you... That means a lot," She replied softly.

"I was wondering, since classes are almost over... Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me after exams?" Draco asked.

"Really? You'd want to go with me?" Y/N asked.

"I would... I actually have a bit of crush on you if I'm being honest," Draco said, fidgeting with his quill.

"You do?" She asked, a smile slowly appearing on her face.

"Yeah," He stated.

"I'd love to go to Hogsmeade with you, Draco," She replied.

...

From that day forward, Y/N and Draco were inseparable. They continued to study and work on assignments together, he walked her to all of her classes and snuck over to the Hufflepuff table to sit with her during meals.

If the teachers noticed, none of them said anything. Y/N was good for Draco and her companionship had changed him.

Draco was kinder, the vicious jabs he often slung at other students had dwindled and the difference was definitely noticeable. Draco was absolutely smitten, devoting all of his extra time to Y/N.

Y/N made him happy.

Draco had never experienced real happiness in his life and it made him value what Y/N brought to his life so much more. Draco had only ever known pain, violence, disappointment and loss.

His father held him to an incredibly high standard that he had never been able to meet. Draco strived to be the greatest, but always found himself finishing in second or third place.

It made him angry and he chose to lash out at those around him. Y/N exuded warmth, kindness and love every single day, Draco found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Draco considered himself to be blessed when Y/N woke up every morning and chose to spend her time with him. He was lucky to have her by his side and he knew that.

Draco was determined to keep her existence a secret from his father for as long as possible. Draco had talked about Y/N with Narcissa and she was excited to meet the girl, but allowed Draco to decide if and when they would be introduced.

He wanted to keep this one good thing untainted, even if it was just for a little while.

Draco didn't know what he would do if his father ordered him to break up with her. He couldn't do it, not to Y/N. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Y/N had introduced him to her parents briefly when they met at the train station at the end of their third year. They were delighted to meet him, welcoming him with opening arms after everything their daughter had told them.

Draco had never seen Y/N's cheeks go so red and he couldn't help but smile, taking her hand in his. Y/N's mother had even made him a batch of cookies, promising to send more if he enjoyed them.

Her parents were just as warm and kind as Y/N and he fell for her even harder. He felt lucky to be accepted into such a beautiful family, especially since they knew who he was. Or more importantly, who his father was.

People tended to judge him without getting to know him because of who his parents were and he didn't blame them. He hadn't done much to establish a good image for himself, but he was working on it.

Y/N made him want to work on it.

Draco was beginning to think that he had gotten away with keeping Y/N's existence a secret until the start of his fourth year. Lucius insisted on taking Draco to Diagon Alley to shop for his fourth year supplies. Draco kept his head on a swivel, hoping to spot Y/N before she saw him if she was out shopping.

He was embarrassed, but not of her, his father tended to blurt out rude comments that left an awful taste in people's mouths. Draco hoped to avoid the interaction, he didn't want Y/N to endure any of his father's abuse.

"Draco!" Y/N called, he immediately froze and his body tensed.

Y/N made her way through the crowd with her parents following closely behind her. She wrapped her arms around Draco and he quickly returned her embrace. He held her close, breathing in the scent of her perfume to steady himself before letting her go.

"How was your holiday?" Y/N asked with a smile.

"It was good. How was yours?" He questioned.

"Fantastic! I got a lot of new books that I can't wait to share with you," Y/N said.

"Hopefully you got a few on Potions because you are still just awful at that?" Draco teased.

"I did actually. I've been reading up over the break so hopefully I'll be able to teach you something this time around," Y/N replied.

"I look forward to hearing all about it," Draco smiled.

"Aren't you going to introduce us, Draco?" Lucius questioned.

Draco's smile fell, "This is my girlfriend, Y/N... Y/N, I'd like you to meet my mother and father," Draco said.

"Nice to finally meet you both, Mister and Missus Malfoy," Y/N greeted.

"You as well, dear, I've heard a lot of good things," Narcissa smiled.

"How long has this been going on?" Lucius asked.

"Since last year, father," Draco admitted.

Lucius' eyes flickered over Y/N's form before looking behind her at her parents, "You should be focusing on your studies, Draco, not gallivanting around with a Hufflepuff," He spat, scowling at the young girl.

Y/N tensed, "We actually met when Professor Snape chose your son to be my tutor in Potions. Respectfully, you can't get any higher than top of the class, Sir" Y/N said.

A tense silence settled between them before Lucius replied, "A Hufflepuff with a backbone... I suppose there's a first time for everything," He stated, walking off and into the next store.

Narcissa sighed, "It was nice to meet you, dear," She said with a smile.

"You too, Ma'am," Y/N replied.

Narcissa introduced herself to Y/N's parents before following her husband into the store.

"Darling, we're just going to head into Flourish and Blotts. You can meet us there in a bit, alright?" Her mother questioned.

"Sounds good, mum," Y/N replied with a smile.

The couple quickly disappeared into the crowd, allowing Draco and Y/N to spend a moment alone.

"I'm so sorry for my father. I knew he'd be like that and I tried to keep him away from you," Draco said, holding her hand in both of his.

"You don't have to apologize, Draco. He's your father and I would've needed to meet him sooner or later," Y/N said.

"Yeah, I guess you're right about that," He nodded.

"Your mum is really nice," Y/N said.

Draco huffed a laugh with a smile, "Yeah, she's been wanting to meet you for a long time," He said.

"How long is a long time?" Y/N asked.

"I wrote to her after our first tutoring session in the library. I really liked you," Draco admitted.

Y/N leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss, his eyes drifted shut and his hands shifted to hold her hips. She pulled away and his eyes fluttered open, leaning his forehead against her's with a soft exhale.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," He said, lifting his hand up and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I feel the same way about you," Y/N smiled.

...

The time for the Triwizard Championship had arrived and the competitors were selected from the Goblet of Fire. Of course, by some random burst of impossibly bad luck, Harry Potter's name flew out of the goblet and into Dumbledore's hand.

Draco attended the events with Y/N by his side, the amount of risk involved with the competition made her nervous. Her nerves just meant that she held on tighter to Draco so he couldn't complain.

Draco was excited when the time came for the Yule Ball, he asked Y/N to be his date the minute it was announced and she couldn't keep the smile off her face for the rest of the day.

Draco offered to pay for her dress, but Y/N brushed him off and assured him that she already had the perfect gown.

Y/N couldn't have been more right.

Draco was absolutely awestruck when he saw her making her way down the stairs on the evening of the Ball. She was wearing a floor-length gown made of lace and silk with her hair done perfectly to match.

Y/N looked like a princess and Draco was completely speechless.

"You look absolutely stunning," He finally managed, taking her hand as she made her way down the staircase. His thumb absent-mindedly ran across her knuckles, unable to tear his eyes away from her form.

"Thank you. You look handsome," Y/N replied.

"I'm glad you think so," He smiled, looping her arm through his and resting his hand over her's on his bicep as they walked into the Great Hall.

It was a wonderful night, they danced for hours before Draco led her away from the crowd, "Is everything okay?" Y/N questioned.

"I love you," Draco stated.

Y/N smiled widely, cupping his cheeks in her hands and kissing him. Draco rested his hands on her waist, holding her close until she pulled away.

"I love you too, Draco," Y/N replied.

They spent the rest of the Ball together before the students began to disperse. Draco walked Y/N back to the Hufflepuff dormitories. Her shoes dangled from her fingers, her other hand holding onto Draco's as they walked through the castle.

Draco's bowtie was untied, hanging loosely around his neck. He glanced behind him when the voices and laughter of other students fell silent.

Draco slowed to a stop, still holding onto his girlfriend's hand, "Hold on for a second," Draco said.

Y/N stopped walking, turning to face him "Is everything alright?" She asked.

"I've been waiting to get you alone all night long," Draco said.

Y/N smiled, "And what did you have in mind now that you have me, Mister Malfoy?" She asked.

"Oh, I don't know, but I certainly won't be keeping a very respectable distance if that's alright with you," Draco said, resting his hands on her hips while backing her into the stone wall.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, "I don't mind at all," She replied.

Draco leaned in, pressing his lips to her's as her hand tangled in his hair, manicured fingernails scratching gently at his scalp.

His arm slid around her waist, large palm pressing against the small of her back and pulling her body closer to himself. His thumb traced over her hip bone, grip tightening as his tongue slipped into her mouth. Y/N moaned softly into the kiss, tugging gently on his hair.

The couple pulled apart quickly as someone cleared their throat. Draco wiped her lipstick from his bottom lip with his thumb as Y/N tried to catch her breath, cheeks flushed and eyes downcast.

"Helping Miss L/N return to her dormitory are you, Mister Malfoy?" Snape questioned.

"Yes, Sir," Draco replied.

"No snogging in the hallways," Snape stated, walking off down the hallway.

Draco burst out laughing as soon as Snape was out of earshot.

Y/N smiled, swatting his chest, "That was not funny, Draco! I'm absolutely mortified," She scolded half-heartedly.

"Of all the people in the world who could have possibly caught us snogging," Draco laughed with a shake of his head. He wrapped his arm around her waist as they continued on their way to the Hufflepuff dormitories.

They arrived at the entrance to her dorm far too soon for Draco's liking. He watched her input the password before the door opened.

"I had a lot of fun tonight, Draco," Y/N said.

"I did too," He nodded.

"I love you," She smiled, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing across her skin gently.

Y/N pulled away and he smiled down at her, "I love you too," He said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Y/N stepped away from him, "Sleep well, Draco," She said softly.

"You too," He replied, watching her step into her dormitory.

The door closed behind her and Draco walked back to the Slytherin dormitory with a smile on his face. He got changed, flopping back onto his bed with a happy sigh.

Draco looked over at his nightstand, there was a picture of him and Y/N. They were talking, she laughed at something he said and he just smiled at her.

It was his absolute favorite picture of them.

The picture made him think about what his life could be like, he could see a future with Y/N and he wanted it more than anything.

Draco wanted Y/N more than anything.

#draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco #harry potter #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x female reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter x fem!reader #draco malfoy x fem!reader #hogwarts #hermione granger #ron weasley #albus dumbledore

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poetic-vulgarity · 2 days ago

Text

ᎮᎥᏖᎩ ᎮᏗᏒᏖᎩ II- Kim Minjeong x Reader

Word Count: ~7K

Prompt: When Minjeong transferred to an elite school, she didn't expect to catch the attention of Y/N, the golden girl. Then again, she also didn't expect Y/N to be the root of all her misery.

Tags: slow burn; angst; drama; high school! AU; richgirl!Y/N; happy ending (?) Part I, Part 2

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Minjeong was ignoring Y/N.

That much was clear.

It started happening after the night Y/N confessed to her.

There were texts left on read. Calls unanswered. When Y/N called for Minjeong in the school hallways, the short-haired girl just walked faster and disappeared. When Y/N tried talking to Minjeong before or after classes, the other girl put her headphones on and focused on her exercises.

Y/N thought she hadn't ruined anything with her confession.

She thought she and Minjeong could work things out with patience.

"Maybe I thought wrong."

"Are you kidding me?" Aeri frowned, her arm wrapped around Y/N's shoulder as the two walked along the hallways. "From what you've told me, you've been nothing but lovely to her."

"Well, clearly, something went wrong." Y/N shook her head. "She seemed fine when we were at my house. We even went to a convenience store, and I walked her home. I-why would she just start ignoring me?"

Aeri stayed silent, not really knowing how to answer. Her best friend had been the happiest she'd seen her in a while. It didn't make sense that Minjeong would just ignore Y/N for no reason after that.

The only possibility Aeri could think of was that Minjeong had realized dating Y/N wasn't going to work and had decided to break it off.

The problem was that ignoring Y/N instead of talking about it was a pretty poor way to-

Aeri tilted her head, an idea suddenly crossing her mind. "Didn't you say she's friends with Jimin?"

"Yeah, so-" Y/N turned to Aeri, her eyes widening ever so slightly. "You think she told her about my father?"

"I mean," Aeri hesitated, "Jimin did tell Ning that she regretted breaking up with you... and she always goes after what she wants."

Y/N took her time to think her options through.

It was ridiculous.

Jimin was the one who broke up with her. She was the one who let their parents' business get in the way of their relationship. Two years down the drain because Y/N's father was elected as mayor and not Jimin's.

And now she was ruining her relationship with Minjeong?

Y/N shook her head, looking down at her hands, picking at a few loose skins. "Jimin wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't she?" Aeri suddenly halted in her tracks, and Y/N turned to her in confusion.

She followed her gaze and felt her jaw clench in anger.

Walking right towards them were Jimin and her group-Yunjin, Ning, and Minjeong. Y/N felt a little sick to her stomach.

The group moved to walk right past her, but Y/N reached for Minjeong, her hand suddenly trembling.

"Hey." She tried to meet Minjeong's eyes, but the other girl refused.

Minjeong could feel Y/N's grasp on her arm but refused to meet her gaze. Her heart was beating out of control in her chest, a mix of emotions washing over her.

She didn't want to see Y/N.

She didn't want to talk to Y/N or get close to Y/N or get to know Y/N.

In fact, all she wanted was to forget her.

Because if she got close to Y/N, she'd only come to care for her more.

She'd only come to care about a girl who had done nothing but lie to her. A girl whose father had completely ruined her life.

"Can we talk... alone?" Y/N's voice was as calm as ever, but one look at her face told everyone that she wasn't very happy with the situation she found herself in.

"Actually, I need to get to class, sorry," Minjeong mumbled.

Minjeong felt bad about the way Y/N's face fell at her response, but she had a hard time caring about it at the moment.

All she wanted to do was get out of the situation and clear her mind.

Y/N's hand tightened around her arm. "Minjeong, please. I just need a minute."

"Didn't you hear her?" Jimin spoke up, wrapping an arm around Minjeong's shoulder. "She doesn't wanna talk to you."

Y/N clenched her jaw, her eyes darkening as she turned to finally look at Jimin. "What did you tell her?"

"Only the truth," Jimin replied calmly, her eyes never leaving Y/N.

Minjeong just stood there, frozen, as the two stared at each other. She was aware of her friends worriedly glancing at her, unsure of what to do with their situation.

"You had the chance to tell her everything on your own. You didn't, so I did."

"I was going to." Y/N's eyes fell on Minjeong. "Minjeong, I swear-"

Minjeong shook her head. "You had plenty of chances to tell me. You chose not to."

She stared at Y/N for just a little while longer as hurt filled up in her chest. "It's too late now," she finally said simply.

When the bell rang later that day, she pushed the door open and walked into class, ignoring the looks Y/N was giving her.

Their teacher was always late, so students were walking around the room, chatting with each other.

Minjeong settled down in her spot and pulled out her notebook. Her eyes instinctively rolled back when she caught a familiar figure approaching her from the corner of her eye.

"Will you, please, just hear me out?"

Minjeong tensed as Y/N took the seat next to her.

"Minjeong-" Y/N began.

"Don't." Minjeong found her voice again, her eyes glued to her notebook.

The last thing she wanted was to hear Y/N making up excuses, so she steeled herself and refused to look up.

"Look, my father did build your old school, and I knew who you were from the minute you set foot inside this school." Y/N decided she'd be honest and make herself heard. "I was friendly with you because I wanted to make myself feel better for my father's actions. I'm sorry. I promise you that everything I told you when I confessed to you was true. I really do-"

The room seemed to freeze as Y/N's head snapped to the side on impact.

Minjeong's hand stung as it left Y/N's cheek, the sound of the slap resounding through the room, and everything came to a standstill.

Minjeong could feel all the eyes on them, but all she could focus on was the wide-eyed, hurt look on Y/N's face.

Minjeong forced the words out of her throat, her breaths coming up shallow against the weight of the emotions in her chest. "You need to shut up and leave me the fuck alone."

She held Y/N's eyes for a second, taking in her wide-eyed expression. There was hurt in the other girl's eyes, the look nearly making Minjeong feel bad.

The moment didn't last. Once the door opened behind them and they heard the teacher's footsteps approach, Minjeong turned to the front of the room again.

Y/N looked down in embarrassment and shame. She stood up from her seat and wiped away the stream of blood in the corner of her mouth.

The slap had made her accidentally bite herself.

She moved back to her seat, ignoring everyone's eyes on her.

Minjeong tried her best to focus on the teacher and write down as many notes as she could. She had to keep her mind on something, and if writing down notes would help, she'd do it.

At one point during the lesson, she felt a pair of eyes on the back of her head.

It was a familiar feeling, similar to the one she had felt when she walked down school hallway earlier that morning.

Minjeong grit her teeth against the memory, refusing to take another look over her shoulder.

Y/N took the clue immediately.

It took her a slap to understand, but she did. She distanced herself from Minjeong. She didn't look her in the eyes anymore; she didn't try to talk to her or reach out for her.

Their friendship/relationship came to a complete halt...

For a full two days.

"Good afternoon!"

Minjeong's breath hitched at the familiar voice. It was Saturday. Why was she hearing this voice on a Saturday?

The short-haired girl looked up from her phone, and her eyes found Y/N standing there in her family's restaurant.

Minjeong almost dropped her phone in surprise.

She could feel goosebumps trailing down her arms as she stared at Y/N. The girl stood there waiting, an expectant look on her face, as if she expected her to say something.

Minjeong opened her mouth to speak-she wasn't even sure what-but her mother's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"Minjeong, you have a customer."

The girl swallowed nervously. Her phone went back into the pocket of her coat. She straightened her back and moved from her spot, making her way to where Y/N stood by the counter with her hands stuffed into her pockets.

The moment she came to a stop, a heavy silence fell over them.

Minjeong was sure she saw some bruising on Y/N's cheek and on the corner of the girl's lips.

Still, Y/N smiled gently at her and raised an expectant eyebrow, waiting for her to talk.

The short-haired girl's eyes were drawn to the bruising under Y/N's eye and on her lips. Her fingers twitched before she forced them into stillness.

"What are you doing here?" Her words came out harsher than she had intended.

If Y/N was taken aback by her harshness, she didn't show it. "I'm hungry."

Minjeong couldn't help but scoff. "And you decided to come here?"

Y/N stopped, looking around the place.

It was a restaurant, wasn't it?

"Is that okay?"

Minjeong's eyes narrowed, unsure whether Y/N was trying to mess with her head.

"There are other restaurants, you kn-"

A slap was delivered to the back of Minjeong's head. Her mouth fell open, and she turned to find her mother glaring at her. "Minjeong, why are you denying service to such a-"

The older woman turned to look at Y/N, and the latter put her most charming smile on display.

"-pretty customer?"

Minjeong's frown deepened as she watched her mother fall for Y/N's charm.

It was ridiculous.

Her eyes turned back to Y/N, who was looking at her with a hopeful gaze.

Minjeong clenched her jaw against the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her again. "What do you want to eat?"

Another slap. "Let her sit and get accommodated first," her mother hissed, turning to Y/N with a wide smile. "Sit wherever you want, sweetie. Minjeong will be with you shortly."

Y/N bowed her head thankfully, smile still there. "Thank you, Ma'am. It's a pleasure to finally meet Minjeong's mom."

The woman was surprised. "Oh, you two know each other?"

Minjeong opened her mouth to disagree, but Y/N beat her to it. "I'm courting your daughter. I was actually hoping to get your blessing."

She's what-?

Minjeong's face flushed with embarrassment, and all she could do was stare, mouth half-open.

Her mother didn't notice. Her eyes were wide, cheeks tinged pink as she looked at the beautiful girl in front of her.

"Oh, really?" Her mother glanced between them, her expression growing giddy. "Yes, of course, sweetie. Minjeong is a lovely girl-she can just be a little grouchy sometimes."

Minjeong's hands clenched into fists at the look on her mother's face.

Of course, she was completely smitten.

Her mother had always harbored an adoration for the wealthy and powerful, especially when it came to Minjeong's future partner. It was something Minjeong had grown used to, but it never failed to leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her mother ushered Y/N toward a booth and then turned back to her. "I knew sending you to that school was a good idea! Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?!"

Minjeong resisted the urge to roll her eyes as her mother gripped her arms, giddy beyond reason.

"I'm not seeing anyone. Y/N is an awf-"

Her mother cut her off, nudging her toward the booth. "I like her! Don't leave her waiting, come on!"

Minjeong gritted her teeth but gave in.

Her mom beamed as she walked away, completely oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing in her daughter's chest.

Minjeong reached Y/N's table and forced herself to take a deep breath.

Y/N's eyes followed her every step, watching her closely, completely entranced. She couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips.

"What do you want to eat?" Minjeong asked again, gritting her teeth against the urge to throw this girl out of her family's restaurant.

Y/N snapped out of her reverie, eyes widening as she cleared her throat.

This was a restaurant of what, exactly?

"I-uhh-" She looked around, trying to see what the other customers were eating, but she couldn't make anything out. "What-what do you have?"

Minjeong's eye twitched. The menu was right in front of her. Y/N was just too busy staring to notice.

Forcing herself to stay calm, Minjeong pointed at the stupid thing, her jaw clenching as the taller girl leaned in to look.

She could see her mom eyeing them from across the room, not being discreet in the slightest.

Minjeong wanted to be six feet under.

Y/N skimmed through the menu, eyes moving quickly over the selection.

"I think I'll have the dwaeji gukbap."

Minjeong nodded, ready to grab the menu and leave, but Y/N wasn't done.

"Also, the milmyeon, godeungeo-gui, agujjim, and eomuk, please. Oh! And can I get the dongnae pajeon and the guljeon?"

Minjeong rolled her eyes and yanked the menu away before Y/N could order anything else.

"What are you doing?"

Y/N looked confused. "I was... ordering."

Minjeong wanted to slap her. Again.

"What, you couldn't personally shower me in your money anymore, so you came to do that at my family's restaurant? Can't you be a decent person for once in your life and just leave me the fuck alone?"

Y/N just smiled. "Dinner's on me tonight. My parents are in town, and they brought a few friends over."

Minjeong clenched her jaw.

She hated how unbothered Y/N looked, how effortlessly she wormed her way into her life again.

If she had any shame, she'd just go home.

But no. She was there, flashing her money and privilege like always, getting exactly what she wanted.

Minjeong wanted to deny her service-kick her out, ban her from ever stepping foot inside again.

But the amount of food Y/N had just ordered... meant rent was covered for the month.

Minjeong hated her. More and more.

She was about to make that very clear when Y/N suddenly stood up and bowed, looking past her shoulder.

Minjeong turned to see her father approaching with a warm smile.

"Oh, fuck me."

Her father wiped his hands on the black apron tied around his waist as he reached their table. Slowly, almost carefully, he extended his hand for Y/N to shake.

"My wife told me to come meet my daughter's girlfriend."

Minjeong wanted to die.

"Hopefully in the future, sir." Y/N chuckled softly-a sound that tickled Minjeong's brain just right. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

She reached out, clasping his hand with practiced ease, bowing just enough to be respectful.

She just had to be perfect at everything, didn't she?

Minjeong's father was immediately taken in by her manners, her gentle touch.

Minjeong wanted to scream.

She wanted to tell him about the lies.

She wanted to tell him about the secrets hiding behind that polite, practiced smile.

But she couldn't.

The amount of money Y/N was about to spend-the dinner her parents and their friends were about to have-would keep her family afloat for another month.

And Minjeong couldn't take that away from her parents.

It all felt like a cruel game.

Her chest tightened as she watched her father and Y/N exchange a few words. His eyes gleamed with admiration as he looked at Y/N, and Minjeong felt the sudden urge to throw up.

She kept her gaze fixed on the table, doing her best to block out the conversation.

Once her father left-after shooting her an approving nod-Y/N sat back down, looking entirely too satisfied with herself.

"You're a manipulative liar," Minjeong tried again, her voice firmer this time.

Y/N didn't budge. "A manipulative liar who's in love."

Minjeong's jaw clenched at the words.

In love?

The audacity of this girl to even say that.

Her fingers curled into fists.

How could one person be so infuriating?

She turned sharply, stalking back to the counter to put the order into the register-only to catch her mother watching their every move, a pleased smile on her face.

That was it.

As soon as her shift was over, Minjeong was going to off herself.

Meanwhile, Y/N simply watched her go, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Why was it so easy to get under Minjeong's skin?

She dragged out her time at the restaurant as much as she could.

As long as she was there, she was fine.

She got to see Minjeong. She got to talk to Minjeong's lovely parents. She got to not be at home with her parents.

It was perfect.

Unfortunately, Mr. Kim had other plans. He worked as quickly as possible, insisting that Y/N and her parents shouldn't have to wait long for their food.

So, far too soon, Y/N found herself stepping back inside her house, dinner in hand.

"What took you so long?" her father asked from the living room, seated among his colleagues.

"I was quick." She replied shortly, carrying the bags into the kitchen.

Grabbing a plate for herself, she made her way upstairs, wanting nothing to do with the circus unfolding downstairs.

The following days were the same.

Y/N would come, order a ridiculous amount of food, and leave-only to come back again the next day.

Minjeong's parents were absolutely thrilled by her presence.

And Minjeong?

Minjeong hated it.

The anger, the frustration, the sheer distaste burned through her chest every time Y/N walked through that door.

But after two weeks of the same thing, the fight had drained out of her.

She didn't yell. She didn't snap. She didn't even glare anymore.

She merely stood behind the counter, arms crossed, waiting while Y/N placed her order.

"Food will take around thirty minutes to prepare. You can sit while you wait." Minjeong's voice came out flat, her expression unreadable as she turned away.

She walked to the kitchen, relaying the order to her father.

"She here yet?" he asked with a grin.

Minjeong let out a slow, controlled breath, doing everything she could to hold onto what little patience she had left.

"She's here," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Her father's smile widened. "Good! Take care of her for me."

Minjeong's mother perked up from where she was wiping down the counter, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Let me go say hi to her."

Ten minutes later, when Minjeong stepped out of the kitchen, she nearly dropped the tray she was holding.

There, sitting comfortably at one of the booths, was her mother. And across from her, whipping the tables, was Y/N.

Minjeong froze.

Y/N-cleaning?

Her mother sat there like she hadn't just handed off one of her responsibilities to a paying customer, chatting away with a warm smile on her face.

Minjeong's fingers twitched against the tray.

What the hell was going on?

She stormed over, trying not to trip over her own frustration. "What are you doing?"

Y/N looked up, unbothered, a rag in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. "Helping."

Minjeong turned to her mother, expecting an explanation, but the older woman only beamed. "Such a sweet girl," her mom sighed dreamily. "She insisted, Minjeong! Said she wanted to help out since she's always here."

Minjeong clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay calm.

This was ridiculous.

She hated it.

She hated how easily Y/N charmed her parents.

She hated that Y/N was still here-in her space, in her life.

She hated that a small, stupid, buried part of her chest felt warm at the sight of Y/N helping out.

She exhaled sharply, shoving the thought away.

"Go sit down," she snapped, yanking the spray bottle from Y/N's hand.

Y/N grinned. "You're worried about me?"

"I'm worried about my restaurant looking like a joke," Minjeong shot back.

Her mother gasped. "Minjeong! Don't be rude!"

But Y/N just laughed, wiping her hands on her pants. "I'm just waiting for my food," she said casually. "Might as well make myself useful."

Minjeong turned away before her mother could see the glare she was sending Y/N's way.

She had to endure this.

At least until Y/N got bored and finally, finally left her alone.

Easier said than done.

Y/N was persistent.

At school, it had been fine. They didn't have every class together, and Minjeong could simply ignore her when she approached. But now Y/N was at her restaurant, invading her space, and it was getting to be too much.

The frustration built and built, day after day, until it finally snapped. It happened in gym class.

The basketball ball hit Y/N's cheek with a loud smack, and she went down.

Hard.

The gym fell silent.

Minjeong's eyes widened in shock, regret washing over her.

It wasn't a light hit. It was a ball thrown with strength, purpose, and precision.

Y/N didn't even remember hitting the ground-just opening her eyes to see the teacher and several classmates hovering over her.

Fuck.

Minjeong looked around as the commotion grew. The coach knelt beside Y/N, checking on her, while the rest of the class murmured among themselves.

Her gaze met Aeri's and Chaewon's, who just so happened to be in that class as well. Their jaws were slack as they looked between her and their best friend.

Chaewon was never known for having the best temper. So it wasn't a surprise when she stormed over, shoving Minjeong back with enough force to make her stumble.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Chaewon's voice echoed through the gym, filled with unrestrained fury.

"Stop it, Chae." Aeri tried to intervene, wrapping an arm around Chaewon's waist to keep her from doing something she'd regret. She was angry too-they both were-but getting Chaewon expelled wouldn't help anyone.

Minjeong's head snapped toward them, her mouth opening to respond, but no sound came out.

Her eyes darted back to the group surrounding Y/N. Her stomach churned at the way everyone was looking at her-at the frowns on familiar faces, at the unspoken accusations in their stares.

"Girls, that's enough."

The teacher's voice cut through the tension as he knelt beside Y/N, helping her sit up.

"Chaewon, Aeri, take Y/N to the infirmary. Minjeong, stay behind after class. Everyone else, disperse! Class isn't over for another fifteen minutes!"

Minjeong's heart sank.

She had never gotten detention before.

And now, because she let her emotions take control, she had made a fool of herself in front of everyone.

She stood frozen, watching as Chaewon and Aeri carefully helped Y/N off the ground. Even from a distance, she swore she could see the glares they both sent her.

Detention it was.

Minjeong tried to see the bright side of things.

At least now, Y/N hated her. She would finally leave her alone. She would stop showing up at the resta-

Minjeong blinked.

There she stood, in front of the counter, completely soaked.

There was a storm outside. The restaurant was practically empty.

What the hell was Y/N doing there?

"Hi." The taller girl let out, the corner of her bruised lips tilting into a soft smile.

A loud crash of thunder boomed in the background, and heavy rain pelted against the windows.

But Minjeong wasn't paying attention to the storm. Her focus was solely on Y/N. On the dark purple bruise marring her left cheek-a clear, undeniable reminder of what had happened just a day ago.

And yet, she had the audacity to smile at her.

Minjeong didn't know how to respond. Thankfully, she didn't have to. A loud gasp surged from behind her, and she stiffened as her mother rushed forward.

"What happened to you?" Minjeong tensed as her mother gently cupped Y/N's face in her hands, tilting it up to assess the damage. She expected Y/N to back away, to flinch under her mother's touch. But she didn't. She just stood there, smiling, like a complete fool.

"It's been raining so much these days," Y/N said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "I slipped and fell."

Minjeong's breath caught in her throat.

Did she just lie?

Y/N could have easily exposed her.

She could have ruined her right then and there, could have held it over her head like a trophy.

Minjeong had expected her to lash out, to finally snap and make her life miserable.

But she didn't.

She just stood there, soaking wet, a bruise on her face, and a stupid smile lingering on her lips.

Why?

Minjeong already knew her secret. She knew who Y/N really was and why she had approached her on that first day. She knew how rotten Y/N and her intentions were.

So why?

"You're completely soaked too."

Minjeong's mother turned toward her. "Minjeong, get her a towel and an ice pack, please."

Minjeong froze.

Her mother turned back to Y/N and ushered her toward a table. "You need to take care of yourself! Look at that pretty face of yours! And what if you get sick?"

Y/N chuckled lightly. "I'll be fine, Miss Kim. I was more worried about you, though. How's your leg?"

Minjeong stiffened.

Her mother had injured herself years ago-she had slipped during a storm, just like this one, and broken her leg. Even now, on cold nights, the pain lingered.

But how the hell did Y/N know about that?

Why did she care?

Minjeong's heart fluttered, just for a second. She gulped, pushing away the feeling, and stepped away to grab the towel and ice pack.

Her fingers gripped the fabric tightly as she glanced back at Y/N, who was still sitting, listening intently to her mother.

A nagging thought scratched at the back of Minjeong's mind, urging her to give in to this strange, persistent kindness.

She shoved it away.

"Here," Minjeong muttered, placing the towel beside Y/N and setting the ice pack down on the table.

She turned to leave- a hand wrapped around her wrist.

Minjeong's breath hitched. She looked down, expecting Y/N, but it was her mother.

"Hold the ice up for her, will you? I'm going to get her some soup to warm up."

Minjeong's jaw nearly dropped.

She could not believe what she was hearing.

It was pure karma.

She opened her mouth to protest, but her mother was already walking off toward the kitchen, leaving her alone.

With her.

Minjeong turned back to Y/N, who was still sitting, head tilted slightly, studying her with that same infuriating curiosity.

She sighed and reached for the ice pack.

A soft chuckle stopped her.

Minjeong's gaze flickered up.

Y/N was smiling-lips curled just slightly, dimples barely visible. She pulled the towel from her shoulders, setting it aside.

The sound of rain against the windows filled the silence between them.

"You don't have to do that," Y/N said, voice softer than usual.

Minjeong frowned.

"Just keep me company for a little while, please. I miss talking to you."

Minjeong felt it again. That stupid flutter in her chest.

Y/N had to be faking it. She had to. But the look in her eyes-

It wasn't the same glimmer she gave her friends, the playful twinkle that Minjeong had grown used to seeing.

This was different. It was softer. Gentler.

Minjeong swallowed, pressing the ice pack against Y/N's bruised cheek.

Y/N winced slightly at the cold but didn't move away. Instead, she smiled, shifting slightly to make space beside her in the booth.

Minjeong hesitated. Then, slowly, she sat down. Silence settled between them, but Y/N didn't let it linger."I'm sorry about Chaewon," she said, voice quiet. "She's... protective."

Minjeong tensed. It wasn't like she could disagree.

Chaewon was protective. But she was also right.

Minjeong had hurt her friend.

Her grip tightened slightly on the ice pack as she kept it in place.

"She had every right to be," Minjeong said, her tone cold. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard."

Y/N only smiled, leaning into the touch.

Minjeong's breath caught, her jaw clenched at the closeness.

How could someone she hated be so damn comfortable around her?

Minjeong wanted Y/N to get angry-to yell, to scream.

Not sit there and be friendly.

She clenched her jaw as Y/N smiled, "So you did mean to hit me."

Minjeong couldn't deny it. She stayed silent.

The rain outside filled the quiet that settled between them.

She could hear her mother moving around the kitchen, the clatter of pots and soft humming mixing with the sound of thunder in the distance.

Minjeong wanted to say something-anything. Even an insult would do. But her mind was blank.

The ice pack had started to warm against her fingers. She adjusted it against Y/N's cheek, pressing it gently into place.

"I still don't like you," she huffed, more to fill the silence than anything. "I'm not falling for your lies again."

Y/N exhaled, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.

"I didn't lie about wanting to be your friend. Or liking you," she said softly. "I just... didn't approach you with the right intentions. I'm sorry. My dad-he's not the best person. I barely know him. But I knew that he hurt you. And I wanted to make it better somehow."

Minjeong's throat tightened.

She didn't want to hear that.

She nudged Y/N's shoulder instead, scowling. "Just shut up and keep drying yourself. You're soaking the sofa."

Y/N smiled.

It wasn't much but it was a start and she was patient.

So she kept showing up at the restaurant.

She kept talking to Minjeong at school.

Interaction by interaction.

Brick by brick.

Until, somehow, impossibly-Minjeong let her back in.

Things got better.

So much better, in fact, that on Christmas Eve, Y/N found herself standing in front of Minjeong's house, clutching bags of gifts and food in her hands.

When the door opened, Minjeong just stared.

Her voice caught in her throat, countless thoughts racing through her mind.

"Y/N-what are you doing here?"

Y/N hesitated for only a second before raising the bags slightly, a small, lopsided smile on her face.

"I promised, didn't I?"

Minjeong blinked.

If anyone had told her that Y/N would actually show up, she would've laughed and told them to get their head checked.

She hadn't even expected Y/N to remember. The words had been brushed off as a joke, an empty promise at best.

But she was there.

With food. With gifts.

Minjeong's chest fluttered painfully as she took in the sight of her.

The soft glow of Christmas lights reflected in Y/N's eyes, and the crinkle at the corners of her smile made her stomach twist.

"You're crazy," Minjeong mumbled, before sighing and stepping forward, pulling Y/N into a small hug. "Y/N, you didn't have to."

"It's nothing." Y/N shrugged, stepping inside when Minjeong opened the door wider for her.

And if Minjeong had thought her parents were easily charmed by Y/N, her siblings proved her wrong.

Y/N didn't even have to say anything to win them over.

The moment they saw her step inside, looking like Santa Claus himself with all those gifts, their eyes lit up.

Minjeong watched from the side as her siblings swarmed Y/N with excitement, admiring the gifts all for themselves.

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop a chuckle, but still startled slightly when her mother suddenly gasped.

"YOU CAME!"

Before Y/N could even react, Minjeong's mother had grabbed her arm and dragged her straight to the kitchen. "Come try my kimchi! You like spice, right? I made it extra spicy this year!"

Minjeong couldn't help but soften as she watched her mother pull Y/N into the bustling house, filled with the laughter and chatter of her family.

The sight of her siblings holding their new toys, excitedly showing Y/N their favorite things about the gifts, made her heart swell.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she slowly made her way into the living room.

But even as she sat down, her eyes never left Y/N.

The way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she fit so effortlessly into her world.

It took a while, but eventually, Y/N stepped back into the living room, her eyes searching for one person and one person only.

Y/N gave her a small smile. "Your family is lovely."

Minjeong stood from the couch, reaching for her hand without thinking. "They keep hogging you," she muttered, tugging her gently" "Let's run away."

Y/N laughed but didn't hesitate to hold Minjeong's hand. She smiled, glancing around as the other girl led her to her bedroom. The house was small, but filled with warmth and comfort. Y/N couldn't help but envy it a little.

"Thank you for all the gifts," Minjeong murmured, closing the door behind them. "You really didn't have to."

The silence was a welcome change, but it didn't last long.

Somehow, they ended up lying on Minjeong's small bed, facing each other, when Y/N reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped box.

"I didn't know what to get you," she admitted, "I'm sorry."

Minjeong let out a soft laugh, her fingers moving to gently take the box from Y/N's hands.

"You didn't have to get me anything, Y/N. But whatever this is-it's perfect."

The gift was small, wrapped a little messily, but Minjeong didn't care.

She was too focused on the way Y/N was watching her.

Nervously, yet eagerly.

She unwrapped the box, tilting her head when she found a guitar pick inside. It was gorgeous-an ivory color with the initials K.M. engraved on each side.

Minjeong ran her thumb across the engraving, feeling the smoothness of it.

She couldn't believe what she was holding.

"The guitar should be arriving tomorrow."

Minjeong's eyes snapped up at Y/N's words, her grip on the pick tightening.

Her brain barely registered what she just heard.

'The guitar should be arriving tomorrow.'

The words repeated in her head, over and over, as she just stared at Y/N, her mouth slightly open.

A million thoughts, emotions, words-nothing could properly form.

Y/N was crazy.

No-this was insane.

There was no way Y/N actually bought her a guitar.

Just the thought of it made her feel lightheaded.

"Do you like it?" Y/N asked hesitantly.

Minjeong was still staring at the guitar pick in her hands, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"I heard you tell a client you were saving up to buy one," Y/N continued, pulling out her phone and sitting up to show Minjeong a few pictures. "It's this one. I talked to a guy, and he said this one is good for beginners."

Minjeong's breath hitched as she looked at the screen.

The guitar was beautiful.

Glossy black, brand new strings, shining under the store lights.

She swallowed thickly, looking up at Y/N again-who was just watching her, waiting.

Patient.

The gift was expensive and gorgeous and thoughtful.

Minjeong's heart swelled, her chest tightening with an emotion she couldn't name.

So she did the only thing she could.

She threw her arms around Y/N's neck, hugging her tightly.

Y/N froze for a moment at the sudden warmth engulfing her-but then she melted. Her arms instinctively wrapped around Minjeong's waist, pulling her close.

Her heart skipped at the unexpected affection, her cheeks burning.

She closed her eyes and smiled, taking in Minjeong's warmth, the way she felt against her-her scent, her presence.

"I'm glad you like it."

Minjeong couldn't stop herself.

Her grip on Y/N tightened as she buried her face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.

It was warm.

Comforting.

She sighed, her heart pounding as she closed her eyes.

"I love it."

Her voice was soft, muffled against Y/N's embrace.

She slowly pulled away, her face burning as she looked down at her hands.

"I also got you something," she mumbled, "but it feels useless compared to your gift."

Y/N frowned slightly at that.

Minjeong shouldn't compare gifts. That wasn't what this was about.

Before she could say anything, Minjeong stood up and walked toward her closet, pulling out a small box covered in reindeer-patterned wrapping paper.

Y/N's heart quickened at the sight.

She could see the effort Minjeong had put into wrapping it-the way the corners were neatly tucked, the way a tiny ribbon sat perfectly tied on top.

Her eyes flickered up to Minjeong, who was now holding the gift out for her. She reached over and took it carefully, her fingers running across the smooth wrapping.

The box was light and small in her hands. "Can I open it?"

Minjeong nodded.

Y/N smiled softly, taking her time untying the ribbon, making sure not to tear the paper as she lifted the lid off the box.

Inside, there was a layer of tissue paper.

She gently pulled it back and her breath hitched.

A blue jewelry box sat inside.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted it, flipping the lid open.

Inside, nestled against the soft velvet lining, was a golden necklace.

Y/N carefully picked it up, turning it over in her hands-

-and a small chuckle escaped her lips.

Dangling from the chain was a tiny, detailed basketball ball charm.

She swallowed thickly, her throat tight. It was so simple, yet it meant everything.

"You couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Minjeong smiled as she watched Y/N admiring the present.

Her heart squeezed gently as Y/N laughed and carefully lifted the necklace from the jewelry box.

Minjeong knew her gift was nothing compared to what Y/N had gotten for her. But seeing her like this-her face so soft, eyes full of warmth-made her more than happy.

The two stayed in Minjeong's room for as long as they could.

Which wasn't very long-because soon enough, her siblings and parents were calling them downstairs.

Y/N didn't linger much after that.

Christmas was about family, after all. The last thing she wanted to do was overstep.

So, despite Minjeong's mother asking her to stay for the twentieth time, she gently refused, saying she needed to get home before the snow started falling.

Minjeong walked her to the door, feeling a little sad to see her leave but too too shy to ask her to stay.

"Thanks for coming."

Y/N nodded, her chest feeling impossibly full. Minjeong had no idea how much tonight had meant to her.

She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Minjeong's cheek. "Thanks for having me."

Minjeong felt her breath catch in her lungs.

The touch was gentle. Warm.

The spot where Y/N's lips had been tingled, heat rushing to her face.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, trying to memorize the feeling-burn it into her mind.

But before she could process it, Y/N was already pulling away.

"Drive safely," Minjeong managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled at her one last time before stepping out into the cold, pulling on her jacket.

Minjeong stayed by the doorway, watching as she got into her car.

And only when the car finally disappeared down the street did she allow herself to breathe again.

Time went on and Christmas break soon ended. Y/N was ecstatic to return to school after the break.

She couldn't wait to see Minjeong again.

As she walked through the hallways with her friends, there was an extra bounce in her step, a lightness in her chest.

They made their way outside for lunch, hoping the sun would warm them up.

"I don't know, I still don't like her."

Y/N paused mid-step at Chaewon's grumble.

She quickly exchanged an exasperated glance with Niki and Aeri before sighing. "Give it a rest, Chaewon."

"Give it a rest?" Chaewon scoffed. "Did you see the way she threw that ball at you, Y/N? That girl is dangerous, I'm telling you! What if she gets angry and throws another ball at you? It's psychotic. You were knocked out!"

Y/N shrugged, thanking Niki as he held the door open for her.

They stepped out into the school's wide garden, where the winter sun was shining brightly.

"She's got a strong personality, so what?" Y/N said easily. "Plus, she didn't mean to hit me that hard. And-" she grinned, holding up the charm hanging from her neck, "-she got me a necklace for Christmas!"

Chaewon snorted at that.

"A strong personality? She sounds like a psycho to me."

They reached an empty bench, settling into the sunlight.

Aeri gently nudged Y/N. "Just ignore her. She's just petty she's single."

Chaewon went on to argue that, but Y/N didn't mind them.

She knew her friend was just being protective-and she was thankful for that.

But at the same time, she was sure of one thing.

"Chae, Minjeong would never do anything to hurt me again. Trust me, she's-"

The words died in Y/N's throat.

Her chest tightened, breath catching as her gaze landed on a new sight.

It felt like the air had been stolen from her lungs.

Minjeong was leaning against a tree-not too far away.

And standing in front of her, with one hand gently placed on her waist and the other tangled in her hair, was Jimin.

Y/N watched, frozen in place, as Jimin tilted her head down and kissed Minjeong.

Minjeong tilted her head up to meet her, their lips pressing softly together.

Y/N could see everything, the way Jimin pulled away gently, the way Minjeong's lips curved slightly in response.

Her heart plummeted into her stomach.

The world around her blurred, sounds faded into nothing-her ears were ringing, her pulse pounding in her head.

She hadn't even realized that she'd stopped breathing.

Her lungs screamed for air but she couldn't breathe in.

For a split second, the urge to step forward burned inside her. To pull them apart. To rip Jimin's hand away from Minjeong.

But time had frozen around her.

And in that moment, Y/N was done.

#aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #winter x reader #kim minjeong x reader #aespa minjeong #aespa #winter imagines #kim minjeong imagines #minjeong x reader #winter scenarios #winter x y/n #winter x you #minjeong x you #kim minjeong #aespa winter

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psychotic-nonsense · 3 days ago

Text

It's happening again.

With Max, it's attempting new tricks on her skateboard. With Dustin, he takes apart and reassembles basic little trinkets. With Nancy, she rewrites old news articles. With Mike, he reorganizes the D&D dice box he's been carrying everywhere since Will left (and even after he came back). With the Sinclairs, it's spinning something - a basketball or pen or keychain or hair tie.

The loud music isn't uncommon, nor where it's coming from. But where the source is, and what kind of music it is, feels like something reserved for times like this.

Steve wasn't supposed to be out here, technically. He's on his lunch break, and he wanted a change of pace from the Family Video parking lot. He drove out to the edge of town - Keith doesn't give much of a damn how long their breaks are anymore - to find that cliff only he really knows how to get to. Helps that his Beemer is like a second heartbeat.

But on his way out, he hears the music.

How the hell Eddie got his van out this far into the woods, Steve's never gonna figure out. But there's loud ass music coming from it that's different to Eddie's usual type. More replicable, mainly, something that sounds like an actual song yet still has Eddie's whole screamy vibe. As Steve gets closer - having parked by the road just outside the woods - he can hear another voice singing along with their full chest.

That's when he realized what it is.

It's that violent restlessness. The buzzing feeling in, under, becoming every inch of your skin. Paralyzes you from doing anything substantial, yet everything else you try to do doesn't make the feeling fade. So you're stuck in a repetitive motion while stuck in place and it feels like exploding from the inside with nothing bursting out.

Most of The Party gets it bad nowadays, since the Upside Down was sealed away. Years of living on the brink of death to suddenly being plopped back into the mundane. Steve especially got it from the lack of sports, which worsened the Upside Down buzz.

Steve knocks on the van's back door, hoping it drowns out the music to not startle his friend too badly. He tries the door, which opens easily, and floods the woods with guitars and drums and voices.

Eddie doesn't startle, but neither does he move. He's laying down on the floor of the back, the precautionary blankets there all twisted up and scattered about in evidence of motion. One hand is tugging hard at the roots of his hair, the other snapping hard along with the music. One leg is bent up and bouncing, and his chest heaves in an attempt to keep up with Eddie's shout-along singing.

It irks Steve in just the wrong way, seeing Eddie frozen like this. Gets him to leave the door open, walk around to the stereo sitting in the passenger seat, and hit the thing silent.

"What?" Eddie snaps immediately. The van rocks as he sits up.

Steve ignores him, just walking back around to the back to smack the side of the van. Noise will keep Eddie stable in this state. Eddie, who's staring at Steve with that adrenaline-fueled glare, jaw tense, sharp where he doesn't mean to be. Steve makes his words stern, to cut through the buzz no doubt rushing through Eddie's ears. "Up. I'm getting you out of here."

"'M fine," Eddie bites back, flopping straight back down with a bang he doesn't feel. One of his hands goes back to his hair.

Steve just reaches down to grab the end of one of those blankets, tugging hard. Eddie just moves an inch, but he flails like the bat tails are back around his ankle. He sits back up, eyeing Steve with a malice he can't mean. It's Eddie and he never does, not even when he's high on fight or flight.

Steve just nods to the outside world, repeating, "I mean it. Come on."

Eddie's jaw tenses just a bit more, before he rolls his eyes and scoots to hop out. Steve backs up, lets Eddie jump out of the van with too much motion, slam the doors shut and pat them in a goodbye both too hard, lets Eddie grip his leather jacket too tightly as he leads the two of them back to the Beemer. The snapping comes back a few minutes in, but Steve leaves it be.

Doesn't pick on Eddie not wiping his shoes, nor for slamming these doors shut or not buckling. The police has had more to worry about them than some unsafe driving. Steve just turns the radio up a bit too loud, leaves the snapping alone, and drives them along the edge of town.

He stops when they get to the junkyard. Doesn't say anything, just gets out and goes straight to the trunk. He hears Eddie follow him outside as Steve gets the not-nailed bat from the back, then slamming the trunk shut to keep Eddie's attention (no matter how much it and the slam prior hurt his soul).

Steve walks past Eddie into the heart of the junkyard. He spins the bat, scanning the ground, and finding an old can-looking thing. He picks it up, tossing it into the air a few times.

Then he tosses it once more, rears back, and hits the shit out of it.

The loud crinkling of metal and crack of wood creates an echo that slices through the residual buzz forming in Steve. He watches it fly haphazardly in the air, spinning randomly before landing on an old car, another echo to cut the buzz.

Eddie doesn't react verbally, but that's fine. Steve just finds something else - a piece of tire - and hits it too. Does the same to a crumpled sheet of metal, then another can-shaped thing. Feels the buzz get torn to pieces with every satisfying echo and vibration of conflicting action coursing through his veins on each hit.

When Steve finally turns to see Eddie's reaction, it's just the snapping fingers to really get his attention. Everything else about Eddie's body language says confused, curious, hungry.

His body still screams, and here it sees something that will listen.

So Steve holds the bat out by the barrel, handle to Eddie, and waves it at the junkyard around them. "Go ahead," he urges.

Eddie eyes it confused for a moment, but he eventually pushes off the side of the Beemer he was leaning against. Makes it to Steve with steps that still feel too hard, but takes the bat. Stares at it, spins it once to get the feel, but still hesitant.

Steve walks past him to retake that place on the Beemer. Eddie watches him go, still confused.

As Steve settles in, he motions again to the open empty junkyard. "Who's going to hear you?" he says.

'Only who you want to hear you,' goes unsaid.

Eddie blinks at Steve a few times more, then down at the bat. Spins it again, looks around. He spots something, stomps over to it, picks it up. A can. Tosses it up once, nearly doesn't catch it.

He looks around again, goes to a car beside him. Sits the can on the hood, steps back. Gets into a stance that feels at once natural and amateur, but Steve doesn't dare.

Because Eddie hits the can and it goes flying, with a crunch that gets Eddie to laugh a little.

Now he's really moving, looking around for something more. More metal, plastic, rubber, anything he can feasibly hit and some things he can't. It gets heavier, harder, doesn't go as far but that means the impact is in rather than out. Cuts through the buzz like nothing.

Soon Eddie takes off his leather jacket and really gets going. He's looking for glass and throwing it far and hard, feeling every shatter in his own insides. Grabs the bat again, starts hitting the vehicles, smashing the windows in further. Drops the bat again, finding unbreakable things and throwing them on the ground, on cars, against other smaller things. Looks like he's going ballistic but it's just the energy finally finding freedom and release in something.

Steve watches it all with prideful satisfaction.

Eddie digs through a pile of rubble, grabbing something evidently interesting. It's stuck, it's difficult, but that manic energy is nothing but insistent. Eddie eventually pulls it out, a rusted old metal chair far heavier than it seems. But Eddie just laughs at the challenge.

He picks up one end, and starts fucking spinning. One heel barely keeping him balanced, he spins and spins and spins. The chair gets lighter, his arms rise with the momentum. And finally, with a growl as cathartic as the destruction, Eddie throws the chair into a car, watching it shatter the glass and dent the metal in a loud bash of sound and noise and release.

This, it seems, is what finally curbs the buzzing. Eddie slumps over with the action, panting and laughing a little. He stumbles to the side, barely losing his footing in time to catch the side of that infamous bus and flop to the dirt beside it. He's panting and breathless and red in the face, but ultimately... satisfied.

Steve resigns himself to the bucket beside Eddie. Leans back against the rusted metal that saved his kids' lives, handing Eddie a water bottle from the storage in his trunk. Eddie takes it with an especially rough huff. Steve takes it as the thank you he knows it is.

Eddie gulps down a quarter of the bottle, spills another quarter on himself on accident. He leans his head back to stare at the sky, panting in relief.

"How... the hell did you know...?" he eventually gets out, still not looking at Steve.

Steve just stares at the patch of grass in the center of their little courtyard, forever greener from the cutlets that rotted there. Shrugs. "Just a hunch."

#currently experiencing this violent restlessness but unlike the party mine isn't coming from anywhere #so hoping venting it - and the solution i wish i could do rn - will curb the buzzy #giving steddie my stims and stress relief (snapping and hitting things with a bat) bc yes #ive been listening to gossip by måneskin for the past hour #what time appropriate song would fit for eddie's restlessness spiral? i can't think of anything #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #written with the intention of them just being friends but you're more than welcome to think of it as #steddie #steve x eddie #also this did help i don't feel as buzzy :]

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auraisereigh · 3 days ago

Text

"For Her, Always"

oneshot

Garrick Tavis x Riorson reader Request: Garrick x riorson little sister (she is a 2 year with Bohdi they are bff) they fell in love when they were little and now she is a rider but they hide what they feel to not upset Xaden, but the some guy flirts with her and we get MAD JELOUS Garrick and he hurts the guy on challenges, Xaden notices and they have a talk so then reader and Garrick can be together (Love confession Bridgerton style) wc: 6.8 ☆ no specific spoilers. Uses pronouns: she/her.

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

If there was one thing about Garrick Travis then it was that he was attractive, always had been- even when he was younger. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel something for him. And maybe, just maybe, I would have said something by now if it wasn't for the fact that he's best friends with my brother.

Xaden.

He has enough on his mind. Adding to that is the last thing on my mind. Even if that means I'll have to keep my feelings to myself. Even if that means my heart will keep yearning for what I can't have. At least I can still stare at him. From a distance, in the practice room. It's better than nothing I suppose.

"You're staring." Bodhi muzes next to me. I shoot a small glare his way as I continue to wrap my hands for sparring. "Am not." I respond tense.

Second year is more difficult and stressfull than it seemed. RSC hanging over my head. Xaden has done his part in preparing me but that didn't make it less terrifying and seeing as it's unpredictable when leadership would come and get us, well, that just makes it worse.

Not that I have seen a lot of Xaden lately, he's been occupied with a certain Sorrengail.

That thought brings me back to where I am. Xaden is training the youngest Sorrengail on one of the mats in the corners, Garrick not far away from them as he practices with his sword.

And I'd hate to admit it but I am staring.

After I finish wrapping my hands I stand and pick up my daggers. They had always been my preferred weapon. Light but easy to use.

I go through my usual warm up routine. Swinging them around. It's all going smoothly until I hear a voice call out. "Looking good, beautiful."

I glance toward the voice, only to find Oren—the overconfident third-year with a cocky grin plastered on his face—walking toward me. He’s twirling his sword as if to show off, his steps relaxed.

“Your technique’s good, but I think you’re missing something,” he says, a smirk on his face.

I raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “And what would that be?” He shrugs, a look of mischief appears in his eyes. “A partner. You know, someone to make things more… interesting.” He takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe someone who can keep up with you.”

I roll my eyes and focus back on my daggers, spinning one lazily between my fingers. “I’m perfectly fine. Thanks though.” I reply sarcastic, focusing back on my daggers. In the corner of my eye i catch Garrick's gaze.

But Oren doesn’t back down. “Come on, beautiful. You’ve got moves, but I bet I could teach you a thing or two. Maybe over a Meal?” His grin widens. I shake off the shiver that runs through my spine. An uncomfortable look on my face.

"Back off Oren." Bodhi's voice cuts through the tension. "She's already got someone to spar with." Bodhi's voice is on the cold side, almost as sharp as my brother Xaden's.

I give Bodhi a grateful smile as Oren retreats a step, his hands up in surrender. The smirk on his face is still present and I can tell he's not finished. For now maybe. But not forever.

♤

I stand by the surrounding crowd. All our eyes are on the mat, at the fight that is happening. It's a good match-- the matches before this one were a little meh but this one is actually good, we might be onto something.

The match ends after the second year taps out. From the corner of my eye I can see Garrick talking to Emmeterio. Why would he talk to him?

"Next match. Seifert and Travis." Emmeterio announces and my heart jumpes in my throat. That can't be a coincidence can it? Garrick against Oren not even a day after the small incident in the sparring room.

I can feel Xaden's eyes on me but I don't turn to face him. My eyes are solely on Garrick as he takes his place on the mat. His face holds the sole emotion of anger.

Oren charges first but Garrick side steps him, around his attack. Oren tries again but Garrick takes a hold of his arm, twisting it and Oren let's out a groan.

I can see Garrick say something to Oren but it's too quiet for me to hear. Garrick starts twisting his arm at an unnatural angle. He puts his leg between Oren's and he falls backwards on the mat. I knew Garrick was a good fighter but he's really good.

Garrick easily straddles Oren, a dagger at his throat and I wouldn't wish the look upon Garricks face to anyone. Not even my worst enemy.

He moves his dagger slightly, enough to draw blood but not enough to seriously injure him. I hold my breath at the sight. There is no way Garrick would actually kill him right?

He presses the blad harder against Oren's neck. I hear the familiar tap against the mat, he taps out. I let out the breath I'd been holding, Garrick slowly gets off him. He takes a step backwards, his dagger still in his hand.

I also take a step back, most people in this room night not know what this means but some do. I can feel bodhi's and Xaden's eyes in my back, burning holes.

I can see Xaden follow Garrick out of the sparring room and I don't hesitate to follow. I follow them quietly until they stop in a dark alley.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Xaden snaps at Garrick. His voice full of authority. I stay hidden behind the wall.

"He was flirting with her last night." I hear Garrick argue, frustration laced in his tone. "I'm aware of that. I saw it to but she can defend herself." Xaden voice grows bored.

"You're telling me you don't care that an asshole was flirting with your sister?" The frustration in his voice grows harsher.

“Of course I care,” Xaden snaps. “But I trust her to handle it. You, however, handled it as though you were issuing a challenge. That’s not protecting her—it’s claiming her.”

Garrick falls silent for a moment, his heavy breathing the only sound in the alley. “Maybe I am,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight I’ve never heard before. My breath catches in my throat.

“You don’t get to do that unless you’re willing to back it up,” Xaden warns, his tone razor-sharp. “You don’t get to make her your responsibility unless she’s choosing you. So tell me, Garrick, what exactly are your intentions?”

There’s a long pause before Garrick speaks, but when he does, his voice is steady. “My intentions are to love her. To protect her. To be the one she can turn to for the rest of her life. If that’s claiming her, so be it. I’ve loved her for longer than I care to admit, and I’m done hiding it.”

I press my hand to my mouth, trying to contain the gasp that threatens to escape. Did he just say…?

“And what about her?” Xaden challenges. “Have you even thought about what she wants? Or is this just about you?”

“It’s about her,” Garrick snaps back. “It’s always been about her.” “Then maybe you should say something to her instead of throwing daggers at every man who looks her way,” Xaden retorts. “Because this whole display? It’s not going to win her over. Talk to her. And for both your sakes, stop making me the middleman.”

I hear footsteps retreating, the sound of Xaden walking away. My heart pounds as I realize I’m now alone with Garrick, hidden just around the corner.

I take a shaky breath, stepping out of the shadows. “You could’ve just asked me,” I say softly.

Garrick whirls around, his eyes wide with shock. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” I admit, stepping closer. “Is it true? What you said?”

He looks away, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter—” “It does matter,” I cut him off, my voice trembling. “Because I’ve spent so long trying to convince myself that what I feel for you is one-sided. That you could never see me as anything more than Xaden’s little sister. And now you’re telling me that you… that you’ve felt the same way?”

His gaze snaps to mine, his expression a mix of hope and disbelief. “You… you feel the same?”

I nod, my chest tightening as the words spill out. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Garrick. But I thought you’d never… I thought it wasn’t possible.”

He takes a step toward me, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. “You have no idea how hard it’s been, keeping my distance. Watching you with Oren last night, I just… I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“And today?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “On the mat?” “I wanted him to know,” he admits, his thumb brushing against my skin. “That you’re not just some girl to flirt with. That you’re… everything to me.”

I can’t help the tears that well in my eyes as I lean into his touch. “Then stop keeping your distance,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His lips find mine in a kiss that’s both fierce and tender, years of longing and unspoken words pouring into that one moment. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close, and for the first time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re my everything,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

I smile, my heart lighter than it’s ever been. “You’ve already done enough,” I whisper. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you try.”

♤

#garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #the empyrean #xaden riorson #bodhi durran #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader

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zorosangell · 18 hours ago

Note

I NEED pit pt2 ! GIVE ZORO HIS GIRL BACK!!! 😤😔

⛥ﾟ・。 boxers

synopsis: part two of pit -- zoro saves your life (ish) and finally finds the courage to win you back

cw: fluffy fluff with a dash of angst, comfort, ZORO IS DOWN BAD, kinda grovels ig, but like as he should, reader kinda stands on business (not really tho).

a/n: been a minute y'all <3 happy to see you guys again

"For fuck's sake," Zoro groaned, throwing his forearm over his eyes as the loud, frenzied moans of Nami's booty call slithered through the walls.

Was she fucking killing him?

Audibly, the man was shoved against the headboard, letting out a surprised string of groans as the navigator continued her assault, doing whatever it was she did that had men begging her not to leave whatever island they were docked at.

Of course, she never obliged; but that never stopped her from robbing them blind, each and every one practically handing over their valuables at the sight of her shy smile.

It was almost laughable.

Zoro couldn't wrap his head around the poor bastards who found themselves so besotted so easily.

She was just a woman.

Hell, she was just a person.

No different from any other stranger you'd pass on the road.

...Right?

With an annoyed sigh, the swordsman dragged a calloused hand over his face, staring at the ceiling of his dark room with a knowing look.

Then again, it was just a woman that had made the last month of his life a living hell.

Or rather... her absence.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the inn bed, he glanced over at the nightstand, snatching up his day-old glass of water and taking a large swig.

By the severe lack of light flowing in through the window, he could tell it was still the wee hours of the morning, despite the fact he felt he'd been up for years.

But lately, that was how every night went.

'Cut it out.'

Without hesitation, Zoro dropped to the ground, completely ignoring the empty cup on the floor as he caught himself in a plank, starting up his push-ups.

He could do this.

He could work through this.

He just had to give himself a little more time.

With a grunt of discomfort, his lips tightened into a taut line, ignoring how the weight felt off without a certain someone sitting on his back, and how his count felt too correct without a familiar voice chatting his ear off.

Shaking his head, the swordsman trained his gaze on the floor below him, brows cinching slightly with frustration.

'Cut. It. Out.'

In retaliation, images of your smiling face flashed through his mind, so sudden that it early made him drop himself.

God, if this wasn't pathetic, he didn't know what was.

Your big breakup with the ship's first mate was a little over a month ago, and despite Zoro's fervent efforts to forget, your words had plagued him from the moment you stepped off the deck.

"IT'S WHAT YOU DON'T DO, ZORO!"

"Every time I look at you, I feel more alone."

"Am I... just that forgettable?"

His chest ached at the broken tone of your voice, just as painful as when he first heard it.

All that time he had spent fighting off danger, working to keep you as far away from it as possible, it turned out he was the one that had been hurting you he most.

That fucked with him more than he cared to admit.

How could he have not seen the signs?

How could he have not seen how much he was hurting you?

How could he have ever forgotten anything about you?

"Am I... just that forgettable?"

Suddenly, Zoro's nose scrunched, a harsh stench snatching him from his self-loathing thoughts.

It smelled like... smoke.

In an instant, the swordsman's eye snapped open, darting around the room to see greyish-black fumes billowing in from under the door.

Sifting through his you-induced haze, he forced his brain to sort through all the pieces.

Early morning.

Smoke.

And shouting that had finally managed to bleed through the walls.

'(y/n)!'

Frantically, Zoro scrambled to his feet, still in his boxers and nothing else as he snatched up his swords and practically ripped the door open.

And the moment he did, he was met with utter chaos.

Inn workers rushed past carrying large buckets of water while other patrons shouted over the dark clouds of smoke, rushing down the hallway in frantic attempts of escape.

"Zoro, the building's on fire!" Chopper exclaimed from Robin's shoulder, arms wrapped around her neck as she tried to follow the crowd toward the stairs.

"We need to leave! Quickly!" the woman added, expression slightly tainted by worry.

"I don't know why you waste your time with these assholes, Nami-swan," Sanji grumbled, one hand holding hers while the other dragged the bastard she was robbing by the scruff of his neck, his face severely bruised. "The hell you standing around for, mosshead?! We gotta move!"

"Luffy and the others went on ahead! So come on!" Nami barked through her cloth mouth-covering.

"Where's (y/n)?!" Zoro asked, frantically.

The four froze in their tracks, the color instantly draining from their faces.

"She's not with you?!"

You had been avoiding the swordsman like the plague after the incident.

If he was honest, he doubted you would ever even look in his direction again, much less come to his side in a crisis.

Those days were over...

'SHIT!'

"Head outside! I'm goin' back for her!" he barked, roughly pushing through the sea of people to get to your room.

"Zoro, wait!" Chopper exclaimed.

"That half of the building completely ablaze!" Robin called. "Be careful!"

"I don't care if you burn to death trying, you better bring her back safely, moss for brains!" Sanji spat, Nami quickly moving to drag him toward the staircase.

Their noise went in one ear and out the other as he charged down the hall, expression wild with worry as he attempted to reign in his thoughts from your burning corpse to just you.

From the flow of the smoke, he could tell it was coming from the direction of your room, though he wasn't sure where.

But the thought only quickened his pace.

The further he trekked, the thicker the smoke got, and the harder it became to breath, his nose in the crook of his elbow doing little to shield his lungs.

"(y/n)!" he shouted over the distant, roaring flames. "C'mon, (y/n), sound off! (y/n)!"

His heart felt like it was in his ass, bile tearing at his throat like a raging river.

If something happened to you...

If you died with the terms you two left on...

If you died without allowing him to say all the things on his mind...

He'd never forgive himself.

"Fuck! (y/n)!" Zoro shouted, a cold shiver running down his spine despite the rising heat. "(y/n)!"

After what felt like a millennia, he finally reached the door to your room, frantically jiggling the handle only to find it was locked.

Blood rushed through his ears at the thought of you inside, so much so that he didn't even register the singeing burn of the metal against the palm of his hand.

"(y/n)! (y/n), open the door!"

And then he hears it.

Your small, faint voice, thick with exhaustion and fatigue.

"Zo... ro!"

"I'm comin', baby! Move out the way!"

Without hesitation, he drew his sword, winding up with practiced ease.

"Zoro, no!"

"108 Caliber Phoenix!"

In an instant, the door was gone, but the swordsman was more concerned with the familiar face running toward him.

Your silhouette emerged from the smokey air, clad in nothing but the thinnest tank top known to man, and a small pair of Nami's shorts.

Utterly relieved, you collided with his solid frame, arms wrapping around him like a vice as if he'd disappear if you let him go.

"(y/n)," he huffed into your ear, his arms find home around your waist like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. "You came back in here? The hell were you thinkin'?"

His words were angry, but tone so soft as his hand traveled to the back of your head to pull you further into him.

Smoothly, his free hand hooked under your thighs, effortlessly scooping you up and carrying out the building as it burned to the ground.

Finally outside, the two of you stood with each other, silently, as Robin conversed with the inn keeper about the start of the blaze.

The both of you were quite a sight.

Zoro, covered in soot, hair mussed from tossing and turning, in nothing but his black boxers.

You, covered in soot, hair wild from tossing and turning, in nothing but a thin shirt and tiny shorts.

Though you, in particular, seemed to be what the male population outside were more fond of.

And, of course, your swordsman took notice almost instantly.

"You guys need somethin'?" the words spilled from his lips like venom, his grip on his scabbard tightening ever so slightly as he shifted his stance to shield you from the eyes of a nearby group of men.

They were standing not too far away, gawking at you as if you were some sort of attraction at a fair.

And under the infamous glare of the pirate hunter, they all scurried away like startled deer, earning an annoyed scoff from the mosshead before he returned his gaze straight—all while still taking his mandatory glance at you every minute or so.

Somehow, you looked even prettier than the last time he saw you, the ginormous bonfire sitting in front of you painting your face with beautiful red and orange light.

Maybe it was relief.

Maybe it was his guilt.

He wasn't sure.

But what he was sure of was that he needed to get off what was on his chest before it was too late.

"That was stupid," he started, curtly, as he turned to you. "Comin' back in for me like that. You could've gotten hurt... or worse."

You exhaled sharply out of your nose, slowly shifting to face him.

"I was already out here when the others told me you'd stayed behind to go look for me. I couldn't let you do that 'cause God knows you wouldn't have come out unless you dragged me from the flames with you."

"You're damn right, I wouldn't have," he replied, sharply, though without an ounce of malice in his voice. "But the difference between you and me is that I can take it."

"Oh, that's the difference? I can't take it?" your brow arched, harshly, as you poked his bare chest. "I'm not some delicate flower, Zoro. I can take care of myself. You forfeited all right to do that for me a few weeks ago."

"You know I don't give a damn about rights, (y/n)," Zoro scoffed, shifting his weight on his feet. "I give a damn about you not burning to death."

"Little late for that..." you mumbled under your breath, though Zoro had heard loud and clear.

And he didn't like it one bit.

"Hey," he started, pointedly, grabbing onto your arm with a soft yet firm touch. "Look, I know I'm an asshole, but no matter how much you refuse to believe it... I care about you. I care a whole damn lot."

He sighed, taking a deep breath.

"I know I didn't show it well when we were together, but that's not something that's gonna change 'cause of where we're at right now."

Your eyes widened slightly, surprised by the sudden, vulnerable confession.

It was completely out of character for him, and the way he raked an anxious hand through his green hair let you know that he knew it, too.

"(y/n), I... you..." he stumbled, tone rising with frustration toward himself. "I fucked up... I fucked up a lot. I took a good thing for granted and didn't know it until you were gone."

His eyes found yours, the sheer sincerity and regret in his iris nearly knocking you over.

The sudden urge to hug the swordsman overtook your hands, your fingers twitching to reach out to him.

But you knew better, and given the circumstances it was almost laughable that he'd be the one needing comfort.

"(y/n)... you mean the world to me... and more than anything, I want you to be happy... even if that happiness is because I'm gone," Zoro stated, not a single waver in his voice as his calloused hand carefully slid into yours, caressing your skin with such a reverence you'd think you were fine china.

It forced a swell of warmth to radiate through your stomach, spreading all the way down to your toes.

His touch felt like coming home, a feeling that scared you to no end, but granted you immense solace nonetheless.

Not a day went by without you missing him, missing what you both used to be, and not a night without you wishing he was still by your side.

"I don't expect forgiveness. And I refuse to ask it of you," he continued, glancing down at your conjoined hands with a wistful look. "But if there's anything I want you to know... it's that I'm sorry... and that I love you."

A small gasp left your lips, his words nearly striking you dumb.

You were almost certain the word "sorry" wasn't in his vocabulary...

"And no matter where you go... or who else you may turn to... know that I'll always be here for you whenever you need me."

At that, he released your hand, the sudden coldness burning more than any flame could.

This wasn't what you wanted.

Hell, none of this was.

You knew what you wanted.

You'd known this whole time.

And now it had finally said the words you'd been waiting for it to say for over a month.

Feeling dismissed by your stunned silence, Zoro's expression turned emotionless, and he turned to go take a walk, or find some sake bottle to drown his sorrows in—whichever came first.

But before he could step away, you quickly grabbed his arm, spinning him back around before futility slamming your fists on his chest, not fazing him in the slightest.

"Damn it! I don't want to turn to anyone else!" you huffed, looking up at him with glassy eyes. "I want you, you asshole! ...But you just can't seem to get it through that thick head of yours."

Without warning, you flicked him harshly on the forehead, earning a sharp wince.

"OW! The hell was that for?!"

"You're stupid... arrogant... and rude. You have no manners, the mouth of a sailor, and the blood-lust of a demon from hell," you listed, your hand coming up to tenderly cup his cheek in your palm, the man leaning into your touch almost instantly.

You felt so soft...

And your words only brought back memories of playful nights bickering.

God, how could he have gone a month without this?

"But I love you... so much... and I can't imagine anyone else by my side... not even if I tried."

Zoro's eyes widened slightly at your confession, but in them laid a small flicker of hope.

One you faintly recognized.

"Zoro... if we do this again... it can't be the same..." you warned, resting your hands on his chest. "I can't go through all that another time, and I won't. 'Cause at the first sign, I'm walking away."

"You have my word," he promised, as if it was an irrefutable fact, resting his firm hand over your soft one, which sat above his heart. "If you ever do, you have full permission to kill me."

"Cute you think I need permission for that," you chuckled, playfully raising your brow. "You should be more worried about who gets to you first: me or Nami?"

The man shivered at the thought, cracking a small smile at your amused expression.

Leaning down, he pressed a firm kiss on your forehead, deciding against the option of your lips in favor of taking things slow.

He didn't want to overwhelm you.

"Point taken."

Effortlessly, he scooped you up, relishing in your tiny squeak, as well as the feeling of your arms snaking around his neck.

For the first time in thirty-six days, the world felt right, and his chest felt whole.

The hold you had on the swordsman was almost terrifying; but, he'd be damned if he let anything loosen it ever again, himself included.

So, he started the trek back to the Sunny, fighting off the grin threatening to break onto his face as you rested your head against his chest.

"Now... let's get you into somethin' a little warmer. Gonna get sick like this."

"Zoro, you're in your underwear..."

"And?"

"I—y'know what? ...Nevermind."

#zorosangell #one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #op

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bitchface24-7 · 2 days ago

Note

Sequel to the pregnancy fic but this time baby no.2 is Jayces?

OOPS WE DID IT AGAIN! - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: this time it wasn't a fuck up. James is four and keeps asking for a younger sibling. He’ll take good care of them he promises! You, Jayce, and Viktor have been planning to have a second one anyway. James looks just like his one dad, maybe baby number two will look just like the other…

warnings: pre-established relationships, kid oc, everything revolving around pregnancy, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/m/f

p.s. Looks like none of the babies you have look like you… oh well! LMAO

James has been badgering you three ever since he started school to get a younger sibling. Every day he comes home and looks around your home, expecting a little brother or sister to be waiting for him.

That was the final nail in the coffin. The three of you have been debating on having another kid. You have the space, the funds, and the time to have one; James’ cute pleas sealed the deal.

So on one of his school days, ensuring he was out of the house, the three of you gave into his wishes.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You don't know if they're highly fertile or if you are because before you know it, you're pregnant.

James is ecstatic! He keeps asking how long until his sibling arrives and you three have to keep reminding him that it’s going to take about a year. He always pouts and crosses his arms at that.

You go through all the pain and uncomfortable feelings again, but it'll be worth it. James is a miniature Viktor, literally. Its like you copy-pasted them. You can't help but imagine what a mini Jayce would be like.

You subtly pray that this child is just that. You've gotten to see the wonderful mix that is you and Viktor. Now you want to see the mix of you and Jayce.

James is already looking to be a great big brother. He's separated some of his toys, favourite books, and has even placed aside one of his favourite stuffies to give to his younger sibling. The three of you can't help but gush and coo over how sweet your boy is.

As your pregnancy stretches on, near the end the three of you sit James down for a small talk. You explain to him that your attention won't be fully focused on him anymore. That babies need help to do everything. James looks shocked, even asking if they need help to poop.

You laugh as Viktor and Jayce just look shocked. “Yes sweetheart. Sometimes they get colicky, or constipated and we need to help them poop.”

“Ew.”

James face screams disgust and you laugh harder at that, scooping him up and cuddling him to the best of your abilities. He doesn't fight you.

“Even though we may be more busy now with a baby, you're always our baby too. Never forget that. We’ll make sure you still have your own personal time with us.”

As you say this, Viktor kisses James’ forehead and Jayce ruffles his hair. James giggles and nods, “Ok! So… when's the baby coming out of mums tummy?”

Viktor and Jayce look at you and then at James, “Maybe a week?”

Jayce nods. James squeals. Finally! His best friend is coming!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The labour was intense, but in the end, you pushed through it. You're sweaty, tired, and desperately want a mommy-mocktail.

Viktor was with you in the delivery room, Jayce and James waited just outside to be let in. Giving birth can be scary, and you didn't want to scare James.

A nurse ushers your other husband and your son into the room, just as the doctor exclaims, “A healthy baby girl! Congratulations!”

The baby is swaddled in a pastel pink blanket as you hold her to your chest. You look down and feel yourself subconsciously smile.

James is Viktor’s copy. Your precious girl is Jayce’s.

Same eyes, same skin tone, same lips. Looks like she got your eyebrows, nose, and chin. She beautiful.

She’s perfect.

Viktor laughs lightly when he comes to the same realization. Jayce just looks like he's about to cry.

The moment is ruined by James.

“She looks ugly.”

“James!”

“What? She's all red and wrinkly. Are you sure you didn't give birth to an old lady rather than a baby?”

Viktor snorts, and then the rest of you follow suit. James looks incredibly proud of himself.

“You be nice to your sister James Talis. You're the one who begged for a sibling.” Jayce playfully scolds, and James puffs his face out in mock irritation.

“Fineeeeeee. What’s her name anyway?”

You looks to Jayce and smile, your eyes twinkling, “Rose. Her name is Rose Talis.”

That's what finally gets Jayce to break down in weepy tears. You and Viktor laugh lovingly at your husband; James is panicking trying to calm his dad down.

Now four has become five.

For all the smut I write y'all only got pregnant twice. I’d say that's a miracle LMAO

#arcane #viktor arcane #jayce talis #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #jayvik x reader #jayce x viktor x reader #fem!reader #banners by cafekitsune

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joelmillerisapunk · 1 day ago

Text

MILLLLAAAAAA I have not known peace since reading this

First of all, the tension. The history. The forbidden desire just simmering under the surface, waiting to explode. Every single moment had me gripping my phone like it owed me money.

The fact that they had all this unresolved emotion and then bam—thrown into the most intimate scene imaginable??

This was SO intense, so raw, so emotional—and the way it all came back to them in the end??? Like, she wrote the script for him. She was always going to find her way back to him.

I am never recovering from this. EVER I am crying in the club, hiding in the bathroom, sobbing into my pillow. okay favorite parts timeeeee - and this is my live reaction so excuse every emotional rollercoaster I hit here....

-> WAHHHHHH FJSDKJSDKLJF already killing me goddamnit He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank. It could only be you. That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.that’s fucked up, Will*Will calling* -> OKAYY I SEE HOW IT IS YOU WANT ME TO CRY ALREADY HUH? “It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

-> WHAAAA I CANT DO THIS I CANT BUT I WILL IM SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more. He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again. Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.” -> she is so relatable omfg I would be doing the same You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him. But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal. -> SOBBING EXCUSE ME SIR? WTF YOU DOING SHAKING HER OFF LIKE THAT NO SIR NO SIR So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around. It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up.

-> my good goddddd im dying over here i am not okay sos help me He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

->idk Milla, i think you write the most beautiful things and you really wanna make my heart fall out of my ribcage. The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

-> ooooof THIS IS BUILDING UP OMG OMG OMG SMDFKSDA “Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally. “Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

-> stab me it might hurt less than this In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

THE ENTIRE INTIMATE SCENE HOLY SMOKES IM DIZZYYYY

-> I have no thoughts just thots my brain empty but this is delicious “I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,”

AND THE END AHHH IM SOBBING

Close-up

8k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you Warnings: 18+ mdni. ex lovers reunited, angst, mostly Joel pov, Joel can act cold out of defence mechanism, he has trouble accepting his own feelings, pining, slow burn, pet names (sweetheart, baby), semi public sex, just the tip, soft!joel, oral (f), piv, creampie. Pic for mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

a/n: this is written for @jolapeno 's dear-uary challenge (prompt here) thank you for this challenge Jo, and it was such a cool prompt 😍😍😍 Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for reading this one soooo many times 🥹😘💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

I sent you a script, tell me what you think tell me more just read it, trust me

The informal messages between Joel and his agent, Will, were usual. They had known each other for a long time, they were friends, and Will had always found him perfect roles.

So as always, Joel trusted him- even though the first page of the script, delivered to him by a courier, was not completely filled, making him wonder why.

In the evening he put his cup on the coffee table, and lay down on the sofa, a soft light lamp behind his head. With his back leaning against the cushions, shirt, jeans, bare feet. Always the same ritual, always the same setup, when he was about to read a new script.

He started reading it, taking a sip of coffee from time to time, until his heart leapt in his chest as he got to a particular scene.

He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank.

It could only be you.

That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.

that’s fucked up, Will

*Will calling*

“Yeah,” he grumbled as he picked up, without even trying to hide his feelings, then he got up to pace the room.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, Joel. But she’s a great writer and actress, you know it. We’ve been looking for a good drama movie for a long time. This one’s perfect.”

“It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

“Joel, listen to me and think about it. No one would know. And it can be therapeutic.”

“Thera… jesus, you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Joel sighed as he hung up and threw his phone on the couch.

Why the fuck would Will do something so stupid and inconsiderate, giving him a script from you?

At the beginning of his career, his agent sent him one project for a movie in which you were expected to play too. Joel confessed that you two had been together, and added “you don’t bring her up. Ever,” to end the conversation. So Will never did.

Until today.

He sat back down on the sofa, resting his forehead on his fist, resisting the urge to throw the cup of coffee across the room. He was surprised by his own reaction, his nervousness. His anger. Barely able to control his emotions, he felt so weak, like his heart was about to tear in two again, swallowing him whole. He was affected, years later, as if it happened yesterday.

So, sure, a long time ago he asked Will not to talk about you anymore. But they might have been friends, his agent might have known about you, but he didn’t know the details. Didn’t know how profoundly the break up had hurt Joel, how much you had gotten under his skin, back then.

And in Will's defense, it wasn't like you never saw each other again, at parties or ceremonies, under Will’s gaze who thought that it wasn't that bad, after all. It was years after your separation, now having the job that both of you dreamed about, talked about, sweaty young adults in a messy bed where he had just made you come.

Will wasn't aware that it was actually that bad.

Because he didn’t know the way Joel looked at you, when you were together. He didn't know how sweet and caring Joel was with you. He didn’t know how much he loved wrapping his arms around you, and having you curl up against him.

He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more.

He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again.

Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.”

The first time you saw each other again, was in a place full of actors, agents, writers and directors.

You couldn't believe he was here, a few steps away from you. Of course, you knew you'd cross paths one day, but suddenly he was closer to you than he had been in years and you felt your heart racing. He was even more handsome than he was back then, if it was even possible. You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him.

But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal.

So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around.

It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up.

If you had looked up right away, you would have seen guilt sweep through his eyes. But when you finally raised your head, seconds later, he was on the other side of the room. The only thing you could see was his back, which he undoubtedly presented to you deliberately, as if his glare hadn’t been enough to make a point.

All evening, you struggled to keep conversations going, to concentrate, to think of anything other than his dark stare, furrowed brows, and the way he shook his head at you without any hesitation. For years, you had been wondering what he had thought of you, after those years. You just got the most brutal answer to that question.

The second time, a journalist had done some research and discovered that you attended the same university, graduated the same year. He took the opportunity to bring the subject as Joel was walking by. He probably hadn't seen you amongst all those people, because you were sure he would have gone the other way, otherwise. You didn’t have much choice than to kiss, feigning a friendly closeness that had never existed between you. You had been lovers, then strangers. No in-between.

His scent, so familiar, invaded your nostrils. He always wore the same perfume, the one you had given him for a birthday. It surprised you but you didn't have much time to think about it, as he ended the hug quickly.

Joel's eyes were shifty when you looked at him, a fake smile plastered on his lips. Which could probably seem real for people who didn't know him, but not for you. Not even years later. You answered the journalist's questions as best as you could, until Joel leaned towards to give you a hug that was as neutral as his eyes on you, cutting off the questions. Then he walked away, leaving you facing the journalist who was delighted with the exclusive material and oblivious to the unspoken scene that had happened in front of him.

Joel thought back to those two evenings, after he’d hung up on Will and before he’d put the script away in a drawer. He needed to regain control of his emotions, and to do that he couldn't continue reading your words, at least for now.

He went to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, and despite him trying, his mind wandered to lazy mornings where he would get up to make two coffees and then come back to the bedroom. He’d put them on the nightstand, before cuddling up to your warm body under the sheets, hearing you moan gently. Sometimes you would fall asleep in one of his shirts, and he loved smelling his scent on you, as if you were marked by him, somehow. It always made him feral, possessive. He didn’t know he had that side in him, until you.

You'd always grab his hand to kiss the tip of his fingers, before sliding them along your folds, feeling his cock harden against your ass and your pussy starting to drool. He would make you come with his digits, his lips against your ear, caged in his arms, then he'd slide his cock between your thighs and your soaked folds, just in time for your last spasms to squeeze his tip. Sometimes he would keep fucking you like that, lying behind you, and sometimes he would roll you on your back, taking his place between your thighs. Until he’d come, grunting, growling, his hair disheveled, and you often fall back asleep, his cock softening inside you, the cups of coffee cold on the nightstand.

He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up groggy. He put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, poured himself a cup of coffee, and put aside his good resolutions. He didn’t need the script to think about you, anyway. Time never healed his wounds, he never forgot you or the pain he had felt when you’d left. His thoughts were always hurtful, possessive and raw.

Even years after the break up he couldn’t help but think about you when his wrist fucked his shaft. Even sometimes when he was in a relationship. He hated himself for that but couldn’t help it. He missed your cunt, your hands, everything. But he couldn’t accept the idea that he was simply missing you.

He always thought that your bodies were made for each other, and you always breathed the same words. He knew you meant it, his cock buried in you, his eyes fixed on yours rolling to the back of your head and his ears filled with your moans, barely able to tell his name.

Until it was over.

He knew it could happen, you always told him that you'd have to leave for California one day in hope to live your dream, that you couldn’t do it in Texas. But he brushed it off, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to think about it. He hid it in a corner of his mind, until he had no other choice but to face reality. Until it hit him. That day, he realized that he wouldn’t get to wrap his arms around you for the rest of his life.

He lay down on the couch and started to read. And the more he read the script, the more he realized that you wrote only the moments that had really happened.

The story, background, was slightly different, probably so that no one could ever make a connection to the two of you. But the moments were real, and it made him dizzy.

You wrote that dance in your small apartment, first for the both of you, that you rented after graduation. You worked as a waitress and Joel was a barista, and you two went to as many castings in Austin as you could, dreaming every day about being actors.

That night you put on some music and danced. He kissed your hand and looked at you. He felt warm. He loved you so much that his heart was aching. He made you spin and you laughed, and it was like a spring breeze in the apartment, filling his lungs with fresh air. When you stopped twirling you brushed his hair and then kissed him.

The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

Over the next two days, he took the script out of the drawer regularly. Slowly touching the paper that already bore the marks of repeated handling, him lying on his couch, taking his time before opening it.

He read it all, and the sweetness, the sensitivity with which you described your moments moved him profoundly. The person he had loved, cherished, cradled in his arms, wrote that.

All the intimacy, the love and care you both felt for each other were there. For several years he made everything to forget the good moments, to focus only on the ending to feed his bitterness, but the fact was that there had been so many beautiful moments. And he could read them, feel them again. Couldn’t deny them anymore.

Your words were so familiar, so true to your love story, that his anger slowly gave some place to something else: nostalgia. Finally allowing himself to miss you and what you two had. He was still wondering why you had written the script and sent it to him, but now he was ready to learn the answer. And he wanted to look you in the eye when he’d ask you this question. But he wasn't sure how he’d behave, when you met. Didn't know if bitterness or nostalgia would fill his heart.

So after two days of silence, Joel picked up his phone and sent Will a message.

Ok, set up a meeting

Because of your busy schedules you could meet only in two weeks. The delay was driving him crazy.

He made a copy of the script, his copy, which he filled with annotations, dates. Underlining moments or words erased from his mind, out of grief, anger or self-protection.

He got hard several times, while reading some scenes. And sometimes anger would come back to creep into his thoughts, whispering to him that you never should have sent it to him, when your separation had been so painful for him.

And Will was not the only one Joel said “you don’t…. ever.”

To you, it’d been “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.”

That morning, as he got used to doing several times a day, he grabbed his copy of the script. He had handled it so much that the sheets were already damaged, some pages peppered with annotations.

As he was reading, he remembered how you had loved to run your fingers over his jeans when you were watching a movie on your little couch. Playing with him, your hand going higher and higher, just to hear his breathing slow down, just to hear him murmur a needy and low “sweetheart, what are you doing?”, making you smile widely. Knowing that he would manhandle you two seconds later to be under him, pulling your panties to the side and pushing his thick length into you. He remembered the feeling of your breasts against his chest, how you whimpered in his neck while he was fucking you hard and deep.

He was nervous the morning of the meeting. He took a shower, hoping to get rid of the fatigue and headache from the lack of sleep the night before. He put on a shirt and jeans and grabbed his car keys, put on some music when he started to drive, trying to change his mind, but it didn’t work, he was still anxious. He parked near the building. Once inside he found the meeting room and knocked on the door. He heard you say “come in” and took a deep breath before twisting the handle.

You were alone, sitting in a chair, and he quickly pushed aside the thought of how pretty you were. Joel immediately noticed your hands, pressed together nervously, before you stood up to greet him. He stopped when you walked towards him and your smile faded like that time.

“Wait,” he said, his hand raised in front of him, as he was trying to control his emotions. “I just… Why did you send it to me?” he added without any preamble, his tone harsher than he intended.

“Oh… ok. Straight to the point, huh?” you said, sitting back down, and removing an imaginary crease on your sleeve, eyes lowered to the desk.

“I never…” you started to say, before stopping and taking a breath. “I think I needed to write our story down.”

Joel’s sigh stopped you. You tried to keep a low and calm tone, not to show your anxiety. You knew that facing him wouldn't be easy. He had given you a glimpse of his coldness after the situation with that journalist.

“Joel, please, listen to me.”

You looked at him, and yet you had no idea how his name, escaping your lips, tore his heart apart. He never thought he’d hear it again, and the familiar intonation made him shiver.

“I honestly think it would make a great movie,” you said. “And you must think so too, since you’re here.”

“I don’t know why I’m here, honestly. Except that I want to know why.”

“Would you have preferred to discover it once the movie was out, your role played by someone else?”

His gaze on you, dark and possessive, made you freeze.

“No, I really wouldn’t have appreciated our story, my life, played by someone else, Jesus,” he growled.

He put his hands on his hips, a stance you’d seen him do dozens of times before, searching for words, and then he sat in a chair, pinching the place just above his nose with two fingers. Trying to stop the headache that was threatening to come again. It had started off badly, and he knew it was his fault. He was too stubborn, too cold.

“Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally.

“Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

“You?”

A part of him, that he thought was gone the day you had left, woke up with a groan. He couldn't imagine the movie being made, you playing... well, you, and him being played by another man. It was unthinkable and made his jealousy and possessiveness stir painfully in his chest.

Unlike you, he hadn't watched your movies. He tried though, when he saw your face on a movie poster for the first time. He went to the cinema, but he walked out of the theater the moment that actor leaned toward you to kiss you. He couldn't stand to see someone kiss you, when he couldn't do it anymore.

“I’m the best person to play this character, aren’t I?” you said softly, interrupting his thoughts. “Just like you’re the best one to play the male lead. Look, I know you’ve been rumored for a role like this for years. I know you’re not opposed to it. So why not?”

“Because it’s not about playing a role here,” he sighed. “It’s playing in front of a camera, things we said, did, years ago. Intimate things that belong to us.”

“I changed some things, no one has to know it’s autobiographical,” you started to say, before he quickly cut you off.

“I know it is. And so do you.” He walked over to the window to stare at the buildings in front of him. “When you leave someone, you don’t do that. It’s unhealthy,” he said, almost softly. Resigned. He turned to you before adding, “Why stir up something that died years ago?”

He didn't expect to face the sadness that clouded your face, and once again guilt seized him. You were sad, upset, and despite the bitterness he’d been feeling for years, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore,” you answered, standing up and walking towards him. You stopped a few steps away to respect his boundaries, before you'd see his body stiff. “I left because I had to follow my dream, and it wasn’t working in Texas. And you wanted to stay in Austin, to take care of Tommy. We ended it because a long-distance relationship would have been too painful, because I didn’t want us to be unhappy, barely seeing each other, not being able to feel each other often enough. So I left. And I told you all that. You knew it, you knew why.”

You took a breath, after formulating what was oppressing your heart, waiting for him to answer.

“Playing with feelings is dangerous,” he said in a low voice.

“This isn’t a game, Joel. I'm not playing. I’m sure it would make a great movie. And maybe we need to express all that, even years later.”

“Do you remember what I told you that day? The last day?”

“Of course, I do. You told me not to call you. You told me that if we had to meet again… then it would happen. Well, it's happening, Joel.”

He looked at you, confused, and headed towards the door, brushing past you lightly as he passed.

Just before leaving, without looking at you, he said in a low voice, “my agent will give you my answer in a few days.”

Once the door closed behind Joel, you remembered the day you left.

In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

At that moment you were wondering if you had made a mistake. You kept wondering for years. To be honest, you still weren’t sure you made the right choice that day. You followed your dream and succeeded, but it cost you the love of your life.

You didn't know what to think about the meeting. It could have been worse, he could have left after two minutes of being there, you knew it. You could have said more, too, but you didn't want Joel to withdraw more into himself. And for sure, you couldn't have told him that you always thought of him when you were in someone’s else’s arms. That you tried not to let jealousy invade you when you thought of his personal life, knowing that you had no right to be. You gave up on that when you had left.

You knew what he thought, how he reacted. Now he needed time to process everything, and you just had to wait for his agent to contact you. You couldn't do more.

Joel got to his car in a blur. He realized where he was only sitting behind the wheel, too many emotions swirling in his head. Years without seeing you and it had gone by at the speed of light. He blamed himself for being cold, blamed himself for not being cold enough, and he was even more lost than before he saw you. He started to drive, the feeling of having mishandled things weighing more and more on his shoulders.

He took another shower when he got home, as if it could wash off his remorse and regrets, the words exchanged playing over and over in his mind.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore.”

“I had to follow my dream. You wanted to stay in Austin. To take care of Tommy.”

“You knew it, you knew why.”

Did he really start to believe that the events had happened differently, after you left? Had he really done it, to the point of omitting certain things, because he needed someone to blame, to keep moving forward?

Had he really been that guy? Blaming you when there was no one to blame, just life and the choices that go with it, that we all have to do?

Had he really denied for years that you had left with a broken heart, too? That he had told you to never call him, after those wonderful years together? He felt like he was waking up with a monstrous hangover, and guilt gripped him. Truth is he let you down, and reality was hitting him hard.

Because you were right, you didn’t leave just like that. He didn’t want to acknowledge it for years, kept sweeping it under the rug, but deep down he didn’t forget it.

And you were right, he hadn’t been able to prioritize your relationship. Couldn’t prioritize himself either. He had always been protective of his brother, but it reached another level when he came back to Texas after being dismissed. Tommy wasn't the same, and Joel knew that he would have constantly wondered if his brother was okay if he had left for California with you. Worried that he could be in jail after a fight, with no one to bail him out. Or that he could be drunk in an alley, alone, spending the night there. Or worse.

“I can’t leave Tommy here alone, with all his drinking and partying,” he told you, expression determined.

“But you need to think about your future, our future too, Joel,” you replied desperately.

Joel had probably hoped that you wouldn’t have left, that you’d have chosen him, until the end. And you probably hoped the same thing, too.

Right person, wrong time. Fucking sad, but so banal.

So to forget that he was as responsible for the breakup as much as you were, he let his pain turn into anger, and he never let nostalgia set in, or his feelings show up.

And everything blew up when you sent him that script and he started reading it. It was impossible to continue to deny the obvious, to keep thinking that his feelings were stronger than yours and that’s why you had left. It was impossible to forget that he had told you, “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.” That he was the one who had cut everything off, once and for all. To protect himself, of course. But still.

So once you were gone, he did what he had to do, he took care of Tommy. Except that he started going to bars with him, at night. Drinking less than him, but still way too much. He took sleeping pills when he was obsessed with your absence, tired of squeezing your pillow way too tight in his fist, his jaw clenched with anger. He moved to a new neighborhood because he couldn't stand living in that apartment anymore where everything reminded him of you.

When they were children and then teenagers, Joel and Tommy’s father taught them to work with their hands, and it helped them to find jobs on construction sites. And that he finally pulled himself together and helped Tommy the way he had to. It took him months, but he did it, and his parents would be proud of him, of them, if they saw their sons.

He worked hard, kept doing castings when his work allowed it, and eventually it paid off, even if it took time.

He thought about it all, and realized he needed to see you again before deciding on the movie. Needed to behave normally, to let go of his mask. So he asked his agent your number, then texted you:

it’s Joel. Are you still in LA? I have some questions about the script can we meet again? I am. When do you wanna meet? tomorrow night, my place? I’ll cook Sure!

He took a deep breath as he sent you his address. He let his emotions take over on purpose, to dispel the bitter taste in his mouth since you saw each other. Now he had to trust them.

The next day he started to cook during the afternoon, the dish that he hoped was still one of your favorite. He knowingly chose to invite you over to his place, to keep his mind occupied at least while he was busy in the kitchen.

Once the dish was in the oven, he did a running session on his treadmill and showered.

Anything to keep his mind busy.

You arrived right on time, a bottle of wine in hand.

“You still like the white?” you asked.

He did. Some things never changed.

As you approached the kitchen it smelled so good that you stopped there.

“Still one of your favorite meals?” he asked.

It was.

You tried not to show that you were moved. Acts of service had always been his way of showing that he cared, and you weren’t expecting that when you showed up.

You sat down on a high stool in the kitchen and he opened the bottle of wine. You had a few sips, silently. Neither of you really knew what to say, at first. Then everything set into place, naturally, instinctively. A little shyly at first, bringing up things from your respective pasts, or present. You asked him how Tommy was doing, and he told you he was fine, that he was engaged to a woman named Maria and that they were going to be parents soon. You were happy for Tommy, sincerely. You had always liked him.

Joel was trying to act normally, to not pay too much attention to the ease with which you were chatting. How easily he opened up to you, telling you about his years in Austin, then his first ones in LA. His first roles, his doubts.

He was glancing at your hands when you weren’t looking at him. At your hair.

He loved to see your eyes shine when you were talking about something that was important to you.

But above all, he loved to see them sparkle the first time he made you smile, that evening. It hit him, how much he missed it. Making you smile.

His emotions were so familiar that his heart was beating a little too fast, like a horse freed from its reins.

And suddenly he wondered how he had been able to spend so many years without you by his side, when you had always been his sunshine, liberating his grumpy, reserved nature.

A part of his brain told him that he was smiling a little too much, but he felt more alive during those moments with you than he hadn’t been in so long.

Whether in a relationship or not.

And then he felt the atmosphere change, felt that you got nervous, an impression confirmed when you began to scratch your thumb. A habit that dated back years ago, and he'd always take you in his arms, kiss your thumb and tell you that he was there and that everything would be okay. Today, for the first time he couldn’t do all that.

“Are you ok?” he nevertheless allowed himself to ask.

“Yeah, it’s just… listen, I know you wanted to ask me about the script, but ehm... there’s something you need to know.” You took a deep breath before adding “there won’t be any movie if you don’t want to do it. If you’re not comfortable with it. I’m not saying this to put pressure on you, it's just… I just want you to know that your choice is completely free. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it, for whatever bad reason.”

“I appreciate that you’re telling me this, thank you,” he said, in a tone you couldn’t quite define, half defeated, half tender. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”

“For what, Joel?” you asked questioningly.

“Yesterday. I didn’t really know how to handle all of it. Honestly, I’ve been overwhelmed by a lot of emotions since I read the script. Including anger.” He didn't expect to tell you that, but the need was too much to bear. He needed to make things right.

“I know. I expected it to be complicated, after our two previous meetings,” you said, without animosity or bitterness. Just being factual.

He raised his eyebrows, as if to apologize, before continuing. “I wanted to apologize for that too. My attitude.”

“That’s your way of handling things, it always has been, I should have known. But I appreciate it too, thanks Joel.”

He nodded, then added “do you think we’ll be able to do it?”

“To do what?”

“Work together. To be coworkers on a movie?”

He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as you took the time to think before answering.

“Well… the evening’s going pretty well, right? You haven't shook your head at me yet, to show me the door.”

“Ouch!” he replied exaggeratedly.

“Too soon?” you asked, lips curled into a smile.

“A little,” he laughed.

He enjoyed it, that little moment. You’d had so many of them before.

“Aren’t you afraid of what might happen?” he wanted to ask.

“Aren’t you afraid of reliving things, that I’ll fall madly in love with you again and that the scenes we’ll shoot, my acting, will just express the reality of my feelings?”

But he couldn’t ask you that.

He wanted to ask you if you had sent him the script because you still had feelings for him, but he couldn’t say that either.

“It’ll be a low budget movie. I mean, if we do it,” you said. There’ll be some outdoor scenes but not that many. Not many other actors either. It won’t be a long shoot.”

He nodded and said, “can I give you my answer in a couple of days?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Thanks for the meal, it was delicious,” you said as you stood up. “You can text me if you have any questions.”

He thanked you and you complimented him on his house as you put your coat back on. His taste hadn’t changed. The rooms were simply decorated. As you walked toward the front door you glanced inside one of the rooms, and saw a table with a wooden sculpture on it.

“Oh my god, Joel? You still do the carving?”

“Oh… well… yeah. I never stopped.”

“Can I?” you asked.

“Sure,” he opened the door and you slipped through the gap, brushing past him lightly as you passed and you had goosebumps at the familiar scent. Still the perfume you had gifted him once. Reassuring. After all these years, instantly, it was there. Enveloping you.

You approached the table and leaned over a piece he was working on, admiring the figurine that was being carved. A rodeo cowboy on a bucking horse.

“Wow, Joel… you were already very good at this back then, but now it’s incredible. The level of detail is mind-blowing.”

You looked at the shelves, covered with other sculptures. You approached them: bears, deer, wolves, rabbits.

“This is really amazing, you’re so talented. And… Do you still play guitar?”

“Sure,” he answered, nodding at a guitar case. “I usually play in the dining room. My guitars are over there. This one needed a little TLC. I just got it back. It’s… well it’s the one you gave me.”

You looked at him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“You kept it?” you asked, trying to hold back your emotions.

“ ‘ course I did.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

“I should go, it’s getting late,” you said. “Tell me about the movie, ok?” You looked at him hesitantly, but when he leaned towards you and wrapped his arms around your torso, your eyes closed at the feeling, so familiar, before you pulled away, told him good night and left.

Driving your car, you replayed the images of the evening in your mind. Of course, you had felt his gaze on you several times during the evening. And sometimes you could see Joel again. Your Joel.

Did he think about you as much as you thought about him? Did he suspect that you had sent him this script in the hope of getting back in touch with him? Did he know how much you missed him, all those years?

You had wondered so many times if he had been thinking about you. You thought about the hug, as comforting as before. You missed him so much.

Two days later, he texted you

“I’m in”

He kept looking at his phone after sending the message. The read indicator appeared quickly, then the writing bubble.

“Great, I'm so glad! I’m sure it’s gonna be amazing!!”

He hoped it would be. Hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

He had to leave LA for several weeks for a shooting, and the organization of the film was put in place.

You sent each other a few messages in the next few days. Then the messages became more and more regular, while remaining purely friendly.

Several months later, the day before the shooting started, he knocked on your trailer to say hello.

You had rehearsed some scenes with the crew, and everything was ready.

The less emotional scenes were shot in the first few days. He didn’t ask for it, but he was glad. Every night he came back to his trailer, played the guitar, and thought about you.

Seeing you every day was a very strange thing that he had trouble to define. He was happy to see you every day, to see the person you had become. And sad that you were no longer his. Filming these moments with you was like constantly reopening a wound that had never really healed.

That night, he took out the script, and reread the scene planned the next day.

EXT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He parks downstairs at their apartment, it’s dark. He knows she’s back from a week at her parents’. He’s eager to get home and see her again, he’s missed her. He quickly climbs the outside stairs and unlocks the door. INT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He puts his keys on the hall cabinet, takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. We follow him as he walks in the apartment, until he sees her in the doorway of the dining room. He smiles, we see love in their eyes as look at other. HER Hey baby He goes to her, they kiss, he takes her in his arms. She closes her eyes. HIM I missed you, baby. He brushes her cheek with his thumb. HER I missed you too. She takes his hand and leads him to their bedroom.

He stopped reading there, before the next scene, that was the most intimate, the one that made him anxious just to think about.

“I missed you, baby,” he said the line. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, like he had done so many times before. His eyes were fixed in yours. He wondered if he was imagining what he was reading in them.

“I missed you too.”

You took his hand and you headed out of the frame.

“Cut, it was perfect, guys! Go get ready for the next scene.”

He picked up his water bottle and took a sip. He felt dizzy.

You were both wearing underwear and bathrobes. Waiting to shoot the scene.

“Ok guys, you’re ready? Great, let’s go.”

The scene was a close-up of both of your faces during a sex scene, at night. You lay down on the bed first, after taking off your robe. He took off his too and lay down between your thighs.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s ok,” you smiled.

“Action!”

You started to kiss, tongues quickly brushing against each other. His hands cupped your cheeks as he rolled his hips towards you slowly, careful that your crotches wouldn’t touch.

It was overwhelming to feel you against him, your breasts against his chest, with only your bra between the two of you. It was a whirling moment, to kiss you in such an intimate scene, playing something that you had lived for real before. He groaned and slid his hand to the back of your neck to hold you as close as possible against him.

He felt you shift slightly, turning your hips to face his. He wanted to ask you what you were doing but he couldn’t. He was half hard from the moment he laid against you but now his cock was hard as steel. You pushed your pelvis forward and the tip of his cock nestled at your entrance, pointing against his boxers.

He could feel your wet panties through the fabrics.

“Don’t stop, baby,” you recited your line, and he growled.

He couldn’t believe you would act like that while shooting a scene, couldn't believe you were using him.

He pulled away to look at you and you murmured an unscripted “please.” Eyebrows furrowed, he nodded slightly. His fat head found its way, and his tip pushed your panties in.

It was hot, filthy, forbidden. So unprofessional, but he couldn’t stop. He recognized your moans, and the small team around you probably thought it was perfectly faked, when it was music in his ears. The music he thought he would never hear again.

Your hands tightened on his biceps as you came. So quickly. He felt your walls squeezing his tip and he almost forgot to move, forgot the script, forgot you were shooting a scene. He pulled out, afraid he would come too, and faked his orgasm, neck tense and veins bulging, your hands caressing his hair at the back of his neck.

You said the next line “I love you, baby. I missed you so much.”

“I love you too,” was his.

“Cut!! That was amazing, great job!!”

There was a pounding on your trailer door as you got out of the shower. You quickly threw on a bathrobe and went to open it.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled.

“Keep your voice low Joel, damn… Come in.”

You closed the door behind him, searching for the right words, pressing your hands together.

“I, huh…” you stammered.

“No! No, talk to me. Tell me. You can’t… you can’t do that and stay silent.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he chuckled.

“Having you so close to me, against me… I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. It was overwhelming.”

“Everyone could have seen, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, that’s the point, Joel! And they didn’t see, anyway.”

“Jesus christ you can't do that. You can’t just use me like that.”

“I know, Joel. I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“What?”

You sighed, and that time he didn't try to rush you. You felt him soften, giving you time to find your words.

“I miss you, Joel.”

“No, don't… Please, don’t say that.”

“I missed you the second I left and it never stopped.”

Hearing the tone of your voice and reading your eyes, this time he had no doubt that you really meant it. And he felt all the tensions in his body relax, as if he were freed from everything that had been oppressing him for years. You approached him slowly, eyes raised to his, and you slid your hand into his, and his large palm gently closed over it. You caressed his cheek with the other, and for a moment he shut his eyes, pressing his face against your hand.

“I miss you,” you said again and he rested his forehead against yours. He gently rubbed his nose against yours, before kissing your lips softly. He heard your breathing hitch for a moment, then you moaned slightly as you pulled away, just to look at him, Joel, not the actor, for the first time in years. He pulled you closer to him and brushed his tongue over your lips, as if asking for permission to push inside. Greedily, you slid yours to his, licking his tongue and lips, until he crashed his mouth against yours. His hands rested on your waist while yours moved up his back, pressing your bodies together. You whined when you felt his hard cock pressed to you.

You pulled away from him again, just to look at his face, and he wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure you were not some dream that would leave him disillusioned and alone when he woke up.

You took his hand and led him to your room.

“Undress me,” you said.

He pulled on the knot of your bathrobe slowly, making the two sides of the garment part, revealing the curve of your breasts that he caressed with his fingertips.

Your chest rose quickly as your eyes were plunged into each other, until he lowered them to your pussy. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he was afraid it would explode.

He raised his gaze to yours, silently asking if you were okay.

“Yes,” you said. As if you knew he would want to hear it, that a nod wouldn't be enough.

He slipped his hands under the fabric of the robe and slid it down your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you naked. So vulnerable, and yet you were the strongest woman he ever knew, following your dream by leaving for a city where you didn't know anyone. And made your dream come true.

But now you were here, in front of him. So pretty, so sure of yourself, of your desires.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.

He pulled you back, guiding you with his hands on your hips as he kissed you, until the back of your knees touched the bed.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he said. The nickname was so familiar in his mouth, so normal. You did as he asked, moving back until your head rested on the pillow as he watched you, still standing at the end of the bed. Then he took off his t-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans and got rid of them and his boxers.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Haven't felt better in a long time, actually.”

“Me too,” he added, laying on the bed, his hand caressing your inner thighs that he kissed, then he spread them with his hands.

He ran his thumb over your folds, covering it in your wetness until he reached your clit and gently rolled it under his finger. You moaned, spreading your thighs wider.

He leaned down, his shoulders taking possession of the space between your thighs, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. He licked a long stripe from your drooling hole to your clit, then placed his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing your knees against the sheets, and you willingly let him do it, your hands sliding into his hair. He pushed his tongue into your cunt, growling against your folds. He never thought he would taste you again and an overwhelming feeling was running through his whole body. You were leaking into his mouth, down his throat and he pressed you against him, greedy for what you were giving him as your hips rolled towards him. His nose brushed perfectly against your clit, like it always did before. You clung to his hair as your moans were getting louder and louder.

"I'm so close, Joel," you murmured, hands lost in his curls. "Please, baby, please."

“Take what you need, use me, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m coming, fuck!”

He didn't let go of you, leaving his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose against your clit, gripping your waist with his hands, as if they were in their natural place, your flesh welcoming them.

“Joel…” you whimpered.

“Another one, please, baby. Let me give you another one, ok?”

“I’m not sure if I can… I don’t know if I can,” you panted.

“Lemme try, ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered.

His tongue left your pussy, licking your puffy folds before teasing your swollen clit. His middle finger slid along your folds before he pushed it in you gently, immediately adding a second digit. His fingers pumped into you, making your wetness flow down to the sheets. He kept you pressed against the mattress, as he had done so many times, drunk on your taste and smell. His cock ached but he resisted the urge to grind himself against the bed, afraid of not being able to hold back and come on them.

“I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,” he added, still pumping your drooling cunt with his thick fingers, then licking and sucking your clit.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you whined, just before you came on his diggits, clit pulsing against his tongue.

He crawled over to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smashed his lips against yours, your wimpers now disappearing between them.

“I wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you breathed against his lips, but he shook his head.

“Sweetheart… I'd love it too but I’m gonna come the second you’ll take me in your mouth,” he said. “And I really need to feel you around my cock. All the way this time, not just the tip. You’re ok with that, baby?”

“Of course, need to feel you too.”

“Damn you’re so pretty,” he said, and kissed you.

He grabbed his cock in his hand, the tip leaking, swollen and red, and nestled it at your entrance, pausing there for a moment before thrusting in.

“Oh fuck…” you whined, making him stop.

“No, no no, don’t stop, I’m ok. Need all of you, please,” you whimpered.

Like years ago, he would give you everything you needed from him. So he didn't stop until he bottomed out.

“Shit,” he groaned, feeling his balls tightening, ready to explode. He was struggling so hard not to come, but his breath was hitching with every thrust since he felt your pussy around him.

You kissed, hips rolling towards each other softly and slowly. He loved to feel you around him again, and again he thought that your bodies were made for each other. He was sure of it more than ever. He slid his arms under your shoulders and you licked his neck, right at his pulsating point, then kissed the thin and delicate skin crossed by its veins.

“I won’t last, baby, I’m sorry…” he panted.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking him deeper.

“It doesn’t matter, fill me, Joel, please, just like before,” you begged, making him grawl, and he placed his thumb against your clit. It was enough to give you soon another climax and you pulsed around his shaft, digging your fingers into his skin as you came once again. He thrusted in a few times before burying himself, balls deep in your cunt, and shot his cum into your core, filling it to the last drop, his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart….”

“I know,” you breathed. “Just like before.”

For a few minutes both of you were panting loudly, waiting to catch your breath.

Then you caressed his cheek and he kissed you until he pulled away and lay down facing you.

“Come here, baby,” he said, welcoming you against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, the way he always liked it so much. You stayed like that for a few minutes without talking. He just wanted to feel you against him, to hear you breathe slowly, to feel your skin against his.

“I should have left with you,” he said suddenly.

You straightened up to look at him then said softly, “hey, no, don’t… Don’t hurt yourself by thinking that. You did what you had to do, and so did I. And we met again, like you said back then,” you added, and kissed him, then curled up in his arms again.

“We did,” he agreed, brushing your hair delicately. “So, that script?” he asked. “Was it to… like… get me back?”

“Of course it was,” you smiled against his torso, and he kissed the top of your head.

“I’m happy you sent it to me, sweetheart.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

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#fic rec baby #joel miller x reader

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idkshithead · 2 days ago

Text

having a bad day .ೃ࿐

┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛

╰┈➤ ❝ seong gi-hun x fem!reader ❞

ʚɞ ๋࣭⭑ — tws: age gap (reader is 25, gi-hun is 47) mention of murder, mention of self-harm, pts.

ೀ ⋆.˚ — genre: fluff!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ — summary: you've had a really shitty day so when u get home from university your bf is there to comfort you and cheer you up.

・❥・ — a/n: hii! i’m new here and this is my first time publishing a ff🥹 i wrote this out of boredom so idk if it’s good. also my first language isn’t english so i’m sorry for eventual mistakes, i appreciate every kind and constructive advice on how to be better(no insults or hate tho!)<3 if i think your comment is hateful or disrespectful or anything like that, i’ll delete it! so be nice pls🫶🏻

❕ — warnings: timeline is season 2 but i changed his age. if you don’t like age gaps/have problems with them GET OUT👉🏻

enjoy! ❤︎

It was 9 PM in Ssangmun-dong and you were walking down the empty, rain-soaked street you travel every day. You were carrying a heavy backpack, the straps digging into the skin of your left shoulder, a sign that it was full of notebooks. The dim streetlights flicker, casting a dull glow across the wet floor and your footsteps were covered by the constant "pats" of the rain drops falling to the ground. The downpour was rentless and it was drenching your clothes and your nice hair but you barely seemed to notice cause your mind was wrapped up in something else. It had been a very tough day and you wanted nothing more but to be in your boyfriend's comforting arms.

His name was Seong Gi-hun. You weren't korean but you thanked God you moved there when you were 18 cause if you didn't, you probably wouldn't have met him. The day you two crossed paths was almost 4 years ago and you remember it like it was yesterday: he used to have a gambling addiction and thanks to your friend, who brought you with her to gamble, you found him. Or even better, he found you cause the very first time he bumped onto you as he was getting chased by some men; meanwhile the other times, you went to talk to him cause you found him pretty cute and...pathetic.

At the time you were 21 and he was 43 but you really didn't care about the age gap. Plus, he looked younger than he actually was. The first weeks you two started to date as close friends and soon you learned he’s got a 10 years old daughter and an ex-wife. They divorced because of his addiction which led to him having several debts that he couldn't pay. His daughter's name was Ga-yeong and she was very sweet, just like her father. She liked you even and you, of course, liked her back. As the days went by, Ga-yeong revealed you her father's secret: he liked you and every time he knew he was going to see you, he would put up nice clothes and adjust his hair; and she hoped you would like him back but God, how could you not like him? He was such a gentleman, so sweet, so respectful, so caring; this headed to both of you starting a relationship (a serious one too), and at first it was hard due to his addiction. Firstly because every time he didn't pay his debt in time, he would get beaten up and threatened to be killed. So many times you would yell at him cause he spent all his money, and the one you gave him, to gamble but you understood that yelling and getting mad wasn't the right solution of solving this, thus you got used to it and you were determined to help him go through that shit. Later you met his mom and his childhood friend whose name was Sang-woo and you were actually surprised they didn't think less of you just because you were younger. If you were in your native country, everybody would look at you as a person of no value and would think he was a pedophile, even tho you were a grown ass adult. Before him, you've been in a toxic relationship for 2 years; between cheating, threats and punches, you managed to leave that guy.

Gi-hun, on the other hand, treated you so good it was overwhelming, to the point that you didn't even think you deserved to be treated like this, to be loved and you were glad he proved you wrong so damn sure you weren't gonna let go of him just because he was older. He helped you going through your self-harm addiction, he helped you with your traumas and insecurities. Basically, he was a mix of the perfect yet worse man to date.

Not even a year later tho, he disappeared for a whole week without any news or informations. You were so fucking worried about him and you never stopped calling him and searching for him. You even talked to his mother every day but she always said she had no clue of where he was and the police, of course, didn’t give a shit. Often times you thought that he got himself killed due to his non-paid debts but you really didn't want to think about it so you liked to think that maybe he was out of town and didn't call you. Or maybe he just decided to cut off contact with everybody and left. In that time, your own self-harm addiction got worse due to the stress and the fact that he had left. Everything went down once more. Your life was falling apart and you didn’t know what to think at this point. Was it your fault? Was it his fault? You didn’t know.

Yet he eventually came back to you, all injured as if he had been in a rough fight and apologized to you so many times as you cried and punched his chest due to the all the overwhelming emotions you didn’t manage to let out. He told you he found his mom dead in his house. In some ways, you felt guilty that you didn't help him with the medicines for her cause you had some money but most of it would go to the men he had to repay. He talked about the games he’s done, about all the murdered people.

You couldn't believe him, of course and thought he was just very drunk but the day after you realized it wasn't like that.

A year later he wanted to move in America to go to his daughter but soon changed his mind when he knew that the recruiter of those games was still out there so you both moved to a motel as he searched for him all day, every day.

He barely slept and he started to smoke more, which broke your heart to see him like this. So tired, so traumatized and you realized that the old Gi-hun would never come back, even tho a part of him was still the same when he was with you. When he finished to pay his debts, thanks to the money he earned from those sick games, he called Mr. Kim, the boss of loan sharks, to help him find this recruiter.

The only times you saw each other, tho, was in the evening cause in the morning you went to university while he kept searching for that man among the city. He always apologized to you for never spending much time together but you always reassured him that it was completely okay and that it was nobody's fault. You knew how insecure he got after that traumatic event tho you tried your best to comfort him. After he lost Sang-woo, Sae-byeok and Ali; after he saw so many innocent people die because of the God called money. They all died in front of him and sometimes he could still see their blood on his face, on his hands, on his body. Everywhere.

He became even more possessive and protective over you to the point that he made you install a gps on your phone or any other device you owned, in case you’d be in trouble or something and he eventually taught you how to shoot cause you asked him.

So here you were, 2 years later, having a shitty, rough day, soaked wet due to the rain, heading back home and already feeling guilty cause Gi-hun had to comfort you from your stupid, dumb and idiotic problems. You didn't even know if he was home by that time and if he wasn't, you would go take a shower and eventually fall asleep on the couch while miserably trying to wait awake for him. As always.

When you approached the motel you both lived in, you grabbed your keys from your pocket and opened the principal door. You entered and closed it before taking your way up the stairs. Once you reached the door of your shared apartment you opened that one too, slowly closing it behind you. You weren't expecting Gi-hun to be home but when you heard his voice, you felt kinda relieved.

"Y/n? Is that you?" you heard him say. You didn't answer and you didn't know why. Maybe cause you were so tired you didn't even have the strength to breathe, to say the least.

You took off your shoes and walked through the small corridor before reaching the living room and put the keys on the round table at the center of the room. You quite ignored your boyfriend who was very worried when he saw you completely drenched.

"Hey..why didn't you bring an umbrella with you this morning?" he asked softly as he approached you and rubbed both of your shoulders. You were glad to hear his loving voice after a long day.

You let your backpack fall on the ground, causing it to make a loud noise and grabbed a small, broken umbrella which was in a side pocket of the backpack, before placing it on the table, too.

"I did." you managed to say. Your voice was barely audible and you were on the verge of breaking down, thing that he immediately noticed but before he could talk, you threw yourself onto him to hug him. Your arms wrapped around his body tightly as you cried quietly. His nice yet smokey smell invaded your nose and you took all in. You didn't pay attention to his outfit but you were so sure he was wearing his usual baggy pants and large jacket.

He didn't think twice before holding you tight against him and his right hand found its way to rub your hair while the other rubbed your back. He had this way of hugging you, of comforting you as a way to shield and protect you from the world that you didn't even know how it was possible but that's how his hugs, his touch made you feel. It has been a long time since you last cried and let go of everything in front of him but that night you really needed it.

"It's okay baby, I've got you. I'm here." he mumbled softly to your ear. He slowly started to rock himself back and forth, as if you were his little child afraid of monsters hiding under the bed.

He didn't ask you what had happened cause he knew it wasn't useful in that moment. He knew that all you wanted was comfort and reassurance. He didn't care that you were all wet and soaked, he cared about trying to make you stop crying and he managed to do so since you calmed down after some minutes. He pulled back slightly, enough for him to be able to see the sad look on your face.

He cupped your cheeks and wiped your last tears away.

"It's okay. You let it all out?" he kindly asked you and you slowly nodded. He wanted to make sure your chest didn't feel as heavy. Then he leaned in and placed a soft, tender kiss on your forehead.

"How about you go take off these wet clothes and take a shower while i prepare the couch for some cuddles to cheer that sad pretty little face up, hm?" he asked while moving a strand of hair out of your face.

"And then maybe, if you feel like doing so, you tell me what's gotten you so upset." he then added.

His voice was so soft, sweet and full of love it made you want to cry again out of happiness but you fought the urge. He somehow always knew what were the right words to say and in which tone he had to pronounce them. It was incredible. That man was incredible.

You slowly nodded and he escorted you to the bathroom as he told you to call him for anything you needed. He didn't hurry anything, he told you to take your slow and nice time, he would be there waiting for you.

You softly thanked him and closed the bathroom door, opening the water in the shower. You really didn't know what good things you did in life to have someone as loving as him as your partner but you preferred to not question anything and to just appreciate everything he gave you, everything that life (or God) gave you.

You knew he told you to take your time and to wash yourself slowly and stuff but you were so happy and enthusiastic to cuddle with him, that your shower lasted 10 minutes. When you got out, you could hear him doing stuff on the other side of the wall and you called out his name.

"Yes, my love?" said he while opening the door. He had a small yet genuine smile on his face and you knew he was doing all of that just to make you feel better.

"Can you...bring me one of your shirts..?" you mumbled.

"I know they're much larger than my size but-" you were cut off by the door closing. You didn't know exactly why he shut the door on you talking but you really hoped he didn't mean to do so. Later, he returned in the room, holding a stuffed clothed in between his hands, turning out it was one of his large shirts.

He walked towards you and handed you the cloth, before cupping your cheeks again and kissing your temple.

"You know you don't owe me any explanation. Whatever you want, i'll give it to you. You could ask me to wear my underwear and i wouldn't question it." he explained gently.

"Even tho that would be weird." he continued and chuckled slightly and you did so. You felt a warm feeling in your chest. A feeling that only he was able to bring you and you will forever be grateful to him.

"Thank you.." you murmured and smiled.

"There it is that pretty smile." he said and pinched your cheeks gently, causing you to widen your smile.

He then told you he would wait for you as you got dressed and later he dried your wet hair cause he didn't want his girl to make such efforts when she was so tired already.

A few more minutes passed by and after you got all showered, dried and dressed, you were both laying in each other's arms on the couch. Your head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped around your body while one hand stroked your soft hair.

"You feel like telling me what's wrong?" he asked softly, in which you answered with a nod.

You began by explaining that you hadn't slept much the night before, which was the main reason you woke up already feeling upset and exhausted. You were so tired that you really didn't feel like going to university, but you had a test and knew you had no choice, so you forced yourself to get up. Just when you stepped out of the apartment, it started raining heavily, and you got all wet because your umbrella wouldn't open properly. Once you finally made it to the university, you sat down to take the test, but you were so distracted by your exhaustion that you were sure you had messed up every single question. Your mind wasn't in the right place, your eyes felt heavy, and you couldn't focus. Everything felt like a disaster. After the test and the rest of your lessons, the wind picked up on your way home and your umbrella finally broke so you had nothing to protect yourself, leaving you even more soaked. And as if your day hadn't already been terrible enough, a car sped through a puddle and splashed you completely. You felt overwhelmed, defeated by the anger and stress that had built up throughout the day.

As you were telling all of this you still felt kinda upset but when he spoke again, you really forgot the reason of why your day went bad.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, my love. You should’ve called me, i would've picked you up with the car." he said with disappointment. Not towards you, but towards all the factors that made you so sad and also at himself. He could’ve gave you a call instead of focusing on finding that son of a bitch.

"I didn't want to bother you..." you mumbled, as your fingers traced comforting circles on his clothed chest.

"You know you never bother me, y/n." he said firmly. He didn't like the fact that you could even think you were a bother or a burden to him.

"Yeah but what if right when i call you, you find the guy you've been searching for years?" you asked and got your head up slightly to look at him. You could feel his hesitation before answering but when he did, you knew he was sincere.

"I'd still pick you up. As much as i wanna find that man, you come first. I didn't put so much effort in us for nothing, you know." he smiled slightly at his last sentence and placed his large hand on your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"Hmm.." you murmured and sighed. You gently rested your chin on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath you and the warmth of his body comforting against your skin, while your head remained slightly turned to face him, allowing you to study his face closely. Your gaze lingered on each feature—his relaxed yet tired expression, the curve of his jaw, the corners of his lips slightly turned upward—capturing every detail that made him, him, as if you were memorizing them.

You didn't know how he managed to look that handsome for his age. Not that he was that old, but still.

"Have you been sleeping these days?" you kindly asked him. You knew, deep down, that he would always look after you, putting your needs before his own, but at the same time, you saw how little care he took of himself. It was as if he neglected his own well-being in favor of focusing on everyone else; you, above everyone. Every time you noticed him pushing himself too hard or ignoring his own health, you'd find yourself gently scolding him, urging him to take a moment for himself, though you knew he'd brush it off. In the end, this was just who he was.

"Yes, a bit." he answered and you could feel he was being honest but still decided to make sure.

"Are you sure?" your tone was low and comforting, yet full of worry. You noticed the small bags under his eyes, you noticed his tired expression and often times you would feel guilty that he had to reassure you while he was feeling so defeated.

"Yes, i'm sure." he said sweetly and pinched the tip of your nose softly.

You subtly pushed yourself up, enough to lean your face closer to his, and pecked his lips. Your chest was now in contact with his and your hands were placed one between his hair and the other on the soft mattress of the couch, surrounding yourself.

"You look so tired..." you whispered while caressing his scalp. Your faces only inches away. He moved his hand to grasp your waist while the other was still on your cheek.

"Yeah but you always bring all my energies back.." he whispered back, causing you to smile a bit.

Your eyes wavered all over his face, admiring everything about him as your pupils dilated some more, as if turning into a heart shape. You didn't know exactly what did u see in him, but you saw something. Maybe that's how real love feels like: inexplicable. Almost as if it's no sense.

Then, you sighed and looked away from him.

"I'm sorry." said you while resting your head next to his. He looked at you confused.

"For what?" he asked and adjusted himself so that he could look at you but also be in a comfortable position. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallowed hard.

"I don't know..that you gotta take care of my shit while you're already feeling defeated and stuff.." you explained, almost whimpering.

"I notice how tired you are every day..we barely see or talk to each other before the evening and when i see you like this i feel like a burden or like i'm not doing enough for you...i don't know, i just miss you.." you added. You didn't want to add more pressure and stress on his shoulders but you needed to tell him.

You saw his expression on his face, focused on listening to you and all your rantling and he looked sad.

"Y/n..." he started.

"Honey, don't say that again. Yes i am tired but that doesn't mean i don't gotta take care of you when you feel down as well. Just because we're both not having the best of the days, it doesn't mean we gotta ignore each other or something like that. I take care of you cause i want to. Cause it makes me feel better when i manage to bring your smile back." he gently explained while playing with some strands of your hair, in a desperate attempt to soothe you.

"I'm sorry we barely see or talk to each other during the day, i wish we both had more time one for the other even tho at night i try to stay up as much time as possible, even if you are asleep cause i wanna make up for lost time." he continued, hoping you'd understand his words. You lowkey wished things went different. Wished that he never went to play those sick games.

"Yeah but...i don't know, i just wish i could do more for us, for you. You always take care of me but i never do enough to take care of you.." she said. Your tone of voice hid a hint of sadness in it.

"No, y/n. You do more than enough and that's what matters. I will always appreciate the little things you do cause i know how much effort you put into them. I know you love me, i know you care about me. I don't have to worry about anything else." he said. He knew you wouldn't believe him but he hoped that he managed to reassure you even if it was just for the moment.

You nodded slowly at his words and accepted them. You hid your face into the crock of his neck and snuggled against him, holding him as tight as you could, wanting to enjoy his company, his warmth for the night. His fingers found their ways in between your thin hair and caressed your scalp while the other hand was busy holding you against him. He wanted to protect you from everything and everyone. He wanted you to feel safe and he'd do anything to not let you get hurt.

He started to whisper reassuring words in your ear to facilitate your sleep.

“Please don’t ever leave me, Gi-hun.” you mumbled.

"I won’t, I'm here, love. I'm not going anywhere. I've got you." those were the last words you heard from him before you sweetly murmured: "I love you.." and drifted off to sleep.

He kissed your head tenderly and whispered an "I love you, too" muffled before closing his eyes and fully relaxing his body under yours, feeling his thoughts drifting away into dreams.

So there you were, both laying in each other arms after days full of stress and pressure, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable and to rest for the night.

#seong gi hun #squid game #seong gi hun x reader #player 456 #456 x reader #squid game fanfic #seong gi hun fan fic #squid game x reader #seong gi hun x you #squid game fandom #lee jung jae #lee jung jae fanfic #lee jung jae x reader

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vampiriito · 3 days ago

Text

Summer was my first love (JJ Maybank x shy! kook! reader) part 1

A/N: Hi loves! this is my first fic and i just wanna let you know that I'm open to any criticism, but i want you to be able to nice at the same time. This is inspired by my favorite author on here the lovely @featherandferns, her fic daylight was so good and i read all the parts in less than 2 hours. With that being said the plot is completely different but i recommend checking out her works too because she's very talented! this might be a bit long, i wanted to write a slow-burn. Let me know if i managed to do that (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Summary: After getting locked into a closet with a kook girl, JJ Maybank comes to the realization that his animosity towards the spoilt people living on Figure Eight doesn't have to apply to every single one of them.

"Fuck! Seriously?" JJ Maybank's blue eyes meet yours through the frame of your glasses as he sneers at the door which was now shut. Leaving you both stuck together in this small cramped closet. If you weren't panicked cause of the claustrophobic tendencies of your stupid brain, you definitely were now.

You were alone with your 3rd grade crush, and he had no idea, you were a kook, (which he hated,) and one hell of a wallflower person. You've been watching him from a far since you were 9, and it got a little weirder once you could walk around freely and just... take pictures with your camera as your hobby flourished. You were now, glancing shyly between the door and his face, 'he's probably feeling weird being stuck in here with a complete stranger.' you thought to your self, making sure to stick to your corner of the closet.

"What’s your name?" He demanded, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the wall, his eyes flicking over you, studying you. Of course, he would ask that right away, JJ could be direct and kind of an ass most days. And he felt like if he wasn't gonna ask, you weren't gonna speak up first.

Of course he didn't know your name, he wasn't bordering on creepy stalker most days like you were in your free time. Across these years you managed to gather a lot on JJ surprisingly, being quiet and so reserved got you very far, going almost invisible when you went out. It didn't help you were a shutterbug, always taking pictures and people watching, "Y/n.." you responded softly and weakly, adjusting your glasses.

He raised an eyebrow, studying your face for a moment. That name sounded familiar, he could swear he'd heard it before somewhere, the only question was where.

"You're a kook, huh? I should have known." He grumbles, running a hand through his messy dirty blonde hair. You looked so.... soft, and it somehow made him scoff. He hated your kind more often than not, and here he was, stuck in a closet with one.

You nodded, frowning gently. You were aware of his hate and animosity towards the people living on figure 8, but you weren't exactly the picture perfect image of a snarky preppy kook girl. Or so you liked to think anyway.. He looked even more beautiful up close, more defined than what you usually saw through your camera lenses when photographing him. 'Suddenly i feel like a creep being here..' you thought, playing with the hem of your baggy sweater.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you fidgeted with your sweater, his lips curling up into a subtle smirk. 'How can someone be so shy?' he thought to himself, wondering why you were so nervous.

"You look like you've never talked to a human before." He comments, letting out a soft scoff, and you flinch gently, your eyes snapping up to meet his. He noticed this and his smirk grew a little wider, enjoying that he was able to fluster you.

That's the most JJ thing he could say to someone like you. "i.. well, i don't talk usually." you face palmed internally at the way your words came out. You had the chance to come off as something you weren't given he didn't know you, and you weren't doing a very good job at it. You could've faked being confident and charm him, yet here you were talking like you never had anything to eat in your life.

He lets out a soft scoff as he watches you stumble over your words. There was something he found so weird about you, you were so… different from everyone he encountered on a daily basis. You were shy, quiet, and awkward, not like the sarcastic and arrogant persona that most kooks had. But, he tried to shake the thoughts away, he didn't need to be thinking about you this way, of all people.

"I can tell.." he responds, his accent ringing through slightly as his smirk turned into a slight frown.

There was an awkward silence that fell over the two of you in the cramped closet, the music that played throughout the party muffled by the thick walls. JJ glanced around for a moment, almost bored before his gaze settled back on you. His blue eyes studying you intently, trying to figure you out. The frown on his face remained, 'Why are you so shy?' he thought to himself, biting his tongue before he continued.

"What are you even doing here anyway? You don't seem like the type to be at a party.."

'Got dragged against my will by my very loud and obnoxious best friend here...' you thought to your self, the thought amusing you but of course not letting that mirror on your expression, "I'm sorry?" 'what? dumbass..' you scolded your self mentally. The question was loud and clear.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked you up and down for a moment, wondering if you always spoke in a quiet and awkward way, or if it was just because you were in a small, dark, and very cramped closet with a stranger.

"You heard me. I doubt you'd normally come to a party like this." He repeated, his frown returning to a small smirk as he pushed off the wall to take a hesitant step towards you.

Again, such a JJ thing to say. Your stomach jumped as he took a small step towards you, suppressing the urge to shift awkwardly. All you needed now was to look more awkward than you already were, you acted and sounded like a pathetic dumbass, in front of your childhood crush nonetheless. "i just ended up here.."

He took a few more steps until he stood a few feet away from you. He was towering over you, his 6’1 height compared to your, what he could only guess, 5.2 or 5.3 height. He had to admit, in some weird way, it was amusing being able to fluster you so easily. That was until he noticed there was nowhere really for you to go. The walls of the small closet caged you in, he was blocking your way out of the closet, unless you tried to push him out of the way.

He was quiet for a moment, just studying you as a small smirk returned to his face.

"There's nowhere for you to go.." he teased, taking another step closer, closing the gap between the two of you even more. He noticed you shiver gently and took note of it.

"Are you usually this weird with strangers?" you found yourself asking, surprising even yourself after the words left your mouth. 'caging me in like this wouldn't create a good first impression... he's just lucky I've been in love with him since i was 9.' you thought.

This time it was his turn to be surprised. He was definitely not expecting you to say something so blunt, you were full of surprises. He chuckled softly, taking another small step forward, effectively caging you against the wall. His smirk grew into a wide smile, his eyes studying you intently as he spoke.

"Only when I get stuck in a small crowded closet with them." He was now only a few inches away from you, his eyes studying your face. He was so close, you could take in some of his scent, which somehow matched perfectly with his personality. A mix of weed and the smell of the ocean and sunscreen. You could also now see little details in his face, like his freckled cheeks, and his jawline that looked hard enough to cut glass.

Being able to smell him was a pleasant feeling as weird as that sounded, his scent matching with the way he was completely. The small freckles scattered over his soft skin made you want to be able to take mental photographs. He looked breathtaking up close, even in the dim light of the closet. Like he was some kind of modern day demigod or some bullshit. You hummed gently, turning your body towards the door to try the door weakly, your hand wrapping around the door handle and shaking it with little to no force to actually get it open.

He chuckled at the sad attempt you made of trying to open the door, "It ain't going to open, believe me, I've already tried that." He said, his voice almost a murmur as he leaned against one of the walls of the closet, watching you struggle with the door. His eyes slowly traveled down from your face, down to your hips and to your beat up vans. Strange, he thought. He'd expect someone of your social status to have more expensive looking threads and shoes. Not like a librarian on vacation.

You side glanced up at him, adjusting your glasses. You felt absolutely wrecked, nerves and claustrophobia tugging at your sensitive stomach, it didn't help this closet was dimly lit and smelled like mold. 'What a great setting to interact in for the first time..' you thought bitterly, leaning your back against the wall opposite him.

He kept his eyes on your hips, letting his gaze rake over your body. He felt a weird and small pang of sympathy for you. You looked so small against the wall, and you looked like you were ready to jump out of your skin any moment now. It was different than when he usually had the unfortunate chance of speaking with a kook kid.

"Are you scared of small spaces or somethin' ?" He asked, his voice softer than usual as he spoke.

You nodded mutely in response, your expression probably resembling that of a deer in front of a truck. Sometimes you forgot JJ's voice carried a southern drawl to it, given he never spoke to you. You would hear him when he'd pass you in the school halls while talking to his friends animatedly or when he'd say something snarky in class to the teacher, his voice never directed towards you.

When you nodded, he mentally groaned. That was his luck. He ended up being stuck in here with a kook that was also terrified of small spaces. He let out a sigh, he would have to try and find a way to calm you down, since he was now stuck in this closet with you until whenever someone decided to let them out.

"How in the hell did you even manage to get yourself into a situation like this..?" He questioned, running a hand through his messy blonde hair.

You were asking yourself that question too, but i guess being so easy to push around wasn't really helping your case here. Truth was you were just a collateral victim of a prank which was meant for JJ, getting pushed into the small closet by mistake or just to make it worse for him by locking him up with a complete stranger.

You shook your head shrugging, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. You knew you had to say something, actual words at one point but your mind came up blank. Or your mouth wasn't able to say them out loud.

He let out another soft scoff, knowing deep down this was no accident. Some of his pogue buddies probably set this up just to screw around with him. Although, you didn't seem to know that. You looked genuinely clueless.

"My friends probably did this on purpose..."

He muttered, leaning against the opposite wall to you. He wasn't happy about this situation, especially not being locked in here with a girl for what could be hours. Which he would usually be elated about. But seeing you barely talked or moved, seemingly scared of loud sounds and sudden movements like a small animal, he was aware you weren't gonna makeout any time soon.

He looked you over again, his eyes roaming over your small and fidgety figure. In some weird way, he kind of felt bad for you. You looked so nervous and uncomfortable being stuffed in this dumb closet, and you looked like you didn't belong at this party in the first place.

"What were you even doing here anyway?... this ain't exactly a place a shy girl like you would go on your own free will..." he echoed the question once again, the curiosity and desire to fill the silence stronger than the fact that you were strangers.

"That's because it wasn't my own free will.." you spoke up in minutes of being almost completely silent, your voice small and weak.

He was both surprised and not surprised at your answer. He was surprised that you answered so quickly, but he could have guessed this wasn't your idea.

"Let me guess... one of your loud and obnoxious friends dragged you out here to try and get you to 'have fun'?"

Bingo! You nodded silently again, your eyes darting around his face taking in every detail, hopefully being able to recall every single one of them to draw or paint later.

He grumbled something under his breath. He knew it. From his experience, kooks were always so loud and overbearing. It was what he hated most about them, and yet, you didn't seem like that kind of girl at all... you were quiet and soft spoken, something he hadn't seen in a kook girl since... well, never really. "Figures.. can you not say no to them or somethin’ ?"

You stared at him silently, blinking as you raked your brain for what to say, your eyes narrowed just a hint. You were aware he usually spoke a lot but not this much. Or you were too quiet. You were also way too nervous to speak or think properly, having your lifetime crush speaking to you, like actually.

He was watching you intently, taking note of the expressions that flashed on your face as you tried to come up with an answer. You were obviously nervous, he didn't need to be a mind reader to know that. And there was something else about you... something he couldn't place his finger on. It was weird.

"You look like you're gonna pass out or something..." He commented, watching you closely.

You shook your head 'no', reaching to try the door again. You suddenly didn't feel so lucky you got this rare chance to speak and admire JJ shamelessly given you were stuck in a closet together. You were anxious and feeling like he could see right through you, see all the weird tendencies you had and judge you for being so pathetically in love with him for so long.

He chuckled softly as you tried to open the door, again and again. It honestly reminded him of a small animal trapped in a cage, frantically looking for a way out. Something about the way you were acting amused him. "There ain't no point trying to open it again, trust me, it's stuck good..."

JJ could tell you were anxious, and it was easy to guess why. It was probably terrifying being stuck in a small, dark, cramped closet with him of all people. And judging by how quiet and shy you were, this was probably one of the hardest social interactions you ever had.

"Jesus... can you even speak a full sentence?" He piped up after another few seconds of silence, his smirk returning to his face as he watched you struggle against the door.

You looked to the side, a small frown making its way on your face at his question. 'Not when you're so close to me that i can smell the sea salt water in your hair.' you groaned internally, still silent. You kept your eyes locked with his in the almost dark closet, scolding yourself for not being able to handle social interactions like normal people.

JJ's smirk widened at your expression, you looked like a kicked puppy, it was almost cute. He stood up straight, lazily pushing himself off the wall and slowly making his way towards you. When he was a few steps away from you, he stopped, looking you up and down with a hint of mockery.

"You're a real quiet thing, ain't ya?"

With a few more confident steps, he was now standing just in front of you, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He looked down at you again, his smirk still present on his face. You could almost feel the heat radiating off his body, him being so close. His ocean like scent mixed with the weed smell, filling the closet and making it even harder to breathe than it already was in here.

"You afraid of me or somethin'? "

"No.." your voice rung out without missing a beat this time, a soft and gentle sound as you frowned to your self. You were probably one of the few people who wasn't afraid of JJ. Years of following him from a distance and watching him closely took away the fear factor. If anything he'd probably be afraid of you.

JJ let out a quiet scoff at your answer, an odd response. He had expected you to be as afraid of him given the way you were acting. You were clearly nervous being in a small, dark, and cramped space with a man, yet you weren't afraid of him or his presence.

"You're an odd one then.." He said, his eyes roaming over you again, taking in your small, timid figure.

He was a few inches away from you, towering over your small frame. Being this close to you, he could see more details in your face. How your eyes were framed with small dark eyelashes behind your glasses, how your skin was unnaturally smooth and soft looking, and how your lips looked almost velvety, almost as if they were made of silk. In addition to that, your scent filled his nose now, mixing with his own and the smell of the closet. You actually smelled very good... which definitely wasn't something weird to be thinking. JJ found himself lost in thought the more he looked at you. You looked so... tender and yet the way you were acting, so nervous and small, you looked like a spooked stray dog. It didn't add up in his head, you were probably the first kook girl he had ever met that acted this way, it was making him curious. Just as he opened his mouth to ask something, a loud banging noise echoed from the other side of the door, making you jump slightly, surprised by the sudden sound.

The whole silent staring contest you both had going on was interrupted by a loud sound from the other side of the closet door, almost startling you to death given you were so focused on how beautiful JJ's eyes looked while he studied you intently. You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut for a second, adjusting your glasses and grimacing to yourself.

The sudden sound made JJ roll his eyes, whoever was on the other side of the door was clearly trying to be annoying.

"Oh come on..."

he grumbled, annoyed already by the person who was trying to interrupt. Before he could say anything else, the banging continued once again, this time twice as loud as before, making him grumble another curse underneath his breath. He was beyond annoyed now, a small scowl forming on his face at the constant knocking. He turned around, staring at the small closet door, his hands on his hips as he waited for the knocking again. He was about to say something, but just then, the door was suddenly swung open, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

He let out a surprised noise as he stumbled forward, nearly collapsing to the ground, but he managed to catch himself just at the last moment by grabbing the nearest thing which happened to be the closet wall, next to your head. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, he was breathing heavily, the unexpected event nearly giving him a heart attack. After a few moments he slowly looked up, turning his head to see who had opened the door.

To say he looked surprised would be an understatement. Standing in front of him was none other than one of his pogue buddies, John B, who was smiling and laughing like this was the most fun he had in forever as he looked down at JJ. JJ quickly managed to regain his composure, standing up straight before speaking up:

"Are you tryin' to give me a damn heart attack, John B?"

You were just as startled as JJ was, for a second time in less than 2 minutes nonetheless. Your gaze shifted from looking up at JJ's side profile to the boy standing in the door way of the closet. John B, JJ's best friend since forever, someone you also saw on a daily basis while doing your... usual checking up on JJ. John B also probably didn't know who you were, and you wouldn't be surprised even in the slightest.

John B looked between you and JJ, a smirk slowly forming on his face as his eyes landed on the proximity between the two of them. John B leaned against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest as he spoke up, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Seems like you got yourself into a situation, huh JJ?"

JJ's eyes narrowed at his best friends tone, he immediately knew what he was implying. He shot him a small glare before speaking up, a hint of annoyance in his voice

"Can it, John B... it ain't what it looks like."

John B chuckled at his response, he clearly didn't believe JJ given the awkward and somewhat embarrassing situation the two of you were in. "It sure looks like it though. Locked up in a closet together, all alone. You two got up to anything in here?"

Your eyes darted between the 2 best friends, adjusting your glasses as your gaze landed on John B, his teasing words making your face heat up. The implication of getting up to anything with JJ was enough to probably give 9 year old you a aneurysm, "Excuse me?" you spoke up, trying to sound irritated at his words although you sounded so weak and shy you regretted speaking instantly.

John B chuckled again at your response, clearly enjoying making you both uncomfortable. The way you spoke was so quiet and awkward, it was almost laughable. JJ continued to glare at him, trying to non-verbally tell his friend to shut his damn mouth, but it obviously wasn't working.

"Oh... I see, there's a voice under there, huh? You sound like a damn mouse, girl.. can you speak louder than a whisper?"

He continued to smirk at you, now mocking the softness of your voice. JJ grimaced at what John B had just told you, a pang of guilt suddenly shooting through his chest. He didn't like the way John B was talking to you, in fact, he was getting a little mad that he was being so rude.

"She ain't gotta speak louder. Leave her alone." JJ spoke up, glaring at his friend once again, finding himself defending this stranger.

You looked down, scowling to yourself at his question, now definitely not speaking another word for the rest of the conversation, knowing you'd just slip away once they were distracted. Your finger pushed the frame of your glasses up and down, your eyes fixed on your beat up sneakers. This was certainly one hell of a first impression.

John B held his hands up in mock surrender, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting both you and JJ annoyed. "Relax man, I was just messing with the poor mouse."

He joked, his eyes still on you, now watching your fiddling. JJ just scowled at him again, silently debating punching his friend square in the nose. The fact that he was making fun of you was bothering him more than it should. He was used to his friend making stupid jokes and being a dick, but he couldn't stand the thought of him mocking you, especially since you were acting nothing but polite and shy.

Mouse? you could see the resemblance i guess, with the small one word answers which sounded like small squeaks from the anxiety. Still, John B was being kind of a dick at the moment which caused your frown to deepen as you debated just making a run for it and disappearing.

John B chuckled quietly, not taking his eyes off you as you fiddled with your glasses. He knew he was being a dick, but he was just enjoying it too much. He suddenly had an idea in his mind, a way to further piss off JJ. With a sly smirk on his face, he spoke again, this time, directed solely at you, ignoring JJ completely. "So, mouse, what's your name?"

'Seriously? neither of them know my name?' you groaned internally, looking up to lock eyes with John B nervously. In moments like these you wished you had at least a bit of semblance of a back bone, and not just clam up like a dumbass, "Y/n.." you answered simply, your expression twitching slightly from having to repeat your name once again. You wanted to roll your eyes in annoyance so badly.

There was something about the way you said your name that made JJ's heart stutter in a way it never had before. It sounded almost magical coming out of your small lips, it was so... mellow, and yet so beautiful. John B's smile widened at your answer, obviously not expecting to get an actual answer and a name at that.

"Huh... nice name. Suits you." He said, his eyes roaming over you again, studying your face to figure out if he knew you or not. He came up blank, probably due to being tipsy.

JJ continued to stay silent, watching the interaction between his best friend and you. He was feeling a weird mix of anger and curiosity as he watched. You looked so much more fragile and unthreatening than he had thought. You were like a small cat, a cute but easily spooked cat. Or maybe a mouse, he wasn't sure which.

You felt awkward suddenly, the 3 of you going silent save from the music coming from downstairs after John B's comment about your name. You looked between them momentarily before stepping forward shyly to signal John B to move out the way so you could escape this weird and sufficiently awkward situation at once.

John B chuckled again as you stepped forward, his eyes following your every move. But just as you were about to slip out of the closet, he suddenly reached a hand out, blocking your way.

"Where do you think you're going, mouse?"

JJ furrowed his eyebrows at his friend's behaviour, he knew exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to annoy both of you, as well as prevent you from getting away. JJ had had just about enough

"Okay, that's enough John B. Don't you think you've teased the poor girl enough?"

John B sighed dramatically, pouting at JJ's annoyed response. He took a small step back, opening up the doorway once again "You're no fun. I was just having a little fun. Don't take it so seriously, JJ."

As much you enjoyed being in JJ's presence you hated social interactions and you wanted to just find your best friend to tell her that this was a bad idea and you should just skate home. So you took a final glance at JJ, before stepping out of the small cramped closet when John B removed his arm which was blocking your way hesitantly. But stepping out wasn't any better cause you were met with the party, still in full throttle, the music making your head feel weird, weirder than being stuck in a moldy closet with your childhood crush. There were less people on the floor you were on, but it was still crowded enough by drunken couples and some rowdy friend groups to make you feel anxious. This was most definitely a bad idea.

JJ watched you step out of the closet, a small pang of guilt shooting through his chest from knowing you were uncomfortable but now having no way to help the situation. He shot a glare at John B for the 10th time in the last 5 minutes through the doorway, silently warning his friend once again.

"You're a damn dick man. Why did you feel the need to be so rude to her?"

John B just shrugged, looking back at JJ with a sly smile as he replied "Because I thought it would be funny. Besides, I didn't think she'd answer me. I thought she was mute or something."

JJ grimaced, of course John B would find making fun of the shyest person he had ever met, fun. He pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning quietly. He took a deep breath before speaking up again:

"You really can be an annoying bastard, you know that? Sometimes i wonder how you even manage to speak with girls.."

You weaved through the mass of people at the house party, bumping into couples getting busy and grimacing in apology, trying not to stumble over your feet in the cramped space on the staircase. You quickly descended down the stairs, looking for your friend Maisy, to scold her for bringing you here in the first place. Suddenly, a hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. A hand that you recognized, and yet dreaded at the same time. JJ had followed you, and was now stood next to you at the bottom of the stairs.

He gently grabbed your hand, stopping you from walking away. His hand was calloused and rough from years of surfing, yet warm. He spoke up, trying to get your attention over the loud R&B music blaring from the speakers. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

You tensed up from the sudden contact and because well, you thought someone else was grabbing you to pull yet another dumb prank on you, not expecting JJ to follow you and try to talk to you. You shook your head 'no' because as much as you wanted to spend time with him, you knew you'd just clam up and make it weird because this was JJ and you were you.

He noticed how tense you suddenly became once his hand touched you, he couldn't help but silently worry in his head. He wanted to sigh at your immediate response of shaking your head no, but he decided to persist a little more despite not having any reason to:

"Please? I promise I won't make fun of you or anything. I just wanna talk."

"Well, i need to find my friend." you find yourself speaking, although you weren't sure if he heard you over the music or the myriad of sounds and things going on in this house. Really, it was surprising how the neighbors hadn't called the police yet.

JJ leaned closer to you, trying to hear your soft spoken words. He could just barely make out what you had said, but he heard it enough. He looked around for a moment, searching for your friend but not seeing them anywhere in the crowd. But it was a given, since he didn't even know who he was looking for. "Where is your friend? I'll help you look for them."

You shrugged, because you had the same question. Where the hell was Maisy anyway? she disappeared and expected you to what? have fun and party? as if you could do that. Your eyes were fixed on JJ's face, the one you knew and loved through the years, anxiously shifting on your feet at the feel of his big hand still wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from scurrying away.

JJ could sense your anxiousness, he could practically feel the anxious energy coming off your small frame. He subconsciously let his thumb slowly and gently caress your wrist, an attempt to somehow soothe you, even if only slightly. He didn’t like seeing you so anxious.

He suddenly realized that he was still holding your arm, gently keeping you by his side and preventing you from slipping away in the chaos of the house party. He had forgotten in the moment. He looked down at his hand on your arm, "Maybe they went outside.."

You could call her! yeah, you could do that... but what if big mouth Maisy actually showed up and saw JJ Maybank, the dude you had been crushing on since you were a 3rd grader, holding your wrist and actually speaking to you? She'll make this awkward and run her mouth, possibly getting you rejected at the same time. So, you thought it was best to just let him speak to you and then leave you to look for her alone. "What do you wanna talk about with me?" you asked, still quietly, hoping and praying he'd hear you and that you didn't come off as rude.

JJ was a little surprised at the fact that you still stayed by his side after he suggested looking for your friend. He honestly thought you would run off. He mentally shrugged, taking the opportunity to talk to you even more. He turned slightly to look down at you as you spoke, leaning forward to hear you better.

His heart skipped a beat as he heard your quiet voice. That same feeling of both guilt and curiosity ran through him again. How could one voice be so soft and quiet, yet so beautiful at the same time? The thought confused and intrigued him.

He took a moment to register that you had asked him a question, the shock of you actually talking to him making his brain fry for a second or two. He quickly brought himself back to reality, realising that he had to reply.

"I just wanted to apologize. About John B i mean, he's a massive dick, no doubt about that. I told him off.."

"It's okay.." you mumbled smiling slightly, adjusting your glasses with the hand that wasn't in JJ's grip. You actually managed to hold the conversation normally, albeit you were still squeaking out your words.

JJ's eyebrows raised at your smile, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting you to smile as an answer to his apology, it was the last reaction he had expected. And yet, it was a welcome one. It made him feel better, deep down he felt guilty for his friend's behavior.

He stared at you for another moment, the hand he was using to hold your wrist moving once again, his thumb still slowly caressing your skin. He hadn't even noticed he was doing it this time.

JJ quickly snapped out of the little trance and cleared his throat, speaking up again. He didn’t want to make things weird and freak you out. He could feel John B’s eyes on him, he knew the bastard was watching him from the top of the stairs and silently giggling about the whole thing. He pushed down his annoyance, his eyes moving away from your face and around the room, looking at the other people gathered around them. "You said this party was your friend’s idea, right?"

You nodded silently, glancing around the room for your stupid best friend. You were gonna kill Maisy for disappearing on you like this, especially at a party of this calibre. You tried to ignore how JJ was still holding onto your wrist, now rubbing his thumb over your skin to probably soothe you. It made you feel more nervous and anxious, the urge to bolt even more strong now. You didn't wanna mess it up and make it awkward or worse come off as a creep by staring at him or saying something stupid, although the last part was impossible given you barely spoke.

JJ bit the inside of his cheek as you silently nodded back to his question. He was starting to realize how hard you were to talk to, how shy you were. It made him feel bad. He found himself wishing that he could just hear your voice just a little louder. It was so gentle. It made him want to hear more of it, but he had no idea how to get you to speak more without making you uncomfortable.

He quickly stopped himself from thinking any further, realizing that he was starting to sound like a creep in his own head.

They stood there silently for a couple more seconds, as JJ desperately tried to think of something to say to break the silence without making things weird. He could still feel John B’s eyes on him, silently watching the whole situation and probably having the time of his life.

"So...how come I've never seen you around at school before? "

He tried, even though he knew the answer. He just needed to get you talking.

Ouch. You saw him at school all the time, even took routes around the school just to get to pass by him in the halls and hear him talk so loudly to his friends and laugh. So the question stung a little. You looked up at him, shrugging your shoulders, narrowing your eyes and blinking a couple of times, your brain desperately trying to just block out the sound of the music which was making your lungs feel like they were being shaken up.

JJ mentally cringed as he saw the slightly hurt look in your eyes, he regretted his choice of question immediately. Stupid. Of course you were at school, he saw you at school, he just never seen you with anyone.

He winced as he heard that music change to something even louder. The constant music was starting to grate his nerves.

"Can we go outside for a second? I can't even freaking hear myself think in here."

Your brows furrowed, considering his suggestion. It was a good idea, you could call Maisy, maybe have a cigarette too and let your ears get a break from this loud music blaring in them. So you nodded hesitantly, glancing around one last time in case you magically spotted your best friend.

JJ let out a breath of relief when you nodded your head in agreement. He was glad he didn’t have to try and shout over the music anymore. He turned, pulling gently on your wrist to lead you toward the front door. He weaved through people, avoiding getting into conversations. He was determined to get you alone outside so he could talk to you.

Finally, they made it outside. JJ released your wrist as they reached the front door. He took a deep breath, enjoying the sudden lack of music and the relative quiet (well, aside from the still loud music coming from inside). JJ took a step away from you as he turned to face you.

"Thank god, I thought my ears were gonna bleed with that damn music in there."

'Yeah..' you agreed mentally once again, nodding with a small smile and adjusting your glasses as you stood on the porch, finally able to breathe fresh air, a stark contrast from the muted and sweaty smelling air inside. You needed to start saying words out loud, instead of just answering in your mind.

JJ leaned against the porch railing, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The air was much cooler outside, compared to the stuffy heat that was present inside.

He took a few seconds to study you as you stood across from him. The light from the porch made you look even more softer, if that was even possible. You looked so small in that moment, it made him wonder how you had managed to make it to high school.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, clearing his throat before speaking up again. He couldn’t believe that he was actually talking to you, and the fact that he hadn’t messed it up yet was a surprise to him. He didn’t want to think about how bad he would screw it up in the future.

"So uh...wanna explain why you were hiding in a closet? "

There. A question to get the conversation going. He mentally cursed himself in his head, realizing how stupid the question sounded.

"I got pushed in at the same time as you." You found the courage to speak yay! and not so shaky and quiet either. Maybe it was the fact that he thought you were just hiding in the moldy closet, like an actual mouse, which made you wanna defend yourself. That's what was missing from this situation, for him to think you were an actual dumbass who was hiding in a closet because she was afraid of party sounds.

JJ found himself chuckling, raising an eyebrow at your answer. He didn’t expect that particular answer, he was expecting you to say that you just decided to hide in the closest instead of socializing. But pushed in? He could actually believe that. "Damn. Got pushed into a closet with me? That’s gotta be some pretty shitty luck."

'I'd like to think it was kinda lucky of me to get pushed in with you, of all people...' you laughed internally. You glanced at him, tearing your eyes from the street in front of the house, narrowing your eyes at his words, but deciding to just stay silent. It was better than saying something to counter it or even worse.. to try and be funny and fail.

JJ’s eyebrows nearly raised at the sound of your small, quiet laugh. He hadn’t expected you to laugh at his joke, he was actually surprised that you had responded at all. That laugh was definitely enough to make him keep going to get that sweet, soft sound to come back.

“You know, you have a really pretty laugh..“ The sentence was out of his mouth before he could even realize it. He internally winced, hoping he hadn’t just made things weird by complimenting you. Not that he didn't compliment girls usually. If anything, that's how he managed to score in the first place. But in your case he wasn't trying to flatter you to get in your pants. He simply found you interesting.

You could feel yourself blush at his compliment, not realizing you actually laughed out-loud instead of just thinking about it in your head. You scolded yourself internally for reacting to such a casual sentence, he was just being nice after all, not asking you to marry him. "Thanks." you managed to mutter out quietly, hoping it sounded at least a tad bit grateful, and not rude and clipped.

JJ’s heart skipped a beat when he saw that adorable blush on your face. He had never seen you so expressive yet quiet at the same time since he'd met you less than an hour ago. He silently smirked to himself, now he knew how to make you blush. He mentally noted that fact down for later. The fact that you had mumbled out a simple “thanks” in response, just made everything even better for him. He would take anything you responded with, just so he could get you to keep talking and hear that angelic voice.

He shifted against the railing, his hand moving to his back pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He quickly took one out, putting it between his lips. He glanced down at you as he pulled out a lighter to light the cigarette.

He held the pack out to you, silently offering you a cigarette as well. Which as he did, he realized that it wasn't really the epitome of smooth or romantic. But he already had his hand out stretched. JJ was becoming annoyed at himself for overthinking his every move, feeling like he was losing his footing on a ground he'd navigated countless times.

A small amused grimace made its way on your face despite trying to stop it, silently debating if you should take a cigarette. You pulled out your own lighter, stepping a little closer, not too much to look weird, lighting his cigarette before taking one for yourself. 'Wow.. so confident, lighting his cigarette for him.' you quipped sardonically in your head as you lit the cigarette for your self and took a long drag from it.

JJ’s eyes widened a little in surprise when you stepped closer to him, so close that you could reach out and touch him, if you wanted to. He watched you flick your lighter on, a small wave of excitement rushing through him as you held the light to his cigarette. He leaned his head forward slightly, putting the other end of the cigarette to his mouth and taking a drag. He exhaled the smoke as he watched you light your own cigarette.

He almost laughed when he saw the small grimace that came across your face.

He took another drag of the cigarette, his eyes studying the features of your face. You looked so beautiful like this, in the soft light of the porch with a cigarette between your lips. It was enough for him to realize that he wanted to see you like this more - not just tonight but anytime he could.

He turned away slightly as he exhaled the smoke, trying to calm his thoughts once again. He didn’t know you and yet here he was, already getting addicted to being close to you and hearing you talk.

The cigarette was a welcome relief given the fact that you were on edge since you came to the stupid party, leaning on the railing and taking long drags to fill your lungs with the smoke, the nicotine swirling around in your brain. Here you were, smoking a cigarette casually with the guy you were pinning after for years. 3rd grade you would probably faint and break her glasses in 2 if she knew.

JJ silently watched how you exhaled the smoke that was going into your lungs. It was hypnotizing watching you do this, something about it just made him want to keep watching. It was just so oddly satisfying to watch you smoke. He knew it probably wasn’t, but he didn’t care in that moment. It was oddly pleasing in a way he couldn’t explain.

He took another drag, letting the cigarette sit between his lips as he spoke. "You smoke often?"

"Yeah.. helps with the whole social anxiety thing.." you nodded your words followed by a small dry chuckle as you side glanced at him, exhaling the smoke to the side to avoid blowing it directly in his face.

JJ couldn’t help but notice the little side glance at him. That action, for some reason, made his stomach flip and flutter like it had a mind of its own, the way your eyes fixed on him momentarily making him nervous for some reason. A small smirk formed on his face as he blew out his own puff of smoke.

"Social anxiety, huh?"

He took another drag of the cigarette, his eyes looking straight at you as he did. He chuckled slightly, he never thought you would be the type to suffer from social anxiety, mostly because of his prejudice towards your social status. You had always seemed so quiet and reserved, but he never assumed it was because of that. But, as he looked at you now, taking a puff of your cigarette and shyly glancing at him every so often, he was starting to realize that maybe social anxiety made sense. The thought made him realize that he really didn’t know you at all, and that he desperately wanted to change that.

He leaned against the railing once again, taking another drag from the cigarette as he decided on what to say next.

Before he had the chance to do so, none other than your best friend Maisy, burst through the front door, her eyes fixed on you and probably not noticing JJ at first, "Y/n/n! where have you been, girl? You just missed the whole ordeal with Maybank getting locked in a closet with some random girl. It was so crazy.. I looked for you so i could tell you all about it!" she gasped excitedly as she clasped her hands on your shoulders, her loud voice and sudden appearance startling you and JJ. She could not, for the life of her read the room. Ever.

JJ’s eyes immediately went from you to Maisy, he was going to attempt to make more conversation until your best friend burst through the door.

He stiffened at hearing his last name, instantly tensing at what Maisy had said, now staring at the strawberry blonde mess of hair when she stepped in front of him to grab your shoulders.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, glancing over Maisy's shoulder to signal JJ's presence, glaring at her subtly. You didn't want her to say something stupid and reveal your feelings by mistake and embarrass you in front of him. Maisy’s eyes suddenly widened as she realized that she had walked out in the middle of a conversation you having with someone. She followed your gaze and looked over her shoulder, noticing JJ for the first time.

She gasped as her eyes widened even more, her look of surprise quickly turning into a smirk as she glanced back and forth from JJ to you.

You shook your head as if to say, 'don't, i'll kill you.

Maisy, the best friend she was, completely forgot about the look you had given her and the silent threat you were trying to convey in seconds upon receiving it. She had suddenly realized that you were standing beside JJ by yourself, and she was about to take full advantage of the situation. She smirked at you and wiggled her eyebrows dramatically, silently teasing you in her own way.

"Maisy. Please." you widened your eyes, silently scolding her and desperately suppressing the urge to groan out loud. Maisy was well aware of your MASSIVE years long crush on JJ, and you knew she was happy about this, in her own way, of course.

Maisy’s smirk grew as she saw how you widened your eyes and silently begged her not to say anything. She knew how big of a crush you had on JJ and how long you had wanted a moment like this. She was going to make the most of this.

She feigned innocence, silently raising an eyebrow at you as if to say "what".

JJ glanced back and forth between the two of you, picking up on the tension that he couldn’t fully understand. He glanced at you, noticing the look in your eyes as you looked at your friend. He could almost feel the pleading in your eyes, silently begging her not to say anything.

He looked at your friend, catching the smirk that was on her face. He silently tried to figure out what was going on. What was going through the mind of your bratty friend in that moment?

Mimsy glanced at JJ, noticing the curious look he had on his face. She couldn’t help but tease her friend, this was a once lifetime chance and she wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity to tease her just a little.

She continued her innocent look as she turned back to you. She smirked as she leaned her head in your direction, acting as if she was going to whisper something into your ear. But instead, she spoke loudly, making sure JJ could hear her too. She loved tormenting you just a bit too much.

"You're alone with JJ Maybank of all people. How does it feel?"

Maisy said, a sly grin on her face as she watched your reaction. She was enjoying messing with you and making a fool of you in front of the guy that you liked a little too much for her liking. She didn't care, she loved embarrassing you. It was a friend’s right to tease their other friend in front of a potential love interest, right?

"Embarrassing, given you're here now." you glared at her, probably the most expressive JJ had seen you since you started speaking in the closet. A small sigh escaped your lips and you barely contained the urge to face-palm dramatically.

Maisy let out a loud gasp, acting as if she was offended by your words. She put her hand over her heart, a dramatic look crossing her face as she spoke. She was really enjoying this just so she could get a reaction out of you, which in turn would get a reaction out of JJ.

“Oh, wow. You’re being a bit rude, aren’t you? I can’t believe you’d say that in front of JJ. So insulting.”

JJ let out a stifled laugh as your friend dramatically pretended to be offended. He couldn’t help but find her antics amusing as he watched the whole scene unfold in front of his eyes. But he really couldn’t help but notice the glare you gave to your friend. It was the most expressive facial expression he had seen you wear so far, and he had to admit that he rather liked it. There was something about you standing up for yourself that he found attractive, even if it was just in a small way.

"And also I'm gonna kill you for ditching me like that.. " you added quietly, slapping Maisy's shoulder teasingly even though you were still glaring at her.

Misy let out another gasp as you slapped her shoulder. She feigned a look of pain on her face as she dramatically winced and rubbed the spot where you had slapped her in a playful way. She let out a loud melodramatic "ow". Clearly she was just messing with you at this point.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ditch you. I just had to do something REALLLLYYY important." she countered, her words dripping with suggestive undertones rather than genuine apology.

"Like?" you raised one brow, feigning annoyance.

Maisy shrugged her shoulders slightly, trying her best to look innocent. It was all an act, and she was enjoying it so much. She loved getting a rise out of you just so she could see the way you reacted and how you acted in front of JJ. In another world, she would’ve been a professional drama actor with the way she was able to act so well.

"Just something..., you know. The usual. Important, fun, necessary stuff."

"You need to drive me home. I hate this stupid party." you put out your cigarette, sighing and groaning out loud this time as you adjusted your glasses, leaning away from the railing.

Your best friend laughed at your irritation. She knew that you hated parties and that you dreaded them, that’s why she’d convinced you to come to this one in the first place. It was just her way of being a good friend.

"Alright, alright. Stop being such a prude. I’ll take you home, you baby. Just let me say 'bye' to a few people first. You’re such a buzzkill, you know that?"

"Ugh Maisy.. you're just gonna take forever." you groaned once again at the thought of having to follow her around while she bid her never-ending goodbyes.

"I'll just skate home. Where's your car? i left my board in there." at that point, given how quiet JJ was you forgot momentarily that he was there, speaking freely and more expressively.

Misy raised her eyebrows dramatically as you mentioned skating home. If there was one thing she hated more than parties, it was your habit of skating everywhere. It was like you were allergic to cars. She let out a fake gasp and dramatically put her hand on her chest like she had been wounded.

“Skate home this late!? Alone!? You’re joking right?”

"Unlock the car. I can see it from here." you deadpanned, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, nodding towards her car parked a bit messily on the lawn of the house.

Maisy scoffed and turned towards where her car was parked. She pulled out her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the car.

“Ugh. Fine. But if you get kidnapped or murdered, I’m not taking the blame. You’re such a pain, you know that right?”

"Bye... I'll see you tomorrow when you're hung over." you waved a hand in her face dramatically, the gesture sarcastic.

Maisy rolled her eyes at your sarcastic wave. She couldn’t help but smirk at how much of a pain you were being. She put a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow at you in a sarcastic way.

“Ugh, thanks for that. I look forward to your sarcastic and overly annoying comments in the morning. See you, baby.”

With that she turned on her heel and walked back into the house, heading back into the party with a smirk still on her face. She was beyond satisfied with herself. She had pushed your buttons enough for you to be a bit more expressive in front of JJ and get a reaction from both you and him. It was one of her favorite pastimes to see you flustered and a bit irritated just at her presence.

The moment she disappeared inside, the only person left outside on the porch was you and JJ.

After Maisy had gone back inside, the porch suddenly felt much quieter than before. The only sounds heard were the crickets in the background and the muffled noise from the party inside. JJ glanced over at you, his eyes studying your face once again. He couldn’t help but notice the change in your demeanor the moment your annoying friend left.

As soon as your best friend left you were aware that you were alone with JJ again. You glanced at him adjusting your glasses nervously, "sorry about that.."

JJ couldn’t help but chuckle slightly as you nervously adjusted your glasses the moment you realised you were alone with him. He raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the railing of the porch once again, his gaze fixed on you.

"No need to apologize. Your friend is… something else.”

Back to clamming up like a dumbass you go. You nodded silently, a small apologetic smile tugging at your lips. You were going to skate home, but you weren't sure how to.. end the conversation with JJ? should you just leave? wave at him? no... that's too casual, he doesn't even know you. Saying bye felt pathetic.

JJ chuckled again as you fell back into your shy, nervous demeanor. He could tell that you were overthinking the entire situation in the moment, trying to find the right way to leave. He thought that you looked so awkward and nervous. It was almost cute how unsure of yourself you were.

He pushed himself off the railing and took a step towards you.

"You’re still gonna skate home?"

You hummed faintly and nodded, looking out to Maisy's car. You didn't hate the idea of skating home, given you had your earphones with you and you could just take a shortcut to your house from here.

He couldn't help but smirk slightly as you hummed weakly and nodded. He took a couple more steps towards you, closing the gap between the two of you completely. He stood right in front of you, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. "Not afraid of being kidnapped or murdered like your friend said?"

"I skate at night pretty often." you stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, your voice back to its quiet and soft tone again.

JJ smirked even more as you stated your regular night time skating routine as if it was natural. He let out an amused chuckle, his eyebrows raising at the idea of you skating home alone in the dark so often.

"You skate at night often? You must have a death wish, doll."

You furrowed your brows at his nickname, whipping your head to look up at him with an expression resembling confusion. It was mostly to hide how flustered it made you, a small frown forming on your face, which wasn't supposed to be rude in any way, you were just... thrown off.

He smirked as you whipped your head up to look at him, your face showing a look of confusion mixed with… dare he say it, was that a hint of blush on your cheeks? He let out a small chuckle as he noticed your small, almost pouty frown. "What's with that look for, doll? You got a problem with the new nickname?"

You pursed your lips, as if mulling over the nickname in your head and dissecting it. He had no reason to call you that, but you knew JJ even though he didn't know you. You knew he was carefree and casual with everyone, so it wasn't hard for him to say certain things or make jokes. A part of you had always been envious of that, ever since you started liking him. Maybe that's why you liked him. He was the opposite of you, and in some ways you wished you could be like him, or like the girls you knew he usually went for.

He observed your facial expressions closely as you seemed to be deep in thought. He could practically hear the gears turning in your head as you thought about the nickname he had given you. He didn’t know why he called you "doll", it just came out naturally in the moment. He had a habit of nicknaming people, especially pretty ones, without even thinking about it. But for some reason, he was more interested in your reaction to it this time. It was the first nickname he had given you, and he wondered how you would react to it.

He chuckled softly to himself as he watched you purse your lips slightly, your facial expression almost looking like you were analyzing and dissecting the nickname he had given you. He couldn’t help but feel amused at the way you were acting. You were so quiet and soft-spoken, so different from anything he was used to. It was almost endearing in a way. He found your shyness refreshing and cute.

You decided you had enough of just standing there awkwardly and you looked up at him, nodding in greeting and walking towards the steps off the porch, your feet moving slowly, as if you were hesitating, afraid not to create a hole through the wood or something. You didn't wanna leave obviously, but you were awkward and weird and flustered easily and he was... well, JJ. You decided that you liked pining after him from afar from your camera lenses and behind corners rather than embarrassing yourself by talking to him face to face.

JJ watched as you nodded in greeting and began to walk down the steps of the porch. He let out a small chuckle as he noticed the slow and hesitant way you moved, as if you were afraid to break something on the way. He found your nervous mannerisms to be endearing, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in your head at that moment.

As you started walking away, he couldn’t help but step forward and speak up before you got too far.

"Hey, wait."

He took a few steps towards you, closing the distance between the two of you again as he spoke up, his voice low and gentle. "You’re just gonna leave like that, doll?"

"Well.. yeah?" you grimaced hesitantly, curious as to why he seemed so adamant on speaking with you even though you were silent most of the time.

He raised an eyebrow at your hesitancy and grimace. He couldn’t help but feel a mix of annoyance and interest at the fact that you were just going to leave without a second thought. He had wanted to talk to you more, and he wasn’t about to give up just yet.

"You can’t just leave after you’ve barely said anything at this party. You’re too quiet, it’s a little weird."

Ouch again. He probably didn't mean to make another stingy comment, but you still felt the sting a little. You didn't let it show though, raising your brows and adjusting your glasses, looking at him as if expecting him to continue, despite the obvious figurative period at the end of his sentence.

He noticed the subtle flash of hurt in your eyes at his comment, but he didn’t apologize for it. He had a reputation to maintain after all. He raised an eyebrow in return at your raised brows and expression, expecting you to say something. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed slightly as if he was annoyed that you weren’t responding. "Is that all you’re gonna do, just stare at me?"

You looked to the side as if considering his question, nodding slowly and silently. You knew he probably didn't like it, you weren't the kind of person that would hang around JJ Maybank after all. But you couldn't help it, your brain just didn't wanna speak sometimes, it was like it was selectively mute, which was very asshole-ish of it.

He let out a low sigh at your nod and silent response. He found it both annoying and endearing at the same time how reticent you were. He wasn’t used to someone being this quiet and reserved around him. Usually girls would cling to him or talk endlessly, never shutting up.

He took a small step closer to you, his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked down at you. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and gruff as he spoke. "You can at least say something, doll."

"Something." you spoke without realizing, the word soft and quiet even though it was more sarcastic than anything.

A surprised laugh escaped his lips at your unexpected sarcastic response. He didn’t expect you to actually say something, let alone something sarcastic.

"Clever."

He said dryly as a smirk formed on his face, his eyebrows raising slightly. He was enjoying this more than he cared to admit, he wasn’t used to people being sarcastic back to him, not someone as quiet as you anyway.

He leaned in slightly closer, his smirk slowly morphing into a small, amused smile. He liked how blunt and sarcastic you could be, and the fact that you were being sarcastic with him was almost funny. "You sure know how to make conversation, doll."

You raised your brows and nodded looking to the side once again as if to say 'i know right?', a small scoff leaving your lips.

He chuckled softly at your raised brows and subtle scoff. It was like you were trying to match his confidence and snarky attitude but by being quiet at the same time, and he couldn’t help but find it amusing. He took another small step forward, getting even closer to you. "You sure are a sassy one, doll. Most people would be a stuttering mess in front of me right now."

'I am stuttering... mentally.' you thought, fixing him with your gaze. You were sure you were plenty nervous in front him anyway, stuttering would just make you explode probably. You were sure that would actually happen if it came down to it.

He could see the hint of nervousness in your eyes as you fixed him with a steady gaze. He knew that you were probably feeling very nervous and intimidated by his presence, but you were doing a good job at not letting it show. It was refreshing to him that you weren’t falling all over yourself in front of him like most girls did.

"You’re awfully quiet though. How come you’re not all over me like most girls are?" He asked, his voice laced with sarcasm and subtle curiosity.

'Oh, how i would love to-..' you stopped that thought before it actually finished in your mind, shaking it out of your brain quickly. Your version of being all over him was stalking him around and taking pretty artsy and stalkerish pictures of him from afar. Of course that was embarrassing to think about, especially when he was standing right in front of you, talking and giving you casual nicknames like 'doll and mouse.'

He noticed the brief second when you seemed to zone out for a moment before snapping yourself out of it. He couldn’t help but be intrigued by the look that had crossed your face, if only for a split second. He raised an eyebrow at your sudden change in demeanor and wondered what had just gone through your head.

"You sure love zoning out, doll. You alright in that head of yours?"

You nodded swiftly, looking back up at him. Still, you couldn't seem to get a word out, which was becoming annoying for you. You can talk to him, he's not gonna bite.

He could sense your frustration at your inability to speak, even though he could also tell that you were trying to remain calm and collected in front of him. He found your struggle both endearing and irritating at the same time.

He chuckled softly before speaking again, his voice soft and casual. "You know you can talk to me, right? Like, actually say something out loud."

"I'm a girl of few words." you spoke up, pursing your lips gently as you looked up at him, nodding in a self-assured way.

He chuckled again at your response, his eyes fixed on your pursed lips. There was something strangely intriguing about the way you looked at him, even with your glasses in the way. "I can tell, doll. You’re practically mute." like an actual doll, that was even more funnier to think about in JJ's mind.

He found himself moving closer to you again, a smirk playing on his lips. He was enjoying the fact that you were struggling to speak, and secretly found it cute how shy and awkward you were around him.

"You’re a little mouse, aren’t ya? Too shy to talk?"

You hated that word when it was used to describe your quietness by others, but when it came out of his mouth and it rolled off his lips you found it almost... sweet. The way he seemed to weigh his words and keep his rowdy and loud behavior in check made you feel.. special? but also pitied, like he was scared of scaring you away. You raised your brows, adjusting your glasses and smiling slightly at him, nodding again after a few seconds.

He could see the hint of annoyance in your eyes when he called you a mouse, but it was gone as soon as he saw you smile slightly.

"Awww, look at that, she finally smiled. I didn’t think it was possible with you being so quiet."

He mocked your silence once more, just to tease you a bit more. He found your reactions and facial expressions entertaining, even if you were silent most of the time.

Somehow you found the courage to reach up and smack his shoulder playfully, glaring at him half heartedly. The action surprised even yourself, retracting your hand fast in fear that you might've made him uncomfortable.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise when you reached up and smacked his shoulder, the action catching him off guard. It was the first time you had physically touched him, and he couldn’t help but feel a small spark of electricity at the contact. He also noticed the way you retracted your hand quickly, as if you were afraid of what he might do.

He laughed softly at the look on your face, his smirk widening.

"Did you just SMACK me, mouse?"

"Sorry.." you stuttered out, stepping back a little nervously. It was supposed to be a casual teasing smack but as per usual, you made things awkward and weird. Just like you always did.

He chuckled again at your stuttered apology, the sound low and gruff. He found your nervous mannerisms and stuttering quite endearing. It was an odd thing, being intrigued by someone who hardly talked and was very awkward. He took a step closer to you, closing the distance between you again. "Don’t apologize, doll. I’m not mad." He said lowly, his smirk fading into a soft smile.

You nodded quickly, turning away suddenly and walking towards Maisy's car to retrieve your board and skate home. God, you had spoken to him more than you ever did in these 8 years of pining after him. And it was so nerve wrecking, having someone have some much control over you without even knowing.

As you walked away, JJ couldn't help but feel a bit of disappointment that you were leaving already. He watched you walk towards Maisy's car, and a part of him wanted to call out to you to stay, but he didn't.

He couldn't quite understand why, but there was something about you that he found strangely captivating. Despite the fact that you were very shy and awkward around him, he felt strangely drawn to you. He didn’t want the conversation to end just yet.

He thought about calling out to you to wait, but something stopped him. He wasn't sure what it was, but he couldn't bring himself to speak up. Instead, he just watched as you walked away, his eyes fixed on your retreating form.

Maybe it was the way you had looked at him with those shy, behind-the-glasses eyes, or the soft, almost sarcastic responses you had given him despite your quiet nature. Something just made him want to keep talking to you, even if all you did was just nod and stay silent most of the time. Maybe that's what JJ needed, someone quiet enough to help him ground his loudness. But that thought was shaken away when he realized you were a stranger and the 2 of you might not even interact ever again.

JJ was still standing there at base of the porch steps, watching as you opened the back seat of Maisy's car. He raised an eyebrow at the state of the car, thinking to himself about how messy it was. As you retrieved your board from under the pile of clothes and Gatorade bottles, he watched your every movement intently.

When you suddenly turned around and waved at him, JJ couldn’t help but feel a fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t quite understand why, but he found the gesture strangely adorable.

He raised his hand in response, waving back at you.

"Night, mouse. Don't get lost on the way home."

He called out, his smirk returning to his face. He couldn't help but tease you a little before you left, it was too hard not to poke at your shy demeanor.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of the nickname again, placing your board on the sidewalk and glancing at him one last time before finally forcing yourself to skate away down the sidewalk, the sound of the party becoming distant as you skated down the street.

JJ watched as you placed your board on the sidewalk and started skating away. He couldn’t help but notice the small smile that had appeared on your face when he had called you 'mouse' again. He felt a small twinge of satisfaction being the cause of the smile, even if it was a small one.

—♡‧

A/n: Okay so... what do we think about the first interaction? I decided mid-way that I'm making this multiple parts..☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ if this does well I'll post part 2.. JJ is such a yapper, and the reader is.. not. I'll take this down if people don't read it but i have an entire story about these 2 :( I'm just curious if this was too long

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