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katiexpunk · 6 months

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Diner Girl | Pairing Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: You frequent your local dinner pretty often, not just because you love their pancakes with extra syrup, but because your best friend Sydney is a waitress there. You've heard her talk about her hot boss, Joel, every now and then but you've never had the pleasure of meeting him; that was until one morning, after getting unexpectedly laid off, you decided to drown your feels in syrup and love from your bestie. Joel offers you a job, and he shows you the ropes in more ways than one. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~7.3K Warnings: Pining, flirting, hard core tension, age gap (unspecified, reader is 30), 2000s style (needs a TW lol), 2000s texting, Joel is a little rough/bossy, Joel is actually readers boss, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks, or don't idk you're not gonna listen to me anyways), no creampie (a katiexpunk first, weird, I know), rough blow job, oral (m and female receiving) pet names, cum swallowing, praise kink, inappropriate use of syrup, one tit slap, Joel rips readers uniform off of her, readers former boss is an asshole, reader gets fired from her job, eating/references to food, did I already say flirting. Joel and reader fuck on a table in the diner. References to a health scares (for readers coworker). A bit of a dom/sub dynamic. Fluff. Porn with plot. Joel calls reader slut twice. Hilary Duff/A Cinderella Story gets mentioned, as does Jennifer Coolidge yelling for more salmon. Authors Note: The fact that I'm posting this doesn't feel real. This idea has been in my brain for so long, and I am happy and relieved to have it out in the world. Special thank you to @endlessthxxghts for holding my balls, brainstorming with me, and beta'ing this. And another thank you to @sydneyinacoma, my inspiration for readers bestie -- thank you for being my slutty, smutty, sister and for saving my ass with the first blowjob scene; I owe you one. ILY both. And to @hier--soir, Jessie, your beautiful way of storytelling inspires me and I often find myself HWJWTS (How Would Jessie Write This Smut). Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

November 2004

The blaring sound of your alarm disrupts your slumber, and you jolt awake with a sense of urgency. Shit. You’re gonna be late. Again.

You stumble through your routine. You splash cold water on your face in an attempt to remove the pillow marks left behind on your cheek and smear on a mixture of lotion and face oil the saleswoman swears will make you look like you’re in your 20s again. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that that was only a year ago. You can see why she would have thought you were older as you look at your reflection in the mirror and the dim light from your tiny 1950s bathroom illuminates the bags under your eyes.

God, you’re tired. Truthfully, you’ve been tired for months now; no amount of caffeine can seem to make up for your lack of sleep due to the demands of finishing up your Master’s and your boss who keeps you late at work what seems like every night now.

You hastily get dressed and attempt to gather your thoughts. As you step outside into the cool November morning air, you bristle at the wind cooling the still-damp hairs that frame your face. You unlock the door to your beater and slip the keys into the engine. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach when a soft click, click, click, click noise reverberates through the air; the stubborn engine refusing to turn over.

Shit. Not again. No!

Frustration mounts with each futile attempt to bring the engine to life. You slam your palms against the cool leather of your steering wheel, a long sigh escapes your lungs and your forehead meets the top of the wheel in defeat.

You reach into your purse for your phone and quickly compose a message to your boss, explaining the situation. "Car won't start. Trying to figure it out. Going to be late. Sorry." With a sigh, you hit send, hoping for a sympathetic response.

The minutes crawl by as you anxiously await a reply. The familiar chime of your phone signals a message, and you eagerly check it. However, the words that flash across the screen only deepen your frustration: "This is unacceptable. You’ve already been warned twice. Don’t bother coming in, and consider this your termination."

The shock of the message hits you like a ton of bricks.

Sure, you had been late a few times in the past year, but you figured your staying late almost every night would make up for it. Maybe if he paid a little more you could afford to fix your piece of shit car and you wouldn’t be late in the first place.

Your eyes sting with disbelief, and your hands tremble as you clutch the phone. Anger and desperation dance the waltz in your mind as you fight to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

You sit in your silent car, the quiet sounds of morning make you feel frozen in time, unsure of what to do or where to go from here.

You look back down at your phone again and type out a quick message to your best friend Sydney.

“U working this am?” before you can even put the phone down, it’s chirping to life with her response.

“Hi babes! I am. R u?” her response reads.

You don’t want to give her the full details over text – too much to type out – and instead, you settle on a short response.

“No. Long story. Coming in 2 c u.”

“Kk! C u soon <3”

Your day was quite possibly off to the shittiest start ever, but you know there are three remedies to that situation.

Your bestie, pancakes, and syrup.

Lots and lots of fucking syrup.

++++

The early morning sunlight spills through the diner's large windows, casting a warm glow on the worn checkered tiles. The aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee envelops the air, creating a comforting ambiance that feels like a hug. The clinking of cutlery against plates and the low hum of conversations provide a soothing soundtrack to the chaos of your morning.

Your usual booth is taken, so you settle for a seat at the bar. The stool is a little wobbly, but you have a nice view of the bustling kitchen and the seats next to you are empty.

You watch Sydney pour a coffee refill for the older couple at the end of the bar before heading over to you. As she approaches, her infectious smile illuminates the space. Her apron, adorned with a patchwork of food stains and coffee spills, hints at the countless meals she’s already served this morning.

"Morning, sunshine! You’re here early, you miss me?” she greets, grabbing a mug from the counter behind her before placing it in front of you and pouring you a steaming cup of coffee.

You let out a little chuckle at her remark, knowing you just saw her last night.

You grab the mug in front of you with both hands, wishing you could shrink yourself and jump into the hot liquid like a hot tub; your bones cold from your long walk to the diner. Stupid car.

"No really, what’s up? Everything okay?” she asks, a hint of concern behind her words.

“Not really. My car wouldn’t start this morning again, and John fired me after I told him I was gonna be late,” you respond, feeling the warmth of your frustration beginning to build in your chest once more.

“What an asshole,” Sydney responds, “I’m sorry that happened, babe. He’s a real piece of work, you’re better off without him,” she continues.

“I guess so. But I need a job, Syd. I don’t know what I’m gonna do now,” you respond, defeated. Your cheeks begin to heat and you think you might actually cry this time. You move the menu out in front of you on the counter to the side, and Sydney picks it up and removes the pen from behind her ear.

“I could talk to Joel,” she offers, scribbling your order down on her notepad. You don’t have to tell her, she already knows what this situation calls for – pancakes with a lot of fucking syrup.

“Joel?” you ask, leaning over the counter and looking both ways before you whisper to her, “as in the hot boss you won’t shut up about, Joel?”

She lets out a little chuckle and you see a little twinkle of bashfulness in her eyes.

“Yes, my ridiculously hot, mostly unreadable, but hot, boss Joel,” she replies. “Martha quit last week, something about wanting to spend more time with her grandkids, so we’re down a waitress.”

You look at her face, pondering her offer as if you really have another option at the moment.

“He’s here this morning, he’s in the back doing paperwork – I can go grab him and have him talk to you if ya want,” she says, nodding to the woman who just sat down at the bar, giving her a soft be right there hun.

“Plus, it’ll be so fun to work together!” she says, her voice more energetic this time, preparing to go back into customer service mode.

“I – yeah, alright, yes, I’ll talk to him,” you agree.

She does a little jump and says “YAY!” and then gives you a big smile before pouncing off to greet her next customer. Where does she find the energy?

As you wait for your emotional pancakes to arrive, you cradle your mug, the warmth seeping into your chilled skin, while you gaze through the window into the kitchen. Amidst the orchestrated dance of chefs and waitstaff, there stands a figure that looks like he doesn’t belong in the greasy kitchen of a diner – a towering presence, broad and resolute. His flannel shirt clings to the sculpted contours of his muscles and the determined furrow of his brow accentuates the intensity he’s directing to the clipboard in his hand.

That’s him. That’s gotta be the ridiculously hot boss. That’s gotta be Joel, right? You feel a little tickle in your belly at the thought.

You try not to stare too much, not wanting to be obvious, but like passing a car wreck on the freeway, you can’t seem to look away. You smile at the way he bites the cap of the pen in his mouth, only dropping it on occasion to make little notes or checkmarks. As you look at him doing his work, his eyes flutter up and meet yours. And in that brief moment, you feel a connection. The corners of his lips curl into a friendly smile as he stares back at you briefly, before once again dropping his gaze to the papers in front of him. Sydney did say he was unreadable; now you see why.

Before you can process further, Sydney returns with your stack of pancakes and places them in front of you. “Thanks, can I have some syr–,” but before you can continue, she’s placing the container of the sweet liquid in front of you with a wink.

As you dive into your comfort food, savoring each bite, the door to the kitchen swings open, and Joel emerges. Tall and confident, he approaches your seat, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Of course, he would come to talk to you now, right as you have a giant bite of pancake shoved into your mouth like an animal. The cherry on top of your already shit day.

"Sydney's been raving about you," he admits, a friendly smirk on his face. "Say’s you’re lookin’ for some work,” his voice is low and even, and his eyes briefly scan over the patrons before coming back to land on your face. For as hot as Sydney has been describing him as over the past few months, she forgot to mention how fucking sexy he sounds.

You stare back at him, gulping down the remaining pancake in your mouth.

Joel's eyes are trained on your face. What he really wanted to say was Sydney’s been raving about you, but she didn’t tell me how pretty you are. That was all the more apparent to him now that he sees you up close.

“We’re down a waitress, and we could use someone with your taste in breakfast and impeccable timing, if you’re interested?” he says, watching you fidget with the napkin in your lap.

“I – yes, yes I am very interested. I’ve never been a waitress, but I have great attention to detail and I’m sure I could pick it up quickly with the right guidance,” you say, straightening your posture, attempting to look more composed than he has you feeling right now.

“Well great, we’ll have you trained up in no time,” he says, his gaze lingers on your features for a beat longer than expected before he swivels on his heels, heading back to the kitchen. However, after a few steps, he abruptly pauses, pivoting back around with a thoughtful expression, as if there’s more he wants to share.

“Oops, my bad, sweetheart. Almost forgot my manners. I’m Joel, by the way. This is my diner,” he says, gesturing with one hand as if to show the space to you like you were seeing it for the first time, before offering his large hand toward you. You meet it with your own, giving him a firm shake while sharing your name.

"Can you start tomorrow?" he asks, and you respond with a satisfied "mhmm," sealing the deal with a wink from Joel. "Great – be here around seven in the morning then, and we’ll get cha all trained up" he adds with a grin, one that teeters the line between professional and flirtatious.

And just like that, in the midst of your syrup-drenched, emotionally charged morning you let out your first real smile of the day.

So there were four remedies to your situation.

Your bestie, pancakes, syrup, and Joel.

You finish your remaining pancake, letting your mind wander off, secretly hoping Joel will be showing you the ropes in more ways than one.

++++

The next morning, you get to the diner just as the sun is starting to rise, and you can't help but draw a parallel to Hilary Duff in A Cinderella Story, except now you’re the Diner Girl.

While you may not be gliding around on gaudy rollerskates, and Jennifer Coolidge isn't screaming at you “MORE SALMON! We need more Salmon!” there's an undeniable charm to the whole scenario that makes you chuckle. The uniform Sydney handed you on your way out may not be the stuff of fairytale gowns, but the fabric that clings to your skin is a tangible reminder that you're stepping into a different narrative today, a narrative where you’re employed and your boss isn’t a total jerk.

As you step into the diner, the familiar calms your nerves a bit. Joel, seemingly in tune with your arrival, glances up from behind the counter and shoots you a playful wink. Does he wink at all his employees?

"Morning, sunshine! Ready for your grand debut?" he teases, flashing a bright smile coupled with an adorable set of dimples. You manage a shy smile in response, feeling nervous once again, but it has nothing to do with learning your new job and all to do with the beautiful man in front of you that you’ll be close to the entire day.

Joel wastes no time guiding you through the diner's rhythm. With each task, he effortlessly blends instructions with charming banter, making the learning process feel less like work and more like a shared secret between the two of you.

"Here's where the magic happens," he says, gesturing to the row of gleaming coffee machines. "And trust me, making a perfect cup is an art; takes a lot of love."

“Aren’t these like super-fast automatic coffee brewers? You just load the beans and water and hit start?”

"Alright, smartass," he retorts, a playful glint in his eyes, "Yeah, they are, but you gotta press that button with love, baby. That's what makes it good."

Your laughter harmonizes with his, and you catch the infectious mirth in his expression – one hand on his hip, the other casually resting on the counter. Your eyes trace the veins on his forearms, distinctly visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves, and you can't help but admire the effortless confidence he exudes.

“Do it with love. I understand,” you respond.

“Good girl,” he responds. “Alright, next up – silverware rollin’, ya ready?” he asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply, a playful smile dancing on your lips, as you follow him to the back of the kitchen to grab a tray of freshly washed flatware. Returning to the dining room, he leads you to an empty booth tucked away from the prying eyes of coworkers, giving you the first taste of true solitude with him all morning.

"Now, watch and learn," he says, demonstrating a silverware roll that rivals any seasoned server. "The key is in the wrist action. It's all about finesse."

You mimic his movements, chuckling when your first attempt doesn't quite match his polished technique. He leans in a little closer, his warmth and encouragement almost palpable.

"See, you've got the basics down. But let me show you a little trick," he says, guiding your hand with his own. The close proximity sends a delicious shiver down your spine, and you can't help but revel in the extra attention to detail in his guidance. As he imparts his expertise, the thought of him taking charge and instructing you in other ways goes straight to your core.

“You’re a natural,” Joel says, responding to your growing stack of rolled silverware.

"You like taking orders?" he inquires, his gaze intense as he places the second-to-last rolled set in the pile you both created, and you complete your own. The implication behind his words hits you, and your eyes widen with surprise.

"Do I what?" you ask, a hint of uncertainty in your voice, unsure if your mind has ventured too far into the realm of innuendo to fully grasp his meaning.

"Taking orders – you seem like you'd be good at it," he says, pausing deliberately, well aware that he's causing a stir within you.

"You know, from customers?" he adds with a smirk, putting you out of your misery.

“Oh. Oh – uh, well, I’m not sure, I’ve never tried it,” you respond.

“First time for everything, darlin’. We can practice. I’ll be the customer, and you can take my order.”

He flashes you a charming smile, making it hard to resist. "Alright," you agree with a shy grin, readying your notepad. You start “Good morning, Sir! Can I get you starte–”

"Now, sweetheart, we've gotta do this right – stand up now, take my order properly," he interrupts, a playful tone in his voice. You shoot him a teasing side-eye, and he smirks, attempting to hide it by bringing his hand to his beard.

You rise and straighten your apron, and turn to face him at the table.

“Good morning, Sir –” you begin again, “what can I get started for you?”

"I'll have the classic bacon and eggs, toast on the side, and a steaming cup of your finest brew. Oh, and a side of your million-dollar smile, please."

You laugh at the last part, realizing this is exactly the kind of practice you need. "Got it, one bacon and eggs, toast, coffee, and a million-dollar smile," you repeat, jotting it down.

Joel nods approvingly. "You're a quick learner. Now, let's spice it up a bit. What if I want my eggs sunny-side-up, the toast lightly buttered, and the coffee extra strong?"

You take a moment to absorb the details, determined not to miss anything. "Sunny-side-up eggs, lightly buttered toast, and extra strong coffee," you recite confidently.

Joel grins. "Not bad, darlin’ – you’re a good listener.”

“Maybe you’re just a good teacher,” you playfully retort.

You don’t see it, but Joel palms himself beneath the denim of his jeans, attempting to adjust from the growing lack of space in them.

As the morning rolls into the afternoon, you finish out the rest of your shift at the diner and make the walk back home.

As you lay in bed, you try to rationalize all of your flirting with Joel.

He’s just nice. A Southern gentleman. He’s probably like this with all of his employees.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel lies in his own bed, also attempting to rationalize all of his flirting with you. He knows it’s wrong, but that doesn’t stop him from taking his heavy cock in hand to the thought of you that night.

++++

After nearly a month of seamlessly navigating the diner routine, you've become a fixture in the cozy ambiance. The playful banter between you and Joel has escalated to shameless flirting – a subtle touch from a passed laminated menu, an intentionally clumsy moment with the cash register as an excuse to get a little closer, and the unmistakable sensation of his gaze lingering on you as you lean over to wipe down the booths.

You even find yourself yelling out “Corner!” less than you should, hoping it might lead you to accidentally bump into him.

It's not exactly backbreaking labor, though it can take a toll on you physically. But you find yourself enjoying it—the thrill of pushing through a lengthy shift, the rush that accompanies swift movements and juggling various tasks during the bustling hours, the familiar faces of regulars who now greet you by name, and the bonus of spending extra time with Sydney.

For now, it's fulfilling enough. However, the more moments you share with Joel, the more it dawns on you that, at least when it comes to him, "enough" might never quite be sufficient.

++++

You normally work M-F, during the morning shift, and you’re grateful for the extra time on the weekends. You’re starting to feel like you might not actually need that facial oil now that you’re getting adequate rest. Take that, Mary Kay.

One Saturday night, as you’re sitting on your couch watching Kill Bill, your phone buzzes with an unfamiliar number, and curiosity pulls you in. Joel’s husky voice on the line tells you who it is, but he introduces himself anyway.

“Hey, darlin’ – it’s Joel. Listen, uh, I know it’s your day off but I was wondering if you might be able to come in to work tonight?” he asks.

Without pausing to let you respond, he lays it on thick, making a persuasive attempt to nudge you into saying yes, "The other servers are all tied up, and Suzanne had to call out, something about Mike not feeling right tonight, tight chest and all, so I told her to make sure he gets checked out."

"Oh no, that's awful. Yes, yes, of course, Joel. I'll be there in 15," you reply, hearing a sigh of relief on the other end.

"See you soon," he says.

"Oh? You're coming in, too?" you ask, trying not to sound overly excited.

"Well, someone's gotta make the food, right?" A little chuckle carries through the phone.

You remember it now; he had shared with you during that first day that working in the kitchen at night was one of the reasons he decided to take over owning the diner, his decision in part was fueled by his love of cooking. “Helps me remember why I started doing this in the first place," he had said. You were listening, but you were also distracted by him fidgeting with his coffee cup, watching him make small circles around the rim of it.

++++

As the night descends, the diner transforms. The hustle of the day gives way to an intimate, dimly lit ambiance. Joel, donned in his chef's coat, greets you with a sly grin, "Well, look who's gracing the night shift. It's just you and me tonight, darlin'."

"Think we can handle it?" you respond, not really talking about the dinner rush, and he knows it.

The air crackles with sexual tension as you and Joel maneuver through the shift. The need between you two is palpable; a desire only one thing could satiate, a hunger no amount of breakfast food could resolve.

The hours tick by, and the tile inside is illuminated by the soft glow of the neon sign outside. With the last order served, you both lean against the counter, a comfortable silence enveloping you.

Joel breaks it with a casual remark, "Hungry?"

"Starving,” you respond a playful edge to your voice, biting your lip. Joel’s eyes go dark as he stares at your plump flesh.

You are hungry, but not for food.

++++

Joel guides you to the prep station for a crash course on chicken and waffles.

“Now, I know you’re a pancake kinda girl, but trust me darlin’ when I say these chicken and waffles will make you fall in love,” he says. Yeah, they just might.

Joel, sleeves rolled up and a chef's jacket in hand, hands it over with a grin that hints at more than just a cooking lesson. The oversized jacket drapes over you as he gives a quick once-over. He chuckles, “you look cute like this, sweetheart,” he says before he heads to the fridge for supplies.

Returning with a bunch of ingredients, he starts showing you the ropes of making waffle batter. "You like to cook?” he asks, pouring flour into a bowl. His hands move with ease, adding baking powder, a pinch of salt, and a dash of sugar. You crack the eggs into the mix, and he throws in some vanilla extract, giving the batter a fragrant twist.

“I mean, I don’t not like to cook, but I can’t say I’m very good at it. I think I’m better with instruction,” you answer. You notice his gaze deepen, going darker almost, as he hands you a whisk. “Mix it up then. Give it your all,” he says, and you start blending.

As you stir the batter, you sense Joel subtly adjusting his position until he's right behind you. He towers over you from behind. His arms gently encircle your body, and his backside hovers just an inch away from yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "The secret," he murmurs in a low, almost whispered tone near your ear, "is to whisk it just enough, not too much. The air bubbles make it fluffy." His voice carries a blend of guidance and desire.

His hand moves up to sweep your hair away from your neck, causing your mixing to slow as his fingertips graze the sensitive skin. Goosebumps erupt across your entire body, and he presses his lips to the soft skin behind your ear.

“Joel,” you whimper, tilting your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck.

“Keep mixin’ darlin,” he commands. You try, but the distraction of him on you makes you forget the simple action altogether.

You close the gap between your bodies and take a small step back so your backside is firmly pressed against him. You let out a gasp as you feel the thick shape of him on your ass. He continues to nip at your neck, grazing his teeth along the sensitive skin there. You grab the counter in a poor attempt to steady yourself, and press into him harder, and he responds pinning your hips to the counter until his growing cock is all the more noticeable.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a little hiss. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to get you alone like this – haven’t been able to get it out of my head.” A soft moan escapes you, and in the blink of an eye, his hands find your hips. Before you can react, he swiftly turns you around to face him.

“You like being told what to do, baby? I’ll tell you what to do, but I’m not gonna tell you twice,” Joel says as his large palm comes up to hold the column of your throat, his thumb just under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.

“So if I tell you to get on your knees, you’re gonna do it,” he says, voice low. “If I tell you to look at me, you’re gonna do it,” he continues, “and if I tell you to swallow, you’re gonna do it like the perfect little slut I know you are,” he says, dipping his face lower to you. You wonder if he can feel your pulse quickening under his hand, caught in a lusty daze fueled by hot breath and the sight of his blown pupils.

“Tell me you understand,” he commands, not really questioning.

“Yes - yeah, I understand,” you say, tightening your grip on his forearm, feeling the strength of his muscles still grasping you, pulling you closer to him.

You think for a moment he might kiss you, his lips barely an inch from yours, but he doesn’t.

“Good girl,” he praises, “since I know you’re so good at practicing, let’s do it again,” he suggests, releasing his grip on you.

“Get on your fucking knees, baby.”

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, cold tile against your bare calves. You position yourself beneath him and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for him to give you further instructions. He reaches down and brings his pointer finger down to lift your chin up to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty like this, baby.” He thinks you're pretty.

As he releases you, you take that as permission and reach out to undo the buckle of his belt. You fumble with the cool metal momentarily, until it’s completely unbuckled before you begin to work with the zipper on his pants. You tug both his pants and his underwear down just below his hips, and his thick length springs to attention.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the size of him. He’s big. His cock is already at full attention, red and weeping. Your mouth waters at the sight of it. You look up at him, silently asking for permission to touch him, and he nods. “All yours’” he says, and your hand comes to wrap around the base of him. The thought of all of him being yours stirs something low in your belly.

Before you can put him in your mouth, he grabs your wrist to pull you back up to your feet.

“Too many clothes, sweetheart. Need to see those fuckin’ tits,” he growls, tearing your uniform off, almost bare save for your bra. You’re gonna need a new one. His eyes are glued to your chest, admiring the red bra you’ve been hiding under your uniform.

“As much as I like the way this looks on, I’d like it a helluva lot better off,” he says while hastily unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the kitchen floor. Your nipples harden in the cool air, entrancing Joel. “Gorgeous fuckin’ tits,” swatting your left one, in awe of the way it bounced on impact.

“Back on your knees,” ordering you once again. You obey without hesitation, almost automatically.

You stroke along his length, feeling the silky warmth of his skin, the heat, and the thick veins that add texture to each pass of your palm. You pause at the top of him and let out a little squeeze, until a small bead of precum forms at the tip. You lap it up, and Joel lets out a groan and his hands fall to grab the back of your neck.

“Keep that mouth wide open for me, baby.” I’ll do anything you want as long as you call me baby, you reply in your head.

You part your lips and tease your tongue around and then start sucking on the tip, slowly taking more in until you’re sucking on the full head of his cock and your tongue is whirling around it. Joel’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, and he gently cants his hips forward, urging you to take more of him.

You’re barely halfway down and the back of his cock is already on your throat. You start bobbing your head up and down, and Joel mutters a little curse under his breath and bites down on his lip.

“Such a good girl f’me, takin’ this cock down your sweet little throat,” you moan around him, the sound reverberating against him, “yeah, this what you wanted, hmm? Needed your throat fucked like a slut?”

Your thighs clench together, a syrupy mess of your own slick smears on your skin, and his filthy words add to the roaring ache in your cunt. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel as you notice him stiffen just a little more. How is that even possible?

You pick up your pace, pushing yourself to take more of him. He thrusts shallow but firmly, meeting your movements along his shaft.

“Tha’s it baby, just like that…” his groans are lecherous, coupled with the profane sounds of you gagging on his cock. You’d listen to that on a loop if you could.

He tightens his grip on your hair and pulls you off him. There will be plenty of opportunities for him to fill your mouth up, but right now, he has other priorities. He does take an extra moment to watch you wipe the saliva and precum from your mouth with the back of your hand. It’s a vulgar sight and he commits it to memory.

He helps you to your feet, and your knees on fire from the harshness of the floor. You’ll pay for it later, but for now, the soreness is a small price to pay for the exhilaration you’re experiencing with your super hot, hung boss.

Without warning, he scoops you up in his brawny arms and carries you off to the closest booth adjacent to the kitchen. With your back flat on the table, you feel the cool laminate tabletop on your skin and it adds a stark contrast to the warmth of Joel’s chest pressed against yours moments ago.

Your upper back is on the small table, leaving just enough room for your hips to slightly dangle off the edge, Joel’s hips between your legs. Your head ghosts the condiment bottles at the edge and he holds you in place there, teasing you.

He pauses to admire the way you look up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your perky tits slightly falling to the side, a little sheen of sweat on your chest. He pauses to admire the way you still look flustered, but composed, knowing he’s going to fuck every ounce of that right out of you.

Joel wants to untangle you like a knotted ball of yarn, he wants to claim ownership of every inch of your body, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer.

He drops to his own knees this time, hooking his thumbs into your underwear to pull them down with him.. His face immediately finds your cunt, and he wastes no time before he lays a trail of soft kisses over your wet and waiting folds. He starts slow, a kiss here, a lap there, and eventually begins to pick up his pace.

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your hips cant up at the welcomed intrusion and your back arches, unable to stay on the table. You feel his hot breath on your cunt, and let out a small mmm at the way he presses his forearm across your lower half to lower you back down to the table, to keep you still.

His mouth returns to your clit to work you, and he adds another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close – your slow crawl to the cliff of your orgasm turns into a full-on sprint.

You’re so close, and he can tell by the way your body tenses under him.

“Please,” you moan. “Please – ugh, neeeeed to come, please let me come,” you beg.

“Just a little longer, baby. You can come when I say you can.” Joel says, voice slightly muffed against your wet skin.

He presses his lips against your clit, but doesn’t give you enough tongue to get you where you need to go. You’re already so swollen, sensitive – you know all you’ll need is a little suck and you’ll be gone.

You don’t know how much longer you can stave off your pleasure, but you want to be good for him, to listen, to obey.

He knows you want to come, that’s obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and he grazes it with the top of his tongue and closes around you. You flutter your eyes closed. You warn him that you’re close, “Joel, fuck, please let me come. Please, please, please,” you rasp out your pleas with a symphony of moans.

Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you. He looks up at you through his thick lashes, drinking in the way he has you melting, the way he has you begging.

“You can come, baby. Go ahead, want you to soak my face,” he says, voice hoarse but still smooth like velvet.

You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like a warm summer breeze on a hot day. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses with pleasure as he works you through it.

“Fuck, so pretty with you come f’me, baby. Being such a good girl, listening to my every command,” he says and lifts his head. His dilated pupils tell you he’s high on it; on you.

Your slick shines on his beard, illuminated by the atmospheric glow of the streetlights peering into the dark diner. He looks at you, breath slightly ragged, and brings his fingers to his lips to smear the remaining slick from his face onto them, and he pops his finger in his mouth like he’s savoring the last bite of the best meal he’s ever had.

“Taste so fuckin’ delicious, baby. Must be from all that syrup you eat.”

And shit, it’s filthy. He looks indecent in the most delectable of ways.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says, grabbing his thick cock in hand and lining the head of it up against your wet and waiting hole, pausing there before pressing in. You let out a little whine.

‘Shh, baby,” he coos, “‘m gonna give you what you need, don’t worry,” he says. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, even with the size of him. Your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it’s your fucking job, like it was made for him.

He pauses for a moment to give you a second to adjust; you feel so full, you swear you feel him in your lungs.

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a wet and wanton song made as a result of your wetness keys you up.

“Fuck, yes, Joel – YES,” you cry.

“Yeah? Say thank you to me, baby. Say thank you for giving you this cock, for fucking you dumb,” he commands.

Thank you – thrust – tha - thrust – thank you, fuck, thrust.

He fucks into you so hard that your head hits the condiments, knocking them over. The ketchup bottle falls, the sugar packets scatter, and the syrup tips over. A slight ooze of the viscous substance starts to pool on the table and get into your hair, but you don’t care, this feels too good to care.

Just as you’re about to come, Joel notices the pool of auburn liquid running over the table and onto the red booth below.

“Tsk, tsk, baby – makin’ a mess – creaming on my cock, and spilling syrup on the floor,” he says, continuing his pace. You feel your walls clench around him. Just as quickly as he entered, he retreats, and you whine at the loss. “Get up,” he says.

You do as he says and rise onto your legs. They’re shakey like Jell-O. You watch as he reaches over the table and grabs the sticky glass bottle from the table.

“On your knees again,” he asks of you for the third time tonight. You pause, your body sore and your knees aching. “You hear me, baby? I said get on your knees.”

You do as he says, and kneel before him, once again worshiping at the altar of the man above you.

You look up at him with bated breath and watch him use his free hand to rip off his shirt and throw it onto the booth beside him.

“Come closer,” he says, “and open,” you kneel before him with your mouth open, your inviting tongue waiting to be used. He uses his hand to grab the base of his heavy cock, and he taps it on your widespread tongue a few times before holding the syrup bottle high in the air, centering it above his cock and your open mouth.

You watch with wide eyes as he tips the bottle over just a smidge, and a long, thin, sticky stream of syrup begins to rain down onto his hardness, falling off the sides of it, down to the floor, and all over your chin.

“Clean me up, baby,” he says, and your lips close around him. You begin to suck and lick every inch of him, savoring the golden liquid that creates a tantalizing mix of sweetness from the sugar and salt from his pre-cum. You hum as you work him, savoring every bit, and eventually, the skin on his cock is syrup free and you take him at a more consistent pace. You hear Joel groan, and it encourages you to take him deeper, harder, faster.

You look up at him through wet lashes, tears forming in the corners of them, as he holds your now sticky hair into a makeshift ponytail and uses your mouth.

“Such a good hole for me,” he says, “so fucking good, baby, you’re so perfect.”

You let him chase his high, and open wider when you see his jaw tighten and his tight core tense, the grip on your hair pulling tighter.

“You’re gonna swallow,” he says. “All of it,” he commands, and his jaw goes slack and he releases a rush of warm cum down your throat. It tastes musky, but a little drop of syrup you missed during your cleaning job makes it sweeter.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he says, panting heavily, holding you on his cock as he throbs out the final pumps of his release.

He lets go of your hair and you pop off of him and use your fingers to clean off the rest of the syrup from your chin and smile up at him. God, you must look like a wreck.

He extends out his large palm in a gesture to help you off the floor. As you rise to stand, his fingers find the underside of your jaw and he tilts you up to look at him.

He looks at you, the darkness behind his eyes has been replaced with someone else; pride.

“You really are a good listener, baby.” He says. He gazes down at you, his thumb delicately tracing the contour of your jaw. This moment feels significant.

Leaning in, he tenderly places his lips on yours. The sensation takes your breath away, and as he intensifies the kiss, you willingly welcome the exploration of his tongue, relishing the warmth and savoring his taste. Tonight, you've experienced every other aspect of him, but in this moment time seems to stretch as your lips remain locked.

As he breaks the kiss, a contented smile graces your face, and you feel as if you could float away.

“Now really, let’s eat some food,” he says, letting a low chuckle escape from his lips, “I still owe you some chicken and waffles.”

“And you owe me a new uniform,” you say, grabbing his hand to follow him to the kitchen, totally naked.

Joel actually teaches you how to make the meal this time. He offers you another chef's coat to cover your body, but he doesn’t let you keep it on for long. As your breakfast-dinner cooks, he hoists you up on the counter and eats you again. He makes you orgasm more times in one night than you think you ever have with any of your previous partners.

You were right in your initial thinking. Enough will never be enough when it comes to Joel.

You’ll always want more.

More of this, and more of him.

And the one thing that’s the most certain is that you’ll most definitely want more fucking syrup.

Good thing you work at a diner.

END

Bonus Drabble Coming Soon: How will Sydney react when you tell her about your steamy night with Joel?

Tagging moots and those who showed interest in the preview: @nosesitter @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81 @lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lovebandrry @dugiioh @frodo-jojo @ghostwritesthings @planet-marz1 @josephquinnswhore @cinnamon-gurlll @dragonfire @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring @darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #syrup #early 2000s #pedro pascal

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joelalorian · 24 days

Text

Fall Into Me - Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love and finally fucking admitting it. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This chapter includes the scene that sparked the entire story idea. I've been patiently waiting for it to see the light of day. hope you enjoy!

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Seven | Main Masterlist

“So, how was it?” Grilling you for the past twenty minutes, Emily was relentless in her pursuit to find out just how good Joel was in bed, after congratulating you on the new job, of course. “Come on! I need to know!”

“Alright, alright! I had no idea you were such a needy bitch. Is your hubby not dicking you down enough or what?” you laughed before regaling her with tales of Joel’s prowess.

“I fuckin’ knew he’d be big and know how to use it! He just gives off that BDE, ya know what I mean? Just how big are we talkin’, anyway?”

Rolling your eyes, you laughed again. “Well, I didn’t fucking measure it, but it’s a definite handful. Besides, you’ve never even met him, Em! How could you possibly get that vibe?”

“I’ve seen photos and heard stories, that’s more than enough to pick up on that sorta thing,” Emily replied with the confidence of someone who damn well knows what she’s talking about. “I need to know more. Gimme all the details!”

“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of BDE, I gotta finish getting ready. Joel said he had something special planned for tonight to celebrate me getting the teaching job.”

“I bet he does. You’re gonna get another deep dicking from that huge—”

“Bye Em!” you cut her off and hit end call before she could carry on anymore.

Tossing the phone on your bed, you finished putting a light layer of makeup on, putting in a little more effort to look good tonight. Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeve, vee neck shirt that showed just a touch of cleavage, you wandered out to the living room.

“Alright Dad, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Leaning over the back of his recliner, you press a kiss to his balding head.

“Have fun on your date and be careful, Spud. Call me if you need a ride home or anything,” he replied, patting your hand. You turned to leave, grabbing a light jacket from the hook by the door just in case, when your dad’s voice carried from the living room. “It’s funny, Joel told me he has a date tonight, too.”

Freezing for a moment, you squeak, “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Quite a coincidence me thinks.” He paused again, but you were at a loss for words and grateful that he couldn’t see your expression. “Enjoy your night, kiddo.”

Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you take off through the door. Your mind raced on the short drive to Joel’s. He knows. Your dad so knows. You start to panic for a moment wondering if he’s upset before the realization hits that he didn’t seem remotely mad about it. More like he got a kick out of the idea and enjoyed teasing you. You and Joel had to fess up very soon, but that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight was meant to be all about you and Joel.

Walking through the front door, you expected to find Joel in the living room or kitchen, but the downstairs was empty. Lugging your overnight bag up the stairs, you thought maybe he’d be in his room or the bathroom still getting ready, but again, no sign of him. Where the hell was he?

Making your way down the stairs, you peeked out the window to make sure you didn’t imagine his truck in the driveway when you parked – it was there, right next to your car. He had to be around here somewhere. The sound of soft music hit your ears suddenly. Following the sound, you slipped out the back door and gasped.

A soft glow spread across the yard from lights strung from tree to tree, a plaid tablecloth covered the patio table on which sat a vase of brightly colored tulips, an open bottle of pinot noir, two stemless wine glasses, and two covered plates. Just beyond the patio, a hammock hung between two large live oaks with another set of string lights dangling above it. As your eyes took it all in, Joel stood off to the side watching you with a warm smile.

“Joel,” you whispered, afraid to disturb the dream-like quality of the moment, his name a drawn-out breath in the air when you finally turned to him. His dark eyes glinted from the string lights as he stepped forward out of the shadows, one hand stretched out towards you. There was no hesitation in reaching for him and you clung to each other for a few minutes before he stepped back to pull out a chair for you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, settling into the seat. When Joel took his place across the table from you, you added, “This is so lovely, Joel.”

A bashful smile graced his lips as he removed the covers from the plates and filled the wine glasses. Your gaze soaked in every little movement he made, in awe of the gorgeous man before you and all he’d done to make this evening special. Holding his glass up, he toasted to you. “Here’s to your new job and the start of a very rewarding career. Congrats darlin’.”

Clinking your glass against his lightly, you beamed at him. He looked so handsome, thick curls pushed back away from his face, tanned skin glowing in the soft lighting. “Thank you, Joel.” Already buzzing from the way he made you feel, you sipped lightly at the wine before digging into the meal before you.

Bursts of flavor hit your palette at the first bite, the chicken cooked to perfection and the sun-dried tomatoes adding just the right tang to the red pesto coating the rigatoni. A soft moan escaped before you caught it, cheeks heating up with the way Joel looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I reckon you like it?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his gravelly voice.

“This may be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Joel. Did you make this?” You took another bite, savoring the flavors that exploded in your mouth.

“Mmhmm. It’s my mama’s recipe, she made it a lot when we were younger, and it’s always been my favorite. I’m glad you like it.” He watched you enjoy another forkful, obviously proud.

“I don’t just like it, Joel. This is fuckin’ delicious. I didn’t know you could cook like this!”

His cheeks turned pink as he cleared his throat. “I can’t, usually. I practiced a lot with this one.” That melted your heart further.

You ate your fill, making small conversation between bites, until your wine glass was empty, and your belly satisfied. Joel poured you another glass, which you sipped leisurely as he cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher for later. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger.

“Dance with me?” he said upon his return outside, voice deep and gravelly as he plucked the glass from your hand and placed it on the table.

“I’d love to,” you replied softly, lips tilted upwards in a sweet smile. Holding his left hand out, Joel helped you to your feet and let you off the patio.

A new song began, volume a little louder now, and you stepped closer to him. A warm buzz spread through your veins when Joel pulled you against his broad chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other bent to hold your hand over his heart. You could feel the thump of his heartbeat beneath the green flannel he wore as he swayed you slowly around the grassy yard, careful to not stray too close to the pool.

Nothing ever felt as right as being there in Joel’s arms, dancing in the yard like the world beyond the fence didn’t exist. Your feelings for this man were overwhelming, growing deeper each and every day – hell, each and every second was more like it – and that four-letter word bubbled in your throat. You swallowed it down, settling your head against Joel’s shoulder, eyes closed and focused on the moment.

Joel’s chin tilted downward, nudging against the side of your face, his lips near your ear, and his breath sent delightful chills down your spine when he began to sing softly.

“Fall into me and I’ll catch you, darlin’. We’ll dance in the street like nobody’s watching. It’s just you and me and the song on repeat in my head, playing over and over…”

My god, how could you not fall in love with this incredible man?

The intimacy of it all brought tears to your eyes as your fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. Stomach alight with the flutter of too many butterflies, the urge to speak from your heart became too much, you could hold back no longer.

“I love you, Joel.”

You loved him.

What did he ever do to deserve something like that?

Heart clenching deep in his chest, Joel guided you to the hammock, music still carrying softly through the air. With amazing finesse, he settled you both on the hanging fabric, bodies snuggled together until you nearly became one.

He ached to say the words back to you, but they kept getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for showing you how he felt, just like he did with dancing and singing in your ear – he could have written that song for how relatable it was to the feelings you brought out in him. Dark eyes stared into yours as his hands moved over your body, pulling you impossibly closer.

I love you, his lips said as they pressed heatedly against yours.

I love you, his tongue said as it licked softly into your mouth to tangle delicously with yours.

I love you, his hands said as they touched you with utter reverence.

I love you, his body said as he pressed it tightly against yours, trying in vain to crawl beneath your skin.

Joel kissed you with singular focus until you were both breathless and overwrought with need.

“Take me to bed, Joel,” you whispered when he finally tore his lips from yours. “I need to feel every bit of you.”

Your angelic voice music to his ears, he scrambled from the hammock, scooping you up in his muscled arms to carry you inside and up to his bedroom. His mind occupied by one thing and one thing only – making love to you until you knew every part of him and he knew every part of you – the string lights and last bit of wine were left forgotten in the yard.

Loving the way you clung to him, Joel swept through the house and up the stairs with an urgency he’d not felt before.

His lips moved to brush down your neck, nipping at the tender skin as he went. Once in his room, he closed the door even though you were the only two there. Joel kissed each new patch of skin bared as he removed your clothes until you were completely naked. Easing you back onto his unmade bed, a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when your fingers slid along his scalp and tugged on his hair. Fucking lord did he love how you touched him.

“Fuck, I need to taste you, pretty girl.”

He’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in his life as your naked body writhed on his bed, eager and yearning for his touch, and Joel knelt to worship at the altar of you.

Starting at your delicate feet, Joel’s fingertips traced every inch of you until he reached the apex of your thighs. Leaning forward, he let the scruff of his facial hair tickle along the flesh of your inner thighs, pressing open-mouth kisses along the soft skin as he went. Grinning as you trembled, he met your wide gaze as he leant forward, tongue exploring your folds.

The first taste of you set his soul on fire. Sweet like honey yet more addicting and thrice as satisfying, Joel licked at your clit, tongue occasionally dipping down into you, slurping greedily at the very essence of you.

He couldn’t have thought of a more delicious dessert.

His movements elicited sensuous moans that shot straight to his cock, his jeans quickly becoming too tight and uncomfortable. Seeking a little relief, his hips began grinding against the mattress as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, fingers soon assisting his tongue in driving you mad. Just when he thought he might blow his load in his jeans, again, you came, crying his name out, the syllables drawing out in a beautiful, lyrical drawl. Working you through it, Joel drank down every bit of your release like a thirsty man in the desert.

“Fuck, darlin’. You taste fuckin’ delicious. I could live here, between your legs, for the rest of my life, surviving on just you.” Joel stood as he spoke, gazing down at your blissed out form on his bed as he tore off his clothes, one large hand palming his cock before he practically dove into bed with you.

“You’re too good at that, Joel Miller,” you said, the words falling lazily from your lips as you recovered from the singularly intense orgasm. Swooping down, Joel kissed you passionately, offering you a taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

Letting his body continue to do the communicating for him, Joel shifted his hips, grinding gently against you while his mouth devoured yours. Groaning as your nails scratched down his back, he reached a hand down to guide his cock toward its home in your pussy. Dark eyes opened wide, Joel watched your face as he entered you, delighting in the scrunch of your nose and the way your eyes squeezed shut before popping open again at the sensation of him splitting you open.

With long, slow, oh so deep, strokes, Joel made love to you, telegraphing the depth of his feelings in the only way he knew how, until you were writhing in pleasure beneath him. Afterwards, he cleaned the mess between your thighs and held you close until you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest. Only then, did he finally whisper the words he longed to say all night. “I love you, too.”

Joel stayed awake for a while, listening to your gentle snores and the soft sighs you made in your sleep. He loved that you let your guard down with him, that he was the man who got to hold you while you slept. In the darkness of night, Joel made himself a promise that he would not fuck this up before falling into a deep sleep of his own.

His dreams were particularly vivid, the sensation of your mouth around his cock so strong he’d swear it was real. He’d never experienced your mouth around him like that before, though, so it couldn’t be real. Joel let his dream-self enjoy every moment, your lips around his shaft and tongue teasing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock a divinity he’d never known before. At one point you took him so deep that a loud, guttural moan escaped his lips, hands clenching in your hair.

Eyes popping open, the moan carried on, rumbling from deep within Joel’s chest as he glanced down to find you feasting on his hardened length. It wasn’t a dream after all.

“Fuuuccckkk,” his voice, still rough with sleep, drew out the word as he watched you go down on him. Your mouth a form of heaven he suffered too long without, the cheeky, mischievous look in your eye making the pleasure more intense. You clearly enjoyed the act nearly as much as he did.

It didn’t take long before your wanton rhythm and sinful mouth had him coming down your throat, your name a prayer recited over and over in that gravelly voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’. Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, hmm? Your mouth is like God damn heaven.”

Joel’s chest heaved as you gulped down every drop of his spend, tongue darting out to lick the last bit from the little slit on his cockhead before sliding over your lips. You visibly swallowed, savoring the taste of him; his eyes glued to your mouth the whole time. His hand came up, caressing your face with the love he couldn’t yet voice shining brightly in his eyes, and his thumb traced along your plump bottom lip.

“My little gummy worm,” he murmured, delirious from coming so hard. “Felt so good wrapped around my fat cock.”

Crawling up his body, you settled your weight atop him and pressed your lips to his, letting him taste a hint of himself on your tongue as licked into his mouth, returning the favor from the night before. The kiss was languid and sloppy, perfect for a lazy morning waking up together.

“You tasted good, all salty and musky,” you said once you broke away, voice raspy from having his dick halfway down your throat.

“You can wake me up like that any time you’d like, darlin’.”

The two of you cuddled for a while, neither of you too eager to start the day knowing you didn’t have anything pressing to do. Those unspoken words bubbled in Joel’s chest the whole time, begging to come to the surface, to be spoken aloud and given credence. Still, he hesitated without quite knowing why. Finally rolling out of bed around 10, you jumped into the shower while Joel threw on some clothes and ran out to grab some breakfast.

He just pulled back into his driveway, a bag with a few bagel breakfast sandwiches in one hand – he got an extra in case you wanted pork roll instead of bacon – a coffee and orange juice clutched in the other, when JB’s truck pulled up in front of his house.

Settled on the couch after your refreshing shower, legs tucked under you while scrolling through your phone, you heard Joel’s truck pull up. Waiting for him to come in with breakfast for you both, you were caught off guard by the deep voices rumbling in the front yard. You sat up, peeking through the blinds to find your dad out front, hands on his hips as he spoke to Joel.

Oh shit.

You couldn’t discern their facial expressions from that angle and moved to the front door, quietly easing the heavy wood open to peek out and eavesdrop. They had to be talking about you, right? There was no hiding or pretending you weren’t here, especially with your car parked in the driveway right next to Joel’s. After your dad’s comments last night, you wondered if he planned this ambush then.

“I knew she’d be here,” you heard your dad say, but you couldn’t read his body language clearly. His hands were on his hips still, but there was a smile on his face. “You sweet on my baby girl, Joel?”

You couldn’t hear Joel’s response, his gravelly voice pitched too low for your ears to catch across the distance, but you could see him smile hesitantly even as his broad shoulders hunched slightly. Whatever it was caused your dad to chuckle and punch Joel playfully.

“I knew it!” your dad exclaimed, the sudden loudness startling you. “I knew you two would hit it off, I just wasn’t sure how long it’d take.”

You caught Joel’s response this time, his surprised voice pitching upwards. “You’re not upset?”

Walking toward the house without invitation, your dad paused. “Why the hell would I be upset? You’re a good man, Joel, and I know you’ll treat her well. And she’ll be good for you, too, I have no doubt. Now, you got enough in that there bag for breakfast for three?”

Your shoulders sagged with relief as you eased the door open. “I thought I heard voices! Hi Dad,” you greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Spud. I could ask you the same thing, but I knew I’d find you here.” Pulling you in for a hug, he ushered you inside. “I got tired of waiting for you two to come clean and thought I’d put you both on the spot.”

Eyebrows shooting up, you glanced at Joel before meeting your dad’s gaze again. “How did you know?”

Giving you a shrug, he said, “You two weren’t exactly subtle and a father always knows.” Nudging your shoulder, JB turned to Joel. “You’ll find that out soon enough, my friend. I can’t wait for the trouble that Sarah will give you.”

The three of you sat at the small dining table, digging into the breakfast sandwiches, your dad insisting you tell him how long you and Joel had been seeing each other and how it all started. Relieved to finally have the truth out there, you told him the story and JB chuckled.

“That about tracks. That’s right around when I started to notice something different between the two of you. And it sure explains why you hardly gave Annica the time of day on your date.” JB gave Joel grief about that failed date for weeks knowing that there was something – or someone – else drawing the man’s attention. JB had the feeling back then that it was you, his baby girl, his grown-up Spud, who captured the single father’s attention.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Dad? I mean…” your words fell off, not really knowing what to say. You’d be heartbroken if your dad wasn’t okay with a relationship between you and Joel, especially now that you verbally admitted to being in love with him.

“Are you kidding? I’m happy as a pig in shit that the two people I care about most like each other.” Your dad was all smiles, beady eyes sparkling with mischief. “In fact, I was planning on setting the two of you up if you didn’t figure things out for yourselves first. Tommy was in on the plan, too, and was the one who suggested we give it a little time. Little shit never told me it became official, though.”

Sitting back in your seat, you giggled with relief. All that time spent fretting over what your dad might think, feeling guilty for dating his best friend and hiding it from him for so long. It was all for naught. You should have known he’d love the idea of you two together.

“So, when’s the wedding?” JB asked, a shit-eating grin spread across his lips as you and Joel froze, eyes darting to each other in wide-eyed panic. Your dad practically guffawed at his own humor while you two were practically having a panic attack. “I’m just kidding – there’s no rush. Just make sure you treat her right, Joel.”

Recovering from the initial panic – not that he didn’t want to marry you, eventually, just not quite this soon – Joel laughed a little nervously. “Of course, JB. I’ll always treat her right. I, uh… I love her.” His gaze shifted to you, heart showing firmly in those dark chocolate orbs. “I love you, darlin'.”

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby

@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981

@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots in love

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somber-sapphic · 2 months

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hi it was me who sent in the request it was a emily x reader and the prompt was i am not sick i think , it was the reader who is sick thank you 🫶

A Call For Rest

〖Summary: After an exhausting week Emily convinces you to go home and rest.〗

〖Word Count: 900〗

〖Pairing: Emily x sick R〗

〖Notes: I'm so glad that reached you! And so so sorry about my accidental deletion, I truly don't know what happened there. I sincerely hope this makes up for it <3〗

“Hey love,” Emily murmured, appearing in the doorway as if she’d teleported there. You hadn’t heard her walk up, though you couldn't hear much through your clogged ears. You set your pen down and wiped your nose on your sleeve, too tired to care about how gross it was. The world was sort of hazy, your mind cloudy.

Writing up case reports was probably not the best idea considering your current mental state but you remembered enough to feel confident that you could go over notes with JJ to get the full story.

The media liaison would likely be okay if you just dropped the papers on her desk, she had already checked in on you twice and tried to force you to take some medicine. When you refused she’d settled for leaving a cup of tea on your desk. You drank a little bit but forgot and let it get cold, cold tea wasn’t appetizing.

“Hi Em.” You croaked, the words grating across your throat. Swallowing was already painful enough but talking seemed impossible. Emily walked into your office and leaned against the side of your desk, looking down at the papers that you were scribbling on. She frowned at the illegible writing, trying to make out even the simplest words. You typically had great penmanship, rivaling even Hotch’s, but this was bad.

“Is it safe to assume you aren’t feeling very well?” She put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently, concerned that she could feel the heat through your shit. It was a light shirt, but still, she shouldn’t be able to feel your fever through a layer of fabric.

“I’m fine, just tired. Long week.” You were trying to use as few words as possible while still speaking somewhat normally but with the way your voice sounded, it didn’t matter. Nothing could save you from the reality that you weren’t going to win this fight. The last thing you wanted to do was leave work unfinished to pile up, but Emily didn't look like she was letting you get away that easily.

“Hmm, long weeks don’t usually make me sound like I gargled knives for fun. And you feel pretty warm. And your nose is running.” If she kept listing off things you were doomed. You wiped your nose on your sleeve again and sniffled, not removing your eyes from the papers. It was getting harder and harder to focus, everything was so blurry, and your head felt so groggy.

“I‘m not sick.” You protested, swiping a hand across your eyes in a useless attempt to clear your vision. You refused to accept that you were just lightheaded and no amount of blinking or rubbing your eyes could fix that. Emily sighed and laid her palm on your forehead, making a face at what she felt.

“I think your fever would beg to differ. You aren’t getting much done here anyway. I can’t read any of that.” She gestured to your sloppily written paperwork, not bothering to sugarcoat it. She’d had enough experience trying to reason with you that she knew you responded better to directness than to dancing around a subject.

You frowned down at your desk and coughed into your fist, your lungs protesting the extra effort they were being forced to use. Emily put a steadying hand on your back, providing support as you choked on whatever your body decided it needed to hack up.

When you were finally finished you looked up at her to find dark brown eyes staring back, filled with concern.

“Please, you need to rest. You’re so pale, you look like a ghost. I don’t want you to pass out here.” She caressed your cheek, leaving her palm there as an extra show of her love for you. She wasn’t always the best at offering comfort, she had trouble figuring out how to, but this she could handle. There was an easy fix to being sick and she was more than willing to take care of you through it.

“What about-”

“I’ll take care of it. Let Emily take you home, I’ve seen corpses that look more alive than you.” JJ’s voice startled you, making you jump a little in your seat. God everyone was just popping up out of nowhere, maybe you were worse off than you thought. Emily smiled at the media liaison and wrapped an arm around your shoulders in a loose hug.

“Come on love. Let’s go home. I’ll help you walk.”

“I don’t need help walking.” You protested as she lifted you from your chair, proving that you not only needed help walking but you couldn't stand on your own. After taking a few wobbly steps under the concerned gaze of JJ, Emily picked you up deciding that it would be the easiest way to get you to the car in a timely manner.

You whined but settled into her arms, relieved by the warmth of her touch. She was warm and soft and strong enough to carry you easily. You pressed your face into the crook of her neck and closed your eyes to protect against the harsh light of the bullpen.

“Feel better hun,” JJ said softly, squeezing your arm on your way out. You tried to nod but your head was too heavy. You were practically asleep by the time Emily reached the parking lot, but you didn’t mind. Though you would never admit it you were eternally glad that Emily had shown up when she did, any longer and you were confident you would’ve fallen asleep at your desk.

#sickfic #fanfiction #sick fanfiction #fever #sick reader #sick fanfic #caretaking #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds sickfic #criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau #sick you #sick fic

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thorias · 29 days

Text

Every time I read a post about how all the deaths in ep5 won't be reversed because they weren't reversed in the comics (they actually were during the Krakoa era, but that's beside the point) and in the comics it was a horrific tragedy that nearly wiped out the mutant race and blah blah blah, I just get so frustrated.

The two things are not the same. In the comics, it was easy to stick to this and not reverse the attack somehow because no one important actually died. The only notable characters who were present for it were Magneto and Emma Frost, who both survived. So, yeah, it was an unthinkable mass casualty event, but the casualties were 16,000,000 background extras who nobody gave a shit about anyway.

That is not what happened in X-MEN 97. In ep5, they were killing off named characters, important characters, characters the writers will want to use in the future, characters it would simply be a giant waste to get rid of like this.

And it didn't stop there. They were killing off characters whose storylines hadn't even finished yet, (ex. Gambit, Madelyne) which, to me, is the biggest sign that these events are going to be, if not reversed, then at least changed somehow. I mean, how do you kill a character without concluding their arc first, thus leaving the audience without any kind of closure?

'Oh, you thought the Madelyne/Scott psychic affair storyline was super interesting and couldn't wait to see what happened with it? Too bad, she's dead! That story will just never be finished now, so suck it!'

'Oh, you felt bad for Gambit who didn't think he was a hero or deserved to have a happy ending and got his heart ripped out thinking Rogue chose Magneto over him? Too bad, 'cuz he died believing all that stuff and now Rogue will just be left to drown in her grief/guilt and be consumed with rage forever! *womp womp*'

Fuck. That. Shit.

That's not tragedy, that's not tugging on heartstrings and it's certainly not "Making a Point" or "Sending a Message About How Much the World Sucks." It's just fucking lazy, shitty writing. There's nothing narratively satisfying about it whatsoever, even in a sad way; it's the complete opposite! The only thing that does is frustrate the fuck out of everyone who's watching. That's the kind of slap-in-the-face garbage that makes fans want to ragequit a show, not support it.

So, no, I don't believe that the attack will be completely prevented. No, I don't believe that every death will be undone. But SOMETHING about that event is going to be changed (via time travel, resurrection, etc.) by the time we get to the end of this story. Because if it's not, if all those deaths are permanent and can't be reversed, then this isn't a story... it's just a bunch of bullshit.

#x men 97 #gambit #remy lebeau #madelyne pryor #magneto #rogue #anna marie lebeau #just saying #still so angry about this #cable get your ass back here and fix this shit

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unnoticed-poison · 3 months

Text

Dark! Yandere! Hazbin Hotel Various X Reader -Trailer Chap-

I got obsessed with this show so I decided why not write a yandere fic for it for fun.

I'm gonna post chapter one here as well, but then future chapters will most likely be posted on AO3, Wattpad and Quotev, the links will be posted soon.

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖

Everyone was familiar with the screams and pleads of terror and despair that echoed throughout the city, hundreds of demons, in a state of panic, could be seen running in the streets in desperation, terrified at the sight of the angels, who had determined smiles on their faces as they chased them down with the intent to end their lives, prompting them to run even faster, trying to escape their impending doom that was closing in on them.

Amidst all the chaos, in one of the buildings from the distance, unaffected by the madness, a low yet soft voice rang out, reading out loud from a book, seemingly oblivious to the horror happening outside.

"- Lucifer found her and the rebellious dreamers fell deeply in love-"

It was a story they'd read countless times before, but oh it never failed to bring them joy and comfort.

"She empowered the demon kind with her voice and her songs-"

Despite the screams of terror outside were practically impossible to ignore, this particular story offered a temporary escape from their worries, even for just a little while.

"And their dream was passed down to their precious son, the prince of hell."

The end.

....

The man let out a deep sigh as he gently shut the book and gazed out the window at the chaos. " Don't worry Mom, I'll make this work, I promise."

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 it takes.

"Charles, I enjoy your theatrics and all, I really do, but this is literally the fifth time you've repeated the same story to yourself."

A voice rang out behind him suddenly, making him turn his head in fright.

"Shit Dicckie! I didn't see you there." He let out a nervous chuckle. "Did you hear all that?"

Dicckie nodded. "Yeah, I literally just said that."

"Sorry, you know I always get worked up during an extermination." He smiled down at the book in his hands. " This book always helps, even for just a moment."

It was better than nothing...

"Don't worry, I love hearing your voice anyways, but you know you can always talk to me-"

Before he could finish his sentence, a deafening explosion echoed through the air, making them jolt in surprise and fright as they turned to the source of the noise.

Looking out the window, the men watched as an entire airship crashed into the buildings below, the group of exterminators who had taken it down cheered and high-fived one another before parting ways.

.......

Charles sighed. "They're extra ruthless this year, huh.."

It just gets worse and 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 each year.

.......

Dicckie struggled to find something to say to comfort the prince, before remembering what he was here for in the first place. " Hey, how about we go see what Alastor prepared for our commercial? That will take your mind off.. this."

Charles smiled, setting the book aside before standing up and grabbing his hand. "You're right! He should be done with it by now, let's go."

Dicckie smiled back at him, pleased to see him so enthusiastic again, it suited him better. "There you go, I'm positive he did an amazing job," he said, though he couldn't mask the slight hesitation in his tone.

At least, he hoped he did.

That radio freak better have made something 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥.

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖

I wanted to continue MC's part but I don't have much free time so I decided to end the trailer here

My friend told me to name vaggie Dicckie cause

Vaggie = vagina

So automatically

Dicckie= Dick 😭😭😭

#hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel

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cvntrlseecvntrlvee · 5 months

Text

— JUMP THEN FALL (INTO MY CAULDRON FULL OF HOT STRONG LOVE) - ISSUE 01

when trying to unearth hogwarts' resident Golden Boy™ seungcheol's secret girlfriend, leads to the proposition of a lifetime

★ PAIRINGS: seungcheol x fem!reader

★ GENRES: fluff, humour, angst

★ AUs: hogwarts!au, fakedating!au, gryffindor!seungcheol

★ WORD COUNT: 1.9k

♫ title is from taylor swift's 'jump then fall' and celestina warbeck's 'a cauldron full of hot, strong love'

★ ★ ★ A/N: hello! ahhh, it's happening!! shoutout to @hannieween for litterally being THE most supportive person and to em for putting up with my new year call and letting me voice act the entire story out. here's the first part, let me know what you think!

happy reading!

EXTRA EXTRA! IS LOVE BREWING FOR OUR RESIDENT HOGWARTS HUNK?

“Wallflower! Do you have the prints from the choir tryouts?” Soonyoung Kwon was perched on a piano bench in the back of the newsroom, the green and black necktie tied around his head, flapping like a flag in the wind every time he moved. “I want Beth Cloddington vomming front and center of this week’s issue,” he said, sticking his hands out in two Ls and looking through them like a camera.

In front of him was a rolling chalkboard littered with half-finished articles on one edge, the other covered in pieces of ripped parchment, tips from fellow students. In the center, a mock front page with the words The Whomping Whistler in all caps across the top.

Soonyoung threw his head behind his shoulder, “Wallflower!” he yelled, the tie whipping him in the face.

You popped around the corner, “Hold your thestrals Hoshi!” Tossing a tray of photos down next to him. “You want to see her vom,” you ask, rifling through the stack, “or just her about to? I’ve got a few good ones.”

Hoshi wrinkled his nose, “Do you have one that cuts out right before?” You find the one you were looking for with a small aha! before handing it over. “Perfect. This is gonna be just perfect,” he mumbled, tacking the photo with a quick spell right under this week's headline, ‘Daylight Sabatoge or Deadly School Lunch?’

“We’re going to be ready for print soon, yeah?” you said, as you stuck your wand in your haphazardly twisted bun. Soonyoung may be the Editor-in-Chief, but your deadline was hard approaching and it made you anxious nonetheless. Hot gossip only stayed hot for so long.

Soonyoung pursed his lips, “It’ll be a close call, still waiting on the rest of the quidditch leaks-oi, Pudding! Eta on the quidditch rosters?” There was a loud noise in the corner as 4th year Raveena Patil appeared from underneath a pile of old issues of The Daily Prophet, a mane of curly black hair framed her face and a pair of black wire-rimmed glasses sat crooked on her nose. She shrugged and Soonyoung rolled his eyes before huffing and turning back to you.

“The Gryffindor team is really where the news is anyways and Dino brought us that today, something about losing one of their beaters this year. We should get it printed tomorrow.” He ruffled his frazzled beach blonde hair, adding, “Hopefully?” when you sent him a questioning look. Although, if anyone could hit a headline, it would be Raveena.

Raveena Patil was a headstrong, highly ambitious, and downright terrifying, 4th year Ravenclaw. After a crucial tip led to the start of the publication during her first year, she’d proven herself to be the Whistler’s prized possession. The eyes and ears of Hogwarts they called her. Not a single secret could get past the likes of her.

Raveena was also next year’s shoo-in for Editor-in-Chief.

With both you and Soonyoung in your 7th year, slated to leave after your N.E.W.T.S., Raveena was the perfect person to keep the show running in your steed.

“You know what I think it’s time for?” says Soonyoung, turning to you with a slightly crazed look on his face. You shook your head, worry creasing your forehead, “My dear Wallflower, it is time for,” He paused for dramatic effect and you prayed to Merlin he didn’t say speech— “a speech!” He exclaimed, throwing up jazz hands.

You groaned. It was nearly 2 am, and even 4 cups of Nocturna Brewery’s double-caffeinated coffee wasn’t enough to get you through one of Soonyoung’s sleep-deprived, erratic, pump-up speeches.

Soonyoung shoves the photo tray over and you catch it before it clangs to the floor.

“Alrighty team!” He bellows, jumping up on the bench, “Gather ‘round and listen up!” Raveena crawls out from under her pile and the rest of your small rag-tag team ambles on over.

“It’s the first week, and I want us to start strong.” Soonyoung threw his fists out, pumping them with vigour. “The first issue will be good, but I know that we can do great! Remember what they say,” he pointed at the group, “it is not men who do things! But doing it makes them great!” You winced, that was not at all how the saying goes. He had the right energy though, as everyone around him cheered.

”You cannot manufacture men any more than you can manufacture gold!” He roared. There were hollars from the team and you thought it was about time to reel him in. You grabbed his arm and hoisted yourself onto the bench too, earning more hollers, and even some whoops.

You started, “When we first started this publication three years ago, we had no idea how big it would become. None of that was possible without you all!” There were jeers and whistles, and a few Let’s go Wallflower! “Everyone, great work tonight! But I think we’ve earned some sleep. Hands in everyone!” Everyone rushed forward, trying to get closer, as you and Soonyoung stuck your hands in front of you in the air, “To greatness!”

“To greatness!” They all cheered. You clambered off the bench holding a hand out for Soonyoung. He hopped off with a stumble, tucking the tie that fell in his face behind his ear.

“Can you hang back for a bit Wallflower?” You nodded confused, as Soonyoung waited for everyone else to pack up and leave.

Once the newsroom was empty, sans the two of you, Soonyoung swung towards you with a devilish smile on his face. “I have a special mission for you Wallflower,” he said in a sing-song voice.

You groaned for the second time that night, “Please don’t tell me you still think they’re growing cannabis in the greenhouses, I swear on my camera they’re not.” The smile slipped off his face.

“What? No? Y/n, that was so last year,” he said, exasperated.

(It was not. He’d asked you to look into it literally on the first day of school.)

Soonyoung looked around the room, making sure there was truly no one else left, before dropping his voice down to a whisper yell, “I have it on good intel, very good intel,-” Code for Raveena, “that Seungcheol Choi has a girlfriend.”

Soonyoung looked at you with fired-up eyes, a smirk grazing his lips.

You blinked, and Soonyoung blinked back before his smirk started to slowly slip off his face. The silence was deafening.

You cleared your throat, “Okay . . . and?”

There was another pause.

“Okay AND?!” Soonyoung shrieked. You wince, throwing up your hands to cover your ears.

“The, the Seungcheol Choi has a girlfriend. We have to be the first to break the news and,” He booped your nose, “you, my dear Wallflower, are going to figure out who the lucky girl is. Then you’re gonna get a picture of them kissing.” He started backing up before you could even protest, picking up his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Y/n, this is going to be our biggest story yet, I can just feel it.” You shook your head, a whiny no begging to slip past your pout. “One picture love, that’s all I need,” He said sticking a finger up, before switching to a finger heart.

“Get some sleep, you’re gonna need it!” and with that, he was out the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. With a sigh, you started gathering your things, sorting photos and parchment into separate piles.

Seungcheol Choi’s girlfriend. You weren’t sure where to even start with that one. However, Soonyoung was (unfortunately) right. It would be huge if you snapped a picture of Hogwarts’ resident golden boy with a partner.

But how? Were you supposed to follow him around everywhere? You shook your head, grabbing your camera off the table and checking the room one last time before turning out the lights with a swift Lumos.

It’s not like you hadn’t done it before.

Last year, Raveena had been tipped off that Trixie Prewett was fooling around with Keerthy Ramaswamy. No one would’ve batted an eye if it weren’t for the fact that, after multiple years of being on the receiving end of each other's curses in Dueling Club, they were ‘sworn enemies’ and ‘rivals to the death.’

You’d followed Trixie everywhere, trying to catch her in the act. It wasn’t too difficult with her also being a 6th year Ravenclaw, but it did make your free time nearly non-existent for a whole week. How were you supposed to do that with a Gryffindor boy?

It was also going to be harder to do during a N.E.W.T.S. year, especially on top of manning most of the photography for the Whistler.

Maybe you should've started Dino on photo duty earlier.

“It’s obviously Azkaban, A-Z-K-A-B-A-N, Azkaban!”

“Hoshi, how the fuck is a 4-across clue Azkaban,” the two of you were sitting in the great hall, this morning’s Daily Prophet in front of you, opened to the crossword.

“Oh, uh, okay. Let’s try a different one?” said Soonyoung before shovelling a forkful of pancakes in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously.

You looked at him with disgust before going back to the crossword, “7-diagonal, scarlet leather ball?”

Soonyoung swallowed before answering, “Easy, Basilisk, B-A-S-I–”

“Merlin, that is not how you do these.” You wanted to bash your head against the table. Or maybe Soonyoung’s. Last night hadn’t resulted in very much sleep after heading back to your dorm, lying awake most of the night, head churning with thoughts of a certain Gryffindor.

You stare across the Great Hall, eyes landing on the said boy, Seungcheol Choi. He was flanked on either side by his fellow Gryffindors, and best friends, Jeonghan Yoon and Joshua Hong. Seungcheol was leaning over Jeonghan’s shoulder, as the latter furiously scribbled something down, while Joshua sat quietly reading a book, only moving to steal grapes off of Seungcheol’s plate and pop them in his mouth.

“So, do you have a plan for Operation Golden Boy?” whispered Soonyoung.

You yelped, jumping nearly three feet in the air. “Bloody hell, what the fuck Hosh,” you hissed smacking him back with your quill and rubbing your ear. “And for your information, no, I don’t have a plan. I’ll just, I dunno, make like a dragon and wing it?”

Hoshi grinned, “That’s my Wallflower!” You tried grinning back, but it came out more like a wince.

The truth was, you didn’t know much about Seungcheol. Well, you knew as much as anyone would after spending the past 6 years together at a boarding school, but you were in different houses and ran in completely different circles, your paths didn’t really cross much.

Not sure if you could call him your resident it boy, but Seungcheol sure was the everything boy of Hogwarts. Prefect in year 5, Quidditch Captain in year 6, and now, he’s Head Boy. On top of that, he’s class topper in nearly all his classes, tutors 5th years gearing up for their O.W.L.S., started the big buddy little buddy system for an easier transition for the first years, has led the Save-the Flobberworms campaign for five years in a row at Hogwarts, and the few times you’d spoke to him, he was super nice. If you asked anyone else at Hogwarts, they’d tell you some iteration of the same thing.

You sighed before folding up the Prophet and shoving it into your bag. You’ll figure it out. After all, how hard could it be to get a photo of a 17-year-old boy sucking face with his girlfriend?

★ ★ ★ A/N: the two quotes hoshi attempts are "It doesn't take great men to do things, but it is doing things that make men great." - Arnold Glasow and “I fear uniformity. You cannot manufacture great men any more than you can manufacture gold.” - John Ruskin

i knoooo this is wasn't much seungcheol, but i promise he's coming!! and it'll be worth!!!! seungcheol is ltierally the bestest boy in this but i wanted y'all to get a taste of hoshi before you forget about him 😭

#seungcheol x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fic #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen scenarios #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol x reader #my writing #writing #fic recs #band: svt #member: seungcheol #author: cvntrlseecvntrlvee #title: JUMP THEN FALL (INTO MY CAULDRON FULL OF HOT STRONG LOVE)

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anzulvr · 10 months

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Imagine Karma having a bad day and a smart af reader who can see through him instantly catches on and tries to do little things to make him feel better but doesn't do anything direct bc they know that Karma isn't so great with admitting he's upset and he eventually opens up and cuddles up to them and omGHW RKSIAJWWNAOQ

KARMA X READER WHO READS HIM LIKE AN OPEN BOOK

This took like 2 weeks I’m sorry there’s so many requests 😭

Karma has never been the best at hiding how he feels, it never even seems like he tries to as he’s very open and honest about what he thinks.

No one can really read him except for you.

He doesn’t know wether to think of that as a good thing or not. You understand him but is having someone like that something he wants?

He sits down next to you in the morning for first period. He came late and he has this grouchy look on his face, you ask him what’s wrong.

he brushes you off “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

It was obviously something still you didn’t want to be pushy.

The rest of the day you could tell something was weighing on his mind so you made it your life’s (or days) mission to make him feel better.

You spent the rest of the day trying to cheer him up

passing him notes during class, (Korosensei sees you but doesn’t stop you from doing it when he sees Karma smiling while reading them)

Messing with him during your sparring session

“[Name] you sure you want to fight me? I’m not going easy on you.” (He totally will)

“You don’t have too! I’ve been practicing too.”

mid way the fight you realize you overestimated yourself, even with him letting you hit him it was somehow hurting you more.

“[Name] I’ve seen cats that hit harder than yo— PffttHAHAHA WHY DOES YOU TICKLING ME HURT MORE??”

you realize there was no beating him through sheer will but you did know he was ticklish and that’s a big enough weakness to exploit.

You were also just being extra corny all day just for the sake of it

“This (love) song reminds me of you.”

“[name] that’s so chessy it’s gross.” he says trying to hide the smile creeping up his face

You went to his house to hang out for a while

“Karma, let’s watch [insert really overrated action move]!”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to last time.”

“You like it right? I want to watch something you like.”

His heart exploded right then and there. How could someone be so sweet without realizing it

mid way through the movie his spirits seemed raised so you ask.

“Karma do you mind me asking why you were upset today?”

“t’s really nothing I’m surprised you could even tell. No one else said anything.”

“I just pay extra attention to you, they didn’t say anything cause you have resting bitch face”

“Obsessed much?”

“As if! seriously though, what happened?” You had to push further for him to admit anything actually happened

“I just got into a fight with some stupid guy”

“Really? That’s it? You get into fights like everyday.”

“It’s a long story. Him and his friends were talking about you and it really set me off because I’d already had a shitty morning— my parents called to tell me they already made plans to travel to New York after they told me they’d stay here for atleast a month?”

“Oh wow- I’m sorry Karma, I know they promised and everything.”

“Yeah. Uhm sorry— I didn’t mean to unload that much.”

(Sorry??? He says sorry??)

“Huh? You don’t have to apologize, I want to know these things cause I care.”

“Oh. Thanks [name], you’re the only person I’d ever tell these things too.”

“Whys that?”

“I trust you too much, who knows when you’ll blackmail me with this.”

“Blackmail is your thing not mine!”

“Mhm, that’s what a blackmailer would say. Anyways let’s finish the movie the best part is coming up!”

“I was hoping you forgot we were watching that snooze fest.”

“In what world is [super mega overrated action movie] a snooze fest??“

“Do you hear yourself right now..?”

“You don’t see me complaining when you make me watch those romance dramas you like.”

“What are you saying, you never shut up about how unrealistic the scenes are.”

“Cause they ARE— in what world do guys get in car crashes, stay in mid air for 5 minutes and look good while doing it??”

“…in what world does an antihero ninja go around fighting people to save humanity.”

“To be fair we’re trying to kill an alien octopus to save the world from exploding these days.”

“Yeah.. if you asked me a year ago which of these events were most likely to happen I wouldn’t have guessed alien octopus world explosion.”

“Right, to be honest the car accident in true beauty seems fairly realistic in comparis- [Name] LOOK THATS THE SCENE!”

in the end you fell asleep on the floor together when you woke up he complained about how you slept though it. (He fell asleep 5 minutes after you.)

#ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma akabane #akabane karma x reader #assassination classroom x reader #karma akabane headcannons #karma akabane x reader #karma x reader #assasination classroom #assassination classroom #assclass

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 30 days

Text

That Summer, Chapter 2

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Rating: M

Story Summary: Frank Castle has been on the move ever since he "retired" as The Punisher after finding out the truth about his family's murder and handing his former best friend, Billy Russo, off to the Feds.

With his new identity as Pete Castiglione, Frank decides to settle down in a small town in Iowa, where he finds employment as a farmhand/handyman for you, a widow who's struggling to keep your farm running by yourself after the untimely death of your husband a year prior.

As Frank grows closer to you, his past -- and true identity -- begin to catch up with him, putting his chance of finding peace -- and both of your lives -- at risk.

Warnings/Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, smut in future chapters

Word Count: ~2400

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, and/or commented on chapter 1! If you'd like to be tagged in this, please let me know!

Taglist: @danzer8705 @carolinaxvz @thepunisherfrankcastle @eddieslooneymoonie @kezibear

“Thank you for lunch,” Frank said half an hour later as he finished his sandwich and chips. “I certainly appreciate it.”

You nodded then stood and picked up your and Frank's plates. “It's nothing fancy but it's really all I ever have time for during the day.”

Frank shook his head. “No, it was great, really.”

He stood as well. “If you show me where the boards are for the fence I'll go ahead and get started on that.”

You walked over to the sink. “Sure, just give me a second to wash these plates.”

Frank nodded. “Mind if I use your bathroom then?”

You shook your head. “Go right ahead. Guest bathroom is in the front entryway on your right.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Frank went to the bathroom and relieved himself before moving to the sink to wash his hands.

He looked up at himself in the mirror. He had grown his hair and beard out while he had been on the road, but it would be time for a cut and shave soon.

He returned to the kitchen, where you were once again looking wistfully out of the window.

You hadn't seemed to notice Frank's presence, so he took a moment to study you. The sunlight filtering in through the window gave you an ethereal glow despite the sadness on your face. She's beautiful.

He couldn't deny that he found you attractive -- even though he had only known you for a few hours he could tell that you were a kind and caring yet determined and hard-working woman.

He cleared his throat. “All set.”

You turned from the window and looked over at him, a small smile crossing your lips. “Okay, great. Here, I'll show you where I keep the extra lumber.”

The two of you put your boots back on and headed back outside, Canine Frank following behind you. “Tom had just put that fence up about a year and a half ago,” you said as the two of you walked towards a storage shed next to the barn. “So I don't understand how it can be in such bad shape already.”

Frank was pretty sure he knew the reason, but didn't want to say it until he had confirmed it. “The boards have been rotting really fast, huh?”

You nodded as you opened the shed door. “Yeah.”

Frank walked in and picked up a board. Just as I thought. Pine. “That’s because you're not using a strong enough wood.”

He turned to you. “These are pine boards, which is a cheaper option for fencing, but also really soft – moisture’ll get in pine and rot it very quickly, especially during the winter. And on top of that, these boards haven't been pressure-treated, which is just making them rot even faster.”

Your shoulders slumped. “So basically what you're saying is that I should go ahead and replace the entire fence.”

Frank nodded. “I can replace the currently broken posts and rails if you want, but you're just going to keep having the same problem and will eventually have to replace the whole thing sooner rather than later anyway.”

“So what wood do you suggest?”

“Oak, which'll probably cost you more in lumber now but will last you years longer and need way less maintenance since it's a much harder wood.”

You sighed. “Okay. Let me check with my lumber supplier and see how much it would cost me to replace the entire thing.”

Frank nodded. “In the meantime I'll start on getting that tractor fixed for you. What's been going on with it?”

“About two months ago I was hauling a bale of hay in for the horses and the damn thing just sputtered and quit on me right where it sits.” You shook your head. “Couldn't get it started back up and I haven't had time to take it to get looked at. Just too much to do around here.”

You pulled a key out of your pocket and handed it to him. “If you need me I'll be over at the chicken coop.”

Frank walked over to the tractor and raised the hood. I should check the oil and gas first before I try to start it since it's been sitting.

Both looked free of water and debris, so he began to inspect the other parts. Spark plugs look good, but the carburetor could use a cleaning.

Frank walked over to the barn and grabbed a couple of tools, then went back over to clean the carburetor. Nope, that wasn't it.

Next he tried testing the battery. That’s fine too.

He was beginning to suspect that it was something with the fuel system based on the way the tractor had been trying but failing to start, so he checked the fuel line and filter next. No, not those either.

“Any luck?”

Frank turned as you appeared behind him carrying a large wicker basket of eggs, Canine Frank trailing behind you. “Not yet, but I’ve narrowed it down to something to do with the fuel system. Can you come try to start it for me so I can check something?”

You nodded and set the basket down. “Sure.”

Frank went back to the front of the tractor while you climbed onto the seat. “Okay, go ahead,” he said.

Frank looked over the engine as you attempted to start the tractor up. Aha. “Okay , I think I know what the problem is. It looks like the lever that controls the fuel level is jammed.”

He looked over at you. “Got any WD-40 or something like that?”

“Yeah, just a second.”

You climbed down from the tractor and walked back to the shed where you kept the fence lumber, then came back with a can of WD-40. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Frank sprayed a bit on the stuck lever, then carefully worked a flathead screwdriver into it to help loosen it up.

He lowered the hood of the tractor and peered over it at you. “Try starting it again.”

You got on the tractor once again and turned the key, a wide grin spreading across your face when it started right up. “It worked!”

Frank closed the hood. “I also cleaned the carburetor and tested the battery, and the oil and gas looked fine so it should be good as new.”

You nodded, a look of relief on your face. “You’re amazing. Thank you so much.”

Frank shrugged and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. “Ah, not a problem.”

You cut the tractor off and climbed down as a loud mooing sounded from the barn. “The cows are starting to get restless, so how about I get these eggs put away then show you how to do the milking?”

Frank nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Alright then. Give me just a minute.”

As you picked up the basket of eggs and headed back over to the main house, Frank walked over to the spigot connected to the barn to wash the dirt and grime off of his hands.

You came back a minute later with two large metal buckets. “Okay, I'm ready.”

Frank opened the now-easily sliding barn door for you. “After you.”

He followed you to where the cows were kept.

You set one of the buckets down and grabbed a nearby stool. “I usually start with Clarabelle. She gets fussy if she has to wait too long.”

Frank chuckled. “I bet it's not easy milking a fussy cow.”

You shook your head, a small smile on your lips as you opened Clarabelle's stall and headed inside. “It’s not too difficult. Clarabelle is just a bit of a diva.”

You set the stool and bucket down and gave Clarabelle a gentle pat on her nose. “Aren’t ya, Miss Clara, my sweet girl?”

Clarabelle blinked her soulful brown eyes and nuzzled your hand, as if to say, who, me?

Frank smiled. “Diva or not, she clearly loves you.”

“I love her too.” You glanced at Frank. “This farm is all I have, so it's important that all of my animals are happy and well taken care of.”

Frank nodded. Message received. “I'll take care of them as if they were my own, I promise.”

“Good.” You adjusted the stool and sat. “Now, let me show you how to milk the cows.”

You took a damp washcloth out of the bucket. “I sell milk, butter, honey, and eggs at the farmer's market on Saturdays, so it's extremely important to follow state safety regulations for the production and sale of raw milk.”

You carefully wiped Clarabelle's udder then set the washcloth on your lap. “The first step is to clean the cow's udder so that nothing that isn't milk gets in the bucket then to use an udder balm to make sure you're not hurting her.”

Frank nodded. “Got it.”

You rubbed some cream from a small jar onto Clarabelle's udder then took her teats in your hands. “Then we pre-milk her a couple of times just to make sure that there's no dirt or debris in her milk ducts.”

Frank watched as you gently squeezed and pulled down on Clarabelle's teats, releasing a stream of milk from each group.

You set the bucket under Clarabelle. “Then we just set the bucket down and get to milking.”

You squeezed a few streams of milk into the bucket. “Want to try?”

Frank nodded. “Sure.”

He switched places with you and took hold of Clarabelle's teats. “Like this?”

You shook your head and knelt down beside him. “Little higher up.”

Frank took a deep breath as you took his hands in your smaller ones. You smelled of clean sweat and soap and something else Frank couldn't quite identify, but liked.

Your grip slightly tightened on Frank's hands. “Then you just pull and squeeze, like this.”

You guided Frank in milking Clarabelle for a few moments, then let go to let him try to milk her on his own. “Good job. You're a natural.”

You reached up and patted Clarabelle on her rump. “And you are being such a good girl today, sweetheart. You definitely deserve a treat for being so patient.”

“How do I know when she's done?” Frank asked. “She'll just stop producing milk?”

“Her udder will be a lot flatter and she'll seem more comfortable,” you replied. “Once you're done with her, give her a carrot from the bag on the front of her stall, then if you don't mind, could you move on to Daisy and milk her then give her a carrot as well? I'll get the other three.”

Frank nodded again, keeping his attention on milking instead of looking at you. “No problem.”

You stood. “Thanks. If you need any help I'll be right over here.”

You took the other bucket and moved down a few stalls, talking softly to Lulu before opening the stall door and heading inside.

Frank finished milking Clarabelle then gave her a carrot before moving on to Daisy’s stall.

Daisy looked over at Frank as he entered and moved over to the wall, turning sideways so he could get to her udder easily.

Frank chuckled. “You know the drill, huh girl?”

He set the stool down and gave Daisy a gentle pat on her side. “Good girl. You're gonna make this easy for me, aren't ya?”

Daisy ‘moo’ed in response.

Frank cleaned Daisy's udder and applied a bit of cream before making sure her milk ducts were clear. “Okay, let's get you milked.”

He milked Daisy and gave her a post-milking carrot, then headed over to the other stalls to find you. “I'm all done.”

You peered around Millie at him. “Great!”

You looked at your watch. “Since you got that tractor back up and running for me I'm gonna bottle up this milk then get the grass cut. Why don't you go ahead and knock off for the evening, take a shower and relax a bit before supper?”

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. “In that case, I might go ahead and head into town, pick up a few groceries.”

“Okay.” You patted Millie’s side and stood. “Just so you know, you’re welcome to any of the goods we produce or harvest. No point in having to buy them from the store when they're readily available here.”

Frank nodded, mentally taking milk, butter, eggs, and honey off of his grocery list. “I appreciate that.”

“I'll get some stuff packed up for you to bring back to the cabin tonight after supper.”

“Sounds good.” Frank gestured towards your now-full bucket of milk. “Need me to grab that for ya?”

“If you don't mind.”

Frank shook his head. “Not at all. Where we heading?”

“Back to the house.”

Frank picked up the other bucket of milk and waited as you gave Millie a carrot, then he followed you back to the big house.

He smiled to himself when Canine Frank, who had been napping on the porch, got up and wagged his tail at the two of you.

You scratched Canine Frank behind his ears then unlocked the door. “Here, you can just set those on the counter for me.”

Frank followed you in and set the buckets down in the kitchen. “Need help with anything else?”

You shook your head. “No thanks, I can take it from here.”

Frank nodded. “I'll see you at dinner tonight, then.”

He gave Canine Frank a friendly pat on his head then headed back to the cabin, where he moved his laundry from the washer to the dryer before heading to the bathroom to shower.

As he stood under the hot spray of water, his mind turned back to you and the way your hands had felt on his earlier.

Frank had honestly found it difficult to concentrate as you had guided his hands to milk Clarabelle. The way you had gently squeezed and pulled had made Frank think about having your hands in a place he hadn't been privy to having a woman touch in a long time. Shit.

He sighed. He was here to work, not get distracted by the thought of your hands (and mouth, if he was honest) on his cock. It's just been entirely too long since I've been with a woman, he thought. It hadn't had anything to do with her in particular.

Even as he thought it, deep down he knew he was lying to himself. It's going to be a long summer.

#lotmf writes #That Summer Masterlist #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader

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talesofesther · 1 year

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the heart that matches mine

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: You and Wednesday attend Nevermore's Christmas Eve party; with matching sweaters.

Requested by @dingus85

A/N: This story is part of my Christmas Special event. I wish everyone a Merry Christmas. <3

Masterlist

"Pretty please?"

You begged, holding both matching Christmas sweaters in your arms, the soft fabric molding between your fingers as you looked at Wednesday with your best puppy eyes.

Wednesday huffed, she regarded you with a serious look before snatching one of the sweaters from your hands without a word, making you squeal in happiness.

It was a sight to behold; Wednesday Addams walking down the stairs with a white and red sweater filled with reindeer and Christmas trees, holding onto your hand — who also wore a sweater, exactly like hers.

Given that there was practically a blizzard roaring outside, the students were gathering at the school's venue for a fun night on Christmas eve; Principal Weems had ordered a few snacks, there was music playing and the place was warmly decorated with orange blinking lights and a large Christmas tree in the middle of the room.

As soon as you both entered, Enid was making a beeline to you; "OMG, you two look adorable," she exclaimed, the little Christmas hat she wore bouncing with her excitement.

You could see she contained herself from pulling you and Wednesday into a hug, making you chuckle; "thank you, Enid."

"How do you always manage-"

"Don't ask." Wednesday cut off Enid's question to you before she could finish, making the werewolf grin.

"Your soft spot is showing, Wednesday," Enid winked, "anyways you guys gotta try the gingerbread, it's to die for!" And with that, she was running off to Ajax's side again.

You squeezed Wednesday's hand once it was just you two, her sweater was a little too big on her, the soft fabric getting between both your palms as you pulled her along.

Most students were dressed the part, even Weems had a red dress and white shoes that fitted her to perfection. The tables had Christmas-themed towels over them, each one with an ornament on top; the song playing was one you didn't know but the melody was a soft, pleasant one; and the array of golden lights attached to the walls and ceiling got the room all warm and magical.

"You have to admit it's a nice holiday," you said, walking around the Christmas tree and to the table filled with snacks.

"There's a disgusting amount of colors for such a small room," Wednesday grumbled, taking a tiny bite of the gingerbread and furrowing her brows when she realized it really was good, "we could be celebrating in infinitely better ways." Her eyes were set on you as she finished, on the glow that the many lights cast over your skin.

"You know what my favorite part is?" You asked with a grin, sneaking an arm around Wednesday's waist and pulling her body closer to yours. There was something about seeing her with a fluffy sweater that got you wanting to squish her to you and not let go.

Naturally, her hands came to rest on your shoulders as an adorable tilt came to her brows, trying to solve your riddle.

You twirled her around until you stood under a little mistletoe trinket, the smile ever present on your lips, "extra excuses for me to kiss you."

Wednesday's lips quirked up in a small, mischievous manner. Her hands closed around the collar of your sweater and she pulled you toward her with intent.

It was the most you'd ever get from her in the middle of so many people; Wednesday wasn't the most affectionate, but she was intense in her own way; with how she hardly ever lets go of your hand or how she kisses you quickly yet passionately enough to get your knees weak.

She pulled away only enough to brush your noses together; "to this, I could get used to."

Your nose scrunched with giddiness, you pushed strands of hair behind Wednesday's ear, your fingertips grazing the soft skin of her cheek; "merry Christmas my little raven."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story #christmas event

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wannab-urs · 11 months

Text

The Spreadsheet Digest - Fic Recs | Vol 7

Howdy, folks! It's time for this week's recap of what I read :)

As always, you can find the spreadsheet here, and you're always more than welcome to tag me in your fic if you'd like to be included. New and old fics both appreciated; anything from a drabble to a 400k word series is fine; and the only Pedro boy I don't really read is Pero Tovar.

Without further ado here are the fics I read this week and the unhinged ramblings of a madwoman (me) to substitute for a coherent recommendation.

One for the money, two for the show a Joel series by @cowgurrrl

Rockstar!Joel AU with such a sweet fake dating trope lead in and then the most delicious yummy angst. As your resident angst whore this was everything because it was so REAL and so fucking heartbreaking. And then the happy little hopeful ending and then all the drabbles and extras??? AH! My favorite part was the lil instagram stories i think <3

sharing is caring a Frankie/Santi one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Your friend Santi introduces you to his friend Frankie and uhhhh you guys go make a sandwich.

Only Lovers Left Alive a Joel series by @atinylittlepain

I love every single thing about this. Revenge. Vampires. Blood play kind of? Biting. Etc. This shit rocks.

Waiting Room a Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters

I fucking love what kel did with this song. The repetition of one for the road really fuckin got me too. Angst angst angst.

The Special One a Joel series by @toxicanonymity

What if a reluctant soulmates AU was also a vampire!Joel AU? It would be perfect, that's what. I'm loving vampire!joel rn anyway, but this was such a cool twist on it. Also his vibes in this are fucking immaculate

Copycat Killer a Joel series by @beskarandblasters

Bitch this is so good. Stalker!Reader x Rockstar Joel... fucking perfect. I love how they both kind of suck as human beings a little bit. And that blow job oh my GOD.

Sweet Creature a Dieter series by @wildemaven

I really really love how this story is going. The little town is so real to me and I love all the little places we get to see. The bookstore sounds like a DREAM. And I can't wait for Reader to bond with D over art ahhhhh.

Stitches a Din series by @djarinsbeskar

This fic is so fucking good dude. I love the set up for the whole thing and the reader character is really fuckin' cool. The like... 8 consecutive parts of incredible smut that continues to be genuinely interesting and really fucking hot even after like 200K words is extremely impressive. I'm also pretty sucked into the story and the way Medic is being interwoven into canon. Oh and the introspection we get from Din's POV is *chef's kiss*.... anyway pls god finish this story i need it

False God a Frankie series by @swiftispunk

Frankie asking for what he wants is so... yummy... especially when it's wanting to be your subby lil pussy eating king like... PLEASE. And his praise kink??? I am in Frankie heaven

102 a Frankie one shot by @tieronecrush

I fucking love this ahhhh. I felt so bad for Frankie but also their friendship is so cute??? I love the unrequited love//idiots to lovers trope

Safe in my Arms an Ezra one shot by @mishasminion360

Ezra struggling to adjust to having one less limb and me crying about it. This was so fucking good. The raw emotion he feels and reader's unwavering support... the realism in saying something that accidentally hurts his feelings and trying to take over tasks he might find difficult AGH. I love this so much

Leave Off Your Wandering a Joel series by @oonajaeadira

Adira, I fall in love with every single little world you create without fail. This is obviously no exception. Your sheep ranch is a dream. The way you build up this backstory with the Roostlings and the friendship with Tommy and Maria and just all these extra little details you take the time to flesh out and weave into the story... makes my heart sing, friend. I adore this <3

-------- fics i read a while ago and never recommended -------

Name a Javi P one shot by @joelscruff

Consent a Dieter series by @fuckyeahdindjarin

Whiskey, Dark and Deep a Jack one shot by @prolix-yuy

Stay on the Screenplay a Dieter series by jazzelsaur (ao3)

A Safe Haven a Joel series by @joelsgreys

Psychomanteum a Dieter series by @whatsnewalycat

In Name Only an Oberyn series by @forever-rogue

------

I haven't written a word in weeks, so once again no updates for me :/

-----

Happy Reading

#the spreadsheet digest #vol 7 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Joel miller x reader #frankie morales x reader #javi peña x reader #Oberyn Martell x reader #Dieter Bravo x reader #Ezra (prospect) x reader #Jack Daniels x reader #din djarin x reader

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kingofbodyrolls · 1 month

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | sixteen

🐴Chapter summary: You help Yoongi rescuing some neglected and mistreated horses and then, a stranger drops by with some wild information that will alter the course of Jimin and Jungkook’s life.

🐴Chapter title: The Stranger

🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc

🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters.

🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst

🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

🐴Chapter warnings: drama, mention of mistreated horses/animal cruelty, period pain (Jimin tries to ease MC’s pain 🥹), body massage, brief breast play, spanking, a lot of kissing again, Jimin is just being sweet (he’s making up for all the time he was a douche, okay 😭)

🐴Status: completed 🥳

🐴Word count: 14.1k

🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “The Stranger” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: some parts of this chapter was very hard to write, but I hope it’s still okay! This chapter is very much a transition chapter lol, yes, important stuff happens, but yeah, you’ll see. Also, thank you guys so much for reading this story, for sticking with it 😭 It means a lot to me, and also every time you guys comment (some of you who have commented in the beginning, but stopped— are you okay? I’ve seen you like the rest of the chapters, but damn, I really get into my head, thinking you hate it now, and that’s why you stopped commenting, lol. But I also know that some of you are busy with life, work and studying, which is good), or leave me asks, like talking about the story in general or the characters, it’s been so much fun ❣️ Again, I want to say sorry, because I have mixed feelings about this chapter. It might seem slightly rushed (which it is), and it might shock you to know that this was always planned. But I hope it turned out okay in the end! I promise that next chapter is one that YOU DON’T WANT TO MISS 😭

🐴Author’s note— extra: I’m a done with writing the story 🥳 I just finished it and I’m feeling very emotional, like the ending 😭😭😭 (it’s happy tears). So that means that I’ll drop the remaining chapters as I see fit and earlier than scheduled (probably with 24 hours between them). I hope that you’ll still comment, reblog, like, give kudos and generally just interact, because I’m afraid that you won’t when I post the chapters closer together. But I also know some people are waiting to read until the whole series is done. Anyway, I want to thank you for joining me on the very emotional roller coaster ride 💖

You can send in your questions for the characters or me here → Ask away 💜*

*for people on AO3 you can also participate if you want to, just leave a comment (guest/anon or not), and I’ll reply to that and I’ll add your question in the Epilogue💜

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.Wanna see the book cover?

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

“Yes that strangerBrings mystery into your life” ‘The Stranger’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Amidst the lingering warmth of a delightful dinner shared among friends, you, Yoongi, Jimin, and Soo-ah gather around the kitchen sink, the clatter of dishes and laughter filling the air as you work together to tidy up and stow away the remnants of the evening’s feast.

Jimin shuttles tirelessly between the bustling kitchen and the dining room, bearing an array of steaming pots and pans brimming with savory delights, while Soo-ah efficiently transfers the culinary treasures into containers destined for the fridge or freezer. The kitchen hums with activity as Jimin and Jungkook’s culinary prowess shines through once again, ensuring an ample supply of delicious fare for all present.

At the sink’s edge stands you and Yoongi, a dynamic duo in the post-dinner cleanup brigade. Your hands deftly wield suds and scrubbers, coaxing remnants of culinary delight from plates and utensils, while Yoongi’s skilled hands swoop in to dry or load the dishwasher with practiced precision. Together, you orchestrate a symphony of cleanliness, ensuring that each piece finds its place in the grand choreography of post-meal tidying.

Amidst the clatter of dishes and the rhythm of your shared tasks, a lively exchange of banter ensues between you and Yoongi, punctuated by shared laughter and good-natured chuckles.

At times, Jimin saunters over to your side, his fingers tracing a tantalizing path down your back and lingering provocatively on your curves, eliciting a delicious shiver that dances along your spine. With a mischievous grin, he retreats as swiftly as he arrived, returning to his culinary duties alongside Soo-ah, leaving you to catch your breath amidst the lingering sensation of his teasing touch.

As Yoongi leans in closer, a flicker of curiosity dances in your eyes, prompting you to meet his gaze with a quizzical expression. With a subtle tilt of your head, you offer a small smile, your hands deftly maneuvering a plate beneath the cascading water as you await his next move with intrigued anticipation.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Yoongi starts, leaning closer into your side with a conspiratorial air, his voice dropping to a low murmur meant for your ears only. A playful glint dances in his eyes as a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “But you’ve got a little something in your hair,” he reveals, gesturing subtly to the stray wisps of hay that have nestled themselves into your locks, punctuating his observation with light-hearted amusement.

A rush of fear and embarrassment floods your wide eyes, igniting a fiery blush that paints your cheeks and neck in a kaleidoscope of pink hues, accentuated by the lingering traces of purple marks adorning your skin.

Yoongi’s hand ascends to your hair, deftly plucking out a few stray strands of hay, and a wave of mortification washes over you at the sight of the offending debris caught in his grasp. Across the kitchen, Jimin catches a glimpse of the scene, his chuckle floating through the air like a whispered secret before he disappears from view, leaving you to contend with the embarrassment in the aftermath.

“Did you have a good roll in the hay?” Yoongi’s voice rings with playful amusement, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he teases you, a giggle bubbling forth at the sight of your bemused expression.

As the water ceases its flow, you stand there, arms crossed beneath your chest, a sudden realization dawning upon you. The memory of your not-so-silent escapade in the stables floods your mind, causing a flush to rise to your cheeks and a hint of embarrassment to flicker in your eyes.

He continues to pluck away the stubborn remnants of hay from your hair, and a shared laughter bubbles forth between you, mingling with the lingering traces of embarrassment. Despite the slight blush staining your cheeks, the infectious joy in Yoongi's laughter draws out your own.

“You’re welcome by the way,” he quips, flashing you a playful wink as he grabs a bowl to dry with the towel, his gesture laced with a hint of mischief.

The weight of gratitude settles upon you as you fully grasp his unspoken act of rescue, sparing you and Jimin from a potentially embarrassing discovery. Meeting his gaze, you convey your heartfelt appreciation. “Thank you,” you whisper, the words carrying the weight of unspoken understanding and relief.

His smile widens, punctuated by a playful swat with the towel against your arm. “No biggie,” he reassures with a casual shrug, his easy going demeanor underscoring the depth of his friendship and the simplicity of his gesture.

Soo-ah pivots, her gaze locking onto you with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. “What are you talking about?” she inquires, her voice tinged with a hint of anticipation, as if sensing that the conversation holds secrets yet to be revealed.

With the food safely stowed away in the fridge and freezer, Soo-ah strides over to Yoongi’s side, her eagerness to lend a hand evident as she joins him in the task of drying the dishes you’ve diligently cleaned.

You shake your head, a silent plea to Yoongi not to reveal the details, preferring to keep the incident in the hay room of the stables under wraps. “We’re talking about the hay room in the stables,” yet, Yoongi’s words cut through the silence, laying bare the topic of conversation before Soo-ah.

Your eyes widen in a silent plea, urging Yoongi to respect your wish for discretion, but when he divulges the topic anyway, you react instinctively. With a stern hit to his arm, he recoils with an audible “ouch,” a testament to the force of your reproach and the gravity of the situation at hand.

“What about it?” Soo-ah’s question hangs in the air, her eyes alight with curiosity, a spark of intrigue dancing within their depths as she awaits your response, poised on the edge of anticipation.

“It’s a popular spot,” Yoongi remarks, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as his eyebrows wiggle suggestively, “for hooking up.”

A rosy blush spreads across her cheeks as she turns to you, her laughter bubbling forth like an irrepressible fountain. “Is that why you have hay in your hair?” she quips, the realization dawning on her with a delightful twinkle in her eyes.

You grumble and huff, unable to hide your exasperation. “Has everyone noticed?” you grouse, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and frustration creeping over you.

Jimin returns to the kitchen at precisely this moment, his keen eyes catching sight of your discontented demeanor. Without hesitation, he crosses the room to your side, his hand gently finding its place on your hips as he leans in, pressing a tender kiss against your neck, his comforting presence a soothing balm to your unsettled emotions.

You pivot to meet your boyfriend's gaze, a mix of curiosity and amusement playing across your features. “Did you know I had hay in my hair?” you inquire, a hint of playful accusation lacing your words as you await his response.

His eyes flicker to your hair, and a burst of laughter escapes his lips, mirroring the reaction of Soo-ah and Yoongi. With a gentle pat on your head, his hand traces a tender path down your face, delicately caressing your cheeks before coming to rest on your bottom lip. “I had no idea,” he confesses softly, his tone tinged with regret.

“But you still look stunning, even with a little hay in your hair,” he murmurs, drawing you close as he presses his lips to yours. In that moment, all traces of anger and embarrassment melt away, replaced by the warmth and reassurance of his affectionate embrace. The kiss is deep and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world.

Beside you, Yoongi’s suppressed snickers fill the air.

“If you two scoot over a bit, I can take care of the rest,” Yoongi suggests, his chuckle carrying a hint of amusement as you and Jimin gladly make room for him in front of the sink.

You gaze up at Jimin’s face, noticing the adorable scatter of moles across his features, adding to his irresistible charm. “Would you like to join me for a bath?” you propose, a playful twinkle in your eye as you extend the invitation.

He hums softly, his gaze locking with yours, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of affection and desire. In that moment, you can feel the depth of his love radiating from him, intertwined with a hint of excitement at your proposal. “Absolutely,” he responds, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. “I’d love nothing more than to pamper you, scrub your skin and wash your hair.”

A grateful smile graces your lips as you reflect on the depth of your appreciation for him and all the ways he shows his care. The thought of him eagerly offering to wash your hair and tend to your body fills you with a profound sense of gratitude, a feeling you’ve never experienced with any previous partner.

Soo-ah’s gasp beside Yoongi prompts a swift turn of her head towards you and Jimin, her eyes widening in disbelief. “He washes your hair for you?” She exclaims, her voice tinged with both surprise and admiration. The sight of her puppy-dog eyes and genuine happiness paints a poignant picture, her wistful longing palpable as she expresses her heartfelt sentiment. “That’s absolutely sweet,” she continues, her words laced with a hint of envy. “I wish I had a boyfriend like that, or even just a boyfriend at all.”

You offer Soo-ah a compassionate smile, your heart swelling with gratitude for Jimin and the abundance of love he showers upon you. His arms envelop you in a tender embrace, his words a soothing melody that resonates deep within your soul. “Anything for my love,” he murmurs, his voice infused with sincerity and devotion, reaffirming the depth of his affection for you.

You tenderly press your lips to his, intertwining your fingers with his as you lead him away from the kitchen and into the bathroom. Cupping his cheeks in your hands, you lock eyes with him, pouring your heart out in a soft declaration of love. “I love you so much, Jimin,” you whisper, sealing your words with another lingering kiss. With playful excitement, you gently guide him into the bathroom, a chorus of smiles and giggles filling the air as you close the door behind you, cocooned in the warmth of your love for each other.

Rumors have been swirling around town lately, particularly at the local bar, alleging mistreatment of horses at a neighboring farm—an unsettling notion that strikes a chord deep within Yoongi. Compounding his concern is the fact that some of these horses are the very ones you’ve spent countless hours training. Feeling a sense of responsibility and urgency, he grapples with the realization that action must be taken, though the path forward remains unclear.

Deep in contemplation, Yoongi grips his beer tightly, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily upon him. With a determined resolve, he sets his drink down on the bar and strides purposefully out of the building, his steps carrying him through the winding streets and straight to the doors of the police station. There, he hopes to find allies in his quest to liberate the mistreated horses from the clutches of their neglectful owner.

Stepping into the dimly lit confines of the police station, Yoongi's determination radiates from every fiber of his being as he seeks out an officer, his plea for assistance delivered with earnest conviction. Yet, his hopes are dashed when he learns that without concrete evidence against the horse's abuser, the hands of the law are tied. Disheartened but undeterred, he offers a begrudging nod of gratitude to the officers before turning on his heels and trudging out of the building, the weight of his disappointment heavy upon his shoulders as he makes his way back to his truck.

As darkness cloaks the landscape, casting shadows that dance across his determined features, Yoongi’s mind churns with purpose. The officer’s words echo in his mind—a relentless reminder of the need for concrete evidence to bring justice to the abuser of these innocent animals. With a determined resolve, he inserts the key into the ignition, igniting the engine with a determined hum as he steers his car back towards Bell Ranch. But just as he nears the familiar route, he makes a split-second decision, veering off the path towards the ranch of the despicable man he's heard so much about. If only he had been aware when he sold some of your horses to him—had he known, he would never have allowed it to happen. Now, knowing that Holly, one of those horses, is among the mistreated, his heart weighs heavy with regret and anger. Unable to stand idly by while these animals suffer, Yoongi’s sense of duty propels him forward, his resolve unyielding in the face of injustice.

With a keen sense of caution, Yoongi refrains from driving directly to the ranch—after all, he’s no fool. Instead, he parks his car discreetly further down the road, determined not to arouse any suspicion. With his camera firmly gripped in his hand, he embarks on the remaining journey to the ranch on foot, each step a calculated move towards uncovering the truth hidden within its confines.

Indeed, this clandestine excursion had been meticulously plotted long before his visit to the police station—a testament to Yoongi’s unwavering determination to seek justice for the mistreated animals. With a resigned acceptance of the limitations of official channels, he had braced himself for the realization that the burden of action rested squarely upon his own shoulders.

As Yoongi stealthily approaches, his gaze locks onto the scene before him—a chilling image of cruelty unfolding right before his eyes. There stands the man, lazily lounging one of the horses, its fur matted and cut short along its legs, bearing silent witness to its mistreatment. His blood boils at the sight, a surge of empathy coursing through him for the suffering animal. In the man’s hand, a cruel whip glints in the dim light, its menacing presence a stark reminder of the pain and coercion inflicted upon the helpless creature to force it to perform.

Despite the rising nausea in his gut, Yoongi steels himself and raises his camera, capturing the harrowing scene before him in a series of haunting images. Every click of the shutter serves as a painful reminder of the injustice unfolding before his eyes. His heart aches with the urge to intervene, to rescue the suffering horse from its tormentor’s grasp. The crack of the whip and the horse’s pained whine fuel his righteous indignation, threatening to shatter his resolve as he fights the urge to rush forward and confront the evil man.

Yet, as much as he longs to intervene, a nagging sense of caution restrains him—instinctively aware of the potential repercussions should he act impulsively. With a heavy heart, he resigns himself to the agonizing reality that capturing evidence through his camera lens is the safer course of action, despite the torment it inflicts upon his soul. Each click of the shutter serves as a solemn vow to seek justice for the abused horse, even as it tears at the very fabric of his being.

With a heavy heart, he ventures deeper into the heart of the ranch, his steps echoing in the dimly lit stables. Each stall he passes reveals a new horror—every horse bearing the cruel scars of neglect, their once majestic forms now reduced to emaciated shadows of their former selves. Anguish courses through him as he stands witness to their suffering, his fists clenching in futile rage.

As he continues down the aisle, his gaze falls upon Holly—a wave of devastation washing over him at the sight of his old friend. She stands before him, a mere shell of her former self, her once graceful frame now reduced to a skeletal silhouette. Her hooves are overgrown, her coat matted and unkempt, a testament to the neglect she has endured. His hand trembles as he reaches out to comfort her, but she flinches away from his touch, a painful reminder of the betrayal she has suffered. A single tear escapes his eye, tracing a path down his cheek as he stands helplessly before her, consumed by a sense of despair.

His heart plummets like a stone to the floor, shattered by the heartbreaking realization that Holly no longer seems to recognize him. Her gaze is distant, devoid of the spark of recognition that once lit up her eyes, and the pain cuts deep into his chest like a knife. With a heavy heart, he raises his camera, each snapshot a painful reminder of the profound loss he feels inside. Despite the searing ache that grips his soul, he is determined to capture every detail of her suffering, a silent vow to stand witness to the injustices inflicted upon her.

With a heavy heart and a mind fraught with determination, he concludes that the harrowing scenes he's documented are evidence enough to expose the horrors endured by these innocent creatures. However, his mission is far from over—he must now navigate the treacherous path back to his car without drawing the attention of the ranch's owner or his cronies. Every step he takes is laden with tension, every rustle of leaves a potential threat, as he maneuvers through the shadows, his heart pounding with the urgency of his mission.

With his camera clutched tightly in his hand, Yoongi sprints back to his truck, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like wildfire, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. Each breath comes in ragged gasps as he propels himself forward, his palms slick with sweat, the weight of his mission bearing down upon him like a crushing weight.

Finally reaching his truck, he flings open the door and slides inside, the engine roaring to life beneath him as he tears away from the ranch in a whirlwind of desperation. As the miles blur past, his mind reels with the stark reality of what he has witnessed—the sheer magnitude of suffering far surpassing anything he had ever imagined.

The image of Holly, once vibrant and full of life, now reduced to a mere shadow of herself, haunts him relentlessly. Anguish gnaws at his soul as he grapples with the knowledge that he cannot stand idly by while such atrocities continue to unfold.

Determined to be the voice for those who cannot speak for themselves, Yoongi vows to take action—to put an end to the cycle of cruelty and neglect that plagues these innocent creatures.

As he pulls into the yard, Yoongi’s gaze scans the surroundings, his heart skipping a beat when he catches sight of you—your figure moving gracefully across the yard, a beacon of warmth and familiarity amidst the darkness of his thoughts. With a sense of urgency, he calls out to you, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night, and watches as you turn towards him, your steps quickening as you close the distance between you.

“What are you doing out so late, Yoon?” you inquire, a radiant smile gracing your lips, your eyes alight with a joy that Yoongi finds utterly captivating. In that moment, he can’t help but marvel at the sheer happiness radiating from you—more vibrant and infectious than he's seen in a long while. It dawns on him that maybe Jimin’s presence in your life has brought about this newfound joy, and despite any personal struggles he may have, he's genuinely thrilled to see you flourishing in the embrace of love.

His gaze snaps up to meet yours, a flicker of intensity dancing in his eyes. “Just taking some pictures,” he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of urgency as he raises his camera, its presence a tangible reminder of the weighty mission he's undertaken. Intrigued, you follow his gesture, your eyes locking onto the camera in his hand, curiosity sparking within you as you ponder the significance behind his late-night photography session.

You reach out for it, your hand extending eagerly as you inquire, “Can I see?” But in your eagerness, you bypass the customary waiting for his response, instead seizing the camera from his grasp with an impulsive determination. With practiced ease, you power it on, your fingers deftly navigating through the digital gallery of images, each click of the button revealing another glimpse into the horrorful world he’s captured through his lens.

He watches intently as your eyes widen in shock and a deep furrow creases your brow, your reaction a visceral testament to the gravity of the images before you. Each flicker of discomfort that crosses your features is like a dagger to his heart, a painful reminder of the suffering he’s witnessed and the burden he now shares with you. Despite his desire to shield you from such distressing sights, he remains steadfast.

“What’s this?” you inquire, your voice quivering with a mix of disbelief and unease as you return the camera to his outstretched hand. The tremor in your voice doesn’t escape his notice, a stark indication of the emotional toll wrought by the distressing images you've just been confronted with. In that moment, he’s acutely aware of the weight of his actions, grappling with the realization that his quest for justice has inadvertently exposed you to a world of suffering that he would have shielded you from if he could.

“I heard about this guy mistreating his horses, so I went to take a look for myself,” he explains, his voice tinged with a potent mix of frustration and righteous indignation. Each word carries the weight of his emotions, his tone a reflection of the deep-seated anger and despair that churn within him. “It’s horrible,” he concludes, his voice heavy with the weight of the injustices he's witnessed, his resolve hardened by the stark reality of the situation.

“We have to do something about it!” you declare, your voice ringing with a resolute determination that commands attention. As you speak, a fierce resolve animates your features, your eyes ablaze with an unwavering commitment to righting the wrongs you've just borne witness to. The subtle set of your lips into a firm line only serves to underscore the steely resolve that propels your words forward, a silent vow to take action in the face of injustice.

He scuffs, the sound underscored by a palpable frustration that permeates the air. “That’s why I gathered evidence,” he admits, his words carrying the weight of his determination and the gravity of the situation they find themselves in.

“No, Yoongi. We can’t wait any longer. We have to save the horses, now,” you implore, your voice laced with urgency and a hint of desperation. With every word, you convey a sense of urgency that underscores the dire need for immediate action. Your plea carries the weight of compassion and empathy, a heartfelt call to arms in defense of the innocent creatures suffering at the hands of cruelty.

He gapes at you in disbelief, grappling with the gravity of your suggestion. The intensity of your conviction leaves him momentarily stunned—of course he wants to save the horses, but what you’re proposing borders on the edge of legality. The weight of the potential consequences looms heavy in his mind, a sobering reminder of the risks they would be undertaking.

“I don’t care about the potential repercussions. Those poor horses need us,” you declare with unwavering determination, your voice resonating with an urgency that brooks no argument. With each word, you convey a sense of righteous indignation and compassion, compelling him to action with the sheer force of your conviction. Your plea reverberates in the air, a rallying cry that demands immediate attention and action.

“Holly is one of the horses,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with defeat, a tinge of sorrow coloring his words. With a resigned gesture, he kicks at the stones scattered across the dirt, the sound echoing the weight of his disappointment and anguish. In that simple statement lies a world of pain and regret, as he grapples with the harsh reality of seeing his beloved horse subjected to such cruelty.

“What the fuck are we waiting for?” You exclaim, your frustration palpable as you confront him with a fierce intensity. It’s clear that you've reached your limit with his indecision, and with a swift motion, you deftly snatch the keys from his hand. Without hesitation, you move past him, swinging open the driver’s door and sliding behind the wheel, the engine roaring to life under your command. “Get in, Yoongi,” you command, your tone leaving no room for argument as you signal your unwavering determination to take action.

You sound furious, and maybe rightfully so—he feels the same anger coursing through his veins. Damn it, he wants to save them too. With a heavy heart, he slides into the passenger seat, yielding to your determination as you take control of the wheel. As you speed back towards the ranch, his directions guide your path, a silent acknowledgment of the shared resolve burning within both of you to make a difference.

The drive is brief, but each passing moment feels weighted with anticipation and purpose. He directs you to park in the very same spot where he had stopped earlier, a silent reminder of the urgency and gravity of the mission ahead. As you bring the vehicle to a halt, the air crackles with tension.

You both leap out of the truck, propelled by a shared sense of urgency and purpose, and advance towards the ranch shrouded in darkness. Despite the obscurity that surrounds you, you navigate effortlessly towards the stables, your determination cutting through the night like a beacon. With a heavy heart, he leads you to Holly’s stall, where he reveals the heartbreaking sight of her current condition. As you lay eyes on her, a deep furrow forms on your brow, your expression mirroring the anguish and sorrow that grips your soul at the sight of her suffering.

With a determined resolve, Yoongi cautiously swings open the stall door, his movements deliberate as he beckons Holly to approach him in the enveloping darkness. The dimness cloaks your actions, a deliberate choice to avoid drawing unwanted attention to your clandestine mission. In the shadows, you both stand poised, silently willing Holly to trust you amidst the palpable tension that hangs thick in the air.

“Come on, girl,” Yoongi murmurs in a soothing tone, his voice a gentle melody cutting through the stillness of the night as he endeavors to coax Holly out of her stall. Despite his best efforts, however, the bond between them appears strained, the connection faltering in the face of Holly's evident apprehension. Each whispered plea hangs in the air, an earnest plea for trust and understanding in the midst of uncertainty.

Suddenly, the harsh glare of light floods the stable, casting stark shadows that betray your presence in the otherwise darkened space. In that moment, a shared realization dawns upon both of you—an unspoken acknowledgment that your covert mission has been compromised. The abrupt illumination serves as an ominous harbinger of trouble, a stark reminder that your clandestine efforts to rescue Holly have been uncovered, plunging you both into a perilous predicament.

You move closer to Yoongi, seeking solace and solidarity in the face of impending danger. Side by side, you stand united in front of Holly, a silent bastion of strength amidst the encroaching threat. As the man draws nearer, the air crackles with tension, but you refuse to falter, bolstered by the unspoken determination to protect each other and the helpless creature before you.

“Who’s there?” his voice cuts through the tense silence, laden with an ominous weight that sends shivers down your spine. Each heavy footstep reverberates ominously, signaling his approach with a menacing cadence. As he draws closer to Holly's stall, the air hangs heavy with anticipation, the imminent confrontation looming like a shadowy specter. With bated breath, you brace yourselves for the inevitable encounter.

“What are you two doing here?” He demands, his voice a sharp echo slicing through the tension-laden air. His gaze pierces through you with a mixture of confusion and displeasure, each furrowed brow and narrowed eye conveying his suspicion and disdain. In that moment, you feel the weight of his scrutiny bearing down upon you, as if every syllable is a challenge that demands an answer—a challenge you must navigate with caution and cunning.

You seize Yoongi’s hand with a fierce intensity, your grip conveying a tidal wave of pent-up anger that courses through your palm like a surge of electricity, pulsating with raw emotion. In that charged moment, he can feel the seething rage reverberating within you, mirroring the tumultuous turmoil that churns within his own being. It’s as if the palpable fury radiating from your touch connects you both in a shared symphony of indignation, binding you together in defiance against the injustice unfolding before you.

“This is cruelty!” Your voice rings out, sharp and resolute, carrying the weight of your indignation like a battle cry echoing through the stillness of the night. With a pointed gesture, you direct the man’s attention towards Holly, your anger etched in every line of your face.

The man scoffs, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips like a venomous taunt that pierces through the solemn air, leaving a bitter taste in its wake. Your reaction is visceral, a wince born of both frustration and disgust, as you recoil from the callousness of his response.

“We are taking the horses,” Yoongi declares, his voice cutting through the tension like a clarion call, his stance resolute as he steps protectively in front of you. In that defiant gesture, he embodies a steadfast determination to stand against injustice, his words echoing with unwavering resolve amidst the turmoil of the moment. Beside him, you feel a surge of solidarity, your spirits bolstered by his unwavering courage in the face of adversity.

“You’re stealing them?” The man’s voice crackles with incredulity, his tone laced with a volatile mix of irritation and anger that threatens to erupt like a smoldering volcano. His accusatory gaze pierces through the darkness, locking onto Yoongi with a searing intensity that demands an explanation.

“No. We’re saving them,” you declare with unwavering conviction, your voice ringing out with a resolute clarity that cuts through the darkness like a beacon of righteousness. With your chest thrust forward and your head held high, you exude a palpable aura of strength and determination, commanding respect in the face of adversity. In that defiant stance, he finds himself admiring your unwavering resolve, your steadfast commitment to standing tall in defense of what you believe is right, no matter the cost.

“That sounds like stealing to me,” he scoffs, his laughter bitter and laden with contempt, a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation. With a cynical twist of his lips, he retrieves his phone, his intentions clear as he prepares to summon the authorities. Yoongi can sense the impending threat, the urgency of the moment weighing heavily upon him as he bristles with anticipation, poised for whatever comes next.

You both watch in dismay as he dials the police, the harsh reality sinking in as he locks the stall door, trapping you both inside with no means of escape. The metallic clang of the lock reverberates through the stillness of the night, a chilling reminder of your precarious situation. In that confined space, tension hangs thick in the air, your hearts pounding in unison with the weight of impending consequences bearing down upon you.

“The police are on their way now,” he chuckles with a menacing edge, his voice dripping with satisfaction at having cornered you in this precarious predicament.

Aware of the imminent danger looming over both of you, Yoongi’s mind races with desperate determination. Amidst the chaos, a flicker of hope ignites within him as he recalls the evidence stored safely in his truck—undeniable proof of the atrocities witnessed tonight. If only he could reach it in time, if only he could present it to the authorities when they arrive. With every fiber of his being, he clings to this glimmer of optimism, his resolve steeling him against the encroaching darkness as he plots his next move, knowing that redemption lies just beyond his grasp.

He watches intently as you swiftly retrieve your phone, fingers dancing across the screen with purposeful urgency. In that moment, a wave of apprehension washes over him, a silent understanding dawning as he realizes you're likely reaching out to Jimin for help.

As the tense minutes stretch on, Yoongi’s heart aches with a profound sense of helplessness. With Holly cowering in the corner, her fear palpable in the dimly lit stall, a surge of indignation courses through him. The sight of her trembling form ignites a fierce determination within him to protect her at all costs. Yet, the sinister presence of the man blocking your escape serves as a stark reminder of the perilous predicament you find yourselves in. Trapped within the confines of the stall, Yoongi’s mind races with fervent desperation, seeking a glimmer of hope amidst the suffocating darkness. Every passing second feels like an eternity, each beat of his heart a silent plea for deliverance from this harrowing ordeal.

As the heavy wooden doors of the stables swing open, revealing the ominous silhouette of two officers, a surge of mixed emotions washes over Yoongi. Among them stands the familiar face of the officer he had spoken to earlier in the night, recognition flickering in his gaze as it falls upon Yoongi. Caught off guard by the unexpected reunion, Yoongi's lips curve into a lopsided smile, a nervous habit betraying his attempt at nonchalance as he absently scratches his head.

“What seems to be the problem?” The other officer, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a blade, directs his inquiry at the man standing before them.

“These two here are trying to steal my horses,” the man’s accusation slices through the tension like a blade, his voice dripping with venom as he points an accusatory finger at Yoongi and you.

Yoongi’s gaze remains fixed on the officers, observing their scrutiny as they shift their attention between you and the hurt horses. The weight of their words hangs heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation.

“You’re aware that theft is a punishable offense, aren’t you?” Their inquiry is not just a question but a warning, echoing with the imminent threat of consequences.

“We’re obliged to bring you in,” the other officer asserts, his tone brooking no argument as he delivers the unwelcome verdict.

In a sudden, welcomed twist, Jimin strides into the stable with a confident swagger, a smile lighting up his face as he carries Yoongi’s camera in his hand, carrying the hope and evidence that you need.

“Officers, hold on a moment,” Jimin interjects, his voice carrying a firm but composed tone as he approaches them. The man’s gaze shifts from Jimin to you, his expression sour and unsettling, a silent testament to his apprehension. Yoongi senses the tension escalating, his concern growing with each passing second.

“You need to see this. It’s undeniable proof of what’s happening here,” Jimin urges, extending the camera to the police officers. With a sense of urgency, they take the camera and begin to review the images, their expressions shifting as the gravity of the situation sinks in.

Returning the camera to Jimin, Yoongi observes as Jimin casts a tender glance your way, his smile a silent reassurance. The officers then redirect their attention to the man, their expressions stern. “This constitutes animal cruelty, which is a serious offense,” they assert firmly.

“Please come with us,” one of the officers requests firmly, reaching for the man, who begins to resist, his actions reflecting his desperation to evade justice.

“What about them? They were trying to steal my horses!” He bellows in panic, his voice echoing in the dimly lit barn as the officers firmly escort him out, his frantic protests fading into the night.

“They haven’t stolen anything yet,” one of the officers declares, his voice cutting through the tense air like a beacon of reason, a reassuring nod directed at Yoongi, Jimin, and you.

Relief washes over Yoongi like a cool breeze on a scorching day. His hand instinctively finds its way through his hair, fingers threading through strands as if to anchor himself in the moment. A wave of adrenaline slowly recedes, leaving behind a sense of calm amidst the storm. That was too close for comfort.

He observes as you cast a tender glance at Jimin, a silent exchange of understanding passing between you. With purposeful steps, Jimin approaches, swinging open the stall door to free you both. Without hesitation, you leap into the waiting arms of your boyfriend, seeking solace and security in his embrace.

“Did you bring the trailer?” You inquire of Jimin, a grin lighting up your features as you lean in for a swift yet affectionate kiss.

“Of course,” Jimin chuckles, his hands settling on your hips reassuringly.

Yoongi gazes at both of you, a hint of confusion knitting his brows together.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi’s voice carries a tone of bewilderment as he directs his gaze between you and Jimin, his curiosity piqued.

“She asked me to bring the horse trailer so we could take the horses home with us,” Jimin’s words sink in, and Yoongi’s eyes widen with understanding, a glimmer of admiration flickering within them. As he turns to you, a silent gratitude fills the air, acknowledging your quick wit and resourcefulness.

“Let’s bring Holly home,” you declare with determination, your smile radiant as you clasp Jimin’s hand in gratitude for his timely assistance. As you envelop your boyfriend in a warm embrace, Yoongi redirects his attention to Holly, patiently coaxing her out of the stall. Though it requires effort, his perseverance prevails, and soon Holly steps out into the dim light of the stable, her eyes reflecting a newfound hope.

He’s overjoyed by the favorable outcome, relieved that you and Jimin intervened to rescue him and the poor horses. And, goodness, you should be elated that the police officers didn’t haul your asses away for trespassing.

Every damn thing is agony. You’ve exhausted every remedy in your arsenal. You attempted riding, hoping movement might ease the ache.

No dice.

Ice and heat packs offered fleeting relief at best. But the pain? Unyielding.

It’s a relentless torment, and you’re at your wits’ end.

Thus, you’ve sought solace in Jimin’s bedroom—or is it yours by now? After spending countless nights here, the lines blur, leaving you uncertain of where one space ends and the other begins.

You push open the door, your weary frame yearning for the comfort of the bed. Collapsing onto the mattress, your body meets it with a resounding thud, a symphony of exhaustion echoing through the room as you bury your face into the softness of the sheets, emitting a muffled groan of discomfort.

The sheets envelop you in their soft embrace, a familiar comfort that whispers tales of shared moments with Jimin – cuddles, tender kisses trailing along your neck. Infused with his signature musky scent, now mingled with your own, they offer solace to your weary mind, lulling your senses into a state of tranquility as you surrender to their gentle caress.

You draw your knees up to your chest, cocooning yourself in a protective embrace, silently pleading for the relentless pain to subside – a relentless companion that has plagued your entire day. In moments like these, you question how you manage to accomplish anything amidst this unyielding torment. Yet, surrendering to it is not an option; you refuse to grant the pain dominion over your spirit. Sickness is an unwelcome adversary, casting you into a disheartening abyss of vulnerability, a place you rarely visit.

You shut your eyes tightly, yearning for the solace of sleep to envelop you, if only to grant respite from the relentless ache gnawing at your stomach. The unwelcome arrival of your period compounds your discomfort, adding insult to injury. Oh, how you despise this monthly intrusion, an unwelcome visitor overstaying its welcome.

The door whispers open, and even before the hinges complete their eerie symphony, you sense his presence—Jimin, your ever-watchful guardian, silently slipping into the room. His quiet footsteps echo with a tenderness that speaks volumes, a familiar comfort that wraps around you like a warm embrace.

As the mattress yields to his weight, a gentle hand finds its place atop your hip bone, a soothing anchor in the storm of your discomfort. His voice, a soft melody of concern, washes over you like a gentle wave, carrying with it a warmth that beckons you to surrender to its embrace, “What’s wrong, love?”

“It’s just my period,” you murmur, the words heavy with discomfort, as you wrap your arms around yourself in a silent attempt to ease the ache.

His hand glides up your body, a comforting warmth that sends delicate shivers down your spine. “Let me help,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your troubled soul.

You whimper softly at his touch, feeling the tension in your body begin to ease as his hand settles gently on your stomach. Drawing you closer, he envelops you in his strong, reassuring embrace, his warmth seeping into your bones. The scent of his skin fills your senses, intoxicating and familiar, as he nestles his head against your neck, his warm breath caressing your earlobe, sending delicious shivers down your spine. With tender care, his hand applies a gentle pressure to your stomach, offering comfort in the midst of your discomfort.

“Is this alright?” He murmurs softly, drawing himself nearer, his presence enveloping you completely. You sense every contour of his form, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the rhythmic thud of his heart, his warmth seeping into your skin. Your senses are heightened, acutely aware of his closeness, from the gentle pressure of his body to the tantalizing proximity of his hips against yours, with his dick pressing on your ass. With every inch of him pressed against you, you feel a surge of electricity coursing through your veins, igniting a deep-seated longing within you. His powerful thighs brush against yours, his feet intertwining with yours in a tender embrace, as if seeking solace in your hold.

“Yes, Jimin. You’re incredible,” you whisper with a sigh, feeling the tension slowly ebbing away from your body. Finally, a sense of tranquility washes over you, as if his touch has the power to soothe all your worries and pains.

The sensation of his hand on your lower stomach is nothing short of heavenly, each gentle caress a balm to your aching body. His mere presence, his unwavering support, threatens to bring tears to your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his kindness. In this moment, with him by your side, you feel as if your heart could burst with an abundance of love and gratitude.

His lips trace a path of warmth along your neck, each kiss igniting a delightful shiver down your spine. A soft chuckle escapes you, but as his lips continue their tantalizing journey, you find yourself squirming in his firm embrace. A playful movement causes your backside to brush against his crotch, and in that instant, you’re acutely aware of his growing erection.

“Jimin,” you chuckle, but his lips continue their delicious assault on your neck, seemingly oblivious to your protest. With each tender kiss, you feel yourself melting further into his embrace. Finally, unable to resist any longer, you turn to face him, your eyes locking in a silent dance of desire.

“You’re hard,” you state, your voice a delicate whisper tinged with both softness and a hint of lust. Your gaze locks with his, a silent invitation hanging in the air, accentuated by the subtle nip of your lower lip.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his voice a husky melody that sends shivers down your spine. His laughter, like music to your ears, fills the room with a warmth that envelops you both. His hand, now back on your hips, moves with a gentle rhythm, tracing soothing circles that melt away the tension, leaving only the sweet anticipation of what’s to come.

You release a soft, involuntary moan as his touch ignites a fire within you. With each knead of your hip, his fingers trace a path of desire, sliding down to the curve of your ass with deliberate, tantalizing slowness.

As he skillfully works the muscles of your ass, your hand ventures downward, drawn to the undeniable bulge in his devilish black sweatpants. The outline of his dick is unmistakable, beckoning you with its tantalizing presence. With eager anticipation, you seize his cock through the fabric, eliciting a low, guttural groan of pleasure from his lips.

“I want to touch you, to make you come,” you implore, your gaze pleading as you offer him a glimpse of your longing. Despite the innocence in your eyes, he remains resolute, unmoved by your entreaty.

“No,” he insists firmly, gently removing your hand from his dick. “This is about you. Let me ease your discomfort,” he adds, his voice tender as he redirects your focus to your own needs. “Trust me, it’s fine,” he murmurs reassuringly, his touch promising solace and relief.

He rises from the bed, his silhouette carved by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and sits up while you remain reclined. “Take off your clothes,” he instructs, his voice a husky murmur that stirs a tingle of anticipation. “But keep your panties on,” he adds with a hint of restraint, his hand threading through his tousled hair. Even in the dim light, you can discern the subtle tension in his body, the silent yearning echoed in the strain of his form-fitting sweatpants, showcasing his cock wonderfully.

While laying down, he assists you in shedding your garments with gentle precision. His fingers deftly navigate the buttons and zippers of your pants, easing them over your hips and down your legs until they are scattered at the floor. With a tender touch, he removes your socks, his fingertips grazing your skin in a playful dance that elicits a fleeting giggle from you.

His gaze lingers on your panties, a simple yet alluring black lace, and a soft admiration gleams in his eyes. “You’re stunning,” he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine appreciation for the sight before him.

His touch ignites a tingling sensation across your skin as his fingers dance over your body, coaxing your shirt off with gentle insistence. With a skilled touch, he guides you to sit up, his hands tracing a tantalizing path up your torso until they find the clasp of your bra. Effortlessly, he releases it, setting your breasts free, and his warm palms cup them delicately. “So soft and beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet caress against your skin, as he revels in the intimacy of the moment.

Your breath catches in your throat as a soft moan escapes your lips, your body responding eagerly to his caress. With each lingering touch, a wave of arousal washes over you, igniting a fire within that yearns for more of his intoxicating embrace.

“Now lay down on your stomach first,” he instructs, his gaze tracing the curves of your body with hunger, his tongue darting out as if you’re a delectable feast waiting to be savored.

You sink into the bed, enveloped in his familiar musky aroma, a comforting embrace for your senses. His hands start at your neck and shoulders, his presence pressing gently over you, as he straddles your ass, his weight a reassuring anchor. With skilled precision, he works your muscles like a master baker kneading dough, each movement easing the knots of tension from your body. The touch is firm yet tender, and with each stroke, you feel the weight of the day lifting from your skin, leaving you adrift in a sea of relaxation.

His hands, like skilled artists, glide down your back, tracing the curves of your shoulder blades with delicate precision. The sensation is exquisite, sending tingles cascading down your spine. His touch is a symphony of pleasure, each stroke orchestrating a chorus of sighs and gasps from your lips. And beneath it all, you feel the subtle rhythm of his dick pulsating against your ass, a silent melody of passion that dances in harmony with your own.

His hands continue their journey, traversing the landscape of your back with a tender firmness that speaks volumes of his skill. Each movement is deliberate, mapping out a path of relief along your ribcage and tracing the contours of your spine with an expert touch. It’s a paradox of strength and gentleness, his fingers like whispers against your skin, soothing away the knots of tension with practiced ease.

He positions himself lower, settling onto your thighs with a deliberate intent, his hands now gliding over the expanse of your lower back. The sensation is exquisite, each touch sending ripples of pleasure through your body, evoking a deep, primal response. A needy moan escapes your lips, punctuating the air with a symphony of desire, and you can feel the immediate response of his cock against your skin.

With a gentle tug, he eases the edge of your panties down slightly, allowing him better access to massage the curves of your ass. A deep, guttural groan of pleasure escapes you as his skilled hands work wonders on your body, each motion a symphony of blissful sensations. It’s an exquisite dance of touch and response, leaving you utterly captivated by the sheer intensity of his ministrations.

Fuck it feels so good.

“Do you like it?” He inquires, his voice laced with a playful edge that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s as if you can feel the warmth of his smile in his words, his teasing tone igniting a spark of anticipation within you.

“Fuck, yes,” you moan, feeling as though you’re melting into the sheets beneath you, every nerve ending alive with pleasure. A bead of sweat forms on your brow, mingling with the dampness of anticipation, as if your body can't contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

You think you’re drooling too, maybe from more than one place.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine, as he pulls your panties back up and shifts to sit beside you. His hands firmly grasp the curves of your ass, kneading with a skill that leaves you breathless. Every touch ignites a fire within you, a fierce longing that consumes your senses, driving you to the edge of desire with each caress.

His hands glide downward, tracing the contours of your thighs, down to your calves, and finally reaching your feet. With a gentle touch, he massages each toe, sending a delightful tingle through your body that elicits a soft, involuntary giggle from your lips.

“Turn around, love,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a playful tone, punctuated by a gentle spank on your ass.

You twist your body to face him, your nipples erect and inviting, a sight that elicits a tender smile from him. “You really like it, huh?” He chuckles, his eyes dancing with affection as you settle onto your back, eager for his touch once more.

He begins with your feet, cradling one in his hands and working his fingers expertly into the arch, easing away the day’s tension. Then, with the same care and attention, he turns to the other foot, his touch gentle yet firm, coaxing relaxation from every muscle.

With a feather-light touch, he glides his hands up your legs, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on your skin as if each stroke is a whispered promise of comfort and solace.

As his hands start to massage your hip with the gentlest of touches, eliciting a soft moan from your lips, you’re overwhelmed by the sheer bliss coursing through your body. Every caress feels like a blissful release, easing away the tension and leaving you floating in a sea of pleasure.

His hands ascend to your stomach, and a cascade of shivers dances across your skin, ignited by his tender touch. Each stroke feels imbued with love and affection, as if he’s painting delicate strokes of adoration upon your flesh. Despite the sensations, a soft giggle bubbles from within you, tickled by the intimacy and warmth enveloping you.

Anticipation tingles through every fiber of your being as you await the touch you yearn for, expecting his hands to caress your breasts next. Yet, to your surprise, they bypass that destination entirely, gliding over your arms instead. Confusion flickers across your face as you lock eyes with him, seeking answers in his mischievous smirk, which only deepens the mystery of his intentions.

His hands glide over your arms with expert precision, tracing the contours of your biceps and kneading your skin with a delicate touch, as if each stroke is an ode to the strength and grace you possess.

With a teasing glint in his eyes, he finally descends to the part where your desires lie most fervently – your breasts.

His touch is both tender and assertive as he cups your breasts, his fingers skillfully exploring every curve and contour, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

His voice is a husky whisper against your skin as he murmurs, “Love these,” before lavishing attention on your right breast with soft, tantalizing kisses, igniting a fire of desire within you.

You arch your back, a soft moan escaping your lips, as you instinctively press your body closer to his tantalizing touch, craving more of his affectionate caresses.

As he straddles you, his weight presses against you, a tantalizing pressure that sends a shiver down your spine. Beneath him, you feel the unmistakable warmth of his dick against your crotch, a delicious friction that ignites your senses. Despite his weight, he feels weightless in your embrace, each touch and movement a delicate dance of desire that leaves you yearning for more.

His hands, strong yet tender, caress your breasts with an intensity that leaves you breathless. With expert precision, his fingers trace tantalizing patterns over your sensitive nipples, coaxing them to stiff peaks that ache with desire. Each stroke sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, heightening every sensation until you’re consumed by a whirlwind of ecstasy.

As he pinches them gently, he observes with a hungered gaze as your expression twists in the throes of pleasure, your lips parting in a silent gasp as waves of sensation ripple through you.

“Jimin,” you murmur his name, a plea hanging in the air, laden with uncertainty and desire. In the turmoil of conflicting emotions, you’re unsure of your own wishes. The idea of sex during your period feels messy and uncertain, yet an undeniable need throbs within you, pulling you in conflicting directions.

“What do you want, love?” His voice, a whisper of warmth against your skin, carries the weight of anticipation, lingering on the edge of a kiss yet to come.

His breath, a tantalizing tease, caresses your skin, igniting a longing for his lips to meet yours in a fierce embrace. Frustration mounts as he hesitates, but you refuse to wait any longer. With a desperate pull, you seize his face, drawing him into a kiss overflowing with the depth of your affection.

He breaks away from your lips, his gaze fixated on your face, where a flicker of discomfort dances in your eyes, mingled with a hint of bewilderment.

“I’m torn, Jimin,” you confess, breaths coming in ragged pants, frustration lacing your tone. “I’m so turned on right now, but the thought of sex during my period... it just feels so messy.”

“Of course, my love,” Jimin responds with gentle understanding, his eyes reflecting his sincerity. “I completely understand, and I never intended to pressure you. All I want is to soothe your pain and make you feel comfortable.”

With a soft smile, you draw him closer, savoring the warmth of his embrace. Your lips meet in a tender kiss, a silent exchange of affection and understanding. As you break away, you meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love. “Can you just hold me?” you whisper, your voice a gentle plea, seeking solace in his comforting arms.

His touch traces the contours of your face, a gentle caress that ignites a flutter in your chest. From the bridge of your nose to the curve of your cheeks, his fingertips dance with a tender grace, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Finally, they come to rest at your lips.

“Of course,” he murmurs, his voice a soft caress against your ear as he settles behind you. With a gentle sweep, he tucks the duvet around your mostly bare form, cocooning you both in its warmth. Drawing you close, he molds his body to yours, fitting together like pieces of a perfect puzzle. His lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of featherlight kisses that send tingles down your spine.

You’re acutely aware of the fact that you’re both turned on right now, the magnetic pull drawing you closer with each breath. Despite the electric tension, there’s something undeniably comforting about the way he envelops you, his embrace a sanctuary from the outside world. As his warmth seeps into your skin, mingling with yours, you find yourself entertaining the idea of drifting off in his arms, the allure of intimacy lulling you into a tranquil embrace.

“Do you want to come with me for my wedding dress fitting appointment?” Your sister’s eyes sparkle with excitement as she delicately lifts her glass of water to her lips, anticipation dancing in the air between you both.

“Yeah, when is it?” You reply, a soft smile mirroring the excitement in her eyes. You can’t help but wonder why she hadn’t brought it up sooner, but you're thrilled she finally did.

“Right this moment, actually,” she chuckles, a playful glint in her eyes as she runs her fingers through her tousled brown curls.

You chuckle at her predictable spontaneity. It’s classic her, always deciding things at the eleventh hour. But you don’t mind, setting down your glass of water on the table. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s hit the road.”

Jessi sets her glass down, and together you stride out of the house toward the purple truck. You climb in, and Jessi takes the wheel, navigating you both into town. Along the way, she fills you in, explaining how she’s arranged an appointment with the local seamstress, boasting about her expertise. You nod, smiling at her enthusiasm, eager to witness your sister transformed in a wedding gown. Knowing Jessi’s usual aversion to dresses, you're curious to discover the style she’ll embrace for this momentous occasion.

After the familiar two-hour drive, Jessi expertly maneuvers the truck into a spot in front of the boutique. The quaint storefront beckons with its modest size, yet inside, a vibrant display of mannequins showcases an array of dresses. Among them, you spot wedding gowns, bridesmaid dresses, and elegant gala attire, each one whispering tales of dreams and celebrations.

As you step into the store, a delightful aroma envelops you, filling the air with its sweet fragrance. The atmosphere exudes warmth and comfort, instantly making you feel at home. A friendly lady approaches, her smile radiant as she offers her assistance.

“I have an appointment to try on wedding dresses,” announcing her appointment with a hint of excitement, your sister catches the store lady’s attention. With a nod of understanding, the lady graciously guides you both deeper into the boutique’s heart, where plush couches await, adorned in a regal hue of deep royal red, accented with elegant gold details. The ambiance is further elevated by the cream-white walls, instilling a sense of tranquility and serenity throughout the space.

“Please take a seat, and have some champagne,” the lady invites with a gentle gesture towards the inviting couches and the sparkling champagne flutes that beckon.

“I’m Hyorin and I’ll help you find the perfect dress for your wedding.” Her warm smile assures you of a journey filled with personalized attention and expert guidance in your quest for the gown of your dreams.

You both sink into the embrace of the lush couch, the rich fabric cradling you like a cloud of opulence. With glasses of champagne in hand, poured with Hyorin’s effortless grace, you take a drink of the champagne, its effervescence mirroring the excitement in the air.

“What kind of dress are you looking for?” Hyorin’s gaze beams with anticipation as she directs her question to your sister, her eyes aglow with genuine interest. Their golden hue, reminiscent of warm honey, adds a radiant charm to her already captivating presence. Her brown locks cascade gracefully over her shoulders, framing her face like a portrait, while her chic curtain bangs lend a touch of modern allure to her appearance.

“I would like something simple and elegant, but not too tight or princessy,” your sister’s voice carries a tone of understated sophistication as she articulates her desires for the perfect gown. Her words resonate with a refined taste, seeking simplicity intertwined with an effortless elegance. You find yourself nodding in agreement, not at all surprised by her choice, and a spontaneous chuckle escapes you, nearly causing you to choke on your champagne.

Jessi turns to you, her lips curved into a playful smile, teasingly prompting, “What’s got you chuckling over there?”

“I’m just not surprised,” you muse with a grin, raising the champagne glass to your lips for another sip.

Hyorin smiles warmly. “I’ll be right back with a few suggestions for you to try on. You can get ready in the dressing room,” she says, her voice filled with excitement for the dress-finding journey ahead.

As Hyorin strides towards the racks adorned with elegant wedding dresses, Jessi rises gracefully, disappearing into one of the changing rooms. Left alone, you sink deeper into the plush cushions of the couch, anticipation tingling in the air like champagne bubbles.

Hyorin returns, a vision of grace carrying three dresses like treasures from a bridal chest. Each gown, pristine white with delicate lace accents, exudes an aura of simplicity, elegance, and sheer beauty.

“I’ve curated a selection for you to consider,” Hyorin announces, presenting the trio of dresses to your sister as though unveiling treasures from a sacred bridal trove.

“Thank you,” Jessi responds graciously, snatching the dresses and whisking them into her dressing chamber, eager to unveil their potential allure.

With a flourish, she parts the curtain, revealing the first gown: a sweeping masterpiece. Its neckline plunges daringly, yet tastefully, inviting a glimpse of allure. Sleeveless, it caresses her curves with a perfect fit, offering both elegance and freedom of movement.

Your sister beams at you, her eyes alight with anticipation, as she gracefully lifts the skirt, revealing its fluid movement. “Well?” she prompts, her excitement palpable in the air.

“I think you look absolutely stunning,” you remark with a smile, admiring her from every angle. “But I’m curious to see how the other dresses compare,” you add, eager to explore the options further.

As she emerges from the dressing room, a new silhouette adorns her figure, this one an elegant a-line rather than the previous mermaid style. Yet, it’s adorned with subtle sparkles that catch the light, casting a magical glow around her. Observing her in the dress, you can’t help but wonder if the shimmer aligns with Jessi’s taste. She turns gracefully, the long sleeves adding a touch of sophistication to the ensemble.

Hyorin interjects, her voice tinged with anticipation, “How about this one? Does it speak to you?”

Jessi gazes at her reflection, her eyes lingering on the gown's shimmering embellishments. “The sparkles aren’t my thing,” she muses, “but I adore how the skirt flows—it’s not overly poufy, but just the right amount of volume for movement.”

Hyorin nods in understanding as Jessi retreats into the fitting room to slip into the third gown. The fabric is adorned with delicate lace, and as Jessi emerges, you notice the skirt’s voluminous size doesn’t quite match her liking.

“I’m not sold on the skirt of this one, but the top is lovely. Plus, I don’t mind flaunting a bit of cleavage,” she remarks, gracefully twirling in the dress.

Hyorin nods understandingly, collecting the three dresses from Jessi before gliding across the store to hunt for the next contender.

You rise from the plush couch, a glint of determination in your eyes. “I’ll scout out another option for you to try, sounds good?”

Jessi shoots you a thumbs-up from the dressing rooms, and you set off on your exploration of the boutique. Rows of stunning dresses greet you, each whispering its own tale of elegance and romance. Lost in the sea of bridal dreams, you ponder what you might choose for your own wedding someday, if fate allows. Amidst the glitter and sparkle, something catches your eye, beckoning you like a hidden treasure waiting to be discovered.

You delicately pluck the dress from the rack, and instantly, you’re captivated. An ivory masterpiece unfolds before you, its allure undeniable. The neckline plunges daringly, yet a sheer nude fabric veils it with a touch of modesty. Long, lace-adorned sleeves promise both grace and breathability, while the bodice, adorned with intricate lace, exudes charm. With its lace-up back, the dress offers a timeless elegance, reminiscent of fairy tales and romance. The A-line silhouette, though not voluminous, carries a subtle flow, enhanced by the delicate lace fabric of the skirt. As you hold it, you can’t shake the feeling that this is the one—the dress that encapsulates your sister’s dreams and desires.

You cradle the dress in your arms, feeling its weight as if holding a treasure. With each step, anticipation swells within you, a silent prayer that this gown may be the key to your sister’s bridal bliss. Approaching Jessi, you extend the dress to her with a gentle urgency, a silent plea echoing in your eyes. “Try this on, Jess,” you urge, your voice a whisper filled with hope and excitement.

Hyorin glides over to you, her hands cradling two delicate dresses like precious secrets. With a graceful flourish, she presents them to Jessi, a silent invitation to discover the magic within. As Jessi disappears behind the dressing room curtain, anticipation hangs thick in the air, each passing moment pregnant with possibility. You exchange a glance with Hyorin, sharing in the silent anticipation of witnessing Jessi’s transformation.

As Jessi parts the curtain, her radiant smile bursts forth like sunshine breaking through clouds. In the shimmering gown you discovered, she spins with effortless grace, a vision of confidence and joy.

“What do you think?” She beams, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, awaiting your verdict on her newfound elegance.

“Absolutely stunning! Jungkook won’t know what hit him,” you exclaim, your voice brimming with excitement and admiration. The dress envelops Jessi like a dream, affirming your belief that it’s the perfect choice for her special day.

“I feel incredible in it, but I doubt he’ll be able to keep his hands off me, he’ll probably just want to rip the dress off my body,” she chuckles, her laughter infectious as it fills the room. You can’t help but join in, the joy of the moment contagious, even Hyorin finds herself laughing along with you both.

“I don’t care what he does, that dress was made for you,” you affirm with conviction, your admiration for your sister evident in your voice. Damn, she looks stunning.

“This is the one,” Jessi declares with a radiant smile, her joy palpable as she moves gracefully in the dress, completely at ease.

As the morning light pours in, casting a golden glow over everything, it feels like the perfect day. The air is crisp, the sun’s warmth wraps around her like a comforting embrace, and the sweet melodies of birdsong serenade her every step. Each footfall is buoyant, as if she’s walking on air, filled with anticipation for the days ahead. Her heart beats with excitement, knowing that her big day is drawing near, and she can hardly contain her joy.

She revels in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence, cherishing every moment spent in his company. Witnessing her sister’s radiant happiness with Jimin fills her with a profound warmth. Never before has she seen Jimin so utterly content in a relationship, and it melts her heart to witness their love blossoming. Everywhere she looks, love seems to weave its enchanting tapestry, wrapping her in its gentle embrace. In this moment, surrounded by love and joy, she feels an overwhelming gratitude for having everything she’s ever wished for and more.

Jessi dances through the halls of Jungkook’s home, her joy infectious and her spirit light. As she twirls amidst the familiar surroundings, she can’t help but entertain the thought that maybe Jimin might summon the courage to take the next step and propose to her sister. The idea has been floating around her mind for some time now, especially knowing that Jimin has been holding onto an engagement ring, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to pop the question.

Since you accompanied her to her dress fitting, Jessi couldn’t help but notice the unmistakable look of devotion in your eyes, a silent declaration of your readiness and unwavering commitment to Jimin. But now, she finds herself pondering a question that weighs heavily on her mind: how can she nudge Jimin towards proposing to you, or maybe even inspire you to take the leap and propose to him? Tradition and conventions hold little sway over her; all she desires is to witness the radiant joy of her beloved family as they step into a future filled with happiness and love.

With an infectious energy pulsating through her veins, she sways to an imaginary melody in the kitchen, her movements a symphony of anticipation. Suddenly, the distant hum of tires against gravel draws her attention, and she rushes to the window, her curiosity piqued. Through the glass, she spots an unfamiliar vehicle winding its way up the driveway, sparking her intrigue even further.

Eager to welcome the visitor, she strides outside, her smile radiant with warmth. But as her gaze falls upon the sleek, crimson sports car, a sudden chill washes over her, like a shadow eclipsing the sun. With a sharp intake of breath, she senses a storm of emotions brewing within, a tempest of memories stirring to life. That scarlet vehicle triggers a cascade of recollections, each fragment dancing on the periphery of her mind, teasing her with familiarity. Where had she seen it before?

Despite the heavy weight pressing upon her, both in her heart and on her shoulders, she continues to move forward, each step an arduous journey. Every footfall feels like an uphill battle, as if gravity itself conspires against her progress. Yet, propelled by a mix of curiosity and apprehension, she persists, determined to confront whatever awaits her at the end of this daunting path.

With each inch the car draws nearer, her memories awaken like a dormant beast, stirring from its slumber. Images of the past flood her mind, each one a jagged piece of a puzzle she never wanted to solve. The car’s color triggers a cascade of recollections, transporting her back to the day of the accident, a day etched in pain and regret. As the truth dawns on her, fury simmers within her veins, boiling over like a tempest unleashed. Her fists ball up, knuckles whitening, while her teeth grind together in a symphony of anger and anguish, a bitter melody echoing the depths of her soul.

Vividly etched in her memory is the sight of that crimson car careening onto the wrong side of the road, a reckless intruder in her world of order. She recalls the split-second decision, the desperate swerve to avoid a collision, the sensation of losing control as her vehicle skidded off course, hurtling towards an unforgiving embrace with destiny—a collision with a tree that shattered her sense of safety and left her broken, physically and emotionally.

The car grinds to a halt, and her muscles tense with a mixture of apprehension and frustration, her arms folding protectively across her chest, a silent barrier against whatever or whoever emerges from that ominous vehicle. With each passing second, impatience brews within her, a fervent desire for the intrusive presence to vanish, to leave her to the serenity of her solitude. She fixates on the car’s door, her gaze an unyielding challenge, daring the unknown occupant to unveil themselves and confront the consequences of their intrusion.

The silence stretches taut as the stranger emerges, his movements deliberate, almost calculated, as if he’s orchestrating a grand entrance. With a polished precision, he plants his first foot onto the ground, clad in sleek, designer shoes that exude opulence—a stark contrast to her indifference, maybe even disdain, for such material extravagance. She suppresses a scoff, her lip curling with distaste, a silent protest against the superficiality that seems to accompany him.

As the man steps fully out of the car, his gaze sweeps the surroundings before settling on Jessi. Her expression remains stern, a subtle furrow forming between her brows, her lips pressed into a thin line betraying her impatience. One foot taps rhythmically against the earth, a silent declaration of her readiness for the stranger to break the silence enveloping them.

As the stranger remains silent, Jessi takes a moment to size him up. True to her initial assessment, is a city slicker; his brown hair meticulously styled with gel, giving him a sophisticated yet laid-back appearance. His heart-shaped face boasts a pointed nose and sharp eyes that seem to miss nothing. Clad in a loose silk shirt tucked into sleek black dress pants, he stands out amidst the rustic surroundings with an air of effortless elegance. Feeling the weight of his silence, Jessi clears her throat, a subtle signal to draw his attention.

“Some balls you have,” she begins, her voice laced with the simmering anger that clouds her thoughts and judgment.

His expression twists into confusion, but she can feel the heat rising within her, pushing her to raise her voice at him.

“Get out of here!” Her voice reverberates, echoing the anger pulsating through her, each word a thunderclap demanding his departure.

As footsteps and doors creak open behind her, you, Jungkook, and Jimin approach her, enveloping her in a protective circle. Your arms wrap around her, seeking answers to her distress, but Jessi’s vision blurs with rage, seeing nothing but crimson swirling before her eyes.

“He’s the one who caused my accident,” Jessi’s voice cuts through the tension, still charged with anger as she jabs her finger accusingly at the stranger.

You turn to gaze between your sister and the stranger, a surge of disbelief coursing through you. Suddenly, everything clicks into place, and you realize why your sister trembles in your embrace, her fury palpable.

Jungkook and Jimin move protectively in front of you, their gaze fixed firmly on the stranger standing before you. Jungkook takes the lead, his voice firm with an undercurrent of caution. “Who are you?”

The stranger clears his throat, his demeanor cautious yet oddly composed. “My name is Taehyung, and I’m—”

His words come out in a low, rumbling growl, cutting off Taehyung’s attempt to speak further. “Are you the one responsible for her accident?”

Taehyung’s gaze drops to the ground, his expression clouded with a hint of remorse, his hands retreating into his pockets.

“I’m sorry. Yeah, I am,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with regret, his eyes flitting nervously among all of you, unable to meet any one gaze.

Your sister hisses, her fists clenching again, and you can feel the tension vibrating through her, a palpable desire to break free from your hold and maybe slap some sense into the man, but you cling to her tightly, refusing to let her go.

Jimin’s voice cuts through the tension, his gaze assessing Taehyung from head to toe. “What are you doing here?”

Taehyung shifts uncomfortably, his laughter tinged with nervousness as he kicks at the dirt, his hand absently smoothing his sleek hair, disrupting its neatly styled appearance.

“I came to speak to my family,” he murmurs, his gaze sharpening once more, a flicker of resolve crossing his features as he braces himself for your response.

“Then you came to the wrong place, mate,” Jungkook utters through clenched teeth, his voice laced with simmering anger, though beneath the surface, you sense his effort to maintain composure.

You don’t know what Taehyung means by speaking to his family; none of you know him, and he’s certainly not part of your family.

“I’m your brother,” Taehyung says, his voice carrying an unexpected calmness that sends a ripple of disbelief through the air. Your eyes widen in shock. How can he remain so composed amidst such a damning accusation? You turn your head to glimpse your sister’s reaction; her eyes mirror your incredulity. Glancing at the others, you notice Jungkook and Jimin standing frozen, their expressions a mixture of confusion and surprise.

As the weight of Taehyung’s revelation settles in, you release your grip on your sister and stride towards Jimin, while Jessi gravitates towards Jungkook, seeking solace in his embrace. Together, the four of you stand, an image of disbelief and confusion. What is the meaning of this?

Taehyung’s gaze shifts between Jimin and Jungkook, his expression a blend of hurt and confusion, his eyes reflecting a deep-seated disappointment or maybe sadness. “You didn’t know?” he ventures, his voice tinged with an undertone of caution, as if unsure of how his revelation will be received.

You sense Jimin’s body tensing within your embrace, his muscles coiling like tightly wound springs as he grapples with the sudden influx of information. His fists clench, knuckles whitening with the intensity of his emotions, a silent storm raging within him.

“I don’t believe you,” Jungkook hisses back, his voice tight with tension, his fists clenched at his sides like coiled springs ready to release. “Our parents never told us anything of the sorts.”

Taehyung simply nods, his expression pained yet resolute. “Well, my mom recently told me about you and my father—our shared father.”

Both Jimin and Jungkook scoff, disbelief etched on their faces, their eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Dad would have told us,” Jimin’s voice is strained, his attempt at composure evident in the way he clenches his jaw. You reach out, soothingly tracing your hand up and down his arm, feeling the tension coiled within his muscles. With your other hand, you firmly grasp his hand, anchoring him in the moment.

“Are you sure? Seems like the guy got around a lot,” he remarks casually, shrugging his shoulders. Beside you, you notice both Jungkook and Jimin flinching at his words, their expressions betraying a mix of disbelief and discomfort.

“You,” Jungkook seethes, his voice edged with barely contained fury. From the corner of your eye, you see him attempting to break free from your sister’s grasp, but she holds onto him firmly, refusing to let him go.

“I can prove that I’m your sibling with a DNA test,” he states casually, his demeanor unsettlingly composed. You can’t fathom how he can maintain such calmness amidst this chaos. Doubt creeps into your mind, questioning his intentions. What does he seek from the guys? Money, maybe?

You can feel Jimin’s heartbeat against your chest, a rhythmic drumbeat echoing his uncertainty. He clears his throat, his voice edged with skepticism, “Then come back with proof. Because we don’t believe you.”

Taehyung nods, his demeanor nonchalant, “I just need some DNA from you and I’ll be on my merry way.”

It feels like a scene ripped straight from a surreal drama as Taehyung produces a small plastic bag, and both Jimin and Jungkook pluck out a hair from their heads, handing it to Taehyung with a mix of reluctance and defiance. Their expressions betray a cocktail of emotions, but it’s clear they’re doing it more out of defiance than genuine cooperation. Taehyung calmly plucks a piece of hair from his own head.

“Thank you,” he says with a pleased smile, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he waves before disappearing into the sleek red car. With a smooth maneuver, he gets behind the wheel and drives off, leaving behind a cloud of uncertainty and a lingering sense of unease in the air.

You all hold your breath, a tense silence enveloping the group as his car disappears into the distance, leaving nothing but a swirling cloud of dust in its wake.

“What a douche,” Jungkook’s voice seethes with a mix of anger and exhaustion, his words heavy with disbelief and frustration. “I really hope he isn’t our brother.”

Jimin turns towards you, his expression a blend of confusion and desperation as he seeks reassurance in your eyes, silently pleading for answers you’re not sure you can provide at this moment. Nevertheless, you envelop him in a tight hug, hoping your embrace can convey the support and comfort he needs.

You offer a soothing rub to his back, your touch a reassuring anchor amidst the swirling uncertainty. “That was so weird. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this. What could he possibly want?”

Jimin’s warm breath against your neck sends a shiver down your spine, and you hold him tighter for a moment, finding solace in each other’s presence. As he pulls away, uncertainty lingers in his voice. “Yeah. I don’t know if I like this.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, offering a reassuring squeeze. “I’m here for you, Jimin. Whatever comes our way, we’ll face it together.”

You find yourselves immersed in a search through old papers and documents together, scouring for any hint of a connection from the guys to Taehyung. The disbelief hangs heavy in the air, and you empathize with their skepticism. It’s like watching their world tilt on its axis, leaving them grappling with uncertainty and confusion.

Despite days spent sifting through mountains of old documents, the evidence of Jimin and Jungkook having a brother remains elusive. The mystery hangs heavy in the air, fueling speculation and unease. You engage in discussions, contemplating the possibility that Taehyung may be orchestrating some sort of scheme.

As anticipated, Taehyung fulfills his promise, returning a few days later, his sleek red car gliding into the driveway. With a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, you and the others step outside to confront him once again.

Taehyung emerges from his car, exuding the same impeccable style as before, his attire as refined as his demeanor. A confident smile graces his lips as he approaches, clutching a piece of paper in his hand, his eyes glinting with a sense of purpose.

He strides purposefully toward Jimin, extending the paper with a determined yet enigmatic air. “Proof,” he states simply, his gaze locked onto Jimin’s, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

You position yourself behind your boyfriend, stretching on tiptoe to catch a glimpse over his shoulder, eager to discern the contents of the document. As your eyes sweep across the page, there it is— the undeniable confirmation, the positive result staring back at you, setting your heart racing with a mix of astonishment and disbelief.

Frustration and disbelief surge through you. You can hardly fathom it. Without a word, Jimin passes the paper to his brother, his silence a testament to the tumult raging within him as he grapples with the sudden upheaval of his reality. In a bid to anchor him amidst the storm, you envelop him in a reassuring embrace, feeling the weight of his uncertainty and turmoil pressing against you.

Jungkook’s gaze flicks over the document, his features contorted in a mixture of skepticism and disdain. “You may share our blood,” he begins, his voice edged with a steely resolve, “but you’re no brother of mine.”

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

Remember the Q&A that is coming in the Epilogue— if you want to send in some questions for the characters, you can do it now (and later too) → Ask the characters (or me), anything ❣️

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#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #my heart's home series #reader: female #au: cowboy #au: ranch #au: soulmates #au: childhood friends #au: friends to lovers #au: slice of life #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: romcom #vibe: angst #vibe: fluffy

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frannyzooey · 1 year

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In The Dark: Epilogue

Pairing: Ezra x f!reader

Rating: None

A/N: We are finally at the end of this story - thank you to every single person who read it, who supported it, who sent in asks or reblogged or liked or lurked. I couldn’t have done it without you all. Dedications at the end, along with some bonus extras. Thank you all so very much - I love you, and Happy New Year!

Series Masterlist

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

“So, how is the new place going?” You rest your cheek on your knee, smiling at the immediate change in her expression on your screen. Your dorm room is behind you, warm and cozy in contrast to the starkness of her bedroom.

“It’s okay,” Cee says. “It’s still kinda weird, ya know? Living with different people?” She shrugs, resting her chin in her hand. “It’s kinda cool, since they’re my own age and sometimes we have these amazing parties and there is this girl who is moving in next week who I am totally eyeing, but also the extra chores suck? No one ever does their dishes around here.”

You nod in sympathy, having been in that situation before.

“I feel like it’s not that hard?” she continues, and you laugh.

“It’s really not. How is that new class coming?”

Rolling her eyes, she launches into detail about her writing professor and the pain of her weekly workshop group and you feel a pang of longing to experience those things with her, so you could truly commensurate. Not that you couldn’t, since you were going through those specific pains in your own program right now, but it was different then - when you were going through it together.

“Anyway, it’ll get better. I don’t wanna talk about it though.” She sits back, piling her fine blond hair on top of her head in a bun cupped by her hands for a moment, before letting it drop. “Tell me about next week. What are you doing again? How long are you off for?”

“Two weeks.” Just saying the words out loud makes you grin in relish, an eagerness for it to begin coming through in the dreamy tone of your voice. “I wanna see all the cheesy tourist spots for sure, but I am literally itching to get into some of those bookstores. And the museums, definitely those. And oh my god, the food.”

Shoreditch had all of these things and you had slowly been exploring them, but the vastness of London had been calling to you. Your workload too heavy to explore the way you’ve wanted to, you’ve been earmarking various spots for months and now that your break is finally here, you feel like you can truly tour around. And also look up from the screen of your laptop for a change - that would be nice.

You let out an aching groan of pleasure at the thought and she smiles on the screen.

“After that, I don’t know? Don’t laugh, but I kinda wanna rent a car and drive to Cornwall? Don’t ask me about navigating while driving on the other side of the road because I don’t have an answer for you, but the views are supposed to be gorgeous and……”

“Poldark,” you both say at the same time, dissolving into giggles.

“God he’s gorgeous. I mean, I know he’s not there, but I’ll be able to sense him. I just know it.”

She sips her tea on her side of the screen while you list off the rest of your itinerary: Persephone Books, for their quaint, romantic store front and unique events, Dishoom for a bacon naan roll and to feel like you’ve stepped back into time into 1940’s Bombay, The London Eye to get some pictures, but first Gloria: a restaurant by your new place that you’ve been dying to try. You just knew the pictures online wouldn’t do it justice; the opulent, busy, lush setting of rich carpets and mirror paneled walls and greenery climbing down from the ceiling like sparkling, light strung ivy at the top of your wishlist.

Eventually, your stifled yawns interrupt your spoken dreams, and she finishes her tea, stretching in her perch on her chair. She glances at the time in the corner of her screen and frowns.

“Yikes, it’s gotta be so late there for you. You better get some sleep, so you’re not exhausted in the morning..”

You mirror her stretch, nodding. “Yea, I still gotta finish packing.”

She leans closer to the screen, a look of affection stealing across her delicate features.

“Well make sure you take a bunch of pictures, okay? I wanna see everything you’re seeing. Send me the view from the Eye on Snapchat or something and if you go see those guards, take a selfie with one of them just for me.”

You laugh, assuring her that you will and when you say your goodbyes and hang up, a smile lingers on your face. Just like her to ask for something weird like that.

Standing, you close your laptop and leave it on your desk, walking over to your bed. The layout of your new place is tighter than the last; student housing always a bit cramped. You’ve never minded close quarters, liking the overall coziness it forces and resting your hand on the corner of a small bookshelf that already has a substantial collection growing on it, you crack the window, letting street sounds waft in on the night air.

Changing into your pajamas, you switch out the light while yawning yet again and checking your alarm is set, you crawl into bed. Opening your white noise app, you select “city sounds” and closing your eyes, quickly fall asleep.

–

Anticipation wakes you early, and similar to New York City, Shoreditch is alive with people already when you leave your flat. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, you slip into the crowd, making your way to the tube and as you walk, you run through a mental checklist of everything you want to do today, so as to not waste one minute.

Not quite as many people on these streets as there had been in the city, the sights and sounds were so similar it was comforting: brightly scrawled murals over aged brick, trendy restaurants tucked into small store fronts, young people walking effortlessly down the sidewalk with their faces buried in their phones. Spotting the iconic circular sign that gave you a thrill when you saw it for the first time, you made your way down the damp stairwell, following the crowd to the platform. Getting on your train, you find a seat by the window and digging in your bag, you fish your earbuds and pull up a playlist, relaxing into your seat.

The steady, smooth rock of the train as it pulls away from the station comforts you, reminding you of home after all this time. The transit systems are similar, the people that ride them even more so and watching scenery pass by, you think about your first time navigating The Underground. The thought, and the events planned for this morning, bring forth other memories.

Your first night crawling into your new bed: slipping on the shirt he tucked into your bag, the longing for your apartment and all its familiar noises was a real, tangible ache in your chest. The ache for him was felt even deeper, the image of his face as he said goodbye only ten hours old and fresh in your mind at that point. A few tears slipped free into that new pillow of yours; the first of what would be many more.

Your first weeks navigating your new surroundings: testing out the transit, finding your new travel paths, exploring the restaurants within walking distance.

The nervous hesitation you felt when sharing in your new workshop for the first time, the tiny tables in new restaurants where you sat alone on your computer, your delight at the discovery of East African food.

Tea: something you never came around to. By your measure, it had nothing on coffee and for weeks, you would have killed for a latte from your favorite place, with a dash of cinnamon on the top.

All the while, you had missed him.

Your new surroundings had been seen through Ezra tinted glasses; a wash of him over everything you saw. Everything reminded you of him: the antique shop on the corner, the Persian restaurant you passed while walking to class, every bookstore or record shop or furniture gallery or men’s clothing shop or every dark haired man, your eyes searching for his confident gait everywhere.

At first, it was so intense you couldn’t hardly breathe, but with time, it lessened. Friends, routine, school, new experiences, dinners, parties. You still thought of him often, but it was no longer the crushing weight of a wave forcing you under. With each new day that passed, the waves calmed more and more; overwhelming, then bearable, then ripples that came and went.

Cee had eventually come around, writing you an email about your letter about a month after you left. When you replied, she replied back and it slowly evolved into more emails and then texts and then FaceTime, on your computer at night. She had reached out to you for writing advice, wanting your opinion on something she was going to turn in and it was like her story was an olive branch — which was fitting, for two people who first bonded over the words scribbled in her notebook.

The two of you never had a formal discussion about what happened, but rather an acknowledgment through email about the roles you each played. Understanding that sometimes it was easier to talk about difficult things through writing versus speaking them out loud, you were thankful for it. She needed time to think about it, which you gave her, and in the end, she forgave you.

Still, you never spoke directly about Ezra if you could help it.

Four months into your new surroundings, you had just walked in the door after a late night library session when your phone buzzed in your bag. Pulling it out, the sight of his name on your screen made you freeze. You can still feel the heat you felt, your heart picking up as you hesitantly tamped down the excitement that immediately rose in your chest and when you answered it, he could hear it all in your voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Birdie.”

He said those two words, letting the silence hang for a moment and you were immediately back in your apartment, the memory of when he used to call felt so strongly you shut your eyes.

He had been drunk and lonely, missing you. Trying so hard to keep his distance for your sake, he finally caved and called; his low, husky voice sleepy and quiet through the phone, but warm with affection. You talked to him for a long time: about the city, about your program, about what he had been up to. When it came time to hang up, he asked if he could call you again and when you said yes, you could hear the smile in his voice when he said goodbye.

He did call you after that, and you stayed in touch a lot. It wasn’t as intense as it was before — no phone call every night before bed, no FaceTime videos, no partially undressed photos — but rather an easy intimacy between two really good friends. Ones who knew each other inside out, and had fond memories of the time they’d shared together.

Not to say that you didn’t get yourself off to the thought of him still, after all this time.

You tried going out and meeting people, tried going home with someone a few times but after you slipped back into your clothes and made your way home, you never felt that longing to be back in their bed and in their arms the way you always felt with him. Eventually, you stopped trying and just focused on school.

The train slows and pulls into King’s Cross, and you rise from your seat, waiting your turn to alight. Stepping off, you make your way to the escalators and a sort of nervous anticipation thrums wildly through your veins, making your limbs jittery. You try to take a calming breath, checking the time on your phone - your train running a few minutes behind, you hope you’re not too late.

Finally stepping into the atrium, light floods the space. People are everywhere: gathered in clusters as they check maps in their hand with suitcases and backpacks at their feet, business people walking briskly around and between them, travelers and students and children and shop vendors; the murmur of the collective crowd a loud one. Your heart beats faster in your chest, your eyes scanning the room and they land on one person after another, trying to keep track as they move. A bright flash of yellow there, a brown mop of curls there and suddenly, you see him.

The familiar breadth of his shoulders faces you, a backpack that you’ve never seen before only serving to make him look broader. For how long it’s been since you’ve seen the nape of his neck, you’d recognize his stance anywhere and you simultaneously want to stand there for a moment and admire him from afar, while also fighting the urge to run.

Not being able to help moving automatically in his direction, when he turns and his gaze catches yours, he grins and you feel a sudden wave of emotion so strong you want to cry. He looks just the same - the unruly dark curls, the crumpled cotton t-shirt even more so from traveling, the face you know so well and that dimple. It had only just started to fade from your memory, and the sight of it makes your heart burst.

“Hey, Birdie,” he smiles when you reach him, opening his arms and you step right into them, like no time has passed.

So solid, so strong, so affirming in his touch - your hello is muffled against his shoulder as you breathe in the familiar musk of his warm skin and when you pull back, you can already see the possibilities of these next two weeks in his warm, albeit travel worn smile: his laughter in a dimly lit restaurant, the weight of his arm across your shoulders when he pulls you in for a selfie, his profile as you drive through the country, the firm slide of his skin against yours every one of those nights.

He looks like he wants to kiss you and your mouth longs for the same, but you both stand still, savoring the beat of anticipation; the crowd moving around you.

“You ready?” you ask, lacing your fingers with his.

He tightens his hold, grinning.

“Ready.”

The End

Bonus: Birdie’s Travel Pictures

I have so many people I want to thank for this story:

@mourningbirds1, first and foremost, who sat with me through every single one of these chapters and who is the world’s best and most patient teacher. You made my writing better with every single soothing message you sent, every comment you left on the document, every lesson you taught me in your kind and patient way. This story wouldn’t be nearly what it is without you, nor would I have had the courage to tackle it in the first place without your constant validation and support and I love you so very, very much. Having one of your favorite writers as a mentor is the literal dream come true, and you did that for me. <3

@krissology and @charnelhouse - without our group chat and your constant support, I wouldn’t have made it through this. You both inspire me in so many ways every single day, and you’re always there when I need to rant, vent, work out a plot line, hash out an idea, and I am so grateful to have both of you in my life. I love you <3

@highsviolets @imaswellkid @dazedrhapsody and @psychedelic-ink - thank you so so much for your constant enthusiasm and your magnificent playlists for this story. They inspired me in so many ways - a number of scenes in this story were directly inspired by your songs, dreamt of while I was working or driving, and I am forever thankful for you sharing them with me. They are beautiful, just like you all. I love you <3

To anyone that made art, to anyone that sent me a message, to anyone who was patient and kind and validating while I tried to take my time and try new things and grow - thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you all, and this community. I love you <3

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #pedro pascal

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wisdomssdaughterr · 2 months

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PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX → THE SNOWBALL

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 3.7k || masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

a/n: a little double update for you all on this fine saturday. steve and sunshine are confirmed to be the cutest (I may be a little biased). and we only have one chapter left until season 3! thank you all for reading <3

Inside a little cabin, tucked away in the woods, three children hid from the prying eyes of anyone who lingered from their past. But, for one night, they were allowed to venture beyond the tree line. The cabin was live with the smell of cotton candy perfume, streaks of pink and blue eyeshadow, a quick tutorial on how to tie a tie, and soft music from old records.

Sunshine sat on the edge of El’s bed and rubbed blush across the younger girl’s cheeks. She didn’t know what she was doing exactly, but she had watched her mother do her makeup a few times.

“Okay,” she said. “You’re all done.”

Standing up, Sunshine took extra care to check her dress for any rouge makeup smudges. She ran her hands along the velvet fabric, smiling to herself. The dark blue dress had once belonged to her mom but had been packed away in the attic for years. It was beautiful, and her mom was excited for Sunshine to wear it to her first school dance. The skirt fell just below her knees, it had flowy long sleeves, and the entire thing was covered in little golden stars that glittered in the light. Her mom had pulled back her hair with golden pins, and Sunshine did her makeup as practice before doing El and Leia’s.

The girls spun around their room in the dresses Hopper and Joyce had picked out, excitedly chattering about the dance in preparation.

A knock came from the doorframe, and Luke peeked his head inside. “Sunshine, can I talk to you for a second?”

Sunshine let the girls finish getting ready as she stepped out into the living room with Luke. The place was a comfortable mess of things that kept the kids occupied while they spent the majority of their time in the cabin, with frequent visits from the party. Coloring books, paints, comic books, rented movies, and newer records were all scattered around in a sweet chaos.

Luke was dressed for the dance as well, in a pair of slacks and a polka-dot button-up shirt. Hopper even dug out one of his old ties for him. Sunshine couldn’t believe how grown up the twins looked. It still shocked her, even after the couple of weeks she had been spending with them getting reacquainted. Their buzzcuts had long grown out. Luke kept his curls on the shorter side and Leia reached just below her shoulder blades. They both were tall, almost as tall as Sunshine; she feared by the end of next summer, all of the kids would be taller than her. But above everything, they looked happy and healthy, and that was all she could ever ask for.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Luke asked with a curious scrunch of his nose.

“You look grown up, that’s all.”

Luke smiled for a moment before a sigh slipped from his lips and he slumped down onto the couch. “Do you remember when we were trying to get out of tunnels?” Sunshine had tried to avoid thinking about that night, but she knew that was impossible. She didn’t expect that to be Luke’s mind, though, not at that moment, anyway. She nodded and let him continue. “And do you remember how, when we were climbing out, I grabbed Max’s hand?”

She had forgotten about that part. In the whirlwind of things, her memories bled together a little too well. “You saw something, didn’t you?” When he had any skin-to-skin contact with someone, he was forced to see their future. Sometimes there was nothing major, but other times Luke saw something that would haunt him.

“I saw a lot of things,” Luke said with a frown that brought an air of unease around them. “It was just a lot of colors. First, there was this bright light, blinding almost. Then, it was dark, so dark it felt suffocating. The feeling of the darkness, it stayed but the vision turned red. It was like it was dripping into the darkness, slowly at first, then everything became red and filled with screams from…from someone, but I couldn’t see anyone there, not even Max. I didn’t like how it felt, Sunshine. I’ve never felt anything like that before. It was awful and heavy, really heavy. Whatever it is it’s not good.”

Sunshine chewed down on her lower lip, thinking for a moment. It was Max they were talking about. She had some trouble in her life, but she was surrounded by people who cared for her. It couldn’t be something they couldn’t handle. The Gate was closed and their Upside-Down troubles behind them.

“Did you tell Max anything?”

“No. Ivy used to say it’s better if people don’t know their future.”

Ivy’s name caught Sunshine off guard. She braced herself, curling her fingernails into her palms. She didn’t know when hearing Ivy’s name aloud would stop causing her pain and grief.

“She did?” It didn’t line up with the last conversation Sunshine recalled Luke and Ivy having, where she demanded to know what Luke saw in his vision after he touched Sunshine’s arm.

Luke met her eyes. “Yeah, after I told her what I saw in yours.”

A dull pain came from her palms as she dug her nails into them a little harder. “Oh,” she muttered. She probably didn’t want to know what awaited her. Maybe it was different now that she was out of the Lab. She had a new life in Hawkins, maybe Luke’s original vision didn’t account for that.

Luke helped ease her fears. “It’s not for sure going to happen, any of it,” he said. “There’s always a chance something you did changed the outcome. But with Max…I don’t know. I can’t get it out of my head. But I know there’s nothing we can really do. It just sucks.”

That was another thing about Luke’s abilities, he could see the future, but he was never guaranteed to change it. You couldn’t do anything until the moment was upon them.

“All we can do right now is keep an eye on things, right?” She rolled her shoulders back and flexed her fingers. She didn’t like to show the kids her worry when she was supposed to be the older sister they came to and relied on. “We’ll look out for Max, make sure she’s okay.” Maybe that would be enough.

“Okay. I think we can do that.” Luke held up his hands in front of his face and sighed. “I think I can be a normal, non-future-seer for one night. But it’s gonna be hard if I have to make sure I don’t touch anyone while I’m there.”

“We have that covered!” Leia's voice shot through the living room as she and El slipped out of their bedroom. There was a glossy smile on their lips and sweet ballet flats on their feet. “Gloves!” She presented a pair of gloves dramatically to her brother. They were simple, black gloves that matched Luke’s slacks and shiny dress shoes.

He took them carefully from her hands and looked them over. “Isn’t that weird? Aren’t people going to think I’m weird if I’m wearing gloves indoors?”

“Who cares what anyone thinks of you,” Sunshine said. “You all deserve a fun night. So, put on the gloves and dance with your friends, okay?”

“Yeah! And if anyone says anything nasty, I’ll shock ‘em,” Leia offered, wiggling her fingers and making the living room lights flicker.

Their plan was swiftly shut down by Hopper, who entered the room with a shake of his head. “No. None of that in public; you know the rules.” He sounded tired, but a good tired. He wasn’t exhausted from keeping the town afloat and hiding his pocket full of secrets. Instead, he was a tired dad to three superpowered children who kept him on his toes.

Sunshine had a moment, a couple of days after the Gate was closed, where her anger at Hopper exploded when she came to visit the kids at the cabin. Her emotions got the better of her, and being lied to for nearly a year didn’t sit well with her. It felt like Hopper believed he had all the authority over El, but after some more time, she realized he was just trying to keep them all safe. He did what thought was best; Sunshine thought he should have told her. But neither one of them could go back in time. Sunshine refused to be apart from her siblings; therefore, she and Hopper had slowly begun to understand each other again. He was trying, really trying, and she was thankful for that.

“Are you guys almost ready?” he asked. The kids all nodded eagerly. “Good. I want to get a picture before we leave.” He waved around a Polaroid camera, which caused the kids to figure out how they wanted to pose, giving Sunshine the chance to speak to Hopper.

“Hey, Hop?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for taking all of them in. You know, between the yelling and crying.” She hadn't gone about talking to Hopper about everything in the most mature way, but she was freshly seventeen and believed she deserved some grace. After everything, her brother and sisters were safe, in a warm home with someone who took care of them. When Hopper originally took El in, he told her he knew he couldn’t make everyone happy and keep them safe; she understood that.

He chuckled softly. “I get it. I would have done the same thing if I was you. But I am sorry I lied; it was the only way I knew how to keep both of you girls safe. I just…” he sighed deeply. “I should have gone about it better.”

“Maybe.” Sunshine shrugged. “But, if you had, the twins probably wouldn’t have found their way here. So, I guess it all kind of worked out.”

“Come on, we’re gonna be late!” Leia shouted, grabbing their attention. Hopper nudged Sunshine’s shoulder and pushed her toward the trio of kids to join their photo. All four of them, dressed up and radiating a newfound happiness, smiled for the camera. For one night, they were nothing more than normal kids attending a school dance with their friends, and they couldn’t wait.

→←

Steve parked his car outside Hawkins Middle just as it started to snow. In the passenger’s seat, Dustin combed his hair for the hundredth time and checked his appearance in the rearview mirror. Steve had to bite back a laugh at the kid’s nervousness.

“All right, buddy. Here we are.” They had spent the whole afternoon going over how Dustin was going to absolutely kill it at his first school dance. None of the kids went to the Snowball the year before because they spent the time with a recovering Will. That only added to the kid’s nerves. Steve and Dustin’s mother, who insisted on feeding Steve dinner, tried to reassure Dustin that everything would be fine, especially with the group of friends he had. “Remember, once you get in there-”

“Pretend like I don’t care,” Dustin repeated the advice Steve had given him. His hands reached back up to his styled hair, but Steve swatted his hand away.

“Hey, you look great. You’re going to go in, looking like a million bucks, and you’re going to slay ‘em dead.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Dustin let out a deep breath before opening the car door.

“Good luck!” Steve was ready to spend his night alone, waiting to pick Dustin up and listen to how Steve had been right. Hell, maybe Dustin would even dance with a girl or play some epic prank on one of his teachers. Steve just wanted the kid to enjoy himself.

However, Dustin paused halfway out of the car. “Actually, you know what? You should come inside.”

“What?” Steve scrunched up his face. He didn’t have many fond memories of middle school or more like they were a blur of boring days followed by basketball practices. He didn’t want to step foot back inside Hawkins Middle, and Dustin was a big kid, he didn’t need Steve to walk him inside. “It’s a middle school dance, dude. I’m not going in there.”

Dustin tapped his fingers against the roof of the car, looking between Steve and something outside. Steve went to peer out his window at what the kid was looking at, but Dustin spoke again. “No! I know that, but still, you should. Trust me.”

“I’ll pass.” Steve had grown somewhat accustomed to his quiet nights alone at home. It wasn’t like he had a girlfriend anymore and Sunshine spent most of her time with her long-lost siblings, which he couldn’t complain about because she was undeniably much happier than she had been the past year with everyone safe and sound and in arms reach. Steve started to enjoy his own company, sprinkled in with visits from Dustin and catching Sunshine at her mother’s store on the weekends.

“I’ll pick you up when this thing is over and you can tell me all about it, okay?”

Dustin was relentless. “Come on. You’re not scared to walk past your ex-girlfriend, are you?”

That was another thing; Nancy was working the dance along with Jonathan. It didn’t feel unreasonable that Steve didn’t want to hang out at the same event with his ex and the guy she liked. Steve wasn’t on bad terms with Nancy or Jonathan, but he already saw enough of them at school, he didn’t need to see them on weekends too.

“No,” Steve lied. “I’m not scared, dipshit. I’m just…I don’t need to be here. I’m not chaperoning.”

“Steve,” Dustin’s face grew serious, and he leaned further into the car. “I am doing this for you. Come inside. Five minutes; five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

“You’re not taking no for an answer, are you?” Dustin shook his head. With a groan, Steve removed his keys and left his car. “Fine. Five minutes, Henderson, then I’m leaving.”

There was a glint of something Steve couldn’t place in Dustin’s eyes, but he didn’t have time to question it before the kid dragged him inside the decorated gym. Steve was sure they reused the same decoration from his Snowball. It looked nearly the same, but the kids looked younger than he remembered and the teachers older.

Dustin led them through the masses of kids until they reached a familiar group surrounding one of the tables lining the back wall.

“What the hell happened to you?” Was the first thing said to Dustin. Everyone stared at Dustin’s styled hair and gaped. Max reached up to touch it, but Dustin lightly smacked her hand away.

“Your hair!” Will smiled, looking more alive than he had in a while. His cheeks were flushed and there was no trace of what he’d been through on his face. Will had always been a smaller kid, bony and skinny like Jonathan, but at least he looked to a little taller and held his head up a little higher.

“Pretty sweet, huh?”

One of the newest members of the group, Leia, nodded in approval. “Totally sweet.”

The click of heels sounded from behind them, and Dustin whipped his head around. A mischievous smile twisted up on Dustin’s lips as he said, “Oh, hi Sunshine.”

Steve spun around quickly, maybe a little too quickly. Sunshine approached them with a little wave. She was dressed up like everyone else at the dance, in a dress that sparkled in the warm light of the string lights overhead. Even without the use of her powers, she still managed to glow brightly.

“Dustin! You look amazing!” The kid blushed at Sunshine’s compliment.

“Thanks. We’re all gonna go raid the snack table. Have fun!” Dustin rushed out in one breath before he ushered the entire party off toward the table full of homemade sweets from the PTA, and left Steve confused and alone with Sunshine.

That little shit, Steve thought.

Sunshine didn’t seem phased that the kids left, probably because she wasn’t dragged inside and then abandoned. He didn’t know why he felt unprepared to be there or to talk to Sunshine. Steve talked to Sunshine all of the time; they were friends after all. But there was something that felt odd. Maybe it was the childhood nostalgia that hit him being back in the middle school gym. Maybe it was the way Sunshine smiled at him with makeup that prettily glittered on the face.

He cleared his throat, disrupting his thoughts. “You look nice,” he said. The words were clunky coming out and he was suddenly hyper-aware of every movement he had and word he said. His hands smoothed down the fabric of his red sweater that he’d found on his floor that afternoon. He silently cursed at himself for not spending a little longer fixing his hair or making sure his jeans didn’t have holes in them.

Though, his worries were quelled as Sunshine said, “Thank you. You look nice, too.” Steve let out a small breath. “What’re you doing here?”

“Honestly? I don’t really know.” Steve gazed over at Dustin, who was tossing pieces of candy into Leia and Luke’s mouths before one of the teachers scolded them. “Dustin made me come in here and then ditched me. What about you?” From the dress and heels she wore, Steve wondered if she was helping chaperon with Nancy.

“Hopper let the kids have a night out of the cabin and since I’ve never been to a Snowball before, he said I should come too. I wanted to keep an eye on them.”

It continued to shock Steve at how many things Sunshine had yet to experience. Little things he never thought twice about, like school dances, meant more than he could understand to Sunshine and her siblings. They had unfairly missed out on so much.

“This is your first school dance.” Steve whistled lowly. “Man, I remember my first Snowball. A week before the dance, my dad made me get a buzz cut.” Sunshine gasped. “I know, it’s hard to picture me without my best feature.”

Sunshine laughed, and Steve felt almost triumphant. When she laughed, her teeth showed, and little creases formed by the corners of her eyes.

“But it’s true,” he continued. “My mom picked out this awful blue suit for me to wear and I spent most of the night on those very bleachers. It was pretty miserable until Tommy H. offered me a cigarette. We spent the rest of the dance smoking out back and making fun of everyone in our grade until our parents showed up. It wasn’t the best night of my life, but I guess not the worst either.” Tommy H. had never been the best of friends, but he had once been a comfortable constant in Steve’s life. Steve didn’t necessarily miss Tommy’s asshole-ery, but he did miss having a friend who knew him as well as Tommy had.

“I watched school dances in movies, but this isn’t exactly what I thought it’d be like,” she admitted, toying with the sleeves of her dress.

“What did you expect?”

“Less middle schoolers.”

Steve looked around at the sea of short, awkward, middle schoolers swaying at arm's length from one another when an idea sprouted in his head. His heart beat a little quicker in his chest, stupidly, like he was suddenly a middle schooler himself standing in front of a pretty girl. Steve Harrington didn’t get nervous, he reminded himself.

“Since it’s your first school dance, you should probably dance with someone who’s taller than you and has a legal driver's license.”

Sunshine furrowed her brows. “What?”

“Do you want to dance?” He held out his hand, and for one horrible moment, he feared he completely embarrassed himself. His fear was quickly washed away when her eyes lit up and she took his hand in hers. He found a spot in the gym near the back of the dance floor where it was less crowded.

She looked around, concentrating on the kids around them like she was looking for something. Steve quickly realized she was trying to figure out how to dance.

“It’s easy,” Steve said, earning her attention. “Dancing. It’s easy. Give me your other hand.” She placed her other hand in his. “Your hands go here.” He lifted her hands to his shoulders, and she stepped a little closer. Her deep golden eyes peered into him, making him a little more nervous than he expected.

“And mine go here.” Steve hesitated, holding his hands just above the fabric of her dress that covered his hips. “Um, is this okay?” he asked, voice quiet as they stood close enough that he could make out the little white scar on the corner of her mouth from a couple of weeks ago.

Sunshine nodded and he rested his hands on her hips. To the slow beat of the music, they swayed together. The light twinkled above them like stars, and there was a sweet kind of innocence that settled over them. Steve felt less heavy, and he could almost pretend that he was back in middle school in a world where Sunshine never disappeared, and they were never apart. Maybe he would have asked her to the Snowball when they were fourteen, all awkward limbs and shy smiles. He wondered how different things would have been if the world hadn’t been so unfair.

Steve liked to think that moment was the universe’s way of apologizing to all of them. From that point on, hearts would be mended, kids would return to the playground, and everyone would be free from the darkness that was shut out of Hawkins.

But, as they danced in the warm gymnasium, darkness still lingered in their world, stirring in the brisk winter air. Up in the mayor of Hawkins’s office, stale coffee remained untouched on top of newly purchased land deeds and left rings on top of fine print that the man didn’t read closely enough. What was he to worry about? The small town needed a change; he’d go down as a hero, he was sure of it.

A couple state away, a man pulled his hood up and kept his head down. All he had was the coat on his back and a crinkled picture of his wife and son in his pocket.

Blood was washed from the floor of Hawkins National Laboratory and the door was locked for good.

And across the world, a plan was set into motion. Destination: Hawkins, Indiana.

uʍouʞu∩ :uoᴉʇɐuᴉʇsǝp

Tag List. @sattlersquarry , @leptitlu , @echoing-oursong

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x reader #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfiction #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #el hopper #jim hopper #mike wheeler #will byers #max mayfield #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers

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