#then i started angsting about which side of his fan i wanted to show | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

psychedelic-ink · 11 months

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𝐇𝐈, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 8k

chapter summary: Joel takes you on your first date. A barbecue meant to be fun becomes a minefield of unpleasant memories for Tommy.

warnings: mutual masturbation, piv, dirty talking, light spit play, PTSD, war flashbacks, angst towards the end

a/n: yup, you're seeing correct, I uploaded a day early!! woooo

Chapter Ten || Chapter Twelve

When Joel mentioned taking you out for a date, you couldn't help but imagine something simple and unassuming, just like him. You envisioned a quaint, unpretentious restaurant where you could share intimate conversation, followed by a leisurely stroll back home. You knew Joel wasn't exactly an innovative man; however, his wood carving skills, took you by surprise when he showed you some of his artwork, it made your heart grow fonder for him. As much as he poked fun at himself for not understanding art, or knowing much of it, he was an artist.

In the end, you weren't expecting anything extravagant, and you had no complaints about it. That was a part of his Texan charm. It was who he was, and you loved him for it.

What you didn't expect was to take a thirty to forty-minute drive to South Congress.

“You didn't have to go through all this trouble,” you say as Joel opens the truck door for you. Smiling, he rolls his eye. He offers you his hand, and with a skip in your heart, you accept it, feeling the heat of his palm. Joel steadies you as you hop down from the vehicle. Sarah was at another sleepover, carefully orchestrated by Joel, making it the perfect time for him to take you on the first date he mentioned a couple of days ago.

“It’s no trouble,” he answers, moving his jaw. “But if you keep sayin’ that I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re not a fan of the idea.”

“Oh, I’m definitely a fan. No need to worry your pretty head about that.”

Before taking the first step, he holds your arm and tugs you back toward him. Your eyes widen when he throws your jacket over your shoulders, “‘Might get cold,” he murmurs, fingers skimming down your bare arms. Then he sighs. “I love it when you call me pretty. Makes me all tingly inside.”

“Well then,” you smile, leaning closer. “Let me say it again, you’re pretty. Prettiest man I know.”

Joel's lips curl into a wide grin, his humming filling the air. “I’m blushin’,” he teases, capturing your lips in a swift, lingering kiss, lacing his fingers with yours. “I knew this would be a good idea,” he mutters against your lips in a self-congratulatory tone. His taste lingers on your mouth, leaving you craving more.

“I don’t want to burst your bubble but I’m still not sure what we’re doing here. You never told me.”

Hand in hand, you and Joel set off, walking down the street at a leisurely pace. The sun, beginning its descent from the vast expanse of blue skies, painted the world in a soft, golden hue.

“We’re here to look at the murals,” he explains. “Thought you might like it, bein’ an artist and all. And if we get hungry there’s this Tex-Mex place I like to go to, I take Sarah there all the time.”

He's nonchalant about it, yet he still averts his eyes. A soft crimson flares under his shirt, creeping up his neck and tinting his cheeks. Your heart beats quickly. You may now be a part of his life, but Sarah will always hold a tender place in his heart. Something he hesitates to share, like a tiny box of secrets. She's his everything. You wonder how many times he had to keep that part of himself hidden, how many times he mentioned his daughter and saw the hesitation in the other party's eyes. It's no one's fault, really. It's a complicated situation no matter which side you consider. And you're fairly certain he's never mentioned his romantic endeavors to Sarah. Why would he? To him, none of it ever led anywhere, so there was no sense in telling her about it.

You don't want him to be nervous about sharing more about that part of his life. You have adored Sarah ever since you met her. Now, you're somewhat grateful that it took the two of you longer than normal to get here. It gave you a chance to show him that no matter the state of your relationship, you'll be there for Sarah, for Tommy, and for everyone he cares about.

Because you care about them too.

“You visit here a lot?”

He tips his chin, “We used to,” he answers and offers you his arm, you thread the gap between torso and tricep. “When she was five we came here a lot. Really liked it.”

A half chuckle, half exhale leaves his lips. You give him a sympathetic look. “Well, maybe we can come here together one day. Tommy too. We can make a day of it, I bet she misses it.”

"Yeah," his eyes glaze over for a second, looking ahead towards the sun-kissed street. You softly dig your nails into his arm, snapping him out of it. He blinks and tenses under your touch. "Yeah, we definitely should. Maybe during spring break or somethin’."

You squeeze his arm again, and when he turns to look at you, you smile. He returns it in kind, and you feel his smile leave an imprint on your skin as his lips touch your forehead.

“Can’t wait to show you all of it, sweet tea.”

And he does.

Joel shows you everything that he loves. The streets of Austin come alive with vibrant murals, each one captivating in its own way—some simple, some complicated. You see the South Congress Mural on South Congress Avenue that stands tall, its graffiti letters painted in vibrant colors, depicting the cityscape. The italicized phrase 'I Love You So Much,' spray-painted by Amy Cook for her partner Liz Lambert—Joel doesn't say much here. He stares at it for a while before gripping your hand tighter. Suddenly, he tugs your arm, pressing his lips firmly against yours, sucking the air from your lungs. Here, you take a quick coffee break and continue on.

There are so many. Your eyes catch sight of a mural depicting a piece of toast and yellow butter, lovingly painted on a vibrant blue wall, inside the piece of butter and toast it says “you’re my butter half”. You laugh and nudge Joel in the ribs and repeat the words to him. His smile is the widest you’ve ever seen.

Joel introduces you to Jeremiah the Innocent. A smiling cartoonish frog, on top of it you read HI, HOW ARE YOU. He then told you that Jeremiah had another name as well— Ron. Named by, of course, Sarah. Leaning closer, you tell Joel that you agree, the frog looks much more like a Ron rather than a Jeremiah.

After that Joel, a keeper of his word, takes you to a small Tex-Mex place. He orders chips and queso as an appetizer, followed up by two cold beers and tacos.

"I think you might have killed me," you say, rubbing your stomach and leaning back as the cold metal of the chair bites into your skin.

Joel cocks an eyebrow, a small smile touching the corner of his lips. “So. . .no dessert?”

“Don’t joke,” you answer seriously. “I always have room for dessert.”

He laughs, “You sound like Sarah,” just as you begin to smile, he adds. “And Tommy actually. That man has an endless pit instead of a stomach.”

“Tell me about it.” you grin.

The sun begins to disappear, shades of light blue fading into something darker that lingers in the sky. It reminds you of the times when you angrily slap your widest brush on top of the canvas and just move it around without any aim or goal. The string lights come to life. Joel looks gorgeous under the soft glow; it's almost dreamlike. If you were to reach out, you're not entirely sure that he wouldn't fade away.

His hand finds yours over the table, lacing your fingers together. A stuttering, silent breath escapes your lips. The effects of alcohol buzz both in your veins and mind. His thumb traces your knuckles, a gesture so familiar yet foreign at the same time. With a smile, you bring the back of his hand to your lips before he does. You tenderly kiss him, feeling the softness of lips moving over the mountains and valleys of his hand. His breath hitches, and your ears feel warm.

"Should we head back?" he murmurs, his voice dipping into something darker. His thumb finds purchase on your lower lip and tugs on it, eliciting a soft gasp. "I think I'm gettin’ hungry again."

You kiss the pad of his thumb as he cups your cheek, and you nuzzle into the width of his palm. Wetness gathers between your legs, heat building at the base of your spine. You can't wait for him to devour you.

Joel’s fingers trace the spine of the book that lays idly on your bedside table. He adorns a soft smile, gaze curious as he picks it up.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, turning your back as he begins to flip through the pages. “I’m going to freshen up a bit, make yourself comfortable.”

With that, you exit the bedroom and head to the bathroom. You're feeling positively tingly. The ache in your bones would normally entice you to go to bed early, but sleep is the last thing on your mind right now. All you want is for that man to ravage you. During the drive back, the only thing on your mind was his lips, his hands, his cock—his weight on your body.

You quickly splash cold water onto your face, sighing as the cool numbness replaces the sticky sweat from the day. After brushing your teeth, you head back.

You smile when you see Joel sitting at the edge of the bed, book still in hand.

He’s looking at something.

You raise an eyebrow, taking a step closer. There’s something in his hand, something smaller and vaguely familiar.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit.

“Joel?” Your voice barely manages a whisper, you're surprised he hears your pleading call of his name. He flinches, shoulders raising all the way to his ears. You clear your throat. “What. . . What are you looking at?”

You already know the answer.

"How long have you had this?" he asks, every word sounding dull. He twists his body enough to face you, holding the small Polaroid picture between his fingers— oh god, you're screwed, aren't you?

"I-I can explain," you blurt out, increasing your steps' speed. You stand in front of him, the picture's glossy surface reflecting the light into your eyes. "You forgot your magazine, and when I opened it to read it, the... the picture just fell out, I swear! I know I should've told you, gave it back, but, well, I—"

Unable to keep your eyes open due to the constant spinning of the world around you, you close them. His gaze remains fixed on you, half moons hidden beneath bushy eyebrows. Embarrassment surges through you, heating you from the inside out. In a fit of desperation, you cover your face with both palms, sighing into them. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," you mutter, your voice muffled by your hands.

Joel stares at you, dumbfounded. With shaky legs, he stands and gently cups your wrists, tugging your hand away from your face. You refuse to meet his gaze, your eyes glued to a spot on his neck. You miss how wide his eyes are, how his gaze grows soft as he stares.

“Why are you sorry?” he whispers. “I think you misunderstood, sunshine. I ain’t mad. I’m embarrassed.”

“What?” you furrow your brows, lifting your gaze. “Why?”

He smiles, “Lots of why’s goin’ around,” you continue to stare and he clicks his tongue. “It’s a half-naked picture of me. A picture that I took, you can’t blame me for gettin’ flustered.”

“You look good.”

“Thanks,” he scoffs with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I guess it’s better that you found it instead of. . . Tommy or worse.”

You know what worse means. He’s right, he was lucky it had been you.

“I’m just glad you’re not mad.”

“Me, mad at you?” he shakes his head, looking appalled by the thought. “Never.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

His hands drop to your waist. Fingers roughened with work digging into your flesh. The excitement you felt comes rushing back, flooding your veins. Joel pins your hips together, the growing outline of his cock brushing your clothed mound. You gasp and he inches impossibly close, lips brushing your ear. “Why did you have it in your little book over there?” he drawls, his voice thick. “Did you touch yourself lookin’ at it, sweetheart?”

Your voice shakes and you can barely get a word out. You swallow, shaking your head.

“Don’t lie,” he hums. The drag of his lips down your neck turns your insides into mush. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

A moment of silence follows. You take this time to unbutton his jeans and slip a hand underneath the dense fabric. You cup his length, and it hardens in your palm, growing in size. Your breath hitches as his hips move forward, chasing the grip of your fingers. Taking a deep inhale, you breathe him in, filling yourself with his scent.

“I wanna watch,” his voice cracks. “See how you touched yourself while thinkin’ of me.”

Your breath hitches, “And what will you be doing?”

You stroke him slowly, the pad of your thumb moving over the slit before moving down again. You shiver at the feeling of his hot breath against your skin.

“I’ll be watchin’, sweetheart. Engraving your spread-out cunt into memory.”

“Jesus, Joel,” you breathe heavily, your pulse loudly thrumming in your veins. Joel is absolutely filthy—something you never thought you’d be thinking. He tugs you towards the bed. With every step, another garment falls to the floor. You’re shivering all over, body cold yet warm at the same time. The expectation crackling in the air pricks at your skin.

What is this? It never felt like this before. A need so desperate. A want so large. In this moment you’re convinced that you and Joel were always meant to be as pretentious that might sound. You have no idea how else to explain it. Every time you’re with him, even in the most peaceful moments, you feel an impending. . . something. You’re not sure what it is yet but you know it’s a wicked, dark feeling. A dystopian surrealism. The works of Zdzisław Beksiński; death, destruction, shattered worlds. . . yet still beautiful. You love those paintings. Just like Joel, it leaves you uneasy and mystified.

The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the bedrest, your naked legs falling open like a butterflys’ wings. You wait for a touch that never comes. Joel drags the chair and takes a seat. He pulls out his hefty length, fingers loosely curling around it. You hold your breath.

“Don’t keep me waitin’ now,” he rasps as he touches himself lazily. “Show me.”

Your eyes never leave him, and you slowly circle your clit with two fingers. An immediate sense of relaxation and soft pleasure blossom over different patches of skin. You pinch the sensitive bundle of nerves and continue moving your fingers around. You arch your hips, wetness growing with every stroke. Your insides clench. Joel’s heavy breathing fills the room, your own breathing coming out in short pants.

“Spread yourself darlin’,” his voice lowers, making your stomach turn. With two fingers you show him, spreading yourself s while you circle the middle one around your clit. A soft whimper of his name echoes from the back of your throat. It’s different like this. Knowing that he’s right there, staring, observing your every move. It lits a fire between your legs. A feeling so raw and open.

Your ache swells inside of you like wildfire. You keen at the slick sounds of Joel’s fist accompanying your own lewd sounds. The rest of the world falls silent, your mind a complete blank, your sole focus on the man that makes you feel soft and tender.

A build-up to an orgasm can be a strange thing. Sometimes you don’t think of anything or anyone, just focused on your fingers and the fire between your legs. Other times your imagination becomes so vivid that you swear there’s a cock splitting you open. Your stomach clenches, muscles rippling under the faux feeling of someone being there with you. And, technically, there is someone with you but not in the typical sense. Your back lifts from the mattress, your feet sliding down the soft sheets as your fingers move frantically. You can feel it hardening, throbbing under your ministrations.

“That’s it,” Joel groans, the bed dips, you’re too far gone to notice he stopped jerking off and is inching closer for a better look. “Come for me, darlin’. Let’s see how you make a mess.”

Your ears ring

Your lips part so wide that the corners are aflame

Your throat constricts a silent plea

Your fingers twitch, insides pulsing as you gush and make a mess—just like he wanted.

You love doing what he asks of you.

You feel it trickling down the inside of your thighs, the curve of your ass. It’s too much. Whimpers rattling your chest, your throat sore. Joel mutters praise, telling you how good you are, how perfect. Another soft lingering orgasm warms you from the inside out, more drops of pure ecstasy spilling over.

He trails his hand up the inside your thigh, slick gathering at the tips of his fingers. A soft gasp leaves your lips as you clench around nothing, “Next time I’m bringin’ the camera over.” you give him a look and he chuckles. “It’s only fair, don’t ya think?”

“I don’t think that picture will be sexy as you think,” you answer, smiling.

He frowns, his look almost glaring as he stares into your eyes, “Bulshit. You’re gorgeous. It’ll be like havin’. . . the . . . Mona Lisa in my pocket,” he says, slightly unsure.

"I do appreciate you using art references whenever you talk to me; it's like a gimmick," you grin and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer. "Hey, if you want a picture, you can have one. Just promise not to leave it lying around like you did with your own. I don't need any more embarrassing moments in my life."

“We all have embarrassing moments.”

“That doesn’t sound like a promise,” you answer with a playful lilt. He rolls his eyes, a hand sneaking down between your bodies, he aligns himself with your sopping sex, cock filling you slowly, inch by inch. Your eyelids flutter, a moan ripping from you.

Fully inside you, he murmurs into your mouth, “I’ll guard it with my life. Promise.”

His words fall on deaf ears. Your vision blurs at the stretch of his cock, drawing his hips back, only the bulbous head remains. He watches you. Watches your fluttering cunt adjust to the size, then, just as you’re about to say something, he slams into you. Electricity crackles over your skin, a sensation that makes you feel numb. Joel buries his head into your neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin as he sets a brutal pace. His strokes are slow and hard. Every ridge felt as he massages the insides of your cunt. It’s exhilarating. Breathtaking. So much so that you think you’re crying a little, soft salty tears gathering in your eyes.

“You wanna know something?” he groans, fucking deeper into you. “I thought of you while takin’ the picture. Thought about this perfect cunt.”

He holds your thighs with a heavy hold, pushing both legs up until your knees are grazing your forehead. You don’t think being a pretzel ever felt so good. Joel jackhammers into you, the wet glide of his cock leaves you breathless. Between narrowed eyes you watch him; his brows furrowed with concentration, lips slightly ajar, pink tongue poking out. He’s flushed. The soft tint of red looks good on him. You desperately want to bury your lips into his neck and lick the vein that meanders down, you want to sink your teeth into it.

In a quick glimpse, his eyes briefly catch yours. The muscle in his jaw moves and he licks his lips, the color in his irises gone, eaten away by lust. You notice him pursing his lips and your eyes go wide, a thin line of saliva drips from his mouth, adding to the mess between your thighs. Your breath falters, you squeez him tight. His hips stutter but he’s not phased by the sudden tightness.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, voice hoarse. “I wanna feel you comin’ around my cock.”

You moan at how soaked you are, your fingers playing with the mixture of spit and slick. It doesn’t take you long. A couple swipes of your fingers and you’re seeing stars. Your orgasm sears you from the inside out, your entire body tensing at the force of his thrusts. With a knee-jerk reaction, you grip the back of your thigh, nails biting into your skin. He pushes your hand away, thumb soothingly going over the crescent-shaped marks.

His unwavering gaze aggravates you. A sudden shame rolling in your stomach, he bats the thoughts away by allowing your legs to fall and frame his broad waist. Suddenly his lips are on your own, sucking your tongue into his mouth, swallowing the moans. He tastes your hesitations, your fears, your unsaid love for him—all of it, from a single, hungry, messy kiss.

Joel’s hips slow down into a delicious grind, the coarse hairs that crown his cock doused, you feel the brush of his pelvis on the pearl that beats. Your insides flutter one last time before he’s pulling out, spilling over the soft flesh of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he moans into your open mouth. You shudder at the trickle of seed on your skin. “That was amazin’ sweetheart. You always feel so fuckin’ good. ‘Can’t wrap my head around it.”

You giggle, “I hope you know the feeling is mutual, neighbor,” you feel the wet drag of his lips down your cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good before.”

“You’re just sayin’ that,” he tuts, breath fanning your neck.

“Do I need to remind you how we ended up in this bed?” you tease. “You, finding a picture of yourself that I masturbated to? If that doesn’t convince you I don’t know what will.”

He thinks about it for a second then shrugs, “Fair.”

“By the way thank you for. . . everything. I had a great time Joel,” you thread your fingers through his mussed hair and he lays his head on your chest. His hand gently cups the underside of your breast, a possessive gesture. You feel the scrape of his beard as he speaks.

“I didn’t do nothin’ special. You deserve more.”

Your heart clenches the ache of his self-deprecation a reflection of his inability to perceive his own worth. “Stop selling yourself short—”

He cuts you off, “You deserve to have a relationship you don’t need to hide. It’s not fair.”

Your heart splinters, torn between the desire to protect what you have and the yearning to be truthful to those that you love. When your silence grows, Joel look up to you, his eyes wide like full moons. And just as somber. Your lips crack in a smile.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “We’ll tell him eventually. When we’re ready, right?”

He swallows, throat moving. “Yeah,” he answers, gaze breaking away from yours. “We will. When we’re ready.”

Neither of you are brave enough to ask when that might be.

The sun beats down on Tommy’s skin and with the back of his hand, he wipes away the sweat on his forehead. Next to the grill is always the hottest. It’s a beautiful day out, birds chirping, sun shining and whenever a cloud passes by, adding a bit of color to the boring blue sky, Tommy sighs in relief, enjoying the fleeting coolness of the passing shadow.

Joel is at the grill, and from the corner of his eye, Tommy sees him turning the ribs and chicken wings. A loud sizzle fills the air, and with a hiss, Joel backs away, cursing as a searing drop of fat lands on his tanned skin. In typical younger sibling fashion, Tommy laughs, earning an equally heated glare from his older brother. Neither of them says a word. Joel returns his gaze to the meats, while Tommy shifts his eyes back to the large bowl he's holding. It contains a mixture of a generous amount of barbecue sauce, olive oil, Worcestershire sauce, minced garlic, smoked paprika, cayenne pepper, salt, and black pepper. He gives them another vigorous stir before adding the stemless button mushrooms. He tosses them all together until each one is evenly coated.

A bead of sweat rolls down his face, “Joel, I know you have this sense of always wantin’ to be right but I doubt our recipe is gonna be the one to change her mind about mushrooms.”

“It will,” he grunts, shirt dipping and sticking between his shoulder blades. “If she doesn’t, more for us.”

“Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

Joel doesn’t answer and Tommy doesn’t bother to force a conversation. The silence he shares with his brother has always been a comfortable one, but lately, that hasn’t quite been the case. There’s this wall that he can’t seem to breach no matter what he does or says. And ever since Joel broke up with Asha, it only got worse. He can’t shake the sense that whatever his older brother had in mind, it must be about you. It has to be.

Tommy’s feelings for you haven’t exactly disappeared. As much as he wished he had a button to turn it all off, he can’t, but he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t mind staying friends. What he feels for you is more than that. He enjoys your company, your jokes, your thoughts. He can’t imagine living out the rest of his life without it.

However, he's not stupid, contrary to what many people might believe.

Tommy has noticed the stares, the weird tension in his brother’s shoulders whenever you’re around. Hell, if Joel has feelings for you he should just own up to it, talk about it. All Tommy wants is for Joel to come and talk to him. However, when it comes to romance, Joel rarely does. Even after the breakup with Asha, Joel barely said a word. Tommy later on learned the details from Asha and it fucking stung.

Ever since they were little, Joel had this tendency to shoulder everything, it didn’t matter if the issue was big or small, he would carry it, and he would do so in silence. Tommy hated that. He wanted to talk about things, wanted to tell Joel about his nightmares, the blank notebook that Tommy can’t bring himself to write into—he desperately wants things to change. He wants Joel to stop playing the martyr. Tommy’s not a kid anymore, they can carry the weight together.

“Gosh that smells delicious!”

Tommy jerks at the sound of your voice. Startled, he looks up and sees you making your way through Joel’s yard, carrying a Tupperware full of coleslaw and a pitcher of homemade iced tea. You place both items on the wooden table and walk toward the brothers. Just as you pass by Joel, your hand brushes his shoulder. Again, Tommy sees him visibly tense with the contact.

You turn to Tommy, arms spread wide, a joyous grin stretched across your face. Tommy mimics the expression, pulling up a different kind of mask. He pulls you into a tight embrace and presses his lips ointo your forehead.

"Oh, are those the mushrooms?" you ask, still held within Tommy's arms, your gaze lowered to the small table Joel brought out for food prep. "I'm both terrified and excited."

“I hope you’ll like’em,” Tommy answers. “Joel is convinced that you will.”

You laugh and mouth at Tommy, "Do you think he'll explode if he turns out to be wrong?" Tommy can barely hide the snicker that escapes his lips.

“I heard that,” Joel grunts without looking.

You expertly move the conversation along, “Where’s Sarah?”

"She should be here soon," he responds. "She mentioned wanting to buy some lemon bars for the barbecue."

“Where is she buying them from? Olivia is going to come over too so she can pick Sarah up.”

After discussing locations and making a quick phone call, Olivia happily agrees to pick up Sarah because, according to you, she's not that far away anyway. You help Tommy skewer the barbecue mushrooms, and conversation flows seamlessly. Even Joel gradually loosens up, relaxing as he starts to place the prepared skewers. You appear surprisingly cheerful, and Tommy doesn't mean to imply that you were ever a downer—rather, he hasn't seen you this relaxed in a long time. It seems the grief that had molded you months ago, forcing you to behave a certain way, had loosened around you. Now you see what he’s seen all along; that you deserved to make jokes and have fun and be happy.

He likes to think he had a part to play in that with the renovation of the room.

In the midst of finishing up the mushrooms, a car stops, and a moment later, Olivia and Sarah hop out.

Sarah wastes no time wrapping her nimble arms around Tommy's neck, giving him a tight hug. Tommy returns the gesture in kind, lifting her off the ground a little. "Hey, sugarcube! How was school?"

"Boring," she answers, letting go. "How was work?"

Tommy scrunches up his nose, prompting a bubble of laughter from her. "Boring," he parrots.

While Sarah heads inside to change, Olivia places the lemon bars on the table and comes to greet you. The sizzle of the grill fills the air as Sarah's voice cuts through the lively atmosphere, calling out to Joel from the window of the house. "Dad, I can't find my purple shirt!" she exclaims. “You said you’d have it washed today!”

Joel turns his attention away from the grill, a concerned furrow forming on his brow. "I'll be right there, sweetheart," he assures her. He looks over at Olivia. "Liv, can you man the grill for a moment?"

Olivia nods, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Consider it done. You go find that shirt."

With a grateful nod, Joel moves swiftly toward the house, leaving Olivia to handle the grilling duties. He passes by Tommy and you, giving a brief smile and a nod of acknowledgment before disappearing inside.

Tommy's gaze follows Olivia as she confidently takes charge of the grill, her tongs expertly flipping the remaining skewers and wings. There's a sense of ease in her movements, a natural grace that Tommy finds captivating. Her focused expression softens with a slight smile.

Meanwhile, Tommy takes a moment to observe you as you retrieve a couple of cold beers from the cooler. The sunlight catches in your hair, casting a warm glow around you.

You approach him with the beers in hand, Tommy can't help but be captivated by your infectious smile. It's a smile that reaches your eyes, radiating happiness and a genuine warmth that draws him in. He takes one of the beers from you, his fingers grazing against yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt of electricity through his veins.

"Cheers," you say, raising your bottle in a toast. Tommy mirrors your action, their bottles clinking together, the sound ringing in the air.

"Cheers," he replies, his voice laced with genuine affection. The clinking of the bottles marks a moment of connection, a shared bond that goes beyond mere friendship.

“Isn’t it interesting?” Olivia suddenly says, snapping your attention from Tommy to her. He frowns.

“What is?” you ask.

“That I’m here. . . doing all the work without a beer in my hand.”

You roll your eyes, walking back to the cooler, “You could’ve just asked you know?” you tease, handing her a cold bottle. She shrugs with a wink.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Tommy smells smoke. The crackling of flames too loud. Their banter fades into the background. His body grows tense by instinct, feeling the threat of danger that isn’t there. He becomes uncharacteristically still, listening, but not hearing anything.

“Ah shit, I burnt it,” Olivia hisses, fanning the smoke with a moisturized hand. “Well, at least I only burned three of them. You guys think Joel will kill me?”

He hears bits of the conversation, your laughter following Olivia’s words. The smoke in the air is thicker now, grayer. Sweat sticks to his skin and Tommy swears he feels the familiar feeling of hot dirt on his skin. Unaware, he starts rubbing his arms, trying to get rid of the sticky feeling.

Tommy smells gunpowder.

He hears bullets whizzing through the air.

Just as the grill suddenly flares up, a searing pain jolts through Tommy's body. In his disoriented state, he misconstrues your touch on his back as a threat. Reacting instinctively, he moves away, his mind clouded. His hand inadvertently catches your wrist, twisting the limb. You let out a shout.

A surge of guilt pierces Tommy's heart as he realizes that it’s you. His eyes widen with a mixture of fear and remorse, and he releases his grip on your wrist, his hands trembling. "Fuck, sorry—" he stammers, choked up. "I. . . I thought. . ."

Before he can finish his sentence, he sees Joel above your shoulder, his face etched with concern, closely followed by Sarah.

"What happened?" Joel demands.

You step in before Tommy can explain, his chest heaves, “Nothing, I just startled him.”

Joel doesn’t seem to buy it, his gaze fixed on his baby brother, he raises an eyebrow. “Tommy?” he asks again, his voice leveled.

Tommy's gaze shifts from you to Joel and Sarah. He struggles to find the right words, his mind still tangled in a web. He doesn’t say a word, just shakes his head. Joel’s gaze softens, hands coming up to cup Tommy’s cheeks. He lifts his brother’s gaze to face his own.

"It's okay, Tommy. We're here. We're safe, you’re home," when Tommy attempts to back away, Joel holds him tighter. "Let's just take a moment to breathe."

Tommy’s mind blanks for a second when Joel visibly takes a deep, slow breath. Joel looks at him with a sign of expectation and the younger Miller mimics the way he breathes. Deep and slow. One, two, three. Once more, and that’s it. He’s breathing again. The sky is blue again.

“Shiiiit,” he exhales on the last breath. Joel drops his hands and takes a step back, you’re standing right next to him, brows drawn together. Suddenly the guilt is back. “I’m sorry,” he says the apology muffled by clenched teeth. “Are you. . . okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say hovering back and forth, wanting to come closer but also not wanting to overwhelm him. “Do you need anything?”

“I should be asking you that,” he takes a step closer, taking your wrist between his fingers. He gently smooths his thumb over where he bent—god, he’s a fucking mess. “We should put some ice on that.”

“I got it!” Olivia jumps out, placing the end of the cold bottle on your wrist. You stifle a snort. She narrows her eyes at you. “That’s a weird way to say thank you.”

You roll your eyes, “Thanks, Liv.”

Tommy pulls away and takes a seat. Content in having calmed his brother, Joel returns to the grill and gives Olivia a look that screams, "What the hell have you done?!"

He smiles, feeling his racing heart finally begin to calm down.

“Are you sure you’re alright uncle Tommy?”

His eyes meet Sarah’s, two concerned and observant juvenile eyes staring into his own. He’s not sure what to say—no, he knows what to say, he just doesn’t know how to say it in a way that she’ll believe him.

Without waiting for a response, Sarah sits next to him and reaches for two glasses and the pitcher. She pours iced tea into both. “Here,” she says, prompting him to replace the beer with the glass. Tommy obliges.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he murmurs. “That ain’t your responsibility.”

“It’s not. . . but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t worry. And I know you can’t talk to me about it, I’m not dad, but you know I love you, right?”

“‘Course I do,” Tommy answers quickly, ignoring the way the sun stings his eyes, he forces them to stay open. “Your dad takes good care of me. And I know you care, I appreciate the reminder though,” he lets out a sigh, drags a heavy palm down his face, and swallows. “I’m gonna get better.” I have to get better.

Sarah doesn’t say another word. She slowly drops her head to his shoulder, looks over to her father who’s in the middle of placing three mushroom skewers on your plate. Tommy smiles.

“They’re idiots,” she murmurs, he doesn’t miss the affectionate cadence in her tone.

“Yeah,” Tommy answers. “But they’re our idiots.”

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. However, your love for mushrooms still remained nonexistent, much to Joel's surprise. He was shocked to see that his and Tommy's barbecue mushrooms hadn't managed to convert you into an avid mushroom lover. In an attempt to mask the lingering taste, you nearly downed the entire pitcher of iced tea—making sure Joel wasn't looking, of course. He was still quite salty about not liking them. He even went far as to pout about it, which you found adorable if you’re being completely honest. You're not sure his ego could handle the thought of you desperately wanting to scrub your tongue with a sponge.

Olivia was the first one to leave as the scorching sun was replaced by shiny stars, and you helped with cleaning up. You noticed that Tommy was avoiding your gaze like the plague, and Joel remained silent about what had happened. Your wrist, although not physically hurting, still ached. You had promised him that you would be there for him, but you felt like you had failed miserably. You had no knowledge of what was going on in his head, and if today was any indication, there was a lot happening.

When he’s about to bid his farewells, you touch his forearm. It’s such a small gesture but he flinches anyway and you quickly withdraw your hand. You chew the inside of your cheek.

“Do you want to come over?” you ask, swallowing. “I have some leftover wine.”

It doesn’t take him long to answer but the seconds that pass feel like an eternity. He nods and gestures to the door.

“I’ll be waitin’ outside, go get your things.”

“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a sec.”

He closes the door softly behind him. A click that is barely audible. You hear footsteps and turn to see Joel exiting the kitchen. “Everythin’ good?” he asks.

“I think so, I invited Tommy over. I think it’ll be good to talk.”

You see it in his eyes, the need to hold you, to cradle your cheeks and brush your lips together. The internal fight is visible from his expression. You figure which side wins when he remains still, staring, eyes flitting between you and the windows near the door. Tommy’s smoking a cigarette with his back turned.

“I think so too,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor. “He’s been more closed off lately and my usual grumpy self probably ain’t helpin’.”

“I applaud you for admitting that you are, in fact, grumpy.”

He tries to hide it but can’t, a small smile peeking from under his mustache. “Shut up.”

“I really wanna say make me,” you grin and pick up your bag. “But I don’t think we have time for that.”

“I’ll remember, don’t worry.”

You ignore the way your legs press together at the sudden drop in his tone. The chill of the doorknob sends shivers down your spine. You’re afraid of being alone with Tommy. You’re scared that you’re going to blurt everything, all of it. You miss being able to talk to him—Tommy definitely wasn’t a stranger to the rants about the many failed romances in your life. With a sigh, you crack the door open. You hear a shift behind you. . . then a gentle hand on your waist.

A kiss on the back of your neck.

“Call me if you need anythin’.”

“I will.”

You finally step into the warm night. Tommy turns to you, exhaling smoke from his nostrils. The knot in your throat makes it hard to breathe, the younger Miller looks over your shoulder.

“See ya later old timer,” he calls out to Joel. You don’t hear him answer but you’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, the click of the door follows. Cigarette loose between his lips, Tommy offers you his arm and you take it.

The walk to your home is a silent one.

Your house is ominous in the dark, quickly, you flick the lights open. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“I always do,” he murmurs and takes off his shoes. “Would it be alright if we skip the wine? I’m not really feelin’ up for it.”

“Of course,” you answer. “Do you want anything else?”

“Nah. Let’s just talk.”

The request takes you by surprise. You blink dumbly at the back of his head, and when the silence fills the space between you, he turns. He stares at you for a moment, gauging what your reaction means. His brows come together, a humorful smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

“Why do you look so shocked? That’s why you invited me over right? To talk.”

“I. . . Yeah, exactly.”

He heads to the living room and you follow his trail like a lost duckling. “Before you say anythin’,” he says, lifting a hand as you take a seat next to him. “Let me apologize. I didn’t mean. . . I would never hurt you. Today was an accident, I got lost.”

Lost. . . that was exactly what it was, wasn’t it?

“It’s okay, it was my mistake really. I shouldn’t have touched you when you were so out of it. Can I. . . Can I ask what you were thinking about?”

His shoulders raise, his breathing becomes shallow, “I think it was because of the smoke. I was right there, at the battlefield, again. Fuck. I didn’t know.”

You wait for him to continue.

“There ain’t much out there you know? Just you and a couple of brothers you made along the way. When you see them fall, it’s hard to erase the memory of it.”

“No one is expecting you to erase it,” you whisper, your hand hovers above his knee and when he nods, you place itover the curve. “As hard as it is, that’s a part of you. No one blames you for today. No one is mad at you. We just want you to be okay—I want you to be okay.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m workin’ on it. I just hate talkin’ about it so much. I tried. . .I tried to be the hero you know? I tried so hard to make a difference. It didn’t mean nothin’ and when you realize the person you’re gunnin’ down is just as lost as you are, you realize there are no heroes in the battlefield.” a sudden chuckle bursts from his lips, compeltly void, he covers his face with a palm. “But I’m still so stupid. I still want to believe some difference can be made. I want to be good so fuckin’ bad and I don’t know why. I should be happy just doin’ my own thing like Joel but I’m not.”

His words sink into your skin, blend with the blood in your veins, and suffocate your lungs. You want to cry. He sounds so broken, so hopeless. The need to hold him makes your knees tremble. You imagine an eighteen-year-old Tommy, signing up with the army with a hopeful gaze. You’ve heard the stories, remember Joel telling you the arguments that followed after that. Tommy hadn’t backed down, adamant about proving his brother wrong. The stubborn nature of it reminds you of your own brother, the endless arguments that would go on and on and on with your grandfather.

The army takes their hopes and dreams and spits them out broken and strange.

“You’re not stupid, Tommy,” you mutter, barely audible. “We all want to be good. There’s no shame in that. I’m. . .similar, I always want to do the right thing. I want to be good too. Don’t compare yourself to Joel he. . . he got lucky with Sarah. As long as she’s happy and safe he doesn’t care about right and wrong. We on the other hand, we’re still trying to find ourselves. It’s not as easy for us to make that distinction. We think endlessly about the ones who get caught in the crossfire.”

God, but you aren’t doing the right thing. It’s easy to forget that with Joel’s lips on your skin—sure, maybe you’re not straight-up lying to him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re being dishonest.

He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes. So round and wide. “People like you can’t try to be good,” he answers, confusing you. He waits, allowing the silence to follow as he thinks of his words. “You’re already good. You don’t need to try to be.”

The confession bubbles up from your chest to your throat. You taste it. Sweet like sugar and deadly like poison. You have to tell him. You need to tell him.

You lick your lips, your mouth dry like sandpaper. He’s staring directly into your soul, he sees something hopeful. Something good. You want to shake him, tell him that he’s the good one. He doesn’t blink. Not once. You open your mouth. You’re going to do it, you’re going to tell him and whatever happens next, however he reacts, it’s what you deserve.

Normally, Tommy’s eyes are a shade lighter compared to his older brother’s. While Joel’s eyes walk the line of being downright black, Tommy’s always reminds you of your favorite brand of chocolate.

But right now it’s dark as night. Just like Joel’s.

“Hey,” he finally blinks, smiling. The confession that had bubbled to the surface slowly simmers down. “We should get some sleep.”

“But—”

“I appreciate you talkin’ to me sweetheart. I. . . feel better, in a weird way,” he comes closer, kisses your cheek. His lips are damp. “I’ll be sure to talk to you more in the future, a’right? Promise.”

“Okay,” you mumble. You both get up from the couch and saunter upstairs, the air that surrounds you lighter. He takes the guest bedroom, the room where August slept the week before.

Tommy stills at the door, “Well, goodnight.”

You can’t leave it at this, you just can’t.

“Tommy, I need to tell you something.” your words are sharp and clear. His hand tightens around the doorknob, what does he think you’re about to say?

“Yeah?”

You can’t do it. Coward.

“Do you need. . . another pillow?”

“Um,” he opens the door, takes a look. “No, I’m good. Is that all you were gonna say?”

“It is.”

It isn’t.

I'm sorry that this took me insanely long for some reason???? Honestly, I blame the fact that I'm not used to writing family dynamics, it's hard. 😭😭😭 but nonetheless I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, let me know what you guys thought 💜

I did make a post about it but I'll be taking a small break from SIB, I will return to it and will be working on it in the background but I really need to let my mind loose. The next two chapters are already outlined so y'all won't be waiting for that long! This isn't one of those series where the rest of the plot is lost in time and space and I'm too chicken to work on it lmaodfvd

Thank you so much for all the support!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #hbo the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

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thefallennightmare · 6 months

Text

Miracle-four

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: I wanted this to be a slow burn/enemies to lovers but god damn it's so hard to write because I already want Reader and Noah to get together.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo

With a loud sigh, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and walked towards to front end of the bus. On this bus, I shared it with Davis, Matt, and Bryan, and sometimes one guy from the band would pop in every once in a while: except Noah. At least if he did, it was when I was asleep or not around. Especially lately, Noah and I avoided each other. After the disaster of a dinner a couple nights ago, I refused to speak to him even about work. I went to everyone else instead of him if I had a question, which I didn't often since I knew what I was doing.

I didn't want to think about Noah right now. Not when my mind should only think about my mom.

Lana told me that even though my mom was having a lot of good days, she still refused to speak to me. I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't break but I couldn't cry about it. I needed to focus for work and not give anyone a reason to figure out something was wrong.

We were close to the next city, less than an hour away, and we would hang out in Dallas for two days before heading out once more. Matt mentioned he had a surprise for everyone so called for a bus meeting which is where I found everyone with two surprise visitors.

Folio and Noah.

Giving a small smile to the former, I sat next to him at the table and he returned a smile. Noah was sitting on the long couch of the bus, chatting quietly with Bryan. They must have joined when we stopped last and I was asleep.

Noah's eyes burned hot at the side of my face but I ignored him as I bumped shoulders with Folio. We had been texting a bit the last couple days and have gotten pretty close; no romantic feelings involved. Folio had been a great friend and someone to vent too. I never told him about my mom, though. That was something I would take to the grave.

"Where's Jolly and Nick?" I asked.

"They stayed on our bus. They wanted the peace to sleep."

I nodded before pointing to Matt, who was standing at the front of the bus rubbing his hands together. "Any idea what this is about?"

"No fucking idea," Folio chuckled.

With my phone buzzing in my hand, I dared a peak at the notification to see another subscriber to my Only Fan's page. I didn't have many followers but enough to keep some money coming in. I could pay Lana her first paycheck and the extra income coming in was nice. I wasn't rolling in money but wasn't struggling on how to pay for things. With being constantly surrounded by the guys, I wasn't able to post much, just one other video and a few provocative pictures. I never showed my face, only from the neck down and never naked. I always had some short of clothes or underwear or an arm covering the private areas. Maybe that was the reason I had little subscribers, but it was the rules I set for myself when I started this.

"So, I bet you're all wondering why I called this meeting," Matt spoke while clapping his hands.

Folio muttered a joke to me under his breath which earned a loud laugh from me. Everyone looked our way, and I leaned back into the booth cheeks on fire.

"What's so funny?" Matt quirked a brow.

Noah's eyes pinned me to my spot as I glanced over to him. Something flashed behind those brown iris' while his jaw ticked.

"Nothing, Mr. Dierkes. Please continue with class," Folio joked with a smirk.

I had to bite my lip so I wouldn't laugh again.

"As I was saying," Matt began ignoring Folio. "It's been a week on tour and we've all been working tirelessly to make sure every show fucking rules. But there has been some tension within the group."

"I don't think you feel the same tension as some of us do," Noah said with his eyes on me.

Our eyes matched with intensity, and I let out a deep breath wondering what he meant by that.

Tension? Of course, there was tension between us but that's because we disliked each other.

Folio noticed I was ready to speak, so he pinched the bare skin of my shoulder which caused me to yelp out in slight pain.

"What the fuck was that for?" I seethed.

He nodded towards Matt to continue on, who looked displeased at being interrupted by our antics yet again.

In our days of texting, I told Folio about how it irritates me how Noah acts around me when we're alone versus when others are around. I also may have told him about my tiny feelings for Noah, which Folio told me it was pretty clear how I felt. While I thought no one noticed, Folio saw the stolen glances, the way my body reacted differently when Noah was around, or the way the corner of my lips curled up when Noah spoke or sang.

Always so perceptive.

I tried to get out of him why Noah was so upset about that night in Chicago but Folio refused. He said that was Noah's secret to share.

I tasted blood with how hard I bit my tongue and reluctantly gave Matt my attention.

"Since we'll be in Dallas for a few days, I rented an Airbnb for us to stay at as a way for us to bond or whatever the fuck. There's a pool and grill we can have a pool day on our off day," Matt said with a smile.

My heart sunk deep into the pits of my stomach. At least when we stayed in hotels, I had my room, sometimes doors down from Noah. But now, all of us staying in a house means it would be harder to avoid him.

"Is that necessary?" I questioned.

"Yes," Matt deadpanned. "If you want a hotel, book it on your personal card."

Low blow.

"Whatever," I grumbled while crossing my arms.

He simply gave me a large smirk before speaking again. "The only issue is that there aren't enough beds so some people will have to bunk together or sleep on the couch."

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered while running a hand down my face.

I didn't care the house situation, I would sleep on the floor if I had too if that meant I wouldn't share a bed with anyone, especially Noah. I liked these guys but not that much.

Folio patted my shoulder and whispered low in my ear.

"Maybe you and Noah should bunk together. Team bonding or whatever."

"Fuck off, Folio," I playfully smacked his chest before rising to my feet, his arm falling away from me. Noah was still staring at me and I knew with how close Folio and I had been, he wasn't happy. His jaw clenched so tight, and his hands balled into fists in his lap.

I didn't bother giving him another glance as I turned my back to him to retreat into my bunk to mentally prepare for this team bonding bullshit Matt set up.

Okay, I had to admit. This house was fucking sick.

There were large floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto a beautiful backyard and if you looked past that, you could see the city down below the hill the house was on. It was a large open floor plan with a living room, kitchen, and bar with a pool table off of the dinning room. Upstairs was an open loft area with a large sectional couch and four bedrooms.

While I was in my bunk on the bus, the room situation had been decided by drawing matching straws. No one bothered to ask for me to draw because somehow by the Gods below, Noah was the last to pick and was only left with the color red.

Jolly and Nick.

Bryan and Davis.

Matt and Folio.

Noah and I.

When Folio told me the sleeping arrangements, I wanted to cry in anger. It seemed as if no matter how hard I tried to avoid Noah, something yanked us back together. Folio offered to swap with me but I declined, already deciding that I would sleep on whatever couch was provided.

A warm presence encased around me, making the hairs on my arm prick, and I peered up to my left seeing Noah standing next to me in the house's entryway.

"You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the couch," he said.

I blinked, somewhat surprised that he offered that. I fully expected him to lock me out of the room.

"I'm smaller than you. It might be better for you to sleep on the bed," I offered.

Was I being nice?

My body shivered at the thought.

Noah shook his head then hoisted his back over his shoulder. "Take the room, angel. You're the only girl here. You should have some privacy."

Was he being nice now in front of the others? They all stood less than a few feet from us.

Did I wake up in the twilight zone?

When I went to protest yet again, he shot me a look that caused my lips to pull tight together. We stood in silence for a few moments and I let out a soft breath.

"Thank you."

Noah made a noise in his throat and his eyes glittered as they darted between mine. His large hand brushed away hair from my face and I leaned into his touch, all the pent up anger between us melting away.

The question weighed heavy on my tongue as I pursed my lips a few times.

"Why do you call me angel?" I finally croaked out.

His hand was now wrapped around the back of my neck, the pads of his finger pressing deep into the skin, and shrugged.

"It feels right."

I raised a brow. "What if I don't like it?"

"Too bad. It stays, angel," he dragged out the last word with a large grin.

Irritation flared inside of me but before I could say anything, the warmth around my neck was gone as Noah walked away. I blinked after him, watching as he tossed his bag onto the couch before stepping outside into the large backyard.

"Soundcheck is in one hour!" Matt called out, his voice carrying through the open space.

With that, I forced my feet to take me upstairs to the bedrooms so I could get ready. The only room left was the closet one to the stairs and directly across the long sectional couch. If Noah would sleep here tonight, he'd be able to look right into my room and see me laying in bed. The thought made something ignite in my stomach but I ignored it.

This was the only room with a bathroom attached which made me wonder if the guys purposely gave me this room. As I placed my things throughout the room since we were going to be here for a few days, my phone rang loudly from its spot on the bed as I was in the bathroom and rushed to answer it in time.

"Hello?" I asked breathless

"Hi dear. How're things?"

I smiled into the phone at Lana. "Good. I'm going to be heading to the venue soon to set up. Everything alright?"

"Well," Lana started.

My ass fell into the bed with a groan and prepared myself for what was about to come.

"What happened?"

"Your neighbors found your mother in their bathroom this morning; in their shower."

I pinched my eyes shut with a groan. "Please tell me it was the Johnson's. They know what's going on with her so they would understand. Well, as much as I hoped they would."

"Yes, thankfully. I was able to bring her back home without incidents."

"Good," I let out a long breath. "How is she now?"

"She's fine, in her room resting but-."

"I don't like the sound of that but," I noted.

"Y/N, I know you love your mother and want the upmost best care possible for her."

I nodded. "But."

"But I think your mother would be better in a home where someone can watch and monitor her twenty-four hours of the day. I can only do so much especially when she takes off."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting to cry. This conversation was one I knew I was bound to have at some point. My mothers Alzheimers was getting progressively worse and soon, I feared there might be a time where I couldn't handle it.

But now wasn't that time.

"I'll think about it," I said after a few beats.

It wasn't a lie, per se. I would think about it, way down the road.

"I'll see if she wants to talk," Lana said.

"No, it's alright. I don't want to bother her."

I couldn't stop the sob that escaped my lips.

"Alright dear. I'll call you tomorrow."

After we said our goodbyes, I let my phone clatter to the floor at my feet then plopped down onto the bed. Tears pricked at my eyes and I dug my palms into them, hoping it would force the tears away. My mom was the most important person in my life. We were all each other had after my father died, so being so far away from her when she needed me the most made the guilt rip me apart.

Was this job worth it? Was the money worth it?

These questions kept replaying in my mine over and over as I laid on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A few tears escaped drying to my warm cheeks. The money was worth it; it had to be. I still wasn't making a lot of money from Only Fans so whatever I made doing this, I needed.

There was a soft knock on my open door and my breath hitched when I noticed Noah leaning against it. How long had he'd been there? Did he hear my conversation with Lana?

I sat up in bed while covertly drying my eyes.

"The manager at the venue said the set up for merch has to be in the hallway downstairs. Is that alright?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I've been put in weirder places so it's fine."

Noah gave a curt nod while crossing his arms over his chest. I suddenly felt small under his eyes and rose to my feet hoping that watching me gather my things to get ready it would be a silent dismissal. But no, he continued to watch every single movement I made.

"Is there anything else you need, Noah?" I asked with a sigh, finally looking at him.

His black shirt clung to the thick muscles of his arms and chest. His brown hair had fallen into his face in a tousled mess from being on the tour bus the majority of the day.

Noah was breathtaking in every single way, and my core practically begged for some kind of friction.

Not now, traitor.

"Have I mentioned how much I love hearing my name coming from your pretty little mouth?," he mused while licking his own.

My legs squeezed together, my body screaming with that small release against my core, but I refused to let him know how bad he was affecting me.

"Is that it?" I asked.

Noah said nothing as he walked over to my open suitcase and riffled through it, obviously looking for something.

"What are you doing?"

My heart raced as I watched him, knowing that if he picked up that red t-shirt, he would find the variety of sex toys I use for my videos. What he found, though, was something I hadn't expected him to. An old shirt of his that I borrowed from the last tour. It was the second night and Bad Omens played a sold-out show. The crowd was alive the entire night and every one of us was buzzing with excitement. Once we returned to the hotel that night, we all jumped into the outdoor pool even though it was pretty chilly that night. Noah offered his dry shirt to me so I could warm up which at the time I took gratefully.

That night was before the night in Chicago. Before Noah's attitude toward me changed.

It got buried along with my other things after the last tour and forgotten about.

Bullshit.

I may have worn it to bed some nights; so much so that his scent had faded while ago.

Noah tossed the shirt over to me and I caught it just before it hit me in my face. My lips stuttered trying to come up with an excuse because I still had it.

"Wear that."

"Excuse me? I asked irritation lacing my words. "Since when do I take orders from you on what I wear?"

He closed the distance between us in two large steps, his fingers tilting my chin up towards his face. Our lips were so close, I could almost taste the beer he must have had before coming into my room. And the hint of bourbon and spice from his cologne filled my senses.

So warm and familiar.

"There's a reason you kept it, angel. Might as well wear it."

Noah's voice was dark and heavy, laced with something I could pinpoint. His eyes were just as dark as his words and I swallowed hard. My body flared with desire, heat pooling between my legs, and I let out a breathless whine eventually nodding.

"Good girl," he breathed across my lips.

His eyes darted from mine down to my lips where it stayed for a long moment before he dropped his hand from my face then left me standing in the room with a heavy wetness and an ache between my legs.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #forced proximity #enemies to lovers #slow burn

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jinnirev · 7 months

Text

Falling, Fallen (NSFW)

☆ Pairing: Han Jisung x fangirl!reader

☆ Synopsis: Jisung feels a sudden attraction towards a particular fangirl.

☆ t/w: slowburn, depicts mental health struggles, slight angst, jisung stalks the reader on social media, lowkey parasocial relationship on the readers side 💀 choking (jisung chokes in food and reader performs choking exercises), oral sex (f!receiving), softdom!jisung x sub!reader vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation if u squint, porn with plot

☆ Note: Happy birthday late Jisung!! GUYS I COULDNT FINISH THIS IN TIME AND I GOT SICK 😭😭😭😭

Han Jisung. A hardworking idol, someone who tries his hardest to perform despite how he feels. It broke your heart every time you saw him in interviews. After the latest comeback, 5 Star dropped, fans noticed Jisung feeling extremely down. You couldn't stand seeing him look so sad, his usual energetic personality toned down to just a couple of smiles here and there.

"My moustache can be seen?" Han immediately pulled up his mask after reading that comment in the livestream. God, you hated that. Hated the fact that people were pointing unnecessary things out, he was barely showing his face before that comment, now his face was completely covered by the bucket hat he had on his head and the white mask.

Immediately, you rush to comment, sweet, encouraging words to him.

y/nnie: Noo! We don't mind it! :(

y/nnie: Please don't cover your face, you look good

y/nnie: your hair is so pretty I would start barking if you took off your hat

Jisungs glances at the comments, your comments being one of the first ones he sees. He tilts his head up to the camera, his eyes filled with a hint of amusement, "you'd bark for me to take off my hat?" he asked with a deep chuckle. God, you forgot how wide of a vocal range he had. Sometimes, his voice would sound so deep it made you feel things.

You almost screamed to yourself when you realised that he had read your comment, your fingers immediately rushing to type more

y/nnie: YES PLSD I WOULD PLS 🙏

y/nnie: YOURE SO PRETTY I LVOEYOU AONMUUCH

Jisung lets out a brighter laugh this time, seeing your comments with the amount of typos made him chuckle. You were on cloud 9. You just made your favourite idol laugh on a livestream? In front of so many people?

☆☆☆

Han finally ended the live. After running on one hour of sleep and explaining his new song, he was quite tired. He went on his phone, going onto bubble to see what Stays had to say. Ah, it was the same person who wanted to bark for him to take off his hat.

y/n <3: You did so well! Go get some rest, Miserable was such a good song, I cried while listening to it 5 times 😭

y/n <3: eat well!

If he was being honest, Han usually gets sweet comments like these from Stays. But for some odd reason, he felt his heart swelling, butterflies shooting straight to his belly as he read what you said. He looked at your profile picture. It was a cute selfie of you smiling to the camera. Your hair styled perfectly to suit your face shape, makeup done in a way that enhanced your facial features, you were breathtaking.

He quickly switched apps, going onto Instagram to see if he could find more of you. He switched to his personal account. Obviously, he couldn't be seen using the official Straykids account. Who knows what crazy rumours sasaengs can come up with? Typing your name into the search bar, he scrolled and scrolled, finally finding an account, its profile picture set as Han Quokka. He pressed into it, relief overflowing his senses when he realised that your account was public.

Was he being a stalker? He felt quite guilty for trying to find out more about his fan like this, but he thought that you were just so pretty. How could he not? Jisung looked at your highlights, posts, and stories. You were an average girl, random posts about food, some occasional OOTDs which he wished were more so that he could see more of your style.

Jisung catches himself celebrating when he finds out you don't have a boyfriend. Or at least he assumes that you don't have one since you don't post any pictures of men. He decided to take a break from the stalking. The one hour of sleep seriously kicking in, he decided to return back to his dorm.

☆

12.37 am.

Jisung woke up feeling his back aching. He shot up, wincing in pain. He sat there in silence until his stomach rumbled. Ah, he hadn't eaten much. He lets out a sigh as he goes to brush his teeth, grabbing his beanie and a mask before heading out the door.

The night was silent. The stars would've been shining brightly if it had not been for the bright lights of the city. He could still see a couple of them, blinking and basking in all of its glory. He walks silently, the chirping of the crickets fills his ears, the soft breeze blowing in his direction. There was just something about the night that made him feel at peace.

He arrived in front of the local convenience stall, pushing the glass door open. The classic convenience store bell rings, indicating he had stepped foot into the stall.

Jisung grabs the usual cup noodles that he likes, chicken breast and an Iced Americano. He places it onto the counter, greeting the cashier before pulling out his phone. He quickly paid for his food before thanking the cashier and going over to the food preparation station.

Quietly, he prepares his food. His fingers reached up to pull down his mask to, getting a sip of his Iced Americano and letting out a happy 'mmhm!'. He takes a seat at the seating area, disappointed that there was only one. The table, which connected to the large window, perched a girl, quietly sipping at her drink and scrolling mindlessly on her phone. Han decided to just take a seat next to her. He was just there to eat his food, nothing more, nothing less.

He took a bite out of his noodles until he hears the sudden blaring of one of Straykid's songs from the girls headphones next to him. The noodles that he had been trying to eat getting caught in his throat as he lets out loud coughs. He was caught completely off guard when he hears God's Menu blasting from her headphones.

The girl turns to him, surprised by the loud coughing and sputtering next to her. Immediately, she spoke up, "Are you choking?" her voice filled with both panic and concern for his wellbeing.

Han could only look into her eye, nodding frantically, still coughing. She immediately gets up off her seat, pulling Jisung off his seat, making him stand up straight. She wrapped her arms around his abdomen, balling one of her hands up into a fist, the other one wrapped above it. Using some force, she thrusted repeating it until he spits out the noodles he had lodged in his throat.

Jisung lets out gasps for air. The girl rushes away before scurrying back with a bottle of water in her hand, holding it in front of Jisung. He takes the bottle, chugging it down.

"Don't drink so fast, you might choke again!" The girl warns, worried that he might choke on the water.

Jisung finally puts the bottle down, turning to the girl who he was ready to thank for saving his life. His gaze landed on her, suddenly everything was clicking in his head. This girl was the same girl we was stalking earlier, it was you!

His face suddenly flushes in embarrassment when he realises this was his first interaction with you, definitely not ideal, but hey, at least he got to feel your hands around his waist.

"Are you okay?" Your voice breaks him out of his train of thoughts as his face gets even redder when he realises he was just staring at you, blanked out.

"Sorry.. Just wanted to thank you for saving my life," he chuckles, rubbing at his nape. He averts his eyes from yours, clearly very embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it, you should be careful when you're eating," You flash him a pretty smile, even when your voice was laced with concern, he could only focus on how pretty you looked. Your hair was let loose, barefaced and wearing only a grey hoodie and loose wide legged black pants.

Jisung pulls out a tissue that he had stuffed into his pocket, cleaning up the noodles that he had spat out which landed in the table. His face still red from the embarrassment, he doesn't know how he's going to recover from this one.

He hears you moving, taking a seat on the chair that you had previously been sitting in. Jisung sits down as well, silence filling the air before he breaks it, "Uh.. so, do you know who I am?"

You turn to him, smiling sweetly at him, "Are you Jisung from Straykids?"

Han nodded, flashing you a small smile. He still couldn't get over how he embarrassed himself. He doesn't know why but he started talking again, "I, uh.. started choking cause I heard you listening to God's Menu," he chuckled, smiling at you sheepishly.

You burst out laughing, tears starting to brim at your eyes from what you heard. "I can't believe I made THE Han Jisung choke..." You giggled. God, that was like classical music to his ears. It made him forget about how embarrassed he was as he laughed as well.

"You almost killed me, you know?" Han voiced out, his eyes landing on your pretty orbs, the way they looked as if they had the entire universe in it. It sucked him in.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you choke.." You apologised, sounding half serious and half in a joking manner. Jisung chuckled before silence fills the air again. It was a comfortable silence, one which had the two of you staring into each others eyes, not a word leaving your lips.

"I saw your comments," Jisung's lips turn upwards into a cocky smile. A small gasp emitted from your throat, your cheeks quickly getting hot. "W-Which one..?" You cupped your cheeks in your hands, trying to cool it down while trying to desperately avoiding eye contact with him.

He cracked up, "The one about barking, and the bubble one about you crying 5 times to my song," His laughter fills the in the empty convenience store.

"If you weren't right in front of me, I'd be screaming, kicking my legs and celebrating.. I'm sorry, I'm never commenting things like that ever again." You keep my eyes fixated onto the wooden table even though you could feel Jisung's gaze burning holes into you.

"I don't mind, really, but if let's say... hypothetically, if I were to take off my beanie right now, would you start barking?" Jisung snickered. You looked up at him with wide, horrified eyes. A dangerously handsome smirk on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows.

"What?! N-No way!" You scoffed before speaking again, "I can't just throw away my dignity like that..." You let out an embarrassed laugh, acting as if you weren't just thristing for him just a few hours ago.

Jisung snorted, "I see your comments every day, you know?" He had a mischievous smile on his face, eyes glinting with excitement when he saw how flustered you were. You quickly covered your face, "I'm never commenting ever again..." You spoke with your face buried into the palms of your hands. The tip of your ears burned bright red, Jisung couldn't help but laugh at your reaction.

He realised that you were genuinely embarrassed, his hand landing in your shoulder as he rubs it soothingly, "I like your comments though, they made my day better," He whispered sweetly, his cheeks also starting to get flushed.

You raised your head up from your palms, making direct eye contact with him. A sheepish smilen plastered in your face, "Y-You actually remember me?" Jisung nods in response, "I liked your profile picture, I thought it was pretty," He says again in a shy whisper.

Was the Han Jisung flirting with you right now? Seriously? At 1am in the morning in some random convenience store?

Your cheeks immediately turned into a dark hue of red, giggling at his statement, "I can't believe THE Han Jisung is flirting with me right now..." Jisung blushes, reality hitting him hard when he realised that he was trying to hit up a fan.

"God.. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me.." Now it's Jisung's turn to be embarrassed. He whipped his head away from you, his fingers rubbing at his temples. He feels your hand land on his shoulder, rubbing his shoulder the same way he was rubbing yours earlier.

"I liked it," you giggled, "are you not gonna finish your food?" You asked, voice sounding a little bit worried. Jisung turned to you, "It almost killed me, I'm not hungry anymore.." His lower lips poked out. Was he consciously making puppy eyes? Either way, it made you melt in your seat.

"But you need to eat," You say with worry, "how about this, I'll treat you to something nice since I was the one who made you choke," You proposed with a grin, Han swears the more you smile, the more he was getting energised. At this point, he thinks he can survive just from seeing you smile alone.

Jisung nods, "I'd like that, let's go," he excitedly stands up, throwing away the now cold and sad looking chicken noodles. "What?" You're confused as he cleans up the table. "But you should go rest, didn't you say that you had one hour of sleep?"

Jisung looks over at you, "I already slept earlier," he grinned. His heart fluttered at how you remembered what he said during the livestream, god, you were so cute. "But I want to treat you to something nice. All the good restaurants are closed now," you pouted.

"But you promised," He whined, grabbing your hand and ushering you to clean up and leave. You let out a sigh, "Fine.. what do you want to eat then?" Jisung smiled from ear to ear, "Ramen, I know a good place. It's open till 3am, we still have time so hurry!" He helps you grab your empty plastic cup, dumping it into the dustbin next to the table before grabbing your hand in his and pulling you out the convenience store.

☆☆☆

The sounds of the two of your footsteps filled your ears. Again, Jisung was under the night sky, this time with someone who he thought was even prettier than the starry night sky. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket, letting out a sigh in relief when he feels the warmth of his pockets engulfing his hands that were previously shivering in the cold.

The flickering street lamps were not quiet either as you followed Jisung. The streets were dead silent, not a single person in sight. "Do you know my name?" You suddenly ask, looking up at him with your pretty eyes. He wanted to capture the moment, the sight of you looking up at him with your gorgeous eyes that seemed to shine even brighter in the night. Your glossy lips that makes him want to press his lips against yours so badly, but he knows he could never do that.

"Y/n, right? I'm a good idol, so I remember my fans," He shoots you a wink as you giggle in response. Slowly, you clasp your hand around his, holding it up, "Not the be sappy and ruin the moment, but I hope that you will take good care of yourself. Don't rush yourself, yeah? We have all the time in the world to wait for you to feel better, so don't feel the need to be funny and energetic all the time."

Jisungs feels his heart pounding against his chest, his vision suddenly becoming blurry. "W-Wait, are you crying?" He hears your panicked voice, he heard some shuffling of your clothes before a soft napkin is dabbed against his teary eyes. He looks down at you, more tears starting to stream down his cheek when he sees you wiping his tears away for him. Your fingers worked on his face softly, treating him as if he were a delicate porcelain doll.

You feel his hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, his other hand snaking its way around your waist, pulling you into an embrace. You let out a soft gasp when he buries his face into your neck. You could hear his choked sobs as he cries against the fabric of your cotton hoodie. With shakey hands, you wrapped your arms around him, your hands patting his back soothingly. Hearing his crying made you extremely emotional as well. You couldn't help but bury your face into his chest as you start to cry yourself.

Engulfed with each others scents, you felt at peace, even if you're crying your eyes out with him right now. The soft scent of his cologne filled your senses. He smelled of soft floral scent of roses and lilacs.

Jisung's crying stopped, but you didn't even notice as you were too absorbed into his scent to notice. He pulls away from you, with a frown on his face. He reaches up to cup your face in his hand as he tilts your head upwards to meet his gaze. Your eyes were puffy and red from crying, and you could say the same about Jisung's.

"Why were you crying?" Jisung asks in a whisper, his thumb wiping away the tear that falls from your eye, his voice shakey. You sniffled, "...It hurt me to see you cry," You finally get out after a long sniffle. His lips curve upwards into a loving smile, "I'll keep in mind to never cry in front of you ever again," He chuckles.

"What? No! You shouldn't bottle up your emotions. If you cry, we cry together, okay? Then we can cry it all out and feel better afterwards!"

He laughs, "Whatever you say, princess."

"Yah! We're not on pet name basis yet!" You slapped him on his shoulder, his eyes crinkling as he giggled at your response and how flustered you were.

☆☆☆

"Order whatever you want, it's on me," you grinned proudly, as the two of you walked into the ramen bar. The delicious aroma of bone broth filled your senses, you could feel yourself getting hungry after only drinking an iced latte.

"You don't mind if I order the most expensive one?"

"Don't push your limits," you glared at him, taking a seat. Jisung slides into the seat in front of you, smirking. "But you were the one who almost got me killed from choking," His fingers tapping against the table in, feigning a frown.

"You're a literal millionaire trying to milk money out of a poor girl. You should be embarrassed of yourself," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, furrowing your brows to make you look like you were mad.

"But you can afford to pay for Bubble," He shrugged before grabbing the menu and scanning through it. "You're so lucky I just met you today. If I had known you for a day more, I'd punch you," you scowled, watching him point at the most expensive option.

He looks up at you, his lower lips poking out, staring at you with the cutest puppy eyes he could muster. "Are you for real...?" You deadpanned, a sigh escapes your lips, "Fine.. order it, I'll pay." Han smiles brightly at your response, he pulls his phone out, scanning the QR code on the table to quickly order.

Jisung lifts up his head, "What would you like?" Still smiling brightly at you as if he wasn't about to burn a hole into your wallet. "Tonkotsu ramen with grilled chicken."

Han nodded, quickly submitting the order. He turns to you, "Tell me more about yourself, Y/n," he rests his chin on his palm, waiting for you to respond. "Uhh... what would you like to know?" You ask awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

"Hmm.. I dunno, like your job? Your relationship status? Uh, whether you want a boyfriend or not? Uh, do you think I'm your type.." He trails off, realising what he had said, he buries his face into his palm, groaning at himself.

You let out an amused chuckle, "Seriously? Han Jisung from Straykids wants to know if I have a boyfriend?" You laughed again, watching the boy squirm in his seat, cringing at himself. "Well, I don't have a boyfriend, you're in luck." You lean towards him.

He moved one of his fingers that was covering his eye, peeking out from under his hands, "Can I- Can I uh.. have your number," He asks shyly, almost in a whisper.

"God.. you don't know how hard it is for me to not pass out right now..."

Jisungs hands flies off his face in an instant, his shyness vanished as a concerned expression takes over his face, "WHAT?! ARE YOU OKAY? SHOULD I TAKE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL?"

You burst out laughing at his little outburst. Jisung stares at you in confusion, a frown on his lips as he tries to comprehend what was going on. "I'm okay... oh my god, you're so funny, Jisung..."

He rolled his eyes at you, "This isn't a joke, Y/n! You scared me!" he whined, grabbing your hand in his and pulling it back and forth. "I'm sorry, it's just that I'm still shocked that my bias is sitting right in front of me, asking for my number. It's crazy, you know?"

"So are you gonna give me your number or not?"

"Pass me your phone then, idiot," This time, it was your turn to roll your eyes at him. He quickly slides his phone over, and the contact page was already open and ready for you to type in your number.

"Yah! Have some respect, I'm older than you! Wait, am I? Wait, how old are you?"

"I'm 20, but it doesn't count cause I'm a foreigner!" You stuck your tongue out at him as if you were mocking him. "But you're in Korea, so you gotta do it!" He argued back. "Would you like it if I called you Oppa?" You immediately cringed at yourself when it rolled off your tongue, you felt like a disgusting Koreaboo. With fast fingers, you typed in your number before sliding his phone back to him.

Han nodded, a sly smile finding its way onto his lips. "No way I'm calling you that! I'd rather die than to be accused of being a Koreaboo!"

Your little banter was interrupted by the arrival of the food. The strong aroma of the nicely cooked meat combined with the warm broth, you swear you were drooling when you saw the bowl of noodles. You said a quick thank you before diving into your bowl of ramen, instantly forgetting about the banter that you were having with Jisung.

Jisung smiles to himself as he watches you struggle to put your noodles onto the big spoon. An eating habit that you've had for a long time. Jisung thought it was the cutest thing as he sneakily picked up his phone.

Snap!

"Did you just take a picture of me?" You asked with your eyes squinted, hands still working on putting the noodles onto your spoon.

"But you looked so cuteee," Han turned his phone towards you, showing you a picture of yourself with your brows furrowed, staring angrily at the spoon you held in your hand.

"I look so bad!" You whined, quickly trying to grab the phone out of Jisung's hand. Screw him and his quick idol reflexes. He moved his phone away in an instant, laughing at your miserable attempt of theft against his phone. "Han Jisung. I better not see you send that to anybody."

"Don't worry, it's gonna be safe kept in my phone."

☆☆☆

11am. Quiet snores fill your ears as your eyes flutter open. It was a quiet morning. The sun shone into your room through the small gaps of your curtain that was blown open by the soft breeze of the morning. Wait. You don't even snore, and why do you feel a hand wrapped around your waist?

You let out a loud gasp when you see Han peacefully asleep next to you, his hand wrapped around your waist as he snuggles closer to your body. Your mind wasn't comprehending what was happening until you blinked a couple of times and finally you remembered what happened.

Jisung begged to come over to your place last night. Who were you to say no to him when he was giving you puppy eyes again? He ended up dragging you to bed despite your protests that you both haven't showered.

"Good morning," His voice was all groggy. It was deep and somehow attractive. "We stink."

Jisung laughs when he heard what you said, "Are you gonna help me take a shower then?" His fingers trace at the skin of your belly, drawing random shapes onto it.

"Don't be creepy, I just met you yesterday," You rolled your eyes at the clearly disappointed man. "Pleaseee?" He tries again with the puppy eyes, thinking it would convince you for the third time. And it did. "Fine," You groaned, slipping out of the soft covers of your bed.

Jisung celebrates to himself when he hears your answer, quickly following behind you. Something about Jisung that many people don't know is how high of a sex drive he has. He couldn't help but stare at your ass while walking to the bathroom, the way it was perfectly plump in your pants. He wanted to hold it in the palm of his hands and slap it to watch the fat of your skin ripple.

"Are you kidding me? You got a boner from me agreeing to take a shower with you?" You had an amused smirk on your face, your index finger pointing at the awfully obvious bulge at his crotch. "But you're just so fine, how am I supposed to resist?" He whined, moving his palm to cover the tent in his pants.

You grabbed him by his hand, holding it in yours and pulling him into the bathroom. You slammed the door shut behind you. You slipped off your hoodie, revealing your bare torso. Jisung's eyes widened as he realised that you were braless the whole night with him. "Are you gonna take a shower with your clothes on?" You ask mockingly, slipping your pants off as well. Leaving you only in your black lacy panties.

Jisung curses, seeing your almost naked body had him getting all tense, blood immediately rushing to his cock. He felt himself get impossibly harder. He ripped off his hoodie in an instant, he was also not wearing anything underneath. Your jaw drops to the ground when you see his small but toned waist. His abs looked as if they were carved by the gods, his soft and milky skin that made him look so inviting to touch and mark up.

Jisung smirks when he sees you ogling his body. He removed his pants as well, leaving him in only his underwear. "Get on the sink, pretty girl," His voice was husky, the moment you heard that, you scurried to climb onto the sink. "You're excited aren't you?" He pushes your legs apart, bending down to your core as he stares it down.

You couldn't help but blush as he was practically breathing against your clothed pussy. You could feel your slick oozing out of you at the sinful sight of Jisung in between your legs. His wavy hair made him look divine. "You're very pretty," His fingers found its way to your pussy lips, rubbing at your clothed clit gently. You let out a small gasp at the stimulation, whining as it wasn't quite enough. "Stay still, princess." He holds your hips in place, stopping you from bucking them against his hands again.

"P-Please, Hannie? Don't tease," You whined, your panties were drenched by your slick at this point. He doesn't say a word as he opens his mouth, this tongue darting out and licking at you through the lacy fabric of your panties. Your hands flew down to his head, grasping at his soft brown locks.

He pulls away, looking up at you with the most gorgeous boba eyes you've ever seen in the universe. "Be patient, yeah? I'll give you what you want," His fingers tug at the waistline of your panties, tugging down your underwear. Your cunt suddenly feels so exposed, you could feel his hot breath against your wet core, the sight was truly something only you'd have the chance to see.

You let out a gasp when you feel him sucking on your clit. His saliva mixing with the wetness of your pussy beginning to make lewd, wet noises. He pulls away, diving into your cunt, you feel his tongue fucking into your tight hole. You were chanting his name like a mantra, hands still tugging at his hair. He stops his movements, pulling away slightly as you whine at the loss of contact. "Best pussy I've ever eaten." He dove right back into your cunt, slurping and sucking at your little pussy. His finger now rubbing circles at your clit, you felt your orgasm approaching.

"What are you doing?" Jisung looks up at you when you pull him away from your wet cunt. His chin covered in your juices, mouth all wet with a mixture of your slick and his saliva. "W-Wanna cum on your cock.."

Jisung lets out a chuckle, "I really wanted to taste you, though. But if you insist," He pulls down his underwear, his cock springing up, standing proud and tall. Your jaw falls wide open when you see the size of his cock. He was definitely above average.

"Speechless?" He rubs the hard tip of his cock against your wet, sensitive nub as you let out a whimper. "Hurry, Sungie.. want you so bad.."

That was all it took to convince him to push his cock through the tight folds of your cunt. He groans as he feels you clamping down on his cock, "Relax, princess, can't fuck you if your gonna choke my cock like that." You whimper in response, trying to keep your vagina relaxed so that he could work his way into you.

He lets out a lewd moan as he was finally buried to the hilt, your warmth engulfing his thick length had him wanting to cum on the spot. "F-Fuck.." He cursed, knowing he wasn't gonna last long. He reached down to your clit, rubbing at it as he rocks his hip slowly against yours, eliciting pretty moans to fall out your lips.

"F-Faster, Hannie, promise I can take it.."

Jisung drags his cock all the way out of you, leaving only his tip inside before slamming back into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you felt the tip of his cock hitting that spongy spot inside of you, he was practically kissing your cervix with his cock at this point. "So deep!" You wailed as he pulls all the way out before slamming back into you again.

His hands holding your hips, his nails pressing into the soft skin of your hips. Leaving behind small, pretty crescents. He moves your hips with his, pounding his cock into you. His stamina never seemed to decrease as he continued at that pace, you could feel the knot in your stomach about to snap.

Through your mindless babbles of his name, you cry out as you feel the knot in your stomach snapping. Jisung lets out a growl as he watches your pussy cream all over his cock, clenching as your orgasm washes over your body. He slams into you even faster now, ignoring your whines of overstimulation.

"Mhm.. you can cum inside, Hannie~"

You felt his cock twitch inside you before he releases thick spurts of cum, moaning as painted your walls with his cum. He couldn't take his eyes off of your blissful expression as you felt him fill you up to the brim. Your cheeks all red and flustered, eyes rolling to the back of your head. God, you looked so amazing.

He pulled his cock out of you, watching as his cum slowly flows out of your poor little cunt. It trickles down your thighs before ultimately hitting the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

"Let's clean you up, yeah?"

#han smut #skz x reader #skz smut #skz hard hours #straykids smut #han x reader #jisung smut #jisung x reader

302 notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 1 year

Note

I saw someone request rockstar Eddie with a groupie I was thinking maybe a groupie is all over him and backstage after a concert Eddie hates it and just wants his wife then reader his wife walks in assuming he was cheating and I trust you with the end🤍

Love it!! Here we go! I did your idea! But for some reason made it way more painful than needed so oops

⚠️angst as usual but fluff ending

Also I deleted this like three times and wrote it multiple ways. And I still hate how I wrote this so whoever requested it- if you hate it too, let me know so I can fix it babes

When her husband is a rockstar that girls have wet dreams about, she knows she'll spend a lifetime being jealous. When his fingers can work fast on the guitar while he multitasks with singing, she knows where other girls minds run off to. She was the same. She started as a girl who had a crush on the lead guitar player and singer. She watched him on stage and had dreams about his fingers, mouth, voice, and body constantly. And it was like he knew it. He'd smirk in her direction during his solos. Always standing near her side of the stage when he'd kneel down to sign girls'boobs. Eyes always flicked to hers, never even looking at who he was signing. The sexual tension got too hot and too high. Before she knew it she was in the bathroom being fucked against the mirror.

That's how they started. A bathroom fuck, so romantic right?

She never would have guessed the same man would be proposing to her years later on stage, in front of a sold out crowd in New York.

She was by his side when he was a small bar band and now he took her all over the world as he grew. Eddie was in love with her before he even learned her name. Getting to fuck her was just the bonus.

They were in love and maybe got married too young, but they didn't care. He wasn't letting her go anywhere.

Eddie doesn't even remember what they were fighting about before he left. He remembers screaming and her screaming back.

He remembers yelling, "DON'T EVEN FUCKING COME TONIGHT!" as he slammed the door.

Which he regretted the second he played the first song. Looking to his left where she stood backstage, and just like he asked, she didn't show up.

His first performance in months without her there and he felt like an asshole. He couldn't even remember who started it or why it started. And if he couldn't answer those questions, then he knew it wasn't important enough to keep being upset about it.

He collected together all of his stuff in the dressing room, throwing it harshly in his bag.

"hey Eddie, I know you are in a rush to get home but we have a fan out here who is dying to say hi" Gareth said. He knew Eddie and his wife were fighting before he came here, Eddie showed up tense and pissed off. The couple has been on short circuits. Screaming at each other at the drop of a hat.

Eddie thinks it's the stress of trying to have a baby that was taking a toll on their relationship. She was getting upset at her body for not accepting a baby and she took it out on him. She knew it wasn't fair but she couldn't stop. And Eddie, instead of understanding how hard it must be on her, he got pissed that he became her target. They both didn't talk about their feelings and that's where they kept going wrong.

"I'm really sorry dude. But I am not in the mood. Y/N's upset and I need to apologize. Just ask her to come next week" Eddie sighed. Gareth gave him a guilty look as the door opened and the girl squealed excitedly. Jumping in her dress as she screamed about the band in front of her.

Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Plastering on his best smile. He could suffer for a few minutes.

She was drunk in seconds. Already throwing herself on Eddie's lap.

"no no" he mumbled, unhooking her arms but she laced their fingers together.

"I'm married" he mumbled again, trying to shift his body from under her. He was not in the mood for this type of game.

But she stayed put. Not even moving a muscle. Eddie looked around the room and noticed he was alone

"if you are married ,where are they?" She asked

"she's at home. I told her not to come" he sighed. And now he wanted her to be here more than ever. He didn't want a random girl on his lap. He wanted his wife to be here.

"how come?"

"because I was stupid and she's pissed.But seriously I need you to get off of me. This isn't happening and will never happen" he tried to push her again

"I know what you can do to make her feel better" she sounded genuine but Eddie still didn't want the feeling of other girls body on him

"okay how about you tell me while you get off of me?" He asked, giving up on moving her for a slight second to hear what she had to say. Letting her absorb his words.

But she didn't say anything. She smashed her lips onto his. His brain was slowly realizing what was going on. The hands that she had laced were stuck. He was trying to pull his body away but he couldn't move anywhere

"Eddie?"

She sat at home all night. Crying on the couch after he slammed the door. She hated what she was doing to them. She was ruining their marriage day after day. But she didn't feel good enough. She couldn't give him a baby, and that's all he talked about.

Finally ready to just apologize and talk things out, she headed to his gig. She knows he doesn't want her there but as a wife, she had the right.

She smiled to Gareth as she walked to the dressing room. Lance, their manager, noticed her right away and let her through the hallway. She smiled gratefully and walked into the room.

Her husband was there, but so was a girl in a tiny dress sitting on his lap, kissing him.

"Eddie?" She gasped out in disbelief. She knew she wasn't being a good wife lately, but he'd really throw it all away?

Her eyes burned as the girl pulled away and looked behind her. Eddie's eyes finding hers once the girl moved.

"hold not. This is so not" he stuttered out fast. Throwing the girl off of his lap as she landed on the couch next to him.

Y/N felt her eyes roll, turning back around and leaving the damn bar

"BABY WAIT. I CAN EXPLAIN THAT!"

But she just kept walking. Never in their relationship did she think he'd ever cheat on her. But apparently she didn't know him well.

She made it out of the bar. Gasping for fresh air.

Eddie was right behind her, arm snatching her hand and yanking her into him.

"listen you need to listen" he pleaded. He knew if he didn't explain soon enough, more damage would take place

"no Eddie I don't!" She spat back, throwing his hands off of her

"is that why you didn't want me to come tonight? So you can go screw a groupie? How many girls were there?"

Eddie shook his head at each question

"no that is not why I asked you not to come. I should have never asked that! I want you here. And fuck no, there has been no one but you. You are my wife, I wouldn't screw that up! I don't want anyone else. She came on to me. I've spent the past hour trying to get her off of my lap. I would never do that to you. I love you"

He watched as silent tears were running down her face.

"why?" She asked, throwing her hands in the air with frustration

"why what?" He spoke softly, seeing she was seconds away from crying harder. One hand held her jaw and the other one rubbed her back softly

"why do you love me? I mean God Eddie, you married me expecting a family and I can't even give that to you! If I were you I think I'd cheat on me too" she sobbed

Eddie felt his heart shattering

"baby no. Just no" he shook his head, holding her face tighter in his hands moving his forehead against her

"when I married you, I married you because I am in love with you and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I wanted us to share a name, a house and our hearts. Listen to me, I don't need a baby to make me want to stay with you. Nothing would MAKE me, I want to stay with you and that's not ever going to change. I should have been more understanding of the stress you are putting your body in. And I would never cheat on you. There is no one in this whole world that would ever compare to you. You are it for me, okay?"

He smiled and pecked her wet lips. Pulling back slowly as she nodded and sniffled.

"I love you too" she spoke just as soft. Kissing him again.

She pulled away with a small gag, "we need to wash your mouth. Taste like pure alcohol"

Eddie laughed, "yeah that girl was pretty wasted"

He smiled as he threw his arm on her shoulder, walking to the car.

He didn't need a baby to be a family.

Just having her, was the only family he needed.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson fluff #rockstar! eddie x reader #husband eddie x wife reader

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animemensblog · 11 months

Text

Bad side

Toxic!Toji x reader

Pt.2 pt.3

Summary; Toji has finally found someone he would kill, no, die for. He'd give up everything to have y/n, except she already gave up everything for him. So what does she get in return?

Warnings; angst, very small makeout session, Toji is kinda toxic ngl, cussing, hints at a panic attack, mentions of cheating, alot of arguing, happy-ish ending

You were thinking about how you and him met when you were interrupted by a text

Unknown number

Is this y/n?

You

Who is this?

Unknown number

Hi, I just wanted to let you know Toji is asking some of his fan girlies for a fun night out if yk what I mean

*blocked*

How often do you even see these? You wonder to yourself while making your way to the white board, adding another line next to the other 10.

"Hm, 11 now. And I thought I wouldn't make it past double digits" you laugh at yourself, then went to sit back down on your bed, resuming your show waiting for Toji and his friends to arrive. You let out a sigh when you settle against the pillows and fluffy blankets.

You begin to doze off, the singing from the TV wasn't helping but it was too soothing to change channels. Not long goes by before a knock comes to the door, then your doorbell going off. None of which you woke up to; resulting in your door being busted open.

"Y/n?! Where are you?" A worried, yet furious, Toji yells out

"This isn't the warm welcoming we're used to! I'm a princess who needs my princess treatment!" Gojo jokes, earning a chuckle from Geto.

"Shh she could be sleeping, you two need to calm down" Geto says as he walks to the bedroom, hearing your soft snores as he approaches. He peeks around the corner, then Toji joins, and lastly Gojo. All 3 were tilting their heads past the frame just to see you clearly sleeping.

Toji loves watching you do anything, whether being hyper focused on dinner or when you're out like a light, drooling onto his chest. You could trip over cracks on the sidewalks and he'd fall in love all over again. He's that whipped.

Gojo and Geto, however don't find everything you do to be a miracle. So they ran to jump on top of you while Toji moves behind trying to grab them before they land. Unfortunately for you, he's a little too late. You jolt up at impact as Geto let's out an 'oomph' and Gojo, a squeal.

"What the fuck is wrong with you" you spit out as they have their laughing fits, holding their stomachs as steam flows from your ears. Can't forget about Toji, who snuck out the second they landed, knowing you are far from an angel when you awaken from your slumber.

He's out relaxing on the couch, pretending he didn't know what was going on, sipping a beer and scrolling through his phone. Next thing he knows, Geto is jumping over the couch, planting right next to Toji.

Geto was panting like he's been sprinting for miles, you could practically hear his heart. "I see she got you" Toji says with a grin as he points to the victims arm, highlighting the already bruised mark.

"She's got a mean swing dude" Geto says, covering up his wound and pouting

"What about Gojo?"

"He's still.. still in there"

"Awfully quiet don't you think?"

"She was smothering him with a pillow, last time I checked" Geto whispers as he leans back

Toji only let's out a chuckle, then fell silent. Hoping to hear the fight in the other room. Then, Gojo walks out, head hanging low, plopping inbetween Geto and Toji. They both turn to him, ready to hear the story.

"She's scary, Toji" he speaks softly, as if you're still sleeping

"What happened?" Geto asks

"She- she made fun of me.."

Silence is what Gojo receives, it lasted a few seconds as the other two process his words. To Gojo, it felt like hours. They started laughing, while Toji was smacking his back.

"She knows you well, went straight for your core" he said as he shook your latest victim.

You come walking from your room, in clean clothes and your usual bright smile, "Hey guys!" you say with a wave. Heading towards the kitchen for coffee. Toji following suit,

"Hey baby", he wraps his hands around you grasping under your shirt "how'd you sleep?" He places a kiss to your cheek.

"I slept great", you turn to kiss him back.

"Mm tasty as always" he hums while bringing his hands higher, slightly groaning when he stops at under your breasts.

"Mwah MwAh MWAH", you hear Gojo and Geto mocking you two from the couch, 'pretending' to rub their hands on one another. Toji pulls away with a sigh and pats your hip,

"You're fucking perverts" he yells while reluctantly pulling his hands from you, heading back to the couch with you in tow.

As he sits, he yanks you to his lap, taking your coffee and setting it aside. "You can have that later, I wanna nap right now" Toji mumbles against your shoulder. His confidence when he acts and talks like this in front of people.. is astonishing. He's groped and grinded on you in a room full of strangers, with no music. Just rubbing against you like a dog.

"Um no, I need this. I have a busy day ahead, remember?"

"Hm"

"That was a yes or no question, dear" you say as you drink your coffee

Gojo and Geto spin to you, noting how Toji is unbothered by your remark. If anyone else said that, they'd lose their tongue. Naturally, watching Toji act like an obedient boyfriend is entertaining to them.

"Yes, I remember" he says dramatically, dropping his arm over his eyes while fake crying- you, remain unfazed. Only shocking your guests more. He's pouting and you're not bending to his will?

"Alright, knock it off" you pat his thigh and stand up, "I'm making breakfast, would you guys like some?" All of them nod and follow you into the kitchen.

As you cook, the 3 watch you gently flip the eggs, then curse at the bacon when grease splashes you, then go back it being gentle.

They can only think, 'this is some emotional roller-coaster Toji deals with', but when they look at him, he's in awe. He giggles when you cuss at objects and food, he thinks it's adorable.

Then several buzzes come from your phone, you ignore it but Toji picks up. "Hello?"

"Who is this?" The random person asks

"I think I'm supposed to ask who you are, Mr. Unknown number"

"It's miss to you. And I'm looking for y/n."

"She's busy right now, bye"

"Wait- is this Toji?"

"Why?" He grumbles

"Oh. My. God. How are you?! How's the girlfriend?"

"She's great, as always" he watches you slide around the floor with your socks, completely ignoring the words flying from the girls mouth.

"Hey, you remember that one night, Toji?" She finally asks in what sounds to be, a slutty tone? You hear her question and slow down to listen in.

"What do you mean?" He asks

"I mean, the one where you got plastered last weekend.. you came home with me and.. held me like you used to."

Finally, it clicks for him. His ex. It's the only explanation why you seem a little more hesitant with him, somewhat distant. You weren't inviting him over as much, or out on errands and parties.

"Last weekend?" He askes before you spin around to meet his gaze, eyebrows furrowed. Gojo and Geto turn to Toji, whose eyes have gone wide. He's confused as well, because like she said he was black out drunk kind of level. Enough where he missed your birthday party the next day, then somehow the following day when he said he'd make it up to you.

Knowing how he's been treating you so nicely for the last week, you didn't suspect anything. You genuinely believe he got too drunk to move for 2 days. But that nice treatment started almost 2 months ago.. no way he was fucking other women every weekend when he got drunk, right? And then coming over to kiss your ass, to make up for his mistakes?

"Don't you remember, daddy?" The girl asks, and your angry expression fell. When Gojo and Geto heard, they immediately stood up to defend him. Saying he was knocked out at their house the entire day, except not the second day Gojo added.

You left the room, as the two tried to follow you swatted them away, "I need a minute" then shut the door.

"Cmon y/n, open up" Geto speaks, Gojo is long gone trying to stop Toji from interrogating his ex, to focus on you. His woman.

Gojo tosses the phone, but only after a quick prayer it won't break, he'd rather Toji be the only murder victim today. Pushing him to your bedroom, and shoves him against the door.

"Baby? Cmon let me in, please? I swear I didn't see her last weekend or ever" he pleads

"What about the other weekends, huh?" You cry

"What about them?"

"I've gotten 10 texts saying the same thing in the past couple months, that you're out searching for women. 2 of them were even the same person" you scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Toji remained silent. Was he guilty? Absolutely not. Was he shocked you'd believe some hoes? Yes.

"I don't know what they're talking about baby, I really don't. We go out drinking then I pass out at these asshole's place. I promise." He plants his head against the door.

Geto, being even closer to you then Toji is, decides you acknowledging them isn't enough. "Would you say he's tough enough for an ass kicking?" Geto asks Gojo

"I'd say so, he at least deserves it for worrying her". Geto accepts that answer and bodyslams Toji, using him as a cushion to break the door open (yes, they did that earlier when you didn't answer).

When you turn, Gojo is laughing and Geto is smiling up at you while laying on your boyfriend. "How you feeling?" He asks, legs kicking back and forth, his hands holding up his chin.

"I'm fine, angry with him, but fine otherwise!" Toji feels a chill run down his spine at your words. 'Shit' he thinks. Geto steps all over him to stand, then Gojo walks over him to sit with you. Leaving Toji all alone on the ground.

"Are you sure?" Geto asks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look in his eyes, trying to provoke your boyfriend. Of course Toji notices, and pulls you to the edge of the bed collapsing on your lap. He was spilling apologies and running circles against your legs.

"I'm not happy with you Toji." You push him off and walked out of the room, once again leaving him all alone on the floor.

"Soooo, did you really fuck other girls?" Geto asks

"I really didn't, but I've turned down alot of girls" he knows he's popular around town for being a slut, but it all stopped for you. Since then he finds himself only craving you, being tempted by you, and all you need to do is breathe the same air as him.

Toji stands with a grunt, turning to his friends. "Give me a minute, would ya?" They nod and he walks away, chasing after you.

"Baby? Where'd ya go?"

"..."

"Sweetie?" He approaches your figure sitting by the window

"..."

"Love of my life?" You scoff at that, making him physically wince. He's never gotten on your bad side before, ever. You've always forgiven him or come to an understanding before it got worse.

"I know I've said this already, but it's all I can say to defend myself. I promise I haven't been with anyone but you since we've met."

"Can't even keep up with your own lies, huh? Don't you remember? A week or so after meeting, we ran into each other when you were walking home with her."

"That was over a year ago baby, it didn't take long for me to fall for you and only you. You know that"

"Do I.. know that?"

He reaches for your hand, you let him take it just so he'd feel you shake. Feel your anger and sadness radiate off you, he needs to feel how insecure and unstable this relationship makes you feel.

The second he grabs it, he pulls you in and holds you. He takes a deep breath and you hear him shudder, how uneasy this is making him. "I don't know what they've been saying but they're lying, I promise. I swear I'm telling you the truth, y/n."

He wants you to cry or something, just anything but this.

"I just.. don't believe you, Toji"

He could feel the tears building, and he still wishes they were yours. You seem emotionless, like you've been thinking about him cheating for a while, like you're prepared.

"Why don't you?"

"Gojo said Sunday you weren't there, and you didn't respond to me all day. She didn't specify the day. We both know you were drinking both days, because Monday you were severely hungover. Friday's hangover wouldn't carry over that badly, that long."

"You're right about that" he chuckles, making up you sit up and seperate yourself. He's really laughing right now? "I mean, the last part. I was drinking Saturday too which is why I couldn't-"

"You mean, wouldn't."

"Right. Why I wouldn't come over like I said I would on Sunday. Then I drank more Sunday too."

"Regardless, where did you stay after blacking out? On the street? Inbetween your exes thighs? You definitely weren't at Suguru's. But you definitely were cleaned up Monday morning when you came over, so not the street. Hmm" you brought your finger to your chin, mocking him.

He simply couldn't think, he doesn't remember. He couldn't, he drank too much. He was getting frustrated and being made fun of like this is pushing it. "Fine. If you're not going to believe me, just break up with me. I can find someone else." Big mistake.

"Oh I'm sure you can. Can't even go out without asking for pussy, apparently."

"God you're such a child" his voice started raising, "you can't even listen to me! I've said sorry, I don't know how many times. Just accept it!"

"Exactly! That's all you've done. You aren't making an effort to think where you could've gone, you can't even try to prove them wrong. You're just excusing those 'lies' with a sorry! I'm not expecting you to stop the earth from spinning and rewind time, I'm just wanting you to think. At least try to convince me they're wrong, without saying 'I promise'." Toji knows your right, he does, but his tongue won't allow him to say it.

"Easy for you to say, when I thought you were cheating you didn't try either. You left me to solve it! Like I said, you're a child who's too scared to grow up. To take responsibility, to do something with their life. It's fucking ridiculous! I wonder sometimes, why.."

"Why what, Toji?"

"Why I stay with you" he yells.

"You know, it'd be nice if we could talk about your issues without covering it up with mine. Regardless, I did stop my world from spinning and ran with you. I left family, friends, even my fucking dog Toji, because you couldn't stand the idea of sharing a town with my ex fiancé."

"You know he wanted you"

"Yeah, maybe 4 years ago when he asked to marry me, you know he cheated and ran off with her."

"Then explain why he was all over you when we ran into him", why was he still yelling?

"You were there! He felt obligated to flaunt his already pregnant, soon to be wife, I begged you to stop the conversation and leave. You ignored me, Toji."

"You're such a fucking liar, that's not what happened" yes it was, why is he saying this "you can try to twist the narrative all you want but I saw what happened, the way you looked at him, the way you smiled." That's wrong, he knows you weren't happy. He felt it.

"If you think my faces and reactions then was love for him, then maybe this past year and my move was unnecessary. You should know my genuine smile because you see it every day. Besides the fact I've explained this to you and you've reassured me that you understood, we're moving off the current issue. You and-" your voice was still soft enough where his shouting completely blocked it out.

"Have you always been this insecure or is this a new thing? It's so stupid you can brush off your cheating but can't forget mine." An even bigger mistake.

"Oh so, you admit you did see her" your head drops, and a tear falls. Finally he comes to his senses, he feels like he's succeeded all because you're showing an emotion. While he's lost in his ego, you stand there crying. He's content, and you're crying alone. Reminds you of the weekends you spent without him, thinking about which girl will text you on Monday claiming he stayed with them.

Geto realizes Toji's yelling has stopped, but it's too quiet. He makes his way out to find you there silently crying, while Toji is standing a few feet away looking.. happy? He walks behind him and flicks Toji's ear, then goes to you. Using his sleeve to wipe off your tears and you gripped onto his shirt as he hugged you.

The scene in front of him sets Toji off, he knows why Geto is comforting you- it's because of him. Though it doesn't stop his next accusation,

"Seriously? Geto of all people? I'm disappointed in you y/n." You lift your head up and meet his glare, and his heart shatters at seeing you. You looked stressed and like you've been crying for hours when it's been minutes, you're shaking and clearly having problems breathing.

"Baby, I-" he's stopped when your shaky hands tells him to.

"I don't wanna see you, God I wanna throw up just looking at you." You left holding your stomach and shut your bedroom door, with Gojo inside. He immediately engulfed you in his big arms trying to calm you down, as Toji tries to make himself leave you be, but he can't. He goes towards the hall before Geto stops him, "nah you don't get to see her after that huge stunt."

Geto drags him back to the couch and babysits him until you come out. Surprise; you never did. You ended up crying yourself to sleep while Gojo told you the dumbest and longest story you've heard. He was sitting on the floor while you laid on your side with your head slightly off the bed, as he tried to learn how to braid.

Gojo texts Geto telling him you passed out not long after, plus sent him all the pictures of the different braids he successfully did (they ended up going home and Geto had Gojo braid his hair).

"Hey, she fell asleep" he nudged Toji, he doesn't hesitate to come back to you. He walked slowly and sadly into the room, but smiled when he saw your peaceful figure.

"You're a bitch Toji" Gojo said as he braided your hair one final time.

"I know"

"You don't deserve her"

"I know"

"But she wants to believe you"

"Of course she does" Toji sighed, laying across from you but trting to avoid touching you. "I want her to"

"It is the truth, right?" Toji nods before bringing his gaze back to your face.

"Alright then, you better work your ass off when she wakes up" Gojo says as he stands, "we'll head home and we can have dinner movies and games another day, huh? It'd be best if you spent the rest of the day together anyways."

"Sounds good. Sorry I ruined all our days, didn't mean to."

"Wow! Toji Fushigiro apologizing to me without being forced? My luck day" he ends with a loud laugh. "Text me when you wanna come back, if you make it out alive." With that, he waves goodbye and leaves.

After a while, Toji fell asleep still facing you, but not until after he cried. A couple of hours go by and you wake up from a nightmare, opening your eyes to find a wet faced Toji. The blanket underneath him was damp from his tears, and you could tell his nose was stuffy, causing him to breathe through his mouth.

You place your hand on his cheek, wiping it dry. He slowly opened his eyes and faintly smiled upon seeing you.

"Hi baby" he says as he kisses your hand

"Hi", he sighs against your palm. Content you're talking to him, touching him and looking at him. All are a win in his book.

"I'm sorry for saying all those things, I didn't mean a single one" he places a hand over yours, "just so you know I will stop the world from spinning and rewind time if it'll prove myself to you. I should've just said that instead of losing it. I'm truly sorry y/n."

"It's okay babe"

"Do you forgive me?"

"Fuck no, you're gonna have to work for that"

"Understood" he smiles and kisses your palm, "first I can go finish cooking. This time when your ex calls, you pick up the phone" he jokes.

"Not funny" you pull your hand away and roll off the bed.

"Awe too soon? And here I thought you got me" he chuckles

"Not too soon, you're just a bitch and all your jokes have lost their humor, for now." You kiss his forehead and head towards the bathroom.

"So she's gonna forgive me eventually, what'd you know" he says to himself before moving to his stomach, taking in the smell of you on your blankets. He hopes this never gets taken from him, and hes gonna do everything he can to keep you, for starters he's getting you a new phone and number.

A little longer than expected🥴 also debating how I like it haha, hope you enjoyed it though <3

#toji x reader #toji angst #jjk toji #jujutsu gojo #jjk geto #toji x reader fluff #toji x reader angst

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lew9ndowski · 5 months

Text

✺ se fue.

| charles leclerc x fem!reader.

| you and your boyfriend recently broke up, and now it’s time to close your concert, what better way to do it than confirming your loss with a cover song.

| angst, swearing.

| ib, rauw alejandro performing ‘se fue’ at the grammys 💔💔

you take a deep breath you can feel your whole body shaking, which you honestly have no idea why, because your concert is over, you’re about to finish it. you start to think that it’s possibly because you’re technically about to announce your break up to your fans over a cover song.

you and your former lover charles leclerc, the famed formula one driver have broken up a couple of months ago. the two of you haven’t said anything until now. it’s been a while, and people have been putting up lies and rumors online, and you finally decided to end it. some of the “rumors” were true, but you weren’t going to say which ones. charles has having problems with his career and his schedule, the two of you mutually ended it.

you were now backstage with your best friend, who has been with you through hell and back, and she was currently comforting and reassuring you. "you've done so well, y/n. listen to your fans, they love you, not as much as i love you, but they do, go out there and give them a show and make them say 'Fuck Charles Leclerc!' okay?" she presses a kiss to your cheek and the both of you share a smile.

you take one last deep breath before going back on stage, the roars and the applauds of your fans running chills down your spine, you smile and wave all around. you walk up to the microphone and wait for the rumble to die down. "oh my, God! Tonight has been amazing to say the least, I love all of you so, so much, words cannot express it. Thank you so much for coming tonight, and I hope to see you once again. But, before you leave, there’s something that has needed to come out for a while, and I decided to say it with Laura Pausini’s beautiful song, ‘Se Fue’” I take in a deep breath and rest my eyes.

The stadium’s lights shut off, and only one spotlight is focused on you. the big screen on both sides of you focuses on your face, your expression, your eyes. your bloodshot, teary eyes. you lick your lips and let out a shaky breath. you begin to sing the song and the crowd softly begins to cheer for you. you were doing amazing, per usual, but it wasn’t until those specific lyrics where you lost it.

“Se fué, se fué el perfume de sus cabellos, se fué el murmullo de sus silencios, se fue su sonrisa de fábula, se fué la dulce miel que probé en sus labios. Se fué me quedó solo su veneno se fué y mi amor se cubrió de hielo, se fué y la vida con el se me fue, se fue y desde entonces ya solo tengo lágrimas.” [ he is gone, the perfume of his hair is gone, the murmur of his silences is gone, his fabled smile is gone, the sweet honey that I tasted on his lips is gone. He left, I was left alone with his poison, he left and my love was covered with ice, he left and life with him left me, he left and since then I only have tears.] the cheers grew louder, but none of that made your heart get pieced together, nor did it stop it from tears rolling down your cheeks, or for your voice to stop breaking sobs.

you stare into nothing, just reminiscing your memories with him. those dates where it would just be the two of you on the beach, those shared smiles, laughs, kisses, hugs. your hand has proped onto the microphone for support, but that didn’t avoid if from shaking.

the spotlight fades away from you, and the screens shut off, you wanted to say one last goodbye, but you knew that the song was enough. you admired the chants of your name and the applauds more than anything, but you decided to return backstage, you’ve had enough for the night.

your best friend immediately embraces you, rubbing her hand up and down, letting you sob your heart out on her shoulder. “i love you, i love you so much.” she repeated with each gasp for air. her fingers crossed brush your hair gently, she rocks you back and forth in comfort. once the two of you break apart, she hands you a water bottle. “my God.” you wipe away your tears and she only watches you, also wiping some tears away from her face.

“you did fucking amazing.” she says. you laugh as you pat your face with a cloth. “you think so?” you lick your lips. “i know so, your emotions, and your voice sent chills down my spine.” your lips twitch up to a grin. “my voice? or voice cracks.” you chuckle, shaking your head. “no, your voice was raspy toward the end, but, it sounded so good, i’d pay to hear it again for the first time.” she supports you, and you thank her for it. you hug one last time before getting ready to go back home.

you now find yourself on your bus, looking back at your phone, seeing posts people have tagged you in, of course, most of them were of your final song, if it was dedicated to charles, which it was, and you were glad people finally took it in.

you often chuckled of the memes people started making, of how they felt during the last song, and others of how charles must’ve felt.

it was time for messages, you replied to some, the ones of your closest friends saying you did amazing, that they cried, they had fun, that you looked good, but overall congratulating you over such an amazing concert and performances. the messages you responded to were from people that are important to you, but there was a specific one that caught your attention.

Carlos Sainz had sent you a video of his formula one teammate, your former partner at your concert, admiring you, and his reaction to the final song. you have a knot in your stomach and a lump in your throat. you felt like throwing up at what you were watching. your best friend smiles at the familiar tune and voice, but when she turns to see the video displayed on your phone, her face drops.

she looks back at the video, at you, the video, then you. she was fuming, she hated every second of the video and wanted to burn the phone after that. you turn off the phone and swallow, she gives you a side hug and you attempt not to think of that video for the rest of the night.

his face, his expression, his eyes, his tears, his stained tears. you try so hard to erase that video from your memory, you try. the more you try, the most difficult it gets. you knew you shouldn’t have opened that chat, but you did anyways, and you have no idea what happens now.

why was he there? was he with someone else other than carlos? was he actually crying? was he actually even there at the concert?

the media found out about charles assisting your concert and they were freaking out. it’s been months since the two of you posted something together, and what they were speculating was confirmed to be true by your final song, but seeing charles presence confused them, they continued with the rumors, but the fact that charles was crying changes everything, your fanatics knew that the two of you had broken up, the song and your emotions was enough proof.

people, of course, still shipped or thought that you were still together, but as he kept having more races and you were missing, it eventually went away. he currently had no one, clearly saying that he never got over you, and with the dedicated song, he never will.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #formula one #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fic

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kangaracha · 5 months

Text

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 4

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

---

By sheer coincidence, or maybe just rampant bad luck, you do see I.N on the way to your second dance practise of the day, lurking around by the vocal rooms at the same time as you finish a lesson.

You almost walk away, truth be told, when his back remains turned to you, busy talking to someone you don't recognise. You've barely met, apart from scattered exchanges of words (which is still more than you've exchanged with Han, who only ever seems focused on the dance or on doing something silly in another corner of the room), and it seems...awkward, to go over and grab him and not let go, as Lee Know had so eloquently put it. Rude, too, when he is still a sunbaenim, in public and in the group that you're now a part of, two years your senior even though he is younger-

It's a weird situation to be in. That reality hadn't left your mind since Taerin had pointed it out on the day you'd first received the offer; and it's only the safety of that knowledge bolstered by the...unease of turning up to dance practise and admitting that you saw him and didn't bring him that propels you down the hall, trying to catch his attention without interrupting his conversation.

He glances over the moment that you pass by his peripheral vision, pausing midsentence to give you a small wave in greeting and then resuming what he was saying, half-turned as if you are part of the conversation. You hang back anyway, trying not to listen in as he finishes up and his friend departs, leaving you alone in the hallway.

"What's up?" he asks when the other boy is out of earshot.

A sheepish smile sets itself upon your face. "This might sound weird, but I was instructed to...drag you to dance practise, basically."

He stares at you for a second, uncomprehending, and then blanches, pulling several faces in a row. "I nearly forgot about that," he says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, and then frowns. "Wait, is that what Lee Know hyung said?"

"Basically," you answer, and pull out your phone to show him. One eyebrow raises, a look of disdain crossing his face even as he struggles not to laugh.

"He makes it sound like I'm always late or something," he complains as you start down the hall together, shifting his bag on his shoulder for better comfort. "For the record, I've never been late."

Unbidden, a smile plays on your lips. "Never?" you dare to ask, testing the waters just a bit.

You're pleased when he cracks a smile and a breathy laugh, unable to hide it under a straight face. "Maybe sometimes. Not as much as he wants you to think, though."

You're inclined to believe I.N, despite not knowing much of either side. While you've missed some of the boys in the first week of practise, never ending up close to each other by pure circumstance, you've spent the great majority of that time trying to follow along with Lee Know as he picks at details and mistakes and runs choreography back past the other boys - and toys with them as he pleases, straightfaced enough to make anything that comes out of his mouth sound believeable.

And anything could come out of his mouth, any bald-faced lie he feels like telling in the moment. In practise times, he is a serious and trustworthy teacher, but as soon as the music turns off, anyone is fair game and any topic that will cause havoc amongst the people gathered in the room is preferable.

It's kind of funny, when you're standing nearby and innocently listening in. You have a feeling it's funny when it happens to you as well, but his particular kind of wit hasn't turned towards you yet.

Lee Know is already waiting when you make it to the dance room, the music playing while he lazily marks choreography to the mirror. God's Menu, the track that's beginning to play in your dreams and your nightmares, when you find the time to have them. The bane of your existance, almost, except that the tune is horrifically catchy and the choreo is starting to make its way into your bones and at that point, it is hard to resent any of the track.

He turns as you enter, watching the door swing open in the reflection of the mirror, and then strides across the room to pause the music. "You brought him," he says to you, pleased, as Jeongin trails in behind you, closing the door with the bump of his shoulder.

"Hyung," he says before you can say anything. "Why am I being escorted to practice now?"

"No reason," Lee Know replies, deadpan; but there's an impish look in his eyes that says otherwise, the ghost of the smile that he's hiding curving in the lines of his face. You have a feeling you've both just been the butt of some joke he's only told himself, especially when the look that Jeongin gives you behind his back is long-suffering. Perhaps you hadn't been so right about him not toying with you yet.

Dance practise runs smoothly, as it always does, although there is far less goofing around at the beginning than there is when all eight boys are here together. This is a sombre duo, you notice; Minho is sharp-eyed and precise in what he wants, but gentle in his teaching - I.N is studious in response, trying to press every little detail into his limbs in the short time given.

You are serious about practise too, determined to get it right and trying to emulate the attitude that I.N puts forward as best you can, but...it is hard. Not the choreography so much, although it isn't easy, but the detail, the finer points that they have spent years honing while you were still scrapping for survival in the trainee rooms. They work with a practised ease, falling into a rhythm that molds to the other members that they've beaten into their bodies in the two long years they've danced with each other, but your body won't follow along so easily no matter how hard you try - always a little stiff, or a fraction slow, or too reserved when the rest are opening up. Always sticking out like a sore thumb, no matter the placement or the move.

Dancing was already a sticking point for you, an achilles heel you've worked and worked and worked to overcome, but this is...this is another thing. It's daunting, to come into this room every day and play yourself back on a video and notice the fractions of a second that pass by, the way everyone else moves around each other and you stand like a rock in the centre of their ocean, unable to follow an underwater current you weren't even made to feel.

"Bigger movements," Minho says as Chan's voice plays over the speakers, the nod of his head marking the choreography as he turns his back to the mirror and watches intently. Your kick is good, sky-high and bursting with energy, but the movement after it is quick, and then the throw-

"Bigger," Minho says again, arms reaching and pulling in example even as the music moves on. "Keep going."

You pick it back up at the prechorus, stretching for that extra movement he wants to see, trying to embed the feeling of it right down into your bones. It's hard, and it's tiring - your mind slips to something else, or your breath hitches funny in your throat, and your body wants to slip back into its old way of dancing, rather than stretching to its limits. You've always found details hard, to spot and to correct, your confidence in your own judgement lacking; unlike singing, where you were sure you knew what you were capable of and when you strayed from your goals.

The music ends with a final bow to the mirror, your mouth open and your chest heaving, the dance burning like liquid fire in your veins. You have to remind yourself to hold the pose and hide the weakness of your limbs for several seconds, a small moment you hadn't really thought to practise in the past - your eyes stray to Jeongin, taking up the spot just in front and to your right, waiting for him to break first before you relax too, shaking out your arms.

"It was good," Minho says, his voice lifting upwards in what you think is a hopeful tone. "Better than the other day."

"Still not good enough though," you reply, though you store the compliment away in the corner of your mind, pleased that he isn't saying you haven't learnt anything. Debut or not, you've always taken pride in being an excellent student, and you need that one thing to hold on to right now, when everything else is so up in the air.

"Not yet," Minho agrees readily, leaning back against the counter at the back of the room. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, the expression unreadable. "Not that it's an easy dance. Keep working on the details, and it will keep getting better."

You feel like there's an or else attached to that sentence that he isn't saying, a black cloud that hangs over you as his voice peters out and his gaze watches you thoughtfully, though what he's searching for, you don't know. All you can do is nod in response and push down the cold fear, letting his eyes drop away as he turns to say something to Jeongin that sounds much more positive than your review.

"Can we run through Top today too?" Jeongin questions when he is done, one sleeve wiping the sweat from his brow. "We're going back to that this week, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Minho confirms. "One week before we go."

"Top?" you question with a frown; the name sounds familiar, maybe from the extensive list of tracks sitting in a folder on your phone waiting to be listened to, but you can't summon any memory of the track itself off the top of your head.

"Our Japan promotion next week," Jeongin says. "You haven't heard it yet?"

"I think I have it somewhere, but I've been focusing on the album," you reply. "You're going to Japan next week?"

"You don't have the new schedule?" Minho questions.

"No?" you reply tentatively. "Not one with Japan on it, anyway. The only thing on my schedule is dance and vocal. No one's told me anything else." Not even Chan, though he'd been...busier this week. More distant, only around for group practise and then gone again. You've seen most of the boys around by themselves, practising one thing or another, but not Chan, who seems quite happy to leave you with Minho and focus on whatever duties he had that were drawing him away. Not that you could blame him, when you were just an additional problem thrown on him right before a comeback. If you were him, you'd probably find someone else to deal with it too.

Jeongin reaches out, patting you on the shoulder sympathetically. "No one tells me anything either," he says, so serious that somehow, he circles right back around to funny. It surprises you, so much that a smile cracks across your face unbidden; which in turn makes him laugh, a short breath that swallows itself back down before it can become a proper giggle.

Minho is immune to the humor, arms crossed over his chest. He looks like he has something to say, his brow furrowed in a particular way, but all he says is, "Lets do Top," and turns to the computer again, scrolling through the tracklist.

Jeongin turns towards the mirror, flashing you a smile as he picks a spot on the floor to begin. You shuffle out of the way before the music starts, dropping onto the couch in time with the first note and reaching for water. Minho wanders across the room in no real hurry, watching Jeongin pick up the first beats of the choreography on his own, the spaces where the other members are supposed to be around him gaping wide.

"Are you at the front for the chorus?" Minho asks over the sound of Hyunjin's voice playing through the speakers, Jeongin joining him at the side of the room as the verse plays out.

"Yes," Jeongin replies.

"Oh, I.N-ah!" Minho crows, and then picks up the dance as Hyunjin's part ends and Seungmin begins, his voice clear and crisp as the beat behind it drops out. "Main dancer I.N-ah!"

Laughing, Jeongin follows, joining in time with the music. You watch, mesmerised as they work their way through the chorus and then back into another verse; this is obviously choreography made for a whole group, not to be done on its own, but even with the obvious gaps in the timing, it looks...cool. Fun, you're surprised to think, even though the fast, sharp movements never seem to stop and I.N obviously tires the longer it goes on, his action softening and his body starting to forget the movement that comes next, limbs hesitating a fraction too long.

Minho oscillates between dancing and watching, eagle-eyes following every small shift in the other boy's body from start to finish. It's impressive, how much he can see at once, how there are so many timings missing with the other members and yet he knows where and when everything is supposed to hit, his brow furrowing or his head cocking to the side when something isn't quite right.

"You know what to work on for that," he says when the music ends, shrugging when Jeongin's eyes find him in the mirror. You move for him, leaning over to the computer to pause the music before the next song can start playing.

"Everything?" Jeongin guesses wryly, pushing his hair back out of his eyes.

"We haven't done it for a while," Minho says. "Wait until we all do it. You're going to be the only one in time."

"Because I'm at the front," Jeongin says, but he manages to smile anyway, turning away from the mirror in search of his water bottle.

Minho is unsympathetic, following him across the room. "Well if we put you at the back, how will anyone see how cute you are?"

Jeongin twists sharply. "That's true," he says, masking the laugh that threatens to spread across his face. "You're smart, hyung."

"I know," Minho replies, and then he turns away, picking up his jacket. "Are you going home now?"

"No, I have a lesson."

"I.N-ah, are you practising everything today?" Minho's voice rises with each word, the grin on his face growing wider and wider. You lean back against the counter as you watch, amused at the way they bounce off each other as Minho pokes at his ribs and I.N laughs, skittering away out of reach. "You're so cool. You're going to be a rockstar."

"Get out of here," Jeongin says, shoving him away.

Minho laughs, stepping towards the door, and then turning to you. "You were good today," he says; his voice light, but not uncaring. "You're going to sing next time."

"Thankyou," you say, your head dropping, unable to accept the compliment face-to-face. Someone outside catches Minho's attention in the next moment, drawing him towards the door.

"Hey," Jeongin says before you can follow, drawing up beside you. "Give me your number, and I'll tell you when I'm in here practising."

You blink at him, your hand automatically reaching for your phone before stalling again. So far, only Minho has asked for your number, to organise times for these practises. "Are you sure?" you question. "You don't have to do that."

I.N nods, his phone already in his hand. "As your sunbae, I have to make sure Minho's teaching doesn't kill you," he says, a smile tucking itself away behind his cheek as he pretends to be completely serious. "As my elder, you should be here to make sure he doesn't kill me."

You're the first to laugh again, the sound bursting out of you unbidden at the face he makes, the specific way he intones each word. He looks pleased at your reaction, a smile lighting up his face. "Deal," you say, and you pull out your phone, tapping his number into a new contact.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

OT7: Tongue Tied (Intro)

In which you're not supposed to be the solution for all of the problems- but maybe you're just that; the missing piece.

Tags/Warnings: SFW, Hybrid!BTS x Hybrid!Reader, Wolf!BTS, Dog!Reader, strangers to ???, fluff, some angst, insecurities & very openly emotional reader

Length: long

A/N: the next chapters will, one by one, focus more on each member getting closer to the mc.

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"She will stay in a separate space we've been renovating for her at the company building." The manager says, well aware that the seven boys are very much not on board with the whole plan. "So you'll basically just have to interact with her for the camera and on certain schedules. Listen, I know you don't like the idea but it's the best way of making you guys seem.. less.. dangerous, after all that happened." He carefully phrases.

Jungkook scoffs. Namjoon clenches his jaw at that reaction, ready to scold. Taehyung sighs, tired of the constant fighting.

It was something the company had been fearing for quite some time now. And now, it's come to a point where even the public has noticed the growing tensions within the hybrid band- everyone on edge, easily irritated by each other. Originally, everyone had always thought it would be fine if they 'grew up' alongside each other, especially with Jungkook having been so young when he joined the company and group. But it didn't really matter down the line, it seems like, because by now, the air is constantly thick with frustration.

For the fans all over the world, the group full of hybrids, a somewhat traditional 'packing wolves, has been nothing but perfect and a shining representation of how far hybrids can come nowadays in terms of reaching success and wealth. But behind closed doors, it's headaches, fights, arguments and stress for everyone involved.

From trying to somehow keep track of their heats to re-scheduling things over and over again because the person interviewing or hosting at the event might be an unmated hybrid that could set off any of the guys at just a glance. They're all of a category two, technically independent and mostly human- but sometimes, staff would like to argue against that. Jungkook and Jimin can be harder to control than a horde of toddlers sometimes, while Yoongi and Namjoon are sometimes just plain scary. Taehyung literally does what he wants together with Seokjin, and Hoseok usually keeps to himself. Its all a mess, really.

Especially now that the cracks had begun to show to the public as well.

"Why a category five though?" Jin argues from the side. "You've been complaining about us for years now. And we're the most 'normal' one might say." He air quotes as he speaks.

"If they see you being kind to a category five like her-" the manager explains himself, "-they highly likely will calm down."

"Or start letting their frustrations out on her." Namjoon disagrees. "If they smell just a hint of any of us liking her in any way they'll go rabid."

"So what? It's not like she'll properly understand the situation, or talk about it to anybody." The manager shakes his head. "She will live at the company building, like I said. That's top security around her twenty-four-seven, and she will also have regular caretakers- staff will look after her for you, you don't have to interact with her at all apart from scheduled activities. It'll be fine." He tries, and everyone sighs.

Well- it's not like they've got the last word either way.

---

Jungkook is a sensitive person.

Not as in weak, but as in, his senses are very much sharp enough to notice even the slightest changes in something. And so when the first furniture is delivered, first boxes with what he assumes to be the new hybrid's personal items, there's something in the air he can't quite put a finger on.

"Oh, Jungkook-ssi!" One of the staff almost runs into him, as he stands alone in the dark and rather small space you'll be living in soon. "I almost locked you in. Is there something you need?" She asks, and he shakes his head.

Something about the faint scent of yours clinging to some of the items placed, like the blankets and pillows and stuffed animals, makes him wonder what will happen from now on. You're being used for higher gain- and in a way, he wonders if you'll know that, or if you're not able to understand the complexity of the situation like his managers had claimed. A category five doesn't mean you're mentally challenged, after all. You're just a bit more hybrid than he, or the rest of the guys are.

And somehow, it all just suddenly feels so fucked up to him.

"No, sorry, I just wanted to.. look around I guess." He offers the staff member who nods kindly, before he leaves to go home.

Somehow feeling a little heavy inside.

---

"Am I the only one who thinks this is fucked up?" Yoongi sighs as they all laze around in the living room area of the dorm they share. "We don't even know where the fuck they get that hybrid from."

"With the way they're talking about her it feels as if she must be from a carecenter or something alike." Seokjin offers from the side. "After all, they did mention that she needs help in looking after herself." He notes, and Taehyung chimes in at that.

"I mean I get the idea but.. it's still odd to 'use' her for that. And what if she doesn't even like us?" He shakes his head. "Category five's are pretty obvious in what they're thinking. It's not like they can just tell her to act the part."

Everyone falls silent at that. The wolf hybrid has a point here- if she doesn't play the part well, what will happen then?

"Well- not that I care." Hoseok announces, getting up. "And neither should you guys. We're getting paid to entertain people, nothing more." He simply mumbles to himself, leaving to go to bed. And he's probably right too- the less the guys think about what the situation means to you, the better. And done the line, the space given to you at the company building is definitely better than any shelter or carecenter you're probably currently residing at.

Jungkook however isn't convinced. He's still remembering that odd feeling he had earlier standing in between all those things that smelled like you.

And he's got a feeling that this whole 'plan' will probably not go the way they all planned it to.

---

Despite everyone's varying levels of interest in you at first, it's pretty clear that today, the date you'll be officially moving in, the entire pack is equally as eager to get a glimpse of you.

"Remind me why you're all in my studio?" Namjoon sighs, watching everyone camp out in his small space, both Jimin and Taehyung peeking out the door.

"They're here! There right there, they just brought them in-!" Jimin whispers sharply, and suddenly even Namjoon gets up to maybe catch a glance.

"She must be young." Taehyung mumbles, watching how an elderly woman in a 'Seoul Hybrid Care Project'-jacket holds your hand as you walk next to her. Your tail is a little curled and clearly one of a canine hybrid- your ears somewhat folded downwards.

"Maybe she's just short." Namjoon argues quietly, Jungkook pushing a bit to get a glimpse too. "I mean- if she was too young to attend late shows and schedule that would be pretty dumb wouldn't it?" He wonders, and the others hum in agreement, watching as your tail lowers, your mood visibly changing as soon as it's evident you'll be staying.

They all start to feel a little bad once they have to watch you cling to the caretaker- probably your only familiar person, who attempts to make you understand that you'll stay here now. It's the first taste of what you as a category five are like- there's no covering up your emotions whatsoever, you visibly and clearly make it known that you're not happy about this situation.

The only thing that soothes the pack a little it the sight of the staff gently wiping your tear stained cheeks before leading you into your new living space, door closing behind you. Though it's odd- because somehow, the entire pack feels closer than they've been in a few years by now, everyone equally both interested and mildly worried for you.

"Okay I can't be the only one who feels this though." Taehyung suddenly perks up, the ball of squeezed together wolf hybrids breaking up as they all get back into the studio, door closing. "Right?"

"She's a category five Taehyung!" Namjoon scolds.

At that, everyone falls silent for a moment.

Because while they can't deny what Taehyung mentioned was true-

Namjoon also had a point.

---

You are, in fact, not actually that young, merely months behind Jungkook.

And Seokjin's very sharp sense of observation tells him that you're not at all unaware of your surroundings whatsoever. It seems like you want to talk often but then remember something that makes you shut up before you can even open your mouth. You're however otherwise clearly aware of what's going on, interested and curious about things you don't know. It must be frustrating to not be able to voice out your thoughts, he thinks to himself, already wondering if there could be a different way of communicating with you.

Turns out you are indeed a domestic dog hybrid, chosen for your rather reserved but friendly nature. You've been born to a mother than wanted to stay anonymous, having given you up as a newborn pup at a shelter, presumably because you're the result of infidelity.

Taehyung is, to no one's surprise, the first one to try and interact with you in the practice room. You seem a bit hesitant at first but it's very clear that you're easily warming up to him, your tail wagging every time Jimin says something that makes Taehyung laugh. The two wolves are sitting close to you, and you seem alright with that, albeit a little shy.

Which is to be expected, considering its been barely a week since you moved into the company building, and you've also never really met them.

"What're you looking for, hm?" Taehyung wonders as he watches you search around for something. You look at him at that, unsure, like you're fighting internally with yourself.

"Maybe she's too shy to say it out loud?" Jungkook wonders, sitting down close to you as well now. "You wanna whisper it maybe?" He tries, leaning in and pointing to his hybrid ear-

And to everyone's surprise you do actually sit up on your knees, cupping your hands over his ears before you whisper something.

And of course, everyone is eager to know what it was, since it makes the youngest look so caught off guard, cheeks red as he gets up to fetch a bottle of water from a table nearby.

They distract themselves for the time being by starting to actually practice, occasionally watching your reaction to their choreography. Being watched by you is actually not that weird at all- if anything, it makes them all work a bit harder as if to impress you, underline their deaths as the perfect idols they are.

Though, at the end of the day, they're also just a pack of young wolves, and it's clear.

Jungkook let's himself fall onto his back close to you, huffing in exhaustion making everyone laugh. The air feels oddly light today, as if the stress isn't actually that bad this time around. And it's especially evident in the way everyone laughs when you reach out to pet Jungkooks head as if to tell him that he worked hard, making the idol shy again.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

---

It's your first public appearance.

Described to the public as a 'charity case', you've been somewhat officially shown in behind the scenes footage every now and then, many fans having already found some info on you from the internet. The reactions are mixed, but mostly positive- many claiming that the band and company are showing how kind the world can be by taking you in. It's probably because the company itself had made it clear that you do not actually live with the boys, but in a separate place with personal caretakers, eliminating the possibility of causing a dating rumor for now, though that might happen naturally at some point.

However, all is better than having to defend the guys fighting amongst each other like dogs over food.

The level of comfort around you varies amongst the members, which is to be expected- but it's already clear that you're very good at wrapping people around your little finger. Seokjin is holding your hand as they all walk through the airport together, and you never let go of it once, staying close to the oldest. He's become somewhat of a guardian figure for you- his calm and carefree attitude drawing you in.

He helps you buckle your seatbelt on the plane, and helps you out of your jacket like it's second nature, though he does roll his eyes at Hoseok commenting how he looks like a father. "Well at least I'm helping her, you all just ignore her or play around!" He scolds, tension rising when Taehyung starts to argue from the corner.

"Hey, no one asked you to play the part!" He barks. "We got staff for that.." he scoffs to himself, while Namjoon shakes his head.

"Guys please.." he begs quietly, though the barking doesn't die down.

"So we're just supposed to act like we care but toss her aside? How cruel is that?" Jin argues back, making Jungkook whine from close by.

"Hyung, don't shout like that-" He worries, and Seokjin is ready to really shout now, when Yoongi gets up and walks over to unbuckle your seatbelt. Only now does everyone take a moment to notice you quietly crying to yourself.

"Come on, I'll get you some tissues.." the wolf mumbles quietly to you, effectively removing you from the crossfire to have you sit next to himself instead.

It's quiet at that, except for the soft sound of you blowing your nose and whimpering a bit as Yoongi offers his silent support to you. Jin sighs as he sits back down, sound signaling the start of the flight.

It stays quiet like this until the seatbelts are allowed to be removed, an apologetic looking Jungkook walking up next to where Yoongi sits next to you. You're asleep already, having taken the rapper up on the silent offer to sleep on his lap, a pillow on his thighs offering comfort for your head. "M' sorry." The youngest mumbles quietly, running a hand over your head.

"We've got to stop, at least around her." Namjoon says, calmly. "Our pack issues are one thing, but unloading all that on her is just unfair."

"I didn't mean to shout like that.." seokjin sighs from his seat.

"And I didn't mean to get so angry either.." Taehyung apologizes.

"What's even wrong with us in the first place?" Hoseok asks, shaking his head to himself. "Its like we're just fighting these days, nothing else."

"Cause we do." Jungkook says, still petting your head. It's clear that the youngest is pretty attached to you already. "We're just complaining and arguing.." he mumbles softly, watching you sleep.

"Why.?" Jin asks himself mostly.

"Doesn't matter." Yoongi quietly offers. "But we gotta figure this shit out without getting her caught in the middle like that." He reminds everyone. "She can't talk and tell us to stop-"

"She can, though." Jungkook perks up, ears standing tall.

"What?" Namjoon is interested now. Category five hybrids typically don't talk.

"The water bottle on Tuesday. She told me what she wanted when I asked her to, you know, tell me quietly." Jungkook explains. "I think she's just- embarrassed, maybe?"

"Of what?" Hoseok wonders. "Talking in that category is impressive."

"Yeah but she- I guess she's got some trouble pronouncing words. She didn't say 'water' for example, but something like 'wadu'." He tells his packmates.

"Thats cute though." Taehyung laughs from his seat, the others chuckling as well. "Maybe at the center she got made fun of." He tries to justify.

"Could be." Namjoon nods. "But with some practice she could surely work on that issue. It would help tremendously if she at least communicates in single words." He says, and everyone agrees.

"You know.." yoongi smiles to himself, looking down on you still sleeping. "...I think she's doing something entirely different than just polishing our image already."

"Huh?" Hoseok asks.

"Dont you notice?" The rapper asks the pack. "Everytime it's about her, we agree. No fighting. We suddenly problem-solve and actually talk." He explains.

"...I-" Namjoon stares at you at that revelation, realizing it as well. "You're right."

Maybe you're not just a publicity stunt after all-

But an actual solution for the root of the problem.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #ot7 hybrid fanfic #ot7 hybrid imagine #ot7 fic #ot7 x reader #ot7 imagine #hybrid imagine

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heartkyeom · 2 years

Text

fine line

figure skater!joshua hong x f!reader

synopsis: as a joshua fangirl, getting the chance to interview him as a teenager was an absolute dream. 10 years later with a flourishing career as a writer and a strained relationship with him, he wants to do a 10 year reunion interview about his path to the upcoming Olympics. there’s only one problem: you’re staying at his house and trying not to address your old feelings for him.

word count: 19.9k

tag list: @junhui-recs @bfwonu @huiranghaes

warnings: figure skater!joshua, writer/fangirl!reader, best friend!jeonghan, dad!seungcheol, smut, fluff, angst, some occasional skating jargon, this is a lot about the Olympics

a/n: y’all. this fic has been reworked over and over and over since spring 2022, it’s the longest fic I’ve ever done. it’s given me so much trouble and seen me through so many changes in my life. doing my final undergrad dance show, writing my undergrad capstone, finishing undergrad, and finding my first apartment. it is my baby and has grown as much as I have since march. thank you to the sports au discord for being so lovely <3 I hope you enjoy it as always and I hope you can feel how much heart I put into this! this is for @gyukult’s sports au collab + this is loosely based on the plot of the book “funny you should ask” by elissa sussman which I can’t recommend enough! title also inspired by the harry styles song ok bye lmao <3

Work isn’t particularly difficult, in your opinion. You’re used to hearing the people around you complain about how much their workload consumes them to a point of no return, but as you made your way into your first adult job as a writer, you tried to stop that from happening.

It’s not exactly easy when you have to navigate the entertainment industry while writing, but the idea of trying to craft new narratives about celebrities that the public is convinced that they know inside and out still excites you.

Even if you’re not exactly fond of whoever you’re writing about, the challenge still intrigues you. Thus, the conversations surrounding ideas for new profiles are always equal parts captivating and nerve-wracking.

“How do you feel about Joshua Hong?” Your manager asks. You look up to see her balancing her weight on the side of your desk, a neutral expression paints her face.

She knows this is a loaded question, all things considered.

“You know how I feel about him,” You blink at her before facing your computer again.

“I do, but I need an updated response considering the anniversary,” She persists. You sigh, swiveling around to face her again before responding.

“He’s great. I like him,” Your voice trails off, you try to nod to convince her, but it’s not working.

Your life has been so intertwined with Joshua Hong’s career as a professional figure skater that it’s hard to delineate life before and after him. He wasn't there, then one day he seemed to consume your life completely.

Before your start as a journalist, you ran a very well-known, albeit secretive, blog about Joshua Hong as a teenager. It was relatively harmless and safe for work, spare the occasional thirst posts sprinkled in. It mostly contained updates about the then emerging skater’s career, offering illegal torrent links for broadcasts of his performances that weren’t available worldwide and communicating with other fans about your love for him. Yet, some random post about him qualifying for the Olympics went insanely viral when you were 17, garnering over 1 million shares in under a week.

It was substantial enough to get his management's attention, and you had the opportunity to interview him not only for your blog but for a major publication for their Winter Olympics coverage series.

With two opportunities to write about him, you were able to fulfill the fan service pleas from your fellow fans for the blog and write a serious piece that made the general public interested in him from the perspective of a fan that knew the general timeline of his career.

The quick success felt like a fluke, but it led you to an undergraduate degree and a dream job as an entertainment writer at one of your favorite companies almost immediately after graduation.

He technically made your career, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

You’ve been trying to forget about the anniversary, but everyone in your life seems determined to bring it up whenever they see you.

“Well, we want you to do a 10-year reunion interview piece with him. That’s only if you want to,” Her voice was sympathetic, but you’re mainly focused on the number. It really had been 10 years, hadn’t it?

You were both incredibly established in your respective careers, him as a 5-time gold medalist with appearances at 3 Olympic Games, and you with a prolific image as a relatable yet incisive celebrity interviewer. It completely makes sense for you two to meet again, considering how much the first interview changed the trajectory of your lives.

It would feed into the nostalgia of Joshua fans that grew up alongside you as readers of your blog and new fans that clamored for any new Joshua content.

Yet, you weren’t exactly convinced.

“I mean, his team could’ve had anyone else write a big profile on him. We’re not the only website in the world with an entertainment section,” You fight the urge to bite your nails and instead choose to wring your hands together.

“He asked us to do it,” She admits.

You try not to look too shocked, but that definitely changes things. You were not close with Joshua whatsoever. Sure, he’d occasionally like your social media posts and wish you a happy birthday every year, but that was the extent of your relationship.

Your teenage self thinks it might be him looking for closure, wondering what might have happened if you stayed in touch.

Yet, you can’t let yourself dive back into the fantasy of him again.

You search for a response, but you can’t land on anything substantial. “What would I have to do?” You ask, you barely notice the unconscious habit of biting the inside of your cheek.

“Well, in addition to the profile, you can attend his practices and any private schedules he invites you to. It’s mostly up to the discretion of him and his team,” She offers and you nod. You’re good with that, you can watch him practice and go to a random professional event he’s booked for.

“He did offer something else, if you’re up for it,” She gives you a pointed look which makes you a bit hesitant.

“What is it?”

“He asked if you were open to staying at his house,” She smiled through her answer, but you’re sure your face was completely pale.

You didn’t know if you were more shocked or nervous at the idea of it. It was ambitious, considering that you haven’t spent more than a few hours in the same room with him at a time, much less stay with him.

You think you might die if you go through with it.

“He’s not serious,” You find yourself laughing in disbelief. You can’t even fathom the idea of being further sucked into Joshua’s life after so long.

“He really is. You don’t have to give me an answer right now, but within the next day or so,” She leaves your desk without giving you a chance to respond, but you revel in the opportunity to think about everything.

It’s a bit too much to wrap your head around, so much so that you don’t remember much else of the work day.

For the first time in a long time, Joshua Hong was all you could think about.

—

The more you think about the interview, the more it gives you anxiety.

All of the possible outcomes float around in your head during the commute home that you can barely enjoy the music blaring in your headphones.

Once you arrive home, you figure that you need a second opinion on the matter, so you decide to call your far more opinionated best friend for his input.

The phone only rings for a few seconds before he picks up.

“What happened?”

“Joshua wants to do this 10-year anniversary interview where I follow him around,” You sigh.

“No fucking way,” He burst into laughter, his giggles echoing loudly through the phone.

“Jeonghan, this isn’t funny,” You whine. He was probably the last person you needed to call, seeing as he almost never had a sympathetic response to your pain.

“It’s hilarious, and this is karma for trying to ignore his existence for the past 5 years,” He replies with a teasing lilt.

You hate that he’s right.

You were very proud of Joshua’s successes, in a “retired fan celebrating from a distance” sort of way. Yet, you tried to distance yourself so much from the blog that he inadvertently got caught in the crossfire. You cared about him so deeply for so long that you lost yourself in that, so you tried to cope with the state of your uneven relationship with him in your own little fucked up way.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “I just didn’t think he’d be the one to do it, you know? I thought I’d get a polite email from his assistant, not my manager telling me he wanted to do a profile.”

“That means it’s personal to him, then. That’s actually kinda charming of him,” You feel your phone vibrate, so you check the notification.

Joshua messaged you on Instagram, and from a quick glance at your lockscreen, it’s long.

Your heart drops to your stomach.

“Wait, he just messaged me,” You quickly put Jeonghan on speaker and opened the app without a second thought. You read his message out loud:

joshuahong: Hi! Not sure if you’ve heard my request yet about the anniversary profile, but I would really love it if we could make it happen. I know it’s been a really long time, but I think it’d be fun to do it again. You’ve always supported me from the beginning of my career, so it would mean a lot to me. I miss talking to you, so we would definitely be catching up in more ways than one. We’ll only do it if you’re up for it though, please don’t ghost me this time lol

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan fills the silence immediately. You were pretty much lost for words, but you managed to speak. “Holy shit is right,” You mumble to yourself.

You suddenly feel guilty for trying to bury him out of your life, especially when he clearly said he misses you.

Were you trying to set your boundaries by pushing him away or were you just being an asshole?

“I feel really stupid,” You hate that you want to cry. You can’t reckon with the fact that Joshua has wanted to reconcile for so long that he had to do this to get your attention.

At least, that’s what the selfish part of you thinks. You know the interview is so much bigger than yourself, but then again, it is a symbol of you and the years of effort you put into your blog.

“You’re not stupid, but you need to worry about what you’re gonna say. Are you gonna say yes?” He asks.

Admittedly, you do feel the pull to say yes.

“I think I might. Is that a bad idea?” Internally, you know the answer, but your insecurities need some validation.

He clears his throat before responding. “I think you’ll regret it if you say no. I think it’ll hurt you more to not have closure with him.”

You don’t think you necessarily want anything out of this besides becoming friendly with him.

You’d like to think that’s what would’ve happened if you didn’t completely ice him out.

“That’s true. It’s gonna be so hard to see him again,” A whine pulls your lips into a pout and you already know Jeonghan will protest.

“Stop talking yourself out of it. Who knows, you might end up enjoying everything,” he suggests openly.

“That’s possible. His house is supposed to be insanely big,” You shake your head at the idea of how a 27-year-old millionaire pro figure skater would be living, definitely far better than your current apartment.

“You can only know for sure if you say yes.”

“I know,” You figure you need a vacation anyways, even if it means facing some unresolved emotional baggage.

“So, you know your answer then. I need to get back to work, but don’t blow him off. Respond to him tonight or I’m not giving you the deluxe massage package gift certificate like I promised,” Jeonghan was not above threatening you into action, and this one had the right level of stakes.

“Fine, okay,” You huff out, already opening the Instagram app again to motivate you into typing a proper response.

You exchange quick goodbyes and you let yourself look, albeit for far too long, at the message again to gain some inspiration.

Before you know it, you’re sending him a formal reply.

you: Hi! You’re right about ghosting, no excuses for that so I’m sorry lol. I’ve thought about it and I’d be happy to do it, it’s been too long since we’ve talked. Let me know the timeline you’re thinking of and I’ll get my schedule figured out

You figure that’s just enough to ease your nerves. It’s not exactly as earnest as his original message, but it’ll work for now.

You even send a screenshot of the message to Jeonghan as proof for the sake of accountability and the state of your deluxe massage package gift certificate. You place your phone on your nightstand to avoid fixating on another response, letting yourself go fix dinner and get ready for bed without thinking.

It’s only when you’re about to settle into bed that you remember your phone. You reach for it and Joshua, who is somehow extremely prompt with his messages, sends you another reply 10 minutes after your message.

joshuahong: Great! We’ll start sorting out more details then. I’m really glad you said yes

He’s already trying to pull at your heartstrings and it’s working. Despite everything, Joshua has always been kind. He doesn’t just seem nice, like what most celebrities are assumed to be around other people, he’s always made sure you know he cares about you even if you hadn’t known what to do about it.

You type out another quick response before going to bed.

you: Of course, it’s gonna be a lot of fun

You hope that’s true, you hope that you’re not already in over your head with the situation. He still seems to have faith in you, so why not trust that instinct?

—

During pre-trip preparations, you found yourself talking to Joshua far more often than before.

The conversations didn’t go too deep of course, you couldn’t get everything out of him before you even had a chance to conduct the interview, but the harmless banter seemed to slowly bridge that treacherous gap left between you two.

You even thought it would make your first meeting less awkward, but that wasn’t even remotely possible. It had only taken a few days for the entirety of the trip to be confirmed by your workplace and his team, and the final itinerary made your head spin.

You would follow Joshua around for a week, primarily to his private daily practices in an effort to show his infamous dedication to Olympics training.

All while you stayed in his guest room.

You couldn’t get out of that obligation, no matter how much you tried to convince him that you would be perfectly fine staying in a luxury hotel room paid for by your employer. He was confident that you could get a better view into his life while staying at his house which you reluctantly agreed with.

His idea definitely didn’t cross any professional boundaries at all, none whatsoever! This is what he’d do as a friend if you were coming to visit anyways, right?

You were still slightly afraid to hear his voice, you weren’t exactly sure why, but you were hoping it would keep the image of him unchanged in your mind until you saw him in person again.

You knew you were heavily biased going into this situation, so why not protect your heart for a little bit longer?

joshuahong: Are you nervous about tomorrow?

you: Not really

joshuahong: Y/N, please don’t lie.

you: I’m not!

joshuahong: I’m kinda nervous to see you, though

you: Really? Why?

joshuahong: I think it’s been 6 years since I’ve seen you in person. That’s scary to think about

you: The passing of time is scary

joshuahong: Definitely. Promise to not be awkward?

you: I’ll try my best!

joshuahong: That’s not a promise!

you: Fine, I promise but you have to promise too!

joshuahong: I promise :) now get some sleep, I don’t want to hear you complain when you have plenty of time to get 8 hours of sleep

you: You’re so mean!! but you too, get lots of rest so you can give me a good show tomorrow

He doesn’t reply to that last message, only using a heart emoji reaction instead.

The weight of the trip suddenly sits on your heart, and the main objective of writing an exceptional interview is somehow the least of your worries now.

—

The flight to Korea is unceremoniously long, you have far too much time and anxiety to let yourself fall asleep. You go through all the Netflix episodes you downloaded for the flight, finish the book that’s been sitting on your shelf for ages, and write down some preliminary notes about what you’d like to cover in the interview.

You decide to keep your ideas vague so that you’re not overexerting your brain during the flight.

First, a general discussion of the Olympics. That’s the main appeal of the article, seeing what his main preparations are like and hopefully getting some better insight about his feelings surrounding everything.

The second is his recovery from his last Olympics injury. He landed the most ambitious jump of his free skate program completely wrong, breaking his ankle in the process. It was during the last event of his Olympics run for that year, and he still placed third in the men’s individual skate program overall, but it’s been a sore subject for him in most interviews he’s done since the incident.

The footage is as agonizing as you can imagine, but the fact that he finished the routine at all is stunning. You figure that you can get some in-depth reaction about that moment and the subsequent recovery, more than the extremely media-trained answer he’s given about it before.

Lastly, the prospect of retirement. He’s said almost nothing about his plans after the upcoming Olympic games, but Olympics experts are convinced that the news is looming over his upcoming appearance.

You knew better than to ask him outright about it because he definitely wouldn’t give you a straight answer. From watching his recent interviews, you realized that Joshua has a tendency to go into a subtle apathetic mood when the interviewer hits something he’s not comfortable with. You hope that you can breach the subject without things going completely south. This interview was supposed to hit some darker aspects of the state of Joshua’s career, but you never wanted to make him uncomfortable.

Other than those topics, anything else he wanted to divulge to you would be a bonus. You wanted him to have a reasonable amount of control over what would go into the interview, so you’re not opposed to adjusting your interview material if needed.

The thought of his reactions to your questions swarms your brain in a frenzy, but you know you’re getting ahead of yourself.

The flight lands without any problems and you’re still trying to figure your thoughts out by the time you’re picking up your suitcase from baggage claim.

You’re soon greeted by Joshua’s driver, a tall man who holds a sign with your name printed on it, nodding in affirmation when you confirm your identity with him. He’s distantly kind to you, but it’s enough to put you at ease for the moment. You’re escorted to a tinted black SUV with a gentle hand opening the back car door for you. Your suitcase is carefully stowed into the back of the truck while you click your seatbelt into place across your lap.

You don’t realize how tired you are until the car starts moving. You didn’t bother to orient yourself with the time once you got off the flight, but you figure it’s somewhere between late morning and early afternoon by the way the clouds create a gray atmosphere in the sky.

Nonetheless, looking out the window is enough to pull you into sleep, and you indulge yourself in a short nap, barely considering where you may be headed.

—

It turns out that Joshua wanted to meet you at his home rink first which explains why you were waking up to the sight of a massive stadium.

You were slightly annoyed that you weren’t at a stable location yet, your body started to feel vaguely sick at the constant movement of the car.

You’re grateful that the car stops for a moment, you’re hoping Joshua takes a bit longer than expected to come out of the rink so that your body can stop feeling off center.

Unfortunately, he’s quite prompt, you notice him walking out only a few minutes later. He’s accompanied by two other staff members, seemingly debriefing him on your arrival as you see one of them point to the car.

You suddenly feel acutely aware of how disheveled you look in your inconspicuous airport outfit, barely awake enough to make proper conversation with him.

He arrives at the other back car door quickly, opening it with a big smile.

“Y/N! Hi, I’m so happy to finally see you again,” He’s excited, settling into the backseat across from you, slightly more perky than you expected.

“Hi,” You wave back politely, pushing your voice up an octave to match his energy that is nearly impossible to replicate in your current mood.

“I’m sure you must be exhausted, it was a long flight wasn’t it?” His brows furrow slightly, and his concern is evident on his face.

“Yeah, I’m still pretty tired,” You offer him a halfhearted smile.

“Well, we can recover once we’re at my place. We’ll have time to catch up on everything,” He reassures you with a nod.

He notices you’re still out of it, so you don’t talk for the rest of the ride to his house.

Through heavy eyelids, you steal a few looks at him and he really is as pretty as you remember. His boyish features filled out his face much better now, although he was always handsome.

You’re not sure how long his practice day was, but it surely didn’t show in his features. He caught you looking at him only once, you tried to be discreet while he was looking at his phone, but he still saw you.

It seemed like he had a sixth sense to know when someone was looking at him which, if anything, made it a bit more embarrassing to get caught.

He let you off easy though, smiling at you before turning his attention back to his phone.

It was a tiny gesture, but it reminds you just how much he seems to notice you.

—

You wouldn’t say you’re best friends or anything, but talking to Joshua for an extended period of time has made you miss being around him in person. His energy has always been the same after so long.

“So you just casually stumbled into an interview with Dwayne the Rock Johnson?” He’s somehow fully astonished at your celebrity interview stories, you notice the sparkle in his eyes and his smile is radiant, but you think that’s just the alcohol creeping up on him.

You both agreed to a drink after coming back to the house, you chose wine while he opted for beer. This has made the mood considerably less awkward and you’re grateful that you both pushed past the mandatory small talk.

“Yeah, the interviewer before me canceled so I got more time with him than I intended. Then the whole viral interview video happened,” You wave your hand before taking another sip of your glass.

“You say that as if it’s normal,” He pushes his hair back, slightly exposing his forehead. That was surprising coming from him, considering that he is far more famous than you would ever be. Yet, you assume that it’s because he’s famous in a more traditional sense, so content creation was never a part of his job to begin with.

“Well, it is if you’re good at it, which I am,” You brag, receiving a hearty laugh from him.

“Look at you, big shot,” He playfully swats your arm. “You really made it, huh?” He’s fond, his glance is soft and yearning for more. It’s far too sentimental for where you wanted this to go tonight, but you play along for a moment.

“I did,” Your cheeks are slightly too warm as you avoid his eye contact with a small smile, but you still have control over yourself. You decide to take advantage of it.

“I want to get some stuff recorded for the interview if that’s okay?” You don’t know why you ask for permission to start interviewing, seeing as it’s the entire reason you’re here in the first place.

“That’s fine,” He straightens up a bit, he doesn’t seem too affected by the alcohol either which will make this a bit easier.

“We’ll keep it pretty light today, considering this is just the first day.”

“I’m good with that,” He chuckles lightly. You know he’s watching you struggle to figure out the best way to interview him. It’s too much effort to find your laptop which is somewhere tucked away in a carry-on bag, so you settle for your phone.

“Ok, so,” you fumble with your phone’s record button on the Voice Memos app for a moment, “tell me your general feelings about the Olympics coming up.”

“I’m excited, I missed being in full competition prep mode. It’s an indescribable feeling, but everything is coming together nicely which is all I can ask for on the 4th time around,” He had a vague joy in his eyes, but you didn’t want to scrutinize the answer just yet, it was only the first question.

“What does full competition prep mode look like for you?”

“My practice days are much longer than usual, so I’m in the rink most days from sunrise to sunset, if I can help it,” He smiles sheepishly. That charm seems like it’s going to seep through every response he gives you, so he can possibly get away with some things.

“What do you like to do to destress after such long practice days?”

His eyes light up at the idea and he readjusts his position on the couch. “I like taking a cold shower and catching up on reality TV, I honestly like anything trashy.”

You didn’t peg Joshua to be a reality TV person, but it’s the exact kind of pop culture talk that his fans will eat up.

“Okay, then which one do you prefer, The Bachelor or Love Island?” You ask curiously.

“Love Island, easily,” He replies immediately. He smirks and you nod in affirmation. You knew he had good taste, you figure you’d have to ask him about some other TV preferences later.

“Good, that was the right answer,” You shoot back. You decide to drink the rest of your wine instead of nursing it any longer.

“Asking the tough questions, clearly,” He’s way too smug about it and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, I told you we’re keeping it light! Unless you want to be asked about the future of your career while we drink,” Now it’s your turn to touch his arm, your hand intentionally doesn’t linger for too long though.

“I don’t, you’re right,” You know he’s not lying by the way he lets out a deep breath. There’s an unspoken tension at the thought of you bringing everything up.

“Okay, one more dumb non-skating question.”

“They’re not dumb,” He immediately catches your words and you blink at him, silently watching his face. He stares back, but his expression is slightly tender. Again, his face is almost too sweet for you to process. It threw you off this time though, so you have to look at the floor. You don’t even remember the question you meant to ask him, so you opt for a way out.

“Stop it.”

“What?” He genuinely looks confused, as if he’s not unconsciously doing the standard heartthrob boyfriend-esque banter.

“That was too nice,” You pick up your phone to stop the recording, still not facing him. Your body language is slightly more closed off.

“You act like you’ve never been complimented before,” He retorts.

You couldn’t say that it was different because he said it, you couldn’t give a shit if some random A-lister made you feel better about your work, but it was him.

“I’m not used to your compliments,” You indirectly emphasize him.

“Well, we’ll have to change that then,” He smirks.

That stirs something up in your chest, but you can’t quite name it. You decide it’s best to ignore it.

“Great. So are you gonna make me dinner or are we ordering somewhere?”

“I’m definitely not cooking,” He lets out a clipped laugh, shaking his head in disapproval. To be fair, he exerted more physical effort in a day than you’d do in an entire calendar year, so you weren’t exactly offended.

The night spun on with cheap pizza and varying levels of conversations. He even convinced you to watch Love Island, albeit one episode, until he decided he was too tired to continue.

He gives you a short tour of the guest room before retreating to his own room, and you finally get a moment to sit with your thoughts.

Joshua is friendlier than you expected and that was going to cause problems whether you liked it or not.

—

Although it was your first full day in town, the jetlag caught up with you almost immediately. Joshua mentioned last night that he would be at meetings throughout the afternoon, so you were grateful that you didn’t have to tag along.

Once you were thoroughly awake, you decided to investigate the house. As you suspected, it was far too big for him, especially considering he wasn’t home enough to enjoy it anyways.

The style of the house is typical celebrity fare, far too angular and minimalist for your taste. The shades of white, gray, and black that decorated his furniture and appliances were anything but inviting. It was all far too muted in your opinion and it made you miss the character of your apartment.

Besides a few framed photos of what you assume to be his family and friends along with some light decor, it looks like it could be plucked right off of a Zillow listing.

Even if you wanted to write some flowery prose about his house for the article, it leaves much to be desired.

“Are you settled in?” Your manager asks over the phone. She promised not to call you after this initial check in, but you figured she’d find other ways to be nosy about how things are going. She was a fan of Joshua, so her prying for extra details wouldn’t be completely unexpected.

“Yeah, everything’s been good,” You shared, completely nestled onto the couch with a blanket.

“How’s Joshua?” She inquires with a slight lilt.

“He’s doing well. We’ve already got some parts for the interview, but I haven’t seen him skate yet,” You recall the banter of last night with a small smile. You were both being friendly, it was completely harmless.

“Well, you still have a lot of time for that, but I’m glad you’ve made some progress. I’ll let you go, but let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” You respond. You exchange goodbyes and go back to mindlessly scrolling on Twitter.

“Were you talking shit about me?” Joshua asks. You whip your head around to notice him watching you, completely unsuspecting in his business casual attire. You shriek in fear, clutching the blanket before reaching over to throw a pillow at his face. He narrowly avoids it with a massive grin on his face.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me,” You sigh, pressing a hand to your chest to check your racing pulse.

“I’m light on my feet.”

“Yeah, clearly,” You grumbled.

“You look very comfortable,” He teases, pointing to your current seating position with a chuckle. Your body is completely wrapped up minus your head. It probably looks quite funny by the way he bites his tongue with a childish smile.

“I am. How were the meetings?” You deflect the attention onto him instead.

“Productive,” He walks around to join you on the couch, landing next to you with a sigh.

“Anything worth breaking an NDA over?”

He rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not,” He scoffed.

“Worth a try,” You finally free your arms from the blanket, but you’re still wearing a hoodie.

“Why did you need the blanket if you’re wearing a hoodie?” He asks politely, pointing to your chest.

“I get cold easily!” You protest.

This oversized maroon hoodie was your signature writing piece, you absolutely needed to wear it for big projects or else you wrote pure shit.

You’ve had it since you started writing professionally, a random thrift store find that has given you incredible luck over the years. It’s helped you through many long nights of writing and editing throughout your career.

Thus, you put it on in an attempt to stir up some inspiration, but to no avail.

Joshua is charmed by this backstory though, nodding along with his head in the palm of his hand.

“You think it’s dumb,” You’re projecting onto him, without a doubt.

“No, it’s not! It’s actually very cute. You can wear it to the rink later.”

“We’re still doing that?” You grimace. He joked that he was going to take you out onto the ice, but doing it this early into the trip felt like overkill.

“Unfortunately, yes,” He pouts. “I’m forcing you out of the house so that you don’t steal my blankets.”

“Very rude.”

—

The rink is far bigger than you could’ve imagined. You haven’t been in many throughout your life, but since it functions partly as a stadium, it makes you feel even smaller.

He leads you to the check in booth to introduce you to the staff onsite for the day. If he’s coming to practice solo, he remarks that the employees only door is typically unlocked for him, and his suspicions are correct.

“Hey, man, it’s good to see you again,” Joshua embraces a taller man into a hug once he walks through the door. “Cheol, this is Y/N,” He glances between the two of you with a hopeful smile.

“Y/N, this is Seungcheol.”

“Hi,” You wave politely and everything starts to register for you. You’ve known of Seungcheol for a long time through Joshua’s social media, you knew they were longtime friends and Joshua was always open about being close with Seungcheol’s family.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Josh has told me a lot about you, you’re always a hot topic around here,” Seungcheol smirks to Joshua’s dismay.

“Not in a bad way, everybody loves your writing,” Joshua tries to diffuse the tension with a short smile.

“Is Sumin here?” He switches the topic completely, looking around to the back door for any sign of life.

“Yeah, she’s just with her mom. I’ll go get her,” Seungcheol replies before heading further back into the venue.

It’s another minute or two before he comes back with a toddler in his arms, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Joshua. She squirms in Seungcheol’s hold until he puts her down, and she takes off running until Joshua catches her in his arms.

“Joshie,” she screams into his ear. He spins her around for a moment until she’s giggling uncontrollably. It was absolutely adorable, it even got a smile out of you.

“Hi Minnie, how are you?” He’s beaming from ear to ear at her.

“Good,” she nods decisively. He points to you before introducing you to her.

“That’s Y/N. She’s a good friend of mine, can you say hi?” He coaxes her with a gentle voice.

“Hi,” She waves and Joshua is celebrating her again with a small kiss on the cheek. He seems like such a natural with her, it’s as if she’s his own daughter.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” You wave back and she offers you a shy smile.

“I have to go, but I’ll just be skating out there with Y/N, okay?” He reassures her with a sweet pat to her hair before handing her off to Seungcheol.

She puts her head on Seungcheol’s shoulder with another nod. “Out there,” she points to the ice.

“Yep. Be good for dad, I’ll see you later,” He winks at her before leading you both out to the ice.

Your heart is warm from the entire interaction. He sits down on the bleachers and you land next to him, silently placing his duffel bag onto the ground.

He unzips it to reveal your skates. He ordered them before you arrived, promising that he would get you to skate at some point during the trip. You just didn’t predict it would be this early on.

“How old is she?” You asked, toeing off your sneakers before putting on the skates one at a time.

“Two,” He smiles fondly at the thought of her. “Cheol and his wife are such good parents, they were worried about being too young but they’re perfect to her.”

“So you’re her godfather, I assume?”

“Is it that obvious?” He scrunches his face. He turns his attention to his skates for a moment, quickly lacing them up and tightening them. You didn’t even notice him taking off his other shoes.

“Yeah, you definitely gave off dad vibes, but it was sweet.”

“Him and his family have done so much for me, I couldn’t say no. I also helped him ask out his wife on their first date, so it was inevitable,” He pushes his hair out of his face with a grin.

“They helped you adjust here, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll always be grateful for them. It started with discounted rental fees because I couldn’t afford to use the space, so I owe a lot to them. I pay them back in any way I can,” He nodded solemnly.

He has a deep sense of gratitude that is admirable, it makes you wonder what it’s like to be so deeply initiated into someone’s life that there’s no question if you’ll be there forever, it’s just a matter of what role you’ll play.

It made sense that Joshua knew the place so intimately, he was clearly a member of Seungcheol’s family. He grew up in this rink, watched his friends grow and start their families. It was a safe haven.

“Are you ready to skate?”

“Barely.”

“That’s the spirit,” He rubs your shoulder before standing up. You also stand up, albeit far more slowly, facing toward the ice.

You’ve gone ice skating multiple times in your life, but not enough to remember anything past the basics. You step onto the ice, but you already feel like the surface is going to give out any second.

Joshua notices you start to flail and rushes to place a protective arm around your waist. “Are you okay?”

“No,” You squeeze your eyes shut and are already considering admitting defeat. The idea of voluntarily skating with an Olympic gold medalist had to be the worst idea you’ve had in a long time.

“Do you want me to get you the walker?” He asks sweetly. There’s absolutely no malice there, but it still feels slightly patronizing.

“Joshua, that’s not funny,” You whine, anxiously looking down at your skates.

“I’m not joking, I’m just giving you options!”

“No, I don’t need it. I just got nervous,” You reassure yourself. That was the truth, it was mostly the shock of being on the ice again after such a long time.

“Ok, so if I let go, you’ll be fine?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m letting go. Just bend your knees if you think you’re gonna fall,” He slowly moves away from you, looking expectantly to see how you’ll fare on your own. His advice works and you find your balance without too much effort. You do remember how to move forward on skates, so you decide to impress him a bit.

You move easily, pushing your back leg out and to the side before alternating legs, making your way across the ice without much issue. He is visibly impressed, gasping at you with his arms crossed.

“You’re so good! I thought you were a beginner,” He praises you while skating over to your side.

“I am! I don’t know anything other than this.”

“That’s fine, then we can just expand on that skill today. Nothing crazy, I promise,” He calms your nerves with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

The skill in question is extending the standard forward movements into drawn out strokes, so it appears as though you’re gliding instead of walking on the ice. You would leave that back leg out for longer periods to create a more elegant appearance when you move forward. When he demonstrates the move, you’re mesmerized. No matter how many times you’ve seen him do the same moves, there’s still an enchanting quality to his skating.

He can elevate any move without much effort, but that is clearly from years worth of work and persistence into making his moves clean.

Joshua is an incredibly patient teacher, far more than you expected. There’s absolutely no frustration when you make a mistake, just a quiet encouragement to keep going.

When you unexpectedly lose your balance, he’s making sure you fall backwards so as to not injure your hands. When you’re visibly frustrated, he lets you take a break for a few minutes to regroup. There’s a level of care you didn’t expect, but then again, it’s Joshua. He couldn’t ignore your requests for help even if he wanted to.

You’re not ready to do full out spins or jumps yet, but you are instilled with a new confidence that you can at least try something new without getting immediately discouraged.

“Are you good with finishing up there?”

“Yeah, I feel good. I do need something from you, though.”

“And what is that?”

“Your best jump.”

“Best jump?” He looks back at the ice before facing you again, seemingly considering all his options. Despite all of your years of supporting him, you still didn’t know the difference between the jumps, but you figure it’s best not to ask for more explanation than this.

“Pretty please?” You flash a smile that he can’t deny. He lets out a quiet laugh and his eyes search the ground for a moment before he nods.

“Okay, I’ll do a quadruple jump combo, but only because you asked so nicely,” He sighs, squaring his shoulders for a moment.

“I appreciate it a lot,” You amp up the compliments in hopes that he doesn’t change his mind.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” He skates away from you to find a solid starting position. You move to a corner wall to observe and stay out of the way.

He takes a deep breath before starting his entrance, snapping through both jumps with ease. He landed evenly, coming out into a pose for you, his arms pointed up with flair before putting them down again.

“Very impressive,” You compliment him.

“It was, wasn’t it?” His breathing is a bit uneven once he comes up to you again. You smile at his cockiness, but it’s well earned.

He restrains himself from practicing any further or else he’ll be here for hours on end, but that’s not too different from most days. He tells you this is one of his shorter visits, somehow being here for under 3 hours is an accomplishment worth celebrating.

You both say goodbye to Seungcheol and Sumin before heading out to his car. You climb into the passenger seat while he adjusts his seatbelt. He decides to let you interview him while he’s driving although you were fine with waiting until you were back at his home.

“So this current practice routine is the most intense level you’ve been at in the past 4 years?”

“Yeah, I slowly had to work it up to this point after the injury. It was almost painful to slow down that much, but I needed to,” He focuses on the road while responding. You’ve opted for writing notes on your phone and recording at the same time.

“How did it initially feel for you to go through it?”

“I hated it. I didn’t break my ankle normally either, so it wasn’t just the typical advice of staying off your ankle for 8 weeks. It took so much longer than everyone anticipated and I had to genuinely stop everything I was doing,” He tightens his grip on the steering wheel to your slight shock.

“I’m sure it was frustrating to not be able to enjoy that podium moment either.”

“Right, it was as if I didn’t even make the podium. I got 3rd place, but it was so excruciating to even be up there, I didn’t feel like I earned it,” He looks visibly upset just recounting it to you. It hurts to hear just how insecure he became afterwards. In hindsight, it makes sense that he didn’t want to spend time discussing it. Back then, the radio silence just made you hope that he was taking care of himself, not feeling pressured to keep anyone updated. Why would he want to constantly relive and dissect that kind of trauma?

“Do you ultimately want to redeem that moment?”

“I hope so. There’s always pressure to constantly outdo yourself, but I just want to finish the routines safely. That’s all I want,” He nods solemnly and you automatically believe him. Although he’s safely finished the other competitions within a season, there’s still an underlying fear of things going wrong at the worst possible moment.

“From what I saw today, you’re being careful,” You assure him. It’s not wrong to say that either, especially when he was helping you with the execution of the moves earlier. When he was done showing you a certain idea, he didn’t linger in the pose too long at all. It felt like he was overly cautious if anything, but you didn’t want to shift the mood too drastically.

“That’s from all the paranoia, trust me. I don’t want to feel afraid to compete, I want to break out of that habit,” He finally glances at you for a moment.

You’re grateful that he seems to echo your internal sentiment. There was never an air of hesitation around his skating, he was always quite self-assured in himself, but you both know that never conquering your fears could indefinitely stunt your growth. He obviously needed as long as possible to rebuild his self image and confront his fears.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’ll find that courage again,” You place a hand on his shoulder. The tension settles almost immediately at your touch.

“You think so?”

“I know you will. It’s either that or withdrawing from the Olympics which just sounds like a lot of paperwork, honestly,” You joke.

“You’re right, it’s a shit ton of paperwork,” He giggles and readjusts his hands on the wheel again.

You knew that last part wouldn’t be used for your final work, but it’s nice to hear him joke about it all. You liked being there for him as a friend, even if you’d never know exactly what it’s like to be in his position. He deserves that kind of empathy that’s not hollow or backhanded, you figure that’s the least you could do for him while being here.

You could finally even out the foundation of friendship in this way, silently repairing all the mistakes you’ve made in the past in regards to your relationship.

He’s able to talk a bit more about his recovery before the end of the drive and you feel satisfied by the end of the night. Over dinner, it feels like everything is evolving, not just the article itself. He’s opened himself up a bit further and you’d like to treasure that.

—

“You don’t have to stay the entire time, you know that right?” He turns his glance toward you away from the ice with a smirk playing on his lips.

The infamous 12-hour practice day had arrived, and you were dreading it the most out of the week’s schedule. Yet, you were committed to being as involved in his daily life as possible, despite your natural aversion to waking up at dawn. You didn’t want to be one of those writers that holed up in their hotel room to write their assigned article. It was typically out of your control how much time you were allowed to spend with a subject, but if given the option to spend more time with them, you wanted to take it.

Since it was Joshua, you still felt obliged to play catch up on spending time with him in any way you could, even if it meant watching him from the bleachers for an entire work day. Plus, you were already at the rink this early, there was no use in leaving to do touristy things alone when you didn’t necessarily want to do that anyways.

“I know, but I want to,” You retorted. He gives you that “you’re gonna eat your words” look, but he still accepts your answer.

“Are you still up to be interviewed once you’re done practicing?”

“Yeah, I should be good,” He takes a deep breath once he replies, seemingly preparing himself for the painstakingly long day ahead of him.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” You wave at him and he returns it immediately. You head up the bleachers to find a good seat, ending up somewhere towards the lower half of the seating. You wanted to be in a good position where you could view the full scope of his skating, but also capture the details of his face. Your position ends up being perfect, it makes watching him even more fascinating.

He does most of his stretches further away from you, so you’re caught craning your neck to see him. His muscles are well defined, a fact that you’ve been trying to ignore as the bulk of his arms seem to fight against the sleeves of his shirt as he stretches his limbs above his head.

His warm-up is calm yet still dynamic to watch. His jumps are so effortless that your head spins just thinking about the physics of jumping up into a spin and somehow not falling on your ass as you land.

Yet, he lands them perfectly every time. You know that’s not possible, that there’s probably some small tweak he’d make to the way he entered a jump or a correction he’d make to the angle of his landing, but you were fine living in ignorant bliss of the technical aspects of his skating.

You wanted yourself to enjoy being a spectator, to not fixate on every single detail, and simply enjoy an elite athlete being good at their sport.

He takes a small breather but soon goes into his assumed short program. Most diehard Olympics fans would kill to see even a glimpse of his routines for the impending games, but like any other figure skater, the details are carefully kept under lock and key until the competition begins.

You try to savor the image of him without the full theatrics of the actual performance, and the sight of him is enchanting.

His short program music is a bombastic and dynamic classical piece that forces you to focus on every detail of the performance. It’s a triumphant number, one that exudes the confidence and charisma of an experienced skater that knows the nuances of the song like the back of their hand. You decide that it suits him perfectly as he expresses the power of the song through cutthroat expressions and sharp movements.

After running through the full routine a few times, you notice him stop to take an extended break. He skates back to your side of the rink with a smile on his face.

“Falling asleep yet?” He jokes.

“Not yet,” you return the smile, your cheeks practically hurt just looking at him. It’s nearly impossible to avoid watching him, he’s always had this magnetic charm on the ice that makes him hard to ignore.

“Good, I haven’t bored you yet. How’s the writing coming?”

You glance at your laptop on the seat next to you, accompanied by scattered papers on top of the keyboard. The writing was mostly on pause considering the unusual environment, you didn’t ever write with the same classical song blasting in your ears on repeat.

Also, he was skating, so every time you thought you got into a good rhythm with writing, your eyes drifted back to him gliding across the ice. The sound of his skates hitting the ice was hard to ignore.

“It’s coming,” You lie easily. A quick tilt of his head signals that he knows you’re bluffing.

“Lots of strategizing, huh?” He doesn’t let on though, pointing at your notes instead and you’re nodding slowly.

“You’re not an easy person to write about,” You give him a pointed look and he’s grinning.

“So I’ve heard,” You’re glad he has some level of self-awareness. You’re not trying to give writers who are purposefully uninformed about his career when tasked to write a meaningful piece about him any credit, but he was a somewhat difficult subject.

Not in the traditional ways, of course, he’s not storming out of interviews over small details, but he’s so polished that it’s impossible to get much depth out of him beyond his typical media-trained answers.

You always heard the same things about him from other entertainment writers. He was perfectly kind and respectful to work with, but you would have to try especially hard to break him out of his mold.

Even if you felt that you knew him, you didn’t really know him at all.

The thought sits in the back of your mind like an unwanted guest.

“That means you actually have to keep giving me something to work with,” You sigh, gesturing your hands out toward him.

“We’ll see,” He playfully eyes you up and down, but it has a serious undertone. You’ve made some good progress, but you didn’t want to torture him for details. It wasn’t worth being invasive of his boundaries just to make a better article.

He skates off without another word and he’s back in the throes of practicing the routine. After a bit more technical work on the short program, he moves on to the free program.

The music is drastically calmer, it creates a stark contrast to his first routine. It’s still classical, you’d have to inquire exactly what track it was, but the mood of the piece was much lighter. It was smart of him to represent the full duality of his skating abilities.

His movements are almost fairylike, his delicate spins are effortless to watch. This doesn’t undercut the power of his jumps though, still as dramatic as ever. This routine contains far more quadruple jumps than the short program, likely in an effort to show off his technical prowess.

He wasn’t called the “technical prince” for nothing. It’s a nickname that’s been floating around the fandom since your early blog days, first used when fans noticed that young Joshua’s technical scores at competitions were almost always perfect. It’s followed him for years, evolving to show how clean his technique is.

He’s the textbook example of a good figure skater.

Once he finishes the routine, you can tell his stamina is reasonably depleted. From your occasional glances, you can tell it’s quite taxing to do multiple quadruple jump combinations in a row, yet he pulls it off every time.

The rest of the day consisted of him alternating between the routines, cleaning up details that he wasn’t happy with, and practicing the execution of his moves until he finally seemed satisfied with them. After a while, you figure you can’t write much else for this portion of the article without interviewing him again, so you settle further into the unforgivingly cold seats to watch him intently.

“Y/N!” He calls your name suddenly, waving his hand from across the rink.

“What?”

“It’s time to go home,” He beckons his hand for you to come toward him. You don’t hesitate to pack your laptop and assorted notes back into your purse, rushing over to meet up with him on his side of the rink. You don’t exactly know how to process being included in the concept of his home, even though you know it’s a harmless statement.

By the time you reach the other side, he’s already taken his skates off and replaced them with sneakers, his leg anxiously bouncing up and down as he watches you come over. He’s sat toward the end of the bleachers and you can sense that his body is ready to get moving.

“I just have to get a few things from the locker room and I’ll be ready to go. Do you want to go back there with me?” He looks toward the lengthy hallway behind him before looking back at you in anticipation. You didn’t go the first day he invited you to the rink out of an abundance of caution, mostly for your own heart’s sake.

You could keep yourself under control watching him collect his things, right?

“Yeah, I’ll go,” You nod decisively. He gets up and leads you through the hallway until you arrive at a private locker room, the door is adorned with a small nameplate with his name on it. He downplays how fancy it actually is, but it feels like a miniature hotel suite. In addition to the dressing room itself, it also contains a full private bathroom and sizable closet.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, looking around the room and taking in the full scope of it.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice,” He adds. You’re still looking around and trying not to touch anything in fear of breaking something.

You turn around to voice your opinions, but you notice something else.

Joshua is shirtless. You weren’t exactly objectifying him, but it was definitely hard to not look at him. He’s taking a moment to wipe off the sweat across his chest, it feels a bit pornographic to keep looking at that point. The next time you look, he thankfully has a shirt on so your cheeks can stop fully burning at the sight of him.

He doesn’t notice your stare, but you do observe the shirts that fall to the floor when Joshua accidentally knocks his duffel bag onto the ground.

“I’ve got it,” You chirp, already reaching down to pick everything up.

“It’s okay,” Joshua hurriedly shoulders the bag back onto the bench, double checking that it’s not hanging off precariously like last time.

Your heads both come up at the same time, your faces only a few inches away from each other.

“Are you gonna move?” You inquire quietly. He stares back, obviously in no rush to fold. His glance is tempting, everything about him is tempting.

“Do you want me to move?” He counters.

Shit.

You didn’t want him to at all, the idea of him walking away makes you want to scream. The tension has been mounting the past few days whether you wanted to admit it or not. At first, you chalked it up to him just being a gentleman, but there was always a hint of something else there. His politeness toward his staff was completely different to the kindness he offered you.

The lingering glances on you when he’s cooking, his particularly fond smiles while you talk about something, and the soft touches all add up in your brain.

Now that you were in a different setting, it was crystal clear to you. If there was ever a sign, this was it.

“No,” You shake your head.

“Can I?” He asks and your heart has already melted into a puddle. No one ever asks you for a kiss. You’re not sure if you would’ve rejected him to begin with, but the tenderness leaves you enthralled.

You nod and he meets your lips with ease. He tastes better than you could’ve ever imagined. It doesn’t take long for you to move further into the kiss, pushing your tongue into his mouth. He accepts you and naturally picks up the pace, capturing your lips over and over again leaving you few chances to catch your breath.

“Shit,” You step back first and he’s clearly confused.

“Are you ok? We don’t have to do this,” His voice is far too worried for what you’re actually thinking about, poor thing.

“No, I’m fine, I just remembered that I didn’t get to interview you,” You pout. You genuinely feel guilty for not mentioning it before the lust took over your mind, but it still needed to get off your chest.

“That’s okay, we can just do it here,” He reassures you with a nod.

“No,” you caress his arm, “not here.”

It clicks once you start running your hand up and down his bicep, eventually resting your palm on the side of his neck. The gesture is enough to make him arrange his bag faster than you’ve seen him move the entire trip.

—

“God, you taste so fucking good,” Joshua moans into your ear, momentarily taking his lips off yours to catch his breath. You can’t even form sentences at this point, only quiet moans that show your dissolving restraint. He can tell you’re getting tired of holding back too, in fact it seems to bother him quite a bit.

“I wanna hear you,” He whispers again, he suddenly nips your ear in retaliation for being quiet.

It forces a whiny moan out of your throat, it’s embarrassing to bend so easily to him but his quiet humming on your neck is enough indication to you that he’s satisfied.

He insisted on driving you both home and for good reason, he was so helplessly horny that he couldn’t keep his hand off your thigh for the entire drive home. You felt him snake his hand underneath your skirt, but he didn’t go much further than that, his thumb idly rubbing circles on your inner thigh.

The moment you both walked inside the house, Joshua couldn’t contain himself at all against your lips, thus you were barely standing up against the door.

“Josh, please,” you breathe out. Your voice is weak, you can’t even pretend to have your guard up anymore.

“What’s up?” He barely gets it out before his lips are on yours again. You whimper into the kiss again, tapping your hands against his chest to get his attention. You manage to pull away to speak up.

“Please tell me you’re not gonna fuck me against the door,” You pant, looking up at him with a smirk.

He takes a deep breath and tilts his head to look at you intently. You almost think he’s angry until he suddenly picks you up bridal style, ignoring your startled scream with a smile.

He leads you upstairs into his bedroom and tosses you on the bed lightly, you lean back onto your elbows as he inches closer to you.

“You’re so fucking impatient, you know that?” He giggles at you, hands slowly prying open your thighs with gentle hands. You try not to hold your breath in anticipation, but the touch of his fingertips against your skin is already driving you insane.

“You made us rush home because you swore that you needed to get more material for the interview,” He speaks in a low tone, sliding his hands underneath your skirt again, but his hands stop at your hips, massaging the fabric of your underwear.

“I did, I mean, I do,” You stutter out, making eye contact with him. He laughs at your attempt to be coherent and hooks his fingers under both sides of your underwear. He decides to slip the entirety of his hands underneath, seizing your hips with outstretched palms. He yanks you down the bed in one swift movement, making you gasp.

“You kept teasing me with this skirt, ignoring me and acting like you weren’t already soaked for me back at the rink,” He palms the front of your cunt, confirming how desperate you’ve been for him. It makes you shudder and squeeze your eyes closed.

“No no no, baby, keep your eyes open. You’re gonna interview me right now,” He nods at you and your heart drops to your stomach. You’re already somewhat close to cumming, you’re convinced that a single touch to your clit would send you over the edge.

How the hell were you meant to interview him like this?

“Fuck,” You whine, hips already lifting off the bed to gain more friction.

“I know, honey, you have to focus. Can you do that or do you need my cock that badly?” He teases you with lustful eyes and you clench your jaw. You’re determined to prove him wrong, so you put your energy into contemplating a question to start with.

“I can focus, asshole,” You begrudgingly shift your hips to give him better access. You shake your head and come up with a question on the spot, eyes trained on his expectantly.

“What’s a common misconception about your public persona that you hate?” Your voice holds steady and he slides your underwear off quickly.

He hums to himself for a moment, deciding to graze a finger lazily against your folds. “I’m not a people pleaser or a pushover. People think me being a gentleman means I take all kinds of shit, but I don’t,” He slips two fingers into your core, a light smile plays on his lips when he feels you clench around him.

“So you think people in the industry look down on you for that?” You hear your voice lilt for a second as he finds a steady rhythm, curling his fingers instinctively. Your hips are rocking subtly and he clocks this immediately, he moves to cage you between his legs.

“I know they do,” He confirms with a lift of his eyebrows, “especially when I was younger. It fucked with my mentality a lot, but I know better now,” He adds when he sees your pout. He moves up to your chest, tugging your shirt up slightly. He moves back to let you take off your top and bra, but his fingers are still expertly moving inside your walls. The sound of your wetness is absolutely stealing your focus, especially when Joshua decides to force his fingers inside you even harder with low grunts.

He’s an absolute menace, you’re sure of it.

You only nod to his answer, but he disapproves at your silence. “Come on, you know the rules,” He moves up to capture your nipple in his mouth, eliciting soft moans out of you. Your orgasm is definitely on the horizon, the coil in the pit of your stomach is tightening with every bite to your chest.

“So I assume you channel a lot of frustration into your-” He hits your g-spot particularly hard, you let out a strangled cry that forces a tear down your cheek. You clamp a hand over your mouth, but Joshua is already pushing it off your face to leave a peck on your lips.

“Your skating, shit,” You whisper, you force his head back down to meet your lips in a heated kiss. Your tongue enters his mouth with no hesitation and he returns the kiss just as eagerly. He pulls back after a few seconds and leaves a kiss on your cheek.

“Definitely. People can say whatever they want about me, but I know I’m talented. I don’t have to resort to making shit up about my competitors to compensate for a lack of talent,” He laughs at the idea of being that desperate for attention. It makes your walls flutter around his fingers.

“You like it when I hype myself up, huh?” You watch him move to the crook of your neck, biting down hard on an exposed part of your skin.

“Yes, yes yes,” You slur out, eyes fluttering shut. He giggles at your temporary lack of attention before kissing across your jaw. He retreats back down to your thighs again, placing a finger against your clit.

“One more question and you can cum, I promise,” He nods at you and you return it after a moment, but it’s going to be an uphill battle to arrange your mushy brain into a proper thought.

“Do you think you’re the best figure skater in the world?” You sigh into the air, eyes rolling to the back of your head in frustration. It’s an absolutely loaded question, but you know his ego is massive right now since you’re in the palm of his hands.

His fingers still, the pressure remains deep in your core and he runs his free hand through his hair. The whole act would be far sexier than it already is if you weren’t seconds away from covering his fingers in cum.

He laughs quietly before speaking up again. “I do. We both know I am,” His voice is far too cocky for his own good. His stare is stone cold, he holds so much control over you that it’s almost unbearable.

“Now cum,” His nonchalance sends you over the edge instantly. Your high pitched moan goes completely silent, your mouth agape while your neck tilts back in an effort to regain control. Joshua slips his fingers out and moves up to your face, pressing them gently on your bottom lip. You suck them off immediately and watch him coo at you. “Good job, baby. Ready for anything else?”

“Can I take a nap?” You furrow your eyebrows at him, heart full of malice for his unexpectedly great oral skills, yet he’s still smitten with you.

Honestly, Joshua Hong was always gonna be great in bed. It’s not like you didn’t fantasize about having sex with him over the years, but you didn’t expect the prophecy to fulfill itself this easily.

Somehow, he got you all whiny and pliant when you didn’t expect it at all. It was annoying how well he could please you. You were slightly tired, but you didn’t want him to be a cocky shit on top of you again just yet. You needed to recover.

“Sure,” He finally got off the bed, presumably to help you clean up and your suspicions were correct when he returned a minute later with a damp washcloth. You started to sit up, but he made you lie down again.

Who were you to fight Joshua when he offered to tend to your shaking thighs and messy cunt? It was the least he could do after making you work for your orgasm.

—

The next morning, you’re shocked that Joshua is in bed next to you. He was always up and moving pretty early, deep into his morning routine while you were barely conscious.

You, on the other hand, were trying to treat this week partially as a vacation. When Joshua wanted to bring you along to his private schedules, you were still insistent on taking your time to get ready, much to his dismay.

Thus, you were grateful that he could actually slow down for one day while you were here. As your eyes adjusted to the sunlight filtering through the curtains, you realized this was the rest day placed onto his schedule for the week.

You look over to his sleeping form and realize that you’re deeply entangled with his body. Although you’re lying flat on your back, his head is tucked in the crook of your neck. You don’t dare to move your arms or legs though, as his body keeps you essentially trapped into place next to him.

Your minimal movements still stir him awake.

“Hi,” you whisper. He’s still forcing himself into consciousness, but he waves at you. You sit in silence for a few minutes, silently waking each other up with random touches on each other’s face or arms.

“We had sex three times last night, correct?” You ask out of the blue. He’s visibly confused at your sudden line of questioning.

“Not even a good morning?” He mutters, letting out a big yawn immediately after.

“No. I wanna know because I know you remember.”

“After that first part? I’m pretty sure it was three,” His voice is slightly hesitant, but you trust his answer considering he was dominant the entire time. You also wanted to know because it was becoming increasingly harder to deny how much you like him.

You have to admit, it was nice being able to have him like this, to watch him rub the sleep out of his eyes and cuddle without questioning if he wanted you back. He clearly did, even if his pride wouldn’t let himself say it. It was a matter of who would crack first, now that you’ve established the fact that you have undeniable sexual chemistry.

“How did you get me to go three more times?” This question is especially pertinent now that your muscles felt the aches to match that number. You can barely sit up against the headboard without wincing.

“You asked me to,” He put his hands up in defense.

You now remember that you did ask to keep going. The first time was standard, being called a cockslut during the second round made you go feral enough for a third, and the absolute filth of the last round knocked you out completely.

You were fucked, considering that you didn’t want to have sex with anyone else but only had access to said person for a few more days.

“Right,” You sigh.

“What are you planning to do today?”

“I’m gonna edit the article a bit, I’ve been putting it off. What about you?”

“Chores. I need to get a lot of things done, but remind me to run you a bath at some point today. Your muscles hurt, right?” He’s already out of the bed, stretching his arms above his head.

“Yeah, but I don’t-”

“No, I’m running you a bath. Us, technically since my muscles hurt too,” He raises his eyebrows at the thought of pampering himself, but he’s still insistent on the idea.

“Fine,” You bite back the rest of your response and he picks up on it immediately.

“No rebuttal?”

“No,” You pout, jutting your lip out to garner some kind of sympathy. He falls for it, approaching the bed again.

He leans down to leave a chaste kiss on your lips, his mouth naturally moving up to kiss your cheek as well.

“I promise it’ll be worth it, you’ll feel a lot better,” He softens his delivery for you and it barely hurts once he pulls away. He’s had that effect on you lately, his affection so irresistible that even the worst news has a slightly sweet aftertaste coming from him.

“Come on,” He taps his side of the bed to coax you up, and you slowly follow him.

The encouragement works though, as you’re both propelled into a productive afternoon. Joshua gets all of his chores done, somehow doing three loads of laundry and other assorted tasks while you’re editing.

Meanwhile, you’re firmly planted on the couch, trying to make the interview sound cohesive. You don't need to fully edit while you’re on the trip, that’s not even possible with what you have, but you wouldn’t feel right just leaving the entire process until you arrived home.

Joshua gives you an adequate amount of space, only stopping you to make sure you ate lunch or took a break from looking at your laptop screen.

They were welcome distractions, truly. If the process of trying to capture Joshua accurately in the article didn’t make any sense, it was nice to know the real Joshua was somewhere flitting around the house doing the dishes or vacuuming the living room.

Plus, it was nice to paint domestic scenes about him in your mind.

Joshua doesn’t take breaks much at all, this has been true for his entire career. He’s always competing, always performing, always doing someone a favor by being a guest of honor or special performer. It was nice to see him just exist, to fret over if he had enough laundry detergent for his next load and watch him sort his white clothes from his colorful wardrobe.

You wonder if these moments add up for him too, if he craves this kind of quiet domesticity at times.

He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and you look up at him.

“Can we take a bath now? Is it a bad time?” He worries, but you’re ready to pause.

“No, I’m ready,” You confirm. He helps you off the couch with a steady hand. You walk side by side on the way up the staircase this time, arms linked with hands untouched.

His master bathroom is just as simplistically ornate as you figured it would be. The bathtub overlooks the backyard, displaying a gorgeous view of the city skyline right above the trees.

The sun was about to set, so the view was even more picturesque than you could’ve imagined.

Throughout the day, your aches have been pressing at the back of your brain, interrupting your thought process multiple times, so much so that you don’t know why you fought him against this in the first place.

He opts for picking the right temperature for the water while he leaves you to pick out a calming scent to include in the bath.

You pick an expensive looking lavender bubble bath and he smiles when you place the bottle in his hands.

“I’ve been meaning to use this one, actually,” His eyes light up.

“Sure you have,” You sit down next to him, placing your head on his shoulder. You both observe the water slowly filling up the tub, he silently squeezes the bottle under the running water before retreating once the bubbles start to spread throughout the surface.

You both sit in silence just watching the water fill up, the sound of the faucet echoing throughout the room. Once the tub becomes noticeably fuller, he adds more bubble bath until the top is visibly covered with bubbles.

He insists on getting in first, stripping his clothes easily before settling into the tub slowly. You can already see the tension leave his muscles, especially on his face. His jaw loosens and he takes a deep breath.

He opens one eye and giggles when he sees you hesitate to enter. “Come on, I don’t bite,” He reassures you.

You move to take your clothes off in a few quick movements. He watches you with adoration, as if he’s never seen you naked before and he’d like to take it all in for a moment. Stepping into the tub isn’t too difficult, but when he suddenly pulls your waist down, the splashing startles you.

“Josh, you’re gonna get water everywhere,” you whine.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing, remember?” He pulls you flush against his chest. He punctuates his question with kisses behind your ear.

Right. You force yourself to take a breath and settle into his skin.

You know your skin is littered with light bruises from the night before and he seems to notice this, his hand silently tracing over the red marks before stopping near your collarbone.

Once he stops moving and you stop overthinking, the silence is perfect.

It’s not entirely silent, there’s still the hum of the overhead fan creating ambiance, but the dim lights pull you into the fantasy of it all.

You realize that you haven’t felt this peaceful in a long time. Perhaps it’s his presence or the fact that you haven’t sat in silence on your own in so long, but you want it more often.

You want him to envelop your life with his gentle reminders and caring gazes, silently telling you that there’s no point in working yourself to death if there’s no life for you to live outside of that.

“Joshua?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever want your career to slow down?”

He sighs so deeply that you feel it in your chest. “Is this off the record?”

“Yeah.”

“Then yes. I want to slow down so badly, it feels like my body is fighting back against how much I work sometimes,” His response is slightly pained, adjusting his body underneath you.

You pause for a few moments before speaking up again. “What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t-,” He hesitates.

“It’s okay,” Your voice mirrors the softness that he’s given you throughout the day. He gathers his thoughts for a second before trying again.

“I don’t know who I am as a person if I don’t work. This has been my entire life, if I get a few days to myself I feel like I’m going insane,” He sounds so tired of keeping up the charade, tired of being everyone’s perfect gentleman, just tired of it all.

“Have you told your team?”

“Yeah. After this Olympics cycle, I’m pulling back. I need to before it’s too late, you know?”

“Absolutely. I don’t want you to burn out even more.”

“I’ve been burnt out for ages, so what’s a little bit longer,” He chuckles bitterly. It felt like a poor response the moment you said it, but something in you hoped it wasn’t wrong to be concerned.

“So you’re gonna do the charity skate tomorrow even though you’re burnt out,” You predict.

“I mean, yeah, the skating itself isn’t the problem. I love performing, I’m just not built to keep going without consistent breaks anymore,” He reasoned.

It made complete sense knowing how quickly his career ascended once he entered the elite circuit. He hasn’t left the top 10 of the World Standings since his first full elite competition season which is incredibly hard for anyone to keep up throughout their career.

It’s no wonder that he’s tired of keeping an unmanageable pace.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper. You don’t know what else to say. What could you even tell him?

“Please, it’s not your fault.”

“Do you want me to put this in the interview? Or just write some filler paragraph about it?” You giggle through the last question and he's amused as well.

“Filler, please. I’m confident you won’t make me sound like a dick,” He plants a kiss on your cheek as a silent thank you.

“I promise I won’t.”

“I am excited for the show tomorrow though,” He shifts the conversation and it’s a welcome change.

“Anything fun planned for your number?” You asked.

From what you’ve read, Joshua’s rink held the annual charity skate event in order to honor the professional skaters who train in their facilities, allowing them space to perform routines that they may not have had the chance to otherwise. Notoriously, skaters were extremely flashy with their songs and costumes since there was significant creative freedom.

“Not really, it’s nostalgic of my old numbers.”

“Will I remember it?”

“Definitely, it made your ranking of my best performances forever ago,” His laugh vibrates through your body.

“That list definitely holds up, by the way,” You defend your teenage choices blindly, you definitely hadn’t seen it since you posted it, but it’s nice that he actually remembered some of the content you posted.

“I know you’ll love it,” He presses a long kiss on your cheek once again, but lingers against your face this time.

You’re back to silence again for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” You apologized. You can sense that he’s already shaking his head no at your words before you can finish your sentence.

“It’s just as much my fault as it’s yours.”

“You know I was avoiding you, though,” You clarified.

“I noticed that,” You could tell that he was smiling through the response, it makes your cheeks burn.

“I was definitely doing the same though,” He immediately follows it up. In all honesty, it was a relief that both of you decided to bury yourselves in shaping your respective careers. You were unintentionally coping in the same ways, silently hoping the other person was making better choices.

Alas, you were too similar for that to be true.

“But you know what?”

“Hm?”

“I’m really proud of you. I haven’t told you that enough and I feel terrible. I should’ve been there for you,” he replies earnestly.

After all this time, he was proud of you. In retrospect, you thought you were too obsessive or had unintentionally crossed his boundaries as a fan. Yet, that was never the case. He was always grateful that you supported him at every turn, so why wouldn’t he return that gratitude to you?

You didn’t need his validation, the initial interview all those years ago was enough to satisfy you a million times over, but he needed to express it.

You were eternally grateful that he acted on that need.

However, that last part of the confession urges you to sit up completely. You turn your body as much as possible to face him without splashing the water too much.

“You were there for me.”

“Leaving comments on your Instagram is not supporting you in the way you need, you know that,” He counters.

He’s right. You adjusted your expectations for Joshua years ago, you weren’t happy with how things were, but you accepted that your communication would always be limited.

You didn’t have the courage to talk to him, you figured things would never change. It wasn’t smart, you wasted far too much time refusing to invest in your relationship simply because of your own cowardice.

It seems he also became content with barely doing enough.

“I’m sorry for doing the same thing.”

“This can be a truce, then. I want us to be closer if you want that,” He holds out his hand and you take it immediately.

“I absolutely want that,” You're grinning so hard that your cheeks hurt. “So this means you want to kiss me again?”

“You have a massive hickey on your neck and you don’t think I want to kiss you again?” He’s almost fed up, but that smirk tells you otherwise.

“I’m just making sure,” You lower your head coyly. “Come here, babe,” He beckons you over, but he’s too eager to let you make the entire distance. He captures your lips with ease, placing his hand on your cheek. You steady yourself with your hand on his arm, leaning into the kiss with a sense of urgency.

It’s only a few moments before you pull back. “Josh, the water is so fucking cold,” You laugh through your shivers.

He reaches behind you to open the drain and kisses you again. You can’t help but smile against his lips.

The new uncharted territory you’ve forged with him makes your skin burn with excitement.

—

As soon as you arrive at the backstage area of the rink, Joshua’s whisked away by his stylist and assistants to the dressing room. You’re escorted to a VIP viewing area towards the top of the rink, a lounge with access to multi-view screens and a bird’s eye view of the ice.

Before the show starts, you familiarize yourself with the other figure skaters performing tonight. You’ve heard of all of them to some extent, having watched them in anticipation of Joshua’s performances in the past at invitationals and other competitions. Tonight was no different, as Joshua would be the last skater performing tonight.

The marketing team knew exactly what they were doing with that decision.

There were definitely fans of the other skaters dispersed throughout the stadium, but most people you saw were Joshua fans, carrying slogans and wearing merch with his name on it.

Some people even recognize you on the way up to the VIP section which throws you for a loop. They were mainly shocked that you were even at this kind of event in the first place, but it felt validating to be complimented for something outside of him.

Although the other skaters are highly entertaining to watch, your mind feels ready to see Joshua perform. Their performances are satisfying, but that particular spark is missing. It feels reminiscent of when you’d anxiously stay up to watch livestreams of his performances at 3 am, live updating your followers on the exact time when Joshua would be performing.

It was bittersweet to be able to watch him in person. It’s been years since you’ve watched him perform in the flesh, but the circumstances feel perfectly aligned.

“Performing Every moment of you, please welcome Joshua Hong,” The announcer’s voice booms through the stadium speakers and the stadium erupts into cheers. The sight of him waving to the camera is enough to leave the stadium in shambles, so his steps onto the ice are even more precious.

The pink top was the right choice now that he’s about to perform. He made you pick between a few options earlier in the day, but the sheer sleeves and pastel color match the mood perfectly. His side parted hair is neatly styled and light makeup highlights his soft features. The lighting really does his face justice as he purses his lips slightly, adjusting his head slightly down to enter his starting pose.

He moves a hand onto his heart and tucks his right leg behind his left.

As soon as the music starts, your heart clenches.

He chose this particular song, out of all his older routines. This song was in constant rotation throughout his first elite competition season, you could practically see it in your sleep.

When you watch him, you notice that the routine has barely changed either, the step sequences are just as smooth as you remember with delicate flairs of his new style.

The music is somehow more emotional than you remember, a sign that his artistry evokes such a vivid image that you can only think of him and this particular routine when you hear the song.

The execution of his combination jumps are flawless as always, and the audience agrees with loud applause every time he lands them. It seems as though he doesn’t have to try as he glides around the rink, a dreamy expression paints his face as he visibly connects with the lyrics.

He always transformed into a new character in every routine while still maintaining his own distinct style, it was something you deeply admired about his skating.

Before you know it, the song slowly comes to a close and Joshua stands in that final pose you remember so well, his face settling into a soft smile.

The crowd is absolutely obsessed with him, you look to see that many people were on their feet for a standing ovation. You immediately join in, looking toward his reaction. The cameras capture his shock, he’s pleasantly surprised by all the fanfare. He takes it in for another minute or so, looking up at the people in the stands with appreciative eyes. He finally bows his head and waves before skating off the ice.

When the entire group is called back onstage for final bows and the closing ceremony, he is once again dazzled by how intensely the crowd cheers for him once he’s introduced onstage. It’s precious to watch him try to shake it off with his hands on his face, looking to his fellow performers for a way to avoid the attention. He has always been appreciative of his support, always remaining humble in the face of his popularity constantly growing.

It doesn’t take as long as you expected for him to meet up with you. He asks you to wait in the hallway outside his dressing room, and he soon emerges; he barely lets you get a word out before enveloping you in a hug.

“What did you think?”

“I didn’t think you’d pick that one, honestly!” Your enthusiasm quiets when he kisses you and you suddenly feel acutely aware of the staff around you. He notices your shyness and pulls himself against your ear again.

“We’ll be alone soon, okay? I’m glad you liked it,” He punctuates his sentence with a kiss on the cheek. It made you relax into his touch and hold your hand while you were still in the venue.

Once outside, he lets go to briefly wave at the crowd of his fans before placing his hand on the small of your back.

You hear the gasps when he does it, but you don’t look back at the crowd. The judgment stays in your skin once you’re both escorted into the SUV, even when Joshua’s trying to get your attention with kisses to your hand.

“What are you thinking about, babe?”

“Nothing,” It’s easier to lie in the moment. He eyes you for a bit longer but ultimately doesn't question you any further.

You can’t tell him that everything feels especially temporary now. You know what it’s like to be on the opposite side of it as a fan, the initial feeling of seeing him make contact with a new romantic interest is always shocking. Neither of you owed them anything, you never had to reveal the depth of relationship if that’s what you both wanted.

He says he wants you, but that inevitable “what happens next” conversation hasn’t happened and you’re leaving in the next 48 hours. If there was any time to figure out the definition of your relationship, it was now.

Although the conversation in the bath last night was enlightening, you needed some kind of finality. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for vague promises anymore.

Will he make you a priority when his schedule is about to amp up even more?

If you needed to move on, you’d rather know now before you’re on another 13 hour flight left to your own devices.

—

You’re able to tag along with Joshua to his practice session with his coach on your last full day in town.

Although the conclusion of the trip takes up most of your brain space, it’s still interesting to watch his skating become informed by a new perspective. You couldn’t hear all of the critiques in detail, but it was enough to understand how Joshua’s energy was shaped through their leveled guidance.

He switched from his longtime coach once he broke his ankle, understandably citing that the old coach had pushed him to the point of collapse, no matter how grateful he may have been for his old coach’s support thus far.

The dynamic was far more supportive, you concluded. You were able to get more writing done, but your eyes drift to him more often than not.

He practices intensely for around 6 hours today, still a considerate amount of time considering the other practice days in his schedule. He didn’t appear distracted when you were watching him, but he was clearly eager to be alone with you again. He was practically pulling you into the front door once you arrived at his home.

He leads you upstairs to his bedroom before closing the door quickly.

“Kiss me,” His request is urgent, and you oblige despite feeling hesitant.

It’s best to just kiss him, to enjoy a good thing standing right in front of you while you have it.

He’s showing all his tells that he wants more than just kisses, cradling the back of your head, moaning into your mouth. It all still feels so enticing.

Yet, as always, he seems to notice something’s off before you can. He must notice the tension in your body that you tried your best to will away. He pulls out of the kiss and examines your eyes.

“Are you ok?” He’s slightly panting. You force yourself to close your eyes to steady your nerves.

“No,” you admit.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this, you know that.” He knows exactly what you mean by the way his shoulders drop. He looks nervous, not sure if he’s about to lose you.

“Why not? What would be so wrong about being with me?” He’s genuinely upset, fighting your answer almost instantly. Therein lies the problem, there’s nothing wrong about dating him as a person. It was simply the logistics that made everything far more complicated than your heart could bear.

“Nothing,” your voice trembles. “It would be great,” A tear falls from your eye and he’s already reaching up to wipe it away. You don’t stop him from touching your face.

“But I can’t be halfway across the world from you, I can’t watch you pretend to love me and then start dating someone else right in front of my face again.”

“You know dating Ara wasn’t my choice, I wouldn’t do that to you again,” His voice is strangely quiet.

Ara was a famous Korean actress who was practically a critic’s darling at this point in her career. She dated Joshua for 4 years, long enough for the Korean public to become absolutely enamored with the idea of them. The concept of Korea’s charming upcoming actress and Korea’s technical skating prince dating each other was obviously popular among netizens, so their sudden breakup was quite shocking.

Their conflicting schedules made it a perfect storm for them to stop speaking to each other.

It all ended very publicly, but somehow Joshua was still beloved in the end. He always was.

At a work gala he was the guest of honor for, he told you that he wanted to be with you over drinks. There were many kisses exchanged in a secluded hallway, promises linger against your skin and you thought they were real.

She was his plus one, but he insisted that they were just friends.

You trusted him, and their relationship was announced a few days later. You were crushed, it made you regret ever thinking you could be more than a fan who simply pushed her luck.

“You stayed with her for 4 years, you loved her,” You persisted.

“No, I didn’t.”

“She said you did,” It bites harder than you expect, but it’s true. There were numerous interviews of her confirming the depths of their relationship. Whenever she mentioned him, there was always long-term commitment implied.

“I promise you I didn’t.” He squares his jaw as he insists on it being false.

“Why did you lie? Why didn’t you just let me down easy? You do it with literally every fan,” You shake your head, knowing exactly what he’s been through. You’ve seen the death threats, ultimatums, and invasive love offers that he’s received over the years. If he could handle that with grace, he could at least give you a proper response.

“You know you mean more to me than that,” He begged.

“If I mean more to you, then you shouldn’t have done it,” You respond. It’s selfish, you know it is.

“You can’t be fucking serious! It was to further my career, you of all people should know that,” He yelled. His voice doesn’t deter you, it simply makes you more determined.

“You could’ve fought back like you’ve done at any other point of your career. You should have fought for me,” You try to yell back but your voice falters again.

“This is me fighting for you, I want you,” He pleaded, moving closer to you out of desperation. Yet, you avoid his eye contact to close your eyes.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” You griped, shaking your head out of frustration. You hate that he’s dodging the question. You’ve seen him fight over much less, you’re not sure why he can’t recognize that he could’ve tried for you.

“You’re fighting me over hypotheticals, shit that hasn’t even happened yet.”

“You had another reason,” You state unremarkably, finally opening your eyes again. It was never a black or white situation, not with him.

“What?”

“You stayed with her for another reason.”

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and internally resets before looking at you again.

“I didn’t want you to feel tied to me. I already knew what people were saying about you because of me, I knew you didn’t want me overshadowing your career. I didn’t want to haunt you,” He seems desperate to make you see his side of it.

“But you did, from the moment I met you. I knew I’d never be able to get over you. I built up a picture of you in my mind for years, and you actually fit it. I was stupid enough to think that my dumb luck would actually let me date you,” You confessed. You lower your head by the time you finish speaking.

He didn’t seem to understand that the dynamic would’ve always been uneven between you, but you were willing to risk it.

“Y/N,” He starts.

“I was fucking devastated that I still needed you,” you interrupt him, “I was doing perfectly fine, but I knew I would regret not doing this interview. I let you in one last time, to see if it’d be different than before, but you’re not ready. You’re still not ready and it was my fault for expecting too much of you.”

The silence is loud, you both have to process all of the feelings stirred up between you.

“I’m sorry.”

You’re not sure if that’s enough.

“Just indulge me for a second, do you love me?” You ask desperately.

He doesn’t speak. He looks torn, as if he wants to but something deep inside himself still hesitated to admit it. It confirms your worst fear, that even when there’s no other obstacles in the way, he can’t be what you need.

You scoff, wiping your face once again.

“Thanks for letting me stay here, I guess,” You walk back to your room and shut the door behind you. You unconsciously listen for any movement outside the door, to see if he would chase after you.

He doesn’t.

He does a variety of tasks in the kitchen, you hear running water and the sound of cabinet doors shutting, but he never approaches the door.

The kitchen light turns off and you hear his bedroom door shut.

You’re honestly glad he left you alone, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

As you settle into bed, you remember that he wanted to drive you to the airport tomorrow.

You’d rather walk the entire way than let him see you like this.

—

Joshua is an idiot, all things considered.

It was right there, he had the chance to tell you everything and give you his entire heart, but the words were stuck in his throat. He can barely go to sleep that night, but he could at least send you off to the airport the next morning.

It was wishful thinking that the drive would be any less painful, but he could at least fulfill his promise of taking you there. Thus, he doesn’t expect the guest room to be empty when he stumbles out of his room to go make himself breakfast.

He’s suddenly on high alert, thinking of all the things that could’ve possibly happened to you.

His internal monologue stops when he sees a note downstairs on the kitchen counter. He picks it up and curses under his breath.

“Changed my flight, your driver took me to the airport. Thanks again for letting me stay. - Y/N”

The message feels so stiff, it lacks any of your personality. Yet, he couldn’t pity himself for too long, he had to find you.

He had no idea if your flight had already taken off or not, but he at least had a location. Your original flight wasn’t until late afternoon, so he figured you must have been really fed up to change it to a mid-morning flight. The anger you felt transcended your hatred of mornings, and that was enough to really get Joshua moving.

He decided to stick with the clothes he had on to minimize the amount of time in the house. He wasn’t sure if it was smart to buy an impulse ticket for a flight he wasn’t going on, but he did it anyway.

As he sat in his car, he wasn’t sure if he locked the front door, but the adrenaline made him forget altogether.

The drive to the airport was a complete blur, he was certain that he blew through a few just-turned-red lights in an effort to get there. Once he arrives, he is anything but discreet.

He thanks his lucky stars that he gets a short security line so that he can run through the airport to find you. He only stops to check the massive flight board for flights to your city before picking up the pace again, almost running into a few people on the way.

He just had to make it to gate 12.

He spots the gate out of the corner of his eye, almost missing it due to his haste. He scans his eyes quickly across the group of people to see if you could possibly be there.

He’s almost given up on searching for you, but just like the movies, he finds you sitting in the corner wearing that particular writing hoodie.

He knows whatever way he chooses to approach you, it’ll scare you. Yet, he opts for the least terrifying option.

He walks over, taking a small breath before speaking up.

“Hi,” It comes out far too hesitant, but it still gets your attention. You look up at him, evidently confused but annoyance shows up quicker.

“What are you doing here?” You’re not moved at all, he felt like an inconvenience.

“We need to talk. Can I sit with you?” He points to the empty chair and you stare at him for a moment. You quietly oblige, giving a quick nod. You didn’t reject him outright, so that’s a win in his book.

“I’m really sorry about last night. I should’ve told you how I felt,” His voice is hushed so as to not disturb anyone else around you. Most people were sitting further away, but he didn’t want to take any chances. You only look forward, not acknowledging him at all.

“I thought about everything and you were right to be worried. I haven’t shown you that you can trust me to commit,” He continues.

“Whatever you want to do, that’s fine. I just,” He stops his train of thought to take a breath.

“I love you. I should’ve told you the moment you asked me, I should’ve told you the first day you came to town. I always knew,” He finishes with a shaky breath. You both sit in silence for longer than he’d like, but it’s understandable. Your longtime crush lets you down then admits he’s loved you for ages, it’s a lot for anyone to process.

“Joshua?”

He turns to face you. “Yeah?”

“That was corny as fuck,” You let out a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. He’s happy to see you smile for a bit, even if it’s at his expense.

“I know, I just needed to tell you before you left,” He laughs quietly. It covers up the temporary embarrassment he feels. No matter what you tell him, he figures that it was worth it to put everything on the line.

“I forgive you, though. And I love you too,” You smile through the reply and your voice is the softest he’s ever heard it.

The newness of it all makes him blush.

“Still can’t look at me, huh? Do I make you nervous?” He touches your shoulder in a silent plea for you to let him in.

“Fuck off,” You finally make eye contact with him and grab his hand, fingers automatically intertwined with his. You press the back of his hand to your mouth for a kiss. The gesture quiets all his lingering fears.

“I’m not relocating for you though, I like my apartment and my job,” You give him a pointed look.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that. Plus I told you I’m trying to slow down, remember?” The realization hits your face and it makes him giggle.

“Does that mean you’re moving in with me?”

“It might,” He suggests. He thinks he’s a pretty decent roommate, but he’d change his bad habits in a heartbeat if it meant you were more comfortable.

“Not before the Olympics though. And you’d need to sell the house, right?”

“Yeah. Shit, you’re really getting ahead of me here,” He didn’t really consider all the details yet, especially thinking about how shocked his management team would be at the decision, but he knew you were too good to lose.

He lived enough of his life without you, and it was time to switch things up.

“Just making sure you’re aware of what all of this would mean,” You remind him. It was a completely fair critique considering how many directions his life was currently being pulled in.

“Of course, but I’m coming to visit before I move. Many times,” He’s already mentally planning out a schedule in his head, plotting out weekend getaways and week-long trips just to spend time with you again.

“You won’t have your own room though, sorry,” You sigh in fake concern.

“I think we can make that work,” He assured you with a smile.

“I still can’t believe you bought a fucking plane ticket to get past security to come find me. You’re insane,” You shake your head at him in disbelief.

“Your boyfriend is insane,” He stresses the term, “and it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t let you get away like that.”

You both talk for a while, just drinking in each other’s presence as a new couple. While you’re recounting your metal detector encounters, it hits him that he doesn’t know when he’ll see you again.

Everything keeps getting busier between the two of you, and the possible timeframe of him moving seems further and further away with each passing moment.

He desperately wants to slow everything down in his career immediately, for all of his responsibilities to be taken care of for him.

The boarding process begins and he’s wistful, he didn’t think it would hurt so deeply to let you go home. He pulls you into a tight hug, his head nestled into the crook of your neck. “I love you so much, baby,” His voice wavers.

“Don’t fucking cry, you’ll make me cry,” You whisper, curling into his body even further. It makes him smile despite the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’ll see you soon, okay? I promise,” He attempts to steady his voice, but it’s no use. The moment he has the love of his life, you’re already leaving.

You lean back and press your lips to his, you move as quickly as time permits. It’s not the kiss he wants, but it’s enough to sate him.

He pulls away first, kissing your cheek before standing back to get a good look at you.

“Now go, they’re about to finish up your section,” He pointed to the gate with a watery laugh, finally wiping his cheeks from the tears.

You wave one last time as your ticket gets scanned and you’re no longer in view.

He’s not ready to go back to an empty house, one without you sitting on the couch bundled up in his blankets, staring at your computer with squinted eyes. He’s not ready to fall asleep without you next to him and wake up the next day knowing you wouldn’t be up until midday.

You’ve worked your way into his life and he can’t picture another second without you in it.

He decides that whenever you’re available to talk on the phone, you would plan his first visit.

That was the only way he could cope with the time and distance that seemed impossible to cross.

—

The Joshua profile is edited and completed in due time, somehow without losing your sanity.

Joshua is always sending you his edits, many of which are rejected the moment he comments them. Yet, you promise him that he can have input on another piece.

Once it’s approved through final edits, the profile is received well, all things considered. While there are unavoidable critiques, it still resonates with fans and writers alike. It goes considerably less viral than your other content with him, but viral nonetheless. It gets another boost in attention when Joshua reveals your relationship to the public exactly two months after it’s posted, and people are now re-examining the profile for signs of love blooming in between the lines.

These recent post-profile interviews he did were keeping you company during your downtime after work. You’d find yourself watching them on your laptop in bed, craving the sound of his voice when he was caught up in practice. He told you to watch this one specifically when it was uploaded though, so you decided to listen to him.

“So we have to talk about your relationship and the article,” The late night host segues into the new topic and Joshua handles it with ease.

“Of course,” He’s nodding along.

“So you fall in love with one of your biggest fans and do this reunion interview after 10 years? What’s the whole story?”

“Well, she’s been a fan of mine for my entire career and we first met when she made this viral blog post about me qualifying for my first Olympics,” He recounts the story for what feels like the millionth time, but you still eat it up every time. He has an exact script that you can almost know how he’ll phrase it.

“We film an interview and that goes even more viral, like 20 million views or something crazy,” He stops to laugh for a moment and the audience laughs along with him.

“We met up a few times over the years, but I finally suggested we do something for the 10 year anniversary of the interview. That’s how it all came together,” He nods with a grin.

“That’s amazing, is there anything you want to tell her?”

He looks directly into the camera and takes a breath. “Just that I miss you and love you very much,” His voice softens and the audience lights up with applause. He blows a kiss to the camera before the host switches topics once again, moving on to more Olympics talk for the rest of the video.

The declaration of love is simple, he’s not the kind of guy to make these big sweeping gestures of love, but it’s more than enough for you. You send him a quick text approving of the video and your heart is extremely full.

He moves in right after the Olympics end, but he’ll have a chance to properly decompress from the competition. The anticipation is enough to almost drive you insane, but the wait will be worth it.

—

The Olympics are a complete blur, as expected. You try to enjoy other events during your time there, but the men’s individual skate is the only thing on your mind. Joshua tried to make things for you as comfortable as possible despite living in the designated Olympic Village. He always complained that he wasn’t able to see you by sending you lots of heartfelt texts, but you teased him that he just needed to focus on competition.

Joshua won the gold medal, as expected by numerous sports networks and prediction experts.

You knew he’d win too, obviously.

Although he performed last in the final group, moving his rank down to 5th before his free skate performance, his final showing put him 10 full points above 2nd place.

Your boyfriend, who has been swept up in podium ceremonies, post-skate interviews, and a celebratory dinner is finally alone with you in your hotel room and you intend to make the most of it.

“Congratulations,” You’re practically yelling in his ear as he smothers you in a hug, clutching the back of your head. He’s free of the costume and makeup from earlier in the night, even his team tracksuit was exchanged for an old shirt and shorts.

“Thank you, baby,” His response is muffled against your shirt. You pull away to admire his face for a moment before leaning in for a deep kiss.

He’s feeling just as desperate as you are, swiping his tongue into your mouth with ease. It’s been so long since you’ve had a chance to just kiss him, let alone see him for more than a few minutes at a time. There were still press circuits and endless events for him to attend, but for a moment he was simply your gold medalist.

You barely come up for air for the next few minutes, getting all of the long distance reunion induced kisses out of your system. You step away to breathe against his neck and collect your thoughts.

“I’m so proud of you, like I was fully sobbing in my seat after the scores.”

“You were?” He questions, eyes widening.

“Of course, you’ve worked so hard to get here after everything. It makes me wanna cry all over again,” You’re so fond that it makes your heart swell for him.

“My poor baby, crying her eyes out over me like the good old days,” He coos.

“Yeah,” You let out a shaky laugh and wiped a stray tear from your eye. There were no ways to describe how it felt to watch the love of your life succeed from so many points of view, in some ways your relationship is a time capsule of your adolescence.

Joshua is simultaneously the object of your youth and the promise of a better future.

The journey is never lost on you, all of the time spent learning each other all over again reinvigorated your spirit.

“I’m ready to go home with you, I’m just so tired,” He whispers. The collective stress of the past few years is catching up with him now that the hardest part is over, that sense of normalcy needed to come sooner rather than later.

“I know, love. Just a few more days and we can sleep in as much as we want,” You think out loud, but he seems to like the idea as you cup his face in your hands. The tension melts from his face the longer you stay still and he lets out a quiet hum.

“Can we cuddle?”

“Of course,” You would’ve wanted to do it anyway, but you couldn’t say no to him in this state.

Once you both crawled onto the bed, he naturally put his head on your chest. It doesn’t take long before you’ve both fully relaxed into each other’s touch. The silence is needed after nonstop stimulation from the outside world.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” He doesn’t hesitate this time, it's saturated with adoration for you. You feel the warmth on your cheeks and respond accordingly.

“I love you too.”

He sits up, staring at you with so much love in his eyes. He kisses you just to do it, but it’s perfectly fine by you.

You swear that you could live in this moment forever. There would always be deadlines approaching, endless amounts of work waiting for you, but these moments were too precious to take for granted.

There’s so much love for him in your body that it doesn’t know where to go, but you figure that you’ll find somewhere to place it within due time.

There’s no use in grieving wasted time when his love is nestled so neatly in your heart, allowing you to indulge in the infinite futures you’re able to build together.

He’s not going anywhere, there’s still time.

There will always be time.

#YALLLLLLL ITS DONEEEEEEE #I’m so fucking happy you have no idea #this is quite literally a novel so sorry lol #joshua smut #joshua fluff #joshua scenarios #joshua angst #joshua fic #svt fluff #svt smut #svt angst #seventeen smut

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