#The first line - the first two words! - are Big Shot like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

horangare · 7 months

Text

lucky girl

pairing : model!jeonghan x fem!reader

content : smut (mdni), angst, fluff, fake dating, unrequited (but not rlly) love, friends to strangers to lovers

in which : jeonghan has no interest in a relationship, however it seems that everyone else is sticking their nose into his nonexistent love life. you’ve been in love with him for as long as you can remember, but that was ages ago. he shouldn’t remember someone like you, but he does. and he wants you to be his girlfriend (just for a little while though, right?)

warnings : public sex TWICE (this mf fucks u everywhere but a BED), couch sex (see what i mean???), oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe i’m begging), idiots in love vibes like so strongly you two are dorks fr, dirty talk, y’all want each other so bad, praise, cockiness, like one innuendo, a bunch of other idols make features in this (twice, txt, le sserafim, and svt ofc), mentions of rehab, crying, “arguing”, jealousy, pining and yearning and things of that nature

wc : 14.9K words

note : this took me so much longer than i thought it would but it’s finally here 😭😭 written from this request

Junior year of highschool is when you first fell in love with Yoon Jeonghan.

You were the new girl. The transfer student. The awkward, hormonal, sixteen year old girl who felt oh so small in such a big school. The nobody.

Pretending like the lingering stares, the pointing, the whispering—all of it—was just a figment of your imagination was easy. You had been used to tuning things out. At acting like it didn’t phase you.

Private school was different than public school. Too different. The only reason you were in this place is because you were sent to live with your aunt because of the fact that your mother was in rehab and your dad wasn’t in the picture. Many of the public schools in the area weren’t the best, so she pulled some extra money from her savings to send you one of the nicer, private schools.

You were grateful, for her concern regarding where you went to school, but the huge contrast from transitioning to this new place was anything but easy. You may have looked just like everyone else, but you never felt like them. A bunch of self obsessed, privileged, stuck up rich kids. Yeah, you weren’t that. Not by a long shot. It’s like they could tell you didn’t belong here, but you already knew that.

All of them except for him.

Jeonghan had heard the mumbled talk of your arrival since he arrived on campus. He didn’t get what the big idea was. New kids came all the time, bought their way in with mommy and daddy’s help. Each and every other student here was one in the same. Predictable. Boring.

“Shit, look, there she is,” Joshua whispered amongst the small group of boys, his head jerking in your direction. The rest of them—Minghao, Mingyu, Soonyoung, and Jeonghan—all spared you a single glance or two.

Minghao chuckled dryly. “She’s gonna get eaten alive.”

"She's kinda hot though, don’t you think?" Soonyoung mumbled, trailing his eyes over your body. "That skirt is way too small for her."

“It’s like six in the morning. Can you not be horny right now?” Mingyu sighed, yet Soonyoung’s gaze remained on you until you disappeared from his line of sight. Jeonghan remained silent.

Joshua nudged his friend. “What? You have nothing to say?”

“What is there to say?” Jeonghan asked, swirling around his iced coffee that had been way too expensive to taste so cheap. “She’s a girl and she’s new.” Soonyoung booed him, loudly, attracting the attention of other passing students.

“You’re no fun.” He said and crossed his arms. Jeonghan gave him no response. “Whatever. How long do you think she’ll last?”

“I’ll give her until the end of the day,” Mingyu nodded. The others looked at him in disbelief, which made the boy roll his eyes. “What? I’m an optimist.”

Soonyoung hummed in thought, weighing his available options. “Four hours max.”

Minghao shook his head. “Two and a half.”

“I’m gonna say…One hour.” Joshua added. Then they all turned their heads to Jeonghan. He didn’t respond until the staring became unbearable.

“God, you’re all such pessimists, you know that?” He scoffed. “I’m not doing this with you today.”

“You have faith in her,” Minghao teased, poking the older boy in the side. “You’re so easy to read.”

“Cut that shit out.” Jeonghan hissed, pushing away Minghao’s hand. Minghao, Mingyu, and Joshua giggled. He was so easy to piss off.

“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Soonyoung cracked his knuckles with a confident—bordering on arrogant—smile.

“Seriously, don’t—” Minghao sighed, but the other boy was beyond reason. By the time he even said anything, Soonyoung was literally in your face.

The expression on your face was pensive, relaxed even. Until…

“Hey, new girl.”

You looked up, your eyes looking over him with disinterest. Soonyoung cleared his throat when you didn’t reply, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to relieve the awkward atmosphere.

“I’m Soonyoung, but you can call me Hoshi.”

“No.” You deadpanned.

His eyes widened. Were you serious? He could hear the others trying to keep in their laughter behind him.

“Is there something you need?” You asked, raising one of your eyebrows. Soonyoung stammered, only managing to speak the words “I…” or “what?” before he sighed and lowered his head.

“Hoshi, are you done making yourself look stupid yet?” Mingyu shouted, stopping between almost every word so he could laugh. By now, there was an even bigger scene being made by Mingyu’s additional comment, much to your embarrassment.

“Excuse me,” you mumbled to him as you scurried off to the bathroom, leaving not only Soonyoung shocked but also the little audience you had gathered shocked as well.

“Wow, what a smooth talker.” Joshua clapped, a wide grin on his face. “She was all over you.”

Minghao giggled. “I recorded the entire thing. Hey, who should I send this to first?”

“Oh fuck off,” Soonyoung hissed, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Nobody needs to see that shit.”

“Right, like half the school hasn’t already.” Jeonghan gestured to the multitude of people still lingering around in the hallways, huddled in groups whispering about the events that had just happened. Glancing at Joshua after you were gone, he smirked.

“So?” Joshua asked. “What’s your judgement?”

Jeonghan sipped the last of his drink, shaking it around and poking at the ice with his straw to see if there was any left. When he discovered none, he discarded the cup in the trash and crossed his arms over his chest. “I like her.”

You spent very little time in the bathroom, your visit only being to calm your nerves and steady your thoughts, but you didn’t expect to see the same boy and the rest of his friends huddled outside the bathroom waiting for you.

Wide-eyed, you stared between the five of them.“Um…hello?”

“Hi!” Mingyu smiled at you brightly, side eyeing Jeonghan when he nudged him aside. A quiet gasp slips past your lips; this boy was gorgeous.

“I assume you have a name? Or should we continue calling you new girl?”

“My name…?” You repeated, feeling your body growing warm at the proximity between the two of you. “Oh, my name. I’m [Y/n].” Jeonghan nodded, and then he smiled at you. You felt even hotter now. A little dumb, too, certain that you were embarrassing yourself.

“That’s cute,” he said, still smiling softly. Jeonghan threw one of his arms over your shoulder, keeping you close to him as he and the rest of his friends started to walk down the hallway. “So then, you’ll sit with us at lunch, right [Y/n]?” You stared at him, dumbfounded, unable to believe that he was actually being serious with you. Soonyoung, finding this funny, couldn’t help but laugh.

“Who’s stammering now?” He quipped, earning him a glare from Jeonghan. Soonyoung didn’t speak again.

“Sit with you?” You asked again, and Jeonghan nodded. “Are you sure?” Everyone’s eyes seemed to be on you as you were basically escorted down the hall with Jeonghan at your side, except this time it wasn’t your imagination. For some reason it felt like you were being stared at now more than ever.

“Of course we’re sure.” Joshua reassured you. When he looked close enough to fully take in the look on your face, he gave you a smile that was full of sympathy. “Ignore them. They’re all assholes. We’re the nice ones!”

Joshua was right, in a way. Jeonghan and his friends were the nicest group of assholes you’ve ever been associated with. It was one of those “mean to everyone except you” type of dynamics, especially with Jeonghan himself. You knew it wasn’t wise to, but you couldn’t help how your heart would beat faster whenever he was around since he only seemed to regard you as a close friend and nothing more.

You also couldn’t help but notice that he was as oblivious as he was cute. The others noticed, (Joshua was the first, obviously, then Minghao, then Mingyu, and then Soonyoung, who was heartbroken that you’d choose Jeonghan over him, and you didn’t know if he was joking or not) but he seemed like the only one who couldn’t get a hint. Even when you were being as direct and obvious as possible, Jeonghan still remained as unaffected by your affection as a white crayon did on white paper.

By senior year, you and Jeonghan started to grow apart. It was gradual, falling out of touch with one another as the last school year just passed you both by, until it seemed like Jeonghan was once again nothing but the cute boy you knew nothing about like he had been on your first day. The rest of the boys were devastated, Joshua most of all.

Aside from you, it seemed like he was the one who wanted Jeonghan to quit being dull and realize you liked him. Just tell him already, that’s what he’d always say. You always said you would, only to end up doing the opposite.

What if Jeonghan didn’t feel the same way? What if it destroyed your friendship? What if he never wanted anything to do with you after you told him? Each question seemed more unbearable than the last. It was easier to love him than to lose him.

The last time you saw him was at graduation. After the ceremony, roaming around the parking lot past all the smiling families taking pictures of their children with their brand new diplomas, looking for your aunt’s car—you ran into him.

“[Y/n]!” He called out to you, waving both of his arms in the air to draw your attention. He hugged you once you were close enough, squeezing you a little bit. “I’m sad now, we’re not going to see each other every day anymore,” he pouted, and you smiled, even though the thought of that saddened you just as much.

Having him act so naturally with you threw you for such a loop. Talking to him like this made it feel like your friendship hadn’t come to an end, like you two were old friends who had never been apart.

“Don’t be sad. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” You continued to smile, trying hard to make sure it didn’t look fake. You needed to believe what you were saying if you wanted him to do the same. Luckily for you it seemed effective, because Jeonghan’s face soon broke into a smile as well before he held his pinky up to you.

“Promise?”

Now you were smiling for real. Jeonghan, at the ripe age of eighteen, still believed deeply in pinky promises. They were sacred, never to be broken, those were his words. Others may have found him childish for this, you found it noble.

Nodding, you linked your pinky with his. “Promise.”

The promise you made with Jeonghan turned five today. Five years since senior year ended, five years since you made that promise with him, five years since you’ve seen Yoon Jeonghan’s face in person.

Now you saw him everywhere; on billboards, in ads, plastered on posters in the windows of just about every store—everywhere you went, Jeonghan’s face was sure to be there.

He was certainly doing better than you, no doubt. Odds are he wouldn’t even recognize you anymore. You worked at the local Ihop, drive your aunt’s old Toyota Camry, trying to save up enough money to move out of her house and into your own apartment.

You had wanted to attend college, even if only for a little, but your aunt only had enough money stashed away to send you to that ridiculously pricey private school, not to mention room she was already taking care of you for your mom while she was still…away, and you couldn’t afford to go into debt or pay anyone back.

So while Jeonghan walked runways in Milan and New York, you stayed in town and missed him every time his name was mentioned by one of your coworkers, forcing away the feelings you harbored for him.

Something like that was bound to happen to him, though. He was already so handsome, and his parents no doubt had the connections needed to allow something like that for their son. You were happy for him. Even after all this time, you continued to remain his biggest supporter. You’d buy every product he endorsed, watch any content he was featured in, and you’d stare at his pictures in awe, unable to believe that he just always seemed to get more and more good looking.

To Jeonghan, it was different. He enjoyed the attention. He liked being told by other people how handsome he was. He liked having people who adored him. But that was about it. Not once did he enjoy waking up early, rushing from shoot to shoot, sitting through meetings, none of it. He could live without the pressure to keep smiling, or the nagging from his parents, or—worst of all—the questions on his love life.

Jeonghan had never dated anyone since becoming a model, not even in private. There were zero scandals regarding a romantic relationship when it came to him, but the media was still unconvinced. He wondered how or why they always found the time to be so nosy. Why couldn’t they understand that’s just not what he was looking for right now?

“So Jeonghan, I think you all know the question on every one of our minds, right?” Jihyo asked with a smile, shifting around in her seat a little. Jeonghan responded with his convincing fake laughs—he had to have them mastered by now after all the invasive questions he’d constantly be asked by people like the paparazzi, or in this case, talk-show hosts. “Is there a special girl in your life that you’re hiding from us?”

The audience erupted into a fit of “ooo’s” and “aah’s” all while Jeonghan tried to hide his discomfort with the subject. “Honestly, Jihyo? There really is nobody right now. I’m just…not interested in dating.”

“Oh, come on! Are you sure you’re not seeing anyone in secret?” The sound of Jihyo’s laughter echoed through the studio as is blended with the reactions from the audience. Jeonghan laughed along with her, wondering how much longer he’d be here. He’d already had to have a long meeting with his parents and his agency this morning, then done a product endorsement for a cosmetics brand afterwards, and now he was here, entertaining Jihyo and her live studio audience. Today was relatively low maintenance for him, so after he left here there was only one thing he wanted to do before going home; eat.

Jeonghan shook his head, a small smile on his face. “If I were seeing someone, they wouldn’t be a secret.”

Jihyo’s face lit up in surprise, her mouth parting as she took in his response. “Wow! It seems like Jeonghan is that kind of boyfriend, huh?” Various reactions came from the crowd, most of them being screams of Jeonghan’s name praising him for his response. “All right, that’s all the time we have for today, but tune in tomorrow to hear Jo Yuri talk about her acting debut! That’s all for now!”

“Alright, that’s it people! Let’s wrap it up!”

Jeonghan exhaled with relief, saying a polite goodbye to Jihyo before he excused himself off the set and to his car. He cursed when he noticed how dark the sky was beginning to get. Most of the places he wanted to go would be closing by now. He thought hard to remember the places that stayed open late, then remembered that the local Ihop was always open. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the place, not by a long shot, but he’d just have to suck it up for the sake of his hunger.

Business at work had been slow today. It was only Monday, and you never got too much of a crowd during the start of the week, especially not when it was so early in the morning. Chaewon had suggested the two of you take a short break in the bathroom (though knowing her, she just wanted to gossip).

“No way, [Y/n]. You’re telling me you really knew Jeonghan in high school?” Chaewon asked you, leaning against the bathroom sink as she brushed some of her hair out of her face. “What was he like?”

You shrugged as you washed your hands. “He was nice. Well, he was nice to me.” This made Chaewon gasp and grab onto your shoulder, pressing her lips together to try and hide the smile creeping onto her face.

“Oh my gosh, he was totally into you!”

Yoon Jeonghan? Into you? You laughed dryly, really finding your friend’s enthusiasm cute, but at the same time you seriously doubted it. If what he said in those interviews were true, there was no chance. He wasn’t interested in dating; in relationships altogether.

You were just about to respond to her when the door to the bathroom flew open. Sakura, your manager, was standing in the doorway staring at the two of you like she’d caught you doing something you shouldn’t have.

“What are you two still doing in here?” She asked. “Someone is waiting to have their order taken.”

“Coming,” you sighed, patting your hands dry with three paper towels too many and rushing out behind Sakura. You approached one of the booths closer to the entrance, notepad in hand. “Welcome to Ihop, what can I—”

The person sitting in the booth lowers the menu, and time seems to stop. He looks up at you. You look down at him. It was like neither of you could believe you were seeing each other in this setting, of all places.

“Jeong…han?” You mumbled, blinking rapidly to see if he was really the person sitting there. He couldn’t really be here, could he? But then he smirked and you were convinced; he was real.

“It’s good to see you too, [Y/n].” He muses, flipping back and forth through the menu a few more times before setting in down on the table. He soaks in the dumbfounded look on your face with an overly smug smile. “Don’t just stand there, sit.”

“I’m the waitress, I can’t just—”

“Sit.”

You slid down into the seat across from him without missing a beat. A part of you felt embarrassed for giving into him so easily, the part of you with dignity.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, which got you an amused laugh from Jeonghan.

“I’m hungry, [Y/n]. Why else do people come to Ihop?”

Well, it was good to know he was still a smart ass after all this time. Even if you were attracted to him, then and now, you still couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Okay, you know that’s not what I mean.”

Jeonghan tilted his head to one side. “I live here too, remember?” Then he sighed and laughed weakly. “Has it really been that long?”

A frown found its way onto your lips. Maybe it has been that long, it was like Jeonghan was suddenly a stranger to you even after the time you’d spent together in school. Thinking about that made something inside of you ache.

“I guess it has.” You mumbled. Your eyes remained locked on the table and not Jeonghan, not even when he started to give you his order. Sliding out of the seat, you gave him your usual service industry smile. “I’ll be right back with that.”

You scrambled to the kitchen, handing off the order to the cooks. “Hey, Chaewon, can you go bring the customer out there his drink?”

Slightly skeptical, Chaewon glanced down at the glass in your hand yet took it anyway. “Why can’t you go bring it to him? You already took his order.”

“Just help me out, okay? Just this once?” The girl sighed, mumbling under her breath as she exited the kitchen. You try to take this moment to finally catch your breath and calm your nerves, but it’s quickly ruined when you hear a shriek, followed by Chaewon running back to the kitchen, a starstruck look on her face.

“Yoon Jeonghan is in our restaurant,” she says, her hand clutching the front of her shirt. “And he’s asking for you, [Y/n].”

Of course he’s asking for you. There was no way you’d get out of this little reunion with him so easily. Jeonghan never let things be simple, you’d learned that quickly from your time being friends with him.

“Just bring the food once it’s ready, Chae,” you muttered, walking out of the kitchen and back to the booth Jeonghan was seated at. He looked up at you, pointing to the spot across from him, and you sat. “Is there something you want from me, Jeonghan?”

“Just some company,” He replied with a faux pout. He noticed that you were still looking at him like you could see through his lie, so he shrugged and smiled. “Okay, fine. I really did come here to eat, but I do need help with something else too.”

Raising your eyebrows, you urged him to continue. “I need you to be my girlfriend.” If you had opened your eyes any wider, they probably might have popped out of your head.

“W-What?” You shouted. Jeonghan put one of his fingers to his lips to shush you, which only helped to get you quiet and not to calm your racing heart. “But you’re always saying…”

“Listen,” He held one of your hand with both of his. “I know, I know. I’m always saying I’m not looking to date right now. But that’s exactly why I need you. I’m hoping to get everyone off my fucking back even if it’s just for a little while. Once the news of our relationship dies down, we can call it quits.”

You felt like this was a really vivid dream; like your subconscious was playing an elaborate trick on you and that none of this was actually real. Jeonghan squeezed your hand and looked at you expectantly. This must’ve been really important to him, and he was counting on you. Curse your simple heart, seven years had passed and you still felt like the love struck sixteen year old you were when you first met him.

This was a bad idea. No, this was a terrible idea. You should tell him that. There is no way you should say—

“Okay, fine. But only until the news dies down.”

Jeonghan grinned, visibly pleased with your response.

“I knew I could count on you.”

Thinking with your brain was always hard for you to do whenever you even thought about him, so having him make such a large request of you was basically keeping you from acting with any sort of rationality.

But Jeonghan didn’t need to know all that. You propped your elbow up on the cool surface of the table and leaned your head into the palm of your hand, swallowing down your apprehension. “What are friends for?”

When you woke up the next morning, the only thing on your mind was Jeonghan. Your interaction with him at your job hadn’t been a dream. He had asked you to be his (pretend) girlfriend, and you had agreed. You partly regretted the decision like you would a hangover, knowing that you still had feelings for him and telling him you’d go along with his plans could only end so many ways. You’d have to stop thinking with your heart so often.

In your moment of doubt, you received a text from Jeonghan. After he had finished his very late lunch yesterday, he tore off a piece of the receipt and scribbled down his phone number on it for you to keep, leaving you behind with a generous tip and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach. Fucking butterflies.

He’d also left you a very lovely, romantic text.

I’m picking you up at 7:45.

Ever the charmer. You checked the time; it was exactly 7. You groaned and hoped that this wouldn’t become an everyday thing, you didn’t even go into work this early.

Jeonghan ended up arriving outside your aunt’s house ten minutes later than he said he would, which only made you feel dumb for racing against the clock to make yourself look presentable.

He kept his eyes on you as you buckled up. “Good morning.” You side-eyed him, just barely making out the stupid lopsided grin on his lips.

“For you, maybe.”

“You’ll get used to it, I already have.”

So this would be an everyday thing. Great.

Accompanying Jeonghan around had given you a unique perspective on your own life. You had already thought there was a lot on your own plate, but Jeonghan, you weren’t sure how he handled it all. Sitting through meetings, fittings, hair and makeup, and photoshoot after photoshoot was tiring you out and you weren’t even the model.

You did like the rush of pride you got whenever Jeonghan introduced you as his girlfriend. Getting to see the shocked look on the faces of the people who worked beside him made you feel like you were important. If you didn’t have to get up so early all the time, maybe this was something you could get used to.

“It’s boring, right?” Jeonghan said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, waving away the man that was wiping off his makeup. “The sitting around, the waiting, all of it. You’re bored, aren’t you?”

You raised one of your eyebrows. “Why would you think I’m bored?” You asked. “Are you bored?”

“Obviously,” he scoffed in reply. “I would’ve rather done pretty much anything else. I mentioned being a model, like, one time and they just went with it. I didn’t wanna argue with my parents, though.” He shrugged, and that was it.

There was a sudden awkward tension in the air with Jeonghan’s overly honest confession. You glanced at the man who was in charge of removing his makeup, sharing a sheepish look with him before breaking eye contact. He was two for two on the eye opening revelations today, and you weren’t too sure you could handle a third.

Clearing your throat, you tried to think of a way to steer the conversation into a different direction. “So, uh, where to after this?”

“The gym. I would’ve gone tomorrow but Joshua said he’d meet me there.”

Finally, a break in this drag of a schedule of his. And you’d get to see Joshua. You could feel your boredom melting away like ice on a hot day as you got up and stretched.

“I’ll be in the car.”

So, about the visit to the gym…

It was fine at first. Normal. You greeted Joshua, hugged him, expressed how good it was to see him and how much you had missed him after all this time, and he smiled and done the same.

Speaking of Joshua, he had almost screamed when Jeonghan mentioned that you and him were seeing each other, and when he looked at you to confirm that he was telling the truth, he did scream, earning him confused and concerned stares from the people around you. Lying to him warded off the happy feeling you had built up on the way over here in a heartbeat, so you stayed silent for the duration of his workout with Jeonghan.

“Shit, dude, I gotta go. Something just came up,” Joshua apologized quickly and rushed out of the building, leaving just you, Jeonghan, and a small handful of other people rich or important enough to get into this private space.

You weren’t sure why, maybe it was the hot, sticky air of the gym. Maybe it was Jeonghan sitting there, all sweaty and panting and looking at you with that stupidly sexy smirk on his face. Maybe it was a bunch of other things you couldn’t bring your mind to conjure up the words for, but something was about to happen, you could feel it.

“I should shower.” Jeonghan suddenly said, parting his sweaty body from the machine he had been occupying. His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite place. “Wanna join?”

That’s the short version of how you ended up pressed up against the wall gym shower, your back to Jeonghan as he took you from behind. Your head spun with desire and a dash of shame. Even though it felt really good, you hadn’t even kissed Jeonghan once since declaring your status as (fake) girlfriend and boyfriend.

“Oh, baby. If I had known you felt this good I’d have done this ages ago,” Jeonghan moaned into your ear, and you could feel your knees buckle under you. That sweet-talking mouth of his would definitely be a problem for you, you were calling it now. Hearing such vulgar comments fall from his lips so naturally made you wonder why he was so good at this.

“F-Fuck, Jeonghan. Don’t stop…” The tiles of the small shower felt cold and wet against your skin, the feeling being the only thing keeping you somewhat grounded. Jeonghan’s hands held your hips tightly when you almost slipped as he mumbled something about being careful. If you weren’t in this position you’d have slapped him. “You’re not funny.”

Jeonghan isn’t bothered by your remark in the slightest. He snaps his hips forward, loving the way you gasp and push yourself back to meet his thrusts. He really thought you looked cute like this, so easily losing your composure because of him. He knew about the effect he could have on people, but none of them mattered now that he saw how you reacted to him. “Tell me how it feels baby.”

“So good, Jeonghan. F-Feels so fucking good.” You whined, your mine tuned in on the feeling of his wet skin against yours and the sounds of both of your moans.

“That’s right, feels so good. You’re so cute, you know that?”

Your muscles clenching around his cock when he said that was the one thing that seemed to have Jeonghan lose his cool. He nestled his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin there while he rubbed your clit in fast circles, urging you closer and closer to the bliss of your release.

“Gonna…I’m g-gonna—” You try to say only to be cut off by your own hoarse wail of Jeonghan’s name as your orgasm hits you. Afraid that you might fall, Jeonghan holds onto you even tighter all while continuing to fuck you through your high. He glances down, biting his lip at the sight of the white ring forming at the base of his cock and the streaks of cum streaking down your inner thighs. Never did he think a visual so filthy would get him off, but he couldn’t help but bite your shoulder and curse quietly as he felt himself cum.

The water had gone cold by now, making the realization of just how long you’d been in here weigh heavy on your mind. Jeonghan squeezed one of your hips before he pulled out of you and stepped out to find some towels. You turned off the cool water, leaning back against the same wall you’d just been fucked against and sighed.

Now you really couldn’t go back.

Out of nowhere, a hauntingly embarrassing thought crawled its way into your mind. “Oh no,” you gasped. “Jeonghan, what if someone heard us?” He just laughed at your panicked words.

“Private gym, private showers.” He explained, smiling when you visibly relaxed. “You make some pretty funny faces, has anyone ever told you that?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a smile on your face. “Yeah, you have, back in school.” There had been many instances in your teenage years where Jeonghan had often laughed harder to your reactions to certain events more than the event itself, and he’d always tell you how “fascinating” your range of facial expressions were. History does repeat itself after all. “Has it really been that long?” Hearing the words he’d said to you the other day elicited a soft chuckle from Jeonghan as he pulled your body closer to his, wrapping one of the warm towels around your shivering frame.

You didn’t like the way your heart was beating faster at an action as simple as that as if he hadn’t just had his way with you in that little cubicle this place dared to call a shower, but you just laughed with him and hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

“I guess it has.”

When you returned to work on Friday, you received a warm welcome from your favorite coworker and best friend.

Translation: Chaewon screaming at the top of her lungs and shaking you back and forth.

“You didn’t tell me you’re DATING YOON JEONGHAN!” Her grip was entering bruise territory. “I thought we were friends!”

“Chaewon, please,” Sakura sighed, prying you out of her arms. “You’re dating that boy that came in the other day? What’s the big deal?”

Chaewon had never looked so shocked. Well, that’s a lie, but right now that’s just how her face looked. “The big deal is him! He’s literally everywhere, Sakura. He’s YOON JEONGHAN!”

The customers could no doubt hear her frantic screaming from the kitchen despite your best efforts to make her quiet down. Unfortunately trying to get Chaewon to calm down was like trying to get a penguin to fly.

“How do you even know about that anyway?” You asked. Chaewon held up a finger, quickly pulling her phone out of her pocket and typing a few words into google and hitting search. She held it out to you and Sakura, and your jaw dropped.

Pictures of you and Jeonghan leaving the gym together, hand in hand, along with a plethora of articles inquiring about your identity as Jeonghan’s girlfriend. Your face wasn’t visible in any of them, but anyone who knew you could tell that you were the one beside him in those photos.

“Oh, wow. Yeah, that’s you alright.” Sakura hummed without even sparing you a glance. “That’s nice. He’s a handsome guy. Good for you, [Y/n].”

You smiled, feeling a little awkward with all the sudden attention. “Thanks, Kkura.” You couldn’t even prepare yourself to be grabbed by Chaewon a second time, so you just let it happen.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

“Uh…”

“You can talk after work,” Sakura sighed, pulling you away from Chaewon once again. “[Y/n]’s boyfriend will still be with her after her shift is over.”

You really hoped so.

For almost the entirety of your shift, you were somewhat unfocused on your actual job and more on the leaked pictures of you and Jeonghan. Never had you been used to having so much attention on you, especially over a guy. Of course, Jeonghan wasn’t just any guy, but still. All of the hype had to be because of what he’d always preached about not being interested in dating, no doubt, but other than that your sentiment was similar to that of your manager’s: what’s the big deal?

Chaewon also seemed off, though it was mostly only because she couldn’t wait to pick your brain about your relationship with the model. She kept looking at you and smiling for the entirety of your shift, and you’d just try and pretend you didn’t see her. It was working fine until you know who came back to pay you another unexpected visit.

“Hey, your boyfriend is here!” She whispered to you when you returned from a quick trip to the bathroom. You felt confused and surprised at the same time, he was supposed to be…anywhere but here right now. The stupid organ in your chest jumped when you considered the possibility that he was actually here for you.

Making your way to the front of the restaurant, Jeonghan stood there, hands in his pockets, looking pleased to see you.

“Jeonghan, what are you doing here?” He pouted at you.

“Is that the only question you know how to ask me?” You crossed your arms, not in the mood for his little games right now. “Sorry, fine. I wanted to see you. Make sure you’re handling the news well.”

“News…? Oh, that.” You weren’t too thrilled to talk about your sudden rise to fame even though it had been the only thing on your mind ever since finding out from Chaewon today. Kind of ironic. “It’s whatever, I guess. I mean, I couldn’t believe it when Chaewon showed me the pictures, but that was pretty much it.” You shrugged.

“Wow,” Jeonghan hummed. “Have you always been this blunt? Where’s the girl with the bob? I like her energy better.” He started to laugh, the sound only getting louder when you hit him on the chest. You knew didn’t hurt him, not even in the slightest, and his cute giggling only made you madder. Damn him and his smart mouth. “Just kidding, baby.”

And there he goes with the nicknames again. Seriously, damn him and his smart talking, filthy, mouth and all the words he’d speak with it to get you all flustered.

“You never answered me. Don’t you have a photo shoot or a fitting, or, I don’t know, somewhere else to be instead of Ihop on a Friday?”

Jeonghan just smiled at you. “Forgive me for wanting to just stop by and say hello to my girlfriend.”

“Jeonghan.”

Your eyes watched him as he tried to bite back the smile on his lips to no avail. He nodded slowly, seemingly getting the hint that you could always manage to see right through him. He didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing.

“Alright, alright. You remember that show I was on not too long ago? The one with Jiyho?” Of course you remembered. Chaewon had sent the link to the video once it was uploaded to youtube (like she did with everything involving Jeonghan) along with a bunch of incorrectly spelled words in all caps expressing her excitement and disbelief. He continued speaking once you nodded. “Yeah, so, she pretty much wants me back on the show…with you.” He puts his hands on your shoulders, waiting for you to object to the whole thing.

But you don’t object. You glance to the side once, then back at him, and shrug like you had done moments earlier. “Okay. I’m off on Wednesdays and Thursdays.” The man in front of you sighed and shook his head.

“She wants us there tomorrow. Can’t you get someone else to come in for you, or something?”

You exhaled a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Fine. But you owe me, okay? This is coming out of my paycheck.” The look of utter happiness on Jeonghan’s face whenever you give into him is something you think you’ll never get tired of seeing, like he really thought it’d take more convincing to get you to say yes. You’ve literally been wrapped around his finger since you were sixteen, it was honestly surprising that he had the nerve to explain himself to you sometimes when you damn near lacked the ability to say no to him.

“You’re the best,” he was still smiling when he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, okay? Wear something cute.”

You made some sort of strange yet quiet noise of acknowledgment, watching him with slightly parted lips as he walked out of the doors and back to his car. Jeonghan had just kissed you. On the forehead, yeah, but it was still a kiss. And not like he had kissed you in the shower, either, this one felt different. Tingly. You’d have probably stayed rooted to that spot if Sakura hadn’t started yelling for you to get back to work.

“Coming!”

Mornings always seemed to come too fast for you, especially when you were going anywhere with Jeonghan. Time had to be speeding up on purpose knowing that you were always rushing to get ready lest you make Jeonghan late to one of his unmissable and very important (that you were still shocked to discover how much he despised) events.

You were worried about wearing the “wrong thing” even though you had no idea you should wear for something like this and texted Jeonghan for help last night. He responded with a short explanation of what he’d be wearing and said that you could just wear whatever you thought would match or complement what he’d have on. And then he’d sent one more a few minutes after that. One that read:

good night [y/n] sleep thigh

You had responded with a series of question marks, expecting some kind of explanation or clarification, but he must’ve gone to sleep right after that because there was no response for the rest of the night.

So when you had settled yourself into the passenger seat of his car, you’d decide to question him about it now.

“Oh, I meant sleep tight,” Jeonghan told you. He pointed at the seatbelt, staring at you until you were buckled up and only then did the car start to move. “Were you really thinking about that all night? Even I make spelling mistakes, [Y/n].”

You could sense that he was about to start laughing even before you started talking. “No! I just…whatever, nevermind.” And you’d been right, Jeonghan laughed just like he always did whenever you seemed to make what you considered a fool of yourself in front of him. He noticed that you were frowning from the corner of his eye and placed one of his hands on your thigh. You flinched at the contact.

“What?” He asked, starting to pull it away, but you grabbed it and placed it back down.

“Nothing.” You shook your head. “It’s nothing. Your hands are just cold.” This made him smirk. He poked your cheek, your forearm, and your upper thigh, the smile on his face getting wider each time you shivered and tried to push it away. “Quit it!”

“You like it,” he was giggling now, and you were too. You didn’t even realize that you were until he had pointed to your mouth and laughed even harder. As long as Jeonghan had known you, you’d never giggled before. He joked that he was starting to rub off on you as he poked you with his cold fingers one more time. “I like that dress, by the way.” His hand found its way back to your thigh, feeling slightly less cold now. Maybe the heat of your body was warming him up, because you definitely felt hot right now.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm. You wore it just for me, didn’t you?”

Your eyes grew the slightest bit wider. That was partly the truth, yes. You’d also worn it because he’d told you to wear something nice and this dress just so happened to be one of the nicest pieces of clothing you owned that was appropriate for an event like this. The former option seemed to be the one he was more interested in though, seeing as how he was pushing up the hem of the dress and glancing at your underwear—and the wet patch on it.

“Well, yeah, you kinda told me to.” Jeonghan loved the fact that you were actively choosing to either ignore the fact that you were wet right now or pretend like it didn’t faze you. He pressed one of his (still somewhat cold) fingers on the spot and started to rub it, making you shiver and moan. “J-Jeonghan, you’re doing this now?”

“Ah, you know what? You’re right. My hands are still cold, aren’t they?” He mumbled, but his hand stayed placed firmly against your upper thigh. You hated the way you whined at his teasing and the way you craved more. “Aww, baby. I was just doing what you wanted. Are you mad at me now?”

“You’re literally the worst!” Huffing, you slapped his hand away and Jeonghan, stubborn as ever, just placed it right back down on your thigh. “Don’t touch me.” You tried sounding stern despite the way you were starting to grin, much to Jeonghan’s amusement.

“I owe you one, okay?” His voice was full of nothing but sincerity as he pulled the edges of your dress back down. “Put on a good show for Jihyo and I’ll let you cum as many times as you want later, deal?”

Your response came immediately, like you hadn’t even had to think about it. “Deal.”

Jihyo was even prettier in person. You weren’t used to seeing her without her hair in a bob, like Chaewon, but she seemed to be in the process of growing her hair out. Her skin was a little tanner in person and she had a smile that was kind and natural, which made you feel at ease.

“So, everyone, I’m sure you’ve all seen the pictures, right? Of Jeonghan and his supposed girlfriend?” Jihyo turned so that she faced the audience, nodding along at their responses. “I know, I saw them too, and when I tell you my jaw literally dropped. I was like, I’ve gotta get him back on the show. Well here he is, everyone! And with his mystery girl too!” She held one of her arms out and the audience erupted into applause seeing you and Jeonghan hand in hand walk onto the set. Jihyo clapped as well, watching the two of you the whole time while you took your seats beside each other.

“It’s good to be back, Jihyo. Thanks for having me.” Jeonghan was as polite as ever, his fingers still interlaced with your own. The woman just scoffed and shook her head.

“Oh, it’s nothing! You know how much of a joy you are to have on set.” Then she turned to you, eyebrows shooting up. “And you! What’s your name, sweetie?”

“I’m [Y/n].” The smile on your face was a little awkward, but the audience still received the interaction positively and applauded once more.

“Well [Y/n], aren’t you a lucky girl?” She leaned a little forward in her seat. “You’re doing what a lot of other girls could literally only dream of. How does it feel to be dating Jeonghan?”

It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s like a dream come true. It’s perfect, in every sense of the word. And it’s all one big lie.

“It’s…it’s really crazy to think about it, you know? Like, I’m just a normal girl, but I’m dating him?” You ended your reply by gesturing to Jeonghan, both of you smiling. More clapping came from the audience. It seemed to be going well.

“That’s totally understandable. If I were you, I would’ve lost it. You probably did lose it a little, I would imagine, right?” You nodded at her question, recalling the day he had proposed the whole idea to you. Thinking about how you managed to keep your nerves under control in that situation amazed you, followed by a surge of pride for being able to keep up your act on nonchalance so well when in Jeonghan’s presence. So in Jihyo’s words, yeah, you did lose it just a little.

“Right, right. And you, mister, how long has this been going on?” Jihyo pointed one of her neatly manicured fingers right at Jeonghan. “I remember you saying you’d never keep that special someone a secret.”

Jeonghan leaned back and rested his hands flat on the arms of his chair. “[Y/n] wasn’t ready to be in the public eye. She was just nervous, and I’d never make her do something she didn’t want to. Forgive me.” Seeing the fake pout on his lips caused one to form on Jihyo’s face as well. He was pretty good at this lying on the spot stuff. Maybe a little too good.

“You sweet thing. What a considerate boyfriend. Anyone else feeling a little bit jealous right now?” Jihyo glanced at the audience, responding as eagerly as ever. “I’m definitely feeling a little envious. Like just a pinch. No, but seriously, I wanna know everything. Oh, tell us this: who fell in love first? I’m really curious.”

You sat up in your seat a little straighter. Should you answer? Should you tell the truth? Would Jeonghan finally get the hint you just confessed right now, or would he think you’re just playing along?

“I did.” You snapped your head in Jeonghan’s direction, and you felt tingly again. It didn’t help that he winked at you either, insinuating that this was yet another lie and that you should continue to act naturally. The audience was eating this up.

Jihyo held her hands over her open mouth, looking between you and the crowd. “Wow! I…just wow! I’m so shocked! I was expecting you to be the one who…” She couldn’t even finish speaking given her exasperation, but you could read between the lines. Jihyo wasn’t the only one thrown for a loop with his answer, you genuinely had no idea he would say that. “[Y/n], sweetie, did you know he was the one who liked you first?”

“No,” you were being honest for the first time. “I’m just as shocked as you are.” You look at Jeonghan once again, your eyes immediately noticing the smug look written all over his face. You didn’t like it.

A few more questions later, Jihyo announced that there was “no more time, sorry, i know,” and started to dismiss everyone on the set. You and Jeonghan gave her one last round of polite smiling and goodbyes before you let Jeonghan escort you back to his car. The difference in your moods was stark; Jeonghan seemed to be on cloud nine while you were still hung up over what he had told Jihyo earlier.

“Um, Jeonghan, about what you said back there…”

“I know, right! Did you see the faces of the people in the audience?” He looked so happy, sounded so happy. Anyone could tell he was enjoying the attention. You weren’t. You wanted answers.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I saw them. They really just eat up anything you say, even if you’re lying.”

For the first time in a while, you noticed a dramatic change in Jeonghan’s expression. It was only for a second, maybe less, but it happened. Something like nervousness mixed with a dash of sadness and a pinch of guilt mixed together and slapped right onto the canvas of his face to create the masterpiece of his composure being lost. And then just as quickly as he let it fall, he slapped the mask back onto his face in the form of that carefree grin.

“I know, and I’m sorry baby. I’ll drop you off and then we’ll talk all about it.”

Jeonghan was good at keeping his promises. He kept the one you made at graduation to see you again—which was probably just dumb luck, but it counted. He kept the one he made to you after you left the gym and brought you to your favorite coffee place so you could a drink and a cake pop. He even kept the one he made to you in Junior year when you dropped Minghao’s phone in the pool (you both blamed it on Mingyu). He had not kept his promise to talk to you about what he said in the interview with Jihyo. You were too occupied with his other promise (technically, it was a deal) you’d made with him before that.

“You’re a natural on camera, baby,” He whispered into your ear, running his hands up and down your sides. Jeonghan had his hand down your underwear the whole drive back to your aunt’s house, and when he finally pulled into the driveway, you were scrambling into his lap. Seeing you so worked up made Jeonghan feel good. He leaned back the drivers seat and let you grind against his erection, flooding the inside of your mind until you could think of nothing but him. “I can tell they just loved you.”

“You really talk too much sometimes,” You mumbled. Jeonghan loved nothing more than when you talked back to him, it only made things more fun when he watched you fall apart on his cock in the moments that would follow. “You and your filthy mouth.”

“Shut me up then.”

Jeonghan licked his lips, and you watched him do so with bated breath. He was challenging you. Up until now, you had never kissed each other. You were afraid that if you did, some kind of invisible, imaginary line would be crossed and then it’d be that much harder to let him go. But what the hell, you’d already had him balls deep inside of you, what was a kiss compared to that?

His perfect, pink, lips were calling out to you like a siren does a sailor. There was no resistance when you finally kissed him, finally feeling the softness of his lips against your own. Jeonghan pulls you closer, the sudden friction between your bare core and his clothed cock making the two of you moan into the other’s mouth.

“Ride me,” He whispered with need. Need, you thought, Jeonghan needed this from you. This would’ve been the ideal time to tease him back considering his current state. But fuck, you needed him too.

Jeonghan helped you unbutton his pants and slide them down along with his boxers just enough for you to sink down onto his aching cock. It felt different, but not in a bad way. He felt so much deeper, so much better, so much closer.

He let a chuckle slip past his lips. “Your heart…it’s beating fast.” His ability to be snarky and annoying never seemed to escape him.

“Is yours not?” You asked him while you rocked your hips back and forth lazily. The last thing you wanted to do was rush this moment, this might be the last time you got to have him like this, you wanted it to last. Jeonghan wrapped his hand around one of your wrists and placed it flat against his chest.

His heart was beating just as fast as yours.

There was probably a word out there somewhere to properly convey the emotions you were feeling, not that you could think of it right now with the way Jeonghan was scrambling not only your insides—but your mind, too.

Neither of you spoke again after that. You became caught up in the moment, in the way each other felt. Jeonghan’s eyes fluttered closed when the motions of your hips became faster, the obscene sound of his moaning overpowering your own gasps and whines of pleasure. He looked a fucked out mess; swollen lips, dark eyes, messy hair, the whole nine yards. If your eyes could take pictures, you’d want a million of him in this moment.

Jeonghan couldn’t stop kissing you. He’d been waiting for you to take the initiative, to let go of your hesitation. And now he was addicted to you and the way you kissed him and slipped your tongue into his mouth like you just couldn’t get enough.

“‘M gonna fucking cum, baby,” he breathed, thrusting up into you without warning. You wrapped your arms around his neck, panting, feeling yourself get close too. He kissed you, sloppily, his dick bruising the spongy spot inside you until you were seeing white. No less than a few seconds later Jeonghan was doing the same, your sloppy cunt milking him dry. You stayed like that for a while, his forehead pressed to yours, until the speed and sound of your breathing fell into the same rhythm.

“I’ve gotta go,” is how he chose to break the silence, kissing you to silence your whine of protest. “I know, I’m sorry. But hey, my family is having a party in a few weeks. Some business shit, probably for publicity. I don’t know all the details, but they told me to bring you so they could finally meet you in person.”

You couldn’t muster any other response aside from a sigh. “I’ll be there.”

He kissed you one last time. “That’s my girl.”

One promise kept, another one broken.

“You know, that day you asked me to cover your shift, I didn’t expect it was because you were running off with your boyfriend to go on some talk show,” Yeonjun mumbled, taking the somewhat heavy box labeled “bathroom” out of your hands and walking it to that room. “It must be nice, right?” His voice echoed through the empty space of your new apartment.

“Why, you jealous?” You could hear him scoff all the way from the bathroom, making you and Chaewon laugh.

It’s been two weeks since you’ve heard from Jeonghan. His schedule has gotten increasingly busier ever since his reappearance on Jihyo’s show (which only made the news of your relationship more popular) , and you missed him for a multitude of reasons. One of them being that talk you never had about what he’d said that day. Every time you’d try to bring it up with him there was always a way he managed to weasel his way out of giving you an answer, so you’d given up trying at this point.

In better news, you’d finally managed to save up enough money to move out of your aunts house and into a decent little apartment downtown. It was kind of small, but it was just you, so you were fine with it. Today you’d finally started to move in most of your things. Joshua, Mingyu, and Soonyoung would come over tomorrow to help you set up your bed and shelves and other things that required the ability to decipher Ikea instructions. Minghao would come too, but not to help put anything together. He just wanted to scope out the place and advise you on the best way to decorate it.

So for now it was just you, your coworkers, and a couple of boxes containing the few things that you owned.

“What was it like seeing Jihyo in person?” Chaewon asked, taking a seat on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“She was nice. And pretty. She’s also more tan in person.” You replied. “I really need to go to the store, I’ve barely got any real furniture.” You stared into your box labeled “kitchen” and felt taunted by the plastic cutlery that rested inside.

There was a sudden knock at the door. You looked at Chaewon and she shrugged, just as clueless as you. You padded to the door, unlocking it and opening it just a crack. It was Jeonghan. Chaewon gasped, and you could hear her jump off of the counter and shuffle over to the doorway. He looked tired and a little annoyed standing there with his hands buried in his pockets. Today must’ve been one of his off days because he was dressed way more casually than he normally was.

“Hey baby. Hi Chaewon.” His voice sounded slightly deeper than you were used to hearing it. Chaewon waved tentatively from her position behind you. “Can I come in?” You took a step to the side, enough to let him come in, and he looked around the mostly empty space with an unreadable expression. “You never told me you moved out of your aunt’s place.”

“Right, yeah, sorry,” You shrugged. “You were just so busy, I didn’t want to bother you. It just slipped my mind.” Jeonghan just shook his head and leaned against the counter.

“It’s fine, I would’ve made time to stop by and help if I’d known. Would’ve been better than all the shit I’ve been doing.”

Chaewon stood awkwardly to the side, soon accompanied by a clueless Yeonjun who had just gotten over the initial shock of seeing Jeonghan inside your apartment. “Um…we should get going right now actually. We’ll come back another day, okay [Y/n]?” She smiled at you and waved to Jeonghan with a bit more confidence this time and yanked Yeonjun out of the apartment behind her by his wrist, shutting the door behind her with a kick of her foot.

The air suddenly felt a lot thicker.

“Do you think you could do me a favor?”

You hummed questioningly, watching Jeonghan’s head drop down and his gaze lower. You followed his eyes all the way down to the bulge in his pants. He frowned when you started laughing.

“This is funny to you?” You only laughed harder, one of your hands hovering over your mouth. “I don’t find anything funny about this.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you spoke through your laughs. “How did this even happen?”

He leans his head back and sighs. “I was thinking about you.” Your laughter immediately stops.

You’ve just come to two realizations.

1. Jeonghan admits he gets hard at the mere thought of you.

2. He came running here during one of his few days off because he wants your help dealing with it.

You felt a mix of things right now. Horny—obviously—but also proud, and kind of special. Weirdly enough, you liked the idea of Jeonghan running to you to find some sort of release. Or maybe you just really missed him in the wrong way.

“Come here.” Jeonghan beckons you closer, cupping your face in his hands and rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip. “You’re so pretty…”

“You too,” came your mumbled reply. You reached down to palm him through his sweatpants, eliciting a drawn-out groan from Jeonghan. His hips bucked into your hand, one of his hands wrapped firmly around your wrist similarly to the way he’d done in the car. You slowly sank to your knees, never once breaking eye contact with him.

The sight of you on your knees, looking up at him through your eyelashes and your bottom lip between your teeth, Jeonghan could’ve blown a fucking load right then and there.

“Did you miss me, Hannie?”

Jeonghan sucked in a sharp breath when you yanked down his pants and boxers at the same time, exposing his cock to the cool air of your apartment. “I always miss you, baby.”

You paused for a moment and wondered if he really meant that, but with his dick literally in your face you came to the conclusion that maybe it wasn’t the best time to mull things over. You peppered his tip with kisses and ran your hands up and down the base. You’d almost forgotten how much you love it when he moans for you.

“S-so good…you’re so good to me,” he rested his hands on the top of your head, breathing shakily when you finally closed your lips around him. Just when he thought he couldn’t become any more addicted to you, you went and proved him wrong.

You choked and dug your fingers into his thighs at an unexpected show of force from Jeonghan, pushing his cock deeper down your throat with a thrust of his hips. A loud gag shot out of your mouth when it hit the back of your throat, tears starting to well up inside of your eyes. He would’ve apologized if he didn’t think you didn’t like the sight of you like this. “You’re fucking perfect,” he said it without thinking, too caught up in the moment.

A single tear trailed down your cheek. You moaned around him and he copied the sound, the vibrations making him shiver with pleasure. Your jaw was starting to hurt, just a little, but Jeonghan seemed too far gone go notice anything but his own need to cum down your throat. You whined as loudly as you could, and that’s when he finally seemed to get the memo.

His grip became the slightest bit looser, letting you wrap your hands around whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You feel kind of gross when you notice that there’s spit dripping down your chin, but Jeonghan thought it was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. He literally couldn’t take his eyes off of you, big brown eyes now dark with arousal.

“Will you be good and swallow for me, pretty girl?” He asked, though the question seemed entirely unnecessary given that you would’ve done so anyway. Nevertheless, you hummed in agreement, which was all he needed before the warmth of his cum spilled into your mouth. His body went limp once you tore yourself away from him and he leaned back against the countertop.

“I’ve never actually done that before, by the way,” you mentioned all too casually. Jeonghan stared at you, completely dumbfounded, like you hadn’t just sucked the soul out of him. Your face felt hot when you noticed his face. “What?”

“It’s kind of hard for me to believe that after what you just did, but okay.” He shook his head. “Oh, by the way, the party my parents are having is on a Thursday. Totally random, I know, but at lease you won’t have to call off and miss work. You can still make it, right?”

He really remembered that?

“Yeah…I can still come.” Jeonghan smiled and kissed the tip of your nose. It made you giggle. Maybe he really was rubbing off on you after all.

“Perfect.” You expected that to be it and for him to leave you, but instead he picked up one of the boxes on the floor and began unpacking the contents inside. “Do you like it here?”

“Huh?” You pushed aside the shock you felt by him still being here to give a proper answer. “Oh, yeah. It’s nice. The people upstairs are kind of loud at night, though.”

Now he was giggling. You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Not that kind of loud, Jeonghan. You’re so gross.” He was smiling at you, totally unbothered.

“You love me.”

Oh, if only he knew.

Thursday has never come so fast. Time definitely had something against you, and this was the proof.

The venue for the party—some building as fancy as it was big located in the heart of the city—was hot with dim lights and hallways that were way too long. Dozens of people were lined up around the entrance with cameras and microphones. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from them, even from the passengers seat of Jeonghan’s car, and he grumbled.

“The fucking press is still out here?”

It’s late in the evening. The sun is setting. They’ve been camping out here for days. These people are nothing if not devoted.

“You did say this was a publicity event,” you squeezed his hand. “We’ll just walk fast and smile.”

A smile broke onto his face. “I’ve only done that, like, three times.”

“I remember it being more than that, actually.”

He pouted at you, making you giggle. He was so cute it was almost unbelievable.

“Are you nervous?”

“Well, maybe just a little.” It wasn’t the party or the public that scared you, but the idea of meeting Jeonghan’s parents made your stomach churn. He eased your worries with a kiss, then another, and another.

“You’ll be fine. I promise.”

You wanted to believe him. You don’t know if you really do. There’s no fooling your brain, but your heart is much more easily swayed by his words. He holds your hand tightly as he leads you past the hundreds of cameras and people crying out your name followed by some of the strangest questions you’ve probably ever been asked—no, definitely ever been asked. You squint your eyes, allowing them to adjust to the low interior lighting, and you can see two people approaching. Jeonghan’s thumb rubs the back of your hand to soothe you.

“Ready?” He mumbles. You smile and nod.

“Not like I have a choice.”

“Jeonghan! [Y/n]! So happy you could make it.” His father greets you warmly, paired with a smile and a firm handshake. His mom is a bit less reserved with her affection, immediately pulling you into a hug.

“You look lovely, dear. Absolutely stunning.” You smile at the compliment. “It’s so good to finally meet you in person.”

“I feel the same. I’m still a little shaky.” You laughed and it seemed to ease the tension, given the way his parents laughed along with you. His father handed you a skinny glass of champagne which you eagerly accepted, sipping down the bubbly liquid. Jeonghan let go of your hand, now holding a glass of his own.

“I hope Jeonghan doesn’t give you too much trouble. We know he can be a bit of a handful at times.” The woman said, getting another laugh out of his father and you.

“Mom, please.”

“No, it’s okay. He’s really such a great guy. Our time together has been…” You sucked in a breath and glanced up at Jeonghan. He looked down at you, smirking. “…special.”

“Jeonghan? Oh, it really is him! Jeonghannie!”

You and Jeonghan both turned your heads to search for the source of the voice, both of your eyes landing on a girl with dark hair and plump lips waving at Jeonghan.

“Momo,” he smiled at her. “Good to see you. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Momo smiled back. “We would’ve been here earlier, but Sana couldn’t decide on what to wear and Mina wasn’t being any help.” She huffed at the memory and shook her head. “But we’re here now. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even see you.”

You smiled tightly, trying to remain polite. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. It was the exact opposite of fucking fine. Not only was this Momo girl interrupting your moment with Jeonghan and his parents, but she was also acting as if you were invisible. And worst of all, Jeonghan seemed less bored with her sudden appearance and was paying more attention to her than you.

You paused. Were you getting jealous?

“Hey, you don’t mind if Jeonghan takes some pictures with me and my friends, right?” She put a hand on your arm and squeezed lightly, snapping you out of your daze.

“No, it’s okay.” Momo smiled again, and you couldn’t help but notice just how pretty she was. With your approval, Momo linked her arm with Jeonghan’s, leading him to the opposite end of the room where two other girls stood waiting, their faces lighting up at the sight of the male model she had managed to drag along with her.

“Come on [Y/n] dear, he’ll be back. Oh, there are some people we’d like you to meet. Have you met Kang Seulgi? She’s a very talented designer.” Jeonghan’s mom rambled on, guiding you towards an expectant looking crowd of people.

Shockingly (well, it was shocking to you), your attention is the one thing that the majority of the other guests seem to be after. Many of them gather around you and Jeonghan’s parents, hanging off every word you say and looking at you like you’re one of the most precious things they’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. The topic of the evening is, of course, your relationship with Jeonghan.

"It's..." You search for him in the somewhat dark expanse of space, but you couldn't find him anywhere. He probably ran off somewhere with Joshua, no doubt.

Jeonghan had fucked you over. He’d brought you here just to abandon you. He made you feel special just so you’d make him look good in front of his parents. You felt like some kind of broken toy, so easily thrown to the side once he no longer wanted to play with you.

"I don't know. It's a lot of things. I'm happy though, you know? He's good to me." You smiled, the lie stinging your throat and burning your tongue. There was only so much more of all this attention you could take.

“You’re so lovely, [Y/n].”

“Isn’t she just a dear?”

“She’s the sweetest! Don’t you just love her?”

And there it was; your breaking point. One of your hands flew over your mouth, keeping the pathetic sob from escaping. Concern flashed across the faces of the guests, and you apologized as best as you could as you pushed your way through the mass of bodies and out to the hallway. None of them followed you, probably still confused as to why you had even run away in the first place, but it didn’t matter. None of this mattered.

Jeonghan’s friends loved you. The media loved you. His parents loved you. All these guests whose names you didn’t even know loved you. Everyone loved you but Jeonghan, so in the end none of it even mattered. He had no problem discarding you when you were no longer of use to him, like you were nothing, because he didn’t love you.

You finally cried. The regret, the guilt, it consumed you. You slid down to the floor, your face covered by your hands, crying on the floor like a child.

“[Y/n]?”

You could recognize Jeonghan’s voice in a heartbeat. He stared down at you, worry written all over his pretty face, but you gave him no response.

“Why are you crying?”

He knelt down beside you, trying to get you to at least look at him. You wiped away the last of your tears and sighed.

“I think we need to end this, Jeonghan.”

“What?” He seemed genuinely shocked that you said that. “[Y/n], we’re more popular than ever. That wasn’t the deal.”

You picked yourself up off of the floor, suddenly overcome with anger. "Is that seriously all you care about? How popular you are? What about me?”

His silence was painful.

“God, of course. I don’t even know why I bothered asking. You only care about yourself.”

“That’s not true. I care about you, [Y/n]. You know that.” Jeonghan frowned.

Under different circumstances you might’ve believed him, let him sway you with his sweet words and sad little expression.

“Do you? It feels like you only care about me when you want your dick sucked or when you want someone to clap for you.”

The look on his face changed in an instant. Jeonghan’s patience was wearing thin, you could tell, but there was a part of him that was holding back.

“If that’s how you really feel, why didn’t you say anything? Why even agree to do this in the first place?”

The words came flying out before you could stop them. “Because I love you, Jeonghan! I’ve always loved you!”

A heavy silence enveloped the hallway. It was tense—suffocatingly so. You could hardly make out how his face changed once more in the low lighting that enveloped you.

“[Y/n]—”

“I’m not done!” You’re not sure when you started crying again, but you arely registered the wet droplets streaming down your cheeks. “I don’t even know why I’ve tried so hard to get you to notice the fact that I love you when it’s obvious the only person you love is yourself. You’re nothing but a selfish asshole. I hate you.”

Your vision was blurred with your tears, but you could just barely make out the dejection painted on his face. It didn’t suit him. You hoped that he would say something, anything, but Jeonghan did nothing but stand there. You couldn’t do anything but laugh pitifully.

“I’m going home. Have fun at your party.”

“Wait, [Y/n], please don’t go. Let’s talk about this.” He held onto your hand when you tried to walk away. You tried to get him to let go, but he wasn’t ready to let go.

“What else is there to say, Jeonghan? We’re over, now leave me alone. Why don’t you go ask Momo to be your fake girlfriend, I’m sure she’d be more than happy to.”

You snatched your hand out of his grasp, fooling yourself with the last bit of hope you had that maybe he would chase after you. He made you a promise, after all.

It’s a shame he couldn’t keep it.

You didn’t go into work on Friday. Or Saturday. Or Sunday. After you got home last night, you buried yourself beneath the covers of your bed, too exhausted to do anything other than lie there in the darkness until you fell asleep. When morning came, you couldn’t even muster up the strength to move, so you called Sakura and said that you were sick and wouldn’t be able to come in for the next few days.

Jeonghan had left you an unbelievable amount of texts and calls, none of which you bothered to respond to. Chaewon and Joshua also texted you to ask about the party and if you’d heard anything from Jeonghan; apparently no one had heard from him since the party. As if you’d know.

On Sunday, you’d managed to tear yourself away from your bed—for longer than a trip to the kitchen or the bathroom—and out onto the couch. A rerun episode of Jihyo’s talk show was playing on the TV, the one that featured you and Jeonghan. You watched with a heavy heart as the two of you walked hand in hand, smiling, waving to the studio audience.

How could you ever fall in love with him? He was just another self serving rich boy who used you for his own personal gain. It didn’t matter that he was charming or funny or cute or—

Fuck, even when you were mad at him you found it impossible to ignore the beating of your own heart when you remembered just how nice it felt to be with him, even if it was all just for show.

Someone was knocking. You sighed, not wanting to get up, but the knocking only grew louder and more urgent.

“Okay, I’m coming! Damn…” You shouted, lifting yourself from the couch and over to the door, frowning at the person standing on the other side.

Jeonghan’s state of being didn’t seem to be any better than yours. His eyes had bags under them, his hair was in desperate need of a brush, and he was still in his pajamas. Even so, he smiled weakly at the sight of you. “I was worried you wouldn’t answer. I’m happy to see you’re doing okay.”

You scoffed. “I’m not.” You missed the way his smile dropped at that. “What do you want?”

“I want to apologize to you.”

Shaking your head, you started to shut the door, almost closing it on Jeonghan’s arm in the process.

“Wait, please! I really mean it, just give me a few minutes and then I’ll be gone, I swear.”

There was no way you were in your right mind, because you actually let him in. He smiled and followed you to the couch, sitting at a distance to keep you from getting uncomfortable.

“I thought about what you said at the party. The stuff you said about me wasn’t wrong. I was being selfish. I did only care about my image. You had every right to be upset with me.”

“I’m still upset with you.”

“And that’s perfectly fine, but just hear me out,” His voice was frantic. “Those two weeks I didn’t talk to you were the worst two weeks of my life. I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you. I really missed you, [Y/n]. And the more I thought about you, the more I realized that I was falling in love. I’m so in love with you, [Y/n].”

You weren’t buying it. “You could’ve texted me. Or called. Or something.”

Jeonghan turned to face you, eyes flickering over your face. “I wanted to, and I should’ve, but…”

“…But what?”

His cheeks were growing pinker by the second.

“But what, Jeonghan?”

“But I didn’t want you to leave me. I didn’t tell you how I felt because I thought it would overwhelm you. If you start to feel real feelings in a fake relationship, what are you supposed to do?” He sounded so…sad.

When the reality of his words finally sunk in, clarity followed. Jeonghan was in love with you. Jeonghan was scared that you would want things to be over. Jeonghan was worried about how you would react to him.

You breathed out a laugh.

“You’re such a dummy, Jeonghan. Why would I ever leave you?”

His sadness evaporated, now replaced with relief and joy and love. He pulled you into a hug and sighed happily when you returned it.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. My heart literally fucking broke when you cried because of me and my shitty attitude.”

“Oh, but I love your shitty attitude. Just not when it’s making me cry.”

“Good. Pretty girls shouldn’t cry.” He whispered against your lips before kissing you. You felt giddy at the way his lips moved against yours, smiling into the kiss. He gently pushed you so you were lying on your back, breaking away to look down at you.

“My pretty girl…” He said again, voice sweeter than sugar, fingers trailing up your legs. They felt cold against your burning hot skin, and it made you shiver. “Gonna let me make you feel good like you deserve?”

“Yes, Hannie, please.”

Jeonghan groaned, pausing the movement of his fingers to bask in the sound of you begging for him. You had no idea what you did to him and it made his dick that much harder. “Good girl. I’ll take care of you.”

“Hurry up, your hands are cold,” You whined. His eyes flashed with mischief, pressing his fingers down into the flesh of your inner thigh, watching you shiver and moan.

“I don’t know, I think that you like it, am I right?”

“If you don’t hurry up and touch me, I’ll do it myself.” To prove your point, you slipped your shorts off and tossed them somewhere onto the floor. Jeonghan touched you before you could even think about sliding off your underwear, cupping your leaking cunt with his hand.

“The only one who gets to play with this pretty pussy is me, baby. Don’t ever forget it.” You moaned at how fast his demeanor seemed to change, nodding furiously as you tried to grind into his hand to relieve the ache he was making you feel.

Pouting and panting, you looked up at him. “Hannie, don’t be mean…”

He found it insane how he didn’t realize how whipped he was for you earlier. Like really, he was totally wrapped around your finger. This must’ve been how you felt for all those years.

“Whatever you want, baby,” He lifted your legs a little higher, situating himself so he was lying flat on his stomach, face only a few inches away from your cunt. He pushed your underwear to the side, gasping at the sight of how wet you were. “Shit, baby, you’re fucking dripping.”

“Just for you.”

He seemed pleased with that. “Better be.”

Jeonghan buried his face in between your legs, groaning when the taste of you hits his mouth. He’s making an even bigger mess of you, licking at you greedily and sloppily, drowning himself in the wetness between your thighs.

You’re moaning louder than you think you ever have in your life. Shaky fingers slide into his soft dark hair, gripping tightly. He doesn’t seem to mind though, already too caught up in you to register the little bit of pain. You grind into his face, staining the lower half of his face with your arousal.

“Hannie, fuck,” You manage to say despite your fucked out state. Jeonghan hums, and the sensation makes your thighs close around his head. If you could speak, you would apologize, but Jeonghan seems to grow impossibly more aroused by the act.

He slips two of his fingers inside of you, it’s easy given how wet you are and keep getting, while he occupies his tongue on your clit. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, any and all coherent thoughts having escaped you in that moment. The only thing you could focus on was Jeonghan, his lips, and his fingers.

You could feel yourself getting close, a familiar feeling blooming in your stomach. Jeonghan could feel it too with the way you were tightening around his fingers and arching your back to stay as close to him as you can. He circles your clit with his tongue before starting to suck on it, your legs shaking with the force of your orgasm.

“You taste so good,” Jeonghan says, licking his lips clean of every last drop of you. He presses one last long, lingering kiss to your pussy before gathering the strength to pull away and wipe his mouth clean.

“We could’ve kept going.” The look you gave him was so innocent and sweet, a contrast to the way your legs were still spread open with your juices staining your inner thighs. You almost convinced him. Almost.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He spoke slowly and softly, as if he was in no rush to give you more despite the painfully obvious tent in his pants.

“Well then hurry up and fuck me already.”

Jeonghan doesn’t want to keep you waiting, but he can’t help but tease you just a little bit more. He sheds his clothes with little urgency, and he smirks like the little cocky shit he is when he sees the way you’re looking at him, like you could just devour him here and now. It’s like you were seeing him naked for the first time all over again, astonished by the sight of him. He was just so pretty all over.

He slides the tip of his cock up and down your slit, teasing your entrance until you were squirming. “Hannie, please,” you whined, steadying your hands on his shoulders. Clearly he was just as desperate as you were, because he pushed into with a groan no more than a moment later.

“So tight, baby, shit. Are you trying to make me cum already?”

His strokes are slow and deep, and you can feel every single inch of him inside of you as he drags himself all the way out before slamming back inside. Whenever you clench around him, he falters and lets himself moan something unintelligible about how good you feel or how pretty you are.

“F-Faster, Hannie, I want—” Jeonghan cut you off with a sloppy kiss, swallowing each and every one of your noises.

He cooed at you and shook his head with fake disapproval. “When did you get so demanding?” Your words turned into whimpers when he increased both the pace and the force of his thrusts, rendering your ability to speak useless. “You know I’ve got you baby, I know what you need.”

“Stop talking like that.” Your nails dragged down his back, streaking his unblemished skin with thin red lines.

“What are you gonna do if I don’t? You gonna cum and make a mess of yourself all over my cock, huh baby?”

You whimpered again, leaving Jeonghan to assume that he was correct and giving him yet another ego boost. With one hand, he pushed your shirt up to reveal your braless chest, kissing and sucking at the supple skin of your tits.

There was no way you weren’t going to be getting a noise complaint. The sounds coming from Jeonghan’s hips snapping against yours paired with the steady stream of sounds coming from both you and Jeonghan were sure to have them making a fuss. Not that any of that mattered at the moment, well, not to either of you.

His hand snakes between your bodies, rubbing feverishly at your abused bundle of nerves, whispering so sweetly into your ear the words “cum for me” which is all you needed before doing just that. Jeonghan watches your face as you cum, and he thinks that you’ve never looked more beautiful than you do now, letting yourself fall apart underneath him like this.

“I love you so much,” He says in between his strained grunts of pleasure. “So fucking much, baby.” Even after you had already cum, Jeonghan’s hips never once stopped moving against yours.

“I love you too, Hannie, fuck.” The overstimulation was starting to hit you, and you whimpered because of it.

“I know, baby. I’m almost there.”

His tip is bruising your sweet spot with each of his thrusts, making you squeeze around him impossibly tighter, and the feeling makes him so dizzy, reminding him of the fact that he is truly and utterly yours. “Want me to cum inside you, pretty girl? Use your words and tell me.”

“Yes, yes, please, Hannie! Need your cum inside of me!” Your mouth and body are reacting on their own, saying and doing what they want as you feel yourself cum a second time. He doesn’t hold back anymore, the warm sensation of his cum being fucked deeper and deeper into you overtaking all of your senses, leaving you feeling fuzzy and lightheaded.

Jeonghan’s head rests on your chest, breathing in your scent and listening to the sound of your heart. He’s too lazy and too tired to pull out, but you don’t mind. “Can you be my girlfriend for real now?” Even as you work to catch your breath, he still manages to make you laugh.

“Hm, I don’t know, nobody was around to hear you say that, should we go find you an audience?” You tease, and Jeonghan whines loudly and shakes his head.

“In that case, yes. I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

#yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen smut #svt smut #jeonghan x reader #svt jeonghan #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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kiyinian · 1 month

Text

Getting closer to the lieutenant

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Simon has never been one to believe in fate, much less would he believe it if someone told him that he would be head over heels for someone, he would say it was a lie. But that had to change when he met you, at that very moment, the fate of the two of you was intertwined.

He met you for the first time when you joined the base, a simple rookie recruit who would be trained by Simon. No big deal, just another part of his job. Little did he know that within a few months, you'd have him wrapped around your little finger.

It all started in training, the way you obeyed his every command, without hesitation or anything like that, hell, even when you didn't understand what you were supposed to do properly, he couldn't get angry with you.

If it had been any other soldier, he would have yelled or complained, but when you looked at him with those little eyes of yours, your eyelids fluttering as you focused on his every word.

"Hold the gun more firmly." Simon murmurs, in the same thick, husky voice as always.

You nodded hesitantly, aiming at the target, you concentrated, knowing that Simon was looking at you. You focused, concentrating on the target and trying to hit it - you narrowly missed.

If it had been any other soldier, Simon would have been rude, too strict. But with you, he couldn't get angry, watching you poke your cheek, your lips pressing together in a thin line.

It was impossible to get stressed with you.

He stopped frowning, took a few steps closer to you, positioning himself behind you, keeping a respectful distance.

"Relax, keep your elbows here." He says, holding your elbows underneath, straightening your posture.

He had never, ever, done this with any other recruit, but something about you made him do it.

After a few attempts, you managed to hit several shots on target, in sequence, and this drew a few murmurs from him. Apparently he was complimenting you, in his own way.

Maybe he was being too gentle with you, maybe he really should be stricter, but he couldn't make himself do it. He was probably treating you too well to be just a recruit.

In the corner he could see Johnny smiling, the bastard knew Simon perfectly well. Something was brewing there.

It definitely was.

Little by little you got closer, and it became more and more obvious that your relationship wasn't just one of superior and subordinate. He couldn't deny the concern and closeness he had for you, it was just unconscious.

He was always giving you tips on how to take better care of yourself, teaching you defense techniques, giving you clear and precise instructions so that you would follow them to the letter, all for your protection.

On missions, he was always on the communication device with you, asking every now and then if you were all right, always keeping in touch. You often didn't speak to each other, but just the fact that he could hear you breathing, or even giggling at something he said, was enough for him.

And that became even clearer during your last mission. Because of a mistake by one of the soldiers, things went wrong and you had to separate.

Simon despaired, he thought he would never see you again, or that you had been taken by the enemy, or something worse. He felt as if he had stopped breathing, and he only thought straight again when he heard your faint voice on the communication device.

"Sir...?" You mumble, and Simon almost falls to his knees and thanks whatever God kept you safe.

"Where are you? Hurt?" He asks in a hurried way, ready to come at you anyway.

"Just scratches, sir. I'm down south, in the abandoned blue house." You explain hurriedly, hoping he'll understand.

"I'm coming." Simon didn't wait for your answer, he knew where you were, and he wouldn't stop until he saw you again.

Once he found you, he held back every urge he had to hug you, to keep you safe in his arms. At that moment, he realized how much he had grown fond of you. The fear he felt at the thought of losing you. You'd taken up space in his heart. You'd done so much.

That day he realized that you were much more than a teammate, you were much more than he wanted to admit.

Even after promising himself that he would never fall in love again, he found himself breaking that promise in a conversation with you.

It was meeting day, you were sitting next to Simon, Gaz and Johnny were in the corner smoking a cigarette. You were waiting for Price, and then you started playing with a hair tie.

Simon looked at you, taking a sip of coffee, he even had an intrigued expression for you.

You then wrapped the elastic around your ring finger, admiring it.

"I think I'd look nice with a ring." You say, looking at Simon with a smile.

He raised his eyebrows, his lips threatening to form into a smirk.

"You want someone to put a ring on you?" Simon says with a certain amusement, looking at your finger.

"Ah, maybe so..." You say, starting to whisper, "I don't know, I think Riley would be a great surname."

That's it, you left him speechless, all giddy over a simple sentence. He was nervous to speak.

"Don't you agree?" You teased once more, giving a silly little smile.

He grunted, pulling down his mask, hiding the blush that appeared on his cheeks, as well as the grin.

At that moment, he knew it was you.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley #ghost cod #cod #cod simon riley #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #ghost #simon riley x y/n

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pellucid-constellations · 3 months

Text

If It All Fell

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nothing big in this one. Memory loss?? Overprotectiveness?? Azriel losing it (but not that much just yet)??

a/n: Hi this is going to be a series :) thank you for reading <3

Part 2 ♡

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist ♡

As you blinked through the haziness, a dull throb echoed along the base of your skull. You sat up abruptly, feeling rocks and twigs digging into the backs of your legs, and winced as several shouts attacked your senses. You recognized none of them.

Gods, your head hurt.

A few more blinks and the sun made an appearance, light assaulting your too-sensitive eyes. The leaves beneath your hands crunched and blew away in the balmy breeze, a few flecks of green still stuck to your palm as you brought it up to rub your head.

“Don’t,” a feminine voice warned, and it was then that you pinpointed one of the shouts from earlier. But it was warmer now, calm. “Don’t touch your head, y/n. Azriel and Cas are getting help.”

You scrunched your face up but obeyed the command, taking steady breaths to try and manage the pain. The woman in front of you—blonde hair, brown eyes, a fierce expression—was like no one you had ever seen before. She was so incredibly beautiful you weren’t sure if you were actually awake.

You took a pause.

And then another.

Who was the last person you had seen?

“Where am I?” you asked instead, trying to appear sane. Your voice sounded unfamiliar.

The woman’s expression pinched. “You’re in Spring Court. You remember that, don’t you? Rhysand sent us.”

“Rhysand?” you repeated, the name foreign on your tongue. “Sent us for what?”

“Well, we were supposed to be rallying Tamlin into re-fortifying his borders to win back the Summer Court’s good graces, but that beast is an idiot. Forging agreements with witches was quite possibly the worst move he could have made.”

“Witches?”

“I know, unbelievable,” the blonde ranted, sitting back on her heels beside you. “We came to help only to find out he had helped himself to the wicked. I knew he was distraught after Feyre, but to turn to this?”

The pounding in your head was making it increasingly difficult to follow the tale the woman was spinning. Perhaps if you had more backstory, more information, you would understand what she was talking about.

Desperate for that connection, you winced as you asked, “Um, not to offend, but… who are you?”

Her aggravated expression crumpled into one of shock and concern. Her mouth parted, her brows came together at a point, and then she shifted, bringing her hands to your shoulders. When you flinched at the touch, the woman pulled her hands back, her fingers curling into her palms. “You don’t recognize me?” she asked, trepidation lining her tone.

You shook your head, immediately regretting the action as pain shot up your neck.

“Not at all?” she whispered. When your face remained blank, she pulled her hands into her lap. “Do you know who you are?”

Another lapse in silence.

“My Gods…”

Darkness materialized nearby—swirling darkness. It reminded you of shadows and brought you a sense of peace for the first time since you opened your eyes.

But then people started emerging from the darkness, taking up space in the vast forest, and that peace collapsed. Two large men with wings stomped against the twig-covered floor, causing a raucous disturbance as they began hurrying an older woman out from behind them. They both spoke in low, rushed tones and you wanted all the sound to stop.

You ignored the woman’s directions from before and squeezed your head in your hands, your eyes snapping shut. It didn’t work, and you hadn’t expected it to, but Gods did your head hurt. It hurt and it was plagued by an impossible pressure that wouldn’t seem to let up.

“Mor, how long has she been awake?” one of the men asked. You felt him kneel beside you, felt him place rough, textured hands on your wrists in an attempt to pry your hands down. But he was gentle—so very gentle.

“Azriel, she—”

“Mor, if you could move aside. I need to look at her,” a much older voice chimed in.

There was shuffling around you, new hands pressing to your face. You heard whispering that you couldn’t make out, and then the panic set in.

You didn’t know these people. When you first woke up, the disorientation was focal; you were concerned about the pounding in your head and your whereabouts and that was it. But there were so many people here now, and you didn’t know any of them.

You didn’t know who you were. Did they know who you were? They had to.

“Majda, stop. You’re scaring her,” the man beside you, Azriel you’d heard him be called, practically hissed.

Majda only hummed. “I am doing the job you brought me here to do. If I can’t work around a mating bond I will send you away, Shadowsinger.”

Your breath came out in faster huffs, each one deeper than the last. You opened your eyes to try and gain some footing in the situation, still keeping your hands glued to your head.

Your gaze went out before it went in, and you saw the blonde woman, Mor, beside a much larger man. His shoulder-length hair was messy and windswept, and he sent you a bittersweet, sympathetic smile that you couldn’t replicate. He watched with furrowed brows as your eyes darted from him, to Mor, to the wide forest around you.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t take her home first,” the man standing by the trees grumbled. “She would be more comfortable there.”

“We didn’t want to move her with a head injury,” Azriel growled. “Not one from a witch.”

His voice sent your attention towards him. Azriel was on his knees beside you, holding your wrists with his thumb circling the back of your hand in delicate strokes. He was painfully beautiful and you were left to wonder, yet again, if you were truly awake. When your gazes met, something foreign pulled at your ribs and the pressure sent an unexpected scream past your lips. You hunched over in a panic, yanking yourself away from those beside you.

That wasn’t right. None of this felt right.

The older woman, Majda, cursed, staring after you as you pushed yourself further and further away. Each movement sent a new ache aflame in your head, but that didn’t stop you because you needed to get away. Your feet kicked up dirt and rocks and your hands tore with the effort but this wasn’t right.

Azriel reached you before you could hit the tree just inches from your back. He held your head in his own hands and locked you in his gaze, keeping you trapped in the yellows and browns and the flecks that joined them. He took exaggerated breaths, wings flared out to block out the sun, and then he began whispering.

It took a moment for you to understand the words, your heavy breaths mostly drowning them out.

Something swished in the distance. More whispering, more secrets.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

When Azriel’s voice finally came through, it was like a lifeline.

“I’m here, my love. You’re safe. I know it hurts, I know.”

It was odd, finding peace in a stranger. The shadows that seemed to dance around him swirled into shapes that framed your skin, and some of the panic felt foolish in their presence. They twisted and curved, somehow amplifying the cool tone of Azriel’s voice as he promised you things you had no capacity to understand.

But he never stopped talking, not even when your gaze left his to follow his shadows instead. If anything, the action seemed to spur on the small beings more, and you wondered—for a brief moment—if he was controlling them.

Something like amazement seeped into your panic as you whispered, “Who are you?”

You didn’t know the man in front of you, that much was true, but he looked so… broken at your words. Something akin to pain clashed with his beautiful features as his jaw clenched to an unnatural degree. You were surprised that his teeth didn’t crack beneath the pressure. You wondered what else he could withstand—what atrocities he’d seen to make his eyes turn so dark when you spoke your words out loud.

“No,” Azriel growled, chin hooking over his shoulder. His wings pulled back to reveal a new man, but this one looked slightly different from the others. No wings, different eyes. “You stay out of her head, Rhysand.”

Rhysand. He was the one that had sent you here.

The concern on Rhysand’s face looked unnatural, like it didn’t belong there. “Az, it could help. Let me help her.”

“You could make it worse. We have no idea what that witch did to her.” As Azriel spoke, shadows began to cover you more and more. Your sight became dim, your body camouflaged in darkness.

“Looking in could be the only way to figure that out.” The next bout of silence was uncomfortable. The pounding in your head persisted, exacerbating to the point of tears along your waterline. “I know what you’re feeling, Azriel. I get it. But I want to help her, brother. You know I would never hurt her.”

A twig snapped beneath a boot.

Azriel growled low in his chest.

The pounding gave way to a sharp pain, and it made your senses lighter, less focused.

You couldn't remember ever passing out before, but you thought it might feel like this.

“Stay away from her.”

“She doesn’t remember you, Azriel.”

A choked breath. “Don’t touch my mate.”

Darkness that surpassed the shadows finally granted you a reprieve from the pain.

Maybe you'd wake up and this would all make sense.

Part 2 ♡

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #azriel angst

2K notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying.

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer.

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm.

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant.

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines.

John’s icon dims.

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to.

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you.

He tried to call as often as he could.

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down.

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic.

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.”

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening.

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind.

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?”

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work.

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth.

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together.

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad?

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears.

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.”

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted?

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him.

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind.

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with.

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present.

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…”

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear.

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?”

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring.

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts.

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor.

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs.

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.”

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin.

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing.

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?”

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation.

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.”

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords.

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else.

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences.

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips.

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends.

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute.

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later.

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?”

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?”

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name.

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed.

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click.

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms.

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat.

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening.

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh.

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.”

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod.

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.”

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room.

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.”

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight.

You steel yourself and raise the box.

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair.

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully.

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm.

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead.

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders.

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed.

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship.

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!”

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly.

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.”

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it.

Pregnant.

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly.

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts.

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss.

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold.

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again.

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.”

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.”

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.”

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.”

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second.

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.”

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child.

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.”

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.”

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave.

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

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4K notes · View notes

supernovafics · 3 months

Note

With your I’ll be there for you series would you be interested in writing about Steve discovering that he has feelings for reader? I think it would be sweet for him to just find even the silliest things she does cute and then him having a little melt down because he realised he’s liked her along. The series is such a great idea! 💭

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k words

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, drunk!steve, mentions of steve's dad being shitty, angst

summary: in which steve’s drunk and you don’t hesitate to cancel a date to take care of him

author's note: thanks for the request! probably from the moment i started this series/universe i knew that i wanted to have steve realize his feelings first so this request was quite literally perfect for that lol. this is slightly “while you were sleeping” by laufey inspired hence the title. the slow burn is finally starting to come to an end !! (i’m both happy and sad about that lmao) anyways enjoy<3333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

You were in the middle of debating between a black skirt and a brown plaid one that Robin convinced you to buy when you two went thrifting just a few days ago when the phone rang.

Leaving both options on your bed, you went to the kitchen to answer it, bottomless aside from the stockings you had already put on because of the cold late February weather.

“Hello?”

“Steve?” You recognized his voice for the most part, but he sounded a little different. A little far away, like he was calling from the oldest phone in the universe.

“Oh, hey.” The way he said the simple two words both confused and amused you because it sounded as if he didn’t expect you to be the person on the other end of the line.

You laughed a bit. “‘Oh, hey’? Don’t sound so disappointed. You called me.”

“I know. Sorry. I meant to call Eddie,” He said, and it was then that you heard what should’ve been obvious from the moment he said “Hello” to you— the way his words weren’t necessarily slurry, just slower than usual.

He was drunk, and you now recognized the voice that you had become so used to hearing since Steve’s sixteenth birthday when he snuck his dad’s whiskey and you both only had two shots of it before feeling it fully.

“Why would you call him? Aren’t you two together right now?” You asked, your confusion taking precedence over the amusement you felt in this moment.

Earlier that day, before you left the apartment to head to your twelve o’clock class, he told you that he was going to tag along with Robin, Vickie, and Eddie to some art show thing after his shift that night at Family Video; you would’ve gone too if you didn’t already have plans for the night.

“Also, I didn’t know that you could get drunk at an art show,” You added. “I’ll definitely make sure to go next time.”

“I didn’t go with them,” He told you, and before you could ask where he was, he answered the unspoken question. “I’m actually at a bar right now.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What? Why?”

“Very long story. Dad shit. What else is new, right?” Steve answered with a breath of a laugh.

He made his words sound lighthearted and as if whatever happened didn’t really affect him, but you, of course, didn’t see it that way. Without even being with Steve right then, standing in front of him and reading his facial expressions, you still saw through what he was trying to play off as “no big deal.” You’d known him more than long enough to know that anything involving his dad was usually always serious. And whatever shitty things his dad said to him this time around drove Steve to a bar rather than back here to the apartment to frustratingly rant to you, and that only worried you.

“Which bar are you at?” You asked softly.

“The only place in town, other than The Hideout, that doesn’t card,” He said and then immediately continued. “But, wait, don’t come here, though. I don’t want you to come get me. That’s why I was trying to call Eddie. I know you have your date tonight.”

Just for a second— actually, probably the entire time you’d been talking to Steve— you’d forgotten about the date, forgotten about the reason why you’d just been debating which skirt to wear, forgotten about what you were supposed to leave for in twenty minutes. And that slightly surprised you because, for the last couple of days, you’d been really excited about it.

Meeting Jamie felt like a sort of “meet cute” moment that was straight out of a romcom, one that you probably would’ve laughed at because of how cheesy it was. You bumped into him in the hallway on the floor of your apartment. He was your neighbor’s, Miss Johnson’s, nephew, and you learned that even though he went to a college about an hour away, he was trying to visit her more often. He had been in the middle of leaving when you saw him, and you gave a friendly wave and smile at first and he started a conversation with you. You two then spent an hour talking in the hallway before you headed inside your apartment to start studying for a test and he asked for your number, which led to more long conversations over the next few days until he asked you on a date.

In a way, it startled you how giddy you found yourself feeling about him after only those few days, how easily and quickly you liked him. It was the first crush that you had in a while that didn’t feel completely hopeless.

But now all of that was the last thing on your mind. It quickly became pushed to the side because you knew that your best friend needed you.

You shook your head in this moment even though Steve couldn’t see you. “No, it’s okay, I’ll come.”

“No, don’t, don’t. I’ll just call Eddie.”

He’s probably not home right now, was what you wanted to tell Steve, but you refrained from doing so at that moment. Instead, you said, “I’ll call him for you.”

The drunken sigh in relief Steve let out was immediate. “Okay, thanks, I don’t think I have any more change for this payphone, anyway.”

“Okay, just stay put and stop drinking.”

“The bartender already cut me off.”

“Good,” You said before saying a final goodbye to him and hanging up.

You then picked the phone up again to dial a different number. You, of course, didn’t attempt to call Eddie and you instead called Jamie. He was completely understanding when you told him that you had to cancel the date because of an emergency, and he said that you two could do the dinner and movie on a different night, which you quickly agreed on.

You put on the brown plaid skirt— quickly deciding that it looked better with the white top you were wearing, anyway— before slipping on a pair of shoes and grabbing your coat, shoving your car keys and wallet into the pockets, and then leaving the apartment.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The drive to Webster’s took less than fifteen minutes and the current emptiness of it didn’t surprise you that much. From the handful of times that you’d gone to the place with Steve, Eddie, and Robin, it became a known fact that things didn’t become “lively” until after ten, and it was currently only a little after nine.

You spotted Steve sitting on a stool at the counter, head down in his folded arms. You sat in the empty seat next to him and tapped the side of his shoulder until he sat up and looked at you.

“Glad to know you’re alive, Harrington.”

He smiled at you and you gave him a small smile back, he must have forgotten that he’d told you not to come to the bar.

“I feel barely alive, actually.”

“Still counts.”

Steve only looked at you for a moment, taking notice of what you were wearing beneath your unzipped coat.

“You look nice,” He said and then seemed to realize something and his smile dropped. “Wait, shit, your date. You shouldn’t be here right now.”

“It’s fine. We’re just gonna reschedule it.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head at him. “No, don’t be. It’s just a first date, anyway. Your drunk ass needing a ride home is obviously more important than that.”

Steve laughed a bit. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment?”

“Yes, you should,” You told him and then watched with furrowed brows as he went to grab the short glass that was in front of him, half full of some dark liquor. He was about to finish what was left in the glass, but you grabbed it from him before he could. “Steve.”

“I still had this from before I called you. I can’t finish it?”

“No, because if you end up throwing up in my car on the drive home, I will have to murder you.”

You looked away from him before he could say anything in response to that and waved at Barry, the usual bartender that you became on a first name basis with after your third time going to Webster’s. Since it was the farthest thing from busy right then, he immediately walked over to you two.

“Hey, Barry, can he have some water?”

He nodded and filled up a glass, sliding it over to Steve and then looking at you. “Glad to see you here. He’s looked like a sad little lost puppy for the past hour.”

Steve stopped mid-sip to scoff. “That’s very not true.”

“Sorry, but I think I have to believe the only other sober person here,” You said and only smiled at the second annoyed scoff he let out, which was hard to take seriously because of his current drunkenness.

Barry got called over by a group of people that just walked in and you silently watched Steve take a few sips from his glass. When he set it down, you lightly nudged his knee with yours. “Do you wanna talk about what happened with your dad?”

Steve simply sighed at first. “He came to Family Video today and went on this huge rant about me and what I’m doing with my life. He thinks my job is shit, and even me going to school part-time isn’t enough. He thinks I’m such a loser in comparison to his friend’s kids who are actually “doing things with their lives.””

You frowned and shook your head. “Fuck him.”

“Cheers to that,” Steve said with a small laugh and held up his glass of water for a second. “He also said that he wants to set me up with this job at his friend’s insurance company, and I immediately said no to that. I’m still not entirely sure what I wanna do yet, but I know it’s not that— some stupid fucking desk job. Especially not one that’s just given to me by my dad.”

“He’s an idiot,” You told Steve. “And also his bullshit is not at all worth the hangover you’ll have in the morning.”

“You might be right about that,” He responded, eyes fixed on his now half-empty glass of water and a small amused smile on his face. “But, it felt good for a second.”

You poked his arm so that he would look at you. “You could’ve talked to me about all of that instead of coming here.”

“I didn’t wanna mess up your date by coming home and talking to you about all of this sad shit. I knew that you’d just worry about me and probably not go,” He mumbled. “And I feel like a dumbass for still messing it up.”

“It’s okay. Seriously. Honestly,” You told him and then playfully smiled as you said your next words. “And you know that I would tell you if it wasn’t okay. I’d definitely hold this over you for at least a week, and force you to clean out Harold’s cage and do my laundry that’s been building up for the past week and a half. But you’re drunk and sad, and I’m way too nice to make you do any of those things.”

He laughed at that, which made you smile wider. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” You said before you stood up from the stool you’d been sitting in. “Now, come on, let’s get out of here before it starts getting crowded. Can you walk okay?”

Steve only nodded in response, which was a nonverbal answer that you weren’t sure if you completely trusted, so you stood close to him as he also got up and pulled some cash out of his back pocket and placed it on the counter.

He then waved at Barry, and you were certain that he probably didn’t mean for it to be so animated and comical, but it very much looked that way. “Goodnight, Barry.”

The bartender laughed a bit when he looked over at you and Steve. “‘Night, guys.”

Steve started heading toward the door first and you followed just a few steps behind him. When he stumbled a bit before even making it out of the door, you grabbed his hand and moved closer to him so that he could drape his arm around your shoulders, and then one of yours circled around his waist.

Leading him to your car was a feat in itself, but once he was settled in the passenger seat and you started driving, he rolled his window down completely and had it like that during the entire ride even though it was freezing cold outside, and that was worse than dealing with his stumbling.

When you made it to the apartment building, his balance was actually a bit more coherent so you didn’t need to do more than just hold his hand during the entire walk to the elevators and then down the hallway to the apartment.

You dragged him to your room and he sighed in contentment when he sat down on the side of your bed; he always liked your mattress better than his own for some reason.

“Wait, don’t fall asleep yet,” You told him before heading over to his room and grabbing a random t-shirt and basketball shorts from one of his drawers. “Here, put this on. I know you’d be mad at me if I let you fall asleep in those jeans.”

“Thanks,” He mumbled with a yawn as you handed the clothes over to him, and then you went to the kitchen as he started changing.

You filled a mug with water and then pulled open the drawer that had the bottle of aspirin in it. Neither you nor Steve were really sure why it lived there instead of in one of your bathrooms, where it probably should’ve been, but you two also didn’t make any effort to move it.

Steve was already asleep and under the covers when you walked back into your room, and you placed the mug and aspirin on the nightstand on his side. You changed into your own pajamas for the night, which simply consisted of an old baggy t-shirt and shorts, before settling in on your side of the bed.

It was still pretty early for a Friday night, barely even ten o’clock, but you didn’t mind going to bed because you were actually a little tired. Steve was turned and facing away from you, but you still watched him and his even breathing for a bit, making sure he was okay before you quickly drifted off to sleep yourself.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Steve didn’t know what time it was when he woke up, but he could tell that it was pretty early because he could see the just sun starting to rise.

The other things he quickly noticed were that he was in your bed and he had a pounding headache, which was a little confusing at first, but then all of what happened last night started coming back to him.

The shit with his dad, the bar, the accidental phone call to you, and then you coming to the bar and bringing him home— he remembered it all.

With a soft groan, Steve slowly sat up in bed, doing his best not to wake you, and then reached over to grab the water and aspirin you left out for him.

He took the medicine and drank most of the water and then laid back down, turning on his side to face you. Your head was against the pillow and even breaths fell from your slightly parted lips. You looked so peaceful like this, he decided, so pretty.

Steve thought about you and Jamie, and how happy you had been when you talked about him. Steve also knew how excited you’d been about the date, and even though you had told him that it was okay that you had to cancel it last night, he still felt a little bad about it all.

He knew that you would probably do anything for him, and that was completely mutual. If the roles had been reversed last night, Steve wouldn’t have thought twice about canceling a date to go pick you up from some dumb bar. And making those sorts of sacrifices for one another never felt like a question, it just always felt like the obvious thing to do.

It didn’t completely make sense at first, but somehow it was that simple and crystal clear thought that managed to shift something deep down inside of him— it harshly drew the line between best friends and something more. And Steve quickly realized exactly which side he lay on.

Which was confusing because the lines of where your friendship began and ended had always felt so unquestionable— you and him were best friends; nothing more, nothing less.

But it was different now, it changed, and it was this moment that told him that it actually had been that way for a while; probably since you two moved into the apartment.

Starting from that day in August your lives became even more intertwined with one another— which didn’t feel entirely possible because of how close you’d been for so long— but it was true. He hadn’t realized how blurry the lines had been getting since then.

Since you two started beginning your days and ending them in the same home. Since so many nights became spent in each other’s beds; nothing more happening than sleeping and late night talking, but still. Since you two got Harold only a few weeks into living in the apartment, and you both immediately fell into your unserious parental roles in the hamster’s life. Since an unspoken early morning weekend routine fell into place where Steve would make coffee and toast and you’d do the eggs and bacon. Since you two became something equivalent to a married couple that had been together for at least twenty years.

And then Steve realized that actually maybe this something more had always been there— maybe it had always been so fucking obvious.

He thought back to the end of Senior year when you two went to each other’s proms and slow danced at the end of the night because you both thought it would be funny, but those moments actually turned into something really sweet and wholesome; and you’d both think back on it during the most randomest of times.

And then he also thought about smaller things, the parts of your personality that made him feel so goddamn lucky to know you. How you always fiddled with the radio and never settled on a station for longer than a few minutes during perhaps any car ride where Steve was the one driving; something that you’d been doing since the day he got his driver's license and you two went on your first solo car ride together. How pretty much anything you did would only make him smile and playfully roll his eyes or make fun of you.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure why he was having this sort of “epiphany moment” right here, right now, in your bed as he looked at you peacefully sleeping next to him.

It, of course, stemmed from you canceling something that he had known you’d been looking forward to for the last couple of days to instead take care of him, he could recognize that. But, what made that so different from everything else you’d done for each other over the years?

He immediately thought that maybe there was no one straight answer to that question because it wasn’t about what was different. Instead, it was about all of those other moments too. They had slowly built upon each other until it came to this one on this February morning— nine years into your friendship and six and a half months into you two living together— and Steve could finally recognize what it all had meant, and he was ready to accept the truth for what it was too.

He liked you. More than liked, actually. He loved you, he was in love with you.

But, you were also his best friend, the most important person in his life, and he didn’t want to be the reason that that ever got messed up. And that thought was what made him finally look away from you and mutter out a soft, “Fuck.”

Steve quickly got out of the bed, and he was surprised, but also completely grateful, that his quick and hasty movements didn’t manage to stir you awake.

He left your room and went to the kitchen. It was early and he probably should’ve been trying to get a few more hours of sleep, but he wasn’t tired anymore.

The realization was the only thing on his mind— in a matter of seconds, it managed to completely consume it.

Everything else that had been happening the past few months finally made complete sense; Steve saw it all in a different way. He now understood why he couldn’t picture any sort of future with Vanessa when he went out with her a few times back in December even though he really did like her, and why he couldn’t see anything with anyone he went out with. Because deep down, he knew that he could only see that with you. It made sense why his dating life had been in such a rut lately and why he didn’t particularly mind it all that much.

When you two would jokingly say that you both were completely okay with ending up “alone together forever,” he realized now that from his side of things, deep down, it had never been a joke. And he wondered if it was the same way for you.

In an ideal world, the answer would be yes. But, things only felt confusing, and if he was being a thousand percent honest with himself, he didn’t know if that answer was yes in this world.

Steve knew that you really liked Jamie, even in such a short amount of time, so that couldn’t mean that you had any sort of feelings for him. Right? Or maybe you just hadn’t had your own “epiphany moment” yet? Should he tell you about his? Should he tell you about any of what just hit him in the past ten minutes?

His brain felt as if it was going to fucking explode with all of the questions circling his mind right then, and the coffee he was making failed to distract his thoughts from everything.

He came to the quick decision that he wouldn’t tell you what he was feeling; it would just be easier that way. There wouldn’t be any way for him to potentially fuck things up between you two if he simply ignored what he was feeling. It was easy to imagine how drastically your friendship would change if he told you everything and you didn’t feel the same. Therefore, he could push it all away to make sure that nothing changed for the worse.

When the coffee was done, he poured some into a fresh mug and took a long sip. Any other time, he couldn’t really stand straight black coffee, but the bitterness tasted good for once; he decided to focus on that instead of anything else.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he had been leaning back against the counter and sipping from his mug before you came out of your room. It could’ve been one minute or ten; right then, time felt as if it was moving both slow and fast.

“Hey,” You said, giving him a small smile and rubbing the tiredness out of your eyes. “I’m surprised you’re up already. I definitely expected you to be passed out until at least ten.”

It felt equivalent to a light switch flipping how quickly Steve felt affected by your smile and simply you in that moment. He’d probably seen you like this a million times before— just waking up and still in your now wrinkled pajamas from the night— but it felt entirely different now. And that was when he knew how fucked he was.

“Yeah, I, uh, I woke up and couldn’t, um, go back to sleep… So, yeah, just came out here. Made some, um, coffee,” He ultimately responded and then inwardly sighed at how flustered he was right then. He let out a quick laugh. “Sorry, blame the hangover for my inability to say sentences right now.”

If that was how he was going to act around you from now on, he knew that trying to keep this a secret was probably the most unrealistic idea ever.

You laughed a bit and nodded, seemingly unfazed by his awkwardness right then, and opened up the fridge. “You think you can stomach eggs and bacon?”

“Yes to the bacon, but I think I should play it safe and say no to the eggs.”

“Makes sense,” You said, closing the fridge after grabbing the bacon. You placed the pack on the counter near the stove and then looked at Steve. “You feeling better about all of that dad shit?”

It was almost comical how even though it had been the reason for everything that happened last night, the conversation he had with his dad was the farthest thing from his mind now.

“I’m good, actually.”

“Good,” You said, smiling at him and then reaching out to grab his hand and give it a light reassuring squeeze; which, unknown to you, made his heart feel as if it was going to somersault out of his chest. “Remember, the next time this happens, come to me and we both can get drunk here for free. Or we can just run away and join the circus, or whatever it was we agreed on when we were twelve.”

Steve only nodded and gave you a small smile in response because it felt as if that was all he could do at that moment. If he attempted to say anything, he felt like his words would’ve started or ended with, “I’m in love with you.”

He changed his decision then. He knew that he had to tell you everything because it wouldn’t be easy to simply bury it down and ignore it. There was no way that he’d be able to keep this from you, at least not for a long time, it was already swallowing him whole. And although he had no idea when or how he would tell you the truth, he made a quick promise to himself that he would do it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things smut

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macfrog · 29 days

Text

san angelo | one shot

what happens when joel miller meets his star-crossed lover?

big love to @mrsmando and @5oh5 for cheering me on with this one, and @bageldaddy for being my eyes, my ears, and - only sometimes - my brain.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: it's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar - where fate delivers him to you. warnings: story is inserted into canon, so cordyceps outbreak happens, sarah dies (off-page), joel dissociates, doomed love, lots of mention of fate, alcohol consumption, reader is a smoker, cursing, drunken one-night stand, oral sex, unprotected piv, joel's cock is massive, a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lil smut to tie it all together. enjoy! word count: 9.8k

moodboard | main masterlist | playlist [in case you wanna vibe in sad] | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤍

Palm lines.

It’s the first thing he thinks as soon as she stops moving in his arms. The second her little whimpers cease, the moment her chest stops heaving and her eyes glaze over. Suddenly, Joel’s little girl weighs more than he can bear.

Palm lines. And he has no fucking idea why.

He closes his eyes and there you are. The whir of the ceiling fan, the tinkling of bracelets loose on your wrist. You have sorta earth hands, you told him. Or, well – they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way. I don’t really know. I’m still learning.

You told him that air hands were long, spindly. And Sarah was always a lanky kid – tallest on the soccer team, head and shoulders above the other girls by the third grade. Her hands, he thinks, must be air. They must be.

Her fingers are still twisted around his right now. Lifeless, slippery with the blood still wet and quickly cooling.

Joel cradles her, squeezing so hard that he wonders whether he might be able to fuse their bodies together. Lock them in some white-knuckle grip so that he never has to let go of her – never has to leave this hill covered in dirt and blood.

His palms are ruined; a maroon river carving its way down his heart line, dirt deep in the groove of his life line. Why does he even fucking remember what they’re called?

Why the fuck are you what he’s thinking about, right now?

“Tommy,” he says, opening his eyes again. “We gotta…we gotta get to…”

She’s limp, draped over his thighs as though she’s nothing more than a stretch of crimson curtain. He looks down at her and begs her to come back, begs her to open her eyes and look up at him again.

But the night is passing and she’s still not breathing. Dawn is breaking and Joel’s daughter is dead.

He sucks in a shattered breath. “…to San Angelo, Tommy.”

The younger Miller stuffs his gun into the back of his jeans and paces over, soles coated thick in shit and grass. “I hear you, Joel.”

“You ain’t listenin’ to me, I –”

“I’m listenin’ fine, Joel.” Tommy hooks his hands under his niece’s arms. “Now, help me lift her. We can’t…” his voice strains, fighting the death grip his brother has on the girl, “…we can’t leave her here.”

Joel’s frozen to the spot; sinking further and further into the earth. Staring at his open hands, the stains like rust on his palms. He says to San Angelo again, and Tommy snaps.

“Jesus, Joel, enough! I’ve heard enough goddamn it! I see your hands, now – we gotta fuckin’ bury Sarah.”

Your fate line, your nail tickled, and Joel held his hand steady, It can change, if something big is coming.

Somethin’ big? he asked. A little younger, a lot more naïve. Still a healthy dose of belief in the world, an echo of the god-fearing faith that raised him.

His hand felt so light, cradled in two of yours. He half hoped he’d never have to let go – just lie there with you forever. Your legs tangled with his, the sheets disturbed; the room injected with amber from the streetlights outside.

You nodded. A big shift, or something.

And he scoffed. He actually scoffed, right there and then. Incredulous. The hell kinda big shift is comin’ our way? he asked, laughing.

You just smiled back, shrugging. You were so fucking casual, that whole night. It would’ve unnerved him, if he hadn’t been so swept off by the sparkle in your eye, the glowing cherry of your cigarette.

Guess we just gotta wait ‘n see.

It’s August thirtieth, two thousand eight.

Almost five thousand miles on the back of a Harley, and Joel just wants to go home.

He arches his aching back, palms flat against the crests of his hips, and blinks in the light from the food mart in front of him. Twenty-six, he thinks to himself, only twenty-fuckin’-six.

It’s ninety degrees out. An uncomfortable heat, for a man who feels ten years older than he really is. For a man who hasn’t had a decent shower in almost two weeks. For a man who’s spent the last six hours tailing the brake lights of his little brother’s bike.

The sweat gathers sticky between his shoulder blades, prickles along the nape of his neck. There’s dust spattered down his bare arms and buried in the grooves of his knuckles.

He’s tired. He’s tired, he’s dirty, and goddamn, he wishes he was back home.

He holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, the yellow sky melting to a purple haze. Squinting, he follows the soar of two swallows overhead, looping through the sky, until he’s rubbing the image from his eyes with the back of his wrist.

He’s gotta remember to call Sarah before she goes to bed.

The door opens with the tinkle of a brass bell older and rustier than Joel feels. A swaggering figure splits the glow from the store in two – a figure with a pack of Marlboros in one hand and an already half-empty bottle of water in the other.

Tommy holds them both out to Joel, who swipes the water with a scowl.

“Ain’t killed you yet, brother,” Tommy scoffs, stuffing the cigarettes into his back pocket. He swings a frayed-denim leg over the seat of his Harley.

Joel drains the bottle, panting as he crushes the plastic in one fist. “Damn near tryin’,” he mutters, tossing it in the trash. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Where are we?” Tommy asks. He glances over his shoulder, staring from the cracked roads to the telephone wires overhead. A Syclone pulls into the lot; a dehydrated squeal as it rolls to a halt.

“San Angelo,” Joel says. “Only a few more hours to go.” He settles on his own bike, pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders. “We passed a Super 8 coming into town, if you feel like restin’ up. Or – we leave now, be home around midnight.”

Tommy chuckles. “What’s the rush? We ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

And Joel agrees – for the most part.

His mom is watching Sarah while they’re gone, and he reckons she’s hardly missing him. Too smart for her own good, Joel’s realizing: plotting and scheming her way into staying up past her bedtime, drinking Pepsi at dinner, watching Curtis and Viper – and swearing that her dad lets her do it all, too.

But, still. He misses his kid.

It’s the most they’ve ever been apart – time or distance. The longest he hasn’t had her climbing up his back or hanging off his arm. The least he’s been called Dad since he was eighteen years old.

He just…misses his kid.

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the body of the bike. “Tommy, I gotta get back home to Sarah.”

“Look,” Tommy says, and Joel knows that the argument is lost already, “By the time we got back, she’d be asleep anyways. Let’s leave in the morning – first thing, I swear – and we’ll be home in time for breakfast. Deal?”

They stare at one another, a stand-off in the parking lot. Both waiting for the other to break. The swallows gather on the roof of the store, basking in the weak wash of flickering fluorescents.

“Come on, brother,” Tommy pleads, “It’s one more night.” He lifts his helmet, punching it over his mop of shaggy hair, and kicks the bike to life.

Joel growls to himself, watching it drift over to the side of the road.

He considers heading to the Super 8 alone, grabbing a room only to shower and get some food, then hitting the road and leaving his little brother in the dust. Waiting for him to stumble through the door tomorrow morning – tired, groggy, probably hungover – while Joel, fresh as a daisy, drizzles syrup over Sarah’s pancakes and pours her orange juice.

He’s a pragmatic man. He’s a grown-up. Scares away the ghosts and ghouls and monsters of his daughter’s nightmares. Shushes her back to sleep in the crook of his arm, tiptoes as lightly as he can out of her room so as not to wake her.

Things like God, like the universe, things like horoscopes and laws of attraction…for the most part, Joel can do without them. Has done his whole life.

But then – the glow of indigo overhead, and the mysterious shadows lurking behind the buildings. The birdsong tittering in his ears, the twinkle of the sun in Tommy’s helmet – something distant in the dusty sphere.

Something, someone, winking at him from far away.

Something a little heavier than the breeze nudges at his spine, and Joel’s arms lift – fitting his own helmet over his head. He swings the heel of his boot into his kickstand and revs the bike, Harley roaring as it joins Tommy’s out on the boulevard.

Murphy’s is a small, green bar on the corner of an intersection. All peeled paint lettering and buzzing fluorescents – the y burnt out and pulsing.

Joel doesn’t think Tommy picked it for any reason other than the huge Lone Star mural on the side of the goddamn building, the way he tosses his thumb to it as they park up. A squint smirk on his face, muttering something like ‘s good to be home, big brother, as they hook helmets over handlebars.

Tommy leads Joel inside, their boots tacky on the wooden floor. Walls paneled by aged frames and sun-bleached photographs; air hanging thick with a smell like vinegar. The babble of slurred conversation is pierced by the sharp crack of pool balls breaking.

Metal-plate belt buckles snaked through strained jeans; low eyes which shift to size-up the two strangers. They all turn back to their fingerprinted glasses when Joel and Tommy settle into an empty booth.

It feels hotter in here than it is outside, stuffier. A thick humidity which clings to Joel’s bones, humming like the string lights draped from beams above his head.

Tommy reclines between the creaking leather cushion and the wall. He pokes at a yellowing poster of some Western, hums to himself, and then looks across the table.

Joel’s eyes loop once around the room before they meet his brother’s. “What?” he asks.

“First round is yours, old man.”

“Oh, is it, now?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Thought this was your idea?”

A weedy grin stretches across Tommy’s lips. He needs to fucking shave, Joel thinks. Whiskers poking from around his small mouth like pine needles. “’s my birthday trip,” he reasons.

And can Joel argue with that? Does he have the fucking energy? Will it get him out of here and back to Austin any quicker?

“Goddamn it,” he grumbles. He pushes himself to his feet, heels of his palms against the tacky wood.

He wanders over to the bar, tugging on the front of his tee to unstick it from his damp chest. Slots in beside an ivory cowboy hat with a pair of jeaned legs. The man fixes his bolo tie and watches Joel’s hand as he flags the bartender down.

And then he feels it.

You.

Then he feels you.

First, the weight of you – crashing some into his back. He shunts forward from the suddenness of it, knocking his ribs against the bar, and lifts a hand to brace himself on the ledge.

And then – heat, like an iron. Like every hair and freckle on your skin is branded into his the second you come into contact with him. A feeling like the roll of a wave against his spine, a hand hooked around his forearm when he begins to turn.

“Shit,” you hiss, steadying yourself on the curve of his shoulder. You glance down at your feet, clicking between your black boots. “I’m sorry, that was…that was my bad.”

“’s alright,” Joel says instantly. He holds his arm still until you let go and he sidesteps – though only a little. He watches, dumbstruck, as you rest your elbows on the bar and lean forward. His eyes linger on your back, trailing the crisscross straps wrapped tight over your spine.

You squint up at the menu pinned above shelves of crystal bottles. Your eyes move back and forth across the chalkboard, slowly descending until they’re meeting his in the speckled mirror opposite – a sweet smile growing on your lips.

It runs like whiskey through Joel’s veins: warm and dangerous.

And the way his head spins, the way the world blurs for a moment into one swipe of color around you; the way your cooing laugh echoes between his ears long after he’s heard it –

Joel’s already intoxicated.

He’s still staring when you pull back and motion to the bar. “You can go first, by the way,” you say, waving a hand. “I wasn’t cuttin’ in line. Just trying to read the drinks.”

“I’ll wait,” he replies, remembering how to be polite, how to be charming. Old cogs long out of use jerking to life inside him again. “Can’t read any of ‘em, either, anyways.”

It draws from you that same little laugh, a puff of air from your nostrils. You nod, biting your bottom lip.

He’s quickly forgetting why he’s stood in this room, why he’s in this city. He’d probably forget his own fucking name if you asked him right now what it was.

“’nother drink, darlin’?” a low voice interrupts, and you’re turning away.

Joel’s eyes follow you – a moth chasing something golden and radiant – as you face the wiggle of a snow-white mustache poking from beneath the brim of that ivory cowboy hat.

You shake your head, lifting two fingers with a bill slipped between them. “I’m good, thanks, George. Maybe next round.” You wave to the kid behind the bar – some name that Joel’s too fucking mindless to hear. Too distracted by the glint in your eye, the sparkle of your crescent moon earrings in the light.

If only he knew this feeling. If only he could put a name to it. As familiar as the sun and yet, brand new like dawn. His stomach swirls in a fleet of butterflies – as though he’s fifteen again, bumping elbows with his high school crush.

You nudge him, thumb pointing in the direction of the bartender.

Joel shakes his head. “Ladies first,” he says, heart skipping when you hold his stare.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, “Told you I ain’t jumping in.”

He asks the guy for two beers, barely taking his eyes off you. “Alright,” he leans in, lowering his voice, “Then let me buy you a drink. Make up for gettin’ in your way just then.”

You prop your chin on your knuckles, grinning as you push your twenty around the wooden bar top, dodging pooled rings of alcohol like it’s an arcade game. “I don’t do that,” you say, eyes tracing the slick trail left by the bill.

“Do what?”

“Accept drinks from strange men in bars.”

His tongue presses against the back of his teeth, the taste of humor honey-sweet. “Yeah? ‘n how long have you known…” he nods to the – what is he, sixty? Sixty-five? – year-old on your right, “…George?”

Your gaze lifts, eyes wide. Apparently as impressed by Joel’s confidence as he is himself. “We’re actually in a very serious relationship. Marriage proposal imminent.”

“Damn,” he mutters as the bartender reappears with two Coors, “And here I thought I had half a chance.”

You hum to yourself, studying him. Looking from his jaw across the span of his shoulders, his wide-knuckled hands and then back to his lips. Curious and wary, judging the strange animal stood before you.

And he knows he’s weathered from the weeks on the road, and all the years before that. Dirt under his nails and the light sheen of sun on his forehead. The flecks of gray through his thick, brown beard.

You take a deep breath, eyes twinkling, and tell him, “I’m here with my friend.”

“Ain’t that lucky?” Joel glances at Tommy. “I’m here with my brother.”

You look across to the dirty blond, sat tilting a glass candle in his hand. “He single?”

Joel nods. “Is she?”

You nod.

“Alright. You wanna come sit with us?”

Your smirk answers his question. You take the beers, rings clinking off the glass. “Rum,” you call over your shoulder, wandering off, “I drink rum.”

Joel’s gaze lowers to the sway of your hips. “Rum it is,” he says, turning back to the bar.

“So…a cross-country bike trip, and you wound up in San Angelo?”

You’re on your fourth drink, the first one Joel hasn’t paid for – and he only allowed it because it’s a Diet Coke (and maybe you got to the bar first, held his wrists with one hand so he couldn’t stop you from slapping your own money down).

“Yep,” Joel replies, pinching the lime from his drink and dropping it onto a napkin. “Just passin’ through. Shower, sleep, then head on home.”

“Where’s that, then? Home?”

“Austin.”

“Austin,” you pout, “Nice.”

Joel smirks, licking citrus from his fingertips. “Is it?”

“I’ve never been to Austin,” Brooke chirps, fiddling with the umbrella in her piña colada. She twirls the paper canopy and glances up to Tommy.

He snaps out of his slack-jawed gaze when he realizes what she’s implying. “Oh – yeah, well…” his head wobbles as he stutters, “…you two ever come down that way, we’d be happy to, uh…show ya ‘round, huh, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply, staring back at his brother with the same amused expression you are.

You’ve been an inch apart all evening – doused in the dive bar darkness, the shrouded conversations and muffled TV static. The tip of your nose and curve of your shoulders lit only by the luminous signs dotting the walls.

Tommy and Brooke are already deep in conversation again about the best car Tommy ever owned. Joel watches as your eyes flit between the pair, entertained by the way they trip over each other’s sentences. Your cheeks lift when Brooke lays a hand over Tommy’s, and he squeezes her fingers back.

Where did you come from? Joel’s thinking. He takes a swig of his whiskey, feeling your eyes on him. As he lowers his glass, you lift yours. When he turns in his seat towards you, you’re already facing him, back against the wainscotting. He smiles, and so do you.

Every movement feels choreographed, some merry dance only you two know. You’re in your own little world.

Where did you come from, again, and where have you been my entire fucking life?

“So, what about you?” Joel asks instead, swallowing – all warm-bellied and brave. “You grow up here?”

You shake your head, taking another sip. “Nope. Just liked it enough to hang up my coat for a few months. I grew up in Phoenix.”

“You travel a lot?”

“I’ve been around. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”

He thinks of home: of Austin and its silver-snake river, burnt-orange jerseys and the pleated bunting lining Sixth Street. He thinks of late nights on lawn chairs, nursing a beer and shooting the shit with his brother. Keeping their voices lower than the buzz of the cicadas, looking more at the dusky sky than at each other.

“You don’t ever get tired of it?” Joel asks. “Of moving around so much?”

You scoff, breath clouding the inside of your glass. “Three weeks on a motorcycle starting to get to you, huh?”

He breathes a laugh, loose again. The cicadas fade from his ears.

Your head tilts in a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess the universe keeps on surprising me.”

Joel doesn’t do this. At least, he hasn’t done this since he was a teenager – crate of beer under his arm and a chest full of courage. He’s long forgotten the feeling of heat blooming in his cheeks, the twitch of his heart anytime you look at him.

But fuck, if there isn’t something about you. Something in the way you move, the way you look at him. Something in the way you play with your straw, knocking ice cubes around and chewing on the plastic once you’ve drained the glass.

Something – though it’s a little too early and Joel’s a little too tipsy to tell just what. He tries to remember that he’s pragmatic. A grown-up. He chases away the monsters in his daughter’s –

“Oh, shit,” Joel says suddenly, scrambling to pull his cell from his pocket. It’s nine thirty. He was supposed to – “I forgot…”

A miserable tone from his Motorola cuts him short. The screen flashes an empty battery before fading to black. He jams a thumb into the keypad a couple more times, cursing at the winking symbol.

“Someone you gotta call?” you ask.

He meets your eye and winces. “Yeah, I’m…I said I’d call an hour ago.”

“You wanna use mine?” You twist around, fishing in your purse for your own. “We can go outside.”

“No, no, it’s…it’s alright, I’m sure she won’t mind, she –”

You shake your head. “Shut up. Come on, let’s go. I could use some fresh air, anyways. Be back in a minute,” you tell Brooke – who nods and turns straight back to Tommy.

Joel extends his hand to help you out of the booth, then follows you to the door. The cool air tugs every nerve in his body to attention, pin-sharp when he steps out of that lazy heat. Under the emerald glow of the Murphy’s sign, he settles his glass on a window ledge. “Next round’s on me, alright?”

You roll your eyes, pushing the phone against his chest. “Just call, Joel.”

One last apologetic glance, and then he’s dialing. He makes to wander along the curb, the tone already pulsing in his ear, when he notices –

“You ain’t brought a jacket?”

You’re sitting on the ledge, clutching your elbows. Swatting midges from the light you’re bathed in, charms on your bracelets jingling. “Hm?”

He tuts. “A jacket. Here.” He shrugs his own off, sitting it around your frame. It’s warm from the bar and from Joel’s body heat, and you sink into it – letting the dark leather drown you as you rummage through your purse again.

“Nice,” Joel’s eyes narrow, “Fresh air.”

You hum into your hands, flicking your lighter. The cigarette trembles when you murmur, “We all got our skeletons, I guess.”

He turns on his heel when a familiar voice picks up.

“Hey, hey, M–Yeah, sorry it’s late…Yeah, we got held up. My phone died, so I’m using…Is she still–? Can I–? Oh, Sarah. Hi, baby.”

His little girl begins chattering down the line immediately, telling Joel everything she’s been up to since they last spoke this morning.

“…and then, Emily thought I was one of the Armadillos – I don’t even know how, ‘cause they play in red, remember Dad? – but she did, and she slide tackled me so bad that Coach Thomson had to sub in Akari for me so I could ice my ankle. Grandma was kinda mad about it, but she took me to Burger King after to cheer me up, and…”

Joel wanders back and forth, smiling to himself and scuffing the heel of his boot along the concrete – barely able to squeeze more than two words between her chirping. It’s all, Yeah, baby? and Wow, sweetheart; all uhuhs and mhms until she finally quietens, excitement plateauing again.

“Alright, well. You know what time it is, right?”

“Yeah,” Sarah groans. She knows it all too well.

Bedtime.

“…But you didn’t call when you said you would, Daddy, and it’s Saturday, it’s –”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry. Just…somethin’ came up. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where’s Uncle Tommy? Can I talk to him?”

Joel turns to face the bar. “He, uh…I’m not with him right now, sweetheart. I’ll tell him you asked after him, though.”

Sarah concedes, and then begins asking questions Joel knows she’s only asking to stay on the line a little longer – to stay awake a little later. But still, he answers each one – humoring her and, at the same time, letting himself listen to her voice just a little more before he has to let her go.

He thinks of scooping her up in the morning; thinks of being slumped on the couch after dinner with her head on his stomach – fast asleep with whatever movie she chose droning on in the background.

Despite the thousands of miles and close to two weeks between them – she makes him feel closer to home. She always does.

When Sarah asks where he is, he glances your way. Clocks your flat expression, the half-burnt cigarette hanging from your fingers.

You flick ash to the ground. Eyes unreadable beneath low brows, a tiny crease between them that Joel’s only just seeing for the first time.

“Uh…” he clears his throat, “…just a little – a little north of you, baby. Home first thing, I promise.”

He tells her he loves her and she says it back, and he tells her to sleep well and she says that back, too. And then he’s hanging up – Alright, see you soon, bye, Sarah, bye-bye, byebyebye – and pressing his thumb into the red button.

He wanders back over to you – ears flat like a guilty dog, though he isn’t quite sure why. He mumbles a quiet thanks as he passes the phone back, then stuffs his hands in his pockets.

You lean back, ankles crossed, studying him. Swirling what’s left of the cigarette in your fingers – the smoke lifting like a winding snake to the dark sky. “So,” you pout, “What are you doing flirting with me, if you got a wife and kid back home?”

His jaw ticks, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. “I don’t have a wife,” he says.

You stare blankly, filter back against your lips. “Okay, then – a girlfriend. Does she know you’re out tonight with us?”

He shakes his head. “No wife, no girlfriend. I don’t have an anything.”

“But you have a kid.”

Joel nods once, tongue in his cheek. “Uhuh.”

And then the penny seems to drop. A small oh; your jaw slack and eyes wide. The cigarette smolders between your fingers. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, hey,” Joel steps closer, “You didn’t know. It’s alright.”

He straightens the jacket on your shoulders. When you finally look at each other again, you snort.

“Sorry,” you repeat, shaking your head. “Is she okay? Your daughter – is she…?”

“Sarah,” Joel says. “She’s…she’s fine. Thanks.”

You look down, stubbing your cigarette against the brick. Voice quiet, you ask, “Her mom’s not around anymore?”

Relief settles in his chest: you’re softening to him again.

Joel slots onto the ledge at your side. Shoulder to shoulder. He reaches behind and lifts his drink. “Not since she was a year old.”

Your mouth pulls in a wince. “Jesus. That’s rough.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to – you’re not asking him to explain – and he doesn’t want to, either.

You’re not stupid – you’ve seen enough of the world to hear what he’s really saying. The darkest, dustiest corners of it – all the places no one ever wants to look.

You don’t seem disturbed, barely even moved by the reality that…well, shit happens. People leave, families break; a two-car driveway is suddenly taken up by just a pick-up truck and a little pink bike with tassels.

He figures you get it. You don’t need to know how can that be? – you just…know that it can.

“So, uh…” you look up at him again, “…my apartment is, like, five minutes away if you wanna…you know. You can charge your phone, can shower – if it’s bugging you that much.”

Joel’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, really?”

You simper, eyes thin. “Really.”

“Charge my phone ‘n shower?” He stands, palm flat against the wall above your head, and leans in. His face is inches from yours.

You look up, mirroring his expression. “Yes,” your voice curls in a half-truth, “What’s the big deal?”

“What a goddamn line,” Joel says, smirking. “How long you been sittin’ on that one for?”

His blood thrums faster, harder, louder in his veins when you stand up, hands on your hips.

“It’s not a line, I’m serious –”

“I didn’t take you as the type, baby, I really didn’t – but if that’s how you wanna play this, then –”

He feels you before he sees you moving, like he’s stood at that bar all over again. Your hands on his jaw, your chest pressed to his. Your lips – soft as satin, with a tinge of sweet rum and smoke – against his.

Joel barely misses a beat. He closes his eyes and lifts a hand to the back of your head, kissing you back. It’s dizzying, the taste and feel of you so close; the wet of your tongue on his. The little scratches of your nails in his beard, the moans caught in your throat.

Dizzying – and fucking perfect.

You break apart and lean in to each other, catching your breath. Joel’s hands slip beneath the heavy leather of his jacket onto your waist.

“Unless…” you whisper, pulling away from him, “…you don’t want to. In which case, I’ll just…” You twirl back towards the door, batting your eyelashes.

Joel smiles. He catches your wrist and reels you back into his body. “I want to,” he breathes, kissing you again. “I want to.”

“Let’s go.”

You make it to your apartment door, fumbling with your keys – and Joel’s hands are glued to your waist.

You miss the lock over and over as he kisses your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. Anything to satiate the hunger quickly taking over, the tightening in his jeans.

He pulls you against his hips – rough denim grinding into the curve of your ass. He can smell your flowery perfume, a strange melding of peony and menthol sharp in his nostrils.

It’s the hungriest he’s ever felt, he thinks – a starved animal pinning his prey to her flecked apartment door. He pauses, bottom lip damp against your neck; breathing a liquor-laced laugh over your skin.

You jam the key into the lock. The door finally shunts open and you spill inside, dragging Joel with you.

Your place is dark. Angled strips of streetlight thrown high up the bare walls and across the ceiling, splintered by tilted shades. The spill of a blanket draped over an empty couch; a pair of sneakers left on the rug. Joel’s knees brush by a houseplant guarding the door – heavy leaves which pfft when they sway out of his way.

It’s half-decorated. Temporary. Caught somewhere between home and away. Little fragments pieced together into something the shape of home: a mosaic vase that scatters light across the surface of the coffee table; a beaded curtain pinned around the closet doorway.

Like you’re a little magpie, collecting trinkets of silver and gold until your nest feels like yours. Bags dropped long enough to keep a Monstera plant alive, not to put nails in the wall for the frames propped against the skirting board.

You shrug Joel’s jacket off, dropping it over the back of the couch. When you spin back around to him, he lifts your chin with two fingers and presses his lips to yours. You lead him down the hallway, tumbling into your room.

He follows you over to your bed, collapsing onto a tousled mess of sheets with his hips between yours. The hem of your dress rides up your thighs, bunching around your hips and revealing a flash of pink lace underneath.

The world around him seems to sober up for a second, sharpens into focus. It begins to seep in: the realization that he has you – some girl he met no more than two hours ago in a bar – pinned to your mattress. A slick gathering in your underwear and a weight building in his.

Right now, he should be sinking into squealing bedsprings in a Super 8. Bathing in the flicker of a television set twenty years too old. He should be showered and rested – ready to head home at sunrise, if not sooner.

But then something led him to you, and – well.

There’s no fucking helping him now, is there?

Joel’s fingers hook around your panties. He pulls down, leaving a trail of kisses along your bare leg, until that same pink lace is dripping from your ankle.

His eyes flash up to yours, love-drunk and sparkling. He pushes your knees apart, watching your velvet folds open for him, and – oh, he thinks, staring at the glistening arousal smeared around your cunt. Such a slick little mess for him already.

“Goddamn, darlin’,” he licks his lips, “She’s so pretty.”

You hum, hands lowering. Your fingers separate, spreading your pussy for him. Your middle finger swirls around your clit, dips along your seam. And the n, silky and shining, you lift your hand again and slip your fingers into your mouth.

“Tastes even better than she looks,” you murmur, dappling your fingertip along your bottom lip.

Joel growls. He pushes down on your thighs, ignoring your little yelp, and drags the tip of his tongue through your slit.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, back arching. Your fingers knot in his hair, twisting and tightening. “Shitshitshit.��

“Mhm,” he hums against you, tongue pushing inside.

Fuck, you’re just so perfect: so soft and warm and fucking dripping for him. He laps at your sweet center, wet already spreading all over his mouth and beard.

A dampness blooms in his boxers. He’s throbbing, fucking aching the longer he goes untouched. He grinds against the mattress, denim rough against his solid erection.

He lifts his chin, panting – satisfied by the way you squirm under the weight of him. “You like that, huh?” he asks, a sodden kiss to your mound. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He spits a thick bead of saliva, watching it dribble down your folds to your ass. His tongue swipes it back up, circling your clit, all slippery and swollen.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, tugging on his hair. Your legs spasm, hips lifting.

He loves the sound of his name when you say it. Broken in two, a lilt to it as it rolls from your tongue and down his spine. Like it’s yours as much as it is his, now.

He sucks hard on your clit, his tongue flicking. And he can tell you’re close; can feel your hips starting to lose rhythm, see your back desperately arching higher and higher.

Joel groans, pushing up to hover over you. He cups between your legs, dabbing two thick fingers at your entrance, and pushes in.

Your pussy draws him in knuckle-deep. Your chest lifts, the loose neckline of your dress exposing more and more. You grab your breast, pinching your nipple – a roll of pebbled flesh between your fingertips.

He lowers his lips to your ear – watching as you toy with yourself. “Come on, baby,” he grits his teeth, “Give me one. Let me feel this pretty cunt.”

Your head rolls back into the pillow; a high sob as your orgasm crests. Clamping tight around him; a warm flood down his fingers.

Joel kisses you as you come. You look so pretty, he thinks, with ecstasy behind your eyes and his fingers between your legs.

Christ, he wants to be inside you so badly. Wants to feel your cunt do all this around his cock instead.

The blood rushes between his hips.

His fingers slip in and out, bringing you back around. Joel’s lips are on your neck, murmuring, “Good girl, that’s my girl,” as you resurface.

Your eyes open again – glossy, glazed with the aftershock of your high. “Fuck,” you breathe, playing with the hem of his shirt.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean. Whips the tee over his head in one motion; another kiss tucked under your chin as you peel your dress from your body. He tosses it to the floor.

Still dazed, your body still trembling, you ask, “Do you have a condom?” All dreamy and distant, your hands trailing along his belt.

Joel pauses. Tilts his head, frowning. “I’m on a road trip with my brother, baby – the hell would I bring condoms for?”

You roll your eyes, sighing. It’s the cutest thing Joel thinks he’s ever seen. You thread the belt through the loops of his jeans. “In case you meet a really cool girl at a bar and wanna take her home, maybe?”

He lifts his eyebrows, impressed. He slips his salty tongue over yours again.

You moan at the taste. “It’s just I’m…I’m all out.”

His belt drops to the floor; buckle clinking against hardwood.

“Well, shit,” Joel whispers.

It’s not exactly a scenario he predicted, setting off from Austin. Meeting you wasn’t on the bucket list for the trip. It’s another three, four, probably five things to add to the list of shit he doesn’t do, shouldn’t do, wouldn’t fucking do if it hadn’t been for you.

No, Joel thinks, groaning as you palm the solid shape of him – he didn’t bring a goddamn condom. Jesus, the most he has in his pockets right now is fifteen bucks and a stick of gum.

You unzip his pants, shrugging the denim loose. “We can just do it…without,” you offer.

Joel stares down at you. “You sure?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Just pull out, right?”

“Just pull out…” he echoes. Your hands are cold on his heated skin, but he’s not about to fucking stop you.

You tug his underwear down with his jeans, following the darkening hair from his navel down. Another quiet pull out passes your lips – your voice dissolving when you spot the thick base of his dick.

Joel’s shaft springs free, heavy against the inside of his thigh.

“Holy shit.” You push yourself up on your elbows, eyes flooding black.

His tongue runs along the bottom of his teeth. He thrusts forward into your hand, a glassy drop of precome dribbling from his slit.

Your thumb swipes across his flushed tip, fingers wrapping around his width. You roll his balls in your other palm, massaging and squeezing just the right amount.

“Easy, easy,” Joel whispers. Too much, too soon. He can’t come yet, not until he feels your fluttering cunt around his cock.

Instead, you reach up – snaking an arm around his neck. You pull him back down, his naked body flush against yours, and hike a knee over his hip.

He grinds into you, his cock nudging between your legs. They fall apart for him – pliant and keen, like petals unfolding. He covers himself in your slick, his tip catching below your clit.

“Pl-ease,” you whine, scratching at his shoulders.

Joel nips at your damp neck. “Please, what?” he taunts.

Your breath is hot against his cheek – a stifling request which curls up in the shell of his ear. “F-fuck me.”

And his hips roll into yours.

“Jesus f…” your face buries into his chest, “…you’re…you’re so fucking big, Joel, I can’t –”

He nudges between your walls, groaning into your skin. You’re even tighter around his cock, even cozier. “I know,” he pants, “I know. Take it, baby, know you can take it.”

You stretch around him, opening up the deeper he pushes. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, the thick hair at his base finally brushing against your clit. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Look at me,” he taps your jaw, “Hey. Look at me. Breathe.”

You exhale, hot and shaky across his lips.

“Good, that’s good.” Joel nods. He holds you by the waist, lets you adjust to his size.

He pulls back, your cunt clamping around him. Halfway out, and then in again. Feeling you open up, inch by inch, until he builds a steady rhythm.

“Jesus, baby, she’s so…” he moans, “…she’s so goddamn tight.”

You drape an arm over his shoulders, a hissing pain where your nails dig into his skin. Yelping each time he bottoms out, your leaking cunt wrapped snug around him. “So – goddamn – big,” you whine, a ruined smile on your lips.

He slams his body into yours again, watching the way your tits bounce. Nipples hard, skin tacky and shining with sweat. Your pussy pinches, and he starts to unravel.

Fuck the road trip, Joel thinks, fuck all of it. This is where he should be: in the middle of your bed, burrowed deep between your legs. This is the only place he wants to fucking be, right now.

So he fucks you harder; the headboard hammering against the wall. A fistful of the pillow, his knuckles whitening. He guides his cock when he slips out – a filthy sound as your clutch sucks him back in.

“Fuck,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard he worries he might bruise you. His thrusts become sloppy – quick and desperate.

“So close,” you gasp. You’re squeezing him so tight that he sees stars. “I’m gonna – I’m…”

Perfect, Joel thinks, watching you bloom. You’re so fucking perfect.

He coaxes you through it. Slows enough to feel you come around his cock, your warmth as it gushes all over him. “That’s it, baby, I got you. Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pulls out just in time to coat your stomach; a throaty groan as he comes. He pumps his shaft, covering from your sternum to the plush of your tummy. It dribbles down your waist, spurts between your breasts.

He collapses over you, pressing his forehead to yours. His dick, soaked and softening, smears the ejaculate across your skin.

You giggle, leaving sticky kisses along his beard.

“You okay?” he asks, breathless.

You nod, and his tongue dabs at the inside of your lips. You taste like sex and sweat – sweet and salt.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed. He feels you follow, your lips featherlight on the curve of his shoulder.

You make to stand – going to clean yourself up, he reckons, your tummy dripping with his semen – and he locks a hand around your bare thigh.

“Stay,” he says, voice low and rough – sex still smoldering. “Let me get you a towel.”

You smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. Your fingers link around the other side of his waist. “I’ll get it. Just relax.”

And for a minute or two, you stay like that. Hooked onto one another, tired eyes closing over, breathing in rhythm. Your cheek on his shoulder, your knee brushing against his tummy.

It’s simple; quiet and still. Joel feels like half a person – the other half tracing her chipped nails along his bare thigh. Eyelashes fluttering, teeth holding back a grin that she thinks might give her away.

Eventually, you move. Shimmy yourself down the mattress, swipe a crinkled tee from the ottoman – and slink off to the bathroom.

Joel lies back against the headboard, body sticky hot. He watches the shadow of your figure stretch across the open door. His eyes drift upwards to the looping ceiling fan – only half as dizzying as the sound of your humming in the next room.

And just when he starts to think he might be fucking missing you, you reappear in the doorway. Leant against the frame, some worn band tee hanging from your shoulders. Arms crossed; smiling back at him.

A rush of words floods to the tip of his tongue. You look beautiful. Your makeup’s smudged, chains of your necklace twisted; your shirt is frayed and splotched with faded stains – and you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

He holds his arms out and you prance over.

You crawl over his figure, kissing your way up to his lips, and then turn in his lap. Cradled against his broad chest, your head nuzzling into the dark threads of hair between his pecs. You clasp one of his hands in two of yours.

“Offer’s still there for a shower, if you want it,” you whisper, kissing the pads of his fingers.

Joel tilts his head, mumbling against your temple, “Will you be in there with me?”

You answer something shaped like a tease, just as sharp with wit – but he’s too busy watching your nails trace his open palm. Too distracted by the sweet scent of your skin: a fresh burst of fruit, singed with the edge of tobacco.

“What do you do for work?” you ask.

He makes some sort of sleepy sound – a grunt, a hm? into your skull. “Oh, uh – I’m a contractor,” he says.

Your chin lifts. “That why your palms are all…?” Your thumb strokes light as lace against his worn skin.

“Probably,” Joel admits. He draws shapes on your thigh with his free hand.

“Do you sand the wood with your bare hands, or somethin’?”

Joel scoffs. “Alright, alright. You liked my hands plenty, twenty minutes ago.”

Your cheeks lift, a low hum caught in your throat. You angle your head to let his lips trail along your shoulder, pressing into the hinge of your jaw. A dark nail following the landscape of Joel’s skin – each score and divot, the callused pads at the bottom of each finger.

“You have sorta…earth hands, I think.”

It sits in the air for a few seconds before Joel turns to you. “What?”

“Earth hands. Or, well – I guess they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way.” You open up his hand, fingers stretched. “I don’t really know. I’m still learning.”

He looks down at you. Feels the now-steady pulse of your heart on his sternum. “Learnin’…hands?”

You snort. “Palm reading, Joel.”

His brows draw tight. He licks the inside of his whiskey-stained cheek. “You’re into all that hippie sh…stuff?”

You knock your knuckles against his chest, still staring at his hands. The hills and their valleys, the ravine-like lines; the worn skin and hatch marks.

“Let’s see…Your heart line,” you whisper – more to yourself than Joel, but he’s listening all the same. “It’s pretty deep, which means the relationships you’ve had have been…important. But it’s kinda…it tails off right here, see? It’s broken. So…I guess they didn’t end too good.”

Joel raises an eyebrow – playful, encouraging your timid smile. Keep figuring me out, he thinks, stoking the curious flame behind your eyes. “Alright,” he says, “Now tell me something you didn’t already know about me.”

You gawk, holding his wrist up. “You don’t see that? The way it breaks up? I’m not bullshitting you, Joel, it’s –”

“Naw, I see it,” he nods, squinting a little at his palm, “Just – tell me more. What’s all these other lines mean?”

“Well,” you adjust between his hips, “you got your life line right here. Short, which means –”

“Don’t tell me that part.”

“No,” you roll your eyes, “It just means you’re independent. You never needed much from anyone. And it runs past this mount – these are called mounts – right here. Venus: all to do with love and sexuality.”

Joel holds your open palm next to his, comparing them. He takes less than a second’s look, lines his lips to your ear and says, “Seem like a pretty good match to me.”

You wriggle when he tickles your ribcage, trying to twist out of his grasp. You’re laughing again – the same laugh he’s been hearing all damn night. The same giggle that’s had his stomach somersaulting since he first heard it.

The room seems to light with it, this glow he feels from you – as if you’re the sun. Spent and still half-drunk; lazing with a stranger in the middle of her bed. Tracing the lines and scars on his palm, telling him how logical and grounded he’s supposed to be.

As if the world orbits around you – everything you touch turning to molten gold. And for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, Joel looks at you and wonders: Where the hell did you come from?

You hold your hand against his, folding your fingers perfectly together. The evidence of your night flaking from Joel’s knuckles; sweat still simmering on the nape of his neck.

He hasn’t done this for years. Hasn’t felt this gentle aftermath. It’s usually a rush, a hastened zip and clink of his pants. An awkward dance, plucking clothes from the bedroom floor and pacing back to his truck.

It’s never like this. Talking and laughing, holding and kissing. Questions about his parents and yours; his biggest dream as a kid, or the time you broke your arm falling out of a tree.

He tells you stories about growing up with Tommy; tells you Sarah’s favorite flavor of cake. He tells you about the time they tried to make it for a school bake sale, forgot to turn the oven off, and almost burned the damn kitchen down.

You snicker and tell him that never would’ve happened if you were there.

Yeah, well, Joel smiles, I wish you were.

He notices you’re drifting off, despite your slurred protests and your weak grip on his wrist. He pulls you under the covers, curving his body around yours, praying that the quickening drum of his heartbeat won’t wake you.

His nose nuzzles into the curve of your skull, his hands link in front of your tummy. And he wonders whether his body was made with yours in mind.

He glances out at the sky – light starting to bleed from the horizon – and wills the turn of the sun to slow. Only a little; just let him stay here a little while longer.

Just a little while.

Dawn forces her way in eventually – more unwelcome than ever before.

There’s a throb between his temples which swells to life when the light floods past his pupils. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, face turning back into the pillow. He gives you a gentle squeeze and then pushes up from the mattress.

You roll to the middle of the bed, still sound asleep. The sun spills golden all over the valleys and crests of your body. The bedsheets carve pathways up to your hips, dipping at your waist.

Last night, there was something so mystical about you – so otherworldly. Joel felt himself drawn towards you like a compass needle shooting north, the second he felt your weight crash against his spine.

A figure behind a cloud of smoke, like the mountaintops disappearing into a thick mist. And now, blood drained of alcohol, you’re just you.

Your shirt is twisted around your shoulders. Your lips puffy, mumbling to yourself in your doze. Makeup smudged like chalk under your eyes, and still – just as beautiful. Just as radiant as you were ten hours ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. He blinks down at his bare feet, the morning sharpening into focus. As he lifts his phone from the nightstand, the cable drops – hitting the wooden floor with a snap.

He pauses, shoulders hunched. Hears you stir over his shoulder, and turns around.

The earth of your body shifts beneath cotton hills, clouds of sleep clearing from behind your eyes. “Hey,” you whisper, voice pretty and broken.

A little bird in the palm of his hand – that magpie curled up in her nest of gems and trinkets.

“Hey.” He leans down and kisses your cheek. “Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You wrap your arms around his wrist, tugging. “Are…are you…leaving?”

Joel feels a pang in his chest, and he doesn’t know why. He takes a deep breath. Your scent fills his lungs and steadies his heart. “I…” he sniffs, “…I gotta go home, baby.”

You give a slow and heavy nod. “S-Sarah…”

He strokes your head with his thumb. “Yeah. Shh, go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

He glances at his phone – it’s just after six. He knows Tommy will be waiting for him, parked outside the Super 8 and wondering where the hell Joel is. He knows Sarah will be, too – sat by the living room window, listening for the rumble of their bikes.

And still, he thinks – How do I fucking leave you? Leave this?

He shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. He has a kid waiting for him back home; soccer practice, packed lunches, homework and bedtime stories. He has work to do, bills to pay, a roof to keep over their heads. It’s all waiting in Austin, two hundred miles away.

As though you can see the question flipping in his mind, you pull him closer. A weak finger in the palm of his hand, drawing circles. Your bleary gaze meets his, and you whisper, “In the next life.”

Joel smiles. Twelve hours ago, he’d have laughed at the idea of it. Now, he’s not so sure. He kisses your knuckles, muttering, “Promise.”

Another wave of sleep washes over you, and you’re gone again.

Joel pushes himself from the bed, reaching for his clothes. His back twinges as he stretches, pulling his T-shirt over his shoulders. He steps into his jeans; pinches his belt between two fingers and lifts it from the floor.

He leans over and tilts your shades the opposite way, dulling your bedroom. He unplugs the charger, neatly winds the cord, and sits it on your nightstand. He fixes his side of the sheets: folds them over the mattress, tucks them in at your back.

With a deep breath, he makes for the door.

His jaw turns, eyes still low. Your dress is in a heap at the foot of the bed; a tube of lip gloss lying next to it. He looks up, following the landscape of sheets – the slope from your ankle to your hip. Your hunched shoulders, your cheek smushed into the pillow.

If he looks too long, he’ll never leave.

The image burns golden into his eyes. He hopes for half a heartbeat that you’ll wake again and pull him back into bed. Kiss him all over, whisper something sharp and sweet in his ear. Touch him and graze him and wrap yourself around him – anchoring him right here and now.

But you don’t.

And Joel slips out of the room.

Jackson stirs to life over his shoulder.

A white lump in the snow-covered valley, the settlement seems so far away now. Tommy sets off up ahead, leading the way to the outpost. The blizzard is picking up – it almost swallows the silhouette of him whole.

Joel had tried to warn him: the weather would be too bad to see five feet in front of them, never mind any infected. But Tommy argued with the same determination that dragged the pair of them into that dive bar thirty years ago, and Joel didn’t have half the energy nor the will to argue back.

He’s thinking about you. He always is.

Your searing gaze over the rim of your glass; the weight of you against his chest. The tickling of your nail on his palm, severing each line and changing him forever. You and your palm lines.

You were just learning to read them. Joel didn’t know a thing about any of it, and he told you so. You took his hand in yours and said, Here. Let me see.

He runs a thumb down his fate line, swaying in time with his horse. And he shakes his head with a little smile – he still remembers which one is fate and which is heart.

He still remembers all of it. He has earth hands. All salt and soil and solid as stone. His earth hands have gotten him this far, right? Twenty-five years and he’s still here. Gray and grown; stiff joints and sewn-up scars.

His head line has channeled more strangers’ blood than Joel can count. Mounts that’ve stopped breath in the throat of any man who crossed him. He doesn’t think you’d recognize his hands anymore, if your fingertips traced over them again. Broken and bruised and bloody.

And he doesn’t think he’d want you to – doesn’t want you to meet the shadow of the man you knew back then. He’d prefer you remember that same brown-eyed, soft-touched stranger with enough charm and naivety to survive anything. No need for bone-breaking fists or bloodstained hands.

Where are you, he wonders?

The answer knots deep in his stomach: the same old rope twisting into the same old shape. A fist of anger, of guilt. Some terrible cocktail of both, spilling poison through his veins.

He’s terrified to wonder what might’ve happened if he had ever made it back there. What he might’ve found in your apartment – what he might not.

Where would you have gone, that day? Would you have fled, or would you have stayed?

You were smart, he knows that much. He saw the cogs of your mind turning right in front of him, standing opposite each other in that bar. Barely thirty seconds in and he could’ve sworn you had him all figured out.

But – oh, Jesus, you were kind. Open and willing to help a stranger with a dead phone and a tired smile. Would that kindness still glow as bright against the flicker of a world on fire?

A lone hawk swoops down before him, shooting straight between the pines. Joel slips his glove back over his freezing hand.

He thinks about you every day. Every fucking day, and it never eases. Never loosens. It keeps him up some nights – the truth he’s too afraid to look square in the face.

You live now in the back of his mind like a little ghost. His little ghost – still floating around that dusty city; the warm light of life and innocence still bright in your eyes.

Tommy glances over his shoulder. He gestures ahead as if to say, Would you take a look at this goddamn storm?

And Yeah, Joel thinks, I’m lookin’, brother.

All he wants is to go home. Jackson, Austin, the bedroom of your apartment in San Angelo. Just let me go back.

He blinks, and the snow melts to cracked asphalt under a lilac sunset. Tommy’s holding handlebars instead of reins. The horses’ hot puffs of breath darken to clouds of smoke, choking from the exhaust pipes of the Harleys.

You’re somewhere on the other side of town, waiting for him in the faint glow of a jukebox. Sipping what’s left of your rum and Coke, fishing a twenty from your purse for the next round.

Just let me go back home.

He tugs on his horse’s reins and pulls off after his brother.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #san angelo

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bluebeary-jay · 11 months

Text

If I could hold you for a minute

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier wants nothing more than to go home to you. And thanks to his partner's generosity, he gets to.

Tags: just pure FLUFF, mayyybe a sprinkle of suggestive humor, established relationship, Steve teases Javi a bunch, Javier is a BIG SIMP (i'm serious)

Warnings: none ��

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: something different for you guys 🙈 i'm sadly still on semi-hiatus because of my finals, but I managed to finish this little fic as a break from my angsty Joel pieces. i reaaaally hope you all will like it 😌💕 also, it's dedicated to my dumbass in crime @lily-inbloom 🫡😘 luv you babes

This was one of the worst days agent Peña had in a long time, and he wanted nothing more than to go home.

First, two people from Escobar’s inner circle managed to escape the raid on the laboratory in which he and Murphy participated, leaving both of them exhausted and frustrated. Then Melissa gave Javier a bunch of shit because of some documents, and on the way to his desk some asshole bumped into him, making him drop and break his phone. And now they had to stay after hours to wait for Carrillo.

“It’s for you, Peña.”

So yeah. His day was shit so far.

His pity party was cut short when Steve sitting across from him hissed his name again. Javier shot him an irritated look and flipped him off, not in the mood to talk to any informants or their superiors.

“Not now, Murphy,” he grumbled, but his partner still handed him the stationary telephone from their desk, ignoring the hostility radiating from the man.

“Just take it, asshole. She’s worried you’re not answering her calls.”

At that, Javi sat up straight and in a split second took the handset from Steve, pressing it to his ear.

“¿Querida?” he asked quietly, paying no attention to Murphy rolling his eyes and chuckling to himself. There was a sigh of relief on the other end of the line and he furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Hi, Javi,” your voice came through the receiver. “You weren’t picking up.”

Almost instantly the tension was lifted from Javier’s shoulders and he exhaled deeply. You had a talent of putting him at ease, even when you weren’t by his side.

“Lo siento, cariño. Some idiot broke my… you know what, it doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just wanted to ask when you finish work? I can swing by and we can go grab some food on the way home.”

He sighed tiredly, rubbing his brows. He hated saying no to you and if he could, Javi would give you the world on a silver platter – but some things, he didn’t have any control over.

“No sé, cariño. We have a shitton of papers to read with Steve, and we’re waiting for Carrillo to fill us in on the latest action. I’ve got no idea how long it’s gonna take, sweetheart.”

Steve lifted his head and shot Javier a teasing look, but Peña ignored him, turning his chair to the side.

“Alright, so what do you say I’ll bring you some takeout? You can also ask Steve what he’d want, I’ll be at this place we went to a week ago–”

“No, querida, no,” he sighed, this time with affection. Your voice was a temptation enough to throw everything to hell and run home to you, but to hear the kindness and love in your words, without even seeing your expression… It was heart-clenching. “We don’t need anything, you just go back home safely. I’ll try to get away from here as soon as I can.”

You didn’t answer at first, but then hummed half-heartedly.

“If you say so. But please, eat something.”

Javi smiled absentmindedly, covering his eyes with his fingers. He imagined your concerned expression, the receiver nestled next to your ear, near the spot he so liked to nuzzle with his nose. “How do you know I haven’t already?”

He could hear a trace of a smirk in your voice.

“I know you, Peña.”

“Too well, I think.”

“You love it, though.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe.” He heard you yawn and the smile disappeared from his face. “You’re tired.”

“No, I’m not. I’ll get to bed when you’re back.”

“I won’t be home for at least a couple more hours, sweetheart,” Javi told you softly. “You can go to sleep.”

“I’ll wait for you,” you repeated stubbornly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, cariño.” There was that sweet, teasing note in your tone, and a grin spread across Javier’s face again. “But that will just give you more reasons to come home quickly.”

“I’ll try,” he just offered in a whisper, resting his forehead on his fist. “Call Steve if anything happens, alright?”

“Okay, okay, I will.” Long since gone were the times you’d argue with him about that. You knew how terrified he was at the thought of losing you. “I love you, baby.”

“También te amo.”

He didn’t immediately hang up, waiting just in case you wanted to add something else. The line went dead, however, and with his lips pressed Javi put the phone back in the center of the desk.

“You have it bad, Peña.”

Of course. Javier should’ve known Steve will start to nag at him again.

He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and put it between his lips. He knew you’d complain about the smell on his hair and clothes when he got home, but he was already too stressed out and in a desperate need of a smoke.

“I’m not in the mood, Murphy,” he muttered, pulling out the lighter.

“I thought a conversation with your sweetheart would brighten up your day?”

Javier looked up and just as he suspected, Steve had that same stupid grin on his face, like every time the topic was brought up.

Ever since your and Javi’s relationship became more serious, Steve was taking every opportunity to tease his partner. If Javi was feeling generous, he could kind of understand where his friend is coming from – after all, he himself didn’t think he’d ever act like a dumb teenage boy in the presence of a woman. But something about you mesmerized him from the very beginning, and, miraculously, here you both were, in a steady and loving relationship Javier Peña was always afraid of hoping for.

But alas, it was not a day to be understanding. He glared at Steve when the fellow agent didn’t take a hint.

“Shut up.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a food delivery, you know,” Steve spoke up with a smirk under his mustache. “I’m quite hungry.”

“I’ll sooner hire Escobar to make you sandwiches than let her do it.”

“You wound me, Javi. And to think I was about to take care of Carrillo and let you go home early.”

Javier looked up in surprise at his friend’s knowing smile. Then he blinked, slowly and tiredly, wondering if he didn’t misheard.

“Really?” he asked suspiciously, to which Steve shrugged.

“Why not? I’m in no rush since Connie and Olivia are in Miami, and as funny as it is to watch you yearn and pine, your brooding gets annoying after a while.” Javi didn’t move from his place, so Steve nodded in the direction of the exit. “Just go home to her, Peña. Before I change my mind.”

The face of the agent broke into a smile before he could collect himself. He stood up so quickly that he bumped his hip against the desk, but it didn’t phase him one bit. With a quick shove across the desktop, he swept all the documents to the folder and took his gun from the drawer, tucking it into his jeans.

Murphy was watching him with a smirk.

“You owe me, Javi.”

“Sure,” his partner replied over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll get you a sandwich tomorrow.”

A quiet laugh followed him when Peña promptly ran out of their office.

*****

After the call with Javi you tried to find yourself an occupation, intending to stay up as long as you could. He was working like crazy lately, sometimes not even coming home for the night, so a chance to finally spend some time with him – even if it would only be for half an hour – was something you didn’t want to miss.

So you wandered around his apartment. You read a little, watched TV, tidied up the cutlery drawer, folded Javi’s shirts, and now you got onto washing the dishes left from your dinner two days ago.

You were humming quietly, that stupid song which seemed to play on every radio as of late, when you heard a small sound from the hall. You paused and turned off the tap, your heart pounding in your chest, and sure enough there was it again – but this time you clearly recognized it as a key turning in the lock.

Before you could think of what to do, the door opened and Javi came in, locking eyes with you immediately. You blinked slowly, rooted to the spot with your hands lifted, still covered in water and soapsuds.

“Javi?” you asked in surprise. “What are you doin–”

Without saying a word, Javier came up to you in two long strides and put his hands around your waist, dipping you back and kissing you deeply. You made a noise in your throat, moving your wet hands aside, but then sighed contentedly as his lips caressed yours.

“I missed you, cariño. So much,” Javier murmured, not moving further away from your lips than two millimeters apart. “Couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

“But what about– Steve, and…” you tried to ask during those brief moments when he gave you a second to take a breath, but was unable (and unwilling) to move away when he was holding you so tightly.

“They’ll be fine,” Javier murmured, moving his hands to your cheeks to cradle them tenderly. “Steve said he’ll handle it.”

He firmly pressed his lips to yours one more time, his eyebrows scrunched with affection. You didn’t ask anything else, instead wrapping your arms around his neck, still careful not to get his clothes wet. After almost a minute of tender kisses and whispered Spanish phrases, Javi rested his forehead against yours with a content sigh. His eyes were closed and he just hummed when you nudged his nose with yours.

“You weren’t supposed to be home for the next few hours,” you said quietly.

“It was a damn torture. I couldn’t wait, hermosa,” he murmured and exhaled heavily. “God, I needed this.”

A bright smile spread across your face at the thought of this man thinking about and longing to see you so much. He sounded so stressed out and tired over the phone, but now it was like all nerves left him for just a moment.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” you asked in a whisper, but Javi shook his head.

“No. Just stay here.”

“I have to rinse the dishwashing liquid off my hands, though. And you need to take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

“A little. But I mostly mean the cigarette smoke on your hair.”

Javi sighed, murmuring something under his breath. You gave him a peck on the lips. “Go on, cariño. I’ll get everything ready and then we can lay down.”

Javier grumbled, displeased, but didn’t argue any further. “You’ll have to make it up to me, sweetheart.”

“If you manage to keep your eyes open.” Your comment made him crack a smile and you mirrored it. “Go shower. And then come back to me.”

Javi sighed but obediently went towards the bathroom, putting down his aviators and the gun on the table on the way there. You watched him fondly, your heart still swelling with love at how relieved he looked to see you. He must’ve felt your attention on him, somehow, because he turned around in the doorway and sent you a smirk.

“If you like the view so much, you can hop into the shower with me,” he teased, and you hummed, pretending to consider it.

“I would, but then it wouldn’t be a ‘quick shower’.” He smiled knowingly, and you scrunched your nose at him. “Javi, the longer you stand here, the less time we’ll have for cuddles.”

“You raise a good point, hermosa.”

With one last look he disappeared in the bathroom and you shook your head at his antics. A few seconds later you heard the sound of rushing water, so you hurried to your shared bedroom to get everything ready.

You pulled down the blinds and flipped the pillows to the colder side, and then swiftly changed into one of Javier’s shirts you liked to sleep in. You also took his gun from the table, knowing he preferred to have it within reach when he was resting with you.

Earlier that day you started to clean the cupboards, so the room was pretty messy. You spent a couple of minutes putting the piles of clothes and various knick knacks in their places, trying to be as quick as possible. Then you heard the water in the bathroom stopping, and it only took Javi two more minutes before he emerged from the bathroom in nothing but his boxers.

His hair was wet and chest bare, and exhaustion was marking his handsome features, painting shadows over his face. Without a second of hesitation Javi went up to you and wrapped his arms around your middle. You wanted to say that you’ll be done in a moment, but didn’t get a chance – he hid his face in the crook of your neck, grumbling tiredly, and started dragging you backwards to the bed. You swat at him with laughter, but those strong arms of his just held onto you tighter.

“Cariño, I still have to finish–”

“Leave it. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Javi…”

“Come lay with me, mi sol.” He softly pressed his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, making you shiver. You felt him smirking. “Come on. Please.”

You faltered at this word, so rarely used by him. He sighed into your shoulder and swayed you two gently from side to side.

Javi was right. Everything else could wait.

You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles gently, feeling him relax behind your back.

“Alright,” you murmured. “Come here, baby.”

He hummed and kissed your neck again, then your shoulder, sneaking his hands under your – technically his – shirt.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look in my clothes?” he asked quietly.

“Every time I wear it.” You felt him take a breath, but you beat him to it. “And don’t say they’d look even better on the floor.”

Javi chuckled and hugged you tighter, still slowly moving backwards with you. “Not this time. Just wanna have you in my arms.”

“You mean in your bed?” You couldn’t help but tease him, and yelped when he bit your neck lightly.

“Don’t tempt me.”

When you two reached the bed, Javi stopped and slowly turned you around before sitting down. You took his face in your hands, staring down at him lovingly, while he gently ran his palms up and down your thighs. He did look tired, with the exhaustion and sadness swimming in his beautiful dark eyes. After a moment he exhaled shakily and leaned forward, resting his forehead on your stomach.

“Wanna lie down?” you whispered softly, and he nodded without a word. “Okay. Come here.”

You gently released yourself from his hold and laid down, immediately reaching for Javier and tugging him to lay on top of you.

The moment his head touched your chest, Javi exhaled heavily with relief, closing his eyes. You ran your fingers through his hair, brushing the wet strands aside.

“Do you need anything?” you asked quietly, but he just muttered 'no' with a light shake of his head.

“I’ve got everything I need right here, querida.”

You grinned warmly, though he couldn’t see it. “You’re quite a romantic, Javier Peña.”

He chuckled under his breath, lifting himself slightly to meet your adoring gaze. “I thought you already knew all about it.”

“Did I?” you asked playfully, to which he lifted his head.

“What more can I tell you?” he murmured, leaning over you and smirking when your breath hitched in your throat. His brown irises danced across your face, drinking your features in. “Do you wanna hear how all I think about while working are your lips and the sound of your laugh? How the time spent together isn’t nearly enough for me to fully revel in you? Or…”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said sheepishly, making Javi grin victoriously. “You’re probably spending that time in the office not thinking about me but of ways to mess with me.”

“Tal vez, mi sol.” He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth and moved lower, whispering into your skin. “But I do wish I could spend more time with you.”

“I know, cariño.” You brushed his hair to the back with your fingers, scratching his occiput. “But it’s not your fault.”

He hummed without conviction, still busy kissing every inch of your skin he could reach. One of his hands went to your waist, his thumb tracing small circles there, while the other climbed up to your hand, entwining your fingers together.

“Didn’t you want to get some rest?” you asked breathlessly, trying to keep your composure. Your face was hot, and Javi hummed smugly at the pitch of your voice. He lifted his head and brushed your cheek with his knuckles, his hand still holding yours.

“I wanted to spend time con mi hermoso sol.” He touched his forehead to yours lovingly, gazing deeply into your eyes. “I was serious when I said you’re all I need.”

“I think you need some sleep, too.”

Javi grumbled, seemingly giving in, and kissed you sleepily one last time. His eyes were already closing and his mustache scratched your skin lightly.

“No, querida. Just you.”

*****

The next morning, Steve came to work to the sight of Javier trapping you with his arms against his desk. He was leaving soft pecks on your lips every once in a while – so unlike the Peña Murphy had known before – murmuring something to you with a smile, causing you to giggle, too. You tried to slip out of his grasp, but Javier just pulled you closer. The pair was obviously lost in the moment because neither of them noticed Steve, until he threw a pile of files onto his desk.

“Morning, guys,” he said nonchalantly, eyeing your bashful beam and Javi’s crooked smile with a smirk. He noted that his partner looked way better than yesterday. “D’you get any sleep?”

“Actually, I did.” Javier gazed over at you and squeezed your hand with this look of a lovesick puppy that Steve mocked so often. “Don’t remember the last time I’ve slept so well.”

“Happy to hear it, because we have a lot to do today.” He sat down and began organizing the notes from Carrillo’s report yesterday, wanting to fill his partner in as soon as possible. He heard Peña sigh.

“Of course.” He glanced up to see the other man stand up and kiss you lovingly – once, twice – before you lightly shoved him back onto the armchair. Steve rolled his eyes when Javi brought your hand to his lips, leaving one last lingering kiss, and then finally letting go of you.

“I’m gonna be late because of you,” you accused him, but he only smirked.

“Lo siento, cariño. Have a good day.”

You said your goodbyes to Steve and turned back to the exit. Murphy shook his head and met his partner’s dark eyes, sparkling with adoration.

“You really have it bad, Peña.”

He didn’t receive any answer, so he just smiled to himself and got back to arranging his desk.

He didn’t get a second of peace, however, because suddenly a paper bag was dropped on the documents he was just filing. Two – a bit squashed – sandwiches were peeking out from the brown paper.

Steve lifted his head, ready to throw another teasing comment, but Javier’s eyes – still full of that raw love – were focused solely on your figure leaving their office.

*****

querida - dear/darling

lo siento, cariño - I’m sorry, darling/honey

no sé - I don’t know

también te amo - I love you, too

hermosa - beautiful

mi sol - my sun/sunshine

tal vez - maybe

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x you #narcos #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #he's probably a little ooc but i read and reread it so many times that idk what words are anymore #javier pena x y/n

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seuonji · 7 months

Text

彡 my heart is beating for two. — yoon jeonghan

part 1 ๑ part 2 ๑ part 3

notes ๑ daycare worker yn! x secretary jeonghan — you’re a worker at the daycare and of course, your main priority is the safety of the kids. how’d you deal with an unfamiliar face trying to pick up one of the kids one day?

genre ๑ fluff, new interest.

warnings ๑ none

word count ๑ 1k

from aya: please reblog if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated<3

it was a hectic but fun shift at your daycare job. the kids love you and you equally got along with them. your coworkers reasoned that it was because of your youthfulness that made working with them a breeze and you couldn’t disagree.

there was just 5 kids left and it was nearing the hour that would mean you’re working overtime but you didn’t mind.

the kids played with the toys around the room but you had just tidied up the place so they made sure to not make too much of a mess.

just as you were about to settle down on the floor, the doorbell rang signalling a parent was there. you instantly got up and chuckled at the way you didn’t even get to touch the floor.

you took a look to the glass entrance door to see who was there and usually you’d be able to recognise the parent/guardian but you have never seen this person ever. you looked over the kids in the room and back to the door. “i’ll be back okay, stay here,” you instructed to the kids who gave a sweet nod.

at the entrance stood a tall, lanky man. you couldn’t tell what his age could be but if you had to guess, he was probably your age or a bit older. he had hair that framed his face well and he was definitely someone that could brag about his looks. his appearance made your heart flutter.

often when you couldn’t recognise someone, you’d fear that this was a complete stranger, could be be those kidnappers but you didn’t get those vibes from him. or was it the pretty privilege?

you pressed the button which unlocked the door and he stepped in, “hi, i’m here for choi yuna,” he kindly spoke and shot a smile that could kill.

despite the looks that could sway you, you were hesitant. yuna was choi seungcheol’s daughter. you knew seungcheol was a busy man. he ran a big company but he never failed to pick up his daughter. plus he dropped her off in the morning and didn’t mention someone else would be picking her up which made this suspicious.

“im sorry, i need to know if you’re allowed to pick her up, how do you know her?”

“sorry! forgot to introduce myself, i’m yoon jeonghan, seungcheol’s secretary, he would've came but his meeting ran long so he sent me to pick yuna up.”

you were still unsure, you weren’t gonna take any chances for a case to happen, “can i make a call to seungcheol first?”

jeonghan let out a husky laugh, “you’re careful huh? what if i just showed you a picture of me and him together?"

“that won’t be enough.”

“alright but if you’re gonna call him, he’s could still be in his meeting i think your call will just be transferred.”

you already had your eyes on your phone but gave him a look as he said that. you still made the call and it instantly connected. “yn? is everything okay?“ the man on the other line opened with concern in his voice.

“hi mr.choi! yea, i just wanted to confirm that you sent someone else to pick up yuna?”

“ah- yes, im so sorry i just got out my meeting if i was the one to come yuna would still be there so i sent jeonghan. don’t worry, he’s a trusted friend! sorry for not letting you know.”

“no worries, just wanted to make sure,” you quietly sighed with relief. you said goodbye and ended the call. you stared at your screen and there was a loud silence for like 2 seconds until you closed your phone and lowered your head to the secretary, “sorry for making a hassle.”

he gave a sympathetic smile and waved his hands, pushing you back up, “no, don’t be! you’re just doing your job, it’s good your keeping these children as safe as you can. i’m glad you’re being this careful, if anything, if you weren’t so cautious i probably would’ve told seungcheol to find a new daycare.”

he was surprisingly nice.

“thanks,” you couldn’t hold back your grin. “um, i’m going to go get yuna.”

he nodded and you walked to the fence which led to the section of the room to the kids were in. jeonghan peered over and his eyebrows instantly rose. he didn’t know there were still children there. he got shocked that the kids weren’t checking if their parents were there. they were just sitting in a circle, playing and sharing the toys. usually they would be hoping the parents are here right? why weren’t they checking?

but jeonghan saw the way their face lit as you walked towards them. perhaps the environment was that good he thought to himself.

you held yuna’s hand and walked to the exit.

“i don’t want to go yet yn!” yuna clamoured. you softly laughed, “you’ll come back tomorrow.”

jeonghan silently watched you in confusion. were you an angel or something? kids love it when their parents are here, if anything, they cry at the absence of their parents right? yet someone like yuna who’s close their parents is clinging onto you.

“yuna!” jeonghan called out.

“uncle?” yuna beamed and ran to the older man, her height allowing her to only hug his legs.

jeonghan bent down and patted her head, “dad can’t make it so i’m here but we’ll see him in a bit okay?”

yuna nodded signing she understood. “did you bring your bicycle?” she asked with wonder in her eyes.

“bicycle?” jeonghan furrowed his eyebrows.

“the one you always come to my house with!” yuna hinted.

the man was left puzzled but also mildly embarrassed at the possibility that you’s think he uses a bicycle to get to places, “yuna, what bicycle?”

“the loud bicycle!”

“a motorcycle?” you chipped in.

“ahh—,” he did have a motorcycle. he was stunned and wondered what you thought of him— but actually, why does he care what you think.

jeonghan recollected himself, “your dad wouldn’t let me but hey, the car waiting for us outside has a tv!”

yuna was notably convinced the car was better especially with the way she hopped and cheered. you giggled at the way he changed her opinion so easily.

jeonghan stood up and held yuna’s belongings, “guess we’re good to go, say thank you to yn yuna.”yuna jumped to give you a hug and jeonghan waved a goodbye. soon, the two walked out.

you closed the door and deeply exhaled. you placed your hand over your chest yet your heartbeat couldn’t slow down. there was something about that man.

jeonghan looked back at the daycare’s door. he thought of the way his heart beated twice more than usual since he walked through that door.

was it you or the 5 sugars he put in his coffee that afternoon?

he shook his head and laughed after recalling the measures you went through to make sure he wasn’t a kidnapper or something.

“do you like yn yuna?” jeonghan turned to her. “why?” yuna dragged her words at the end. jeonghan inhaled stiffly forgetting about how yuna was in her ‘why’ phase. “just asking, so do you enjoy yn’s company?”

“of course! they're really nice! they always play with me and one time they bought me stickers!" jeoghan knew which stickers yuna was talking about. it was pasted somewhere in seungcheol's office and jeonghan made fun of him for it. his heart warmed at the way you seemed to be a genuinely good person. he’s known you for a few seconds but though your actions first impression, he could tell you were someone worth meeting and he liked people like that.

he really couldn't tell why but for some reason, he wanted to be the one to pick up yuna tomorrow.

luckily for him, he’s the secretary and he can manipulate his boss’s’ schedule however he’d like to.

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cacoetheswriting · 3 months

Text

honesty: the music video

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 2.3k summary: after a long day on set, you can't wait to get it on with your costar.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: mature themes, literally smut with a minor plot, established relationship, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, praise kink, dom-ish eddie, adult language, heavy use of pet names, mentions of aftercare — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

celebrity skin. masterlist <- part of this lil' universe, but can totally be read as a stand-alone. timeline wise, this takes place somewhere after part 3 and before end part 5.

“We want it to be sexy.”

“But not too sexy.”

“Revealing.”

“But not too revealing.”

“Sounds like you guys don’t know what you want,” Eddie chimes in, interrupting the back and forth of your respective teams.

You stifle a giggle.

“That’s ‘cause of the two distinct styles,” someone from your team clarifies, “We wanna be respectful.”

“For sure,” one of the creatives on the Corroded Coffin side agrees. There’s a short pause. “We will have you two kiss at the end, though.”

At that, Eddie smirks. He looks at you from across the table and you could just about melt right there, blood rushing to your face, warming your cheeks.

“That won’t be a problem,” he says confidently and winks.

Honesty was a guaranteed hit. Top of the charts. Everybody that’s been so far involved in the project said it. They praised it. From the bass, drums, to the guitar and vocals. The production value was off the scale. A dream arrangement that would stand the test of time.

All the song needed was a music video equally as captivating.

A back and forth discourse began shortly after you first started recording with the band: whose style should the clip resemble more?

Corroded Coffin screamed all things dark, maybe a little gory. Their usual expression featured slightly melancholy undertones and a lot of references to all things Dungeons & Dragons. Imaginative, for sure. An artistry that had rarely been seen in the genre.

Although it’s been an artistry vastly different from yours.

The glitter hadn’t necessarily been your idea, but it certainly became a signature of sorts. Anything sparkly, always. And music videos that told a story. Most often one of love since that’s what you idolised ever since you were a kid — it obviously helped that love also sold millions of copies.

Eddie’s team argued that it’s the band’s song and you’re just a feature, therefore the accompanying video should lean into their style. Your management team was hesitant to agree. Calculating risk in case the lines get blurred a little too much and your pristine image shifts to the opposite end of the spectrum. Hours of arguments. Hours of negotiations. None of which you, or the rockstar were even mildly aware of. Too lost in each other's eyes and soft cotton sheets.

Eventually, a compromise, of sorts, was found.

Ernest Hemingway’s The Killers influenced, in part, a 1946 film noir of the same title, with Ava Gardner and Burt Lancaster taking the lead. The movie, in turn, inspired the black and white music video.

Done up in flair of the characters, Kitty Collins and Ole Anderson (aka Swede), you recreated iconic scenes alongside the brown-eyed rockstar. The rest of the band was also dressed to the nines. Side characters that played their instruments in the background of main shots. They blended in well, while adding a unique spin to the known story.

Overall, the Honesty shoot quickly became a big spectacle. Bigger than anything Eddie Munson and his band of closest friends has ever been lucky enough to be a part of.

Intricate sets. Glamourous. In front of cameras and bright lights, you and your scene partner, Eddie, mouthed along the lyrics to the song as if they were a script. And with every scene, as if the two of you were the only people actually there, no equipment and no crew, you got lost a tiny bit. Lost in the chocolate of the rockstar’s wide gaze. In the way he smelled. The style of that decade suited the brunette greatly, so you became lost in how he looked in this character. Dapper. Unlike you’ve ever witnessed him before. He committed to the role too. A certain swag in his movements. How he touched you so hesitantly, delicately because that’s what the video required.

By the end of the night, after the director yells, “Cut!” to signalise a wrap, a round of applause for all involved in this project, you’re feeling hot and bothered. Sweaty, though not because you just completed a full day’s work. No. Somehow, you found the Corroded Coffin frontman even more attractive than at the start of that day — something you didn’t think was possible. When you glance in his direction, he’s already staring you down, and you know he feels the same way.

Backstage, inside your trailer, you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch. Fingertips at your lips as you wait for that inevitable knock on your door. You know it’s only a matter of time considering the build up of tension throughout the shoot. From the lingering touches and that kiss the director had you two repeat over and over and over…

Logically, you could wait until the two of you were home. Back at Eddie’s Hidden Hills mansion, away from prying eyes and ears. In a bed that’s become all too familiar. Far from possible interruptions. Logic however, well, right now, logic was taking a back burner ‘cause you needed him now. Desperately. And without a doubt, Eddie needed you too.

A knock. Then again. But the rockstar doesn’t wait for you to answer. He lets himself in.

“What happened to the wig?” You ask, raising a brow.

“It was itchy,” he replies with a slight laugh, then shakes his head. “I much prefer my natural locks.”

“That’s too bad,” you say with a slight shrug, “You looked quite smart with that short hair.”

Eddie hangs his head with a smile, though his eyes don’t leave yours. Not even for a second. That’s when you notice the glimmer. That look, the reason he’s here, just like you predicted. So you return the expression. Only yours is a little more sly. Tempting him. Teasing.

“I had fun today.”.

“Me too.”

There’s a lot that happens in the seconds after you stand up. A lot that happens quickly.

Eddie reaches for your wrist, pulling you closer before wrapping his, for once, ringless hand around yours completely. He presses it to the middle of his chest, holding it against his heart. You can feel it beating and that’s enough to make you melt ‘cause it’s strong and you swear it skips at the contact. His other hand reaches for the base of your throat. He holds it gently, caressing upwards until he’s gripping your jaw.

“Kissing you in front of all those other people kinda got me going,” he admits in a low tone.

Naughty, that’s what you want to say, but you don’t get the chance ‘cause his lips crash into yours. Hungry. Desperate. Rough. Heat rushes through your body at the sudden contact, no different than any other time his mouth found yours. You’re at his mercy, always, and he knows it well.

His tongue glides along your top lip and you part your lips to accept him without hesitation. He wastes no time sliding into your mouth, letting this tongue work in tandem with yours as he tilts his head to further deepen the kiss. The hand holding yours lets go, instead finding home on the small of your back, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible. His other hand lets go of your jaw, albeit not completely. Ghosting along the side of your neck before you feel him wrap it around your throat, squeezing lightly. It’s nothing new for Eddie to be a little rougher with you, but there’s something about this moment, after a full day of moderate teasing and borderline foreplay, that causes a moan to burst through you when he squeezes again, only harder.

The rockstar pulls back, sporting a devilish grin. “Making such pretty noises for me and we haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

“Do your worst, Eds.” It’s a dare. Nothing sweet about it.

He smirks at the challenge and before you can register what exactly is happening, Eddie is lifting you up swiftly, hiking up your dress in the process, only to drop you down onto the sofa with a gentle thud. You’re wide-eyed as he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the other tugging at the pantyhose the wardrobe lady had you wear for the last scene of the video. He partially rips them off of you, then he hikes his index finger along the band of your underwear, eagerly pulling them down your legs until they’re wrapped around your ankles, with the reminisce of your stockings.

“The heels stay on,” the rockstar instructs, pushing your legs apart with force and positioning himself in between. All you can do is nod. Half-naked, half in costume. Same as him.

In the space of a heartbeat, his lips are on yours again. This time they don’t stay for long, instead moving downwards towards your chest. When he squeezes your breast through the silk material of your dress, he compliments how fucking good you looked, “I wanted to ravish you the second I saw you, baby.”

You whimper at his words, and at the fact that his now freed cock is gently brushing against your wet folds. Not quite breaching, just teasing you further. Only adding to the overall stimulation.

“God, you’re so fucking hot. So fucking pretty. And all mine.” Eddie’s breathing into your bare chest ‘cause somehow in the moment your dress has slipped down ever so slightly and your tits made an appearance. Fingers from one hand are digging into your hip, holding you in place, while the other has you by the ribs. Thumb brushing your soft skin while his hot mouth is sucking on your hardened nipple.

Your eyes are closed. You’re not sure when you closed them. He’s invading your senses all at once. Just when you feel like you can’t take it anymore, when you want to whither and plead for him to touch you where you need him most, Eddie plunges himself into you without warning and your eyes snap open.

“Oh God…” he groans, drawing his hips back only to slam them in again, making your body bounce against him. “Fuck, baby. Jesus.”

You sob in pleasure as Eddie knocks the wind out of you with each relentless thrust, still increasing his speed. Heavy panting and grunting fills the trailer, along with the sounds of where his cock slams against your sweet juices. He’s sitting straight now. Eyes are fixated on the mess you’re both making, where his length disappears in and out of you, while you admire the way his locks fall naturally in place. Although briefly, ‘cause you’re arching your back the next second, rolling your eyes to the back of your head when he hits that sweet spot.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He growls. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re all stretched open like this, sweetheart. Your pussy was made for my cock, baby. You take it so well. You take this big dick so well, my good girl. Fucking made for me. Ain’t that right, dollface?”

“Made for you, Eds.” You just about whisper back, nodding your head feverishly.

Slap. His hand makes contact with your thigh and you practically wail. “That’s right,” he praises, “Made for me. So fucking tight for me.” Slap. Slap. Slap.

Eddie’s cock starts to swell. You can feel it expand inside of you, then again when he thrusts back in. It has you heaving. The speed he’s established is close to becoming a little too much for the two of you and he drops his weight slightly, allowing you to wrap your arms around him, nails digging into his bare back. He can sense that you too are close and he’s trying hard to hold back, make this moment last longer, but his body refuses to slow down. Chasing the way your glistening pussy chokes his length.

“Where do you want me baby?”

“Inside,” you croak out. “Cum in me, Eddie. Please. I need you to fill me up.”

“M’mph—” He chokes out, movements growing more and more erratic. The whole trailer is shaking at this point, that’s what it feels like to the two of you anyway. “Everybody out there will know what a good little slut you are. Not that innocent. Wanting me to fill you full of my cum, fuck.”

Slap. Slap. Against your thigh.

“Please, Eddie.”

Slap.

“Shh… I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.” He coos, “Gonna pump you full. Gonna make you see stars while my cum drips out of you.”

That’s when you shatter around him, uncontrollable desperate squeals making him groan louder as he continues. It’s sloppy, messy, and once you’ve completely unravelled underneath him, the rockstar can’t contain himself any longer. He lets out a broken moan as ropes and ropes of his warm spend start to throb into your hole.

His body gives up at the last spur and he drops flat on top of you, although not without a loose kiss placed to your jaw. His cock remains inside of your pussy. You can feel it pulsing until, after a few minutes, it no longer matches the beat of your heart.

Eddie lifts himself then. He kisses you softly and you smile against his mouth. When he eventually slips out and stands, he tells you not to move, that he’ll grab a towel from the small trailer bathroom and will help you get cleaned up.

“Wardrobe is going to kill us,” you call after him, balancing on your elbows as you sit up slowly. “Pretty sure these clothes can never be worn again. Purely for the fact that they reek of sex.”

“At least your wig stayed in place,” Eddie points out lightheartedly when he returns, his pants once again buckled, a towel in his hand. “That’s something the hair and makeup team should be proud of.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them,” you say, meaning it as a joke ‘cause there’s no way you would ever admit to what sins the two of you just committed.

Eddie smirks. “Pretty sure they already know,” he says as if it’s no big deal, “We weren’t exactly quiet, sweetheart.”

as always, thank you for reading! pls comment, reblog & support your creators.

celebrity skin. masterlist | the killers (1946) reference

& the celebrity skin. taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie , @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills - (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

#this one is a little self indulgent ngl #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson filth #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #celebrity skin.

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yunholuvrr · 10 months

Text

muse

summary: Your friend Hongjoong just held a show for his new fashion line and invited you to photograph the event, but one model catches your eye more than any of the clothes on the runway.

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

genre: smut, model!yunho, fashion designer!hongjoong, photographer!reader

warnings: explicit smut minors dni, petnames (baby, love, princess), big dick yunho, semi-public sex???? pretty tame i think, lmk if i should add anything

note: taking a break from we all need love to indulge in my feelings for cosmopolitan yunho oh my GAWD he's so fine.... & i did not proofread sorry for any typos

You've worn many hats since you graduated. Interning at various clothing companies, freelance photography picking up gigs from friends and classmates, and a brief stunt as a journalist. It only makes sense that all your jobs have led to you standing in front of a glowing runway, camera propped and ready for the first model to walk out, people rushing by as they settle into their front row seats.

Not every classmate of yours was doing well in the fashion industry, but one in particular was making waves, if this event was anything to go by. Kim Hongjoong, the designer that came out of nowhere.

You chuckle at the marketing of your old friend. Anyone who knew him would know he was born to design clothes, hell, if you didn't know him you'd only have to take one look at his closet. But in the grand scheme of things, a man's gender inclusive line going viral after only 2 years in the industry is pretty unheard of.

The lights dim and you focus on your camera's digital screen, quadruple checking all your settings. Hongjoong was your biggest client during your freelancing days, and your gig tonight was to capture his show for press. Usually you'd just be doing personal events like weddings or birthdays, but these would be seen be anyone and everyone in the industry. To say you were nervous would be an understatement.

One model after another appears on stage, making their rounds in all types of bold, complex outfits. His work wasn't really your style, you preferred to keep it simple and comfortable, but it's hard to deny its appeal. The models he invited showed the pieces off amazingly, too. They worked on all body types and proportions, which you made sure to capture in every photo.

One man in particular stood out to you as you took every shot you could. He looked more like a traditional model, tall and thin, lean and muscular in all the right places. He could get a job anywhere he tried. The charisma oozing from his face was infectious. A few dark strands of hair fell in front of his rhinestone speckled eyes, which seemed to make eye contact with every single person in the room. His cupid's bow was sharp, and the smirk he sent to your lens in particular had you nearly forgetting to press the shutter release.

"That's a wrap!" A man calls from behind you. The stage lights finally fade and the crowd dissipates, leaving you and a handful of other staff to pack up. You sit on a nearby stool, squinting at the small screen and clicking through your photos. Before you can get very far through your collection, someone taps you on the shoulder.

"After party in an hour babes," Hongjoong chirps next to you, "you're invited. Thanks for the excellent photos tonight."

"You haven't even seen them yet," you chuckle and finish packing up, resolving to get ready for the party despite the exhaustion you feel at the back of your mind.

He smacks your arm playfully before insisting that every photo you've ever taken has been perfect. "By the way, did any of the models catch your eye?"

"Is there a correct answer or do you want my honest thoughts?" You pierce right through your friend's shenanigans. Hongjoong has always been quite the matchmaker among your friends, although you wouldn't call it his most successful hobby. It's almost like he just picks two names out of a hat and decides they would look good together.

He only shakes his head, "I really wanna know! They're all really nice."

You only squint before responding, "Tall guy, dark hair. He was towards the end but he really walked his ass off."

His face lights up immediately and you know you chose the right answer, "Yunho!"

"Yunho," you repeat, "yeah he's nice to look at. I suppose that's his job."

"He's the newest model I've worked with," Hongjoong looks at the runway fondly, "I didn't know if he'd bring anything special to the table at first, but he's truly irresistible."

"And you invited him to the after party and you want us to meet because we'd be such a perfect couple," you stand up, eye to eye with him now, and giggle at the little game he's playing.

"Maybe so... but listen!" You both start walking towards the exit, "I don't want you to fuck him on the first night or anything. Just get to know him, at the very least you'll get a new client. His portfolio is bare bones."

You don't even have time to process what he said before he's slipping away backstage with a quick goodbye. If you were being honest, this Yunho guy probably wouldn't be a bad hookup. You weren't really looking for anything, but he's pretty. And you can't deny good work connections.

You arrive 20 minutes after Hongjoong told you to, fashionably late. You planned to have a drink or two and stick close to him since the small buds of exhaustion have already bloomed into a fullblown headache. No one should have any questions for a random photographer anyway.

"Speak of the devil, there's my right hand woman now!" Your thoughts were immediately proven wrong when you walk in and a small group of models you recognize from the runway stare fondly in your direction. Yunho is one of them, of course, but you try not to think about the words spoken about him just an hour earlier.

"Hi! I'm y/n, we went to school together," you manage a convincing smile as Hongjoong passes you a drink.

"I can't wait to see your photos," one lady gushed, "Hongjoong showed us some of your work and your style is just lovely."

You a manage a small thanks before taking a small sip. The conversation flows into a new topic with ease and you're left in the background to quietly enjoy the party. That is, until you feel a light tap on your shoulder.

"Excuse me," a shy, deep voice floats above you, "you don't seem like you're in a talkative mood, but I had a question for you?"

You look up and Yunho smiles down at you. He looks nothing like he did on stage before; his piercing eyes have morphed into soft, welcoming ones and his charming smirk is replaced by a nervous grin. You nod and take another sip, letting him continue.

"Hongjoong has just mentioned you so much I thought I'd ask if you could take some headshots for me?" He fiddles with his fingers and when your eyes widen he looks away.

"What has he said about me?" You try not to sound accusatory, but it doesn't come across as nicely as you'd like.

"Oh nothing bad! Nothing bad at all," Yunho chuckles, and it might be the nicest sound you've heard at this party so far, "he just wouldn't stop talking about how great you are. I figured I'd take the hint and ask."

You shift from one foot to the other, considering his request before deciding it wouldn't hurt to get to know him more. "Is this your first modeling gig?"

"Just about," there's that chuckle again, and it's contagious, "I've done a few small things here and there, but this was the biggest scale by far."

"You know I won't lower my rates just because you're new," you tease, "or because Hongjoong wants me to."

He just shakes his head profusely, "oh absolutely not! If anything I was gonna offer you more..." you see Yunho think through his sentence as he says it, trailing off after realizing what exactly he said.

"You flatter me, but I'm not in the mood to talk business right now," you swear a slight pout comes across his face before you even get to finish.

He doesn't skip a beat, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and offering it to you, "then why don't we talk later?"

You can only mutter a "smooth" while tapping your number into his contacts. You hand it back to him and watch him type something before feeling a buzz in your own pocket.

"I'll send you some info when I have a moment this week," you try not to stare at his now mischievous smirk, continuing to sip from your empty cup.

"I'll be waiting," he bends down to your height, and his voice lowers to barely above a whisper, "talk to you soon."

He's gone before you know it, disappearing into the crowd, and the brief proximity makes your insides turn in ways you don't want to admit. You have to find Hongjoong.

His bright blue hair stands out near the food bar and you quickly make your way over. The words fly out of your mouth before you even get to him, "what exactly did you say to Yunho?"

He gives you a small huh, clearly tipsier than you are, before a look of recognition washes over his face. "Oh hi love! I didn't say anything, why?"

"He said you kept mentioning me to him?" You would laugh at the state of your friend if it weren't for the sudden desire to know everything Yunho thinks of you already.

"Hm, I only said you're a great at taking photos!" He clings onto your shoulder and laughs, "and that he stood out to you on the runway tonight! He smiled ear to ear when I said that, isn't he so cute?"

"Hongjoong you did not," you grab both of his shoulders and shake him a bit, "does he think I like him or something?"

"Do you?" When you don't respond he just laughs again, "I guess my job is already done."

"I don't even know him!" You wish you could sincerely be mad at the man in front of you, but he's been correct all night so far.

"Don't you want to though?"

"I hate you, seriously," you glare at him, but he only laughs again before returning to his previous conversation. You don't know what he's gotten you into, but you don't think you mind it.

Your workdays have been packed ever since the night of the show. Being Hongjoong's right hand photographer had its perks, like the dozens of offers you've received since the articles went out, but that doesn't mean it isn't the most stressed you've been in weeks. You all but collapse by the time your lunch break rolls around.

Forget about me already?

The light buzz of your phone disrupts your thoughts about scheduling. No one usually texts you, at least not during the day. No one except Yunho.

Sorry! I've been swamped. Let me send you the form my other clients are using to schedule with me.

Aw, no special treatment for your favorite model?

You make a mental note to beat the shit outta Hongjoong for doing this the next time you see him.

Maybe if you give me a good enough offer I'll put you at the top of my list

Not even 10 minutes later, a scheduling request dings on your phone and you see the payment is three times your normal rate for headshots. You mentally curse Joong for putting you in this situation, but you're willing to play the game if it means good dick and good pay.

Am I at the top of your list now? I can't wait to see you

You can't help the way your thighs squeeze together for a moment, now eager to fit him in your schedule (and elsewhere). You wrap up your short lunch with a newfound motivation to get through your emails, making sure to leave a 2 hour slot open for him. You wonder how long you can hold off on getting back to him before he starts begging you. That would have to be a game you play another time.

The studio is empty when you show up, allowing you to quietly set up just the way you want to. Your movements are quick and practiced, dozens of headshot appointments under your belt at this point. These were supposed to be simple and straightforward, so you didn't have much to prepare besides rolling down the white backdrop and setting up your lights. There were a few other props on the side if he wanted to take more shots. You asked a couple people to help out with equipment during the shoot, but you came in early just to have some peace and quiet. Your coworkers arrive a few minutes after you do, exchanging pleasantries before finishing the job you started.

Then he walks in. You're double checking your camera settings when you hear the front door open and his honey-like voice greeting the other staff. You feel his attention shift to you, and when you turn around a playful smirk is plastered on his face. His makeup isn't as dark as it was on the runway, but he looks clean and undoubtedly handsome. His styled hair falls just past his eyes, moving with his lashes every time he blinks. He's pretty, there's no way around it, a type of face that you can't help but stare at.

"Why don't you take a photo, it lasts longer," he snickers, snapping you out of whatever daze he put you in.

"That's my job after all," you motion to a stool in front of the camera, "do you want any props? We can do more than simple headshots if you'd like."

He nods and sits down, long legs crossing each other at the ankle. "I'd love that, miss photographer."

You narrow your eyes at the comment before signaling to the crew you're ready to go. One lady is on standby near the lights, another guy has a handful of reflectors ready. You try to ignore the tension between your model and focus on your craft.

"Can we try the gold?" You call out to your team, closely monitoring Yunho's face in the warmer light. After a moment of thought, you ask him to tilt his head. He's well behaved in front of the camera, following your every suggestion. You wonder if the crew can feel the heavy energy between you two.

After a half hour of posing, shooting, monitoring, retouching, and shooting again, you call for a break and everyone agrees. The couch in the corner of the studio looks so inviting you nearly run to sit down, oblivious to the way Yunho follows.

"You're really good at this," you jump at his voice next to you.

"I went to school for it so I would hope so," you mumble, getting comfortable. You open your phone, hoping to mindlessly scroll before you all come back, but he just plops down next to you.

"Have you ever gotten your own headshots taken?" You shake your head, trying to ignore the way his leg is pressed against yours. "You're so pretty behind that camera, maybe we can switch one day."

You almost bump into his face from how quickly you look up at him, "I'd never let you touch my equipment."

He hums in disapproval before pulling out his own phone and leaning back into the cushions. "Fine, maybe not me. But I don't see why Joong's never put you on the runway. You're stunning."

He expects a reaction from you, but you control yourself, leaning forward to get as much distance as you can. The two of you sit in innocent silence for a while, but the tension only grows thicker. There's five minutes before you shoot for at least another half hour, and when your job is to stare at his face you're not sure you can go much longer.

"What exactly did Hongjoong tell you about me?" You sit up straight, taking a leap of faith.

"About how in love you are with me, why?" You swiftly kick his leg next to you and he chuckles, "he just said I caught your eye. He wasn't lying was he?"

"No, definitely not," you sigh, "but what I don't understand is why you like me?"

"Who said I like you? You just happen to be very pretty and talented and fun to tease."

"So you do like me," you huff in disbelief. Something in you stirs with every word he says and you have to cross your legs for some relief from the building pressure.

"If wanting to take you right now in the middle of your studio means I like you, then sure," his slender fingers trace the back of your shoulders, wrapping a secure arm around you.

"We still have all the props to play with," you scan the studio, but your team is nowhere to be found during the break.

"What if I want to play with you instead?" His breath softly blows across your ear now, voice just barely above a whisper. It takes everything in you to not kiss him right then and there.

"You're the one paying for this timeblock," you pull up your crew group chat on your phone, already making a decision.

"If we could wrap up here that'd be lovely, miss photographer," there goes that stupid nickname again.

"You can't call me anything else?"

"Would you prefer baby? Maybe princess? Or do you like meaner things?" His hand moves again to rest between your shoulder blades as he watches you type out a quick message.

"I would prefer if you shut up honestly," you press send. As far as your team knows, the client is satisfied and wants to end the shoot here for today. No one complains, you're still being paid for two hours thanks to Yunho's generous payment.

"Will you make me?" He traces a small circle with his thumb on your back, and the comment sounds more inviting than teasing. Your body reacts before your mind does, practically throwing yourself onto him out of annoyance and need. His lips are warm and soft and mold perfectly to yours.

He takes a sharp inhale as your tongue swipes past his bottom lip, his hand travelling up to hold the back of your neck. The other abandons his phone to take purchase on your hip, pulling you further on top of him. Yunho groans at the contact, resisting the urge to buck his hips up into you already. His flirting was almost as hard on him as it was on you.

"So needy," you mumble, propping yourself up on his chest to take in the view. His eyes are already blown out from lust, raking your body and letting his hands follow. His long fingers brush over your hardening nipples and you can't help the sigh that escapes.

He chuckles, "you're one to talk." He rolls his hips ever so slightly and you whine, head falling into his shoulder. He feels bigger than average below you and you wonder what you've gotten yourself into. You slowly rock your hips above him with his hands guiding you, whimpering into his skin.

"Can I taste you?" You freeze, head shooting up to stare at him in confusion. He wraps two fingers around your belt loops and tugs you forward again. "Please baby?" You nod and he sighs with relief as if his life depended on eating you out. Maybe it does.

He lays you on your back on a couch far too small for both of you like this, but you don't care. His lips are back on yours, warm and tender, as you feel both your jeans and panties slide down your legs. The cold air makes you flinch.

"Did I make you this wet while I was on the runway, love?" You feel one slender finger slide through your folds, but it's not enough. "Staring at me behind that camera all day must be so hard. I'll make it up to you," is the last thing he says before tucks his head snugly between your thighs.

Whatever snarky reply you came up escapes you with a moan just a bit too loud, his tongue flattening up against your slit. He wastes no time, too desperate to hear you above him. One hand holding you down just below your stomach, another teasing your entrance while his mouth makes quick work of your clit. You hope to the universe none of your crew left anything in the studio because your whines and wetness echoed through the room.

Before you know it he pushes one, then two, fingers into you, filling you up deliciously, and you buck your hips into him. His pace is slow and deep, opening you up to his liking. Some combination of his tongue and fingers nearly makes you scream, hands shooting straight to pull his hair. He groans into your flesh, vibrations sending sparks straight to your core, before looking up at you. His chin is glossy and a line of spit still connects you both and you nearly come at the sight alone.

"You're fucking delicious, darling," he pumps into you one last time before taking them in his mouth, sucking with a pop, "next time you should ride my face for me."

"Next time?" You watch as he unzips his own pants, shoving them down far enough for his dick to escape. It rebounds off his stomach, bigger than anything you've taken before.

"By the way you're staring," he grips himself at the base, "I think you want a next time." The way you lick your lips is involuntary.

He chuckles, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the floor nearby. You continue to stare shamelessly, boosting his ego as you etch his large, toned body into your mind. "Like what you see?"

"If you don't come here and fuck me right now Yunho I swear to god," and you swear you can see his dick twitch, but he simply tuts a finger at you.

"Ah ah ah, safety first princess," he slides a condom out of his pant pocket, ripping it open and handing it to you. You tilt your head and take it reluctantly, but he only smirks, "I know you want to touch me."

"Fuck you," you roll your eyes, sitting up and coming face to face (face to tip?) with his member. You never thought you'd see a dick that you'd describe as pretty, but his is long and thick and flushed a pretty shade of pink. You wrap your free hand around the base and pump a few times to tease him.

"Not now, love," you hear a shaky breath above you and you smirk. He pulls your other hand up and you comply, unravelling the condom smoothly down him. As soon as you're done he pushes you back down, not risking the chance of you testing him again.

"Let me know if it's too much for you baby," he whispers before finally pushing in. The stretch only stings for a second before turning into delight as he fills you up completely.

You sigh out in relief, mumbling a soft "keep going" and wrapping your hands around his neck. He listens immediately, pulling back almost all the way before thrusting back in. He keeps his slow pace until he's completely sure you're comfortable.

He looks down at where you connect before finally losing his composure. "You take me so fucking well," he moans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses all over you. His pace quickens relentlessly, the sound of skin on skin filling the studio.

You scream at one particularly rough snap of his hips, but he only barely slows down. "You okay, princess?"

"So fucking good," you pant above him, his mouth still ravishing your neck. He groans at your response, fucking you harder than before. You didn't even know it was possible. You snake a hand down to your throbbing clit, so close to coming undone.

"Please come on my dick baby," he all but growls, and the way his hips falter tells you he's close too. His words, on top of everything else, are enough to finally unravel you. You shutter and jerk up into him, moaning some string of fuck's and Yunho's until your mind goes completely blank. He comes shortly after, pumping into you sporadically until he finally flops down on top of you.

You both take a few moments to come back to your senses, nothing but a mess of sweaty limbs on this cramped couch. "Next time I'll take you home so I'll have room to cuddle you after," he chuckles, picking himself up.

"I would like that," you smile softly, legs aching too much to even attempt sitting up. He cleans you both up quietly before plopping back down, letting you stretch your legs across his lap.

"So," his hand traces up your frame to cup your cheek, "can I take you out to dinner sometime, miss photographer?"

#yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #yunho oneshot #ateez oneshot #yunho scenarios #i need him carnally

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