#the stores paths are too narrow

[beanerbrujx]

Someone burn this ableist piece of shit state to the ground

#California has no concept of the ada #theres no ramps in most places #parking lots dont have enough disability spots #the stores paths are too narrow #disability bathroom stalls dont follow the size requirements #i hate it here

[wraithlafitte]

you're no femme fatale

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: use of y/n, dubcon (mission sequence), soft dom!reader, guided masturbation, light degradation (m!receiving), stripping, begging, scratching, hair pulling, handjob, exhibitionism if you squint

word count: 3.3k

a/n: anon request here! enjoy 🖤 honestly felt like i was scraping the bottom of the barrel to keep this interesting LOL hope it's what you wanted

"No. No way in hell I'm doing that," you said, throwing up your hands and backing away from the table, littered with piles of Sam's research.

"Aw, come on, Y/N," Sam protested. "You're the only one of us that could do it."

"I am not entertaining some dirty old man for this," you snapped, snatching up a museum scan of the artifact you were supposed to steal. "We'll find another way."

"If there was another way, I'd be asking you to do that," Sam said, furrowing his brow. "This is the path of least resistance. You get in his office, slip it into your dress while he's not looking, and we'll come get you after ten minutes. That's it."

You huffed a sigh and crossed your arms.

Just then, Dean returned from his fast food run, greasy paper bags in hand. "Hey, nerds," he greeted impishly. "Grub's on."

You rolled your eyes as he plopped the bags right in the middle of Sam's papers.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Dean asked, settling himself into a chair and unwrapping a double cheeseburger.

"You would know if you had stayed to help make it," you replied annoyedly.

Dean flicked his eyebrows. "No need to get testy."

Sam sighed, deciding to intervene before things got ugly. You and Dean weren't exactly known for getting along, tolerating each other just enough to get jobs done when you had to. This was mostly due to the fact that you thought Dean was a douchebag, and he just dished back whatever you threw at him.

"The best plan we've got so far is that Y/N seduces the guy," Sam explained.

Dean snorted, almost spitting out his too-large bite of burger. "I'm sorry what?"

"I figure we'll never be able to get in there during the event, since it'll be so locked down," Sam continued. "Our best bet is getting him to let one of us in."

"Have you seen her?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and giving you a once-over. "Not exactly the seducing type."

You looked down at your current outfit. Cargo pants and a mens t-shirt topped with a utility vest and a leather bomber jacket. He had a point, although not for the reasons he thought. You could dress up, you just chose to dress practically. More pockets for knives. No, you just weren't sure you'd be able to convince the man you wanted him. Seventy-something sleazebags weren't exactly high on your to-fuck list.

"For once, I agree with Dean." You tossed the photo back onto the table. "Can we think of something else, please?"

"Yeah, as much as I'd like to see her try and pretty up to get in some old dude's pants, there's gotta be a more surefire way," Dean said with his mouth full. "Cuz you're no femme fatale," he added pointedly.

You were getting a little annoyed at his jabs. "You don't think I can do it?" you asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"Sister, I don't think you could seduce a virgin," Dean scoffed.

You turned to Sam, bristling. "That's it then. I'll do it."

"What?" Dean said loudly through his half-chewed bite.

Sam looked at you with concern. "Are you sure? Just because Dean-"

"I'm sure." You set your jaw confidently. "Let's go to the charity event."

"We're heading out to the car," Sam called through the bathroom door, where you were putting on the finishing touches to your makeup.

"Be right there," you called back, surveying yourself in the mirror. Not bad, you thought, considering the last time you put on this much makeup was prom night. You had tried to go for something an old man would like: a classic red lip and smoky eye that paired pretty well with the vintage-looking slinky black satin dress you'd found at the thrift store around the corner. It went down to your ankles, showing off your heels, and had a long slit that made its way up your leg to your hip.

You threw your coat on and hurried out the door, hopping into the backseat of the Impala. Sam glanced at you in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrows appreciatively, but Dean didn't spare you a second glance. You were annoyed, since half the reason you were doing this was to prove him wrong, but there would be plenty of time to show off later.

As the Impala peeled out of the hotel parking lot, you took a deep swig from the flask you kept in your coat pocket. This better work.

Neither of the boys helped you out of the car when you arrived.

"Chivalry is dead," you announced after almost stumbling onto your face getting out. You tossed your coat back into the backseat, revealing your outfit to the two hunters.

Suddenly Sam was all-too-eager to offer you his arm, and the two of you headed inside, Dean close behind. You hadn't missed the way his eyes widened when you dropped your coat, so you swung your hips a little as you walked. That'll show him.

The plan worked better than you could have hoped. The sleazy old something-inaire led you to his office, hand wrapped around your waist as you clung to his arm, pretending to laugh at his stupid sexist old man jokes.

As he clicked the heavy oak door shut, you quickly scanned the room, trying to find the artifact you came for. There. On his desk. All you had to do was grab it, and-

The old man grabbed you by the hips, pulling you flush against his body. "Where were we, sweetheart?"

Insides roiling with disgust, you turned around and placed your hands on his chest, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster. "Right here," you said cattily, batting your eyelashes as you grabbed him by the lapels and led him backwards to the desk.

Here goes nothing, you thought, and pulled the old guy in for a kiss. Trying to ignore the way his tongue dug into your mouth, you felt around behind you for the artifact.

Got it. You quickly palmed the object and broke the kiss, looking up at the old man through your lashes. Now Sam or Dean was gonna bust down the door, claiming you as his missing drunk sister.

Aaaaany minute now.

The old man smiled wolfishly and you felt his hands creeping lower, lower, until he grabbed your ass firmly, jerking you closer to him and capturing your lips again.

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was not going how it was supposed to. You tried to wiggle away, but the guy was surprisingly strong for his age.

"Where you going, baby?" he asked, eyes glinting.

"I think I- I have to go," you said, aware that you were sounding a little panicked.

"You wanted this," he reminded you, giving your ass a tight squeeze. He swung you around and pushed you into the leather couch across from the desk. You tried to scramble up, but it was hard with your tight dress and the artifact still clutched in your hand, desperately being concealed, so the old man grabbed you easily by the hair, forcing you to stay down.

"Now why don't we put those pretty lips to use?"

The door swung open with a bang. The old man looked up, startled, releasing his death grip on your hair.

"There you are," came the fake-laughing voice of Dean.

"Who are you?" demanded the old man. "Get out of here!"

"Sorry man, this is my sister," Dean said, raising his hands apologetically. "She gets really hammered, acts like a slut. Gotta get her home." He helped you up, and you smiled and giggled, putting on the drunk-girl act.

Dean helped you hurry out of the room, the old man looking disappointed and angry at being cockblocked.

"Thanks," you whispered once you were down the hall and out of earshot. "What a creep."

"Please tell me you got it," Dean said darkly, weaving you through the crowd. You slipped the artifact into his suit pocket, giving it a pat for good measure.

"Didn't do that for nothing." You winked at him and pushed him away to walk the rest of the way to the car on your own two feet.

Dean stared after you, dumbfounded. He tried not to fixate on the way your hips swayed in that dress as you walked away proudly. God, that dress! It hugged your body perfectly, and Dean would be lying if he said he hadn't been eyeing you all night. His cock was semi-hard in his dress pants, an annoying reminder of just how much you'd proved him wrong.

"Come on, dickhead," you yelled out the back window of the Impala. Dean realized starkly that he had stopped in place thinking about your tits.

"Dammit," he muttered, hurrying around to the driver's seat.

The three of you piled into your hotel room to debrief from the mission. You assured the boys that you were alright from your creepy encounter with the old guy, and that stealing the artifact was worth it. The way Dean watched you raptly as you began to disrobe was not lost on you.

"I've dealt with worse in my time," you reminded them, shaking out your hair. "I'm a solo female hunter. Sleazy men hit on me literally wherever I go." You plopped down on the bed and pulled your stockings off one by one.

"As long as you're sure," Sam said, stretching and yawning. "I'm gonna head back over to our room to get some sleep. You coming, Dean?"

Dean snapped out of his fantasy. "Uh, no. I'll be there in a little bit. Gotta talk to her about something."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Just don't bite each other's head off." And with that, he was gone.

You watched Dean from the shadows of the half-lit room. When he made no move to say anything, you did. "What do you need to talk about?" you asked, knowing full well. "Gonna say sorry cuz of how wrong you were?"

Dean flicked his eyes up to yours. Where had he been looking before?

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah. You did good."

You stood and sauntered over to where he sat in a straight-backed chair by the dresser. "But that's not all, is it?" You smirked at him and looked him up and down, gaze lingering on his crotch, where a tent had begun to form.

Dean covered his bulge with his hand and pressed down, growling. "You were a little too good."

"So, what? You stayed because you want me to help with that?" you teased, coming closer.

"Yeah," Dean said roughly, standing quickly.

"No," you said bluntly, taking him by the shoulder and pushing him back into the chair.

Dean grimaced. "Why? Please," he begged, face twisted in arousal.

You giggled. "Wow."

"What?" Dean snapped, eyes cracking open.

"Nothing," you said, smirking. "You could beg a little more, might help." You felt your own arousal start to pool in your panties.

"Please, Y/N." Dean looked up at you with wild eyes, squeezing his cock through his pants.

"Please what?" You cocked your head.

"Please... make me cum," he said finally, eyes dropping to your midriff, unwilling to hold your gaze.

You tilted his chin up so he would look at you again, feeling a certain sense of satisfaction that you had somehow reduced him to this begging, horny mess in the chair before you.

"All you had to do was ask," you said softly. You backed away and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Dean started to get up and follow you.

"No," you said, holding up a red-manicured finger. "Sit back down." You pointed.

Dean frowned but did as he was told. You smiled, delighted.

"You're having way too much fun with this," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry what was that?" you asked with a stern expression. "Do you want to cum or not?"

Dean's dick twitched in his pants. The way you bossed him around was really turning him on. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought." You twirled your hair thoughtfully. Dean whined impatiently.

"Tsk, tsk." You crossed your legs at an angle where he could almost see through the slit into your crotch. "Take your cock out."

Dean was all too happy to oblige, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants faster than you could say desperate, hiking up his dress shirt in the process.

"Wait," you interrupted before he could go any further. "Why don't you unbutton your shirt, too. Wouldn't want to make a mess." You smirked.

"Okay," Dean agreed breathily, practically tearing the two sides of the shirt from each other, exposing his muscular torso. You had seen him shirtless before, but there was something about the way he was breathing, stomach rising and falling quickly as he panted, that turned you on when it wouldn't normally.

"Now you can take your dick out," you said. You held your breath a little as his cock came into view. He was fully hard now, and dripping. He squeezed the base, moaning.

"Now what?" he asked, eyes shut as he lightly stroked his cock with his fingertips.

"You need me to tell you how to jack off?" you asked meanly. To your surprise, Dean moaned loudly at that.

He began stroking his cock, slowly at first, building up speed as he could no longer contain himself. A near-constant string of quiet whimpers and moans fell from his lips. You took note of the way he swiped his thumb over his leaking slit, spreading it around to aid his fingers.

"Look at me," you instructed. You wanted to see that wild look in his eyes again, and were instantly rewarded as his eyes flew open to meet yours. His mouth fell open as he gasped when he saw you.

"Forget I was here?" you teased. Dean gulped and shook his head vehemently. His hand slowed, and he started tugging himself less frantically, holding eye contact with you intensely.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "You're so hot, wanna see you."

You smirked. "Only because you admitted it." You hiked up your skirt, spreading the slit open so he could see your black lace panties.

Dean devoured your skin with his eyes, rubbing the head of his cock in circles with his thumb.

You dropped the straps of your dress so that they hung loosely around your shoulders and ran your long nails across your collarbones, petting your shoulders. Then you took hold of the neckline and pulled it down, freeing your tits from the dress.

"Better than I imagined, baby," Dean groaned at the sight, as his hips bucked into his hand.

You took one of your breasts in your hand, squeezing it towards your chest. "You imagined?" you lilted, smiling.

"Been thinkin' about you all night," he admitted shamelessly. "How good your tits looked in that dress. How good- ngh- you looked walkin' away from me."

Your other hand started creeping into your skirt. "Thought I couldn't even seduce a virgin. What does that make you?"

Dean growled, jerking his cock faster. "I don't- fuck-"

"Maybe you're just a manwhore," you purred, hopping off the bed to approach him.

"Please," Dean gasped, tossing his head back. "I need you."

You scoffed. "I'm not that lacking in self-respect." You lightly scratched your fingernails down the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, groaning, hand stilling.

You leaned in to murmur in his ear. "No, you're gonna take care of this all... by... yourself." You laced your fingers into his short hair, scratching his scalp, and pulled his head back. He relaxed and his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling.

"So take care of it," you remind him harshly, giving his hair a hard tug before letting go. Dean raised his head hazily and began to stroke his dick again, gasping. It was angry red, practically begging for release, but Dean seemed determined to tease himself until he couldn't take it anymore, which you suspected would be soon.

You turned your back to him and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a silken puddle. You heard Dean moan softly, sound of skin rubbing skin growing faster. You smiled to yourself as an idea occurred to you.

Against a backdrop of street lamplight coming through the window and lewd noises coming from Dean, you padded barefoot wearing only your underwear to the other side of the bed, where your pajamas lay folded neatly on the nightstand. You unfolded them and spread them out on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked hoarsely. "Don't- please stay- I need to see you," he whimpered finally.

You ignored him, as you had been planning to do, and put your pajamas on dramatically slowly to the soundtrack of Dean begging you to stop, stay naked, help him.

You turned back to him when you were finished and a rush of arousal hit you at the sight: Dean, cock in hand, sitting exactly where you had left him, sweaty and gasping and looking at you with a wild, desperate expression. You moaned softly in spite of yourself.

"Poor baby," you pout, rounding the bed to sit next to him again. "Haven't you come yet?"

Dean's hand was working overtime, forearm muscles flexing and rippling beneath his skin where his sleeve was rolled up.

"Can't," he breathed.

"You can't come?" You feigned surprise, even though you had known for several minutes that he was probably going to wait for your permission.

"Need you," Dean panted. "Can't do it- mm- without you."

"Sure you can," you said, running your nails down his chest. He shivered intensely.

Dean whimpered, face contorting in frustration. "I can't."

"What, I got you so turned on you can't even jack off without me?" you tease, fingertips stopping right above his happy trail.

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you," you reply smoothly, digging your fingers into his stomach.

Dean rolled his eyes, although you weren't sure if it was sass or pleasure. "Please," he insisted, whining.

"Useless." You replaced his hand with yours, gripping his cock tightly as you stroked it for him. "Can't even make yourself come without my help."

Dean went slack-jawed, head falling back once more. "Uh-huh," he moaned breathily. He ground his hips upwards, trying to find more pressure or friction or something but getting nothing but what you gave him.

"You're a useless whore, right?" you taunted. He would tell you if you went too far, right?

"Yes," Dean groaned loudly. You almost clapped your hand over his mouth, certain that Sam could hear through the walls.

"Shhh, be quiet baby," you said instead. You swiped your thumb over the head of his dick and he hissed, biting his lip. Your other hand went down to cup his balls, giving them a light squeeze.

Suddenly Dean's whole body tensed and his eyes flew open. "Shit- I'm so close, please," he panted. His abs flexed, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You increased the pressure on both hands slightly. "Go on then."

Dean let out a sound somewhere between a strangled gasp and a groan as he came, spurting over his stomach and your hands. You kept pumping, using his cum to aid your efforts, until he was begging you to stop between gasping breaths. Only then did you let go of him, admiring your handiwork.

One Dean Winchester (formerly unbelieving of your sexual prowess), spread over a chair, covered in cum, sweaty and panting and utterly fucked out.

"Thank you," he whispered weakly after a moment.

"Will you ever doubt me again?" you asked, smirking.

He rolled his head to the side to look at you. "No. Fuck, that was hot." Dean grinned. "Actually, I changed my mind. Maybe I should doubt you more often."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever, Winchester. Clean up and go to bed."

Dean got out of the chair stiffly, winked at you, and went to do as he was told.

dividers by @cafekitsune and @saradika

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn smut #spn fanfiction #userwraith

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (15)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: sexy mobsters, fluff, established Stucky, angst, implied smut, caring mobsters, pregnant reader,

Indecent Proposal (14)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

You freeze the moment your eyes land on the man interrogating you not weeks ago. Brock Rumlow stands right in front of you, eyes dropping to your middle.

“What do we have here?” He dips his head and smirks. “I see you didn’t waste time, Ms. Y/L/N. So, the rumors are true. You moved on really quickly, huh? Maybe we should investigate your boyfriend’s death again and dig a little deeper this time.”

“I told you; he wasn’t my boyfriend when he died,” you try to not sound too scared. “Scott and I parted ways on good terms. We just didn’t work out. Please just leave me alone. I have nothing to do with what happened to him.”

“I don’t believe a single word leaves your lips,” Brock sneers. “They instructed you well. You’re a damn good liar. I wondered why they are so interested in you.” He dips his head to look you up and down. “Your cunt cannot be the only reason. Do you have a connection to the mob, or…”

“Detective,” Steve steps in front of you, blocking Brock’s path. “What brings us the pleasure of your presence?” He has a dangerous glint in his eyes when he looks at Brock. “Do you need diapers or a pacifier?”

“I didn’t take you for a diaper lover,” Bucky steps behind Brock. “No kink-shaming, Detective but this is not the right store to buy you stuff. It’s for babies only.”

“What my polite husband tries to tell you,” Steve sizes Brock up, and narrows his eyes, “is that if you don’t stop harassing our wife, you will regret that you were born.”

“Is that a treat?” Brock cocks his head to glance at you standing behind Steve. “You know that I’m a cop, right?”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and straightens his back to look even taller. 

“Not a treat, Detective,” he says lowly. “It’s a promise.”

“How about we call our lawyer and your boss,” Bucky nearly growls. “I bet they’d love to explain the law and your job to you again. I don’t think that harassing a woman at a store is in your job description.”

“I bet he believed Y/N was alone,” Steve curls his upper lip. “Maybe you would rather be alone with me.” His features darken, and he drops his eyes to the badge in Rumlow’s hand. “We could have so much fun.”

“Maybe he’s scared of being a bottom,” Bucky snickers behind Rumlow’s back. “He’d look good with a collar around his neck, don’t you think Stevie.”

“I’m not one of your boy toys,” Rumlow sneers. “You will pay me the needed respect. I have the right to investigate the death of Scott Lang and to interrogate his ex-girlfriend. We all know you killed him to get the girl.”

“Well in that case,” Bucky leaned closer to whisper the words, “you’re a very brave man for messing with our girl while we are in the middle of shopping for clothes for our baby.”

“Someone might call it suicidal,” Steve adds. He puffs his chest and stares Rumlow down. “We hope you have a wonderful day, Detective. Maybe we can continue our conversation another time.”

“We are terribly sorry, but there are more important things we need to take care of today,” Bucky steps closer to you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, offering protection. “If you’d please excuse us now, Detective.”

“Wait, I’m not done—” Rumlow huffs. He can only watch you; Steve and Bucky walk away. You’re trembling and breathing is harder as you are scared to hell and back.

“You need to breathe for me, doll,” Bucky whispers as he guides you toward the entrance. “We will drive home and come back later.”

“I should’ve planted a bullet to his brain right there, in the middle of the store,” Steve grits out. “How dare him to even look at our girl!”

“You called me your wife,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “But we aren’t married, and I don’t think that’s legal. I mean…you’re already married to Bucky and I’m just…”

“You are our wife,” Bucky stops you from doubting your role in your relationship. “We will have a nice ceremony. You can wear a pretty dress, all white and innocent.” He purrs and nuzzles your cheek. “Only for me to rip the dress off your body.”

“Buck,” Steve clears his throat. “We will plan a wedding later. For now, we need to take care of Y/N. And later…” 

He doesn’t say more, but you assume they will do something about Brock Rumlow. You only fear their solution will be final, and get them into more trouble…

“Romanoff, leash your dog and keep him away from our girl or we will put it to sleep,” Steve spits while talking. He yells loud enough to make his husband flinch. “He talked to our girl in the middle of a store. Rumlow is out of control!”

“I’m not his mother nor do I have control over him,” Natasha bites back. “I covered your crimes for years. I’m loyal, and you know it. It’s not my fault Rumlow won’t stop sniffing around. He’s like a dog with its bone.”

“You’ve got one last chance to stop him. If not, we will take care of him,” he says, and steps closer to Natasha. 

“I can’t,” she sighs and shakes her head. “It’s too much to ask for.”

“Don’t act as if you are doing us a favor. We pay you well and make sure you are safe for years,” Steve points out. 

“I did you more than one favor,” she argues and points at Bucky. “How many times did I save your ungrateful asses from getting arrested?”

“All right, well, let me rephrase that, then,” Bucky says and gets his gun out. “You make sure that Rumlow stops scaring our girl, or we will take matters into our own hands. This includes letting everyone in your life know about your dirty little secrets.”

Natasha blanches. She swallows audibly, feeling like a lamb among wolves. So far, Steve and Bucky treated her like an equal, but she’s close to losing their protection and the money she got used to.

“I’ll try,” she sniffs. “Give me a few days. Maybe I can find a way to get rid of him without killing him. I only need to find his dirty little secrets.”

Bucky nods, and hands Natasha an envelope filled with money. “You have a week,” he says. “We want to continue this fruitful business relationship. Don’t fuck this up.”

“Hey, he won’t hurt you, or get close to you, doll,” Steve softly speaks to you while his husband tugs you into bed. “We promise to take care of him.”

“The detective working for us will help us,” Bucky hastily says. He doesn’t want to tell you that they already planned to get rid of Rumlow if Natasha doesn’t find a way to make him stop.

“He scared me, is all,” you whisper and snuggle into the pillow. “I believed he would arrest me, or you.”

“No one will part us, Y/N,” Steve says. “And no one is brave enough to try…”

Part 15.2

Tags in reblog.

#stucky x reader #stucky x you #female reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #mafia au #mobster!Steve Rogers #mobster!Bucky Barnes #Indecent Proposal (15) - FIN

[twilightarc-gm]

Why do you like jiang cheng?

At the risk of liking him for the wrong reasons, let me be verbose and annoying about it.

A short anecdote: I finished the donghua before the novel and I liked JC's aesthetic so I was happy to have that imagery in my head for the novel, but mostly I came out of the donghua like "cool story, the ending was frowny face though" and I came out of the novel like I was lost in the IKEA store "there's stuff here but it's not what I want and it's organized in a way that's hard to navigate through." Bit like giving me a puzzle to solve.

Anyway, imagine a cat bapping at a thing trying to get fandom to show me what to do with MDZS (i.e. reading fanfic) and then I come across anti-Jiang Cheng stuff.

//record scratch

I'm sorry what?

Why?

NO.

I started then on Shuangjie reconciliation fic and quickly evolved into Jiang Cheng "Apologist" ((I actually don't think he has anything to apologize for even if he would do so anyway.))

I've been in the xianxia/wuxia sphere of media consumption for a year or so before trying out MDZS and JC just fits so well as the main character of his own story; destined for a position of power through birth, friends with someone in his life that causes conflict, seemingly betrayed by said friend when needing that friend the most, losing and losing and losing as his trust in said friend proves unfounded because the friend walks a path he can't follow, and then he's left with the tragedy that befell the world because--ultimately he trusted this friend too much.

It's a classic story of love and attachment and how good intentions can have massive consequences. Two men entwined by fate and in the end there's a battle on a hill (off screen in this case) where one is forced to "kill" the other.

MDZS could have ended with the past timeline, and I would have liked it more but at least in the present timeline we get Jiujiu and a-Ling.

Anyway: Excerpts and Commentary Below about WHY I LOVE JIANG CHENG, courtesy WANYIN

Of all the clans to offend, you don’t offend the Jiang Clan, and of all the people to offend, you never offend Jiang Cheng.

We stand by a badass mf in this house. The first thing we learn is that he gets credit for killing a big baddy and the second thing we learn is how fierce the rest of his reputation is. He brooks no shit and leaves no quarter. Amazing 💜

Well, I was done for at "gaze like two streaks of cold lightning" so RIP me, I guess. Reminds me of some antis that are like "you only like him because he's hot" which isn't true but it is a nice plus. He's described as inferior to LWJ so like, if it was only about hotness then wouldn't I like LWJ???

“I am his uncle. Do you have any last words?”

At the sound of that voice, every drop of blood in Wei Wuxian’s body seemed to surge to his head but then immediately drained away again. Thankfully, his face was already a mess of ghastly white, so it didn’t look strange when he went a little paler.

A man in purple attire strode over. He was dressed in a narrow-sleeved light robe, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. A silver bell dangled from his waist, yet there was no sound when he walked.

This young man had fine brows and almond eyes, with a chiseled handsomeness to his features. His eyes were deep and intense with a hint of aggression, his gaze like two streaks of cold lightning. He stopped and stood three meters away from Wei Wuxian. His expression was like that of a nocked arrow on a bow, ready to shoot, and even his composure was suffused with arrogant pride.

Jiang Cheng ruled the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng alone, so it could have been said that he was in a state of isolation.

🥺 Alone?? And he could still afford 400 Immortal Binding Nets? Self-sufficient king 🤩 And like, his reputation is so fierce and he's boiling over with anger in that scene, but still he restrains himself because he did the cost-benefit analysis! And then later he takes a huge risk on WWX, like he always does for WWX, and that doesn't work out for him--like it always does.

Seeing that nothing had happened to Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng was greatly relieved. However, that relief soon turned into a furious reprimand:

Parent behavior. Enough said.

He has a twisted smile when encountering a trigger for his PTSD and then he decides to fight it instead of letting it paralyze him. He's such a doer. Like, every other moment of the day he's carefully calculating pluses and minuses to every choice (valid) but when it comes to facing his personal demons he's ready to throw down. Excellent.

A moment later, Jiang Cheng’s lips pulled into a twisted smile. His left hand subconsciously began stroking that ring once more.

He said softly, “Excellent. Back, are you?”

He let go of his left hand, and a long whip dangled from it.

“Oh? Then please enlighten me, what is your type?”

Walking A-Spec flag very concerned about what the man who might be his shixiong thinks about him, more at eleven!

Wei Wuxian waved him off and then hooked his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. “Who cares? I’ll tease him a bit more before I go. You’ve already collected my corpse so many times. Once more won’t hurt.”

Okay but big lol that JC doesn't get to collect WWX's corpse that final time. //sounds of sobbing

A smile appeared on his face, but then he immediately humphed.

He's so grumpy and adorable! I love him! pre massacre JC is precious and I just want him to have someone to bring out that smile again.

He literally didn't have to do this. He makes all these excuses how he'll be embarrassed if WWX is rolling around 😂 Perfection. Boy, you are still carrying him and he doesn't want you to stop.

Jiang Cheng, walk slower, you’re gonna throw me off.”

Not only did Jiang Cheng want to throw Wei Wuxian off, but he practically wanted to bash his head into the ground to create a human crater. “So fussy even though I’m carrying you!”

“I didn’t tell you to carry me,” Wei Wuxian reasoned.

Jiang Cheng flew into a rage. “If I didn’t carry you, I think you’d hang out at their ancestral hall all day, rolling around on the floor. I can’t afford this embarrassment! Lan Wangji took fifty more strikes than you, but he walked away on his own, and you’re not embarrassed, pretending to be an invalid? I don’t want to carry you anymore. Get the hell off!”

“No, I’m wounded,” Wei Wuxian said.

Alrighty, like I'm just going through the entire book at this point.

Let me see if I can make this more concise:

Sacrifices himself despite his very dutiful nature that would oppose this. He throws away all his responsibilities for WWX, again and again, carrying on a tradition of favoring WWX over his own health and happiness. Citing: JFM favoring WWX to the detriment of his marriage, JYL dying to save WWX, and JC (exhausted and with little or no power) running into danger to save WWX ala distracting the Wen patrol and 2nd Siege.

Can't be honest in his affections and makes up excuses to do nice things for others.

Loves and understands his sister. She wanted JZX so he made it happen when LLJ had absolutely no reason to reinstate the marriage contract between Xuanli. JGS notes in the CR arc that he didn't want the marriage for his son in the first place and that there were better options than YMJ, and that was before the war! JC helped her get to Yiling to show off her wedding dress! Even though she married out he still felt so attached to her son he couldn't not co-parent Jin Ling.

Yes, he has Zidian, but he also has a second horsewhip that he keeps on him which is very exciting to know.

The narrative hates him but he survives. (He survives because the narrative hates him).

Most BAMF entrance in the novel at the temple scene with the busting the temple doors down and coming in from the rain with an umbrella. Like sure the narrative hates him but small blessings that rule of cool still counts for something.

Mama's boy.

Just some dude, shows up late to treasury room nonsense, knows all the gossip, no one has faith in him including himself, but he keeps going and doing what needs to be done even when he's so so tired and his shixiong shows up 3 months late with a ghoul lady and a latte, or disappears to liberate slave property without warning first and now he's called into a midnight meeting after trying to get some much needed rest and now he's got consequences to deal with. Someone help him!

An expert at sneering. Threats as a show of worry and care. This makes all the little and brief smiles so much more endearing.

Sandu Shengshou is an amazing title, get out of here if you don't agree. Holy Hand of the Three Poisons? Brutal, perfect 💜 It gets used like, ONCE. Crime against me personally.

Link to Blorbo Sheet for JC

He loves, he hates, he wants to hate he's not allowed to love. Zero middle ground, he's all in and there's no way out.

//is shot and dragged off stage

But just as the Wei Wuxian of the past who’d extracted his golden core for Jiang Cheng had been unable to tell him the truth, the Jiang Cheng of the present could no longer bring himself to speak up.

#jiang cheng #canon jiang cheng #asks answered #twi posts #yunmeng shuangjie #quotes

[notjustjavierpena]

First: Time

A/N: Part of my “first”-series with dilf!joel! 

Summary: You go to IKEA to buy a new bed, but after getting Joel to assemble your new piece of furniture. it somehow also ends up being the first time you have sex. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), Joel hates IKEA, reader is overthinking, domestic fluff, Joel is lovely, pussy eating, creampie, unprotected piv sex, cute sex!!! Fluff!!! Filth!!

Word count: 4.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48689506/chapters/123842593#workskin

First: Time

Since the kiss on your front porch, Joel has taken every opportunity to press his lips against yours when nobody has been around to see. Making out is so easy, uncomplicated in the sense that it isn’t hard to find out what the other likes, but there’s always something stirring beneath the surface when you feel Joel’s cock start to harden against your stomach. It makes you pull away and come up with excuses, and Joel takes it politely when you reject him.

You aren’t inexperienced, but for some reason, Joel Miller, certified hot neighbor, and possible boyfriend, makes you nervous. 

Even more so when he suggests joining you on an outing to buy you a new bed like he has a say in which one you’ll choose. Your old one barely made it across the country in the moving truck, the old bed frame creaking so loudly that you were scared that it would splinter and land you in a claim of compensation with the moving company.

Additionally, it’s simply terrible to sleep in, and when it had finally broken its last proper spring, you’d settled for a month on something that resembled a military cot. Not ideal for you back. Not ideal for inviting Joel Miller over.

“Sarah ain’t home anyway,” he had said, “And with how that stepladder turned out… You probably need someone to assemble it, so ya don’t end up on the floor, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. Sweetheart sweetheart sweetheart. What easier way was there to get you to say yes? 

*

And so you find yourself in an IKEA not long after. Joel wants to play the gentlemen, pushing your cart around the furniture store, but he seems tired of it when you keep adding unnecessary bibs and bobs as you are forced to walk down the fixed path design. You ignore his tiny grunts, knowing that he would be more suited for powering through the halls than stopping every goddamn second.

“Ain’t this cute?” You ask as you show him a kitchen container that’s shaped like a flower. 

“Very,” he replies without the same enthusiasm. 

“What about this? I should totally get these,” you go on as you reach the cutlery and glasses, showing him a set of brass coffee scoops. 

“Sure,” he answers, but he isn’t really listening. 

Eventually, you reach the section of pillows, blankets, and bedding. He wants to go straight to the rows of beds along the wall and surrounding the path on the floor, but you grab at the end of your cart to steer him towards the linens. 

“I feel like I should get some new bedding to go along with the new bed, don’t you think?” You scan the different patterns and colors. Joel hums beside you, clearly lost in his thoughts despite being the one who suggested coming along. 

“Yeah, I really think this lilac set would look fantastic against my skin when you fuck me,” you say without any suggestive tone to your voice, then wait.

“Sure wou—“ Joel takes a second, nearly snapping his neck as he quickly turns towards you to look at you. He splutters, “Wait, what?”

“What?” You smile too innocently, “I didn’t say anything. I just said that these would look fantastic with my bedroom walls. Honestly, Joel, you should listen more.”

Joel narrows his eyes at you, parking your shared cart that he has nothing of his own in. He walks towards you again and God, you want to kiss him as he smirks at you, “You’re playin’ with me.”

“Not at all,” you say with a soft giggle as he looks around for other people, who, luckily, are nowhere to be seen, before kissing you in the middle of the store. You wrap your arms around his neck as his own comes around your waist. 

It only takes a moment for him to pull back. You miss him the second that he is gone, though instead of going back to your cart again, he scans the room once more and then grabs at the hem of your jeans. 

“What’re you—?” You look down with surprise and a pulsating feeling between your legs. 

“I’m so fuckin’ bored, let’s just go do what we’re here for,” he yanks at the front of your jeans and steers you towards the row of beds. Your head swims and your legs try to follow wherever he tugs you. 

“O-okay, yes, alright,” you stutter. 

Joel only lets go when you choose the first bed to try out. You try to concentrate on the design as you run a hand over the material, but the grasp Joel has just had on your clothes makes you wonder if it translates into the bedroom. Fuck, you need a bed. 

Unfortunately, you are also very picky; too soft, too hard, bad design, bad bed frame design, made of plastic, not convincing enough to look like wood.

“How do you like this one?” You ask as you lay down on the millionth bed with Joel. It’s the first one that has some potential. You wiggle to get comfortable, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. 

“No,” he simply replies, turning onto his side to face you. You turn your head, not daring to mirror his position. 

“Right, let’s hear it, Mr. Miller, what’s the verdict of this possible contender?” You sigh dramatically. 

“First of all, ’m not the picky one here. We’ve had some fine contenders,” he points out and makes you smile, “But this one? Wouldn’ trust that bed frame, the headboard.”

“And what has the headboard done?” You roll your eyes.

“Nothing, but I’d for sure have you break it. We need somethin’ sturdier.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you’re sure that every drop of blood in your body goes down between your thighs. 

*

Eventually, you arrive home with a bed that has a name that you are unable to pronounce and a Joel who tells you not to disturb him as he assembles said bed with a difficult name. 

You try protesting against being left out of the project, but Joel reminds you of the stepladder massacre from the day that you had met, making you shut your mouth and pout prettily in your living room. 

He leaves your house briefly to get his power drill from his garage, and you practically froth around the mouth at the idea of him power drilling his way to fixing up a new bed for you. If only he’d allowed you to join him, so you could’ve at least silently watched and admired him from the other side of the room. The images that flood your mind are as relentless as Joel’s comment about your new bed’s headboard. 

When he eventually comes into the living room, he takes your hand and leads you through the house to show you his masterpiece.

“One new bed for the lady, even put the mattress on,” Joel says, stopping in the doorway to your bedroom. You look up at him with a smile and kiss him softly. He is warm, slightly sweaty after working in the August heat. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you say against his lips, and there it goes again. You wrap your arms around him and he cups your face, and then you kiss like your lives depend on it and stop just as things start to get heated. 

“No, don’t,“ Joel mutters quietly as you try to pull away, not letting you as he starts tugging a little at your hips, “Don’t run away from me again.”

“Mhmm… okay,” you hum and find his lips once more, but you pull away as soon as you can feel the hard bulge of his cock underneath his jeans. God, you want him, but he has no idea how much that scares you too. What if you lose him right after? What if you can’t be what he needs? Oh God, what if it’s bad? Nothing is better than disappointment. 

Joel furrows his brow in confusion and then takes a step back from you to look at you properly, “Is something wrong? Did I do something?” 

“What? No! No, of course not,” you run a hand over your forehead and through your hair, letting out a sigh that’s followed by an embarrassed chuckle, “I promise. It’s just...”

Joel has crossed his arms over his chest like he usually does when he is expecting bad news, probably a rejection in this case. You hate yourself for making him feel like he needs his guard up.

“I’m shitting my pants here, Miller, look at you,” you groan with brutal honesty at the tip of your tongue. He raises a brow at your choice of words, but doesn’t interrupt you, “Haven’t you ever wanted something so badly and then been afraid of getting it in case you’ve piled the expectations too high?” 

Joel shifts his weight from side to side for a moment. He doesn’t say anything to you for what seems like minutes but is, in reality, nothing more than ten seconds. 

“Can’t say I’m not jus’ a lil’ hurt that you think you’ll be disappointed by now,” he finally replies without looking at you, tapping his fingers on his arm.

“I just meant that I want it to be perfect and there’s no way I’m going to be perfect and then I’ll worry if I disappoint you,” you confess. 

You hear him scoff in disbelief at your postulate like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, “Sure, I’m definitely gonna turn ya down after gettin’ in bed with you and knowin’ you probably wanna do it again in the near future.”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” it does sound pretty ridiculous. You step towards him again, tugging at his arms to uncross them until you can walk into them. You look up at him through your lashes with an apologetic smile, “I don’t think you know just how much I think about your hands touching me.”

Joel’s offense is gone from his face in mere seconds, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm with a little newfound confidence. There’s something good about having told him your concern, putting it out there for him to do with it what he wants despite how badly you want the ability to read minds right now. You decide to stroke his ego a little, “With your job? I bet you know how to use them.” 

“Then lemme show you, baby. I’m great with my hands,” he kisses your lips again, but only briefly, following it up with descending down your neck. You let him for the first time, tilting your head to the side to give him more access and shivering at the feel of his nose bumping along your carotid artery. 

You hold onto him as he backs you further into the room, shoving down the instinct, caused by anxiety, to make him stop once again. Just let yourself have this, you try to remind yourself, don’t overthink it. You’re cute. He is sexy. He wants you.

“Tell me whatcha like,” he says as he guides you across the floor that’s scattered with cardboard and tools, “Maybe decidin’ what we’re doing will calm you a little.”

“Uh, it’s been a while,” you suddenly feel the edge of your newly acquired bed hit the back of your knees and make you fall onto it. Looking up at him from this angle makes your pulse quicken, your blood going straight to your clit and making it throb behind your denim jeans. 

“Or not. Should I list suggestions?” He asks, sinking to his knees on the floor at the end of the bed. You spread your legs a little without thinking and he smirks at you as if you’ve lost a bet, “I could eat your pussy. Would ya like that?”

You moan at the mere words.

“Need to hear you say it,” Joel’s hands are on the hem of your jeans like they had been in the middle of Ikea. He does quick work of undoing them, but not pulling them down just yet, “Say yes, baby.”

“Yes, fuck, I want that,” you have to stare up at the ceiling again to keep your composure. You have a feeling that none of your expectations have ever been too high. 

“Will you then tell me what you like? Tell me how to suck your pretty little clit?” His fingers curl into the denim and start pulling until he needs to sit back to get your jeans all the way off. He accidentally pulls your socks off too, but it just earns you a kiss to your ankle before he crawls forward again and you feel like prey at the mercy of a predator.

“Go slow,” you say breathlessly. 

“Of course,” he reassures, hooking a finger into the waistband of your panties next, “Tell me if I’m too much.”

“No! I mean, this is good, I like your filthy words,” you suck in a breath as your cunt is exposed to him, cheeks burning up with shyness but he just groans. It feels very vulnerable to be naked from the waist down when he isn’t, 

“I can touch you?” His voice indicates a question. You nod slowly, tensing up quite a bit as he rests one huge hand on your left hip bone and reaches between your legs with his index- and middle fingers. He runs them through your glistening folds, earning a gasp. 

“Do you usually come from touching your clit or?”

“No, yes, but I like my g-spot stimulated too. Simultaneously,” you try to reply confidently. 

He hums and nods, taking it all in. It takes a few extra seconds before he gently rubs his fingers along the side of your clit, dragging his fingers up and down slowly to test out the waters and see how sensitive you are. He guesses very, because you let out a soft moan at the contact, so he keeps going.

“We’ll get to your g-spot,” he says matter-of-factly, and your eyes nearly roll back into your skull at the promise. It’s been a while since you’ve been in a position like this, too busy restoring the house and falling in love to even think about seeking out casual sex. Who knew that you’d end up with something so not casual? 

“When did you last do this?” You ask right before he leans down to taste you. 

“Eat pussy?” He asks with a smirk.

“I meant slept with someone in general,” your head swims. Joel may have halted his head’s movements down towards your cunt, but he still has his fingers between your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at what his hands are doing.

“Don’t think I’d use in general about sex,” he replies smugly instead of giving you a proper answer. You realize it doesn’t matter as he rubs teasing circles around your clit, still avoiding any direct touch to get you properly worked up and wet. You cannot wait for him to follow through on his plan to eat you out, which you aren’t sure when you last had a guy do to you. 

“Fine, forget I asked,” you moan with a roll of your eyes.

Joel can sense the brat in you looming under the surface. He gets bolder, eyes changing to something hungrier than soft. He pulls you by your ankles to get you closer to him instead of the other way around. It makes you yelp, but he chuckles, “And there’s that attitude I like. Are you gonna let me now? No more interruptions?”

“No more interruptions,” you confirm.

Finally, he lowers his head between your legs and puts a stop to the noise in your head. You have been fantasizing about this position for months now, waited for the opportunity to lift your legs up to wrap them around his neck and shoulders. 

His tongue is warm and wet on you, trailing through your folds as if he is eating ice cream and it’s melting in his hands. He makes you throw your head back, makes you look up again as you don’t want to miss seeing him like this but only to have you force your eyes away because it’s too much. 

“Shit, Joel,” you swear when his nose bumps your clit. You try to lift your hips up into his mouth, but a big hand rests on your pelvis and aggressively pushes you down into the mattress again. That ignites something close to fire in your body, and Joel senses it immediately when your skin grows hotter.

“You like that, baby?” He pulls away from you for a moment, arousal dripping off his stubble, “When I get a little rough? Guess I shouldn’t be surprised with the way you like me to say filth.”

“I don’t want you to say anything right now,” you whine, “Not what your mouth is for.”

“And I told ya to guide me,” he retorts, replacing his tongue with his fingers whilst you are talking. He spreads your lips open, watching as another drip of slick runs down between your cheeks to pool on the mattress. 

“Don’t need any guidance,” you squirm as he holds your labia apart, clenching around nothing. 

“Then ya ain’t gettin’ anything,” he threatens, “I can watch your pussy jump under my touch for a long time. Ain’t gotta be home later. This is only to do it exactly how you want it, sweetheart. Needa know how you like to fuck.”

Your pulse quickens at the thought of him being a little mean if you don’t show a bit of cooperation. Your mouth parts as you pant in your compromising position. Joel looks up at you expectantly and you realize that maybe, as much as this is a bit of fun, it’s possible that he just wants to be reassured too. 

“I want you to pay more attention to my clit, use the flat of your tongue, and don’t suck until I’m close,” you explain while your head spins. Your elbows ache from holding yourself up. 

Another droplet of slick runs down. Without warning, Joel catches it with the tip of his tongue and it has you crying out. He remembers your demands, swiping his tongue through your folds and licking your clit expertly. 

“Need your fingers inside me,” you only just manage to let out whilst your orgasm burns low in your belly. He follows through but only after pushing your t-shirt up to expose your bra, cupping your breast with his left hand, and sneaking his right down between your legs.

Your nipples harden underneath his touch. Your pussy clamps around his fingers. And then he sucks your clit into his mouth, causing your hips to stutter and your thighs to twitch. He wiggles his head a little, goes rougher.

“Just like that, keep go— oh, Joel, you’re gonna—“ you flop down onto the bed again, elbows giving out underneath you. With the way that the pressure keeps building, you scramble to grab the sheets with both of your hands, “Gonna make me come, baby. Just— Ah!”

Everything fades as your orgasm begins. The flutters of your walls are intense, causing you to throw your head back into the mattress and concentrate on each pulsating contraction of your cunt. 

Joel pumps his fingers as he works you through it, sucking your swollen clit until you have to push him away to stop it from hurting. He lifts his head at your indication of wanting him to stop before removing your legs from his shoulders. He crawls into bed with you, hovering on top of you with his clothes still on and his legs hanging out off the edge. 

“Now how was that?” He asks despite knowing the answer. The warm and handsome smile that you love so much translates so well into the context of being in bed together, and with a little more confidence from just having climaxed, you cup his face and kiss him. He tastes deliciously of you. 

“Can’t complain,” you say with a little laugh and earn a little glare that Joel cannot keep on his face for long. He nudges your nose with his own and kisses you once again. The nervousness that you had felt earlier seems so far away now, so silly when he makes it so easy to forget. 

“Take your pants off, Miller,” you add, moving to crawl back on the bed. You start undressing yourself completely, pulling at your t-shirt, “Can’t just be about me as much as that sounds entertaining.”

“Confident after havin’ climaxed,” he says out loud like it’s a mental note for himself, removing his shirt. He laughs whilst getting out of his jeans, out loud at your outraged noise. 

You don’t know if it’s the comment that makes you the worst undresser in history, but somehow your bra becomes stuck in the sleeve of your t-shirt. Before you know it, the shirt simply won’t move anymore despite being halfway over your head, “Oh no.”

You can feel Joel moving on the bed. His attention is on you immediately, “What?”

“It’s stuck,” you admit but only after a long pause. Warmth creeps up your chest to your face as embarrassment fills you up, and even more so when Joel barks out a laugh at your eagerness getting the better of you.

“Sit still, you’re only makin’ it worse, we gotta start from scratch,” he says as you continue pulling at the fabric. He starts tugging your clothes back on until he has your face visible again and your body as dressed as before. 

“Hey you,” he says with a boyish grin, then slowly works your clothes back off the right way. 

“Hi,” you sputter when you’re finally completely naked, voice flustered. Joel is only in his boxers now, and God, he is tenting in them. It’s been on your mind a bunch of times; how big is he? Now that you see him straining against the fabric, you know that he is going to be the biggest you’ve ever had. 

After he has tugged off his boxers, and you’ve nearly passed out from the vision, Joel pushes gently on your chest to get you to lie down. He helps you to bend your legs, plants your feet flat on the bed, and then settles on his knees between them. 

“Condom?” He asks, stroking your thighs as he waits.

“I’m on the pill,” you reply, “And it’s been God knows how long, so I’m clean.”

“God knows how long,” he snorts, leaning down over you and holding himself up on his elbows, “We better fix that. Don’t ya think so?” 

“Mhm,” you look up into his eyes, “Definitely. Yeah.” 

“Wrap your legs ‘round my waist,” he guides you softly, can sense your hesitation or maybe it’s just how he can feel your heartbeat against his own chest. It’s rapid, beating like a scared animal.

You do as you are told. He is able to get even closer now, and when he is flush against your body, he kisses you slowly until he is allowed to slip his tongue into your mouth. You slide your fingers through the curls at the back of his head, and he hums into your mouth. 

When he needs air, he only pulls back inches. 

“I want you so much,” you breathe quietly, hands still at the back of his head. He smiles softly at you, reaches down between the two of you, and presses the tip of his cock against you. 

The whimper you let out as he pushes inside has him attentively moving slower. Inch by inch, he fills you to the brim and you can barely believe that just a few months ago, this had only been a brief fantasy. 

“Okay? You want me to stop?” He questions with genuine concern, but you quickly shake your head. That is the last thing you want.

“No, you’re just big … and it’s been a while,” you blush. 

“Okay, tell me if it’s too—“

You pull him into a sweet kiss, legs tightening around his waist to make him realize that you don’t want him to go anywhere. When you pull back to talk, he is on the brink of interrupting you again. You shake your head, “Joel Miller. Shut up and just fuck me.”

“Wow, yeah. Can do.”

The slow outwards drag of his cock is almost more intense, leaving you empty for the briefest moment before it fills you up again. You moan as your muscles squeeze around him, accepting him so easily as you finally relax into him.

He rolls his hips sensually, fucks you open till your new bed squeaks and you hope that he was right about its sturdiness. For show, and to test it out, you reach above your head to place your palm against the headboard. 

“Let’s see then,” he chuckles breathlessly.

“Wouldn’t even— fuck. I wouldn’t even be mad if you break my bed,” you pants, “Angle your hips a bit.”

You squeeze your legs around his waist to guide him, and when his cock nudges against your g-spot, you clench involuntarily around him. It pulls a groan from his lips, filth spilling from his mouth, “Yeah, you like that? Want it again?”

“Fuck yes, I want it again,” you whine, eyes falling closed and breathing rapidly, “Just like that! Fuck, Joel!”

Joel picks up the pace, leans further into you. He also adds more force behind his thrusts, making your eyes roll back when his pelvis aligns with your clit. The hand on the back of his neck slides down for more leverage, holding on for dear life as he pounds you into the mattress. 

“Keep going, I’m almost there,” you cry, heat continuously pooling at the base of your spine. Suddenly, you have both hands on his back, raking your nails down until they dig into the widest part of his back, “Faster!” 

“I know, baby,” he growls, but it sounds mostly out of breath. He gives you everything he has, seeking out your pleasure by making the bed slam into the wall, “Can feel you. Let go, baby, come on my cock.”

It is nothing but raw and hot pleasure in the next moment as he gets you to orgasm, causing you to release a breath that you do not know that you have been holding. You are taken aback by its intensity. A high-pitched cry leaves you as the first clench of your cunt hits you and Joel continues fucking you through it. 

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he pants, buries his head in the crook of your neck to chase his own reward. He comes after a few more thrusts, coating your walls in his warm come and saying your name. You don’t think your name has ever sounded so beautiful with a string of swear words following it. 

Time stands still after Joel pulls out. You expect yourself to be blissed out, sleepy, and quiet, maybe even annoyed at having to get up and clean yourself up, but instead, you find that you cannot stop grinning up at the ceiling. 

“We are definitely fucking doing that again,” you say despite being completely out of breath. 

“Was that perfect?” Joel teases, “Or did I disappoint ya?”

“Fuck you,” you giggle, still high on dopamine. You suspect you will be in the coming days, weeks, months, years. Hopefully.

“Just did,” he says proudly.

“You sure fucking did.”

“You always get so foul-mouthed after sex?” He turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He rests his free hand on the sweat-dampened skin of your stomach, “Or?”

“Only if it’s fucking good,” you respond but mostly to the ceiling. You want to cry, giggle, scream, and laugh out loud, but mostly you want to say that you love him. One thing at a time, you think to yourself, next time. Even if the next time is in a moment.

.

.

.

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[cheolsblackgf]

office encounters [l.jh]

⇒ woozi x reader

⇒ word count: 3.8k (including the bonus)

⇒ warnings: just some insults but nothing too crazy

⇒ content: rivals to lovers; some kissing yadda yadda; little bit of girl bossing

⇒ note: hello pls don’t @ me about how long it’s been i already know.. didn’t think this would mark my return bc i wrote this almost a year ago but lowkey i kinda cooked with this one so i thought i’d share.. also side note PLEASE come to my inbox if you find an error bc i literally proofread like 14 times looking for this one error i saw before but it just disappeared or smth idk so if you find it i’ll give you a brownie!!! anyways 시작해볼까요

“You look pretty today.”

Jihoon from corporate communication usually has a sarcastic quip for you when you cross paths in the copy room. Where humor comes easy for him, annoyance comes easy for you the same. You both seem to get on each other’s nerves in all the right ways; never enough to report the other to HR, but enough that you’d steer clear of him the entire day if he said something that got under your skin. Something like, “Why’s marketing’s posters suck so bad?” He’ll ask, and subsequently answer himself with, “Oh, that’s right. ‘Cause you’re the one making them.” Either he doesn’t know you spend so much time figuring out which design looks best, or he knows and purposely wants to get you riled up. It works, because you’re an emotional person and if someone criticizes your work, it feels like a personal attack.

This time, though, you’re making flyers for the office yard sale slash fundraiser, and he’s making copies of coupons for the local stores. Since there are about forty floors in your building, you’ll easily be occupied for at least two hours, hanging multiple flyers on each floor. Jihoon has his hands full as well, he makes one hundred copies for each store, with there being four stores total in the area. Luckily, you go to the copier first, so when he walks in, you quickly rest with a smug smile on your face.

“Hey,” he says casually. You’re waiting for him to tell you to hurry your ass up on the copier but he doesn’t. Hey?

Instead, you respond, “Hi,” and turn back to the copier to see how many sheets are left. Still sixty five.

“You look pretty today.” He tries next. You almost hit cancel on the print job right then and there. How can he say something like that. You look pretty today? Try again, Lee! It’s not gonna work!

You don’t immediately thank him for his compliment. You just think that somehow, he’ll add in a “—pretty ugly!” and then laugh it off. That’s the Jihoon you know. Not this “hey” man. Usually when you walk into the copy room, he groans and rolls his eyes. He always has a dig ready, too. “Didn’t realise it was loser day at the copy machine.” He’d say. You always have something to come back at him with. “Must be why you’re here.” It doesn’t seem like he’ll bicker with you today at all.

The display on the machine says there’s still forty sheets left. That means you can either pretend you left something at your desk and quickly exit the room until it’s done, or you can brave it and see what this guy is up to.

The second one. “I look pretty today? What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes at him, assuming there’s either a catch or some sort of joke hidden in his praise.

“No gimmicks,” he shrugs. “I just call it like I see it.” Oh, okay.

He’s standing on one side of the machine with you at the other. The polite smile stained on his face drives you up a wall. You feel like if you reciprocate it, it’ll be overkill. Him complimenting you doesn’t change the fact that you are office enemies. His team and your team often clash, as they’re the ones that share your team’s ideas with the higher ups, only after an intense filtering which often strips your ideas down to nothing. It always sucks because he acts so smug about it when your ideas don’t get pitched how you envisioned them. “Get some better ideas then,” he’d say. Of course, you can’t go out like that, so you tell him “Tell your team to think of one idea to begin with. You get your rocks off by stealing ours, your department would be helpless without us.” It’s mostly true, but sometimes, Jihoon has good ideas. When you two are having a good day, you’ll show each other ideas and give helpful feedback. But that usually doesn’t happen if either one of you has a quip locked and loaded already.

“Didn’t realise your mouth was able to produce compliments when it comes to me.” Twenty two sheets left. He reaches over you for the mini scotch tape. “You know, usually when someone compliments you, you just say thank you and forget about it in five minutes.” While he focuses on his task with the tape, you stare at the display on the copier and watch the number of sheets remaining go down, just so you don’t have to look at him.

He’s never called you pretty before. You need everyone to understand this. The only times he compliments you are rare and they’re always work related. Nice job during that tug of war. Those prints look great. These tchotchke designs would surely sell well. The dessert you brought to the potluck was delicious.

New to the list: you look pretty today.

You’re not sure how to feel internally, but externally, your mind is already made up. You’re annoyed. How could he say something like that with such a serious face and not be joking? Why couldn’t he be joking?

“I would say thank you, but I don’t know what this is.” He raises his eyebrows at your comment. “This? I don’t know what it is either because I can’t figure out what you’re talking about.”

The copier chimes to tell you the print job is finished. You log out of the machine and move aside to collect your sheets. You’ll definitely have to make a second trip—and perhaps with a box of some sort to hold all of the sheets—but you just want to leave this room.

Jihoon starts to grab a stack of the sheets as well. “Where are these going?” He asks, sounding nothing but sincere.

“Don’t know yet. I have to put them on each floor, though. I’ll find something to put them in in a little bit.”

“D’you need help?”

You set the sheets down. “Okay, listen. I was fine playing that game three minutes ago, but I don’t get it. Every day you look at me like the bane of your existence. You tell me my designs suck, you only fill my tea mug halfway when I ask for some, and you hog the copy machine whenever I need to use it. What gives?”

It would be hard to refute the fact that Jihoon is very handsome, and you have imagined an alternate universe where he was nice to you and even flirted with you, but nothing past that. You’ve never thought of what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to wake up in the morning beside him, to have him fill your tea mug up until it’s full, to meet in the copy room to steal a few extra kisses—okay, maybe a couple times you’ve thought of this. But it almost always gets overshadowed by his behaviour towards you. He is rude to you. He doesn’t like you enough to give up the act, but he also doesn’t hate you enough to ignore you completely. He has some sort of balance that only works with you. He playfully fights with other coworkers, but only as a stand-alone. Your feud is cemented into the very foundations of the building you each show up to every morning at seven o’clock on the dot. It’s ritualistic. It’s familiar. It sucks.

Jihoon leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “What gives? I just think you look pretty today. Can’t a man compliment his pretty coworker once? It’s really not that unheard of, but if you think something else is going on, you’re right. I like you. I never said it before because I assumed you also liked me which is why we do what we do, but I’m getting the feeling you don’t feel the same way which is fine. We can just go back to how we were and forget this ever happened.”

You take the stack of copies you were holding before and quickly leave the room. Once they’re placed on your desk, you awkwardly make your way back to the copy room and get the next set of sheets. Jihoon hasn’t moved from his position against the wall even after you’ve signed off of the machine and relocated the copies out of the way.

Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to say. Him confessing this way was not only unexpected, but also a bit annoying. To think, he’s liked you all this time but consistently and routinely found enjoyment in belittling you. Granted, you also took part in it against him, but only as retaliation and defense for yourself. The whole reason this rivalry started was because he made a comment against you. Why would you be mean to someone you like?

The week goes by slowly without Jihoon’s teasing. He comes by your cubicle once to offer you a mini cupcake from the convenience store on the fifth floor. You decline. He doesn’t come back again.

You thought of pulling him aside to really unpack and discuss everything, but then you consider how much worse it could get if you do that. Things are already pretty bad if neither of you have spoken or even just said hi to each other.

By Friday of the next week, though, you’ve had it with the silence. Your cubicle conveniently is in view of the copy room so you slyly watch the door waiting for Jihoon to go in there. He always prints to-do sheets on Friday for everyone in his department for the following week. At eleven on the dot, you see him disappear in there and you make your move immediately, booking it for the room.

You casually walk in and shut the door, but not before making sure no one was coming. No one really likes it when the door to the copy room is shut because people have been caught doing … things in there, but this shouldn’t take you long. Definitely not enough time to do … things with anyone.

“Hey,” You try, in the same tone as he used with you last week. He looks up from the machine and gives you a confused yet tired look. “What are you doing?” He sighs.

“You look pretty today.” You smile, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. He finishes signing in on the printer and runs his print job. He turns around to face you fully. “If you’re here to make fun of me for being nice to you, I think it’s best you stop now because I don’t find it amusing.”

You grin at him. “The opposite actually. I think it’s cute that you like me, but I really wish you would’ve asked me on a date first. And maybe just been nicer to begin with?” Both your eyes dart to the door as a polite knock is heard from the outside. You jump down from the counter and place your hands on Jihoon’s shoulders from behind. Your head rounds the side of his face. “Walk me to my car later?” And he agrees.

You go to let the person in and see yourself out. It feels a bit elementary, that proposal. Walk me to my car? gives the same energy as walk me home from the bus stop? and if you weren’t already getting some twisted wave of déjà vu, you definitely are now.

You didn’t know Jihoon until last year when he started working for this company. The previous person in his position suffered an extreme illness that forced them to resign so he promptly had to fill their position. He wasn’t trained that well, but he’s done the best he could thus far. You don’t know what you would do if he wasn’t in the office. Of course, some of your coworkers are also people you get drinks with from time to time, but Jihoon feels the most… familiar. Despite having never met with him outside of the office, he feels like the most grounding person since he doesn’t put on any front or act with you. You wouldn’t let him either. That’s why his confession feels so out of left field on the one hand, but normal on the other. He doesn’t hide how he feels from you, but he must have if he’s liked you and hasn’t said it until now.

Later comes. It’s 3:42 PM when you finally wrap it up for the day. Jihoon usually leaves earlier than you, but it appears he waited to clock out so you two would leave at the same time.

Okay, you’ll admit that’s sweet. You don’t think you’d do the same for him, but only because you don’t like your job enough to stay any later.

He meets you at your cubicle. “All done?” He asks, moving into your space to help you with your things. “Yep. If you could just carry this bag for me, that would be great, thank you.” He takes the bag from you with no qualms and waits patiently as you gather the rest of your belongings.

You were sadly unable to finish all the work you meant to get done today, so you’re leaving with a bit of homework—namely designing some flyers for part two of the yard sale slash fundraiser. The first fundraiser didn’t go as planned, so the upper level management suggested a second instalment.

Jihoon probably has the same amount of work too, so you wonder how he’s leaving the office empty handed.

On the elevator ride down, neither of you say anything. All you do is stare at the bright red floor descent display and wait until it gets to 1. Upon this happening, Jihoon lets you off first and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“I take it you didn’t get a lot done today?” He wonders, surveying the various items you’re carrying. “Sadly. Honestly, if Claudette hadn’t announced the second fundraiser, I’d be as carefree and empty handed as you.” You meant to come off as nonchalant, but judging by the way Jihoon completely stopped in his tracks upon your completion of the sentence, it was everything but that. “Carefree and empty handed?” He parrots in disbelief.

“CC is scrambling to get Q3 numbers up before having to report to corporate and nothing is working. Honestly, if Claudette didn’t conjure up another fundraiser, you would’ve had to find another sad sap to carry your things to your car because I wouldn’t be here right now.” He explains, which makes you laugh a bit but otherwise frown. You didn’t realise the company’s numbers were so far down that the fundraiser is essentially a double edged sword, but you figured it couldn’t have been for no reason.

Jihoon has always been very efficient with his work, even if about two months ago (maybe even less) you would’ve scoffed and said otherwise. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, meaning to be encouraging but not entirely sure if it came off that way. “Thanks. You too.”

With your hands full, you couldn’t grab your keys to unlock your car so you have Jihoon do it for you. “Where is this bag going?” He holds it up just in case you forgot which bag it is. “Uh, you can just throw it in the backseat. Well, don’t literally throw it but um—”

“I got it.” He chuckles at your disorganised thoughts.

Once all of your things are settled in the car, you close everything up and stand face to face with Jihoon. “Thank you for the help, I really appreciate it.” You say. “Anytime. I hope you get all your work done.” You reflect the wish back to him. Sadly, you guys just awkwardly stand there for a bit before realising this conversation is not going anywhere else.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, hm? You have my number, right?” He nods and bids you goodbye. You get into your car but don’t start it. Instead, you watch through your rearview mirror as Jihoon turns the corner to the staircase. Had you known his car was on a different level, you would’ve offered to drop him off since the parking garage’s elevator is out of commission. However, in hindsight, the conversation was already awkward enough.

Later that night, you two text back and forth for multiple hours. All the way until 2AM you guys were exchanging messages. He’s really a sweet guy even over text.

At 2:19, he texts you goodnight and says he’ll see you in the morning.

In the morning, like you expected, you see Jihoon milling about the office floor. He sends you a wave, but his hands are full so it’s nothing more than that. You try to catch him to offer your help, but he disappears in an instant.

The flyers you were supposed to make were only half done because most of your time last night was spent talking to Jihoon. You’re extremely guilty, and you feel horrible because you know all the work you have will carry into the weekend, but you made your bed.

Eventually, Jihoon visits you at your cubicle and apologises for keeping you up last night. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at this and gives your shoulder a supportive pat. “You’ll get it done.”

For the rest of the day, he leaves you alone—other than bringing you a mug of tea—and honestly, that was for the best. You do manage to catch up on and finish all the work so you text Jihoon the good news. He suggests ice cream after work to celebrate and you agree.

Your manager stops by your cubicle to compliment your hard work. “And I saw you being extra smiley with Jihoon. Good luck.” Before you can refute her statement with any type of defense, she disappears.

Extra smiley. Hm.

At the end of the day, Jihoon meets you at your cubicle once again and this time, you don’t have anything for him to carry except your comically large tote bag that you bring into the office everyday. Before you two leave, you grab your heels from under your desk that you change out of everyday upon arrival to the office. You attempt to put them in your bag, but Jihoon shakes his head. “Put those on.”

“Why?”

“We’re going out to dinner. As a date.” He reveals. You drop the heels back on the floor. “You really are a sad sap.” You remark, sliding one of your sneakers off. “Not for everyone.”

“So you’re saying I’m special?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He speaks nonchalantly. Coming from him, though, these words mean a lot to you. Ever since his initial confession, you can tell not all of his confidence is there. But it’s your goal to show him that he doesn’t have to try as hard, he’s already got you.

As you struggle with getting your sock off, Jihoon groans. “Hurry up, the reservation is for six o’clock.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Reservation? Wow, you must really like me.” He watches as you slip the other heel on. “You know that already. Come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the elevator. You press the down button and wait for the elevator to come up. In that time, Jihoon takes your bag from you and fixes the wrinkles in your dress.

The two of you step into the elevator and after hitting 1, the doors close and it begins its descent. In the reflective doors, Jihoon stares at you. “You’re so pretty.” He says. “Am I?” You respond. He nods. “Thank you, my sad sap.” You add, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Okay, you were pretty until about five seconds ago.” He clarifies, but holds your hand tighter all the while. He thinks maybe you’re right, he is a sad sap. But only when it comes to you.

[the end]

SIKEEEEE

BONUS

You’re almost giggling on your way to the copy room. As soon as you saw Jihoon go in there, you knew it was your cue. It wasn’t any type of plan or anything, but lately, you guys have only been able to meet in the copy room because everyone has gotten extremely suspicious of you guys and you didn’t wanna say anything.

As soon as you make it to the room, you shut the door and see your boyfriend already working on the machine. You hop up and make your place on the counter while Jihoon does his thing. “Clear?” He asks with his back to you. “Clear. For now. Come here.” You hold your arms out just as he turns to you and he makes his way over. “Missed you last night.” You whisper. He leans in to your embrace and presses a kiss to your lips. “Me too. Let’s get dinner tonight.” All your plans with Jihoon have been spontaneous because the workload has been unpredictable lately. If you both end the day with no incomplete assignments, you’ll go out and do something together, but if not, you save it for another day.

His print job ends and he reluctantly breaks away from you to go grab his copies. There’s only maybe twenty in the stack, but he asks you if you have any to make. You hand him the sheet you’re copying and he starts it up for you while you wait patiently on the counter. You zone out to the sound of Jihoon clicking around on the printer settings, so much so that you don’t hear him when he asks you how many copies you need. He asks again, “How many copies, baby?”

“Oh! Sorry, thirty-six please.” He’s not annoyed you weren’t listening. In fact, he smiles a little bit and is amused.

He inputs the amount you need and waits for the machine to start printing before making his way back to you. “What do you feel like for dinner?” He asks, caging you in with his arms. “Not sure, but not seafood.”

He pouts. “But baby, I love seafood.”

“Then you can go get seafood and I’ll stay home and watch Queen of Tears.” He gasps at this idea. Even though you’re not serious, he fakes being upset for a second.

A moment later, the door opens and your manager Claudette walks in. She doesn’t see you two right away, but once she does, she says “Oh brother,” and walks right out. She leaves the door open and you can hear her call out to someone else and say, “You owe me twenty dollars!”

You and Jihoon exchange a look. “Who do you think she’s talking to?” You ask him. He pauses for a second and moves away from you. “Me.”

“What?” But he’s already on his way out of the room. “See you later!” He doesn’t realise that he’s forgotten his copies so you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon.

The office will definitely be on fire by tomorrow with this news, you’re already aware. On the bright side, though, you can finally celebrate your first public couple activity: getting bullied by the entire office.

[the end (real)]

masterlist

#HELLO CARATDEUL WHATS UP #certainly has been a while #little bit of unnecessary clarification for this work: #i like to be happy so #i purposely didn’t bring up or entertain the idea of the relationship not working out #esp because they’re coworkers #ppl always like don’t date your coworkers #but i wanna be happy #and it’s my return so we’re being happy BITCHES #woozi x reader #woozi fanfic #lee jihoon x reader #woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #lee jihoon imagines #lee jihoon fluff #woozi fluff

[stirthewaters]

Too Sharp to Touch pt.9

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Language

Summary: At a Halloween event for Jericho, Wednesday decides to put you to work.

Pairings: Wednesday x Reader

Too Sharp to Touch Masterlist

Wednesday had never thought in her whole life that she would ever have to wear the dreadful cat costume she had sported during the Poe Cup in the previous years, but now, somehow, she found herself in the exact same skintight suit, being fitted with a (newly) fixed pair of cat ears from her roommate, who was dressed in similar attire, though the blonde’s black outfit had also been sprinkled with glitter here and there, that of which Wednesday was almost positive she was getting hives from.

Although the goth had rather firmly insisted that she would not be wearing any sort of costume or special outfit for the event, somehow Enid had roped her into it, only managing to get her to agree by reluctantly giving her a plastic jug of fake blood. Of course she didn’t want to be any sort of feline; but a murderous feline? She would settle for. Even if the fake blood had a pathetically runny viscosity and was too bright for the perfectly horrifying shade of red that it was supposed to be.

According to Enid, Nevermore’s carving event was also created with the intention of being dressed in costume, which Wednesday found to be completely unnecessary when the purpose of the event itself wasn’t even directed towards such a thing. And unfortunately, since the raven had refused to wear anything Enid offered, (such as a ridiculous bird outfit complete with a monocle and fake feathers), the old costume was retrieved last minute.

“What are you doing?” Wednesday suddenly spoke, broken out of her thoughts when she felt the texture of something against her face as she instinctively pulled away, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Uhm, whiskers?” Enid held up the makeup brush in one hand and whatever fashion concotion used to create the illusion with the other. “Then we’ll be matching.”

“Absolutely not.” Wednesday shook her head firmly, folding her arms over her chest as she took a small step back. “My answer remains the same as the year previous and if I’m ever forced to wear this atrocious outfit in the future I can assure you that answer will be the same.”

The pout on the werewolf’s face was filled with disappointment, but nodded and put the items away, storing them in her desk on her side of the room before skipping back over. Her costume was just as ridiculous as it was last year; black outfit and ears, whiskers and a cat-like nose painted onto her face, as well as the aforementioned glitter sprinkled here and then. At least Enid could pull it off.

As Enid started to head for the door, Wednesday reached for her fleece hoodie, starting to pull it over her shoulders when the blonde spoke in a confused tone, “you’re covering up the costume?”

“More or less,” Wednesday nodded, feeling slightly more comfortable now that there was at least some sort of covering for the costume. “I agreed to wear this but the conditions of what to wear on top were never discussed. Now let’s go, we’ll be late.”

She followed Enid down the hall, populated with students in costume on their way to the event; Wednesday spotted more than one angel and demon, though most of the costumes were inaccurately portrayed in her opinion. The sky was already mostly dark, and the temperature was wonderfully chilly, accompanied by a small breeze that sent dead leaves flying across campus.

“You seem eager to get there on time,” Enid teased softly, glancing at Wednesday as they exited through the main entrance, heading onto the main path before them. “Is there any specific reason for that?”

Wednesday instantly shot the blonde a glare, though she felt a small hint of disgust in the back of her mind as she realized it wasn’t nearly as sharp as the ones she typically delivered to anyone else…or you for that matter. Wednesday didn’t like that at all. “I’d advise you inform me of what you’re implying before you lose the ability to do so.” She stepped slightly to the side for more berth and space between her and Enid, respectfully.

Enid, clearly realizing the empty threat, nodded and gave a small smile and a tilt of her head as she hummed and shrugged slightly. “Well, I dunno… I mean, Y/N’s going to be there, right? And you’re working with her on that whole ‘gunshot in the woods’ thing together so maybe you were just… anticipating getting there early.” Her eyes glanced over at the Addams once more. “Though usually you want to make a bad first impression - no offense of course.”

“None taken,” Wednesday didn’t look back at Enid as she continued to walk, focusing on the dimly lit path in front of her that wound through the thinning out trees, the lights of Jericho becoming visible. “If I’m going to be in Jericho then it is a rather popular spot to begin trying to find evidence. Y/N is merely a victim of circumstance.” She could almost feel the werewolf’s eyes on her, those of which she tried to ignore. “If you’re implying what I am suspecting than I would advise you to keep quiet for the time being.”

“Alright, alright.” Enid hummed softly, clearly not going to push as she walked beside the raven. “Are you at least going to stick around to carve any pumpkins or anything?” She was changing the topic. Good.

“I doubt that I’d find pleasure in carving trivial patterns into vegetables with strangers.” Wednesday gave a small sigh, rolling her eyes as she added, “most adolescents' knife skills are pathetic to watch. It’s as if they learned merely from watching one of those judgmental cooking shows. At least the sadism of the judges is admirable.”

As the two stepped into town, Wednesday took note of the amount of people around; usually at this time of night there weren’t many passerby, but it was obvious that the Jericho-hosted event was quite a popular festivity, much to her distaste. Why waste a perfectly dark and intimidating atmosphere on such a trivial holiday spent eating sugar and dressing in foolish wear? Clearly that townsfolk were just as immature as she had suspected.

The lampposts closer to the main area had been strung with jack-o-lantern lights, casting a disgustingly artificial glow over what would have been shadow, and it seemed as if the mayor couldn’t have resisted putting a faux hay bale or scarecrow at every other curb.

The main area had quite a few plastic tables with a few tablecloths spread over, with an army of pumpkins sat around the fountain to be picked and carved for anyone who wished. Wednesday noticed that the crowd mainly consisted of Nevermore students, rather than normies. How unfortunate that the chances of a fight breaking out were now lessened.

Wednesday was able to pick you out of the sea of costumes in an instant.

There you were, dressed in an oddly fitting werewolf costume, which, rather than other werewolf costumes that the Addams had seen, mostly consisting of a plastic mask and a plaid button up, was actually somewhat decent.

You had small smears of fake blood on your arms and face, that of which was far more realistic than the ridiculous bright artificial colored blood she sported at the moment; Wednesday would definitely have Thing swipe it later.

Your claws were out, as well, which she definitely didn’t see often, and unlike Enid’s, which were typically painted a plethora of painfully bright neons, were just a dark black, fitting the simple aesthetic that claws were supposed to convey.

The only odd thing about it was the fact that you didn’t carry them the way that werewolves typically did; you almost seemed as if you were unsure of how to carry them, making sure they weren’t in danger of ever accidentally touching anyone or getting stuck on things. In fact, your hands were shaking. Though you still were talking with everyone and conversing with a smile and laughs, most likely making those stupid jokes you always did.

And when you saw her the way she saw your eyes light up made Wednesday want to strangle you. You were doing something to her to make her feel that unpleasant prickling sensation.

Wednesday reluctantly followed Enid into the crowd, looking around with eyes that dared anyone to make a comment about her appearance; she always had her pocket knife on her if anyone wanted to make the slightest jab.

“I’m not going to lie, I didn’t expect to see you here,” you grinned, approaching her with that fast gait you always sported when you were excited. It made Wednesday realize how much of a werewolf you really were, even when you weren’t wolfed out. Though she still had yet to experience that. “Where in the hell did Enid drag that thing out of?”

“Weems kept the costumes in storage,” Enid beamed, glancing at Wednesday proudly. “I mean, come on, she looks pretty good, right?”

“I was hoping I’d look dreadful, actually,” she deadpanned with a roll of her eyes, watching your movements as you studied her own false blood.

“I mean yeah, it’s a good costume, but the fake blood…” you trailed off, covering your mouth to hide a smile. “It looks like water dyed with food coloring.”

“Finally,” Wednesday muttered sarcastically, feeling a tinge of satisfaction that at least someone agreed. “Whoever created it wanted to make a mocking of blood itself.”

“It was all the party store had left,” Enid said with a small pout, that of which made Wednesday sigh slightly. “I’m off to grab some of the skittles, it looks like they’ve got a whole bowl.”

“Save me some,” you called back as the costumed blonde disappeared into the crowd, at the exact same time that Wednesday muttered, “you’ll get yourself sick.”

Now that the two of you were alone, the Addams reached down, taking one of your hand and inspecting it, studying your claws as your eyes widened in surprise. “Wednesday, what are you-“

“Your hands are shaking,” she observed after a second, releasing you and placing her own hand back into the pocket of her jacket. “I wish to know why. Either you’re on a sugar high or I’d draw the assumption that you’re anxious.” Was she even right? She didn’t understand half of how body language connected to emotions. She hated the feeling of vulnerability that came with the territory.

“Sugar high, probably,” you responded after a moment, averting eye contact to flex your hand, eyes focused on the sharp claws at your fingertips. “Either that or I’m not used to having these bad boys out. They're kind of awkward to carry when I’m not wolfed out or whatever.” You glanced back up at her, folding your arms behind your back as you changed the topic. “I take it you’re not stoked to carve any pumpkins?”

Wednesday took a moment, eyes narrowing in slight puzzled confusion, pausing before raising an eyebrow. “‘Stoked’?”

“Oh, that’s just a dumb word for excited or whatever,” you shrugged slightly, a hint of red appearing over the skin of your nose. “Whatever. I’m just confused why you’d be here other than to humor Enid.”

“I’d rather try and collect witness evidence from anyone here who could’ve heard it other than you and Thing,” Wednesday shook her head, glancing over at the swarm of adolescents enjoying themselves. “Gunshots are not silent, to my knowledge.”

“And how are you going to do that?” You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in slight confusion.

“I’m not. You are.” Wednesday gestured with her head to the crowd, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’m sure with that sickeningly charming personality of yours you’ll be able to draw some info out of someone.”

“You’re calling me charming?”

The shit-eating grin on your face made Wednesday roll her eyes again, responding with gritted irritation. “Don’t push it, Y/N. Get. The job. Done.”

“And my reward when I do?” Oh, you were really testing your luck now. Wednesday could feel herself staring literal daggers at you. “Not being strangled.”

The disappointment in your eyes made her slightly regret her words for some reason, and the Addams gave another roll of her eyes, sighing with irration. “If you’re lucky, sone candy. Whatever will keep that werewolf mind of yours motivated. Satisfied?”

Your nod of excitement was almost comical, and Wednesday watched with a raised eyebrow as you took off into the crowd, the faux wolf tail clipped to your cargo pants swaying to and fro.

The night wore on, people beginning to grow more excited as the party ramped up. It was more than once that Wednesday found herself grimacing in disgust at the sight of more than one couple engaging in intimate acts every now and then. The amount of indecency from youth was unsurprising.

You, on the other hand, did as told. She watched you like a hawk as you had multiple discussions with both students and normies, seemingly lighthearted and joking. You were focused for once. Could it have been at the bribe she’d offered? That had to be the answer.

Speaking of, the Addams abruptly realized that she was more or less obliged to follow through on her promise of candy, and with a roll of her eyes, stepped into the mess of elbows and sweaty costumed teens to retrieve some. Thankfully, most instinctively pulled away from the feeling of her cold body brushing against theirs, but even so Wednesday felt slightly choked by the amount of people.

Stopping by the plastic table that held three large bowls of confections, she sighed and reached over to take a few; it didn’t matter exactly what she gave you since you were likely to be happy at whatever you received. Wednesday retrieved a couple of whatever ‘snickers’ were, as well as a couple more small bite sized candies before placing them in her jacket pocket, turning to leave when she spotted a flash of pink in someone’s hand.

There, in a tall boy dressed as a cowboy’s hand, was a package of bright pink packaging, which Wednesday vaguely recognized as your favorite candy. She’d seen you eating it once or twice in the dining hall. A quick glance at the candy bowl proved that the one the cowboy had retrieved was either the last or only one left.

Without a second thought the Addams reached out and tore it from his hand, shoving it into her pocket. When he turned to protest, she glared witheringly at him, speaking coldly, “consider touching me and I’ll end your bloodline.”

In her mind, her reasoning for going out of her way to do so was to satisfy her inner sadist and deprive the boy of his sugary desires. That was definitely the reason.

When most of the pumpkins around the fountain were gone and the grass was littered with plastic cups, candy wrappers, and pumpkin guts, you returned, looking slightly less energetic but prideful.

“As promised, I got results.” You pulled up the sleeve of your jacket, showing multiple paragraphs written in pen on your arm, making Wednesday raise an eyebrow.

“And you chose your arm as a canvas. How creative,” her tone was sarcastic as she sighed, stepping closer to briefly scan over the scribbles, taking it all in to memory as she ignored your expectant eyes on her. “You received testimony from only two witnesses?”

“Mostly everyone here is drunk,” you sighed, nose scrunching in slight distaste as Wednesday glanced up at you, questioning. “And you…don’t. Well, either way it’s better than nothing.”

She dug into her pocket, pulling out the handful of candies. “As promised,” she sighed, dumping them into your waiting hands.

The fact that your eyes lit up the second she saw the candy she had taken made everything worth it.

———

pt.10 here!

Taglist

@idkjustliving2 @alexkolax

#wednesday addams #wednesday series #wednesday x reader #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #jenna ortega #wednsday addams #tstt #werewolf #werewolf x wednesday #werewolf x reader

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Forest guardian

Daryl Dixon x reader

You plan a week long vacation to a luxury cabin. Luxury is nowhere near what you find.

Yet another AU, mentions of canibalism, also Merle is gross.

The bald man behind the counter of the shoddy store was probably the grossest dude you had ever seen, cleaning what looked like blood off his hands while he kept so openly staring at your tits in the low cut top and following you around with his intense gaze as you picked up some items from the racks. "Dontcha worry, doll. Had ta quit skinnin' rabbit when I heard ya come in. S'legal in these 'ere parts." He reassures you, and after you paid you sadly needed to interact with him even more, seeing you weren't familiar with the roads and needed help finding your destination.

"Oh, tha' cabin's over 'ere on tha' road. Can't miss it, sugar." He doodled a little house on the map for you. "Gotta park righ' 'ere." 'here' was marked with a small X. "Road ends, rests'a sand path, too narrow fer cars." With a filthy grin he pointed at the map and marked the location of the place you rented to spend a week in nature to heal. You needed to be away from society for a bit and booked this crazy cheap place in the middle of the woods close to a gorgeous lake. It surprised you there weren't any more cabins like that around, the area was so nice it would make a perfect luxurious vacation spot. Still, that gross man's voice rung in the back of your mind. "Now dontcha go swimmin' in tha' lake, missy. Pretty lil' thang like yerself'd gon' get snatched up ne'er ta be seen 'gain."

On the way to the cabin, following the route you were suggested you passed the lake and watched the sun cast a beautiful gleam over its surface.

'This really is too gorgeous to go swim in.' You mind wondered to the cabin as you closed in on its location, turning the last corner before the road cut off and your small path through the tree line became visible. Not wanting to walk the path twice you stacked everything you took onto your body and started to lug your stuff forward, seeing you had to round the cabin to make to the front door.

The cabin that looked nothing like the photos on the website.. "Oh of course I got catfished by a fucking cabi--"

Stopping dead in your tracks you dropped your bags and sent yourself forward, up the wooden porch and down on your knees.

A man laid passed out in the door opening of the cabin, his breaths shallow. Every item he wore was covered in dried mud and stained to hell and back. A dead rabbit laid beside him, probably dropped from his grasp when he went down. Kneeling closer you looked him over for and wounds and found a deep gash on his side when you turned him over, and saw what looked like a stab wound on his upper arm.

Underneath long, greasy hair there was a large gash on his face, long healed over and leaving an angry scar over an empty eye socket and one side of his mouth was torn open.

You wanted to stare but needed to help this man first, going to find your first aid kit and cleaning the wounds after dragging him onto the cot in the corner of the ratty cabin.

"I'm sorry." You murmured at the man who didn't even hear you as he was out cold. Applying the disinfectant to his wound had you wince along with the soft twitch of his body and a wave of panic washed over you.

What if he woke up, with you hovering over him? You had spotted the throwing axe strapped to his waist, along with two large hunting knives and suddenly prayed you wouldn't end up on the wrong end of those.

When he didn't wake you continued to clean and bandage his arm, and thanked yourself for throwing a pack of butterfly stitches in your bag and carefully stuck them over the cut over his side with one hand as the other held it closed between your fingers.

Wrapping his arm was easy, but having to unroll the bandage around his waist was proving to be a challenge, having to shove your arm underneath his body to pass the bandage to your other hand multiple times.

The invasive movements had moved the man's body and it surprised you he hadn't woken up by the time you tied off the end.

With his wounds patched you could only sit around and wait. You got scammed by a too good to be true offer on a cabin and the first thing you had to do after getting creeped out in the shop was patch up a stranger's wounds yourself because the area had no service.

Curiosity got the best of you after a moment and you went to snoop around the place, passing time by going through cabinets and drawers.

At the third drawer you opened you felt like you stumbled on a goldmine. A black wallet and chain, and a passport laid pushed towards the back.

"Daryl Dixon, huh." Both the ID and the passport belonged to the man, and other cards in the wallet held the same name. It had to be him.

You gave the pictures a long inspection, turning to go compare to the passed out man behind you.

Instead, before you got the chance to turn a hand came and snatched the items from yours. "S'mine, thank you very much."

With a shriek you turned to face the voice and were met with the iciest blue eye you had ever seen.

The open drawer dug into your back as you tried to move away from him.

With the stabbing feeling your gaze turned back to the drawer, hoping to close it but something familiar caught your eye. So instead you dug your hand to grab at a flyer, and with it pulling out a stash of attached papers that scattered over the floor and made Daryl take a step back.

The paper in your hands was filled with the same photos as the cabin rental showed. "The hell?" It was a sales flyer, it told about the building plan for a large amount of cabins surrounding the lake. You looked past the flyer to the floor, bending down to look at the various news articles about the area.

"JUST ANNOUNCED: NEW LUXURY VACATION HOMES." That one spread information about the upcoming tourist attraction.

A smaller piece announced a delay due to "disagreements from locals." You thought if Daryl and the shop guy were those locals.

Then a large, gruesome front page spread.

"MASSACRE AT BUILDING SITE. PROJECT CANCELED."

The title did the article no justice, the first sentence warning people to stop reading if they were easily nauseated, and continued on to go into detail of the events where a whole building crew was murdered mere hours after their scheduled arrival at the site. The murders deemed "too gruesome to share in more detail.".

More articles of missing campers and words of the mysterious serial killer in this area were scattered around and that sudden panic from earlier arose again.

You were dead. It was a fact at the time you first thought of it and it was still a fact now that you saw all this. With shaking breaths you slowly looked up at the man still standing before you.

His hand rested on the handle of his hunting knife, fingers not yet curled around it. His one eye staring, clearly deep in thought.

"That's you, right? The killer?" Your fingers rested on a smaller article, looking further up at his face.

A quiet acknowledging grunt left him as he turned around and ignored your further words.

Daryl's mind raced with opinions, facts and other voices that all called out different things.

He killed trespassers. Humans were bad for these woods, they shouldn't exist here. Except for him and his brother. But this one healed him, patched up his wounds and made sure he didn't die. You weren’t here to harm..

His wandering mind had led him outside, lighting a cigarette and deciding to return the favor and rummage through the bags you brought, fishing out a tub of cookies from your backpack.

From just outside the doorway you heard the familiar click of the tub clasps opening, followed by a loud crunching.

“Huh. HEY!” Getting up from the floor you made your way over to the man and snatched the box from his hands. “Those are mine, thank you.” Your tone mocked his from before and Daryl grunted in protest.

“Why’re ya ‘ere anyways?” You huffed in response, a hand on your hip and pointing the one with the box at where he still sat in front of your pile of bags. “Obviously I came here on vacation, but I guess I’ll be driving home again since I got scammed…”

You had moved to start packing up your first aid kit and moved over to stuff it back into your backpack but pausing, and handing the kit to Daryl. “Why?” He spoke around lungfuls of smoke before blowing it out away from you. “Got ‘nough a’those layin’ ‘round.”

‘Why’re ya tellin’ her tha? She saw yer a killer. Why aint she dead yet?’ The voice in his head blended with his brother’s, scolding him like he was so used to, but still not believing you were harmful enough to kill.

Besides, you knew how to tend to wounds which was useful.

Hell, even going out to find his brother to bring him an outdoor oven and ingredients to make those cookies and keep you around just fir those was enough to dispel the voices.

You were standing in front of the storage space at the back of he cabin and you were worried. Why were you following this killer and not just leaving your stuff behind and running to your car? You’d never speak of this and find some excuse on the way home. But still you kept standing there next to him as he opened the door and showed the huge collection of useful stuff. All taken from trespassers.

“You’re killing me aren’t you?” The words weren’t supposed to leave your mouth and a hand clamped over it immediately after, eyes on him in fear as tears threatened to spill due to the panic you were causing yourself. But then again, would it really be that bad if he killed you? No more shitty jobs and cheating boyfriends. No more crying yourself to sleep over bills and food.

“Yer dif’rent.” You barely caught his words when he disappeared into his stash and throwing a soft fuzzy blanket at you. “Feel tha’ one. Ya like tha’?” You hadn’t throwing the item until it hit you in the face, grabbing to catch it before it hit the ground and being taken off guard even more by how soft it was. It calmed you, rubbing it against your cheek. At the sight of the tab on it you gasped, taking a closer look at it and staring back at Daryl, your previous worries entirely overridden by the shock. “Why do you have a hundred dollar blanket in your shed?”

He only shrugged. “Sum whiny whore had it. Guess ‘er boyfriend thought campin’ at a pretty lake was gon’ get ‘em laid or sum’n.”

“Bitch was fuckin’ disgustin’.” A shudder ran along his spine at the memory of cutting her open. “All ‘er curves fake, no meat left on ‘er bones tha’ was edible. Damn fillers leakin’ out of ‘er flesh over the fire.” He just rambled about it like it meant nothing to him at all while you stared. He ate them? You were getting hungry just now but that feeling faded just as quick upon hearing him talk.

He saw the disgust on your face and decided he needed to shut up. “Ah, sorry. Ain’t normal people talk.”

His apology really came out of left field and had you swallow a giggle, but failing and sputtering out a laugh. “Why even are you telling me all this?” Despite your laughs it was a serious question. “I mean, what if ai leave and call the cops on you?” Not that you were going to, but you got curious and had already decided you were fine with however this day was going to end. If this guy as gonna roast you over a fire then so be it, you weren’t scared anymore.

“Who says yer leavin’? M’keepin’ ya ‘ere with me. Yer dif’rent.”

Different. There it was again, he’s called you that more than once now. “Who says I want that?”

“Y’aint runnin’ yet.” He put his pointer fingers together in a counting gesture. “Ya patched me up. An’ yer not scared a’me ‘n ma face.”

It’s true. When you first saw his face it shocked you a bit, but mostly you were curious how someone could survive a wound like that. You nodded thoughtfully, not entirely aware you did so and earned a smile. “I aint plannin’ on eatin’ ya. But ya gotta respect ma rules or I’ll change ma mind ‘bout it.”

“If you’re talking about eating people you better end me now, there’s no way I’m doing that, ever.” You held your hands up in defeat with the blanket tossed over one shoulder. “Go ahead.”

This time it was Daryl’s turn to laugh. A deep, rumbling laugh that had you squint at him. He laughed?

Your calm around the offer for him to kill you right where you stood surprised him. You really didn’t care if he took you out. He respected that, so as long as you were fine with his ways he had no reason to get rid of you. “Dontcha worry yer pretty lil’ head ‘bout tha’. Aint gon’ make ya eat ‘em. ‘Nough small game ‘round ‘ere fer ya. I’ll keep ya fed.”

Oh. That wasn’t so bad. Yeah, rabbits and squirrels weren’t part of your menu now but as long as he wasn’t feeding you humans.

Talking about eating made the grumble in your stomach make another appearance, this time accompanied my the unmistaken noise of hunger. A huffed laugh and a nod towards the front door had you both back inside where Daryl still had his rabbit he had started skinning at his makeshift kitchenette across the room rom where you sat on the bed eating your leftover sandwich.

You observed him from a distance. How he skillfully took apart the animal and separated the meats while keeping an eye on his fireplace in the meantime.

“Hey, c’mere.” Without looking up from his work he waved one hand above his head to get your attention. He made sure you got the pieces you wanted, and prepared them to your liking. The way he was roasting them over the fireplace was almost like an inside barbecue.

“Smells nice.” You had moved to sit next to him beside the fire that roasted your dinner.

You ate together and spent the time after in quiet togetherness. Daryl cleaned up the rabbit’s leftovers and spent some time doing god knows what outside while you stayed in. You sat on the bed fidgeting with your clothing and the soft fuzz on the blanket he gave you. For a short moment you wondered what you were still doing here, why you hadn’t gotten up and started walking away, but now your mind was blank, staring mindlessly at the floor. You didn’t even notice Daryl come back in. He just suddenly appeared in your view, dropping a stack of bedrolls and sleeping bags at your feet and beginning to roll them out. When you realized his implications you let yourself fall. Ack with a sigh. You really had been here since early in the afternoon and still hadn’t made an effort to leave and were about to spend the night in a killer’s cabin in the woods..

You wondered if all these setbacks in life had officially driven you mad.

After you offered to take over from Daryl to “make your own bed” he only scoffed and tapped your ankle to make space. “Makin’ ma own bed ‘ere. Ya keep the cot, s’fine.” You went back and forth a bunch of times but he kept insisting you kept the bed. Why was he so kind?

You tossed him his pillows and got a quizzical look that followed you as you went to retrieve the ones you brought from your duffle bag at the door. With an understanding grunt he moved on, unzipping a sleeping bag and laying it over the bedding and left through the curtain beside the kitchenette.

You were about to lay down and zone out when he walked back through the curtain, ducking b something out of one drawer lower than you got before when you got there and move back, keeping what was in his hand hidden from your line of sight, but you caught something in his mouth for a second. “Wait. Hold up.” Oh fuck. His mind told him he fucked up by grabbing that magazine. You were gonna ask what he grabbed and there was no way you needed to know what he was planning to do behind that wall. You sat up and watched as he peeked his head from behind the curtain to look at you with a raised brow, faking his best annoyed look. “Hmm?” With a toothbrush between the scarred end of his lips he waited for you to speak.

“You brush your teeth?” You were seriously confused now. “You, a serial killer living in the middle of nowhere, brushes his teeth.” You pointed at him, hand palm up in disbelief. He rolled his one eye at your wording and took the thing from his mouth and pointed it back at you in an almost threatening way. “Yeah, so?” He spoke around a mouthful of foam. “Ya will keep up too when ya gotta yank out a rotten tooth ‘n can’t eat nut’n but soup fer weeks.” He scoffed at your assumption of his hygiene just because he killed people. “Gotta keep clean ta eat. Can’t eat, can’t hunt. Can’t hunt, can’t keep them woods ‘ere safe.” His tone was serious, he meant every word and made it clear these woods meant much to him. Enough to kill for. After he was done he turned away again and the room fell silent once more, taking it as your cue to crawl under the soft blanket Daryl gave you and sleep for the night.

#sometimes I write #twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd au

[kassiekole22]

Hi! I love your works! Can I request a Syzoth x reader oneshot? Like what’s their first date like? Since Syzoth is still a reptilian and isn’t familiar with human customs/culture. And the reader is not familiar of Zaterrans’ customs/culture. Thank you!

Starry Night

Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader Description: Being two different species, you and Syzoth aren't very sure what to do on your first date, since human and Zaterran traditions are completely different from each other. But when the two of you are walking through the streets of your home town in hopes of finding something to do, you get an idea that you just know you'll both love... Warnings: Just Fluff! 💖 Word Count: 1.4k A/N: I hope this was what you were looking for! Main MasterList: 🖤 Kassie's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @bihansthot, @katiralovely, @queenkhepri, @blackbunnymayw, @simpforhotmaskedmen, @theleftkittycollection, @kiashines. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

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I was pretty nervous as I rushed to be ready before eight o'clock. Hell, I was so nervous that I almost couldn't do my eyeliner. But after taking a couple deep breaths, I was able to stifle my nerves for a few more minutes. I quickly threw on a silky emerald green dress that I had bought that day. I couldn't resist buying it when I first laid eyes on it through the window of the store, because I knew he would absolutely love it!

A sudden knock at my front door kicked my nerves into drive again, and the butterflies in my stomach caused my heartbeat to move to my throat to cause nausea. After taking another deep breath to sooth my anxieties and straightening my dress out in the mirror, I left my bedroom to open the front door and greet my date.

Syzoth's eyes widened as they met with mine and something about the way his eyes quickly roamed my figure told me that he did, in fact, love the dress I had bought just for him. After realizing that he had taken too long to take in the sight of me, Syzoth's cheeks blushed a deep shade of green as he peered up at me almost shamefully.

"Uh— H-Hi," he stammered awkwardly while rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hi!" I greeted him again with a kind smile, which he returned.

"S-Shall we be leaving now?" He asked with a slight stutter filling his soft voice. I nodded before stepping out of my house and locking my door behind me.

It then occurred to us that we had never actually planned what we would do on this date. Being two very different species with very different ideas on how to spend our time together, we weren't quite sure we could do that would make us both happy. So we walked around my town for awhile while we talked about our day and such, but it wasn't until we passed the local park that it hit me.

"Oh! I have an idea!" I exclaimed excitedly, and Syzoth looked at me with a curious expression.

"What would that be, (Y/N)?" He asked and my smile grew wide with excitement.

"Come with me; I'll show you." I said as I took his hand and tugged it in the direction of the park.

He seemed almost shocked by the sudden contact and once I remembered that Zaterrans don't hold hands and figured it would make him uncomfortable, I almost pulled my hand away. But when I began to, his grip tightened on me. So I decided to let my hand stay put, encased in his own.

We entered the quiet and barren park, hand in hand, as I led him down the narrow dirt path.  The only thing lighting our way were a couple light posts, but other than that, the park was pretty dark. I wasn't scared though, because I knew Syzoth would keep me safe.

"It's nice here—quiet." He spoke in a hushed tone and I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I like coming here a lot." I stated while lowering my tone to his level. "It's so peaceful."

"Thank you for sharing it with me." 

"Of course~" I lifted my gaze to peer up at him as my lips curled into a small smile.

It was then that I realized we were still holding hands. It was different but nice—so nice that a part of me didn't want to stop. And the way he subconsciously moved his thumb to caress the back of my hand told me that he felt the same way.

Eventually, we found the end of the path and Syzoth came to a stop. But surprisingly for him, I kept going onto the patch of grass before us.

"What are you doing?" He asked as he cocked his head with curiosity.

"Follow me," I said with an amused smirk while continuing to walk along the grass.

After another minute of walking—when we were far from any light—I laid on the ground so I was facing the sky. Syzoth seemed confused by this, but repeated my actions anyway. And it wasn't until he did that he understood why I wanted to go out there in the first place.

"Aren't they beautiful?" I sighed breathlessly as we gazed upon the black, cloudless sky that was speckled with shining stars.

My smile broadened as peace and happiness filled my heart. No matter what, stargazing always seemed to make me happy, so I wanted to share it with my date.

"They're stunning," he whispered softly, before turning his head to look at me with an almost bashful smile toying on his lips. "But not the most stunning thing here tonight."

I turned my head to look at him, and despite the warmth of a blush tinting my cheeks, I simply smirked as I raised my brow.

"You sure know how to sweet-talk a lady." I chuckled before my gaze softened. "But I'd have to disagree with you."

He stared at me with confusion in his eyes, pulling down on his brows as he tried to figure out what I had meant. But then his lips cracked open to bear a cheeky grin as he finally caught on.

"It seems as if you're challenging me to a competition of compliments." He smirked as a sudden cockiness filled his tone. "That's more than fine with me, because with you, I could go all night."

The warmth in my cheeks turned hot, and I couldn't stop myself from finally turning my head away to hide my blush. He let out a laugh at my shyness, but not in a mocking way—it was as if he found it cute.

"There's no need to be shy, my little sunshine." His tone suddenly grew softer and more gentle as he spoke. "It's only me."

I fixed my gaze on him once again to see him staring at me with adoration, and the way his lips slightly curled into a small smile told me that he was more than happy to be by my side in this moment. I returned the smile before moving my head to rest on his shoulder as I looked back at the stars. Everything felt absolutely perfect, and I felt right where I belonged.

Then suddenly, a gasp parted my lips as a shooting star beamed across the sky. My heart leaped into my throat as I sat up due to pyre excitement and pointed at the flash of light.

"Oh! Make a wish!" I exclaimed before closing my eyes and thinking of something I deeply desired for my future.

It didn't take long to think of something, and I pressed my lips and eyelids together tightly as I hoped for it to come true—for more to come out of this date for the both of us. 

"Did you make a wish?" I asked as I opened my eyes and looked back down at my date, who was now lying with his arms folded behind his head and an amused grin stretching his lips.

He nodded before sitting up and whispering, "I wished for this moment to never end."

"But you can't tell me! Now it won't come true!" I frowned as I looked down at him with disappointment.

"No, it won't. Just don't tell anybody." His smile widened and he then playfully nudged my shoulder. "I trust you can keep a secret." 

I chuckled at his choice of words because of how true they were. Never once had I spilled his secret of being Zaterran when he would visit Earthrealm. I was lucky to be one of the few Earthrealmers that actually knew of this ability of his, so I wasn't going to abuse his trust for me by spreading it around.

Silence had fallen over us again as we gazed into each other's eyes. And then I realized that the stars truly weren't the most beautiful thing I had seen in this park at night.

"Are you enjoying our date?" I asked as my voice dropped to a low volume once again.

"Yes, very much so," he whispered as he brought his hand up to gently caress my cheek with the backs of his fingers. "(Y/N)?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for sharing this with me."

The corners of my lips curved up into a sweet smile for the hundredth time that night, and I slowly leaned forward to gently press my lips against his. His whole body froze for a moment, and I began to wonder if he even wanted it. But before I could pull away, his lips slowly twitched into the form in which makes a kiss. It was a beautiful moment that I would cherish forever.

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#mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mortal kombat reptile #mk reptile #reptile #reptile x reader #mortal kombat syzoth #mk syzoth #syzoth #syzoth x reader #KassieMortalKombatFanFics

[ghouljams]

Omg now I want to see Soap begging Moon to marry him. Can Goose or someone have a Wild West fever dream so we can see all of those scenarios happen??

“When’re you gonna let me make an honest woman out of you?” Soap leans over the bar, broad shoulders hiked next to his ears as he settles on his elbows. You pour a shot of whiskey for him and try not to hit him with the bottle.

“When’re you gonna pay your tab?” You don’t really mind Soap, but it’s rather annoying that he won’t leave you alone. You’re not sure why he’s so set on you. Man like him could have anyone he wanted, half the women in town are clamoring for him, and the other half are married so they’re stuck pining. 

“I always pay my tab,” He smiles. You narrow your eyes at him. He does. He closes out every time he leaves. That’s another annoying thing about him, he’s a good man. 

“Then you’ve got no reason to keep comin’ around.” You tell him and turn to help the other patrons at the bar. You’ll get Soap some lunch later, let him sweat with his alcohol for a minute. Can’t have him thinkin’ you like him.

-

“You’re late,” You pull a clean glass and pour a healthy serving of whiskey in it before sliding it to Soap.

“Was pickin’ out wedding rings,” He tells you, taking the glass between his fingers. You can see the dirt under his nails, but his hands are clean. You wonder if he wiped them off before he came to see you.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” You ask, and even though you know he’s only joking your stomach still clenches uncomfortably at the thought Soap might have someone waiting on him.

“Hopin’ it’s you.” He says tipping his head back to swallow the whiskey neat. You watch the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows. Soap licks the last drop of whiskey off his lips as he sets his glass down, and you do your best not to watch the path of his pink tongue.

“You better watch out, someday someone’s gonna think you’re serious,” You pour him a second without being asked and go to collect empty glasses before he can tease you further.

-

Soap crowds you against the door to the store room, holding it closed as you try to keep the heat off your cheeks. You’re too used to having the bar between you, a solid barrier keeping him at arm's length. You scowl at him. His lovesick smile makes your stomach flip. You wonder if he’s sick in the head to keep chasing after you. How have you not managed to scare him off yet?

You do your best to keep up a glare, even under Soap’s studying glances. His eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. He really must be mad.

“Do I make you nervous, Hen?” He asks. You feel your brows twitch down a little more.

“Why would you make me nervous?” You aren’t nervous. Your heart must be beating that quickly for some other reason. Soap hums, raises a hand to caress your cheek, his touch soft and clean. His hand is cool against the heat of your skin.

He kisses you before you can push him away. His lips pressing firm against yours make you melt a little. He cups your face so gently, like you’re something to be treasured, something delicate that he has to be careful with. It’s a far cry from your rough exterior, but you almost…like it. It’s especially pleasant when his lips part to kiss you again, hardly bothered whether or not you’re kissing him back. You haven’t pushed him away, and that matters far more. It doesn’t take more than a second of coaxing for you to grip his shirt and kiss him. 

Pressed against the door isn’t the worst place to be when Soap is the one pressing you against it. His body is firm and warm, his fingers tilting your head to let him kiss you at a comfortable angle. He tips his own head to catch the corner of your lips, your jaw, your neck just over where your pulse hammers. You wonder if he can feel it, if he can hear the soft sigh that escapes your lips when he does. He kisses you properly a final time before he pulls back.

Still so close, his thumb swipes against your lower lip. You can’t seem to make up your mind on what you’re supposed to do now. You feel like the whole world has turned pink at the edges.

“Marry me,” He whispers and you feel your heart clench so severely it makes your breath skip. Your lip wobbles a little. You’re supposed to be stronger than this.

“No,” You tell him with as much resolve as you can manage. You expect him to frown, or tease you more, but his smile only grows. 

You’ve never given him an answer when he’s asked, only ever redirected the conversation or made a joke in response. (The jokes were the worst, always on the wrong side of self deprecating, Soap thought those hurt more than a rejection) To get an actual response out of you? An acknowledgement of the sincerity behind the question? Well, some ‘no’s are worth a thousand ‘yes’s.

#1870s!cowboy #cowboy!Soap #oc: moon #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x oc #I assume soap is a ranch hand or a stable hand #he works hard and gets dirty but he always makes sure his hands are clean when he sees Moon #don't wanna accidentally dirty her up if he gets the chance to touch her #I think he got tired of waiting for her to realize he wasn't joking #gotta prove he's serious about her somehow #how did he fall for Moon and why is he chasing after her? who knows #I knows #I think he had to deliver something to her early one morning and spotted her in her pjs #and thought “I wanna wake up next to her” #and it was all downhill from there

[dilly-oh]

Crush

“Kakashi, for fuck’s sake, it’s your turn,” Asuma growled around his cigarette, holding out the report as they stood in the hallway outside the mission office. “It was your turn the last ten turns. You ain’t squirrelin’ outta this shit again.”

“I need to go water my plants,” Kakashi said, slithering away from the others as he tried to make a quick getaway. Genma stepped to the side, blocking his path.

“Come on, man. That cute Chunin with the ponytail is at the desk. You know, the one you have a crush on?”

Kakashi froze in the act of levering the nearby window open, snapping around to give Genma a look of pure outrage.

“Excuse me?”

“You. Chunin. Crush,” Genma repeated slowly.

“What am I, fucking five?” Kakashi narrowed his visible eye. “I’m a grown-ass man who kills people for a living. I’m feared throughout all the nations as Sharingan Kakashi. I’m a fucking legend. I don’t get crushes.” He paused. “And even if I did have one on him, how would you even know?” Genma shrugged.

“Cuz you’re always walking into walls and shit whenever you’re near him.”

“I do NOT-” Kakashi began, then promptly kicked over the wastebin next to the door, scattering trash all over the floor. Literally everyone in the mission room snapped around and stared at him accusingly.

Even the Chunin. Who was, admittedly, very cute.

“You’d better clean that up,” he said, his tone that of a disapproving teacher about to mete out punishment to an unruly student.

Okay he wasn’t that cute.

…Godammit yes he was.

Kakashi hurriedly shoved all the trash back into the bin, slapped Asuma in the face with the report, and bolted out the window.

---

It kept happening.

Kakashi was just minding his own business, buying groceries at the local market (because even trained killers needed to eat) when he saw the Chunin fondling some melons, and suddenly the pyramid of eggplants he’d been perusing had collapsed, a wave of them tumbling down and rolling all over the floor in a vegetable tsunami. The store manager started shouting and Kakashi decided he’d just order takeout as he slipped out the back exit.

At the laundromat, he caught sight of the Chunin folding his tighty-whiteys and somehow mismeasured the appropriate amount of laundry soap, resulting in the washing machine foaming itself to death like a rabid dog. Kakashi had to put it down with a Chidori and then escape through a window amidst the ensuing chaos.

He knocked down an entire shelf at the library when he saw the other man bending over to reach a low book. He quickly teleported out of there before the man could turn around and see him standing ankle-deep in porn.

Late one night, he was leaping along the rooftops and spotted the Chunin at an outdoor restaurant, seated at a table with friends, head thrown back in raucous laughter. Kakashi sailed through the air, eyes glued to the sight, so he didn’t see the billboard until it was too late.

It couldn’t go on like this.

---

“Okay you might have a point,” Kakashi said. Genma gave a snort.

“Of course I do.”

“I don’t even know his name-”

“Iruka.”

“Iruka? Oh GOD, even his name is fucking adorable.” Kakashi covered his face with his hands and took a deep, calming breath. “…Who else knows?”

“Everyone, Kakashi,” Genma said flatly. “Everyone knows. Even the Hokage knows.”

“Alright then.” Kakashi straightened with a determined air. “It seems pretty obvious what I need to do.” Genma stared at him for a long moment, chewing on his senbon.

“…Actually talk to the man and have a heartful confession about your true feelings?”

“Fuck no. Avoid him for the rest of my life.”

“Oh thank God I thought you were gonna say ‘kill him’.”

“Maybe I should start avoiding you, too.” Kakashi narrowed his eyes. “My plan will work, just you wait. I’m not called a genius for nothing.”

---

“Kakashi, meet your new mission partner,” the Sandaime said, standing in the doorway of his office and patting Iruka proudly on the shoulder.

Kakashi nearly spit out his tea. Through his mask.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he choked out. This mission debriefing had gone to shit, and he’d been sitting there all of five seconds. The Sandaime frowned at him, wrinkles deepening with displeasure.

“I will not have you looking down on young Iruka here simply because he’s a Chunin,” he said firmly, taking a seat at his desk. “What he lacks in experience he more than makes up with sheer determination. He will be a great asset for this two-man mission and I hand-picked him for exactly that reason.”

“Understood,” Kakashi said, switching to mission mode in the vain attempt it would help distract from the overwhelming presence of the other man. It didn’t. Iruka took a seat right next to him, their thighs so close Kakashi could almost feel his body heat. He pushed his chair away a few inches for some breathing room and knocked over a potted plant.

“You two will be travelling deep into the Forest of Death,” the Hokage explained. Kakashi hid a wince. The Forest of Death has worsened over the years, rotting from the inside like a fruit gone bad. It had devolved into a festering jungle filled with mutated beasts that would messily devour their bodies and environmental hazards that would devour their chakra. But as long as they were careful-

Iruka crossed his legs and Kakashi bumped a pile of papers off the Hokage’s desk.

Yeah, they were in trouble.

“Your mission consists of two parts,” the Hokage went on. “The first is to reach these coordinates.” He handed the pair a scrap of paper with a set of numbers scribbled on it. “The second part is in this.” He held out a small, innocuous scroll. “It contains special instructions, only to be read once you’ve reached the site. Not before. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Kakashi said with grim resignation as he accepted the scroll and tucked it safely away. He just needed to get through this mission as fast as humanly possible, then he could go back to smothering his emotions under a metaphorical pillow. It would just be a few hours. He could DO this.

“I’m looking forward to working with you,” Iruka said, giving him a dazzling smile.

Kakashi spilled his cup of tea all over his lap.

…It was going to be a long mission.

---

The trek through the Forest of Death lived up to its name. It was a long, arduous journey through the dark, twisted woods, fraught with danger at every turn. Kakashi was on edge, painfully aware that, with one misstep, nearly everything in the jungle, plant and animal included, was capable of killing him at a moment’s notice.

That is, if Iruka didn’t kill him first.

Kakashi fell on an anthill and suffered a dozen venomous stings when the man decided to adjust his ponytail.

He walked into a tree and was nearly strangled by sentient vines when Iruka wiped his mouth after taking a drink from his canteen.

Kakashi tripped onto a patch of brambles which started actively draining his blood when Iruka raised an arm to wipe his brow and his shirt rode up.

And that was only in the first hour.

Iruka himself was an ideal companion. He followed Kakashi’s lead without question, trusting his judgement and experience with nothing but polite obedience, even attempting to start up a conversation once or twice. After Kakashi bit his tongue trying to reply, he took to ignoring the other man, who quickly caught on and fell into a sullen silence.

I can’t take much more of this, Kakashi thought to himself darkly as he slogged through the mud hours later. Every inch of his body ached, multiple wounds stinging and burning. Or maybe that was just the leeches. Konoha’s about to have a Missing-Nin if we don’t get there soon-

“I think…I think we’ve arrived,” Iruka cut in, checking his compass and studying his map. “Yes, these should be the correct coordinates. We’re here.”

Thank fuck. The nightmare was nearly over. Kakashi slipped the scroll out of his pocket and unrolled it. The orders contained within were rather short and simple. A single sentence. Four words, actually.

Ask him out already.

Kakashi stared at the message for a full ten seconds, then promptly set it alight with a Katon.

"What the fuck!” Iruka cried.

“Meant for my eyes only.” Kakashi stamped on the ashes, grinding them into the dirt. “I was to burn it after reading to leave no evidence.”

“Oh, well, I guess that means it’s my turn to read this one,” Iruka said, pulling out a second scroll from his pack. Kakashi hurriedly snatched it away and ripped it open, scanning the contents.

Pussy.

Kakashi burned that one, too.

“Seriously, what the fuck!” Iruka cried louder.

“Mission’s done, we’re heading home,” Kakashi stated, then turned and took a step.

And promptly sank up to his thigh in the suddenly soupy ground.

…Oh fuck.

“Don’t move!” Iruka shouted in warning. “It’s quicksand.”

“No shit,” Kakashi snapped out, then quickly shut up as he sank to his waist. He went perfectly still, arms out to keep himself afloat in case he sank further. “Calm down, I’m fine.” He closed his eyes, concentrating as he released a flare of chakra to push him free of the mire. The quicksand quickly gobbled up. “…Okay, maybe panic a little, I’m not fine.” The quicksand seemed to have developed a taste, and was now steadily devouring his chakra with a voracious appetite. “Okay, panic a lot. It’s draining my chakra.”

“Damn, hold on.” Iruka started rifling through his pack and pulled out a coil of rope. “Here, we’ll use this to get you out- actually wait, I think you’re close enough for me to reach out and grab you. Quick, give me your hand-”

Iruka stuck out his hand. Kakashi’s stomach did a little flip.

“Fuck no, I’m not touching you. Throw the rope.”

“What is your problem with me?” Iruka demanded. “I hardly know you and you already hate me.”

“I do not hate you,” Kakashi ground out through gritted teeth. “Throw the damn rope.”

“Not until you tell me what your deal is.”

“There is no deal.”

“Bullshit! You’ve been cold and distant this entire time. You’ve barely spoken a single word to me in hours. The fuck did I DO?”

“Nothing. Throw. The ROPE.”

“Tell me why you’re being such an asshole to me!”

“Because I fucking LIKE you, okay?!” Kakashi finally exploded. The background noise of the forest fell silent at the sudden outburst. Iruka just stared at him.

“…What?”

Kakashi tried to stem the flow of words, but they all came spewing out in a rush like verbal diarrhea.

“I keep walking into walls and knocking over shit and it’s all because of YOU and your dumb FACE and perky ponytail and that fucking dorky way you tuck in your pants-”

“What’s wrong with the way I tuck in my pants-”

“-because I have a stupid fucking CRUSH on you!!”

“God, what are you, five?!” Iruka shouted back. “Why can’t you just say you wanna fuck me like an adult?”

Kakashi gaped at him, flabbergasted.

“ExCUSE me?”

“Admit it. You want me.” Iruka crossed his arms, looking him up and down. “I don’t really get why, though. I’m always yelling at you in the mission room. You got some sort of humiliation kink?”

“Okay, you know what, you can just leave me here-”

“Don’t act like you’re not a pervert,” Iruka snorted. “I’ve seen the kind of shit you read.”

“That’s not the same!! It’s a book, not real life!” Kakashi argued. “Just because I read it doesn’t mean- I would never- look, my dad taught me to be a gentleman, alright?!”

Iruka studied him for a long moment, then tossed him the rope. Kakashi sighed in relief and grabbed it.

“…So we’re not gonna screw after I pull you out?” Iruka asked teasingly. “Not even get a bit handsy? Make out a little?”

“Of course not!” Kakashi squeaked out. “What kind of guy do you think I am?!”

Iruka broke into a huge grin.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable.”

Kakashi let go of the rope.

“Hey!” Iruka hurriedly reeled in the rope, then tossed it out again. It slapped Kakashi square between the eyes, but he didn’t even flinch. “Kakashi. Please take the rope. I don’t wanna have to file the paperwork. There’s, like, ten different forms.” He still didn’t move. “Please.” He just glared. “…Take the rope or I start taking my clothes off.”

Kakashi seized the rope in a death grip and didn’t let go until he was back on solid ground, chakra-depleted but alive. His legs were a bit shaky as he stood, and he was covered in thick, viscous mud from feet to armpits, not to mention the squelching noises every time he took a step.

“Okay, honestly, I’m a little insulted you grabbed on so fast,” Iruka said. “Are you sure you have a crush on me?”

“Will you stop talking about-” Kakashi went to pick up his canteen and accidently punted it into the quicksand. “MotherFUCK-”

“Yeah, okay, I see it now.”

“Look,” Kakashi said wearily, almost dragging a hand down his face before remembering it was coated in mud, “I just want to forget this whole mission ever happened, alright?” Iruka gave him a mischievous smirk.

“You sure you don’t wanna just bone?”

“Bone? BONNNNE?!” Kakashi repeated incredulously. “In a monster-infested jungle?”

“But I brought protection,” Iruka said, then held up a kunai. Kakashi refused to laugh, even though it was funny.

“Forget it,” he snapped. “A mosquito will probably fly up my dick and make it rot off.”

“Don’t worry, I’d suck it out.”

“Okay we are LEAVING-”

“Wanna hold hands while we walk?”

“Correction, I am LEAVING-”

"I’m serious, actually,” Iruka said, holding out his hand invitingly. Kakashi froze, staring at the proffered appendage like it was a bear-trap ready to spring. His stomach did another flip. “Come on, please? I don’t bite.”

Kakashi knew Iruka was just teasing, poking at the embarrassed Jounin with a stick to get a laugh.

Fine. Two could play at that game.

He reached out and took Iruka’s hand, their fingers twining together like old friends.

“…Unless you ask me nicely.”

Kakashi tried to yank his hand away but Iruka refused to let go, so he just reeled him in like a prize catch. Their chests bumped together, and he caught a whiff of the other man, a deep, woodsy scent that sent a shiver down his spine. He froze again as Iruka looked up at him, studying him with those big brown eyes that were not nearly as innocent as they looked.

“You know,” Iruka purred, leaning in even closer, “if you asked me right now…I might say yes.”

Kakashi gulped, throat suddenly dry. He wavered for a moment, uncertainty twisting his guts, then gathered his courage and barged forward.

“Umino Iruka,” he said tremulously, “would…you like…to go out with me sometime?”

Iruka gave him a blank stare.

“…Yeah that’s totally what I meant.”

“Oh my GOD-” Kakshi started to walk away.

“I’m kidding.” Iruka pulled him back, laughing. “Honestly, I’ve had worse first dates.” He looked at Kakashi and cocked his head appraisingly, a gentle smile chasing away the devilish one. “You’re very sweet. It’s refreshing, really. I’m so used to dudes just jumping straight to sex. It’s nice to meet a guy who actually wants to get to know me.”

Kakashi’s cheeks burned beneath his mask. Because it was true. He did want to get to know Iruka, and now he had the prime opportunity. Everything had already been laid bare, all the embarrassing bits hung out to dry. It’s not like it could get any worse.

“Now, let’s get you outta those muddy clothes.”

On second thought, maybe it could.

-End-

Written for @kakairu-rocks KakaIru Valentine's Week 2024, Day 3 Prompts: Crushes and Idiots in Love.

#kakairu #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #naruto #fanfic #kakairu.rocks #kakairu valentine's week 2024 #crushes #idiots in love #although its more like idiot (singular) in love #kakashi sucks at feelings #rated teen for language

[loveshotzz]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Burn One chapter four: Two out of three ain’t bad.

Series Master List

Summary: Movie night with the Hellfire club.

Warnings: none really, mentions of weed and weed smoking. Making out, dry humping.🤫

Word Count: 7k

A/N: Thank you to every one for their patience with this chapter I had rough month mentally. For those of you that have been following this story you have no idea how much it means to me. Thank so much for reading my work and a story that I put so much time and effort into. Everyone should be thanking my wife @myobmaya if it wasn’t for her idk if this would be written right now. I was up till 2:30am editing please be nice if I missed anything. 2nd to last chapter of the series, let’s goooo.

“So you’re telling me nothing happened with you and Munson after the party?” Steve questions with complete and utter disbelief.

“No, nothing happened. I cleaned him up and then he went home.” Refusing to meet his skeptical gaze you busy yourself with a stack of tapes that were ready to go back on the sales floor. The perfect escape plan from his line of questioning and your own personal mission not to think about Eddie for at least five minutes.

“That just doesn’t really add up to me.” Steve presses as you pile the stack in your arms, eyes darting around for any sign of Robin, the last thing you needed right now was for her to join in on this. You’d been able to avoid them for almost a week trying to give yourself enough time to sort through your own feelings. Even though deep down you knew there was nothing you needed to dwell on. You liked Eddie, you just didn’t want to say it out loud yet.

Lost in your thoughts as you escape Steve from behind the counter you don’t see the person you were hoping wasn’t paying attention block your path with crossed arms before you almost run into her. The tapes in your arms that you’d expertly stacked teetering dangerously close to falling over.

“Jesus, Robin.” Irritated you try to maneuver around her the best you can with the little balance you have left. Side stepping you she grabs the tapes out of your hand setting them back down on the counter so you have no way of avoiding her blue eyes.

“You see Stevie boy, you’re asking the wrong questions here. Did anything happen?” She peers over your shoulder to her best friend with a sly smirk before focusing her attention back on you. “No? Sure I believe that.”

With a light hum she starts pacing small steps in front of you, tapping her index finger on her chin as if deep in thought before turning around narrowing her eyes at you.

“Did something almost happen though?” Cheeks heating up automatically at her twist of words, your eyes search for anything else in the room to focus on. Robin was too smart for her own good and sometimes you hated her for it. This was one of those times.

Both of them take a moment to take in your anxious appearance, hands shoved in your pockets rocking on your heels avoiding eye contact with either one of them acting like they weren’t even in the room.

“Ah, there we go. Look at her, GUILTY!” The way Steve points his finger at you is like you’ve just been caught in the worlds biggest lie. Almost tripping over his own feet he hurries out from behind the counter with quick steps once he catches his balance.

“Seriously guys, this is ridic- “ A loud thud on against tempered glass window of the entrance cuts your sentence off before you can finish.

Jumping at the sound three more follow ringing out through the empty video store like gun shots. Looking for the source of the disturbance you notice the glass bow slightly under each hit threatening to break. The chime of the doors reminding you that you’re still alive, exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I’m telling you, he’s not gonna care if we switch the movie.” A familiar lisp catches your ears as the group of boys you’d remembered from a few weeks ago come clambering in.

“Jesus Henderson! You idiots almost broke the damn glass. It’s called a kick stand, ever heard of it?” Hands immediately going to their natural place on his hips, Steve looks like a mother scolding his four disobedient children. Lips set in a smirk the tension in your shoulders release completely entertained by the fact that all of your new friends seemed to hang out with these kids.

“Calm down, calm down.” The one with the long black hair begs hands raised as if to ward off a fight, long legs plant themselves between Steve and the kid that had only ever been referred to as Henderson. His big brown eyes catch your face brows twitching in question before he brings his attention back to his friend. “Eddie will absolutely care if you change the movie for movie night. Have you lost your mind?”

The mention of his name is enough for your brain to slowly start it’s descent into the things you were trying to lock away for later. Robin’s eyes flicker towards you clocking the dazed look in your eye and it makes you wonder if she can see just how sweaty your palms are.

“You aren’t just a little bit curious what everybody is talking about?” He questions with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Losing interest in their argument while you tried reigning in your thoughts, your zoned out gaze catches the eyes of the only boy you didn’t recognize from that day. His uncomfortable posture confusing you, one arm clutching the other you could see the white’s of his knuckles.

“Not if it means we suffer the wrath of a pissed off Dungeon Master. He’ll make Hellfire a living hell for at least a week, do you really want that?” Mike’s voice going up and octave brings you back to the argument happening in front of you.

“Listen Dustin.” The kid with the letterman jacket interjects with a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “I think you really need to listen to Mike, we can just rent it some other time.”

“Lucas, I thought you of all people would have my back on this.” Dustin groans throwing his head back in annoyance.

“I don’t know guys, I kinda wanted to watch The Hobbit.” The kid you’d been trying to figure out finally breaks his silence with a soft protest.

“Why am I not surprised you’re all chickening out on me.” Rolling his eyes he lets out a defeated sigh stare landing on his dirty sneakers.

“What are dingus’s even talking about?” The rasp of Robin’s voice is dripping with annoyance when they finally giver her moment to speak, the bickering non stop since the moment they walked in.

The first time in the last two minutes there’s nothing but complete silence at Robin’s question. The brown carpeting beneath their feet becoming the most interesting thing in the store. Mike’s the first one to break, eyes darting nervously towards Dustin he shakes his hands straightening his posture.

“It’s movie night and Eddie specifically requested that we get The Hobbit but Lucas over heard the guys in the locker room talk about this one scene in um - in Fast Times At Ridgemont High.” Voice trailing off he’s too scared to say the reason that you all knew out loud.

“You want to see boobies.” Steve says flatly.

Eye’s going wide they all start talking over each other, explanations getting jumbled in their sentences you can’t make out a single thing that’s being said. Will’s mouth set in an irritated line behind them.

“Aren’t you a little genius Dustin? I thought you’d be able to do basic math, none of you are old enough to even rent that movie.” Robin snorts before shoving her hand in Mike’s hair ruffling it as she walks passed heading back to the counter.

“Yeah, while that may be true. We’re friends with the people who work at Family Video.” Dustin gives it one last shot giving the three of you what he thinks is a wink, one eyelid falling shortly after the other it ends up looking like a strange blink instead.

“As if Henderson, like I would risk hearing about it from any of your parents.” With a flick of his wrist Steve is waving them off as he walks away, leaving no room for argument in his tone.

“Fat chance boys, but nice try.” Robin grins from behind the counter, perching herself up on the chair. There’s a brief moment where you think you’ve done the impossible. Your plan to fly off the radar seemingly in your grasp. A slow smile creeping over your lips, you use the opportunity to turn around fingers grabbing for the stack of tapes again.

“Wait, I know you.” Dustin’s voice stops your plan before it even has a chance to take off. Back stiff you keep your body frozen in place, eyes closed tight you were hoping that if you just didn’t react he’d just drop it. You’d only seen him briefly from across the lot that day, he couldn’t possibly remember you. Dustin’s statement mixed with the way you looked like you wishing yourself to be anywhere but in your body peaked your two friends interest again. The subject you thought you’d successfully avoided coming back to rear it’s ugly head again, and it sat right on Dustin Henderson’s lips.

“What are you talking about?” Mike’s confusion and lack of memory of you is exactly what you were hoping for, but you knew it was too late.

“Eddie’s girl.”

Eddie’s girl? Eddie’s girl?

Your stomach flutters at the sound of something so possessive, like you belonged to him and you despised how much you liked it. Shaking your head in defeat your hands drop the impossible to put away stack of movies. Taking your own page out of The Book of Harrington you pinch bridge of your nose in frustration.

“Whoa ho, ho, hold on. Did you just refer to our friend over here as Eddie’s girl?” Robin’s out of her chair faster then your can open you eyes, an excited smile breaking across her freckle smattered face as she leans over against the glass.

Groaning loudly in irritation you turn around with a cross of your arm, the only armor you have against the group that was now entirely fixated on you.

“I’m confused. What’s going on?” Lucas looks between all of his friends searching for any clues as to what was happening, his memory of you just as fuzzy as Mike’s.

“You’re kidding right?” Dustin’s voice cracks as he gets worked up eyes darting between all the clueless looks on his friends faces. “The girl Eddie’s been obsessed with, the one he never shuts up about?”

Staring at their friend there’s finally a fleeting moment of silence before the three of them “ohhhh” in unison, curious eyes landing on you with looks on their faces like they couldn’t believe you were actually real.

Steve joining the spot next to Robin you can’t feel the two of them practically vibrating at the new information flowing from Dustin. Your mouth had been a steel trap for weeks no matter how many times they pressed you.

“First of all I’m no one’s girl, and I have a name.” Despite all eyes on you the sound of your voice for the first time makes them all jump as if further proving the point you weren’t just some figment of Eddie’s imagination.

“Oh, we know your name.” Dustin’s the first one to speak up and you aren’t even the least bit surprised. Reading the clearly frustrated expression on your face his brows furrow in confusion under the bill of his cap. “Wait, he hasn’t asked you out yet has he?”

Choking on air at his question it was the last thing you thought you’d hear leave his mouth. Dustin’s loose lips sink your barely floating ship that Robin and Steve had already poked their own holes into.

Steve’s boisterous cackle behind you has your head whip back with a glare, both of them looking too smug for their own good.

“We’re just friends, I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself.” Even you don’t believe the words when they come out of your mouth this time.

“I can’t believe he didn’t do it yet, what a coward.” Dustin actually looks disappointed when he hears your lack of confirmation. All you focus on is pretending to be a person that looks completely unfazed despite everything that’s just been given away.

“Yeah, didn’t he refer to her as his soulmate or something like that?” The only one that hadn’t annoyed you speaks up and for some reason it feels like a betrayal.

All of Eddie’s secrets come spilling out of their mouths like it was common knowledge, and despite having an inkling for how he felt about you hearing it all out loud was enough to make your head spin.

“Interesting, soulmate. Sounds exactly like two people who are just friends to me.” Steve quips next to Robin sarcasm laced in his words.

“I’ve got an idea!” Dustin’s sudden outburst brings the attention back on him. “When are you off?”

Thanking whatever gods (Keith) scheduled you to close today of all days, your glare softens when you know you get to let them down quick.

“She’s off right now.” Robin interjects with a quick lie, stealing away your victory. Steve was off right now, you weren’t suppose to be off for another 5 hours.

“What? No I’m-“ with an elbow to his ribs Robin shuts him down muttering something between clenched teeth.

“But I have a date.” Steve whines before throwing his head back in defeat. “Fine, fine.” Shaking his head with frustration he waves his hands before walking away.

“Then it’s settled, you’re coming to movie night.” Dustin grins picking up on Robin’s queues and ignoring the way Steve’s sulking figure in the corner.

The thought of seeing Eddie again had your stomach in knots, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him again because god, you did. The fear of a new awkwardness taking over the usual comfort you felt around him was what kept you away. He hadn’t gone out of his way to see you either and it’d been almost a week since the almost kiss in the bathroom. Almost a week of him completely consuming your every waking thought. The kind of butterflies you didn’t think you could get anymore make residence deep inside of you, coming out in a way that makes your legs weak at the thought of him.

“I don’t know guys, I don’t want to crash your little hang out.” In a last ditch attempt to get out of it your eyes meet Steve’s silently begging him to stand up to Robin and let you stay. It was a feeble attempt even you knew that.

“It’s not crashing if he wants you there.” Dustin argues with so much certainty it almost annoys you. Something in his tone.

Completely convinced the universe and your friends were conspiring against you there really was no other option but to face your fears and get it over with.

Exhaling loudly through your nose and a roll of your neck you give a defeated nod before shrugging off your vest refusing to look at your traitor friends in the eyes.

“Fine, grab the movie I’ll get my bag. I can maybe fit three bikes in my trunk, but ones gotta be in the back seat with three of you.” Tossing your vest over your shoulder you point to the one you know is the ring leader.

“Shot gun!” Dustin yells braces shining in the florescent lights above him, his dibs earning loud moans of protest from behind him.

——-

The car ride back to the trailer park is crowded and painfully loud. The constant bickering of Mike and Lucas from the back seat had kept drowning out your music. It didn’t matter how many times you’d raise it their voices would always match the new volume. Giving up with a frustrated sigh your eyes meet Will’s from the rear view mirror, annoyance evident on his face as he sits sandwiched between the two arguing boys.

Dustin was being suspiciously quiet next to you and you weren’t entirely sure if that should make you nervous or not. Making quick secretive glances from the road you do your best to try and figure out what schemes were going on in his head, the wheels inside very obviously turning.

Your relieved when you hit the entrance of the trailer park, but it’s short lived when your eyes connect with the chocolate ones you missed more then you’d let on almost instantly. Headlights hitting him as you pull in, he was sitting on top of the table in the court yard with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Face lighting up like the sky on Fourth of July his lips pull up around his unlit smoke. The excitement is short lived when he notices the boys in the car with you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

With a tight lipped more then awkward smile you pull into your drive way, head swimming with what you should say first. A simple Hi? Do you hug? Your irritation quickly being replaced with the kind of nerves that make you nauseous, the tires of your car barely come to a stop before they all open their doors. Foot slammed on the break your car isn’t even in park as they fly out in a flurry of cuss words and metal clanking against your center consul.

“Careful! Careful!”

Bike tire catching your elbow you wait until their gone before you even attempt to get out of the car. Slamming your gear into park you close your eyes relishing in the new silence, their muffled voices seeping further into the distance as they make their way towards Eddie. Running a tired hand over your face taking a deep breath before your fingers wrap around the door handle. When it opens before you get a chance to do it yourself, the composure you’d finally gained flies out the window, a loud gasp erupting from your chest.

Eddie’s smile is nervous when he holds the door open for you, his hand outstretched for you to take. Not expecting to come face to face with him so quickly, it takes you a minute to comprehend the gesture. Eyes roam his features unashamed missing the hidden freckles that scatter across his skin only noticeable from this distance. The bruises on his face were less prominent the before, the dark purple gone, fading into a barely noticeable tinge of yellow. The cut on his lower lip looked almost close up, your eyes catching his tongue when he traces over it out of habit. Clearing his throat your surrounding come back into focus and your face starts to feel more like the surface of the sun. Quickly averting your stare a shaky hand starts to fumble with the key in the ignition, only to drop them as soon as you slide it out.

“You good?” Eddie chuckles as he watches you, cheek pressed firmly to your steering wheel your fingers frantically search for the keys on the dirty carpeted floor of your car. Desperate to find them and end your embarrassment.

When your skin comes in contact with the cool metal you snatch them up pushing yourself back into your seat with a huff giving him your best smile and a lie.

“Never better.”

His whiskey eyes sparkle when you throw your smile his way, cheeks blossoming red when your hand finally lands in his. Slippery palms meet in a mixture of nerves and sweat, both of you silently hoping the other doesn’t notice. The image of you standing between his legs with fingers tangled in his messy hair is harder to fight when he’s right here in front of you.

Helping you up with a gentle tug he doesn’t make any effort to move when you land right in front of him. Just like every time you get stuck by the chocolate of his eyes, the rest of the world ceases to exist when he looks at you like this. The weight of not seeing each other sinking in, he doesn’t let go of your hand. The callouses of his finger tips catch your skin when he laces them with yours. His thumb smooths over your knuckle reminding you to breathe.

“Are we watching this movie or are you two just gonna stand there and stare at each other?” Dustin’s voice from Eddie’s front door step brings you back to your driveway reminding you both that you weren’t alone.

“Look if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.” Eddie’s own self doubts plague his consciousness when he brings his attention back to you.

Despite the boys spilling all of his secrets about how much he liked you a mere thirty minutes ago, his reaction kicks your anxiety into gear mirroring his own. Was it weird that you showed up here with them technically uninvited?

“I mean, if it’s like a club thing I get it, I can just go home if it’s weird.” Unease taking over scared that you’ve read everything wrong you, drop his hand wiping your palm on your jeans.

Eddie almost immediately realizes he’s said the wrong thing. Not really knowing how to act around you, the answer you’d given him the last time he was you was ominous with no real time line put in place.

“No!” His voice has a desperate edge to it startling you out of your overactive thoughts “No, I mean no it’s not a club thing or it doesn’t have to be.” Grabbing your hand again he pulls you back not liking the space you’d unconsciously put between you. Closing his eyes he exhales through his nose before the full force of his gaze is on you again. “I want you there.”

There was something different about hearing him actually say it, the words “I want you there” igniting something inside of you. The awkwardness that you were fearing proved to be nonexistent.

“Okay, okay don’t get your panties in a twist. I’ll come to movie night.” Teasing you give his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go, noticing the small frown at the loss of contact. “I’ll meet you over there give me like twenty minutes.”

“Anything longer then thirty and I’m sending the clowns over.” Eddie smirks before turning around to the pile of boys who were all watching from his front door. Stopping in his tracks when he makes eye contact with them, the knowing grins on their faces disappear quickly being replaced with fear as they scurry inside his trailer. The idea of them being actually scared of Eddie was hilarious to you, chuckling to yourself with a slam of your car door Dustin’s words from earlier ring out loudly in your head.

“He hasn’t asked you out yet?”

——

The faint smell of stale cigarettes cling to the fabric of the couch in Eddie’s small living room. Mugs line the wall above your head all mismatched each one for a different mile stone celebrated in Wayne life. The material of the couch is scratchy under your skin, worn down and well slept on the cushions sink under your weight pressing you into Eddie’s side. Dustin sits on the other side of you, a small pillow wedged between as a barrier pushing you even more into his space. There’s was a part of you that knew he was doing it on purpose, the scheming in his head never ending.

The three other boys were sprawled out on the floor at your feet, using whatever pillows that were in Eddie’s room to prop themselves up their eyes were zeroed in on the TV completely enamored with the film. The soft glow of the screen was only light illuminating the inside of the trailer.The early darkness of winter coating the outside pitch black after 5pm.

Pizza boxes stacked on the dining table everyone’s food coma was starting to set in. The volume of Eddie’s yawn startles you, raising his arms he stretches his legs out purposely kicking Mike’s foot in the process earning him a dirty look from the boy on the floor. Chuckling to himself you feel his arm drape around the back of the couch, the ghost of his finger tips brush against your shoulder. Dustin snorts to himself clocking what Eddie was trying to do, ringed fingers flick the back of his ear in response.

“Ow! Not cool, not cool at all.” Rubbing his ear Dustin gives him the same look Mike had shot him just a few seconds ago.

“Watch the movie Henderson.” Pointing at the TV you feel like you can see Eddie’s facial expression in his tone. Dustin stares him down for a moment, the internal battle of how stubborn he wanted to be clear on his face. The two stare at each other for a moment longer before the curly haired boy finally caves bringing his gaze back to the TV.

Settling back down in his seat, Eddie pushes himself further into the cushions. The dip of his weight making your body sink down with him, arm falling off the back of the couch when you roll into his chest. Breath catching in your throat at the new found position, Eddie’s body stiffens under yours waiting for your reaction too.

The warmth radiating off of him is enough for you to give in after a few awkward minutes pass of both of you stiff as board. Burrowing yourself deeper into his chest you inhale his scent greedily, arm reaching across his stomach your fingers curl into his shirt pulling yourself closer.

The breath Eddie had been holding fans over the top of your head before his arm curls around you. Cheek pressed to his chest you can hear just how fast his heart is beating under your touch as your fingers absentmindedly play with the hem of his shirt.

The comfort of his body is enough for you to melt into him, the quiet thumps of his heart slowing down to a calming rhythm. Fingers trace the line of your spine, adding light pressure when he feels the tightness off your muscles. Eyes roll in the back of your head when your body starts to turn into butter under his touch, your eyelids turning heavy you stop trying to fight the sleep that was evading you.

—-

“What do you mean I can’t bring home a box of pizza? You’re gonna eat all of it?” Dustin’s voice stirs you awake and it takes you a minute to remember where you are. Keeping your eyes closed you decide to listen for a minute brain not fully functioning just yet.

“Yeah I’m gonna eat all of it, I paid for it. When you get a job you can order your own pizza to take home.” Your lips twitch at Eddie’s lose term of job.

“Either she’s having a really good dream or she’s awake.” Lucas’s whisper sounds like he’s right in front of your face, much closer to you then Eddie and Dustin’s. Not willing to give yourself away just yet, you try to control the muscles in your lips the best you can.

“She’s probably having a dream about Eddie.” Mike laughs before a light gust of wind blows across your face followed by a soft thud cutting him off.

“Shut it Wheeler. Go pack your shit, I’m trying to get you twerps home by 8.” Eddie’s tone is nothing short of irritated and you decide this is probably your queue to reveal yourself.

Somehow becoming horizontal on the couch there was a blanket wrapped around you tucking you in and away from the chill in his trailer. Shifting to sit up your tired eyes land on Eddie who stood eyeballing you nervously from the kitchen wondering just how much of their conversation you’d actually heard.

“Sleeping beauty is awake! Look, you didn’t even need to kiss her.” Dustin grins from his spot next to Eddie in the kitchen. Eddie’s face twists up in annoyance earning the curly haired boy another flick behind the ear. “Dude! That actually hurts.”

“Maybe you should think about the things you say then Dustin.” Eddie snaps face softening almost instantly when he brings his attention back to you. The bags under your eyes giving away how much you needed the sleep.

“How long was I out for?” Sleep thick in your voice you stretch the full length of your body before rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, catching the way Eddie’s eyes roam the length of you as you did it.

“Like the whole movie and a board game.” Mike answers lamely from the ground still sprawled out on the floor where the pillow took him out.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your hair, I didn’t mean to come crash your movie night with a nap.” Chuckling nervously you start to untangle yourself from the blanket ignoring the way you can see Dustin shoving his elbow into Eddie’s side. Both boys bickering in the corner in hushed voices before a loud “Just do it.” From Dustin catches the rooms attention.

“Ummm” Eddie starts as you get up off the couch, eyes going big when he realizes he’s about to ask you to hang out with an audience now. “Wanna come with me to drop the boys off? I could umm show you one of those spots I told you about?”

You almost forgot about the places he’d been trying to show you since that first night, they seemed almost elusive at this point. Part of you had started to assume they weren’t even real anymore. You let the whole group squirm with baited breath as you pretended to think about the answer that was already sitting on the tip of your tongue.

“Sure.”

Eddie eyes widen at your answer almost like he wasn’t actually expecting you to actually say yes, the boys let out the breaths they’d been holding since the question left Eddie mouth. Mike even going as far as putting his hand on his heart.

Clapping his hands loudly, Eddie throws you the kind of smile that you thought was only reserved for that night in your bathroom.

“No time to waste boys, get your shit and let’s go.”

——-

“Here be helpful.” Eddie teases shoving the metal lunchbox into your chest. A small grin tugging at his lips when you huff at him. Opening the back doors of his van with a creak that shudders off them so loud it echos through the empty forest surrounding you. The unsuspected noise making the shuffle of critters catch your ears while your eyes stare up at the clear night sky with the same wonder as that first night at Family video. That night seemed like a life time ago, the passing of time hitting you like the cool November air chilling your bones under the thin material of your sweater.

“Okay, we’re all set.” Eddie’s voice breaks you out of your mid evening crisis, and it makes you realize how hard you’d been clutching onto the metal in your hands.

Tearing your eyes from the stars your met with his equally beautiful chestnut ones, with enough brightness in them there could be a whole galaxy inside his pupils.

“I gave you the extra pillow, you know for the working girl.” Charm turned up to ten he sits on his knees on the pile of blankets he’s straightened out messed up from rowdy boys that were in there just twenty minutes before, the pillows that were usually scattered all over the back are pushed against the back of the seats up front. Far enough from the cold but close enough for you to see the light of the moon dance off the reflection of the lake he’d taken you to.

“Eddie this is... this is perfect.” Pink tints his cheeks at the word perfect. A reminder of what you called him on Halloween.

Clearing his throat he shakes his head a little, teeth peeking out from between his lips in a smile before extending a hand out for you to take for the second time that night.

“I’m glad you like it sweetheart, I’ve only been trying to take you here since that first night we hung out.” Chuckling softly with a big calloused hand wrapped around yours he helps pull you up.

Knees landing on the plush comforter the tension in the van thickens, chest to chest your eyes drown inside each other while your breath becomes his between parted lips. The silver of his rings catch the beam of the moon and the glint catches your eye when he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Gaze softening his lips pull up at the corners, rough finger tips trace the shell of your ear before sliding down your back, giving you a light push ushering you towards the make shift bed.

Shuffling over your surprised at how fluffy they are when your back hits the feathers. Sinking in you wiggle yourself deeper before letting out a content sigh when your feel them mold perfectly to your body. The tension from the day slowly seeping out of your pores, closing your eyes you take a deep breath of the fresh air feeling the weight of him sink down next to you. The warmth of his body was almost enough that you didn’t need the blanket he was pulling over both your spread out legs.

The leather of his jacket squeaks as he adjusts to get comfortable, arms and legs pressed together the smell of the cigarette he smoked on the way here mixes with his cheap corner store cologne in a swirl of Eddie.

“I brought you a little something. Why don’t you open her up.” Tapping on the top of the metal he looks at you like a parent does when they are watching their kid open up a Christmas present.

Giving him a suspicious look your fingers rest over the lock, trying to read the expression on his face confused by the excitement and panic that flashes behind his eyes. Arching your brow you flip open the lock. Looking down your eyes scan the inside and when nothing out of the ordinary catches your attention you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, completely unsure of what you were even expecting.

Eddie’s eyes dart between the lunch box and your face trying to gauge your reaction before irritation takes over the softness of his face. Leaning over his curls tickle your cheek when he peers inside the tin on your lap.

“God dammit.” He mutters under his breath reaching in you watch him flip the small bag of weed over revealing a messily scribbled question in what looked like permanent marker.

Running a hand over his face he sighs loudly through his nose when he leans back against the pillows.

“Well that wasn’t as smooth as I wanted it to be.”

Furrowing your brows in confusion you look back down eyes reading over the messy hand writing.

Do you want to go on a date?

Reading the question a few more times, you feel Eddie’s whole body tense up with anticipation. The sounds of his breathing becoming non existent while he watches the wheels turn in your head. Looking up, his dark chocolate eyes are swimming in nerves as they search your face for answer, too impatient to wait for it to leave your tongue. When he sees the corners of your mouth twitch up his eyes soften slightly letting himself get excited for the first time. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth you give a small nod too scared to use your voice.

His breath fans hot across your face when he exhales, shoulders dropping as the nerves slowly leave his body.

“Yeah?” The question leaves his mouth in desperate plea needing to hear you actually say it out loud.

Tired of fighting something that seemed impossible win, you finally accept your defeat. The twists and turns of your life despite the darkness all led you to this place, convinced now the universe pushed you here like it was your destiny to meet the boy sitting next to you. Moving the lunch box off your lap, you turn yourself to face him and it’s almost too much looking at him dead on like this with so much ready to burst out of the seams. Nervous fingers search for his intertwining them with they meet sending the butterflies in your stomach into over drive before you have the courage to find your words

“Yeah, I’ll go on a date with you.” The shake in your voice is subtle but he catches it. Raising his free hand to your face he traces the line of your jaw, cocking his head to the side enjoying the way goosebumps follow. Cupping your cheek with warm calloused hands the pad of his thumb smooths over the heated skin.

Closing your eyes you lean into him, all the anxiety that was holding the muscles in your body hostage disappearing into his touch. The softness of his lips startle you when they press against the side of your jaw, moving to the tip of your nose, only stopping when they hover yours. Eyes fluttering open he’s already looking at your lips silently asking for permission to close the gap. The air in the back of his van feels electric, everything leading you both here. Pushing yourself forward you capture his mouth with yours in a flurry of pent up emotions. Soft like silk his lips move against yours lazily not wanting to rush something he’s wanted since the moment he laid eyes on you.

Times stops when you finally give in,the universe coming to a halt at the cosmic connection erupting from the way you mold against each other. Hand leaving your cheek his fingers wrap themselves into the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling slightly he tilts your head back tongue swiping against your lower lip begging for more of you.

Sighing into the kiss your tongues meet battling for dominance, everything you’d been holding back trying to be conveyed in the heat of your mouth. Fireworks exploding behind closed eyes, your fingers grasp onto the collar of his shirt needing him closer. Grunting he pulls at your hips urging you onto his lap. Mouth never leaving his one leg slings over his hips knees tucked against either side of his waist. Even through both layers of your jeans you could still feel all of him, the arousal in your panties only making it easier to rock your hips against the hard bulge underneath you. Losing yourself in the kiss your fingers find their way back into his hair grinding your self down on him with more vigor. Moaning at the new pace you were setting his lips finally break apart from yours trying to catch his breath.

A desire that you had forgotten existed completely consumes you, using the break from his lips to trail sloppy open mouth kisses down his jaw nipping playfully at the bone before making your decent to his neck. Lulling his head back he gives you better access. Tongue tracing along his pulse point you wrap your lips around the sensitive spot behind his hear. Hips still rolling against his, the seam of your jeans pushes between your folds each time he meets your thrusts. His lips find yours again meeting with a scrape of your teeth all the gentleness from earlier gone.

“Jesus.” Rippibg his mouth away like it was the hardest thing he ever had to do, he rests his forehead against yours, chest moving with the quickness of his breaths his fingers dig into your sides to try and stop your movements. “You’re gonna make me cum in my pants baby.”

Biting your lip at the new nickname, you roll your hips one more time loving the way it makes his eyes roll in the back of his head.

“You’re a menace.” Chuckling he places a chaste kiss on your turned lips.

“Are you surprised by this?” Grinning like an idiot you almost feel sick with happiness.

Tangling your fingers in his thick waves you kiss the tip of his nose before pulling yourself back to get a better look at him. Swollen lips and blown out eyes look at you like there should be hearts there instead of pupils.

“Not even a little bit.” Mimicking your actions his finger tips trace across the line of your cheek bone as his eyes focus on every detail of your face like it’s a work of art. The intensity of it all has you reeling at the kind of intimacy you hadn’t felt in so long. Fingers leaving his hair to fidget on your lap, your nerves come roaring back to life.

As if reading your mind he tilts your head up with two fingers under your chin gripping just tight enough that you could still fight his hold if you wanted to.

“We can take our time okay? There’s no rush.” Clearing his throat a little you notice the pink that starts to dust his cheeks when he lets you go. “Besides, I don’t have too much experience in that department anyway sweetheart.”

Eddie almost looks ashamed when he shares his lack of experience with you not understanding how much of a relief that actually is.

“Hey, I don’t care about that.” Cupping his cheek you can feel the heat of his embarrassment under your skin when he looks up at you with big vulnerable eyes. “It’s actually kind of perfect.”

Perfect had become Eddie’s favorite word and he’s only ever been called it two times in his life, and both were by you.

“What time are you off tomorrow?” Covering your hand with his, you can’t see your fingers when they envelope yours.

“I’m off at 6 tomorrow.” Taking advantage his closeness you lean in nudging your nose against his, smirking when you kiss the corner of his mouth he pulls away slightly trying to refocus your attention.

“Pick you up at 8?”

“Don’t be late Munson.” Chasing his lips again he meets you half way with a smile so big his dimples show deep in his cheeks.

It was just you and him. Two broken souls finding the kind of peace you never thought was meant for people like you inside each other. Lit by the stars in his backseat like this was exactly where you were suppose to be.

Final chapter

——————————————————————-

Taglist: @emotionaldreamer @eddiesprincess86 @bimbobaggins69 @rach5ive @luckyysstarr @h-ness1944 @stolen-in-moonlight @bohemianrhapsody86 @ms1oftheboys @maximizedrhythms @amethyst1258 @princesseddie @munsonology @sammararaven @edsforehead @b-irock @triplethreat77 @justherefortheescapism @micheledawn1975 @ethereal27cereal @superbcoffeedrinkersubparwriter @elthreetimes @chickpeadumpsterfire @manda-panda-monium @fckyeahlames @angelsarecallin @sweetsweetjellybean @boomhauer

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #robin buckley #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #will byers

[aseaofyoongi]

confessions of not so estranged hearts | pjm

park jimin x reader (f)

genre: angst; smut; crush culture

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: you and jimin used to talk your senior year of highschool but after a lengthy falling out the two of you finally get a chance to reignite what was there.

warnings: pretty vanilla; reader is kind of shy; mentions of emotional constipation and miscommunication; set in the spring because warm weather makes me happy; tae is the readers step bro (this is not pseudo incėst); jk/jm are also brothers; teasing; penetrative sex; fingering/clitorial stimulation; praise; nipple play; foul language.

word count: 8,9 thousand words

posted: March 18, 2023

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Vibrant fields of lilac were stretched out in front of you. The little knowledge that you had retained about plants geared you to believe you were prancing around lavender beds. All of them were so narrow and ran numerous miles, seemingly endless. It almost seemed to meet the cool tones of the evening blue skies somewhere at the end of its path deep into the horizon. But you could not tell if it really did.

Instead, you stood snapping mental photographs of the beauty around you. It was a sight you wanted to store in your memories forever. To keep under lock and key in a tiny wooden box within the walls of your heart.

You grew a bit startled when a stranger’s slender fingers became intertwined with yours.

You thought you were alone. . Steadily, you turned around reading up the person standing behind you. They wore khakis; a white button up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and were outlined by a luminescent sparkle outshining the burning star above.

Jimin? You questioned, thoughts becoming a scribbled nonsense and quite frankly you were unsure how the two of you ended up here. But you did not care nor did you question it.

You just rode the wave of tingles migrating through your body. The way his lips were sculpted into a tender smile; his cheeks adorned by dimples so deep the ocean would be put to shame. And his palm felt so warm against yours. God knows you have wondered how that would feel from the moment you first laid eyes on him.

“Jimin.” he didn’t speak; just nodded, “how are we here? Where are we?”

“Your thoughts brought me here.”

“My thoughts?” you scratched the back of your head, “it’s that simple?”

“It’s that simple,” his voice began to fade and his touch became phantom.

You were being shaken out of your scenic haven, and while you tried to focus on Jimin the chants of your name became too great to ignore. Opening your eyes felt blinding but after rubbing the sleep off of them you realized it had only been a dream.

Figures. Only in the fabrications of your dreams would you ever grow the tits to speak to someone like him again. . breathing in the same vicinity as Jimin was an overstep, looking in his direction was ambitious, another chance at speaking to him was impossible and you were fully aware of that but how do you tell your heart to move on when he possesses everything your dreams are made of.

“Jimin again?” Your step-brother, Taehyung asked.

“Jimin?” you must have been uttering his name in your sleep again—like an idiot, “as in the guy who manages the flower stand?”

He hummed.

“No, not that Jimin.”

“So within the last twenty four hours you developed a stupid crush on another Jimin?”

“Yes. .” that could be believable, right?

“He’s the only Jimin you and I know,” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“He’s the only Jimin you know,” you tried averting as much as a stutter in your words, wanting to sound as convincing as possible, “I know many other Jimins’”

“Do I need to remind you, your best friend is a stuffed animal?” The most annoying thing about Tae was having him as a brother, living with him twenty-four seven; not being able to shield any details about your personal life from him.

“Actually, Yeontan is my best friend as well. How about you just keep your eyes on the fucking road.”

“You just proved my point but whatever,” he mumbled but you ignored him allowing his words to be carried away in the mild wind. Instead you became focused on the perfect attributes of that afternoon. The way the viridescent leaves emitted their melody as they swayed on the branches they would be calling home for the duration of spring and summer.

You raised your legs up on the dashboard after rolling down the window immersed by the sounds of nature, everything so perfectly in tune much like a lullaby nearly sending you off into a deep slumber once more.

Perhaps, that’s what your heart truly called for, urging for even the remaining ten minutes of the ride to fabricate dreams of him like you just had. Snippets of his features flashed in your mind with recollections of his tawny skin sparkling under the sunlight; cherry lips which he usually glossed accentuating their plumpness; and russet eyes he usually hid behind his eyelids when he smiled and laughed.

Jimin was the definition of perfection through and through.

But despite your shy glances and sneaky pleads for him to see you one more time, he never did. Even during the market festival season where he began helping his mom’s stand in front of yours two years ago you were invisible to him yet he was all you ever laid eyes on.

“We’re here loser,” he knocked your legs off the dashboard scrubbing the sleeve of his hoodie on the scuffs that were already there, “Look at all this. I’m gonna make you clean my whole fucking car.”

“Your truck has been shit way before I even set foot in it.”

“The fuck you say about Darla?”

“Darla, is literally the only woman in your life,” you pointed at his truck, “and she's a chunk of metal on wheels. Complete shit.”

He gasped audibly, slamming the car door before following behind you in a trot, “if Darla’s such a piece of shit you can use your little chicken legs to walk home.”

“I was going to do so anyway.”

“Good because I wasn’t providing you with a choice to begin with.”

You rolled your eyes, “fuck you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung and his father steered into the avenue of your life ten years ago on your twelfth birthday. Your mother threw a big party with promises of a grand surprise. Like any other adolescent girl you had hopes of a pleasant gift like a new phone; clothes; or maybe even a puppy. . But no. You couldn’t have been any more wrong. In the blink of an eye you were condemned with a brother you never asked for and a father figure you didn’t need. As she introduced them to you the vibrant walls residing in your mind, the same ones you had grown so accustomed to began closing in—trapping you in the narrowed space. Your whole world had been crushed entirely, metaphorically and literally as you were completely blind sided by betrayal and fueled by rage. For an entire year you gave your mother the cold shoulder, resenting her for not deeming you the sole purpose of her life. For needing to find happiness elsewhere and for not thinking you were enough. Even thinking about it now you realize how selfish it was. How you were tainting their experiences at the expense of your ridiculous outbursts. Thankfully, things were different now and the two of them have settled in your heart forever. Even though you and Taehyung would probably be buried six feet under still bickering in the afterlife.

Saturday mornings were finally alive again, bustling with social bodies strolling through the sidewalk between the red brick wall and the canal, stopping by all of the kiosks and stands featured in the annual market festival. Overhead there were string lights hung between the trees and the canal railing simulating the twinkling stars glimmering even during the brightest bits of the day.

Jung-hee, your step-father and your mother set-up the white tent enclosed with rectangular tables on three sides, all of them covered in white tablecloths and an abundance of upcycled and environmentally friendly jewelry. Of course, it only made so much sense to sell them here at the very place refusing to turn their lights off during the day.

“Did I hear the two of you arguing just now?” your mother shot the two of you a stern stare, her hand remained on her hip.

“Arguing?” you let out a derisive laugh.

“I may be old but my hearing still works.”

“No offense mama, but you might wanna clean your ears out cause there was absolutely no arguing here,” technically speaking you could tell the truth but she always made it her mission to punish the two of you if she caught you bickering in any way. And the last thing you felt like doing was cleaning up the stand after the market festival was over, “right, Tae?”

“Right,” he confirmed, “I’m as passive as the waves,” he flailed his arms mimicking the motion of the ocean, “I don’t even know what arguing is.”

“Not too much, Tae.” you smacked his arms down forcing them down to rest at his side.

“You know what? I don’t have time for this,” she brushed off the two of you and walked off in the direction of the parking lot, likely fetching something they’d previously forgotten.

“The two of you are gonna give your mother an aneurysm,” Jung-hee laughed while taking a seat on the stool by the register, “We all heard your bickering all the way here.”

What did he mean by all of us? You turned around reading the statue in Jimin figure as he leaned along the black railing, his attention entirely diverted to the phone sitting in his palm. As disappointing as it may be this was the extent of your interactions with Jimin, or the lack thereof rather. He was always right there. Right in front of you giving a new meaning to the word breathtaking and you were always willing to devote your undivided attention to him.

“Jimin, you are so fine. Please have my babies,” His voice was laced with mock and you just knew this was his attempt at working your remaining nerve. Surprise surprise, it worked.

“Jun sophomore year of college is going great thanks for asking,” you beamed, “Tae, how are you adapting to your classes?”

Deep; deeeep; deeeeeeeep down you knew it was kind of fucked to put Tae on the spot when you knew crystal clear he had been neglecting his classes for dance club but honestly you couldn’t say you were entirely sorry.

“Fuck you.” Taehyung mouthed quietly in your direction and your automatic response was to stick your tongue out at him.

“Right. Taehyung, how are classes going?”

“Well, they—they’re fine. .” Taehyung mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Why do you not sound convinced?” Jun crossed his arms at his chest. He furrowed his eyebrows in a tight knit and squinted his eyes.

“It’s as convincing as it's gonna get,” he shrugged.

Jun swiped his hands down his features resting them right under his chin. “Taehyung, you need to get your shit together or I will tell your mother. Besides college is expensive and if you’re gonna dick around just save me the money and drop out already,” As a father figure Jun wasn’t much of a scoulder. . But the disappointment in his words was as sharp as a bee’s stylet and his tone felt like the acidic painful venom the insect punctured through the skin.

“When it gets to that point, I’ll phone the neighborhood snitch to let you know.”

In case it wasn’t evident; you were the ‘neighborhood snitch’. When the two of you were smaller you had a habit of babbling redundant shit you swore to the grave. As it seems you weren’t much different as an adult either. It’s what resulted in you scoring the nickname indefinitely.

“Don’t blame me. I simply asked a question.”

“No,” Taehyung slouched back on the chair and pulled his phone out of his pocket, “you asked the wrong fucking question. You always do.”

“You could have just answered differently.”

“You know I crack under his disappointed tone,” Taehyung whined.

“In that case, it is not my fault you’re a weak little bitch.” Actually, it kind of—No, it definitely was.

“You better sleep with one eye open.”

If this was anyone else you would have been trembling with fear but empty threats were Taehyung’s forte. In the third grade you accidently broke his Spider-Man lunch box and after threatening to chop off one of your ponytails yet all had been forgiven by the time school was dismissed and the two of you skipped home happily, hand in hand. Fast forward to middle school the two of you got in trouble after you tripped and broke a vase in your parents room after wanting to sneak an early peek at your Christmas gifts. Again, he threatened to never speak to you again but a few hours the two of you were sipping hot cocoa while binging a holiday movie marathon.

Just baseless threats. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Can you two be quiet before your mom comes back?” Jun shook his head, “I should’ve gotten a vasectomy.”

“That only affects me, you ass,” Taehyung exclaimed.

“I would’ve given her up for adoption. Happy now?”

“Very.”

Jun pulled the cellphone from his back pocket reading his lit up screen, “your mother needs help, I’ll be right back. Behave please.”

“You got this right?” Taehyung scrambled up from his chair nearly sprinting away from the tent, not even sparing you a brief second to protest at his lack of assistance, “I need to, uh, go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Although, there was a steep vibrancy of livelihood that trotted through the festival you couldn’t help but be underwhelmed by the lack of tints missing within the blurred lines tracing the eyes, nose and lips of those around you. You convinced yourself that in the darkest of night, a thief had broken into the neighborhood homes with a mission to drain everyone of their glow—the spark that shone brightly, exuding your desire to live.

Everyone was missing it but Jimin wasn’t.

His luminance was everlasting and while all of those around him in the canal were bland; boring; in black and white. . His honeyed skin radiated a blinding radiance. One that snagged your attention and refused to let it go. His eyes were as dark and as bottomless as the deepest depths of the sea. And while you dove in them long ago. You remained floating on the surface hoping one day he would finally notice. The curves of his plump lips were filled in with a shade of rubicund, while a layer of gloss accentuated them. He was blanketed in the synonyms of impeccability.

Anatomy states there are over six hundred muscles in the human body. One hundred of those would be geared to speak to him. To approach him two hundred muscles would be required per step. While you were dazed in love-filled daydreams, your ideal boy began walking up to the jewelry stand. You attempted to use the seventeen muscles needed to smile in his direction but instead you froze in place.

“Hey,” his voice was flourishing like the emerging flower petals in the dawn of spring, “do you have any bead necklaces?”

Copious assumptions ran through your mind. Who did he want? No, who did he need a necklace for? Was he taken? Maybe someone who he deemed a potential interest.

If only he could hear the palpitations of your beating heart. Only if he knew how much you still liked him.

“Necklaces?” you muttered in a stupefied tone.

“Bead necklaces,” he repeated.

“Right. .” In the back of your mind you continuously kicked the incompetence away or at least tried to. Working against your glacialized muscles you pulled out two white trays from behind the table and laid them out in front of you. One was composed of gold and silver pieces while the other were some your mother made with more vibrant colors, “we have these available right now.”

“Which ones do you like?” he hummed, kneeling down in front of the table.

“As the sales attendant of this tent,” you shrugged, “I think I’m forced to say I like all of them.”

He emitted a chuckle so airy and light it felt like a crisp breeze sweeping by even on that scorching spring day, the sweat beads streaming down your temples were congealed, “I suppose that's how things are wired, huh?”

“That is what I’m here for,” you smiled slightly. There was a pinch in your heart as you formed your next words, “I might be able to form better assistance if I knew who this could be for.”

“My youngest brother,” he huffed, “his birthday’s in a couple of days.”

“Jungkook?” you asked.

“Yes. . You know him?”

“Only in passing,” you shrugged, “he’s best friends with my step brother, Taehyung.”

He snickered, “Oh. .Taehyung.”

“That is the only accurate response to the whirlwind individual that is Taehyung,” you shook your head, chuckling in the process.

“Funny, cause I would describe Jungkook the exact same way,” he brushes his dark locs away from his moistened forehead.

“They are soulmates after all.”

“What about you?” he began.

“What about me?”

“Is there anyone who holds such a title in your life?” his eyes turned to gold under the beams of the radiant sun. Spell written with poems about the beauty of the summer season featuring sonnets of love and fondness.

“Like a best friend?”

“I suppose,” there was a stammer in his words, “more like a soulmate bond at all.”

“Uh, I suppose not,” truly narrowing it down the stem of the current relationships in your life came root to sole acquaintances. Friends of friends or friendships you made in passing.

“Well we’re still young right?” Jimin reassured, “we have a lifetime of relationships to build.”

Less than an eternity, all you wanted was a single minute to peel back everything you felt for Park Jimin. Like a love struck idiot unable to form coherent sentences you nodded with your tongue caught in the back of your throat.

You didn’t desire a lifetime, you wanted to shout. All you needed was him.

“For Jungkook,” you cleared your throat, “I noticed he’s quite fond of the color black. Perhaps, something like this might suit him best.” You picked out a black spinel necklace composed of black beads with a silver chain in between each one.

“You have a keen sense for good taste,” the pads of his fingertips fluttered over the piece. His sensible touch traced over your fingers sending a chill racing through all ten of your fingers.

“It's the reason I was appointed employee of the month,” surely the wide grin sitting on your face was unsettling so you tried to tone it down as best you could, “should I pack this up for you?”

“Please,” he followed you over to the register, “thank you so much for all of your help.”

Grabbing the black square jewelry box you placed the necklace in it, before placing it in the small gift bag and handing it off to Jimin after he paid for it.

In your mind, the extent of your interaction was cherished but you couldn’t help the way your head raced through hundreds of scenarios to call him back. To scramble and make something up just to be able to see him again. It was a fervent feeling like a fire being fed more lighter fluid, unable to be extinguished.

But his back was all your eyes could meet and his strides were aimed towards his family’s rose stand on the other side of the sidewalk.

Everything played in slow motion, perhaps that is why you missed how sweet your name tasted being pushed past his lips. Lingers of daydreams trailed behind as you failed to separate fiction from reality.

To be fair, what had taken place for the past fifteen minutes seemed to be fabricated from the sweetest of dreams to visit you in the late hours of the night—then, you heard your name once again.

“Yes?” you finally snapped out of it.

“Will I see you at Jungkook’s birthday party?”

“I don’t know,” you weren’t really sure why you said that when in reality you wanted to go and spend more time with him.

“Come on,” he fidgeted with the silk string on the gift bag, “I promise I’ll keep you company.”

“Yeah, yeah. .” you nodded, “I’ll go.”

“Tomorrow at 6:30 at the beach spot behind our house,” he offered.

“See you there.”

When the market festival ended that day you were drained, entirely washed out by the lack of assistance provided from your family in managing the jewelry stand. Taehyung never showed up again from his trip to the bathroom and Jun and your mother left to look after the store a few blocks away.

The night has emerged and all you wanted was to sink into the comfort of your mattress.

“Are you gonna wait for me to get all of this down?” Jun continued storing away the few pieces you weren’t able to sell.

“Our apartment is just two blocks away. I’m too tired to wait, I’ll just walk it,” the slanting rays of the setting sun painted a warm orange tinge to the sky. It wasn’t too dark for an evening stroll and besides many stans were open and the sidewalks were still being occupied by dozens of people.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you taking the tent down too?”

“Are you and Taehyung still going to Jungkook’s birthday party?”

The thought of missing it couldn’t even cross your mind, “Yes.”

“Then, yes,” he pointed at the phone sitting beside him, “just please text me when you get home so I know you made it there safely.”

“I always do,” you kissed his forehead, “good night Jun.”

“Good night sweetie.”

Walking was its own form of therapy and while you had just worked on your feet all day, there was something about the way the cool wind swept against your body. Seeming as if just a few hours prior it hadn’t been the hottest day the spring season has had to offer thus far.

“As employees of the month I would have guessed your work hours would extend past 6pm,” Jimin pulled up next to you on his bright mint green bicycle.

“I was deserving of it when my lazy baby brother decided to ditch me hours ago,” you slowed down your power walk allowing him to also ride swiftly.

“You know, Jungkook did the same exact thing at the flower stand,” he hummed as if to raise suspicion. . rightfully so.

“Tae and Kookie are two peas in a pod,” you sighed, “God, knows what kind of trouble they’re stirring up.”

“I can only hope to be as far away as possible from the eruption whenever that trouble may explode.”

“Seriously.”

If a color palette could be assigned to each person in the world, Jimin would be composed of pastels. More specifically he would be portrayed in the delicate hues of yellow vivifying calmness, peacefulness, happiness.

“No cars out in the town today?” He pedaled slowly, still following your pace.

“You’re the one with the fancy cars here.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “they’re barely fancy.”

“You’re such a liar,” you giggled, “but to answer your question I keep my car in the garage a lot of the time. Everything is at a walking distance and besides Taehyung is the one to drive us back from on the weekends.”

“Sounds like the makings of a passenger princess to me.”

“I wear the title proudly,” you smiled.

“In that case, hop on.” Jimin came to a halt in front of you.

“Like on the pegs?”

“You can always hop on the handlebars if you prefer that. .” he offered, patting the metal bar in front of him.

“I’ll take the pegs,” after securing your backpack to prevent it from falling, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders before climbing onto the wheel attachments, “where are we heading?”

“How do you feel about milkshakes?”

“Love them.”

“Then, we’re headed for milkshakes.”

On the back of Jimin’s bike you felt like the world glimmered in stardust, guzzled with the purest beauty you had ever witnessed. There was something about the golden tones of the sunset painted over the land while the wind continued brushing so tenderly against your face. And in that moment, you realized just how divine life truly was.

“I was not aware you had such an affinity for chocolate,” Jimin chuckled lightly, eyeing the chocolate milkshake and nutella waffles laid out in front of you.

“I guess I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“A bit,” he laughed, “is putting it lightly.”

“Would it be categorized as an obsession in that case?”

“An obsession is the right label,” he took a bite from a single french fry.

Nightfall had finally fallen amongst the small town and while the sky was basking in utter blackness and twinkling of stars, you sat across from Jimin enamored by his mere presence.

The two of you decided on a booth by a large window—overlooking the lively atmosphere of the night life taking its course on college hill.

“Can I ask you something?” you played around with the straw sitting in your milkshake to ease the nervousness.

“Of course,” he sat up, russet eyes sternly casted on you, contributing further to your ecstatic nerves.

You cleared your throat, an attempt at trying to rid yourself of the lump residing in your throat, “Why did we ever stop talking?”

“I guess back then, I got in my own head,” he moved around in his seat continuously. Perhaps, scavenging for the right words, “after we began speaking on Hinge we never talked in school. Didn’t even spare each other a glance. After some time our conversations on the app also became scarce so I assumed you had found someone else.”

You shook your head quickly. Astounded that your lack of words had once pushed Jimin away, “There was never anyone else.”

“There was never anyone for me either,” his smile was tender, illuminating your night like the beams of moonlight, “but we were so much younger then. . and communication was not our strongest suit I suppose.”

“That’s definitely true.”

“The good thing about maturing is learning to communicate and I think we’ve both grown to overcome our limitations,” he offered, “and besides there’s always a chance for a fresh start.”

“Second chances are esteemed to vitality,” you chuckled, “and I think we owe each other at least one.”

“Yeah, I would say we’re due for one,” his lips stretched out into a wide grin, “although, can I apologize for the assumptions I made back then?”

The diner was still buzzing with conversations birthed from patrons who were still out enjoying the hours of the evening much like you and Jimin. With dimmed lights and the red leather covering the seats the set up was slightly romantic and you weren’t sure if he had brought you here on purpose (realistically this was the only milkshake spot near campus but you feed into your own delusions).

“In that case I’d have to apologize as well.”

“You know,” he fidgeted with the rings on his fingers, rotating the silver band against his honeyed skin, “I only walked up to your mothers tent for one reason.”

“What was the reason?”

“I wanted to be sure you still remembered me.”

“I could never forget you, Jimin.”

As time slowed you’d still felt it insufficient for the amount of hours you actually wanted to spend with Jimin. Talking each other’s ears off about anything that could be a topic of conversation. You just wanted to be embraced by his blanket of comforting words—the lusciousness of his voice. That is all you desired.

The real highlight of the night came when the two of you walked side by side under the starry night, though, his bike remained wedged between the two of you; while you were engaged in conversations, your hands met on the metal bars of his bicycle’ handle bars when you offered to help him push it.

Shocks of electrical currents waved through you as your palms met his hand. A feeling so addictive you wanted nothing more than to be consumed by it.

“Hey.” Taehyung leaned against the frame of your doorway, “how did your night end up?”

“Well even after you stranded me at the jewelry stand for the day, I still managed to salvage my night,” you threw one of plush cushions at him—clearly intending no damage but he caught it anyway.

Just like the numerous birds migrate during the autumn season; just as they did as soon as the leaves turned auburn, amber and mahony and you and Taehyung were eighteen year old high school graduates, the two of you left home for the city. Away from the soundtrack composed of the waves crashing against the golden shores; away from the ranch style homes and the peacefulness of the suburb style community. Realistically, an apartment downtown was more convenient for commuting college students than having to drive thirty minutes back and forth every single day.

“I’m sorry,” he laid down next to you on the bed, though his legs were still hanging off for the most part, “but that was my payback for what you pulled earlier. I still have dad blowing up my phone about my grades.”

“I’m sorry about that,” you began working random braids into his messy strands.

“Apology accepted,” he cleared his throat, “but on a more interesting note, Jungkook and I saw you and Jimin riding on his bike earlier tonight.”

“Oh yeah,” you tried to mask the excitement in your tone—keeping a steady monotone, “he came to talk to me while I worked the stand, then invited me out for milkshakes and to Jungkook’s birthday party.”

“Do I smell a crush to lovers trope finally taking its course here?” he sat up a bit still resting back on his elbows.

Your palms grew sweaty at the thought of seeing Jimin again at the end of the week, “I hope so. . I never thought he and I would speak again but here we are.”

“You know he’s never stopped talking about you once,” his boxy smile was synonymous to the warm embrace you wanted to cry out for at that very moment, “Jungkook told me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. That boy is always talking about you,” He got rid of his sweatshirt and laid back down on your bed, invading nearly all of your pillows. So laid back. As if he hadn’t just revealed that Jimin still likes you, “what are we watching tonight?”

You felt your body levitating right off the mattress but somehow your hand still managed to pass him the TV remote, “you pick something tonight.” Reaffirmations of Jimin’s unspoken sentiments tickled your stomach and stole your attention from whichever horror movie Taehyung decided on. Instead you were shaken with anticipation to see Jimin again, it’s all you could think about.

For the first time since moving into the city the drive back home felt different. Your timorous state attributed to your moistened palms, the incessant bouncing of your leg and the fact that you couldn’t maintain a single stature in the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Taehyung placed his hand on your shoulder while maintaining eye contact on the road, “are you doing okay over there?”

You nodded slowly, then remembered he couldn’t actually see you, “I’m fine.”

“You seem. . queasy,” he suggested.

“I’m not queasy,” you argued, “besides aren’t you a bit nervous about all this?”

“About having the house to ourselves and partying tomorrow?” You hummed but he replied: “No, I don’t. I’m actually a normal person.”

“It’s not about being normal, you asshole.”

“No, it’s about Jimin. Right?” The octave in his voice rose, likely to mimic yours. Kissing noises came from his side of the car as he puckered his lips in a taunting manner.

“It’s not. .” But it was. Your brain felt as it had been liquified and where excitement became puddled its remnants drew dangerously close to doubt. Causing you to overthink Jimin’s intentions behind his invitation. Did he just feel obligated to invite you after you sold him that necklace?

Taehyung pulled into your parents’ driveway taking the key out of the ignition, “come one, spit it out. What are you thinking about?”

“I just-” you sighed, “I just want things to go well this weekend.”

“Listen, it is just a party. OK?” He slouched back in the driver’s seat, “If you need to leave at any point we’ll bounce no questions asked.” You nodded, reaching for the door handle but he called your name drawing your attention back towards him.

“He likes you,” he reassured, likely to ease your nerves—he was your brother after all, and he knew exactly what you were anxious about, “but if tomorrow you happen to find out he is not the one for you, don't let your vibrance diminish. Jimin is amazing but only you can ignite your spark and maintain it alight. Not him.”

“Thank you, Taehyung,” it’s hard to pinpoint the exact day when your younger brother grew to be so wise. If there was one thing you were certain of though, it was that despite all the bickering you were glad Taehyung walked into your life. You didn’t know where you’d be without him, “Love you.”

“Love you, loser.”

The rest of the night came at a steady pace and was composed of pizza and yet another scary movie marathon you were left to finish on your own as Taehyung snored away beside you on the couch. You placed a pillow underneath his head and tucked him in with the blanket he brought down for the two of you. Suddenly, there was a light knock at the door, startling you entirely. Looking out the peephole you noticed Jungkook and Jimin standing on the other side of the door.

“Hey,” you opened and stood, allowing them to come in, “I didn’t know you guys were coming over.”

“I texted Tae,” Jungkook said walking towards the living room entrance disappearing into the room shortly after, “let me guess he’s already sleeping?”

“He’s an early bird. You already know.”

“Two nights ago,” Jimin began following behind you as you walked into the kitchen, “ I forgot to ask you a very important question.”

“There were more questions?” You asked jokingly, setting out two shot glasses and pouring some of the clear alcohol into both of them. You weren’t quite sure why your automatic response to having Jimin in your vicinity was to consume alcohol. Perhaps, it was your pregamed liquid courage in anticipation for the boost of confidence you were likely to need. The back of your throat was set ablaze under an earnest fire as a result of the vodka. Feeling like your body lost its touch with gravity and you were slowly ascending into space. Across from you, and after the second shot the two of you have chugged Jimin’s eyes crinkled up interpreting the delicate nature of his very endearing smile. But it didn’t stop there. Your drunken gaze examined him thoroughly while he succeeded in personifying the meaning of alluring in a just black t-shirt and sweats which he paired with messy dark strands still a bit damp, likely from a recent shower. Surely, a million songs could be written around Jimin easily.

“Yeah, I forgot the most important question actually,” he leaned back against the counter tops.

“What did you forget?”

“Your number. I never asked for it,” he said in a slight stutter. “Stupid I know, but once I made it home I realized I had no way of talking to you.”

“You could have had Jungkook ask Taehyung or something.”

“I thought about that but then I realized it’d be better if I was the one asking as opposed to having my younger brother ask yours,” he shrugged.

“Well,” you hopped on the counter taking a seat right by where he stood. Your shoulders rubbed against each other, “you can always ask now.”

“I don’t know. I feel like being an angsty teenager,” he giggled, “I like the feeling of the butterflies in my stomach when I think of you. And staying up late replaying every second of any instant we happen to cross paths.”

“I wasn’t aware you were such a hopeless romantic,” You kept your eyes glued to his magnetic gaze softened by a deep shade of brown. The same shade of behind by the sun’s kisses, exuding warmth, fondness and compassion drawing you in slowly.

“I’ve always been all about romance darling,” He turned his head towards you closing the little gap which once separated the two of you. Jimin’s aura was intoxicating like the drinks you had downed and you became hazed by the close proximity; growing even more tipsy off his fragrance of lavender with hints of vanilla.

“You’ve yet to sweep me off my feet,” that was a big fat lie. A mere fabrication in your attempt at teasing him just as he was.

“Gimme an hour and I guarantee you will be head over heels for me,” he murmured jokingly with a smile painted delicately on his features.

“Sixty minutes is simply too much,” you placed your palm to the nape of his neck, not really guiding him anywhere but still hoping he’d read it as a signal in your urgency to have him close that little gap that still existed between the two of you, “when it could only take a second for you to finally kiss me.”

Jimin froze as he processed the nature of your words. “Kiss me, Jimin,” you repeated, the bitter taste of the vodka remained tainting your tongue—pulling things out of you which you would never say out loud. Damn liquid courage.

Jimin placed both of his velvet palms to your cheeks leading you towards his lips at an agonizing pace. The closer the two of you became the more your stomach twisted in anticipation—honestly the knot in the pit of your stomach grew a bit painful but you found pleasure in the way his touch felt against your skin. It was even warmer than his gaze, sweeter than his words, you were drunk-dazed and his lips hadn’t even met yours yet.

“I’ve been dreaming about feeling your lips against mine for a long time. You know.” The pads of his thumbs brush against your chin sweetly as his pillowy lips left their phantom touch against yours. Your eyes were shut tightly but you could feel the way he placed soft kisses on the peaks of your mouth.

“Jimin. .” you whined practically begging him to give you what you craved for. “Please.”

“Darling, please say my name like that more often.”

Behind his alluring words there was little intent to supply your requests—he was not going to kiss you. Not because he didn’t want to but simply because he treasured the way you responded to him. He enjoyed the way your skin became covered in goosebumps at the utters of his words and the way your requests became insistancies to have him near. He was evil, a demon reincarnated and while you wanted to continue playing along you knew that the scenario would carry on for too long and your brothers’ still sat waiting for the two of you to join them in the next room.

You placed your hands on top of his before peeling them off your face softly before stumbling off the counter. You moved closer to his right cheek and gave him a tender peck before whispering, “I will. Maybe.”

“Wait!” He called out, mumbling a few curses the farther away you got from him. You chuckled lightly feeling victorious in game of teasing the two of you had initiated.

Taehyung and Jungkook sat side by side on the couch despite it being big enough to sit six comfortably. The two of them stared directly at you while you took a seat on the other end of the couch.

“What are you so smug about?” Taehyung asked, pausing the movie and redirecting their attention to you.

“I’m not.”

“Where’s Jimin?” Jungkook asked.

“Ho-How should I know he’s your brother?” the bit of alcohol in your system loosened up your tongue.

“I’m right here,” Jimin entered the living room hurriedly, taking a seat beside you. The lack of space between the two of you caused the temperature to rise allowing the room to grow unbearably hot, “sorry, I was in the bathroom.”

“Hm,” Taehyung hummed suspiciously.

“Could it really be a coincidence that the two of you came in from your little escape at the same exact time?” Jungkook added.

“Totally,” you nodded repeatedly, “it is absolutely a coincidence.”

“Definitely,” Jimin agreed, “now play the movie before the hours keep on rolling by.”

You were not trying to be difficult but parties were really not your scene. In the past, Taehyung would drag you along to these things as a plus one while he flourished in his extroverted nature. Usually you found yourself glued to the nearest corner, mounted to the wall like an old painting invisible to the wandering eye.

“Hey,” Jimin sat on the white kalicki chair beside you. Above the white sand and just inches away from the crashing of the cerulean waves the two of you became wrapped in each other’s presence. “Here, all I could find was a ginger ale. I hope you don’t mind.”

In the passing of time you realized social settings drained you rather quickly. There was just something so distasteful about having to buzz around initiating casual conversations which often led nowhere with people you’d probably never interact with again. You just hoped Jimin hadn’t gotten the wrong impression when he found you making a break for a clear escape.

“I’m sorry I kind of left you back there,” you swiped your finger around the metal rim of the can, “it just gets overwhelming sometimes.”

“I get it,” he took a sip of his drink, “party’s aren’t usually your thing” He didn’t wait for your response before adding, “I’ve noticed.”

“You’ve noticed?” You turned to your side on the chair now facing him as he nodded, smirking all while averting eye contact.

“I have.” He began, “you’re laid back—quiet. Not like one of those girls who try too hard to be mysterious, you just are. You’re very observant and you drink people’s every move. Oh, and you tend to keep to yourself a lot.”

“You make me sound so bland.”

“From my perspective, it just makes me want to get to know you even more,” he corrected himself, “-even more than the last time,” back then your heart beat so hard for Jimin and today it still thumped at your chest even harder, “I just can’t seem to figure out one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Well parties aren’t your thing right?”

You nodded, “right.”

“And you just accepted my invitation?”

“I almost didn’t,” you confessed, “but. .”

“But. .” he repeated almost in the form of a question. Your stomach began to churn as a result of your nervousness and you could feel the burning sensation of the regurgitation burning the back of your throat. Although, you desperately scavenged for the right words and sentence structure, all of it just launched itself out of your system. Suddenly, you were left in the chair across from Jimin looking nothing short of a jest.

His patience was reassuring but you knew you were being selfish, “because having you stand across from me for the past two springs at the market festival without having the wit to be able to speak to you killed me agonizingly slowly.”

“Jimin. .” you muttered.

“But I lost every once of my sanity this past weekend. I saw you and. .” he paused almost in a halt like he was taking himself back to relive that very day, “You can call it over confidence but my basis for going up to you was that I’d caught you staring at me from the jewelry stand.”

Suddenly, the heat became scorching even for the early-ish spring season. Although the sun wasn’t as punishing as it would be in a couple of months you could feel its rays burning up your skin.

“Please tell me that I didn’t just imagine all of it.”

“I know we were kind of tipsy but I was practically throwing myself at you last night, Jimin. Of course, I like you.”

Jungkook’s party turned to an event of the past the minute Jimin interlaced his fingers with yours. He led you through the Millennia property, Jungkook’s extravagant black and gold decor and up the stairs to his room, realistically you couldn’t even attest to the maneuvering of your own two feet. Feeling entirely stupefied by the sensation of his velvet palms in yours.

The clicking sound of the door shutting was your wake-up call and finally you were aware of the predicament you’d walked into.

You and Jimin were entirely alone in his room unbeknownst to how you managed to travel through the four digit acres making up the estate plus the scattered party goers and the beds of the multi-colored Floribunda Roses that were now in season.

“Go on enlighten me,” he took a seat on the gaming chair across the room while you remained at your awkward stature by the door, “you enjoy looking at my face?”

“I never put it like that.”

He shrugged, slouching down in his seat. His wide spread legs were aimed in your direction, “it’s how I heard it.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” you crossed your arms on your chest, “I’ve decided to stop feeding your ego.”

“That’s OK.” He whispered, “I have your confession ingrained into my head. Looping over and over and over again.”

You shook your head still maintaining a safe distance between the two of you, “Don’t.”

“What? Can I not replay your love-tuned words? The shadows of your lips still lurking on mine?”

“Just—”you fidgeted with the silver band on your thumb. Twisting it softly as a distraction from Jimin’s words.

“You do that a lot, you know.”

“What?”

“You always say or do something so endearing and so grand,” Jimin sighed, “And then you—you just hold back. What are you so afraid of?”

“There are many things to fear.”

“I like you and you like me. . There is nothing to be apprehensive about.”

“You like me?” you asked almost stunned although in the back of your mind you were sort of certain of his intentions.

“I have never masked my feelings for you.”

“You have certainly not been entirely transparent,” you huffed, “this is the first time you actually spell it out for me.”

“I like you. .” he stammered, standing up from his seat on the chair and walking towards you, “I like you. I fucking like you so much. Do you want me to actually spell it out?”

His hands found their nook on your waist and he began guiding you backwards until your back met the frigid. Even though your eyes were closed you could sense the desperation in his touch as his caresses moved to explore every inch of your neck and face.

“I-L-I-K-E-Y-O-U,” he spelled out, holding your hand up against his chest. “Come here. Feel how fast my heart beats just having you so near.”

“Jimin,” you breathed out, “Jimin.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. You nodded.

Finally, the long anticipation bubbling in the pit of your stomach ceased and your lips were cushioned in the embrace of his sweet kisses. And in that moment the world ceased to exist, all that paraded around in your head were thoughts of Jimin and Jimin only.

In your perception of time the kiss was short lived but quickly the two of you became engulfed in the gloomy waves of his bed and as you swam around you began drowning in his aroma left behind tainting his sheets.

“Jimin, I want you.” A burning desire trickled on every inch of your skin; the only thing to cease the aching feeling was his soothing touch. “Please.”

“Are you sure? There’s a party just outside—”

“I’m sure,” you interrupted.

Even though you were lulled in the softness of his lips on your neck you could still feel the way his right hand dipped under the neckline of your dress, meeting your breast once and for all. He caressed it softly, slightly pinching your nipple every once in a while.

It remained in that course for a while until you finally grew exasperated by his laggard pace.

“Can I?” you asked, pointing at his hand. After his reassuring nod you began guiding his hand down the valley of your breasts and over the route of your stomach leading him right to the hemline of your panties.

“I just want to. .” he looked between your face and where his hand rested, “want to make sure that this is what you actually want.”

“I led you where I need you, Jimin. I want this, believe me,” you left a soft peck on his rose lips.

“Don’t be afraid to speak up with me. Ok?”

You chanted a string of slurred ok’s before Jimin dipped his hand under the cotton material of your underwear. Immediately, his digits began tracing long strides between your lips, spreading the pool of slickness building up at your entrance, “tell me what you like.”

You hummed, unable to form coherent words, divulged in the feeling of his quickening strokes on your clit, “Tell me.”

“Just. .” you breathed out, “just don’t stop.”

“Is this as far as you wanna go today darling?” he asked, “because I could cum just watching you crumble at the mercy of my fingers.”

“All.” You moaned, “I want—want it all.”

His fingers were laced with spells of pleasure, Jimin was ready to cast them all upon you without as much as a second thought and you loved every second of it. Especially, when you felt him push past your entrance slowly, pumping those blessed fingers of his in and out of you.

Looking down you saw the floral pattern of your dress hiked up above your belly button and his hand moving forward and backward in-between your legs. Though, you couldn’t visually see his fingers disappear inside if you, you could feel the way your walls clenched around his slender fingers.

“Oh my God. . Jimin,” you couldn’t help but shout through the waves of pleasure taking their course all throughout your body.

He quickly hushed you, “I need you to keep it down. Yeah?” You nodded. It was the only response your body could muster up as he continued. Jimin’s uneven breathing and your suppressed moans bounced off the eggshell walls. A medley which serenaded your ears in the best way.

“I’m so close, Jimin.”

“Let go, darling,” he continued, “cum for me.”

His pleads of encouragement had you squirming under his touch. Entirely consumed in the feeling traveling through your body when you finally let go. And just as before there you were standing amongst the endless field of lilac lavenders swaying in the direction of the wind. If this is what dreams were made of, you never wanted to waste another second awake.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Jimin plopped down beside you.

“You still seem to be in need of some extra attention,” you looked down at the perfectly structured pyramid composed of his jeans.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Jimin,” your voice was barely above a whisper, “fuck me.”

Words were scarce in the presence of passion and desire and you’d admit there wasn’t an outcome in the events of the day where your body wasn’t calling out for Jimin desperately.

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

Though your experience pertaining to sexual endeavors was scarce, you had to admit sex was a beautiful thing although your perception of the act could have certainly been biased towards the man whom you currently laid under.

There was something addicting in the way his toned arms cemented you in the center of his bed, sweat beads adorning his temples, his sculpted figure hovered over you as he worked to mold your insides with his cock.

“Don’t—stop—please,” you puffed in between each word.

His grunts echoed through the room. Jimin’s concern for the party going on just outside the door was no longer a priority. All you managed was jumbled gibberish while he continued sinking deep in your insides and slowly pulling back out.

A perfect addition to all of the combinations which existed in the world. Your pussy and Jimin’s cock.

So fucking perfect.

“Fuck!” you balled a hand of his sheets in your fists.

His mission to find your push to insanity has been accomplished and his head repeated its attack on your g-spot until once again your moans were too loud to suppress and until your voice became hoarse as a result.

“You’ve been so good, darling,” he fell on top of you, visibly exhausted—the two of you were half clothed and obviously too tired to do much of anything. Jimin’s head rested on your chest and while you played with his dark hair, he drew mindless shapes onto your bicep, “can I officially call you my girlfriend after tonight?”

“I’ll be yours if you promise to be mine.”

“Always.”

“Always,” you grinned.

-

-

AN: this is semi-ok ?? i don’t even know but let me know what you think. also don’t you just love the spring time?

reblogs, likes, comments, replies are always appreciated 🫶🏽

#bts #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #park jimin #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin drabble #bangtan sonyeondan #jimin x you #bts jimin smut #mentions of jungkook and taehyung

[lovehotelreservation]

Hunting for Sport

Summary: He was seen as The Outlaw to many. But to you--especially after what you’ve done to him--he was your hunter.

[Contains plot spoilers for Final Fantasy XVI]

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: F!Reader/Clive

i was up until 4 am yesterday to finish ff16  🚬🚬

----------------

There was a bounty on your head.

A piece of parchment with your face illustrated across, a hefty lump sum of gil stamped right beneath.

Who could resist trying their luck for such a splendid prize?

But being wanted so much was why you were currently meandering through the bustling streets of Kanver. Grand boulevards lined with shops and stalls offering the finest wares and goods in all of Valisthea, enticing big crowds to peruse–which, in turn, allowed for you to blend in easily without being noticed, especially with the hood of your cloak drawn over your head.

Even in the case of drawing suspicion amidst the hubbub, a quick turn into a nearby alleyway or striking up conversation with an earnest merchant was enough to shake off any attention.

Of course, there was one point to be made: Why go through such lengths when you could seek comfort in the shadows?

And the answer to such a question was simple.

It was as you were approaching a busy intersection at the heart of one of Kanver’s beloved marketplaces when a shadow loomed above you from behind, a soft yet gruff “Pardon me” uttered before you felt someone shift beside you to move on ahead.

The calm expression on your features broke into mischievous glee as you immediately took a few steps back.

That towering herculean physique, clothes, cape and armor of fine crimson and sturdy obsidian, the fine brisk hairs of a beard along his chiseled jaw that barely masked the strikingly distinct scar on his cheek, a grand and gorgeous sword sheathed on the scabbard that hung on his back, and–most captivatingly of all–those darling deep blue eyes that stared out ahead, narrowed ever so slightly in focus.

The Outlaw.

By his infamous renown, he was the only man you would ever entertain the thought of being apprehended by.

You readied to disappear back into the crowds.

That would have to wait for another day, another city, however.

But as you stepped back once more, it was right when you turned that you realized that those captivating blue eyes were no longer facing forward.

They were facing directly to your direction, straight right into your eyes.

His gaze thinned and his eyebrows furrowed as he shifted into a far more hawkish stance while his mouth uttered one word.

A word that made your eyes glitter with thrill and your lips curl into a wide grin.

Your name.

Your instincts roared at you to flee and so you did.

The hunt was on.

Kanver’s streets were to be the playing grounds while The Outlaw was to be your predator.

And as appealing as it sounded with how utterly handsome he was, you were in no mood to be easy prey.

Prior to this encounter, you had your means of discretely slipping back into the shadows. Yet for every moment you heard the heavy thuds of his armored boots a bit too close for your liking, you went from trying to slip back into the crowds to barrelling yourself through as much as you could, for ven a moment’s hesitation could result in being seized by the clawed grip of The Outlaw.

Forward, onward. 

A sharp turn around a corner. 

Kicking at a barrel to obstruct a path. 

Weaving in and out from street to shop.

The threat of his hand finally grabbing at the back of neck felt closer with each attempted swipe.

It was as you rushed through the empty storage hall of an abandoned store front that you then decided to tear off your cloak, tossing it back behind you as one last effort to hold him up before you would try to find refuge elsewhere.

Not that you needed your cloak to begin with.

Even with your hood on, The Outlaw had gazed upon your hunting bill far too long much within his personal quarters to mistake you.

After all, you were the one to send the parchment to him in the first place.

Your fingers immediately tugged at the front tie and clasp of your cloak just before tossing it back behind you while you dug deep into the well of your energy to sprint as fast as you could.

And then, you heard a burst of flame behind. 

The cool seaside air behind you was replaced by the brush of scorching heat, soon replaced by the natural warmth of flesh as a big sturdy arm immediately wrapped around your waist before pulling you back against a broad and chiseled chest, an action that was more smooth rather than brutish.

You barely could get a gasp out, your eyes wide and jaw slack in surprise.

The hunt was over but The Outlaw was far from done.

Your name was uttered once more right as you were drawn into a turn, your eyes soon finding themselves gazing right up into his.

All while your lips were soon claimed by his own.

So hungry, so yearning.

Passion was in the heart of its ferocity.

One that you were happy to reciprocate in return.

Yet as the two of you pulled away for air, you finally got a few words out in a huff.

“Using magic? That’s not fair, Clive…!”

You were met with a small grin in response. 

“Did you expect an outlaw to play fairly?” He chuckled just before kissing you once again, all while his hands reached to grab at your backside. “Then again, I’d say we’re eye to eye on this after what you did…”

Your pout was replaced by a satisfied smile as you recalled the last night you spent together, just before you took off for a mission towards the Easternmost coast of Storm.

You and him at his study, his desk a mess of paperwork and letters. His wrists were bound behind him while he remained seated, his teeth gritted tight as he fought back to groan and snarl too loudly while you rode his cock, bouncing up and down his lap. You made sure to brush your breasts right against his chest, knowing fully well that all he craved was to have his hands on you, to please you as much as you pleased him.

Though, you were more of the mind to be far more wicked, for it was as he was ready to release that you suddenly got off of him, breaking your kiss with him to instead bring your lips to his ear while your hand wrapped around the base of his cock to bring him to orgasm, his seed staining your fingers instead of spilling inside of you as he so desperately wanted.

The devastation on his face was too precious for words.

Joining you, being close to you, being one with you–that was what he cherished most.

It was teasingly cruel, you knew.

Yet how could you resist wickedness around him?

Witnessing those deep tender blue eyes of his become stormy with burning desire was a sight you were simply addicted to beholding.

And thus, if he wanted to receive what he wanted from you, he would just have to hunt you down, as you sweetly murmured into his ear.

You were gone before the last knot of the ropes around his wrists unraveled.

Now you were here, caught and caged against him while he kissed your mouth, his hands caught between pulling at your clothes to outright tearing at the fabric, urgency in his pace and touch.

What a joy it was to be hunted by him.

Your body, his bounty.

Your heart, his prize.

You, his.

#clive rosfield x reader #final fantasy xvi #final fantasy xvi spoilers #ffxvi spoilers #final fantasy 16 spoilers #ff16 spoilers #reader insert #Fic #super freaknasty writing

[thepleasurablemushu]

Snippet from a Miguel O'Hara/ Female Reader fic idea, where Spiderman starts to accompany you to your bus stop after an incident. He had done his job perfectly the other night, saved you and even checked you for injuries, and it went without saying that you were extremely grateful to him. But it’s not like you had unfinished business. Barring another attack, which you should hope wouldn’t be any time soon, you were simply not expecting to meet him again. Surely Spiderman had better things to do than to escort you?

“Are you… intending to walk me to my bus stop?”

He pushes his large frame off the wall he was leaning on and shrugs, your eyes immediately latching on to the corded muscles of his shoulders underneath his suit. “I thought I’d offer,” he replies. “Figured you might be shaken up from the other night, and I’m usually in the neighborhood anyway.” He tilts his head, as if debating if he should say what he was about to say next. “Didn’t like the thought of you walking alone.” 

Oh. Well, that was very nice of him. 

But you were fine, really. “Thank you, but I’m fine, really.”

The big electric sign the store behind you has suddenly flickers behind you with a violent buzzing sound and you jump. Okay, so maybe you were high strung since the attack, but that didn’t mean you weren’t fine. 

The eyes of his mask narrow slightly. “You ever heard of safety in numbers?”

“No, totally, I’m a huge proponent of safety in numbers.” You readjust the bag slung across your shoulder and point with your thumb back towards the store. “I even asked the guys at work if anyone could walk me home after what happened, but, uh, apparently that’s too much of a hassle for them.” 

His head turns to you fully now, and though you can’t see his face you think you sense some… anger on your behalf. You’re probably just imagining it though. Assigning meaning to things that don’t have meaning. That you wish had meaning.

“It’s just… I feel like you’re a pretty busy guy, so I’m trying to understand why…. you’d waste your time on this, of all things.” On me.

He crosses his arms before answering in that mesmerizing, deep tone of his.

“I never waste my time.” He points towards the foot path with another head tilt. “Let's go.”

#wip #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderverse #spiderman #brough to you by all the years i had to walk miles to the bus stop and hated it #if only a pretty boy had been there for me then #sighs in spanish #my writing

[sprite-writes]

all I want for christmas (is you)

Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Reader (Original Female Character)

Summary: McCoy finds himself wrapped up in the Enterprise annual gift exchange, and for some reason, this Christmas gift feels a hell of a lot more important than just a Christmas gift. 

Maybe it’s got something to do with who it’s for. 

Word Count: 6,463

A/N: guys I swear this was suppose to be a 2000 word drabble for the holidays but its a whole chapter now idk, I hope you enjoy! as always special thanks to @lightning-writes

“Lieutenant, is there a reason you haven’t drawn a name yet?” 

“I need to feel all the papers! That’s how you pick the best one– duh.” She swirls her hand around the bowl once more, rubbing the notes between her fingers. Spock stares patiently. 

“Is there a best one to be picked? My understanding of the secret Santa tradition was to be given a random partner.” 

“There sure is, and it’s... this one!” she says as she finally plucks the blue sticky note. “It was calling to me.” She unfolds the paper like it's about to self-destruct, and it reveals its neat loopy handwriting.  

 CMO McCoy 

She blinks. 

Oh. Leonard. 

She blinks again. 

It’s Leonard! 

She laughs to herself, and Spock raises an eyebrow. 

“I assume you’re happy with your choice?” 

Her heart beats a little quicker. “Oh, definitely.  I told you I had to feel all the papers.” She smiles and rocks on her heels. 

I’m Leonards's secret Santa!

Spock nods politely and returns the bowl back to himself.  “Thank you for your participation, Lieutenant. I hope your exchange goes well.” 

“You too, Spock! Merry Christmas.” 

She pats his shoulder and returns her gaze to the piece of paper. Spock makes his way back to his station when something settles in the pit of her stomach. 

Oh god, I’m Leonards's secret Santa.

-

“I’m not doing a gift exchange.” 

“Bones, hear me out.” 

“No.”

“All the other senior officers are doing it, Even Spock!” 

“And? Good for them.”  

Leonard doesn’t look up from his PADD, and Kirk fitfully shakes the bowl of papers. 

“What will it take for you to do this?” he pleads.  Leonard halts, his eyes narrowing, and his hands folding on his desk. 

“What are you offering?” 

When Kirk sighs, “I mean, whatever if it’s reasonable,” he knows he’s got Kirk right where he wants him. 

“You show up for your next two physicals, get up to date on your vaccines, stop flirting with Nurse Walker – then I’ll buy someone a candle or something.”

 Kirk glare,s but it does nothing to deter his friend. 

“ I think Walker really likes me—“ 

“Jim.” 

“Fine! Fine, you win, just pick a name.” 

The doctor rolls his eyes and plucks the first paper off the top of the pile. It’s yellow, and he hopes to god it doesn’t say Spock.

 It doesn’t; its pristine sharpie work stains the paper. 

Operations Manager A. Sunshine 

He stares and squints, all while Kirk watches him intently. A tight, nervous feeling begins to bloom in his chest. 

Sunshine. Christ. 

“Well?” Kirk prompts. Leonard folds the paper again and shoves it in his uniform pocket. 

“Yeah, I got it,” he waves Kirk off. “You can leave my office now. Not like I got patients to attend to or anything.” 

Kirk laughs, and it’s blindingly bright. 

“I’ll leave you to it, Bones. Remember - two weeks until the exchange!” 

Two weeks until the exchange. God help me. 

-

“Okay, what about a jacket? Or a sweater?” 

“Nyota, we wear a uniform every day. When is he gonna wear a sweater?” 

Sunshine paces back and forth on the sidewalk, chewing on her nails. They’re an hour into their recreational shore leave, with four stores under her belt, and she’s no closer to a gift. 

“You want my help or not?” Nyota crosses her arms and stops Sunshine in her path. 

“Sorry, I’m being mean, aren’t I?” She receives a pointed look. “I don’t mean to, I just really want this to be…”

“Perfect?” Nyota finishes.

 “Perfect?” Sunshine repeats the word, rolling it over in her mouth. “No, not exactly. I just want it to be…  right? I guess? I feel like there's an answer, and I’m just not seeing it.”

She sighs. The entire endeavor begins to feel a bit hopeless, and she wonders if she's doomed to just be the shittiest secret Santa the enterprise's annual gift exchange has ever seen. She imagines Leonard's face opening a sweater he’ll never wear, feigning appreciation, and her stomach flips. 

Nyota locks her arm with Sunshine’s and gives her all the seriousness she would a Starfleet mission. “If there's an answer on this starbase, we’re gonna find it.” 

“You think so?” 

She smiles, “Not a doubt in my mind.” 

-

“Bones, you can’t just get a woman makeup, you have to know her shade,” he plucks the tube of lipstick from Leonard's hands, whose eye twitches. 

“She wears this color every day, Kirk.” 

“She does?” He examines the tube. “Oh, yeah, I guess she does. Still shouldn't get it for her though, what if it’s not her brand?”

“Her brand?” 

Kirk looks at Leonard like he’s a child asking perpetually asking why. 

“Yes, Bones, her brand. This stuff is very elaborate.”

“Well, I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas,” he hisses, shoving the lipstick back into its holder like it offended him. Kirk shrugs. 

Leonard wants to scream. From the moment he unwrapped that damn yellow paper he knew this would be a disaster. Why couldn't he have gotten Chapel? Or Sulu? Or Chekov? Or even Kirk? Instead, he gets Sunshine, who he can't bear to disappoint with the candle that's been sitting in his bedside drawer since two Christmases ago. She deserves more, a lot more… he just has no idea what more looks like. 

“This is impossible.” he concedes, his hope having run dry after four stores and three makeup departments. 

“It is not, we just need to get creative. I think you’re looking at this wrong, Bones,” Kirk begins to weave his way through the retail-maze. “You’ve got to think more… Sunshine. Not just some generic Christmas gift.” 

Kirk's words make their way around his head, and unfortunately, he has a great point. Perhaps, maybe, there is a tiny chance that he was carried away by the daunting expectation of what a holiday gift should be. The answer is staring him in the face now - he isn’t getting a Christmas gift, he is getting a Sunshine gift. This, he could work with. 

“You might be onto something, Jim.” He snaps his fingers. “With me–I’ve got an idea.” 

-

 Sunshine has always been partial to mint chocolate chip, and it's not like there's much of it in space. So, the cone in her hand is indeed a necessity and not a distraction. 

“No more pit stops after this,” Nyota says,  sweet yet stern, as she holds the door open for Sunshine. 

“I completely agree, so quit trying to get us sidetracked,” she quips and takes a long lick of her mint chip. 

Ever the patient one, Nyota rolls her eyes with a smile. “So sorry, Lieutenant. I'll try to stay on task.”

Sunshine laughs,  links their arms, and they walk down the strip. The impending sugar rush raises her spirits, and she is more than ready for the next bout of stores. 

“Okay, so I'm thinking we stop up here and try--”

“Oh, look, It's Jim and Leonard,” Nyota says casually, and nervousness shoots through Sunshine.

“It's what!?”  Sunshine hisses, her head shooting left and right for a store to dive into. It’s too late, Jim is already waving, and nudging Leonard, who does his polite little half-wave—awww.

“Shit, it’s too late, we were seen,” she sucks in a breath. “Okay, okay, act natural, Nyota. Don’t give anything away!” 

She lobs the rest of her ice cream in the nearest trash, straightens her clothes, and skirts backward until her back is against the nearest wall. She has just enough time to pull Nyota next to her and prop her foot against the wall before the pair approach—and just like that, she’s as natural as ever. 

“Hello boys,” she hums. She doesn’t even spare them a glance at first, choosing to stare at her nails, and be incredibly casual. She’s met with silence and the prickling feeling of someone  staring at her. 

They all are. 

“Er—hi, Sunshine,” Kirk says slowly, like it's a question. She inches her gaze away from her hand. Kirk has that crease between his brows that he gets when he’s thinking, and Leonards's arms are crossed over his chest, and suddenly this interaction is anything but natural. She plants her foot back on the ground. 

“Everythin’ alright?” Leonard asks, in his concerned doctor voice that she knows all too well. She prays the interaction is salvageable.

“Of course it is, everything is normal, as it usually is – right, Nyota?” She juts her elbow into her friend's side, who does not take the gesture kindly. With a hard glare, Nyota nods. 

“Just enjoying the day off,” she says tightly, and Sunshine envies her talent for socializing. 

There's a suffocatingly awkward pause, where Sunshine sweats and looks at anything other than Leonard – who, in turn, stares at her like he’s trying to solve a math problem. 

“Well, uh, we should get back to it, I guess,” Kirk breaks the silence, still confused as ever. 

“Yeah! Yeah, of course, us too,” she blurts, and pushes herself off of the wall, “Have fun! Be safe! See you at work!” And with that, she's locking her arm with Nyota once more and hauling ass away from the two. She walks so fast, they’re out of earshot in seconds. 

“You know that went terribly, right?” Nyota says flatly.

“I do, and I’m willing to take some of the blame.”

“Some?”

“Most of the blame, maybe,” Sunshine cringes. “It really was that bad, wasn’t it?” 

She knows the answer already, but instead of a hearty yes, Nyota bursts into laughter, and keeps laughing until Sunshine joins her. 

“It was terrible, awful,” she says, trying to catch her breath. “You’ve really got it bad, huh?” 

Sunshine giggles, and leans on her friend. “Ha, got what bad?”

Nyota pauses, curiously observing her friend's seriousness.  “Nothing. Here, I’ve heard good things about this store.” 

--

Leonard stares at Sunshine's back as she retreats, thinking about what the hell he just watched unfold.

“Any idea what that was?” Kirk asks, his head tilted so far, he could hurt his neck. 

“Not a damn clue.” 

--

Another hour passes, and Sunshine is close to hysterics, and the shopkeeper is hearing all about it. 

“So, I pick the name out of the bowl,” she brandishes the crumpled blue paper, “and I’m like, ‘oh, perfect’ because, like I said, we’re great friends, like super close, but now, I actually have to get the gift. And it’s impossible! Everything is too ordinary or not thoughtful enough or just useless! We’ve been at this for hours, and I’m at my wits end here.” Sunshine’s legs swing from her place perched on the countertop. 

“So, this friend of yours,” the assistant manager, Tina, begins, “he doesn’t have any hobbies? Or interests?” Customers pass, and Sunshine sighs.

“Hobbies? Not really. I mean, all we do is work, and he works a lot– did I mention he’s CMO? Yeah, I mean, he’s passionate about his work! He loves being a doctor, he acts all jaded about it, but he’s actually a huge softie, loves helping people.” She pauses and sucks in a breath, while Tina nods like she’s keeping up. “He doesn’t love doing it in space, though. That’s what he’s mostly jaded about. I mean, he did his dissertation in med school on deep space diseases, so it makes sense but –” 

“Well, where’s he from?” Tina interrupts. 

“Oh, he’s from Earth; I am too.” Sunshine points to Nyota, who is rifling through the cologne section in her stead, “So is my friend.” 

“You know, there’s a little earth-themed shop just around the corner…” 

This piques Sunshine’s interest, and it fills her with hope. 

“Earth-themed?” she repeats. Tina nods while she restocks the shelf behind the counter. 

“It’s an antique shop; they have trinkets from everywhere but mostly earth. Maybe you’ll find something there?” 

Sunshine grins, and she feels a weight being lifted off her chest. “Tina, you’re a godsend, thank you so much,” she hops off the counter with renewed vigor. “C’mon, Nyota! I think we’ve got our answer!” Nyota is halfway through the stack of samples in her hand when she’s rushed out of the store. She fleetingly wonders why she puts up with this. 

—

Leonard barely looks up from his PADD the entire way back to the ship. It takes Kirk, attached to his side, to weave him through crowds and assure no accidents or injuries. The enterprise is quiet upon arriving, and Kirk is ushered into Leonard's office.

“Alright! Game time, Bones, tell me whatcha got,” Kirk claps his hand on Leonard’s shoulder—it reminds him of a high school football coach. 

“Right, we’re gonna need to abuse your authority. “ 

“…for a Christmas gift?” 

Leonard rifles through his drawers. 

“Well, what else would it be for? Listen, go ask the head nurse–should be Nurse Bennet– tell her you need access to the medical imaging equipment, and grab the camera in Drawer B, got it?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess?” 

Leonard shoos him out of the room. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he uses the moment of solitude to clear his head. 

He really hopes this isn't a stupid idea. 

—

In the antique store, Sunshine elects to not sit on any of the countertops. 

The entire place seems fragile to her, with shelves lined high with old-world things she didn't recognize and floors littered with boxes. It was eclectic, to say the least. To say the most, it was downright cramped. And tiny. 

Definitely no countertop sitting for her. 

Her eyes trail across the room, and she gets an odd nostalgic feeling, like she isn’t quite in space anymore. It feels like her mom's old house.  The feeling sweeps her up like a hug, and she almost forgets why she’s there as her eyes roam. Nyota recenters her with a nudge and points to the back of the store. 

“Hello!” Sunshine calls and catches the attention of the man behind the register. He’s older, with deep smile lines, and an overly large coat. He looks kind, she thinks. He waves in return for her hello. 

Nyota slips between two shelves, already scouring for ideas, while Sunshine approaches the shopkeep. 

“Somethin’ I can do for you?” he asks, his accent familiar, and strikes her with a sudden longing feeling. 

“If it's not too much trouble, I really need some help finding a gift for my friend,”she says, uncharacteristically beginning to feel shy. “And there's a bit of a story to it too, if you have the time.” 

He stares at her curiously, and she hopes she hasn't overstepped. 

“Sure.” He shrugs. 

He gestures for her to come around the counter, and she can see a wooden chair peeking from behind it. She accepts his invitation and makes herself comfortable in the old-looking wooden rocking chair. Dust flies from it when she sits.  He continues counting the register and waits for her to begin. 

“So,” she fiddles with the blue sticky note that has lost its stickiness, “I joined Starfleet like, a little over a year ago, and there's this Doctor…” 

—

The captain clears his throat and clears it again, running a hand through his hair because he’s just not sure what to say. 

“So, I gathered you both here for a reason, which is very important… but I also cannot provide much information about why it’s important - very… classified stuff,  but I assure you-” 

Leonard is too impatient for his own good, and he’s rolling his eyes and grumbling mere seconds into the captain's fake speech. 

“I’ll take it from here, Jim,” he interjects, “I can’t watch you flounder like a fish out of water anymore.”

The captain's patience wavers, but Leonard takes no mind to this. 

“Henly, Donavan, stand next to each other and smile. We’re doing a Starfleet scrapbook or something,” he says, voice filled to the brim with sarcasm. He brings the camera to his face, and the two girls look at one another with confused, pinched faces.

“We don't have all day, Ensigns,” he mumbles. Henley and Donavan turn their confused frowns into tentative smiles, and he snaps the picture. He throws a thumbs up their way. 

“Great. You’re dismissed.” Leonard turns around, sights set on their next stop already. Kirk, however, scrambles to leave this interaction on a politer note.

Kirk calls, “What he means is thank you so much for participating ladies, and you look great by the way, can’t wait for you to see the scrapbook!” but they were already retreating, whispering and giggling to one another.  He sighs. 

“So, now that I’ve abused my authority for the sake of a Christmas gift, do I get to know what the gift is?” he demands. 

“We’re not done abusing your authority, just so you’re aware,” Leonard says pointedly, “and fine, but we walk and talk.” 

That’s fine with Jim, he’ll walk wherever, talk to whoever,  if he finally gets to know what’s going on. 

“One year, for Pam and I’s anniversary, she got me this holoframe, piled high with a bunch of pictures of us. The thing’d flip through them all day, like a highlight reel while our marriage fell apart.” Leonard stays five steps ahead and doesn’t look back at Kirk. It’s an odd place to be vulnerable, the enterprise hallways, and Kirk has no idea how this fits into anything. 

“Okay…”

“I hated the damn thing. Not the sentimental type, but what you said, about getting a more, Sunshine gift, somethin’ clicked,” he snaps his fingers. “Can’t think of anything she likes more than the crew, and I’ll go out on a limb and say she’s the sentimental type.” 

Kirk pauses thoughtfully and suddenly feels touched by the gesture that isn't even for him. 

“So, we are making a Starfleet scrapbook? But of all Sunshine's favorite people?” 

“Do not go around saying we’re making a scrapbook like we’re a couple of grade schoolers.” 

Kirk catches up with his friend with a newfound dedication to this endeavor. 

“Sorry, holoframe,” he grins. 

—

Sunshine and Nyota are both perched behind the shop counter now. Sunshine slumped down into the rocking chair, Nyota rested on the arm of it. 

“...after I told Tina all of this, she sent me here and said maybe you could help—oh, well, actually, she never said that, I just sort of roped you into this on my own accord, sorry about that– but, on the way here, I wrote down this list of facts about Leonard to maybe help find him something?” She pulls out a crumpled receipt with sharpie on the back. 

“You brought…a list?” the shopkeep drawls, and it makes her blush. 

“Yeah it’s—I thought it might help,” she says sheepishly.

“She is very prepared,” Nyota supplies with a comforting pat on her shoulder.

“Alright, then let's see it.” He holds out his hand, and she lays the receipt flat on his palm. It feels like she's handing something over much more important than the record of her ice cream purchase, but she doesn't put her finger on why. 

She waits as the man reads, and she rocks in the chair. She thinks about what a whirlwind of a day it's been but still feels at ease. 

“He’s from Georgia?” the shopkeep finally says. She perks up. 

“Yeah! He’s, like, a country boy,” she cringes. “Well, like, he's from the country, he grew up on a farm, I just don't know what the actual word for it is.” 

Thankfully, the man just chuckles and doesn’t correct her. It's a win in her book. 

“He ever miss home?” he asks, eyes still on the paper. 

“Oh, only all the time,” she scoffs, “ he’s really not a fan of space.” She buzzes with excitement— she can tell he’s onto something. When he finally speaks, Sunshine has to restrain herself from leaping up and hugging him right there in the store. 

“Yeah, I think I got a few things he’d be interested in… Georgians ought to help each other out anyways.”

—

Three fake emergencies and six photos later, both men are exhausted. 

Leonard hopes no one enters the rec room for the next hour. He fears the image of him and the captain sprawled on the couch looking through photos of various crew members may be hard to explain. 

“Are we done now? Please tell me we’re done.” Kirk shifts, really he wiggles, to prop his feet on the chair beside him. Leonard fiddles with the camera as he replies. 

“Just waiting for Uhura to be back from shopping, and that should be it.” Kirk sighs and sinks lower into the couch. Since starting this whole thing, Leonard's anxiety has grown steadily, like a snowball rolling down a hill. Aside from the task of wrangling crew members, and then inventing explanations for his actions, the real challenge is convincing himself that this is even a good idea in the first place. He thinks about that tube of lipstick, and if it was her brand, and wishes this whole thing could be simpler. 

“Do you think Spock’s still mad?” Kirk asks, and Leonard barely hears it over his own thoughts. 

“He’s forgiven you for a lot worse, I wouldn't get too wound up about it,” he replies absently, hands still fidgeting. “Y’know, Jim, I appreciate you running all over hell's half acre for me. God knows you didn't have to.” 

“Bones, I have no idea what that means, but you’re welcome.” His friend smiles, and it quells some deep nervousness. “Totally gonna be worth it, anyway,” Kirk adds.

Leonard isn’t all that sure what he means, but still, he agrees.

“Yeah, I think it will.”  

 Leonard doesn't see the smirk on Kirk’s face, nor does he pick up on the mischievous cadence of his voice, or even the way they're on completely different pages. Kirk thinks perhaps that's for the best.

—

The gift sits on her desk for three days before she wraps it. 

She carefully maneuvers her work around it, avoiding touching the object like it was some precious gem. On occasion, her eyes would drift to it while she sits in her quarters, and her cheeks would heat without reason. She makes an effort not to think about it too much or get too excited, and to definitely not touch it. She finds lately that a bit of effort is required to get her mind off of many things related to the CMO, and it takes even more effort not to think about why that was. 

She wraps the gift on the day of the exchange—because it's the easiest way to avoid thinking about it.

—

Leonard gets the damn thing out of his sight as soon as possible. 

The gift had been finished – pictures uploaded, running on a ten-second loop – hidden away in a gift bag, out of sight out of mind. He is protecting his peace—leaving it out in the open will only restart the cycle of doubt in his head. So, he pulls doubles, up until the holiday party, if only just to get his goddamn mind off of this stupid exchange he shouldn’t have ever done in the first place—

He works until Chapel won't let him in the medbay anymore, and when she doesn't, he slots his time with other tasks. Hell, he even wonders if he should’ve gone back for the lipstick, the day after they leave the port. He goes as far as to bother Nyota about it, who waves him off and tells him she's sure Sunshine will love her gift—her reassurance helps more than he anticipated. 

He almost gets himself to forget the whole thing, lost in the medbay chaos, until he feels the scrap paper crushed in his pocket.

The gift stays hidden away until just a few minutes before he has to meet her, and his palms sweat when he picks it up. 

—

Lieutenant Jameson calls out the day of the holiday party— Dakitoan Flu. 

Without much choice, Sunshine takes his rounds. She doesn’t think she’s ever completed a task faster in her life. Complete is even a strong word—it's more like half-ass. She’s all too aware of how she’ll have to repeat most of the work again tomorrow, correcting her own mistakes. But she doesn't care. She’s been stressing out about this party for two entire weeks, she’d be damned if she misses it. 

When she does finally rush to the rec room, the blue-wrapped gift in hand, there are few people left, and her heart sinks a bit. 

There's a Christmas tree in the corner of the room, with only one present left beneath it, and a few red and green ribbons are strewn about. She spots Spock first, already wiping down tables and cleaning up the festivities. He catches her eye, and he must see how her posture is wound tight with nervousness—or her pink cheeks, or her frazzled hair, or the way she obviously ran here. Spock doesn’t quite smile, but his gaze softens in some way she doesn’t see often, and he nods toward a table in the far corner. She follows, and—

Oh! It’s Leonard!

Spock gets a double thumbs up for his help. 

Leonard sits with Jim, both of them with glasses of some dark liquid in hand. She wishes she could have had a drink before this. She smoothes down her hair before she approaches. 

Kirk notices her first and smiles — it reminds her how nice it is to have someone in her corner.

“Sunny! You made it!” He cheers. She grins back and lets it sink in, yeah I did make it, and the thing she’d been fussing over for weeks is finally coming to an end.   

 Leonard is much more reserved, he always is. He sees her, and his posture relaxes—he does that a lot. Almost like he’s holding his breath for some reason. 

“Captain, Doctor,” she greets the two, still catching her breath. “I’m sorry I missed the party, you have no idea how insane my shift has been —I mean, no idea, but it's over now, and I’m so glad I caught you guys.”  

“We had to convince Spock to leave the Christmas tree up until you got here, he’s been cleaning damn near since the party started,” Leonard tuts, and she laughs. 

“Aw, I’m glad he did…” She looks at the pine tree, which is bare of ornaments and lights, and raises her eyebrows. 

“Well, he sort of did,” Leonard amends. “It was a compromise.” 

“A compromise that leaves me with putting the decorations back in storage, so I’d call it more of a trade,” Kirk complains. 

“Master negotiator, huh?” she teases and has every intention of teasing him more, maybe even calling Christmas his new Kobayashi Maru, but she waits a beat too long.

“Anyways, Jim, don’t you think you should be getting to it?” Leonard says, as if the conversation didn’t just start. 

Jim doesn't say anything at first, just stares at Leonard while Leonard stares at him. It’s all very… intense, she thinks. They exchange pointed looks like they’re engaged in a silent conversation– actually, she’s pretty positive they are. Awkwardness begins to prick at her skin. 

“Is there something—”

“Wow, I didn't even notice the time, better get to it, just like you said,” he springs to his feet with alarming speed. 

“Oh, do you have to go?” she asks with disappointment.

“I do, duty calls, or something.” He holds her by the shoulders looking at her with enough intensity to make her squint. “Have fun,” he says meaningfully, and smiles, and then, he's gone, leaving with a friendly pat on her back. 

She hesitates a moment before taking Kirk's seat. 

“Is he…okay?” 

“That's a loaded question,” Leonard deadpans, and despite her confusion, she laughs. 

“So I have something-”

“Anyways, there's this-” 

Their sentences crash into each other,  and they both freeze. 

“You first,” she offers. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just purses his lips and avoids eye contact. 

“Just—Don’t move, I’ll be right back,” he grits out and leaves her at the table. It's abrupt and leaves her wondering why this interaction is going like this. She wraps her arms around herself and waits. 

Behind her, he picks up the last present left under the tree, which has been waiting there for her all day.  Yellow bag with yellow paper stuffed inside.  He places it on the table, and sits back down, hands wringing together. She wants to ask what's got him so worked up. 

“I’m your secret… Christmas person or whatever the hell it is,” he grumbles and doesn’t meet her gaze. Not until he hears her stifle a giggle, which then bubbles into a laugh.  She doesn’t mean to, but the whole thing just comes together too perfectly for her to contain herself. 

“You’re my Secret Santa?” she asks, alight with excitement, and he nods at her slowly. 

“Yeah, if that’s the name—” He’s cut off with another laugh, and she eagerly puts her gift in front of him—blue paper with a blue bow. 

“Leonard, I’m your Secret Santa!” She beams, “We picked each other! What are the odds?”

He stares at her, then at the gift, and says quietly, bewildered, “What are the odds?” 

She doesn’t catch what he means, but she’s too excited to harp on it. 

“Well?” she prompts and inches the blue box towards him. “Are you gonna open it?” 

Curiously enough, she’s not nearly as nervous anymore. 

He blinks and shakes his head like he’s clearing his thoughts. “Yeah, yeah of course,” he says distractedly. 

He opens the box carefully, it's like he’s doing an operation. When he looks down at the gift, the gift, he pauses and gets this expression that Sunshine doesn’t think she's ever seen on him. 

“Len?” 

“Sunshine, is this…?” 

“It’s a postcard! From Georgia!” She grins, “A real one from Earth, It’s an antique.” She reaches over the table and taps on the glass of the frame in his hand. “See? There's a little stamp of authenticity. Isn’t that neat?”  

Neat. It’s about the neatest thing Leonard’s ever seen. 

She settles back in her seat. “I thought it might make you a little less homesick,” she adds, much quieter, as if the statement itself needed privacy. 

Leonard stares at the postcard. It's got a picture of a peach orchard, on a perfect summer day, he can tell by the blossoms that line the trees. Greetings from Georgia! it reads.  It looks like something he would have seen hanging in his Ma’s house. He thinks of the red door of his childhood home, and how the branches of his family's own peach tree framed it. The smell of his Ma’s cooking and the feeling of coming home— his chest fills with familiarity and longing. He stares for a while and doesn't say anything for even longer. 

He doesn’t realize he’s been silent until Sunshine clears her throat. It feels like he forgot he was on the Enterprise for a moment. 

“Sunshine this is…” Damn near perfect. “Nice. Thank you.” He says it and cringes. There's so many more feelings and thoughts under the surface. He wishes he could make a sentence out of them. But Sunshine, like she knows his inner thoughts, accepts the weak compliment like it's the best thing she's ever heard. 

“Aw, Leonard!” She tucks her hair behind her ear and flushes – or maybe it's the lighting. “I'm so  glad you like it. You have no idea the hell I put Nyota through to find it.” 

He’s not sure what Nyota had to do with it, and he doesn't ask either. “I’ll thank her too then,” he says weakly, but he definitely won’t. With a deep breath to quell his nerves, he pushes her gift toward her. 

“Your turn,” he says with bated breath. 

Being so wrapped up in her own Christmas shopping, she almost forgot she gets a gift too. She tears through the tissue paper with the same unrestrained excitement she had picking her secret Santa just a few weeks ago. 

“I still think it's so crazy we got each other, this makes the gift-giving thing like, ten times better,” she tells him. He nods curtly, and she can tell he’s wound tighter than a spring–or at least that’s how he would say it. 

“Relax, Len, I’ll like whatever’s in the bag– heck, I’d like it even if you gave me a rock.” 

She dives her hand into the bag, the tips of her fingers touching cool metal. At first, she has no idea what she’s looking at. A… little screen? A flat little screen with a cool blue border? She opens her mouth, a question on her tongue, when— 

“The power buttons on the side,” Leonard says. He doesn’t give her a chance to move, leaning over the table and clicking the button for her. 

The screen comes to life with a picture of Sulu and Chekov, both donning awkward thumbs up… and is that in Kirk’s room? She blinks, and it changes again, this time to Scotty and Keenser sitting among a mess of wires in engineering but smiling brightly nonetheless. Another second passes, and she's looking at Spock and Nyota, sitting beside each other in the rec room loveseat looking equally poised yet annoyed. Sunshine laughs before she can stop herself. 

“Len is this—?” The picture flickers again, and the sight of it stops Sunshine's words in their tracks. It's Leonard and Jim, on that same rec room loveseat. Jim’s practically beaming—face lit up and an arm looped tightly around Leonard’s shoulders. Leonard, shit. He’s got that soft and reserved smile on his face—like the one he has when he talks about home or his friends, where his eyes are just filled with this warm something. 

Sunshine’s face turns hot, and her chest becomes unbearably heavy with emotions. 

“Leonard, this is so fucking sweet—” She cuts herself off with a wet laugh, and she realizes she’s got tears in her eyes. 

Leonard, however, looks mortified, as he watches her face become red and tears fall down her cheeks. 

“Shit—Damn it, I’m sorry—You weren't supposed to cry!” he stutters in a panic. Sunshine laughs again and hiccups over it with a sob. 

“They’re happy tears, Len!” she insists, wiping her cheeks. “This… I think this is the nicest gift I've ever gotten.” She can’t bring herself to look away. The pictures are just the slightest bit grainy—like the camera her mom used to take pictures of her. The thought starts the waterworks all over again. 

“It is?” 

She sniffles, scrubbing her tears with her sleeve. As Sunshine traces the edges of the frame, and watches the photos loop again, she knows for certain this is the sweetest, most thoughtful gift she's ever gotten. She thinks about how curious it is that it's from someone she’s known only a year—a coworker, no less. 

Then, she thinks, maybe, it's not all that curious at all. 

“We should do this every year,” she tells him. She’s positive, actually, that, as much of a headache as this exchange has been, she would do it again in a heartbeat. 

“Secret Santa?”

“Yeah, but not so…secret next time, and… just us, maybe.” 

She doesn’t look at him when she says it, for both their sakes. 

“Sure,” he says, and she can hear the tightness in his voice. “I’ll try not to make you cry next time.” 

She laughs, “No, do it! It’s more fun that way. Maybe I’ll make you cry.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

He seems less nervous now, like his smile is coming a bit easier. 

“We should get going before Spock sticks us with the rest of the cleaning,” he says, gathering the discarded paper from the table, “and I know you had a long day, Jameson told me you covered for him.” 

She doesn’t want to leave, but she knows he’s right. She wonders if he feels the same pull to stay.

“Yeah, but it’s fine,” she tries to say casually.  She leaves her chair as he does. “You know me, I don't mind.” 

“Doesn’t make it a good thing, you pull about as many doubles as—”

“As you?” she interrupts cheekily, and he rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“Yeah, as me.” 

The paper goes in the trash, and they’re left with nothing to do but bid each other goodnight. It’s the last thing she wants to do. 

“Thank you again, Len. The pictures—It’s perfect. I love it.” She tries not to cry again, mostly for his sake. 

“No problem, and you too,” he tells her simply. His cheeks are still tinged pink, and seeing him hold the present she labored over in his hands, with all that warmth in his eyes, it's almost more than she can stand. 

Fuck it. She thinks to herself, and before her nerves can stop her, she wraps her arms around Leonard's neck. It's an awkward angle, and she has to pull him down to her height a bit—and she’s still got the frame in her hand and everything. As far as hugs go, it's not great, but in other ways, it's perfect. Leonard doesn’t react for a moment, but finally, his arms encircle her waist, after a fair bit of hesitation. 

It’s really nice, she thinks. 

“No, really, thank you,” she says into his shoulder. The fabric of his uniform is soft, and she can smell his apple shampoo. 

“You too, Sunshine,” he mutters. The sincerity in his voice feels nearly tangible. Leonard pats her back, maybe because he feels awkward or maybe because it's time for the hug to end; either way, she lets him go. 

“Have a good night,” he says, and he can't quite meet her eyes. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she answers softly.

They share a long parting glance, as they head in opposite directions to their quarters. 

Unbeknownst to the pair, their senior officers are perched just around the corner. 

“...and he knew her shade, Spock. The exact shade of lipstick she wears. He was so… dedicated to the whole thing. I half-thought he might give her a candle or a necklace or something but this?” 

Spock nods thoughtfully. “She treated the exchange with similar enthusiasm, from what Nyota has told me.” 

“You’re a genius for setting this thing up,” Kirk shakes his head, “even if I did have to copy Sunshine’s signature on 20 different sticky notes.” 

“Well, it was your influence that caused me to—”

Kirk waves him off. 

“You don’t have to justify it, Spock. Hell, everyone can see how bad they’ve got it for each other. Can’t blame you for wanting to move it along.” 

“Indeed they do, Captain.”

#leonard mccoy x reader #Leonard McCoy #james t kirk #star trek #star trek alternate original series #reader insert #on a cloudy day #bones x reader #original female character #star trek imagine #Idc that they dont celebrate christmas in space #they do now #spirk