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erensmoonlight · 29 days ago

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Roommate Accident

Synopsis. Living with Eren Yeager was never supposed to happen or be complicated, but tension between two roommates turns their once peaceful arrangement into an awkward dance of avoidance and frustration. A casual offer to give her a ride one day sets off a chain of unexpected events, leaving her questioning the boundaries of their relationship. As their interactions grow more intense, she finds herself torn between keeping the peace and exploring something deeper. With a circle of close friends offering unsolicited advice and wild suggestions, she must decide whether to confront her feelings or continue ignoring the growing chemistry between them.

Paring: Eren Yeager x Fem Reader

Content, MDNI: Enemies to lovers, arguments, smut, drinking, oral (f), dirty talk, sex, fluff, one shot, (Lmk if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 9.7K

{ash’s notes} -HI GUYS! This is my first story and if I’m gonna be honest, I’m prettyyyy nervous but excited of course. I hope you guys enjoy reading this because this was lowkey so fun to write, I have so many more stories to think about writing but not sure when I will. Okay I’m just going to be rambling on and on so again please show love to this story and lmk what you think and how it is! Love you all and take care of yourself, MWAHH❤️ minors aren't welcomed! comments + reblogs are appreciated!

College life is back in full swing, and with it comes the sense of purpose I’ve been craving all summer. Don’t get me wrong—being home with family had its perks, but I desperately needed some time to myself. Now, living with Mikasa, I finally have the freedom to do things on my own terms, while still keeping my grades up, of course. It feels like a fresh start, a chance to balance responsibility with the independence I’ve been longing for.

Junior year of college—finally. I know it’s going to be a new challenge, but all I’m hoping for is as little stress and drama as possible. The drive ahead was long, so I kept my goodbyes short and sweet, not wanting to drag it out. As I hit the road, a mix of nervousness and excitement coursed through me. It felt like the start of something big.

After an hour-long drive, I finally arrived at the campus dorms, my excitement bubbling over. I parked the car and hurried to my dorm, practically bursting with anticipation. As I unlocked the door, I noticed a few boxes outside Mikasa’s room—she must’ve just gotten here too. I grabbed the handle, flung the door open, and jumped inside, shouting, “HIII ROOMIE!”

But the smile fell from my face instantly. It wasn’t Mikasa standing there—it was Eren.

“What the actual hell?” I blurted, freezing in the doorway.

“The fuck?” he shot back, looking just as startled as me.

We stared at each other, equally confused by what was happening. "Excuse me, but why are you in Mikasa's room?" I asked with more sass than intended.

"Mikasa?" he echoed, clearly baffled. "This is my room. Dorm 207," he added, grabbing a piece of paper from the desk nearby to show me.

I quickly glanced at my own dorm assignment. There it was—207, plain as day.

"Oh, hell no—“

Call incoming

Just as my brain started to melt down, my phone buzzed. Mikasa’s name flashed on the screen, and I picked up, not even bothering As a greeting. “Where are you, and why is Eren in your room?” I asked, my voice tight with frustration.

On the other end, Mikasa sounded just as bewildered. “Okay, so I was just as surprised when I saw Armin in your dorm, but we figured it out. There was a mix-up with the dorm assignments, and... they can’t change it.”

"WHAT?!" I screamed into the phone, my frustration boiling over. Before I could say anything else, Eren grabbed my phone and echoed my shock with his own confusion, “What?!” He put the phone on speaker

“What the hell do you mean they can’t change it? School hasn’t even started! They have to fix it because I am definitely not rooming with Ms. Control Freak over here,” Eren said, looking me up and down with an irritating look.

I clenched my fists, my patience hanging by a thread. The urge to slap him right then and there was overwhelming. My relationship with Eren was… complicated, to say the least. To keep it short, we never saw eye to eye—we couldn’t stand each other’s lifestyles, let alone the idea of sharing a space.

I see myself as someone organized, who knows how to navigate life with a clear plan, confident in my ability to talk things through and stand my ground when needed. Eren, on the other hand, is the complete opposite—laid-back, spontaneous, and annoyingly carefree. He’s the type who thinks life is meant to be lived without schedules or rules. It’s no wonder we clash constantly; we’re like oil and water.

After a few more minutes of heated back-and-forth, Mikasa’s call finally ended, leaving me standing there, dumbfounded, in the middle of what was now our dorm. Eren ran a hand down his face, visibly irritated. I had no idea how we were supposed to survive this.

“Well, if we’re going to make this work, I gotta lay out some ground rules,” Eren announced, and I could already tell this was going to be a joke. “You don’t bother me, I don’t bother you. Simple as that.” He extended his hand for me to shake as if we were closing some grand deal.

The audacity. “When did we agree on you being the boss?” I shot back.

He groaned, rubbing his temples. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is,” he muttered, giving me an exasperated look.

That only fueled my annoyance. I started rattling off about chores, noise levels, and a bunch of other things that he would absolutely need to respect if we were going to survive living together.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there. Today’s already stressful enough, and I don’t need you adding to my headache,” he said, waving a hand dismissively in my face. The nerve of this guy.

Before I could snap back, he grabbed my shoulders, physically moved me out of his room, and shut the door behind me. “THIS CONVERSATION ISN’T OVER!” I yelled. Silence. Nothing but silence from the other side.

I groaned in frustration, knowing there was no point in arguing with him right now. Instead, I turned my attention to hauling my things inside before it got too dark.

After I finally finished unpacking and getting everything in order, I belly-flopped onto my bed, exhausted and frustrated. All the perfect plans I had for this year were already crumbling thanks to Eren. Sharing a dorm with him was the last thing I expected, and it felt like everything was ruined before it even began.

Now, all I could do was hope things didn’t spiral further out of control. I just hoped—for my sanity—that living with him wouldn’t be as bad as I feared. But deep down, I had a sinking feeling that hope might be too much to ask for.

It’s been almost a month since the semester started, and things have been... weird. But weirdly enough, calm—for now. I haven’t seen or heard much from Eren lately, and honestly, I’m not complaining. The only thing that really pisses me off is that he’s a total slob. It’s such a turn-off, especially for someone who looks the way he does. Some nights, I have to wear noise-canceling headphones just to sleep because of his loud, never-ending gaming sessions. I’ve tried to let it slide, but if I have to endure this for an entire year, I’m seriously doubting whether I’ll make it out alive.

“How’s it with Armin?” I asked Mikasa, picking at my food. We decided to hang out after classes, needing some downtime.

“Oh my god, it’s so nice,” she gushed. “We cook together most of the time, split chores, he helps me study when I need it, and every week, we watch these awful reality TV shows together and laugh our heads off.” She kept going, laughing as she spoke, until she noticed my deadpan expression.

“Oh... shit. My bad,” she giggled, trying—and failing—to hide her amusement.

I rolled my eyes at Mikasa’s enthusiasm. “Well, how is it with Eren?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

I sighed dramatically, stabbing at my food before taking a bite. “The complete opposite of your story,” I muttered.

“That bad?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh yeah, that bad,” I said, launching into a full-blown rant about all the irritating things Eren had done over the past month. It felt good to let it all out. “Like, I don’t get what girls see in him. He’s just a pretty face, that’s it.”

Mikasa nodded, somewhat amused. “Well, Eren’s always been laidback about most things. He always says his charm is his best quality,” she shrugged, going back to her meal.

I scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Like that guy has any charm.”

The rest of the day passed by, and after our little venting session, Mikasa drove me back to the dorm. Just as I was getting out, she leaned over. “Oh, before you go—are you going to Jean’s party tonight?”

Ugh. A party. I could already feel the exhaustion creeping in just thinking about it. “Probably not. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do at home, and let’s be real—the chances of Eren being there are ridiculously high, so... yeah, I’m good,” I said with a shrug.

Mikasa looked disappointed, but I could see she understood. “Fine, but you have to go to the next one with me. Promise?”

I laughed and held out my pinky. “Deal. I’ll be there, I swear.”

She grinned and wrapped her pinky around mine. “Deal,” she said with a smile before driving off.

I quickly headed up to my dorm, pushing the door open with a sigh of relief. Looks like Eren’s not here. He’s probably already left for Jean’s party, I thought, grateful for the peace and quiet. A whole night to myself. Finally.

I grabbed a snack and a drink from the kitchen, then wandered into my room. As I put on some music, the weight of the week started to melt away. I removed my makeup and prepared for my long-overdue everything shower. The kind of self-care I hadn’t indulged in for weeks.

After soaking under the warm water for what felt like forever, I got out, wrapped myself in a towel, and began my skincare routine, singing along to my favorite songs. It felt amazing to be alone and completely in my element.

With my skincare finally on my face, I debated whether to stay up and do something productive or just crash for the night. Nah, I’ll just sleep, I decided, already feeling the exhaustion creep in. I slipped into a pair of soft sleeping shorts and a baggy tank top, sinking into my bed.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I closed my eyes and drifted into a deep, peaceful slumber, relishing the calm while it lasted.

BANG

I jolted upright in bed, my heart racing as I glanced around, trying to figure out what had startled me awake. What the hell? I whispered to myself, straining to listen. It could be Eren-I really hoped it was, because the alternative was too terrifying to consider. But then I heard something worse: muffled laughter, followed by unmistakable kissing sounds. Oh no. Scratch that, I hope it's a killer.

Eren's door slammed shut, and I clung to the hope that maybe-just maybe-it would all stop there. I tried to force myself back to sleep, convincing myself that I could ignore it. I was so close to drifting off again when the low moans started, followed by soft curses. My eyes flew open, and I groaned into my pillow, Please, for the love of all things, let this nightmare end.

It didn't. The sounds got louder, the bed rhythmically slamming against the wall. I grabbed my headphones, shoved them over my ears, and stuffed a pillow on top of my head, trying to block out the never-ending torture happening just feet away. I lay there, my regret over every life decision that led me here slowly consuming me. This was going to be a very, very long night.

So bright. I blinked against the harsh light streaming through the window, rubbing my eyes. Barely an hour of sleep after a night of absolute torture. The girl had left about twenty minutes ago, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel comfortable enough to fall back asleep. Coffee. That’s what I need.

Dragging myself out of bed, I slipped into my slippers to avoid the cold floor and trudged to the kitchen. The coffee was brewing, and I was almost in the clear when I heard Eren’s door creak open. Groaning internally, I rolled my eyes and tried to hurry, hoping to avoid whatever awkward conversation was coming. I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and fished the creamer out of the fridge. Footsteps approached behind me.

“Hey, roomie,” Eren’s voice chimed, way too cheerful for my liking. Don’t punch him, don’t punch him, I chanted silently, eyes fixed on the coffee machine, willing it to finish faster.

“Wow, you look horrible,” he commented, pouring himself a cup with a grin. I shot him a glare.

“Yeah, thanks. I didn’t get any sleep last night,” I muttered, finally pouring my coffee and moving to the table to prepare it. Eren laughed, probably remembering the obnoxious noise from last night. This annoying asshole.

“Didn’t realize you were here. My bad” he said, not sounding sorry at all while grabbing the creamer next to me, a smirk still playing on his lips.

I am not going to survive this year.

“I don’t care what you do, just have some fucking decency,” I shot back, sipping my coffee as I walked back to my room. I could feel Eren’s eyes on me, but I didn’t turn around. Shutting the door behind me, I set the mug on my nightstand and groaned at the thought of the day ahead. No sleep, two essays due, and classes to sit through. Today is going to suck.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, got dressed in something comfy but cute, and grabbed my things. Heading back to the kitchen, I filled a water bottle and rinsed out my coffee mug—then, Unwillingly, Eren’s dirty dishes too. Just as I finished, I heard his door creak open again. Speak of the devil.

“Thanks for washing those,” he said nonchalantly, rummaging through the fridge. “I probably wasn’t going to do it anyway.”

I rolled my eyes, biting back a retort. As I dried my hands with a paper towel, he asked, “Want me to give you a ride to school?”

I blinked, caught off guard. What? “No, I’m good,” I replied sarcastically. “I wouldn’t want to deal with the dirty looks from all your fangirls.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” he responded dryly, clearly unamused.

Great start to the day, I thought as I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, not sparing him another glance.

Eren’s footsteps echoed behind me as I stormed off. “You don’t have to back down on my offer—it still stands,” he called out, clearly amused. His voice alone made my blood boil.

Without even turning to face him, I snapped, “You know what offer would actually be great? How about you shut the fuck up at night, pick up your own shit, clean your own damn dishes, and maybe grow some balls while you’re at it?” My voice trembled with frustration, the words flying out before I could even stop them.

I expected him to have some snarky comeback. And, of course, he didn’t disappoint. Eren rolled his eyes, scoffing like my words barely registered. But then, in an instant, he grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him.

“Oh yeah? Let’s talk about you,” he shot back, his voice louder, angrier. “How about you stop having a stick up your ass and acting like you’re my damn mother, stop meddling in my business, and just fucking stop being a damn control freak if a fucking cup isn’t placed in the right spot”

We stood there in the middle of the parking lot, glaring at each other like two wild animals ready to tear each other apart. The tension was palpable, our frustrations bubbling to the surface in a messy, chaotic explosion.

I laughed, but it wasn’t out of amusement—it was out of sheer, exhausted frustration. “I get it, you want that laid-back college life, no responsibilities, carefree and easygoing? That’s not me. I can’t live like that Yeager, so you just have to fucking deal with me.”

I stepped closer, my eyes boring into his. “And if you can’t handle it, then go dorm with someone else. Hell, sneak out and find someone willing to put up with your shit. I don’t care. But don’t expect me to change.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, I turned on my heel and walked away, refusing to look back. Let him stew in his own arrogance. I was done.

After that intense moment with Eren, I decided to walk to campus alone. I didn’t care how long it took, I just needed to cool off, to breathe. The crisp morning air helped, but the frustration still lingered, swirling around in my head. By the time I made it to my first class, I was already dreading being there. But skipping wasn’t an option—I needed to do well. I sighed, taking out my things and finding a corner seat, hoping to be invisible for the rest of the period.

As I was pulling out my notebook, I felt someone sit down next to me. Turning to see who it was, I saw Armin, offering me a friendly smile. "Hey, no one’s sitting here, right?" he asked politely.

“No, don’t worry, you’re good,” I replied, grateful for the company. At least Armin was easy to deal with.

The class started, and after a while, we were given some time to work individually. I dove into my assignments, trying to focus, when Armin spoke up. "You and Eren got into an argument, didn’t you?"

I froze mid-sentence, turning to face him. “How do you know?” I asked, surprised but not totally shocked. Eren had a big mouth.

Armin stopped typing and glanced at me. "He picked me up this morning, and I could tell something was off. When I asked him what was wrong, he kind of… exploded about you. He was pretty worked up."

I groaned internally, rubbing my forehead. "God, I hate him," I muttered. "I don’t get why you’re friends with him. He’s like the devil himself."

Armin chuckled softly, shaking his head. "He’s not all that bad, I promise."

I scoffed at that, going back to my paper. "Then what do I do? I can’t even be in the same room as him without wanting to strangle him."

Armin turned back to me, a thoughtful look on his face. "You just need to give him a chance. Yeah, he can be frustrating, but I swear, if you get past that, you might actually find something you like about him."

I rolled my eyes, thinking, Yeah, like when he shuts up. But I couldn’t help considering what Armin was saying. He made it sound so easy like Eren was just misunderstood or something. Still, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to give him a chance when he seemed to go out of his way to drive me crazy.

I sighed, “I don’t know, Armin. It feels like I’m the only one trying here. He doesn’t give me any reason to want to make this work.”

Armin smiled sympathetically. "Maybe he’s not great at showing it, but trust me, he’s not as indifferent as he seems."

I nodded half-heartedly, not fully convinced. As much as I hated to admit it, Armin had a point—there had to be something redeemable about Eren. I just wasn’t sure I was willing to dig deep enough to find it.

Just as I was about to respond to Armin, the bell rang, cutting our conversation short. We both quickly packed up our things. “Just think about what I said, okay? Let me know how it goes,” Armin said as we parted ways. I nodded, though I wasn’t sure how to even start. We said our goodbyes and headed in opposite directions to our next classes.

Finally, lunch arrived. Mikasa had texted me earlier to meet at the cafeteria, so I made my way over. Spotting her quickly, I saw her waving her arm at me from across the room. I hurried over and sat next to her, taking the seat at the edge of the table. “Hey guys,” I greeted with a smile, placing my things down. The usual group was there—Mikasa, Sasha, Annie, Connie, and Niccolo.

As soon as I sat down, we were all deep in conversation, laughing about the most random things. Connie groaned dramatically, slumping over the table. “Ugh, I’m totally going to fail Mr. Ackerman’s class. It's like he’s speaking some alien language,” he grumbled, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Sasha, in her usual fashion, was busy shoveling food into her mouth as she snuggled up next to Niccolo. "Yeah, I don’t know how to help you with that, buddy," she managed to say between bites, drawing more laughs.

Just as we were settling into our groove, Jean, Armin, and Eren walked up to the table. Jean slid in next to Connie, while Armin took the seat next to Annie, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. Eren, to my mild annoyance, sat down next to Armin, but I tried to ignore him, focusing on my drink instead.

“Why the hell did you guys take so long?” Connie asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair.

“Don’t look at me,” Jean quickly replied, jabbing a thumb toward Armin and Eren. “These two took forever talking about something.”

Talking? About what? I wondered, sipping my drink to cover my curiosity. I glanced briefly at Armin, who seemed to give me a look that said, I’ll tell you later. Eren, on the other hand, was focused on picking at his food, not making eye contact with anyone. Whatever it was, I could feel tension lingering between us, like unfinished business hanging in the air. But right now, surrounded by friends and laughter, I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with it.

Mikasa squeezed my arm, her excitement contagious. "Oh my god, we need to go do something soon! I’ve been dying for some girl time." Before I could respond, Sasha perked up, practically bouncing in her seat. “Ooh, ooh, me and Annie too!” she added loudly, making Annie chuckle as she gave a small nod of agreement. Mikasa smiled and nodded, and we all quickly made plans for next week. It felt good to look forward to something light and fun, especially after the chaos of the morning.

As we continued talking, I found myself glancing over at Eren, who was in deep conversation with Armin and Annie. Whatever they were talking about, it seemed serious, their faces unusually focused. I looked away quickly, not wanting to be caught staring, but I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of curiosity.

“Shit, time’s almost up,” Niccolo suddenly announced, snapping us all out of our conversations. Everyone checked their phones for the time. Some of us had one more class left, while others, like me, were done for the day. I silently celebrated the fact that I didn’t have any more obligations. We all began packing up and saying our goodbyes, and I decided to take the long way home, wanting to enjoy a walk with my music.

While I was about to start walking away from campus, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I pulled out one earbud and turned around, already dreading who it might be. Of course, it was Eren.

I sighed and, without a word, put my earbud back in, continuing to walk. But he wasn’t letting me go that easily. "Wait," he called after me. I stopped but didn’t bother turning around this time. “What?” I asked, my tone flat, trying to keep the distance between us.

"Come on, I’ll give you a ride," he offered. I shot back with a quick, “No thanks,” and started walking again. I really didn’t want to deal with him right now.

But then he grabbed my arm and spun me around, clearly more frustrated than before. “God, if you keep walking, I swear...” he muttered, closing his eyes for a second as if trying to control his temper.

I yanked my arm out of his grip and crossed them over my chest. “What is it, Eren?” I asked, exasperated.

“Let me give you a ride as an apology. For this morning,” he said, softer now, looking at me more earnestly. “We literally live together.” I stared at him, weighing my options. I really wanted to say no, to just keep walking and avoid the whole situation. But Armin’s words from earlier crept into my mind. Maybe this could be the start of finding that “something” Armin seemed so sure I’d like about Eren.

“Fine,” I muttered, feeling like I might regret this decision but going along with it anyway.

He led the way to his car, and we both got in, the tension settling in as soon as the doors closed. The awkwardness between us was suffocating, and I instantly regretted not just walking home. The car felt too small, like the air was thicker, and the silence was far from comfortable. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, and rested my head against the seat, turning to look out the window. The sound of the engine humming was the only noise, and it only made the silence feel heavier.

The longer we drove in that silence, the more anxious I felt. My fingers tapped lightly on my knee as I tried to distract myself, but all I could think about was how I just wanted this ride to be over. I thought about breaking the silence but I didn’t even know where to start. Every second dragged on, my thoughts running wild, wondering what he was thinking, and why he insisted on driving me. But mostly, I wondered how much longer this silent, awkward drive would last.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, stealing a quick glance at Eren out of the corner of my eye. He had his hands gripping the wheel, his knuckles turning slightly white, and his jaw was clenched like he was holding something back. I could tell he wanted to say something, but knowing Eren, he’d probably just stay stubbornly quiet. The silence between us stretched until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“So… you’ve been pretty quiet,” I said, breaking the ice, my voice sounding a little shakier than I wanted it to. I didn’t even know why I was trying to make small talk. Maybe it was the tension, or maybe it was what Armin said earlier, not sure.

He didn’t respond immediately, and for a second, I thought he was going to keep ignoring me. Then, without looking at me, he spoke. “I didn’t mean to piss you off this morning,” he muttered, his voice low, almost like he was trying not to be overheard by his own thoughts.

That caught me off guard. I didn’t expect an apology, not from Eren. He usually doubled down or shrugged things off like they didn’t matter. “You didn’t piss me off,” I said, almost reflexively, but even I knew that was a lie.

He let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. “Don’t lie. I know I did. I get it. I’m messy, I’m loud, and I don’t pick up after myself. But it’s not like you’re perfect either, you know?” His voice had an edge to it, but there was something softer underneath, something that almost sounded like guilt.

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of me wanted to keep arguing, to tell him he had no idea how difficult he made things for me, but another part of me wanted to understand why he was even bothering to apologize now. I opened my mouth to speak but then closed it, feeling the lump in my throat rising.

“I didn’t say I was perfect,” I finally admitted. “I’m just… tired, Eren. Tired of all of it.” My voice was quiet, almost defeated, as I stared out the window again. “I didn’t come here to play house with you or deal with this constant tension between us. It’s exhausting.”

The car fell back into silence, but this time, it wasn’t the same awkward, heavy silence as before. It felt different like both of us were waiting for the other to say something real for the first time.

Eren’s grip on the steering wheel loosened a little. “I know,” he said softly. “I didn’t expect to… I don’t know, live like this either. I thought it’d be different. Easier.” His voice trailed off for a moment, and I could see him wrestling with his thoughts.

I turned to look at him, my eyebrows knitting together. “Then why do you act like you don’t care? Like none of this matters to you?” The frustration was clear in my voice now, bubbling up from everything I’d been holding back for so long.

Eren took a deep breath. “I do care,” he said quietly. “It’s just… I’m not good at showing it. Not with all this other stuff going on.” He paused, glancing at me quickly before looking back at the road. “There’s more happening than just you and me fighting over dishes and who’s more responsible. I’ve got my own shit to figure out.”

His words caught me off guard again. I knew Eren had his own struggles, but he’d never been the type to talk about them. He always kept things bottled up until they exploded in moments like this morning.

For a second, I considered asking him what was really going on, but something held me back. Maybe it was fear, or maybe it was just knowing that neither of us was ready to really open up yet. Instead, I let out a sigh and leaned back in the seat.

“We’ve got to figure something out,” I said quietly, almost more to myself than to him. “This isn’t working.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice just as soft. “I’ll try harder. But I need you to meet me halfway.”

The tension between us hadn’t completely disappeared, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like we were actually getting somewhere. Maybe it wasn’t a solution, not yet, but it was a step. And that was more than I’d expected when I got into the car with him.

I was going to answer back, but it seemed like we already made it back to the dorm, so I just kept quiet for now. After that talk, things started getting a bit more normal, I think? Even though we’d been giving each other space, I couldn’t help but wonder if things were really as normal as they seemed. The lack of arguing didn’t mean things were fixed, and I knew ignoring the tension wouldn’t make it go away. I sighed, brushing away the thoughts of Eren as my phone buzzed again with more messages from the girls’ group chat. Tonight was supposed to be a break from everything, a night to let loose and enjoy myself, but my mind was stuck on him.

MIKA: Okayyy are you guys ready??

MIKA: Omg, we need to take a ton of pictures tonight!

Me: YES, just gotta put my shoes on

SASH: Girl, I’m already dressed and looking too fine, Annie is with me and also ready to goooo.

HISTORIA: Ymir and I are ready as well, and we’re bringing drinks for pregame 🥂.

MIKA: Okay here’s how it's going to go, First I pick up Sasha and Annie, then Historia and Ymir, then lastly Eren’s lover! Okay, we are good to go🥳

Me: Excuse me who are you picking up last?

HISTORIA: ooo did we miss anything??

YMIR: Spill now.

MIKA: 🙄

MIKA: yk we are going to talk about it

Me: Yeah I think I’m going to make a rain check for this girl's night

MIKA: No you're not ☺️, Leaving my house right now, I’ll be there in 10 so get your cute ass ready 💋.

I rolled my eyes, but a small grin tugged at my lips. If anyone could pull me out of a funk, it was Mikasa and the rest of the girls. Despite the swirling thoughts about Eren, I knew tonight would be fun, and maybe that’s what I needed to stop overthinking for a bit.

Grabbing my jacket and bag, I quickly checked my reflection in the mirror. Satisfied with my outfit and makeup, I headed to the kitchen for a quick snack—no way was I about to drink on an empty stomach. I grabbed a bag of chips, poured some into a bowl, and leaned against the counter while snacking. As I reached for another handful, a few chips slipped through my fingers and scattered on the floor. I sighed and bent down to pick them up.

Just then, Eren’s door swung open. I froze, hearing his voice cut through the silence. He was on the phone.

“Armin, I’m serious about this,” he said, clearly frustrated, pacing in the living room. Armin’s voice was faint, but I could still make out his response.

“Okay, okay, I get it. But you’re acting like it’s a big deal. She’s just a person, man. Talk to her like an adult,” Armin laughed.

“I swear I’ll come over and beat the shit out of you,” Eren replied in an eerily calm tone.

“Alright, alright, sorry,” Armin muttered.

There was a long pause, and then Eren spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “I don’t know, man. Ever since that conversation in the car, I’ve had this weird feeling in my chest. It’s driving me insane. That’s why I’ve been ignoring her.”

My heart nearly stopped. Was he talking about me?

I stayed frozen, crouched on the floor, not wanting him to know I’d overheard. But of course, the universe had other plans.

RING. RING. RING.

My phone blared to life, Mikasa’s name lighting up the screen. I panicked, fumbling to silence it, but it was too late. Eren’s footsteps stopped, and I could feel him staring at me. Slowly, I stood up and turned to face him. His expression was a mix of shock and embarrassment as if he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“I-I thought you left,” he stammered, hanging up his own call.

“Uh, yeah… I was just about to.” I grabbed my things in a rush, my mind racing for an exit strategy.

“Wait, hold on,” Eren said, his voice softer now, as if he wanted to explain.

I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation. I’m sorry. Can we talk about it later? I really need to go.”

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered, sounding just as awkward as I felt.

Without another word, I bolted for the door, not daring to look back.

As soon as I was out the door, my heart was racing. I couldn’t believe I had just overheard Eren talking about me like that, and worse, he knew I’d heard. The whole situation felt surreal. I was barely processing his words, let alone my own feelings about what I’d just witnessed. That “weird feeling in his chest”? What did that even mean? And why did it bother him so much? My mind was spinning as I rushed down the stairs and out of the building.

Mikasa’s car pulled up just in time, the headlights flashing as she waved at me from the driver’s seat. I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness that was still lingering from the interaction with Eren. Getting into the car, I forced a smile, hoping she wouldn’t immediately sense that something was off.

“Ready to party?” she asked, her usual excitement shining through. The girls in the backseat echoed her enthusiasm with cheers and chatter, making it impossible not to smile at least a little.

“Yeah, totally,” I replied, though my voice felt far from convincing. I tried to immerse myself in the energy of the car, but Eren’s words kept replaying in my mind. Why was he feeling weird? Why had he been ignoring me because of it?

As we drove off, I leaned back in my seat, glancing out the window, hoping the night out would help me forget about it for now. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t something that would just go away.

“Here, drink this!” Sasha said, thrusting a cup into my hand. I took it, confused. “Wait, we’re drinking already?” I glanced around at the group, noticing everyone nodding enthusiastically—everyone except Mikasa, of course.

Without much hesitation, I took a sip, letting the alcohol work its magic and pushing my worries to the back of my mind. A few more minutes passed, and we finally parked.

“AHH, we’re here!” Mikasa squealed, grabbing my hand and jumping excitedly. We’d decided to hit up one of the most popular bars in the city for our girls’ night out, and with the alcohol starting to hit me, I was just as excited as she was.

After flashing our IDs, we stepped inside, the heavy bass of the music pulsing through our bodies. Our first stop was the bar, and the night took off from there—two hours of drinking, laughing, dancing, and just letting loose. Eventually, we stumbled to a booth at the back of the bar, another round of drinks in hand.

“Damn, Annie, I didn’t know you could dance like that! Armin is one lucky guy,” Sasha teased, making Annie laugh and wave her hand dismissively.

“Omg, you know what we should talk about?” Historia slurred, clearly tipsy. We all turned to her, curious. Her gaze landed on me. “You,” she said, pointing a wobbly finger in my direction.

“RIGHT! What’s up with this ‘Eren’s lover’ thing? Are you two dating or what?” Ymir asked, smirking as she took a sip of her drink.

I scoffed, “NO.”

“Not yet,” Mikasa added, grinning mischievously.

I groaned and put my head down on the table. “How many times do I have to say it? It’s complicated. We’re basically ignoring each other right now, and when we do talk, it’s just *hiccup* awkward.”

Mikasa leaned in, her voice soft but serious. “Look, I’ve known Eren my whole life. That man is crazy about you.”

“Yeah, crazy enough to drive me crazy,” I mumbled to myself, rolling my eyes.

But to my surprise, Annie spoke up. “I gotta agree with Mikasa. I’ve seen it myself.”

I lifted my head and looked at her, surprised. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Ooo, this is getting good,” Sasha said, leaning in closer to Historia, while Ymir pulled Historia closer to herself as if they were settling in for some drama.

Annie smiled slyly. “Remember the day he offered to drive you home? That was because Armin and I pushed him to do it. He was nervous about asking you himself.”

I blinked in disbelief. “Nervous? About me?”

Sasha grinned. “Well, well, seems like Eren’s not as smooth as he pretends to be.”

The whole table erupted in laughter, but my mind was spinning. Eren, nervous? Over me? I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it added a layer to things I hadn’t seen before.

“You know what would solve all your problems with Yeager?” Ymir asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. I turned to her, my face full of confusion. “You two just need to fuck.”

I choked on my drink, coughing as I shook my head. Well, that sobered me up real quick. “No, no, absolutely not. That’s not gonna happen,” I said, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

“Why not?” Sasha chimed in, wide-eyed with curiosity.

“Yeah, I kind of agree with Ymir,” Historia said, nodding.

Annie, who had been quiet for a while, just smirked and shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”

Great, now I was officially cornered by my friends, all focused on my complicated relationship with Eren. The rest of the night became a blur of drinks and conversations about him—lucky me. By then, I had switched to water, trying to sober up before the night ended.

Around 2 a.m., we decided to call it quits. Ymir, who could hold her liquor like a pro, drove us all home. After she dropped me off, I waved my goodbyes, rolling my eyes at their teasing “good luck” wishes.

Climbing the stairs to my apartment, my mind replayed the night’s conversations, particularly Ymir’s blunt suggestion: You guys need to fuck. I shook my head, trying to push away the ridiculous idea. “Absolutely not,” I muttered to myself.

I unlocked the door quietly, stepping inside. The place was dark, which meant Eren had probably gone to bed. I sighed with relief—no awkward encounters tonight. But as I flicked on the kitchen lights, I jumped at the sight of Eren sprawled on the couch, surrounded by empty beer cans.

A small scream escaped me, causing him to stir and sit up groggily, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh my god, you scared me,” I gasped, my heart still racing.

Eren blinked a few times, looking around before his gaze settled on me. “Sorry,” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next, the tension in the air thickening as the awkwardness between us returned.

“What time is it?” he asked, standing up and stretching, giving me a glimpse of his stomach. I quickly looked away, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in my chest.

“2:10,” I muttered quietly. He groaned while picking up the empty beer cans, and tossing them into the bin on the other side of the kitchen.

“You were out for that long?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and irritation.

“Why does it matter to you?” I shot back, crossing my arms defensively. My eyes dropped to the floor, trying to avoid looking at him.

“I’ve been waiting for you to get back. I need to explain that phone call… it’s been eating at me.”

Ugh, no, please. Not tonight.

“Can we do this tomorrow? I’m exhausted,” I said, slipping off my heels, realizing I’d forgotten to leave them at the front door.

“Just listen to me,” he said, ignoring my plea as he launched into his explanation, rambling on about the call. But my mind was elsewhere—on Ymir’s stupid suggestion. I don’t want to sleep with him. He’s irresponsible, reckless, irritating, and infuriating. And his stupid, gorgeous face. His perfect lips. Wait—no. Stop it.

“Are you even listening?” Eren’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. He was leaning forward now, his arm resting on the table, his face inches from mine.

“Huh?” I blinked, trying to focus.

He sighed in frustration, dragging his hand down his face. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

I shrugged, meeting his gaze. “I’ve heard.”

The tension between us was unbearable, thick enough to suffocate. We just stared at each other, the silence stretching until it felt like something had to break.

Finally, I stood up, breaking eye contact. “Well, if this conversation’s over, I’m going to my room.”

I turned to leave, but before I could take another step, Eren grabbed my arm and spun me around. Without warning, his hands cupped my face, and in an instant, his lips crashed into mine.

The frustration and tension between us melted away, replaced by a sudden surge of desire. I melted into him, my fingers instinctively tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. It was filled with passion, with urgency. Eren’s hands slid to my waist, pulling me even closer as the heat between us intensified. It felt good—too good.

Wait, no. This isn’t right.

I pulled back, my lips still tingling from the lingering sensation of his. Looking up at him, I saw the confusion in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his hand resting on my hip.

“N-No… this can’t happen,” I stammered, taking a step back, though I already regretted leaving his warmth. “This whole situation is confusing enough, and this… this will only make it worse.”

He sighed, his gaze still locked on mine, intense and unwavering. The silence between us stretched, awkward, and charged with the things we weren’t saying. Slowly, Eren stepped forward, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear before cupping my shoulders and pulling me in once again.

But this time, it wasn’t for a kiss on the lips.

He kissed my forehead, soft and slow, then my nose, my cheek, my jaw, and finally my neck. Each kiss was deliberate, lingering, and my breath hitched as his lips moved lower. His hands followed, trailing down my body with maddening precision. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Eren was intoxicating, overwhelming every corner of my mind and soul.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he whispered against my neck, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. His kisses grew more intense, and I snapped back to reality, realizing just how deep I was falling.

Oh god.

The kisses trailed higher once again, prompting me to wrap my arms around his neck. He stared at me, his voice barely above a whisper, "Do you want this?" Without thinking, I blurted, "Fuck yes."

A smile played on his lips as he claimed mine once more, his need growing with every passing second. Just as I was about to pull back and suggest we move to his room, he deepened the kiss. His hands gripped my ass, lifting me effortlessly as he strode towards my room. This Fucker. The door slammed shut behind us, and he laid me down on the bed, breaking the kiss to gaze down at me. I panted, my heart pounding in anticipation of what was to come.

"God, you drive me crazy, you know that," he murmured, his lips returning to my neck in a passionate kiss. I couldn't help the small moan that escaped me, lost as I was in his touch, his words, his games. Maybe I should have been embarrassed by how easily he got under my skin, but at that moment, I simply didn't care.

He pulled back yet again, leaving me breathless and wanting. Before I could even process my thoughts, he'd stripped off his shirt and tossed it across my room. Any words I might have had abandoned me, leaving me staring at his incredible physique in stunned silence. "Wow, all of this finally gets you to shut up for a second, maybe I should’ve fucked you earlier" he teased, pulling me upright and claiming my mouth in another scorching kiss. His hands found the zipper of my dress and slid it down, the sound echoing in the room.

He slipped the dress over my head, his hands gentle as he eased me back onto the bed. "Yeah, you should’ve," I finally managed to retort, my voice muffled against his lips.

His hands moved behind my back once more, but this time, his focus was on my bra. With a practiced touch, he unfastened it with a single hand. "How many girls have you done that to?" I teased, trying to sound collected despite the flutter in my chest. "Does it matter?" he countered, his voice low and husky. "The only person I'm going to do it for from now on is you baby."

He slid the bra straps down my arms, his fingers grazing my skin and sending shivers through me. As he bared me to his gaze, he leaned in, his lips tracing a path from my collarbone to the swell of my right breast. "Oh, gosh, Eren," I breathed, his warm tongue setting my nerves ablaze. He didn't neglect my left side, his hand cupping and squeezing my flesh as his mouth worked its magic.

My mind was short-circuited, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through me. I couldn't believe how my day had derailed, from waking up alone to Eren worshiping my body. He finally lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with desire as he stood and licked his lips. "God, you're gorgeous," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek, then my lips, the contact making me ache for more.

My hand instinctively reached for him, finding the hard length of his erection straining against his pants. He groaned into my mouth, his hips rolling into my touch as he pressed himself against me. "F-Fuck," he panted, laughter threading through the curse. He guided my hand deeper into his hard length, then higher to explore his chest, his nipples peeking under my touch, then lastly to his lips, where he pressed light kisses to the middle of my palm. At that moment, I knew I was a goner.

He gently laid my hand back down to my chest. Standing upright, he began to unbutton his pants, swiftly removing them. For a moment, I felt no shame in staring. But then I met his gaze, his eyes watching my every move, and a flutter of anxiety rose in my chest. I wasn't sure where to look next.

He bent back down, his lips brushing against my jaw as his hands slid lower, to the hem of my panties. "May I?" he asked, his voice soft. I nodded without hesitation. "I need words, baby," he said, looking back at me with an intense heat in his eyes. "Yes," I replied quickly. "Yes, please."

Eren pressed one more sweet kiss to my lips, his mouth trailing lower and lower as he slid my panties down my legs. He moved lower, his face inches from mine, his lips pressing gentle kisses around my center. I felt myself growing wetter, my breath catching. "Eren, please," I begged, my fingers tangling in his hair.

"Please what? What do you need sweet girl?" Eren asked, looking up at me. His nicknames always made my heart flutter, even if I wouldn't admit it out loud. I took a deep breath, pushing past my embarrassment. "I need you to fuck me," I admitted. "I need you inside me."

He didn't make me wait for his response. With a groan, Eren's tongue slid along my center, sucking my clit into his mouth as he spread my legs wider. I cried out, my hips arching off the bed. "Holy shit, Eren, don't stop," I begged and whined, my fingers pulling him closer. He moaned against me, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through me. I hadn't felt this good in years.

Eren didn’t stop, and it felt so fucking good. It just went on with his tongue for a few more minutes, my whole body in bliss, pulling me closer to my climax. “Fuck Eren, it's so good, your so good,” I said moving my hips to match his pace, moaning too loud. I bit my lip looking down at him between my legs, then I noticed his hips slowly rolling onto my bed. Before thinking anymore he pushed a finger into me, pushing it in and out. “Cumming, I’m cumming, FUCK!” I said whining, my knees buckled while going through my high. He left my core, all swollen and wet.

My eyes started to shut, exhaustion was hitting me pretty fast after calming down. “Hey hey,” Eren said kissing my face, his kisses were soft, yet filled with a fiery passion that sent shivers down my spine. “Just a little longer, Do sleep yet baby” I opened my eyes, “We still aren’t done yet”.

He chuckled, brushing a stray hair behind my ear. “You’re adorable when you’re sleepy.” I rolled my eyes playfully, but the affection in his gaze made my heart flutter.

Kissing me again, I could taste myself on him and I basically melted in his touch. Wrapping my arms around him, I savored the moment.

“I can’t wait any longer,” I whispered, my hands starting to trail down his abs, moving lower to his underwear band. Without hesitation, I pulled it down not wanting to wait, eager to finally feel him. He helps me and yanks it off of him. The sheer size of his dick made me worried on if it will fit or not. I gripped the tip softly and he bucks his hips instantly, “Shit” He said closing his eyes and encouraging me to continue.

While doing that I swiftly grabbed a condom from my drawer giving it to him. “You just have these laying in your room?” he spoke out while tearing it open, moving my hand away and rolling it on himself, “You never know, always gotta be safe,” I said while holding on to his arms for support. “Even during sex your just as a goody to shoes” making me frown, “Kidding, It’s cute baby” he smiled kissing me while rubbing his tip in between my cunt.

"I'll go in slow, okay? Let me know if it hurts," he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine.

"O-Okay," I managed to say, breathless and nervous.

He started with his tip, and we both groaned in pleasure. The pain was there, but it felt so good. Inch by inch, he went deeper, and my eyes rolled back with every second. His fingers gripped my thighs as he finally bottomed out. His face was in my neck, breathing heavily, and I had my hands around his back, ready for him to move.

Without a word, he started thrusting harder and harder. "F-Fuck," he gasped. "You're so t-tight and warm, fuckkk." He rolled his head back, grabbing both my legs and placing them on his shoulders.

"So good, fuck Eren!" I exclaimed, grabbing his face in my hands.

"Yeah? You like it when I fuck your greedy pussy like this?" he asked, thrusting harder. I couldn't breathe anymore. I nodded fast.

"Yes, yes, your fucking dick feels amazing, oh my god," I moaned uncontrollably.

I felt close, but I knew I never wanted this to end.

It was too much—overwhelming, yet I savored every second of it. My heart raced, and I found myself biting down on my finger, then my hand, my lip—anything to try and ground myself in that moment. But it was all too good, scrambling my brain, leaving no room for coherent thoughts or words. I was lost, completely consumed by the sensation, and I didn’t want to find my way back.

“S-Shit if you keep squeezing me like that I’ll fucking cum, ughh” he groaned picking up his pace basically making me lose all my air. “E-Eren mhmm!” Moans escaping my mouth every second I have a desire to open my mouth. “Yeah keep screaming my name out like that baby” he said pushing his head in the curve of my neck, his cock was abusing my cunt, I didn’t know if I can take this much longer.

The little noises he let out in my ears is what did it for me, making me cum hard and fast. My nails clawing erens back made me lose my mind, then seconds later I felt eren finish into the condom whining in my ear.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, both of us still tangled together, with Eren still inside me. I wrapped my arms around him, not wanting the moment to end, not wanting to face reality just yet. I had just slept with Eren Yeager—my roommate. Damn it, Ymir was right.

Ugh, it’s so bright. My tired eyes squinted against the morning light streaming through the curtains, forcing me awake. I looked around, making sure I was in my own room. It didn’t even matter—my head was pounding from last night. The girls’ night out, and… something else. Oh shit.

Slowly, I turned over, dreading what I’d see. There he was. Eren, peacefully asleep, in my bed, his head resting on my pillows. Someone pinch me.

I sank deeper into my sheets, replaying all the memories from last night. It felt like a fever dream. I had seen another side of Eren—one that I knew, deep down, I’d crave from now on. I’d wanted to give him a chance to fix our relationship, to build something like a healthy roommate bond, but now that he was half-naked in my bed, that plan had gone out the window.

My head throbbed as my mind clouded with thoughts of how things would play out. Could I let Eren into my heart, or was I too scared to face what that might mean? The overthinking only made my headache worse. I needed to stop spiraling.

Before I could dwell any further, I felt his arms wrap around me, making me freeze. The racing thoughts stopped. Eren’s breath tickled my hair as he pulled me closer, his hold gentle but firm, grounding me in the moment.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”Eren whispered into my ear, his lips trailing soft kisses along my shoulder. His breath was warm against my skin, and I felt the tension in my chest tighten. Do I tell him the truth? Should I just stay quiet for now?

“Just tell me,” he urged, pulling me closer. His touch was reassuring, but my thoughts were still a mess. I turned to face him, my heart pounding, and caught his gaze. He smiled at me, his lips brushing against mine before pulling back slightly to kiss the tip of my nose.

“Hey,” I said awkwardly, returning a soft smile.

“What’s up?” He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering for a moment. I hesitated again before asking, “What… what are we, Eren?”

His brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion passing over his face. I braced myself, nervous about his response.

“Want me to be honest?” He traced a finger gently across my cheek. I nodded, holding my breath.

“I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I know things have been messy, and I’ll work on it. I’ll fix my attitude, be better about my habits—whatever it takes. I just want to be with you. I’ll take you on real dates, buy you flowers, get your favorite food… just give me a chance.”

He wrapped his arms around me again, pulling me into a tight embrace. His words dissolved all my worries and hitting me hard, breaking down every wall I had tried to keep up. He was nervous, but honest, and I could feel the weight of his sincerity. I couldn’t help but giggle at his heartfelt confession.

“Yes,” I said, smiling up at him. “I’d love to give us a chance.”

Before I could react, he scooped me up effortlessly, laying me back onto the bed, positioning himself above me. His kisses trailed along my jawline, and I laughed as he showered my face with affection, feeling a warmth spread through me.

Later that morning, while lying tangled in the sheets, I grabbed my phone and sent Ymir a quick text: “You were right.”

I glanced over at Eren, his hand still intertwined with mine as he lazily traced circles on my skin.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

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Wicked Games 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A week passes in a tense slog. Barrett continues his pandering penance and you wallow in irritation. You want to put it behind you. You want to get past it but every time you do, it just happens again.

If this was the first time, it would be easy but you’ve lost count of all the times you’ve had this fight.

Your menial office work does little to distract. It only allows you to think about all the bullshit. The way Barrett dismisses everything you do and has to list of everything you don’t. The way he can’t see his own flaws or how you’ve never once rubbed his nose in them like a dog.

Is it passive or weak or just acceptance? You can’t say. You just always put up with it. It’s just easier not to make an issue of every little thing. Problem is, now it’s a big thing.

When you come home, you’re worn out but you still have work to do. Dishes, tidying, cooking. Even your weekends don’t allow you must rest. You need to sort through the bills and go get groceries. All along the way, he’s in the way. You’re not sure he’s trying to help, more so trying to force his way to forgiveness.

You grab a bundle of reusable shopping bags from the cupboard overflowing with them. It only took about a hundred of the things to start remembering to take them with you.

As you shut the cupboard, Barrett’s on the other side of the oven. Watching and waiting. He’d be a lot more help if you didn’t have to tell him what to do. You forgot a mug and to him, that’s high crime, but he can’t remember to pay the power bill without six texts on the due date.

“So... what’s going on today?” He smiles.

It used to be that that smile made you melt. It would make all your troubles flutter away like butterflies. Now it’s just another irk.

“Groceries.” You wave the fistful of bags.

“Oh, cool, want me to come?”

You nearly scoff. Every weekend you ask and every weekend he’s too busy. His pals want him to jam in their garage band or go fishing down at some dirty river. Another tick on the wrong side of the Pros-Cons list.

“Sure,” you shrug. It’s easier to just let him come along. You don’t need another argument and you could use the extra hands.

You shove the bags into the folded shopping cart and put your shoes on. He toddles behind like a lost child. You’re repress a glare as you grab your keys and purse. You’re going to have to talk this out sooner than later our you’re really going to hate him.

He follows you out to the bus stop and you wait in silence. You had a car but it broke down last year. Ever since, he gets a ride off his coworkers or friends and you flash your bus pass. It’s cheaper than leasing a car, even a used one.

You don’t know what stresses you out more; thinking about all the stuff he does or just thinking about your life. You get on the bus and sit near the back. He reaches over to grab your hand. You wince but don’t pull away.

“Nice day,” he says.

“Mhmm,” you grumble.

His attempt at small talk doesn’t go much further. You get off at your stop and walk the block to the grocery store. You unfold your shopping cart and pull out your list. Barrett grabs a bag of gummy bears and dumps them in the cart.

“Those aren’t on the list,” you say.

“I know but it’ll be a nice treat for later. We’ll have some tonight after dinner.”

“Oh, alright.”

You factor in the extra cost and mentally cross off the avocado from the list. You can go without. You roll through the produce section and work your way down the list. Barrett trails behind you.

You stop in the cereal aisle to grab a bag of oatmeal. As you stand, you flinch and cry out at a surprise peck on your cheek. Barrett puts his arm around your shoulder as he presses his lips against you.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Baby, giving you a kiss.” You look at him and he grins, “I miss you. I love you. I’m tryna be better, honey.”

“In the grocery store?” You challenge.

“It’s cute.”

“Mm, it’s... let’s wait ‘til we get outta here. It’s starting to get busy.” You glance around at the other customers, hoping none of them noticed his little act. “How about you go grab some drumsticks? Flyer says they’re on sale.”

“Oh, I can do that. Be right back!” He proclaims.

He shuffles off and you shake your head and turn back to the shelves. The store brand on discount is all out. You hiss in disappointment. You search the rest of the selection. That’s the cheapest on the shelf and you really can’t stretch the extra dollar.

You look up at the overstock along the top. It’s right up there but you’re just too short to reach. You give a poor attempt then stand flat on your feet. You peer up and down the aisle. You could find an employee.

“Need some help?”

You turn to face the stranger and give a start. They aren’t so strange after all. You know him. Well, not know-know him. Everyone in the city knows Steve Rogers, the Captain America.

“Uhhh...��

“What’s your brand?” He asks. “They don’t run restock until before closing. I usually come then, less busy but I got... ha, sorry, I’m rambling. What can I grab for you?”

You lick your dry lips and glance at the shelf. You appreciate the help but telling Captain America that you need the cheapest bag on the shelf isn’t exactly dignified. You point to the price tag on the shelf and he reaches on his toes to grab the edge of the box on the top. He wiggles out a bag and stands flat.

“Here,” he offers it with a handsome smile. “You know, it’s made at the same factory as the regular brand.” He taps the back of the bag, “exact same address. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re from the same lot.”

“Oh, well, er... thanks,” you take the oats and put them in your cart.

“No problem. Sometimes being a hero isn’t very glorious. Sometimes it’s just reaching the top shelf.”

You force a chuckle. You’re sure the Cap’s life is all sunshine and rainbows. Must be a real ego boost to help the little people.

“Well, I appreciate it, Captain.”

“Steve,” he smirks and stares. Your lower your brows and look behind you. Is he looking at someone else?

“Oh, of course. I should go find my husband.” You roll around him and try to shake off the awkward encounter. You look down at your list as you stop at the end of the aisle.

“Hope he’s not lost...” Steve calls after you. He says your name and you crane to look at him. You meet his gaze and blanch. He turns and struts off without another word.

You turn back to your path and slowly leave the aisle. How did he know your name? You replay the interaction and try to recall giving it but you can’t. Well, you’re not exactly thinking straight right now. It’s nothing. You’re just stressed.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #wicked games #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america

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caughtthedarkness93 · 5 months ago

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Not to do more Furiosaposting (and SPOILERS AHEAD), but a couple more things I noticed on a second viewing:

• I think Dementus is being honest about how he lost his family when Furiosa confronts him about it, and that's a big point the film is making. Furiosa isn't like Dementus when she finally chases him down. But she recognizes that she could become like him - a vile, cruel warlord who uses his own pain as an excuse to run roughshod all over the wasteland, smashing everything in her path, using her pain as an excuse to take from others. By that point, she's already a part of Immortan Joe's war machine. She is already complicit. And he does say to her that killing him won't give her what she wants. She resists the idea, but ultimately, it sure seems like she realizes he's right. And ultimately, that leads to her big choice - make a positive change rather than simply trying to hurt the people who hurt you. Granted, she still does do plenty of hurting the people who hurt her (Nice face you got there, Joe, be a shame if something happened to it). But the big, real legacy she builds is taking the Citadel in the name of a greater cause than fueling Immortan's cult of cruelty.

• Praetorian Jack is also complicit, honestly. And it's something he seems to recognize. He outright says that he's looking for a righteous cause. There's a lot we don't know about this man. He tells us very little of his history, nor do we know why he chooses to ride for Immortan Joe. But we do know that after meeting Furiosa, he wants to do everything in his power to help her. She becomes his righteous cause. So the whole film, Furiosa is kind of pulled between those two directions - Dementus, and Jack. Do you defeat the pain you carry by throwing it back to the people who gave it to you? Or do you seek a righteous cause to build it into something positive?

• Perhaps one of my biggest takeaways is related to Jack's death. It's not until Dementus kills Jack that Furiosa gets really set on revenge. Like she clearly loathes Dementus before that. Her first time meeting him as an adult, she goes straight for her gun. The camera highlights their relationship a lot, and I'm pretty sure her vengeful drive towards him has its own musical motif - listen for that driving, distorted noise that you hear sometimes. But revenge doesn't become her biggest driver until after Jack dies. Even as she feels clear hate and rage towards this man, she's still set on getting home all that time. But when Jack dies, she goes out of her way to try to kill him. And, relatedly, when Jack dies, she loses the arm that has her star map tattoo on it. So to put it another way, when she chooses to commit to vengeance, she loses her way.

• We need to consider perspective and narrator here, as this isn't like Fury Road where it's from the point of view of Max, who was directly there. Because this film's opening shot isn't of Furiosa. It's of another character - it's of the History Man. The first line belongs to him - "As the world falls around us. How must we brave it's cruelties?" The closing narration is his as well. Something that sticks in my head more and more is Dementus' ultimate fate. What gets me about it is that it feels implausible. Not only for Furiosa as a character, but for the way the series usually handles injuries. So George Miller was a paramedic before he was a filmmaker. In fact, his work as a paramedic is what partly inspired the first Mad Max film and what funded it. And in these films, Miller has put his medical knowledge to use. The characters' injuries are usually handled in a realistic way, with a few flights of fancy for people to make it through frankly absurd car wrecks. You see this especially in Fury Road, which takes the time to establish that Max is a universal donor twice so it makes sense to have him give a blood transfusion to Furiosa at the end. It talks about the ultimate effects of her collapsed lung and how to treat it. The injuries in these films feel realistic in a way movie wounds often don't. Dementus' final fate does feel a little complicatedly cruel for someone as pragmatic as Furiosa, but what really gets me is how medically implausible it is. We're supposed to believe that Dementus has been stuck in the citadel with a peach tree growing out of him for five years without dying? I...kinda don't. Why does this matter? I think it signals that aspects of the story fall to unreliable narration. These films are campfire stories from a world that fell and rose again. Always have been. But this one has a more direct narrator. The History Man is telling this story. It is filtered through his perspective.

• And that adds another layer to things, considering Furiosa and the History Man's backgrounds. We see the History Man, we see a guy who is clearly horrified by Dementus' actions. When Furiosa's mom is getting executed, he cries. He tells Furiosa that she needs to make herself indispensable - likely because he feels that it's the best way to protect her. But he still does Dementus' bidding, often without question or argument. In a word, the thing that ultimately separates the History Man from Furiosa is that where he was complicit until the very end, Furiosa chose to rebel.

• And I guess if I had to boil it all down, I think there's a great big takeaway from this film. Don't seek hope. Become hope.

Man, I love this movie.

#mad max furiosa #furiosa #furiosa a mad max saga #mad max #george miller #mad max fury road #long post warning

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echobx · 1 month ago

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Everyone has a Price (part 1) - Rafe × virgin!fem!reader

summary: y/n meets Rafe for the first time and she has conflicting feelings towards her situation

word count: 2.5k

warnings: suggestive language, mild banter

author's note: let's start a bit slow just to then go full speed soon after or whatever. I actually don't know. but I had this idea for a while and finally had the guts to put it down.

kinktober masterlist ✘ series masterlist

You didn't expect anyone to actually bid on it, it was a sick joke, a dare your friends had come up with because you're a 24-year-old pre-law who never had sex or a relationship in her young life. It isn't entirely your fault that you had always focused on school to get into ivy and because of that had barely any time for social interactions all together, not just for men you really believe you could live without.

Yet, here you sit in front of your computer emailing the man who bought his right to take your virginity. Two hundred thousand dollars, and only because the other guy gave up. The guy assures you he would've paid even more if necessary, and you don't know how to feel. The whole conversation you have with him makes it seem like a business deal. He asks about your life, just enough to figure out what would be the best time to fulfill the contract. A contract you set up just in case, and he is okay with it, for the most part. He requested you change the part where you wrote that kissing is off the table. Other than that, he is rather polite about your wishes when it comes to what you would potentially let him do to you. The only real discrepancy appears when he starts to talk about sending you clothes to wear, especially underwear, and tells you how to take care of your body before you get to meet him.

That was a month ago. An entire month of emails back and forth and then a plane ticket and a short flight later you land on a small private airport on the OBX. The car he has waiting for you is more expensive than anything you ever got to ride in, smooth, black leather and a whole snack bar in the back in case you need anything.

“Mr. Cameron is waiting for you at the estate,” the driver tells you, and you can't do anything but nod. It all feels surreal that this is actually happening. First the briefcase filled with money a week ago, filled with much more than he needed to pay, with the intention that you went and bought all the things he had talked to you about over email; and then the fact that you still have no idea who he actually is. You have his last name, but that is all, and no matter how much you researched you couldn't be sure which one of the many R.Camerons he is. But that doesn't matter now because you are there, you plan to go through with it and give him what he paid for, nothing more.

“You will be living in the pool house for the time,” the driver tells you as he lifts your bags into a golf cart and signs you to sit down. The house before you is imposing to say the least, but you can't let any of them see you falter and show any type of reaction other than boredom towards the whole situation. So you have to stick with it. You left your overexcited nature at home and brought only dullness with you, because you thought it was more appropriate than to act like a child in a candy store, considering how much wealth you are surrounded by.

But the pool house is not much less lavish than the main house. The one-story building is clean white and modern, with the side facing the pool being only windows, giving you a good look inside. There's a small kitchen, a living room area and two closed doors to the side, possibly the bedroom and bathroom.

The maid that opens the door for you smiles sweetly, she could be your mom if that one wasn't home where she belongs. “You must be Ms.y/l/n,” she greets you but doesn't take your hand at first when you extend it.

“Hi, yes, just call me y/n,” you say politely. “What's your name?” She simply smiles and walks into the house, so you follow, still confused why she didn't tell you her name.

“Mr. Cameron expects you for dinner at 7pm in the main house. We will send someone to pick you up and then after to bring you back here. For the time of your stay, this will be your personal space, as if it's your home,” she tells you before walking into the kitchen and showing you a small binder. “In here you will find everything you need to know, on how to navigate the house and the estate, in case you will need it.” She then points towards the doors behind you. “Your bedroom is on the left, the bathroom is on the right. If you need anything just call us over the house phone, speed dial 12 on every landline phone in this house and the one outside at the pool,” she extends her hand to point at a British phone booth that stands in a corner by the pool, it looks rather out of place compared to the other design choices made here.

“That's very kind,” you smile politely, and she bows slightly before stepping to the side and leaving you alone.

It's all surreal. The fact that you are there. The fact that the house you are staying in is considered a “pool house” but it's triple the size of the flat you share with your two best friends. The fact that you will have to get dressed for dinner in two hours, and you don't know what the man who “bought” your presence looks like, or his personality.

You stroll around for a bit, inspecting the small kitchen that was still big enough to fit into the whole kitchen and living room space of your home. The white couch, soft to the touch and filling out half of the living room. Your feet carry you to the bedroom, held in a pastel purple color and with a queen size bed in the middle. The mattress is harder than you expected, but it will do for the one week you will spend there. The silk sheets smell like lavender and honey.

Your bags are standing on a bench at the foot end of the bed, but a box that is placed on the dresser to your right is what really draws you in.

“For y/n” it reads in cursive on the small tag that is attached to the pink ribbon that holds the gift together. You take the box and sit down on the bed, pulling on the ribbon and picking up the lid.

“What the-” you exclaim as you pull the lace underwear from the box. It’s expensive. It feels expensive to the touch of your shaking hands. Dark green panties with stocking clips attached to them, as well as a bra that nearly makes your eyes pop out of your head. But the worst part is the letter that lies below the gift in the box.

“Dear Ms.y/l/n, this is just one of many gifts that I am willing to give to you, no matter how well this week will turn out for us both. I would hope you take it for a test drive before you decide whether you want to accept it.

Sincerely, Rafe Cameron

P.S. I hope I picked the right size.”

You gulp and take the underwear back up to check the label, and it's scary in a way that he managed to pick your size based on the few pictures you had sent him over text.

“What am I doing here?” you sigh, getting up and scrambling to put the box back together, making it look like it has never been touched. Everything around you is overwhelming; the hospitality; the fact that what you are doing is basically the same as being a prostitute, and your deeply religious parents would crucify you if they knew. You breathe deeply, focusing on your body and how every breath feels inside you, as if you are meditating on the go. “I can do this,” you decide, and keep repeating it like a mantra while walking into the bathroom.

The dark gray-petrol colored tiles make you feel calmer almost instantly upon seeing them. You take a few steps towards the vanity, inspecting yourself in the huge round mirror. Your flight and the anxiety about meeting Mr. Cameron, Rafe, got to you pretty good, too good maybe. Your hair is a mess, and you feel dirty, although you showered before driving to the airport.

After a hot shower in the bathroom that probably cost more than your education, you step back into the bedroom to get ready. You decide against the “gift” and go with what you had packed. A simple black panty and a black lace bra to wear under your silver cocktail dress. You hope he won't try to sleep with you tonight already, because you are exhausted and scared, mostly scared.

With your hair in a knot you make your way to the door, just for the driver, Grayson as you learned from the binder, to be already waiting for you.

“Mr. Cameron is waiting for you at the main house,” he says, and gestures to you to take a seat in the golf cart. The short drive up to the house leaves you freezing in the breezy air that blows over the estate.

The mansion is truly opulent, marble floors and floor to ceiling windows line the living room, or what you assume to be the living room, while a different maid as earlier guides you towards the dining hall.

“Mr. Cameron will be with you in a second,” she tells you, bowing just like the other maid had and leaving you alone in the huge room.

The table, which could comfortably seat 24 people, is filled with food; salads, fruit, tapas, and decorations and many more delicious treats that you couldn't even name if you tried to. You decide to look around some more when your eyes fall to a painting, a family portrait, and you begin to wonder which one of the two men in it, you will be meeting. The older one has his arm around the blonde woman, and his other hand is placed on the shoulder of the boy in front of him. The boy, his son, looks just a smidge younger than the woman you presume to be the wife. The two daughters look nothing alike, but they seem close, as much of that as you can tell from a painting.

“I debated taking that one down, but he would turn in his grave if I did,” a rough, deep voice comes from behind you, and you spin around to look at the man.

Rafe is wearing a white button up and black dress pants, his hair is short, but not too short or too long for your liking. He looks well groomed and has a friendly smile for someone who purchased a girl’s first sexual experience online. You don't even notice that he is just as much silently taking in every aspect of you, as you are him, until he speaks up again. “Shall we eat?”

You still don't say a thing as you take your seat and only utter a quiet “thank you” to the boy, who brings you your food.

“I would like it if we could talk on a first name basis, Ms. y/l/n. Would you be okay with that?” Rafe asks, and you look up from your plate, over the complete length of the table and gaze at him before nodding swiftly. You don't know why he sits so far away from you, but a part of you is glad about it. No one could've expected that the man who paid for your virginity was this hot.

“You will need to speak with me, I know it's still a bit overwhelming. I can only imagine what must be going through your head right now, but I base my businesses on open communication and trust. Do you understand, y/n?” Rafe asks and you nod again.

“Yes, Sir,” you rasp, and he cocks a brow while you clear your throat.

“It's Rafe. Call me Rafe.”

“Uhm… o-okay, Rafe,” you are hesitant, but his smile returns as soon as his name has left your lips.

“Perfect.”

You get through the first three courses without having to talk too much, giving him rather quick answers to his questions but never posing any of your own. By the fourth course, he seems annoyed, and it makes your hair stand up in the back of your neck with how the atmosphere seems to change because of his attitude.

“Ask me something,” he demands, emptying his wine glass and signing the help for another one.

“I don't-” you stammer, and he leans forward, practically glaring at you.

“You can't have no questions. We have been talking for hours, we talked for weeks before you even got here and you have no questions? That's highly unlikely for someone who wants to be a lawyer.” You don't know if he is genuinely asking or mocking you.

“I wasn't sure if I was allowed to,” you answer truthfully, and he nods, leaning back and smirking.

“You really are something, aren't you?”

“Why?” you speak up, lifting your chin and putting your game face on, if he wanted your lawyer side to come out, he could get it.

“Why what?”

“Why buy yourself the opportunity to take someone's first time? Do you not think that's a bit crazy?” you ask, and he laughs, a genuine laugh that you really hadn't expected.

“Shit, you put yourself up for grabs, and it's a mystery to me how you manage to stay intact for that long. I mean,” he lifts his hand to gesture at you, “no one ever tried to get into your pants?”

“No,” you shake your head a single time.

“I don't believe it,” Rafe counters, and you scoff.

“I am not going to debate with you over potential men that could've gotten what you so desperately seem to crave.”

“And what is that?” Rafe is amused by your manners, by how quickly he can get you riled up.

“You want a nice, innocent, pretty girl to tell you that you're worth something to her, that you deserve attention and affection and adoration,” you say and take your glass up to down it.

“Are you wearing it?” he asks, changing the topic faster than you had wished.

“Why?” Now it's you who eyes him wearily, waiting for a response that will make him look like he's less of an asshole than he actually is.

“I pictured you in it when I picked it out. And to answer your question-”

“I didn't ask you anything else,” you interrupt him, and he chuckles.

“I'll answer either way, darling,” Rafe says while the help brings in the last course and takes the empty plates with them. “I have never done this before, not like this,” he says and turns to his desert, not paying much attention to you anymore all night.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @hoe4sunarin @m2m2m2 @mochimms @itsme-again @maybankslover @th3eternalersi @because-i-like-toxic-men @rafeeekam @carolinaxvz

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #~kinktober24 #my writing #~fanfiction #~everyone has a price

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staticbleeding · 2 months ago

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⛧°。 ⋆Waiting on the Stars⋆。 °⛧

+:｡.｡　teen Stanford Pines x gn reader　｡.｡:+

The second part!! I was not expecting so much love on my first post on this account! I am so happy y'all enjoyed the first part! Enjoy this <3 warnings : strong language, suggestive language, the usual teen shit pt.1 pt.2

1972 After the night at the pawn shop, Ford hasn't been able to stop thinking about you. It is starting to become painfully obvious. Especially to Ford's twin that has to hear all the midnight ramblings. Will he have to help his brother out, or will fate help Ford himself?

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Ford's POV

I wake up to Stan's snoring. Pushing my glasses onto my face, my feet touch the ground beneath me. I rub my eyes and start to regret not getting much sleep. Looking up at the clock on the bed side table, my heart drops. I'm gonna be late.

"Wake up Stanley. We are going to be late if we don't leave in like 30 minutes! I can't miss the first block", I say as I shake the sleeping man above me. His arm lays down off his bunk.

"Fuck off Sixer we can be a little bit late"

"Stanley it's not going to happen." I say as I stumble out of bed and pull my neatly folded clothes out of the dresser and begin pulling them on.

"Sorry you only get a chance to see your little lover in class man, but ain't no way I am getting up after you kept me awake all night". Stanley grumbles and rolls back over in his bed.

"Please Stanley.." I reluctantly beg my sleeping brother

With a loud groan Stanley jumps off the bed and starts putting on his clothes from the floor.

"Thank you". I sigh out and rush to the kitchen to make some sort of breakfast before we leave.

"Morning dears! You two slept in didn't you?" Ma cheerfully asks as her arms cradle the youngest of the Pines, Shermie.

"Yeah Ma," Stan runs out of our room yelling and leans down to plant kisses on our brother's small head, " Fordsy wouldn't let me get anymore. Couldn't miss out on seeing his little lover." His elbow pokes my side before grabbing his favorite snack.

"Stanford! You didn't tell me you have a little (girl/boyfriend/partner)! I am your mother!" Ma laughs out.

Looking down at my feet I stutter out, "Not exactly.."

"He's too.. s-scared to ask t-them out." Stan poorly attempts to mock me. A loud booming laugh comes out of his mouth.

"Quit it Stanley. I am sure your brother will get the courage soon. When can I meet them?" An overly excited Ma elbows me.

"We have to go Stan. Please. Ma, I haven't even really talked to them. I can't ask them out, let alone invite them over for dinner. Now we must leave." I say before kissing her on the cheek and grabbing Stan to pull out of the door.

Wishing for a quiet ride to school was nothing but fantasy with Stan. I couldn't do more than just stare out the window and wish the long rant of his would end quickly.

"I don't see why you don't just go up and ask them out Ford. They seem like a nice enough person to not throw a drink in your face for asking them out. I take a couple of classes with them. Pretty smart cookie too." My twin's words fall out of his mouth as if he is some expert in relationships.

"I can handle my own relationship ventures Stanley. Thank you but I really don't think they like me back. Hell why would they? I can't even look at them without becoming a mess and stumbling on my words. For all I know, they have a guy already." My hands find my face.

"Ford, they don't have a guy. Please. They ask me about you all the time in class. I may not have a good thing with relationships, but look Sixer, they would be stupid to not like you back," His hand touches my shoulder and squeezes, "but if they don't then more chicks for us when we set sail on the Stan O' War eh??". My stomach tightens at the thought of (Y/N) asking him about me. What did they want to know? Oh God what did Stan tell them?

As the car comes to a stop, I jump out and thank Stanley for the talk. Rushing to class, I find (Y/N) sitting in their usual seat doodling in their note book. I smile and wipe my hands on my pants. Walking over to our partnered seats, I feel my heart race quicken when they look up and smile that smile at me. My face warms quickly. My hand waves at them.

"Thought for a second you weren't gonna show Ford. Started to get worried Stan's driving finally killed you." God there is that smile of theirs.

"Haha.. no no. He just wouldn't get up." I stutter out as my stomach tightens realizing that they just said they worried about me.

"Well I will remember to yell at him later for almost making you late". They laugh and we sit in a comfortable silence.

"So what do you have planned for this weekend?" I swear I see a light blush appear on their face.

"Me?! Oh um.. working probably. Stan hates working the shop on the weekends". I say while looking down at my hands.

"Oh well that sucks. I was gonna see if you wanted to maybe.." They are quickly interrupted by the teacher coming into class with a mumble of sorrys and excuses for being late.

Quickly they turn their focus back to the notebook. It's a little black notebook that has stars they are drawing on the cover. A blush coats their face.

Soon class ends and I watch as they hurry out. This time they turn around and smile at me. My heart skips. I find myself thinking of that one interaction the rest of the day. I walk out of the school and towards the bright red car parked out front. A smile plastered to my face. It fades seeing Stan outside the car holding a way too familiar notebook.

"Don't tell me you took their notebook Stanley! I get wanting to help me but that is insane!" I whisper scream out towards my brother.

"Don't get your panties in a twist Sixer. They left it in class today, but...here check the cover". He tosses the object towards me that I luckily catch. I open the cover and see their name and the words 'If lost call me!' with their number attached. A blush finds my face. Is this the chance I have been waiting for?

"Lets go man. You got a call to make". Stanley laughs and gets into the car.

The car ride home was filled with silence as I went over every possible outcome to this. They could think I was weird for using their number without permission, or ask why Stanley didn't call, or..

My thoughts are quickly stopped as Stan slams on the breaks and parks. I quietly get out of the car and go upstairs. I thank the stars that Stan is working the shop tonight.

I sit in the kitchen watching the phone as if it will grow legs and walk out. My palms sweat against the hard cardboard cover. Stanley walks in to the room whistling. He stares at me and sighs.

"Sixer...seriously? You still haven't called?" He leans across the counter and eyes the notebook.

"This is a really bad idea Stan. I can't do it. I will just hand it to them personally first thing Monday Morning" I sigh and start to stand up to leave. I freeze in my tracks hearing the rotary dial turn.

I whip around and see Stan putting in the numbers I have eyed now for hours.

"Stan wait! Don't you dare!" I run over and go to press the receiver before the call goes through. Too late. Stan laughs and hands me the phone. Walking away with a shit eating grin. I hear the voice I have imagined in my dreams countless times, the voice that causes my body to instantly react, oh God what am I going to say? Do I hang up? I feel like throwing up. My heartbeat I can hear in my ears.

"Hello?"

Too late

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Hahaha gotta love good ol' siblings!

#stanford x reader #stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls

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rottenblur · 11 months ago

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National anthem|A.ANDERSON

College football! Abby x reader| 2.3k

Summary: Being dragged to a football game by your best friend wasn’t something new, but Abby breaks out in a fight with another player, you just happen to be the one to come to her rescue. Would you have done it all over again if you knew what was going to happen in your dorm that night?

Warnings: smut violence for a second, abby being taken (doesnt last long), alcohol use, fluff sort of, thigh riding, kissing, choking for two seconds, patching up abby, past abby being a asshole lowkey, abby being a air forces wearer.

She was a true american. Long blonde hair, a scholarship for college football, to be the best quarterback in the state. An expensive car, a doctor for a father, daddy’s money.

Abby had boys half her size all over her, too bad for them they weren’t her type, led alone she was taken. Abby had her bitchy, short, brunette girlfriend. You always thought of her as a small dog that never stops yapping.

You knew Abby due to your only other friend, the only other non snobby person at this school. She made you go to all of the football games played at your school, if they weren’t there she would drive the two of you wherever they were playing

She says it’s because she really likes football, you knew it was because she had a crush on the masculine linebacker.

You walk with her out of the cafeteria after paying an outrageous amount for an inappropriate amount of food. She turns her head to look at you. “I’m really excited, this is their enemy school.” You roll your eyes at her.

“When are you gonna admit it’s just because of that linebacker?” You said to her, as she starts speed walking, you say her name and she just flips you off.

You arrive at the game, sitting on the third bleacher from the top, your friend searching for her girl crush on the side lines.

She doesn’t find her but she sees Abby’s girlfriend sitting on her phone on the bottom bleacher. “Oh my god, of course she’s here. Does she ever leave her alone?” She was right, fucking lap dog never went anywhere without Abby. Always following right behind.

Sometimes Abby looked annoyed like she wanted some space, sometimes Abby’s hands where all over her, on her waist, her hips, in her fucking back pocket.

It pissed you off, was it jealousy? Fuck no you could care less about Abby. Yeah you had a crush on her when you first arrived on campus, her a year older she was settled in, confidently strolling around campus it was so fucking attractive to you. She knew who she was already.

After going to a freshman welcoming party at a frat, where you talked for the first time, the lust quickly turned to hatred.

You were waiting in line for the bathroom on your third drink, tipsy but not quite drunk. She came up behind you, also waiting. You stood leaned against the wall clutching your drink, she looked you up and down. “Hey.” You said to her, she looked into your eyes. She was dressed in a t-shirt, black pants paired with white air forces, her hair messily down.

“What’s up?” She said then looked around. You clutched your drink tighter, she looked so fucking good, her sleeves were begging for life, arms too big for it. “I'm good, you new too?” You tell her your name, she repeats it and you nod. “I’m Abby, not new.” She walks up to the door, leans in to listen. “Fuck, get the fuck out. go fuck in your dorm.” She says as she pounds on the door.

Your eyes go wide, it was very forward of her. Too forward? They walk out, a guy and her soon to be girlfriend, this is when you met her too. “God you’re fucking rude.” Abby grabs the back of her shirt, she must have been drunk for her to get physical over such a little thing.

She turns around, now looking up at Abby. “You always such a rude fucking whore?” She asks, the girl looked like she would rock her shit, except Abby would knock her out in one hit. She apologizes under her breath then walks away.

After that you thought Abby was too intense. Believe it or not her and Abby’s relationship was the same then and now, they still fight and argue except they fuck it out. How did you know that? Your friend or should I say best friend’s dorm was right next to Abby’s. She heard them fight then fuck almost everyday.

At least it sounded like she was good at it. One night you slept over to her’s around two am they argued, then fucked it out. You could hear the moans from down the hall, if Abby’s dad didn’t donate so much to the school she would probably be kicked out.

The game goes well, you actually started to learn how football worked with the amount of games you had been dragged to by your best friend. She hadn’t even talked to the girl, it was kinda pathetic, you would never tell her that though. Around the end the enemy team was one point away from winning, Abby tripped, losing the ball. The other team won.

You put your head in your hands in disappointment, your friend tapped your shoulder. “Are you good? What’s wrong?” You look up at her in disbelief. “They lost.” You point to the field, she widened her eyes. “Really? Why?” She says. You roll your eyes.

“You are funny.” You say that get up, following the crowd in leaving. You're on the ground next to the field when you look over, Abby is approaching a girl with her hands out screaming about her tripping her or something. She was fuming, maybe she didn’t get so mad that one time just because she was drunk. Maybe she was always like that.

Her girlfriend walks over to diffuse it, Abby pushes her aside and starts swinging on the girl, it’s not like she wasn’t defending herself Abby was getting roughed up too. When you saw Abby spit out blood and keep swinging, that's when you decided you’ve seen enough.

You walk back to the dorms, your friend already left when you stopped for entertainment. You put your headphones in, walking at a comfortable pace till you stop at the vending machines, right at the dorm entrance.

You took an earbud out when you heard footsteps behind you, looking behind that’s when you saw her. She looked horrible. Her braid had come undone, her nose bleeding in two spots, a dribble of blood dried on her lip. God she was going to have a black eye tomorrow.

“Holy fuck, are you okay?” You say to her, she looks at you and for a moment she has a soft look in her eye. “‘M okay.” You walk up to her, putting a hand on her arm and analyzing her face closer. She didn’t resist.

“No you’re not. Let me clean you up, I have some stuff in my room.” She looks around, looking at her shoes then you. “Fuck it.”

She walks up with you to your dorm, you open the door for her, her following behind you. It was the first time you had seen her walk behind someone before, she was always leading the way no matter who she was with.

“Sorry if it’s messy, been studying like crazy the past week, haven’t really had time for anything else.” She strugs, sitting on your bed, kicking off her shoes. You gather the tossed about medical supplies you had. Some gauze, bandaids and alcohol. You grab a soda out of your mini fridge for her eye.

You hold it out, putting it on her eye. “Hold that, don’t have any ice, sorry.” She smirks, you sit on your desk chair, scooting to the edge and wheeling it infront of her.

You tuck one of your legs in between her spread legs, your knee inching away from her crotch.

“So what happened?” You ask her as you pour some vodka on a patch of gauze. “Shit, alot.” You roll your eyes, dabbing around her wounds to remove the dried blood. You accidentally touch the gash on her lip, she flinches and lets out a whimper of pain.

She clears her throat, trying to play cool on the fact she feels pain. As if it’s not normal.

“C’mon I’m fixing you up, the least you can do is tell me why.” You squeeze her thigh as an effort to comfort her. “I uh broke up with my girlfriend, I took out my anger on some girl, knowing damn well she isn’t the reason we lost.” She said looking down. You laugh, slowing your hands just so she has an excuse to stay longer. Seeing her in this vulnerable state made her grow on you.

She was better like this.

“So you broke up with her and you’re mad about that. Even though it was your choice.” She nods as if it's a perfectly logical thing to do. “Maybe it was the best thing to do? You know, My friend’s dorm is right next to yours. “Oh god.” She says then grabs the vodka, taking a quick chug then letting you continue. She had long taken the soda off her face.

You were slightly hoping it was to look at you.

“Yeah, she was crazy.” You believed her when she said that, she looked like the type. Not that you were the type of person to judge on how they look. If you did you probably wouldn’t be playing doctor with Abby on your bed right now.

“Can I say something?” You ask her, waiting for her to confirm. She nods, you place a bandaid across her nose covering the gash. “She never stopped talking oh my fuck, I dont know how you dealt with that.” She laughs, leaning back onto her elbows.

“Yeah, you learn to zone it out after a while.” She looks at you, up and down her eyes falling on a necklace tied around your neck.

She leans to you, grabbing the necklace, rubbing it in between her fingers. Goosebumps covering your body when she touched your skin. Fuck. That little touch made you feel things.

She looks into your eyes, then to your lips. It looks like she’s trying to figure you out, figure something out. “You’re in my engineering class aren’t you?” She says, still holding onto your necklace.

You nod. “I'm surprised you knew that.” She smiles at you, letting out a slight laugh. “After i freaked out at that party, then saw you in class the next day I was so fucking embarrassed.” She pauses then drops your necklace. “I never forgot you, you know I thought you were pretty cute that night.” You blush, grabbing the vodka bottle, taking a lengthy sip then coughing.

You never thought she could be embarrassed, she had so much pride.

“I thought you were intimidating.” You say honestly, as the vodka burns down your throat. She tilts her head. “That a good thing? Cause I’m going to take it as a compliment.” She says, taking the bottle from your hands then taking another sip.

You don’t know what came over you but you put her hand on your cheek, you look at her face to see her reaction, nothing.

Again she looks at your eyes, your lips then back to your eyes. She leans in, placing her other hand on your neck. Her plush lips connect with yours, you pull back looking at her then back in.

She moved fast, an innocent kiss turned into heavy making out. She pulled you onto her lap, her arm wrapped around your waist holding you tight to her.

She pulls off of you, kissing from your jaw to your collarbone, your back arching in response. She moves you over slightly, her thigh now in between yours.

Oh my fucking god.

She sucks on your neck, guiding your hips to ride her thigh, slow and brutal. With one hand she puts her hand on your neck pulling you back into a kiss as she guides your hips faster.

You could feel yourself reaching your climax, moaning into the kiss when Abby gets a call.

She picks it up, connects her lips to your neck, not stopping your hips.

“What the fuck Abby, where are you I’m at your dorm? I need my shit.” You feel her sigh on your neck, giving it one last kiss then responding. You try to quiet your moans, it was torture.

“I’m busy.” All she says before connecting your lips with hers. You feel her flexing her leg, laying down the phone on speaker now guiding your hips with both hands.

“Well hurry the fuck up or I’ll find whatever or whoever you’re doing.” Said her now ex girlfriend then hangs up.

“Gonna have to speed this up darling, not like I won't be back for more, you’re delicious.” She said into your ear, pushing you harder onto her thigh.

That pet name, god it pushed you over the edge. You squeeze her thighs between hers as your body shuttered on her, she kissed you then you moved off of her.

You look down at her thigh, now has a wet spot from you, you look at her face, lip bleeding again. You lick your lips, the strong iron taste filling your senses. Had it been bleeding the whole time?

You drank down her blood as you filled your lust, she didn’t stop you.

There was something so wrong about it..

She looks at you then her phone, sucking her lip into her mouth then letting it go, touching it with her thumb. Muttering a fuck under her breath, then standing up.

“Gotta go ‘m sorry.” She says while shoving on her shoes, walking to the door then walking over to you to give your forehead a kiss.

She touches her lip to her t-shirt leaving a crimson stain bound to last. “See ya.” That’s all you say to her before she walks out the door, knowing there was a chance you’d never hear from her again.

You still let her go.

A/N: college football abby makes me feral ive seen a couple of these and wanted to participate :)) love yall

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cj-schlatt · 4 months ago

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"You're what's important right now" with schlatt? 🥰🥰🥰

I decided to combine these requests, hope you don't mind!! 🩷

Content: Hurt/comfort, minor car accident, mentions of hospital visit

(Prompt list here)

It all happens so fast.

One minute, you’re driving around, the volume of the radio turned up high as you enjoy the otherwise quiet night. The next, you’re being forcefully thrown against your seat belt.

In a daze, you stumble out of the car, now sitting on the side of the road and sporting substantial damage to the rear bumper.

It was a drunk driver, you’ll find out later. For now, you’re grateful to find that someone else comes along and stays with you until help arrives.

The ambulance ride and emergency room visit are a bit of a blur. You’re told that you have a mild concussion and some minor bruising but overall were very lucky.

Once you’re discharged, you’re not quite sure what to do. It’s the middle of the night, and you’re stranded at the hospital without a car.

After adjusting the brightness of your phone screen to make it as dim as possible, you begin scrolling through your contacts. One name catches your eye immediately.

Schlatt.

He had said that you could call him any time, for any reason, but you’re still unsure. What if he didn’t mean it?

You’re exhausted, your head is pounding, and you’re all alone. You decide that you can at least call him. Even if he refuses to pick you up, you think talking to him will make you feel better.

“Hello?” he answers roughly on the fifth ring.

“Schlatt? It’s me.” You decide to cut right to the chase. “Can you come get me?” you ask timidly.

“‘Course,” he says, not even taking a moment to think about it. “Where are you?” he asks, voice still tinged with sleep.

You take a breath. “The hospital.”

Suddenly, he’s much more alert. “What the fuck happened?! Are you okay?”

You briefly explain the car accident and your injuries. You can hear shuffling on the other end of the line as Schlatt presumably gets out of bed and ready to leave.

“Stay right where you are. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“O-Okay. Thank you.”

“Do you want me to stay on the line ‘til I get there?” His voice is soft and soothing.

“Yes, please,” you squeak out in reply.

Schlatt continues chatting with you as he makes his way to you at the hospital. He tells you about his day, what antics the cats have gotten up to recently. By the time he’s pulling up to you at the hospital entrance, you’re feeling a little calmer, you headache subsiding just a bit.

He gets out of the car and rushes over to open the door for you.

You eye the vehicle warily.

Schlatt must notice your hesitation, because he says, “I’ll drive extra careful, promise.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you mutter, gathering your courage and climbing into the passenger’s seat.

He makes sure you’re both buckled up before he begins driving. To his credit, it’s a slow, smooth ride.

“I’m sorry—” you start to say after a few minutes of silence, but Schlatt cuts you off.

“No, no, you’re not apologizing to me.”

“But I woke you up—” you try again.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re what’s important right now, okay?”

You nod, not quite knowing how to answer.

You feel yourself start to drift off as Schlatt drives. For the first time tonight, you feel safe, like you can finally relax.

Eventually, you feel someone gently shaking your shoulder.

“Hey,” Schlatt’s saying, “we’re home.”

You look around, not immediately recognizing the area. It takes you a moment to realize that Schlatt has driven you to his place, instead of bringing you to your own home.

“Figured you’d need someone to keep an eye on you,” he says as he watches you take in your surroundings.

“Oh, no, that’s okay—” you begin.

“Nope, it’s not up for debate,” he insists, reaching over to unbuckle your seat belt. “C’mon.” He comes around to your side of the car and opens the door.

You don’t have it in you to argue any further. You’re fucking exhausted, and all you want is a nice, comfy bed; you don’t care whose it is.

Schlatt helps you out of the car, keeping a hand on your back as he guides you inside and into the bedroom.

“I’ll be on the couch, if you need anything,” he says once you’re settled, already turning away from you.

“Wait!” you call. You’re not ready to be alone just yet.

He looks back at you. “Yeah?”

“Can you…stay, maybe?” you ask, your voice sounding small to your own ears.

His face softens. “‘Course,” he says, not hesitating to climb into bed with you.

It’s there, snuggled up next to Schlatt in his bed, that you fall asleep, headache nearly forgotten, the most at peace you’ve felt in a long time.

#schlatt #jschlatt #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #x reader #cj's writing

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ghostlyfleur · 1 year ago

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𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

eddie munson x new girl

contents: new girl referred to as angel, lovesick!eddie, strangers to friends to lovers, hellfire club, dustin henderson cameo, mutual pining, inexperienced!reader, shy!reader, maybe fairy!reader but i’m not sure yet.

word count: ~1k

summary: eddie lets his love consume him, and he’s okay with it.

eddie munson is down bad. in love. completely enamored. shot by cupid. and she’s beautiful. the fairest maiden in all the land.

she’s all flowery dresses, flowy skirts, cozy sweaters, butterfly clips in her hair, fairy wing eyeliner design and shimmery glitter on her eyelids, sparkly pink lipgloss, highlighter on her cheekbones— the prettiest angel he’s ever seen. absolutely ethereal. the thing is, she’s terribly clueless. oblivious, even. her and eddie have built a lovely friendship over the last few months, ever since he met her when he picked dustin up from the library. that’s when it happened. that’s when he got hit. an arrow straight through his heart.

his angel — because she must be an angel, with the way the sun followed her around and made her shimmer — was aiding dustin with his search, trying to find books on supernatural lore that he could take inspiration from for the campaign he was putting together. it was dustin’s first campaign in his hellfire club career, and he was taking it very seriously to eddie’s amazement and amusement. but whatever thoughts about dungeons and dragons that were swirling around his head cleared completely at the sight of her; in her white sandals, knee-length white silky skirt, and alice in wonderland graphic tank top she was a sight to behold. a mirage. a dream. sunny disposition, bright smile, fidgety hands, and the most enchanting voice— a siren call, really. and eddie was hooked. it didn’t help that dustin talked his ear off about the nice girl that was quick to provide him with an immense list of folklore and magic lore books that could help him, about fairytales and whimsical creatures.

“she talked about fairies as if she were one, dude, it was sick!” dustin gushed.

eddie noticed the kid kept going back to the same library, kept entering his van afterwards with a list of books and another cute tale revolving around the pretty angel girl of eddie’s dreams. until one day dustin looked all nervous and coy and a little scared, and yeah, usually eddie loved to invoke that same reaction from him, but this time he didn’t know the reason behind it, behind the kid’s hesitant gaze. and truly it couldn’t have been a better reason. dustin wanted the mystery angel to be able to attend hellfire, to watch his campaign.

“‘s the least i can do, man! she helped me with a lot of it and she was like- super interested in my shirt and stuff, please?” eddie’s quick reply, the resounding ‘yes’ he couldn’t hold back, caught dustin by surprise but he didn’t question it. don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that, right?

angel showed up in a long skirt with a flower pattern, converse shoes, and a black queen shirt tucked in. braided hair, lipgloss, and a tupperware box filled with chocolate chip cookies for the whole club.

“my thanks for letting me crash your campaign.”

eddie was hooked. once the session was done and the boys were gone, thanking her profusely for the treats after they picked her brain for cryptid lore, she stayed behind to help eddie tidy up, and they talked about music. she was shy, incredibly so, soft spoken and giggly and socially awkward, but she laughed at eddie’s jokes and playfully teased him once or twice, and complimented his bats tattoo, so eddie offered her a ride home. she gracefully declined, claiming she drove herself, so he walked her to her car instead.

plans were made so that she attended each of dustin’s campaign sessions and through those sessions, the clean up afterwards, the talks about music and bands and movies, their time together evolved to going for milkshake afterwards, a coffee shop for some hot chocolate sometimes, and a friendship blossomed. a very strong one at that.

being alone, living alone, existing alone was kind of her thing— she preferred to be by herself, to indulge in her hobbies on her own, because she was anxious. extremely anxious. but apparently not at all reserved about it or ashamed of talking about it, which was proven by the fact that she casually let it slip pass her lips that she had an anxiety disorder the very first time she was alone with eddie after hellfire.

not a single sign of shame or guilt in admitting it, and eddie admired that.

admired that she was a loner even though she was so polite and kind, ready to send anyone she walked past a smile because she knew how much it mattered to those who needed a little kindness. a quiet soul but couldn’t shut up if you cared enough to figure out her interests, she laughed at everything, giggled without reason sometimes, talked to herself a lot, was often lost in daydreams, had a dark sense of humor surprisingly. complex but friendly. eddie couldn’t get enough, always wanting to find out more about her, to talk to her more, to understand her more.

but most importantly, in her opinion, eddie allowed her to be herself without any judgment. encouraged her even. and that was priceless. so yes, a strong friendship bloomed, but neither one of them wanted to stop at just that. the dark haired boy was quickly aware of his growing feelings, his attraction, his infatuation that turned to love, while his angel didn’t clock in on her emotions quite so fast, being entirely inexperienced and lacking any previous romantic validation. her anxiety and introverted tendencies played a part in that too, probably.

but that’s alright, eddie is more than okay with waiting for her to catch up.

♡

── harmo’s footnotes:

i love thinking about our sweet eddie falling for a soft girl. he deserves a cozy, comfy, cute love story! please remember to show your support by reblogging!

masterlist. eddie dreams.

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amorek1m · 2 months ago

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( 심재윤 ) ★ LATE NIGHT DRIVE

. 𝐫é𝐬umé ❀ you don't like him, you always told yourself. but what makes the walls you build between you and him to crack?

𝓟airing , 𝒥ake x ℱame reader .☘︎ ݁˖ ( 1.7k ) ' ' ' fluff oneshot friends to lovers sligt angst? ‼ kissing unnecessary plot °｡

(𝓚im's 𝓝otez ./. ) thanks for reading my niki fic! I truly appreciated it❤️

[ ( reblogs + feedback is appriciated ) . ୨୧ . 𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔢]

A wave of relief washed over you as the final class of the day comes to an end. You couldn't wait to head back home, curl up in your cozy bed and watch "The Princess Diaries" again. Just as you about to call a cab, a loud honk from your side snapped you out of your thoughts. Curious, you turned to see who had been honking at you, and to your surprise, it was none other than your friend, Jake.

"Y/N! get in." he exclaimed, gesturing for you to get in the car. With a lighthearted chuckle, you obliged his request and hopped into the car. "Thanks my money-saver hero." you joked, grateful for his offer to give you a ride home. He chuckled at your comment. "Don't wanna let you waste your money when you have me."

A warm smile spread across your face as you realized how much of a life saver he was. Without him, your life must be difficult. Relieved, you brushed away those thoughts and turned your attention to the scenery outside, watching the world pass by through the car window.

"Jake." you called out, catching his attention. He kept his focus on the road but turned his head slightly in your direction.

"Yes, princess?" he replied.

"Don't take me home yet." you asserted. Before he could asked you 'why so sudden?', you quickly replied. "I want to go to the beach."

It took him seconds to process what you had just said, his eyes widening in surprise "You want to go... to the beach?" he repeated, even though the answer was obvious. "Yes." you confirmed.

"Why so sudden?" finally, the sentence came out of his mouth.

"Nothing. Just craving for the sea breeze." you replied.

"At this hour?" he looked at you, still not fully convinced. You nodded, like what you had just said was no sort of jokes. "Okay then, can't argue with you. But don't come crying to me when you feel cold and ask me to take off my jacket for you," he teased, his charming smile engraved on his face. Despite the initial desire to wipe that smile off his face, you couldn't help but be captive by it.

You always adore Jake's smile. You swear no one has the most beautiful smile than his. That's why you developed a crush on him the very first day of college. He seems to have that charming smile on his face, no matter if he's greeting someone, helping out, or even when others speak ill of him. You use to tell yourself that it was just a mere slight crush, but your feelings kept growing stronger. However, nowadays, you consider him just a friend. You love him, but only as a dear friend.

"Sorry for the bad news princess, but we have to make a quick stop at a gas station. My car's run out of oil." Jake said, waking you from your thoughts.

"Your car is sucks. You should buy a new one." you replied.

"Hey! Don't you dare talk bad about Layla. Besides, I don't want to buy a new car. No car is better than my Layla." He protested, clearly defensive about his beloved car.

"You named your car?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. My lovely Layla." he exclaimed, placing a tender kiss on the steering wheel.

You glad your feelings for him have long faded. You couldn't imagine being stuck with such a weirdo. "Gross." you said as you mockingly pretended to vomit.

Minutes passed by without none of you spoke, until you two finally arrived at the gas station. After refueling the car, Jake started the engine, ready to hit the road once more when suddenly, he halted. Confused, you were about to question him 'what happened' but before you could utter a word, he cut you off. "I suddenly craving for some snacks." he said with a sheepish smile, something you rarely seen on him. You hated to admit it but did you just find him cute?

"Okay..." you replied, still somewhat baffled. With a blink of an eye, Jake darted into the store, his speed leaving you surprised. "I'll be quick, promise!" he called out before disappearing inside.

. . . 🌺

"You promised to be quick." you stated with your arm crossed, as he get into the car. "Sorry princess, the store has many kind of snacks!! They all looked so delicious so i..."

You sighed in frustration and said, "It's okay. Just... you broke your promised." As you spoke, a pout began to form on your lips. You couldn't stand it when people didn’t keep their promises, no matter how small they were.

"Don't...! Pout!" Jake stated. He just broke a promised and now he's yelling at you? Sensing the swift in your mood, he quickly apologized. "S-sorry. I don't mean to yell at you it just some sort of reflexed."

"You're weird." you chuckled, unable to stay mad at his foolishness. He soon joined in your laughter, relieved to see you smile again.

"I got you something," he said, handing you an ice cream.

"OMG! Thanks! I thought you only got some for yourself." you exclaimed, genuinely surprised that he had bought ice cream for you too. "But how did you know my favorite flavor? I don't remember telling you what it was." you asked curiously.

He answered with a slight shrug, "Umm..nothing just thought the flavor taste good."

You resisted the urge to question him further, not wanting to ruin the mood. However it looked kinda suspicious. How on Earth did he know about your favorite flavor?

. . .🌺

"Wake up princess, we've arrived at your choosen destination." Jake voice rings on your ear, reminding you why the hell you want to go to the beach at this hour when you could be enjoying the comfort of your soft, warm bed right now! Regrets are pointless now that you had already reached the beach.

The coolness of the night wakes you up from sleepiness. You slowly opened your eyes and when you fully opened it, you were shocked to see the scenery in front of you. Without hesitation, you quickly removed your shoes and stockings, eager to experience the feeling of the sand against your bare feet.

"Jake!!!" you cried out, excitement lacing your voice. "Come here! It's real sand!! Actual sand!!".

This side of you was making Jake's heart flutter. He wish he could capture this moment and frame it in his head, but he knew that doing so, would simply remind him of the day he realized you had feelings for him. At that time, he was prepared to return those feelings, but things were just not meant to be. He blame himself for not realizing it sooner. He was a stupid to let you go when he had the chances.

"Jake!!"you called him again, noticing that he was passing out.

"Coming!!" he replied, waving at you as a sign that he heard you.

Soon, Jake finally joined you. The two of you thoroughly enjoyed yourselves playing on the beach, but all good things come to an end and soon enough, it was time to bring this playful hour to an end.

As you took a break by the shoreline, gazing out at the vast sea, you started speaking up. "You know," you began, "I've always dreamed of visiting the beach when I was younger. There's something calming about watching the waves softly crash against the shore."

"Umm, so that's why you begging me to take you to the beach when I can just rest at home right now?" he queried, a hint of playfulness in his tone. You didn't reply, allowing the tranquility and stillness of the moment to envelope you, enjoying the simplicity of the silent atmosphere.

After spending hours of running and playing at the beach, the sudden drowsiness start to get into you. Without a second thought, you leaned your head against Jake's shoulder, seeking out a momentary place to rest. The unexpected contact made him flinch in surprise. It feels weird but he didn't push you away. In fact, he secretly relished the sudden intimacy between you two.

"Princess," he called, gently waking you up, "It's time to head home."

You murmured in agreement, still slightly groggy from sleep. However, before you could stand up, he spoke up again.

"But wait," he said, a solemn expression on his face. Your curiosity piqued as you looked at him, wondering what was on his mind.

He took a deep breath and confessed, "I need to confess something. I don't care if you rejected it but I want you to know, that I like you Y/N. I've liked you ever since the first day at college. My heart has been drawn to you from the start, and when I found out that you had feelings for me, I was prepared to return your feelings as well."

"That day was one of the worst days of my life, filled with regret and self-blame. I should have confessed sooner, I should have realized it sooner... I was stupid Y/N. I was stupid." His voice trembled, filled with both regret and remorse.

" Sorry if this is too sudden. Just... pretend like you don't hear anything. I don't want to ruin our friendship because of thi-"

Before he finish his sentences, you suddenly leaned in and kissed him. Jake was startled at first, but he quickly responded to the kiss, his arms instinctively encircling your waist and pulling you closer. This was unexpected, and against everything you had promised yourself as you found yourself giving into the moment, letting your guard down and surrendering to the desires.

You pull away, taking a moment to catch your breath as you confess, "I like you too Jake. I like you since the first day of college. Even though you're such a weirdo, I will always been drawn to you. I like you."

Jake was overcome with happiness, both because he had finally confessed his feelings and also receiving your own confession in return. He couldn't help but smile as he opened his arms, inviting you for an embrace. "Come here."

You happily accepted his invitations as you hugged him back, "So, now.. what are we?" you asked with a curious expression.

"Everything you wanted us to be Princess. It's up to you."

a/n . . . this is supposed to be a scenario but it become muuuchh longer than i expected it to be😔 but hey, it come out pretty well (i guess?) thanks to my honey lily for giving me ideas for this fic. love for you🤍. As always, taglist are open for my upcoming fic! :)

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pt2change · 1 year ago

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my only one — park jihyo

pairing: mom!jihyo x mom!reader

genre: parents au, fluff, jihyo gets jealous, and it’s ceo!jihyo, she’s a hardworking woman, but always makes time for her family: ’))

word count: 1,060

↣ jihyo masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

it’s honestly not jihyo’s fault that she has to work on jay’s first day of kindergarten……

she was supposed to have the day off but things happened at the office and now she HAS to go in

but she put on a brave face and acted like it didn’t matter

……

but it did!!!!!

in fact she even cried out of frustration while she showered

she was missing her son’s first ever day of school

jihyo saw him in the morning before leaving and she just couldn’t bare the thought of missing him when he gets out in the afternoon :(

you and jihyo lived a few streets down from the school, so you ended up walking jay to school in the morning

you told jihyo that you were able to pick him up again when he gets out

which was fine but jihyo hoped she would make it out early

it’s 3pm when jihyo finds herself parked in front of the school waiting for you and jay so you could all ride home together

she leans on outside of her car after receiving your text about being at the entrance of the school waiting for the bell to ring

and minutes later the bell rings and jihyo spots jay walking out with his large backpack on

jihyo just can’t help but smile to herself when she sees the backpack bouncing up and down on his shoulders

or how his hair is ruffled compared to how nice and sleek it was this morning

or how he’s talking and laughing with another boy who jihyo assumes must be is a classmate

as jihyo looks past her son, shortly behind him is you, and her heart begins to flutter

you and jihyo met during a college class you both shared, and it took you both a while to come to terms with your feelings for each other and begin dating

3 years later and jihyo decided to propose, and that’s where you both are now; happily married with a little boy

and jihyo couldn’t be happier with how her future turned out

you were glowing, having your eyes set on your son as you talked with a man…

a man who jihyo can only assume was the father of the other boy jay was playing with

jihyo leans off her car and crosses her arms

and when you bend over slightly to hear what jay is trying to you amongst all the commotion of the other kids yelling and laughing

that’s when jihyo notices the man eyeing you up and down….

jihyo feels a hint of jealousy and anger because he totally just checked you out…..

and you turn back to the man to speak to him quickly, jay looks around and sees jihyo standing by her car

jay’s entire face lights up, “mommy!”

and jihyo pouts and feels her heart flutter again at the sight of her son running towards her

she squats down, opening her arms in time for jay to cling onto her, “hi baby”

she wraps her arms around jay and his tiny hands latched onto the back of jihyo’s shoulders

you smile to yourself as you watch from a distance

as you watch your wife and son hug, you notice jihyo staring at you

so you say goodbye to the man you had been making small conversation with and begin walking towards jihyo and jay

jihyo glares over to the tall man who’s holding his child’s hand

….. and he is checking out your ass as your walking towards her

jihyo’s focus changes when she hears your voice, “i thought it was just gonna be me picking him up”

and jihyo hikes jay on her hip, “i couldn’t miss the chance of picking him up on his first day”

she tickles his side making him giggle uncontrollably

right when you get closer to jihyo, she uses her spare hand to pull you in and gives you a hard, deep kiss

you laugh against her lips and and tap her on the shoulder, pushing her away slightly

your cheeks heat up, “hey, there’s people watching!”

jihyo lowers her hand to your waist, and grins “good”

and that’s when you put 2 and 2 together

“oh my god,” you cover your mouth as you let out a laugh, “you’re jealous”

jihyo shakes her head no, but you raise your eyebrows at her

she smacks her lips together, “he was staring at your ass!”

there’s a small gasp from jay’s mouth, “ooo, mommy said a bad word”

you open your lips and look back and forth between your wife and son

you furrowed your eyebrows, “yeah, mommy’s gonna be in trouble for saying a bad word”

jihyo faces jay, “oh you’re gonna snitch on me, huh?”

she tickles him again, and he squirms out of her grip and runs over to you holding your hand

you walk with jay to the back of the car and open the door, buckling him in

jihyo closes the car door, and right before she walks over to the drivers side you grab her by the hips

you kiss her softly, wrapping one hand around her waist and the other around her shoulders

you pull away from her soft lips and smile at her, “don’t be so jealous, babe. no one can ever make me feel the way you do.”

jihyo pecks your cheek, “you’re gonna make it up to me later.”

you nodded getting into the passenger seat, and jihyo makes her way around to the drivers side

and just before she gets in, she waves at the other parent who you had been speaking to.

……..

………

when it’s 11 pm and you and jihyo are laying next to each other in bed, she presses your side

“so what did you two talk about?”

you jokingly roll your eyes, “oh my god, you’re so jealous, it’s not even funny anymore.”

jihyo lays her arm over your abdomen, “but i just want to kn-”

she stops talking when you’ve turned to face her

“you know what?” you reach over to her give her a peck on the cheek

you move down to her neck and start kissing it slowly, “i’m pretty sure i have to make it up to now, huh?”

and you place kisses all over her neck and shoulders

“mmhm, you do”

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julianalvarez9 · 1 year ago

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CHANGE YOUR MIND / MASON MOUNT

SUMMARY: You never really liked Mason Mount, even before he came to your club. Turns out, he's a very persuasive man, who will do everything he can to change your mind.

PAIRING: mason mount x ten hag!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

WARNINGS: mason is a lovesick fool, use of ten hag as a plot device i'm so sorry

AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's been agesssss since i've posted something, so here's this! (something's that's been sitting in my drafts and i didn't dare finish for almost a month!). would reallyyyy love some feedback!

Your eyes go wide at the sight of him, resting calmly over the cap of his car, hands hiding inside his pockets. Mason looks straight out of a movie; one where the protagonist is waiting for his lover outside of their home. You try to not think about that, or about the warm feeling in your chest, as you angrily make your way towards him.

Once you reach him, you're ready to voice your concerns about his presence in your parents' home. "What are you doing here?".

The urgency in your voice only made the Englishman grin harder, if that was even possible.

He shrugs, clearly not preoccupied about the matter. "Came to see a friend, offer her a ride to work". You roll your eyes, annoyed, because obviously, this is Mason. This is the same insufferable guy you've got to know for months now, ever since he signed for Manchester United.

By looking at the watch on your wrist, and knowing your dad's entire routine, you know you two are running out of time. "C'mon, Mount, you need to leave!", you urge, and he tilts his head in confusion. "What? Why?," as if his entire life, at least, sport related, wasn't threatened by the man about to walk out the door.

"Did you hit yourself on the way here? Did you happen to forget who I live with?".

He shrugs, again, claiming "I don't mind". A second after, "he actually likes me. More than you do, at least". It's not the first snarky remark he throws your way, but it's still too early for you to pretend he hasn't got a special capacity for getting under your skin.

"I'd like to see if he continues to like you when he sees you talking to his daughter in his front yard".

You're right about that.

Yeah, Mason is your dad's new shiny toy, awarding him with being a constant feature in the starting eleven in every United game, but you doubt he'd be alright with whatever he's trying to do. After all, he never liked any of your past boyfriends, or friends who he -somehow- recognized as undeserving of his little girl, his only daughter. "I think he will," Mason says confidently, "I'm actually a great son-in-law, you know?".

You swear it is too early in the morning to have rolled your eyes the number of times you have in his presence, during the past three minutes. You ask, hopeful that the sly remark works to get him off your back. "Has being this cocky actually helped you, in some way?".

When his smile falters, you grin. It's probably the first time he doesn't have something, anything, to hit back, and you consider it a win for your side. "It did," he answers truthfully a beat after, and now his smile is bigger than ever. "Look, you're smiling at me".

You try, hard, to stop your cheeks from going red, but the way you can't really hold his stare any longer is a win for him. He basks in this feeling, knowing himself to be able to make you nervous must be a good sign, right?

At least, he hopes so.

"Okay, stop fucking around or you'll be late," you warn, coming close enough to him to push him off the hood of his car, and towards the driver's door. You try to ignore the way your fingers burn after touching him, deciding not to acknowledge the warning signs that something had changed in the past few weeks. You don’t despise him nearly as much, but you’re not keen on the idea of him knowing about it. Yet.

Mason opens the door of his car, and gets in. You nervously watch back, to the entrance door, after seeing what time it is. 9:13 AM. Your father will be out the door, any second now.

You hope that, the next time you look to the street, the car will be gone, and any trace of the Englishman vanished, like a dream. But instead, when you turn again, the tinted window of his car is down, and he's looking mischievously at you. "Already caring for me? that's new, Ten Hag".

"Go away, Mount".

Hearing the door open, just a few seconds after seeing Mason's car disappear from your street, makes your blood turn cold. The piercing question from your father doesn't make things better. "What are you doing over there?". There’s nothing you could possibly say that will convince your father, and saying the truth isn’t a possibility right now; so, instead, you defuse the question. "Nothing, nothing. Are you ready to leave now?".

The way to Trafford Training Centre is quiet. Your father isn't one to talk much normally, but the silence squishes you until you feel like you're holding your breath. He knows, you're sure, and you’re gonna make Mason pay for it.

That’s it, if you reach the training ground alive.

"You know, I think Mason is a good kid".

The affirmation is nowhere what you had expected your father to say, so you can’t hide the furrowed brows and defensive tone that comes along with it. "We're in first name base already? Wow, that's new".

The car stops in the red light, and your dad takes the time to turn his head in your direction. He sees your fixed gaze ahead, brows still furrowed, and his head tilts in confusion. "And he's trying really hard to get in your good graces".

"That's not true".

A beat.

"I saw him this morning".

After that, you're left waiting; either, for the disapproving voice in his tone, the yelling, or the pointing out reasons why you shouldn’t be this close to a player, much less someone like him. But instead, he’s silent. And somehow, the silence is scarier.

The air feels thick, and it’s scarily similar to how it feels when a storm is brewing. Hot, too heavy, and like the entire sky is about to fall apart. And a few minutes after, with the car finally parked, and the training center standing tall just a few meters ahead, Erik begins to talk.

“I don’t have a problem with it. Whatever it is”. In other circumstances, you’d laugh at the way he signaled with his hand when saying it, almost like dismissing the entire ordeal, as if he still, so many years after introducing other boyfriends in the past few years -not one that’s worth mentioning, though-, refused to acknowledge that his little girl is not so little anymore.

“I know I always said it’s not a good idea. And I still don’t think it is,” he remarks, but holds a finger up before you can’t argue against what he’s saying, “but, as I said, he’s a good kid. And, most importantly, he’s aware that if he breaks your heart, he won’t play anymore, so-”.

The horror in your eyes must be evident, because he starts laughing before you can tell him off because of his antics. “Dad!”.

“So, you can go out with him. Just don't break his heart, yeah?” You can’t even respond because he gets off the car then, taking his things with him before closing the car door. Yes, you come in together, but since you insist on keeping family business out of the club, Erik begins making his way in alone. “Could really use my star player having a great season".

In the distance, you can see Mason; he’s smiling widely, with a coffee cup in his hand, and standing just by the door. He opens it, to let your dad in, and you shake your head in feign disapproval. “Right, Mount?,” Erik calls, alluding to his previous statement; the one he can’t possibly have heard, given how far he was when he said the words. Between the three of you, you’re not the only one that knows that it’s a test, so Mason answers accordingly.

“Yes, sir, of course”.

#football imagine #football imagines #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football fanfic #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine

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taexual · 1 year ago

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sleepwalking ● 7 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, a ton and a half of mutual pining, SLOW BURN

words: 9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 7 ► my secrets are burning a hole through my heart

When Jungkook returned to his own bunk that night, he drew his curtains and spent the whole bus ride to Copenhagen plotting his next move, wishing he’d stayed next to you as you slept, and cursing his friends all at the same time.

He knew that, to Sid, it must have felt like Jungkook had already lost the bet. He’d admitted to being in love with you, and there couldn't be a bigger loss than the vulnerability that comes with having feelings—not to a loser like Sid, at least.

So, it was a matter of pride that first time in Prague, when Sid proposed the bet. Jungkook couldn’t have his friends think that, all these years later, he was still obsessed with you. Still down bad—very bad—for you.

And a casual date was supposed to prove that he was casual.

He wasn’t. God, there was casual, and there was him when he saw you, dressed up for the wedding, on the train.

He supposed it irked him, this realisation, this persistent, undying love. Not because he didn’t want to be in love with you—that was out of his control, he couldn’t help his feelings—but because this was supposed to mean that his friends had been right.

But he didn’t think they were right.

They treated his love for you like something to be embarrassed about. Something shameful, pathetic.

In reality, it was the opposite. The moments he’d shared with you over the past few days lingered in the corners of his mind, and it made him happy, and hopeful, and lucky, and full of positive adjectives that flooded his mind each time he remembered your smile after that cursed Backstreet Boys performance at the wedding.

And he knew he was different from his friends who only felt butterflies when they were hugging a bottle of Bacardi or sitting behind the wheel of a race car. But different didn’t mean worse.

That had been typical Sid, needing to prove that he was better. That he was superior precisely because he wasn’t in love with anyone.

And Jungkook had realised at the bar earlier that the point he was really trying to make with this bet was that, yes, he was in love with you four years after you broke up. But it wasn’t pathetic, and it wasn’t shameful.

And he wasn’t inferior to Sid because of it.

He could make him lose this bet despite still being in love with you.

Which, Jungkook realised—as he rolled over on his back and exhaled so deeply, the covers fluttered around his bunk—was pathetic. It made sense to care about you, because, at least, you’d cared about him, too, once upon a time. But Sid, most likely, never did.

And yet Jungkook still wanted to make him crumble, purely because Sid went around playing games, manipulating people, and doing whatever the hell he wanted, and never—never—suffering any consequences of his actions.

In a way, Jungkook supposed, he deserved consequences, too. He almost expected inconveniences to begin striking him as payback for agreeing to Sid’s game. As karma.

He didn’t want that, and he was afraid these inconveniences would grow: a bird would crap on him, he’d forget the lyrics to his songs, fall off the stage, get hit by a bus on his way out of the venue—and, to top it off, you’d stop talking to him after learning about the bet.

No. No, that couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.

He tried to reason with himself then: did he really care about his Katana that much?

But that didn’t work, because he knew he did.

He’d bought the bike with his first paycheck—actually, his sixth, because he wasn’t being paid much when Rated Riot first started out, and the bike, even damaged, cost a fortune. And he’d repaired it from the terrible condition it was in all by himself; the engine almost literally crumbled in his hands.

He was proud of it. He loved it. He did not want to lose it, not to anyone, and especially not to Sid and Jude: one of them would never shut up if Jungkook lost this bet, and the other one would probably forget about it after a few days, but the principle was the same.

This wouldn’t work, he had to keep the bike.

Then, he tried to find a way around the conditions that Sid had come up with: he clarified that both of you had to know that you were back together. That, unfortunately, eliminated the possibility of Jungkook making it seem like you were back together, even though you weren’t; not really.

But then there was the condition of not telling you about the bet. What if he asked someone else to tell you? He supposed that could work—unless it’d make everything much worse since you wouldn’t hear about it from him, and you’d be so mad, you’d stop talking to him anyway.

No, that was too risky; it wouldn’t work either.

Finally, he figured, he was going to have to win the bet fairly, because of the following reasons: a) he couldn’t find a way to cheat, at least not at this point; b) he simply couldn’t let Sid win, not when he already won everything, because people were too intimidated to stand up to him; c) he couldn’t lose his bike; and, most importantly, d) he really did want to get back together with you and shuddered at the thought of losing you.

The tour bus reached Copenhagen in the early hours of the afternoon.

Nearly everyone had plans for the day before the soundcheck – Taehyung and Luna had decided to see the Tivoli Gardens before you even reached Denmark, and Yoongi and Hoseok decided to be the third and the fourth wheel respectively.

Sid, Jude, and Minjun had, weirdly, split up. You weren’t aware of each of their whereabouts, but you knew Jungkook didn’t go with them, citing his reasoning as “couldn’t decide which one of them to go with”. You assumed he would eventually end up joining Taehyung and Luna, too.

Meanwhile, you stayed back to help the crew prepare for the show—you thought you had to, since you still felt guilty for getting drinks last night while everyone else stayed back to work.

Everyone looked overworked, yet insisted they were fine today. You sent a few of the staff members off to rest—they left the room, but you had a suspicion that they went to work elsewhere instead—and joined Seokjin in the empty venue.

The Rated Riot logo was already hoisted by the back of the stage. The lights on it still flickered when it was turned on; at certain points, it appeared as though the band’s name was “R-R-R-Rate it”. Not to mention, countless lightbulbs around the frame had shattered last night in Berlin, and made the logo look purposefully edgy—if you didn’t know why some of the bulbs weren’t working.

To solve this, the crew had strung fairy lights around the broken sign and curled some of the strings around the wall behind it, illuminating the dark backdrop of the stage. This accentuated the lettering and created a lightning bolt effect on the backdrop, even despite some of the lights not working.

You thought that, as soon as the crew fixed the flickering—they were working on it at the moment—you might actually like the logo better this way. Perhaps the roadies should be invited to the next concept meeting for the band.

However, you had to admit, you wouldn’t have stayed back if you’d known Seokjin would employ you to carry the equipment inside. You wanted to help, but not at the expense of your spine.

The venue for tonight wasn’t particularly big—none of them were, it’s why you loved Rated Riot’s gigs so much; all of them felt incredibly intimate—but the distance from the bus to the stage was a long one.

Now, Seokjin watched as you heaved the metal decorations with pitying eyes, yet did not offer his assistance – because he knew you would refuse, but also because he preferred to yell at people rather than to carry heavy things himself.

“Where am I putting this?” you huffed—not for the first time today; Seokjin insisted on supervising every piece of equipment individually instead of allowing you to drop everything wherever.

“This one can go anywhere,” he waved his hand around just as his phone started to ring in his hand. “I need to take th—hold on, not there!”

You blinked at him, already in the process of putting the metal frame down. “You said anywhere!”

“Anywhere but there!” he shouted as he picked up the call and turned his back to you, focusing on the conversation on his phone. “Yes? No! No. Really? No. Okay, yes.”

It was hard to tell if the conversation he was having was serious enough to ignore you, based on what you heard—but that was how phone conversations with him went; if you asked two questions at the same time, he’d only answer one and it was your responsibility to guess which one.

Deciding to just leave the metal frame anywhere—except where he initially said—and run out of here to help someone else before he could notice your absence, you strained to drag the decoration closer towards the stage. You attempted to lower it slowly, but your hands were nearly shaking at that point, and you ended up dropping it when it was a few inches off the ground. You barely managed to leap away from it as it landed with a clang far louder than was necessary.

Naturally, Seokjin turned around, displeased. Covering the speaker on his phone, he clicked his tongue.

“Please,” he said. “I appreciate your help, but don’t break anything. We’re already short on equipment after Berlin.”

“This weighs as much as I do,” you countered, straightening and immediately supporting your back with your hands as the bones somewhere cracked. You weren’t built for this. “And it’s metal. It’d break me before I could break it. Is this spot okay?”

“It’s fine. Could you bring out the mic stand, too, please? Thanks so much,” he said, and before you could react, he returned to his call. “I’m here. Yes. Mmhmm.”

Sighing as you attempted to stretch, you climbed up the stage steps and picked the microphone stand up from the nook by the exit to the changing area.

“Need some help?” a voice asked from the darkness behind you. You jumped so violently that you nearly tossed the stand in the direction the sound was coming from.

“Jesus,” you wheezed, clutching your chest as Jungkook came into the light from the hallway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said and, not waiting for your response, took the stand from you and carried it to the middle of the stage.

“Thanks,” you said, watching him while you recovered. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“No problem,” he replied, lifting the stand to his height before placing it where he personally saw fit.

Seokjin could hardly complain—Jungkook was going to be the one who used the microphone, after all—and yet, as soon as he ended the call and turned around, he groaned loudly.

“No! Do you have any concept of what the middle of the stage is?” he yelled, approaching Jungkook, clearly determined to do this himself.

“I just thought it’d be better if—”

“It would not be better if,” Seokjin cut him off, climbing up the steps and grabbing the stand from him to place it in the right spot. “If it’s slightly to the left, then you’ll be knocking into Yoongi every time you lean back. If it’s to the right, then the same thing with Taehyung. Don’t even get me started on the stand being too far back, so you could successfully trip and fall into Hoseok’s drum set.”

Jungkook glanced at you—you closed your eyes and nodded, confirming that this lecture was a normal process of working with Seokjin—then looked back at the stage manager.

“I’m a real safety hazard in your eyes, aren’t I?” he joked.

“You are,” Seokjin replied completely seriously. Jungkook did a double-take as he’d already begun to turn to you again—to check if his little joke made you smile; it did. “Go now! It’s bad luck for the artist to see the stage before the concert.”

You snorted at this, while Jungkook frowned, confused by the logic—he was, technically, going to see the stage during the soundcheck—but he chose not to argue as he joined you at the back of the stage while Seokjin busied himself with repositioning the speakers at the front.

“Is he always like this?” Jungkook asked you in a concerned whisper as he glanced back over his shoulder. “I think I’ve only ever seen him laughing. This is a first for me.”

“Yeah, he’s stressed,” you explained. “Lots of back-to-back shows and all of the venues seem to have something wrong with them. At least, according to his standards.”

“Hmm,” he nodded. “What else can I do to help?”

You lifted your eyebrows at this, genuinely worried that he was entering a new stage of masochism. “Are you kidding? Get out of here while he’s not looking.”

“No, I can��I can help,” he said despite his confidence faltering at your words. Perhaps he really should really have been running for his life.

“No, you can’t,” you retorted, placing a hand on his shoulder as you guided him towards the hallway. “You still have to perform later tonight. I’ll help; you rest.”

Jungkook stopped walking and turned around—you didn’t react quickly enough and your hand brushed over his chest as you pulled it away, the tips of your fingers catching on the soft material of his corduroy jacket.

“Well, he’s not looking right now,” he said, peeking at Seokjin again. “Let’s both go.”

You shook your head. The moment had suddenly become so melodramatic, your next line should have been, ‘it’s too late for me, go on without me.’

Simply, you disagreed, “I can’t—”

“Just for a quick break,” he cut you off, an almost pleading tone in his voice. He took your hand—or tried to, but ended up grabbing your wrist—as he pulled you after him into the dark hallway, towards the changing room. “You deserve it.”

Despite being unable to resist—he wasn’t very rough, but he was very determined not to let you out of his grip—you still tried to protest, “you don’t know that.”

“I know you and I know you deserve that,” he shot back and opened the door into the inner hallway, waiting for you to go in and, after you paused, encouraging, “come on.”

You relented with an uncertain sigh as you walked through the door.

The two of you entered Rated Riot’s changing room—currently empty because everyone else was out in the city—and you were surprised to feel relieved to be here alone.

You’d been working ever since you reached the city over three hours ago, save for a little break when you went to grab some coffee from the deli across the street right after you arrived. You hadn’t even realised how tired and hungry you were now.

“Should we order some food, then?” you asked. “I thought you left with the rest of the guys, so I didn’t plan any meals at the venue.”

“Actually,” Jungkook said, grabbing his phone from where he’d left it on the make-up table, “why don’t we go out to eat? I saw a fast-food place across the street.”

You’d seen it too when you were getting drinks, but you weren’t sure if leaving right now was a good idea—you were here so you could help the crew, after all.

Then again, this was just lunch – you’d be back in an hour, maybe even less. The soundcheck wouldn’t begin until two hours later, so the rest of the team probably wouldn’t be back before then. And it wasn’t like you’d be abandoning the crew, either, since Seokjin had them all under strict control.

“I guess we can do that,” you said, checking the pockets of your oversized leather jacket—there were many of them, and you needed a minute. “I think I left my wallet on the bus, though. We have to stop by there.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “My treat.”

Following the trip to Paris—which was his treat, too, since he’d bought the train tickets with his personal money—you were quick to dismiss this offer.

“I can send you the money from my phone,” you decided, walking back to the door of the changing room. “We can go.”

Jungkook sighed, mumbling under his breath, “impossible to do anything nice for you.”

You turned around, not sure what you’d just heard. “Hmm?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he replied with a quick shake of his head and reached over to hold the door open for you.

“We’ll probably have to sneak past Jin, though. I’m not sure how that’s going to—”

“We’re going out to get food!” Jungkook called out as the two of you walked down the hallway towards the stage. You looked at him in horror. He asked, “anyone want anything?”

“I’m good,” Seokjin replied when he saw you emerge. You paused, ready to stop and explain why you were leaving, but Jungkook took your hand again, pulling you with him down the stage steps.

“Oh—we’ll see you later,” you shouted to Seokjin—who mumbled something and waved in your general direction—and then yanked your hand out of Jungkook’s grip. “You can’t keep doing that.”

“What?” he lifted his eyebrows, surprised by your abrupt hostility. “Offer people to buy them food?”

“You can’t just announce that we’re leaving,” you said as you two made your way towards the exit of the venue. “You may be able to come and go as you please, but I’m not entitled to freedom like that. I have to ask if people are going to be okay while I’m gone.”

“See, but if you ask, then you’re giving them reasons not to be okay,” Jungkook argued. “And if you just say you’re leaving, then they have no choice.”

You rolled your eyes. “Life is so very simple for you.”

“It is,” he replied with a grin as he opened the back door for you. “And, as long as you’re with me, I can make it simple for you, too.”

The fast-food place that you’d both seen turned out to be a small hamburger restaurant. When you and Jungkook entered, it was empty, save for the waiter by the cash register.

He greeted you in Danish and even after your greetings in English, he continued to ask you something in his native language. When you apologised for not understanding, his eyes doubled in size and, he, too, apologised for not realising you weren’t local.

You decided to take this as a compliment. You had felt out of place wherever you went; so very obviously foreign here. Not that anyone minded it, but there was something oddly embarrassing about being a tourist. Even if you were, technically, here for work.

The atmosphere inside the restaurant was nice and calming; mellow instrumental music played on the speakers and large windows faced the beautiful brick buildings across the empty street. Really, putting you in a good mood required almost no effort today, but this restaurant being empty still made your heart soar.

You and Jungkook took seats at a table by the window and hung your jackets on the backs of your chairs. You both took a moment to enjoy the view before you picked up the dark brown paper menus on the table.

There weren’t a lot of options, so you were quick to choose. And, because this was a very small restaurant, you assumed you’d have at least twenty good minutes of taking in the sights outside the window—especially the pair of collies that had escaped their owner and were currently chasing each other down the cobblestone street—before your food would be brought to you. But it reached you mere minutes later.

The burgers looked very appetising, although the portions were bigger than either of you expected; french fries were hanging off your plates.

Like complete tourists, you and Jungkook clinked your burgers together before taking your first bites. You looked at each other immediately once you got the first taste.

“Oh, this is so good,” you whined, your mouth full.

“Right?” Jungkook nodded in eager agreement as he took another bite, frowning deeply and shaking his head as if in disbelief—you knew him well enough to recognise this as a sign of satisfaction. “Easily top ten best burgers I’ve had in my life.”

“Definitely,” you agreed. “And to think there aren’t any people here? I’m in awe.”

“I know, right?” he said again as he continued to chew—far longer than was necessary because he refused to swallow until he gathered enough courage to comment casually enough, “I’m glad I got to try this with you.”

You looked up from your burger. The collies outside had tired and lied down on the pavement, giving their owner enough time to catch his hat in the wind and reach his dogs. You were not sure what the meaningful look in Jungkook’s eyes was supposed to imply.

“Because I know how to do the Heimlich?” you offered.

He blinked at this. He was expecting all sorts of different questions after he said that, but this wasn’t one of them.

“No,” he said, the corners of his lips curling into an involuntary smile. “But that’s a good thing to know.”

“I am also, of course, the expert on burgers,” you guessed then.

“It’s not because of your skills,” he said. “It’s just because it’s you.”

You took another bite and, as you chewed, you picked up a napkin to wipe your lips. You felt very self-conscious suddenly. And you needed a moment—for what, you didn’t know.

The dogs outside refused the leash, jumping around their owner, who cursed in, at least, three different languages; you could hear as much from inside.

“Okay, listen,” you said after a minute, “so, if there was never any ex,” you watched Jungkook cringe softly as you mentioned this, “what is wrong with you?”

The brutality of the question took him off-guard as he coughed in surprise, covering his mouth with his hand.

“What?” he asked through spasms of coughing. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“You’ve been acting weird since the tour started.”

He employed an aura of nonchalance as he countered, “how am I acting weird?”

“Well, for one, you forced me to go to Paris with you,” you reminded him.

“I don’t recall there being any forcing.”

“There was emotional forcing.”

He shook his head with a small roll of his eyes. “Fine. But that doesn’t prove that I’m acting weird.”

“Let’s say that’s true,” you said. “Then why are you here?

Jungkook put his burger down, wiping the crumbs on his hands with a napkin.

“Okay,” he said. “Now what is that supposed to mean? Can’t I be here?”

“Everyone else is sight-seeing,” you explained before the offence in his eyes could deepen. “Taehyung and Luna went to that theme park, and Yoongi and Hoseok tagged along. You know the one I mean.”

“Tivoli,” he said.

“Right,” you nodded. “Even your three musketeers went out. Why didn’t you go anywhere?”

“I’m sure they picked up some girls on their way, so they have enough company.”

You lifted your eyebrows at this; you could recall Sid and Jude chatting up girls at the concert last night in Berlin. “More girls? Your fans weren’t enough?”

Jungkook tsked. “Our fans have better taste.”

Your expression softened.

“Good point,” you said, returning your attention to your food. “Why didn’t you go to Tivoli then?”

“Because you weren’t going,” he replied so quickly, your eyes fluttered back to him.

Another long, heavy moment passed. You felt like you were in middle school again, the way you were tiptoeing on the edges of the topic that you were almost discussing.

“See, that’s weird,” you said as your gaze slid down his chest and then settled on the view outside of the restaurant window.

With the dogs gone, the street was completely empty and, somehow, this emptiness amplified the silence inside of the restaurant. The muzak changed according to the flow of your conversation; you could barely hear the instrumental beat anymore.

Jungkook understood your reasoning—he heard the implication in his own words—and he saw the way you began to avoid his gaze as soon as he admitted that he’d stayed back for you.

But you didn’t just look surprised, you looked almost frightened. Like he’d just told you he was thinking of proposing – either to you, or to this burger.

It shocked him because, while he expected resistance, he wasn’t expecting fear.

His question was genuine after he cleared his throat, “why is that weird?”

“Why would you not go if I’m not going?” you asked, repeating his previous statement with an incredulous scoff—like the very thought of him feeling this way was outrageous and you were astonished he didn’t see that.

Slowly, he shrugged one of his shoulders, afraid to move too much—as if you were a stray deer that had wandered a bit too close to the residential neighbourhood and he was a kid who’d just discovered you; one move that was too quick, and you’d run away in a blind panic.

“Because,” he said as an explanation.

You dared to look at him, encouraged—and angered—by the abrupt end of his sentence. “Because why?”

“I’d rather be here,” he said then.

He did not know how to navigate his way out of this one.

After everything that happened between the two of you in the past few days, you had, clearly, received some sort of signals that he’d been sending you—both consciously, and subconsciously. They weren’t exactly subtle, after all. And yet you were determined to draw your blinds shut and ignore every single one of them.

“Why?” you asked again, your patience wearing thin as you distracted yourself with the french fries.

“God,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. Since he couldn’t just blurt out the truth about his feelings for you—but you looked like he’d just had, and he was horrified all over again—he had to use his favourite tactic of diverting your attention. “Do you need reasons for everything?”

“Not everything, but at least something,” you said. “You’re answering all of my questions with other questions.”

“Why do you even have questions?” he shot back. “Do you not enjoy my company?”

“You’re doing it again!” you accused, your hands rising on their own accord. “Seriously. What’s up? Are you nervous about the tour or something? I thought I made it clear that you could talk to me.”

Oh—this made him pause.

You thought he was doing this—again, what was he doing? Because it stopped seeming like flirting a long time ago—due to anxiety. You thought he was being evasive, and, therefore, weird around you.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if he could make this work in his favour and avoid lying at the same time.

“I just want to spend time with you,” he ended up saying, which was true. And because you kept your eyes on him after he said this, he felt confident enough to add, “we used to be close. I-I’d like that again.”

At that point, he thought he’d understand if you would get up and leave. He wasn’t sure if he would have followed; he didn’t think he had that right, not after he didn’t follow you the first time you left him. But you looked down to your plate and picked up another french fry, toying with it between your fingers.

He hadn’t proposed anything particularly awful—although he avoided saying ‘friends’ with such intensity that it only magnified the deeper implication of the word—yet he felt like a death row prisoner waiting to hear the date of his execution.

“Why now?” you asked, finally putting the fry in your mouth and biting into it.

The wait for your response had been excruciating. He needed to make you see that this was not a big deal.

“Why not?” he replied, his voice a tad too casual, showing just how hard he was trying to appear calm, to conceal the overtime his heart was working in his chest. “We’re on tour, so we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

That sounded good in his head. But you looked at him in such a way that he thought he was about to hear that, despite overwhelming evidence in his favour, he was still going to be hanged in the town square.

“And after the tour ends?” you asked, setting the gallows up for him.

He thought about this for a moment and attempted to return to his usual nonchalance despite feeling sweaty all over.

“That’s not until two months later,” he said and realised, immediately, that this was the wrong answer.

He didn’t have enough time to correct himself before you scoffed again and asked, “so, why bother with a friendship if it won’t matter in two months?”

“That’s not what I wanted to say,” he retorted quickly. “Why would it not matter?”

You were the one who shrugged this time—the answer was obvious. “Did it matter before we came here?”

“It did,” he replied with complete certainty.

You looked away, but he saw the skepticism on your face and the way you hyper-focused on the street outside so as not to roll your eyes. “Oh, okay.”

“It did matter.”

Frowning at the offence in his voice, you returned your gaze to his face, trying to find the answers to the questions in your head. Especially this one: how could your relationship have mattered to him before the tour started?

“I don’t know what kind of a friendship you have with Sid and The Losers,” you said, “but in my experience, being friends with someone implies making an effort for them.”

“I was making an effort,” he continued to insist.

“Making an effort to get us both in trouble with the label.”

He knew that this was how you saw it—you were very clear about that each time he and his friends somehow managed to find themselves in an emergency—but he still didn’t think you were being fair.

“I always let you know where I am at the start of the night,” he defended.

“And I appreciate that—”

“Not just to inform you,” he continued. “It was always an open invitation.”

You brought your tongue over your lips as your eyes returned to your plate. You grabbed another fry, focusing on the salt on your tongue for a second.

The bell by the door rang, signalling the entrance of a new customer.

Nor you, nor Jungkook turned to look, feeling like your table by the window of the restaurant existed on a different plane of reality—a vacuum of sorts where only the two of you lived.

You could remember one instance when you had gotten the feeling—after one of Jungkook’s late-night texts with his location—that he’d sent it to you because he was subtly asking you to join him. You thought you had misunderstood.

You didn’t know how to feel now that you knew you hadn’t.

“I’m not asking to provoke you or to start an argument,” you spoke up, “but do you think that’s appropriate?”

That wasn’t a very good question, knowing that Jungkook was very liberal when it came to seeing things as appropriate—and he shrugged as soon as you asked this.

“Spending time outside of work?” he clarified. You nodded. He shrugged once more. “You hang out with Luna and Taehyung all the time. And Maggie. Why would it be different for us?”

It was a hilariously stupid question and you both knew it.

Keeping your eyes on his, you deadpanned, “right. Why would it?”

He fought back with just as much irony as he said, heated, “yeah. Exactly.”

Your gazes remained locked until your phone buzzed a few seconds later, the sound dull as it reverberated against the material of your jacket.

You twisted in your seat to get the device out of the pocket. While you did, Jungkook took another bite of his burger.

It was a text message from Jimin, who was typing in all caps to let you know that he and Namjoon had just arrived at the venue, and Seokjin—or, in Jimin’s panicked words, ‘SOEKEJIIN’—was in a frenzy so intense, he was either about to faint or force everyone around him to faint.

“It looks like I have to get back to work,” you said, sliding your phone back into the pocket of your jacket as you picked it up from the back of your chair. You missed the disappointment that descended on Jungkook’s face. With a sigh, you added, “I appreciate you trying to be friends with me, but—just—don’t do that because you feel like you have to, since we’re on tour. Or whatever other temporary reason you might—”

“It’s not because of temporary reasons,” he said as you stood up. He turned away when you looked at him, though, not wanting you to see his eyes in case Sid’s game was evident in them. He didn’t lie when he reiterated, “I mean that.”

“Okay,” you said, choosing not to argue even though your next words barely sounded like a compromise, “well, let’s wait and see. Maybe you’ll change your mind. I have to go, but finish your lunch and then I’ll see you after the—”

“I won’t change my mind.”

You paused again. “Okay. Well. You’ll understand why I’m going to need actions to support your words.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” he said. “We were having lunch together. Isn’t that a start?”

Clutching your jacket to yourself as you lingered by the table, you conceded hesitantly, “it’s a start…”

Encouraged by this, he threw his hands in the air before speaking.

“But you’re leaving me all by myself, so it does feel like I’m not getting the same treatment back,” he said, and it took you a second to catch the teasing glimmer in his eye. You’d almost forgotten how quick he was on his feet—which wasn’t always a good thing, because he used this to avoid uncomfortable topics. He questioned, “do you not want to be friends with me?”

You brought your teeth over your lower lip as you looked away. He knew you. He knew the intentional childishness would end up amusing you eventually—and he couldn’t help but feel proud when he saw your shoulders relax as you fought back a smile.

“I’d love to be friends with you,” you said. “And, as your friend, I have to make sure your band has a great performance tonight, so finish your food while I do my job. I’ll see you later.”

“Text me!” he shouted as you put your jacket on, already taking a step towards the door of the restaurant.

You turned back to look at him. “Text you? About what?”

“Anything. It’s what friends do.”

Laughing now, you pulled your phone out of your pocket just as it began to vibrate again.

“Eat,” you told him, “we’ll figure out how to be friends later.”

He nodded in response, even though he didn’t feel hungry anymore. He watched you walk out of the restaurant and run across the street, back to the venue. With a deep exhale, he picked up a fry that had fallen out of the pile on his plate and tossed it into his mouth.

He hadn’t fully grasped how serious you were when you said you didn’t believe in second chances. Perhaps he should have. In all the years that he’d known you, he’d never seen you restore a friendship with someone you’d stopped talking to.

You were the sort of person who stayed until the very last drop of your patience—and then some more. You weren’t someone who left easily, you endured. You had the highest tolerance threshold out of everyone he’d ever met. So, really, it was understandable why you didn’t believe in trying again.

Still, he was arrogant enough to consider himself different. To consider the two of you different.

Really, he had thought things were going well.

Until this moment here, that is. He hadn’t even done or said much today, but you were quick to determine that he had reached the line. And you were not going to let him cross it.

He’d assumed the line had gotten a bit further away. He thought he was allowed to say more to you, to be more personal about your relationship after your trip to Paris—the trip was fine, after all! You’d both had fun. But, now he was starting to think that, perhaps, the reason why the Paris trip went well was because, initially, you went on it thinking he had an ex that he wanted to get back together with.

You had thought you were, on some level, still doing your job—whether as his manager, or someone who’s known him for almost ten years now. Just having his back. Keeping him out of trouble.

You’d always been doing that, for as long as he could remember. You never even considered—he never made you consider—that there was more to it.

He knew now that he had thought about this all wrong. You assumed that he was joking around, participating in Sid’s pranks, not taking anything—not even you—seriously. And you were right, of course, but only in part.

Step One would be proving to you that he was serious.

Maybe you never believed in second chances because you were never shown that people deserved them. And he was determined to show you that he deserved it. To convince you that the two of you could be close again—so long as he could look past the bet and convince himself first.

After Rated Riot’s performance that night—which went by smoothly, of course, even though Yoongi tripped over a loose cable and forced Seokjin to spend the entirety of the encore cursing quietly under his breath—the members followed the tradition of going out to meet the fans. Meanwhile, you insisted on supervising the deconstruction of the stage, wanting—rather desperately—to avoid incidents similar to Berlin.

To be fair, calling it supervision was generous; all you did was repeatedly remind everyone to “take it slow” while taping boxes and holding doors. The roadies seemed to appreciate your input this time, although you couldn’t shake the feeling that these middle-aged men still only saw you as an eager six-year-old, who passionately wanted to be helpful.

You decided you were going to take it. At least, you were here and could witness all that was happening.

Eventually, you noticed that Seokjin had disappeared. You weren’t very concerned; he had so many things to look after that you figured there simply had to be something else that required his attention.

But here’s the thing about Seokjin – he was demanding, but he was also very caring. A manifestation of this was the plastic bowl, filled to the brim with lollipops, that he brought backstage when he returned fifteen minutes later.

“Here,” he announced. “I think we can all use this. Make sure all of you take some—but no more than five, so everyone has enough.”

You chuckled, assuming that this was more for a boost of morale than anything else, but you were soon surprised. It was almost funny, truly, how quickly every adult in the room leapt to the lollipop bowl.

Seokjin, in the meantime, made his way towards you. Three bright green, apple-flavoured lollipops were in his hand, and he pointed them at you.

“Hey,” he said. “This is for making you haul heavy things around the venue earlier.”

“That’s my job,” you replied, but took the suckers from him nonetheless. Apple was your favourite flavour.

“It’s not, though,” he disagreed. “You were here because you felt bad. You shouldn’t feel bad. What happened before was not your fault.”

Your smile was grateful and you reminded him, “it’s not yours, either.”

“I know that.” He exhaled somewhat sadly before continuing, “but that’s not as easy for me to say. The battens fell in Berlin, because the scissor lift got stuck on some middle setting, and the staff couldn’t reach properly. They had to unscrew the construction with their hands raised above their heads. I told them not to, but they insisted we were short on time. And I let them do it.”

You sighed, too. “If the schedule wasn’t so intense—”

“They would have probably still done it this way,” Seokjin finished. “They didn’t think anything would go wrong. That was just an excuse to get it over with faster.”

You’d heard a similar explanation yesterday when you were first called up after the incident – “we wanted to do this as fast as possible.”

Trying to brighten the mood, you said, “at least no one got hurt. And I’m sure it’s a lesson learned in any case.”

“It is. Because now you’re here, watching everything like a hawk,” he noted.

This surprised you—and Seokjin grinned at your raised eyebrows.

“It’s not like I can fire them if more things break,” you said.

“That’s the worst part,” he countered. He still had an entertained expression on his face, but something inside of him had softened. It was endearing how unaware you were of how much the staff here cared about you. He said, “they saw how distressed you were last night.”

You were still confused about the magnitude of your role here—the backstage crew didn’t respond directly to you. To be fair, even certain members of Rated Riot didn’t, even though they should have.

“Everyone who was here was distressed,” you said.

“True,” Seokjin nodded, “but they should have been; this was their job, and something went wrong. Meanwhile, your stress is just, sort of, collateral damage. They felt bad for upsetting you.”

You looked back at the staff behind you. Seeing these men—some large and scruffy, others tall and lanky, all of them intimidating in certain lighting—dismantle the stage construction while sucking on lollipops brought a smile to your face.

“I’m a little kid in their eyes,” you said then, “aren’t I?”

Seokjin had to be honest: despite his attempts to always be respectful, he, too, sometimes thought you were too young for the responsibilities of your job. You never proved him right, however, breezing through said responsibilities with an ease that he wouldn’t have expected from someone your age—he admired that.

“A little bit, yeah,” he admitted.

You snorted, but there were shadows of disappointment on your features that he was quick to notice. Sometimes you wondered if Seokjin had chosen stage management as an alternative to psychology.

“If it makes you feel better,” he said, “most of the people here treated me like a kid when we first met, too. And I’m older than some of the roadies. I guess I look very young.”

“What’d you do to make them respect you?” you asked.

“I started yelling.”

This got you to laugh. “Should I consider it?”

“I think that, sometimes, you should,” he replied. “They say that people shout when they don’t know enough words to whisper—or something like that—but I think differently. I think they shout because they care and they need others to care.”

“Hmm,” you turned your gaze away as various disagreements and full-blown arguments that you’d had in your life—most of them with the same person—flashed through your mind. “That… makes sense, I think.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Seokjin said, “yelling is fun. People pay attention to you. Sometimes they even fear you. I love it.”

You laughed again, even though you’d seen it yourself – new staff members tended to avoid Seokjin. Even you didn’t want to get in his way when he was setting the stage up.

But all of that was so he would get things done. And, once he did, he was easily the most entertaining person to be around—which meant a lot, considering you were literally on tour with rock artists right now.

“Maybe you should get on stage with Rated Riot one of these nights,” you teased, “that might satisfy your itch to be listened to.”

“You know what? I just might,” he played along, a grin spreading on his lips. Nodding at the candy in your hand, he said, “try the lollipops. We’re almost done here anyway.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Really. We wouldn’t be on tour if it weren’t for you.”

“There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’,” he responded brightly. Then, he leaned closer to add in a teasing whisper, “but there is in ‘ass-kissing’.”

Your eyes widened as he snickered, pulling back and walking past you to help the crew carry the boxes outside. He looked at you over his shoulder, his expression cheerful.

“I meant what I said, you know!” you shouted after him.

“I know,” he called back. “I meant it, too. Go rest! This isn’t your responsibility.”

He picked up a box, propped it on his hip, and walked away before you could argue and offer your assistance anyway.

Figuring you might as well go and actually stop working for the day, you unwrapped one of the lollipops and made your way outside. The band was probably still having post-show drinks backstage, so you figured you could get a few minutes of quiet on the bus before everyone else returned.

Just as you exited the venue, however, you saw a white puff of smoke coming from somewhere on the side of the building. Popping the lollipop in your mouth, you stopped and waited for just a second, until the person bent down to shake the ash off the cigarette, and you recognized Jungkook’s profile.

Your legs brought you over to him before your mind could reconsider.

Rounding the corner, you asked, “should you be doing this?”

He flinched, not having expected you here, and it got you to smile. The two of you had a special way of sneaking up on each other today.

“Probably not,” he said, blowing smoke out. “Bad for my lungs, right?"

“So I hear.”

This was the first time the two of you were alone together, following the interrupted lunch earlier. Jungkook had wondered what it would be like now that he’d made his intentions clear—as clear as he could under the circumstances, at least. Now that he’d brought up the possibility of a friendship.

He had worried it would be weird or awkward. That he wouldn’t know how to prove himself to you, wouldn’t know what to say, or worse, that he would, but you would respond in the same cold, detached way as you had the first time in the restaurant.

But now that you were here, he didn’t feel different. He didn’t feel like he’d dropped a ground-breaking revelation—he knew he hadn’t, but your reaction begged otherwise—and he didn’t feel awkward.

He felt, he realised, like he’d been waiting for you to find him here. Like he knew you’d come, taking him off guard, appearing next to him from the shadows of the late night.

Taking another drag, he extended the cigarette towards you. Smoke passed his lips as he spoke, “want some?”

Hesitating for a moment, you gave your lollipop one last twirl against your tongue before you pulled it out of your mouth.

As you took the cigarette from him and placed it between your lips, you pointed the sucker at him and echoed, half-jokingly, “want some?”

He chuckled at this, but took the lollipop from you. Your question was a challenge—you asked because you didn’t think he’d agree—and he took you up on it immediately, putting the candy in his mouth.

You watched him toy with it, biting into the plastic stick lightly, and something seemed to short wire inside of you, shooting dangerous sparks in every which way. You wondered, for a passing moment, if your conversation at lunch could have triggered something long-forgotten inside of you, like the trip to Paris had.

When Jungkook closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, the smoke you were supposed to exhale got caught in your throat.

Sighing deeply, he spoke, “haven’t done that in a while.”

Tilting your head to blow smoke out in a clumsy cough, you asked, “s-sucked on a lollipop? Or smoked?”

Twisting the sucker around his mouth for more flavour—aware, with every taste receptor on his tongue, that this was your taste—he replied, “shared a cigarette. Or candy.”

“Me neither.”

You took another drag and gave the cigarette back to him. He took it from you, his movements slow, and, in turn, he pulled out the lollipop, extending it back to you.

You were the one who snickered this time as you retrieved it, and, without any reluctance, put it back in your mouth. He forgot what breathing was and how it worked right after.

He wondered, his gaze frozen on your face, what the cigarettes and apple-flavoured lollipops tasted like on your lips. He wanted to find out, wanted to replace the candy in your mouth with his own tongue, wanted to—

He was forced to look away as the lit cigarette stung the tips of his fingers, ashes falling on his boots.

He shook it off and forced his eyes to stay on the ground beneath his feet.

“So,” you spoke, tapping the edge of the lollipop stick. “You ready to go back? The crew just finished up. If you hurry, you might still grab a few drinks backstage before it’s all gone.”

“I’d, uh…” his eyes were cast low. As soon as he put the cigarette back against his lips, he thought he’d begun to hallucinate—because, realistically, he shouldn’t have recognised the taste of your lip gloss, mixed with a faint taste of apples on the filter. Coughing, he stuttered, “I-I’d rather, um, stay here, actually.”

Suddenly awkward, you realised he may have been looking for a quiet minute by himself just as you had been, before you saw him. “Oh. I’m sorry I interrupted. I can—”

“No,” he stopped you. “I meant with you.”

You watched him exhale smoke and wondered, unexpectedly, what it meant for you if you craved a cigarette more than a lollipop. You never thought you had a nicotine addiction; really, you barely smoked.

Perhaps this was something different. A sort of latent chronic disease that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you tried—and you spent four years trying.

“Really?” you asked now, your chest light and your eyes glistening—in a dangerous, promising way. “Hiding behind a corner, sharing a cigarette like pre-teen delinquents?”

His eyes met yours as he took another drag. “Just the way I like it.”

“Alright,” you said, leaning your side against the wall next to him. You twirled the lollipop around in your mouth and he could almost feel the remaining ounces of restraint leave his body. “Let’s stay here, then.”

You were playing around, but there was a seriousness behind your words. You didn’t question him. You just stayed.

And he had to look away from you again.

He didn’t really understand why; this was so childish. He played along with your delinquent joke, but he wasn’t actually twelve—even if being with you did make him feel like a sixth-grader, discovering what having a crush was like for the first time.

“Tell you what,” he said, turning to his side to look at you. He lifted the cigarette; there was barely any of it left. “You can finish this off in exchange for the lollipop.”

You grinned. “Yeah? You liked the apple taste?”

You knew, he suspected. You had to know what you were doing to him; there was no way you wouldn’t notice how pathetically affected he was. All of Copenhagen could probably hear a faint thundering that came from inside of his chest.

“Hmm,” he murmured. “Something like that.”

“Okay.” You pulled the lollipop out of your mouth—and did it slowly, only strengthening his suspicion that you were doing this to him on purpose. Still, he felt his heart leap right to his throat and drop down to his feet when your lips pursed. “Although it’s hardly fair, since mine will last longer for you.”

You took his cigarette with your free hand and passed him the lollipop. The very tips of your fingers touched as you exchanged possessions, and, for a moment—which was so laced with electricity that the streetlamps around you seemed to flicker—Jungkook was worried that he wouldn’t manage to control himself, after all. That he would use this gentle, barely-there touch to hold you tighter. To throw the lollipop away, to kiss you, to never let go of you again.

Instead, he took half a step backwards—afraid of his impulses—and popped the candy into his mouth as quickly as he could. As if this way, he’d be less affected by your lingering taste on his tongue.

“Good,” he said. “It’s bad for your lungs, anyway.”

You snorted as you took one final drag before you reached dangerously close to the filter. Blowing smoke out, you leaned down to put the cigarette out against the pavement and walked away from him to throw the remains into the trashcan by the exit.

He opened his eyes to watch you return. You were smiling – not at him, but not away from him, either – and he wasn’t sure what he’d do next. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen—not tonight, not tomorrow, not in two weeks when the bet was supposed to end.

He had suggested a friendship today. He’d promised to himself to prove to you that he was worth it, that the two of you could be close again. That you could be friends.

But he had a pack full of cigarettes in the back pocket of his jeans; both of you could have had one of your own. Yet, he didn’t offer.

And you had two brand new lollipops from Seokjin in the pocket of your jacket. You could have given him one—but you didn’t offer, either.

Both of you chose not to mention this, aware—very vividly—that normal friends probably shouldn’t have enjoyed sharing candy and cigarettes so much.

So, Jungkook didn’t know anything at all. But with you here—as your gaze fell to his lips, he thought the flavour of the lollipop sharpened somehow, bringing shivers down his spine—he was thrilled to find out.

chapter title credits: bring me the horizon, “sleepwalking”

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#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts au #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #rockstar jungkook #rockstar bts #jungkook rockstar au #rockstar bts au

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sadbastard-bug · 1 year ago

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Your protector (yandere simon x reader)

Simon first meets you waiting for the train, he's on his way home from a walk and notices you a couple benches away. it's creepy to stare but he can't help it. Your the first person he's ever seen at the station this late, a while into the wait you start shifting around almost nervous. He tries to look away the second you turn your head but it's no use. You make eye contact. A panicked feeling rises in him once you start walking towards him. You smile looking a bit unsure. He just looks back.

"Not to be a bother but do you know how long till the train gets here?" Your voice is apologetic like your actually worried about annoying him. It clicks in his head why he's never seen you, you must be a newer resident. he's able to make about more of you now that the distance is shorter. Your wearing a uniform, he tries to recall the place it's for but the name never comes to him.

You appear tired and your hairs out of place like you were rushing around all day.

Your actually kind of cute?

You tilt your head, even more nervous. Oh shit! He's been silent this whole time just staring hasn't he. He forces something out, cringing at his own voice as it cracks. "It uh..it shouldn't take much longer.." you smile and let out a relieved breath. "Good! Good" you adjust your bag strap and turn to face the tracks. You don't move though, you stay there standing next to him. He feels himself sweating. Is that all? Should he make small talk? Do you even want to talk to him anymore? He tries to convince himself your visible skittishness is from being new and not him but he still feels a bit like a creep.

You stand by the wall together for a good time. He glances over multiple times milling over things to say. This is the first time in a long time he's been near someone who doesn't seem hostile. He wants to reach out and talk to you but no matter what he tries his voice just won't come out. Then the train shows up.

The noise pulls him forward as you both enter the car. He turns to you to say something, anything but your not there. No, instead you've already moved to the back and taken a seat. Realistically he knows he can still try and socialize but something in his gut tells him he's missed his chance, he gives up. Sitting in his normal seat, he puts on music, and leans his head against the window desperately trying to forget he's not alone in the train.

This isn't the last time you ride though. He sees you several times but he stops short of striking up conversation. The most that happens each time is you smile or wave at him before going back to your waiting. He never stops watching you. Time after time he stares. You arrive and take a seat at the same bench. Sometimes you have a book, sometimes it's your phone, and sometimes you simply sit there, hands in your lap. He never approaches you but that doesn't stop his mind from racing. He thinks about you a lot, mainly questions he wishes he could ask.

Do you live in the same town as him? Why do you get here so late? Do you work night shift? Do you go to school? Do you go to his school? Does he live near you? Do you have any friends? Are you seeing someone?

Slowly he learns more about you from a distance, simple stuff at first. He figures out where your uniforms from. He goes there not to talk but just observe. You do work late, you close actually. You always close with the same guy, you two seem freindly. Too freindly simon thinks. You both chat while locking the doors and then split up, Simon moves after you.

As days pass simon gets braver..he waits outside your work and fallows you to the station each night. Then suddenly he's following you out the station. You live pretty far from him but he doesn't mind the walk. Your home is cute and always has its lights on when you arrive. Simon never sees anyone else but he knows you can't live alone. Parent's? Siblings? Roommates? He tries to find out but the lights never stay on long enough after you get home for him to catch anyone else.

The pits of you he learns join together in his mind. Your around his age. You do attend the same college but you have zero similar classes. Simon considers switching a class or two to match. After school you head to work, you wear the uniform to class but cover the shirt with a hoodie or sweater. He stands outside never able to muster enough courage to go in. He learns the coworker is just a freind and has a girl, who you seem to be friends with too. You go home real late and go to be sleep almost right after. It's almost like he's walking you home he thinks one night. Sure your completely unaware of his presence but you probably wouldn't mind even if you did know, your freindly like that. A sweet and blissfully aware person he has his eye on. He's protecting you really! What if something happened to you in these moments where you think your alone? Normally no one's around but now you've got him! Your ever present protecter!

Maybe one day he'll be able to step from the shadows. To speak with you, hear your voice, your laughter. Hell, maybe you'll smile at him. Yeah one day he'll be close with you. You'll be his. His little darling. You won't mind his awkwardness, or how harsh he can be. You'll understand him, he just knows it! But until then he's here to protect you from a distance

____________________________________________

Okay! Uh jeez I apologize if this was short and uh kind rough but I've just gotten back into writing so bare with me. •_•

(criticism and feedback is hella appreciated though)

Also! Allow me to be honest here, I don't write yanderes. I just don't really uh jive with them ya know? But! I did forget to mention that in my request post so here for the one who wanted it! My first and last yandere x reader post! Please don't expect any more yandere stuff from me Haha! :)

I'll edit the first post.

#cry of fear x reader #simon henriksson x reader #cof simon #yandere x reader #yandere Simon henriksson x reader #book Simon x reader

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

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The Barbecue. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 5 of 6)

5k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader, 18+ / pt 1 / master list

The long-awaited HOG (hot old guy) barbecue. Joel watches in the reflection of the window as you get out of the pool and grab a towel. You follow him inside. "Don't tell me that made you jealous," you say. "Turned me on," he responds, and you can tell.

NEXT: part 6 / Story Master List

WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+ dry humping, vaginal fingering, jacking off, brief oral (M receiving), semi-public-ish, swallowing, alcohol, irresponsible cook-out behavior, DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE, some angst, reader wears Joel's shirt, lack of PIV, blue balls. Do not read the dad as your actual dad!

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione. ty @dark-scape for the support as usual.

Lmk if i missed you. Idk why some are buggy.

You don’t hear from Joel for days. The first day, you’re a mess of feelings, pinballing between numb and smitten.

You feel like you don't really know anyone in your life. The people you thought were closest are perfect strangers. You don't trust anyone. Your roommate is spending all her time with that friend of Chad’s. Your friend from home is on a trip overseas and won’t be back until the day after Independence Day. You feel like you don’t have anyone to hang out with, talk to, or even sit in silence with. You’re lonely and pensive.

On the other end of the spectrum, your mind (and body) frequently drift to that long-awaited kiss, and everything that happened in that hotel suite. You almost feel like if you can sleep with Joel, everything will be right in the world, even when it’s all wrong. Even when he’s part of what’s wrong. You know it’s illogical.

One afternoon, for a change of scenery, you go to the bookstore with the cafe where you work. Maybe you’re clinging to the last bit of familiarity that’s left. On the bulletin board at the entrance, there’s a flyer for Chad's band playing at your favorite spot. That must be why he originally came by the cafe the other day.

While you’re in the middle of the bookstore, you get a text from Joel and your face burns when you open it. It’s a disappearing dick pic. Not just his dick. It’s a blow job POV including his dick. “Your souvenir,” he says, like that’s all that happened. Your blood boils but also rushes to your loins.

That’s all he has to say to you? You respond, “really?” He’s trying to act like that whole car ride never happened.

“Wanna talk about it?” he responds. It’s nice that he offers, and your heart probably swells a little too much at the basic decency, but you’re actually not sure you want to talk about it. You’re almost afraid to find out more. You already wish you could rewind and live in blissful ignorance.

After an exhausting day of stewing and sulking, you decide to go to Chad’s show. It feels pathetic, but who cares? The way you see it, you don’t have anything to lose. Chad can’t hurt you anymore. It’s hard to imagine anyone who could. You text Chad to let him know you’re coming. He doesn’t text you back.

When you get to the venue, you don’t see anyone you know, at first. There’s still another band to play before them, so they should be hanging out near the merch table and you make your way over there. Finally, you see their drummer behind the cash box, then you see Chad’s hair from the back. The drummer says something to Chad, then Chad looks over at you. Your stomach turns when you see his face. You can only see half of it, but there’s a gauze bandage across his eyebrow and upper cheekbone. His mouth is scabbed over. Joel. Chad makes himself scarce as soon as he sees you.

You finally respond to Joel, “not really.” And that’s that. But you don’t know how you’re going to face him or your dad when you go home for the holiday.

On Independence Day, you’re so anxious that you drive right past the turn onto Joel’s street. You don’t forget, you just decide not to turn. You go to your friend’s house, even though you know she isn’t there. It’s a familiar place to park your car and try to calm yourself down. You sit there for almost an hour doing nothing but scrolling tumblr and listening to music.

When you don’t arrive at the barbecue, your dad and Joel separately call you and you don’t answer either of them. Based on your degree of dread with each respective call, you realize your dad is the one you least want to see. You’re not really harboring much negativity toward Joel at this point.

Frank texts you and you finally take a deep breath and decide to show up. Your plan is to detach as much as possible and let yourself leave as soon as you’re uncomfortable.

You pull up to Joel’s house wearing a bikini and the flannel with a change of clothes in your Billy Loomis tote. Pretty much everyone is already at Joel’s house. Tommy and Maria, Bill and Frank, your dad and stepmother, a couple of Joel’s neighbors, and two of your dad’s work friends, rounding out the requisite hot old guys (HOGs), according to your friend, at least. One of the HOGs, Steve, always looks at you like a piece of meat. You used to think he was just an old creep, but now he strikes you as a bit of a DILF.

A light breeze carries the smell of propane and pork butt as you approach the pool gate. Only Frank is in the pool. You’ll probably hang out with him the whole time. Joel is at the grill in swim trunks and t-shirt, talking to one of your father’s work friends. He doesn't even look up when you open the gate. His swim trunks sure do show a lot of thigh.

Your stepmother is all over your dad. You pry him off with a hug out of spite and to face your fears. Then, you go to the grill and hug Joel from the side. It’s way too hot to stand there long.

“There she is,” Tommy announces on the other side of the grill. He’s talking to a guy you don’t recognize who turns around and does a double-take.

“This is Jesse, he works with your dad.”

He extends his hand and says “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hmm, that sounds ominous." You can imagine being very attracted to Jesse even a week ago, but suddenly you don't have interest in anyone under 40.

"Well I heard you like to swim, at least. I didn't wanna swim alone," Jesse says.

Frank has a tray at the side of the pool with a glass of wine and his phone on it. He puts his glass of wine down when you walk up.

"Thank God, I've been drinking by myself," he says.

"And what kind of pairing is this for your pork butt?" you tease him as you sit down on the edge and put your feet in. Bill just barely raises his glass to wave at you. He's sitting alone under the shade of an umbrella, wearing khakis and a button-down shirt.

"Hey I think I have this shirt," Frank says, and takes the flannel between his thumb and finger. He studies it contemplatively for a moment. You catch up with Frank for a while.

You call over to the grill, "Joel are you gonna swim?"

"I'm on butt duty," he says.

Frank gives you an inquisitive look then asks if you're gonna get in.

You put your stuff down on a chair, take the shirt off, and start applying sunscreen. Joel watches as you rub it into your bikini top. Then you turn around to give him a side view as you rub it into the part of your butt cheeks hanging out of the bottoms.

Jesse moseys over within seconds and takes off his shirt. And well, damn. When Jesse raises his eyebrows at you, you realize you've been staring while lazily reaching over your shoulder and applying sunscreen. You were really just looking at his tattoos. Mostly.

“Nice ink,” you say.

"Need a hand?" He asks. Why not? You hand Jesse the sunscreen and watch his face as he squirts some into his palm. He bites his lip.

You turn around facing the pool – facing Joel – and stretch out one leg in front of you, keeping the other bent, while Jesse rubs lotion into your back. He doesn’t do it in an erotic way, but you curl your toes and subtly bite your lip as though it is. You let your legs fall open a bit.

You lower yourself into the pool and have small talk with Jesse for a minute, then Joel says your real name for once and it makes your eyes go wide. He doesn't say it that loud but you still hear him from across the pool. "Gimme a hand?" He asks.

Jesse stays in the pool and awkwardly makes small talk with Frank.

Joel watches in the reflection of his big living room windows as you lift yourself out of the pool and get a towel. You follow him inside to the small, secondary kitchen and he closes the door behind you..

He pins you up against the counter, already aroused, and further hardens against your wet swimsuit, flooding you with desire from your core to your chest.

"Havin' fun?" He growls in your ear.

"Don't tell me that made you jealous."

"Turned me on," he says, low and horny.

He kisses your chin, then your neck. Your hands wrap around him and grab his ass, pulling him into you harder with your own soft grunt.

He slips his hand under the damp cup of your bikini top, his fingers curving around the side of your breast, thumb resting at your cleavage. His warm palm pushes your cold, hard nipple as he firmly cradles your breast, his hand applying slow pressure in rhythm with his hips. Your knees are weak. You're dripping, not just from the pool.

He wraps his arms around you and slides his warm hands into the sides of your swimsuit bottom, grabbing hold of your cold ass cheeks. He groans, "God almighty.”

He kneads your ass, pulling you into him and his rock-hard length. He kisses your neck and grinds himself into you. The feeling of his warm, thick rod slowly rutting against your clit drives you mad. You couldn’t get any wetter. If you don't have this man inside you soon, you might actually die. You reach into his shorts and use your other hand to try to take them down. He doesn't stop you.

But there’s a knock at the door. Good Lord. You know who it's going to be.

Joel puts his dick away and removes a big pan of coleslaw from the fridge. He hands you the coleslaw while you open the door.

"Am I interrupting anything?" She asks.

"No," You say, then cock your head and add "Am I?" You hold eye contact for several seconds, then hand her the cole slaw and ask, "don't you and Dad have some catching up to do?"

Your stepmother takes the coleslaw outside.

You close the door behind her. “Basement?,” you ask, and start toward the pantry at the back of the space. There’s a hidden staircase that opens into the movie theater downstairs.

Joel groans and rubs his beard. “Later,” Joel says with a sigh. “We better go back out.”

You scoff. “Really?”

“Go on back outside.” He opens the door to the main kitchen.

When you get back to the pool, Jesse's already gone, talking to your dad. When you get back in, Frank says, "You little minx." He's got Instagram pulled up on his phone and shows you a picture from several years ago of Joel and him together, both wearing the shirt you arrived in. "Tell me everything."

Your face gets hot. “Seems to be a popular shirt,” you say.

"No," Frank says. "Shirt's just the kicker. There's something about the way you say each other's names. They sound like a secret." Frank is good at reading people.

"What, you think I fucked him? I didn't." At least you don't have to lie about that.

"Maybe not yet," he scoffs. Frank looks behind you and covers his mouth, then says “Look at his shirt." Yeah, Joel’s shirt has just the right wet spots. In theory, they could've been from a hug. It basically was a hug.

"Ever heard of a hug?" you say.

Frank raises his eyebrows then holds up his glass of wine and "accidentally" clinks his wedding ring on it before downing the rest. Bill hears it and comes over with the bottle. Frank gives him a look with the slightest nod across the pool, like he can't even wait a couple hours to share his new gossip. Bill's eyes dart over to Joel, then meet Frank's eyes again. As usual, no reaction is visible on Bill's face, aside from a twinkle in his eye. "Everything to your liking, sir?" he asks Frank.

Frank smiles, "Come on, at least dip your feet," but Bill leaves. Just as well, Frank's not done prodding you.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," Frank shrugs. "But I know you want to. . . and my lips are sealed. . ."

Frank is one of the most trustworthy people you know, so you don't worry about him spilling it. You just don’t feel like saying it out loud and putting words to it. Once it exists in the air, it’s something that can be broken. Something that can fall apart.

You panic and tell Frank about Joel and your stepmother instead. You claim you're just keeping Joel close for now while you decide what to do. You leave out any details about what close means.

The initial look on his face is horror, then Frank looks like he's going to cry. "Are you okay?"

"Chill," you say, looking around nervously. "Jesus, how much wine have you had?"

"Sorry, I just. I'm sorry. I know it's hard. That's all." He hugs you, and over Frank’s shoulder, you see Joel looking across the pool with his brow furrowed even more than usual.

"Well, don't forget my dad cheated on my mom with her, so, whatever," you say.

"Well, exactly. That's why I worry-"

Your face tells him to stop, so he changes the subject. "So what about that guy from the band, is that still a thing?"

You sigh. "Chad? No. Nothing juicy, just no."

"Got it," he says and you know you can trust him not to bring it up again. He follows your eyes back to Joel. You’re not off the hook, but at least you don’t have to talk about it.

The actual meal is relatively uneventful. It’s hard to be around your father right now. Deep down, you knew there were secrets. You knew he wasn’t the most upstanding man. You never fully trusted him after what he did to your mom. But at this point, he feels like a stranger. You’re almost glad his wife is cheating on him.

Steve, the hotter of your dad’s non-Joel friends, tries hitting on you. Asks if you like to party. Says he bets you get pretty wild after a few drinks. Pressures you to do shots with him. Why not, you think. You do one shot, but make Joel join in.

“Bad fuckin’ influence over here,” Joel says and gives Steve a slap on the back. Steve tries to egg you on to do more, but you don’t and neither does Joel.

"That's why we call him Mr. One Shot," Jesse says. laughing at his own joke.

Joel bristles at the nickname and crosses his arms, jamming his hands under his ungodly biceps.

Steve lowers his voice and asks Joel, "How many shots in Uvalde?" Joel doesn’t answer.

"One," Jesse says. "Miller’s too modest, you're embarrassing him," he laughs.

Joel tenses. "Give it a rest, Jesse. Have some discretion."

Jesse looks at your end of the table and swallows. “Right”

Your stepmother abruptly changes the subject. She asks Jesse how old he is and why she hasn’t seen him before. She’s drunk, and every time she looks at Jesse, she looks like she could eat him alive.

Your dad elbows Jesse. “I think my wife likes you,” he says with a wink. It’s awkward.

Joel’s face is a little pink from the sun, and it looks good on him. He’s looking at your face, but not making eye contact. He seems to be in a trance. You kind of feel like you should still be mad at him, but for some reason, you’re not. And you’re not going to deprive yourself out of spite. You can feel Frank noticing every detail of this.

Bill pours the last of a bottle of wine, and you volunteer to go to the wine cellar. Bill says they’ve had enough. Frank protests that he wants one more glass. He asks you for a German Riesling, with a wink. You subtly shake your head at him, falsely denying what he knows you’re up to.

You stand in the wine cellar, enjoying the cool air, then sit on a cabinet that spans the whole back wall. It’s only a few minutes before you hear Joel’s flip flops echoing down the stairs, presumably with the pretext of helping you find the wine. He crosses the cellar without even glancing at the wine. “Leavin’ for the fireworks in 15,” he says.

He has that horny look in his eyes and there’s already a bulge in his swim trunks. The way his t-shirt stretches over his pecs and arms — God damn.

When Joel reaches you, his massive hands part your knees, then lightly stroke your bare thighs. His lips brush your temple as he says, “You’re gonna get me in trouble one of these days.”

“That’s the idea,” you say as his hands wrap around your back and he slides you closer to the edge of the cabinet. When your crotch comes to rest against his, an acute desire floods your breasts. You squeeze his sides with your thighs, then roll your hips into his arousal and hook your hands under his arms, bringing him closer.

You slide your hands down his back and into his swim trunks, feeling his ass and bringing the trunks down. At the same time, you pull his hips into you and the swell of his hard-on against your clit makes you throb with need. You start to untie your bikini bottoms while he gropes a breast.

His mouth latches onto your neck. You let the front of the bottoms fall between your thighs, and tilt your hips in just the right way. He brings a hand between your legs and drags his flattened fingers up and down your slippery seam, then thrusts two of them inside and you moan.

“Fuuck,” he breathes.

You grab his cock. “Come on,” you beg as you tug him. He takes his hard length from you, holds it in his hand, and furrows his brow as he pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you. You try to read his face. He breathes heavily as he fingers you.

“Fuck me already,” you beg.

He looks down at himself and shakes his head no, but looks pained by his own answer.

“We both know it’s gonna happen,” you say.

He takes a deep breath as though to restrain himself. “Maybe so, but not tonight.”

He removes his fingers and brings the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance. A bolt of need shoots through you. He dwells there for a moment, takes another deep breath, then lays his stiff manhood vertically against your seam and pulls you tight against him. Then he grinds wetly against your aching clit, and your hips roll into him. Your head falls back and you moan. Your eyes are watery.

“God, Joel. . .this is . . .so dumb. . . just fu-��

You cut yourself off with a moan as he quickens his pace and grunts.

“Pleeease.”

“Shhhhhhh,” he says. You’re on the verge of coming and on the verge of tears. He holds you tight for leverage then goes jackhammer pace.

“Joel. . .”

“Come for me, sugar,” he pants. And not long after, you do. You clench around nothing, pulse against him, and you hear the echo of a breathy “Joel” you didn’t know you said.

He takes his cock in his hand again and looks at you with his pupils blown wide. His breath is ragged as he strokes himself. You find yourself slipping down off the cabinet. He doesn’t deserve what you’re about to do, you just want it for yourself, for whatever reason. He steps back and you squat down to face level with his cock. You hover your mouth over it, then wrap your lips around the head, and he comes with an echoing groan before you take any of the shaft into your mouth. His cum even tastes unattainable. Your eyes sting.

You fix your swimsuit and compose yourself.

“C’mere,” he says and hugs you. You don't really hug him back. You wipe a tear off your cheek. He tries to kiss you, but you’re too upset, and it would make you need him even worse than you already do.

Joel’s phone rings and he picks it up. “We’re comin’,” he says. “C’mon, let’s go.” He puts his arm around you but your demeanor doesn’t soften. You’ve had it with him depriving you.

“Ya know, maybe it’s a good night to talk to my dad,” you threaten as you near the top of the stairs.

“Damn, Trouble.” You can't tell if he’s impressed or judging you. “I said not tonight. I didn’t say never.”

That makes you think twice, at which point you realize what you just did. . .You tried to blackmail Joel for sex.

He adjusts his shorts. God, what’s become of this situation in just a few days - you try to put it out of your mind. You can beat yourself up over it later.

Joel stops you with his hand on yours before you open the door. “Look,” he continues. “Before you do anything stupid, there’s somethin’ I should tell you later.”

You lean against the wall and cross your arms. “Lemme guess, you and Dad are up to some shady, dangerous shit.”

“Nothin’ to do with that,” Joel says, lowering his voice.

“So you are.”

“Dangerous, yes, shady, no. We’re the good guys. Less you know ‘bout that, the better.”

“Why?”

“For your safety.”

You open the door to the living room and people are milling around deciding who’s riding with whom to the fireworks. Frank says, “hey, she didn’t get bricked in,” and hands you your bag from outside so you can change.

You and Joel ride with Bill and Frank to the fireworks. Frank keeps looking back and making small talk, but you and Joel mostly look out your opposite windows. You get to thinking about what Joel said. Not tonight. . . I didn’t say never. . . If he means that, maybe it’s worth the wait. Maybe you should hear him out, whatever he has to tell you.

During the fireworks, you come around a little. Joel playfully covers your ears, knowing you’ve always hated loud noises. When Bill and Frank drop you off at Joel’s afterwards, everyone is going their separate ways. You're relieved to see your dad and stepmother drive off before you have to say goodbye.

You start to go to your car, wanting to quit while you're ahead and not end up begging for it again. Joel stops you with gentle hands on your shoulders.

"Come in for a minute. Let's talk." A pit opens in your stomach.

The two of you go in through the pool gate. “Lemme make you a drink,” he says. That sounds even worse.

. . .

Joel hands you your favorite cocktail, then comes around the bar with his own drink to sit on the stool next to you. He takes a deep breath and puts his hand on your knee. He seems almost as nervous as you are. You can't remember seeing him nervous before.

“Yeah?” you prompt him.

He nods and takes a sip of his drink, then looks you in the eye. He puts his glass down, then takes yours out of your hand and puts it down on the counter too.

He swivels you toward each other. He looks like he's about to say something, then something changes in his eyes. He cradles your head with both hands, lays his lips into yours, and kisses you slow and hard, his tongue dipping into your mouth.

After a few seconds, you don’t even notice the taste of his whiskey, and his hands trace your body on their way down to your thighs. It’s intense but tender. You can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of a kiss goodbye. It scares you. He slides off the stool and gets in between your knees, tries to put your legs around him again, and that’s certainly where your legs want to go. But you want to hear what he has to say first.

You pull away and your hand drifts up to your lips. They buzz from his fervor. Your chest rises and falls.

“Spit it out,” you tell him.

“Right," he says. "I dunno if you’re still gonna wanna. . .” He downs his drink. It’s hard for you to imagine anything that would make you not want to fuck him anymore.

Finally, he begins. "Alright. . . ‘member what I said at lunch the other day, 'bout how monogamy isn’t for everyone?"

"Yeah." If this is all to say it’s not for him, it’s not hitting like much of a bombshell. Now, if he's going to tell you about other people he's fucking–when he's not even fucking you—that's a different story.

"Well," he clears his throat and looks away. "Your dad-"

You interrupt him with a loud sigh. "Just because he cheats doesn't mean you can sleep with his wife." You’re annoyed he’s even going there.

Joel holds up his hands as though to tell you to slow down. "Lemme finish. 'member what I said, how even in a marriage, some couples. . . ." He tries to make you fill in the blanks for yourself, but you won't. "Okay,” he shifts in his seat and begins to gesticulate vaguely. “Your dad and stepmother, they have an arrangement."

You feel the blood drain from your face. You think about the way she was eyeing Jesse. "Gross," you say.

He swallows and nods regretfully as you process this. He waits patiently as your heart races along with your thoughts, then you spill them out all at once. "I dunno why I would believe you. OR why you would believe her. Is that what she told you?” You laugh. “Whatever. Even if it's true, you aren't just any guy-"

"He knows," Joel says almost somberly. “About me.”

"Oh, he knows?" you laugh. He couldn't possibly. This is a terrible attempt at defusing the whole situation for himself. And yet, he looks like he feels bad for you.

"The first time, he talked me into it."

Deep breaths. "That's insane. That's. . .this is your new plan? Try to convince me my dad is some perverted cuckold?"

"No, not like that." He shivers in disgust. "Damn, Trouble. That's where your head went? No. . . when he. . .it was like. . . a swap.”

Your stomach turns.

“Okay, remember my date to Bill and Frank's wedding? The stripper?” Your heart sinks. “Your dad, um, really liked her, and-"

"I get the picture," you say, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, recalling that your dad did in fact really like Joel's date. It was embarrassing.

"It was casual with me and. Shit, what was her name. Anyway, we were all stayin' in that hotel gettin' sloshed at the pool, an-"

You open your eyes and say, "Yeah, I got it, okay?" Then, you walk over to the sofa to sit down. He follows you. You feel sick to your stomach and don't want to hear another word about it. You cross your arms and slouch, sitting in silence for a moment.

He hesitantly puts his hand on your knee, sending a rush of blood to your loins. You don’t know what to feel.

"Did you really end it with her?" You ask.

He sighs. "More or less."

Now rage starts simmering in your chest.

"Told her I wanted a break.”

Unbelievable.

“That just — it lessens the blow. But trust me, I'm not doin' it again. Especially after how she’s been actin’."

You wish you could believe him.

You ask, "Why'd you let me think it was some huge secret?"

He's quiet for a moment.

"I don’t think your dad would appreciate you knowin’ about it," he says. "But I was gonna tell you anyway."

“Yeah, right.”

“‘Yeah. . . ‘member all those calls you ignored?”

“But then I got to thinkin’ about it, and I guess. . . .”

"What?”

"I," he pauses and sighs. "Shit, I dunno, it was hot. Really hot. The way you acted, thinkin' you had somethin' over me. . .never saw that side of you before."

Now this you can believe.

"Next day, still thought about tellin’ ya. But after the pool, there was no goin’ back. I mean, damn."

There’s a sparkle in his eye as he reflects on that. He adjusts himself, which always makes you tingle, even now. Especially now? God, you have no idea.

"Guess it kinda did somethin' to me,” he says. He raises his eyebrows and gives your thigh a rub, but you flinch. It isn’t personal, you’re just on edge, but his eyes get sad and he takes his hand away, resting it in his lap as he sits back lazily on the couch.

You ask, "So why tell me now?"

"I dunno, maybe I'm growin' a conscience."

You try to make sense of that, but you can’t. Why would he feel guilty about you doing something as depraved as blackmailing him into sex?

"Woulda been hot as hell though. Maybe I shoulda let ya go through with it. Damn.”

It sounds like everything is up to him, and apparently, it is.

He hesitantly rests his hand on your back and slowly rubs it. You take a deep breath and sigh audibly. You’re melting under his fingertips.

He lowers his voice, “So, now that you know everything . . .”

His phone buzzes. When he looks at it, he tenses and sharply inhales.

“Your dad’s here,” he says.

And your car is still parked outside in the turnaround.

Planning for the next chapter to be the last in this story. . .

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #perdo pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#toxicdbf #dbf!joel #pervy!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #bill and frank #joel jacks off #toxic dilf summer

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